Chapter XX: Part 20

Neither at this point, nor at any other, do we propose to draw an absolute line of demarcation between genuine and spurious writings of Plato. They fade off imperceptibly from one class to another. There may have been degrees of genuineness in the dialogues themselves, as there are certainly degrees of evidence by which they are supported. The traditions of the oral discourses both of Socrates and Plato may have formed the basis of semi-Platonic writings; some of them may be of the same mixed character which is apparent in Aristotle and Hippocrates, although the form of them is different. But the writings of Plato, unlike the writings of Aristotle, seem never to have been confused with the writings of his disciples: this was probably due to their definite form, and to their inimitable excellence. The three dialogues which we have offered in the Appendix to the criticism of the reader may be partly spurious and partly genuine; they may be altogether spurious;—that is an alternative which must be frankly admitted. Nor can we maintain of some other dialogues, such as the Parmenides, and the Sophist, and Politicus, that no considerable objection can be urged against them, though greatly over-balanced by the weight (chiefly) of internal evidence in their favour. Nor, on the other hand, can we exclude a bare possibility that some dialogues which are usually rejected, such as the Greater Hippias and the Cleitophon, may be genuine. The nature and object of these semi-Platonic writings require more careful study and more comparison of them with one another, and with forged writings in general, than they have yet received, before we can finally decide on their character. We do not consider them all as genuine until they can be proved to be spurious, as is often maintained and still more often implied in this and similar discussions; but should say of some of them, that their genuineness is neither proven nor disproven until further evidence about them can be adduced. And we are as confident that the Epistles are spurious, as that the Republic, the Timaeus, and the Laws are genuine.

[Sidenote: _The doubtful works neither numerous nor important._]

On the whole, not a twentieth part of the writings which pass under the name of Plato, if we exclude the works rejected by the ancients themselves and two or three other plausible inventions, can be fairly doubted by those who are willing to allow that a considerable change and growth may have taken place in his philosophy (see above). That twentieth debatable portion scarcely in any degree affects our judgment of Plato, either as a thinker or a writer, and though suggesting some interesting questions to the scholar and critic, is of little importance to the general reader.

LESSER HIPPIAS.

INTRODUCTION.

[Sidenote: _Lesser Hippias._]

[Sidenote: INTRODUCTION.]

The Lesser Hippias may be compared with the earlier dialogues of Plato, in which the contrast of Socrates and the Sophists is most strongly exhibited. Hippias, like Protagoras and Gorgias, though civil, is vain and boastful: he knows all things; he can make anything, including his own clothes; he is a manufacturer of poems and declamations, and also of seal-rings, shoes, strigils; his girdle, which he has woven himself, is of a finer than Persian quality. He is a vainer, lighter nature than the two great Sophists (cp. Protag. 314, 337), but of the same character with them, and equally impatient of the short cut-and-thrust method of Socrates, whom he endeavours to draw into a long oration. At last, he gets tired of being defeated at every point by Socrates, and is with difficulty induced to proceed (compare Thrasymachus, Protagoras, Callicles, and others, to whom the same reluctance is ascribed).

[Sidenote: _Analysis 372-376._]

Hippias like Protagoras has common sense on his side, =Steph.= -363
when he argues, citing passages of the Iliad in support of his view,
that Homer intended Achilles to be the bravest, Odysseus the wisest
of the Greeks. But he is easily overthrown by the superior
dialectics of Socrates, who pretends to show that Achilles is not
true to his word, and that no similar inconsistency is to be found 369
in Odysseus. Hippias replies that Achilles unintentionally, but
Odysseus intentionally, speaks falsehood. But is it better to do 370
wrong intentionally or unintentionally? Socrates, relying on the
analogy of the arts, maintains the former, Hippias the latter of the
two alternatives.... All this is quite conceived in the spirit of -372
Plato, who is very far from making Socrates always argue on the side
of truth. The over-reasoning on Homer, which is of course satirical,
is also in the spirit of Plato. Poetry turned logic is even more
ridiculous than ‘rhetoric turned logic,’ and equally fallacious.
There were reasoners in ancient as well as in modern times, who
could never receive the natural impression of Homer, or of any
other book which they read. The argument of Socrates, in which
he picks out the apparent inconsistencies and discrepancies in the
speech and actions of Achilles, and the final paradox, ‘that he
who is true is also false,’ reminds us of the interpretation by
Socrates of Simonides in the Protagoras, and of similar reasonings
in the first book of the Republic. The discrepancies which
Socrates discovers in the words of Achilles are perhaps as great
as those discovered by some of the modern separatists of the -376
Homeric poems....

At last, Socrates having caught Hippias in the toils of the
voluntary and involuntary, is obliged to confess that he is wandering
about in the same labyrinth; he makes the reflection on
himself which others would make upon him (cp. Protagoras, sub
fin.). He does not wonder that he should be in a difficulty, but
he wonders at Hippias, and he becomes sensible of the gravity of
the situation, when ordinary men like himself can no longer go to
the wise and be taught by them.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: INTRODUCTION.]

