Theaetetus
when the report of questions asked by you was brought to me; but I can
neither persuade myself that I have a satisfactory answer to give, nor
hear of any one who answers as you would have him; and I cannot shake
off a feeling of anxiety.
SOCRATES: These are the pangs of labour, my dear Theaetetus; you have
something within you which you are bringing to the birth.
THEAETETUS: I do not know, Socrates; I only say what I feel.
SOCRATES: And have you never heard, simpleton, that I am the son of a
midwife, brave and burly, whose name was Phaenarete?
THEAETETUS: Yes, I have.
SOCRATES: And that I myself practise midwifery?
THEAETETUS: No, never.
SOCRATES: Let me tell you that I do though, my friend: but you must not
reveal the secret, as the world in general have not found me out; and
therefore they only say of me, that I am the strangest of mortals and
drive men to their wits' end. Did you ever hear that too?
THEAETETUS: Yes.
SOCRATES: Shall I tell you the reason?
THEAETETUS: By all means.
SOCRATES: Bear in mind the whole business of the midwives, and then you
will see my meaning better:--No woman, as you are probably aware, who is
still able to conceive and bear, attends other women, but only those who
are past bearing.
THEAETETUS: Yes, I know.
SOCRATES: The reason of this is said to be that Artemis--the goddess of
childbirth--is not a mother, and she honours those who are like herself;
but she could not allow the barren to be midwives, because human nature
cannot know the mystery of an art without experience; and therefore she
assigned this office to those who are too old to bear.
THEAETETUS: I dare say.
SOCRATES: And I dare say too, or rather I am absolutely certain, that
the midwives know better than others who is pregnant and who is not?
THEAETETUS: Very true.
SOCRATES: And by the use of potions and incantations they are able to
arouse the pangs and to soothe them at will; they can make those bear
who have a difficulty in bearing, and if they think fit they can smother
the embryo in the womb.
THEAETETUS: They can.
SOCRATES: Did you ever remark that they are also most cunning
matchmakers, and have a thorough knowledge of what unions are likely to
produce a brave brood?
THEAETETUS: No, never.
SOCRATES: Then let me tell you that this is their greatest pride, more
than cutting the umbilical cord. And if you reflect, you will see that
the same art which cultivates and gathers in the fruits of the earth,
will be most likely to know in what soils the several plants or seeds
should be deposited.
THEAETETUS: Yes, the same art.
SOCRATES: And do you suppose that with women the case is otherwise?
THEAETETUS: I should think not.
SOCRATES: Certainly not; but midwives are respectable women who have a
character to lose, and they avoid this department of their profession,
because they are afraid of being called procuresses, which is a name
given to those who join together man and woman in an unlawful and
unscientific way; and yet the true midwife is also the true and only
matchmaker.
THEAETETUS: Clearly.
SOCRATES: Such are the midwives, whose task is a very important one, but
not so important as mine; for women do not bring into the world at one
time real children, and at another time counterfeits which are with
difficulty distinguished from them; if they did, then the discernment of
the true and false birth would be the crowning achievement of the art of
midwifery--you would think so?
THEAETETUS: Indeed I should.
SOCRATES: Well, my art of midwifery is in most respects like theirs; but
differs, in that I attend men and not women; and look after their souls
when they are in labour, and not after their bodies: and the triumph of
my art is in thoroughly examining whether the thought which the mind of
the young man brings forth is a false idol or a noble and true birth.
And like the midwives, I am barren, and the reproach which is often
made against me, that I ask questions of others and have not the wit to
answer them myself, is very just--the reason is, that the god compels me
to be a midwife, but does not allow me to bring forth. And therefore
I am not myself at all wise, nor have I anything to show which is
the invention or birth of my own soul, but those who converse with me
profit. Some of them appear dull enough at first, but afterwards, as
our acquaintance ripens, if the god is gracious to them, they all make
astonishing progress; and this in the opinion of others as well as in
their own. It is quite clear that they never learned anything from me;
the many fine discoveries to which they cling are of their own making.
But to me and the god they owe their delivery. And the proof of my words
is, that many of them in their ignorance, either in their self-conceit
despising me, or falling under the influence of others, have gone away
too soon; and have not only lost the children of whom I had previously
delivered them by an ill bringing up, but have stifled whatever else
they had in them by evil communications, being fonder of lies and shams
than of the truth; and they have at last ended by seeing themselves, as
others see them, to be great fools. Aristeides, the son of Lysimachus,
is one of them, and there are many others. The truants often return to
me, and beg that I would consort with them again--they are ready to
go to me on their knees--and then, if my familiar allows, which is not
always the case, I receive them, and they begin to grow again. Dire
are the pangs which my art is able to arouse and to allay in those who
consort with me, just like the pangs of women in childbirth; night and
day they are full of perplexity and travail which is even worse than
that of the women. So much for them. And there are others, Theaetetus,
who come to me apparently having nothing in them; and as I know that
they have no need of my art, I coax them into marrying some one, and
by the grace of God I can generally tell who is likely to do them good.
