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Part V.
Part V.
I should very much like, said Cebes, to hear what you have to say
Then I will tell you, said Socrates. When I was young, Cebes, I had a
prodigious desire to know that department of philosophy which is called
Natural Science; this appeared to me to have lofty aims, as being the science
which has to do with the causes of things, and which teaches why a thing is,
and is created and destroyed; and I was always agitating myself with the
consideration of such questions as these: Is the growth of animals the result
of some decay which the hot and cold principle contracts, as some have said?
Is the blood the element with which we think, or the air, or the fire? or
perhaps nothing of this sort - but the brain may be the originating power of
the perceptions of hearing and sight and smell, and memory and opinion may
come from them, and science may be based on memory and opinion when no longer
in motion, but at rest. And then I went on to examine the decay of them, and
then to the things of heaven and earth, and at last I concluded that I was
wholly incapable of these inquiries, as I will satisfactorily prove to you.
For I was fascinated by them to such a degree that my eyes grew blind to
things that I had seemed to myself, and also to others, to know quite well;
and I forgot what I had before thought to be self - evident, that the growth
of man is the result of eating and drinking; for when by the digestion of food
flesh is added to flesh and bone to bone, and whenever there is an aggregation
of congenial elements, the lesser bulk becomes larger and the small man
greater. Was not that a reasonable notion?
Yes, said Cebes, I think so.
Well; but let me tell you something more. There was a time when I thought
that I understood the meaning of greater and less pretty well; and when I saw
a great man standing by a little one I fancied that one was taller than the
other by a head; or one horse would appear to be greater than another horse:
and still more clearly did I seem to perceive that ten is two more than eight,
and that two cubits are more than one, because two is twice one.
And what is now your notion of such matters? said Cebes.
I should be far enough from imagining, he replied, that I knew the cause
of any of them, indeed I should, for I cannot satisfy myself that when one is
added to one, the one to which the addition is made becomes two, or that the
two units added together make two by reason of the addition. For I cannot
understand how, when separated from the other, each of them was one and not
two, and now, when they are brought together, the mere juxtaposition of them
can be the cause of their becoming two: nor can I understand how the division
of one is the way to make two; for then a different cause would produce the
same effect - as in the former instance the addition and juxtaposition of one
to one was the cause of two, in this the separation and subtraction of one
from the other would be the cause. Nor am I any longer satisfied that I
understand the reason why one or anything else either is generated or
destroyed or is at all, but I have in my mind some confused notion of another
method, and can never admit this.
Then I heard someone who had a book of Anaxagoras, as he said, out of
which he read that mind was the disposer and cause of all, and I was quite
delighted at the notion of this, which appeared admirable, and I said to
myself: If mind is the disposer, mind will dispose all for the best, and put
each particular in the best place; and I argued that if anyone desired to find
out the cause of the generation or destruction or existence of anything, he
must find out what state of being or suffering or doing was best for that
thing, and therefore a man had only to consider the best for himself and
others, and then he would also know the worse, for that the same science
comprised both. And I rejoiced to think that I had found in Anaxagoras a
teacher of the causes of existence such as I desired, and I imagined that he
would tell me first whether the earth is flat or round; and then he would
further explain the cause and the necessity of this, and would teach me the
nature of the best and show that this was best; and if he said that the earth
was in the centre, he would explain that this position was the best, and I
should be satisfied if this were shown to me, and not want any other sort of
cause. And I thought that I would then go and ask him about the sun and moon
and stars, and that he would explain to me their comparative swiftness, and
their returnings and various states, and how their several affections, active
and passive, were all for the best. For I could not imagine that when he spoke
of mind as the disposer of them, he would give any other account of their
being as they are, except that this was best; and I thought when he had
explained to me in detail the cause of each and the cause of all, he would go
on to explain to me what was best for each and what was best for all. I had
hopes which I would not have sold for much, and I seized the books and read
them as fast as I could in my eagerness to know the better and the worse.
