Hipp.

Decidedly. Now other things, Socrates, testify for us that this is so, but especially political affairs; for in political affairs and in one’s own state to be powerful is the most beautiful of all things, but to be powerless is the most disgraceful of all.

Soc.

Good! Then, for Heaven’s sake, Hippias, is wisdom also for this reason the most beautiful of all things and ignorance the most disgraceful of all things?

Hipp.

Well, what do you suppose, Socrates?

Soc.

Just keep quiet, my dear friend; I am so afraid and wondering what in the world we are saying again.

Hipp.

What are you afraid of again, Socrates, since now your discussion has gone ahead most beautifully?

Soc.

I wish that might be the case; but consider this point with me: could a person do what he did not know how and was utterly powerless to do?

Hipp.

By no means; for how could he do what he was powerless to do?

Soc.

Then those who commit errors and accomplish and do bad things involuntarily, if they were powerless to do those things, would not do them?

Hipp.

Evidently not.

Soc.

But yet it is by power that those are powerful who are powerful for surely it is not by powerlessness.

Hipp.

Certainly not.

Soc.

And all who do, have power to do what they do?

Hipp.

Yes.

Soc.

Men do many more bad things than good, from childhood up, and commit many errors involuntarily.

Hipp.

That is true.

Soc.

Well, then, this power and these useful things, which are useful for accomplishing something bad—shall we say that they are beautiful, or far from it?

Hipp.

Far from it, in my opinion, Socrates.

Soc.

Then, Hippias, the powerful and the useful are not, as it seems, our beautiful.

Hipp.

They are, Socrates, if they are powerful and useful for good.

Soc.

Then that assertion, that the powerful and useful are beautiful without qualification, is gone; but was this, Hippias, what our soul wished to say, that the useful and the powerful for doing something good is the beautiful?

Hipp.

Yes, in my opinion.

Soc.

But surely this is beneficial; or is it not?

Hipp.

Certainly.

Soc.

So by this argument the beautiful persons and beautiful customs and all that we mentioned just now are beautiful because they are beneficial.

Hipp.

Evidently.

Soc.

Then the beneficial seems to us to be the beautiful, Hippias.

Hipp.

Yes, certainly, Socrates.

Soc.

But the beneficial is that which creates good.

Hipp.

Yes, it is.

Soc.

But that which creates is nothing else than the cause; am I right?

Hipp.

It is so.

Soc.

Then the beautiful is the cause of the good.

Hipp.

Yes, it is.

Soc.

But surely, Hippias, the cause and that of which the cause is the cause are different; for the cause could not well be the cause of the cause. But look at it in this way was not the cause seen to be creating?

Hipp.

Yes, certainly.

Soc.

By that which creates, then, only that is created which comes into being, but not that which creates. i.e. the creative force creates the thing created, not the creative force. Is not that true?

Hipp.

That is true.

Soc.

The cause, then, is not the cause of the cause, but of that which comes into being through it.

Hipp.

Certainly.

Soc.

If, then, the beautiful is the cause of good, the good would come into being through the beautiful; and this is why we are eager for wisdom and all the other beautiful things, because their offspring, the good, is worthy of eagerness, and, from what we are finding, it looks as if the beautiful were a sort of father of the good.

Hipp.

Certainly for what you say is well said, Socrates.

Soc.

Then is this well said, too, that the father is not the son, and the son not father?

Hipp.

To be sure it is well said.

Soc.

And neither is the cause that which comes into being, nor is that which comes into being the cause.

Hipp.

True.

Soc.

By Zeus, my good friend, then neither is the beautiful good, nor the good beautiful; or does it seem to you possible, after what has been said?

Hipp.

No, by Zeus, it does not appear so to me.

Soc.

Does it please us, and should we be willing to say that the beautiful is not good, and the good not beautiful?

Hipp.

No, by Zeus, it does not please me at all.

Soc.

Right, by Zeus, Hippias! And it pleases me least of all the things we have said.

Hipp.

Yes, that is likely.

Soc.

Then there is a good chance that the statement that the beneficial and the useful and the powerful to create something good are beautiful, is not, as it appeared to be, the most beautiful of of statements, but, if that be possible, is even more ridiculous than those first ones in which we thought the maiden was the beautiful, and each of the various other things we spoke of before.

Hipp.

That is likely.

Soc.

And Hippias, I no longer know where to turn; I am at a loss; but have you anything to say?

Hipp.

Not at the moment, but, as I said just now, I am sure I shall find it after meditation.

Soc.

But it seems to me that I am so eager to know that I cannot wait for you while you delay; for I believe I have just now found a way out. Just see; how would it help us towards our goal if we were to say that that is beautiful which makes us feel joy; I do not mean all pleasures, but that which makes us feel joy through hearing and sight? For surely beautiful human beings, Hippias, and all decorations and paintings and works of sculpture which are beautiful, delight us when we see them; and beautiful sounds and music in general and speeches and stories do the same thing, so that if we were to reply to that impudent fellow, My excellent man, the beautiful is that which is pleasing through hearing and sight, don’t you think that we should put a stop to his impudence?

Hipp.

To me, at any rate, Socrates, it seems that the nature of the beautiful is now well stated.

Soc.

But what then? Shall we say, Hippias, that beautiful customs and laws are beautiful because they are pleasing through hearing and sight, or that they have some other form of beauty?

Hipp.

Perhaps, Socrates, these things might slip past the man unnoticed.

Soc.

No, by dog, Hippias—not past the man before whom I should be most ashamed of talking nonsense and pretending that I was talking sense when I was not.

Hipp.

What man is that?

Soc.

