These two are the two erotic dialogues of Plato. Phædrus is the originator of both.

Eros as conceived by Plato. Different sentiment prevalent in Hellenic antiquity and in modern times. Position of women in Greece.

Eros, considered as the great stimulus to improving philosophical communion. Personal Beauty, the great point of approximation between the world of sense and the world of Ideas. Gradual generalisation of the sentiment.

The subject common to both is, Love or Eros in its largest sense, and with its manifold varieties. Under the totally different vein of sentiment which prevails in modern times, and which recognises passionate love as prevailing only between persons of different sex — it is difficult for us to enter into Plato’s eloquent exposition of the feeling as he conceives it. In the Hellenic point of view,1 upon which Plato builds, the attachment of man to woman was regarded as a natural impulse, and as a domestic, social, sentiment; yet as belonging to a common-place rather than to an exalted mind, and seldom or never rising to that pitch of enthusiasm which overpowers all other emotions, absorbs the whole man, and aims either at the joint performance of great exploits or the joint prosecution of intellectual improvement by continued colloquy. We must remember that the wives and daughters of citizens were seldom seen abroad: that the wife was married very young: that she had learnt nothing except spinning and weaving: that the fact of her having seen as little and heard as little as possible, was considered as rendering her more acceptable to her husband:2 that her sphere of duty and exertion was confined to the interior of the family. The beauty of women yielded satisfaction to the senses, but little beyond. It was the masculine beauty of youth that fired the Hellenic imagination with glowing and impassioned sentiment. The finest youths, and those too of the best families and education, were seen habitually uncovered in the Palæstra and at the public festival-matches; engaged in active contention and graceful exercise, under the direction of professional trainers. The sight of the living form, in such perfection, movement, and variety, awakened a powerful emotional sympathy, blended with aesthetic sentiment, which in the more susceptible natures was exalted into intense and passionate devotion. The terms in which this feeling is described, both by Plato and Xenophon, are among the strongest which the language affords — and are predicated even of Sokrates himself. Far from being ashamed of the feeling, they consider it admirable and beneficial; though very liable to abuse, which they emphatically denounce and forbid.3 In their view, it was an idealising passion, which tended to raise a man above the vulgar and selfish pursuits of life, and even above the fear of death. The devoted attachments which it inspired were dreaded by the despots, who forbade the assemblage of youths for exercise in the palæstra.4

All men love Good, as the means of Happiness, but they pursue it by various means. The name Eros is confined to one special case of this large variety.

Especially to Plato, who combined erotic and poetical imagination with Sokratic dialectics and generalising theory — this passion presented itself in the light of a stimulus introductory to the work of philosophy — an impulse at first impetuous and undistinguishing, but afterwards regulated towards improving communion and colloquy with an improvable youth. Personal beauty (this is5 the remarkable doctrine of Plato in the Phædrus) is the main point of visible resemblance between the world of sense and the world of Ideas: the Idea of Beauty has a brilliant representative of itself among concrete objects — the Ideas of Justice and Temperance have none. The contemplation of a beautiful youth, and the vehement emotion accompanying it, was the only way of reviving in the soul the Idea of Beauty which it had seen in its antecedent stage of existence. This was the first stage through which every philosopher must pass; but the emotion of love thus raised, became gradually in the better minds both expanded and purified. The lover did not merely admire the person, but also contracted the strongest sympathy with the feelings and character, of the beloved youth: delighting to recognise and promote in him all manifestations of mental beauty which were in harmony with the physical, so as to raise him to the greatest attainable perfection of human nature. The original sentiment of admiration, having been thus first transferred by association from beauty in the person to beauty in the mind and character, became gradually still farther generalised; so that beauty was perceived not as exclusively specialised in any one individual, but as invested in all beautiful objects, bodies as well as minds. The view would presently be farther enlarged. The like sentiment would be inspired, so as to worship beauty in public institutions, in administrative arrangements, in arts and sciences. And the mind would at last be exalted to the contemplation of that which pervades and gives common character to all these particulars — Beauty in the abstract — or the Self-Beautiful — the Idea or Form of the Beautiful. To reach this highest summit, after mounting all the previous stages, and to live absorbed in the contemplation of “the great ocean of the beautiful,” was the most glorious privilege attainable by any human being. It was indeed attainable only by a few highly gifted minds. But others might make more or less approach to it: and the nearer any one approached, the greater measure would he ensure to himself of real good and happiness.6

Desire of mental copulation and procreation, as the only attainable likeness of immortality, requires the sight of personal beauty as an originating stimulus.

Such is Plato’s conception of Eros or Love and its object. He represents it as one special form or variety of the universal law of gravitation pervading all mankind. Every one loves, desires, or aspires to happiness: this is the fundamental or primordial law of human nature, beyond which we cannot push enquiry. Good, or good things, are nothing else but the means to happiness:7 accordingly, every man, loving happiness, loves good also, and desires not only full acquisition, but perpetual possession of good. In this wide sense, love belongs to all human beings: every man loves good and happiness, with perpetual possession of them — and nothing else.8 But different men have different ways of pursuing this same object. One man aspires to good or happiness by way of money-getting, another by way of ambition, a third by gymnastics — or music — or philosophy. Still no one of these is said to love, or to be under the influence of Eros. That name is reserved exclusively for one special variety of it — the impulse towards copulation, generation, and self-perpetuation, which agitates both bodies and minds throughout animal nature. Desiring perpetual possession of good, all men desire to perpetuate themselves, and to become immortal. But an individual man or animal cannot be immortal: he can only attain a quasi-immortality by generating a new individual to replace himself.9 In fact even mortal life admits no continuity, but is only a succession of distinct states or phenomena: one always disappearing and another always appearing, each generated by its antecedent and generating its consequent. Though a man from infancy to old age is called the same, yet he never continues the same for two moments together, either in body or mind. As his blood, flesh, bones, &c., are in perpetual disappearance and renovation, always coming and going — so likewise are his sensations, thoughts, emotions, dispositions, cognitions, &c. Neither mentally nor physically does he ever continue the same during successive instants. The old man of this instant perishes and is replaced by a new man during the next.10 As this is true of the individual, so it is still more true of the species: continuance or immortality is secured only by perpetual generation of new individuals.

Highest exaltation of the erotic impulse in a few privileged minds, when it ascends gradually to the love of Beauty in genere. This is the most absorbing sentiment of all.

The love of immortality thus manifests itself in living beings through the copulative and procreative impulse, which so powerfully instigates living man in mind as well as in body. Beauty in another person exercises an attractive force which enables this impulse to be gratified: ugliness on the contrary repels and stifles it. Hence springs the love of beauty — or rather, of procreation in the beautiful — whereby satisfaction is obtained for this restless and impatient agitation.11 With some, this erotic impulse stimulates the body, attracting them towards women, and inducing them to immortalise themselves by begetting children: with others, it acts far more powerfully on the mind, and determines them to conjunction with another mind for the purpose of generating appropriate mental offspring and products. In this case as well as in the preceding, the first stroke of attraction arises from the charm of physical, visible, and youthful beauty: but when, along with this beauty of person, there is found the additional charm of a susceptible, generous, intelligent mind, the effect produced by the two together is overwhelming; the bodily sympathy becoming spiritualised and absorbed by the mental. With the inventive and aspiring intelligences — poets like Homer and Hesiod, or legislators like Lykurgus and Solon — the erotic impulse takes this turn. They look about for some youth, at once handsome and improvable, in conversation with whom they may procreate new reasonings respecting virtue and goodness — new excellences of disposition — and new force of intellectual combination, in both the communicants. The attachment between the two becomes so strong that they can hardly live apart: so anxious are both of them to foster and confirm the newly acquired mental force of which each is respectively conscious in himself.12

Purpose of the Symposion, to contrast this Platonic view of Eros with several different views of it previously enunciated by the other speakers; closing with a panegyric on Sokrates, by the drunken Alkibiades.

Occasionally, and in a few privileged natures, this erotic impulse rises to a still higher exaltation, losing its separate and exclusive attachment to one individual person, and fastening upon beauty in general, or that which all beautiful persons and beautiful minds have in common. The visible charm of beautiful body, though it was indispensable as an initial step, comes to be still farther sunk and undervalued, when the mind has ascended to the contemplation of beauty in genere, not merely in bodies and minds, but in laws, institutions, and sciences. This is the highest pitch of philosophical love, to which a few minds only are competent, and that too by successive steps of ascent: but which, when attained, is thoroughly soul-satisfying. If any man’s vision be once sharpened so that he can see beauty pure and absolute, he will have no eyes for the individual manifestations of it in gold, fine raiment, brilliant colours, or beautiful youths.13 Herein we have the climax or consummation of that erotic aspiration which first shows itself in the form of virtuous attachment to youth.14

Views of Eros presented by Phædrus, Pausanias, Eryximachus, Aristophanes, Agathon.

Views of Eros presented by Phædrus, Pausanias, Eryximachus, Aristophanes, Agathon.

Discourse of Sokrates from revelation of Diotima. He describes Eros as not a God, but an intermediate Dæmon between Gods and men, constantly aspiring to divinity, but not attaining it.

Analogy of the erotic aspiration with that of the philosopher, who knows his own ignorance and thirsts for knowledge.

Sokrates treats most of the preceding panegyrics as pleasing fancies not founded in truth. In his representation (cited from Diotima) Eros is neither beautiful, nor good, nor happy; nor is he indeed a God at all. He is one of the numerous intermediate body of Dæmons, inferior to Gods yet superior to men, and serving as interpreting agents of communication between the two.19 Eros is the offspring of Poverty and Resource (Porus).20 He represents the state of aspiration and striving, with ability and energy, after goodness and beauty, but never actually possessing them: a middle condition, preferable to that of the person who neither knows that he is deficient in them, nor cares to possess them: but inferior to the condition of him who is actually in possession. Eros is always Love of something — in relation to something yet unattained, but desired: Eros is to be distinguished carefully from the object desired.21 He is the parallel of the philosopher, who is neither ignorant nor wise: not ignorant, because genuine ignorance is unconscious of itself and fancies itself to be knowledge: not wise, because he does not possess wisdom, and is well aware that he does not possess it. He is in the intermediate stage, knowing that he does not possess wisdom, but constantly desiring it and struggling after it. Eros, like philosophy, represents this continual aspiration and advance towards a goal never attained.22

Eros as presented in the Phædrus — Discourse of Lysias, and counter-discourse of Sokrates, adverse to Eros — Sokrates is seized with remorse, and recants in a high-flown panegyric on Eros.

Eros as presented in the Phædrus — Discourse of Lysias, and counter-discourse of Sokrates, adverse to Eros — Sokrates is seized with remorse, and recants in a high-flown panegyric on Eros.

Panegyric — Sokrates admits that the influence of Eros is a variety of madness, but distinguishes good and bad varieties of madness, both coming from the Gods. Good madness is far better than sobriety.

Poetical mythe delivered by Sokrates, describing the immortality and pre-existence of the soul, and its pre-natal condition of partial companionship with Gods and eternal Ideas.

Eros (he says) is, mad, irrational, superseding reason and prudence in the individual mind.27 This is true: yet still Eros exercises a beneficent and improving influence. Not all madness is bad. Some varieties of it are bad, but others are good. Some arise from human malady, others from the inspirations of the Gods: both of them supersede human reason and the orthodoxy of established custom28 — but the former substitute what is worse, the latter what is better. The greatest blessings enjoyed by man arise from madness, when it is imparted by divine inspiration. And it is so imparted in four different phases and by four different Gods: Apollo infuses the prophetic madness — Dionysus, the ritual or religious — The Muses, the poetical — and Eros, the erotic.29 This last sort of madness greatly transcends the sober reason and concentration upon narrow objects which is so much praised by mankind generally.30 The inspired and exalted lover deserves every preference over the unimpassioned friend.

Operation of such pre-natal experience upon the Intellectual faculties of man — Comparison and combination of particular sensations indispensable — Reminiscence.

Plato then illustrates, by a highly poetical and imaginative mythe, the growth and working of love in the soul. All soul or mind is essentially self-moving, and the cause of motion to other things. It is therefore immortal, without beginning or end: the universal or cosmic soul, as well as the individual souls of Gods and men.31 Each soul may be compared to a chariot with a winged pair of horses. In the divine soul, both the horses are excellent, with perfect wings: in the human soul, one only of them is good, the other is violent and rebellious, often disobedient to the charioteer, and with feeble or half-grown wings.32 The Gods, by means of their wings, are enabled to ascend up to the summit of the celestial firmament — to place themselves upon the outer circumference or back of the heaven — and thus to be carried round along with the rotation of the celestial sphere round the Earth. In the course of this rotation they contemplate the pure essences and Ideas, truth and reality without either form or figure or colour: they enjoy the vision of the Absolute — Justice, Temperance, Beauty, Science. The human souls, with their defective wings, try to accompany the Gods; some attaching themselves to one God, some to another, in this ascent. But many of them fail in the object, being thrown back upon earth in consequence of their defective equipment, and the unruly character of one of the horses: some however succeed partially, obtaining glimpses of Truth and of the general Ideas, though in a manner transient and incomplete.

Reminiscence is kindled up in the soul of the philosopher by the aspect of visible Beauty, which is the great link between the world of sense and the world of Ideas.

Reminiscence is kindled up in the soul of the philosopher by the aspect of visible Beauty, which is the great link between the world of sense and the world of Ideas.

Elevating influence ascribed, both in Phædrus and Symposion, to Eros Philosophus. Mixture in the mind of Plato, of poetical fancy and religious mysticism, with dialectic theory.

Such is the general tenor of the dialogue Phædrus, in its first half: which presents to us the Platonic love, conceived as the source and mainspring of exalted virtue — as the only avenue to philosophy — as contrasted, not merely with sensual love, but also with the sobriety of the decent citizen who fully conforms to the teaching of Law and Custom. In the Symposion, the first of these contrasts appears prominently, while the second is less noticed. In the Phædrus, Sokrates declares emphatically that madness, of a certain sort, is greatly preferable to sobriety: that the temperate, respectable, orthodox citizen, is on the middle line, some madmen being worse than he, but others better: that madness springing from human distemper is worse, but that when it springs from divine inspiration, it is in an equal degree better, than sobriety: that the philosophical œstrus, and the reminiscence of the eternal Ideas (considered by Plato as the only true and real Entia), is inconsistent with that which is esteemed as sobriety: and is generated only by special inoculation from Eros or some other God. This last contrast, as I have just observed, is little marked in the Symposion. But on the other hand, the Symposion (especially the discourse of Sokrates and his repetition of the lessons of Diotima), insists much more upon the generalisation of the erotic impulse. In the Phædrus, we still remain on the ground of fervent attachment between two individuals — an attachment sentimental and virtuous, displaying itself in an intercourse which elicits from both of them active intelligence and exalted modes of conduct: in the Symposion, such intercourse is assimilated explicitly to copulation with procreative consequences, but it is represented as the first stage of a passion which becomes more and more expanded and comprehensive: dropping all restriction to any single individual, and enlarging itself not merely to embrace pursuits, and institutions, but also to the plenitude and great ocean of Beauty in its largest sense.

Differences between Symposion and Phædrus. In-dwelling conceptions assumed by the former, pre-natal experiences by the latter.

The picture here presented by Plato, of the beneficent and elevating influence of Eros Philosophus, is repeated by Sokrates as a revelation made to him by the prophetess Diotima. It was much taken to heart by the Neo-Platonists.36 It is a striking manifestation of the Platonic characteristics: transition from amorous impulse to religious and philosophical mysticism — implication of poetical fancy with the conception of the philosophising process — surrender of the mind to metaphor and analogy, which is real up to a certain point, but is forcibly stretched and exaggerated to serve the theorising purpose of the moment. Now we may observe, that the worship of youthful masculine beauty, and the belief that contemplation of such a face and form was an operative cause, not only raising the admiration but also quickening the intelligence of the adult spectator, and serving as a provocative to instructive dialogue — together with a decided attempt to exalt the spiritual side of this influence and depreciate the sensual — both these are common to Plato with Sokrates and Xenophon. But what is peculiar to Plato is, that he treats this merely as an initial point to spring from, and soars at once into the region of abstractions, until he gets clear of all particulars and concomitants, leaving nothing except Beauty Absolute — τὸ Καλὸν — τὸ αὐτὸ-καλὸν — the “full sea of the beautiful”. Not without reason does Diotima express a doubt whether Sokrates (if we mean thereby the historical Sokrates) could have followed so bold a flight. His wings might probably have failed and dropped him: as we read in the Phædrus respecting the unprepared souls who try to rise aloft in company with the Gods. Plato alone is the true Dædalus equal to this flight, borne up by wings not inferior to those of Pindar37 — according to the comparison of Dionysius of Halikarnassus.

Nothing but metaphorical immortality recognised in Symposion.

Form or Idea of Beauty presented singly and exclusively in Symposion.

Secondly, in the Phædrus and Phædon, the soul is declared to be immortal, à parte post as well as à parte ante. But in the Symposion, this is affirmed to be impossible.38 The soul yearns for, but is forbidden to reach, immortality: or at least can only reach immortality in a metaphorical sense, by its prolific operation — by generating in itself as long as it lasts, and in other minds who will survive it, a self-renewing series of noble thoughts and feelings — by leaving a name and reputation to survive in the memory of others.

Eros recognised, both in Phædrus and Symposion, as affording the initiatory stimulus to philosophy — Not so recognised in Phædon, Theætêtus, and elsewhere.

Concluding scene and speech of Alkibiades in the Symposion — Behaviour of Sokrates to Alkibiades and other handsome youths.

Concluding scene and speech of Alkibiades in the Symposion — Behaviour of Sokrates to Alkibiades and other handsome youths.

Perfect self-command of Sokrates — proof against every sort of trial.

In the strange scene with which the Symposion is wound up, the main purpose of the dialogue is still farther worked out. The spirit and ethical character of Eros Philosophus, after having been depicted in general terms by Diotima, are specially exemplified in the personal history of Sokrates, as recounted and appreciated by Alkibiades. That handsome, high-born, and insolent youth, being in a complete state of intoxication, breaks in unexpectedly upon the company, all of whom are as yet sober: he enacts the part of a drunken man both in speech and action, which is described with a vivacity that would do credit to any dramatist. His presence is the signal for beginning to drink hard, and he especially challenges Sokrates to drink off, after him, as much wine as will fill the large water-vessel serving as cooler; which challenge Sokrates forthwith accepts and executes, without being the least affected by it. Alkibiades instead of following the example of the others by delivering an encomium on Eros, undertakes to deliver one upon Sokrates. He proceeds to depict Sokrates as the votary of Eros Philosophus, wrapped up in the contemplation of beautiful youths, and employing his whole time in colloquy with them — yet as never losing his own self-command, even while acquiring a magical ascendency over these companions.40 The abnormal exterior of Sokrates, resembling that of a Satyr, though concealing the image of a God within — the eccentric pungency of his conversation, blending banter with seriousness, homely illustrations with impressive principles — has exercised an influence at once fascinating, subjugating, humiliating. The impudent Alkibiades has been made to feel painfully his own unworthiness, even while receiving every mark of admiration from others. He has become enthusiastically devoted to Sokrates, whom he has sought to attach to himself, and to lay under obligation, by tempting offers of every kind. The details of these offers are given with a fulness which cannot be translated to modern readers, and which even then required to be excused as the revelations of a drunken man. They present one of the boldest fictions in the Greek language — if we look at them in conjunction with the real character of Alkibiades as an historical person.41 Sokrates is found proof against every variety of temptation, however seductive to Grecian feeling. In his case, Eros Philosophus maintains his dignity as exclusively pure, sentimental, and spiritual: while Alkibiades retires more humiliated than ever. We are given to understand that the like offers had been made to Sokrates by many other handsome youths also — especially by Charmides and Euthydemus — all of them being treated with the same quiet and repellent indifference.42 Sokrates had kept on the vantage-ground as regards all:— and was regarded by all with the same mixture of humble veneration and earnest attachment.

Drunkenness of others at the close of the Symposion — Sokrates is not affected by it, but continues his dialectic process.

Not merely upon this point but upon others also, Alkibiades recounts anecdotes of the perfect self-mastery of Sokrates: in endurance of cold, heat, hunger, and fatigue — in contempt of the dangers of war, in bravery on the day of battle — even in the power of bearing more wine than any one else, without being intoxicated, whenever the occasion was such as to require him to drink: though he never drank much willingly. While all his emotions are thus described as under the full control of Reason and Eros Philosophus — his special gift and privilege was that of conversation — not less eccentric in manner, than potent, soul-subduing,43 and provocative in its effects.

Symposion and Phædon — each is the antithesis and complement of the other.

After the speech of Alkibiades is concluded, the close of the banquet is described by the primary narrator. He himself, with Agathon and Aristophanes, and several other fresh revellers, continue to drink wine until all of them become dead drunk. While Phædrus, Eryximachus, and others retire, Sokrates remains. His competency to bear the maximum of wine without being disturbed by it, is tested to the full. Although he had before, in acceptance of the challenge of Alkibiades, swallowed the contents of the wine cooler, he nevertheless continues all the night to drink wine in large bowls, along with the rest. All the while, however, he goes on debating his ordinary topics, even though no one is sufficiently sober to attend to him. His companions successively fall asleep, and at day-break, he finds himself the only person sober,44 except Aristodemus (the narrator of the whole scene), who has recently waked after a long sleep. Sokrates quits the house of Agathon, with unclouded senses and undiminished activity — bathes — and then visits the gymnasium at the Lykeion; where he passes all the day in his usual abundant colloquy.45

Symposion of Plato compared with that of Xenophon.

Small proportion of the serious, in the Xenophontic Symposion.

The Symposion of Plato affords also an interesting subject of comparison with that of his contemporary Xenophon, as to points of agreement as well as of difference.48 Xenophon states in the beginning that he intends to describe what passed in a scene where he himself was present; because he is of opinion that the proceedings of excellent men, in hours of amusement, are not less worthy of being recorded than those of their serious hours. Both Plato and Xenophon take for their main subject a festive banquet, destined to celebrate the success of a young man in a competitive struggle. In Plato, the success is one of mind and genius — Agathon has gained the prize of tragedy: in Xenophon, it is one of bodily force and skill — Autolykus victor in the pankration. The Symposion of Xenophon differs from that of Plato, in the same manner as the Memorabilia of Xenophon generally differ from the Sokratic dialogues of Plato — that is, by approaching much nearer to common life and reality. It describes a banquet such as was likely enough to take place, with the usual accompaniments — a professional jester, and a Syracusan ballet-master who brings with him a dancing-girl, a girl to play on the flute and harp, and a handsome youth. These artists contribute to the amusement of the company by music, dancing, throwing up balls and catching them again, jumping into and out of a circle of swords. All this would have occurred at an ordinary banquet: here, it is accompanied and followed by remarks of pleasantry, buffoonery and taunt, interchanged between the guests. Nearly all the guests take part, more or less: but Sokrates is made the prominent figure throughout. He repudiates the offer of scented unguents: but he recommends the drinking of wine, though moderately, and in small cups. The whole company are understood to be somewhat elevated with wine, but not one of them becomes intoxicated. Sokrates not only talks as much fun as the rest, but even sings, and speaks of learning to dance, jesting on his own corpulence.49 Most part of the scene is broad farce, in the manner, though not with all the humour, of Aristophanes.50 The number and variety of the persons present is considerable, greater than in most of the Aristophanic plays.51 Kallias, Lykon, Autolykus, Sokrates, Antisthenes, Hermogenes, Nikeratus, Kritobulus, have each his own peculiarity: and a certain amount of vivacity and amusement arises from the way in which each of them is required, at the challenge of Sokrates, to declare on what it is that he most prides himself. Sokrates himself carries the burlesque farther than any of them; pretending to be equal in personal beauty to Kritobulus, and priding himself upon the function of a pander, which he professes to exercise. Antisthenes, however, is offended, when Sokrates fastens upon him a similar function: but the latter softens the meaning of the term so as to appease him. In general, each guest is made to take pride in something the direct reverse of that which really belongs to him; and to defend his thesis in a strain of humorous parody. Antisthenes, for example, boasts of his wealth. The Syracusan ballet-master is described as jealous of Sokrates, and as addressing to him some remarks of offensive rudeness; which Sokrates turns off, and even begins to sing, for the purpose of preventing confusion and ill-temper from spreading among the company:52 while he at the same time gives prudent advice to the Syracusan about the exhibitions likely to be acceptable.

Platonic Symposion more ideal and transcendental than the Xenophontic.

The Xenophontic Symposion closes with a pantomimic scene of Dionysus and Ariadnê as lovers represented (at the instance of Sokrates) by the Syracusan ballet-master and his staff. This is described as an exciting spectacle to most of the hearers, married as well as unmarried, who retire with agreeable emotions. Sokrates himself departs with Lykon and Kallias, to be present at the exercise of Autolykus.55

Second half of the Phædrus — passes into a debate on Rhetoric. Eros is considered as a subject for rhetorical exercise.

We see thus that the Platonic Symposion is much more ideal, and departs farther from common practice and sentiment, than the Xenophontic. It discards all the common accessories of a banquet (musical or dancing artists), and throws the guests altogether upon their own powers of rhetoric and dialectic, for amusement. If we go through the different encomiums upon Eros, by Phædrus, Pausanias, Eryximachus, Aristophanes, Agathon, Diotima — we shall appreciate the many-coloured forms and exuberance of the Platonic imagination, as compared with the more restricted range and common-place practical sense of Xenophon.56 All the Platonic speakers are accomplished persons — a man of letters, a physician, two successful poets, a prophetess: the Xenophontic personages, except Sokrates and Antisthenes, are persons of ordinary capacity. The Platonic Symposion, after presenting Eros in five different points of view, gives pre-eminence and emphasis to a sixth, in which Eros is regarded as the privileged minister and conductor to the mysteries of philosophy, both the lowest and the highest: the Xenophontic Symposion dwells upon one view only of Eros (developed by Sokrates) and cites Kallias as example of it, making no mention of philosophy. The Platonic Symposion exalts Sokrates, as the representative of Eros Philosophus, to a pinnacle of elevation which places him above human fears and weaknesses57 — coupled however with that eccentricity which makes the vulgar regard a philosopher as out of his mind: the Xenophontic Symposion presents him only as a cheerful, amiable companion, advising temperance, yet enjoying a convivial hour, and contributing more than any one else to the general hilarity.

Lysias is called a logographer by active politicians. Contempt conveyed by the word. Sokrates declares that the only question is, Whether a man writes well or ill.

I have already stated that the first half of the Phædrus differs materially from the second; and that its three discourses on the subject of Eros (the first two depreciating Eros, the third being an effusion of high-flown and poetical panegyric on the same theme) may be better understood by being looked at in conjunction with the Symposion. The second half of the Phædrus passes into a different discussion, criticising the discourse of Lysias as a rhetorical composition: examining the principles upon which the teaching of Rhetoric as an Art either is founded, or ought to be founded: and estimating the efficacy of written discourse generally, as a means of working upon or instructing other minds.

Question about teaching the art of writing well or speaking well. Can it be taught upon system or principle? Or does the successful Rhetor succeed only by unsystematic knack?.

Question about teaching the art of writing well or speaking well. Can it be taught upon system or principle? Or does the successful Rhetor succeed only by unsystematic knack?.

Theory of Sokrates — that all art of persuasion must be founded upon a knowledge of the truth, and of gradations of resemblance to the truth.

Comparison made by Sokrates between the discourse of Lysias and his own. Eros is differently understood: Sokrates defined what he meant by it: Lysias did not define.

He may persuade the people under these circumstances (replies Sokrates), but if he does so, it will be to their misfortune and to his own. He ought to know the real truth — not merely what the public whom he addresses believe to be the truth — respecting just and unjust, good and evil, &c. There can be no genuine art of speaking, which is not founded upon knowledge of the truth, and upon adequate philosophical comprehension of the subject-matter.63 The rhetorical teachers take too narrow a view of rhetoric, when they confine it to public harangues addressed to the assembly or to the Dikastery. Rhetoric embraces all guidance of the mind through words, whether in public harangue or private conversation, on matters important or trivial. Whether it be a controversy between two litigants in a Dikastery, causing the Dikasts to regard the same matters now as being just and good, presently as being unjust and evil: or between two dialecticians like Zeno, who could make his hearers view the same subjects as being both like and unlike — both one and many — both in motion and at rest: in either case the art (if there be any art) and its principles are the same. You ought to assimilate every thing to every thing, in all cases where assimilation is possible: if your adversary assimilates in like manner, concealing the process from his hearers, you must convict and expose his proceedings. Now the possibility or facility of deception in this way will depend upon the extent of likeness between things. If there be much real likeness, deception is easy, and one of them may easily be passed off as the other: if there be little likeness, deception will be difficult. An extensive acquaintance with the real resemblances of things, or in other words with truth, constitutes the necessary basis on which all oratorical art must proceed.64

Logical processes — Definition and Division — both of them exemplified in the two discourses of Sokrates.

View of Sokrates — that there is no real Art of Rhetoric, except what is already comprised in Dialectic — The rhetorical teaching is empty and useless.

Farthermore, in the two discourses of Sokrates, not merely was the process of logical definition exemplified in the case of Eros — but also the process of logical division, in the case of Madness or Irrationality. This last extensive genus was divided first into two species — Madness, from human distemper — Madness, from divine inspiration, carrying a man out of the customary orthodoxy.67 Next, this last species was again divided into four branches or sub-species, according to the God from whom the inspiration proceeded, and according to the character of the inspiration — the prophetic, emanating from Apollo — the ritual or mystic, from Dionysus — the poetic, from the Muses — the amatory, from Eros and Aphroditê.68 Now both these processes, definition and division, are familiar to the true dialectician or philosopher: but they are not less essential in rhetoric also, if the process is performed with genuine art. The speaker ought to embrace in his view many particular cases, to gather together what is common to all, and to combine them into one generic concept, which is to be embodied in words as the definition. He ought also to perform the counter-process: to divide the genus not into parts arbitrary and incoherent (like a bad cook cutting up an animal without regard to the joints) but into legitimate species;69 each founded on some positive and assignable characteristic. “It is these divisions and combinations (says Sokrates) to which I am devotedly attached, in order that I may become competent for thought and discourse: and if there be any one else whom I consider capable of thus contemplating the One and the Many as they stand in nature — I follow in the footsteps of that man as in those of a God. I call such a man, rightly or wrongly, a Dialectician.”70

What the Art of Rhetoric ought to be — Analogy of Hippokrates and the medical Art.

What else is there worth having (says Sokrates), which these professors teach? The order and distribution of a discourse: first, the exordium, then recital, proof, second proof, refutation, recapitulation at the close: advice how to introduce maxims or similes: receipts for moving the anger or compassion of the dikasts. Such teaching doubtless enables a speaker to produce considerable effect upon popular assemblies:71 but it is not the art of rhetoric. It is an assemblage of preliminary accomplishments, necessary before a man can acquire the art: but it is not the art itself. You must know when, how far, in what cases, and towards what persons, to employ these accomplishments:72 otherwise you have not learnt the art of rhetoric. You may just as well consider yourself a physician because you know how to bring about vomit and purging — or a musician, because you know how to wind up or unwind the chords of your lyre. These teachers mistake the preliminaries or antecedents of the art, for the art itself. It is in the right, measured, seasonable, combination and application of these preliminaries, in different doses adapted to each special matter and audience — that the art of rhetoric consists. And this is precisely the thing which the teacher does not teach, but supposes the learner to acquire for himself.73

Art of Rhetoric ought to include a systematic classification of minds with all their varieties, and of discourses with all their varieties. The Rhetor must know how to apply the one to the other, suitably to each particular case.

The true art of rhetoric (continues Sokrates) embraces a larger range than these teachers imagine. It deals with mind, as the medical researches of Hippokrates deal with body — as a generic total with all its species and varieties, and as essentially relative to the totality of external circumstances. First, Hippokrates investigates how far the body is, in every particular man, simple, homogeneous, uniform: and how far it is complex, heterogeneous, multiform, in the diversity of individuals. If it be one and the same, or in so far as it is one and the same, he examines what are its properties in relation to each particular substance acting upon it or acted upon by it. In so far as it is multiform and various, he examines and compares each of the different varieties, in the same manner, to ascertain its properties in relation to every substance.74 It is in this way that Hippokrates discovers the nature or essence of the human body, distinguishing its varieties, and bringing the medical art to bear upon each, according to its different properties. This is the only scientific or artistic way of proceeding.

The Rhetorical Artist must farther become possessed of real truth, as well as that which his auditors believe to be truth. He is not sufficiently rewarded for this labour.

The Rhetorical Artist must farther become possessed of real truth, as well as that which his auditors believe to be truth. He is not sufficiently rewarded for this labour.

Question about Writing — As an Art, for the purpose of instruction, it can do little — Reasons why. Writing may remind the reader of what he already knows.

Neither written words, nor continuous speech, will produce any serious effect in teaching. Dialectic and cross-examination are necessary.

We have now determined what goes to constitute genuine art, in speaking or in writing. But how far is writing, even when art is applied to it, capable of producing real and permanent effect? or indeed of having art applied to it at all? Sokrates answers himself — Only to a small degree. Writing will impart amusement and satisfaction for the moment: it will remind the reader of something which he knew before, if he really did know. But in respect to any thing which he did not know before, it will neither teach nor persuade him: it may produce in him an impression or fancy that he is wiser than he was before, but such impression is illusory, and at best only transient. Writing is like painting — one and the same to all readers, whether young or old, well or ill informed. It cannot adapt itself to the different state of mind of different persons, as we have declared that every finished speaker ought to do. It cannot answer questions, supply deficiencies, reply to objections, rectify misunderstanding. It is defenceless against all assailants. It supersedes and enfeebles the memory, implanting only a false persuasion of knowledge without the reality.80

The Dialectician and Cross-Examiner is the only man who can really teach. If the writer can do this, he is more than a writer.

From the pen of Isokrates also, we find various passages apparently directed against the viri Socratici including Plato (though without his name): depreciating,91 as idle and worthless, new political theories, analytical discussions on the principles of ethics, and dialectic subtleties; maintaining that the word philosophy was erroneously interpreted and defined by many contemporaries, in a sense too much withdrawn from practical results: and affirming that his own teaching was calculated to impart genuine philosophy. During the last half of Plato’s life, his school and that of Isokrates were the most celebrated among all that existed at Athens. There was competition between them, gradually kindling into rivalry. Such rivalry became vehement during the last ten years of Plato’s life, when his scholar Aristotle, then an aspiring young man of twenty-five, proclaimed a very contemptuous opinion of Isokrates, and commenced a new school of rhetoric in opposition to him.92 Kephisodôrus, a pupil of Isokrates, retaliated; publishing against Aristotle, as well as against Plato, an acrimonious work which was still read some centuries afterwards. Theopompus, another eminent pupil of Isokrates, commented unfavourably upon Plato in his writings: and other writers who did the same may probably have belonged to the Isokratean school.93

Lysias is only a logographer: Isokrates promises to become a philosopher.

This is the true philosopher (continues Sokrates) — the man who alone is competent to teach truth about the just, good, and honourable.94 He who merely writes, must not delude himself with the belief that upon these important topics his composition can impart any clear or lasting instruction. To mistake fancy for reality hereupon, is equally disgraceful, whether the mistake be made by few or by many persons. If indeed the writer can explain to others orally the matters written — if he can answer all questions, solve difficulties, and supply the deficiencies, of each several reader — in that case he is something far more and better than a writer, and ought to be called a philosopher. But if he can do no more than write, he is no philosopher: he is only a poet, or nomographer, or logographer.95

Date of the Phædrus — not an early dialogue.

Criticism given by Plato on the three discourses — His theory of Rhetoric is more Platonic than Sokratic.

His theory postulates, in the Rhetor, knowledge already assured — it assumes that all the doubts have been already removed.

The written discourse of Lysias (presented to us as one greatly admired at the time by his friends, Phædrus among them) is contrasted first with a pleading on the same subject (though not directed towards the attainment of the same end) by Sokrates (supposed to be improvised on the occasion); next with a second pleading of Sokrates directly opposed to the former, and intended as a recantation. These three discourses are criticised from the rhetorical point of view,97 and are made the handle for introducing to us a theory of rhetoric. The second discourse of Sokrates, far from being Sokratic in tenor, is the most exuberant effusion of mingled philosophy, poetry, and mystic theology, that ever emanated from Plato.

The Expositor, with knowledge and logical process, teaches minds unoccupied and willing to learn.

The Rhetor does not teach, but persuades persons with minds pre-occupied — guiding them methodically from error to truth.

Thus far we are in dialectic: logical exposition proceeding by way of classifying and declassifying: in which it is assumed that the expositor will find minds unoccupied and unprejudiced, ready to welcome the truth when he lays it before them. But there are many topics on which men’s minds are, in the common and natural course of things, both pre-occupied and dissentient with each other. This is especially the case with Justice, Goodness, the Honourable, &c.101 It is one of the first requisites for the expositor to be able to discriminate this class of topics, where error and discordance grow up naturally among those whom he addresses. It is here that men are liable to be deceived, and require to be undeceived — contradict each other, and argue on opposite sides: such disputes belong to the province of Rhetoric.

He must then classify the minds to be persuaded, and the means of persuasion or varieties of discourse. He must know how to fit on the one to the other in each particular case.

The Rhetor is one who does not teach (according to the logical process previously described), but persuades; guiding the mind by discourse to or from various opinions or sentiments.102 Now if this is to be done by art and methodically — that is, upon principle or system explicable and defensible — it pre-supposes (according to Plato) a knowledge of truth, and can only be performed by the logical expositor. For when men are deceived, it is only because they mistake what is like truth for truth itself: when they are undeceived, it is because they are made to perceive that what they believe to be truth is only an apparent likeness thereof. Such resemblances are strong or faint, differing by many gradations. Now no one can detect, or bring into account, or compare, these shades of resemblance, except he who knows the truth to which they all ultimately refer. It is through the slight differences that deception is operated. To deceive a man, you must carry him gradually away from the truth by transitional stages, each resembling that which immediately precedes, though the last in the series will hardly at all resemble the first: to undeceive him (or to avoid being deceived yourself), you must conduct him back by the counter-process from error to truth, by a series of transitional resemblances tending in that direction. You cannot do this like an artist (on system and by pre-determination), unless you know what the truth is.103 By anyone who does not know, the process will be performed without art, or at haphazard.

Plato’s Idéal of the Rhetorical Art — involves in part incompatible conditions — the Wise man or philosopher will never be listened to by the public.

The other part of the Platonic Idéal is grand but unattainable — breadth of psychological data and classified modes of discourse.

The total, thus summed up by Plato, of what is necessary to constitute an Art of Rhetoric, is striking and comprehensive. It is indeed an idéal, not merely unattainable by reason of its magnitude, but also including impracticable conditions. He begins by postulating a perfectly wise man, who knows all truth on the most important social subjects; on which his country-men hold erroneous beliefs, just as sincerely as he holds his true beliefs. But Plato has already told us, in the Gorgias, that such a person will not be listened to: that in order to address auditors with effect, the rhetor must be in genuine harmony of belief and character with them, not dissenting from them either for the better or the worse: nay, that the true philosopher (so we read in one of the most impressive portions of the Republic) not only has no chance of guiding the public mind, but incurs public obloquy, and may think himself fortunate if he escapes persecution.107 The dissenter will never be allowed to be the guide of a body of orthodox believers; and is even likely enough, unless he be prudent, to become their victim. He may be permitted to lecture or discuss, in the gardens of the Academy, with a few chosen friends, and to write eloquent dialogues: but if he embodies his views in motions before the public assembly, he will find only strenuous opposition, or something worse. This view, which is powerfully set forth by Sokrates both in the Gorgias and Republic, is founded on a just appreciation of human societies: and it is moreover the basis of the Sokratic procedure — That the first step to be taken is to disabuse men’s minds of their false persuasion of knowledge — to make them conscious of ignorance — and thus to open their minds for the reception of truth. But if this be the fact, we must set aside as impracticable the postulate advanced by Sokrates here in the Phædrus — of a perfectly wise man as the employer of rhetorical artifices. Moreover I do not agree with what Sokrates is here made to lay down as the philosophy of Error:— that it derives its power of misleading from resemblance to truth. This is the case to a certain extent: but it is very incomplete as an account of the generating causes of error.

Plato’s ideal grandeur compared with the rhetorical teachers — Usefulness of these teachers for the wants of an accomplished man.

But the other portion of Plato’s sum total of what is necessary to an Art of Rhetoric, is not open to the same objection. It involves no incompatible conditions: and we can say nothing against it, except that it requires a breadth and logical command of scientific data, far greater than there is the smallest chance of attaining. That Art is an assemblage of processes, directed to a definite end, and prescribed by rules which themselves rest upon scientific data — we find first announced in the works of Plato.108 A vast amount of scientific research, both inductive and deductive, is here assumed as an indispensable foundation — and even as a portion — of what he calls the Art of Rhetoric: first, a science of psychology, complete both in its principles and details: next, an exhaustive catalogue and classification of the various modes of operative speech, with their respective impression upon each different class of minds. So prodigious a measure of scientific requirement has never yet been filled up: of course, therefore, no one has ever put together a body of precepts commensurate with it. Aristotle, following partially the large conceptions of his master, has given a comprehensive view of many among the theoretical postulates of Rhetoric; and has partially enumerated the varieties both of persuadable auditors, and of persuasive means available to the speaker for guiding them. Cicero, Dionysius of Halikarnassus, Quintilian, have furnished valuable contributions towards this last category of data, but not much towards the first: being all of them defective in breadth of psychological theory. Nor has Plato himself done anything to work out his conception in detail or to provide suitable rules for it. We read it only as an impressive sketch — a grand but unattainable idéal — “qualem nequeo monstrare et sentio tantum”.

The Rhetorical teachers conceived the Art too narrowly: Plato conceived it too widely. The principles of an Art are not required to be explained to all learners.

Indeed it seems that Plato himself regarded it as unattainable — and as only worth aiming at for the purpose of pleasing the Gods, not with any view to practical benefit, arising from either speech or action among mankind.109 This is a point to be considered, when we compare his views on Rhetoric with those of Lysias and the other rhetors, whom he here judges unfavourably and even contemptuously. The work of speech and action among mankind, which Plato sets aside as unworthy of attention, was the express object of solicitude to Lysias, Isokrates, and rhetors generally: that which they practised efficaciously themselves, and which they desired to assist, cultivate, and improve in others: that which Perikles, in his funeral oration preserved by Thucydides, represents as the pride of the Athenian people collectively110 — combination of full freedom of preliminary contentious debate, with energy in executing the resolution which might be ultimately adopted. These rhetors, by the example of their composed speeches as well as by their teaching, did much to impart to young men the power of expressing themselves with fluency and effect before auditors, either in the assembly or in the dikastery: as Sokrates here fully admits.111 Towards this purpose it was useful to analyse the constituent parts of a discourse, and to give an appropriate name to each part. Accordingly, all the rhetorical teachers (Quintilian included) continued such analysis, though differing more or less in their way of performing it, until the extinction of Pagan civilisation. Young men were taught to learn by heart regular discourses,112 — to compose the like for themselves — to understand the difference between such as were well or ill composed — and to acquire a command of oratorical means for moving or convincing the hearer. All this instruction had a practical value: though Plato, both here and elsewhere, treats it as worthless. A citizen who stood mute and embarrassed, unable to argue a case with some propriety before an audience, felt himself helpless and defective in one of the characteristic privileges of a Greek and a freeman: while one who could perform the process well, acquired much esteem and influence.113 The Platonic Sokrates in the Gorgias consoles the speechless men by saying — What does this signify, provided you are just and virtuous? Such consolation failed to satisfy: as it would fail to satisfy the sick, the lame, or the blind.

Plato includes in his conception of Art, the application thereof to new particular cases. — This can never be taught by rule.

First, it includes the whole basis of science or theory on which the Art rests: it is a Philosophy of Rhetoric, expounded by a theorist — rather than an Art of Rhetoric, taught to learners by a master. To teach the observance of certain rules or precepts is one thing: to set forth the reasons upon which those rules are founded, is another — highly important indeed, and proper to be known by the teacher; yet not necessarily communicated, or even communicable, to all learners. Quintilian, in his Institutio Rhetorica, gives both:— an ample theory, as well as an ample development of rules, of his professional teaching. But he would not have thought himself obliged to give this ample theory to all learners. With many, he would have been satisfied to make them understand the rules, and to exercise them in the ready observance thereof.

Plato’s charge against the Rhetorical teachers is not made out.

Secondly, Plato, in defining the Art of Rhetoric, includes not only its foundation of science (which, though intimately connected with it, ought not to be considered as a constituent part), but also the application of it to particular cases; which application lies beyond the province both of science and of art, and cannot be reduced to any rule. “The Rhetor” (says Plato) “must teach his pupils, not merely to observe the rules whereby persuasion is operated, but also to know the particular persons to whom those rules are to be applied — on what occasions — within what limits — at what peculiar moments, &c.114 Unless the Rhetor can teach thus much, his pretended art is no art at all: all his other teaching is of no value.” Now this is an amount of exigence which can never be realised. Neither art nor science can communicate that which Plato here requires. The rules of art, together with many different hypothetical applications thereof, may be learnt: when the scientific explanation of the rules is superadded, the learner will be assisted farther towards fresh applications: but after both these have been learnt, the new cases which will arise can never be specially foreseen. The proper way of applying the general precepts to each case must be suggested by conjecture adapted to the circumstances, under the corrections of past experience.115 It is inconsistent in Plato, after affirming that nothing deserves the name of art116 except what is general — capable of being rationally anticipated and prescribed beforehand — then to include in art the special treatment required for the multiplicity of particular cases; the analogy of the medical art, which he here instructively invokes, would be against him on this point.

Plato has not treated Lysias fairly, in neglecting his greater works, and selecting for criticism an erotic exercise for a private circle.

No fair comparison can be taken between this exercise of Lysias and the discourses delivered by Sokrates in the Phædrus.

When Plato selects, out of the very numerous discourses before him composed by Lysias, one hardly intended for any real auditors — neither deliberative, nor judicial, nor panegyrical, but an ingenious erotic paradox for a private circle of friends — this is no fair specimen of the author. Moreover Plato criticises it as if it were a philosophic exposition instead of an oratorical pleading. He complains that Lysias does not begin his discourse by defining — but neither do Demosthenes and other great orators proceed in that manner. He affirms that there is no organic structure, or necessary sequence, in the discourse, and that the sentences of it might be read in an inverted order:119 — and this remark is to a certain extent well-founded. In respect to the skilful marshalling of the different parts of a discourse, so as to give best effect to the whole, Dionysius of Halikarnassus120 declares Lysias to be inferior to some other orators — while ascribing to him marked oratorical superiority on various other points. Yet Plato, in specifying his objections against the erotic discourses of Lysias, does not show that it offends against the sound general principle which he himself lays down respecting the art of persuasion — That the topics insisted on by the persuader shall be adapted to the feelings and dispositions of the persuadend. Far from violating this principle, Lysias kept it in view, and employed it to the best of his power — as we may see, not merely by his remaining orations, but also by the testimonies of the critics:121 though he did not go through the large preliminary work of scientific classification, both of different minds and different persuasive apparatus, which Plato considers essential to a thorough comprehension and mastery of the principle.

Continuous discourse, either written or spoken, inefficacious as a means of instruction to the ignorant.

The first discourse assigned by Plato to Sokrates professes to be placed in competition with the discourse of Lysias, and to aim at the same object. But in reality it aims at a different object: it gives the dissuasive arguments, but omits the persuasive — as Phædrus is made to point out: so that it cannot be fairly compared with the discourse of Lysias. Still more may this be said respecting the second discourse of Sokrates: which is of a character and purpose so totally disparate, that no fair comparison can be taken between it and the ostensible competitor. The mixture of philosophy, mysticism, and dithyrambic poetry, which the second discourse of Sokrates presents, was considered by a rhetorical judge like Dionysius as altogether inconsistent with the scope and purpose of reasonable discourse.122 In the Menexenus, Plato has brought himself again into competition with Lysias, and there the competition is fairer:123 for Plato has there entirely neglected the exigencies enforced in the Phædrus, and has composed a funeral discourse upon the received type; which Lysias and other orators before him had followed, from Perikles downward. But in the Phædrus, Plato criticises Lysias upon principles which are a medley between philosophy and rhetoric. Lysias, in defending himself, might have taken the same ground as we find Sokrates himself taking in the Euthydêmus. “Philosophy and politics are two distinct walks, requiring different aptitudes, and having each its own practitioners. A man may take whichever he pleases; but he must not arrogate to himself superiority by an untoward attempt to join the two together.”124

Written matter is useful as a memorandum for persons who know — or as an elegant pastime.

Another important subject is also treated in the Phædrus. Sokrates delivers views both original and characteristic, respecting the efficacy of continuous discourse — either written to be read, or spoken to be heard without cross-examination — as a means of instruction. They are re-stated — in a manner substantially the same, though with some variety and fulness of illustration — in Plato’s seventh Epistle125 to the surviving friends of Dion. I have already touched upon these views in my eighth Chapter, on the Platonic Dialogues generally, and have pointed out how much Plato understood to be involved in what he termed knowledge. No man (in his view) could be said to know, who was not competent to sustain successfully, and to apply successfully, a Sokratic cross-examination. Now knowledge, involving such a competency, certainly cannot be communicated by any writing, or by any fixed and unchangeable array of words, whether written or spoken. You must familiarise learners with the subject on many different sides, and in relation to many different points of view, each presenting more or less chance of error or confusion. Moreover, you must apply a different treatment to each mind, and to the same mind at different stages: no two are exactly alike, and the treatment adapted for one will be unsuitable for the other. While it is impossible, for these reasons, to employ any set forms of words, it will be found that the process of reading or listening leaves the reader or listener comparatively passive: there is nothing to stir the depths of the mind, or to evolve the inherent forces and dormant capacities. Dialectic conversation is the only process which can adapt itself with infinite variety to each particular case and moment — and which stimulates fresh mental efforts ever renewed on the part of each respondent and each questioner. Knowledge — being a slow result generated by this stimulating operation, when skilfully conducted, long continued, and much diversified — is not infused into, but evolved out of, the mind. It consists in a revival of those unchangeable Ideas or Forms, with which the mind during its state of eternal pre-existence had had communion. There are only a few privileged minds, however, that have had sufficient communion therewith to render such revival possible: accordingly, none but these few can ever rise to knowledge.126

Plato’s didactic theories are pitched too high to be realised.

Though knowledge cannot be first communicated by written matters, yet if it has been once communicated and subsequently forgotten, it may be revived by written matters. Writing has thus a real, though secondary, usefulness, as a memorandum. And Plato doubtless accounted written dialogues the most useful of all written compositions, because they imitated portions of that long oral process whereby alone knowledge had been originally generated. His dialogues were reports of the conversations purporting to have been held by Sokrates with others.

No one has ever been found competent to solve the difficulties raised by Sokrates, Arkesilaus, Karneades, and the negative vein of philosophy.

Plato’s idéal philosopher can only be realised under the hypothesis of a pre-existent and omniscient soul, stimulated into full reminiscence here.

Such a cross-examination involved the mastery of all the openings for doubt, difficulty, deception, or refutation, bearing on the subject: openings which a man is to profit by, if assailant — to keep guarded, if defendant. Now when we survey the Greek negative philosophy, as it appears in Plato, Aristotle, and Sextus Empiricus — and when we recollect that between the second and the third of these names, there appeared three other philosophers equally or more formidable in the same vein, all whose arguments have perished (Arkesilaus, Karneades, Ænesidêmus) — we shall see that no man has ever been known competent both to strike and parry with these weapons, in a manner so skilful and ready as to amount to knowledge in the Platonic sense. But in so far as such knowledge is attainable or approachable, Plato is right in saying that it cannot be attained except by long dialectic practice. Reading books, and hearing lectures, are undoubtedly valuable aids, but insufficient by themselves. Modern times recede from it even more than ancient. Regulated oral dialectic has become unknown; the logical and metaphysical difficulties — which negative philosophy required to be solved before it would allow any farther progress — are now little heeded, amidst the multiplicity of observed facts, and theories adapted to and commensurate with those facts. This change in the character of philosophy is doubtless a great improvement. It is found that by acquiescing provisionally in the axiomata media, and by applying at every step the control of verification, now rendered possible by the multitude of ascertained facts — the sciences may march safely onward: notwithstanding that the logical and metaphysical difficulties, the puzzles (ἀπορίαι) involved in philosophia prima and its very high abstractions, are left behind unsolved and indeterminate. But though the modern course of philosophy is preferable to the ancient, it is not for that reason to be considered as satisfactory. These metaphysical difficulties are not diminished either in force or relevancy, because modern writers choose to leave them unnoticed. Plato and Aristotle were quite right in propounding them as problems, the solution of which was indispensable to the exigencies and consistent schematism of the theorising intelligence, as well as to any complete discrimination between sufficient and insufficient evidence. Such they still remain, overlooked yet not defunct.

