Theaetetus
all, which I strongly urge, is the golden chain in Homer, by which
he means the sun, thereby indicating that so long as the sun and the
heavens go round in their orbits, all things human and divine are and
are preserved, but if they were chained up and their motions ceased,
then all things would be destroyed, and, as the saying is, turned upside
down.
THEAETETUS: I believe, Socrates, that you have truly explained his
meaning.
SOCRATES: Then now apply his doctrine to perception, my good friend, and
first of all to vision; that which you call white colour is not in your
eyes, and is not a distinct thing which exists out of them. And you must
not assign any place to it: for if it had position it would be, and be
at rest, and there would be no process of becoming.
THEAETETUS: Then what is colour?
SOCRATES: Let us carry the principle which has just been affirmed, that
nothing is self-existent, and then we shall see that white, black,
and every other colour, arises out of the eye meeting the appropriate
motion, and that what we call a colour is in each case neither the
active nor the passive element, but something which passes between
them, and is peculiar to each percipient; are you quite certain that the
several colours appear to a dog or to any animal whatever as they appear
to you?
THEAETETUS: Far from it.
SOCRATES: Or that anything appears the same to you as to another man?
Are you so profoundly convinced of this? Rather would it not be true
that it never appears exactly the same to you, because you are never
exactly the same?
THEAETETUS: The latter.
SOCRATES: And if that with which I compare myself in size, or which
I apprehend by touch, were great or white or hot, it could not become
different by mere contact with another unless it actually changed; nor
again, if the comparing or apprehending subject were great or white
or hot, could this, when unchanged from within, become changed by any
approximation or affection of any other thing. The fact is that in
our ordinary way of speaking we allow ourselves to be driven into most
ridiculous and wonderful contradictions, as Protagoras and all who take
his line of argument would remark.
THEAETETUS: How? and of what sort do you mean?
SOCRATES: A little instance will sufficiently explain my meaning: Here
are six dice, which are more by a half when compared with four, and
fewer by a half than twelve--they are more and also fewer. How can you
or any one maintain the contrary?
THEAETETUS: Very true.
SOCRATES: Well, then, suppose that Protagoras or some one asks whether
anything can become greater or more if not by increasing, how would you
answer him, Theaetetus?
THEAETETUS: I should say 'No,' Socrates, if I were to speak my mind
in reference to this last question, and if I were not afraid of
contradicting my former answer.
SOCRATES: Capital! excellent! spoken like an oracle, my boy! And if you
reply 'Yes,' there will be a case for Euripides; for our tongue will be
unconvinced, but not our mind. (In allusion to the well-known line of
Euripides, Hippol.: e gloss omomoch e de thren anomotos.)
THEAETETUS: Very true.
SOCRATES: The thoroughbred Sophists, who know all that can be known
about the mind, and argue only out of the superfluity of their wits,
would have had a regular sparring-match over this, and would have
knocked their arguments together finely. But you and I, who have no
professional aims, only desire to see what is the mutual relation of
these principles,--whether they are consistent with each or not.
THEAETETUS: Yes, that would be my desire.
SOCRATES: And mine too. But since this is our feeling, and there is
plenty of time, why should we not calmly and patiently review our own
thoughts, and thoroughly examine and see what these appearances in
us really are? If I am not mistaken, they will be described by us as
follows:--first, that nothing can become greater or less, either in
number or magnitude, while remaining equal to itself--you would agree?
THEAETETUS: Yes.
SOCRATES: Secondly, that without addition or subtraction there is no
increase or diminution of anything, but only equality.
THEAETETUS: Quite true.
SOCRATES: Thirdly, that what was not before cannot be afterwards,
without becoming and having become.
THEAETETUS: Yes, truly.
SOCRATES: These three axioms, if I am not mistaken, are fighting with
one another in our minds in the case of the dice, or, again, in such a
case as this--if I were to say that I, who am of a certain height and
taller than you, may within a year, without gaining or losing in height,
be not so tall--not that I should have lost, but that you would have
increased. In such a case, I am afterwards what I once was not, and yet
I have not become; for I could not have become without becoming, neither
could I have become less without losing somewhat of my height; and I
could give you ten thousand examples of similar contradictions, if
we admit them at all. I believe that you follow me, Theaetetus; for I
suspect that you have thought of these questions before now.
THEAETETUS: Yes, Socrates, and I am amazed when I think of them; by the
Gods I am! and I want to know what on earth they mean; and there are
times when my head quite swims with the contemplation of them.
SOCRATES: I see, my dear Theaetetus, that Theodorus had a true insight
into your nature when he said that you were a philosopher, for wonder
is the feeling of a philosopher, and philosophy begins in wonder. He was
not a bad genealogist who said that Iris (the messenger of heaven)
is the child of Thaumas (wonder). But do you begin to see what is the
explanation of this perplexity on the hypothesis which we attribute to
Protagoras?
THEAETETUS: Not as yet.
