Theaetetus
consciousness of freedom without the reality. It may be regarded as a
higher degree of knowledge when we not only know but know that we know.
Consciousness is opposed to habit, inattention, sleep, death. It may be
illustrated by its derivative conscience, which speaks to men, not only
of right and wrong in the abstract, but of right and wrong actions in
reference to themselves and their circumstances.
f. Association is another of the ever-present phenomena of the human
mind. We speak of the laws of association, but this is an expression
which is confusing, for the phenomenon itself is of the most capricious
and uncertain sort. It may be briefly described as follows. The simplest
case of association is that of sense. When we see or hear separately
one of two things, which we have previously seen or heard together, the
occurrence of the one has a tendency to suggest the other. So the sight
or name of a house may recall to our minds the memory of those who once
lived there. Like may recall like and everything its opposite. The parts
of a whole, the terms of a series, objects lying near, words having
a customary order stick together in the mind. A word may bring back a
passage of poetry or a whole system of philosophy; from one end of the
world or from one pole of knowledge we may travel to the other in an
indivisible instant. The long train of association by which we pass from
one point to the other, involving every sort of complex relation, so
sudden, so accidental, is one of the greatest wonders of mind...This
process however is not always continuous, but often intermittent: we can
think of things in isolation as well as in association; we do not mean
that they must all hang from one another. We can begin again after an
interval of rest or vacancy, as a new train of thought suddenly arises,
as, for example, when we wake of a morning or after violent exercise.
Time, place, the same colour or sound or smell or taste, will often
call up some thought or recollection either accidentally or naturally
associated with them. But it is equally noticeable that the new thought
may occur to us, we cannot tell how or why, by the spontaneous action of
the mind itself or by the latent influence of the body. Both science and
poetry are made up of associations or recollections, but we must observe
also that the mind is not wholly dependent on them, having also the
power of origination.
There are other processes of the mind which it is good for us to study
when we are at home and by ourselves,--the manner in which thought
passes into act, the conflict of passion and reason in many stages, the
transition from sensuality to love or sentiment and from earthly love to
heavenly, the slow and silent influence of habit, which little by little
changes the nature of men, the sudden change of the old nature of man
into a new one, wrought by shame or by some other overwhelming impulse.
These are the greater phenomena of mind, and he who has thought of
them for himself will live and move in a better-ordered world, and will
himself be a better-ordered man.
At the other end of the 'globus intellectualis,' nearest, not to earth
and sense, but to heaven and God, is the personality of man, by which
he holds communion with the unseen world. Somehow, he knows not how,
somewhere, he knows not where, under this higher aspect of his being he
grasps the ideas of God, freedom and immortality; he sees the forms of
truth, holiness and love, and is satisfied with them. No account of the
mind can be complete which does not admit the reality or the possibility
of another life. Whether regarded as an ideal or as a fact, the highest
part of man's nature and that in which it seems most nearly to approach
the divine, is a phenomenon which exists, and must therefore be included
within the domain of Psychology.
IV. We admit that there is no perfect or ideal Psychology. It is not a
whole in the same sense in which Chemistry, Physiology, or Mathematics
are wholes: that is to say, it is not a connected unity of knowledge.
Compared with the wealth of other sciences, it rests upon a small number
of facts; and when we go beyond these, we fall into conjectures and
verbal discussions. The facts themselves are disjointed; the causes of
them run up into other sciences, and we have no means of tracing
them from one to the other. Yet it may be true of this, as of other
beginnings of knowledge, that the attempt to put them together has
tested the truth of them, and given a stimulus to the enquiry into them.
Psychology should be natural, not technical. It should take the form
which is the most intelligible to the common understanding, because it
has to do with common things, which are familiar to us all. It should
aim at no more than every reflecting man knows or can easily verify for
himself. When simple and unpretentious, it is least obscured by words,
least liable to fall under the influence of Physiology or Metaphysic.
It should argue, not from exceptional, but from ordinary phenomena. It
should be careful to distinguish the higher and the lower elements of
human nature, and not allow one to be veiled in the disguise of the
other, lest through the slippery nature of language we should pass
imperceptibly from good to evil, from nature in the higher to nature in
the neutral or lower sense. It should assert consistently the unity of
the human faculties, the unity of knowledge, the unity of God and law.
The difference between the will and the affections and between the
reason and the passions should also be recognized by it.