What hopes I had formed, and how grievously was I disappointed! As I
proceeded, I found my philosopher altogether forsaking mind or any other
principle of order, but having recourse to air, and ether, and water, and
other eccentricities. I might compare him to a person who began by maintaining
generally that mind is the cause of the actions of Socrates, but who, when he
endeavored to explain the causes of my several actions in detail, went on to
show that I sit here because my body is made up of bones and muscles; and the
bones, as he would say, are hard and have ligaments which divide them, and the
muscles are elastic, and they cover the bones, which have also a covering or
environment of flesh and skin which contains them; and as the bones are lifted
at their joints by the contraction or relaxation of the muscles, I am able to
bend my limbs, and this is why I am sitting here in a curved posture: that is
what he would say, and he would have a similar explanation of my talking to
you, which he would attribute to sound, and air, and hearing, and he would
assign ten thousand other causes of the same sort, forgetting to mention the
true cause, which is that the Athenians have thought fit to condemn me, and
accordingly I have thought it better and more right to remain here and undergo
my sentence; for I am inclined to think that these muscles and bones of mine
would had gone off to Megara or Boeotia - by the dog of Egypt they would, if
they had been guided only by their own idea of what was best, and if I have
not chosen as the better and nobler part, instead of playing truant and
running away, to undergo any punishment which the State inflicts. There is
surely a strange confusion of causes and conditions in all this. It may be
said, indeed, that without bones and muscles and the other parts of the body I
cannot execute my purposes. But to say that I do as I do because of them, and
that this is the way in which mind acts, and not from the choice of the best,
is a very careless and idle mode of speaking. I wonder that they cannot
distinguish the cause from the condition, which the many, feeling about in the
dark, are always mistaking and misnaming. And thus one man makes a vortex all
round and steadies the earth by the heaven; another gives the air as a support
to the earth, which is a sort of broad trough. Any power which in disposing
them as they are disposes them for the best never enters into their minds, nor
do they imagine that there is any superhuman strength in that; they rather
expect to find another Atlas of the world who is stronger and more everlasting
and more containing than the good is, and are clearly of opinion that the
obligatory and containing power of the good is as nothing; and yet this is the
principle which I would fain learn if anyone would teach me. But as I have
failed either to discover myself or to learn of anyone else, the nature of the
best, I will exhibit to you, if you like, what I have found to be the second
best mode of inquiring into the cause.
I should very much like to hear that, he replied.
Socrates proceeded: I thought that as I had failed in the contemplation
of true existence, I ought to be careful that I did not lose the eye of my
soul; as people may injure their bodily eye by observing and gazing on the sun
during an eclipse, unless they take the precaution of only looking at the
image reflected in the water, or in some similar medium. That occurred to me,
and I was afraid that my soul might be blinded altogether if I looked at
things with my eyes or tried by the help of the senses to apprehend them. And
I thought that I had better have recourse to ideas, and seek in them the truth
of existence. I dare say that the simile is not perfect - for I am very far
from admitting that he who contemplates existence through the medium of ideas,
sees them only "through a glass darkly," any more than he who sees them in
their working and effects. However, this was the method which I adopted: I
first assumed some principle which I judged to be the strongest, and then I
affirmed as true whatever seemed to agree with this, whether relating to the
cause or to anything else; and that which disagreed I regarded as untrue. But
I should like to explain my meaning clearly, as I do not think that you
understand me.
No, indeed, replied Cebes, not very well.
There is nothing new, he said, in what I am about to tell you; but only
what I have been always and everywhere repeating in the previous discussion
and on other occasions: I want to show you the nature of that cause which has
occupied my thoughts, and I shall have to go back to those familiar words
which are in the mouth of everyone, and first of all assume that there is an
absolute beauty and goodness and greatness, and the like; grant me this, and I
hope to be able to show you the nature of the cause, and to prove the
immortality of the soul.
Cebes said: You may proceed at once with the proof, as I readily grant
you this.
Well, he said, then I should like to know whether you agree with me in
the next step; for I cannot help thinking that if there be anything beautiful
other than absolute beauty, that can only be beautiful in as far as it
partakes of absolute beauty - and this I should say of everything. Do you
agree in this notion of the cause?
Yes, he said, I agree.
He, proceeded: I know nothing and can understand nothing of any other of
those wise causes which are alleged; and if a person says to me that the bloom
of color, or form, or anything else of that sort is a source of beauty, I
leave all that, which is only confusing to me, and simply and singly, and
perhaps foolishly, hold and am assured in my own mind that nothing makes a
thing beautiful but the presence and participation of beauty in whatever way
or manner obtained; for as to the manner I am uncertain, but I stoutly contend
that by beauty all beautiful things become beautiful. That appears to me to be
the only safe answer that I can give, either to myself or to any other, and to
that I cling, in the persuasion that I shall never be overthrown, and that I
may safely answer to myself or any other that by beauty beautiful things
become beautiful. Do you not agree to that?