[Sidenote: _The Dialogue probably genuine._]

It may be remarked as bearing on the genuineness of this dialogue: (1) that the manners of the speakers are less subtle and refined than in the other dialogues of Plato; (2) that the sophistry of Socrates is more palpable and unblushing, and also more unmeaning; (3) that many turns of thought and style are found in it which appear also in the other dialogues:—whether resemblances of this kind tell in favour of or against the genuineness of an ancient writing, is an important question which will have to be answered differently in different cases. For that a writer may repeat himself is as true as that a forger may imitate; and Plato elsewhere, either of set purpose or from forgetfulness, is full of repetitions. The parallelisms of the Lesser Hippias, as already remarked, are not of the kind which necessarily imply that the dialogue is the work of a forger. The parallelisms of the Greater Hippias with the other dialogues, and the allusion to the Lesser 285, 286 A, B (where Hippias sketches the programme of his next lecture, and invites Socrates to attend and bring any friends with him who may be competent judges), are more than suspicious:—they are of a very poor sort, such as we cannot suppose to have been due to Plato himself. The Greater Hippias more resembles the Euthydemus than any other dialogue; but is immeasurably inferior to it. The Lesser Hippias seems to have more merit than the Greater, and to be more Platonic in spirit. The character of Hippias is the same in both dialogues, but his vanity and boasting are even more exaggerated in the Greater Hippias. His art of memory is specially mentioned in both. He is an inferior type of the same species as Hippodamus of Miletus (Arist. Pol. II. 8, § 1). Some passages in which the Lesser Hippias may be advantageously compared with the undoubtedly genuine dialogues of Plato are the following:—Less. Hipp. 369 B: cp. Rep. vi. 487 (Socrates’ cunning in argument): || ib. D, E: cp. Laches 188 (Socrates’ feeling about arguments): || 372 B, C: cp. Rep. i. 338 B (Socrates not unthankful): || 373 B: cp. Rep. i. 340 D (Socrates dishonest in argument).

The Lesser Hippias, though inferior to the other dialogues, may be reasonably believed to have been written by Plato, on the ground (1) of considerable excellence; (2) of uniform tradition beginning with Aristotle and his school. That the dialogue falls below the standard of Plato’s other works, or that he has attributed to Socrates an unmeaning paradox (perhaps with the view of showing that he could beat the Sophists at their own weapons; or that he could ‘make the worse appear the better cause’; or merely as a dialectical experiment)—are not sufficient reasons for doubting the genuineness of the work.

LESSER HIPPIAS.

_PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE._

EUDICUS, SOCRATES, HIPPIAS.

[Sidenote: _Lesser Hippias._]

_Eudicus._ Why are you silent, Socrates, after the =Steph.= 363
magnificent display which Hippias has been making? Why do
you not either refute his words, if he seems to you to have
been wrong in any point, or join with us in commending
him? There is the more reason why you should speak,
because we are now alone, and the audience is confined to
those who may fairly claim to take part in a philosophical
discussion.

[Sidenote: The Iliad of Homer a finer work than the Odyssey, because Achilles, the hero of the poem, is greater than Odysseus.]

_Socrates._ I should greatly like, Eudicus, to ask Hippias
the meaning of what he was saying just now about Homer.
I have heard your father, Apemantus, declare that the Iliad
of Homer is a finer poem than the Odyssey in the same
degree that Achilles was a better man than Odysseus;
Odysseus, he would say, is the central figure of the one poem
and Achilles of the other. Now, I should like to know, if
Hippias has no objection to tell me, what he thinks about
these two heroes, and which of them he maintains to be the
better; he has already told us in the course of his exhibition
many things of various kinds about Homer and divers other
poets.

_Eud._ I am sure that Hippias will be delighted to answer
anything which you would like to ask; tell me, Hippias, if
Socrates asks you a question, will you answer him?

_Hippias._ Indeed, Eudicus, I should be strangely inconsistent
if I refused to answer Socrates, when at each Olympic
festival, as I went up from my house at Elis to the temple of
Olympia, where all the Hellenes were assembled, I continually
professed my willingness to perform any of the
exhibitions which I had prepared, and to answer any
questions which any one had to ask.

[Sidenote: _Achilles and Odysseus._]

_Soc._ Truly, Hippias, you are to be congratulated, if at 364
every Olympic festival you have such an encouraging opinion
of your own wisdom when you go up to the temple. I doubt
whether any muscular hero would be so fearless and confident
in offering his body to the combat at Olympia, as you
are in offering your mind.

_Hip._ And with good reason, Socrates; for since the day
when I first entered the lists at Olympia I have never found
any man who was my superior in anything[53].

_Soc._ What an ornament, Hippias, will the reputation of
your wisdom be to the city of Elis and to your parents!
But to return: what say you of Odysseus and Achilles?
Which is the better of the two? and in what particular does
either surpass the other? For when you were exhibiting
and there was company in the room, though I could not
follow you, I did not like to ask what you meant, because a
crowd of people were present, and I was afraid that the
question might interrupt your exhibition. But now that
there are not so many of us, and my friend Eudicus bids me
ask, I wish you would tell me what you were saying about
these two heroes, so that I may clearly understand; how
did you distinguish them?

[Sidenote: Achilles the bravest, Nestor the wisest, and Odysseus the wiliest of the Greeks at Troy.]

_Hip._ I shall have much pleasure, Socrates, in explaining
to you more clearly than I could in public my views about
these and also about other heroes. I say that Homer
intended Achilles to be the bravest of the men who went to
Troy, Nestor the wisest, and Odysseus the wiliest.

_Soc._ O rare Hippias, will you be so good as not to
laugh, if I find a difficulty in following you, and repeat my
questions several times over? Please to answer me kindly
and gently.

_Hip._ I should be greatly ashamed of myself, Socrates,
if I, who teach others and take money of them, could not,
when I was asked by you, answer in a civil and agreeable
manner.

