Sophist (221-225)

Str. The kind that is characterized by the opposite sort of blow, which is practised with a hook and strikes, not any chance part of the body of the fishes, as tridents do, but only the head and mouth of the fish caught, and proceeds from below upwards, being pulled up by twigs and rods. By what name, Theaetetus, shall we say this ought to be called?

Theaet. I think our search is now ended and we have found the very thing we set before us a while ago as necessary to find.

Str. Now, then, you and I are not only agreed about the name of angling, but we have acquired also a satisfactory definition of the thing itself. For of art as a whole, half was acquisitive, and of the acquisitive, half was coercive, and of the coercive, half was hunting, and of hunting, half was animal hunting, and of animal hunting, half was water hunting, and, taken as a whole, of water hunting the lower part was fishing, and of fishing, half was striking, and of striking, half was barb-hunting, and of this the part in which the blow is pulled from below upwards at an angle [*] has a name in the very likeness of the act and is called angling, which was the object of our present search.

Theaet. That at all events has been made perfectly clear.

Str. Come, then, let us use this as a pattern and try to find out what a sophist is.

Theaet. By all means.

Str. Well, then, the first question we asked was whether we must assume that the angler was just a man or was a man with an art.

Theaet. Yes.

Str. Now take this man of ours, Theaetetus. Shall we assume that he is just a man, or by all means really a man of wisdom?

Theaet. Certainly not just a man; for I catch your meaning that he is very far from being wise, although his name implies wisdom.

Str. But we must, it seems, assume that he has an art of some kind.

Theaet. Well, then, what in the world is this art that he has?

Str. Good gracious! Have we failed to notice that the man is akin to the other man?

Theaet. Who is akin to whom?

Str. The angler to the sophist.

Theaet. How so?

Str. They both seem clearly to me to be a sort of hunters.

Theaet. What is the hunting of the second? We have spoken about the first.

Str. We just now divided hunting as a whole into two classes, and made one division that of swimming creatures and the other that of land-hunting.

Theaet. Yes.

Str. And the one we discussed, so far as the swimming creatures that live in the water are concerned; but we left the land-hunting undivided, merely remarking that it has many forms.

Theaet. Certainly.

Str. Now up to that point the sophist and the angler proceed together from the starting-point of acquisitive art.

Theaet. I think they do.

Str. But they separate at the point of animal-hunting, where the one turns to the sea and rivers and lakes to hunt the animals in those.

Theaet. To be sure.

Str. But the other turns toward the land and to rivers of a different kind—rivers of wealth and youth, bounteous meadows, as it were—and he intends to coerce the creatures in them.

Theaet. What do you mean?

Str. Of land-hunting there are two chief divisions.

Theaet. What are they?

Str. One is the hunting of tame, the other of wild creatures.

Theaet. Is there, then, a hunting of tame creatures?

Str. Yes, If man is a tame animal; but make any assumption you like, that there is no tame animal, or that some other tame animal exists but man is a wild one or that man is tame but there is no hunting of man. For the purpose of our definition choose whichever of these statements you think is satisfactory to you.

Theaet. Why, Stranger, I think we are a tame animal, and I agree that there is a hunting of man.

Str. Let us, then, say that the hunting of tame animals is also of two kinds.

Theaet. How do we justify that assertion?

Str. By defining piracy, man-stealing, tyranny, and the whole art of war all collectively as hunting by force.

Theaet. Excellent.

Str. And by giving the art of the law courts, of the public platform, and of conversation also a single name and calling them all collectively an art of persuasion.

Theaet. Correct.

Str. Now let us say that there are two kinds of persuasion.

Theaet. What kinds?

Str. The one has to do with private persons, the other with the community.

Theaet. Granted; each of them does form a class.

Str. Then again of the hunting of private persons one kind receives pay, and the other brings gifts, does it not?

Theaet. I do not understand.

Str. Apparently you have never yet paid attention to the lovers’ method of hunting.

Theaet. In what respect?

Str. That in addition to their other efforts they give presents to those whom they hunt.

Theaet. You are quite right.

Str. Let us, then, call this the amatory art.

Theaet. Agreed.

Str. But that part of the paid kind which converses to furnish gratification and makes pleasure exclusively its bait and demands as its pay only maintenance, we might all agree, if I am not mistaken, to call the art of flattery or of making things pleasant.

Theaet. Certainly.

Str. But the class which proposes to carry on its conversations for the sake of virtue and demands its pay in cash—does not this deserve to be called by another name?

Theaet. Of course.

Str. And what is that name? Try to tell.

Theaet. It is obvious; for I think we have discovered the sophist. And therefore by uttering that word I think I should give him the right name.

Str. Then, as it seems, according to our present reasoning, Theaetetus, the part of appropriative, coercive, hunting art which hunts animals, land animals, tame animals, man, privately, for pay, is paid in cash, claims to give education, and is a hunt after rich and promising youths, must—so our present argument concludes—be called sophistry.

Theaet. Most assuredly.

Str. But let us look at it in still another way; for the class we are now examining partakes of no mean art, but of a very many-sided one. And we must indeed do so, for in our previous talk it presents an appearance of being, not what we now say it is, but another class.