Different proceeding of Plato in the Timæus.

Now all these questions would be solved by the idéal philosopher whom Plato in the Phædrus conceives as possessing knowledge: a person who shall be at once a negative Sokrates in excogitating and enforcing all the difficulties — and an affirmative match for Sokrates, as respondent in solving them: a person competent to apply this process to all the indefinite variety of individual minds, under the inspirations of the moment. This is a magnificent idéal. Plato affirms truly, that those teachers who taught rhetoric and philosophy by writing, could never produce such a pupil: and that even the Sokratic dialectic training, though indispensable and far more efficacious, would fail in doing so, unless in those few cases where it was favoured by very superior capacity — understood by him as superhuman, and as a remnant from the pre-existing commerce of the soul with the world of Forms or Ideas. The foundation therefore of the whole scheme rests upon Plato’s hypothesis of an antecedent life of the soul, proclaimed by Sokrates here in his second or panegyrical discourse on Eros. The rhetorical teachers, with whom he here compares himself and whom he despises as aiming at low practical ends — might at any rate reply that they avoided losing themselves in such unmeasured and unwarranted hypotheses.

Opposite tendencies co-existent in Plato’s mind — Extreme of the Transcendental or Absolute — Extreme of specialising adaptation to individuals and occasions.

One remark yet remains to be made upon the doctrine here set forth by Plato: that no teaching is possible by means of continuous discourse spoken or written — none, except through prolonged and varied oral dialectic.128 To this doctrine Plato does not constantly conform in his practice: he departs from it on various important occasions. In the Timæus, Sokrates calls upon the philosopher so named for an exposition on the deepest and most mysterious cosmical subjects. Timæus delivers the exposition in a continuous harangue, without a word of remark or question addressed by any of the auditors: while at the beginning of the Kritias (the next succeeding dialogue) Sokrates greatly commends what Timæus had spoken. The Kritias itself too (though unfinished) is given in the form of continuous exposition. Now, as the Timæus is more abstruse than any other Platonic writing, we cannot imagine that Plato, at the time when he composed it, thought so meanly about continuous exposition, as a vehicle of instruction, as we find him declaring in the Phædrus. I point this out, because it illustrates my opinion that the different dialogues of Plato represent very different, sometimes even opposite, points of view: and that it is a mistake to treat them as parts of one preconceived and methodical system.

Character of dialogues immediately preceding — much transcendental assertion. Opposite character of the Parmenides.

Sokrates is the juvenile defendant — Parmenides the veteran censor and cross-examiner. Parmenides gives a specimen of exercises to be performed by the philosophical aspirant.

Circumstances and persons of the Parmenides.

The Parmenides announces its own purpose as intended to repress premature forwardness of affirmation, in a young philosophical aspirant: who, with meritorious eagerness in the search for truth, and with his eyes turned in the right direction to look for it — has nevertheless not fully estimated the obstructions besetting his path, nor exercised himself in the efforts necessary to overcome them. By a curious transposition, or perhaps from deference on Plato’s part to the Hellenic sentiment of Nemesis, — Sokrates, who in most Platonic dialogues stands forward as the privileged censor and victorious opponent, is here the juvenile defendant under censorship by a superior. It is the veteran Parmenides of Elea who, while commending the speculative impulse and promise of Sokrates, impresses upon him at the same time that the theory which he had advanced — the self-existence, the separate and substantive nature, of Ideas — stands exposed to many grave objections, which he (Sokrates) has not considered and cannot meet. So far, Parmenides performs towards Sokrates the same process of cross-examining refutation as Sokrates himself applies to Theætêtus and other young men elsewhere. But we find in this dialogue something ulterior and even peculiar. Having warned Sokrates that his intellectual training has not yet been carried to a point commensurate with the earnestness of his aspirations — Parmenides proceeds to describe to him what exercises he ought to go through, in order to guard himself against premature assertion or hasty partiality. Moreover, Parmenides not only indicates in general terms what ought to be done, but illustrates it by giving a specimen of such exercise, on a topic chosen by himself.

Manner in which the doctrine of Parmenides was impugned. Manner in which his partisan Zeno defended him.

Passing over the dramatic introduction1 whereby the personages discoursing are brought together, we find Sokrates, Parmenides, and the Eleatic Zeno (the disciple of Parmenides), engaged in the main dialogue. When Parmenides begins his illustrative exercise, a person named Aristotle (afterwards one of the Thirty oligarchs at Athens), still younger than Sokrates, is made to serve as respondent.

Sokrates here impugns the doctrine of Zeno. He affirms the Platonic theory of ideas separate from sensible objects, yet participable by them.

Parmenides and Zeno admire the philosophical ardour of Sokrates. Parmenides advances objections against the Platonic theory of Ideas.

Sokrates, depicted here as a young man, impugns this doctrine of Zeno: and maintains that the two worlds, though naturally disjoined, were not incommunicable. He advances the Platonic theory of Ideas: that is, an intelligible world of many separate self-existent Forms or Ideas, apprehended by reason only — and a sensible world of particular objects, each participating in one or more of these Forms or Ideas. “What you say (he remarks to Zeno), is true of the world of Forms or Ideas: the Form of Likeness per se can never be unlike, nor can the Form of Unlikeness be ever like. But in regard to the sensible world, there is nothing to hinder you and me, and other objects which rank and are numbered as separate individuals, from participating both in the Form of likeness and in the Form of unlikeness.3 In so far as I, an individual object, participate in the Form of Likeness, I am properly called like; in so far as I participate in the Form of Unlikeness, I am called unlike. So about One and Many, Great and Little, and so forth: I, the same individual, may participate in many different and opposite Forms, and may derive from them different and opposite denominations. I am one and many — like and unlike — great and little — all at the same time. But no such combination is possible between the Forms themselves, self-existent and opposite: the Form of Likeness cannot become unlike, nor vice versâ. The Forms themselves stand permanently apart, incapable of fusion or coalescence with each other: but different and even opposite Forms may lend themselves to participation and partnership in the same sensible individual object.”4

What Ideas does Sokrates recognise? Of the Just and Good? Yes. Of Man, Horse, &c.? Doubtful. Of Hair, Mud, &c.? No.

Parmenides declares that no object in nature is mean to the philosopher.

What number and variety of these intelligible Forms do you recognise — (asks Parmenides)? Likeness and Unlikeness — One and Many — Just, Beautiful, Good, &c. — are all these Forms absolute and existent per se? Sokr. — Certainly they are. Parm. — Do you farther recognise an absolute and self-existent Form of Man, apart from us and all other individuals? — or a Form of fire, water, and the like? Sokr. — I do not well know how to answer:— I have often been embarrassed with the question. Parm. — Farther, do there exist distinct intelligible Forms of hair, mud, dirt, and all the other mean and contemptible objects of sense which we see around? Sokr. — No — certainly — no such Forms as these exist. Such objects are as we see them, and nothing beyond: it would be too absurd to suppose Forms of such like things.6 Nevertheless there are times when I have misgivings on the point; and when I suspect that there must be Forms of them as well as of the others. When such reflections cross my mind, I shrink from the absurdity of the doctrine, and try to confine my attention to Forms like those which you mentioned first.

Remarks upon this — Contrast between emotional and scientific classification.

Objections of Parmenides — How can objects participate in the Ideas. Each cannot have the whole Idea, nor a part thereof.

This remark deserves attention. Plato points out the radical distinction, and frequent antipathy between classifications constructed by science, and those which grow up spontaneously under the associating influence of a common emotion. What he calls “the opinions of men,” — in other words, the associations naturally working in an untaught and unlettered mind — bring together the ideas of objects according as they suggest a like emotion — veneration, love, fear, antipathy, contempt, laughter, &c.8 As things which inspire like emotions are thrown into the same category and receive the same denomination, so the opposite proceeding inspires great repugnance, when things creating antipathetic emotions are forced into the same category. A large proportion of objects in nature come to be regarded as unworthy of any serious attention, and fit only to serve for discharging on them our laughter, contempt, or antipathy. The investigation of the structure and manifestations of insects is one of the marked features which Aristophanes ridicules in Sokrates: moreover the same poet also brings odium on the philosopher for alleged study of astronomy and meteorology — the heavenly bodies being as it were at the opposite emotional pole, objects of such reverential admiration and worship, that it was impious to watch or investigate them, or calculate their proceedings beforehand.9 The extent to which anatomy and physiology were shut out from study in antiquity, and have continued to be partially so even in modern times, is well known. And the proportion of phenomena is both great and important, connected with the social relations, which are excluded both from formal registration and from scientific review; kept away from all rational analysis either of causes or remedies, because of the strong repugnances connected with them. This emotional view of nature is here noted by Plato as conflicting with the scientific. No object (he says) is mean in the eyes of philosophy. He remarks to the same effect in the Sophistês and Politikus, and the remark is illustrated by the classifying processes there exhibited:10 mean objects and esteemed objects being placed side by side.

Comparing the Idea with the sensible objects partaking in the Idea, there is a likeness between them which must be represented by a higher Idea — and so on ad infinitum.

1. How (asks Parmenides) can such participation take place? Is the entire Form in each individual object? No: for one and the same Form cannot be at the same time in many distant objects. A part of it therefore must be in one object; another part in another. But this assumes that the Form is divisible — or is not essentially One. Equality is in all equal objects: but how can a part of the Form equality, less than the whole, make objects equal? Again, littleness is in all little objects: that is, a part of the Form littleness is in each. But the Form littleness cannot have parts; because, if it had, the entire Form would be greater than any of its parts, — and the Form littleness cannot be greater than any thing. Moreover, if one part of littleness were added to other parts, the sum of the two would be less, and not greater, than either of the factors. It is plain that none of these Forms can be divisible, or can have parts. Objects therefore cannot participate in the Form by parts or piecemeal. But neither can each object possess the entire Form. Accordingly, since there remains no third possibility, objects cannot participate in the Forms at all.11

Are the Ideas conceptions of the mind, and nothing more? Impossible.

2. Parmenides now passes to a second argument. The reason why you assume that each one of these Forms exists, is — That when you contemplate many similar objects, one and the same ideal phantom or Concept is suggested by all.12 Thus, when you see many great objects, one common impression of greatness arises from all. Hence you conclude that The Great, or the Form of Greatness, exists as One. But if you take this Form of Greatness, and consider it in comparison with each or all the great individual objects, it will have in common with them something that makes it great. You must therefore search for some higher Form, which represents what belongs in common both to the Form of Greatness and to individual great objects. And this higher Form again, when compared with the rest, will have something in common which must be represented by a Form yet higher: so that there will be an infinite series of Forms, ascending higher and higher, of which you will never reach the topmost.13

The Ideas are types or exemplars, and objects partake of them by being likened to them. Impossible.

3. Perhaps (suggests Sokrates) each of these Forms is a Conception of the mind and nothing beyond: the Form is not competent to exist out of the mind.14 How? (replies Parmenides.) There cannot be in the mind any Conception, which is a Conception of nothing. Every Conception must be of something really existing: in this case, it is a Conception of some one thing, which you conceive as belonging in common to each and all the objects considered. The Something thus conceived as perpetually One and the same in all, is, the Form. Besides, if you think that individual objects participate in the Forms, and that these Forms are Conceptions of the mind, — you must suppose, either that all objects are made up of Conceptions, and are therefore themselves Concipients: or else that these Forms, though Conceptions, are incapable of conceiving. Neither one nor the other is admissible.15

If Ideas exist, they cannot be knowable by us. We can know only what is relative to ourselves. Individuals are relative to individuals: Ideas relative to Ideas.

Forms can be known only through the Form of Cognition, which we do not possess.

5. Here are grave difficulties (continues Parmenides) opposed to this doctrine of yours, affirming the existence of self-existent, substantive, unchangeable, yet participated, Forms. But difficulties still graver remain behind. Such Forms as you describe cannot be cognizable by us: at least it is hard to show how they can be cognizable. Being self-existent and substantive, they are not in us: such of them as are relative, have their relation with each other, not with those particular objects among us, which are called great, little, and so forth, from being supposed to be similar to or participant in the forms, and bearing names the same as those of the Forms. Thus, for example, if I, an individual man, am in the relation of master, I bear that relation to another individual man who is my servant, not to servantship in general (i.e. the Form of servantship, the Servus per se). My servant, again, bears the relation of servant to me, an individual man as master, — not to mastership in general (i.e. to the Form of mastership, the Dominus per se). Both terms of the relation are individual objects. On the other hand, the Forms also bear relation to each other. The Form of servantship (Servus per se) stands in relation to the Form of mastership (Dominus per se). Neither of them correlates with an individual object. The two terms of the relation must be homogeneous, each of them a Form.18

Form of cognition, superior to our Cognition, belongs to the Gods. We cannot know them, nor can they know us.

Sum total of objections against the Ideas is grave. But if we do not admit that Ideas exist, and that they are knowable, there can be no dialectic discussion.

6. Again, if there be a real self-existent Form of Cognition, apart from that which we or others possess — it must doubtless be far superior in accuracy and perfection to that which we possess.21 The Form of Beauty and the other Forms, must be in like manner superior to that which is found under the same name in individual objects. This perfect Form of Cognition must therefore belong to the Gods, if it belong to any one. But if so, the Gods must have a Form of Truth, the proper object of their Form of Cognition. They cannot know the truth relatively to us, which belongs to our cognition — any more than we can know the more perfect truth belonging to them. So too about other Forms. The perfect Form of mastership belongs to the Gods, correlating with its proper Form of servantship. Their mastership does not correlate with individual objects like us: in other words, they are not our masters, nor are we their servants. Their cognition, again, does not correlate with individual objects like us: in other words, they do not know us, nor do we know them. In like manner, we in our capacity of masters are not masters of them — we as cognizant beings know nothing of them or of that which they know. They can in no way correlate with us, nor can we correlate with them.22

Dilemma put by Parmenides — Acuteness of his objections.

Nevertheless, on the other side (continues Parmenides), unless we admit the existence of such Forms or Ideas — substantive, eternal, unchangeable, definable — philosophy and dialectic discussion are impossible.24

The doctrine which Parmenides attacks is the genuine Platonic theory of Ideas. His objections are never answered in any part of the Platonic dialogues.

Views of Stallbaum and Socher. The latter maintains that Plato would never make such objections against his own theory, and denies the authenticity of the Parmenidês.

It is true that Sokrates is here introduced as juvenile and untrained; or at least as imperfectly trained. And accordingly, Stallbaum with others think, that this is the reason of his inability to meet the objections: which (they tell us), though ingenious and plausible, yet having no application to the genuine Platonic doctrine about Ideas, might easily have been answered if Plato had thought fit, and are answered in other dialogues.25 But to me it appears, that the doctrine which is challenged in the Parmenidês is the genuine Platonic doctrine about Ideas, as enunciated by Plato in the Republic, Phædon, Philêbus, Timæus, and elsewhere — though a very different doctrine is announced in the Sophistês. Objections are here made against it in the Parmenidês. In what other dialogue has Plato answered them? and what proof can be furnished that he was able to answer them? There are indeed many other dialogues in which a real world of Ideas absolute and unchangeable, is affirmed strenuously and eloquently, with various consequences and accompaniments traced to it: but there are none in which the Parmenidean objections are elucidated, or even recited. In the Phædon, Phædrus, Timæus, Symposion, &c., and elsewhere, Sokrates is made to talk confidently about the existence and even about the cognoscibility of these Ideas; just as if no such objections as those which we read in the Parmenidês could be produced.26 In these other dialogues, Plato accepts implicitly one horn of the Parmenidean dilemma; but without explaining to us upon what grounds he allows himself to neglect the other.

Philosophers are usually advocates, each of a positive system of his own.

Socher has so much difficulty in conceiving that Plato can have advanced such forcible objections against a doctrine, which nevertheless in other Platonic dialogues is proclaimed as true and important, — that he declares the Parmenidês (together with the Sophistês and Politikus) not to be genuine, but to have been composed by some unknown Megaric contemporary. To pass over the improbability that any unknown author should have been capable of composing works of so much ability as these — Socher’s decision about spuriousness is founded upon an estimate of Plato’s philosophical character, which I think incorrect. Socher expects (or at least reasons as if he expected) to find in Plato a preconceived system and a scheme of conclusions to which every thing is made subservient.

Different spirit of Plato in his Dialogues of Search.

The Parmenidês is the extreme manifestation of the negative element. That Plato should employ one dialogue in setting forth the negative case against the Theory of Ideas is not unnatural.

The Parmenidês is the extreme manifestation of the negative element. That Plato should employ one dialogue in setting forth the negative case against the Theory of Ideas is not unnatural.

Force of the negative case in the Parmenidês. Difficulties about participation of sensible objects in the world of Ideas.

Difficulties about the Cognizability of Ideas. If Ideas are absolute, they cannot be cognizable: if they are cognizable, they must be relative. Doctrine of Homo Mensura.

The negative case, made out in the Parmenidês against the theory of Ideas, is indeed most powerful. The hypothesis of the Ideal World is unequivocally affirmed by Sokrates, with its four principal characteristics. 1. Complete essential separation from the world of sense. 2. Absolute self-existence. 3. Plurality of constituent items, several contrary to each other. 4. Unchangeable sameness and unity of each and all of them. — Here we have full satisfaction given to the Platonic sentiment, which often delights in soaring above the world of sense, and sometimes (see Phædon) in heaping contemptuous metaphors upon it. But unfortunately Sokrates cannot disengage himself from this world of sense: he is obliged to maintain that it partakes of, or is determined by, these extra-sensible Forms or Ideas. Here commence the series of difficulties and contradictions brought out by the Elenchus of Parmenides. Are all sensible objects, even such as are vulgar, repulsive, and contemptible, represented in this higher world? The Platonic sentiment shrinks from the admission: the Platonic sense of analogy hesitates to deny it. Then again, how can both assertions be true — first that the two worlds are essentially separate, next, that the one participates in, and derives its essence from, the other? How (to use Aristotelian language28) can the essence be separated from that of which it is the essence? How can the Form, essentially One, belong at once to a multitude of particulars?

Answer of Sokrates — That Ideas are mere conceptions of the mind. Objection of Parmenides correct, though undeveloped.

1. Parmenides shows, and Sokrates does not deny, that these Forms or Ideas described as absolute, self-existent, unchangeable, must of necessity be unknown and unknowable to us.29 Whatever we do know, or can know, is relative to us; — to our actual cognition, or to our cognitive power. If you declare an object to be absolute, you declare it to be neither known nor knowable by us: if it be announced as known or knowable by us, it is thereby implied at the same time not to be absolute. If these Forms or Objects called absolute are known, they can be known only by an absolute Subject, or the Form of a cognizant Subject: that is, by God or the Gods. Even thus, to call them absolute is a misnomer: they are relative to the Subject, and the Subject is relative to them.

Meaning of Abstract and General Terms, debated from ancient times to the present day — Different views of Plato and Aristotle upon it.

This reply, though scanty and undeveloped, is in my judgment both valid, as it negatives the Subject pure and simple, and affirms that to every conception in the mind, there must correspond a Concept out of (or rather along with) the mind (the one correlating with or implying the other) — and correct as far as it goes, in declaring what that Concept is. Such Concept is, or may be, the Form. Parmenides does not show that it is not so. He proceeds to impugn, by a second argument, the assertion of Sokrates — that the form is a Conception wholly within the mind: he goes on to argue that individual things (which are out of the mind) cannot participate in these Forms (which are asserted to be altogether in the mind): because, if that were admitted, either every such thing must be a Concipient, or must run into the contradiction of being a Conceptio non concipiens.35 Now this argument may refute the affirmation of Sokrates literally taken, that the Form is a Conception entirely belonging to the mind, and having nothing Objective corresponding to it — but does not refute the doctrine that the Form is a Concept correlating with the mind — or out of the mind as well as in it. In this as in other Concepts, the subjective point of view preponderates over the objective, though Object is not altogether eliminated: just as, in the particular external things, the objective point of view predominates, though Subject cannot be altogether dismissed. Neither Subject nor Object can ever entirely disappear: the one is the inseparable correlative and complement of the other: but sometimes the subjective point of view may preponderate, sometimes the objective. Such preponderance (or logical priority), either of the one or the other, may be implied or connoted by the denomination given. Though the special connotation of the name creates an illusion which makes the preponderant point of view seem to be all, and magnifies the Relatum so as to eclipse and extinguish the Correlatum — yet such preponderance, or logical priority, is all that is really meant when the Concepts are said to be “in the mind” — and the Percepts (Percepta, things perceived) to be “out of the mind”: for both Concepts and Percepts are “of the mind, or relative to the mind”.36

Plato never expected to make his Ideas fit on to the facts of sense: Aristotle tried to do it and partly succeeded.

If we follow up the opinion here delivered by the Platonic Sokrates, together with the first correction added to it by Parmenides, amounting to this — That the Form is a Conception of the mind with its corresponding Concept: if, besides, we dismiss the doctrine held by Plato, that the Form is a separate self-existent unchangeable Ens (ἓν παρὰ τὰ πολλὰ): there will then be no greater difficulty in understanding how it can be partaken by, or be at once in, many distinct particulars, than in understanding (what is at bottom the same question) how one and the same attribute can belong at once to many different objects: how hardness or smoothness can be at once in an indefinite number of hard and smooth bodies dispersed everywhere.38 The object and the attribute are both of them relative to the same percipient and concipient mind: we may perceive or conceive many objects as distinct individuals — we may also conceive them all as resembling in a particular manner, making abstraction of the individuality of each: both these are psychological facts, and the latter of the two is what we mean when we say, that all of them possess or participate in one and the same attribute. The concrete term, and its corresponding abstract, stand for the same facts of sense differently conceived. Now the word one, when applied to the attribute, has a different meaning from one when applied to an individual object. Plato speaks sometimes elsewhere as if he felt this diversity of meaning: not however in the Parmenidês, though there is great demand for it. But Aristotle (in this respect far superior) takes much pains to point out that Unum Ens — and the preposition In (to be in any thing) — are among the πολλαχῶς λεγόμενα, having several different meanings derived from one primary or radical by diverse and distant ramifications.39 The important logical distinction between Unum numero and Unum specie (or genere, &c.) belongs first to Aristotle.40

Continuation of the Dialogue — Parmenides admonishes Sokrates that he has been premature in delivering a doctrine, without sufficient preliminary exercise.

Plato has not followed out the hint which he has here put into the mouth of Sokrates in the Parmenidês — That the Ideas or Forms are conceptions existing only in the mind. Though the opinion thus stated is not strictly correct (and is so pointed out by himself), as falling back too exclusively on the subjective — yet if followed out, it might have served to modify the too objective and absolute character which in most dialogues (though not in the Sophistês) he ascribes to his Forms or Ideas: laying stress upon them as objects — and as objects not of sensible perception — but overlooking or disallowing the fact of their being relative to the concipient mind. The bent of Plato’s philosophy was to dwell upon these Forms, and to bring them into harmonious conjunction with each other: he neither took pains, nor expected, to make them fit on to the world of sense. With Aristotle, on the contrary, this last-mentioned purpose is kept very generally in view. Amidst all the extreme abstractions which he handles, he reverts often to the comparison of them with sensible particulars: indeed Substantia Prima was by him, for the first time in the history of philosophy, brought down to designate the concrete particular object of sense: in Plato’s Phædon, Republic, &c, the only Substances are the Forms or Ideas.

What sort of exercise? Parmenides describes: To assume provisionally both the affirmative and the negative of many hypotheses about the most general terms, and to trace the consequences of each.

Impossible to do this before a numerous audience — Parmenides is entreated to give a specimen — After much solicitation he agrees.

What sort of exercise must I go through? asks Sokrates. Zeno (replies Parmenides) has already given you a good specimen of it in his treatise, when he followed out the consequences flowing from the assumption — “That the self-existent and absolute Ens is plural”. When you are trying to find out the truth on any question, you must assume provisionally, first the affirmative and then the negative, and you must then follow out patiently the consequences deducible from one hypothesis as well as from the other. If you are enquiring about the Form of Likeness, whether it exists or does not exist, you must assume successively both one and the other;43 marking the deductions which follow, both with reference to the thing directly assumed, and with reference to other things also. You must do the like if you are investigating other Forms — Unlikeness, Motion, and Rest, or even Existence and Non-Existence. But you must not be content with following out only one side of the hypothesis: you must examine both sides with equal care and impartiality. This is the only sort of preparatory exercise which will qualify you for completely seeing through the truth.44

Parmenides elects his own theory of the Unum, as the topic for exhibition — Aristoteles becomes respondent.

Exhibition of Parmenides — Nine distinct deductions or Demonstrations, first from Unum Est — next from Unum non Est.

It is especially on this ground — the small number and select character of the auditors — that Parmenides suffers himself to be persuaded to undertake what he calls “amusing ourselves with a laborious pastime”.46 He selects, as the subject of his dialectical exhibition, his own doctrine respecting the One. He proceeds to trace out the consequences which flow, first, from assuming the affirmative thesis, Unum Est: next, from assuming the negative thesis, or the Antithesis, Unum non Est. The consequences are to be deduced from each hypothesis, not only as regards Unum itself, but as regards Cætera, or other things besides Unum. The youngest man of the party, Aristoteles, undertakes the duty of respondent.

The Demonstrations in antagonising pairs, or Antinomies. Perplexing entanglement of conclusions given without any explanation.

Different judgments of Platonic critics respecting the Antinomies and the dialogue generally.

Of these demonstrations, one characteristic feature is, that they are presented in antagonising pairs or Antinomies: except the third, which professes to mediate between the first and second, though only by introducing new difficulties. We have four distinct Antinomies: the first and second, the fourth and fifth, the sixth and seventh, the eighth and ninth, stand respectively in emphatic contradiction with each other. Moreover, to take the demonstrations separately — the first, fifth, seventh, ninth, end in conclusions purely negative: the other four end in double and contradictory conclusions. The purpose is formally proclaimed, of showing that the same premisses, ingeniously handled, can be made to yield these contradictory results.47 No attempt is made to reconcile the contradictions, except partially by means of the third, in reference to the two preceding. In regard to the fourth and fifth, sixth and seventh, eighth and ninth, no hint is given that they can be, or afterwards will be, reconciled. The dialogue concludes abruptly at the end of the ninth demonstration, with these words: “We thus see that — whether Unum exists or does not exist — Unum and Cætera both are, and are not, all things in every way — both appear, and do not appear, all things in every way — each in relation to itself, and each in relation to the other”.48 Here is an unqualified and even startling announcement of double and contradictory conclusions, obtained from the same premisses both affirmative and negative: an announcement delivered too as the fulfilment of the purpose of Parmenides. Nothing is said at the end to intimate how the demonstrations are received by Sokrates, nor what lesson they are expected to administer to him: not a word of assent, or dissent, or surprise, or acknowledgment in any way, from the assembled company, though all of them had joined in entreating Parmenides, and had expressed the greatest anxiety to hear his dialectic exhibition. Those who think that an abrupt close, or an abrupt exordium, is sufficient reason for declaring a dialogue not to be the work of Plato (as Platonic critics often argue), are of course consistent in disallowing the Parmenides. For my part, I do not agree in the opinion. I take Plato as I find him, and I perceive both here and in the Protagoras and elsewhere, that he did not always think it incumbent upon him to adapt the end of his dialogues to the beginning. This may be called a defect, but I do not feel called upon to make out that Plato’s writings are free from defects; and to acknowledge nothing as his work unless I can show it to be faultless.

No dogmatical solution or purpose is wrapped up in the dialogue. The purpose is negative, to make a theorist keenly feel all the difficulties of theorising.

The various explanations of it given by more recent commentators may be seen enumerated in the learned Prolegomena of Stallbaum,53 who has also set forth his own views at considerable length. And the prodigious opposition between the views of Proklus (followed by Ficinus in the fifteenth century), who extols the Parmenides as including in mystic phraseology sublime religious truths — and those of the modern Tiedemann, who despises them as foolish subtleties and cannot read them with patience — is quite sufficient to inspire a reasonable Platonic critic with genuine diffidence.

This negative purpose is expressly announced by Plato himself. All dogmatical purpose, extending farther, is purely hypothetical, and even inconsistent with what is declared.

In so far as these different expositions profess, each in its own way, to detect a positive dogmatical result or purpose in the Parmenides,54 none of them carry conviction to my mind, any more than the mystical interpretations which we read in Proklus. If Plato had any such purpose, he makes no intimation of it, directly or indirectly. On the contrary, he announces another purpose not only different, but contrary. The veteran Parmenides, while praising the ardour of speculative research displayed by Sokrates, at the same time reproves gently, but distinctly, the confident forwardness of two such immature youths as Sokrates and Aristotle in laying down positive doctrines without the preliminary exercise indispensable for testing them.55 Parmenides appears from the beginning to the end of the dialogue as a propounder of doubts and objections, not as a doctrinal teacher. He seeks to restrain the haste of Sokrates — to make him ashamed of premature affirmation and the false persuasion of knowledge — to force upon him a keen sense of real difficulties which have escaped his notice. To this end, a specimen is given of the exercise required. It is certainly well calculated to produce the effect intended — of hampering, perplexing, and putting to shame, the affirmative rashness of a novice in philosophy. It exhibits a tangled skein of ingenious contradiction which the novice must somehow bring into order, before he is in condition to proclaim any positive dogma. If it answers this purpose, it does all that Parmenides promises. Sokrates is warned against attaching himself exclusively to one side of an hypothesis, and neglecting the opposite: against surrendering himself to some pre-conception, traditional, or self-originated, and familiarising his mind with its consequences, while no pains are taken to study the consequences of the negative side, and bring them into comparison. It is this one-sided mental activity, and premature finality of assertion, which Parmenides seeks to correct. Whether the corrective exercises which he prescribes are the best for the purpose, may be contested: but assuredly the malady which he seeks to correct is deeply rooted in our human nature, and is combated by Sokrates himself, though by other means, in several of the Platonic dialogues. It is a rare mental endowment to study both sides of a question, and suspend decision until the consequences of each are fully known.

The Demonstrations or Antinomies considered. They include much unwarranted assumption and subtlety. Collection of unexplained perplexities or ἀπορίαι.

Such, in my judgment, is the drift of the contradictory demonstrations here put into the mouth of Parmenides respecting Unum and Cætera. Thus far at least, we are perfectly safe: for we are conforming strictly to the language of Plato himself in the dialogue: we have no proof that he meant anything more. Those who presume that he must have had some ulterior dogmatical purpose, place themselves upon hypothetical ground: but when they go farther and attempt to set forth what this purpose was, they show their ingenuity only by bringing out what they themselves have dropped in. The number of discordant hypotheses attests56 the difficulty of the problem. I agree with those early Platonic commentators (mentioned and opposed by Proklus) who could see no other purpose in these demonstrations than that of dialectical exercise. In this view Schleiermacher, Ast, Strümpell, and others mainly concur: the two former however annexing to it a farther hypothesis — which I think improbable — that the dialogue has come to us incomplete; having once contained at the end (or having been originally destined to contain, though the intention may never have been realised) an appendix elucidating the perplexities of the demonstrations.57 This would have been inconsistent with the purpose declared by Parmenides: who, far from desiring to facilitate the onward march of Sokrates by clearing up difficulties, admonishes him that he is advancing too rapidly, and seeks to keep him back by giving him a heap of manifest contradictions to disentangle. Plato conceives the training for philosophy or for the highest exercise of intellectual force, to be not less laborious than that which was required for the bodily perfections of an Olympic athlete. The student must not be helped out of difficulties at once: he must work his own way slowly out of them.

Even if Plato himself saw through these subtleties, he might still choose to impose and to heap up difficulties in the way of a forward affirmative aspirant.

That the demonstrations include assumption both unwarranted and contradictory, mingled with sophistical subtlety (in the modern sense of the words), is admitted by most of the commentators: and I think that the real amount of it is greater than they admit. How far Plato was himself aware of this, I will not undertake to say. Perhaps he was not. The reasonings which have passed for sublime and profound in the estimation of so many readers, may well have appeared the same to their author. I have already remarked that Plato’s ratiocinative force is much greater on the negative side than on the positive: more ingenious in suggesting logical difficulties than sagacious in solving them. Impressed, as Sokrates had been before him, with the duty of combating the false persuasion of knowledge, or premature and untested belief, — he undertook to set forth the pleadings of negation in the most forcible manner. Many of his dialogues manifest this tendency, but the Parmenides more than any other. That dialogue is a collection of unexplained ἀπορίαι (such as those enumerated in the second book of Aristotle’s Metaphysica) brought against a doctrine which yet Plato declares to be the indispensable condition of all reasoning. It concludes with a string of demonstrations by which contradictory conclusions (Both and Neither) are successively proved, and which appear like a reductio ad absurdum of all demonstration. But at the time when Plato composed the dialogue, I think it not improbable that these difficulties and contradictions appeared even to himself unanswerable: in other words, that he did not himself see any answers and explanations of them. He had tied a knot so complicated, that he could not himself untie it. I speak of the state of Plato’s mind when he wrote the Parmenides. At the dates of other dialogues (whether earlier or later), he wrote under different points of view; but no key to the Parmenides does he ever furnish.

The exercises exhibited by Parmenides are exhibited only as illustrative specimens of a method enjoined to be applied to many other Antinomies.

If however we suppose that Plato must have had the key present to his own mind, he might still think it right to employ, in such a dialogue, reasonings recognised by himself as defective. It is the task imposed upon Sokrates to find out and expose these defective links. There is no better way of illustrating how universal is the malady of human intelligence — unexamined belief and over-confident affirmation — as it stands proclaimed to be in the Platonic Apology. Sokrates is exhibited in the Parmenides as placed under the screw of the Elenchus, and no more able than others to extricate himself from it, when it is applied by Parmenides: though he bears up successfully against Zeno, and attracts to himself respectful compliments, even from the aged dialectician who tests him. After the Elenchus applied to himself, Sokrates receives a farther lesson from the “Neither and Both” demonstrations addressed by Parmenides to the still younger Aristotle. Sokrates will thus be driven, with his indefatigable ardour for speculative research, to work at the problem — to devote to it those seasons of concentrated meditation, which sometimes exhibited him fixed for hours in the same place and almost in the same attitude58 — until he can extricate himself from such difficulties and contradictions. But that he shall not extricate himself without arduous mental effort, is the express intention of Parmenides: just as the Xenophontic Sokrates proceeds with the youthful Euthydemus and the Platonic Sokrates with Lysis, Theætetus, and others. Plausible subtlety was not unsuitable for such a lesson.59 Moreover, in the Parmenides, Plato proclaims explicitly that the essential condition of the lesson is to be strictly private: that a process so roundabout and tortuous cannot be appreciated by ordinary persons, and would be unseemly before an audience.60 He selects as respondent the youngest person in the company, one still younger than Sokrates: because (he says) such a person will reply with artless simplicity, to each question as the question may strike him — not carrying his mind forward to the ulterior questions for which his reply may furnish the handle — not afraid of being entangled in puzzling inconsistencies — not solicitous to baffle the purpose of the interrogator.61 All this betokens the plan of the dialogue — to bring to light all those difficulties which do not present themselves except to a keen-sighted enquirer.

These Platonic Antinomies are more formidable than any of the sophisms or subtleties broached by the Megaric philosophers.

In order to understand fully the Platonic Antinomies, we ought to have before us the problems of the Megarics and others. Uselessness of searching for a positive result.

I have already had occasion, when I touched upon the other viri Socratici, contemporaneous with or subsequent to Plato, to give some account of the Zenonian and Megaric dialecticians, and of their sophisms or logical puzzles, which attracted so much attention from speculative men, in the fourth and third centuries B.C. These Megarics, like the Sophists, generally receive very harsh epithets from the historian of philosophy. They took the negative side, impugned affirmative dogmas, insisted on doubts and difficulties, and started problems troublesome to solve. I have tried to show, that such disputants, far from deserving all the censure which has been poured upon them, presented one indispensable condition to the formation of any tolerable logical theory.64 Their sophisms were challenges to the logician, indicating various forms of error and confusion, against which a theory of reasoning, in order to be sufficient, was required to guard. And the demonstrations given by Plato in the latter half of the Parmenides are challenges of the same kind: only more ingenious, elaborate, and effective, than any of those (so far as we know them) proposed by the Megarics — by Zeno, or Eukleides, or Diodorus Kronus. The Platonic Parmenides here shows, that in regard to a particular question, those who believe the affirmative, those who believe the negative, and those who believe neither — can all furnish good reasons for their respective conclusions. In each case he gives the proof confidently as being good: and whether unimpeachable or not, it is certainly very ingenious and subtle. Such demonstrations are in the spirit of Sextus Empiricus, who rests his theory of scepticism upon the general fact, that there are opposite and contradictory conclusions, both of them supported by evidence equally good: the affirmative no more worthy of belief than the negative.65 Zeno (or, as Plato calls him, the Eleatic Palamêdes66) did not profess any systematic theory of scepticism; but he could prove by ingenious and varied dialectic, both the thesis and the antithesis on several points of philosophy, by reasons which few, if any, among his hearers could answer. In like manner the Platonic Parmenides enunciates his contradictory demonstrations as real logical problems, which must exercise the sagacity and hold back the forward impulse of an eager philosophical aspirant. Even if this dilemma respecting Unum Est and Unum non Est, be solved, Parmenides intimates that he has others in reserve: so that either no tenable positive result will ever be attained — or at least it will not be attained until after such an amount of sagacity and patient exercise as Sokrates himself declares to be hardly practicable.67 Herein we may see the germ and premisses of that theory which was afterwards formally proclaimed by Ænesidemus and the professed Sceptics: the same holding back (ἐποχὴ), and protest against precipitation in dogmatising,68 which these latter converted into a formula and vindicated as a system.

Assumptions of Parmenides in his Demonstrations convey the minimum of determinate meaning. Views of Aristotle upon these indeterminate predicates, Ens, Unum, &c.

Schleiermacher has justly observed,69 that in order to understand properly the dialectic manœuvres of the Parmenides, we ought to have had before us the works of that philosopher himself, of Zeno, Melissus, Gorgias, and other sceptical reasoners of the age immediately preceding — which have unfortunately perished. Some reference to these must probably have been present to Plato in the composition of this dialogue.70 At the same time, if we accept the dialogue as being (what it declares itself to be) a string of objections and dialectical problems, we shall take care not to look for any other sort of merit than what such a composition requires and admits. If the objections are forcible, the problems ingenious and perplexing, the purpose of the author is satisfied. To search in the dialogue for some positive result, not indeed directly enunciated but discoverable by groping and diving — would be to expect a species of fruit inconsistent with the nature of the tree. Ζητῶν εὑρήσεις οὐ ῥόδον ἀλλὰ βάτον.

In the Platonic Demonstrations the same proposition in words is made to bear very different meanings.

It may indeed be useful for the critic to perform for himself the process which Parmenides intended Sokrates to perform; and to analyse these subtleties with a view to measure their bearing upon the work of dogmatic theorising. We see double and contradictory conclusions elicited, in four separate Antinomies, from the same hypothesis, by distinct chains of interrogatory deduction; each question being sufficiently plausible to obtain the acquiescence of the respondent. The two assumptions successively laid down by Parmenides as principia for deduction — Si Unum est — Si Unum non est — convey the very minimum of determinate meaning. Indeed both words are essentially indeterminate. Both Unum and Ens are declared by Aristotle to be not univocal or generic words,71 though at the same time not absolutely equivocal: but words bearing several distinct transitional meanings, derived either from each other, or from some common root, by an analogy more or less remote. Aristotle characterises in like manner all the most indeterminate predicates, which are not included in any one distinct category among the ten, but are made available to predication sometimes in one category, sometimes in another: such as Ens, Unum, Idem, Diversum, Contrarium, &c. Now in the Platonic Parmenides, the two first among these words are taken to form the proposition assumed as fundamental datum, and the remaining three are much employed in the demonstration: yet Plato neither notices nor discriminates their multifarious and fluctuating significations. Such contrast will be understood when we recollect that the purpose of the Platonic Parmenides is, to propound difficulties; while that of Aristotle is, not merely to propound, but also to assist in clearing them up.

First demonstration ends in an assemblage of negative conclusions. Reductio ad Absurdum, of the assumption — Unum non Multa.

Certainly, in Demonstrations 1 and 2 (as well as 4 and 5), the foundation assumed is in words the same proposition — Si Unum est: but we shall find this same proposition used in two very different senses. In the first Demonstration, the proposition is equivalent to Si Unum est Unum:72 in the second, to Si Unum est Ens, or Si Unum existit. In the first the proposition is identical and the verb est serves only as copula: in the second, the verb est is not merely a copula but implies Ens as a predicate, and affirms existence. We might have imagined that the identical proposition — Unum est Unum — since it really affirms nothing — would have been barren of all consequences: and so indeed it is barren of all affirmative consequences. But Plato obtains for it one first step in the way of negative predicates — Si Unum est Unum, Unum non est Multa: and from hence he proceeds, by a series of gentle transitions ingeniously managed, to many other negative predications respecting the subject Unum. Since it is not Multa, it can have no parts, nor can it be a whole: it has neither beginning, middle, nor end: it has no boundary, or it is boundless: it has no figure, it is neither straight nor circular: it has therefore no place, being neither in itself, nor in anything else: it is neither in motion nor at rest: it is neither the same with anything else, nor the same with itself:73 it is neither different from any thing else, nor different from itself: it is neither like, nor unlike, to itself, nor to anything else: it is neither equal, nor unequal, to itself nor to any thing else: it is neither older nor younger, nor of equal age, either with itself or with anything else: it exists therefore not in time, nor has it any participation with time: it neither has been nor will be, nor is: it does not exist in any way: it does not even exist so as to be Unum: you can neither name it, nor reason upon it, nor know it, nor perceive it, nor opine about it.

Second Demonstration.

Here then is a piece of dialectic, put together with ingenuity, showing that everything can be denied, and that nothing can be affirmed of the subject — Unum. All this follows, if you concede the first step, that Unum is not Multa. If Unum be said to have any other attribute except that of being Unum, it would become at once Multa. It cannot even be declared to be either the same with itself, or different from any thing else; because Idem and Diversum are distinct natures from Unum, and if added to it would convert it into Multa.75 Nay it cannot even be affirmed to be itself: it cannot be named or enunciated: if all predicates are denied, the subject is denied along with them: the subject is nothing but the sum total of its predicates — and when they are all withdrawn, no subject remains. As far as I can understand the bearing of this self-contradictory demonstration, it appears a reductio ad absurdum of the proposition — Unum is not Multa. Now Unum which is not Multa designates the Αὐτὸ-Ἓν or Unum Ideale; which Plato himself affirmed, and which Aristotle impugned.76 If this be what is meant, the dialogue Parmenides would present here, as in other places, a statement of difficulties understood by Plato as attaching to his own doctrines.

It ends in demonstrating Both, of that which the first Demonstration had demonstrated Neither.

Parmenides now proceeds to his second demonstration: professing to take up again the same hypothesis — Si Unum est — from which he had started in the first77 — but in reality taking up a different hypothesis under the same words. In the first hypothesis, Si Unum est, was equivalent to, Si Unum est Unum: nothing besides Unum being taken into the reasoning, and est serving merely as copula. In the second, Si Unum est, is equivalent to, Si Unum est Ens, or exists: so that instead of the isolated Unum, we have now Unum Ens.78 Here is a duality consisting of Unum and Ens: which two are considered as separate or separable factors, coalescing to form the whole Unum Ens, each of them being a part thereof. But each of these parts is again dual, containing both Unum and Ens: so that each part may be again divided into lesser parts, each of them alike dual: and so on ad infinitum. Unum Ens thus contains an infinite number of parts, or is Multa.79 But even Unum itself (Parmenides argues), if we consider it separately from Ens in which it participates, is not Unum alone, but Multa also. For it is different from Ens, and Ens is different from it. Unum therefore is not merely Unum but also Diversum: Ens also is not merely Ens but Diversum. Now when we speak of Unum and Ens — of Unum and Diversum — or of Ens and Diversum — we in each case speak of two distinct things, each of which is Unum. Since each is Unum, the two things become three — Ens, Diversum, Unum — Unum, Diversum, Unum — Unum being here taken twice. We thus arrive at two and three — twice and thrice — odd and even — in short, number, with its full extension and properties. Unum therefore is both Unum and Multa — both Totum and Partes — both finite and infinite in multitude.80

Startling paradox — Open offence against logical canon — No logical canon had then been laid down.

Here Parmenides finishes the long Demonstratio Secunda, which completes the first Antinomy. The last conclusion of all, with which it winds up, is the antithesis of that with which the first Demonstration wound up: affirming (what the conclusion of the first had denied) that Unum is thinkable, perceivable, nameable, knowable. Comparing the second Demonstration with the first, we see — That the first, taking its initial step, with a negative proposition, carries us through a series of conclusions every one of which is negative (like those of the second figure of the Aristotelian syllogism):— That whereas the conclusions professedly established in the first Demonstration are all in Neither (Unum is neither in itself nor in any thing else — neither at rest nor in motion — neither the same with itself nor different from itself, &c.), the conclusions of the second Demonstration are all in Both (Unum is both in motion and at rest, both in itself and in other things, both the same with itself and different from itself):— That in this manner, while the first Demonstration denies both of two opposite propositions, the second affirms them both.

Demonstration third — Attempt to reconcile the contradiction of Demonstrations I. and II.

Demonstration third — Attempt to reconcile the contradiction of Demonstrations I. and II.

Plato’s imagination of the Sudden or Instantaneous — Breaches or momentary stoppages in the course of time.

Review of the successive pairs of Demonstrations or Antinomies in each, the first proves the Neither, the second proves the Both.

To this question the Platonic Parmenides finds an answer in what he calls the Sudden or the Instantaneous: an anomalous nature which lies out of, or apart from, the course of time, being neither past, present, nor future. That which changes, changes at once and suddenly: at an instant when it is neither in motion nor at rest. This Suddenly is a halt or break in the flow of time:92 an extra-temporal condition, in which the subject has no existence, no attributes — though it revives again forthwith clothed with its new attributes: a point of total negation or annihilation, during which the subject with all its attributes disappears. At this interval (the Suddenly) all predicates may be truly denied, but none can be truly affirmed.93 Unum is neither at rest, nor in motion — neither like nor unlike — neither the same with itself nor different from itself — neither Unum nor Multa. Both predicates and Subject vanish. Thus all the negations of the first Demonstration are justified. Immediately before the Suddenly, or point of change, Unum was in motion — immediately after the change, it is at rest: immediately before, it was like — equal — the same with itself — Unum, &c. — immediately after, it is unlike — unequal — different from itself — Multa, &c. And thus the double and contradictory affirmative predications, of which the second Demonstration is composed, are in their turn made good, as successive in time. This discovery of the extra-temporal point Suddenly, enables Parmenides to uphold both the double negative of the first Demonstration, and the double affirmative of the second.

The third Demonstration is mediatorial but not satisfactory — The hypothesis of the Sudden or Instantaneous found no favour.

The theory here laid down in the third Demonstration respecting this extra-temporal point — the Suddenly — deserves all the more attention, because it applies not merely to the first and second Demonstration which precede it, but also to the fourth and fifth, the sixth and seventh, the eighth and ninth, which follow it. I have already observed, that the first and second Demonstration form a corresponding pair, branching off from the same root or hypothetical proposition (at least the same in terms), respecting the subject Unum; and destined to prove, one the Neither, the other the Both, of several different predicates. So also the fourth and fifth form a pair applying to the subject Cætera; and destined to prove, that from the same hypothetical root — Si Unum est — we can deduce the Neither as well as the Both, of various predicates of Cætera. When we pass on to the four last Demonstrations, we find that in all four, the hypothesis Si Unum non est is substituted for that of Si Unum est: but the parallel couples, with the corresponding purpose, are still kept up. The sixth and seventh apply to the subject Unum, and demonstrate respecting that subject (proceeding from the hypothesis Si Unum non est) first the Both, then the Neither, of various predicates: the eighth and ninth arrive at the same result, respecting the subject Cætera. And a sentence at the close sums up in few words the result of all the four pairs (1-2, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9, that is, of all the Demonstrations excepting the third) — the Neither and the Both respecting all of them.

Review of the two last Antinomies. Demonstrations VI. and VII.

To understand these nine Demonstrations properly, therefore, we ought to consider eight among them (1-2, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9) as four Antinomies, or couples establishing dialectic contradictions: and the third as a mediator satisfactory between the couples — announced as if it reconciled the contradictions of the first Antinomy, and capable of being adapted, in the same character with certain modifications, to the second, third, and fourth Antinomy. Whether it reconciles them successfully — in other words, whether the third Demonstration will itself hold good — is a different question. It will be found to involve the singular and paradoxical (Plato’s own phrase) doctrine of the extra-temporal Suddenly — conceiving Time as a Discretum and not a Continuum. This doctrine is intended by Plato here as a means of rendering the fact of change logically conceivable and explicable. He first states briefly the difficulty (which we know to have been largely insisted on by Diodorus Kronus and other Megarics) of logically explaining the fact of change — and then enunciates this doctrine as the solution. We plainly see that it did not satisfy others — for the puzzle continued to be a puzzle long after — and that it did not even satisfy Plato, except at the time when he composed the Parmenides — since neither the doctrine itself (the extra-temporal break or transition) nor the very peculiar phrase in which it is embodied (τὸ ἐξαίφνης, ἄτοπός τις φύσις) occur in any of his other dialogues. If the doctrine were really tenable, it would have been of use in dialectic, and as such, would have been called in to remove the theoretical difficulties raised among dialectical disputants, respecting time and motion. Yet Plato does not again advert to it, either in Sophistes or Timæus, in both of which there is special demand for it.94 Aristotle, while he adopts a doctrine like it (yet without employing the peculiar phrase τὸ ἐξαίφνης) to explain qualitative change, does not admit the same either as to quantitative change, or as to local motion, or as to generation and destruction.95 The doctrine served the purpose of the Platonic Parmenides, as ingenious, original, and provocative to intellectual effort: but it did not acquire any permanent footing in Grecian dialectics.

Demonstration VII. is founded upon the genuine doctrine of Parmenides.

Si Unum est — Si Unum non est. Even from such a proposition as the first of these, we might have thought it difficult to deduce any string of consequences — which Plato has already done: from such a proposition as the second, not merely difficult, but impossible. Nevertheless the ingenious dialectic of Plato accomplishes the task, and elicits from each proposition a Both, and a Neither, respecting several predicates of Unum as well as of Cætera. When you say Unum non est (so argues the Platonic Parmenides in Demonstration 6), you deny existence respecting Unum: but the proposition Unum non est, is distinguishable from Magnitudo non est — Parvitudo non est — and such like: propositions wherein the subject is different, though the predicate is the same: so that Unum non Ens is still a Something knowable, and distinguishable from other things — a logical subject of which various other predicates may be affirmed, though the predicate of existence cannot be affirmed.96 It is both like and unlike, equal and unequal — like and equal to itself unlike and unequal to other things.97 These its predicates being all true, are also real existences: so that Unum partakes quodam modo in existence: though Unum be non-Ens, nevertheless, Unum non-Ens est. Partaking thus both of non-existence and of existence, it changes: it both moves and is at rest: it is generated and destroyed, yet is also neither generated nor destroyed.98

Demonstrations VI. and VII. considered — Unwarrantable steps in the reasoning — The fundamental premiss differently interpreted, though the same in words.

These two last counter-demonstrations (6 and 7), forming the third Antinomy, deserve attention in this respect — That the seventh is founded upon the genuine Parmenidean or Eleatic doctrine about Non-Ens, as not merely having no attributes, but as being unknowable, unperceivable, unnameable: while the sixth is founded upon a different apprehension of Non-Ens, which is explained and defended by Plato in the Sophistes, as a substitute for, and refutation of, the Eleatic doctrine.100 According to Number 7, when you deny, of Unum, the predicate existence, you deny of it also all other predicates: and the name Unum is left without any subject to apply to. This is the Eleatic dogma. Unum having been declared to be Non-Ens, is (like Non-Ens) neither knowable nor nameable. According to Number 6, the proposition Unum est non-Ens, does not carry with it any such consequences. Existence is only one predicate, which may be denied of the subject Unum, but which, when denied, does not lead to the denial of all other predicates — nor, therefore, to the loss of the subject itself. Unum still remains Unum, knowable, and different from other things. Upon this first premiss are built up several other affirmations; so that we thus arrive circuitously at the affirmation of existence, in a certain way: Unum, though non-existent, does nevertheless exist quodam modo. This coincides with that which the Eleatic stranger seeks to prove in the Sophistes, against Parmenides.