[Sidenote: _The courtesy of Hippias._]

_Soc._ Thank you: the fact is, that I seemed to understand
what you meant when you said that the poet intended
Achilles to be the bravest of men, and also that he intended
Nestor to be the wisest; but when you said that he meant
Odysseus to be the wiliest, I must confess that I could not
understand what you were saying. Will you tell me, and
then I shall perhaps understand you better; has not Homer
made Achilles wily?

_Hip._ Certainly not, Socrates; he is the most straight-forward
of mankind, and when Homer introduces them
talking with one another in the passage called the Prayers,
Achilles is supposed by the poet to say to Odysseus:—

‘Son of Laertes, sprung from heaven, crafty Odysseus, I will 365
speak out plainly the word which I intend to carry out in
act, and which will, I believe, be accomplished. For I hate
him like the gates of death who thinks one thing and says
another. But I will speak that which shall be accomplished.’

Now, in these verses he clearly indicates the character of
the two men; he shows Achilles to be true and simple, and
Odysseus to be wily and false; for he supposes Achilles to
be addressing Odysseus in these lines.

[Sidenote: Wily means false: And the false have the power of deceiving mankind; they are prudent and knowing and wise, and have the ability to speak falsely.]

_Soc._ Now, Hippias, I think that I understand your
meaning; when you say that Odysseus is wily, you clearly
mean that he is false?

_Hip._ Exactly so, Socrates; it is the character of Odysseus,
as he is represented by Homer in many passages both of
the Iliad and Odyssey.

_Soc._ And Homer must be presumed to have meant that
the true man is not the same as the false?

_Hip._ Of course, Socrates.

_Soc._ And is that your own opinion, Hippias?

_Hip._ Certainly; how can I have any other?

_Soc._ Well, then, as there is no possibility of asking
Homer what he meant in these verses of his, let us leave
him; but as you show a willingness to take up his cause,
and your opinion agrees with what you declare to be his,
will you answer on behalf of yourself and him?

_Hip._ I will; ask shortly anything which you like.

_Soc._ Do you say that the false, like the sick, have no
power to do things, or that they have the power to do things?

[Sidenote: _True and False._]

_Hip._ I should say that they have power to do many things,
and in particular to deceive mankind.

_Soc._ Then, according to you, they are both powerful and
wily, are they not?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ And are they wily, and do they deceive by reason of
their simplicity and folly, or by reason of their cunning and
a certain sort of prudence?

_Hip._ By reason of their cunning and prudence, most
certainly.

_Soc._ Then they are prudent, I suppose?

_Hip._ So they are—very.

_Soc._ And if they are prudent, do they know or do they not
know what they do?

_Hip._ Of course, they know very well; and that is why
they do mischief to others.

_Soc._ And having this knowledge, are they ignorant, or are
they wise?

_Hip._ Wise, certainly; at least, in so far as they can
deceive.

_Soc._ Stop, and let us recall to mind what you are saying; 366
are you not saying that the false are powerful and prudent
and knowing and wise in those things about which they are
false?

_Hip._ To be sure.

_Soc._ And the true differ from the false—the true and the
false are the very opposite of each other?

_Hip._ That is my view.

_Soc._ Then, according to your view, it would seem that
the false are to be ranked in the class of the powerful and
wise?

_Hip._ Assuredly.

_Soc._ And when you say that the false are powerful and
wise in so far as they are false, do you mean that they have
or have not the power of uttering their falsehoods if they
like?

_Hip._ I mean to say that they have the power.

_Soc._ In a word, then, the false are they who are wise and
have the power to speak falsely?

_Hip._ Yes.

[Sidenote: _True and False._]

_Soc._ Then a man who has not the power of speaking
falsely and is ignorant cannot be false?

_Hip._ You are right.

_Soc._ And every man has power who does that which he
wishes at the time when he wishes. I am not speaking of
any special case in which he is prevented by disease or
something of that sort, but I am speaking generally, as I
might say of you, that you are able to write my name when
you like. Would you not call a man able who could do that?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ And tell me, Hippias, are you not a skilful calculator
and arithmetician?

_Hip._ Yes, Socrates, assuredly I am.

_Soc._ And if some one were to ask you what is the sum of
3 multiplied by 700, you would tell him the true answer in
a moment, if you pleased?

_Hip._ Certainly I should.

_Soc._ Is not that because you are the wisest and ablest of
men in these matters?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ And being as you are the wisest and ablest of men
in these matters of calculation, are you not also the best?

_Hip._ To be sure, Socrates, I am the best.

_Soc._ And therefore you would be the most able to tell the
truth about these matters, would you not?

_Hip._ Yes, I should.

[Sidenote: They must truly know that about which they falsely speak or they will fall into the error of speaking the truth by mistake.]

_Soc._ And could you speak falsehoods about them equally
well? I must beg, Hippias, that you will answer me with
the same frankness and magnanimity which has hitherto
characterized you. If a person were to ask you what is the
sum of 3 multiplied by 700, would not you be the best and
most consistent teller of a falsehood, having always the
power of speaking falsely as you have of speaking truly,
about these same matters, if you wanted to tell a falsehood,
and not to answer truly? Would the ignorant man be 367
better able to tell a falsehood in matters of calculation than
you would be, if you chose? Might he not sometimes
stumble upon the truth, when he wanted to tell a lie, because
he did not know, whereas you who are the wise man, if you
wanted to tell a lie would always and consistently lie?