Many of them I have given away to Prodicus, and many to other inspired
sages. I tell you this long story, friend Theaetetus, because I suspect,
as indeed you seem to think yourself, that you are in labour--great with
some conception. Come then to me, who am a midwife's son and myself a
midwife, and do your best to answer the questions which I will ask you.
And if I abstract and expose your first-born, because I discover upon
inspection that the conception which you have formed is a vain shadow,
do not quarrel with me on that account, as the manner of women is when
their first children are taken from them. For I have actually known some
who were ready to bite me when I deprived them of a darling folly; they
did not perceive that I acted from goodwill, not knowing that no god is
the enemy of man--that was not within the range of their ideas; neither
am I their enemy in all this, but it would be wrong for me to admit
falsehood, or to stifle the truth. Once more, then, Theaetetus, I repeat
my old question, 'What is knowledge?'--and do not say that you cannot
tell; but quit yourself like a man, and by the help of God you will be
able to tell.
THEAETETUS: At any rate, Socrates, after such an exhortation I should be
ashamed of not trying to do my best. Now he who knows perceives what he
knows, and, as far as I can see at present, knowledge is perception.
SOCRATES: Bravely said, boy; that is the way in which you should express
your opinion. And now, let us examine together this conception of yours,
and see whether it is a true birth or a mere wind-egg:--You say that
knowledge is perception?
THEAETETUS: Yes.
SOCRATES: Well, you have delivered yourself of a very important doctrine
about knowledge; it is indeed the opinion of Protagoras, who has another
way of expressing it. Man, he says, is the measure of all things, of the
existence of things that are, and of the non-existence of things that
are not:--You have read him?
THEAETETUS: O yes, again and again.
SOCRATES: Does he not say that things are to you such as they appear to
you, and to me such as they appear to me, and that you and I are men?
THEAETETUS: Yes, he says so.
SOCRATES: A wise man is not likely to talk nonsense. Let us try to
understand him: the same wind is blowing, and yet one of us may be cold
and the other not, or one may be slightly and the other very cold?
THEAETETUS: Quite true.
SOCRATES: Now is the wind, regarded not in relation to us but
absolutely, cold or not; or are we to say, with Protagoras, that the
wind is cold to him who is cold, and not to him who is not?
THEAETETUS: I suppose the last.
SOCRATES: Then it must appear so to each of them?
THEAETETUS: Yes.
SOCRATES: And 'appears to him' means the same as 'he perceives.'
THEAETETUS: True.
SOCRATES: Then appearing and perceiving coincide in the case of hot and
cold, and in similar instances; for things appear, or may be supposed to
be, to each one such as he perceives them?
THEAETETUS: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then perception is always of existence, and being the same as
knowledge is unerring?
THEAETETUS: Clearly.
SOCRATES: In the name of the Graces, what an almighty wise man
Protagoras must have been! He spoke these things in a parable to the
common herd, like you and me, but told the truth, 'his Truth,' (In
allusion to a book of Protagoras' which bore this title.) in secret to
his own disciples.
THEAETETUS: What do you mean, Socrates?
SOCRATES: I am about to speak of a high argument, in which all things
are said to be relative; you cannot rightly call anything by any name,
such as great or small, heavy or light, for the great will be small and
the heavy light--there is no single thing or quality, but out of motion
and change and admixture all things are becoming relatively to one
another, which 'becoming' is by us incorrectly called being, but is
really becoming, for nothing ever is, but all things are becoming.
Summon all philosophers--Protagoras, Heracleitus, Empedocles, and the
rest of them, one after another, and with the exception of Parmenides
they will agree with you in this. Summon the great masters of either
kind of poetry--Epicharmus, the prince of Comedy, and Homer of Tragedy;
when the latter sings of
'Ocean whence sprang the gods, and mother Tethys,'
does he not mean that all things are the offspring, of flux and motion?
THEAETETUS: I think so.
SOCRATES: And who could take up arms against such a great army having
Homer for its general, and not appear ridiculous? (Compare Cratylus.)
THEAETETUS: Who indeed, Socrates?
SOCRATES: Yes, Theaetetus; and there are plenty of other proofs
which will show that motion is the source of what is called being and
becoming, and inactivity of not-being and destruction; for fire and
warmth, which are supposed to be the parent and guardian of all other
things, are born of movement and of friction, which is a kind of
motion;--is not this the origin of fire?
THEAETETUS: It is.
SOCRATES: And the race of animals is generated in the same way?
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And is not the bodily habit spoiled by rest and idleness, but
preserved for a long time by motion and exercise?
THEAETETUS: True.
SOCRATES: And what of the mental habit? Is not the soul informed, and
improved, and preserved by study and attention, which are motions; but
when at rest, which in the soul only means want of attention and study,
is uninformed, and speedily forgets whatever she has learned?
THEAETETUS: True.
SOCRATES: Then motion is a good, and rest an evil, to the soul as well
as to the body?
THEAETETUS: Clearly.
SOCRATES: I may add, that breathless calm, stillness and the like waste
and impair, while wind and storm preserve; and the palmary argument of