SOCRATES: Then you will be obliged to me if I help you to unearth the
hidden 'truth' of a famous man or school.
THEAETETUS: To be sure, I shall be very much obliged.
SOCRATES: Take a look round, then, and see that none of the uninitiated
are listening. Now by the uninitiated I mean the people who believe in
nothing but what they can grasp in their hands, and who will not allow
that action or generation or anything invisible can have real existence.
THEAETETUS: Yes, indeed, Socrates, they are very hard and impenetrable
mortals.
SOCRATES: Yes, my boy, outer barbarians. Far more ingenious are the
brethren whose mysteries I am about to reveal to you. Their first
principle is, that all is motion, and upon this all the affections of
which we were just now speaking are supposed to depend: there is nothing
but motion, which has two forms, one active and the other passive, both
in endless number; and out of the union and friction of them there is
generated a progeny endless in number, having two forms, sense and the
object of sense, which are ever breaking forth and coming to the birth
at the same moment. The senses are variously named hearing, seeing,
smelling; there is the sense of heat, cold, pleasure, pain, desire,
fear, and many more which have names, as well as innumerable others
which are without them; each has its kindred object,--each variety
of colour has a corresponding variety of sight, and so with sound and
hearing, and with the rest of the senses and the objects akin to them.
Do you see, Theaetetus, the bearings of this tale on the preceding
argument?
THEAETETUS: Indeed I do not.
SOCRATES: Then attend, and I will try to finish the story. The purport
is that all these things are in motion, as I was saying, and that this
motion is of two kinds, a slower and a quicker; and the slower elements
have their motions in the same place and with reference to things near
them, and so they beget; but what is begotten is swifter, for it
is carried to fro, and moves from place to place. Apply this to
sense:--When the eye and the appropriate object meet together and give
birth to whiteness and the sensation connatural with it, which could not
have been given by either of them going elsewhere, then, while the
sight is flowing from the eye, whiteness proceeds from the object which
combines in producing the colour; and so the eye is fulfilled with
sight, and really sees, and becomes, not sight, but a seeing eye;
and the object which combined to form the colour is fulfilled with
whiteness, and becomes not whiteness but a white thing, whether wood or
stone or whatever the object may be which happens to be coloured white.
And this is true of all sensible objects, hard, warm, and the like,
which are similarly to be regarded, as I was saying before, not as
having any absolute existence, but as being all of them of whatever kind
generated by motion in their intercourse with one another; for of the
agent and patient, as existing in separation, no trustworthy conception,
as they say, can be formed, for the agent has no existence until united
with the patient, and the patient has no existence until united with
the agent; and that which by uniting with something becomes an agent, by
meeting with some other thing is converted into a patient. And from
all these considerations, as I said at first, there arises a general
reflection, that there is no one self-existent thing, but everything
is becoming and in relation; and being must be altogether abolished,
although from habit and ignorance we are compelled even in this
discussion to retain the use of the term. But great philosophers tell us
that we are not to allow either the word 'something,' or 'belonging to
something,' or 'to me,' or 'this,' or 'that,' or any other detaining
name to be used, in the language of nature all things are being created
and destroyed, coming into being and passing into new forms; nor can any
name fix or detain them; he who attempts to fix them is easily refuted.
And this should be the way of speaking, not only of particulars but
of aggregates; such aggregates as are expressed in the word 'man,' or
'stone,' or any name of an animal or of a class. O Theaetetus, are not
these speculations sweet as honey? And do you not like the taste of them
in the mouth?
THEAETETUS: I do not know what to say, Socrates; for, indeed, I cannot
make out whether you are giving your own opinion or only wanting to draw
me out.
SOCRATES: You forget, my friend, that I neither know, nor profess to
know, anything of these matters; you are the person who is in labour, I
am the barren midwife; and this is why I soothe you, and offer you one
good thing after another, that you may taste them. And I hope that I may
at last help to bring your own opinion into the light of day: when this
has been accomplished, then we will determine whether what you have
brought forth is only a wind-egg or a real and genuine birth. Therefore,
keep up your spirits, and answer like a man what you think.
THEAETETUS: Ask me.
SOCRATES: Then once more: Is it your opinion that nothing is but what
becomes?--the good and the noble, as well as all the other things which
we were just now mentioning?
THEAETETUS: When I hear you discoursing in this style, I think that
there is a great deal in what you say, and I am very ready to assent.
SOCRATES: Let us not leave the argument unfinished, then; for there
still remains to be considered an objection which may be raised about
dreams and diseases, in particular about madness, and the various
illusions of hearing and sight, or of other senses. For you know that
in all these cases the esse-percipi theory appears to be unmistakably
refuted, since in dreams and illusions we certainly have false
perceptions; and far from saying that everything is which appears, we
should rather say that nothing is which appears.
THEAETETUS: Very true, Socrates.
SOCRATES: But then, my boy, how can any one contend that knowledge is
perception, or that to every man what appears is?