Demonstrations VIII. and IX. — Analysis of Demonstration VIII.

If we compare the two foregoing counter-demonstrations (7 and 6), we shall see that the negative results of the seventh follow properly enough from the assumed premisses: but that the affirmative results of the sixth are not obtained without very unwarrantable jumps in the reasoning, besides its extreme subtlety. But apart from this defect, we farther remark that here also (as in Numbers 1 and 2) the fundamental principle assumed is in terms the same, in signification materially different. The signification of Unum non est, as it is construed in Number 7, is the natural one, belonging to the words: but as construed in Number 6, the meaning of the predicate is altogether effaced (as it had been before in Number 1): we cannot tell what it is which is really denied about Unum. As, in Number 1, the proposition Unum est is so construed as to affirm nothing except Unum est Unum — so in Number 7, the proposition Unum non est is so construed as to deny nothing except Unum non est Unum, yet conveying along with such denial a farther affirmation — Unum non est Unum, sed tamen est aliquid scibile, differens ab aliis.101 Here this aliquid scibile is assumed as a substratum underlying Unum, and remaining even when Unum is taken away: contrary to the opinion — that Unum was a separate nature and the fundamental Subject of all — which Aristotle announces as having been held by Plato.102 There must be always some meaning (the Platonic Parmenides argues) attached to the word Unum, even when you talk of Unum non Ens: and that meaning is equivalent to Aliquid scibile, differens ab aliis. From this he proceeds to evolve, step by step, though often in a manner obscure and inconclusive, his series of contradictory affirmations respecting Unum.

Demonstration VIII. is very subtle and Zenonian.

Si Unum non est (is the argument of the eighth), Cætera must nevertheless somehow still be Cætera: otherwise you could not talk about Cætera.103 (This is an argument like that in Demonstration 6: What is talked about must exist, somehow.) But if Cætera can be named and talked about, they must be different from something, — and from something, which is also different from them. What can this Something be? Not certainly Unum: for Unum, by the Hypothesis, does not exist, and cannot therefore be the term of comparison. Cætera therefore must be different among themselves and from each other. But they cannot be compared with each other by units: for Unum does not exist. They must therefore be compared with each other by heaps or multitudes: each of which will appear at first sight to be an unit, though it be not an unit in reality. There will be numbers of such heaps, each in appearance one, though not in reality:104 numbers odd and even, great and little, in appearance: heaps appearing to be greater and less than each other, and equal to each other, though not being really so. Each of these heaps will appear to have a beginning, middle, and end, yet will not really have any such: for whenever you grasp any one of them in your thoughts, there will appear another beginning before the beginning,105 another end after the end, another centre more centrical than the centre, — minima ever decreasing because you cannot reach any stable unit. Each will be a heap without any unity; looking like one, at a distance, — but when you come near, each a boundless and countless multitude. They will thus appear one and many, like and unlike, equal and unequal, at rest and moving, separate and coalescing: in short, invested with an indefinite number of opposite attributes.106

Demonstration IX. Neither following Both.

Concluding words of the Parmenides — Declaration that he has demonstrated the Both and the Neither of many different propositions.

To the eighth Demonstration, ingenious as it is, succeeds a countervailing reversal in the ninth: the Neither following the Both. The fundamental supposition is in terms the same. Si Unum non est, what is to become of Cætera? Cætera are not Unum: yet neither are they Multa: for if there were any Multa, Unum would be included in them. If none of the Multa were Unum, all of them would be nothing at all, and there would be no Multa. If therefore Unum be not included in Cætera, Cætera would be neither Unum nor Multa: nor would they appear to be either Unum or Multa: for Cætera can have no possible communion with Non-Entia: nor can any of the Non-Entia be present along with any of Cætera — since Non-Entia have no parts. We cannot therefore conceive or represent to ourselves Non-Ens as along with or belonging to Cætera. Therefore, Si Unum non est, nothing among Cætera is conceived either as Unum or as Multa: for to conceive Multa without Unum is impossible. It thus appears, Si Unum non est, that Cætera neither are Unum nor Multa. Nor are they conceived either as Unum or Multa — either as like or as unlike — either as the same or as different — either as in contact or as apart. — In short, all those attributes which in the last preceding Demonstration were shown to belong to them in appearance, are now shown not to belong to them either in appearance or in reality.108

Comparison of the conclusion of the Parmenides to an enigma of the Republic. Difference. The constructor of the enigma adapted its conditions to a foreknown solution. Plato did not.

Subjects and personages in the Theætêtus.

Question raised by Sokrates — What is knowledge or Cognition? First answer of Theætêtus, enumerating many different cognitions. Corrected by Sokrates.

The two persons who converse with Sokrates are, Theodôrus, an elderly man, eminent as a geometrician, astronomer, &c., and teaching those sciences — and Theætêtus, a young man of great merit and still greater promise: acute, intelligent, and inquisitive — high-principled and courageous in the field, yet gentle and conciliatory to all: lastly, resembling Sokrates in physiognomy and in the flatness of his nose. The dialogue is supposed to have taken place during the last weeks of the life of Sokrates, when his legal appearance as defendant is required to answer the indictment of Melêtus, already entered in the official record.1 The dialogue is here read aloud to Eukleides of Megara and his fellow-citizen Terpsion, by a slave of Eukleides: this last person had recorded it in writing from narrative previously made to him by Sokrates.2 It is prefaced by a short discourse between Eukleides and Terpsion, intended to attract our sympathy and admiration towards the youthful Theætêtus.

Preliminary conversation before the second answer is given. Sokrates describes his own peculiar efficacy — mental obstetric — He cannot teach, but he can evolve knowledge out of pregnant minds.

In answer to the question put by Sokrates — What is Knowledge or Cognition? Theætêtus at first replies — That there are many and diverse cognitions:— of geometry, of arithmetic, of arts and trades, such as shoemaking, joinery, &c. Sokrates points out (as in the Menon, Hippias Major, and other dialogues) that such an answer involves a misconception of the question: which was general, and required a general answer, setting forth the characteristic common to all cognitions. No one can know what cognition is in shoemaking or any particular case — unless he first knows what is cognition generally.3 Specimens of suitable answers to general questions are then given (or of definition of a general term), in the case of clay — and of numbers square and oblong.4 I have already observed more than once how important an object it was with Plato to impress upon his readers an exact and adequate conception of the meaning of general terms, and the proper way of defining them. For this purpose he brings into contrast the misconceptions likely to arise in the minds of persons not accustomed to dialectic.

Ethical basis of the cross-examination of Sokrates — He is forbidden to pass by falsehood without challenge.

Theætêtus, before he attempts a second answer, complains how much the subject had embarrassed him. Impressed with what he had heard about the interrogatories of Sokrates, he had tried to solve this problem: but he had not been able to satisfy himself with any attempted solution — nor yet to relinquish the search altogether. “You are in distress, Theætêtus” (observes Sokrates), “because you are not empty, but pregnant.5 You have that within you, of which you need to be relieved; and you cannot be relieved without obstetric aid. It is my peculiar gift from the Gods to afford such aid, and to stimulate the parturition of pregnant minds which cannot of themselves bring forth what is within them.6 I can produce no truth myself: but I can, by my art inherited from my mother the midwife Phænaretê, extract truth from others, and test the answers given by others: so as to determine whether such answers are true and valuable, or false and worthless. I can teach nothing: I only bring out what is already struggling in the minds of youth: and if there be nothing within them, my procedure is unavailing. My most important function is, to test the answers given, how far they are true or false. But most people, not comprehending my drift, complain of me as a most eccentric person, who only makes others sceptical. They reproach me, and that truly enough, with always asking questions, and never saying any thing of my own: because I have nothing to say worth hearing.7 The young companions who frequent my society, often suffer long-continued pains of parturition night and day, before they can be delivered of what is within them. Some, though apparently stupid when they first come to me, make great progress, if my divine coadjutor is favourable to them: others again become tired of me, and go away too soon, so that the little good which I have done them becomes effaced. Occasionally, some of these impatient companions wish to return to me afterwards — but my divine sign forbids me to receive them: where such obstacle does not intervene, they begin again to make progress.”8

Answer of Theætêtus — Cognition is sensible perception: Sokrates says that this is the same doctrine as the Homo Mensura laid down by Protagoras, and that both are in close affinity with the doctrines of Homer, Herakleitus, Empedoklês, &c., all except Parmenides.

Plato here blends together three distinct theories for the purpose of confuting them; yet he also professes to urge what can be said in favour of them. Difficulty of following his exposition.

The first answer given by Theætêtus is — “Cognition is sensation (or sensible perception)”. Upon this answer Sokrates remarks, that it is the same doctrine, though in other words, as what was laid down by Protagoras — “Man is the measure of all things: of things existent, that they exist: of things non-existent, that they do not exist. As things appear to me, so they are to me: as they appear to you, so they are to you.”10 Sokrates then proceeds to say, that these two opinions are akin to, or identical with, the general view of nature entertained by Herakleitus, Empedoklês, and other philosophers, countenanced moreover by poets like Homer and Epicharmus. The philosophers here noticed (he continues), though differing much in other respects, all held the doctrine that nature consisted in a perpetual motion, change, or flux: that there was no real Ens or permanent substratum, but perpetual genesis or transition.11 These philosophers were opposed to Parmenides, who maintained (as I have already stated in a previous chapter) that there was nothing real except Ens — One, permanent, and unchangeable: that all change was unreal, apparent, illusory, not capable of being certainly known, but only matter of uncertain opinion or estimation.

The doctrine of Protagoras is completely distinct from the other doctrines. The identification of them as one and the same is only constructive — the interpretation of Plato himself.

The one main theme intended for examination here (as Sokrates12 expressly declares) is the doctrine — That Cognition is sensible perception. Nevertheless upon all the three opinions, thus represented as cognate or identical,13 Sokrates bestows a lengthened comment (occupying a half of the dialogue) in conversation, principally with Theætêtus, but partly also with Theodôrus. His strictures are not always easy to follow with assurance, because he often passes with little notice from one to the other of the three doctrines which he is examining: because he himself, though really opposed to them, affects in part to take them up and to suggest arguments in their favour: and further because, disclaiming all positive opinion of his own, he sometimes leaves us in doubt what is his real purpose — whether to expound, or to deride, the opinions of others — whether to enlighten Theætêtus, or to test his power of detecting fallacies.14 We cannot always distinguish between the ironical and the serious. Lastly, it is a still greater difficulty, that we have not before us either of the three opinions as set forth by their proper supporters. There remains no work either of Protagoras or of Herakleitus: so that we do not clearly know the subject matter upon which Plato is commenting — nor whether these authors would have admitted as just the view which he takes of their opinions.15

Explanation of the doctrine of Protagoras — Homo Mensura.

It is not improbable that the three doctrines, here put together by Plato and subjected to a common scrutiny, may have been sometimes held by the same philosophers. Nevertheless, the language16 of Plato himself shows us that Protagoras never expressly affirmed knowledge to be sensible Perception: and that the substantial identity between this doctrine, and the different doctrine maintained by Protagoras, is to be regarded as a construction put upon the two by Plato. That the theories of Herakleitus and Empedokles differed materially from each other, we know certainly: the theory of each, moreover, differed from the doctrine of Protagoras — “Man is the measure of all things”. How this last doctrine was defended by its promulgator, we cannot say. But the defence of it noway required him to maintain — That knowledge is sensible perception. It might be consistently held by one who rejected that definition of knowledge.17 And though Plato tries to refute both, yet the reasonings which he brings against one do not at all tell against the other.

Perpetual implication of Subject with Object — Relate and Correlate.

The Protagorean doctrine — Man is the measure of all things — is simply the presentation in complete view of a common fact — uncovering an aspect of it which the received phraseology hides. Truth and Falsehood have reference to some believing subject — and the words have no meaning except in that relation. Protagoras brings to view this subjective side of the same complex fact, of which Truth and Falsehood denote the objective side. He refuses to admit the object absolute — the pretended thing in itself — Truth without a believer. His doctrine maintains the indefeasible and necessary involution of the percipient mind in every perception — of the concipient mind in every conception — of the cognizant mind in every cognition. Farther, Protagoras acknowledges many distinct believing or knowing Subjects: and affirms that every object known must be relative to (or in his language, measured by) the knowing Subject: that every cognitum must have its cognoscens, and every cognoscibile its cognitionis capax: that the words have no meaning unless this be supposed: that these two names designate two opposite poles or aspects of the indivisible fact of cognition — actual or potential — not two factors, which are in themselves separate or separable, and which come together to make a compound product. A man cannot in any case get clear of or discard his own mind as a Subject. Self is necessarily omnipresent; concerned in every moment of consciousness, and equally concerned in all, though more distinctly attended to in some than in others.18 The Subject, self, or Ego, is that which all our moments of consciousness have in common and alike: Object is that in which they do or may differ — although some object or other there always must be. The position laid down by Descartes — Cogito, ergo sum — might have been stated with equal truth — Cogito, ergo est (cogitatum aliquid): sum cogitans — est cogitatum — are two opposite aspects of the same indivisible mental fact — cogitatio. In some cases, doubtless, the objective aspect may absorb our attention, eclipsing the subjective: in other cases, the subjective attracts exclusive notice: but in all cases and in every act of consciousness, both are involved as co-existent and correlative. That alone exists, to every man, which stands, or is believed by him to be capable of standing, in some mode of his consciousness as an Object correlative with himself as a Subject. If he believes in its existence, his own believing mind is part and parcel of such fact of belief, not less than the object believed in: if he disbelieves it, his own disbelieving mind is the like. Consciousness in all varieties has for its two poles Subject and Object: there cannot be one of these poles without the opposite pole — north without south — any more than there can be concave without convex (to use a comparison familiar with Aristotle), or front without back: which are not two things originally different and coming into conjunction, but two different aspects of the same indivisible fact.

Such relativity is no less true in regard to the ratiocinative combinations of each individual, than in regard to his percipient capacities.

Evidence from Plato proving implication of Subject and Object, in regard to the intelligible world.

The Protagorean dictum will thus be seen, when interpreted correctly, to be quite distinct from that other doctrine with which Plato identifies it: that Cognition is nothing else but sensible Perception. If, rejecting this last doctrine, we hold that cognition includes mental elements distinct from, though co-operating with, sensible perception — the principle of relativity laid down by Protagoras will not be the less true. My intellectual activity — my powers of remembering, imagining, ratiocinating, combining, &c., are a part of my mental nature, no less than my powers of sensible perception: my cognitions and beliefs must all be determined by, or relative to, this mental nature: to the turn and development which all these various powers have taken in my individual case. However multifarious the mental activities may be, each man has his own peculiar allotment and manifestations thereof, to which his cognitions must be relative. Let us grant (with Plato) that the Nous or intelligent Mind apprehends intelligible Entia or Ideas distinct from the world of sense: or let us assume that Kant and Reid in the eighteenth century, and M. Cousin with other French writers in the nineteenth, have destroyed the Lockian philosophy, which took account (they say) of nothing but the à posteriori element of cognition — and have established the existence of other elements of cognition à priori: intuitive beliefs, first principles, primary or inexplicable Concepts of Reason.20 Still we must recollect that all such à priori Concepts, Intuitions, Beliefs, &c., are summed up in the mind: and that thus each man’s mind, with its peculiar endowments, natural or supernatural, is still the measure or limit of his cognitions, acquired and acquirable. The Entia Rationis exist relatively to Ratio, as the Entia Perceptionis exist relatively to Sense. This is a point upon which Plato himself insists, in this very dialogue. You do not, by producing this fact of innate mental intuitions, eliminate the intuent mind; which must be done in order to establish a negative to the Protagorean principle.21 Each intuitive belief whether correct or erroneous — whether held unanimously by every one semper et ubique, or only held by a proportion of mankind — is (or would be, if proved to exist) a fact of our nature; capable of being looked at either on the side of the believing Subject, which is its point of community with all other parts of our nature — or on the side of the Object believed, which is its point of difference or peculiarity. The fact with its two opposite aspects is indivisible. Without Subject, Object vanishes: without Object (some object or other, for this side of the fact is essentially variable), Subject vanishes.

The Protagorean measure is even more easily shown in reference to the intelligible world than in reference to sense.

That this general doctrine is true, not merely respecting the facts of sense, but also respecting the facts of mental conception, opinion, intellection, cognition — may be seen by the reasoning of Plato himself in other dialogues. How, for example, does Plato prove, in his Timæus, the objective reality of Ideas or Forms? He infers them from the subjective facts of his own mind. The subjective fact called Cognition (he argues) is generically different from the subjective fact called True Opinion: therefore the Object correlating with the One must be distinct from the Object correlating with the other: there must be a Noumenon or νοητόν τι correlating with Nous, distinct from the δοξαστόν τι which correlates with δόξα.22 So again, in the Phædon,23 Sokrates proves the pre-existence of the human soul from the fact that there were pre-existent cognizable Ideas: if there were knowable Objects, there must also have been a Subject Cognoscens or Cognitionis capax. The two are different aspects of one and the same conception: upon which we may doubtless reason abstractedly under one aspect or under the other, though they cannot be separated in fact. Now Both these two inferences of Plato rest on the assumed implication of Subject and Object.24

Object always relative to Subject — Either without the other, impossible. Plato admits this in Sophistes.

I cannot therefore agree with Plato in regarding the Protagorean doctrine — Homo Mensura — as having any dependance upon, or any necessary connection with, the other theory (canvassed in the Theætêtus) which pronounces cognition to be sensible perception. Objects of thought exist in relation to a thinking Subject; as Objects of sight or touch exist in relation to a seeing or touching Subject. And this we shall find Plato himself declaring in the Sophistes (where his Eleatic disputant is introduced as impugning a doctrine substantially the same as that of Plato himself in the Phædon, Timæus, and elsewhere) as well as here in the Theætêtus. In the Sophistes, certain philosophers (called the Friends of Forms or Ideas) are noticed, who admitted that all sensible or perceivable existence (γένεσις — Fientia) was relative to a (capable) sentient or percipient — but denied the relativity of Ideas, and maintained that Ideas, Concepts, Intelligible Entia, were not relative but absolute. The Eleate combats these philosophers, and establishes against them — That the Cogitable or Intelligible existence, Ens Rationis, was just as much relative to an Intelligent or Cogitant subject, as perceivable existence was relative to a Subject capable of perceiving — That Existence, under both varieties, was nothing more than a potentiality, correlating with a counter-potentiality (τὸ γνωστὸν with τὸ γνωστικόν, τὸ αἰσθητὸν with τὸ αἰσθητικόν, and never realised except in implication therewith.27

Plato’s representation of the Protagorean doctrine in intimate conjunction with the Herakleitean.

Relativity of sensible facts, as described by him.

Relations are nothing in the object purely and simply without a comparing subject.

Turning to the special theory of Protagoras (Homo Mensura), and producing arguments, serious or ironical in its defence, Sokrates says — What you call colour has no definite place or existence either within you or without you. It is the result of the passing collision between your eyes and the flux of things suited to act upon them. It is neither in the agent nor in the patient, but is something special and momentary generated in passing between the two. It will vary with the subject: it is not the same to you, to another man, to a dog or horse, or even to yourself at different times. The object measured or touched cannot be in itself either great, or white, or hot: for if it were, it would not appear different to another Subject. Nor can the Subject touching or measuring be in itself great, or white, or hot: for if so, it would always be so, and would not be differently modified when applied to a different object. Great, white, hot, denote no positive and permanent attribute either in Object or Subject, but a passing result or impression generated between the two, relative to both and variable with either.29

Relativity twofold — to the comparing Subject — to another object, besides the one directly described.

Statement of the doctrine of Herakleitus — yet so as to implicate it with that of Protagoras.

The illustration here furnished by Sokrates brings out forcibly the negation of the absolute, and the affirmation of universal relativity in all conceptions, judgments, and predications, which he ascribes to Protagoras and Herakleitus. The predication respecting the six dice denotes nothing real, independent, absolute, inhering in them: for they have undergone no change. It is relative, and expresses a mental comparison made by me or some one else. It is therefore relative in two different senses:— 1. To some other object with which the comparison of the dice is made:— 2. To me as comparing Subject, who determine the objects with which the comparison shall be made.31 — Though relativity in both senses is comprehended by the Protagorean affirmation — Homo Mensura — yet relativity in the latter sense is all which that affirmation essentially requires. And this is true of all propositions, comparative or not — whether there be or be not reference to any other object beyond that which is directly denoted. But Plato was here illustrating the larger doctrine which he ascribes to Protagoras in common with Herakleitus: and therefore the more complicated case of relativity might suit his purpose better.

Agent and Patient — No absolute Ens.

The universe is all flux or motion, divided into two immense concurrent streams of force, one active, the other passive; adapted one to the other, but each including many varieties. One of these is Object: the other is, sentient, cognizant, concipient, Subject. Object as well as Subject is, in itself and separately, indeterminate and unintelligible — a mere chaotic Agent or Patient. It is only by copulation and friction with each other that they generate any definite or intelligible result. Every such copulation, between parts adapted to each other, generates a twin offspring: two correlative and inseparable results infinitely diversified, but always born in appropriate pairs:32 a definite perception or feeling, on the subjective side — a definite thing perceived or felt, on the objective. There cannot be one of these without the other: there can be no objective manifestation without its subjective correlate, nor any subjective without its objective. This is true not merely about the external senses — touch, taste, smell, sight, hearing — but also about the internal, — hot and cold, pleasure and pain, desire, fear, and all the countless variety of our feelings which have no separate names.33 Each of these varieties of feeling has its own object co-existent and correlating with it. Sight, hearing, and smell, move and generate rapidly and from afar; touch and taste, slowly and only from immediate vicinity: but the principle is the same in all. Thus, e.g., when the visual power of the eye comes into reciprocal action with its appropriate objective agent, the result between them is, that the visual power passes out of its abstract and indeterminate state into a concrete and particular act of vision — the seeing a white stone or wood: while the objective force also passes out of its abstract and indeterminate state into concrete — so that it is no longer whiteness, but a piece of white stone or wood actually seen.34

Arguments derived from dreams, fevers. &c., may be answered.

Accordingly, nothing can be affirmed to exist separately and by itself. All existences, come only as twin and correlative manifestations of this double agency. In fact neither of these agencies can be conceived independently and apart from the other: each of them is a nullity without the other.35 If either of them be varied, the result also will vary proportionally: each may be in its turn agent or patient, according to the different partners with which it comes into confluence.36 It is therefore improper to say — Such or such a thing exists. Existence absolute, perpetual, and unchangeable is nowhere to be found: and all phrases which imply it are incorrect, though we are driven to use them by habit and for want of knowing better. All that is real is, the perpetual series of changeful and transient conjunctions; each Object, with a certain Subject, — each Subject, with a certain Object.37 This is true not merely of individual objects, but also of those complex aggregates rationally apprehended which receive generic names, man, animal, stone, &c.38 You must not therefore say that any thing is, absolutely and perpetually, good, honourable, hot, white, hard, great — but only that it is so felt or esteemed by certain subjects more or less numerous.39

Exposition of the Protagorean doctrine, as given here by Sokrates is to a great degree just. You cannot explain the facts of consciousness by independent Subject and Object.

The arguments advanced against this doctrine from the phenomena of dreams, distempers, or insanity, admit (continues Sokrates) of a satisfactory answer. A man who is dreaming, sick, or mad, believes in realities different from, and inconsistent with, those which he would believe in when healthy. But this is because he is, under those peculiar circumstances, a different Subject, unlike what he was before. One of the two factors of the result being thus changed, the result itself is changed.40 The cardinal principle of Protagoras — the essential correlation, and indefeasible fusion, of Subject and Object, exhibits itself in a perpetual series of definite manifestations. To say that I (the Subject) perceive, — is to say that I perceive some Object: to perceive and perceive nothing, is a contradiction. Again, if an Object be sweet, it must be sweet to some percipient Subject: sweet, but sweet to no one, is impossible.41 Necessity binds the essence of the percipient to that of something perceived: so that every name which you bestow upon either of them implies some reference to the other; and no name can be truly predicated of either, which implies existence (either perpetual or temporary) apart from the other.42

Plato’s attempt to get behind the phenomena. Reference to a double potentiality — Subjective and Objective.

Such is the exposition which Sokrates is here made to give, of the Protagorean doctrine. How far the arguments, urged by him in its behalf, are such as Protagoras himself either really urged, or would have adopted, we cannot say. In so far as the doctrine asserts essential fusion and implication between Subject and Object, with actual multiplicity of distinct Subjects — denying the reality either of absolute and separate Subject, or of absolute and separate Object43 — I think it true and instructive. We are reminded that when we affirm any thing about an Object, there is always (either expressed or tacitly implied) a Subject or Subjects (one, many, or all), to whom the Object is what it is declared to be. This is the fundamental characteristic of consciousness, feeling, and cognition, in all their actual varieties. All of them are bi-polar or bi-lateral, admitting of being looked at either on the subjective or on the objective side. Comparisons and contrasts, gradually multiplied, between one consciousness and another, lead us to distinguish the one of these points of view from the other. In some cases, the objective view is brought into light and prominence, and the subjective thrown into the dark and put out of sight: in other cases, the converse operation takes place. Sometimes the Ego or Subject is prominent, sometimes the Mecum or Object.44 Sometimes the Objective is as it were divorced from the Subject, and projected outwards, so as to have an illusory appearance of existing apart from and independently of any Subject. In other cases, the subjective view is so exclusively lighted up and conspicuous, that Object disappears, and we talk of a mind conceiving, as if it had no correlative Concept. It is possible, by abstraction, to indicate, to name, and to reason about, the one of these two points of view without including direct notice of the other: this is abstraction or logical separation — a mental process useful and largely applicable, yet often liable to be mistaken for real distinctness and duality. In the present case, the two abstractions become separately so familiar to the mind, that this supposed duality is conceived as the primordial and fundamental fact: the actual, bilateral, consciousness being represented as a temporary derivative state, generated by the copulation of two factors essentially independent of each other. Such a theory, however, while aiming at an impracticable result, amounts only to an inversion of the truth. It aims at explaining our consciousness as a whole; whereas all that we can really accomplish, is to explain, up to a certain point, the conditions of conjunction and sequence between different portions of our consciousness. It also puts the primordial in the place of the derivative, and transfers the derivative to the privilege of the primordial. It attempts to find a generation for what is really primordial — the total series of our manifold acts of consciousness, each of a bilateral character, subjective on one side and objective on the other: and it assigns as the generating factors two concepts obtained by abstraction from these very acts, — resulting from multiplied comparisons, — and ultimately exaggerated into an illusion which treats the logical separation as if it were bisection in fact and reality.

Arguments advanced by the Platonic Sokrates against the Protagorean doctrine. He says that it puts the wise and foolish on a par — that it contradicts the common consciousness. Not every one, but the wise man only, is a measure.

In Plato’s exposition of the Protagorean theory, the true doctrine held by Protagoras,45 and the illusory explanation (whether belonging to him or to Plato himself), are singularly blended together. He denies expressly all separate existence either of Subject or Object — all possibility of conceiving or describing the one as a reality distinct from the other. He thus acknowledges consciousness and cognition as essentially bilateral. Nevertheless he also tries to explain the generation of these acts of consciousness, by the hypothesis of a latens processus behind them and anterior to them — two continuous moving forces, agent and patient, originally distinct, conspiring as joint factors to a succession of compound results. But when we examine the language in which Plato describes these forces, we see that he conceives them only as Abstractions and Potentialities;46 though he ascribes to them a metaphorical copulation and generation. “Every thing is motion (or change): of which there are two sorts, each infinitely manifold: one, having power to act — the other having power to suffer.” Here instead of a number of distinct facts of consciousness, each bilateral — we find ourselves translated by abstraction into a general potentiality of consciousness, also essentially bilateral and multiple. But we ought to recollect, that the Potential is only a concept abstracted from the actual, — and differing from it in this respect, that it includes what has been and what may be, as well as what is. But it is nothing new and distinct by itself: it cannot be produced as a substantive antecedent to the actual, and as if it afforded explanation thereof. The general proposition about motion or change (above cited in the words of Plato), as far as it purports to get behind the fact of consciousness and to assign its cause or antecedent — is illusory. But if considered as a general expression for that fact itself, in the most comprehensive terms — indicating the continuous thread of separate, ever-changing acts of consciousness, each essentially bilateral, or subjective as well as objective — in this point of view the proposition is just and defensible.47

In matters of present sentiment every man can judge for himself. Where future consequences are involved special knowledge is required.

It puts every man (he says) on a par as to wisdom and intelligence: and not only every man, but every horse, dog, frog, and other animal along with him. Each man is a measure for himself: all his judgments and beliefs are true: he is therefore as wise as Protagoras and has no need to seek instruction from Protagoras.48 Reflection, study, and dialectic discussion, are superfluous and useless to him: he is a measure to himself on the subject of geometry, and need not therefore consult a professed geometrician like Theodôrus.49

Plato, when he impugns the doctrine of Protagoras, states that doctrine without the qualification properly belonging to it. All belief relative to the condition of the believing mind.

Here then we discover the distinction which Plato would draw.55 Where present sentiment alone is involved, as in hot and cold, sweet and bitter, just and unjust, honourable and base, &c., there each is a judge for himself, and one man is no better judge than another. But where future consequences are to be predicted, the ignorant man is incapable: none but the professional Expert, or the prophet,56 is competent to declare the truth. When a dinner is on table, each man among the guests can judge whether it is good: but while it is being prepared, none but the cook can judge whether it will be good.57 This is one Platonic objection against the opinion of Protagoras, when he says that every opinion of every man is true. Another objection is, that opinions of different men are opposite and contradictory,58 some of them contradicting the Protagorean dictum itself.

All exposition and discussion is an assemblage of individual judgments and affirmations. This fact is disguised by elliptical forms of language.

Such are the objections urged by Sokrates against the Protagorean doctrine — Homo Mensura. There may have been perhaps in the treatise of Protagoras, which unfortunately we do not possess, some reasonings or phrases countenancing the opinions against which Plato here directs his objections. But so far as I can collect, even from the words of Plato himself when he professes to borrow the phraseology of his opponent, I cannot think that Protagoras ever delivered the opinion which Plato here refutes — That every opinion of every man is true. The opinion really delivered by Protagoras appears to have been59 — That every opinion delivered by every man is true, to that man himself. But Plato, when he impugns it, leaves out the final qualification; falling unconsciously into the fallacy of passing (as logicians say) a dicto secundum quid ad dictum simpliciter.60 The qualification thus omitted by Plato forms the characteristic feature of the Protagorean doctrine, and is essential to the phraseology founded upon it. Protagoras would not declare any proposition to be true absolutely, or false absolutely. The phraseology belonging to that doctrine is forced upon him by Plato. Truth Absolute there is none, according to Protagoras. All truth is and must be truth relative to some one or more persons, either actually accepting and believing in it, or conceived as potential believers under certain circumstances. Moreover since these believers are a multitude of individuals, each with his own peculiarities — so no truth can be believed in, except under the peculiar measure of the believing individual mind. What a man adopts as true, and what he rejects as false, are conditioned alike by this limit: a limit not merely different in different individuals, but variable and frequently varying in the same individual. You cannot determine a dog, or a horse, or a child to believe in the Newtonian astronomy: you could not determine the author of the Principia in 1687 to believe what the child Newton had believed in 1647.61 To say that what is true to one man, is false to another — that what was true to an individual as a child or as a youth, becomes false to him in his advanced years, is no real contradiction: though Plato, by omitting the qualifying words, presents it as if it were such. In every man’s mind, the beliefs of the past have been modified or reversed, and the beliefs of the present are liable to be modified or reversed, by subsequent operative causes: by new supervening sensations, emotions, intellectual comparisons, authoritative teaching, or society, and so forth.

Argument — That the Protagorean doctrine equalises all men and animals. How far true. Not true in the sense requisite to sustain Plato’s objection.

Argument — That the Protagorean doctrine equalises all men and animals. How far true. Not true in the sense requisite to sustain Plato’s objection.

Belief on authority is true to the believer himself — The efficacy of authority resides in the believer’s own mind.

To this theory Plato imputes as a farther consequence, that it equalises all men and all animals. No doubt, the measure or limit as generically described, bears alike upon all: but it does not mark the same degree in all. Each man’s bodily efforts are measured or limited by the amount of his physical force: this is alike true of all men: yet it does not follow that the physical force of all men is equal. The dog, the horse, the new-born child, the lunatic, is each a measure of truth to himself: the philosopher is so also to himself: this is alike true, whatever may be the disparity of intelligence: and is rather more obviously true when the disparity is great, because the lower intelligence has then a very narrow stock of beliefs, and is little modifiable by the higher. But though the Protagorean doctrine declares the dog or the child to be a measure of truth — each to himself — it does not declare either of them to be a measure of truth to me, to you, or to any ordinary by-stander. How far any person is a measure of truth to others, depends upon the estimation in which he is held by others: upon the belief which they entertain respecting his character or competence. Here is a new element let in, of which Plato, in his objection to the Protagorean doctrine, takes no account. When he affirms that Protagoras by his equalising doctrine acknowledged himself to be no better in point of wisdom and judgment than a dog or a child, this inference must be denied.64 The Protagorean doctrine is perfectly consistent with great diversities of knowledge, intellect, emotion, and character, between one man and another. Such diversities are recognised in individual belief and estimation, and are thus comprehended in the doctrine. Nor does Protagoras deny that men are teachable and modifiable. The scholar after being taught will hold beliefs different from those which he held before. Protagoras professed to know more than others, and to teach them: others on their side also believed that he knew more than they, and came to learn it. Such belief on both sides, noway contradicts the general doctrine here under discussion. What the scholar believes to be true, is still true to him: among those things which he believes to be true, one is, that the master knows more than he: in coming to be taught, he acts upon his own conviction. To say that a man is wise, is to say, that he is wise in some one’s estimation: your own or that of some one else. Such estimation is always implied, though often omitted in terms. Plato remarks very truly, that every one believes some others to be on certain matters wiser than himself. In other words, what is called authority — that predisposition to assent, with which we hear the statements and opinions delivered by some other persons — is one of the most operative causes in determining human belief. The circumstances of life are such as to generate this predisposition in every one’s mind to a greater or less degree, and towards some persons more than towards others.

Protagorean formula — is false, to those who dissent from it.

Belief on authority is true to the believer himself, like all his other beliefs, according to the Protagorean doctrine: and in acting upon it, — in following the guidance of A, and not following the guidance of B, — he is still a measure to himself. It is not to be supposed that Protagoras ever admitted all men to be equally wise, though Plato puts such an admission into his mouth as an inference undeniable and obvious. His doctrine affirms something altogether different:— that whether you believe yourself to be wise or unwise, in either case the belief is equally your own — equally the result of your own mental condition and predisposition, — equally true to yourself, — and equally an item among the determining conditions of your actions. That the beliefs and convictions of one person might be modified by another, was a principle held by Protagoras not less than by Sokrates: the former employed as his modifying instrument, eloquent lecturing — the latter, dialectical cross-examination. Both of them recognise the belief of the person to whom they address themselves as true to him, yet at the same time as something which may be modified and corrected, by appealing to what they thought the better parts of it against the worse.

Plato’s argument — That the wise man alone is a measure — Reply to it.

Plato’s argument as to the distinction between present sensation and anticipation of the future.

Plato’s argument as to the distinction between present sensation and anticipation of the future.

The formula of Relativity does not imply that every man believes himself to be infallible.

Plato’s argument is untenable — That if the Protagorean formula be admitted, dialectic discussion would be annulled — The reverse is true — Dialectic recognises the autonomy of the Individual mind.

I for my part admit this distinction to be real and important. Most other persons admit the same.69 In acting upon it, I follow out my belief, — and so do they. This is a general fact, respecting the circumstances which determine individual belief. Like all other causes of belief, it operates relatively to the individual mind, and thus falls under that general canon of relativity, which it is the express purpose of the Protagorean formula to affirm. Sokrates impugns the formula of relativity, as if it proclaimed every one to believe himself more competent to predict the future than any other person. But no such assumption is implied in it. To say that a man is a measure to himself, is not to say that he is, or, that he believes himself to be, omniscient or infallible. A sick man may mistake the road towards future health, in many different directions. One patient may over-estimate his own knowledge, — that is one way, but only one among several: another may be diffident, and may undervalue his own knowledge: a third may over-estimate the knowledge of his professional adviser, and thus follow an ignorant physician, believing him to be instructed and competent: a fourth, instead of consulting a physician, may consult a prophet, whom Plato70 here reckons among the authoritative infallible measures in respect to future events: a fifth may (like the rhetor Ælius Aristeides71) disregard the advice of physicians, and follow prescriptions enjoined to him in his own dreams, believing them to be sent by Æsculapius the Preserving God. Each of these persons judges differently about the road to future health: but each is alike a measure to himself: the belief of each is relative to his own mental condition and predispositions. You, or I, may believe that one or other of them is mistaken: but here another measure is introduced — your mind or mine.

Contrast with the Treatise De Legibus — Plato assumes infallible authority — sets aside Dialectic.

But the most unfounded among all Plato’s objections to the Protagorean formula, is that in which Sokrates is made to allege, that if it be accepted, the work of dialectical discussion is at an end: that the Sokratic Elenchus, the reciprocal scrutiny of opinions between two dialogists, becomes nugatory — since every man’s opinions are right.72 Instead of right, we must add the requisite qualification, here as elsewhere, by reading, right to the man himself. Now, dealing with Plato’s affirmation thus corrected, we must pronounce not only that it is not true, but that the direct reverse of it is true. Dialectical discussion and the Sokratic procedure, far from implying the negation of the Protagorean formula, involve the unqualified recognition of it. Without such recognition the procedure cannot even begin, much less advance onward to any result. Dialectic operates altogether by question and answer: the questioner takes all his premisses from the answers of the respondent, and cannot proceed in any direction except that in which the respondent leads him. Appeal is always directly made to the affirmative or negative of the individual mind, which is thus installed as measure of truth or falsehood for itself. The peculiar and characteristic excellence of the Sokratic Elenchus consists in thus stimulating the interior mental activity of the individual hearer, in eliciting from him all the positive elements of the debate, and in making him feel a shock when one of his answers contradicts the others. Sokrates not only does not profess to make himself a measure for the respondent, but expressly disclaims doing so: he protests against being considered as a teacher, and avows his own entire ignorance. He undertakes only the obstetric process of evolving from the respondent mind what already exists in it without the means of escape — and of applying interrogatory tests to the answer when produced: if there be nothing in the respondent’s mind, his art is inapplicable. He repudiates all appeal to authority, except that of the respondent himself.73 Accordingly there is neither sense nor fitness in the Sokratic cross-examination, unless you assume that each person, to whom it is addressed, is a measure of truth and falsehood to himself. Implicitly indeed, this is assumed in rhetoric as well as in dialectic: wherever the speaker aims at persuading, he adapts his mode of speech to the predispositions of the hearer’s own mind; and he thus recognises that mind as a measure for itself. But the Sokratic Dialectic embodies the same recognition, and the same essential relativity to the hearer’s mind, more forcibly than any rhetoric. And the Platonic Sokrates (in the Phædrus) makes it one of his objections against orators who addressed multitudes, that they did not discriminate either the specialties of different minds, or the specialties of discourse applicable to each.74

Plato in denying the Protagorean formula, constitutes himself the measure for all. Counter-proposition to the formula.

Import of the Protagorean formula is best seen when we state explicitly the counter-proposition.

Import of the Protagorean formula is best seen when we state explicitly the counter-proposition.

Unpopularity of the Protagorean formula — Most believers insist upon making themselves a measure for others, as well as for themselves. Appeal to Abstractions.

Aristotle failed in his attempts to refute the Protagorean formula — Every reader of Aristotle will claim the right of examining for himself Aristotle’s canons of truth.

Yet little as its positive import may seem to be, it clashes with various illusions, omissions, and exigencies, incident to the ordinary dogmatising process. It substitutes the concrete in place of the abstract — the complete in place of the elliptical. Instead of Truth and Falsehood, which present to us the Abstract and impersonal as if it stood alone — the Objective divested of its Subject — we are translated into the real world of beliefs and disbeliefs, individual believers and disbelievers: matters affirmed or denied by some Subject actual or supposable — by you, by me, by him or them, perhaps by all persons within our knowledge. All men agree in the subjective fact, or in the mental states called belief and disbelief; but all men do not agree in the matters believed and disbelieved, or in what they speak of as Truth and Falsehood. No infallible objective mark, no common measure, no canon of evidence, recognised by all, has yet been found. What is Truth to one man, is not truth, and is often Falsehood, to another: that which governs the mind as infallible authority in one part of the globe, is treated with indifference or contempt elsewhere.77 Each man’s belief, though in part determined by the same causes as the belief of others, is in part also determined by causes peculiar to himself. When a man speaks of Truth, he means what he himself (along with others, or singly, as the case may be) believes to be Truth; unless he expressly superadds the indication of some other persons believing in it. This is the reality of the case, which the Protagorean formula brings into full view; but which most men dislike to recognise, and disguise from themselves as well as from others in the common elliptical forms of speech. In most instances a believer entirely forgets that his own mind is the product of a given time and place, and of a conjunction of circumstances always peculiar, amidst the aggregate of mankind — for the most part narrow. He cannot be content (like Protagoras) to be a measure for himself and for those whom his arguments may satisfy. This would be to proclaim what some German critics denounce as Subjectivism.78 He insists upon constituting himself — or some authority worshipped by himself — or some abstraction interpreted by himself — a measure for all others besides, whether assentient or dissentient. That which he believes, all ought to believe.

Plato’s examination of the other doctrine — That knowledge is Sensible Perception. He adverts to sensible facts which are different with different Percipients.

We are told that Demokritus, as well as Plato and Aristotle, wrote against Protagoras. The treatise of Demokritus is lost: but we possess what the two latter said against the Protagorean formula. In my judgment both failed in refuting it. Each of them professed to lay down objective, infallible, criteria of truth and falsehood: Democritus on his side, and the other dogmatical philosophers, professed to do the same, each in his own way — and each in a different way.79 Now the Protagorean formula neither allows nor disallows any one of these proposed objective criteria: but it enunciates the appeal to which all of them must be submitted — the subjective condition of satisfying the judgment of each hearer. Its protest is entered only when that condition is overleaped, and when the dogmatist enacts his canon of belief as imperative, peremptory, binding upon all (allgemeingültig) both assentient and dissentient. I am grateful to Aristotle for his efforts to lay down objective canons in the research of truth; but I claim the right of examining those canons for myself, and of judging whether that, which satisfied Aristotle, satisfies me also. The same right which I claim for myself, I am bound to allow to all others. The general expression of this compromise is, the Protagorean formula. No one demands more emphatically to be a measure for himself, even when all authority is opposed to him, than Sokrates in the Platonic Gorgias.80

Such is not the case with all the facts of sense. The conditions of unanimity are best found among select facts of sense — weighing, measuring, &c.

After thus criticising the formula — Homo Mensura — Plato proceeds to canvass the other doctrine, which he ascribes to Protagoras along with others, and which he puts into the mouth of Theætêtus — “That knowledge is sensible perception”. He connects that doctrine with the above-mentioned formula, by illustrations which exhibit great divergence between one percipient Subject and another. He gives us, as examples of sensible perception, the case of the wind, cold to one man, not cold to another: that of the wine, sweet to a man in health, bitter if he be sickly.81 Perhaps Protagoras may have dwelt upon cases like these, as best calculated to illustrate the relativity of all affirmations: for though the judgments are in reality both equally relative, whether two judges pronounce alike, or whether they pronounce differently, under the same conditions — yet where they judge differently, each stands forth in his own individuality, and the relativity of the judgment is less likely to be disputed.

Arguments of Sokrates in examining this question. Divergence between one man and another arises, not merely from different sensual impressibility, but from mental and associative difference.

But though some facts of sense are thus equivocal, generating dissension rather than unanimity among different individuals — such is by no means true of the facts of sense taken generally.82 On the contrary, it is only these facts — the world of reality, experience, and particulars — which afford a groundwork and assurance of unanimity in human belief, under all varieties of teaching or locality. Counting, measuring, weighing, are facts of sense simple and fundamental, and comparisons of those facts: capable of being so exhibited that no two persons shall either see them differently or mistrust them. Of two persons exposed to the same wind, one may feel cold, and the other not: but both of them will see the barometer or thermometer alike.83 Πάντα μέτρῳ καὶ ἀριθμῷ καὶ σταθμῷ — would be the perfection of science, if it could be obtained. Plato himself recognises, in more than one place, the irresistible efficacy of weight and measure in producing unanimity; and in forestalling those disputes which are sure to arise where weight and measure cannot be applied.84 It is therefore among select facts of sense, carefully observed and properly compared, that the groundwork of unanimity is to be sought, so far as any rational and universal groundwork for it is attainable. In other words, it is here that we must seek for the basis of knowledge or cognition.

Argument — That sensible Perception does not include memory — Probability that those who held the doctrine meant to include memory.

This is an important question and answer, which Plato unfortunately does not follow up. It brings to view, though without fully unfolding, the distinction between what is really perceived by sense, and what is inferred from such perception: either through resemblance or through conjunctions of past experience treasured up in memory — or both together. Without having regard to such distinction, no one can discuss satisfactorily the question under debate.87 Plato here abandons, moreover, the subjective variety of impression which he had before noticed as the characteristic of sense:— (the wind which blows cold, and the wine which tastes sweet, to one man, but not to another). Here it is assumed that all men hear the sounds, and see the written letters alike: the divergence between one man and another arises from the different prior condition of percipient minds, differing from each other in associative and reminiscent power.

Argument from the analogy of seeing and not seeing at the same time .

Sokrates maintains that we do not see with our eyes, but that the mind sees through the eyes: that the mind often conceives and judges by itself without the aid of any bodily organ.

Again, argues Plato,91 you cannot say — I know sharply, dimly, near, far, &c. — but you may properly say, I see sharply, dimly, near, far, &c.: another reason to show that knowledge and sensible perception are not the same. After a digression of some length directed against the disciples of Herakleitus — (partly to expose their fundamental doctrine that every thing was in flux and movement, partly to satirise their irrational procedure in evading argumentative debate, and in giving nothing but a tissue of mystical riddles one after another),92 Sokrates returns back to the same debate, and produces more serious arguments, as follows:—

Indication of several judgments which the mind makes by itself — It perceives Existence, Difference, &c.

Sokr. — If you are asked, With what does a man perceive white and black? you will answer, with his eyes: shrill or grave sounds? with his ears. Does it not seem to you more correct to say, that we see through our eyes rather than with our eyes:— that we hear through our ears, not with our ears. Theætêt. — I think it is more correct. Sokr. — It would be strange if there were in each man many separate reservoirs, each for a distinct class of perceptions.93 All perceptions must surely converge towards one common form or centre, call it soul or by any other name, which perceives through them, as organs or instruments, all perceptible objects. —

Sokrates maintains that knowledge is to be found, not in the Sensible Perceptions themselves, but in the comparisons add computations of the mind respecting them.

Some matters therefore there are, which the soul or mind apprehends through itself — others, which it perceives through the bodily organs. To the latter class belong the sensible qualities, hardness, softness, heat, sweetness, &c., which it perceives through the bodily organs; and which animals, as well as men, are by nature competent to perceive immediately at birth. To the former class belong existence (substance, essence), sameness, difference, likeness, unlikeness, honourable, base, good, evil, &c., which the mind apprehends through itself alone. But the mind is not competent to apprehend this latter class, as it perceives the former, immediately at birth. Nor does such competence belong to all men and animals; but only to a select fraction of men, who acquire it with difficulty and after a long time through laborious education. The mind arrives at these purely mental apprehensions, only by going over, and comparing with each other, the simple impressions of sense; by looking at their relations with each other; and by computing the future from the present and past.96 Such comparisons and computations are a difficult and gradual attainment; accomplished only by a few, and out of the reach of most men. But without them, no one can apprehend real existence (essence, or substance), or arrive at truth: and without truth, there can be no knowledge.

Examination of this view — Distinction from the views of modern philosophers.

The result therefore is (concludes Sokrates), That knowledge is not sensible perception: that it is not to be found in the perceptions of sense themselves, which do not apprehend real essence, and therefore not truth — but in the comparisons and computations respecting them, and in the relations between them, made and apprehended by the mind itself.97 Plato declares good and evil, honourable and base, &c., to be among matters most especially relative, perceived by the mind computing past and present in reference to future.98

Different views given by Plato in other dialogues.

Such is the doctrine which Plato here lays down, respecting the difference between sensible perception, and knowledge or cognition. From his time to the present day, the same topic has continued to be discussed, with different opinions on the part of philosophers. Plato’s views are interesting, as far as his language enables us to make them out. He does not agree with those who treat sensation or sensible perception (in his language, the two are not distinguished) as a bodily phenomenon, and intelligence as a mental phenomenon. He regards both as belonging to the mind or soul. He considers that the mind is sentient as well as intelligent: and moreover, that the sentient mind is the essential basis and preliminary — universal among men and animals, as well as coæval with birth — furnishing all the matter, upon which the intelligent mind has to work. He says nothing, in this dialogue, about the three distinct souls or minds (rational, courageous, and appetitive), in one and the same body, which form so capital a feature in his Timæus and Republic: nothing about eternal, self-existent, substantial Ideas, or about the pre-existence of the soul and its reminiscence as the process of acquiring knowledge. Nor does he countenance the doctrine of innate ideas, instinctive beliefs, immediate mental intuitions, internal senses, &c., which have been recognised by many philosophers. Plato supposes the intelligent mind to work altogether upon the facts of sense; to review and compare them with one another; and to compute facts present or past, with a view to the future. All this is quite different from the mental intuitions and instincts, assumed by various modern philosophers as common to all mankind. The operations, which Plato ascribes to the intelligent mind, are said to be out of the reach of the common man, and not to be attainable except by a few, with difficulty and labour. The distinctive feature of the sentient mind, according to him, is, that it operates through a special bodily organ of sense: whereas the intelligent mind has no such special bodily organ.

Plato’s discussion of this question here exhibits a remarkable advance in analytical psychology. The mind rises from Sensation, first to Opinion, then to Cognition.

Plato’s discussion of this question here exhibits a remarkable advance in analytical psychology. The mind rises from Sensation, first to Opinion, then to Cognition.

Plato did not recognise Verification from experience, or from facts of sense, as either necessary or possible.

This at least is the meaning which Plato assigns to the two words corresponding to Cognition and to Opinion, in the present dialogue, and often elsewhere. But he also frequently employs the word Cognition in a lower and more general signification, not restricted, as it is here, to the highest philosophical reach, with infallibility — but comprehending much of what is here treated only as opinion. Thus, for example, he often alludes to the various professional men as possessing Cognition, each in his respective department: the general, the physician, the gymnast, the steersman, the husbandman, &c.102 But he certainly does not mean, that each of them has attained what he calls real essence and philosophical truths — or that any of them are infallible.

Second definition given by Theætêtus — That Cognition consists in right or true opinion.

Objection by Sokrates — This definition assumes that there are false opinions. But how can false opinions be possible? How can we conceive Non-Ens: or confound together two distinct realities?.

Waxen memorial tablet in the mind, on which past impressions are engraved. False opinion consists in wrongly identifying present sensations with past impressions.

Sokr. — But you are here assuming that there are false opinions? How is this possible? How can any man judge or opine falsely? What mental condition is it which bears that name? I confess that I cannot tell: though I have often thought of the matter myself, and debated it with others.105 Every thing comes under the head either of what a man knows, or of what he does not know. If he conceives, it must be either the known, or the unknown. He cannot mistake either one known thing for another known thing: or a known thing for an unknown: or an unknown for a known: or one unknown for another unknown. But to form a false opinion, he must err in one or other of these four ways. It is therefore impossible that he can form a false opinion.106

Sokrates refutes this assumption. Dilemma. Either false opinion is impossible, or else a man may know what he does not know.

Let us look again in another direction (continues Sokrates). We have been hasty in our concessions. Is it really impossible for a man to conceive, that a thing, which he knows, is another thing which he does not know? Let us see. Grant me the hypothesis (for the sake of illustration), that each man has in his mind a waxen tablet — the wax of one tablet being larger, firmer, cleaner, and better in every way, than that of another: the gift of Mnemosynê, for inscribing and registering our sensible perceptions and thoughts. Every man remembers and knows these, so long as the impressions of them remain upon his tablet: as soon as they are blotted out, he has forgotten them and no longer knows them.109 Now false opinion may occur thus. A man having inscribed on his memorial tablet the impressions of two objects A and B, which he has seen before, may come to see one of these objects again; but he may by mistake identify the present sensation with the wrong past impression, or with that past impression to which it does not belong. Thus on seeing A, he may erroneously identify it with the past impression B, instead of A: or vice versâ.110 False opinion will thus lie, not in the conjunction or identification of sensations with sensations — nor of thoughts (or past impressions) with thoughts — but in that of present sensations with past impressions or thoughts.111

He draws distinction between possessing knowledge, and having it actually in hand. Simile of the pigeon-cage with caught pigeons turned into it and flying about.

