Sophist
STRANGER: When a person supposes that he knows, and does not know; this
appears to be the great source of all the errors of the intellect.
THEAETETUS: True.
STRANGER: And this, if I am not mistaken, is the kind of ignorance which
specially earns the title of stupidity.
THEAETETUS: True.
STRANGER: What name, then, shall be given to the sort of instruction
which gets rid of this?
THEAETETUS: The instruction which you mean, Stranger, is, I should
imagine, not the teaching of handicraft arts, but what, thanks to us,
has been termed education in this part the world.
STRANGER: Yes, Theaetetus, and by nearly all Hellenes. But we have still
to consider whether education admits of any further division.
THEAETETUS: We have.
STRANGER: I think that there is a point at which such a division is
possible.
THEAETETUS: Where?
STRANGER: Of education, one method appears to be rougher, and another
smoother.
THEAETETUS: How are we to distinguish the two?
STRANGER: There is the time-honoured mode which our fathers commonly
practised towards their sons, and which is still adopted by many--either
of roughly reproving their errors, or of gently advising them;
which varieties may be correctly included under the general term of
admonition.
THEAETETUS: True.
STRANGER: But whereas some appear to have arrived at the conclusion that
all ignorance is involuntary, and that no one who thinks himself wise is
willing to learn any of those things in which he is conscious of his
own cleverness, and that the admonitory sort of instruction gives much
trouble and does little good--
THEAETETUS: There they are quite right.
STRANGER: Accordingly, they set to work to eradicate the spirit of
conceit in another way.
THEAETETUS: In what way?
STRANGER: They cross-examine a man's words, when he thinks that he is
saying something and is really saying nothing, and easily convict him
of inconsistencies in his opinions; these they then collect by the
dialectical process, and placing them side by side, show that they
contradict one another about the same things, in relation to the same
things, and in the same respect. He, seeing this, is angry with himself,
and grows gentle towards others, and thus is entirely delivered from
great prejudices and harsh notions, in a way which is most amusing to
the hearer, and produces the most lasting good effect on the person who
is the subject of the operation. For as the physician considers that
the body will receive no benefit from taking food until the internal
obstacles have been removed, so the purifier of the soul is conscious
that his patient will receive no benefit from the application of
knowledge until he is refuted, and from refutation learns modesty; he
must be purged of his prejudices first and made to think that he knows
only what he knows, and no more.
THEAETETUS: That is certainly the best and wisest state of mind.
STRANGER: For all these reasons, Theaetetus, we must admit that
refutation is the greatest and chiefest of purifications, and he who has
not been refuted, though he be the Great King himself, is in an awful
state of impurity; he is uninstructed and deformed in those things in
which he who would be truly blessed ought to be fairest and purest.
THEAETETUS: Very true.
STRANGER: And who are the ministers of this art? I am afraid to say the
Sophists.
THEAETETUS: Why?
STRANGER: Lest we should assign to them too high a prerogative.
THEAETETUS: Yet the Sophist has a certain likeness to our minister of
purification.
STRANGER: Yes, the same sort of likeness which a wolf, who is the
fiercest of animals, has to a dog, who is the gentlest. But he who
would not be found tripping, ought to be very careful in this matter
of comparisons, for they are most slippery things. Nevertheless, let us
assume that the Sophists are the men. I say this provisionally, for I
think that the line which divides them will be marked enough if proper
care is taken.
THEAETETUS: Likely enough.
STRANGER: Let us grant, then, that from the discerning art comes
purification, and from purification let there be separated off a
part which is concerned with the soul; of this mental purification
instruction is a portion, and of instruction education, and of
education, that refutation of vain conceit which has been discovered
in the present argument; and let this be called by you and me the
nobly-descended art of Sophistry.
THEAETETUS: Very well; and yet, considering the number of forms in which
he has presented himself, I begin to doubt how I can with any truth or
confidence describe the real nature of the Sophist.
STRANGER: You naturally feel perplexed; and yet I think that he must
be still more perplexed in his attempt to escape us, for as the proverb
says, when every way is blocked, there is no escape; now, then, is the
time of all others to set upon him.
THEAETETUS: True.
STRANGER: First let us wait a moment and recover breath, and while we
are resting, we may reckon up in how many forms he has appeared. In
the first place, he was discovered to be a paid hunter after wealth and
youth.
THEAETETUS: Yes.
STRANGER: In the second place, he was a merchant in the goods of the
soul.
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
STRANGER: In the third place, he has turned out to be a retailer of the
same sort of wares.
THEAETETUS: Yes; and in the fourth place, he himself manufactured the
learned wares which he sold.
STRANGER: Quite right; I will try and remember the fifth myself. He
belonged to the fighting class, and was further distinguished as a hero
of debate, who professed the eristic art.
THEAETETUS: True.
STRANGER: The sixth point was doubtful, and yet we at last agreed
that he was a purger of souls, who cleared away notions obstructive to
knowledge.
THEAETETUS: Very true.