Yes, I agree.
And that by greatness only great things become great and greater greater,
and by smallness the less becomes less.
True.
Then if a person remarks that A is taller by a head than B, and B less by
a head than A, you would refuse to admit this, and would stoutly contend that
what you mean is only that the greater is greater by, and by reason of,
greatness, and the less is less only by, or by reason of, smallness; and thus
you would avoid the danger of saying that the greater is greater and the less
less by the measure of the head, which is the same in both, and would also
avoid the monstrous absurdity of supposing that the greater man is greater by
reason of the head, which is small. Would you not be afraid of that?
Indeed, I should, said Cebes, laughing.
In like manner you would be afraid to say that ten exceeded eight by, and
by reason of, two; but would say by, and by reason of, number; or that two
cubits exceed one cubit not by a half, but by magnitude? - that is what you
would say, for there is the same danger in both cases.
Very true, he said.
Again, would you not be cautious of affirming that the addition of one to
one, or the division of one, is the cause of two? And you would loudly
asseverate that you know of no way in which anything comes into existence
except by participation in its own proper essence, and consequently, as far as
you know, the only cause of two is the participation in duality; that is the
way to make two, and the participation in one is the way to make one. You
would say: I will let alone puzzles of division and addition - wiser heads
than mine may answer them; inexperienced as I am, and ready to start, as the
proverb says, at my own shadow, I cannot afford to give up the sure ground of
a principle. And if anyone assails you there, you would not mind him, or
answer him until you had seen whether the consequences which follow agree with
one another or not, and when you are further required to give an explanation
of this principle, you would go on to assume a higher principle, and the best
of the higher ones, until you found a resting - place; but you would not
refuse the principle and the consequences in your reasoning like the Eristics
- at least if you wanted to discover real existence. Not that this confusion
signifies to them who never care or think about the matter at all, for they
have the wit to be well pleased with themselves, however great may be the
turmoil of their ideas. But you, if you are a philosopher, will, I believe, do
as I say.
What you say is most true, said Simmias and Cebes, both speaking at once.
Ech. Yes, Phaedo; and I don`t wonder at their assenting. Anyone who has
the least sense will acknowledge the wonderful clearness of Socrates`
reasoning.
Phaed. Certainly, Echecrates; and that was the feeling of the whole
company at the time.
Ech. Yes, and equally of ourselves, who were not of the company, and are
now listening to your recital. But what followed?
Phaed. After all this was admitted, and they had agreed about the
existence of ideas and the participation in them of the other things which
derive their names from them, Socrates, if I remember rightly, said: -
This is your way of speaking; and yet when you say that Simmias is
greater than Socrates and less than Phaedo, do you not predicate of Simmias
both greatness and smallness?
Yes, I do.
But still you allow that Simmias does not really exceed Socrates, as the
words may seem to imply, because he is Simmias, but by reason of the size
which he has; just as Simmias does not exceed Socrates because he is Simmias,
any more than because Socrates is Socrates, but because he has smallness when
compared with the greatness of Simmias?
True.
And if Phaedo exceeds him in size, that is not because Phaedo is Phaedo,
but because Phaedo has greatness relatively to Simmias, who is comparatively
smaller?
That is true.
And therefore Simmias is said to be great, and is also said to be small,
because he is in a mean between them, exceeding the smallness of the one by
his greatness, and allowing the greatness of the other to exceed his
smallness. He added, laughing, I am speaking like a book, but I believe that
what I am now saying is true.
Simmias assented to this.
The reason why I say this is that I want you to agree with me in
thinking, not only that absolute greatness will never be great and also small,
but that greatness in us or in the concrete will never admit the small or
admit of being exceeded: instead of this, one of two things will happen -
either the greater will fly or retire before the opposite, which is the less,
or at the advance of the less will cease to exist; but will not, if allowing
or admitting smallness, be changed by that; even as I, having received and
admitted smallness when compared with Simmias, remain just as I was, and am
the same small person. And as the idea of greatness cannot condescend ever to
be or become small, in like manner the smallness in us cannot be or become
great; nor can any other opposite which remains the same ever be or become its
own opposite, but either passes away or perishes in the change.
That, replied Cebes, is quite my notion.
One of the company, though I do not exactly remember which of them, on
hearing this, said: By Heaven, is not this the direct contrary of what was
admitted before - that out of the greater came the less and out of the less
the greater, and that opposites are simply generated from opposites; whereas
now this seems to be utterly denied.