Sokrates refutes this. Suggestion of Theætêtus — That there may be non-cognitions in the mind as well as cognitions, and that false opinion may consist in confounding one with the other. Sokrates rejects this.

To this question no answer is given. But Sokrates, — after remarking on the confused and unphilosophical manner in which the debate has been conducted, both he and Theætêtus having perpetually employed the words know, knowledge, and their equivalents, as if the meaning of the words were ascertained, whereas the very problem debated is, to ascertain their meaning113 — takes up another path of enquiry. He distinguishes between possessing knowledge, — and having it actually in hand or on his person: which distinction he illustrates by comparing the mind to a pigeon-cage. A man hunts and catches pigeons, then turns them into the cage, within the limits of which they fly about: when he wants to catch any one of them for use, he has to go through a second hunt, sometimes very troublesome: in which he may perhaps either fail altogether, or catch the wrong one instead of the right. The first hunt Sokrates compares to the acquisition of knowledge: the second, to the getting it into his hand for use.114 A man may know, in the first sense, and not know, in the second: he may have to hunt about for the cognition which (in the first sense) he actually possesses. In trying to catch one cognition, he may confound it with another: and this constitutes false opinion — the confusion of two cognita one with another.115

He brings another argument to prove that Cognition is not the same as true opinion. Rhetors persuade or communicate true opinion; but they do not teach or communicate knowledge.

vice versâ

New answer of Theætêtus — Cognition is true opinion, coupled with rational explanation.

New answer of Theætêtus — Cognition is true opinion, coupled with rational explanation.

Criticism on the answer by Sokrates. Analogy of letters and words, primordial elements and compounds. Elements cannot be explained: compounds alone can be explained.

Sokrates refutes this criticism. If the elements are unknowable, the compound must be unknowable also.

Taking up this definition, and elucidating it farther, Sokrates refers to the analogy of words and letters. Letters answer to the primordial elements of things; which are not matters either of knowledge, or of true opinion, or of rational explanation — but simply of sensible perception. A letter, or a primordial element, can only be perceived and called by its name. You cannot affirm of it any predicate or any epithet: you cannot call it existing, or this, or that, or each, or single, or by any other name than its own:123 for if you do, you attach to it something extraneous to itself, and then it ceases to be an element. But syllables, words, propositions — i. e., the compounds made up by putting together various letters or elements — admit of being known, explained, and described, by enumerating the component elements. You may indeed conceive them correctly, without being able to explain them or to enumerate their component elements: but then you do not know them. You can only be said to know them, when besides conceiving them correctly, you can also specify their component elements124 — or give explanation.

Rational explanation may have one of three different meanings. 1. Description in appropriate language. 2. Enumeration of all the component elements in the compound. In neither of these meanings will the definition of Cognition hold.

Third meaning. To assign some mark, whereby the thing to be explained differs from everything else. The definition will not hold. For rational explanation, in this sense, is already included in true opinion.

When you say (continues Sokrates) that knowledge is true opinion coupled with rational explanation, you may mean by rational explanation one of three things. 1. The power of enunciating the opinion in clear and appropriate words. This every one learns to do, who is not dumb or an idiot: so that in this sense true opinion will always carry with it rational explanation. — 2. The power of describing the thing in question by its component elements. Thus Hesiod says that there are a hundred distinct wooden pieces in a waggon: you and I do not know nor can we describe them all: we can distinguish only the more obvious fractions — the wheels, the axle, the body, the yoke, &c. Accordingly, we cannot be said to know a waggon: we have only a true opinion about it. Such is the second sense of λόγος or rational explanation. But neither in this sense will the proposition hold — That knowledge is right opinion coupled with rational explanation. For suppose that a man can enumerate, spell, and write correctly, all the syllables of the name Theætêtus — which would fulfil the conditions of this definition: yet, if he mistakes and spells wrongly in any other name, such as Theodôrus, you will not give him credit for knowledge. You will say that he writes Theætêtus correctly, by virtue of right opinion simply. It is therefore possible to have right opinion coupled with rational explanation, in this second sense also, — yet without possessing knowledge.127

Conclusion of the dialogue — Summing up by Sokrates — Value of the result, although purely negative.

Conclusion of the dialogue — Summing up by Sokrates — Value of the result, although purely negative.

Remarks on the dialogue. View of Plato. False persuasion of knowledge removed. Importance of such removal.

Formation of the testing or verifying power in men’s minds, value of the Theætêtus, as it exhibits Sokrates demolishing his own suggestions.

The concluding observations of this elaborate dialogue deserve particular attention as illustrating Plato’s point of view, at the time when he composed the Theætêtus. After a long debate, set forth with all the charm of Plato’s style, no result is attained. Three different explanations of knowledge have been rejected as untenable.132 No other can be found; nor is any suggestion offered, showing in what quarter we are to look for the true one. What then is the purpose or value of the dialogue? Many persons would pronounce it to be a mere piece of useless ingenuity and elegance: but such is not the opinion of Plato himself. Sufficient gain (in his view) will have been ensured, if Theætêtus has acquired a greater power of testing any fresh explanation which he may attempt of this difficult subject: or even if he should attempt none such, by his being disabused, at all events, of the false persuasion of knowing where he is really ignorant. Such false persuasion of knowledge (Plato here intimates) renders a man vexatious to associates; while a right estimate of his own knowledge and ignorance fosters gentleness and moderation of character. In this view, false persuasion of knowledge is an ethical defect, productive of positive mischief in a man’s intercourse with others: the removal of it improves his character, even though no ulterior step towards real and positive knowledge be made. The important thing is, that he should acquire the power of testing and verifying all opinions, old as well as new. This, which is the only guarantee against the delusive self-satisfaction of sham knowledge, must be firmly established in the mind before it is possible to aspire effectively to positive and assured knowledge. The negative arm of philosophy is in its application prior to the positive, and indispensable, as the single protection against error and false persuasion of knowledge. Sokrates is here depicted as one in whom the negative vein is spontaneous and abundant, even to a pitch of discomfort — as one complaining bitterly, that objections thrust themselves upon him, unsought and unwelcome, against conclusions which he had himself just previously taken pains to prove at length.133

Comparison of the Philosopher with the Rhetor. The Rhetor is enslaved to the opinions of auditors.

To form in men’s minds this testing or verifying power, is one main purpose in Plato’s dialogues of Search — and in some of them the predominant purpose; as he himself announces it to be in the Theætêtus. I have already made the same remark before, and I repeat it here; since it is absolutely necessary for appreciating these dialogues of Search in their true bearing and value. To one who does not take account of the negative arm of philosophy, as an auxiliary without which the positive arm will strike at random — half of the Platonic dialogues will teach nothing, and will even appear as enigmas — the Theætêtus among the foremost. Plato excites and strengthens the interior mental wakefulness of the hearer, to judge respecting all affirmative theories, whether coming from himself or from others. This purpose is well served by the manner in which Sokrates more than once in this dialogue first announces, proves, and builds up a theory — then unexpectedly changes his front, disproves, and demolishes it. We are taught that it is not difficult to find a certain stock of affirmative argument which makes the theory look well from a distance: we must inspect closely, and make sure that there are no counter-arguments in the background.134 The way in which Sokrates pulls to pieces his own theories, is farther instructive, as it illustrates the exhortation previously addressed by him to Theætêtus — not to take offence when his answers were canvassed and shown to be inadmissible.135

The Philosopher is master of his own debates.

The Philosopher is master of his own debates.

Purpose of dialogue to qualify for a life of philosophical Search.

Difficulties of the Theætêtus are not solved in any other Dialogue.

In these words of Sokrates we read a contrast between practice and theory — one of the most eloquent passages in the dialogues — wherein Plato throws overboard the ordinary concerns and purposes both of public and private life, admitting that true philosophers are unfit for them. The passage, while it teaches us caution in receiving his criticisms on the defects of actual statesmen and men of action, informs us at the same time that he regarded philosophy as the only true business of life — the single pursuit worthy to occupy a freeman.141 This throws light on the purpose of many of his dialogues. He intends to qualify the mind for a life of philosophical research, and with this view to bestow preliminary systematic training on the ratiocinative power. To announce at once his own positive conclusions with their reasons, (as I remarked before) is not his main purpose. A pupil who, having got all these by heart, supposed himself to have completed his course of philosophy, so that nothing farther remained to be done, would fall very short of the Platonic exigency. The life of the philosopher — as Plato here conceives it — is a perpetual search after truth, by dialectic debate and mutual cross-examination between two minds, aiding each other to disembroil that confusion and inconsistency which grows up naturally in the ordinary mind. For such a life a man becomes rather disqualified than prepared, by swallowing an early dose of authoritative dogmas and proofs dictated by his teacher. The two essential requisites for it are, that he should acquire a self-acting ratiocinative power, and an earnest, untiring, interest in the dialectic process. Both these aids Plato’s negative dialogues are well calculated to afford: and when we thus look at his purpose, we shall see clearly that it did not require the presentation of any positive result.

Plato considered that the search for Truth was the noblest occupation of life.

The course of this dialogue — the Theætêtus — has been already described as an assemblage of successive perplexities without any solution. But what deserves farther notice is — That the perplexities, as they are not solved in this dialogue, so they are not solved in any other dialogue. The view taken by Schleiermacher and other critics — that Plato lays out the difficulties in one anterior dialogue, in order to furnish the solution in another posterior — is not borne out by the facts. In the Theætêtus, many objections are propounded against the doctrine, That Opinion is sometimes true, sometimes false. Sokrates shows that false opinion is an impossibility: either therefore all opinions are true, or no opinion is either true or false. If we turn to the Sophistês, we shall find this same question discussed by the Eleatic Stranger who conducts the debate. He there treats the doctrine — That false opinion is an impossibility and that no opinion could be false — as one which had long embarrassed himself, and which formed the favourite subterfuge of the impostors whom he calls Sophists. He then states that this doctrine of the Sophists was founded on the Parmenidean dictum — That Non-Ens was an impossible supposition. Refuting the dictum of Parmenides (by a course of reasoning which I shall examine elsewhere), he arrives at the conclusion — That Non-Ens exists in a certain fashion, as well as Ens: That false opinions are possible: That there may be false opinions as well as true. But what deserves most notice here, in illustration of Plato’s manner, is — that though the Sophistês142 is announced as a continuation of the Theætêtus (carried on by the same speakers, with the addition of the Eleate), yet the objections taken by Sokrates in the Theætêtus against the possibility of false opinion, are not even noticed in the Sophistês — much less removed. Other objections to it are propounded and dealt with: but not those objections which had arrested the march of Sokrates in the Theætêtus.143 Sokrates and Theætêtus hear the Eleatic Stranger discussing this same matter in the Sophistês, yet neither of them allude to those objections against his conclusion which had appeared to both of them irresistible in the preceding dialogue known as Theætêtus. Nor are the objections refuted in any other of the Platonic dialogues.

Contrast between the philosopher and the practical statesman — between Knowledge and Opinion.

Such a string of objections never answered, and of difficulties without solution, may appear to many persons nugatory as well as tiresome. To Plato they did not appear so. At the time when most of his dialogues were composed, he considered that the Search after truth was at once the noblest occupation, and the highest pleasure, of life. Whoever has no sympathy with such a pursuit — whoever cares only for results, and finds the chase in itself fatiguing rather than attractive — is likely to take little interest in the Platonic dialogues. To repeat what I said in Chapter VIII. — Those who expect from Plato a coherent system in which affirmative dogmas are first to be laid down, with the evidence in their favour — next, the difficulties and objections against them enumerated — lastly, these difficulties solved — will be disappointed. Plato is, occasionally, abundant in his affirmations: he has also great negative fertility in starting objections: but the affirmative current does not come into conflict with the negative. His belief is enforced by rhetorical fervour, poetical illustration, and a vivid emotional fancy. These elements stand to him in the place of positive proof; and when his mind is full of them, the unsolved objections, which he himself had stated elsewhere, vanish out of sight. Towards the close of his life (as we shall see in the Treatise De Legibus), the love of dialectic, and the taste for enunciating difficulties even when he could not clear them up, died out within him. He becomes ultra-dogmatical, losing even the poetical richness and fervour which had once marked his affirmations, and substituting in their place a strict and compulsory orthodoxy.

Persons and circumstances of the two dialogues.

Relation of the two dialogues to the Theætêtus.

These two dialogues are both of them announced by Plato as forming sequel to the Theætêtus. The beginning of the Sophistês fits on to the end of the Theætêtus: and the Politikus is even presented as a second part or continuation of the Sophistês.1 In all the three, the same interlocutors are partially maintained. Thus Sokrates, Theodôrus, and Theætêtus are present in all three: and Theætêtus makes the responses, not only in the dialogue which bears his name, but also in the Sophistês. Both in the Sophistês and Politikus, however, Sokrates himself descends from the part of principal speaker to that of listener: it is he, indeed, who by his question elicits the exposition, but he makes no comment either during the progress of it or at the close. In both the dialogues, the leading and expository function is confided to a new personage introduced by Theodôrus:— a stranger not named, but announced as coming from Elea — the friend and companion of Parmenides and Zeno. Perhaps (remarks Sokrates) your friend may, without your knowledge, be a God under human shape; as Homer tells us that the Gods often go about, in the company of virtuous men, to inspect the good and bad behaviour of mankind. Perhaps your friend may be a sort of cross-examining God, coming to test and expose our feebleness in argument. No (replies Theodôrus) that is not his character. He is less given to dispute than his companions. He is far from being a God, but he is a divine man: for I call all true philosophers divine.2

Plato declares that his first purpose is to administer a lesson in logical method: the special question chosen, being subordinate to that purpose.

Plato declares that his first purpose is to administer a lesson in logical method: the special question chosen, being subordinate to that purpose.

Method of logical Definition and Division.

Sokrates tries the application of this method, first, upon a vulgar subject. To find the logical place and deduction of the Angler. Superior classes above him. Bisecting division.

Both the Sophistes and the Politikus are lessons and specimens of that process which the logical manuals recognise under the names — Definition and Division. What is a Sophist? What is a politician or statesman? What is a philosopher? In the first place — Are the three really distinct characters? for this may seem doubtful: since the true philosopher, in his visits of inspection from city to city, is constantly misconceived by an ignorant public, and confounded with the other two.9 The Eleate replies that the three are distinct. Then what is the characteristic function of each? How is he distinguished from other persons or other things? To what class or classes does each belong: and what is the specific character belonging to the class, so as to mark its place in the scheme descending by successive logical subdivision from the highest genus down to particulars? What other professions or occupations are there analogous to those of Sophist and Statesman, so as to afford an illustrative comparison? What is there in like manner capable of serving as illustrative contrast?

Such a lesson in logical classification was at that time both novel and instructive. No logical manuals then existed.

Such are the problems which it is the direct purpose of the two dialogues before us to solve. But a large proportion of both is occupied by matters bearing only indirectly upon the solution. The process of logical subdivision, or the formation of classes in subordination to each other, can be exhibited just as plainly in application to an ordinary craft or profession, as to one of grave importance. The Eleate Stranger even affirms that the former case will be simpler, and will serve as explanatory introduction to the latter.10 He therefore selects the craft of an angler, for which to find a place in logical classification. Does not an angler belong to the general class — men of art or craft? He is not a mere artless, non-professional, private man. This being so, we must distribute the class Arts — Artists, into two subordinate classes: Artists who construct or put together some new substance or compound — Artists who construct nothing new, but are employed in getting, or keeping, or employing, substances already made. Thus the class Artists is bisected into Constructive — Acquisitive. The angler constructs nothing: he belongs to the acquisitive branch. We now bisect this latter branch. Acquirers either obtain by consent, or appropriate without consent. Now the angler is one of the last-mentioned class: which is again bisected into two sub-classes, according as the appropriation is by force or stratagem — Fighters and Hunters. The angler is a hunter: but many other persons are hunters also, from whom he must be distinguished. Hunters are therefore divided into, Those who hunt inanimate things (such as divers for sponges, &c.), and Those who hunt living things or animals, including of course the angler among them. The hunters of animals are distinguished into hunters of walking animals, and hunters of swimming animals. Of the swimming animals some are in air, others in water:11 hence we get two classes, Bird-Hunters and Fish-Hunters; to the last of whom the angler belongs. The fish-hunters (or fishermen) again are bisected into two classes, according as they employ nets, or striking instruments of one kind or another, such as tridents, &c. Of the striking fishermen there are two sorts: those who do their work at night by torch-light, and those who work by day. All these day-fishermen, including among them the angler, use instruments with hooks at the end. But we must still make one bisection more. Some of them employ tridents, with which they strike from above downwards at the fishes, upon any part of the body which may present itself: others use hooks, rods, and lines, which they contrive to attach to the jaws of the fish, and thereby draw him from below upward.12 This is the special characteristic of the angler. We have now a class comprehending the anglers alone, so that no farther sub-division is required. We have obtained not merely the name of the angler, but also the rational explanation of the function to which the name is attached.13

Plato describes the Sophist as analogous to an angler. He traces the Sophist by descending subdivision from the acquisitive genus of art.

This is the first specimen which Plato gives of a systematic classification descending, by successive steps of bifurcation, through many subordinations of genera and species, each founded on a real and proclaimed distinction — and ending at last in an infima species. He repeats the like process in regard to the Sophist, the Statesman, and other professions to which he compares the one or the other: but it will suffice to have given one specimen of his method. If we transport ourselves back to his time, I think that such a view of the principles of classification implies a new and valuable turn of thought. There existed then no treatises on logic; no idea of logic as a scheme of mental procedure; no sciences out of which it was possible to abstract the conception of a regular method more or less diversified. On no subject was there any mass of facts or details collected, large enough to demand some regular system for the purpose of arranging and rendering them intelligible. Classification to a certain extent is of necessity involved, consciously or unconsciously, in the use of general terms. But the process itself had never been made a subject of distinct consciousness or reflection to any one (as far as our knowledge reaches), in the time of Plato. No one had yet looked at it as a process natural indeed to the human intellect, up to a certain point and in a loose manner, — but capable both of great extension and great improvement, and requiring especial study, with an end deliberately set before the mind, in order that it might be employed with advantage to regularise and render intelligible even common and well-known facts. To determine a series of descending classes, with class-names, each connoting some assignable characteristic — to distribute the whole of each class between two correlative sub-classes, to compare the different ways in which this could be done, and to select such membra condividentia as were most suitable for the purpose — this was in the time of Plato an important novelty. We know from Xenophon14 that Sokrates considered Dialectic to be founded, both etymologically and really, upon the distribution of particular things into genera or classes. But we find little or no intentional illustration of this process in any of the conversations of the Xenophontic Sokrates: and we are farther struck by the fact that Plato, in the two dialogues which we are here considering, assigns all the remarks on the process of classification, not to Sokrates himself, but to the nameless Eleatic Stranger.

The Sophist traced down from the same, by a second and different descending subdivision.

After giving the generic deduction of the angler from the comprehensive idea of Art, distributed into two sections, constructive and acquisitive, Plato proceeds to notice the analogy between the Sophist and an angler: after which he deduces the Sophist also from the acquisitive section of Art. The Sophist is an angler for rich young men.15 To find his place in the preceding descending series, we must take our departure from the bisection — hunters of walking animals, hunters of swimming animals. The Sophist is a hunter of walking animals: which may be divided into two classes, wild and tame. The Sophist hunts a species of tame animals — men. Hunters of tame animals are bisected into such as hunt by violent means (robbers, enslavers, despots, &c.),16 and such as hunt by persuasive means. Of the hunters by means of persuasion there are two kinds: those who hunt the public, and those who hunt individuals. The latter again may be divided into two classes: those who hunt to their own loss, by means of presents, such as lovers, &c., and those who hunt with a view to their own profit. To this latter class belongs the Sophist: pretending to associate with others for the sake of virtue, but really looking to his own profit.17

Also, by a third.

Again, we may find the Sophist by descending through a different string of subordinate classes from the genus — Acquisitive Art. The professors of this latter may be bisected into two sorts — hunters and exchangers. Exchangers are of two sorts — givers and sellers. Sellers again sell either their own productions, or the productions of others. Those who sell the productions of others are either fixed residents in one city, or hawkers travelling about from city to city. Hawkers again carry about for sale either merchandise for the body, or merchandise for the mind, such as music, poetry, painting, exhibitions of jugglery, learning, and intellectual accomplishments, and so forth. These latter (hawkers for the mind) may be divided into two sorts: those who go about teaching; for money, arts and literary accomplishments — and those who go about teaching virtue for money. They who go about teaching virtue for money are the Sophists.18 Or indeed if they sell virtue and knowledge for money, they are not the less Sophists — whether they buy what they sell from others, or prepare it for themselves — whether they remain in one city or become itinerant.

The Sophist is traced down, from the genus of separating or discriminating art.

A third series of subordinate classes will also bring us down from the genus — Acquisitive Art — down to the infima species — Sophist. In determining the class-place of the angler, we recognised a bisection of acquisitive art into acquirers by exchange, or mutual consent — and acquirers by appropriation, or without consent.19 These latter we divided according as they employed either force or stratagem: contenders and hunters. We then proceeded to bisect the class hunters, leaving the contenders without farther notice. Now let us take up the class contenders. It may be divided into two: competitors for a set prize (pecuniary or honorary), and fighters. The fighters go to work either body against body, violently — or tongue against tongue, as arguers. These arguers again fall into two classes: the pleaders, who make long speeches, about just or unjust, before the public assembly and dikastery: and the dialogists, who meet each other in short question and answer. The dialogists again are divided into two: the private, untrained antagonists, quarrelling with each other about the particular affairs of life (who form a species by themselves, since characteristic attributes may be assigned to them; though these attributes are too petty and too indefinite to have ever received a name in common language, or to deserve a name from us20) — and the trained practitioners or wranglers, who dispute not about particular incidents, but about just and unjust in general, and other general matters.21 Of wranglers again there are two sorts: the prosers, who follow the pursuit from spontaneous taste and attachment, not only without hope of gain, but to the detriment of their private affairs, incurring loss themselves, and wearying or bothering their hearers: and those who make money by such private dialogues. This last sort of wrangler is the Sophist.22

In a logical classification, low and vulgar items deserve as much attention as grand ones. Conflict between emotional and scientific classification.

In a logical classification, low and vulgar items deserve as much attention as grand ones. Conflict between emotional and scientific classification.

The purifier — a species under the genus discriminator — separates good from evil. Evil is of two sorts; the worst sort is, Ignorance, mistaking itself for knowledge.

The purifier — a species under the genus discriminator — separates good from evil. Evil is of two sorts; the worst sort is, Ignorance, mistaking itself for knowledge.

Exhortation is useless against this worst mode of evil. Cross-examination, the shock of the Elenchus, must be brought to bear upon it. This is the sovereign purifier.

The application of this Elenchus is the work of the Sophist, looked at on its best side. But looked at as he really is, he is a juggler who teaches pupils to dispute about every thing — who palms off falsehood for truth.

To meet this special and gravest case of ignorance, we must recognise a special division of the art of instruction or education. Exhortation, which is the common mode of instruction, and which was employed by our forefathers universally, is of no avail against this false persuasion of knowledge: which can only be approached and cured by the Elenchus, or philosophical cross-examination. So long as a man believes himself to be wise, you may lecture for ever without making impression upon him: you do no good by supplying food when the stomach is sick. But the examiner, questioning him upon those subjects which he professes to know, soon entangles him in contradictions with himself, making him feel with shame and humiliation his own real ignorance. After having been thus disabused — a painful but indispensable process, not to be accomplished except by the Elenchus — his mind becomes open and teachable, so that positive instruction may be communicated to him with profit. The Elenchus is the grand and sovereign purification: whoever has not been subjected to it, were he even the Great King, is impure, unschooled, and incompetent for genuine happiness.28

Doubt started by the Eleate. How can it be possible either to think or to speak falsely?

This cross-examining and disabusing process, brought to bear upon the false persuasion of knowledge and forming the only antidote to it, is the business of the Sophist looked at on its best side.29 But Plato will not allow the Elenchus, the great Sokratic accomplishment and mission, to be shared by the Sophists: and he finds or makes a subtle distinction to keep them off. The Sophist (so the Eleate proceeds) is a disputant, and teaches all his youthful pupils to dispute about everything as if they knew it — about religion, astronomy, philosophy, arts, laws, politics, and everything else. He teaches them to argue in each department against the men of special science: he creates a belief in the minds of others that he really knows all those different subjects, respecting which he is able to argue and cross-examine successfully: he thus both possesses, and imparts to his pupils, a seeming knowledge, an imitation and pretence of reality.30 He is a sort of juggler: an imitator who palms off upon persons what appears like reality when seen from a distance, but what is seen to be not like reality when contemplated closely.31

He pursues the investigation of this problem by a series of questions.

The Sophist will reject our definition and escape, by affirming that to speak falsely is impossible. He will require us to make out a rational theory, explaining Non-Ens.

First, the Eleate states the opinion which perplexes him, and which he is anxious either to refute or to explain away. (Unfortunately, we have no statement of the opinion, nor of the grounds on which it was held, from those who actually held it.) Non-Ens, or Nothing, is not the name of any existing thing, or of any Something. But every one who speaks must speak something: therefore if you try to speak of Non-Ens, you are trying to speak nothing — which is equivalent to not speaking at all.34 Moreover, to every Something, you can add something farther: but to Non-Ens, or Nothing, you cannot add any thing. (Non-Entis nulla sunt prædicata.) Now Number is something, or included among the Entia: you cannot therefore apply number, either singular or plural, to Non-Ens: and inasmuch as every thing conceived or described must be either one or many, it is impossible either to conceive or describe Non-Ens. You cannot speak of it without falling into a contradiction.35

The Eleate turns from Non-Ens to Ens. Theories of various philosophers about Ens.

Difficulties about Ens are as great as those about Non-Ens.

Let us turn for a moment (he says) from Non-Ens to Ens. The various physical philosophers tell us a good deal about Ens. They differ greatly among themselves. Some philosophers represent Ens as triple, comprising three distinct elements, sometimes in harmony, sometimes at variance with each other. Others tell us that it is double — wet and dry — or hot and cold. A third sect, especially Xenophanes and Parmenides, pronounce it to be essentially One. Herakleitus blends together the different theories, affirming that Ens is both many and one, always in process of disjunction and conjunction: Empedokles adopts a similar view, only dropping the always, and declaring the process of disjunction to alternate with that of conjunction, so that Ens is sometimes Many, sometimes One.39

Whether Ens is Many or One? If Many, how Many? Difficulties about One and the Whole. Theorists about Ens cannot solve them.

Theories of those who do not recognise a definite number of Entia or elements. Two classes thereof.

Such are the questions which the Eleatic spokesman of Plato puts to those philosophers who affirm Ens to be plural: He turns next to those who affirm Ens to be singular, or Unum. Do you mean that Unum is identical with Ens — and are they only two names for the same One and only thing? There cannot be two distinct names belonging to one and the same thing: and yet, if this be not so, one of the names must be the name of nothing. At any rate, if there be only one name and one thing, still the name itself is different from the thing — so that duality must still be recognised. Or if you take the name as identical with the One thing, it will either be the name of nothing, or the name of a name.41

1. The Materialist Philosophers. 2. The Friends of Forms or Idealists, who recognise such Forms as the only real Entia.

Argument against the Materialists — Justice must be something, since it may be either present or absent, making sensible difference — But Justice is not a body.

First, the Materialist Philosophers, who recognise nothing as existing except what is tangible; defining Essence as identical with Body, and denying all incorporeal essence. Plato mentions no names: but he means (according to some commentators) Leukippus and Demokritus — perhaps Aristippus also. Secondly, other philosophers who, diametrically opposed to the Materialists, affirmed that there were no real Entia except certain Forms, Ideas, genera or species, incorporeal and conceivable only by intellect: that true and real essence was not to be found in those bodies wherein the Materialists sought it: that bodies were in constant generation and disappearance, affording nothing more than a transitory semblance of reality, not tenable45 when sifted by reason. By these last are understood (so Schleiermacher and others think, though in my judgment erroneously) Eukleides and the Megaric school of philosophers.

At least many of them will concede this point, though not all Ens is common to the corporeal and the incorporeal. Ens is equivalent to potentiality.

The Eleate proceeds to comment upon the doctrines held by these opposing schools of thinkers respecting Essence or Reality. It is easier (he says) to deal with the last-mentioned, for they are more gentle. With the Materialists it is difficult, and all but impossible, to deal at all. Indeed, before we can deal with them, we must assume them to be for this occasion better than they show themselves in reality, and ready to answer in a more becoming manner than they actually do.46 These Materialists will admit (Plato continues) that man exists — an animated body, or a compound of mind and body: they will farther allow that the mind of one man differs from that of another:— one is just, prudent, &c., another is unjust and imprudent. One man is just, through the habit and presence of justice: another is unjust, through the habit and presence of injustice. But justice must surely be something — injustice also must be something — if each may be present to, or absent from, any thing; and if their presence or absence makes so sensible a difference.47 And justice or injustice, prudence or imprudence, as well as the mind in which the one or the other inheres, are neither visible or tangible, nor have they any body: they are all invisible.

Argument against the Idealists — who distinguish Ens from the generated, and say that we hold communion with the former through our minds, with the latter through our bodies and senses.

Holding communion — What? Implies Relativity. Ens is known by the mind. It therefore suffers or undergoes change. Ens includes both the unchangeable and the changeable.

The Eleate now turns to the philosophers of the opposite school — the Mentalists or Idealists, — whom he terms the friends of Forms, Ideas, or species.51 These men (he says) distinguish the generated, transitory and changeable — from Ens or the Real, which is eternal, unchanged, always the same: they distinguish generation from essence. With the generated (according to their doctrine) we hold communion through our bodies and our bodily perceptions: with Ens, we hold communion through our mind and our intellectual apprehension. But what do they mean (continues the Eleate) by this “holding of communion”? Is it not an action or a passion produced by a certain power of agent and patient coming into co-operation with each other? and is not this the definition which we just now laid down, of Ens or the Real.

Motion and rest are both of them Entia or realities. Both agree in Ens. Ens is a tertium quid — distinct from both. But how can anything be distinct from both?

No — these philosophers will reply — we do not admit your definition as a definition of Ens: it applies only to the generated. Generation does involve, or emanate from, a reciprocity of agent and patient: but neither power nor action, nor suffering, have any application to Ens or the Real. But you admit (says the Eleate) that the mind knows Ens:— and that Ens is known by the mind. Now this knowing, is it not an action — and is not the being known, a passion? If to know is an action, then Ens, being known, is acted upon, suffers something, or undergoes some change, — which would be impossible if we assume Ens to be eternally unchanged. These philosophers might reply, that they do not admit to know as an action, nor to be known as a passion. They affirm Ens to be eternally unchanged, and they hold to their other affirmation that Ens is known by the mind. But (urges the Eleate) can they really believe that Ens is eternally the same and unchanged, — that it has neither life, nor mind, nor intelligence, nor change, nor movement? This is incredible. They must concede that Change, and the Changeable, are to be reckoned as Entia or Realities: for if these be not so reckoned, and if all Entia are unchangeable, no Ens can be an object of knowledge to any mind. But though the changeable belongs to Ens, we must not affirm that all Ens is changeable. There cannot be either intellect or knowledge, without something constant and unchangeable. It is equally necessary to recognise something as constant and unchangeable — something else as moving and changeable: Ens or reality includes alike one and the other. The true philosopher therefore cannot agree with those “Friends of Forms” who affirm all Ens or Reality to be at rest and unchangeable, either under one form or under many:— still less can he agree with those opposite reasoners, who maintain all reality to be in perpetual change and movement. He will acknowledge both and each — rest and motion — the constant and the changeable — as making up together total reality or Ens Totum.

Here the Eleate breaks off without solution. He declares his purpose to show, That Ens is as full of puzzle as Non-Ens,

Argument against those who admit no predication to be legitimate, except identical. How far Forms admit of intercommunion with each other.

No intercommunion between any distinct forms. Refuted. Common speech is inconsistent with this hypothesis.

Let us try (he proceeds) another path. We know that it is a common practice in our daily speech to apply many different predicates to one and the same subject. We say of the same man, that he is fair, tall, just, brave, &c., and several other epithets. Some persons deny our right to do this. They say that the predicate ought always to be identical with the subject: that we can only employ with propriety such propositions as the following — man is man — good is good, &c.: that to apply many predicates to one and the same subject is to make one thing into many things.54 But in reply to these opponents, as well as to those whom we have before combated, we shall put before them three alternatives, of which they must choose one. 1. Either all Forms admit of intercommunion one with the other. 2. Or no Forms admit of such intercommunion. 3. Or some Forms do admit of it, and others not. Between these three an option must be made.55

Reciprocal intercommunion of all Forms — inadmissible.

Some Forms admit of intercommunion, others not. This is the only admissible doctrine. Analogy of letters and syllables.

Art and skill are required to distinguish what Forms admit of intercommunion, and what Forms do not. This is the special intelligence of the Philosopher, who lives in the bright region of Ens: the Sophist lives in the darkness of Non-Ens.

Remains only the third alternative — that some forms admit of intercommunion — others not. This is the real truth (says the Eleate). So it stands in regard to letters and words in language: some letters come together in words frequently and conveniently — others rarely and awkwardly — others never do nor ever can come together. The same with the combination of sounds to obtain music. It requires skill and art to determine which of these combinations are admissible.

He comes to enquire what Non-Ens is. He takes for examination five principal Forms — Motion — Rest — Ens — Same — Different.

Form of Diversum pervades all the others.

We have still to determine, however (continues Plato), what this Non-Ens or Non-Reality is. For this purpose we will take a survey, not of all Forms or Genera, but of some few the most important. We will begin with the two before noticed — Motion and Rest ( = Change and Permanence), which are confessedly irreconcileable and reciprocally exclusive. Ens however enters into partnership with both: for both of them are, or exist.61 This makes up three Forms or Genera — Motion, Rest, Ens: each of the three being the same with itself, and different from the other two. Here we have pronounced two new words — Same — Different.62 Do these words designate two other Forms, over and above the three before-named, yet necessarily always intermingling in partnership with those three, so as to make five Forms in all? Or are these two — Same and Different — essential appendages of the three before-named? This last question must be answered in the negative. Same and Different are not essential appendages, or attached as parts, to Motion, Rest, Ens. Same and Different may be predicated both of Motion and of Rest: and whatever can be predicated alike of two contraries, cannot be an essential portion or appendage of either. Neither Motion nor Rest therefore are essentially either Same or Different: though both of them partake of Same or Different — i.e., come into accidental co-partnership with one as well as the other.63 Neither can we say that Ens is identical with either Idem or Diversum. Not with Idem — for we speak of both Motion and Rest as Entia or Existences: but we cannot speak of them as the same. Not with Diversum — for different is a name relative to something else from which it is different, but Ens is not thus relative. Motion and Rest are or exist, each in itself: but each is different, relatively to the other, and to other things generally. Accordingly we have here five Forms or Genera — Ens, Motion, Rest, Idem, Diversum: each distinct from and independent of all the rest.64

Motion is different from Diversum, or is not Diversum. Motion is different from Ens — in other words, it is Non-Ens. Each of these Forms is both Ens and Non-Ens.

This Form of Diversum or Different pervades all the others: for each one of them is different from the others, not through any thing in its own nature, but because it partakes of the Form of Difference.65 Each of the five is different from others: or, to express the same fact in other words, each of them is not any one of the others. Thus motion is different from rest, or is not rest: but nevertheless motion is or exists, because it partakes of the Form — Ens. Again, Motion is different from Idem: it is not the Same: yet nevertheless it is the same, because it partakes of the nature of Idem, or is the same with itself. Thus then both predications are true respecting motion: it is the same: it is not the same, because it partakes of or enters into partnership with both Idem and Diversum.66 If motion in any way partook of Rest, we should be able to talk of stationary motion: but this is impossible: for we have already said that some Forms cannot come into intercommunion — that they absolutely exclude each other.

By Non-Ens, we do not mean anything contrary to Ens — we mean only something different from Ens. Non-Ens is a real Form, as well as Ens.

The Eleate claims to have refuted Parmenides, and to have shown both that Non-Ens is a real Form, and also what it is.

Now note the consequence (continues the Eleate). When we speak of Non-Ens, we do not mean any thing contrary to Ens, but only something different from Ens. When we call any thing not great, we do not affirm it to be the contrary of great, or to be little: for it may perhaps be simply equal: we only mean that it is different from great.70 A negative proposition, generally, does not signify anything contrary to the predicate, but merely something else distinct or different from the predicate.71 The Form of Different, though of one and the same general nature throughout, is distributed into many separate parts or specialties, according as it is attached to different things. Thus not beautiful is a special mode of the general Form or Genus Different, placed in antithesis with another Form or Genus, the beautiful. The antithesis is that of one Ens or Real thing against another Ens or Real thing: not beautiful, not great, not just, exist just as much and are quite as real, as beautiful, great, just. If the Different be a real Form or Genus, all its varieties must be real also. Accordingly Different from Ens is just as much a real Form as Ens itself:72 and this is what we mean by Non-Ens:— not any thing contrary to Ens.

The theory now stated is the only one, yet given, which justifies predication as a legitimate process, with a predicate different from the subject.

Here then the Eleate professes to have found what Non-Ens is: that it is a real substantive Form, numerable among the other Forms, and having a separate constant nature of its own, like not beautiful, not great:73 that it is real and existent, just as much as Ens, beautiful, great, &c. Disregarding the prohibition of Parmenides, we have shown (says he) not only that Non-Ens exists, but also what it is. Many Forms or Genera enter into partnership or communion with each other; and Non-Ens is the partnership between Ens and Diversum. Diversum, in partnership with Ens, is (exists), in consequence of such partnership:— yet it is not that with which it is in partnership, but different therefrom — and being thus different from Ens, it is clearly and necessarily Non-Ens: while Ens also, by virtue of its partnership with Diversum, is different from all the other Forms, or is not any one of them, and to this extent therefore Ens is Non-Ens. We drop altogether the idea of contrariety, without enquiring whether it be reasonably justifiable or not: we attach ourselves entirely to the Form — Different.74

Enquiry, whether the Form of Non-Ens can come into intercommunion with the Forms of Proposition, Opinion, Judgment.

Let those refute this explanation, who can do so (continues the Eleate), or let them propose a better of their own, if they can: if not, let them allow the foregoing as possible.75 Let them not content themselves with multiplying apparent contradictions, by saying that the same may be in some particular respect different, and that the different may be in some particular respect the same, through this or the other accidental attribute.76 All these sophisms lead but to make us believe — That no one thing can be predicated of any other — That there is no intercommunion of the distinct Forms one with another, no right to predicate of any subject a second name and the possession of a new attribute — That therefore there can be no dialectic debate or philosophy, which is all founded upon such intercommunion of Forms.77 We have shown that Forms do really come into conjunction, so as to enable us to conjoin, truly and properly, predicate with subject, and to constitute proposition and judgment as taking place among the true Forms or Genera. Among these true Forms or Genera, Non-Ens is included as one.78

Analysis of a Proposition. Every Proposition must have a noun and a verb — it must be proposition of Something. False propositions, involve the Form of Non-Ens, in relation to the particular subject.

Opinion, Judgment, Fancy, &c., are akin to Proposition, and may be also false, by coming into partnership with the Form Non-Ens.

Let us look attentively what Proposition, Judgment, Opinion, are. As we said about Forms and letters, so about words: it is not every combination of words which is possible, so as to make up a significant proposition. A string of nouns alone will not make one, nor a string of verbs alone. To compose the simplest proposition, you must put together at least one noun and one verb, in order to signify something respecting things existing, or events past, present, and future.80 Now every proposition must be a proposition about something, or belonging to a certain subject: every proposition must also be of a certain quality.81 Theætêtus is sitting down — Theætêtus is flying. Here are two propositions, both belonging to the same subject, but with opposite qualities: the former true, the latter false. The true proposition affirms respecting Theætêtus real things as they are; the false proposition affirms respecting him things different from real, or non-real, as being real. The attribute of flying is just as real in itself as the attribute of sitting: but as respects Theætêtus, or as predicated concerning him, it is different from the reality, or non-real.82 But still Theætêtus is the subject of the proposition, though the predicate flying does not really belong to him: for there is no other subject than he, and without a subject the proposition would be no proposition at all. When therefore different things are affirmed as the same, or non-realities as realities, respecting you or any given subject, the proposition so affirming is false.83

It thus appears that Falsehood, imitating Truth, is theoretically possible, and that there may be a profession, like that of the Sophist, engaged in producing it.

Logical distribution of Imitators — those who imitate what they know, or what they do not know — of these last, some sincerely believe themselves to know, others are conscious that they do not know, and designedly impose upon others.

Here Plato closes his general philosophical discussion, and reverts to the process of logical division from which he had deviated. In descending the predicamental steps, to find the logical place of the Sophist, Plato had reached a point where he assumed Non-Ens, together with false propositions and judgments affirming Non-Ens. To which the Sophist is conceived as replying, that Non-Ens was contradictory and impossible, and that no proposition could be false. On these points Plato has produced an elaborate argument intended to refute him, and to show that there was such a thing as falsehood imitating truth, or passing itself off as truth: accordingly, that there might be an art or profession engaged in producing such falsehood.

Last class divided — Those who impose on numerous auditors by long discourse, the Rhetor — Those who impose on select auditors, by short question and answer, making the respondent contradict himself — the Sophist.

Dialogue closed. Remarks upon it. Characteristics ascribed to a Sophist.

Of this latter class, again, we may recognise two sections: those who impose upon a numerous audience by long discourses on public matters: and those who in private, by short question and answer, compel the person conversing with them to contradict himself.87 The man of long discourse is not the true statesman, but the popular orator: the man of short discourse, but without any real knowledge, is not the truly wise man, since he has no real knowledge — but the imitator of the wise man, or Sophist.

These characteristics may have belonged to other persons, but they belonged in an especial manner to Sokrates himself.

The conditions enumerated in the dialogue (except the taking of a fee) fit Sokrates better than any other known person.

I dare say that there were some acute and subtle disputants in Athens to whom these characteristics belonged, though we do not know them by name. But we know one to whom they certainly belonged: and that was, Sokrates himself. They stand manifest and prominent both in the Platonic and in the Xenophontic dialogues. The attribute which Xenophon directly predicates about him, that “in conversation he dealt with his interlocutors just as he pleased,”88 is amply exemplified by Plato in the Protagoras, Gorgias, Euthyphron, Lachês, Charmides, Lysias, Alkibiadês I. and II., Hippias I. and II., &c. That he cross-examined and puzzled every one else without knowing the subjects on which he talked, better than they did — is his own declaration in the Apology. That the Athenians regarded him as a clever man mystifying them — talking without sincere persuasion, or in a manner so strange that you could not tell whether he was in jest or in earnest — overthrowing men’s established convictions by subtleties which led to no positive truth — is also attested both by what he himself says in the Apology, and by other passages of Plato and Xenophon.89

The art which Plato calls “the thoroughbred and noble Sophistical Art” belongs to Sokrates and to no one else. The Elenchus was peculiar to him. Protagoras and Prodikus were not Sophists in this sense.

Moreover, if we examine not merely the special features assigned to the Sophist in the conclusion of the dialogue, but also those indicated in the earlier part of it, we shall find that many of them fit Sokrates as well as they could have fitted any one else. If the Sophists hunted after rich young men,90 Sokrates did the same; seeking opportunities for conversation with them by assiduous frequentation of the palæstræ, as well as in other ways. We see this amply attested by Plato and Xenophon:91 we see farther that Sokrates announces it as a propensity natural to him, and meritorious rather than otherwise. Again, the argumentative dialogue — disputation or eristic reduced to an art, and debating on the general theses of just and unjust, which Plato notes as characterising the Sophists92 — belonged in still higher perfection to Sokrates. It not only formed the business of his life, but is extolled by Plato elsewhere,93 as the true walk of virtuous philosophy. But there was undoubtedly this difference between Sokrates and the Sophists, that he conversed and argued gratuitously, delighting in the process itself: while they both asked and received money for it. Upon this point, brought forward by Plato both directly and with his remarkable fertility in multiplying indirect allusions, the peculiarity of the Sophist is made mainly to turn. To ask or receive a fee for communicating knowledge, virtue, aptitude in debate, was in the view of Sokrates and Plato a grave enormity: a kind of simoniacal practice.94

Universal knowledge — was professed at that time by all Philosophers — Plato, Aristotle, &c.

We have seen also that Plato assigns to what he terms “the thoroughbred and noble Sophistic Art” (ἡ γένει γενναία σοφιστικὴ), the employment of the Elenchus, for the purpose of destroying, in the minds of others, that false persuasion of existing knowledge which was the radical impediment to their imbibing acquisitions of real knowledge from the teacher.95 Here Plato draws a portrait not only strikingly resembling Sokrates, but resembling no one else. As far as we can make out, Sokrates stood alone in this original conception of the purpose of the Elenchus, and in his no less original manner of working it out. To prove to others that they knew nothing, is what he himself represents to be his mission from the Delphian oracle. Sokrates is a Sophist of the most genuine and noble stamp: others are Sophists, but of a more degenerate variety. Plato admits the analogy with reluctance, and seeks to attenuate it.96 We may remark, however, that according to the characteristic of the true Sophist here given by Plato, Protagoras and Prodikus were less of Sophists than Sokrates. For though we know little of the two former, yet there is good reason to believe, That the method which they generally employed was, that of continuous and eloquent discourse, lecture, exhortation: that disputation by short question and answer was less usual with them, and was not their strong point: and that the Elenchus, in the Sokratic meaning, can hardly be said to have been used by them at all. Now Plato, in this dialogue, tells us that the true and genuine Sophist renounces the method of exhortation as unprofitable; or at least employs it only subject to the condition of having previously administered the Elenchus with success, as his own patent medicine.97 Upon this definition, Sokrates is more truly a Sophist than either Protagoras or Prodikus: neither of whom, so far as we know, made it their business to drive the respondent to contradictions.

Inconsistency of Plato’s argument in the Sophistês. He says that the Sophist is a disputatious man who challenges every one for speaking falsehood. He says also that the Sophist is one who maintains false propositions to be impossible.

Now it is possible that the Sophists of that day may have pretended to this species of universal knowledge; but most certainly Plato and Aristotle did the same. The dialogues of Plato embrace all that wide range of topics which he tells us that the Sophists argued about, and pretended to teach. In an age when the amount of positive knowledge was so slender, it was natural for a clever talker or writer to fancy that he knew every thing. In reference to every subject then discussed, an ingenious mind could readily supply deductions from both hypotheses — generalities ratiocinative or imaginative — strung together into an apparent order sufficient for the exigencies of hearers. There was no large range of books to be studied; no stock of facts or experience to be mastered. Every philosopher wove his own tissue of theory for himself, without any restraint upon his intellectual impulse, in regard to all the problems then afloat. What the theories of the Sophists were, we do not know: but Plato, author of the Timæus, Republic, Leges, Kratylus, Menon — who affirmed the pre-existence as well as post-existence of the mind, and the eternal self-existence of Ideas — has no fair ground for reproaching them with blamable rashness in the extent and diversity of topics which they presumed to discuss. They obtained indeed (he says justly) no truth or knowledge, but merely a fanciful semblance of knowledge — an equivocal show or imitation of reality.98 But Plato himself obtains nothing more in the Timæus: and we shall find Aristotle pronouncing the like condemnation on the Platonic self-existent Ideas. If the Sophists professed to be encyclopedists, this was an error natural to the age; and was the character of Grecian philosophy generally, even in its most illustrious manifestations.

Reasoning of Plato about Non-Ens — No predications except identical.

Having traced the Sophist down to the character of a man of delusion and imposture, passing off appearance as if it were reality, and falsehood as if it were truth — Plato (as we have seen) suddenly turns round upon himself, and asks how such a character is possible. He represents the Sophist as maintaining that no man could speak falsely99 — that a false proposition was self-contradictory, inasmuch as Non-Ens was inconceivable and unutterable. I do not see how the argument which Plato here ascribes to the Sophist, can be reconciled with the character which he had before given of the Sophist — as a man who passed his life in disputation and controversy; which involves the perpetual arraigning of other men’s opinions as false. A professed disputant may perhaps be accused of admitting nothing to be true: but he cannot well be charged with maintaining that nothing is false.

Misconception of the function of the copula in predication.

No formal Grammar or Logic existed at that time. No analysis or classification of propositions before the works of Aristotle.

This last opinion is said to have been held by Antisthenes, one of the disciples of Sokrates. We do not know how he explained or defended it, nor what reserves he may have admitted to qualify it. Plato takes no pains to inform us on this point. He treats the opinion with derision, as an absurdity. We may conceive it as one of the many errors arising from a misconception of the purpose and function of the copula in predication. Antisthenes probably considered that the copula implied identity between the predicate and the subject. Now the explanation or definition of man is different from the explanation or definition of good: accordingly, if you say, Man is good, you predicate identity between two different things: as if you were to say Two is Three, or Three is Four. And if the predicates were multiplied, the contradiction became aggravated, because then you predicated identity not merely between one thing and another different thing, but between one thing and many different things. The opinion of Antisthenes depends upon two assumptions — That each separate word, whether used as subject or as predicate, denotes a Something separate and existent by itself: That the copula implies identity. Now the first of these two assumptions is not unfrequently admitted, even in the reasonings of Plato, Aristotle, and many others: while the latter is not more remarkable than various other erroneous conceptions which have been entertained, as to the function of the copula.

Plato’s declared purpose in the Sophistês — To confute the various schools of thinkers — Antisthenes, Parmenides, the Materialists, &c.

What is most important to observe is — That at the time which we are here discussing, there existed no such sciences either grammar or formal logic. There was a copious and flexible language — a large body of literature, chiefly poetical — and great facility as well as felicity in the use of speech for the purposes of communication and persuasion. But no attempt had yet been made to analyse or theorise on speech: to distinguish between the different functions of words, and to throw them into suitable classes: to generalise the conditions of good or bad use of speech for proving a conclusion: or to draw up rules for grammar, syntax, and logic. Both Protagoras and Prodikus appear to have contributed something towards this object, and Plato gives various scattered remarks going still farther. But there was no regular body either of grammar or of formal logic: no established rules or principles to appeal to, no recognised teaching, on either topic. It was Aristotle who rendered the important service of filling up this gap. I shall touch hereafter upon the manner in which he proceeded: but the necessity of laying down a good theory of predication, and precepts respecting the employment of propositions in reasoning, is best shown by such misconceptions as this of Antisthenes; which naturally arise among argumentative men yet untrained in the generalities of grammar and logic.

Plato’s refutation throws light upon the doctrine of Antisthenes.

Plato’s argument against the Materialists.

The reasoning here given from Plato throws some light upon the doctrine just now cited from Antisthenes. You cannot say (argues Plato against the advocates of duality) that two elements (Hot and Cold) are both of them Entia or Existent, because by so doing you call them one. You cannot say (argues Antisthenes) that Sokrates is good, brave, old, &c., because by such speech you call one thing three. Again, in controverting the doctrine of Parmenides, Plato urges, That Ens cannot be Unum, because it is Totum (Unum having no parts, while Totum has parts): but it may carry with it the accident Unum, or may have Unum applied to it as a predicate by accident. Here again, we have difficulties similar to those which perplexed Antisthenes. For the same reason that Plato will not admit, That Ens is Unum — Antisthenes will not admit, That Man is good. It appeared to him to imply essential identity between the predicate and the subject.

Reply open to the Materialists.

Plato’s argument against the Idealists or Friends of Forms. Their point of view against him.

Unfortunately we never know any thing about the opponents of Plato, nor how they would have answered his objection — except so much as he chooses to tell us. But it appears to me that the opponents whom he is here confuting would have accepted his definition, and employed it for the support of their own opinion. “We recognise (they would say) just men, or hard bodies, as existent, because they conform to your definition: they have power to act and be acted upon. But justice, apart from just men — hardness, apart from hard bodies — has no such power: they neither act upon any thing, nor are acted on by any thing: therefore we do not recognise them as existent.” According to their view, objects of perception acted on the mind, and therefore were to be recognised as existent: objects of mere conception did not act on the mind, and therefore had not the same claim to be ranked as existent: or at any rate they acted on the mind in a different way, which constitutes the difference between the real and unreal. Of this difference Plato’s definition takes no account.104

Plato argues — That to know, and be known, is action and passion, a mode of relativity.