[Sidenote: _True is false and false is true._]

_Hip._ Yes; there you are quite right.

_Soc._ Does the false man tell lies about other things, but
not about number, or when he is making a calculation?

_Hip._ To be sure; he would tell as many lies about number
as about other things.

_Soc._ Then may we further assume, Hippias, that there are
men who are false about calculation and number?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ Who can they be? For you have already admitted
that he who is false must have the ability to be false: you
said, as you will remember, that he who is unable to be false
will not be false?

_Hip._ Yes, I remember; it was so said.

_Soc._ And were you not yourself just now shown to be best
able to speak falsely about calculation?

_Hip._ Yes; that was another thing which was said.

_Soc._ And are you not likewise said to speak truly about
calculation?

_Hip._ Certainly.

_Soc._ Then the same person is able to speak both falsely
and truly about calculation? And that person is he who is
good at calculation—the arithmetician?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ Who, then, Hippias, is discovered to be false at calculation?
Is he not the good man? For the good man is
the able man, and he is the true man.

_Hip._ That is evident.

[Sidenote: Therefore the same man must be true if he is to be truly false, in astronomy, in geometry, and in all the sciences.]

_Soc._ Do you not see, then, that the same man is false and
also true about the same matters? And the true man is
not a whit better than the false; for indeed he is the same
with him and not the very opposite, as you were just now
imagining.

_Hip._ Not in that instance, clearly.

_Soc._ Shall we examine other instances?

_Hip._ Certainly, if you are disposed.

_Soc._ Are you not also skilled in geometry?

_Hip._ I am.

_Soc._ Well, and does not the same hold in that science
also? Is not the same person best able to speak falsely or
to sneak truly about diagrams; and he is—the geometrician?

[Sidenote: _The admirable versatility of Hippias._]

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ He and no one else is good at it?

_Hip._ Yes, he and no one else.

_Soc._ Then the good and wise geometer has this double
power in the highest degree; and if there be a man who is
false about diagrams the good man will be he, for he is able
to be false; whereas the bad is unable, and for this reason is
not false, as has been admitted.

_Hip._ True.

_Soc._ Once more—let us examine a third case; that of the
astronomer, in whose art, again, you, Hippias, profess to be
a still greater proficient than in the preceding—do you not?

_Hip._ Yes, I am. 368

_Soc._ And does not the same hold of astronomy?

_Hip._ True, Socrates.

_Soc._ And in astronomy, too, if any man be able to speak
falsely he will be the good astronomer, but he who is not
able will not speak falsely, for he has no knowledge.

_Hip._ Clearly not.

_Soc._ Then in astronomy also, the same man will be true
and false?

_Hip._ It would seem so.

[Sidenote: _Socrates is always weaving the meshes of an argument._]

[Sidenote: Socrates compliments Hippias on his skill in engraving gems, in making clothes and shoes and the finest fabrics, in writing poetry and prose of the most varied kind, and on the art of memory which he has invented.]

_Soc._ And now, Hippias, consider the question at large
about all the sciences, and see whether the same principle
does not always hold. I know that in most arts you are the
wisest of men, as I have heard you boasting in the agora at
the tables of the money-changers, when you were setting
forth the great and enviable stores of your wisdom; and you
said that upon one occasion, when you went to the Olympic
games, all that you had on your person was made by yourself.
You began with your ring, which was of your own
workmanship, and you said that you could engrave rings;
and you had another seal which was also of your own workmanship,
and a strigil and an oil flask, which you had made
yourself; you said also that you had made the shoes which
you had on your feet, and the cloak and the short tunic; but
what appeared to us all most extraordinary and a proof of
singular art, was the girdle of your tunic, which, you said,
was as fine as the most costly Persian fabric, and of your
own weaving; moreover, you told us that you had brought
with you poems, epic, tragic, and dithyrambic, as well as
prose writings of the most various kinds; and you said that
your skill was also pre-eminent in the arts which I was just
now mentioning, and in the true principles of rhythm and
harmony and of orthography; and if I remember rightly,
there were a great many other accomplishments in which you
excelled. I have forgotten to mention your art of memory,
which you regard as your special glory, and I dare say that I
have forgotten many other things; but, as I was saying, only
look to your own arts—and there are plenty of them—and to
those of others; and tell me, having regard to the admissions
which you and I have made, whether you discover any
department of art or any description of wisdom or cunning,
whichever name you use, in which the true and false are
different and not the same: tell me, if you can, of any. But 369
you cannot.

_Hip._ Not without consideration, Socrates.

_Soc._ Nor will consideration help you, Hippias, as I
believe; but then if I am right, remember what the consequence
will be.

[Sidenote: Yet he who knows and remembers all things can call to mind no instance in which the false is not also true, although he was saying just now that Achilles is true and Odysseus false.]

_Hip._ I do not know what you mean, Socrates.

_Soc._ I suppose that you are not using your art of memory,
doubtless because you think that such an accomplishment is
not needed on the present occasion. I will therefore remind
you of what you were saying: were you not saying that
Achilles was a true man, and Odysseus false and wily?

_Hip._ I was.

_Soc._ And now do you perceive that the same person has
turned out to be false as well as true? If Odysseus is false
he is also true, and if Achilles is true he is also false, and so
the two men are not opposed to one another, but they are
alike.