Theaet. How so?

Str. The acquisitive art was of two sorts, the one the division of hunting, the other that of exchange.

Theaet. Yes, it was.

Str. Now shall we say that there are two sorts of exchange, the one by gift, the other by sale?

Theaet. So be it.

Str. And we shall say further that exchange by sale is divided into two parts.

Theaet. How so?

Str. We make this distinction—calling the part which sells a man’s own productions the selling of one’s own, and the other, which exchanges the works of others, exchange.

Theaet. Certainly.

Str. Well, then, that part of exchange which is carried on in the city, amounting to about half of it, is called retailing, is it not?

Theaet. Yes.

Str. And that which exchanges goods from city to city by purchase and sale is called merchandising?

Theaet. Certainly.

Str. And have we not observed that one part of merchandising sells and exchanges for cash whatever serves the body for its support and needs, and the other whatever serves the soul?

Theaet. What do you mean by that?

Str. Perhaps we do not know about the part that has to do with the soul; though I fancy we do understand the other division.

Theaet. Yes.

Str. Take, therefore, the liberal arts [*] in general that constantly go about from city to city, bought in one place and carried to another and sold—painting, and conjuring, and the many other things that affect the soul, which are imported and sold partly for its entertainment and partly for its serious needs; we cannot deny that he who carries these about and sells them constitutes a merchant properly so called, no less than he whose business is the sale of food and drink.

Theaet. Very true.

Str. Then will you give the same name to him who buys up knowledge and goes about from city to city exchanging his wares for money?

Theaet. Certainly.

Str. One part of this soul-merchandising might very properly be called the art of display, might it not? But since the other part, though no less ridiculous than the first, is nevertheless a traffic in knowledge, must we not call it by some name akin to its business?

Theaet. Certainly.

Str. Now of this merchandising in knowledge the part which has to do with the knowledge of the other arts should be called by one name, and that which has to do with virtue by another.

Theaet. Of course.

Str. The name of art-merchant would fit the one who trades in the other arts, and now do you be so good as to tell the name of him who trades in virtue.

Theaet. And what other name could one give, without making a mistake, than that which is the object of our present investigation—the sophist?

Str. No other. Come then, let us now summarize the matter by saying that sophistry has appeared a second time as that part of acquisitive art, art of exchange, of trafficking, of merchandising, of soul-merchandising which deals in words and knowledge, and trades in virtue.

Theaet. Very well.

Str. But there is a third case: If a man settled down here in town and proposed to make his living by selling these same wares of knowledge, buying some of them and making others himself, you would, I fancy, not call him by any other name than that which you used a moment ago.

Theaet. Certainly not.

Str. Then also that part of acquisitive art which proceeds by exchange, and by sale, whether as mere retail trade or the sale of one’s own productions, no matter which, so long as it is of the class of merchandising in knowledge, you will always, apparently, call sophistry.

Theaet. I must do so, for I have to follow where the argument leads.

Str. Let us examine further and see if the class we are now pursuing has still another aspect, of similar nature.

Theaet. Of what nature?

Str. We agreed that fighting was a division of acquisitive art.

Theaet. Yes, we did.

Str. Then it is quite fitting to divide it into two parts.

Theaet. Tell what the parts are.

Str. Let us call one part of it the competitive and the other the pugnacious.

Theaet. Agreed.

Str. Then it is reasonable and fitting to give to that part of the pugnacious which consists of bodily contests some such name as violent.

Theaet. Yes.

Str. And what other name than controversy shall we give to the contests of words?

Theaet. No other.

Str. But controversy must be divided into two kinds.

Theaet. How?

Str. Whenever long speeches are opposed by long speeches on questions of justice and injustice in public, that is forensic controversy.

Theaet. Yes.

Str. But that which is carried on among private persons and is cut up into little bits by means of questions and their answers, we are accustomed to call argumentation, are we not?

Theaet. We are.

Str. And that part of argumentation which deals with business contracts, in which there is controversy, to be sure, but it is carried on informally and without rules of art—all that must be considered a distinct class, now that our argument has recognized it as different from the rest, but it received no name from our predecessors, nor does it now deserve to receive one from us.

Theaet. True; for the divisions into which it falls are too small and too miscellaneous.

Str. But that which possesses rules of art and carries on controversy about abstract justice and injustice and the rest in general terms, we are accustomed to call disputation, are we not?

Theaet. Certainly.

Str. Well, of disputation, one sort wastes money, the other makes money.

Theaet. Certainly.

Str. Then let us try to tell the name by which we must call each of these.

Theaet. Yes, we must do so.

Str. Presumably the kind which causes a man to neglect his own affairs for the pleasure of engaging in it, but the style of which causes no pleasure to most of his hearers, is, in my opinion, called by no other name than garrulity.

Theaet. Yes, that is about what it is called.

Str. Then the opposite of this, the kind which makes money from private disputes—try now, for it is your turn, to give its name.

Theaet. What other answer could one give without making a mistake, than that now again for the fourth time that wonderful being whom we have so long been pursuing has turned up—the sophist!