Plato argues — That to know, and be known, is action and passion, a mode of relativity.

Plato’s reasoning — compared with the points of view of both.

The argument of Plato goes to an entire denial of the Absolute, and a full establishment of the Relative.

In this portion of the present dialogue (Sophistês) the point which he makes is, to show to the Idealists, or Absolutists, that their Forms are not really absolute, or independent of the mind: that the existence of these forms is relative, just as much as that of the sensible world. The sensible world exists relatively to our senses, really or potentially exercised: the intelligible world exists relatively to our intelligence, really or potentially exercised. In both cases alike, we hold communion with the two worlds: the communion cannot be left out of sight, either in the one case or in the other. The communion is the entire and fundamental fact, of which the Subject conceiving and the Object conceived, form the two opposite but inseparable faces — the concave and convex, to employ a favourite illustration of Aristotle. Subject conceiving, in communion with Object conceived, are one and the same indivisible fact, looked at on different sides. This is, in substance, what Plato urges against those philosophers who asserted the absolute and independent existence of intelligible Forms. Such forms (he says) exist only in communion with, or relatively to, an intelligent mind: they are not absolute, not independent: they are Objects of intelligence to an intelligent Subject, but they are nothing without the Subject, just as the Subject is nothing without them or some other Object. Object of intelligence implies an intelligent Subject: Object of sense implies a sentient Subject. Thus Objects of intelligence, and Objects of sense, exist alike relatively to a Subject — not absolutely or independently.

Coincidence of his argument with the doctrine of Protagoras in the Theætêtus.

The Idealists maintained that Ideas or Forms were entirely unchangeable and eternal. Plato here denies this, and maintains that ideas were partly changeable, partly unchangeable.

The argument here urged by Plato coincides in its drift and result with the dictum of Protagoras — Man is the measure of all things. In my remarks on the Theætêtus,107 I endeavoured to make it appear that the Protagorean dictum was really a negation of the Absolute, of the Thing in itself, of the Object without a Subject:— and an affirmation of the Relative, of the Thing in communion with a percipient or concipient mind, of Object implicated with Subject — as two aspects or sides of one and the same conception or cognition. Though Plato in the Theætêtus argued at length against Protagoras, yet his reasoning here in the Sophistês establishes by implication the conclusion of Protagoras. Here Plato impugns the doctrine of those who (like Sokrates in his own Theætêtus) held that the sensible world alone was relative, but that the intelligible world or Forms were absolute. He shows that the latter were no less relative to a mind than the former; and that mind, either percipient or cogitant, could never be eliminated from “communion” with them.

Plato’s reasoning against the Materialists.

Difference between Concrete and Abstract, not then made conspicuous. Large meaning here given by Plato to Ens — comprehending not only objects of Perception, but objects of Conception besides.

Let us now look at Plato’s argument, and his definition of existence, as they bear upon the doctrine of the opposing Materialist philosophers, whom he states to have held that bodies alone existed, and that the Incorporeal did not exist:— in other words that all real existence was concrete and particular: that the abstract (universals, forms, attributes) had no real existence, certainly no separate existence. As I before remarked, it is not quite clear what or how much these philosophers denied. But as far as we can gather from Plato’s language, what they denied was, the existence of attributes apart from a substance. They did not deny the existence of just and wise men, but the existence of justice and wisdom, apart from men real or supposable.

Narrower meaning given by Materialists to Ens — they included only Objects of Perception. Their reasoning as opposed to Plato.

Different definitions of Ens — by Plato — the Materialists, the Idealists.

Different definitions of Ens — by Plato — the Materialists, the Idealists.

Plato’s views about Non-Ens examined.

His review of the select Five Forms.

Some things are always named or spoken of per se, others with reference to something else. Thus, Diversum is always different from something else: it is relative, implying a correlate.114 In this, as well as in other points, Diversum (or Different) is a distinct Form, Genus, or Idea, which runs through all other things whatever. Each thing is different from every other thing: but it differs from them, not through any thing in its own nature, but because it partakes of the Form or Idea of Diversum or the Different.115 So, in like manner, the Form or Idea of Idem (or Same) runs through all other things: since each thing is both different from all others, and is also the same with itself.

Plato’s doctrine — That Non-Ens is nothing more than different from Ens.

Communion of Non-Ens with proposition — possible and explicable.

Communion of Non-Ens with proposition — possible and explicable.

Imperfect analysis of a proposition — Plato does not recognise the predicate.

Plato’s explanation of Non-Ens is not satisfactory — Objections to it.

The foregoing is Plato’s explanation of Non-Ens. Before we remark upon it, let us examine his mode of analysing a proposition. He conceives the proposition as consisting of a noun and a verb. The noun marks the logical subject, but he has no technical word equivalent to subject: his phrase is, that a proposition must be of something or concerning something. Then again, he not only has no word to designate the predicate, but he does not even seem to conceive the predicate as distinct and separable: it stands along with the copula embodied in the verb. The two essentials of a proposition, as he states them, are — That it should have a certain subject — That it should be of a certain quality, true or false.124 This conception is just, as far as it goes: but it does not state all which ought to be known about proposition, and it marks an undeveloped logical analysis. It indicates moreover that Plato, not yet conceiving the predicate as a distinct constituent, had not yet conceived the copula as such: and therefore that the substantive verb ἔστιν had not yet been understood by him in its function of pure and simple copula. The idea that the substantive verb when used in a proposition must mark existence or essence, is sufficiently apparent in several of his reasonings.

Plato’s view of the negative is erroneous. Logical maxim of contradiction.

Secondly, there is an objection still graver against Plato’s explanation. When he resolves negation into an affirmation of something different from what is denied, he effaces or puts out of sight one of the capital distinctions of logic. What he says is indeed perfectly true: Not-great, Not-beautiful, Non-Ens, are respectively different from great, beautiful, Ens. But this, though true, is only a part of the truth; leaving unsaid another portion of the truth which, while equally essential, is at the same time special and characteristic. The negative not only differs from the affirmative, but has such peculiar meaning of its own, as to exclude the affirmative: both cannot be true together. Not-great is certainly different from great: so also, white, hard, rough, just, valiant, &c, are all different from great. But there is nothing in these latter epithets to exclude the co-existence of great. Theætêtus is great — Theætêtus is white; in the second of these two propositions I affirm something respecting Theætêtus quite different from what I affirm in the first, yet nevertheless noway excluding what is affirmed in the first.128 The two propositions may both be true. But when I say — Theætêtus is dead — Theætêtus is not dead: here are two propositions which cannot both be true, from the very form of the words. To explain not-great, as Plato does, by saying that it means only something different from great,129 is to suppress this peculiar meaning and virtue of the negative, whereby it simply excludes the affirmative, without affirming any thing in its place. Plato is right in saying that not-great does not affirm the contrary of great, by which he means little.130 The negative does not affirm any thing: it simply denies. Plato seems to consider the negative as a species of affirmative:131 only affirming something different from what is affirmed by the term which it accompanies. Not-Great, Not-Beautiful, Not-Just — he declares to be Forms just as real and distinct as Great, Beautiful, Just: only different from these latter. This, in my opinion, is a conception logically erroneous. Negative stands opposed to affirmative, as one of the modes of distributing both terms and propositions. A purely negative term cannot stand alone in the subject of a proposition: Non-Entis nulla sunt prædicata — was the scholastic maxim. The apparent exceptions to this rule arise only from the fact, that many terms negative in their form have taken on an affirmative signification.

Examination of the illustrative propositions chosen by Plato — How do we know that one is true, the other false?

Necessity of accepting the evidence of sense.

We may illustrate this remark by looking at the two propositions which Plato gives as examples of true and false. Theætêtus is sitting down — Theætêtus is flying. Both the examples are of affirmative propositions: and it seems clear that Plato, in all this reasoning, took no account of negative propositions: those which simply deny, affirming nothing. The second of these propositions (says Plato) affirms what is not, as if it were, respecting the subject But how do we know this to be so? In the form of the second proposition there is nothing to show it: there is no negation of any thing, but simply affirmation of a different positive attribute. Although it happens, in this particular case, that the two attributes are incompatible, and that the affirmation of the one includes the negation of the other — yet there is nothing in the form of either proposition to deny the other:— no formal incompatibility between them. Both are alike affirmative, with the same subject, but different predicates. These two propositions therefore do not serve to illustrate the real nature of the negative, which consists precisely in this formal incompatibility. The proper negative belonging to the proposition — Theætêtus is sitting down — would be, Theætêtus is not sitting down. Plato ought to maintain, if he followed out his previous argument, that Not-Sitting down is as good a Form as Sitting-down, and that it meant merely — Different from Sitting down. But instead of doing this Plato gives us a new affirmative proposition, which, besides what it affirms, conceals an implied negation of the first proposition. This does not serve to illustrate the purpose of his reasoning — which was to set up the formal negative as a new substantive attribute, different from its corresponding affirmative. As between the two, the maxim of contradiction applies: both cannot be true. But as between the two propositions given in Plato, that maxim has no application: they are two propositions with the same subject, but different predicates; which happen in this case to be, the one true, the other false — but which are not formally incompatible. The second is not false because it differs from the first; it has no essential connection with the first, and would be equally false, even if the first were false also.

Errors of Antisthenes — depended partly on the imperfect formal logic of that day.

But how do we know that the first proposition — Theætêtus is sitting down — affirms what is:— and that the second proposition — Theætêtus is flying — affirms what is not? If present, our senses testify to us the truth of the first, and the falsehood of the second: if absent, we have the testimony of a witness, combined with our own past experience attesting the frequency of facts analogous to the one, and the non-occurrence of facts analogous to the other. When we make the distinction, then, — we assume that what is attested by sense or by comparisons and inductions from the facts of sense, is real, or is: and that what is merely conceived or imagined, without the attestation of sense (either directly or by way of induction), is not real, or is not. Upon this assumption Plato himself must proceed, when he takes it for granted, as a matter of course, that the first proposition is true, and the second false. But he forgets that this assumption contradicts the definition which, in this same dialogue,132 he had himself given of Ens — of the real or the thing that is. His definition was so comprehensive, as to include not only all that could be seen or felt, but also all that had capacity to be known or conceived by the mind: and he speaks very harshly of those who admit the reality of things perceived, but refuse to admit equal reality to things only conceived. Proceeding then upon this definition, we can allow no distinction as to truth or falsehood between the two propositions — Theætêtus is sitting down — Theætêtus is flying: the predicate of the second affirms what is, just as much as the predicate of the first: for it affirms something which, though neither perceived nor perceivable by sense, is distinctly conceivable and conceived by the mind. When Plato takes for granted the distinction between the two, that the first affirms what is, and the second what is not — he unconsciously slides into that very recognition of the testimony of sense (in other words, of fact and experience), as the certificate of reality, which he had so severely denounced in the opposing materialist philosophers: and upon the ground of which he thought himself entitled, not merely to correct them as mistaken, but to reprove them as wicked and impudent.133

Doctrine of the Sophistês — contradicts that of other Platonic dialogues.

I have thus reviewed a long discussion — terminating in a conclusion which appears to me unsatisfactory — of the meaning and function of the negative. I hardly think that Plato would have given such an explanation of it, if he had had the opportunity of studying the Organon of Aristotle. Prior to Aristotle, the principles and distinctions of formal logic were hardly at all developed; nor can we wonder that others at that time fell into various errors which Plato scornfully derides, but very imperfectly rectifies. For example, Antisthenes did not admit the propriety of any predication, except identical, or at most essential, predication: the word ἔστιν appeared to him incompatible with any other. But we perceive in this dialogue, that Plato also did not conceive the substantive verb as performing the simple function of copula in predication: on the contrary he distinguishes ἔστιν, as marking identity between subject and predicate — from μετέχει, as marking accidental communion between the two. Again, there were men in Plato’s day who maintained that Non-Ens (τὸ μὴ ὂν) was inconceivable and impossible. Plato, in refuting these philosophers, gives a definition of Ens (τὸ ὂν), which puts them in the right — fails in stating what the true negative is — and substitutes, in place of simple denial, a second affirmation to overlay and supplant the first.

The persons whom Plato here attacks as Friends of Forms are those who held the same doctrine as Plato himself espouses in Phædon, Republic, &c.

Again, the doctrine maintained by the Eleate in the Sophistês respecting Ens, as well as respecting Ideas or Forms, is in other ways inconsistent with what is laid down in other Platonic dialogues. The Eleate in the Sophistês undertakes to refute two different classes of opponents; first, the Materialists, of whom he speaks with derision and antipathy — secondly, others of very opposite doctrines, whom he denominates the Friends of Ideas or Forms, speaking of them in terms of great respect. Now by these Friends of Forms or Ideas, Schleiermacher conjectures that Plato intends to denote the Megaric philosophers. M. Cousin, and most other critics (except Ritter), have taken up this opinion. But to me it seems that Socher is right in declaring the doctrine, ascribed to these Friends of Ideas, to be the very same as that which is laid down by Plato himself in other important dialogues — Republic, Timæus, Phædon, Phædrus, Kratylus, &c. — and which is generally understood as that of the Platonic Ideas.136 In all these dialogues, the capital contrast and antithesis is that between Ens or Entia on one side, and Fientia (the transient, ever generated and ever perishing), on the other: between the eternal, unchangeable, archetypal Forms or Ideas — and the ever-changing flux of particulars, wherein approximative likeness of these archetypes is imperfectly manifested. Now it is exactly this antithesis which the Friends of Forms in the Sophistês are represented as upholding, and which the Eleate undertakes to refute.137 We shall find Aristotle, over and over again, impugning the total separation or demarcation between Ens and Fientia (εἴδη — γένεσις — χωριστά), both as the characteristic dogma, and the untenable dogma, of the Platonic philosophy: it is exactly the same issue which the Eleate in the Sophistês takes with the Friends of Forms. He proves that Ens is just as full of perplexity, and just as difficult to understand, as Non-Ens:138 whereas, in the other Platonic dialogues, Ens is constantly spoken of as if it were plain and intelligible. In fact, he breaks down the barrier between Ens and Fientia, by including motion, change, the moving or variable, among the world of Entia.139 Motion or Change belongs to Fieri; and if it be held to belong to Esse also (by recognising a Form or Idea of Motion or Change, as in the Sophistês), the antithesis between the two, which is so distinctly declared in other Platonic dialogues, disappears.140

The Sophistês recedes from the Platonic point of view, and approaches the Aristotelian.

If we examine the reasoning of the Eleate, in the Sophistês, against the persons whom he calls the Friends of Forms, we shall see that these latter are not Parmenideans only, but also Plato himself in the Phædon, Republic, and elsewhere. We shall also see that the ground, taken up by the Eleate, is much the same as that which was afterwards taken up by Aristotle against the Platonic Ideas. Plato, in most of his dialogues, declares Ideas, Forms, Entia, to be eternal substances distinct and apart from the flux and movement of particulars: yet he also declares, nevertheless, that particulars have a certain communion or participation with the Ideas, and are discriminated and denominated according to such participation. Aristotle controverts both these doctrines: first, the essential separation of the two, which he declares to be untrue: next, the participation or coming together of the two separate elements — which he declares to be an unmeaning fiction or poetical metaphor, introduced in order to elude the consequences of the original fallacy.141 He maintains that the two (Entia and Fientia — Universals and Particulars) have no reality except in conjunction and implication together; though they are separable by reason (λόγῳ χωριστὰ — τῷ εἰναι, χωριστά) or abstraction, and though we may reason about them apart, and must often reason about them apart.142 Now it is this implication and conjunction of the Universal with its particulars, which is the doctrine of the Sophistês, and which distinguishes it from other Platonic dialogues, wherein the Universal is transcendentalized — lodged in a separate world from particulars. No science or intelligence is possible (says the Eleate in the Sophistês) either upon the theory of those who pronounce all Ens to be constant and unchangeable, or upon that of those who declare all Ens to be fluent and variable. We must recognise both together, the constant and the variable, as equally real and as making up the totality of Ens.143 This result, though not stated in the language which Aristotle would have employed, coincides very nearly with the Aristotelian doctrine, in one of the main points on which Aristotle distinguishes his own teaching from that of his master.

Aristotle assumes without proof, that there are some propositions true, others false.

Accordingly, the Eleate, — after pointing out that neither a string of nouns repeated one after the other, nor a string of verbs so repeated, would form a significant proposition, — declares that the conjunction of a noun with a verb is required to form one; and that opination is nothing but that internal mental process which the words of the proposition express. The smallest proposition must combine a noun with a verb:— the former signifying the agent, the latter, the action or thing done.145 Moreover, the proposition must be a proposition of something; and it must be of a certain quality. By a proposition of something, Plato means, that what is called technically the subject of the proposition (in his time there were no technical terms of logic) must be something positive, and cannot be negative: by the quality of the proposition, he means that it must be either true or false.146

Plato in the Sophistês has undertaken an impossible task — He could not have proved, against his supposed adversary, that there are false propositions.

What must be assumed in all dialectic discussion.

The proceeding of Plato in the Sophistês is different. He supposes a Sophist who maintains that no proposition either is false or can be false, and undertakes to prove against him that there are false propositions: he farther supposes this antagonist to reject the evidence of sense and visible analogies, and to acknowledge no proof except what is furnished by reason and philosophical deduction.149 Attempting, under these restrictions, to prove his point, Plato’s Eleatic disputant rests entirely upon the peculiar meaning which he professes to have shown to attach to Non-Ens. He applies this to prove that Non-Ens may be predicated as well as Ens: assuming that such predication of Non-Ens constitutes a false proposition. But the proof fails. It serves only to show that the peculiar meaning ascribed by the Eleate to Non-Ens is inadmissible. The Eleate compares two distinct propositions — Theætêtus is sitting down — Theætêtus is flying. The first is true: the second is false. Why? Because (says the Eleate) the first predicates Ens, the second predicates Non-Ens, or (to substitute his definition of Non-Ens) another Ens different from the Ens predicated in the first.150 But here the reason assigned, why the second proposition is false, is not the real reason. Many propositions may be assigned, which predicate attributes different from the first, but which are nevertheless quite as much true as the first. I have already observed, that the reason why the second proposition is false is, because it contradicts the direct testimony of sense, if the persons debating are spectators: if they are not spectators, then because it contradicts the sum total of their previous sensible experience, remembered, compared, and generalised, which has established in them the conviction that no man does or can fly. If you discard the testimony of sense as unworthy of credit (which Plato assumes the Sophist to do), you cannot prove that the second proposition is false — nor indeed that the first proposition is true. Plato has therefore failed in giving that dialectic proof which he promised. The Eleate is forced to rely (without formally confessing it), on the testimony of sense, which he had forbidden Theætêtus to invoke, twenty pages before.151 The long intervening piece of dialectic about Ens and Non-Ens is inconclusive for his purpose, and might have been omitted. The proposition — Theætêtus is flying — does undoubtedly predicate attributes which are not as if they were,152 and is thus false. But then we must consult and trust the evidence of our perception: we must farther accept are not in the ordinary sense of the words, and not in the sense given to them by the Eleate in the Platonic Sophistês. His attempt to banish the specific meaning of the negative particle, and to treat it as signifying nothing more than difference, appears to me fallacious.153

Discussion and theorising presuppose belief and disbelief, expressed in set forms of words. They imply predication, which Antisthenes discarded.

In all reasoning, nay in all communication by speech, you must assume that your hearer understands the meaning of what is spoken: that he has the feelings of belief and disbelief, and is familiar with those forms of the language whereby such feelings are expressed: that there are certain propositions which he believes — in other words, which he regards as true: that there are certain other propositions which he disbelieves, or regards as false: that he has had experience of the transition from belief to disbelief, and vice versâ — in other words, of having fallen into error and afterwards come to perceive that it was error. These are the mental facts realised in each man and assumed by him to be also realised in his neighbours, when communication takes place by speech. If a man could be supposed to believe nothing, and to disbelieve nothing; — if he had no forms of speech to express his belief, disbelief, affirmation, and denial — no information could be given, no discussion would be possible. Every child has to learn this lesson in infancy; and a tedious lesson it undoubtedly is.154 Antisthenes (who composed several dialogues) and the other disputants of whom we are now speaking, must have learnt the lesson as other men have: but they find or make some general theory which forbids them to trust the lesson when learnt. It was in obedience to some such theory that Antisthenes discarded all predication except essential predication, and discarded also the form suited for expressing disbelief — the negative proposition: maintaining, That to contradict was impossible. I know no mode of refuting him, except by showing that his fundamental theory is erroneous.

Precepts and examples of logical partition, illustrated in the Sophistês.

Discussion and theorising can only begin when these processes, partly intellectual, partly emotional, have become established and reproducible portions of the train of mental association. As processes, they are common to all men. But though two persons agree in having expressed the feeling of belief, and in expressing that feeling by one form of proposition — also in having the feeling of disbelief, and in expressing it by another form of proposition — yet it does not follow that the propositions which these two believe or disbelieve are the same. How far such is the case must be ascertained by comparison — by appeal to sense, memory, inference from analogy, induction, feeling, consciousness, &c. The ground is now prepared for fruitful debate: for analysing the meaning, often confused and complicated, of propositions: for discriminating the causes, intellectual and emotional, of belief and disbelief, and for determining how far they harmonise in one mind and another: for setting out general rules as to sequence, or inconsistency, or independence, of one belief as compared with another. To a certain extent, the grounds of belief and disbelief in all men, and the grounds of consistency or inconsistency between some beliefs and others, will be found to harmonise: they can be embodied in methodical forms of language, and general rules can be laid down preventing in many cases inadvertence or erroneous combination. It is at this point that Aristotle takes up rational grammar and logic, with most profitable effect. But he is obliged to postulate (what Antisthenes professed to discard) predication, not merely identical, but also accidental as well as essential — together with names and propositions both negative and affirmative.155 He cannot avoid postulating thus much: though he likewise postulates a great deal more, which ought not to be granted.

Recommendation of logical bipartition.

The long and varied predicamental series, given in the Sophistês, illustrates the process of logical partition, as Plato conceived it, and the definition of a class-name founded thereupon. You take a logical whole, and you subtract from it part after part until you find the quæsitum isolated from every thing else.156 But you must always divide into two parts (he says) wherever it can be done: dichotomy or bipartition is the true logical partition: should this be impracticable, trichotomy, or division into the smallest attainable number of parts, must be sought for.157 Moreover, the bipartition must be made according to Forms (Ideas, Kinds): the parts which you recognise must be not merely parts, but Forms: every form is a part, but every part is not a form.158 Next, you must draw the line of division as nearly as you can through the middle of the dividendum, so that the parts on both sides may be nearly equal: it is in this way that your partition is most likely to coincide with forms on both sides of the line.159 This is the longest way of proceeding, but the safest. It is a logical mistake to divide into two parts very unequal: you may find a form on one side of the line, but you obtain none on the other side. Thus, it is bad classification to distribute the human race into Hellênes + Barbari: the Barbari are of infinite number and diversity, having no one common form to which the name can apply. It is also improper to distribute Number into the myriad on side, and all other numbers on the other — for a similar reason. You ought to distribute the human race into the two forms, Male — Female: and number into the two, Odd — Even.160 So also, you must not divide gregarious creatures into human beings on one side, and animals on the other; because this last term would comprise numerous particulars utterly disparate. Such a classification is suggested only by the personal feeling of man, who prides himself upon his intelligence. But if the classification were framed by any other intelligent species, such as Cranes,161 they would distinguish Cranes on the one side from animals on the other, including Man as one among many disparate particulars under animal.

Precepts illustrated by the Philêbus.

Importance of founding logical Partition on resemblances perceived by sense.

These precepts in the Sophistês and Politikus, respecting the process of classification, are illustrated by an important passage of the Philêbus:163 wherein Plato tells us that the constitution of things includes the Determinate and the Indeterminate implicated with each other, and requiring study to disengage them. Between the highest One, Form, or Genus — and the lowest array of indefinite particulars — there exist a certain number of intermediate Ones or Forms, each including more or fewer of these particulars. The process of study or acquired cognition is brought to bear upon these intermediate Forms: to learn how many there are, and to discriminate them in themselves as well as in their position relative to each other. But many persons do not recognise this: they apprehend only the Highest One, and the Infinite Many, not looking for any thing between: they take up hastily with some extreme and vague generality, below which they know nothing but particulars. With knowledge thus imperfect, you do not get beyond contentious debate. Real, instructive, dialectic requires an understanding of all the intermediate forms. But in descending from the Highest Form downwards, you must proceed as much as possible in the way of bipartition, or if not, then of tripartition, &c.: looking for the smallest number of forms which can be found to cover the whole field. When no more forms can be found, then and not till then, you must be content with nothing better than the countless indeterminate particulars.

Province of sensible perception — is not so much narrowed by Plato here as it is in the Theætêtus.

The reasons given for this preference deserve attention. In these common matters (he tells us) the resemblances upon which Forms are founded are perceived by sense, and can be exhibited to every one, so that the form is readily understood and easily discriminated. The general terms can there be explained by reference to sense. But in regard to incorporeal matters, the higher and grander topics of discussion, there is no corresponding sensible illustration to consult. These objects can be apprehended only by reason, and described only by general terms. By means of these general terms, we must learn to give and receive rational explanations, and to follow by process of reasoning from one form to another. But this is more difficult, and requires a higher order of mind, where there are no resemblances or illustrations exposed to sense. Accordingly, we select the common sensible objects as an easier preparatory mode of a process substantially the same in both.166

Comparison of the Sophistês with the Phædrus.

This explanation given by Plato, in itself just, deserves to be compared with his view of sensible objects as knowable, and of sense as a source of knowledge. I noticed in a preceding chapter the position which Sokrates is made to lay down in the Theætêtus,167 — That (αἴσθησις) sensible perception reaches only to the separate impressions of sense, and does not apprehend the likeness and other relations between them. I have also noticed the contrast which he establishes elsewhere between Esse and Fieri: i.e., between Ens which alone (according to him) is knowable, and the perpetual flux of Fientia which is not knowable at all, but is only matter of opinion or guess-work. Now in the dialogue before us, the Politikus, there is no such marked antithesis between opinion and knowledge. Nor is the province of αἴσθησις so strictly confined: on the contrary, Plato here considers sensible perception as dealing with Entia, and as appreciating resemblances and other relations between them. It is by an attentive study and comparison of these facts of sense that Forms are detected. “When a man (he says) has first perceived by sense the points of communion between the Many, he must not desist from attentive observation until he has discerned in that communion all the differences which reside in Forms: and when he has looked at the multifarious differences which are visible among these Many, he must not rest contented until he has confined all such as are really cognate within one resemblance, tied together by the essence of one common Form.”168

Comparison of the Politikus with the Parmenidês.

These passages may be compared with others of similar import in the Phædrus.169 Plato here considers the Form, not as an Entity per se separate from and independent of the particulars, but as implicated in and with the particulars: as a result reached by the mind through the attentive observation and comparison of particulars: as corresponding to what is termed in modern language abstraction and generalisation. The self-existent Platonic Ideas do not appear in the Politikus:170 which approximates rather to the Aristotelian doctrine:— that is, the doctrine of the universal, logically distinguishable from its particulars, but having no reality apart from them (χωριστὰ λόγῳ μόνον). But in other dialogues of Plato, the separation between the two is made as complete as possible, especially in the striking passages of the Republic: wherein we read that the facts of sense are a delusive juggle — that we must turn our back upon them and cease to study them — and that we must face about, away from the sensible world, to contemplate Ideas, the separate and unchangeable furniture of the intelligible world — and that the whole process of acquiring true Cognition, consists in passing from the higher to the lower Forms or Ideas, without any misleading illustrations of sense.171 Here, in the Sophistês and Politikus, instead of having the Universal behind our backs when the particulars are before our faces, we see it in and amidst particulars: the illustrations of sense, instead of deluding us, being declared to conduce, wherever they can be had, to the clearness and facility of the process.172 Here, as well as in the Phædrus, we find the process of Dialectic emphatically recommended, but described as consisting mainly in logical classification of particulars, ascending and descending divisions and conjunctions, as Plato calls them173 — analysis and synthesis. We are enjoined to divide and analyse the larger genera into their component species until we come to the lowest species which can no longer be divided: also, conversely, to conjoin synthetically the subordinate species until the highest genus is attained, but taking care not to omit any of the intermediate species, in their successive gradations.174 Throughout all this process, as described both in the Phædrus and in the Politikus, the eye is kept fixed upon the constituent individuals. The Form is studied in and among the particulars which it comprehends: the particulars are looked at in groups put together suitably to each comprehending Form. And in both dialogues, marked stress is laid upon the necessity of making the division dichotomous; as well as according to Forms, and not according to fractions which are not legitimate Forms.175 Any other method, we are told, would be like the wandering of a blind man.

Variety of method in dialectic research — Diversity of Plato.

As a dialogue illustrative of this method, the Politikus (as I have already pointed out) may be compared to the Phædrus: in another point of view, we shall find instruction in comparing it to the Parmenidês. This last too is a dialogue illustrative of method, but of a different variety of method.

The Politikus by itself, apart from the Sophistês.

Views of Plato on mensuration. Objects measured against each other. Objects compared with a common standard. In each Art, the purpose to be attained is the standard.

Purpose in the Sophistês and Politikus is — To attain dialectic aptitude. This is the standard of comparison whereby to judge whether the means employed are suitable.

I. Plato assumes, that there will be critics who blame the two dialogues as too long and circuitous; excessive in respect of prolixity. In replying to those objectors,1 he enquires, What is meant by long or short — excessive or deficient — great or little? Such expressions denote mensuration or comparison. But there are two varieties of mensuration. We may measure two objects one against the other: the first will be called great or greater, in relation to the second — the second will be called little or less in relation to the first. But we may also proceed in a different way. We may assume some third object as a standard, and then measure both the two against it: declaring the first to be great, greater, excessive, &c., because it exceeds the standard — and the second to be little, less, deficient, &c., because it falls short of the standard. Here then are two judgments or estimations altogether different from each other, and yet both denoted by the same words great and little: two distinct essences (in Platonic phrase) of great and little, or of greatness and littleness.2 The art of mensuration has thus two varieties. One includes arithmetic and geometry, where we simply compare numbers and magnitudes with each other, determining the proportions between them: the other assumes some independent standard; above which is excess, and below which is deficiency. This standard passes by different names according to circumstances: the Moderate, Becoming, Seasonable, Proper, Obligatory, &c.3 Such a standard is assumed in every art — in every artistic or scientific course of procedure. Every art has an end to be attained, a result to be produced; which serves as the standard whereby each preparatory step of the artist is measured, and pronounced to be either excessive or deficient, as the case may be.4 Unless such a standard be assumed, you cannot have regular art or science of any kind; neither in grave matters, nor in vulgar matters — neither in the government of society, nor in the weaving of cloth.5

Plato’s defence of the Politikus against critics. Necessity that the critic shall declare explicitly what his standard of comparison is.

Plato’s defence of the Politikus against critics. Necessity that the critic shall declare explicitly what his standard of comparison is.

Comparison of Politikus with Protagoras, Phædon, Philêbus, &c.

Definition of the statesman, or Governor. Scientific competence. Sokratic point of departure. Procedure of Plato in subdividing.

To this relative side of Plato’s mind belong his frequent commendations of measurement, numbering, computation, comparison, &c. In the Protagoras,8 he describes the art of measurement as the main guide and protector of human life: it is there treated as applicable to the correct estimation of pleasures and pains. In the Phædon,9 it is again extolled: though the elements to be calculated are there specified differently. In the Philêbus, the antithesis of Πέρας and Ἄπειρον (the Determinant or Limit, and the Indeterminate or Infinite) is one of the leading points of the dialogue. We read in it moreover a bipartite division of Mensuration or Arithmetic,10 which is quite different from the bipartite division just cited out of the Politikus. Plato divides it there (in the Philêbus) into arithmetic for theorists, and arithmetic for practical life: besides which, he distinguishes the various practical arts as being more or less accurate, according as they have more or less of measurement and sensible comparison in them. Thus the art of the carpenter, who employs measuring instruments such as the line and rule — is more accurate than that of the physician, general, pilot, husbandman, &c., who have no similar means of measuring. This is a classification quite different from what we find in the Politikus; yet tending in like manner to illustrate the relative point of view, and its frequent manifestation in Plato. In the Politikus, he seeks to refer praise and blame to a standard of measurement, instead of suffering them to be mere outbursts of sentiment unsystematic and unanalysed.

King during the Saturnian period, was of a breed superior to the people — not so any longer.

II. The second peculiarity to which I call attention in the Politikus, is the definition or description there furnished of the character so-called: that is, the Statesman, the King, Governor, Director, or Manager, of human society. At the outset of the dialogue, this person is declared to belong to the Genus — Men of Science or of Art (the two words are faintly distinguished in Plato). It is possession of the proper amount of scientific competence which constitutes a man a Governor: and which entitles him to be so named, whether he actually governs any society or not.11 (This point of departure is purely Sokratic: for in the Memorabilia of Xenophon,12 Sokrates makes the same express declaration.) The King knows, but does not act: yet he is not a simple critic or spectator — he gives orders: and those orders are not suggested to him by any one else (as in the case of the Herald, the Keleustês, and others),13 but spring from his own bosom and his own knowledge. From thence Plato carries us through a series of descending logical subdivisions, until we come to define the King as the shepherd and feeder of the flock of human beings.14 But many other persons, besides the King, are concerned in feeding the human flock, and will therefore be included in this definition: which is thus proved to be too large, and to require farther qualification and restriction.15 Moreover the feeding of the human flock belongs to others rather than to the King. He tends and takes care of the flock, but does not feed it: hence the definition is, in this way also, unsuitable.16

Distinction of causes Principal and Causes Auxiliary. The King is the only Principal Cause, but his auxiliaries pretend to be principal also.

Distinction of causes Principal and Causes Auxiliary. The King is the only Principal Cause, but his auxiliaries pretend to be principal also.

Plato does not admit the received classification of government. It does not touch the point upon which all true distinction ought to be founded — Scientific or Unscientific.

The human King, whom we shall now attempt to define, tends the human flock; but there are other persons also who assist in doing so, and without whose concurrent agency he could not attain his purpose. We may illustrate this by comparing with him the weaver of woollen garments: who requires many subsidiary and preparatory processes, performed by agents different from himself (such as the carder of wool, the spinner, and the manufacturer of the instruments for working the loom) to enable him to finish his work. In all matters, important as well as vulgar, two separate processes or arts, or contributory persons, are to be distinguished: Causes and Co-Causes, i.e., Principal Causes, and Concurrent, Auxiliary, Co-efficient, Subordinate, Causes.19 The King, like the Weaver, is distinguishable, from other agents helping towards the same end, as a Principal Cause from Auxiliary Causes.20 The Causes auxiliary to the King, in so far as they are inanimate, may be distributed roughly under seven heads (bipartition being here impracticable) — Implements, Vessels, Vehicles, Protections surrounding the Body, Recreative Objects, Raw Material of every variety, Nutritive Substances, &c.21 Other auxiliary Causes are, the domestic cattle, bought slaves, and all descriptions of serving persons; being often freemen who undertake, for hire, servile occupations and low trades. There are moreover ministerial officers of a higher grade: heralds, scribes, interpreters, prophets, priests, Sophists, rhetors; and a great diversity of other functionaries, military, judicial, forensic, dramatic, &c., who manage different departments of public affairs, often changing from one post to another.22 But these higher ministerial functionaries differ from the lower in this — That they pretend to be themselves the directors and managers of the government, not recognising the genuine King: whereas the truth is, that they are only ministerial and subordinate to him:— they are Concurrent Causes, while he is the only real or principal Cause.23

Unscientific governments are counterfeits. Government by any numerous body must be counterfeit. Government by the one scientific man is the true government.

Our main object now (says the Eleate) is to distinguish this Real Cause from the subordinate Causes which are mistaken for its partners and equals:— the genuine and intelligent Governor, from those who pretend falsely to be governors, and are supposed often to be such.24 We cannot admit the lines of distinction, which are commonly drawn between different governments, as truly logical: at least they are only subordinate to ours. Most men distinguish the government of one, or a few, or the many: government of the poor or of the rich: government according to law, or without law:— by consent, or by force. The different names current, monarchy or despotism, aristocracy, or oligarchy, &c., correspond to these definitions. But we hold that these definitions do not touch the true characteristic: which is to be found in Science, Knowledge, Intelligence, Art or scientific procedure, &c., and in nothing else. The true government of mankind is, the scientific or artistic: whether it be carried on by one, or a few, or many — whether by poor or rich, by force or consent — whether according to law, or without law.25 This is the right and essential characteristic of genuine government:— it is government conducted according to science or art. All governments not conforming to this type are only spurious counterfeits and approaches to it, more or less defective or objectionable.26

Fixed laws, limiting the scientific Governor, are mischievous, as they would be for the physician and the steersman. Absurdity of determining medical practice by laws, and presuming every one to know it.

Looking to the characteristic here suggested, the Eleate pronounces that all numerous and popular governments must be counterfeits. There can be no genuine government except by One man, or by a very small number at most. True science or art is not attainable by many persons, whether rich or poor: scarcely even by a few, and probably by One alone; since the science or art of governing men is more difficult than any other science or art.27 But the government of this One is the only true and right government, whether he proclaims laws or governs without law, whether he employs severity or mildness — provided only he adheres to his art, and achieves its purpose, the good and improvement of the governed.28 He is like the true physician, who cuts and burns patients, when his art commands, for the purpose of curing them. He will not be disposed to fetter himself by fixed general laws: for the variety of situations and the fluctuation of circumstances, is so perpetual, that no law can possibly fit all cases. He will recognise no other law but his art.29 If he lays down any general formula or law, it will only be from necessity, because he cannot be always at hand to watch and direct each individual case: but he will not hesitate to depart from his own formula whenever Art enjoins it.30 That alone is base, evil, unjust, which he with his political Science or Art declares to be so. If in any particular case he departs from his own declaration, and orders such a thing to be done — the public have no right to complain that he does injustice. No patient can complain of his physician, if the latter, acting upon the counsels of his art, disregards a therapeutic formula.31 All the acts of the true Governor are right, whether according or contrary to law, so long as he conducts himself with Art and Intelligence — aiming exclusively to preserve the people, and to render them better instead of worse.32

Government by fixed laws is better than lawless government by unscientific men, but worse than lawless government by scientific men. It is a second-best.

Comparison of unscientific governments. The one despot is the worse. Democracy is the least bad, because it is least of a government.

Such are the mischiefs inseparable, in greater or less degree, from fixed and peremptory laws. Yet grave as these mischiefs are, there are others yet graver, which such laws tend to obviate. If the magistrate appointed to guard and enforce the laws, ventures to break or contravene them, simulating, but not really possessing, the Art or Science of the genuine Ruler — he will make matters far worse. The laws at any rate are such as the citizens have been accustomed to, and such as give a certain measure of satisfaction. But the arbitrary rule of this violent and unscientific Governor is a tyranny:36 which is greatly worse than the laws. Fixed laws are thus a second-best:37 assuming that you cannot obtain a true scientific, artistic, Governor. If such a man could be obtained, men would be delighted to live under him. But they despair of ever seeing such a character, and they therefore cling to fixed laws, in spite of the numerous concomitant mischiefs.38 These mischiefs are indeed so serious, that when we look at actual cities, we are astonished how they get on under such a system; and we cannot but feel how firm and deeply rooted a city naturally is.39

The true governor distinguished from the General, the Rhetor, &c. They are all properly his subordinates and auxiliaries.

We see therefore (the Eleate goes on) that there is no true polity — nothing which deserves the name of a genuine political society — except the government of one chief, scientific or artistic. With him laws are superfluous and even inconvenient. All other polities are counterfeits: factions and cabals, rather than governments:40 delusions carried on by tricksters and conjurers. But among these other polities or sham polities, there is a material difference as to greater or less badness: and the difference turns upon the presence or absence of good laws. Thus, the single-headed government, called monarchy (assuming the Prince not to be a man of science or art) is the best of all the sham-polities, if the Prince rules along with and in observance of known good laws: but it is the worst of them all, if he rules without such laws, as a despot or tyrant. Oligarchy, or the government of a few — if under good laws, is less good than that of the Prince under the same circumstances — if without such laws, is less bad than that of the despot. Lastly, the government of the many is less good under the one supposition — and less bad under the other. It is less effective, either for good or for evil. It is in fact less of a government: the administrative force being lost by dissipation among many hands for short intervals; and more free play being thus left to individuals. Accordingly, assuming the absence of laws, democracy is the least bad or most tolerable of the six varieties of sham-polity. Assuming the presence of laws, it is the worst of them.41

What the scientific Governor will do. He will aim at the formation of virtuous citizens. He will weave together the energetic virtues with the gentle virtues. Natural dissidence between them.

We have thus severed the genuine scientific Governor from the unworthy counterfeits by whom his agency is mimicked in actual society. But we have still to sever him from other worthier functionaries, analogous and cognate, with whom he co-operates; and to show by what characteristic he is distinguished from persons such as the General, the Judge, the Rhetor or Persuader to good and just objects. The distinction is, that all these functions, however honourable functions, are still nevertheless essentially subordinate and ministerial, assuming a sovereign guidance from some other quarter to direct them. Thus the General may, by his strategic art, carry on war effectively; but he must be directed when, and against whom, war is to be carried on. The Judge may decide quarrels without fear, antipathy, or favour: but the general rules for deciding them must be prescribed to him by a higher authority. So too the Rhetor may apply his art well, to persuade people, or to work upon their emotions, without teaching them: but he must be told by some one else, when and on what occasions persuasion is suitable, and when force must be employed instead of it.42 Each of these functionaries must learn, what his own art will not teach him, the proper seasons, persons, and limitations, among and under which his art is to be applied. To furnish such guidance is the characteristic privilege and duty of the scientific chief, for which he alone is competent. He does not act himself, but he originates, directs, and controls, all the real agents and agencies. Without him, none of them are available or beneficial towards their special ends. He alone can judge of their comparative value, and of the proper reasons for invoking or restraining their interference.43

If a man sins by excess of the energetic element, he is to be killed or banished: if of the gentle, he is to be made a slave. The Governor must keep up in the minds of the citizens an unanimous standard of ethical orthodoxy.

Remarks — Sokratic Ideal — Title to govern mankind derived exclusively from scientific superiority in an individual person.

All persons, who, unable to take on this conjunction, sin by an excess of the strong element, manifesting injustice or irreligion — must be banished or put to death:47 all who sin by excess of the feebler element, exhibiting stupidity and meanness, must be degraded into slavery. Above all things, the scientific Governor must himself dictate, and must implant and maintain, in the minds of all his citizens, an authoritative standard of orthodox sentiment respecting what is just, honourable, good — and the contrary.48 If this be ensured, and if the virtues naturally discordant be attempered with proper care, he will make sure of a friendly and harmonious community, enjoying as much happiness as human affairs admit.49

Different ways in which this ideal is worked out by Plato and Xenophon. The man of speculation and the man of action.

The theory in the Politikus is the contradiction to that theory which is assigned to Protagoras in the Protagoras.

From Sokrates the idea passed both to Plato and to Xenophon: and the contrast between the two is shown forcibly by the different way in which they deal with it. Xenophon has worked it out on a large scale, in the Cyropædia — on a small scale, in the Œconomicus. Cyrus in the former, Ischomachus in the latter, knows better than any one else what is to be done, and gives orders accordingly. But both the one and the other are also foremost in action, setting example as well as giving orders to others. Now Plato, while developing the same idea, draws a marked line of distinction between Science and Practice:— between direction and execution.50 His scientific Governor does not act at all, but he gives orders to all the different men of action, and he is the only person who knows on what occasions and within what limits each agent should put forth his own special aptitude. Herein we discern one of the distinctions between these two viri Socratici: Xenophon, the soldier and man of action — Plato, the speculative philosopher. Xenophon conceives the conditions of the True Governor in a larger way than Plato, for he includes among them the forward and energetic qualities requisite for acting on the feelings of the subject Many, and for disposing them to follow orders with cheerfulness and zeal:51 whereas Plato makes abstraction of this part of the conditions, and postulates obedience on the part of the many as an item in his fundamental hypothesis. Indeed he perpetually presents us with the comparison of the physician, who cuts and burns for the purpose of ultimate cure. Plato either neglects, or assumes as a matter of course, the sentiments of the persons commanded, or the conditions of willing obedience; while Xenophon dwells upon the maintenance of such sentiments as one of the capital difficulties in the problem of government. And we perceive a marked contrast between the unskilful proceedings of Plato, when he visited Dionysius II. at Syracuse, illustrating his (Plato’s) inaptitude for dealing with a real situation — and the judicious management of Xenophon, when acting as one of the leaders of the Cyreian army under circumstances alike unexpected and perilous.

Points of the Protagorean theory — rests upon common sentiment.

Plato here sets forth the business of governing as a special art, analogous to the special art of the weaver, the steersman, the physician. Now in each special art, the requisite knowledge and competence is possessed only by the one or few artists who practise them. The knowledge possessed by such one or few, suffices for all the remaining community; who benefit by it, but are altogether ignorant on the matter, and follow orders blindfold. As this one Artist is the only competent person for the task, so he is assumed quâ Artist, to be infallible in the performance of the task — never to go wrong, nor to abuse his power, nor to aim at any collateral end.52 Such is Plato’s theory of government in the Politikus. But if we turn to the Protagoras, we shall find this very theory of government explicitly denied, and a counter-theory affirmed, in the discourse put into the mouth of Protagoras. That Sophist is made to distinguish the political or social art, upon which the possibility of constituting or keeping up human society depends, from all other arts (manual, useful, linguistic), by this express characteristic: All other arts were distributed among mankind in such manner, that knowledge and skill were confined to an exclusive few, whose knowledge, each in his own special department, sufficed for the service of all the rest, not favoured with the like knowledge — but the political or social art was distributed (by order of Zeus to Hermes) on a principle quite opposite. It was imparted to every member of society without exception. If it had been granted only to a few, and not to all, society could not have held together. Justice and the sense of shame (Temperance or Moderation), which are the bonds of the city and the fruits of the political art, must be instilled into every man. Whoever cannot take on and appropriate them (Zeus proclaims it as his law), must be slain as a nuisance or distemper of the city.53

Counter-Theory in the Politikus. The exigencies of the Eleate in the Politikus go much farther than those of Protagoras.

Such we have seen to be the theory enunciated by the Platonic Protagoras (in the dialogue so-called) respecting the political or social art. It pervades all the members of society, as a common and universal attribute, though each man has his own specialty besides. It was thus distributed at the outset by Zeus. It stands embodied in the laws and in the unwritten customs, so that one man may know it as well as another. Every man makes open profession of knowing and possessing it:— which he cannot do with any special art. Fathers enforce it on their children by rewards and punishments, schoolmasters and musicians impart it by extracts from the poets: the old teach it to the young: nay every man, far from desiring to monopolise it for himself, is forward in teaching it to others: for it is the interest of every one that his neighbour should learn it. Since every one thus teaches it, there are no professed or special teachers: yet there are still some few who can teach it a little better than others — and among those few I (says Protagoras) am one.54

The Eleate complains that under the Protagorean theory no adverse criticism is allowed. The dissenter is either condemned to silence or punished.

Intolerance at Athens, not so great as elsewhere. Plato complains of the assumption of infallibility in existing societies, but exacts it severely in that which he himself constructs.

The Eleate here complains of it as a hardship, that amidst a community actually established and existing, directed by written laws, traditional customs and common sentiment (the Protagorean model), — he, the political artist, is interdicted from adverse criticism and outspoken censure of the legal and consecrated doctrines. If he talks as one wiser than the laws, or impugns them as he thinks that they deserve, or theorises in his own way respecting the doctrines which they sanction — he is either laughed to scorn as a visionary, prosing, Sophist — or hated, and perhaps punished, as a corrupter of youth; as a person who brings the institutions of society into contempt, and encourages violators of the law.57

Theory of the Politikus — distinguished three gradations of polity. Gigantic individual force the worst.

The reproach implied in these phrases of Plato is doubtless intended as an allusion to the condemnation of Sokrates. It is a reproach well-founded against that proceeding of the government of Athens:— and would have been still better founded against other contemporary governments. That the Athenians were intolerant, is not to be denied: but they were less intolerant than any of their contemporaries. Nowhere else except at Athens could Sokrates have gone on until seventy years of age talking freely in the market-place against the received political and religious orthodoxy. There was more free speech (παῤῥησία)58 at Athens than in any part of the contemporary world. Plato, Xenophon, and the other companions of Sokrates, proclaimed by lectures and writings that they thought themselves wiser than the laws of Athens: yet though the Gorgias was intended as well as adapted to bring into hatred and contempt both those laws and the persons who administered them, the Athenian Rhetors never indicted Plato for libel. Upon this point, we can only speak comparatively: for perfect liberty of proclaiming opinions neither does now exist, nor ever has existed, any where. Most men have no genuine respect for the right of another to form and express an opinion dissentient from theirs: if they happen to hate the opinion, they account it a virtue to employ as much ill-usage or menace as will frighten the holder thereof into silence. Plato here points out in emphatic language,59 the deplorable consequences of assuming infallibility and perfection for the legal and customary orthodoxy of the country, and prohibiting free censure by dissentient individuals. But this is on the supposition that the laws and customs are founded only on common sense and traditional reverence:— and that the scientific Governor is among the dissenters. Plato’s judgment is radically different when he supposes the case reversed:— when King Nomos is superseded by the scientific Professor of whom Plato dreams, or by a lawgiver who represents him. We shall observe this when we come to the Treatise de Legibus, in which Plato constitutes an orthodoxy of his own, prohibiting free dissent by restrictions and penalties stricter than any which were known to antiquity. He cannot recognise an infallible common sense: but he has no scruple in postulating an infallible scientific dictator, and in enthroning himself as such. Though well aware that reasoned truth presents itself to different philosophers in different versions, he does not hesitate to condemn those philosophers who differ from him, to silence or to something worse.

Comparison of the Politikus with the Republic. Points of analogy and difference.

2. Common Sense. Unsystematic Aggregate of Customs, accepted in an Actual Society. — That which is directed by written laws and fixed traditional customs, known to every one, approved by the common sense of the community, and communicated as well as upheld by the spontaneous teaching of the majority. King Nomos.

Comparison of the Politikus with the Kratylus. Dictatorial, constructive, science or art, common to both: applied in the former to social administration — in the latter to the formation and modification of names.

But in the Republic, no lesson of method is attempted; the doctrine stands alone and independent of it. We shall find however that the doctrine is essentially the same. That which the Politikus lays down in brief outline, is in the Republic amplified and enlarged; presented with many variations and under different points of view, yet, still at the bottom, the same doctrine, both as to affirmation and negation. The Republic affirms (as the Politikus does) the exclusive legitimacy of science, art, intelligence, &c., as the initiatory and omnipotent authority over all the constituent members of society: and farther, that such intelligence can have no place except in one or a few privileged persons. The Republic (like the Politikus) presents to us the march of society with its Principal Cause — its concurrent or Auxiliary Causes — and its inferior governable mass or matter, the human flock, indispensable and co-essential as a part of the whole scheme. In the Republic, the Cause is represented by the small council of philosophical Elders: the concurrent causes, by the Guardians or trained soldiers: the inferior matter, by the remaining society, which is distributed among various trades, providing for the subsistence and wants of all. The explanation of Justice (which is the ostensible purpose of the Republic) is made to consist in the fact — That each one of these several parts does its own special work — nothing more — nothing less. Throughout all the Republic, a constant parallelism is carried on (often indeed overstrained) between the community and the individual man. In the one as well as in the other, Plato recognises the three constituent elements, all essential as co-operators, but each with its own special function: in the individual, he recognises three souls (encephalic, thoracic, and abdominal) as corresponding to Elders, Guardians, and Producers, in the community. Here are the same features as those given in outline in the Politikus: but the two higher features of the three appear greatly expanded in the Republic: the training and conditions proper for the philosophic Artist or Governor, and for his auxiliaries the Guardians, being described and vindicated at great length. Moreover, in the Republic, Plato not only repeats the doctrine60 that the right of command belongs to every art in its own province and over its own subject-matter (which is the cardinal point in the Politikus) — but he farther proclaims that each individual neither can exercise, nor ought to exercise, more than one art. He allows no double men or triple men61 — “Quam quisque novit artem, in eâ se exerceat”. He would not have respected the Xenophontic Cyrus or Ischomachus. He carries the principle of specialization to its extreme point. His Republic is an aggregate of special artists and professional aptitudes: among whom the Governor is only one, though the first and rarest. He sets aside the common basis of social endowments essential to every man: upon which each man’s specialty is superinduced in the theory of the Platonic Protagoras. The only common quality which Plato admits is, — That each man, and each of the three souls composing each man, shall do his own business and his own business only: this is his definition of Justice, in the Republic.62

Courage and Temperance are assumed in the Politikus. No notice taken of the doubts and difficulties raised in Lachês and Charmidês.