[Sidenote: _The perverted ingenuity of Socrates._]

_Hip._ O Socrates, you are always weaving the meshes of an
argument, selecting the most difficult point, and fastening
upon details instead of grappling with the matter in hand as a
whole. Come now, and I will demonstrate to you, if you will
allow me, by many satisfactory proofs, that Homer has made
Achilles a better man than Odysseus, and a truthful man too;
and that he has made the other crafty, and a teller of many
untruths, and inferior to Achilles. And then, if you please,
you shall make a speech on the other side, in order to prove
that Odysseus is the better man; and this may be compared
to mine, and then the company will know which of us is the
better speaker.

[Sidenote: Socrates pays Hippias the compliment which he always pays to a wise man, of attending to him. He proves by example that Achilles, the true man, is always uttering falsehoods, Odysseus, the false man, never.]

_Soc._ O Hippias, I do not doubt that you are wiser than I
am. But I have a way, when anybody else says anything, of
giving close attention to him, especially if the speaker appears
to me to be a wise man. Having a desire to understand, I
question him, and I examine and analyse and put together
what he says, in order that I may understand; but if the
speaker appears to me to be a poor hand, I do not interrogate
him, or trouble myself about him, and you may know by this
who they are whom I deem to be wise men, for you will see
that when I am talking with a wise man, I am very attentive
to what he says; and I ask questions of him, in order that I
may learn, and be improved by him. And I could not help
remarking while you were speaking, that when you recited
the verses in which Achilles, as you argued, attacks Odysseus
as a deceiver, that you must be strangely mistaken, because
Odysseus, the man of wiles, is never found to tell a lie; but
Achilles is found to be wily on your own showing. At any 370
rate he speaks falsely; for first he utters these words, which
you just now repeated,—

‘He is hateful to me even as the gates of death who
thinks one thing and says another:’—

And then he says, a little while afterwards, he will not be
persuaded by Odysseus and Agamemnon, neither will he
remain at Troy; but, says he,—

‘To-morrow, when I have offered sacrifices to Zeus and
all the Gods, having loaded my ships well, I will drag
them down into the deep; and then you shall see, if you
have a mind, and if such things are a care to you, early
in the morning my ships sailing over the fishy Hellespont,
and my men eagerly plying the oar; and, if the illustrious
shaker of the earth gives me a good voyage, on the third
day I shall reach the fertile Phthia.’

And before that, when he was reviling Agamemnon, he
said,—

‘And now to Phthia I will go, since to return home in the
beaked ships is far better, nor am I inclined to stay here
in dishonour and amass wealth and riches for you.’

But although on that occasion, in the presence of the whole
army, he spoke after this fashion, and on the other occasion
to his companions, he appears never to have made any preparation
or attempt to draw down the ships, as if he had the
least intention of sailing home; so nobly regardless was he
of the truth. Now I, Hippias, originally asked you the
question, because I was in doubt as to which of the two
heroes was intended by the poet to be the best, and because
I thought that both of them were the best, and that it would
be difficult to decide which was the better of them, not only
in respect of truth and falsehood, but of virtue generally, for
even in this matter of speaking the truth they are much upon
a par.

[Sidenote: Aye, but the falsehood of Achilles is accidental; that of Odysseus intentional.]

[Sidenote: _To err intentionally is better than_]

_Hip._ There you are wrong, Socrates; for in so far as
Achilles speaks falsely, the falsehood is obviously unintentional.
He is compelled against his will to remain and
rescue the army in their misfortune. But when Odysseus
speaks falsely he is voluntarily and intentionally false.

_Soc._ You, sweet Hippias, like Odysseus, are a deceiver
yourself.

_Hip._ Certainly not, Socrates; what makes you say so? 371

_Soc._ Because you say that Achilles does not speak falsely
from design, when he is not only a deceiver, but besides
being a braggart, in Homer’s description of him is so cunning,
and so far superior to Odysseus in lying and pretending,
that he dares to contradict himself, and Odysseus does not
find him out; at any rate he does not appear to say anything
to him which would imply that he perceived his falsehood.

_Hip._ What do you mean, Socrates?

_Soc._ Did you not observe that afterwards, when he is
speaking to Odysseus, he says that he will sail away with the
early dawn; but to Ajax he tells quite a different story?

_Hip._ Where is that?

_Soc._ Where he says,—

‘I will not think about bloody war until the son of warlike
Priam, illustrious Hector, comes to the tents and ships of
the Myrmidons, slaughtering the Argives, and burning the
ships with fire; and about my tent and dark ship, I suspect
that Hector, although eager for the battle, will nevertheless
stay his hand.’

Now, do you really think, Hippias, that the son of Thetis,
who had been the pupil of the sage Cheiron, had such a bad
memory, or would have carried the art of lying to such an extent
(when he had been assailing liars in the most violent
terms only the instant before) as to say to Odysseus that he
would sail away, and to Ajax that he would remain, and that he
was not rather practising upon the simplicity of Odysseus,
whom he regarded as an ancient, and thinking that he would
get the better of him by his own cunning and falsehood?

[Sidenote: _to err voluntarily._]

_Hip._ No, I do not agree with you, Socrates; but I believe
that Achilles is induced to say one thing to Ajax, and another
to Odysseus in the innocence of his heart, whereas Odysseus,
whether he speaks falsely or truly, speaks always with a
purpose.

[Sidenote: That proves Odysseus to be better than Achilles.]

_Soc._ Then Odysseus would appear after all to be better
than Achilles?

_Hip._ Certainly not, Socrates.

_Soc._ Why, were not the voluntary liars only just now
shown to be better than the involuntary?

