Sophist (231-235)

Str. Well then, who are those who practise this art? I am afraid to say the sophists.

Theaet. Why so?

Str. Lest we grant them too high a meed of honor.

Theaet. But the description you have just given is very like someone of that sort.

Str. Yes, and a wolf is very like a dog, the wildest like the tamest of animals. But the cautious man must be especially on his guard in the matter of resemblances, for they are very slippery things. However, let us agree that they are the sophists; for I think the strife will not be about petty discriminations when people are sufficiently on their guard.

Theaet. No, probably not.

Str. Then let it be agreed that part of the discriminating art is purification, and as part of purification let that which is concerned with the soul be separated off, and as part of this, instruction, and as part of instruction, education; and let us agree that the cross-questioning of empty conceit of wisdom, which has come to light in our present discussion, is nothing else than the true-born art of sophistry.

Theaet. Let us agree to all that; but the sophist has by this time appeared to be so many things that I am at a loss to know what in the world to say he really is, with any assurance that I am speaking the truth.

Str. No wonder you are at a loss. But it is fair to suppose that by this time he is still more at a loss to know how he can any longer elude our argument; for the proverb is right which says it is not easy to escape all the wrestler’s grips. So now we must attack him with redoubled vigor.

Theaet. You are right.

Str. First, then, let us stop to take breath and while we are resting let us count up the number of forms in which the sophist has appeared to us. First, I believe, he was found to be a paid hunter after the young and wealthy.

Theaet. Yes.

Str. And secondly a kind of merchant in articles of knowledge for the soul.

Theaet. Certainly.

Str. And thirdly did he not turn up as a retailer of these same articles of knowledge?

Theaet. Yes, and fourthly we found he was a seller of his own productions of knowledge.

Str. Your memory is good; but I will try to recall the fifth case myself. He was an athlete in contests of words, who had taken for his own the art of disputation.

Theaet. Yes, he was.

Str. The sixth case was doubtful, but nevertheless we agreed to consider him a purger of souls, who removes opinions that obstruct learning.

Theaet. Very true.

Str. Then do you see that when a man appears to know many things, but is called by the name of a single art, there is something wrong about this impression, and that, in fact, the person who labors under this impression in connexion with any art is clearly unable to see the common principle of the art, to which all these kinds of knowledge pertain, so that he calls him who possesses them by many names instead of one?

Theaet. Something like that is very likely to be the case.

Str. We must not let that happen to us in our search through lack of diligence. So let us first take up again one of our statements about the sophist. For there is one of them which seemed to me to designate him most plainly.

Theaet. Which was it?

Str. I think we said he was a disputer.

Theaet. Yes.

Str. And did we not also say that he taught this same art of disputing to others?

Theaet. Certainly.

Str. Now let us examine and see what the subjects are about which such men say they make their pupils able to dispute. Let us begin our examination at the beginning with this question: Is it about divine things which are invisible to others that they make people able to dispute?

Theaet. That is their reputation, at any rate.

Str. And how about the visible things of earth and heaven and the like?

Theaet. Those are included, of course.

Str. And furthermore in private conversations, when the talk is about generation and being in general, we know (do we not?) that they are clever disputants themselves and impart equal ability to others.

Theaet. Certainly.

Str. And how about laws and public affairs in general? Do they not promise to make men able to argue about those?

Theaet. Yes, for nobody, to speak broadly, would attend their classes if they did not make that promise.

Str. However in all arts jointly and severally what the professional ought to answer to every opponent is written down somewhere and published that he who will may learn.

Theaet. You seem to refer to the text-books of Protagoras on wrestling and the other arts.

Str. Yes, my friend, and to those of many other authors. But is not the art of disputation, in a word, a trained ability for arguing about all things?

Theaet. Well, at any rate, it does not seem to leave much out.

Str. For heaven’s sake, my boy, do you think that is possible? For perhaps you young people may look at the matter with sharper vision than our duller sight.

Theaet. What do you mean and just what do you refer to? I do not yet understand your question.

Str. I ask whether it is possible for a man to know all things.

Theaet. If that were possible, Stranger, ours would indeed be a blessed race.

Str. How, then, can one who is himself ignorant say anything worth while in arguing with one who knows?

Theaet. He cannot at all.

Str. Then what in the world can the magical power of the sophistical art be?

Theaet. Magical power in what respect?

Str. In the way in which they are able to make young men think that they themselves are in all matters the wisest of men. For it is clear that if they neither disputed correctly nor seemed to the young men to do so, or again if they did seem to dispute rightly but were not considered wiser on that account, nobody, to quote from you, [*] would care to pay them money to become their pupil in these subjects.

Theaet. Certainly not.

Str. But now people do care to do so?

Theaet. Very much.