Lastly, I will illustrate the Politikus by comparison with the Kratylus, which will be treated in the next chapter. The conception of dictatorial science or art, which I have stated as the principal point in the Politikus, appears again in the Kratylus applied to a different subject — naming, or the imposition of names. Right and legitimate name-giving is declared to be an affair of science or art, like right and legitimate polity: it can only be performed by the competent scientific or artistic name-giver, or by the lawgiver considered in that special capacity. The second title of the dialogue Kratylus is Περὶ Ὀνομάτων Ὀρθότητος — On the Rectitude or legitimacy of names. What constitutes right and legitimate Name-giving? In like manner, we might provide a second title for the Politikus — Περὶ Πολιτείας Ὀρθότητος — On the rectitude or legitimacy of polity or sociality. What constitutes right or legitimate sociality?63 Plato answers — It is the constant dictation and supervision of art or science — or of the scientific, artistic, dictator, who alone knows both the End and the means. This alone is right and true sociality — or sociality as it ought to be. So, if we read the Kratylus, we find Plato defining in the same way right Name-giving — or name-giving as it ought to be. It is when each name is given by an artistic name-constructor, who discerns the Form of the name naturally suitable in each particular case, and can embody it in appropriate letters and syllables.64 A true or right name signifies by likeness to the thing signified.65 The good lawgiver discerns this likeness: but all lawgivers are not good: the bad lawgiver fancies that he discerns it, but is often mistaken.66 It would be the ideal perfection of language, if every name could be made to signify by likeness to the thing named. But this cannot be realised: sufficient likenesses cannot be found to furnish an adequate stock of names. In the absence of such best standard, we are driven to eke out language by appealing to a second-best, an inferior and vulgar principle approximating more or less, to rectitude — that is, custom and convention.67

Purpose of the difficulties in Plato’s Dialogues of Search — To stimulate the intellect of the hearer. His exposition does not give solutions.

Such is the concluding declaration of the accomplished Eleatic expositor, to Sokrates and the other auditors. But this suggests to us another question, when we revert to some of the Platonic dialogues handled in the preceding pages. What are Virtue, Courage, Temperance? In the Menon, the Platonic Sokrates had proclaimed, that he did not himself know what virtue was: that he had never seen any one else who did know: that it was impossible to say how virtue could be communicated, until you knew what virtue was — and impossible to determine any one of the parts of virtue, until virtue had been determined as a whole. In the Charmidês, Sokrates had affirmed that he did not know what Temperance was; he then tested several explanations thereof, propounded by Charmides and Kritias: but ending only in universal puzzle and confessed ignorance. In the Lachês, he had done the same with Courage: not without various expressions of regret for his own ignorance, and of surprise at those who talked freely about generalities which they had never probed to the bottom. Perplexed by these doubts and difficulties — which perplexed yet more all his previous hearers, the modest beauty of Charmides and the mature dignity of Nikias and Laches — Sokrates now finds himself in presence of the Eleate, who talks about Virtue, Temperance, Courage, &c., as matters determinate and familiar. Here then would have been the opportunity for Sokrates to reproduce all his unsolved perplexities, and to get them cleared up by the divine Stranger who is travelling on a mission of philosophy. The third dialogue, to be called the Philosophus, which Plato promises as sequel to the Sophistês and Politikus, would have been well employed in such a work of elucidation.

Persons and subjects of the dialogue Kratylus — Sokrates has no formed opinion, but is only a Searcher with the others.

Argument of Sokrates against Hermogenes — all proceedings of nature are conducted according to fixed laws — speaking and naming among the rest.

The subject proposed for discussion is, the rectitude or inherent propriety of names. How far is there any natural adaptation, or special fitness, of each name to the thing named? Two disputants are introduced who invoke Sokrates as umpire. Hermogenes asserts the negative of the question; contending that each name is destitute of natural significance, and acquires its meaning only from the mutual agreement and habitual usage of society.1 Kratylus on the contrary maintains the doctrine that each name has a natural rectitude or fitness for its own significant function:— that there is an inherent bond of connection, a fundamental analogy or resemblance between each name and the thing signified. Sokrates carries on the first part of the dialogue with Hermogenes, the last part with Kratylus.2 He declares more than once, that the subject is one on which he is ignorant, and has formed no conclusion: he professes only to prosecute the search for a good conclusion, conjointly with his two companions.3

The name is a didactic instrument; fabricated by the law-giver upon the type of the Name-Form, and employed as well as appreciated, by the philosopher.

Sokrates, refuting Hermogenes, lays down the following doctrines.4 If propositions are either true or false, names, which are parts of propositions, must be true or false also.5 Every thing has its own fixed and determinate essence, not relative to us nor varying according to our fancy or pleasure, but existing per se as nature has arranged.6 All agencies either by one thing upon other things, or by other things upon it, are in like manner determined by nature, independent of our will and choice. If we intend to cut or burn any substance, we must go to work, not according to our own pleasure, but in the manner that nature prescribes: by attempting to do it contrary to nature, we shall do it badly or fail altogether.7 Now speaking is one of these agencies, and naming is a branch of speaking: what is true of other agencies is true of these also — we must name things, not according to our own will and pleasure, but in the way that nature prescribes that they shall be named.8 Farther, each agency must be performed by its appropriate instrument: cutting by the axe, boring by the gimlet, weaving by the bodkin. The name is the instrument of naming, whereby we communicate information and distinguish things from each other. It is a didactic instrument: to be employed well, it must be in the hands of a properly qualified person for the purpose of teaching.9 Not every man, but only the professional craftsman, is competent to fabricate the instruments of cutting and weaving. In like manner, not every man is competent to make a name: no one is competent except the lawgiver or the gifted name-maker, the rarest of all existing artists.10

Names have an intrinsic aptitude for signifying one thing and not another.

Names have an intrinsic aptitude for signifying one thing and not another.

Forms of Names, as well as Forms of things nameable — essence of the Nomen, to signify the Essence of its Nominatum.

Exclusive competence of a privileged lawgiver, to discern these essences, and to apportion names rightly.

Such is the theory here laid down by Sokrates respecting Names. It is curious as illustrating the Platonic vein of speculation. It enlarges to an extreme point Plato’s region of the absolute and objective. Not merely each thing named, but each name also, is in his view an Ens absolutum; not dependent upon human choice — not even relative (so he alleges) to human apprehension. Each name has its own self-existent Idea, Form, or Type, the reproduction or copy of which is imperative. The Platonic intelligible world included Ideas of things, and of names correlative to them: just as it included Ideas of master and slave correlative to each other. It contained Noumena of names, as well as Noumena of things.16 The essence of the name was, to be significant of the essence of the thing named: though such significance admitted of diversity, multiplication, or curtailment, in the letters or syllables wherein it was embodied.17 The name became significant, by imitation or resemblance: that name was right, the essence of which imitated the essence of the thing named.18 The vocal mimic imitates sounds, the painter imitates the colours: the name-giver imitates in letters or syllables, the essence of colours, sounds, and every thing else which is nameable.

Counter-Theory, which Sokrates here sets forth and impugns — the Protagorean doctrine — Homo Mensura.

As this theory of naming is a deduction from Plato’s main doctrine of absolute or self-existing Ideas, so it also illustrates (to repeat what was said in the last chapter) his recognition of professional skill and of competence vested exclusively in a gifted One or Few: which he ranks as the sole producing cause of Good or the Best, setting it in contrast with those two causes which he considers as productive of Evil, or at any rate of the Inferior or Second-Best: 1. The One or Few, who are ungifted and unphilosophical: perhaps ambitious pretenders. 2. The spontaneous, unbespoken inspirations, conventions, customs, or habits, which grow up without formal mandate among the community. To find the right name of each thing, is no light matter, nor within the competence of any one or many ordinary men. It can only be done by one of the few privileged lawgivers. Plato even glances at the necessity of a superhuman name-giver: though he deprecates the supposition generally, as a mere evasion or subterfuge, introduced to escape the confession of real ignorance.21

Objection by Sokrates — That Protagoras puts all men on a level as to wisdom and folly, knowledge and ignorance.

This Protagorean theory is here set forth by the Platonic Sokrates as the antithesis or counter-theory, to that which he is himself advancing, viz. — That Names are significant by nature and not by agreement of men:— That each Nomen is tied to its Nominatum by a natural and indissoluble bond. His remarks imply, that those who do not accept this last-mentioned theory must agree with Protagoras. But such an antithesis is noway necessary: since (not to speak of Hermogenes himself in this very dialogue) we find also that Aristotle — who maintains that Names are significant by convention and not by nature — dissents also from the theory of Protagoras: and would have rested his dissent from it on very different grounds.

Objection unfounded — What the Protagorean theory really affirms — Belief always relative to the believer’s mind.

Each man believes others to be wiser on various points than himself — Belief on authority — not inconsistent with the affirmation of Protagoras.

The Protagorean doctrine is, when stated in its most general terms, — That every man is and must be his own measure of truth or falsehood — That what appears to him true, is true to him, however it may appear to others — That he cannot by any effort step out of or beyond his own individual belief conviction, knowledge — That all his Cognita, Credita, Percepta, Cogitata, &c., imply himself as Cognoscens, Credens, Percipiens, Cogitans, inseparably and indivisibly — That in affirming an object, he himself is necessarily present as affirming subject, and that Object and Subject are only two sides of the same indivisible fact22 — That though there are some matters which all men agree in believing, there is no criterion at once infallible and universally recognised, in matters where they dissent: moreover, the matters believed are just as much relative where all agree, as where some disagree.

Analogy of physical processes (cutting and burning) appealed to by Sokrates — does not sustain his inference against Protagoras.

In the Kratylus, Sokrates says (and I agree with him) that there are laws of nature respecting the processes of cutting and burning: and that any one who attempts to cut or burn in a way unconformable to those laws, will fail in his purpose. This is true, but it proves nothing against Protagoras. It is an appeal to a generalization from physical facts, resting upon experience and induction — upon sensation and inference which we and others, Protagoras as well as Plato, have had, and which we believe to be common to all. We know this fact, or have a full and certain conviction of it; but we are not brought at all nearer to the Absolute (i.e., to the Object without Subject) which Plato’s argument requires. The analogy rather carries us away from the Absolute: for cutting and burning, with their antecedent conditions, are facts of sense: and Plato himself admits, to a great extent, that the facts of sense are relative. All experience and induction, and all belief founded thereupon, are essentially relative. The experience may be one common to all mankind, and upon which all are unanimous:23 but it is not the less relative to each individual of the multitude. What is relative to all, continues to be relative to each: the fact that all sentient individuals are in this respect alike, does not make it cease to be relative, and become absolute. What I see and hear in the theatre is relative to me, though it may at the same time be relative to ten thousand other spectators, who are experiencing like sensations. Where all men think or believe alike, it may not be necessary for common purposes to distinguish the multiplicity of individual thinking subjects: yet the subjects are nevertheless multiple, and the belief, knowledge, or fact, is relative to each of them, whether all agree, or whether beliefs are many and divergent. We cannot suppress ourselves as sentient or cogitant subjects, nor find any locus standi for Object pure and simple, apart from the ground of relativity. And the Protagorean dictum brings to view these subjective conditions, as being essential, no less than the objective, to belief and disbelief.

Reply of Protagoras to the Platonic objections.

In the Kratylus, Sokrates says (and I agree with him) that there are laws of nature respecting the processes of cutting and burning: and that any one who attempts to cut or burn in a way unconformable to those laws, will fail in his purpose. This is true, but it proves nothing against Protagoras. It is an appeal to a generalization from physical facts, resting upon experience and induction — upon sensation and inference which we and others, Protagoras as well as Plato, have had, and which we believe to be common to all. We know this fact, or have a full and certain conviction of it; but we are not brought at all nearer to the Absolute (i.e., to the Object without Subject) which Plato’s argument requires. The analogy rather carries us away from the Absolute: for cutting and burning, with their antecedent conditions, are facts of sense: and Plato himself admits, to a great extent, that the facts of sense are relative. All experience and induction, and all belief founded thereupon, are essentially relative. The experience may be one common to all mankind, and upon which all are unanimous:23 but it is not the less relative to each individual of the multitude. What is relative to all, continues to be relative to each: the fact that all sentient individuals are in this respect alike, does not make it cease to be relative, and become absolute. What I see and hear in the theatre is relative to me, though it may at the same time be relative to ten thousand other spectators, who are experiencing like sensations. Where all men think or believe alike, it may not be necessary for common purposes to distinguish the multiplicity of individual thinking subjects: yet the subjects are nevertheless multiple, and the belief, knowledge, or fact, is relative to each of them, whether all agree, or whether beliefs are many and divergent. We cannot suppress ourselves as sentient or cogitant subjects, nor find any locus standi for Object pure and simple, apart from the ground of relativity. And the Protagorean dictum brings to view these subjective conditions, as being essential, no less than the objective, to belief and disbelief.

Sentiments of Belief and Disbelief, common to all men — Grounds of belief and disbelief, different with different men and different ages.

Protagoras did not affirm, that Belief depended upon the will or inclination of each individual but that it was relative to the circumstances of each individual mind.

Protagoras did not affirm, that Belief depended upon the will or inclination of each individual but that it was relative to the circumstances of each individual mind.

Facts of sense — some are the same to all sentient subjects, others are different to different subjects. Grounds of unanimity.

The grounds of belief, according to Protagoras, relative to the individual, are not the same with all men at all times. But it does not follow (nor does Protagoras appear to have asserted) that they vary according to the will or inclination of the individual. Plato, in impugning this doctrine, reasons as if these two things were one and the same — as if, according to Protagoras, a man believed whatever he chose.26 This, however, is not an exact representation of the doctrine “Homo Mensura”: which does not assert the voluntary or the arbitrary, but simply the relative as against the absolute. What a man believes does not depend upon his own will or choice: it depends upon an aggregate of circumstances, partly peculiar to himself, partly common to him with other persons more or fewer in number:27 upon his age, organisation, and temperament — his experience, education, historical and social position — his intellectual powers and acquirements — his passions and sentiments of every kind, &c. These and other ingredients — analogous, yet neither the same nor combined in the same manner, even in different individuals of the same time and country, much less in those of different times and countries — compose the aggregate determining grounds of belief or disbelief in every one. Each man has in his mind an ideal standard of truth and falsehood: but that ideal standard, never exactly the same in any two men, nor in the same man at all times, often varies in different men to a prodigious extent. Now it is to this standard in the man’s own mind that those reasoners refer who maintain that belief is relative. They do not maintain, that it is relative simply to his wishes, or that he believes and disbelieves what he chooses.

Sokrates exemplifies his theory of the Absolute Name or the Name-Form. He attempts to show the inherent rectitude of many existing names. His etymological transitions.

When Plato says that combustibility and secability of objects are properties fixed and determinate,28 this is perfectly true, as meaning that a certain proportion of the facts of sense affect in the same way the sentient and appreciative powers of each individual, determining the like belief in every man who has ever experienced them. Measuring and weighing are sensible facts of this character: seen alike by all, and conclusive proofs to all. But this implies, to a certain point, fundamental uniformity in the individual sentients and judges. Where such condition is wanting — where there is a fundamental difference in the sensible apprehension manifested by different individuals — the unanimity is wanting also. Such is the case in regard to colours and other sensations: witness the peculiar vision of Dalton and many others. The unanimity in the first case, the discrepancy in the second, is alike an aggregate of judgments, each individual, distinct, and relative. You pronounce an opponent to be in error: but if you cannot support your opinion by evidence or authority which satisfies his senses or his reason, he remains unconvinced. Your individual opinion stands good to you; his opinion stands good to him. You think that he ought to believe as you do, and in certain cases you feel persuaded that he will be brought to that result by future experience, which of course must be relative to him and to his appreciative powers. He entertains the like persuasion in regard to you.

These transitions appear violent to a modern reader. They did not appear so to readers of Plato until this century. Modern discovery, that they are intended as caricatures to deride the Sophists.

These transitions appear violent to a modern reader. They did not appear so to readers of Plato until this century. Modern discovery, that they are intended as caricatures to deride the Sophists.

Dissent from this theory — No proof that the Sophists ever proposed etymologies.

Such is the light in which these Platonic etymologies appear to a modern critic. But such was not the light in which they appeared either to the ancient Platonists, or to critics earlier than the last century. The Platonists even thought them full of mysterious and recondite wisdom. Dionysius of Halikarnassus highly commends Plato for his speculations on etymology, especially in the Kratylus.31 Plutarch cites some of the most singular etymologies in the Kratylus as serious and instructive. The modesty of the Protagorean formula becomes here especially applicable: for so complete has been the revolution of opinion, that the Platonic etymologies are now treated by most critics as too absurd to have been seriously intended by Plato, even as conjectures. It is called “a valuable discovery of modern times” (so Schleiermacher32 terms it) that Plato meant all or most of them as mere parody and caricature. We are now told that it was not Plato who misconceived the analogies, conditions, and limits, of etymological transition, but others; whom Plato has here set himself to expose and ridicule, by mock etymologies intended to parody those which they had proposed as serious. If we ask who the persons thus ridiculed were, we learn that they were the Sophists, Protagoras, or Prodikus, with others; according to Schleiermacher, Antisthenes among them.33

Plato did not intend to propose mock-etymologies, or to deride any one. Protagoras could not be ridiculed here. Neither Hermogenes nor Kratylus understand the etymologies as caricature.

Plato did not intend to propose mock-etymologies, or to deride any one. Protagoras could not be ridiculed here. Neither Hermogenes nor Kratylus understand the etymologies as caricature.

Plato intended his theory as serious, but his exemplifications as admissible guesses. He does not cite particular cases as proofs of a theory, but only as illustrating what he means.

Suppose it then ascertained that Plato intended to ridicule and humiliate some rash etymologists, there would still be no propriety in singling out the Sophists as his victims — except that they are obnoxious names, against whom every unattested accusation is readily believed. But it is neither ascertained, nor (in my judgment) probable, that Plato here intended to ridicule or humiliate any one. The ridicule, if any was intended, would tell against himself more than against others. For he first begins by laying down a general theory respecting names: a theory unquestionably propounded as serious, and understood to be so by the critics:37 moreover, involving some of his favourite and peculiar doctrines. It is this theory that his particular etymologies are announced as intended to carry out, in the way of illustration or exemplification. Moreover, he undertakes to prove this theory against Hermogenes, who declares himself strongly opposed to it: and he proves it by a string of arguments which (whether valid or not) are obviously given with a serious and sincere purpose of establishing the conclusion. Immediately after having established that there was a real rectitude of names, and after announcing that he would proceed to enquire wherein such rectitude consisted,38 what sense or consistency would there be in his inventing a string of intentional caricatures announced as real etymologies? By doing this, he would be only discrediting and degrading the very theory which he had taken so much pains to inculcate upon Hermogenes. Instead of ridiculing Protagoras, he would ridicule himself and his own theory for the benefit of opponents generally, one among them being Protagoras: who (if we imagine his life prolonged) would have had the satisfaction of seeing a theory, framed in direct opposition to his doctrine, discredited and parodied by his own advocate. Hermogenes, too (himself an opponent of the theory, though not concurring with Protagoras), if these etymologies were intended as caricatures, ought to be made to receive them as such, and to join in the joke at the expense of the persons derided. But Hermogenes is not made to manifest any sense of their being so intended: he accepts them all as serious, though some as novel and surprising, in the same passive way which is usual with the interlocutors of Sokrates in other dialogues. Farther, there are some among these etymologies plain and plausible enough, accepted as serious by all the critics.39 Yet these are presented in the series, without being parted off by any definite line, along with those which we are called upon to regard as deliberate specimens of mock-etymology. Again, there are also some, which, looking at their etymological character, are as strange and surprising as any in the whole dialogue: but which yet, from the place which they occupy in the argument, and from the plain language in which they are presented, almost exclude the supposition that they can be intended as jest or caricature.40 Lastly, Kratylus, whose theory all these etymologies are supposed to be intended to caricature, is so far from being aware of this, that he cordially approves every thing which Sokrates had said.41

Sokrates announces himself as Searcher. Other etymologists of ancient times admitted etymologies as rash as those of Plato.

I cannot therefore accept as well-founded this “discovery of modern times,” which represents the Platonic etymologies in the Kratylus as intentionally extravagant and knowingly caricatured, for the purpose of ridiculing the Sophists or others. In my judgment, Plato did not put them forward as extravagant, nor for the purpose of ridiculing any one, but as genuine illustrations of a theory of his own respecting names. It cannot be said indeed that he advanced them as proof of his theory: for Plato seldom appeals to particulars, except when he has a theory to attack. When he has a theory to lay down, he does not generally recognise the necessity of either proving or verifying it by application to particular cases. His proof is usually deductive or derived from some more general principle asserted à priori — some internal sentiment enunciated as a self-justifying maxim. Particular examples serve to illustrate what the principle is, but are not required to establish its validity.42 But I believe that he intended his particular etymologies as bonâ fide guesses, more or less probable (like the developments in the Timæus, which he43 repeatedly designates as εἰκότα, and nothing beyond): some certain, some doubtful, some merely novel and ingenious: such as would naturally spring from the originating afflatus of diviners (like Euthyphron, to whom he alludes more than once44) who stepped beyond the ordinary regions of human affirmation. Occasionally he proposes alternative and distinct etymologies: feeling assured that there was some way of making out the conclusion — but not feeling equally certain about his own way of making it out. The sentiment of belief attaches itself in Plato’s mind to general views and theorems: when he gives particular consequences as flowing from them, his belief graduates down through all the stages between full certainty and the lowest probability, until in some cases it becomes little more than a fanciful illustration — like the mythes which he so often invents to expand and enliven these same general views.45

Continuance of the dialogue — Sokrates endeavours to explain how it is that the Names originally right have become so disguised and spoiled.

We must remember that Sokrates in the Kratylus explicitly announces himself as having no formed opinion on the subject, and as competent only to the prosecution of the enquiry, jointly with the others. What he says must therefore be received as conjectures proposed for discussion. I see no ground for believing that he regarded any of them, even those which appear to us the strangest, as being absurd or extravagant — or that he proposed any of them in mockery and caricature, for the purpose of deriding other Etymologists. Because these etymologies, or many of them at least, appear to us obviously absurd, we are not warranted in believing that they must have appeared so to Plato. They did not appear so (as I have already observed) to Dionysius of Halikarnassus — nor to Diogenes, nor to the Platonists of antiquity nor to any critics earlier than the seventeenth century.46 By many of these critics they were deemed not merely serious, but valuable. Nor are they more absurd than many of the etymologies proposed by Aristotle, by the Stoics, by the Alexandrine critics, by Varro, and by the grammatici or literary men of antiquity generally; moreover, even by Plato himself in other dialogues occasionally.47 In determining what etymologies would appear to Plato reasonable or admissible, Dionysius, Plutarch, Proklus, and Alkinous, are more likely to judge rightly than we: partly because they had a larger knowledge of the etymologies proposed by Greek philosophers and grammatici than we possess — partly because they had no acquaintance with the enlarged views of modern etymologists — which, on the point here in question, are misleading rather than otherwise. Plato held the general theory that names, in so far as they were framed with perfect rectitude, held embodied in words and syllables a likeness or imitation of the essence of things. And if he tried to follow out such a theory into detail, without any knowledge of grammatical systems, without any large and well-chosen collection of analogies within his own language, or any comparison of different languages with each other — he could scarcely fail to lose himself in wonderful and violent transmutations of letters and syllables.48

Letters, as well as things, must be distinguished with their essential properties, each must be adapted to each.

These etymologies are the hypothetical links whereby Sokrates reconciles his first theory of the essential rectitude of Names (that is, of Naming, as a process which can only be performed in one way, and by an Artist who discerns and uses the Name-Form), with the names actually received and current. The contrast between the sameness and perfection postulated in the theory, and the confusion of actual practice, is not less manifest than the contrast between the benevolent purposes ascribed to the Demiurgus (in the Timæus) and the realities of man and society:— requiring intermediate assumptions, more or less ingenious, to explain or attenuate the glaring inconsistencies. Respecting the Name-Form, Sokrates intimates that it may often be so disguised by difference of letters and syllables, as not to be discernible by an ordinary man, or by any one except an artist or philosopher. Two names, if compound, may have the same Name-Form, though few or none of the letters in them be the same. A physician may so disguise his complex mixtures, by apparent differences of colour or smell, that they shall be supposed by others to be different, though essentially the same. Beta is the name of the letter B: you may substitute, in place of the three last letters, any others which you prefer, and the name will still be appropriate to designate the letter B.49

Essential significant aptitude consists in resemblance.

Sokrates assumes that the Name-giving Lawgiver was a believer in the Herakleitean theory.

Essential aptitude for signification consists in resemblance between the essence of the letter and that of the thing signified. Thus the letter Rho, according to Sokrates, is naturally apt for the signification of rush or vehement motion, because in pronouncing it the tongue is briskly agitated and rolled about. Several words are cited, illustrating this position.53 Iota naturally designates thin and subtle things, which insinuate themselves everywhere. Phi, Chi, Psi, Sigma, the sibilants, imitate blowing. Delta and Tau, from the compression of the tongue, imitate stoppage of motion, or stationary condition. Lambda imitates smooth and slippery things. Nu serves, as confining the voice in the mouth, to form the words signifying in-doors and interior. Alpha and Eta are both of them large letters: the first is assigned to signify size, the last to signify length. Omicron is suited to what is round or circular.54

But the Name-Giver may be mistaken or incompetent — the rectitude of the name depends upon his knowledge.

In applying this theory — about the fundamental significant aptitudes of the letters of the alphabet — to show the rectitude of the existing words compounded from them — Sokrates assumes that the name-giving Artists were believers in the Herakleitean theory: that is, in the perpetual process of flux, movement, and transition into contraries. He cites a large variety of names, showing by their composition that they were adapted to denote this all-pervading fact, as constituting the essence of things.56 The names given by these theorists to that which is good, virtuous, agreeable, &c., were compounded in such a manner as to denote what facilitates, or falls in with, the law of universal movement: the names of things bad or hurtful, denote what obstructs or retards movement.57

Changes and transpositions introduced in the name — hard to follow.

Sokrates qualifies and attenuates his original thesis.

Sokrates qualifies and attenuates his original thesis.

Conversation of Sokrates with Kratylus: who upholds that original thesis without any qualification.

Sokrates goes still farther towards retracting it,

If names are significant by natural rectitude, or by partaking of the Name-Form, it follows that all names must be right or true, one as well as another. If a name be not right, it cannot be significant: that is, it is no name at all: it is a mere unmeaning sound. A name, in order to be significant, must imitate the essence of the thing named. If you add any thing to a number, or subtract any thing from it, it becomes thereby a new number: it is not the same number badly rendered. So with a letter: so too with a name. There is no such thing as a bad name. Every name must be either significant, and therefore, right — or else it is not a name. So also there is no such thing as a false proposition: you cannot say the thing that is not: your words in that case have no meaning; they are only an empty sound. The hypothesis that the law-giver may have distributed names erroneously is therefore not admissible.63 Moreover, you see that he must have known well, for otherwise he would not have given names so consistent with each other, and with the general Herakleitean theory.64 And since the name is by necessity a representation or copy of the thing, whoever knows the name, must also know the thing named. There is in fact no other way of knowing or seeking or finding out things, except through their names.65

There are names better — more like, or less like to the things named: Natural Names are the best, but they cannot always be had. Names may be significant by habit, though in an inferior way.

These consequences are fairly deduced by Kratylus from the hypothesis, of the natural rectitude of names, as laid down in the beginning of the dialogue, by Sokrates: who had expressly affirmed (in his anti-Protagorean opening of the dialogue) that unless the process of naming was performed according to the peremptory dictates of nature and by one of the few privileged name-givers, it would be a failure and would accomplish nothing;66 in other words, that a non-natural name would be no name at all. Accordingly, in replying to Kratylus, Sokrates goes yet farther in retracting his own previous reasoning at the beginning of the dialogue — though still without openly professing to do so. He proposes a compromise.67 He withdraws the pretensions of his theory, as peremptory or exclusive; he acknowledges the theory of Hermogenes as true, and valid in conjunction with it. He admits that non-natural names also, significant only by convention, are available as a make-shift — and that such names are in frequent use. Still however he contends, that natural names, significant by likeness, are the best, so far as they can be obtained: but inasmuch as that principle will not afford sufficiently extensive holding-ground, recourse must be had by way of supplement to the less perfect rectitude (of names) presented by customary or conventional significance.68

All names are not consistent with the theory of Herakleitus: some are opposed to it.

You say (reasons Sokrates with Kratylus) that names must be significant by way of likeness. But there are degrees of likeness. A portrait is more or less like its original, but it is never exactly like: it is never a duplicate, nor does it need to be so. Or a portrait, which really belongs to and resembles one person, may be erroneously assigned to another. The same thing happens with names. There are names more or less like the thing named — good or bad: there are names good with reference to their own object, but erroneously fitted on to objects not their own. The name does not cease to be a name, so long as the type or form of the thing named is preserved in it: but it is worse or better, according as the accompanying features are more or less in harmony with the form.69 If names are like things, the letters which are put together to form names, must have a natural resemblance to things — as we remarked above respecting the letters Rho, Lambda, &c. But the natural, inherent, powers of resemblance and significance, which we pronounced to belong to these letters, are not found to pervade all the actual names, in which they are employed. There are words containing the letters Rho and Lambda, in a sense opposite to that which is natural to them — yet nevertheless at the same time significant; as is evident from the fact, that you and I and others understand them alike. Here then are words significant, without resembling: significant altogether through habit and convention. We must admit the principle of convention as an inferior ground and manner of significance. Resemblance, though the best ground as far as it can be had, is not the only one.70

It is not true to say, That Things can only be known through their names.

All names are not like the things named: some names are bad, others good: the law-giver sometimes gave names under an erroneous belief. Hence you are not warranted in saying that things must be known and investigated through names, and that whoever knows the name, knows also the thing named. You say that the names given are all coherent and grounded upon the Herakleitean theory of perpetual flux. You take this as a proof that that theory is true in itself, and that the law-giver adopted and proceeded upon it as true. I agree with you that the law-giver or name-giver believed in the Herakleitean theory, and adapted many of his names to it: but you cannot infer from hence that the theory is true — for he may have been mistaken.71 Moreover, though many of the existing names consist with, and are based upon, that theory, the same cannot be said of all names. Many names can be enumerated which are based on the opposite principle of permanence and stand-still. It is unsafe to strike a balance of mere numbers between the two: besides which, even among the various names founded on the Herakleitean theory, you will find jumbled together the names of virtues and vices, benefits and misfortunes. That theory lends itself to good and evil alike; it cannot therefore be received as true — whether the name-giver believed in it or not.72

Unchangeable Platonic Forms — opposed to the Herakleitean flux, which is true only respecting sensible particulars.

Herakleitean theory must not be assumed as certain. We must not put implicit faith in names.

The Herakleitean theory of constant and universal flux is true respecting particular things, but not true respecting these Ideas or Forms. It is the latter alone which know or are known: it is they alone which admit of being rightly named. For that which is in perpetual flux and change can neither know, nor be known, nor be rightly named.76 Being an ever-changing subject, it is never in any determinate condition: and nothing can be known which is not in a determinate condition. The Form of the knowing subject, as well as the Form of the known object, must both remain fixed and eternal, otherwise there can be no knowledge at all.

Remarks upon the dialogue. Dissent from the opinion of Stallbaum and others, that it is intended to deride Protagoras and other Sophists.

Theory laid down by Sokrates à priori, in the first part — Great difficulty, and ingenuity necessary, to bring it into harmony with facts.

One of the most learned among the modern Platonic commentators informs us that the purpose of Plato in this dialogue was, “to rub over Protagoras and other Sophists with the bitterest salt of sarcasm”.79 I have already expressed my dissent from this theory, which is opposed to all the ancient views of the dialogue, and which has arisen, in my judgment, only from the anxiety of the moderns to exonerate Plato from the reproach of having suggested as admissible, etymologies which now appear to us fantastic. I see no derision of the Sophists, except one or two sneers against Protagoras and Prodikus, upon the ever-recurring theme that they took money for their lectures.80 The argument against Protagoras at the opening of the dialogue — whether conclusive or not — is serious and not derisory. The discourse of Sokrates is neither that of an anti-sophistical caricaturist, on the one hand — nor that of a confirmed dogmatist who has studied the subject and made up his mind on the other (this is the part which he ascribes to Kratylus)81 — but the tentative march of an enquirer groping after truth, who follows the suggestive promptings of his own invention, without knowing whither it will conduct him: who, having in his mind different and even opposite points of view, unfolds first arguments on behalf of one, and next those on behalf of the other, without pledging himself either to the one or to the other, or to any definite scheme of compromise between them.82 Those who take no interest in such circuitous gropings and guesses of an inquisitive and yet unsatisfied mind — those who ask for nothing but a conclusion clearly enunciated along with one or two affirmative reasons — may find the dialogue tiresome. However this may be — it is a manner found in many Platonic dialogues.

Opposite tendencies of Sokrates in the last half of the dialogue — he disconnects his theory of Naming from the Herakleitean doctrine.

Sokrates opens his case by declaring the thesis of the Absolute (Object sine Subject), against the Protagorean thesis of the Relative (Object cum Subject). Things have an absolute essence: names have an absolute essence:83 each name belongs to its own thing, and to no other: this is its rectitude: none but that rare person, the artistic name-giver, can detect the essence of each thing, and the essence of each name, so as to apply the name rightly. Here we have a theory truly Platonic: impressed upon Plato’s mind by a sentiment à priori, and not from any survey or comparison of particulars. Accordingly when Sokrates is called upon to apply his theory to existing current words, and to make out how any such rectitude can be shown to belong to them — he finds the greatest divergence and incongruity between the two. His ingenuity is hardly tasked to reconcile them: and he is obliged to have recourse to bold and multiplied hypotheses. That the first Name-Givers were artists proceeding upon system, but incompetent artists proceeding on a bad system — they were Herakleiteans who believed in the universality of movement, and gave names having reference to movement:84 That the various letters of the alphabet, or rather the different actions of the vocal organism by which they are pronounced, have each an inherent, essential, adaptation, or analogy to the phenomena of movement or arrest of movement:85 That the names originally bestowed have become disguised by a variety of metamorphoses, but may be brought back to their original by probable suppositions, and shown to possess the rectitude sought. All these hypotheses are only violent efforts to reconcile the Platonic à priori theory, in some way or other, with existing facts of language. To regard them as intentional caricatures, would be to suppose that Plato is seeking intentionally to discredit and deride his own theory of the Absolute: for the discredit could fall nowhere else. We see that Plato considered many of his own guesses as strange and novel, some even as laying him open to ridicule.86 But they were indispensable to bring his theory into something like coherence, however inadequate, with real language.

Ideal of the best system of naming — the Name-Giver ought to be familiar with the Platonic Ideas or Essences, and apportion his names according to resemblances among them.

In the second part of the dialogue, where Kratylus is introduced as uncompromising champion of this same theory, Sokrates changes his line of argument, and impugns the peremptory or exclusive pretensions of the theory: first denying some legitimate corollaries from it — next establishing by the side of it the counter-theory of Hermogenes, as being an inferior though indispensable auxiliary — yet still continuing to uphold it as an ideal of what is Best. He concludes by disconnecting the theory pointedly from the doctrine of Herakleitus, with which Kratylus connected it, and by maintaining that there can be no right naming, and no sound knowledge, if that doctrine be admitted.87 The Platonic Ideas, eternal and unchangeable, are finally opposed to Kratylus as the only objects truly knowable and nameable — and therefore as the only conditions under which right naming can be realised. The Name-givers of actual society have failed in their task by proceeding on a wrong doctrine: neither they nor the names which they have given can be trusted.88 The doctrine of perpetual change or movement is true respecting the sensible world and particulars, but it is false respecting the intelligible world or universals — Ideas and Forms. These latter are the only things knowable: but we cannot know them through names: we must study them by themselves and by their own affinities.

Comparison of Plato’s views about naming with those upon social institutions. Artistic, systematic construction — contrasted with unpremeditated unsystematic growth.

Such is the ideal of perfect or philosophical Naming, as Plato conceives it — disengaged from those divinations of the origin and metamorphoses of existing names, which occupy so much of the dialogue.89 He does not indeed attempt to construct a body of true names à priori, but he sets forth the real nameable permanent essences, to which these names might be assimilated: the principles upon which the construction ought to be founded, by the philosophic lawgiver following out a good theory:90 and he contrasts this process with two rival processes, each defective in its own way. This same contrast, pervading Plato’s views on other subjects, deserves a few words of illustration.

Politikus compared with Kratylus.

Respecting social institutions and government, there is one well-known theory to which Sir James Mackintosh gave expression in the phrase — “Governments are not made, but grow”. The like phrase has been applied by an eminent modern author on Logic, to language — “Languages are not made, but grow”.91 One might suppose, in reading the second and third books of the Republic of Plato, that Plato also had adopted this theory: for the growth of a society, without any initiative or predetermined construction by a special individual, is there strikingly depicted.92 But in truth it is this theory which stands in most of the Platonic works, as the antithesis depreciated and discredited by Plato. The view most satisfactory to him contemplates the analogy of a human artist or professional man; which he enlarges into the idea of an originating, intelligent, artistic, Constructor, as the source of all good. This view is exhibited to us in the Timæus, where we find the Demiurgus, building up by his own fiat all that is good in the Kosmos: in the Politikus, where we find the individual dictator producing by his uncontrolled ordinance all that is really good in the social system; — lastly, here also in the Kratylus, where we have the scientific or artistic Name-giver, and him alone, set forth as competent to construct an assemblage of names, each possessing full and perfect rectitude. To this theory there is presented a counter-theory, which Plato disapproves — a Kosmos which grows by itself and keeps up its own agencies, without any extra-kosmic constructor or superintendent: in like manner, an aggregate of social customs, and an aggregate of names, which have grown up no one knows how; and which sustain and perpetuate themselves by traditional force — by movement already acquired in a given direction. The idea of growth, by regular assignable steps and by regularising tendencies instinctive and inherent in Nature, belongs rather to Aristotle; Plato conceives Nature as herself irregular, and as persuaded or constrained into some sort of regularity by a supernatural or extranatural artist.93

Ideal of Plato — Postulate of the One Wise Man — Badness of all reality.

Looking back to the Politikus (reviewed in the last chapter), we find Plato declaring to us wherein consists the rectitude of a social Form: it resides in the presiding and uncontrolled authority of a scientific or artistic Ruler, always present and directing every one: or of a few such Rulers, if there be a few — though this is more than can be hoped. But such rectitude is seldom or never realised. Existing social systems are bad copies of this type, degenerating more or less widely from its perfection. One or a Few persons arrogate to themselves uncontrolled power, without possessing that science or art which justifies the exercise of it in the Right Ruler. These are, or may become, extreme depravations. The least bad, among all the imperfect systems, is an aggregate of fixed laws and magistrates with known functions, agreed to by convention of all and faithfully obeyed by all. But such a system of fixed laws, though second-best, falls greatly short of rectitude. It is much inferior in every way to the uncontrolled authority of the scientific Ruler.94

Comparison of Kratylus, Theætêtus, and Sophistês, in treatment of the question respecting Non-Ens, and the possibility of false propositions.

Comparison of Kratylus, Theætêtus, and Sophistês, in treatment of the question respecting Non-Ens, and the possibility of false propositions.

Discrepancies and inconsistencies of Plato, in his manner of handling the same subject.

Now this doctrine is dealt with in the Theætêtus, Sophistês, and Kratylus. In the Theætêtus,101 Sokrates examines it at great length, and proposes several different hypotheses to explain how a false proposition might be possible: but ends in pronouncing them all inadmissible. He declares himself incompetent, and passes on to something else. Again, in the Sophistês, the same point is taken up, and discussed there also very copiously.102 The Eleate in that dialogue ends by finding a solution which satisfies him (viz.: that τὸ μη ὂν = τὸ ἕτερον ὄντος). But what is remarkable is, that the solution does not meet any of the difficulties propounded in the Theætêtus; nor are those difficulties at all adverted to in the Sophistês. Finally, in the Kratylus, we have the very same doctrine, that false affirmations are impossible — which both in the Theætêtus and in the Sophistês is enunciated, not as the decided opinion of the speaker, but as a problem which embarrasses him — we have this same doctrine averred unequivocally by Kratylus as his own full conviction. And Sokrates finds that a very short argument, and a very simple comparison, suffice to refute him.103 The supposed “aggressive cross-examiner,” who presses Sokrates so hard in the Theætêtus, is not allowed to put his puzzling questions in the Kratylus.104

No common didactic purpose pervading the Dialogues — each is a distinct composition, working out its own peculiar argument.

Character, Personages, and Subject of the Philêbus.

Protest against the Sokratic Elenchus, and the purely negative procedure.

Protest against the Sokratic Elenchus, and the purely negative procedure.

Enquiry — What mental condition will ensure to all men a happy life? Good and Happiness — correlative and co-extensive. Philêbus declares for Pleasure, Sokrates for Intelligence.

Good — object of universal choice and attachment by men, animals, and plants — all-sufficient — satisfies all desires.

Pleasures are unlike to each other, and even opposite cognitions are so likewise.

Is Good identical with pleasure, or with intelligence, or is it a Tertium Quid, distinct from both? Good, or The Good must be perfect and all-sufficient in itself: the object of desire, aspiration, choice, and attachment, by all men, and even by all animals and plants, who are capable of attaining it. Every man who has it, is satisfied, desiring nothing else. If he neglects it, and chooses any thing else, this is contrary to nature: he does so involuntarily, either from ignorance or some other untoward constraint.4 Thus, the characteristic mark of Good or Happiness is, That it is desired, loved, and sought by all, and that, if attained, it satisfies all the wishes and aspirations of human nature.

Whether Pleasure, or Wisdom, corresponds to this description? Appeal to individual choice.

Sokrates then remarks that pleasure is very multifarious and diverse: and that under that same word, different forms and varieties are signified, very unlike to each other, and sometimes even opposite to each other. Thus the intemperate man has his pleasures, while the temperate man enjoys his pleasures also, attached to his own mode of life: so too the simpleton has pleasure in his foolish dreams and hopes, the intelligent man in the exercise of intellectual force. These and many others are varieties of pleasure not resembling, but highly dissimilar, even opposite. — Protarchus replies — That they proceed from dissimilar and opposite circumstances, but that in themselves they are not dissimilar or opposite. Pleasure must be completely similar to pleasure — itself to itself. — So too (rejoins Sokrates) colour is like to colour: in that respect there is no difference between them. But black colour is different from, and even opposite to, white colour.5 You will go wrong if you make things altogether opposite, into one. You may call all pleasures by the name pleasures: but you must not affirm between them any other point of resemblance, nor call them all good. I maintain that some are bad, others good. What common property in all of them, is it, that you signify by the name good? As different pleasures are unlike to each other, so also different cognitions (or modes of intelligence) are unlike to each other; though all of them agree in being cognitions. To this Protarchus accedes.6 — We must enter upon our enquiry after The Good with this mutual concession: That Pleasure, which you affirm to be The Good — and Intelligence, which I declare to be so — is at once both Unum, and Multa et Diversa.7

First Question submitted to Protarchus — Intense Pleasure, without any intelligence — He declines to accept it.

First Question submitted to Protarchus — Intense Pleasure, without any intelligence — He declines to accept it.

Second Question — Whether he will accept a life of Intelligence purely without any pleasure or pain? Answer — No.

It is agreed on both sides, That the Good must be a Tertium Quid. But Sokrates undertakes to show, That Intelligence is more cognate with it than Pleasure.

Sokrates now proceeds to ask Protarchus, whether he will accept a life of full and all-comprehensive intelligence purely and simply, without any taste either of pleasure or pain. To which Protarchus answers, that neither he nor any one else would accept such a life.10 Both of them agree that the Summum Bonum ought to be sought neither in pleasure singly, nor in intelligence singly, but in both combined.

Difficulties about Unum et Multa. How can the One be Many? How can the Many be One? The difficulties are greatest about Generic Unity — how it is distributed among species and individuals.

Active disputes upon this question at the time.

Sokrates then undertakes to show, that of these two elements, intelligence is the most efficacious and the most contributory to the Summum Bonum — pleasure the least so. But as a preparation for this enquiry, he adverts to that which has just been agreed between them respecting both Pleasure and Intelligence — That each of them is Unum, and each of them at the same time Multa et Diversa. Here (argues Sokrates) we find opened before us the embarrassing question respecting the One and the Many. Enquirers often ask — “How can the One be Many? How can the Many be One? How can the same thing be both One and Many?” They find it difficult to understand how you, Protarchus, being One person, are called by different names — tall, heavy, white, just, &c.: or how you are affirmed to consist of many different parts and members. To this difficulty, however (says Sokrates), the reply is easy. You, and other particular men, belong to the generated and the perishable. You partake of many different Ideas or Essences, and your partaking of one among them does not exclude you from partaking also of another distinct and even opposite. You partake of the Idea or Essence of Unity — also of Multitude — of tallness, heaviness, whiteness, humanity, greatness, littleness, &c. You are both great and little, heavy and light, &c. In regard to generated and perishable things, we may understand this. But in regard to the ungenerated, imperishable, absolute Essences, the difficulty is more serious. The Self-existent or Universal Man, Bull, Animal — the Self-existent Beautiful, Good — in regard to these Unities or Monads there is room for great controversy. First, Do such unities or monads really and truly exist? Next, assuming that they do exist, how do they come into communion with generated and perishable particulars, infinite in number? Is each of them dispersed and parcelled out among countless individuals? or is it found, whole and entire, in each individual, maintaining itself as one and the same, and yet being parted from itself? Is the Universal Man distributed among all individual men, or is he one and entire in each of them? How is the Universal Beautiful (The Self-Beautiful — Beauty) in all and each beautiful thing? How does this one monad, unchangeable and imperishable, become embodied in a multitude of transitory individuals, each successively generated and perishing? How does this One become Many, or how do these Many become One?11

Order of Nature — Coalescence of the Finite with the Infinite. The One — The Finite Many — The Infinite Many.

Mistake commonly made — To look only for the One, and the Infinite Many, without looking for the intermediate subdivisions.

It is a primæval inspiration (he says) granted by the Gods to man along with the fire of Prometheus, and handed down to us as a tradition from that heroic race who were in nearer kindred with the Gods — That all things said to exist are composed of Unity and Multitude, and include in them a natural coalescence of Finiteness and Infinity.13 This is the fundamental order of Nature, which we must assume and proceed upon in our investigations. We shall find everywhere the Form of Unity conjoined with the Form of Infinity. But we must not be satisfied simply to find these two forms. We must look farther for those intermediate Forms which lie between the two. Having found the Form of One, we must next search for the Form of Two, Three, Four, or some definite number: and we must not permit ourselves to acquiesce in the Form of Infinite, until no farther definite number can be detected. In other words, we must not be satisfied with knowing only one comprehensive Genus, and individuals comprised under it. We must distribute the Genus into two, three, or more Species: and each of those Species again into two or more sub-species, each characterised by some specific mark: until no more characteristic marks can be discovered upon which to found the establishment of a distinct species. When we reach this limit, and when we have determined the number of subordinate species which the case presents, nothing remains except the indefinite mass and variety of individuals.14 The whole scheme will thus comprise — The One, the Summum Genus, or Highest Form: The Many, a definite number of Species or sub-Species or subordinate Forms: The Infinite, a countless heap of Individuals.

Illustration from Speech and Music.

The mistake commonly made (continues Sokrates) by clever men of the present day, is, that they look for nothing beyond the One and the Infinite Many: one comprehensive class, and countless individuals included in it. They take up carelessly any class which strikes them,15 and are satisfied to have got an indefinite number of individuals under one name. But they never seek for intermediate sub-divisions between the two, so as to be able to discriminate one portion of the class from other by some definite mark, and thus to constitute a sub-class. They do not feel the want of such intermediate sub-divisions, nor the necessity of distinguishing one portion of this immense group of individuals from another. Yet it is exactly upon these discriminating marks that the difference turns, between genuine dialectical argument and controversy without result.16

Plato’s explanation does not touch the difficulties which he had himself recognised as existing.

This general doctrine is illustrated by two particular cases — Speech and Music. The voice (or Vocal Utterance) is One — the voice is also Infinite: to know only thus much is to know very little. Even when you know, in addition to this, the general distinction of sounds into acute and grave, you are still far short of the knowledge of music. You must learn farthermore to distinguish all the intermediate gradations, and specific varieties of sound, into which the infinity of separate sounds admits of being distributed: what and how many these gradations are? what are the numerical ratios upon which they depend — the rhythmical and harmonic systems? When you have learnt to know the One Genus, the infinite diversity of individual sounds, and the number of subordinate specific varieties by which these two extremes are connected with each other — then you know the science of music. So too, in speech: when you can distinguish the infinite diversity of articulate utterance into vowels, semi-vowels, and consonants, each in definite number and with known properties — you are master of grammatical science. You must neither descend at once from the One to the Infinite Multitude, nor ascend at once from the Infinite Multitude to the One: you must pass through the intermediate stages of subordinate Forms, in determinate number. All three together make up scientific knowledge. You cannot know one portion separately, without knowing the remainder: all of them being connected into one by the common bond of the highest Genus.17

It is nevertheless instructive, in regard to logical division and classification.

It is nevertheless instructive, in regard to logical division and classification.

At that time little thought had been bestowed upon classification as a logical process.

Classification — unconscious and conscious.

The general necessity of systematic classification — of generalisation and specification, or subordination of species and sub-species, as a condition of knowing any extensive group of individuals — requires no advocate at the present day. But it was otherwise in the time of Plato. There existed then no body of knowledge, distributed and classified, to which he could appeal as an example. The illustrations to which he himself refers here, of language and music as systematic arrangements of vocal sounds, were both of them the product of empirical analogy and unconscious growth, involving little of predetermined principle or theory. All the classification then employed was merely that which is included in the structure of language: in the framing of general names, each designating a multitude of individuals. All that men knew of classification was, that which is involved in calling many individuals by the same common name. This is the defect pointed out by Plato, when he remarks that the clever men of his time took no heed except of the One and the Infinite (Genus and Individuals): neglecting all the intermediate distinctions. Upon the knowledge of these media (he says) rests the difference between true dialectic debate, and mere polemic.20 That is — when you have only an infinite multitude of individuals, called by the same generic name, it is not even certain that they have a single property in common: and even if they have, it is not safe to reason from one to another as to the possession of any other property beyond the one generic property — so that the debate ends in mere perplexity. All pleasures agree in being pleasures (Sokrates had before observed to Protarchus), and all cognitions agree in being cognitions. But you cannot from hence infer that there is any other property belonging in common to all.21 That is a point which you cannot determine without farther observation of individuals, and discrimination of the great multitude into appropriate subdivisions. You will thus bring the whole under that triple point of view which Plato requires:— the highest Genus, — the definite number of species and sub-species, — the undefined number of individuals.

Plato’s doctrine about classification is not necessarily connected with his Theory of Ideas.

Quadruple distribution of Existences. 1. The Infinite. 2. The Finient 3. Product of the two former. 4. Combining Cause or Agency.

We may here remark that Plato’s views as to the necessity of systematic classification, or of connecting the Summum Genus with individuals by intermediate stages of gradually decreasing generality — are not necessarily connected with his peculiar theory of Ideas as Self-existent objects, eternal and unchangeable. The two are indeed blended together in his own mind and language: but the one is quite separable from the other; and his remarks on classification are more perspicuous without his theory of Ideas than with it. Classification does not depend upon his hypothesis — That Ideas are not simply Concepts of the Reason, but absolute existences apart from the Reason (Entia Rationis apart from the Ratio) — and that these Ideas correspond to the words Unum, Multa definité, Multa indefinité, which are put together to compose the totality of what we see and feel in the Kosmos.

Pleasure and Pain belong to the first of these four Classes — Cognition or Intelligence belongs to the fourth.

In the combination, essential to Good, of Intelligence with Pleasure, Intelligence is the more important of the two constituents.

Intelligence is the regulating principle — Pleasure is the Indeterminate, requiring to be regulated.