STRANGER: Do you not see that when the professor of any art has one
name and many kinds of knowledge, there must be something wrong? The
multiplicity of names which is applied to him shows that the common
principle to which all these branches of knowledge are tending, is not
understood.
THEAETETUS: I should imagine this to be the case.
STRANGER: At any rate we will understand him, and no indolence shall
prevent us. Let us begin again, then, and re-examine some of our
statements concerning the Sophist; there was one thing which appeared to
me especially characteristic of him.
THEAETETUS: To what are you referring?
STRANGER: We were saying of him, if I am not mistaken, that he was a
disputer?
THEAETETUS: We were.
STRANGER: And does he not also teach others the art of disputation?
THEAETETUS: Certainly he does.
STRANGER: And about what does he profess that he teaches men to dispute?
To begin at the beginning--Does he make them able to dispute about
divine things, which are invisible to men in general?
THEAETETUS: At any rate, he is said to do so.
STRANGER: And what do you say of the visible things in heaven and earth,
and the like?
THEAETETUS: Certainly he disputes, and teaches to dispute about them.
STRANGER: Then, again, in private conversation, when any universal
assertion is made about generation and essence, we know that such
persons are tremendous argufiers, and are able to impart their own skill
to others.
THEAETETUS: Undoubtedly.
STRANGER: And do they not profess to make men able to dispute about law
and about politics in general?
THEAETETUS: Why, no one would have anything to say to them, if they did
not make these professions.
STRANGER: In all and every art, what the craftsman ought to say in
answer to any question is written down in a popular form, and he who
likes may learn.
THEAETETUS: I suppose that you are referring to the precepts of
Protagoras about wrestling and the other arts?
STRANGER: Yes, my friend, and about a good many other things. In a word,
is not the art of disputation a power of disputing about all things?
THEAETETUS: Certainly; there does not seem to be much which is left out.
STRANGER: But oh! my dear youth, do you suppose this possible? for
perhaps your young eyes may see things which to our duller sight do not
appear.
THEAETETUS: To what are you alluding? I do not think that I understand
your present question.
STRANGER: I ask whether anybody can understand all things.
THEAETETUS: Happy would mankind be if such a thing were possible!
SOCRATES: But how can any one who is ignorant dispute in a rational
manner against him who knows?
THEAETETUS: He cannot.
STRANGER: Then why has the sophistical art such a mysterious power?
THEAETETUS: To what do you refer?
STRANGER: How do the Sophists make young men believe in their supreme
and universal wisdom? For if they neither disputed nor were thought
to dispute rightly, or being thought to do so were deemed no wiser for
their controversial skill, then, to quote your own observation, no one
would give them money or be willing to learn their art.
THEAETETUS: They certainly would not.
STRANGER: But they are willing.
THEAETETUS: Yes, they are.
STRANGER: Yes, and the reason, as I should imagine, is that they are
supposed to have knowledge of those things about which they dispute?
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
STRANGER: And they dispute about all things?
THEAETETUS: True.
STRANGER: And therefore, to their disciples, they appear to be all-wise?
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
STRANGER: But they are not; for that was shown to be impossible.
THEAETETUS: Impossible, of course.
STRANGER: Then the Sophist has been shown to have a sort of conjectural
or apparent knowledge only of all things, which is not the truth?
THEAETETUS: Exactly; no better description of him could be given.
STRANGER: Let us now take an illustration, which will still more clearly
explain his nature.
THEAETETUS: What is it?
STRANGER: I will tell you, and you shall answer me, giving your very
closest attention. Suppose that a person were to profess, not that he
could speak or dispute, but that he knew how to make and do all things,
by a single art.
THEAETETUS: All things?
STRANGER: I see that you do not understand the first word that I utter,
for you do not understand the meaning of 'all.'
THEAETETUS: No, I do not.
STRANGER: Under all things, I include you and me, and also animals and
trees.
THEAETETUS: What do you mean?
STRANGER: Suppose a person to say that he will make you and me, and all
creatures.
THEAETETUS: What would he mean by 'making'? He cannot be a
husbandman;--for you said that he is a maker of animals.
STRANGER: Yes; and I say that he is also the maker of the sea, and the
earth, and the heavens, and the gods, and of all other things; and,
further, that he can make them in no time, and sell them for a few
pence.
THEAETETUS: That must be a jest.
STRANGER: And when a man says that he knows all things, and can teach
them to another at a small cost, and in a short time, is not that a
jest?
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
STRANGER: And is there any more artistic or graceful form of jest than
imitation?
THEAETETUS: Certainly not; and imitation is a very comprehensive term,
which includes under one class the most diverse sorts of things.
STRANGER: We know, of course, that he who professes by one art to
make all things is really a painter, and by the painter's art makes
resemblances of real things which have the same name with them; and
he can deceive the less intelligent sort of young children, to whom
he shows his pictures at a distance, into the belief that he has the
absolute power of making whatever he likes.
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
STRANGER: And may there not be supposed to be an imitative art of
reasoning? Is it not possible to enchant the hearts of young men by
words poured through their ears, when they are still at a distance from