He is a great nuisance, Hippias but yet, what shall we say? Which of the two ladles shall we say is appropriate to the soup and the pot? Is it not evidently the one of fig wood? For it is likely to make the soup smell better, and besides, my friend, it would not break the pot, thereby spilling the soup, putting out the fire, and making those who are to be entertained go without their splendid soup; whereas the golden ladle would do all those things, so that it seems to me that we must say that the wooden ladle is more appropriate than the golden one, unless you disagree.

No, for it is more appropriate, Socrates; however, I, for my part, would not talk with the fellow when he asks such questions.

Quite right, my friend; for it would not be appropriate for you to be filled up with such words, you who are so beautifully clad, so beautifully shod, and so famous for your wisdom among all the Greeks; but for me it doesn’t matter if I do associate with the fellow; so instruct me and for my sake answer him. For if the wooden one is more appropriate than the golden one, the fellow will say, would it not be more beautiful, since you agreed, Socrates, that the appropriate is more beautiful than that which is not appropriate? Shall we not agree, Hippias, that the wooden one is more beautiful than the golden?

Do you wish me to tell you, Socrates, what definition of the beautiful will enable you to free yourself from long discussion?

Certainly; but not until after you have told me which of the two ladles I just spoke of I shall reply is appropriate and more beautiful.

Well, if you like, reply to him that it is the one made of fig wood.

Now, then, say what you were just now going to say. For by this reply, if I say that the beautiful is gold, it seems to me that gold will be shown to be no more beautiful than fig wood; but what do you now, once more, say that the beautiful is?

I will tell you; for you seem to me to be seeking to reply that the beautiful is something of such sort that it will never appear ugly anywhere to anybody.

Certainly, Hippias; now you understand beautifully.

Listen, then; for, mind you, if anyone has anything to say against this, you may say I know nothing at all.

Then for Heaven’s sake, speak as quickly as you can.

I say, then, that for every man and everywhere it is most beautiful to be rich and healthy, and honored by the Greeks, to reach old age, and, after providing a beautiful funeral for his deceased parents, to be beautifully and splendidly buried by his own offspring.

Bravo, bravo, Hippias! You have spoken in a way that is wonderful and great and worthy of you; and now, by Hera, I thank you, because you are kindly coming to my assistance to the best of your ability. But our shots are not hitting the man; no, he will laugh at us now more than ever, be sure of that.

A wretched laugh, Socrates; for when he has nothing to say to this, but laughs, he will be laughing at himself and will himself be laughed at by those present.

Perhaps that is so perhaps, however, after this reply, he will, I foresee, be likely to do more than laugh at me.

Why do you say that, pray?

Because, if he happens to have a stick, unless I get away in a hurry, he will try to fetch me a good one.

What? Is the fellow some sort of master of yours, and if he does that, will he not be arrested and have to pay for it? Or does your city disregard justice and allow the citizens to beat one another unjustly?

Oh no that is not allowed at all.

Then he will have to pay a penalty for beating you unjustly.

I do not think so, Hippias. No, if I were to make that reply, the beating would be just, I think.

Then I think so, too, Socrates, since that is your own belief.

Shall I, then, not tell you why it is my own belief that the beating would be just, if I made that reply? Or will you also beat me without trial? Or will you listen to what I have to say?

It would be shocking if I would not listen; but what have you to say?

I will tell you, imitating him in the same way as a while ago, that I may not use to you such harsh and uncouth words as he uses to me. For you may be sure, Tell me, Socrates, he will say, do you think it would be unjust if you got a beating for singing such a long dithyramb so unmusically and so far from the question? How so? I shall say. How so? he will say; are you not able to remember that I asked for the absolute beautiful, by which everything to which it is added has the property of being beautiful, both stone and stick and man and god and every act and every acquisition of knowledge? For what I am asking is this, man: what is absolute beauty? and I cannot make you hear what I say any more than if you were a stone sitting beside me, and a millstone at that, having neither ears nor brain. Would you, then, not be angry, Hippias,if I should be frightened and should reply in this way? Well, but Hippias said that this was the beautiful; and yet I asked him, just as you asked me, what is beautiful to all and always. What do you say? Will you not be angry if I say that?

I know very well, Socrates, that this which I said was beautiful is beautiful to all and will seem so.

And will it be so, too he will say for the beautiful is always beautiful, is it not?

Certainly.

Then was it so, too? he will say.

It was so, too.

And, he will say, did the stranger from Elis say also that for Achilles it was beautiful to be buried later than his parents, and for his grandfather Aeacus, and all the others who were born of gods, and for the gods themselves?

What’s that? Confound it! These questions of the fellow’s are not even respectful to religion.

Well, then, when another asks the question, perhaps it is not quite disrespectful to religion to say that these things are so?

Perhaps.

Perhaps, then, you are the man, he will say, who says that it is beautiful for every one and always to be buried by one’s offspring, and to bury one’s parents; or was not Heracles included in ’every one,’ he and all those whom we just now mentioned?

But I did not say it was so for the gods.

Nor for the heroes either, apparently.

Not those who were children of gods.

But those who were not?

Certainly.

Then again, according to your statement, among the heroes it is terrible and impious and disgraceful for Tantalus and Dardanus and Zethus, but beautiful for Pelops Pelops as the son of a mortal (Tantalus); the others mentioned were sons of gods. and the others who were born as he was?

I think so.