Socrates, the son of Sophroniscus, who would no more permit me to say these things carelessly without investigation than to say that I know what I do not know.

Hipp.

But certainly I also, now that you have mentioned it, think that this about the laws is something different.

Soc.

Not too fast, Hippias; for very likely we have fallen into the same perplexity about the beautiful in which we were a while ago, although we think we have found another way out.

Hipp.

What do you mean by that, Socrates?

Soc.

I will tell you what presents itself to me, if perhaps there may be some sense in it. For perhaps these matters of laws and customs might be shown to be not outside of the perception which we have through hearing and sight; but let us stick to the statement that that which is pleasing through the senses is beautiful, without interjecting the matter of the laws. But if this man of whom I speak, or anyone else whosoever, should ask us: Hippias and Socrates, did you make the distinction that in the category of the pleasing that which is pleasing in the way you mention is beautiful, whereas you say that that which is pleasing according to the other senses —those concerned with food and drink and sexual love and all such things—is not beautiful? Or do you say that such things are not even pleasing and that there is no pleasure at all in them, nor in anything else except sight and hearing? What shall we say, Hippias?

Hipp.

Certainly, by all means, Socrates, we shall say that there are very great pleasures in the other things also.

Soc.

Why, then, he will say, if they are pleasures no less than the others, do you take from them this designation and deprive them of being beautiful? Because, we shall say, everybody would laugh at us if we should say that eating is not pleasant but is beautiful, and that a pleasant odor is not pleasant but is beautiful; and as to the act of sexual love, we should all, no doubt, contend that it is most pleasant, but that one must, if he perform it, do it so that no one else shall see, because it is most repulsive to see. If we say this, Hippias, I too understand, he will perhaps say, that you have all along been ashamed to say that these pleasures are beautiful, because they do not seem so to people; but that is not what I asked, what seems to most people to be beautiful, but what is so. We shall, then, I fancy, say, as we suggested, We say that that part of the pleasant which comes by sight and hearing is beautiful. Do you think the statement is of any use, Hippias, or shall we say something else?

Hipp.

Inevitably, in view of what has been said, Socrates, we must say just that.

Soc.

Excellent! he will say. Then if that which is pleasant through sight and hearing is beautiful, that among pleasant things which does not happen to be of that sort would evidently not be beautiful? Shall we agree?

Hipp.

Yes.

Soc.

Is, then, that which is pleasant through sight, he will say, pleasant through sight and hearing, or is that which is pleasant through hearing pleasant through hearing and sight? No, we shall say, that which is pleasant through each of these would not in the least be pleasant through both—for that is what you appear to us to mean—but we said that either of these pleasant things would be beautiful alone by itself, and both together. Is not that the reply we shall make?

Hipp.

Certainly.

Soc.

Does, then, he will say, any pleasant thing whatsoever differ from any pleasant thing whatsoever by this, by being pleasant? I ask not whether any pleasure is greater or smaller or more or less, but whether it differs by just this very thing, by the fact that one of the pleasures is a pleasure and the other is not a pleasure. We do not think so. Do we?

Hipp.

No, we do not.

Soc.

Is it not, then, he will say, for some other reason than because they are pleasures that you chose these pleasures out from the other pleasures —it was because you saw some quality in both, since they have something different from the others, in view of which you say that they are beautiful? For the reason why that which is pleasant through sight is beautiful, is not, I imagine, because it is through sight; for if that were the cause of its being beautiful, the other pleasure, that through hearing, would not be beautiful; it certainly is not pleasure through sight. Shall we say What you say is true?

Hipp.

Yes, we shall.

Soc.

Nor, again, is the pleasure through hearing beautiful for the reason that it is through hearing; for in that case, again, the pleasure through sight would not be beautiful; it certainly is not pleasure through hearing. Shall we say, Hippias, that the man who says that speaks the truth?

Hipp.

Yes, he speaks the truth.

Soc.

But yet both are beautiful, as you say. We do say that, do we not?

Hipp.

We do.

Soc.

They have, then, something identical which makes them to be beautiful, this common quality which pertains to both of them in common and to each individually; for otherwise they would not both collectively and each individually be beautiful. Answer me, as if you were answering him.

Hipp.

I answer, and I think it is as you say.

Soc.

If, then, these pleasures are both affected in any way collectively, but each individually is not so affected, it is not by this affection that they would be beautiful.

Hipp.

And how could that be, Socrates, when neither of them individually is affected by some affection or other, that then both are affected by that affection by which neither is affected?

Soc.

You think it cannot be?

Hipp.

I should have to be very inexperienced both in the nature of these things and in the language of our present discussion.

Soc.

Very pretty, Hippias. But there is a chance that I think I see a case of that kind which you say is impossible, but do not really see it.

Hipp.

There’s no chance about it, Socrates, but you quite purposely see wrongly.

Soc.

And certainly many such cases appear before my mind, but I mistrust them because they do not appear to you, a man who has made more money by wisdom than anyone now living, but to me who never made any money at all; and the thought disturbs me that you are playing with me and purposely deceiving me, they appear to me in such numbers and with such force.

Hipp.

Nobody, Socrates, will know better than you whether I am playing with you or not, if you proceed to tell these things that appear to you; for it will be apparent to you that you are talking nonsense. For you will never find that you and I are both affected by an affection by which neither of us is affected.

Soc.

What are you saying, Hippias? Perhaps you are talking sense, and I fail to understand; but let me tell more clearly what I wish to say. For it appears to me that it is possible for us both to be so affected as to be something which I am not so affected as to be, and which I am not and you are not either; and again for neither of us to be so affected as to be other things which we both are.