_Hip._ And how, Socrates, can those who intentionally err,
and voluntarily and designedly commit iniquities, be better
than those who err and do wrong involuntarily? Surely 372
there is a great excuse to be made for a man telling a falsehood,
or doing an injury or any sort of harm to another in
ignorance. And the laws are obviously far more severe on
those who lie or do evil, voluntarily, than on those who do
evil involuntarily.

[Sidenote: _Hippias grows impatient._]

[Sidenote: Socrates is convinced of his own ignorance because he never agrees with wise men. But he is willing to learn, and he desires to be cured by Hippias of his ignorance in as few words as possible.]

_Soc._ You see, Hippias, as I have already told you, how
pertinacious I am in asking questions of wise men. And I
think that this is the only good point about me, for I am full
of defects, and always getting wrong in some way or other.
My deficiency is proved to me by the fact that when I meet
one of you who are famous for wisdom, and to whose wisdom
all the Hellenes are witnesses, I am found out to know
nothing. For speaking generally, I hardly ever have the
same opinion about anything which you have, and what proof
of ignorance can be greater than to differ from wise men?
But I have one singular good quality, which is my salvation;
I am not ashamed to learn, and I ask and enquire, and
am very grateful to those who answer me, and never fail to
give them my grateful thanks; and when I learn a thing I
never deny my teacher, or pretend that the lesson is a discovery
of my own; but I praise his wisdom, and proclaim
what I have learned from him. And now I cannot agree in
what you are saying, but I strongly disagree. Well, I know
that this is my own fault, and is a defect in my character,
but I will not pretend to be more than I am; and my opinion,
Hippias, is the very contrary of what you are saying. For I
maintain that those who hurt or injure mankind, and speak
falsely and deceive, and err voluntarily, are better far than
those who do wrong involuntarily. Sometimes, however, I
am of the opposite opinion; for I am all abroad in my
ideas about this matter, a condition obviously occasioned by
ignorance. And just now I happen to be in a crisis of my
disorder at which those who err voluntarily appear to me
better than those who err involuntarily. My present state of
mind is due to our previous argument, which inclines me to
believe that in general those who do wrong involuntarily are
worse than those who do wrong voluntarily, and therefore I
hope that you will be good to me, and not refuse to heal me;
for you will do me a much greater benefit if you cure my soul
of ignorance, than you would if you were to cure my body of
disease. I must, however, tell you beforehand, that if you 373
make a long oration to me you will not cure me, for I shall
not be able to follow you; but if you will answer me, as you
did just now, you will do me a great deal of good, and I do
not think that you will be any the worse yourself. And I
have some claim upon you also, O son of Apemantus, for
you incited me to converse with Hippias; and now, if Hippias
will not answer me, you must entreat him on my behalf.

_Eud._ But I do not think, Socrates, that Hippias will
require any entreaty of mine; for he has already said that he
will refuse to answer no man.—Did you not say so, Hippias?

_Hip._ Yes, I did; but then, Eudicus, Socrates is always
troublesome in an argument, and appears to be dishonest[54].

_Soc._ Excellent Hippias, I do not do so intentionally (if I
did, it would show me to be a wise man and a master of wiles,
as you would argue), but unintentionally, and therefore you
must pardon me; for, as you say, he who is unintentionally
dishonest should be pardoned.

[Sidenote: _The analogy of bodily exercises._]

_Eud._ Yes, Hippias, do as he says; and for our sake, and
also that you may not belie your profession, answer whatever
Socrates asks you.

_Hip._ I will answer, as you request me; and do you ask
whatever you like.

[Sidenote: Socrates by citation of instances not ‘in pari materia’ proves that it is better to do evil intentionally: e. g. in running, in wrestling, in the action of the body, in singing, in the use of the feet, eyes, ears, of instruments.]

_Soc._ I am very desirous, Hippias, of examining this question,
as to which are the better—those who err voluntarily or
involuntarily? And if you will answer me, I think that I can
put you in the way of approaching the subject: You would
admit, would you not, that there are good runners?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ And there are bad runners?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ And he who runs well is a good runner, and he who
runs ill is a bad runner?

_Hip._ Very true.

_Soc._ And he who runs slowly runs ill, and he who runs
quickly runs well?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ Then in a race, and in running, swiftness is a good,
and slowness is an evil quality?

_Hip._ To be sure.

_Soc._ Which of the two then is a better runner? He who
runs slowly voluntarily, or he who runs slowly involuntarily?

_Hip._ He who runs slowly voluntarily.

_Soc._ And is not running a species of doing?

_Hip._ Certainly.

_Soc._ And if a species of doing, a species of action?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ Then he who runs badly does a bad and dishonourable
action in a race?

_Hip._ Yes; a bad action, certainly.

_Soc._ And he who runs slowly runs badly?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ Then the good runner does this bad and disgraceful
action voluntarily, and the bad involuntarily?

_Hip._ That is to be inferred.

_Soc._ Then he who involuntarily does evil actions, is worse
in a race than he who does them voluntarily?

_Hip._ Yes, in a race.

[Sidenote: _The analogy of the human faculties,_]

_Soc._ Well; but at a wrestling match—which is the better 374
wrestler, he who falls voluntarily or involuntarily?

_Hip._ He who falls voluntarily, doubtless.

_Soc._ And is it worse or more dishonourable at a wrestling
match, to fall, or to throw another?

_Hip._ To fall.