Socrates inclined his head to the speaker and listened. I like your
courage, he said, in reminding us of this. But you do not observe that there
is a difference in the two cases. For then we were speaking of opposites in
the concrete, and now of the essential opposite which, as is affirmed, neither
in us nor in nature can ever be at variance with itself: then, my friend, we
were speaking of things in which opposites are inherent and which are called
after them, but now about the opposites which are inherent in them and which
give their name to them; these essential opposites will never, as we maintain,
admit of generation into or out of one another. At the same time, turning to
Cebes, he said: Were you at all disconcerted, Cebes, at our friend`s
objection?
That was not my feeling, said Cebes; and yet I cannot deny that I am apt
to be disconcerted.
Then we are agreed after all, said Socrates, that the opposite will never
in any case be opposed to itself?
To that we are quite agreed, he replied.
Yet once more let me ask you to consider the question from another point
of view, and see whether you agree with me: There is a thing which you term
heat, and another thing which you term cold?
Certainly.
But are they the same as fire and snow?
Most assuredly not.
Heat is not the same as fire, nor is cold the same as snow?
No.
And yet you will surely admit that when snow, as before said, is under
the influence of heat, they will not remain snow and heat; but at the advance
of the heat the snow will either retire or perish?
Very true, he replied.
And the fire too at the advance of the cold will either retire or perish;
and when the fire is under the influence of the cold, they will not remain, as
before, fire and cold.
That is true, he said.
And in some cases the name of the idea is not confined to the idea; but
anything else which, not being the idea, exists only in the form of the idea,
may also lay claim to it. I will try to make this clearer by an example: The
odd number is always called by the name of odd?
Very true.
But is this the only thing which is called odd? Are there not other
things which have their own name, and yet are called odd, because, although
not the same as oddness, they are never without oddness? - that is what I mean
to ask - whether numbers such as the number three are not of the class of odd.
And there are many other examples: would you not say, for example, that three
may be called by its proper name, and also be called odd, which is not the
same with three? and this may be said not only of three but also of five, and
every alternate number - each of them without being oddness is odd, and in the
same way two and four, and the whole series of alternate numbers, has every
number even, without being evenness. Do you admit that?
Yes, he said, how can I deny that?
Then now mark the point at which I am aiming: not only do essential
opposites exclude one another, but also concrete things, which, although not
in themselves opposed, contain opposites; these, I say, also reject the idea
which is opposed to that which is contained in them, and at the advance of
that they either perish or withdraw. There is the number three for example;
will not that endure annihilation or anything sooner than be converted into an
even number remaining three?
Very true, said Cebes.
And yet, he said, the number two is certainly not opposed to the number
three?
It is not.
Then not only do opposite ideas repel the advance of one another, but
also there are other things which repel the approach of opposites.
That is quite true, he said.
Suppose, he said, that we endeavor, if possible, to determine what these
are.
By all means.
Are they not, Cebes, such as compel the things of which they have
possession, not only to take their own form, but also the form of some
opposite?
What do you mean?
I mean, as I was just now saying, and have no need to repeat to you, that
those things which are possessed by the number three must not only be three in
number, but must also be odd.
Quite true.
And on this oddness, of which the number three has the impress, the
opposite idea will never intrude?
No.
And this impress was given by the odd principle?
Yes.
And to the odd is opposed the even?
True.
Then the idea of the even number will never arrive at three?
No.
Then three has no part in the even?
None.
Then the triad or number three is uneven?
Very true.
To return then to my distinction of natures which are not opposites, and
yet do not admit opposites: as, in this instance, three, although not opposed
to the even, does not any the more admit of the even, but always brings the
opposite into play on the other side; or as two does not receive the odd, or
fire the cold - from these examples (and there are many more of them) perhaps
you may be able to arrive at the general conclusion that not only opposites
will not receive opposites, but also that nothing which brings the opposite
will admit the opposite of that which it brings in that to which it is
brought. And here let me recapitulate - for there is no harm in repetition.
The number five will not admit the nature of the even, any more than ten,
which is the double of five, will admit the nature of the odd - the double,
though not strictly opposed to the odd, rejects the odd altogether. Nor again
will parts in the ratio of 3:2, nor any fraction in which there is a half, nor
again in which there is a third, admit the notion of the whole, although they
are not opposed to the whole. You will agree to that?
Yes, he said, I entirely agree and go along with you in that.
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