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Sophist
Once more, while we readily admit that the world is relative to the mind, and the mind to the world, and that we must suppose a common or correlative growth in them, we shrink from saying that this complex nature can contain, even in outline, all the endless forms of Being and knowledge. Are we not 'seeking the living among the dead' and dignifying a mere logical skeleton with the name of philosophy and almost of God? When we look far away into the primeval sources of thought and belief, do we suppose that the mere accident of our being the heirs of the Greek philosophers can give us a right to set ourselves up as having the true and only standard of reason in the world? Or when we contemplate the infinite worlds in the expanse of heaven can we imagine that a few meagre categories derived from language and invented by the genius of one or two great thinkers contain the secret of the universe? Or, having regard to the ages during which the human race may yet endure, do we suppose that we can anticipate the proportions human knowledge may attain even within the short space of one or two thousand years?
Again, we have a difficulty in understanding how ideas can be causes, which to us seems to be as much a figure of speech as the old notion of a creator artist, 'who makes the world by the help of the demigods' (Plato, Tim.), or with 'a golden pair of compasses' measures out the circumference of the universe (Milton, P.L.). We can understand how the idea in the mind of an inventor is the cause of the work which is produced by it; and we can dimly imagine how this universal frame may be animated by a divine intelligence. But we cannot conceive how all the thoughts of men that ever were, which are themselves subject to so many external conditions of climate, country, and the like, even if regarded as the single thought of a Divine Being, can be supposed to have made the world. We appear to be only wrapping up ourselves in our own conceits – to be confusing cause and effect – to be losing the distinction between reflection and action, between the human and divine.
These are some of the doubts and suspicions which arise in the mind of a student of Hegel, when, after living for a time within the charmed circle, he removes to a little distance and looks back upon what he has learnt, from the vantage-ground of history and experience. The enthusiasm of his youth has passed away, the authority of the master no longer retains a hold upon him. But he does not regret the time spent in the study of him. He finds that he has received from him a real enlargement of mind, and much of the true spirit of philosophy, even when he has ceased to believe in him. He returns again and again to his writings as to the recollections of a first love, not undeserving of his admiration still. Perhaps if he were asked how he can admire without believing, or what value he can attribute to what he knows to be erroneous, he might answer in some such manner as the following: —
1. That in Hegel he finds glimpses of the genius of the poet and of the common sense of the man of the world. His system is not cast in a poetic form, but neither has all this load of logic extinguished in him the feeling of poetry. He is the true countryman of his contemporaries Goethe and Schiller. Many fine expressions are scattered up and down in his writings, as when he tells us that 'the Crusaders went to the Sepulchre but found it empty.' He delights to find vestiges of his own philosophy in the older German mystics. And though he can be scarcely said to have mixed much in the affairs of men, for, as his biographer tells us, 'he lived for thirty years in a single room,' yet he is far from being ignorant of the world. No one can read his writings without acquiring an insight into life. He loves to touch with the spear of logic the follies and self-deceptions of mankind, and make them appear in their natural form, stripped of the disguises of language and custom. He will not allow men to defend themselves by an appeal to one-sided or abstract principles. In this age of reason any one can too easily find a reason for doing what he likes (Wallace). He is suspicious of a distinction which is often made between a person's character and his conduct. His spirit is the opposite of that of Jesuitism or casuistry (Wallace). He affords an example of a remark which has been often made, that in order to know the world it is not necessary to have had a great experience of it.
2. Hegel, if not the greatest philosopher, is certainly the greatest critic of philosophy who ever lived. No one else has equally mastered the opinions of his predecessors or traced the connexion of them in the same manner. No one has equally raised the human mind above the trivialities of the common logic and the unmeaningness of 'mere' abstractions, and above imaginary possibilities, which, as he truly says, have no place in philosophy. No one has won so much for the kingdom of ideas. Whatever may be thought of his own system it will hardly be denied that he has overthrown Locke, Kant, Hume, and the so-called philosophy of common sense. He shows us that only by the study of metaphysics can we get rid of metaphysics, and that those who are in theory most opposed to them are in fact most entirely and hopelessly enslaved by them: 'Die reinen Physiker sind nur die Thiere.' The disciple of Hegel will hardly become the slave of any other system-maker. What Bacon seems to promise him he will find realized in the great German thinker, an emancipation nearly complete from the influences of the scholastic logic.