_Soc._ Then, at a wrestling match, he who voluntarily does
base and dishonourable actions is a better wrestler than he
who does them involuntarily?

_Hip._ That appears to be the truth.

_Soc._ And what would you say of any other bodily exercise—is
not he who is better made able to do both that which is
strong and that which is weak—that which is fair and that
which is foul?—so that when he does bad actions with the
body, he who is better made does them voluntarily, and he
who is worse made does them involuntarily.

_Hip._ Yes, that appears to be true about strength.

_Soc._ And what do you say about grace, Hippias? Is not
he who is better made able to assume evil and disgraceful
figures and postures voluntarily, as he who is worse made
assumes them involuntarily?

_Hip._ True.

_Soc._ Then voluntary ungracefulness comes from excellence
of the bodily frame, and involuntary from the defect of the
bodily frame?

_Hip._ True.

_Soc._ And what would you say of an unmusical voice;
would you prefer the voice which is voluntarily or involuntarily
out of tune?

_Hip._ That which is voluntarily out of tune.

_Soc._ The involuntary is the worse of the two?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ And would you choose to possess goods or evils?

_Hip._ Goods.

_Soc._ And would you rather have feet which are voluntarily
or involuntarily lame?

_Hip._ Feet which are voluntarily lame.

_Soc._ But is not lameness a defect or deformity?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ And is not blinking a defect in the eyes?

[Sidenote: _of implements, arts, etc., confirms the view of Socrates._]

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ And would you rather always have eyes with which
you might voluntarily blink and not see, or with which you
might involuntarily blink?

_Hip._ I would rather have eyes which voluntarily blink.

_Soc._ Then in your own case you deem that which voluntarily
acts ill, better than that which involuntarily acts
ill?

_Hip._ Yes, certainly, in cases such as you mention.

_Soc._ And does not the same hold of ears, nostrils,
mouth, and of all the senses—those which involuntarily
act ill are not to be desired, as being defective; and those
which voluntarily act ill are to be desired as being good?

_Hip._ I agree.

_Soc._ And what would you say of instruments;—which are
the better sort of instruments to have to do with?—those
with which a man acts ill voluntarily or involuntarily? For
example, had a man better have a rudder with which he will
steer ill, voluntarily or involuntarily?

_Hip._ He had better have a rudder with which he will
steer ill voluntarily.

_Soc._ And does not the same hold of the bow and the lyre,
the flute and all other things?

_Hip._ Very true.

_Soc._ And would you rather have a horse of such a temper
that you may ride him ill voluntarily or involuntarily?

[Sidenote: It is true also of animals, in the practice of archery, of medicine, in the characters of slaves.]

_Hip._ I would rather have a horse which I could ride ill 375
voluntarily.

_Soc._ That would be the better horse?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ Then with a horse of better temper, vicious actions
would be produced voluntarily; and with a horse of bad
temper involuntarily?

_Hip._ Certainly.

_Soc._ And that would be true of a dog, or of any other
animal?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ And is it better to possess the mind of an archer who
voluntarily or involuntarily misses the mark?

_Hip._ Of him who voluntarily misses.

[Sidenote: _Hippias cannot agree with Socrates,_]

_Soc._ This would be the better mind for the purposes of
archery?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ Then the mind which involuntarily errs is worse than
the mind which errs voluntarily?

_Hip._ Yes, certainly, in the use of the bow.

_Soc._ And what would you say of the art of medicine;—has
not the mind which voluntarily works harm to the body,
more of the healing art?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ Then in the art of medicine the voluntary is better
than the involuntary?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ Well, and in lute-playing and in flute-playing, and in
all arts and sciences, is not that mind the better which
voluntarily does what is evil and dishonourable, and goes
wrong, and is not the worse that which does so involuntarily?

_Hip._ That is evident.

_Soc._ And what would you say of the characters of slaves?
Should we not prefer to have those who voluntarily do
wrong and make mistakes, and are they not better in their
mistakes than those who commit them involuntarily?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ And should we not desire to have our own minds in
the best state possible?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ And will our minds be better if they do wrong and
make mistakes voluntarily or involuntarily?

[Sidenote: Hippias revolts at the conclusion.]

_Hip._ O, Socrates, it would be a monstrous thing to say
that those who do wrong voluntarily are better than those
who do wrong involuntarily!

_Soc._ And yet that appears to be the only inference.

_Hip._ I do not think so.

[Sidenote: Socrates recapitulates the argument.]

_Soc._ But I imagined, Hippias, that you did. Please to
answer once more: Is not justice a power, or knowledge, or
both? Must not justice, at all events, be one of these?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ But if justice is a power of the soul, then the soul
which has the greater power is also the more just; for that
which has the greater power, my good friend, has been
proved by us to be the better.

[Sidenote: _nor Socrates with himself._]

_Hip._ Yes, that has been proved.

_Soc._ And if justice is knowledge, then the wiser will be
the juster soul, and the more ignorant the more unjust?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ But if justice be power as well as knowledge—then
will not the soul which has both knowledge and power be
the more just, and that which is the more ignorant be the
more unjust? Must it not be so?

_Hip._ Clearly.

_Soc._ And is not the soul which has the greater power and
wisdom also better, and better able to do both good and evil
in every action?

_Hip._ Certainly.

_Soc._ The soul, then, which acts ill, acts voluntarily by 376
power and art—and these either one or both of them are
elements of justice?

_Hip._ That seems to be true.