Hence we see (Sokrates argues) that pleasure is a less important element than Intelligence, in the compound called Good. For pleasure belongs to the Infinite: but pain belongs to the Infinite also: the Infinite therefore, being common to both, cannot be the circumstance which imparts to pleasures their affinity with Good: they must derive that affinity from some one of the other elements.26 It is Intelligence which imparts to pleasures their affinity with Good: for Intelligence belongs to the more efficacious Genus called Cause. In the combination of Intelligence with Pleasure, indispensable to constitute Good, Intelligence is the primary element, Pleasure only the secondary element. Intelligence or Reason is the ruling cause which pervades and directs both the smaller body called Man, and the greater body called the Kosmos. The body of man consists of a combination of the four elements, Earth, Water, Air, and Fire: deriving its supply of all these elements from the vast stock of them which constitutes the Kosmos. So too the mind of man, with its limited reason and intelligence, is derived from the vast stock of mind, reason, and intelligence, diffused throughout the Kosmos, and governing its great elemental body. The Kosmos is animated and intelligent, having body and mind like man, but in far higher measure and perfection. It is from this source alone that man can derive his supply of mind and intelligence.27

Pleasure and Pain must be explained together — Pain arises from the disturbance of the fundamental harmony of the system — Pleasure from the restoration.

Pleasure presupposes Pain.

We cannot investigate pleasure (Sokrates continues) apart from pain: both must be studied together. Both pleasure and pain reside in the third out of the four above-mentioned Genera:30 that is, in the compound Genus formed out of that union (of the Infinite with the Determinans or Finient) which includes all animated bodies. Health and Harmony reside in these animated bodies: and pleasure as well as pain proceed from modifications of such fundamental harmony. When the fundamental harmony is disturbed or dissolved, pain is the consequence: when the disturbance is rectified and the harmony restored, pleasure ensues.31 Thus hunger, thirst, extreme heat and cold, are painful, because they break up the fundamental harmony of animal nature: while eating, drinking, cooling under extreme heat, or warming under extreme cold, are pleasurable, because they restore the disturbed harmony.

Derivative pleasures of memory and expectation belonging to mind alone. Here you may find pleasure without pain.

A life of Intelligence alone, without pain and without pleasure, is conceivable. Some may prefer it: at any rate it is second-best.

Desire belongs to the mind, presupposes both a bodily want, and the memory of satisfaction previously had for it. The mind and body are here opposed. No true or pure pleasure therein.

Desire belongs to the mind, presupposes both a bodily want, and the memory of satisfaction previously had for it. The mind and body are here opposed. No true or pure pleasure therein.

Can pleasures be true or false? Sokrates maintains that they are so.

Those pleasures, which reside in the mind alone without the body, arise through memory and by means of reminiscence. When the body receives a shock which does not go through to the mind, we call the fact insensibility. In sensation, the body and mind are both affected:35 such sensation is treasured up in the memory, and the mental part of it is recalled (without the bodily part) by reminiscence.36 Memory and reminiscence are the foundations of desire or appetite. When the body suffers the pain of hunger or thirst, the mind recollects previous moments of satisfaction, desires a repetition of that satisfaction by means of food or drink. Here the body and the mind are not moved in the same way, but in two opposite ways: the desire belongs to the mind alone, and is turned towards something directly opposed to the affection of the body. That which the body feels is emptiness: that which the mind feels is desire of replenishment, or of the condition opposed to emptiness. But it is only after experience of replenishment that the mind will feel such desire. On the first occasion of emptiness, it will not desire replenishment, because it will have nothing, neither sensation nor memory, through which to touch replenishment: it can only do so after replenishment has been previously enjoyed, and through the memory. Desire therefore is a state of the mind apart from the body, resting upon memory.37 Here then the man is in a double state: the pain of emptiness, which affects the mind through the body, and the memory of past replenishment, or expectation of future replenishment, which resides in the mind. Such expectation, if certain and immediate, will be a state of pleasure: if doubtful and distant, it will be a state of pain. The state of emptiness and consequent appetite must be, at the very best, a state of mixed pain and pleasure: and it may perhaps be a state of pain only, under two distinct forms.38 Life composed of a succession of these states can afford no true or pure pleasure.

Reasons given by Sokrates. Pleasures attached to true opinions, are true pleasures. The just man is favoured by the Gods, and will have true visions sent to him.

Protarchus disputes this — He thinks that there are some pleasures bad, but none false — Sokrates does not admit this, but reserves the question.

You will not deny (says Sokrates) that there is a difference between the pleasure accompanying a true opinion, and that which accompanies a false opinion. Wherein does the difference consist? Our opinions, and our comparisons of opinion, arise from sensation and memory:40 which write words and impress images upon our mind (as upon a book or canvas), sometimes truly, sometimes falsely,41 not only respecting the past and present, but also respecting the future. To these opinions respecting the future are attached the pleasures and pains of expectation, which we have already recognised as belonging to the mind alone, — anticipations of bodily pleasures or pains to come — hopes and fears. As our opinions respecting the future are sometimes true, sometimes false, so also are our hopes and fears: but throughout our lives we are always full of hopes and fears.42 Now the just and good man, being a favourite of the Gods, will have these visions or anticipations of the future presented to him truly and accurately: the bad man on the contrary will have them presented to him falsely. The pleasures of anticipation will be true to the former, and false to the latter:43 his false pleasures will be a ludicrous parody on the true ones.44 Good or bad opinions are identical with true or false opinions: so also are good or bad pleasures, identical with true or false pleasures: there is no other ground for their being good or bad.

No means of truly estimating pleasures and pains — False estimate habitual — These are the false pleasures.

Much of what is called pleasure is false. Gentle and gradual changes do not force themselves upon our notice either as pleasure or pain. Absence of pain not the same as pleasure.

We agreed before that the state, called Appetite or Desire, was a mixed state comprehending body and mind: the state of body affecting the mind with a pain of emptiness, — the state of mind apart from body being either a pleasure of expected replenishment, or a pain arising from our regarding replenishment as distant or unattainable. Appetite or Desire, therefore, is sometimes mixed pleasure and pain; both, of the genus Infinite, Indeterminate. We desire to compare these pleasures and pains, and to value their magnitude in relation to each other, but we have no means of performing the process. We not only cannot perform it well, but we are sure to perform it wrongly. For future pleasure or pain counts for more or less in our comparison, according to its proximity or distance. Here then is a constant source of false computation: pleasures and pains counted as greater or less than they really are: in other words, false pleasures and pains. We thus see that pleasures may be true or false, no less than opinions.46

Opinion of the pleasure-hating philosophers — That pleasure is no reality, but a mere juggle — no reality except pain, and the relief from pain.

We have also other ways of proving the point that much of what is called pleasure is false and unreal47 — either no pleasure at all, or pleasure mingled and alloyed with pain and relief from pain. According to our previous definition of pain and pleasure — that pain arises from derangement of the harmony of our nature, and pleasure from the correction of such derangement, or from the re-establishment of harmony — there may be and are states which are neither painful nor pleasurable. Doubtless the body never remains the same: it is always undergoing change: but the gentle and gradual changes (such as growth, &c.) escape our consciousness, producing neither pain nor pleasure: none but the marked, sudden changes force themselves upon our consciousness, thus producing pain and pleasure.48 A life of gentle changes would be a life without pain as well as without pleasure. There are thus three states of life49 — painful — pleasurable — neither painful nor pleasurable. But no pain (absence of pain) is not identical with pleasure: it is a third and distinct state.50

Sokrates agrees with them in part, but not wholly.

Theory of the pleasure-haters — We must learn what pleasure is by looking at the intense pleasures — These are connected with distempered body and mind.

Theory of the pleasure-haters — We must learn what pleasure is by looking at the intense pleasures — These are connected with distempered body and mind.

The intense pleasures belong to a state of sickness; but there is more pleasure, on the whole, enjoyed in a state of health.

The intense pleasures belong to a state of sickness; but there is more pleasure, on the whole, enjoyed in a state of health.

Sokrates acknowledges some pleasures to be true. Pleasures of beautiful colours, odours, sounds, smells, &c. Pleasures of acquiring knowledge.

Pure and moderate pleasures admit of measure and proportion.

Thus far (continues Sokrates) I have set forth the case on behalf of the pleasure-haters. Though I deny their full doctrine, — that there is no pleasure except cessation from pain — I nevertheless agree with them and cite them as witnesses on my behalf, to the extent of affirming that a large proportion of our so-called pleasures, and those precisely the most intense, are false and unreal: being poisoned and drenched in accompaniments of pain.59 But there are some pleasures, true, genuine, and untainted. Such are those produced by beautiful colours and figures — by many odours — by various sounds: none of which are preceded by any painful want requiring to be satisfied. The sensation when it comes is therefore one of pure and unmixed pleasure. The figures here meant are the perfect triangle, cube, circle, &c.: the colours and sounds are such as are clear and simple. All these are beautiful and pleasurable absolutely and in themselves — not simply in relation to (or relatively to) some special antecedent condition. Smells too, though less divine than the others, are in common with them unalloyed by accompanying pain.60 To these must be added the pleasure of acquiring knowledge, which supposes neither any painful want before it, nor any subsequent pain even if the knowledge acquired be lost. This too is one of the unmixed or pure pleasures; though it is not attainable by most men, but only by a select few.61

Pleasure is generation, not substance or essence: it cannot therefore be an End, because all generation is only a means towards substance — Pleasure therefore cannot be the Good.

Other reasons why pleasure is not the Good.

There are yet other arguments remaining (continues Sokrates) which show that pleasure cannot be the Summum Bonum. If it be so, it must be an End, not a Means: it must be something for the sake of which other things exist or are done — not something which itself exists or is done for the sake of something else. But pleasure is not an End: it is essentially a means, as we may infer from the reasonings of its own advocates. They themselves tell us that it is generation, not substance:— essentially a process of transition or change, never attaining essence or permanence.63 But generation or transition is always for the sake of the thing to be generated, or for Substance — not substance for the sake of generation: the transitory serves as a road to the permanent, not vice versà. Pleasure is thus a means, not an End. It cannot therefore partake of the essential nature and dignity of Good: it belongs to a subordinate and imperfect category.64

Distinction and classification of the varieties of Knowledge or Intelligence. Some are more true and exact than others, according as they admit more or less of measuring and computation.

Arithmetic and Geometry are twofold: As studied by the philosopher and teacher: As applied by the artisan.

Having thus (continues Sokrates) gone through the analysis of pleasures, distinguishing such as are true and pure, from such as are false and troubled — we must apply the like distinctive analysis to the various modes of knowledge and intelligence. Which varieties of knowledge, science, or art, are the purest from heterogeneous elements, and bear most closely upon truth? Some sciences and arts (we know) are intended for special professional practice: others are taught as subjects for improving the intellect of youth. As specimens of the former variety, we may notice music, medicine, husbandry, navigation, generalship, joinery, ship-building, &c. Now in all these, the guiding and directing elements are computation, mensuration, and statics — the sciences or arts of computing, measuring, weighing. Take away these three — and little would be left worth having, in any of the sciences or arts before named. There would be no exact assignable rules, no definite proportions: everything would be left to vague conjecture, depending upon each artisan’s knack and practice which some erroneously call Art. In proportion as each of these professional occupations has in it more or less of computation and mensuration, in the same proportion is it exact and true. There is little of computation or mensuration in music, medicine, husbandry, &c.: there is more of them in joinery and ship-building, which employ the line, plummet, and other instruments: accordingly these latter are more true and exact, less dependent upon knack and conjecture, than the three former.66 They approach nearer to the purity of science, and include less of the non-scientific, variable, conjectural, elements.

Dialectic is the truest and purest of all Cognitions. Analogy between Cognition and Pleasure: in each, there are gradations of truth and purity.

Dialectic is the truest and purest of all Cognitions. Analogy between Cognition and Pleasure: in each, there are gradations of truth and purity.

Difference with Gorgias, who claims superiority for Rhetoric. Sokrates admits that Rhetoric is superior in usefulness and celebrity: but he claims superiority for Dialectic, as satisfying the lover of truth.

Most men look to opinions only, or study the phenomenal manifestations of the Kosmos. They neglect the unchangeable essences, respecting which alone pure truth can be obtained.

There is no real contradiction between us (replies Sokrates). You may concede to Gorgias that his art or cognition is the greatest and best of all — the most in repute, as well as the most useful to mankind. I do not claim any superiority of that kind, on behalf of my cognition.71 I claim for it superiority in truth and purity. I remarked before, that a small patch of unmixed white colour was superior in truth and purity to a large mass of white tarnished with other colours — a gentle and unmixed pleasure, in like manner, to one that is more intense but alloyed with pains. It is this superiority that I assert for Dialectic and the other sister cognitions. They are of little positive advantage to mankind: yet they, and only they, will satisfy both the demands of intelligence, and the impulse within us, in so far as we have an impulse to love and strain after truth.72

Application. Neither Intelligence nor Pleasure separately, is the Good, but a mixture of the two — Intelligence being the most important. How are they to be mixed?

We must include all Cognitions, not merely the truest, but the others also. Life cannot be carried on without both.

We have now (continues Sokrates) examined pleasure separately and intelligence separately. We have agreed that neither of them, apart and by itself, comes up to the conception of Good; the attribute of which is, to be all sufficient, and to give plenary satisfaction, so that any animal possessing it desires nothing besides.75 We must therefore seek Good in a certain mixture or combination of the two — Pleasure and Intelligence: and we must determine, what sort of combination of these two contains the Good we seek. Now, to mix all pleasures, with all cognitions, at once and indiscriminately, will hardly be safe. We will first mix the truest and purest pleasures (those which include pleasure in its purest form), with the truest or purest cognitions (those which deal altogether with eternal and unchangeable essence, not with fluctuating particulars). Will such a combination suffice to constitute Good, or an all-sufficient and all-satisfactory existence? Or do we want anything more besides?76 Suppose a man cognizant of the Form or Idea of Justice, and of all other essential Ideas: and able to render account of his cognition, in proper words: Will this be sufficient?77 Suppose him to be cognizant of the divine Ideas of Circle, Sphere, and other figures; and to employ them in architecture, not knowing anything of human circles and figures as they exist in practical life?78

But we must include no pleasures except the true, pure, and necessary. The others are not compatible with Cognition or Intelligence — especially the intense sexual pleasures.

What causes the excellence of this mixture? It is Measure, Proportion, Symmetry. To these Reason is more akin than Pleasure.

Well then (continues Sokrates), we will admit them all. We have now to consider whether we can in like manner admit all pleasures without distinction. The true and pure must first be let in: next, such as are necessary and indispensable: and all the rest also, if any one can show that there is advantage without mischief in our enjoying every variety of pleasure.80 We must put the question first to pleasures, next to cognitions — whether they can consent respectively to live in company with each other. Now pleasures will readily consent to the companionship of cognitions: but cognitions (or Reason, upon whom they depend) will not tolerate the companionship of all pleasures indiscriminately. Reason will welcome the true and pure pleasures: she will also accept such as are indispensable, and such as consist with health, and with a sober and virtuous disposition. But Reason will not tolerate those most intense, violent, insane, pleasures, which extinguish correct memory, disturb sound reflection, and consist only with folly and bad conduct. Excluding these violent pleasures, but retaining the others in company with Reason and Truth — we shall secure that perfect and harmonious mixture which makes the nearest approximation to Good.81

Quintuple gradation in the Constituents of the Good. 1. Measure. 2. Symmetry. 3. Intelligence. 4. Practical Arts and Right Opinions. 5. True and Pure Pleasures.

This mixture as Good (continues Sokrates) will be acceptable to all.82 But what is the cause that it is so? and is that cause more akin to Reason or to Pleasure? The answer is, that this mixture and combination, like every other that is excellent, derives its excellence from Measure and Proportion. Thus the Good becomes merged in the Beautiful: for measure and proportion (Moderation and Symmetry) constitute in every case beauty and excellence.83 In this case, Truth has been recognised as a third element of the mixture: the three together coalesce into Good, forming a Quasi-Unum, which serves instead of a Real Unum or Idea of Good.84 We must examine these three elements separately — Truth — Moderation — Symmetry (Measure — Proportion) to find whether each of them is most akin to Reason or to Pleasure. There can be no doubt that to all the three, Reason is more akin than Pleasure: and that the intense pleasures are in strong repugnance and antipathy to all the three.85

Remarks. Sokrates does not claim for Good the unity of an Idea, but a quasi-unity of analogy.

Dionysius of Halikarnassus, while blaming the highflown metaphor and poetry of the Phædrus and other Platonic dialogues, speaks with great admiration of Plato in his appropriate walk of the Sokratic dialogues; and selects specially the Philêbus, as his example of these latter. I confess that this selection surprises me: for the Philêbus, while it explicitly renounces the peculiar Sokratic vein, and becomes didactic — cannot be said to possess high merit as a didactic composition. It is neither clear, nor orderly, nor comparable in animation to the expository books of the Republic.89 Every commentator of Plato, from Galen downwards, has complained of the obscurity of the Philêbus.

Discussions of the time about Bonum. Extreme absolute view, maintained by Eukleides: extreme relative by the Xenophontic Sokrates. Plato here blends the two in part; an Eclectic doctrine.

Inconvenience of his method, blending Ontology with Ethics.

In the discussions about Bonum, there existed among the contemporaries of Plato a great divergence of opinions. Eukleides of Megara represents the extreme absolute, ontological, or objective view: Sokrates (I mean the historical Sokrates, as reported by Xenophon) enunciated very distinctly the relative or subjective view. “Good (said Eukleides) is the One: the only real, eternal, omnipresent Ens — always the same or like itself — called sometimes Good, sometimes Intelligence, and by various other names: the opposite of Good has no real existence, but only a temporary, phenomenal, relative, existence.” On the other hand, the Xenophontic Sokrates affirmed — “The Good and The Beautiful have no objective unity at all; they include a variety of items altogether dissimilar to each other, yet each having reference to some human want or desire: sometimes relieving or preventing pain, sometimes conferring pleasure. That which neither contributes to relieve any pain or want, nor to confer pleasure, is not Good at all.”92 In the Philêbus, Plato borrows in part from both of these points of view, though inclining much more to the first than to the last. He produces a new eclectic doctrine, comprising something from both, and intended to harmonise both; announced as applying at once to Man, to Animals, to Plants, and to the Universe.93

Comparison of Man to the Kosmos, which has reason, but no emotion, is unnecessary and confusing.

Unfortunately, the result has not corresponded to his intentions. If we turn to the close of the dialogue, we find that the principal elements which he assigns as explanatory of Good, and the relation in which they stand to each other, stand as much in need of explanation as Good itself. If we follow the course of the dialogue, we are frequently embarrassed by the language, because he is seeking for phrases applicable at once to the Kosmos and to Man: or because he passes from one to the other, under the assumption of real analogy between them. The extreme generalities of Logic or Ontology, upon which Sokrates here dwells — the Determinant and Indeterminate, the Cause, &c. — do not conduct us to the attainment of Good as he himself defines it — That which is desired by, and will give full satisfaction to, all men, animals, and plants. The fault appears to me to lie in the very scheme of the dialogue. Attempts to discuss Ontology and Ethics in one and the same piece of reasoning, instead of elucidating both, only serve to darken both. Aristotle has already made a similar remark: and it is after reading the Philêbus that we feel most distinctly the value of his comments on Plato in the first book of the Nikomachean Ethics. Aristotle has discussed Ontology in the Metaphysica and in other treatises: but he proclaims explicitly the necessity of discussing Ethics upon their own principles: looking at what is good for man, and what is attainable by man.94 We find in the Philêbus many just reflections upon pleasure and its varieties: but these might have been better and more clearly established, without any appeal to the cosmical dogmas. The parallelism between Man and the Kosmos is overstrained and inconclusive, like the parallelism in the Republic between the collective commonwealth and the individual citizen.

Plato borrows from the Pythagoreans, but enlarges their doctrine. Importance of his views in dwelling upon systematic classification.

Moreover, when Plato, to prove the conclusion that Intelligence and Reason are the governing attributes of man’s mind, enunciates as his premiss that Intelligence and Reason are the governing attributes in the Kosmos95 — the premiss introduced is more debateable than the conclusion; and would (as he himself intimates) be contested by those against whose opposition he was arguing. In fact, the same proposition (That Reason and Intelligence are the dominant and controlling attributes of man, Passion and Appetite the subordinate) is assumed without any proof by Sokrates, both in the Protagoras and in the Republic. The Kosmos (in Plato’s view) has reason and intelligence, but experiences no emotion either painful or pleasurable: the rational nature of man is thus common to him with the Kosmos, his emotional nature is not so. That the mind of each individual man was an emanation from the all-pervading mind of the Kosmos or universe, and his body a fragmentary portion of the four elements composing the cosmical body — these are propositions which had been laid down by Sokrates, as well as by Philolaus and other Pythagoreans (perhaps by Pythagoras himself) before the time of Plato.96 Not only that doctrine, but also the analysis of the Kosmos into certain abstract constituent principia — (the Finient or Determinant — and the Infinite or Indeterminate) — this too seems to have been borrowed by Plato from Philolaus.97

Classification broadly enunciated, and strongly recommended — yet feebly applied — in this dialogue.

But here in the Philêbus, that analysis appears expanded into a larger scheme going beyond Philolaus or the Pythagoreans: viz. the recognition of a graduated scale of limits, or a definite number of species and sub-species — intermediate between the One or Highest Genus, and the Infinite Many or Individuals — and descending by successive stages of limitation from the Highest to the Lowest. What is thus described, is the general framework of systematic logical classification, deliberately contrived, and founded upon known attributes, common as well as differential. It is prescribed as essential to all real cognition; if we conceive only the highest Genus or generic name as comprehending an infinity of diverse particulars, we have no real cognition, until we can assign the intermediate stages of specification by which we descend from one to the other.98 The step here made by Plato, under the stimulus of the Sokratic dialectic, from the Pythagorean doctrine of Finient and Infinite to the idea of gradual, systematic, logical division and subdivision, is one very important in the history of science. He lays as much stress upon the searching out of the intermediate species, as Bacon does upon the Axiomata Media of scientific enquiry.99

What is the Good? Discussed both in Philêbus and in Republic. Comparison.

What is the Good? Discussed both in Philêbus and in Republic. Comparison.

Mistake of talking about Bonum confidently, as if it were known, while it is subject of constant dispute. Plato himself wavers about it; gives different explanations, and sometimes professes ignorance, sometimes talks about it confidently.

Plato lays down tests by which Bonum may be determined: but the answer in the Philêbus does not satisfy those tests.

In this passage of the Republic Plato points out that Intelligence cannot be understood, except as determined by or referring to some Object or End: and that those who tendered Intelligence per se for an explanation of The Good (as Sokrates does in the Philêbus), assumed as known the very point in dispute which they professed to explain. This is an important remark in regard to ethical discussions: and it were to be wished that Plato had himself avoided the mistake which he here blames in others. The Platonic Sokrates frequently tells us that he does not know what Good is. In the sixth Book of the Republic, having come to a point where his argument required him to furnish a positive explanation of it, he expressly declines the obligation and makes his escape amidst the clouds of metaphor.103 In the Protagoras, he pronounces Good to be identical with pleasure and avoidance of pain, in the largest sense and under the supervision of calculating Intelligence.104 In the second Book of the Republic, we find what is substantially the same explanation as that of the Protagoras, given (though in a more enlarged and analytical manner) by Glaukon and assented to by Sokrates; to the effect that Good is tripartite,105 viz.: 1. That which we desire for itself, without any reference to consequences — e. g., enjoyment and the innocuous pleasures. 2. That which we desire on a double account, both for itself and by reason of its consequences — e. g., good health, eyesight, intelligence, &c. 3. That which we do not desire, perhaps even shun, for itself: but which we desire, or at least accept, by reason of its consequences — such as gymnastics, medical treatment, discipline, &c. Again, in the Gorgias and elsewhere, Plato seems to confine the definition of Good to the two last of these three heads, rejecting the first: for he distinguishes pointedly the Good from the Pleasurable. Yet while thus wavering in his conception of the term, Plato often admits it into the discussions as if it were not merely familiar, but clear and well-understood by every one.

Inconsistency of Plato in his way of putting the question — The alternative which he tenders has no fair application.

In the present dialogue, Plato lays down certain characteristic marks whereby The Supreme Good may be known. These marks are subjective — relative to the feelings and appreciation of sentient beings — to all mankind, and even to animals and plants. Good is explicitly defined by the property of conferring happiness. The Good is declared to be “that habit and disposition of mind which has power to confer on all men a happy life”:106 it is perfect and all sufficient: every creature that knows Good, desires and hunts after it, demanding nothing farther when it is attained, and caring for nothing else except what is attained along with it:107 it is the object of choice for all plants and animals, and if any one prefers any thing else, he only does so through ignorance or from some untoward necessity:108 it is most delightful and agreeable to all.109 This is what Plato tells us as to the characteristic attributes of Good. And the test which Sokrates applies, to determine whether Pleasure does or does not correspond with these attributes, is an appeal to individual choice or judgment. “Would you choose? Would any one be satisfied?” Though this appeal ought by the conditions of the problem to be made to mankind generally, and is actually made to Protarchus as one specimen of them — yet Sokrates says at the end of the dialogue that all except philosophers choose wrong, being too ignorant or misguided to choose aright. Now it is certain that what these philosophers choose, will not satisfy the aspirations of all other persons besides. It may be Good, in reference to the philosophers themselves: but it will fail to answer those larger conditions which Plato has just laid down.

Intelligence and Pleasure cannot be fairly compared — Pleasure is an End, Intelligence a Means. Nothing can be compared with Pleasure, except some other End.

In submitting the question to individual choice, Plato does not keep clear either of confusion or of contradiction. If this Summum Bonum be understood as the End comprising the full satisfaction of human wishes and imaginations, without limitation by certain given actualities — and if the option be tendered to a man already furnished with his share of the various desires generated in actual life — such a man will naturally demand entire absence of all pains, with pleasures such as to satisfy all his various desires: not merely the most intense pleasures (which Plato intends to prove, not to be pleasures at all), but other pleasures also. He will wish (if you thus suppose him master of Fortunatus’s wishing-cap) to include in his enjoyments pleasures which do not usually go together, and which may even, in the real conditions of life, exclude one another: no boundary being prescribed to his wishing power. He will wish for the pleasures of knowledge or intelligence, of self-esteem, esteem from others, sympathy, &c., as well as for those of sense. He will put in his claim for pleasures, without any of those antecedent means and conditions which, in real life, are necessary to procure them. Such being the state of the question, the alternative tendered by Plato — Pleasure, versus Intelligence or Knowledge — has no fair application. Plato himself expressly states that pleasure, though generically One, is specifically multiform, and has many varieties different from, even opposite to, each other: among which varieties one is, the pleasure of knowledge or intelligence itself.110 The person to whom the question is submitted, has a right to claim these pleasures of knowledge among the rest, as portions of his Summum Bonum. And when Plato proceeds to ask — Will you be satisfied to possess pleasure only, without the least spark of intelligence, without memory, without eyesight? — he departs from the import of his previous question, and withdraws from the sum total of pleasure many of its most important items: since we must of course understand that the pleasures of intelligence will disappear along with intelligence itself,111 and that the pains of conscious want of intelligence will be felt instead of them.

The Hedonists, while they laid down attainment of pleasure and diminution of pain, postulated Intelligence as the governing agency.

That the antithesis here enunciated by Plato is not legitimate or logical, we may see on other grounds also. Pleasure and Intelligence cannot be placed in competition with each other for recognition as Summum Bonum: which, as described by Plato himself, is of the nature of an End, while Intelligence is of the nature of a means or agency — indispensable indeed, yet of no value unless it be exercised, and rightly exercised towards its appropriate end, which end must be separately declared.112 Intelligence is a durable acquisition stored up, like the good health, moral character, or established habits, of each individual person: it is a capital engaged in the production of interest, and its value is measured by the interest produced. You cannot with propriety put the means — the Capital — in one scale, and the End — the Interest — in the other, so as to ascertain which of the two weighs most. A prudent man will refrain from any present enjoyment which trenches on his capital: but this is because the maintenance of the capital is essential to all future acquisitions and even future maintenance. So too, Intelligence is essential as a means or condition to the attainment of pleasure in its largest sense — that is, including avoidance or alleviation of pain or suffering: if therefore you choose to understand pleasure in a narrower sense, not including therein avoidance of pain (as Plato understands it in this portion of the Philêbus), the comprehensive end to which Intelligence corresponds may be compared with Pleasure and declared more valuable — but Intelligence itself cannot with propriety be so compared. Such a comparison can only be properly instituted when you consider the exercise of Intelligence as involving (which it undoubtedly does113) pleasures of its own; which pleasures form part of the End, and may fairly be measured against other pleasures and pains. But nothing can be properly compared with Pleasure, except some other supposed End: and those theorists who reject Pleasure must specify some other Terminus ad quem — otherwise intelligence has no clear meaning.

Pleasures of Intelligence may be compared, and are compared by Plato, with other pleasures, and declared to be of more value. This is arguing upon the Hedonistic basis.

Now the Hedonists in Plato’s age, when they declared Pleasure to be the supreme Good, understood Pleasure in its widest sense, as including not merely all varieties of pleasure, mental and bodily alike, but also avoidance of pain (in fact Epikurus dwelt especially upon this last point). Moreover, they did not intend to depreciate Intelligence, but on the contrary postulated it as a governing agency, indispensable to right choice and comparative estimation between different pleasures and pains. That Eudoxus,114 the geometer and astronomer, did this, we may be sure: but besides, this is the way in which the Hedonistic doctrine is expounded by Plato himself. In his Protagoras, Sokrates advocates that doctrine, against the Sophist who is unwilling to admit it. In the exposition there given by Sokrates, Pleasure is announced as The Good to be sought, Pain as The Evil to be avoided or reduced to a minimum. But precisely because the End, to be pursued through constant diversity of complicated situations, is thus defined — for that very reason he declares that the dominant or sovereign element in man must be, the measuring and calculating Intelligence; since such is the sole condition under which the End can be attained or approached. In the theory of the Hedonists, there was no antithesis, but indispensable conjunction and implication, between Pleasure and Intelligence.115 And if it be said, that by declaring Pleasure (and avoidance of Pain) to be the End, Intelligence the means, — they lowered the dignity of the latter as compared with the former:— we may reply that the dignity of Intelligence is exalted to the maximum when it is enthroned as the ruling and controuling agent over the human mind.

Marked antithesis in the Philêbus between pleasure and avoidance of pain.

In a scheme of mental philosophy, Emotion and Intellect are properly treated as distinct phenomena requiring to be explained separately, though perpetually co-existent and interfering with each other. But in an ethical discourse about Summum Bonum, the antithesis between Pleasure and Intelligence, on which the Philêbus turns, is from the outset illogical. What gives to it an apparent plausibility, is, That the exercise of Intelligence has pleasures and pains of its own, and includes therefore in itself a part of the End, besides being the constant and indispensable directing force or Means. Now, though pleasure in genere cannot be weighed in the scale against Intelligence, yet the pleasures and pains of Intelligence may be fairly and instructively compared with other pleasures and pains. You may contend that the pleasures of Intelligence are superior in quality, as well as less alloyed by accompanying pains. This comparison is really instituted by Plato in other dialogues;116 and we find the two questions apparently running together in his mind as if they were one and the same. Yet the fact is, that those who affirm the pleasures attending the exercise of Intelligence to be better and greater, and the pains less, than those which attend other occupations, are really arguing upon the Hedonistic basis.117 Far from establishing any antithesis between Pleasure and Intelligence, they bring the two into closer conjunction than was done by Epikurus himself.

The Hedonists did not recognise this distinction — They included both in their acknowledged End.

Arguments of Plato against the intense pleasures — The Hedonists enforced the same reasonable view.

Arguments of Plato against the intense pleasures — The Hedonists enforced the same reasonable view.

Different points of view worked out by Plato in different dialogues — Gorgias, Protagoras, Philêbus — True and False Pleasures.

Again, in the arguments of Sokrates against pleasure in genere, we find him also singling out as examples the intense pleasures, which he takes much pains to discredit. The remarks which he makes here upon the intense pleasures, considered as elements of happiness, have much truth taken generally. Though he exaggerates the matter when he says that many persons would rejoice to have itch and irritation, in order that they might have the pleasure of scratching120 — and that persons in a fever have greater pleasure as well as greater pain than persons in health — yet he is correct to this extent, that the disposition to hanker after intense pleasures, to forget their painful sequel in many cases, and to pay for them a greater price than they are worth, is widely disseminated among mankind. But this is no valid objection against the Hedonistic theory, as it was enunciated and defended by its principal advocates — by the Platonic Sokrates (in the Protagoras), by Aristippus, Eudoxus,121 Epikurus. All of them took account of this frequent wrong tendency, and arranged their warnings accordingly. All of them discouraged, not less than Plato, such intense enjoyments as produced greater mischief in the way of future pain and disappointment, or as obstructed the exercise of calm reason.122 All of them, when they talked of pleasure as the Supreme Good, understood thereby a rational estimate and comparison of pleasures and pains, present and future, so as to ensure the maximum of the former and the minimum of the latter. All of them postulated a calculating and governing Reason. Epikurus undoubtedly, and I believe the other two also, recommended a life of moderation, tranquillity, and meditative reason: they deprecated the violent emotions, whether sensual, ambitious, or money-getting.123 The objections therefore here stated by Sokrates, in so far as they are derived from the mischievous consequences of indulgence in the intense pleasures, do not avail against the Hedonistic theory, as explained either by Plato himself (Protagoras) or by any theorists of the Platonic century.

Opposition between the Gorgias and Philêbus, about Gorgias and Rhetoric.

We find Plato in his various dialogues working out different points of view, partly harmonious, partly conflicting, upon ethical theory. Thus in the Gorgias, Sokrates insists eloquently upon the antithesis between the Immediate and Transient on the one hand, which he calls Pleasure or Pain — and the Distant and Permanent on the other, which he calls Good or Profit, Hurt or Evil. In the Protagoras, Sokrates acknowledges the same antithesis: but he points out that the Good or Profit, Hurt or Evil, resolve themselves into elements generically the same as those of the Immediate and Transient — Pleasure and Pain: so that all which we require is, a calculating Intelligence to assess and balance correctly the pleasures and pains in every given case. In the Philêbus, Sokrates takes a third line, distinct from both the other two dialogues: he insists upon a new antithesis, between True Pleasures — and False Pleasures. If a Pleasure be associated with any proportion, however small, of Pain or Uneasiness — or with any false belief or impression — he denounces it as false and impostrous, and strikes it out of the list of pleasures. The small residue which is left after such deduction, consists of pleasures recommended altogether by what Plato calls their truth, and addressing themselves to the love of truth in a few chosen minds. The attainment of Good — the object of the practical aspirations — is presented as a secondary appendage of the attainment of Truth — the object of the speculative or intellectual energies.

Peculiarity of the Philêbus — Plato applies the same principle of classification — true and false — to Cognitions and Pleasures.

If we turn to the Gorgias, we find the very same claim advanced by Gorgias on behalf of his own art, as that which Protarchus here advances: but while Sokrates here admits it, in the Gorgias he repudiates it with emphasis, and even with contumely: ranking rhetoric among those employments which minister only to present pleasure, but which are neither intended to yield, nor ever do yield, any profitable result. Here in the Philêbus, the antithesis between immediate pleasure and distant profit is scarcely noticed. Sokrates resigns to Gorgias and to others of the like stamp, a superiority not merely in the art of flattering and tricking the immediate sensibilities of mankind, but in that of contributing to their permanent profit and advantage. It is in a spirit contrary to the Gorgias, and contrary also to the Republic (in which latter we read the memorable declaration — That the miseries of society will have no respite until government is in the hands of philosophers126), that Sokrates here abnegates on behalf of philosophy all efficacious pretension of conferring profit or happiness on mankind generally, and claims for it only the pure delight of satisfying the truth-seeking aspirations. Now these aspirations have little force except in a few chosen minds; in the bulk of mankind the love of truth is feeble, and the active search for truth almost unknown. We thus see that in the Philêbus it is the speculative few who are present to the imagination of Plato, more than the ordinary working, suffering, enjoying Many.

Distinction of true and false — not applicable to pleasures.

Plato acknowledges no truth and reality except in the Absolute — Pleasures which he admits to be true — and why.

Plato acknowledges no truth and reality except in the Absolute — Pleasures which he admits to be true — and why.

Plato could not have defended this small list of Pleasures, upon his own admission, against his opponents — the Pleasure-haters, who disallowed pleasures altogether.

These few are all the varieties of pleasure which Plato admits as true: they are alleged as cases of the absolutely pleasurable (Αὐτο-ἡδύ) — that which is pleasurable per se, and always, without relation to any thing else, without dependence on occasion or circumstance, and without any antecedent or concomitant pain. All other pleasures are pleasurable relatively to some antecedent pain, or to some contrasting condition, with which they are compared: accordingly Plato considers them as false, unreal, illusory: pleasures and not pleasures at once, and not more one than the other.135 Herein he conforms to the Eleatic or Parmenidean view, according to which the relative is altogether falsehood and illusion: an intermediate stage between Ens and Non-Ens, belonging as much to the first as to the last.

Sokrates in this dialogue differs little from these Pleasure-haters.

Sokrates in this dialogue differs little from these Pleasure-haters.

Forced conjunction of Kosmology and Ethics — defect of the Philêbus.

How little the Sokrates of this dialogue differs, at the bottom, from the fastidious pleasure-haters, may be seen by the passage in which he proclaims that the life of intelligence alone, without the smallest intermixture of pleasure or pain, is the really perfect life: that the Gods and the divine Kosmos have no enjoyment and no suffering.138 The emotional department of human nature is here regarded as a degenerate and obstructive appendage: so that it was an inauspicious act of the sons of the Demiurgus (in the Timæus139) when they attached the spherical head (the miniature parallel of the Kosmos, with the rotatory movements of the immortal soul in the brain within) at the summit of a bodily trunk and limbs, containing the thoracic and abdominal cavities: the thoracic cavity embodying a second and inferior soul with the energetic emotions and passions — the abdominal region serving as lodgment to a third yet baser soul with the appetites. From this conjunction sprang the corrupting influence of emotional impulse, depriving man of his close parallelism with the Kosmos, and poisoning the life of pure exclusive Intelligence — regular, unfeeling, undisturbed. The Pleasure-haters, together with Speusippus and others, declared that pleasure and pain were both alike enemies to be repelled, and that neutrality was the condition to be aimed at.140 And such appears to me to be the drift of Plato’s reasonings in the Philêbus: though he relaxes somewhat the severity of his requirements in favour of a few pleasures, towards which he feels the same indulgence as towards Homer in the Republic.141 When Ethics are discussed, not upon principles of their own (οἰκεῖαι ἀρχαὶ), but upon principles of Kosmology or Ontology, no emotion of any kind can find consistent place.

Directive sovereignty of Measure — how explained and applied in the Protagoras.

How explained in Philêbus — no statement to what items it is applied.

In this dialogue as well as others, Measure is thus exalted, and exalted with emphasis, at the final conclusion: but it is far less clearly and systematically applied, as far as human beings are concerned, than in the Protagoras. The Sokrates of the Protagoras does not recognise any pleasures as false — nor any class of pleasures as absolutely unmixed with pain: he does not set pleasure in pointed opposition to the avoidance of pain, nor the intense momentary pleasures to the gentle and more durable. He considers that the whole course of life is a perpetual intermixture of pleasures and pains, in proportions variable and to a certain extent modifiable: that each item in both lists has its proper value, commensurable with the others; that the purpose of a well-ordered life consists, in rendering the total sum of pleasure as great, and the total sum of pain as small, as each man’s case admits: that avoidance of pain and attainment of pleasure are co-ordinate branches of this one comprehensive End. He farther declares that men are constantly liable to err by false remembrances, estimates, and comparisons, of pleasures and pains past — by false expectations of pleasures and pains to come: that the whole security of life lies in keeping clear of such error — in right comparison of these items and right choice between them: that therefore the full sovereign controul of each man’s life must be vested in the Measuring Science or Calculating Intelligence.144 Not only all comprehensive sovereignty, but also ever-active guidance, is postulated for this Measuring Science: while at the same time its special function, and the items to which it applies, are more clearly defined than in any other Platonic dialogue. If a man be so absorbed by the idea of an intense momentary pleasure or pain, as to forget or disregard accompaniments or consequences of an opposite nature, greatly overbalancing it — this is an error committed from default of the Measuring Science: but it is only one among many errors arising from the like deficiency. Nothing is required but the Measuring Science or Intelligence, to enable a man to make the best of those circumstances in which he may be placed: this is true of all men, under every variety of place and circumstances. Measure is not the Good, but the one condition which is constant as well as indispensable to any tolerable approach towards Good.

Classification of true and false — how Plato applies it to Cognitions.

Comparing the Philêbus with the Protagoras, therefore, we see that though, in both, Measuring Science or Intelligence is proclaimed as supreme, the province assigned to it in the Philêbus is comparatively narrow. Moreover the practical side or activities of life (which are prominent in the Protagoras) appear in the Philêbus thrust into a corner; where scanty room is found for them on ground nearly covered by the speculative, or theorising, truth-seeking, pursuits. Practical reason is forced into the same categories as theoretical.

Valuable principles of this classification — difference with other dialogues.

Though pure truth belongs exclusively to Dialectic and to the Objects thereof, there are other Sciences which, having more or less of affinity to Dialectic, may thus be classified according to the degree of such affinity. Mathematics approach most nearly to Dialectic. Under Mathematics are included the Sciences or Arts of numbering, measuring, weighing — Arithmetic, Metrêtic, Static — which are applied to various subordinate arts, and impart to these latter all the scientific guidance and certainty which is found in them. Without Arithmetic, the subordinate arts would be little better than vague guesswork or knack. But Plato distinguishes two varieties of Arithmetic and Metrêtic: one purely theoretical, prosecuted by philosophers, and adapted to satisfy the love of abstract truth — the other applied to some department of practice, and employed by the artist as a guide to the execution of his work. Theoretical Arithmetic is characterised by this feature, that it assumes each unit to be equal, like, and interchangeable with every other unit: while practical Arithmetic adds together concrete realities, whether like and equal to each other or not.148

Close of the Philêbus — Graduated elements of Good.

The long preliminary discussion of the Philêbus thus brings us to the conclusion — That a descending scale of value, relatively to truth and falsehood, must be recognised in cognitions as well as in pleasures: many cognitions are not entirely true, but tainted in different degrees by error and falsehood: most pleasures also, instead of being true and pure, are alloyed by concomitant pains or delusions or both: moreover, all the intense pleasures are incompatible with Measure, or a fixed standard,154 and must therefore be excluded from the category of Good.

Contrast between the Philêbus and the Phædrus, and Symposion, in respect to Pulchrum, and intense Emotions generally.

4. Sciences, Cognitions, Arts, Right Opinions, &c. — Here we have the intellectual manifestations of the Subject, but of a character inferior to No. 3, descending in the scale of value relatively to truth.

Persons and situation of the dialogue.

Funeral harangue at Athens — Choice of a public orator — Sokrates declares the task of the public orator to be easy — Comic exaggeration of the effects of the harangue.

Sokrates professes to have learnt a funeral harangue from Aspasia, and to be competent to recite it himself. Menexenus entreats him to do so.

Sokr. — What have you been doing at the Senate-house, Menexenus? You probably think that your course of education and philosophy is finished, and that you are qualified for high political functions. Young as you are, you aim at exercising command over us elders, as your family have always done before you.1 Menex. — I shall do so, if you advise and allow me, Sokrates: but not otherwise. Now, however, I came to learn who was the person chosen by the Senate to deliver the customary oration at the approaching public funeral of the citizens who have fallen in battle. The Senate, however, have adjourned the election until to-morrow: but I think either Archinus or Dion will be chosen. Sokr. — To die in battle is a fine thing in many ways.2 He who dies thus may be poor, but he receives a splendid funeral: he may be of little worth, yet he is still praised in prepared speeches by able orators, who decorate his name with brilliant encomiums, whether deserved or not, fascinating all the hearers: extolling us all — not merely the slain warrior, but the city collectively, our ancestors, and us the living — so admirably that I stand bewitched when I hear them, and fancy myself a greater, nobler, and finer man than I was before. I am usually accompanied by some strangers, who admire as much as I do, and who conceive a lofty estimation both of me and of the city. The voice of the orator resounds in my ear, and the feeling of pride dwells in my mind, for more than three days; during which interval I fancy myself almost in the islands of the blest. I hardly come to myself or recollect where I am, until the fourth or fifth day. Such is the force of these orators.

Harangue recited by Sokrates.

Menex. — You are always deriding the orators, Sokrates.3 However, on this occasion I think the orator chosen will have little chance of success: he will have no time for preparation, and will be obliged to speak impromptu. Sokr. — Never fear: each of these orators has harangues ready prepared. Besides, there is no difficulty here in speaking impromptu. If indeed the purpose were to praise the Athenians in Peloponnesus, or the Peloponnesians at Athens, an excellent orator would be required to persuade or to give satisfaction. But when he exhibits before the very hearers whom he praises, there is no great difficulty in appearing to be a good speaker.4 Menex. — Indeed! What! do you think you would be competent to deliver the harangue yourself, if the Senate were to elect you? Sokr. — Certainly: and it is no wonder that I should be competent to speak, because I have learnt rhetoric from Aspasia (an excellent mistress, who has taught many eminent speakers, and among them Perikles, the most illustrious of all), and the harp from Konnus. But any one else, even less well-trained than me — instructed in music by Lamprus, and in rhetoric by Antiphon — would still be fully competent to succeed in praising Athenians among Athenians. Menex. — What would you have to say, if the duty were imposed upon you?5 Sokr. — Probably little or nothing of my own. But it was only yesterday that I heard Aspasia going through a funeral harangue for this very occasion: partly suggestions of the present moment, partly recollections of past matters which had occurred to her when she composed the funeral harangue delivered by Perikles. Menex. — Could you recollect what Aspasia said? Sokr. — I should be much to blame if I could not. I learnt it from herself, and was near being beaten because I partly forgot it. Menex. — Why do you not proceed with it then? Sokr. — I fear that my instructress would be displeased, if I were to publish her discourse. Menex. — Do not fear that, but proceed to speak. You will confer the greatest pleasure upon me, whether what you say comes from Aspasia or from any one else. Only proceed. Sokr. — But perhaps you will laugh me to scorn, if I, an elderly man, continue still such work of pastime.6 Menex. — Not at all: I beseech you to speak. Sokr. — Well, I cannot refuse you. Indeed, I could hardly refuse, if you requested me to strip naked and dance — since we are here alone.7

Compliments of Menexenus after Sokrates has finished, both to the harangue itself and to Aspasia.

Supposed period — shortly after the peace of Antalkidas.

Custom of Athens about funeral harangues. Many such harangues existed at Athens, composed by distinguished orators or logographers — Established type of the harangue.

The interval between these two fragments of dialogue is filled up by the recitation of Sokrates: a long funeral harangue in honour of deceased warriors, whom the city directs to be thus commemorated. The period is supposed to be not long after the peace concluded by Antalkidas in 387 B.C. That peace was imposed upon Sparta, Athens, and the other Grecian cities, by the imperative rescript of the Persian king: the condition of it being an enforcement of universal autonomy, or free separate government to each city, small as well as great.9

Plato in this harangue conforms to the established type — Topics on which he insists.

It had been long the received practice among the Athenians to honour their fallen warriors from time to time by this sort of public funeral, celebrated with every demonstration of mournful respect: and to appoint one of the ablest and most dignified citizens as public orator on the occasion.10 The discourse delivered by Perikles, as appointed orator, at the end of the first Peloponnesian war, has been immortalised by Thucydides, and stands as one of the most impressive remnants of Hellenic antiquity. Since the occasion recurred pretty often, and since the orator chosen was always a man already conspicuous,11 we may be sure that there existed in the time of Plato many funeral harangues which are now lost: indeed he himself says in this dialogue, that distinguished politicians prepared such harangues beforehand, in case the choice of the citizens should fall upon them. And we may farther be sure, amidst the active cultivation of rhetoric at Athens — that the rhetorical teachers as well as their pupils, and the logographers or paid composers of speeches, were practised in this variety of oratorical compositions not less than in others. We have one of them among the remaining discourses of the logographer Lysias: who could not actually have delivered it himself (since he was not even a citizen) — nor could ever probably have been called upon to prepare one for delivery (since the citizens chosen were always eminent speakers and politicians themselves, not requiring the aid of a logographer) — but who composed it as a rhetorical exercise to extend his own celebrity. In like manner we find one among the discourses of Demosthenes, though of very doubtful authenticity. The funeral discourse had thus come to acquire an established type. Rhetorical teachers had collected and generalised, out of the published harangues before them, certain loci communes, religious, patriotic, social, historical or pseudo-historical, &c., suitable to be employed by any new orator.12 All such loci were of course framed upon the actual sentiments prevalent among the majority of Athenians; furnishing eloquent expression for sympathies and antipathies deeply lodged in every one’s bosom.

Consolation and exhortation to surviving relatives.

Alluding briefly to the victories over Eumolpus and the Amazons, the orator passes on to the battles of Marathon, Salamis, and Platæa, which he celebrates with the warmth of an Hellenic patriot.17 He eulogizes the generous behaviour of Athens towards the Greeks, during the interval between the Persian and the Peloponnesian wars, contrasting it with the unworthy requital which she received from Sparta and others. He then glances at the events of the Peloponnesian wars, though colouring them in a manner so fanciful and delusive, that any one familiar with Thucydides can scarcely recognise their identity — especially in regard to the Athenian expedition against Syracuse.18 He protests against the faithlessness of Sparta, towards the close of the Peloponnesian war, in allying herself with the common anti-Hellenic enemy — the Great King — against Athens: and he ascribes mainly to this unholy alliance the conquest of Athens at the end of the war.19 The moderation of political parties in Athens, when the Thirty were put down and the democracy restored, receives its due meed of praise: but the peculiar merit claimed for Athens, in reference to the public events between 403 B.C. and 387 B.C., is — That she stood alone among Greeks in refusing to fraternise with the Persian King, or to betray to him the Asiatic Greeks. Athens had always been prompted by generous feeling, even in spite of political interests, to compassionate and befriend the weak.20 The orator dwells with satisfaction on the years preceding the peace concluded by Antalkidas; during which years Athens had recovered her walls and her ships — had put down the Spartan superiority at sea — and had rescued even the Great King from Spartan force.21 He laments the disasters of Athenian soldiers at Corinth, through difficulties of the ground — and at Lechæum, through treachery. These are the latest political events to which he alludes.22

Admiration felt for this harangue, both at the time and afterwards.

Probable motives of Plato in composing it, shortly after he established himself at Athens as a teacher — His competition with Lysias — Desire for celebrity both as rhetor and as dialectician.

Menexenus compared with the view of rhetoric presented in the Gorgias — Necessity for an orator to conform to established sentiments.

When Plato first established himself at Athens as a lecturer (about 386 B.C., shortly after the peace made by Antalkidas), he was probably known only by Sokratic dialogues, properly so called: which Dionysius specifies both as his earliest works and as his proper department, wherein he stood unrivalled.27 In these, his opposition to the Rhetors and Sophists was proclaimed: and if, as is probable, the Gorgias had been published before that time, he had already declared war, openly as well as bitterly, against the whole art of Rhetoric. But it would be a double triumph for his genius, if, after standing forward as the representative of Dialectic, and in that character heaping scornful derision on the rival art of Rhetoric, as being nothing better than a mere knack of juggling and flattery28 — he were able to show that this did not proceed from want of rhetorical competence, but that he could rival or surpass the Rhetors in their own department. Herein lies the purpose of the Menexenus. I agree with Schleiermacher, Stallbaum, and some other critics,29 in thinking that it was probably composed not long after the peace of Antalkidas, in competition with the harangue of Lysias now remaining on the same subject. Though the name of Lysias is not mentioned in the Menexenus, yet the rivalry between him and Plato is clearly proclaimed in the Platonic Phædrus: and the two funeral harangues go so completely over the same ground, that intentional competition on the part of the latest, is the most natural of all hypotheses.

Colloquial portion of the Menexenus is probably intended as ridicule and sneer at Rhetoric — The harangue itself is serious, and intended as an evidence of Plato’s ability.