Str. Yes, for they are supposed, I fancy, to have knowledge themselves of the things about which they dispute.

Theaet. Of course.

Str. And they do that about all things, do they not?

Theaet. Yes.

Str. Then they appear to their pupils to be wise in all things.

Theaet. To be sure.

Str. Though they are not; for that was shown to be impossible.

Theaet. Of course it is impossible.

Str. Then it is a sort of knowledge based upon mere opinion that the sophist has been shown to possess about all things, not true knowledge.

Theaet. Certainly; and I shouldn’t be surprised if that were the most accurate statement we have made about him so far.

Str. Let us then take a clearer example to explain this.

Theaet. What sort of an example?

Str. This one; and try to pay attention and to give a very careful answer to my question.

Theaet. What is the question?

Str. If anyone should say that by virtue of a single art he knew how, not to assert or dispute, but to do and make all things—

Theaet. What do you mean by all things?

Str. You fail to grasp the very beginning of what I said; for apparently you do not understand the word all.

Theaet. No, I do not.

Str. I mean you and me among the all, and the other animals besides, and the trees.

Theaet. What do you mean?

Str. If one should say that he would make you and me and all other created beings.

Theaet. What would he mean by making? Evidently you will not say that he means a husbandman; for you said he was a maker of animals also.

Str. Yes, and of sea and earth and heaven and gods and everything else besides; and, moreover, he makes them all quickly and sells them for very little.

Theaet. This is some joke of yours.

Str. Yes? And when a man says that he knows all things and can teach them to another for a small price in a little time, must we not consider that a joke?

Theaet. Surely we must.

Str. And is there any more artistic or charming kind of joke than the imitative kind?

Theaet. Certainly not; for it is of very frequent occurrence and, if I may say so, most diverse. Your expression is very comprehensive.

Str. And so we recognize that he who professes to be able by virtue of a single art to make all things will be able by virtue of the painter’s art, to make imitations which have the same names as the real things, and by showing the pictures at a distance will be able to deceive the duller ones among young children into the belief that he is perfectly able to accomplish in fact whatever he wishes to do.

Theaet. Certainly.

Str. Well then, may we not expect to find that there is another art which has to do with words, by virtue of which it is possible to bewitch the young through their ears with words while they are still standing at a distance from the realities of truth, by exhibiting to them spoken images of all things, so as to make it seem that they are true and that the speaker is the wisest of all men in all things?

Theaet. Why should there not be such another art?

Str. Now most of the hearers, Theaetetus, when they have lived longer and grown older, will perforce come closer to realities and will be forced by sad experience [*] openly to lay hold on realities; they will have to change the opinions which they had at first accepted, so that what was great will appear small and what was easy, difficult, and all the apparent truths in arguments will be turned topsy-turvy by the facts that have come upon them in real life. Is not this true?

Theaet. Yes, at least so far as one of my age can judge. But I imagine I am one of those who are still standing at a distance.

Str. Therefore all of us elders here will try, and are now trying, to bring you as near as possible without the sad experience. So answer this question about the sophist: Is this now clear, that he is a kind of a juggler, an imitator of realities, or are we still uncertain whether he may not truly possess the knowledge of all the things about which he seems to be able to argue?

Theaet. How could that be, my dear sir? Surely it is pretty clear by this time from what has been said that he is one of those whose business is entertainment.

Str. That is to say, he must be classed as a juggler and imitator.

Theaet. Of course he must.

Str. Look sharp, then; it is now our business not to let the beast get away again, for we have almost got him into a kind of encircling net of the devices we employ in arguments about such subjects, so that he will not now escape the next thing.

Theaet. What next thing?

Str. The conclusion that he belongs to the class of conjurers.

Theaet. I agree to that opinion of him, too.

Str. It is decided, then, that we will as quickly as possible divide the image-making art and go down into it, and if the sophist stands his ground against us at first, we will seize him by the orders of reason, our king, then deliver him up to the king and display his capture. But if he tries to take cover in any of the various sections of the imitative art, we must follow him, always dividing the section into which he has retreated, until he is caught. For assuredly neither he nor any other creature will ever boast of having escaped from pursuers who are able to follow up the pursuit in detail and everywhere in this methodical way.

Theaet. You are right. That is what we must do.

Str. To return, then, to our previous method of division, I think I see this time also two classes of imitation, but I do not yet seem to be able to make out in which of them the form we are seeking is to be found.

Theaet. Please first make the division and tell us what two classes you mean.

Str. I see the likeness-making art as one part of imitation. This is met with, as a rule, whenever anyone produces the imitation by following the proportions of the original in length, breadth, and depth, and giving, besides, the appropriate colors to each part.

Theaet. Yes, but do not all imitators try to do this?