_Soc._ And to do injustice is to do ill, and not to do injustice
is to do well?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ And will not the better and abler soul when it
does wrong, do wrong voluntarily, and the bad soul involuntarily?

_Hip._ Clearly.

_Soc._ And the good man is he who has the good soul, and
the bad man is he who has the bad?

_Hip._ Yes.

_Soc._ Then the good man will voluntarily do wrong, and
the bad man involuntarily, if the good man is he who has the
good soul?

_Hip._ Which he certainly has.

[Sidenote: Hippias, who has admitted the previous deductions, rebels at the final one. Socrates is himself dissatisfied. What remains if Socrates and a wiser than Socrates are alike in doubt?]

_Soc._ Then, Hippias, he who voluntarily does wrong and
disgraceful things, if there be such a man, will be the good
man?

_Hip._ There I cannot agree with you.

[Sidenote: _Socrates thinks the matter serious._]

_Soc._ Nor can I agree with myself, Hippias; and yet that
seems to be the conclusion which, as far as we can see at
present, must follow from our argument. As I was saying
before, I am all abroad, and being in perplexity am always
changing my opinion. Now, that I or any ordinary man
should wander in perplexity is not surprising; but if you
wise men also wander, and we cannot come to you and rest
from our wandering, the matter begins to be serious both to
us and to you.

FOOTNOTES

[53] Cp. Gorgias 448 A.

[54] Cp. Gorgias 499, 505; Rep. vi. 487.

ALCIBIADES I.

INTRODUCTION.

[Sidenote: _Alcibiades I._]

The First Alcibiades is a conversation between Socrates and Alcibiades. Socrates is represented in the character which he attributes to himself in the Apology of a know-nothing who detects the conceit of knowledge in others. The two have met already in the Protagoras and in the Symposium; in the latter dialogue, as in this, the relation between them is that of a lover and his beloved. But the narrative of their loves is told differently in different places; for in the Symposium Alcibiades is depicted as the impassioned but rejected lover; here, as coldly receiving the advances of Socrates, who, for the best of purposes, lies in wait for the aspiring and ambitious youth.

[Sidenote: ANALYSIS.]

Alcibiades, who is described as a very young man, is =Steph.= 103
about to enter on public life, having an inordinate opinion of
himself, and an extravagant ambition. Socrates, ‘who knows what is
in man,’ astonishes him by a revelation of his designs. But has -106
he the knowledge which is necessary for carrying them out? He is
going to persuade the Athenians—about what? Not about any 107
particular art, but about politics—when to fight and when to make
peace. Now, men should fight and make peace on just grounds,
and therefore the question of justice and injustice must enter into
peace and war; and he who advises the Athenians must know -109
the difference between them. Does Alcibiades know? If he
does, he must either have been taught by some master, or he
must have discovered the nature of them himself. If he has had
a master, Socrates would like to be informed who he is, that he
may go and learn of him also. Alcibiades admits that he has 110
never learned. Then has he enquired for himself? He may
have, if he was ever aware of a time when he was ignorant. But
he never was ignorant; for when he played with other boys at dice,
he charged them with cheating, and this implied a knowledge of
just and unjust. According to his own explanation, he had learned
of the multitude. Why, he asks, should he not learn of them the
nature of justice, as he has learned the Greek language of them?
To this Socrates answers, that they can teach Greek, but they 111
cannot teach justice; for they are agreed about the one, but they
are not agreed about the other: and therefore Alcibiades, who 112
has admitted that if he knows he must either have learned from
a master or have discovered for himself the nature of justice, is
convicted out of his own mouth. 113

[Sidenote: _Analysis 110-126._]

Alcibiades rejoins, that the Athenians debate not about what is
just, but about what is expedient; and he asserts that the two
principles of justice and expediency are opposed. Socrates, by a 114
series of questions, compels him to admit that the just and the
expedient coincide. Alcibiades is thus reduced to the humiliating -117
conclusion that he knows nothing of politics, even if, as he says,
they are concerned with the expedient.

However, he is no worse than other Athenian statesmen; and
he will not need training, for others are as ignorant as he is.
He is reminded that he has to contend, not only with his own
countrymen, but with their enemies—with the Spartan kings and -120
with the great king of Persia; and he can only attain this higher
aim of ambition by the assistance of Socrates. Not that Socrates
himself professes to have attained the truth, but the questions
which he asks bring others to a knowledge of themselves, and
this is the first step in the practice of virtue.

The dialogue continues:—We wish to become as good as -124
possible. But to be good in what? Alcibiades replies—‘Good in
transacting business.’ But what business? ‘The business of the 125
most intelligent men at Athens.’ The cobbler is intelligent in
shoemaking, and is therefore good in that; he is not intelligent,
and therefore not good, in weaving. Is he good in the sense
which Alcibiades means, who is also bad? ‘I mean,’ replies
Alcibiades, ‘the man who is able to command in the city.’ But to
command what—horses or men? and if men, under what circumstances?
‘I mean to say, that he is able to command men living
in social and political relations.’ And what is their aim? ‘The
better preservation of the city.’ But when is a city better? 126
‘When there is unanimity, such as exists between husband and
wife.’ Then, when husbands and wives perform their own 127
special duties, there can be no unanimity between them; nor can
a city be well ordered when each citizen does his own work only.
Alcibiades, having stated first that goodness consists in the
unanimity of the citizens, and then in each of them doing his
own separate work, is brought to the required point of
self-contradiction, leading him to confess his own ignorance. 128

[Sidenote: _Analysis 127-135._]