Its sphere is supposed to be narrowed to the individual soul; but it
cannot be thus separated in fact. It goes back to the beginnings of
things, to the first growth of language and philosophy, and to the whole
science of man. There can be no truth or completeness in any study of
the mind which is confined to the individual. The nature of language,
though not the whole, is perhaps at present the most important element
in our knowledge of it. It is not impossible that some numerical laws
may be found to have a place in the relations of mind and matter, as in
the rest of nature. The old Pythagorean fancy that the soul 'is or has
in it harmony' may in some degree be realized. But the indications
of such numerical harmonies are faint; either the secret of them lies
deeper than we can discover, or nature may have rebelled against the use
of them in the composition of men and animals. It is with qualitative
rather than with quantitative differences that we are concerned
in Psychology. The facts relating to the mind which we obtain from
Physiology are negative rather than positive. They show us, not the
processes of mental action, but the conditions of which when deprived
the mind ceases to act. It would seem as if the time had not yet arrived
when we can hope to add anything of much importance to our knowledge
of the mind from the investigations of the microscope. The elements of
Psychology can still only be learnt from reflections on ourselves, which
interpret and are also interpreted by our experience of others. The
history of language, of philosophy, and religion, the great thoughts or
inventions or discoveries which move mankind, furnish the larger moulds
or outlines in which the human mind has been cast. From these the
individual derives so much as he is able to comprehend or has the
opportunity of learning.
THEAETETUS
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: Socrates, Theodorus, Theaetetus.
Euclid and Terpsion meet in front of Euclid's house in Megara; they
enter the house, and the dialogue is read to them by a servant.
EUCLID: Have you only just arrived from the country, Terpsion?
TERPSION: No, I came some time ago: and I have been in the Agora looking
for you, and wondering that I could not find you.
EUCLID: But I was not in the city.
TERPSION: Where then?
EUCLID: As I was going down to the harbour, I met Theaetetus--he was
being carried up to Athens from the army at Corinth.
TERPSION: Was he alive or dead?
EUCLID: He was scarcely alive, for he has been badly wounded; but he was
suffering even more from the sickness which has broken out in the army.
TERPSION: The dysentery, you mean?
EUCLID: Yes.
TERPSION: Alas! what a loss he will be!
EUCLID: Yes, Terpsion, he is a noble fellow; only to-day I heard some
people highly praising his behaviour in this very battle.
TERPSION: No wonder; I should rather be surprised at hearing anything
else of him. But why did he go on, instead of stopping at Megara?
EUCLID: He wanted to get home: although I entreated and advised him to
remain, he would not listen to me; so I set him on his way, and turned
back, and then I remembered what Socrates had said of him, and thought
how remarkably this, like all his predictions, had been fulfilled.
I believe that he had seen him a little before his own death, when
Theaetetus was a youth, and he had a memorable conversation with him,
which he repeated to me when I came to Athens; he was full of admiration
of his genius, and said that he would most certainly be a great man, if
he lived.
TERPSION: The prophecy has certainly been fulfilled; but what was the
conversation? can you tell me?
EUCLID: No, indeed, not offhand; but I took notes of it as soon as I got
home; these I filled up from memory, writing them out at leisure; and
whenever I went to Athens, I asked Socrates about any point which I had
forgotten, and on my return I made corrections; thus I have nearly the
whole conversation written down.
TERPSION: I remember--you told me; and I have always been intending to
ask you to show me the writing, but have put off doing so; and now, why
should we not read it through?--having just come from the country, I
should greatly like to rest.
EUCLID: I too shall be very glad of a rest, for I went with Theaetetus
as far as Erineum. Let us go in, then, and, while we are reposing, the
servant shall read to us.
TERPSION: Very good.
EUCLID: Here is the roll, Terpsion; I may observe that I have introduced
Socrates, not as narrating to me, but as actually conversing with the
persons whom he mentioned--these were, Theodorus the geometrician (of
Cyrene), and Theaetetus. I have omitted, for the sake of convenience,
the interlocutory words 'I said,' 'I remarked,' which he used when he
spoke of himself, and again, 'he agreed,' or 'disagreed,' in the answer,
lest the repetition of them should be troublesome.
TERPSION: Quite right, Euclid.
EUCLID: And now, boy, you may take the roll and read.
EUCLID'S SERVANT READS.
SOCRATES: If I cared enough about the Cyrenians, Theodorus, I would ask
you whether there are any rising geometricians or philosophers in that
part of the world. But I am more interested in our own Athenian youth,
and I would rather know who among them are likely to do well. I observe
them as far as I can myself, and I enquire of any one whom they follow,
and I see that a great many of them follow you, in which they are quite
right, considering your eminence in geometry and in other ways. Tell me
then, if you have met with any one who is good for anything.
THEODORUS: Yes, Socrates, I have become acquainted with one very
remarkable Athenian youth, whom I commend to you as well worthy of your
attention. If he had been a beauty I should have been afraid to praise
him, lest you should suppose that I was in love with him; but he is no
beauty, and you must not be offended if I say that he is very like you;
for he has a snub nose and projecting eyes, although these features are
less marked in him than in you. Seeing, then, that he has no personal
attractions, I may freely say, that in all my acquaintance, which is
very large, I never knew any one who was his equal in natural gifts: for