You think, then, what you did not say just now, that to bury one’s parents and be buried by one’s offspring is sometimes and for some persons disgraceful; and it is still more impossible, as it seems, for this to become and to be beautiful for all, so that the same thing has happened to this as to the things we mentioned before, the maiden and the pot, in a still more ridiculous way than to them; it is beautiful for some and not beautiful for others. And you are not able yet, even today, Socrates, he will say, to answer what is asked about the beautiful, namely what it is. With these words and the like he will rebuke me, if I reply to him in this way. For the most part, Hippias, he talks with me in some such way as that but sometimes, as if in pity for my inexperience and lack of training, he himself volunteers a question, and asks whether I think the beautiful is so and so or whatever else it is which happens to be the subject of our questions and our discussion.

What do you mean by that, Socrates?

I will tell you. Oh, my dear Socrates, he says, stop making replies of this sort and in this way—for they are too silly and easy to refute; but see if something like this does not seem to you to be beautiful, which we got hold of just now in our reply, when we said that gold was beautiful for those things for which it was appropriate, but not for those for which it was not, and that all the other things were beautiful to which this quality pertains; so examine this very thing, the appropriate, and see if it is perchance the beautiful. Now I am accustomed to agree to such things every time for I don’t know what to say; but now does it seem to you that the appropriate is the beautiful?

Yes, certainly, Socrates.

Let us consider, lest we make a mistake somehow.

Yes, we must consider.

See, then; do we say that the appropriate is that which, when it is added, makes each of those things to which it is added appear beautiful, or which makes them be beautiful, or neither of these?

I think so.

Which?

That which makes them appear beautiful; as when a man takes clothes or shoes that fit, even if he be ridiculous, he appears more beautiful.

Then if the appropriate makes him appear more beautiful than he is, the appropriate would be a sort of deceit in respect to the beautiful, and would not be that which we are looking for, would it, Hippias? For we were rather looking for that by which all beautiful things are beautiful—like that by which all great things are great, that is, excess; for it is by this that all great things are great; for even if they do not appear great, but exceed, they are of necessity great; so, then, we say, what would the beautiful be, by which all things are beautiful, whether they appear so or not? For it could not be the appropriate, since that, by your statement, makes things appear more beautiful than they are, but does not let them appear such as they are. But we must try to say what that is which makes things be beautiful, as I said just now, whether they appear so or not; for that is what we are looking for, since we are looking for the beautiful.

But the appropriate, Socrates, makes things both be and appear beautiful by its presence.

Is it impossible, then, for things which are really beautiful not to appear to be beautiful, at any rate when that is present which makes them appear so?

It is impossible.

Shall we, then, agree to this, Hippias, that all things which are really beautiful, both uses and pursuits, are always believed to be beautiful by all, and appear so to them, or, quite the contrary, that people are ignorant about them, and that there is more strife and contention about them than about anything else, both in private between individuals and in public between states?

The latter rather, Socrates; that people are ignorant about them.

They would not be so, if the appearance of beauty were added to them; and it would be added, if the appropriate were beautiful and made things not only to be beautiful, but also to appear so. So that the appropriate, if it is that which makes things be beautiful, would be the beautiful which we are looking for, but would not be that which makes things appear beautiful; but if, on the other hand, the appropriate is that which makes things appear beautiful, it would not be the beautiful for which we are looking. For that makes things be beautiful, but the same element could not make things both appear and be beautiful, nor could it make them both appear and be anything else whatsoever. Let us choose, then, whether we think that the appropriate is that which makes things appear or be beautiful.

That which makes them appear so, in my opinion, Socrates.

Whew! Our perception of what the beautiful is has fled away and gone, Hippias, since the appropriate has been found to be something other than the beautiful.

Yes, by Zeus, Socrates, and to me that is very queer.

However, my friend, let us not yet give it up, for I still have hopes that what the beautiful is will be made clear.

Certainly, to be sure, Socrates, for it is not hard to find. Now I know that if I should go away into solitude and meditate alone by myself, I could tell it to you with the most perfect accuracy.

Ah, don’t boast, Hippias. You see how much trouble it has caused us already; I’m afraid it may get angry and run away more than ever. And yet that is nonsense; for you, I think, will easily find it when you go away by yourself. But for Heaven’s sake, find it in my presence, or, if you please, join me, as you are now doing, in looking for it. And if we find it, that will be splendid, but if we do not, I shall, I suppose, accept my lot, and you will go away and find it easily. And if we find it now, I shall certainly not be a nuisance to you by asking what that was which you found by yourself; but now once more see if this is in your opinion the beautiful : I say, then, that it is—but consider, paying close attention to me, that I may not talk nonsense—for I say, then, whatever is useful shall be for us beautiful. But I said it with this reason for my thought; beautiful eyes, we say, are not such as seem to be so, which are unable to see, but those which are able and useful for seeing. Is that right?

Yes.

Then, too, in the same way we say that the whole body is beautiful, part of it for running, part for wrestling; and again all the animals, a beautiful horse or cock or quail and all utensils and land vehicles, and on the sea freight-ships and ships of war; and all instruments in music and in the other arts, and, if you like, customs and laws also—pretty well all these we call beautiful in the same way looking at each of them—how it is formed by nature, how it is wrought, how it has been enacted—the useful we call beautiful, and beautiful in the way in which it is useful, and for the purpose for which it is useful, and at the time when it is useful; and that which is in all these aspects useless we say is ugly. Now is not this your opinion also, Hippias?

It is.Soc, Then are we right in saying that the useful rather than everything else is beautiful?

We are right, surely, Socrates.

Now that which has power to accomplish anything is useful for that for which it has power, but that which is powerless is useless, is it not?

Certainly.

Power, then, is beautiful, and want of power is disgraceful or ugly.