Here then we have Plato exchanging philosophy for “the knack of flattery” — to use the phrase of the Gorgias. Stallbaum is so unwilling to admit this as possible, that he represents the Platonic harangue as a mere caricature, intended to make the rhetorical process ridiculous. I dissent from this supposition; as I have already dissented from the like supposition of the same critic, in regard to the etymologies of the Kratylus. That Plato might in one dialogue scornfully denounce Rhetoric — and in another, compose an elaborate discourse upon the received rhetorical type — is noway inconsistent with the general theory which I frame to myself, about the intellectual character and distinct occasional manifestations of Plato.30 The funeral harangue in the Menexenus proves that, whatever he thought about Rhetoric generally, he was anxious to establish his title as a competent rhetorical composer: it proves farther that he was equal to Lysias in the epideiktic department, though inferior to Perikles. It affords a valuable illustration of that general doctrine which the Platonic Sokrates lays down in the Gorgias — That no man can succeed as a rhetor, unless he is in full harmony of spirit and cast of mind with his auditors; or unless he dwells upon and enforces sympathies, antipathies, and convictions, already established in their minds.31 A first-rate orator like Perikles, touching the chords of cherished national sentiment, might hope, by such a discourse as that which we read in Thucydides, “adjecisse aliquid receptæ religioni”.32 No public orator ever appointed by the Senate to pronounce the funeral harangue, could have expatiated more warmly than Plato has here done, upon the excellence of the Athenian constitution, and upon the admirable spirit which had animated Athenian politics, both foreign and domestic. Plato falls far short, indeed, of the weight and grandeur, the impressive distinctness of specification, the large sympathies, intellectual as well as popular — with which these topics are handled by Perikles in Thucydides: but his eulogy is quite as highflown and unreserved.

Anachronism of the Menexenus — Plato careless on this point.

In understanding fully the Menexenus, however, we have to take account, not merely of the harangue which forms the bulk of it, but also of the conversation whereby it is commenced and concluded. Plato, speaking always through the mouth of Sokrates, has to invent some fiction excusing the employment of his master in the unprecedented capacity of public orator. What Stallbaum says (in my judgment, erroneously) about the harangue — appears to me perfectly true about the conversation before and after it. The introductory observations, interchanged between Sokrates and Menexenus, certainly tend to caricature (as Aristophanes33 does in the Acharneis and the Equites) the strong effects produced by this panegyrical oratory on the feelings of hearers; and to depreciate the task of the orator as nothing better than an easy and amusing pastime. To praise Athens among Athenian auditors (we are told) is a matter in which few speakers can fail to succeed, however poor their abilities. Moreover, the great funeral harangue of Perikles is represented as having been composed for him by Aspasia34 — a female, though remarkable among her sex — who is extolled as holding the highest place among rhetorical teachers, and is introduced here, as Aristophanes introduces her in the Acharneis, when he is putting a construction of discreditable ridicule on the origin of the Peloponnesian war.35 To make a good funeral harangue (Sokrates says) requires little or no preliminary preparation: besides, the Rhetors have harangues ready prepared at home. All this persiflage, in harmony with the polemics of the Gorgias, derides and degrades the Rhetors collectively. But when Plato takes the field against them as a competitor, in his own rhetorical discourse, he drops the ironical vein, and takes pains to deliver one really good and excellent in its kind. His triumph is thus doubled. He tells the Rhetors that their business is a trifling and despicable one: at the same time showing them that, despicable as it is, he can surpass them in it, as he professes to surpass Lysias in the Phædrus.36

Persons and circumstances of Kleitophon.

Conversation of Sokrates with Kleitophon alone: he alludes to observations of an unfavourable character recently made by Kleitophon, who asks permission to explain.

Explanation given. Kleitophon expresses gratitude and admiration for the benefit which he has derived from long companionship with Sokrates.

Hear me then (says Kleitophon).

The observations made by Sokrates have been most salutary and stimulating in awakening ardour for virtue. Arguments and analogies commonly used by Sokrates.

But Sokrates does not explain what virtue is, nor how it is to be attained. Kleitophon has had enough of stimulus, and now wants information how he is to act.

Such, Sokrates (continues Kleitophon), is the language which I often hear from you; and which I always hear with the strongest and most respectful admiration. You follow it up by observing, that those who train their bodies and neglect their minds, commit the mistake of busying themselves about the subordinate and neglecting the superior. You farther remark, that if a man does not know how to use any object rightly, he had better abstain from using it altogether: if he does not know how to use his eyes, his ears, or his body — it will be better for him neither to see, nor to hear, nor to use his body at all: the like with any instrument or article of property — for whoever cannot use his own lyre well, cannot use his neighbour’s lyre better. Out of these premisses you bring out forcibly the conclusion — That if a man does not know how to use his mind rightly, it is better for him to make no use of it:— better for him not to live, than to live under his own direction. If he must live, he had better live as a slave than a freeman, surrendering the guidance of his understanding to some one else who knows the art of piloting men: which art you, Sokrates, denominate often the political art, sometimes the judicial art or justice.5

Questions addressed by Kleitophon with this view, both to the companions of Sokrates and to Sokrates himself.

These discourses of yours, alike numerous and admirable — showing that virtue is teachable, and that a man should attend to himself before he attends to other objects — I never have contradicted, and never shall contradict. I account them most profitable and stimulating, calculated to wake men as it were out of sleep. I expected anxiously what was to come afterwards. I began by copying your style and asking, not yourself, but those among your companions whom you esteemed the most6 — How are we now to understand this stimulus imparted by Sokrates towards virtue? Is this to be all? Cannot we make advance towards virtue and get full possession of it? Are we to pass our whole lives in stimulating those who have not yet been stimulated, in order that they in their turn may stimulate others? Is it not rather incumbent upon us, now that we have agreed thus far, to entreat both from Sokrates and from each other, an answer to the ulterior question, What next? How are we to set to work in regard to the learning of justice?7 If any trainer, seeing us careless of our bodily condition, should exhort us strenuously to take care of it, and convince us that we ought to do so — we should next ask him, which were the arts prescribing how we should proceed? He would reply — The gymnastic and medical arts. How will Sokrates or his friends answer the corresponding question in their case?

Replies made by the friends of Sokrates unsatisfactory.

None of them could explain what the special work of justice or virtue was.

To this question your friend replied (explaining Justice) — it is The Advantageous. Another man near him said, The Proper: a third said, The Profitable: a fourth, The Gainful.9 I pursued the inquiry by observing, that these were general names equally applicable in other arts, and to something different in each. Every art aims at what is proper, advantageous, profitable, gainful, in its own separate department: but each can farther describe to you what that department is. Thus the art of the carpenter is, to perform well, properly, advantageously, profitably, &c., in the construction of wooden implements, &c. That is the special work of the carpenter’s art: now tell me, what is the special work, corresponding thereunto, of the art called Justice?

Kleitophon at length asked the question from Sokrates himself. But Sokrates did not answer clearly. Kleitophon believes that Sokrates knows, but will not tell.

Kleitophon is on the point of leaving Sokrates and going to Thrasymachus. But before leaving he addresses one last entreaty, that Sokrates will speak out clearly and explicitly.

After all this debate (continues Kleitophon) I addressed the same question to yourself, Sokrates — What is Justice? You answered — To do good to friends, hurt to enemies. But presently it appeared, that the just man would never, on any occasion, do hurt to any one:— that he would act towards every one with a view to good. It is not once, nor twice, but often and often, that I have endured these perplexities, and have importuned you to clear them up.13 At last I am wearied out, and have come to the conviction that you are doubtless a consummate proficient in the art of stimulating men to seek virtue; but that as to the ulterior question, how they are to find it — you either do not know, or you will not tell. In regard to any art (such as steersmanship or others), there may be persons who can extol and recommend the art to esteem, but cannot direct the hearers how to acquire it: and in like manner a man might remark about you, that you do not know any better what Justice is, because you are a proficient in commending it. For my part, such is not my opinion. I think that you know, but have declined to tell me. I am resolved, in my present embarrassment, to go to Thrasymachus, or any one else that I can find to help me; unless you will consent to give me something more than these merely stimulating discourses.14 Consider me as one upon whom your stimulus has already told. If the question were about gymnastic, as soon as I had become fully stimulated to attend to my bodily condition, you would have given me, as a sequel to your stimulating discourse, some positive direction, what my body was by nature, and what treatment it required. Deal in like manner with the case before us: reckon Kleitophon as one fully agreeing with you, that it is contemptible to spend so much energy upon other objects, and to neglect our minds, with a view to which all other objects are treasured up. Put me down as having already given my adhesion to all these views of yours.

Remarks on the Kleitophon. Why Thrasyllus placed it in the eighth Tetralogy immediately before the Republic, and along with Kritias, the other fragment.

Proceed, Sokrates — I supplicate you — to deal with me as I have described; in order that I may never more have occasion, when I talk with Lysias, to blame you on some points while praising you on others. I will repeat, that to one who has not yet received the necessary stimulus, your conversation is of inestimable value: but to one who has already been stimulated, it is rather a hindrance than a help, to his realising the full acquisition of virtue, and thus becoming happy.15

Kleitophon is genuine, and perfectly in harmony with a just theory of Plato.

We may explain why Thrasyllus placed the Kleitophon in immediate antecedence to the Republic: because 1. It complains bitterly of the want of a good explanation of Justice, which Sokrates in the latter books of the Republic professes to furnish. 2. It brings before us Kleitophon, who announces an inclination to consult Thrasymachus: now both these personages appear in the first book of the Republic, in which too Thrasymachus is introduced as disputing in a brutal and insulting way, and as humiliated by Sokrates: so that the Republic might be considered both as an answer to the challenge of the Kleitophon, and as a reproof to Kleitophon himself for having threatened to quit Sokrates and go to Thrasymachus.

It could not have been published until after Plato’s death.

Reasons why the Kleitophon was never finished. It points out the defects of Sokrates, just as he himself confesses them in the Apology.

Yet though the Kleitophon is Plato’s work, it is a sketch or fragment never worked out. In its present condition, it can hardly have been published (any more than the Kritias) either by his direction or during his life. I conceive it to have remained among his papers, to have been made known by his school after his death, and to have passed from thence among the other Platonic manuscripts into the Alexandrian library at its first foundation. Possibly it may have been originally intended as a preparation for the solution of that problem, which Sokrates afterwards undertakes in the Republic: for it is a challenge to Sokrates to explain what he means by Justice. It may have been intended as such, but never prosecuted:— the preparation for that solution being provided in another way, such as we now read in the first and second books of the Republic. That the great works of Plato — Republic, Protagoras, Symposion, &c. — could not have been completed without preliminary sketches and tentatives — we may regard as certain. That some of these sketches, though never worked up, and never published by Plato himself, should have been good enough to be preserved by him and published by those who succeeded him — is at the very least highly probable. One such is the Kleitophon.

The same defects also confessed in many of the Platonic and Xenophontic dialogues.

When I read the Kleitophon, I am not at all surprised that Plato never brought it to a conclusion, nor ever provided Sokrates with an answer to the respectful, yet emphatic, requisition of Kleitophon. The case against Sokrates has been made so strong, that I doubt whether Plato himself could have answered it to his own satisfaction. It resembles the objections which he advances in the Parmenidês against the theory of Ideas: objections which he has nowhere answered, and which I do not believe that he could answer. The characteristic attribute of which Kleitophon complains in Sokrates is, that of a one-sided and incomplete efficiency — (φύσις μονόκωλος) — “You are perpetually stirring us up and instigating us: you do this most admirably: but when we have become full of fervour, you do not teach us how we are to act, nor point out the goal towards which we are to move”.18 Now this is precisely the description which Sokrates gives of his own efficiency, in the Platonic Apology addressed to the Dikasts. He lays especial stress on the mission imposed upon him by the Gods, to apply his Elenchus in testing and convicting the false persuasion of knowledge universally prevalent:— to make sure by repeated cross-examination, whether the citizens pursued money and worldly advancement more energetically than virtue:— and to worry the Athenians with perpetual stimulus, like the gadfly exciting a high-bred but lethargic horse. Sokrates describes this not only as the mission of his life, but as a signal benefit and privilege conferred upon Athens by the Gods.19 But here his services end. He declares explicitly that he shares in the universal ignorance, and that he is no wiser than any one else, except in being aware of his own ignorance. He disclaims all power of teaching:20 and he deprecates the supposition, — that he himself knew what he convicted others of not knowing, — as a mistake which had brought upon him alike unmerited reputation and great unpopularity.21 We find thus that the description given by Sokrates of himself in the Apology, and the reproach addressed to Sokrates by Kleitophon, fully coincide. “My mission from the Gods” (says Sokrates), “is to dispel the false persuasion of knowledge, to cross-examine men into a painful conviction of their own ignorance, and to create in them a lively impulse towards knowledge and virtue: but I am no wiser than they: I can teach them nothing, nor can I direct them what to do.” — That is exactly what I complain of (remarks Kleitophon): I have gone through your course, — have been electrified by your Elenchus, — and am full of the impulse which you so admirably communicate. In this condition, what I require is, to find out how, or in which direction I am to employ that impulse. If you cannot tell me, I must ask Thrasymachus or some one else.

Forcible, yet respectful, manner in which these defects are set forth in the Kleitophon. Impossible to answer them in such a way as to hold out against the negative Elenchus of a Sokratic pupil.

Moreover, it is not merely in the declarations of Sokrates himself before the Athenian Dikasts, but also in the Platonic Sokrates as exhibited by Plato in very many of his dialogues, that the same efficiency, and the same deficiency, stand conspicuous. The hearer is convicted of ignorance, on some familiar subject which he believed himself to know: the protreptic stimulus is powerful, stinging his mind into uneasiness which he cannot appease except by finding some tenable result: but the didactic supplement is not forthcoming. Sokrates ends by creating a painful feeling of perplexity in the hearers, but he himself shares the feeling along with them. — It is this which the youth Protarchus deprecates, at the beginning of the Platonic Philêbus;22 and with which Hippias taunts Sokrates, in one of the Xenophontic conversations23 — insomuch that Sokrates replies to the taunt by giving a definition of the Just (τὸ δίκαιον), upon which Hippias comments. But if the observations ascribed by Xenophon to Hippias are a report of what that Sophist really said, we only see how inferior he was to Sokrates in the art of cross-questioning: for the definition given by Sokrates would have been found altogether untenable, if there had been any second Sokrates to apply the Elenchus to it.24 Lastly, Xenophon expressly tells us, that there were others also, who, both in speech and writing, imputed to Sokrates the same deficiency on the affirmative side.25

The Kleitophon represents a point of view which many objectors must have insisted on against Sokrates and Plato.

The Platonic Kleitophon corresponds, in a great degree, to these complaints of Protarchus and others, as well as to the taunt of Hippias. The case is put, however, with much greater force and emphasis: as looked at, not by an opponent and outsider, like Hippias — nor by a mere novice, unarmed though eager, like Protarchus — but by a companion of long standing, who has gone through the full course of negative gymnastic, is grateful for the benefit derived, and feels that it is time to pass from the lesser mysteries to the greater. He is sick of perpetual negation and stimulus: he demands doctrines and explanations, which will hold good against the negative Elenchus of Sokrates himself. But this is exactly what Sokrates cannot give. His mission from the Delphian God finishes with the negative: inspiration fails him when he deals with the affirmative. He is like the gadfly (his own simile) in stimulating the horse — and also in furnishing no direction how the stimulus is to be expended. His affirmative dicta, — as given in the Xenophontic Memorabilia, are for the most part plain, home-bred, good sense, — in which all the philosophical questions are slurred over, and the undefined words, Justice, Temperance, Holiness, Courage, Law, &c., are assumed to have a settled meaning agreed to by every one: while as given by Plato, in the Republic and elsewhere, they are more speculative, highflown, and poetical,26 but not the less exposed to certain demolition, if the batteries of the Sokratic Elenchus were brought to bear upon them. The challenge of Kleitophon is thus unanswerable. It brings out in the most forcible, yet respectful, manner the contrast between the two attributes of the Sokratic mind: in the negative, irresistible force and originality: in the affirmative, confessed barrenness alternating with honest, acute, practical sense, but not philosophy. Instead of this, Plato gives us transcendental hypotheses, and a religious and poetical ideal; impressive indeed to the feelings, but equally inadmissible to a mind trained in the use of the Sokratic tests.

The Kleitophon was originally intended as a first book of the Republic, but was found too hard to answer. Reasons why the existing first book was substituted.

1 Schleiermacher (Einleit. zum Symp. p. 367) describes this view of Eros as Hellenic, and as “gerade den anti-modernen and anti-christlichen Pol der Platonischen Denkungsart”. Aristotle composed Θέσεις Ἐρωτικαὶ or Ἐρωτικάς, Diogenes Laert. v. 22-24. See Bernays, Die Dialoge des Aristoteles, p. 133, Berlin, 1863.

2 See the Œconomicus of Xenophon, cap. iii. 12, vii. 5.

3 The beginning of the Platonic Charmidês illustrates what is here said, pp. 154-155; also that of the Protagoras and Lysis, pp. 205-206.

4 Plato, Sympos. 182 C. The proceedings of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, which illustrate this feeling, are recounted by Thucydides, vi. 54-57. These two citizens were gratefully recollected and extensively admired by the Athenian public.

5 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 249 E, 250 B-E.

6 Plato, Sympos. pp. 210-211.

7 Plato, Sympos. pp. 204-205. Φέρε, ὁ ἐρῶν τῶν ἀγαθῶν, τί ἐρᾷ; Γενέσθαι, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ, αὐτῷ. Καὶ τί ἔσται ἐκείνῳ ᾧ ἂν γένηται τἀγαθά; Τοῦτ’ εὐπορώτερον, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ, ἔχω ἀποκρίνασθαι, ὅτι εὐδαίμων ἔσται. Κτήσει γάρ, ἔφη, ἀγαθῶν, οἱ εὐδαίμονες εὐδαίμονες· Καὶ οὐκέτι προσδεῖ ἐρέσθαι, ἵνα τί δὲ βούλεται εὐδαίμων εἶναι ὁ βουλόμενος, ἀλλὰ τέλος δοκεῖ ἔχειν ἡ ἀπόκρισις.… Ταύτην δὴ τὴν βούλησιν καὶ τὸν ἔρωτα τοῦτον, πότερα κοινὸν εἶναι πάντων ἀνθρώπων, καὶ πάντας τἀγαθὰ βούλεσθαι αὐτοῖς εἶναι ἀεί, ἢ πῶς λέγεις; Οὕτως, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ, κοινὸν εἶναι πάντων.

8 Plato, Sympos. p. 206 A. ὡς οὐδέν γε ἄλλο ἐστὶν οὖ ἐρῶσιν ἄνθρωποι ἢ τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ.

9 Plato, Sympos. p. 207 C.

10 Plato, Sympos. pp. 207-208.

11 Plato, Sympos. p. 206 E. ὅθεν δὴ τῷ κυοῦντί τε καὶ ἤδη σπαργῶντι πολλὴ ἡ πτόησις γέγονε περὶ τὸ καλὸν διὰ τὸ μεγάλης ὠδῖνος ἀπολύειν τὸν ἔχοντα. Ἐστὶ γὰρ οὐ τοῦ καλοῦ ὁ ἔρως, ἀλλὰ — τῆς γεννήσεως καὶ τοῦ τόκου ἐν τῷ καλῷ.

12 Plato, Sympos. p. 209.

13 Plato, Symposion, p. 211.

14 Plato, Symposion, p. 211 B. ὅταν δή τις ἀπὸ τῶνδε διὰ τὸ ὀρθῶς παιδεραστεῖν ἐπανιὼν ἐκεῖνο τὸ καλὸν ἄρχηται καθορᾷν, σχεδὸν ἄν τι ἅπτοιτο τοῦ τέλους, &c.

15 Plat. Sympos. p. 201 D. γυναικὸς μαντικῆς Διοτίμας, ἡ ταῦτά τε σοφὴ ἦν καὶ ἄλλα πολλά, καὶ Ἀθηναίοις ποτὲ θυσαμένοις πρὸ τοῦ λοιμοῦ δέκα ἔτη ἀναβολὴν ἐποίησε τῆς νόσου, ἢ δὴ καὶ ἐμὲ τὰ ἐρωτικὰ ἐδίδαξεν.

16 Sydenham conceives and Boeckh (ad Plat. Legg. iii. 694) concurs with him, that this discourse, assigned to Phædrus, is intended by Plato as an imitation of the style of Lysias. This is sufficiently probable. The encomium on Eros delivered by Agathon, especially the concluding part of it (p. 197), mimics the style of florid effeminate poetry, overcharged with balanced phrases (ἰσόκωλα, ἀντίθετα), which Aristophanes parodies in Agathon’s name at the beginning of the Thesmophoriazusæ, Athenæus, v. 187 C.

17 Plato, Sympos. pp. 180-181.

18 Respecting this view of Eros or Aphrodite, as a cosmical, all-pervading, procreative impulse, compare Euripides, Frag. Incert. 3, 6, assigned by Welcker (Griech. Trag. p. 737) to the lost drama — the first Hippolytus; also the beautiful invocation with which the poem of Lucretius opens, and the fragmentary exordium remaining from the poem of Parmenides.

19 Plato, Sympos. pp. 202-203.

20 What Sokrates says here in the Symposion about Eros is altogether at variance with what Sokrates says about Eros in Phædrus, wherein we find him speaking with the greatest reverence and awe about Eros as a powerful God, son of Aphroditê (Phædrus, pp. 242 D, 243 D, 257 A).

21 Plato, Symposion, pp. 199-200. Ὁ Ἔρως ἔρως ἐστὶν οὐδενὸς ἣ τινός; Πάνυ μὲν οὖν ἔστιν.… Πότερον ὁ Ἔρως ἐκείνου οὗ ἔστιν ἔρως, ἐπιθυμεῖ αὐτοῦ ἢ οὔ; Πάνυ γε.… Ἀνάγκη τὸ ἐπιθυμοῦν ἐπιθυμεῖν οὖ ἐνδεές ἐστιν, ἢ μὴ ἐπιθυμεῖν, ἐὰν μὴ ἐνδεὲς ᾖ.

22 Plato, Sympos. p. 204 A. Τίνες οὖν οἱ φιλοσοφοῦντες, εἰ μήτε οἱ σοφοὶ μήτε οἱ ἀμαθεῖς;… Οἱ μεταξὺ τούτων ἀμφοτέρων, ὧν αὖ καὶ ὁ Ἔρως. Ἐστὶ γὰρ δὴ τῶν καλλίστων ἡ σοφία, Ἔρως δ’ ἐστὶν ἔρως περὶ τὸ καλόν· ὥστε ἀναγκαῖον Ἔρωτα φιλόσοφον εἶναι, φιλόσοφον δὲ ὄντα μεταξὺ εἶναι σοφοῦ καὶ ἀμαθοῦς.

23 Plato, Symposion, pp. 210-211.

24 Plato, Phædrus, p. 230 seq.

25 Plato, Phædrus, p. 237 seq.

26 Eros, in the Phædrus, is pronounced to be a God, son of Aphroditê (p. 242 E); in the Symposion he is not a God but a Dæmon, offspring of Porus and Penia, and attendant on Aphroditê, according to Diotima and Sokrates (p. 203).

27 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 265-266. τὸ ἄφρον τῆς διανοίας ἕν τι κοινῇ εἶδος.… τὸ τῆς παρανοίας ὡς ἓν ἐν ἡμῖν πεφυκὸς εἶδος. Compare p. 236 A.

28 Plato, Phædrus, p. 265 A. Μανίας δέ γε εἴδη δύο· τὴν μέν, ὑπὸ νοσημάτων ἀνθρωπίνων, τὴν δέ, ὑπὸ θείας ἐξαλλαγῆς τῶν εἰωθότων νομίμων γιγνομένην. Compare 249 D.

29 Plato, Phædrus, p. 244 A. εἰ μὲν γὰρ ἦν ἁπλοῦν τὸ μανίαν κακὸν εἶναι, καλῶς ἂν ἐλέγετο· νῦν δὲ τὰ μέγιστα τῶν ἀγαθῶν ἡμῖν γίγνεται διὰ μανίας, θείᾳ μέντοι δόσει διδομένης.

30 Plato, Phædrus, p. 245 B. μηδέ τις ἡμᾶς λόγος θορυβείτω δεδιττόμενος ὡς πρὸ τοῦ κεκινημένου τὸν σώφρονα δεῖ προαιρεῖσθαι φίλον.

31 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 245-246. Compare Krische, De Platonis Phædro, pp. 49-50 (Göttingen, 1848).

32 The reader will recollect Homer, Iliad, xvi. 152, where the chariot and horses of Patroklus are described, when he is about to attack the Trojans; the mortal horse Pedasus is harnessed to it alongside of the two immortal horses Xanthus and Balius.

33 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 249-250. πᾶσα μὲν ἀνθρώπου ψυχὴ φύσει τεθέαται τὰ ὄντα — ἢ οὐκ ἂν ἦλθεν εἰς τόδε τὸ ζῶον· ἀναμιμνήσκεσθαι δ’ ἐκ τῶνδε ἐκεῖνα οὐ ῥᾴδιον ἁπάσῃ, &c.

34 Plato, Phædrus, p. 249 B. Οὐ γὰρ ἥ γε μή ποτε ἰδοῦσα τὴν ἀλήθειαν εἰς τόδε ἥξει τὸ σχῆμα. Δεῖ γὰρ ἄνθρωπον ξυνιέναι κατ’ εἶδος λεγόμενον, ἐκ πολλῶν ἰὸν αἰσθήσεων εἰς ἓν λογισμῷ ξυναιρούμενον. Τοῦτο δέ ἐστιν ἀνάμνησις ἐκείνων, ἅ ποτ’ εἶδεν ἡμῶν ἡ ψυχὴ συμπορευθεῖσα θεῷ καὶ ὑπεριδοῦσα ἃ νῦν εἶναί φαμεν, καὶ ἀνακύψασα εἰς τὸ ὂν ὄντως.

35 Plato, Phædrus, p. 256 B. οὗ μεῖζον ἀγαθὸν οὔτε σωφροσύνη ἀνθρωπίνη οὔτε θεία μανία δυνατὴ πορίσαι ἀνθρώπῳ. — 245 B: ἐπ’ εὐτυχία τῇ μεγίστῃ παρὰ θεῶν ἡ τοιαύτη μανία δίδοται.

36 Porphyry, Vit. Plotini, 23.

37 Dionys. Hal. De Adm. Vi Dic. in Demosth., p. 972, Reiske.

38 Plato, Sympos. pp. 207-208.

39 Plat. Repub. v. 476. He recognises Forms of ἄδικον, κακόν, αἰσχρόν, as well as Forms of δίκαιον, ἀγαθόν, καλόν, &c.

40 Plato, Sympos. p. 216 C-D.

41 Plato, Sympos. p. 219. See also, respecting the historical Alkibiades and his character, Thucyd. vi. 15; Xenoph. Memor. i. 1; Antisthenes, apud Athenæum, xii. 534.

42 Plato, Symp. p. 222 B.

43 Plato, Sympos. pp. 221-222.

44 In Sympos. p. 176 B, Sokrates is recognised as δυνατώτατος πίνειν, above all the rest: no one can be compared with him. In the two first books of the Treatise De Legibus, we shall find much to illustrate what is here said (in the Symposion) about the power ascribed to him of drinking more wine than any one else, without being at all affected by it. Plato discusses the subject of strong potations (μέθη) at great length; indeed he seems to fear that his readers will think he says too much upon it (i. 642 A). He considers it of great advantage to have a test to apply, such as wine, for the purpose of measuring the reason and self-command of different men, and of determining how much wine is sufficient to overthrow it, in each different case (i. 649 C-E). You can make this trial (he argues) in each case, without any danger or harm; and you can thus escape the necessity of making the trial in a real case of emergency. Plato insists upon the χρεία τῆς μέθης, as a genuine test, to be seriously employed for the purpose of testing men’s reason and force of character (ii. p. 673). In the Republic, too (iii. p. 413 E), the φύλακες are required to be tested, in regard to their capacity of resisting pleasurable temptation, as well as pain and danger.

45 Plato, Sympos. p. 223.

46 Einleitung zum Gastmahl, p. 359 seq.

47 Plato, Phædrus, p. 256 C-E. σωφροσύνη θνητή — ἐρωτικὴ μανία: σωφροσύνη ἀνθρωπίνη — θεία μανία. Compare p. 244 B.

48 Pontianus, one of the speakers in Athenæus (xi. 504), touches upon some points of this comparison, with a view of illustrating the real or supposed enmity between Plato and Xenophon; an enmity not in itself improbable, yet not sufficiently proved.

49 Xenophon, Sympos. vii. 1; ii. 18-19. προγάστωρ, &c.

50 The taunt ascribed to the jester Philippus, about the cowardice of the demagogue Peisander, is completely Aristophanic, ii. 14; also that of Antisthenes respecting the bad temper of Xanthippê, ii. 10; and the caricature of the movements of the ὀρχηστρὶς by Philippus, ii. 21. Compare also iii. 11.

51 Xen. Symp. c. 4-5.

52 Xen. Symp. vi. Αὐτὴ μὲν ἡ παροινία οὕτω κατεσβέσθη, vii. 1-5.

53 Xen. Symp. iv. 28. ἀναμὶξ ἐσκωψάν τε καὶ ἐσπούδασαν, viii. 41.

54 Xen. Symp. viii. 24. The argument against the sensual is enforced with so much warmth that Sokrates is made to advert to the fact of his being elate with wine — ὅ τε γὰρ οἶνος συνεπαίρει, καὶ ὁ ἀεὶ σύνοικος ἐμοὶ ἔρως κεντρίζει εἰς τὸν ἀντίπαλον ἔρωτα αὐτοῦ παῤῥησιάζεσθαι.

55 Xen. Symp. viii. 5, ix. 7. The close of the Xenophontic Symposion is, to a great degree, in harmony with modern sentiment, though what is there expressed would probably be left to be understood. The Platonic Symposion departs altogether from that sentiment.

56 The difference between the two coincides very much with that which is drawn by Plato himself in the Phædrus — θεία μανία as contrasted with σωφροσύνη θνητὴ (p. 256 E). Compare Athenæus, v. 187 B.

57 Plato, Phædrus, p. 249 D. νουθετεῖται μὲν ὑπὸ τῶν πολλῶν ὡς παρακινῶν, ἐνθουσιάζων δὲ λέληθε τοὺς πολλοὺς.… αἰτίαν ἔχει ὡς μανικῶς διακείμενος.

58 Which of these two Symposia was the latest in date of composition we cannot determine with certainty: though it seems certain that the latest of the two was not composed in imitation of the earliest.

59 Plato, Phædrus, p. 257 C.

60 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 257 E, 258 D.

61 Plato, Phædrus, p. 259 E. ὅπῃ καλῶς ἔχει λέγειν τε καὶ γράφειν, καὶ ὅπῃ μή, σκεπτέον. — p. 258 D. τίς ὁ τρόπος τοῦ καλῶς τε καὶ μὴ γράφειν.

62 Plato, Phædrus, p. 260 A.

63 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 260-261.

64 Plato, Phædrus, p. 262.

65 Plato, Phædrus, p. 263 B. Compare Plato, Alkibiad. i. p. 109.

66 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 263-265.

67 Plato, Phædrus, p. 265 A. ὑπὸ θείας ἐξαλλαγῆς τῶν εἰωθότων νομίμων.

68 Plato, Phædrus, p. 265.

69 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 265-266. 265 D: εἰς μίαν τε ἰδέαν συνορῶντα ἄγειν τὰ πολλαχῆ διεσπαρμένα, ἵν’ ἕκαστον ὁριζόμενος δῆλον ποῖῃ περὶ οὗ ἂν ἀεὶ διδάσκειν ἐθέλῃ. 265 E: τὸ πάλιν κατ’ εἴδη δύνασθαι τέμνειν κατ’ ἄρθρα, ᾗ πέφυκε, καὶ μὴ ἐπιχειρεῖν καταγνύναι μέρος μηδέν, κακοῦ μαγείρου τρόπῳ χρώμενον.

70 Plato, Phædrus, p. 266 B. Τούτων δὴ ἔγωγε αὐτός τε ἐραστής, ὦ Φαῖδρε, τῶν διαιρέσεων καὶ συναγωγῶν, ἵν’ οἷός τε ὦ λέγειν τε καὶ φρονεῖν· ἐάν τέ τιν’ ἄλλον ἡγήσωμαι δυνατὸν εἰς ἓν καὶ ἐπὶ πολλὰ πεφυκὸς ὁρᾷν, τοῦτον διώκω κατόπισθε μετ’ ἴχνιον ὥστε θεοῖο. καὶ μέντοι καὶ τοὺς δυναμένους αὐτὸ δρᾷν εἰ μὲν ὀρθῶς ἢ μὴ προσαγορεύω, θεὸς οἶδε· καλῶ δὲ οὖν μέχρι τοῦδε διαλεκτικούς.

71 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 267-268.

72 Plato, Phædrus, p. 268 B. ἐρέσθαι εἰ προσεπίσταται καὶ οὑστίνας δεῖ καὶ ὁπότε ἕκαστα τούτων ποιεῖν, καὶ μέχρι ὁπόσου;

73 Plato, Phædrus, p. 269.

74 Plato, Phædrus, p. 270 D. Ἆρ’ οὐχ ὧδε δεῖ διανοεῖσθαι περὶ ὁτουοῦν φύσεως; Πρῶτον μὲν, ἁπλοῦν ἢ πολυειδές ἐστιν, οὗ περὶ βουλησόμεθα εἶναι αὐτοὶ τεχνικοὶ καὶ ἄλλον δυνατοὶ ποιεῖν; ἔπειτα δέ, ἐὰν μὲν ἁπλοῦν ᾖ, σκοπεῖν τὴν δύναμιν αὐτοῦ, τίνα πρὸς τί πέφυκεν εἰς τὸ δρᾷν ἔχον ἢ τίνα εἰς τὸ παθεῖν ὑπὸ τοῦ; ἐὰν δὲ πλείω εἴδη ἔχῃ, ταῦτα ἀριθμησάμενος, ὅπερ ἐφ’ ἑνός, τοῦτ’ ἰδεῖν ἐφ’ ἑκάστου, τῷ τί ποιεῖν αὐτὸ πέφυκεν ἢ τῷ τί παθεῖν ὑπὸ τοῦ;

75 Plato, Phædrus, p. 277 B. ὁρισάμενός τε πάλιν κατ’ εἴδη μέχρι τοῦ ἀτμήτου τέμνειν ἐπιστηθῇ.

76 Plato, Phædrus, p. 271 A. Πρῶτον, πάσῃ ἀκριβείᾳ γράψει τε καὶ ποιήσει ψυχὴν ἰδεῖν, πότερον ἓν καὶ ὅμοιον πέφυκεν ἢ κατὰ σώματος μορφὴν πολυειδές· τοῦτο γάρ φαμεν φύσιν εἶναι δεικνύναι.

77 Plato, Phædrus, p. 271 D. δεῖ μὴ ταῦτα ἱκανῶς νοήσαντα, μετὰ ταῦτα θεώμενον αὐτὰ ἐν ταῖς πράξεσιν ὄντα τε καὶ πραττόμενα, ὀξέως τῇ αἰσθήσει δύνασθαι ἐπακολουθεῖν, &c.

78 Plato, Phædrus, p. 272 A. ταῦτα δὲ ἤδη πάντ’ ἔχοντι, προσλαβόντι καιροὺς τοῦ πότε λεκτέον καὶ ἐπισχετέον, βραχυλογίας τε αὖ καὶ ἐλεεινολογίας καὶ δεινώσεως, ἑκάστων τε ὅσ’ ἂν εἴδη μάθῃ λόγων, τούτων τὴν εὐκαιρίαν τε καὶ ἀκαιρίαν διαγνόντι, καλῶς τε καὶ τελέως ἐστὶν ἡ τέχνη ἀπειργασμένη, πρότερον δ’ οὔ.

79 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 273-274.

80 Plato, Phædrus, p. 275 D-E. ταὐτὸν δὲ καὶ οἱ λόγοι (οἱ γεγραμμένοι)· δόξαις μὲν ἂν ὥς τι φρονοῦντας αὐτοὺς λέγειν ἐὰν δέ τι ἕρῃ τῶν λεγομένων βουλόμενος μαθεῖν, ἕν τι σημαίνει μόνον ταὐτὸν ἀεί. Ὅταν δὲ ἅπαξ γραφῇ, κυλινδεῖται μὲν πανταχοῦ πᾶς λόγος ὁμοίως παρὰ τοῖς ἐπαΐουσιν, ὡς δ’ αὐτῶς παρ’ οἷς οὐδὲν προσήκει, καὶ οὐκ ἐπίσταται λέγειν οἷς δεῖ γε καὶ μή.

81 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 277-278. ὡς οἱ ῥαψῳδούμενοι (λόγοι) ἄνευ ἀνακρίσεως καὶ διδαχῆς πειθοῦς ἕνεκα ἐλέχθησαν, &c.

82 Plato, Phædrus, p. 276 A. ἄλλον ὁρῶμεν λόγον τούτου ἀδελφὸν γνήσιον τῷ τρόπῳ τε γίγνεται, καὶ ὅσῳ ἀμείνων καὶ δυνατώτερος τούτου φύεται;… Ὅς μετ’ ἐπιστήμης γράφεται ἐν τῇ τοῦ μανθάνοντος ψυχῇ, δυνατὸς μὲν ἀμῦναι ἑαυτῷ, ἐπιστήμων δὲ λέγειν τε καὶ σιγᾷν πρὸς οὓς δεῖ. Τὸν τοῦ εἰδότος λόγον λέγεις ζῶντα καὶ ἔμψυχον, οὗ ὁ γεγραμμένος εἴδωλον ἄν τι λέγοιτο δικαίως, &c. 278 A.

83 Plato, Phædrus, p. 278 C. εἰ μὲν εἰδὼς ᾗ τἀληθὲς ἔχει συνέθηκε ταῦτα (τὰ συγγράμματα) καὶ ἔχων βοηθεῖν, εἰς ἔλεγχον ἰὼν περὶ ὧν ἔγραψε, καὶ λέγων αὐτὸς δυνατὸς τὰ γεγραμμένα φαῦλα ἀποδεῖξαι, &c.

84 Plato, Phædrus, p. 276 A.

85 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 276-277.

86 See above, vol. ii. ch. xxi. p. 227.

87 Plato, Phædrus, p. 279 A.

88 Dion. Hal. De Isocrate Judicium, p. 576. δεσμὰς πάνυ πολλὰς δικανικῶν λόγων περιφέρεσθαί φησιν ὑπὸ τῶν βιβλιοπωλῶν Ἀριστοτέλης, &c.

89 Plato, Euthydêm. p. 306. I am inclined to agree with Ueberweg in thinking that the Euthydêmus is later than the Phædrus. Ueberweg, Aechtheit der Platon. Schriften, pp. 256-259-265.

90 Plato, Hipp. Major, p. 289.

91 Isokrates, Orat. x. 1 (Hel. Enc.); Orat. v. (Philipp.) 12; Or. xiii. (Sophist.) 9-24; Orat. xv. (Permut.) sect. 285-290. φιλοσοφίαν μὲν οὖν οὐκ οἶμαι δεῖν προσαγορεύειν τὴν μηδὲν ἐν τῷ παρόντι μήτε πρὸς τὸ λέγειν μήτε πρὸς τὸ πράττειν ὥφελοῦσαν — τὴν καλουμένην ὑπό τινων φιλοσοφίαν οὐκ εἶναι φημί, &c.

92 Cicero, De Oratore, iii. 35, 141; Orator. 19, 62; Numenius, ap. Euseb. Præp. Evang. xiv. 6, 9. See Stahr, Aristotelia, i. p. 63 seq., ii. p. 44 seq.

93 Athenæus, iii. p. 122, ii. 60; Dionys. Hal. Epistol. ad Cn. Pomp. p. 757.

94 Plato, Phædrus, p. 277 D-E.

95 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 278-279.

96 Respecting the manner in which Plato speaks of Isokrates in the Phædrus, see what I have already observed upon the Euthydêmus, vol. ii. ch. xxi. pp. 227-229.

97 Plato, Phædrus, p. 235 A.

98 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 259 E, 260 E, and 262 B.

99 Plato, Phædrus, p. 266.

100 Plato, Phædrus, p. 261 A.

101 Plato, Phædrus, p. 263 A.

102 Plato, Phædrus, p. 261 A. ἡ ῥητορικὴ τέχνη ψυχαγωγία τις διὰ λόγων, &c.

103 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 262 A-D, 273 D.

104 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 270 E, 271 A-D. Τρίτον δὲ δὴ διαταξάμενος τὰ λόγων τε καὶ ψυχῆς γένη, καὶ τὰ τούτων παθήματα, δίεισι τὰς αἰτίας, προσαρμόττων ἕκαστον ἑκάστῳ, καὶ διδάσκων οἵα οὖσα ὑφ’ οἵων λόγων δι’ ἣν αἰτίαν ἐξ ἀνάγκης ἡ μὲν πείθεται, ἡ δὲ ἀπειθεῖ.

105 Plato, Phædrus, p. 271 D-E. δεῖ δὴ ταῦτα ἱκανῶς νοήσαντα, μετὰ ταῦτα θεώμενον αὐτὰ ἐν ταῖς πράξεσιν ὄντα τε καὶ πραττόμενα, ὀξέως τῇ αἰσθήσει δύνασθαι ἐπακολουθεῖν, ἢ μηδὲ εἰδέναι πω πλέον αὐτῶν ὧν τότε ἤκουε λόγων ξυνών.

106 Plato, Phædrus, p. 270 C.

107 Plato, Gorg. p. 513 B, see supra, ch. xxiv.; Republic, vi. pp. 495-496.

108 I repeat the citation from the Phædrus, one of the most striking passages in Plato, p. 271 D.

109 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 273-274. ἣν οὐχ ἕνεκα τοῦ λέγειν καὶ πράττειν πρὸς ἀνθρώπους δεῖ διαπονεῖσθαι τὸν σώφρονα, ἀλλὰ τοῦ θεοῖς κεχαρισμένα μὲν λέγειν δύνασθαι, &c. (273 E).

110 Thucyd. ii. 39-40-41.

111 Plato, Phædrus, p. 288 A.

112 See what is said by Aristotle about ἡ Γοργίου πραγματεία in the last chapter of De Sophisticis Elenchis.

113 I have illustrated this point in my History of Greece, by the example of Xenophon in his command of the Cyreian army during its retreat.

114 Plato, Phædr. pp. 268 B, 272 A.

115 What Longinus says about critical skill is applicable here also — πολλῆς ἔστι πείρας τελευταῖον ἐπιγέννημα. Isokrates (De Permut. Or. xv. sect. 290-312-316) has some good remarks about the impossibility of ἐπιστήμη respecting particulars. Plato, in the Gorgias, puts τέχνη, which he states to depend upon reason and foreknowledge, in opposition to ἐμπειρία and τριβή, which he considers as dependant on the φύσις στοχαστική. But in applying the knowledge or skill called Art to particular cases, the φύσις στοχαστικὴ is the best that can be had (p. 463 A-B). The conception of τέχνη given in the Gorgias is open to the same remark as that which we find in the Phædrus. Plato, in another passage of the Phædrus, speaks of the necessity that φύσις, ἐπιστήμη, and μελέτη, shall concur to make an accomplished orator. This is very true; and Lysias, Isokrates, and all the other rhetors whom Plato satirises, would have concurred in it. In his description of τέχνη and ἐπιστήμη, and in the estimate which he gives of all that it comprises, he leaves no outlying ground for μελέτη. Compare Xenophon, Memor. iii. 1, 11; also Isokrates contra Sophistas, a. 16; and a good passage of Dionysius Halik. De Compos. Verborum, in which that rhetor remarks that καιρὸς or opportunity neither has been nor can be reduced to art and rule.

116 Plato, Gorgias, pp. 464-465.

117 Plato, Gorg. 521 D.

118 Plato, Phædr. p. 228 A.

119 Plato, Phædrus, pp. 263-264.

120 Dionysius (Judicium De Lysiâ, pp. 487-493) gives an elaborate criticism on the πραγματικὸς χαρακτὴρ of Lysias. The special excellence of Lysias (according to this critic) lay in his judicial orations, which were highly persuasive and plausible: the manner of presenting thoughts was ingenious and adapted to the auditors: the narration of facts and details, especially, was performed with unrivalled skill. But as to the marshalling of the different parts of a discourse, Dionysius considers Lysias as inferior to some other orators — and still more inferior in respect to δεινοτὴς and to strong emotional effects.

121 Dionys. Hal. (Ars Rhetorica, p. 381) notices the severe exigencies which Plato here imposes upon the Rhetor, remarking that scarcely any rhetorical discourse could be produced which came up to them. The defect did not belong to Lysias alone, but to all other rhetors also — ὁπότε γὰρ καὶ Λυσίαν ἐλέγχει, πᾶσαν τὴν ἡμετέραν ῥητορικὴν ἔοικεν ἐλέγχειν. Demosthenes almost alone (in the opinion of Dionysius) contrived to avoid the fault, because he imitated Plato.

122 See the Epistol. of Dion. Halikarn. to Cneius Pompey — De Platone — pp. 755-765.

123 Plato, Menexen. p. 237 seq. Stallbaum, Comm. in Menexenum, pp. 10-11.

124 Plato, Euthydêm. p. 306 A-C.

125 Plato, Epistol. vii. pp. 341-344.

126 Schleiermacher, in his Introduction to the Phædrus, justly characterises this doctrine as genuine Sokratism — “die ächt Sokratische erhabene Verachtung alles Schreibens and alles rednerischen Redens,” p. 70.

127 A remark made by Sextus Empiricus (upon another doctrine which he is discussing) may be applied to this view of Plato — τὸ δὲ λέγειν ὅτι τῇ διομαλισμῷ τῶν πράξεων καταλαμβάνομεν τὸν ἔχοντα τὴν περὶ τὸν βίον τέχνην, ὑπερφθεγγομένων ἔστι τὴν ἀνθρώπων φύσιν, καὶ εὐχομένων μᾶλλον ἢ ἀληθῆ λεγόντων (Pyrrh. Hyp. iii. 244).

128 The historical Sokrates would not allow his oral dialectic process to be called teaching. He expressly says “I have never been the teacher of any one” (Plat. Apol. Sokr. pp. 33 A, 19 E): and he disclaimed the possession of knowledge. Aristotle too considers teaching as a presentation of truths, ready made and supposed to be known, by the teacher to learners, who are bound to believe them, δεῖ γὰρ πιστεύειν τὸν μανθάνοντα. The Platonic Sokrates, in the Phædrus and Symposion, differs from both; he recognises no teaching except the perpetual generation of new thoughts and feelings, by means of stimulating dialectic colloquy, and the revival in the mind thereby of the experience of an antecedent life, during which some communion has been enjoyed with the world of Ideas or Forms.

1 This dramatic introduction is extremely complicated. The whole dialogue, from beginning to end, is recounted by Kephalus of Klazomenæ; who heard it from the Athenian Antiphon — who himself had heard it from Pythodôrus, a friend of Zeno, present when the conversation was held. A string of circumstances are narrated by Kephalus, to explain how he came to wish to hear it, and to find out Antiphon. Plato appears anxious to throw the event back as far as possible into the past, in order to justify the bringing Sokrates into personal communication with Parmenides: for some unfriendly critics tried to make out that the two could not possibly have conversed on philosophy (Athenæus, xi. 505). Plato declares the ages of the persons with remarkable exactness: Parmenides was 65, completely grey-headed, but of noble mien: Zeno about 40, tall and graceful: Sokrates very young. (Plat. Parmen. p. 127 B-C.)

2 I have already given a short account of the Zenonian Dialectic, ch. ii. p. 93 seq.

3 Plato, Parmenid. p. 129 A. οὐ νομίζεις εἶναι αὐτὸ καθ’ αὐτὸ εἶδός τι ὁμοιότητος, καὶ τῷ τοιούτῳ αἶ ἄλλο τι ἐναντίον, ὃ ἔστιν ἀνόμοιον; τούτοιν δὲ δυοῖν ὄντοιν καὶ ἐμὲ καὶ σὲ καὶ τὰ ἄλλα ἃ δὴ πολλὰ καλοῦμεν, μεταλαμβάνειν;

4 Plato, Parmenid. pp. 129-130.

5 Plato, Parmenid. p. 130 A. Ὦ Σώκρατες, ὡς ἄξιος εἶ ἄγασθαι τῆς ὁρμῆς τῆς ἐπὶ τοὺς λόγους· καί μοι εἰπέ, αὐτὸς σὺ οὕτω διῄρησαι ὡς λέγεις, χωρὶς μὲν εἴδη αὐτὰ ἄττα, χωρὶς δὲ τὰ τούτων αὖ μετέχοντα;

6 Plato, Parmenid. p. 130 D. Οὐδαμῶς, φάναι τὸν Σωκράτην, ἀλλὰ ταῦτα μέν γε, ἅπερ ὁρῶμεν, ταῦτα καὶ εἶναι· εἶδος δέ τι αὐτῶν οἰηθῆναι εἶναι μὴ λίαν ᾖ ἄτοπον.

7 Plato, Parmenid. p. 130 E. Νέος γὰρ εἶ ἔτι, καὶ οὕπω σου ἀντείληπται φιλοσοφία ὡς ἕτι ἀντιλήψεται, κατ’ ἐμὴν δόξαν, ὅτε οὐδὲν αὐτῶν ἀτιμάσεις· νῦν δὲ ἔτι πρὸς ἀνθρώπων ἀποβλέπεις δόξας διὰ τὴν ἡλικίαν.

8 Plato, himself, however, occasionally appeals πρὸς ἀνθρώπων δόξας, and becomes ἀτεχνῶς δημήγορος, when it suits his argument; see Gorgias, 494 C.

9 Aristophan. Nubes, 145-170-1490.

10 Plato, Sophist. p. 227 B; Politik. p. 266 D; also Theætêt. p. 174 D.

11 Plato, Parmenid. p. 131. A similar argument, showing the impossibility of such μέθεξις, appears in Sextus Empiric. adv. Arithmeticos, sect. 11-20, p. 334 Fab., p. 724 Bek.

12 Plato, Parmenid. p. 132. Οἶμαι σε ἐκ τοῦ τοιοῦδε ἓν ἕκαστον εἶδος οἴεσθαι εἶναι. Ὅταν πόλλ’ ἄττα μεγάλα σοι δόξῃ εἶναι, μία τις ἴσως δοκεῖ ἰδέα ἡ αὐτὴ εἶναι ἐπὶ πάντα ἰδόντι, ὅθεν ἓν τὸ μέγα ἡγεῖ εἶναι.

13 Plato, Parmenid. p. 132 A. See this process, of comparing the Form with particular objects denominated after the Form, described in a different metaphysical language by Mr. John Stuart Mill, System of Logic, book iv. ch. 2, sect. 3. “As the general conception is itself obtained by a comparison of particular phenomena, so, when obtained, the mode in which we apply it to other phenomena is again by comparison. We compare phenomena with each other to get the conception; and we then compare those and other phenomena with the conception. We get the conception of an animal by comparing different animals, and when we afterwards see a creature resembling an animal, we compare it with our general conception of an animal: and if it agrees with our general conception, we include it in the class. The conception becomes the type of comparison. We may perhaps find that no considerable number of other objects agree with this first general conception: and that we must drop the conception, and beginning again with a different individual case, proceed by fresh comparisons to a different general conception.”

14 Plato, Parmenid. p. 132 B. μὴ τῶν εἰδῶν ἕκαστον ᾖ τούτων νοήμα, καὶ οὐδαμοῦ αὐτῷ προσήκη ἐγγίγνεσθαι ἄλλοθι ἢ ἐν ψυχαῖς.… Τί οὖν; φάναι, ἓν ἕκαστόν ἐστι τῶν νοημάτων, νόημα δὲ οὐδενός; Ἀλλ’ ἀδύνατον, εἰπεῖν. Ἀλλὰ τινός; Ναί. Ὄντος ἢ οὐκ ὄντος; Ὄντος. Οὐχ ἑνός τινος, ὃ ἐπὶ πᾶσιν ἐκεῖνο τὸ νόημα ἐπὸν νοεῖ, μίαν τινὰ οὖσαν ἰδέαν; Ναί.

15 Plato, Parmenid. p. 132 D. οὐκ ἀνάγκη, εἰ τἄλλα φῂ τῶν εἰδῶν μετέχειν, ἢ δοκεῖν σοι ἐκ νοήματα ὄντα ἀνόητα εἶναι; Ἀλλ’ οὐδὲ τοῦτο, φάναι, ἔχει λόγον.

16 Aristotle (Metaphys. A. 991, a. 20) characterises this way of presenting the Platonic Ideas as mere κενολογία and poetical metaphor. See also the remarkable Scholion of Alexander, pp. 574-575, Brandis.

17 Plato, Parmenid. pp. 132-133.

18 Plato, Parmenid. p. 133 E.