3. Many of those who are least disposed to become the votaries of Hegelianism nevertheless recognize in his system a new logic supplying a variety of instruments and methods hitherto unemployed. We may not be able to agree with him in assimilating the natural order of human thought with the history of philosophy, and still less in identifying both with the divine idea or nature. But we may acknowledge that the great thinker has thrown a light on many parts of human knowledge, and has solved many difficulties. We cannot receive his doctrine of opposites as the last word of philosophy, but still we may regard it as a very important contribution to logic. We cannot affirm that words have no meaning when taken out of their connexion in the history of thought. But we recognize that their meaning is to a great extent due to association, and to their correlation with one another. We see the advantage of viewing in the concrete what mankind regard only in the abstract. There is much to be said for his faith or conviction, that God is immanent in the world, – within the sphere of the human mind, and not beyond it. It was natural that he himself, like a prophet of old, should regard the philosophy which he had invented as the voice of God in man. But this by no means implies that he conceived himself as creating God in thought. He was the servant of his own ideas and not the master of them. The philosophy of history and the history of philosophy may be almost said to have been discovered by him. He has done more to explain Greek thought than all other writers put together. Many ideas of development, evolution, reciprocity, which have become the symbols of another school of thinkers may be traced to his speculations. In the theology and philosophy of England as well as of Germany, and also in the lighter literature of both countries, there are always appearing 'fragments of the great banquet' of Hegel.
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: Theodorus, Theaetetus, Socrates. An Eleatic Stranger, whom Theodorus and Theaetetus bring with them. The younger Socrates, who is a silent auditor.
THEODORUS: Here we are, Socrates, true to our agreement of yesterday; and we bring with us a stranger from Elea, who is a disciple of Parmenides and Zeno, and a true philosopher.
SOCRATES: Is he not rather a god, Theodorus, who comes to us in the disguise of a stranger? For Homer says that all the gods, and especially the god of strangers, are companions of the meek and just, and visit the good and evil among men. And may not your companion be one of those higher powers, a cross-examining deity, who has come to spy out our weakness in argument, and to cross-examine us?
THEODORUS: Nay, Socrates, he is not one of the disputatious sort – he is too good for that. And, in my opinion, he is not a god at all; but divine he certainly is, for this is a title which I should give to all philosophers.
SOCRATES: Capital, my friend! and I may add that they are almost as hard to be discerned as the gods. For the true philosophers, and such as are not merely made up for the occasion, appear in various forms unrecognized by the ignorance of men, and they 'hover about cities,' as Homer declares, looking from above upon human life; and some think nothing of them, and others can never think enough; and sometimes they appear as statesmen, and sometimes as sophists; and then, again, to many they seem to be no better than madmen. I should like to ask our Eleatic friend, if he would tell us, what is thought about them in Italy, and to whom the terms are applied.
THEODORUS: What terms?
SOCRATES: Sophist, statesman, philosopher.
THEODORUS: What is your difficulty about them, and what made you ask?
SOCRATES: I want to know whether by his countrymen they are regarded as one or two; or do they, as the names are three, distinguish also three kinds, and assign one to each name?
THEODORUS: I dare say that the Stranger will not object to discuss the question. What do you say, Stranger?
STRANGER: I am far from objecting, Theodorus, nor have I any difficulty in replying that by us they are regarded as three. But to define precisely the nature of each of them is by no means a slight or easy task.
THEODORUS: You have happened to light, Socrates, almost on the very question which we were asking our friend before we came hither, and he excused himself to us, as he does now to you; although he admitted that the matter had been fully discussed, and that he remembered the answer.
SOCRATES: Then do not, Stranger, deny us the first favour which we ask of you: I am sure that you will not, and therefore I shall only beg of you to say whether you like and are accustomed to make a long oration on a subject which you want to explain to another, or to proceed by the method of question and answer. I remember hearing a very noble discussion in which Parmenides employed the latter of the two methods, when I was a young man, and he was far advanced in years. (Compare Parm.)
STRANGER: I prefer to talk with another when he responds pleasantly, and is light in hand; if not, I would rather have my own say.
SOCRATES: Any one of the present company will respond kindly to you, and you can choose whom you like of them; I should recommend you to take a young person – Theaetetus, for example – unless you have a preference for some one else.
STRANGER: I feel ashamed, Socrates, being a new-comer into your society, instead of talking a little and hearing others talk, to be spinning out a long soliloquy or address, as if I wanted to show off. For the true answer will certainly be a very long one, a great deal longer than might be expected from such a short and simple question. At the same time, I fear that I may seem rude and ungracious if I refuse your courteous request, especially after what you have said. For I certainly cannot object to your proposal, that Theaetetus should respond, having already conversed with him myself, and being recommended by you to take him.
THEAETETUS: But are you sure, Stranger, that this will be quite so acceptable to the rest of the company as Socrates imagines?
STRANGER: You hear them applauding, Theaetetus; after that, there is nothing more to be said. Well then, I am to argue with you, and if you tire of the argument, you may complain of your friends and not of me.
THEAETETUS: I do not think that I shall tire, and if I do, I shall get my friend here, young Socrates, the namesake of the elder Socrates, to help; he is about my own age, and my partner at the gymnasium, and is constantly accustomed to work with me.
STRANGER: Very good; you can decide about that for yourself as we proceed. Meanwhile you and I will begin together and enquire into the nature of the Sophist, first of the three: I should like you to make out what he is and bring him to light in a discussion; for at present we are only agreed about the name, but of the thing to which we both apply the name possibly you have one notion and I another; whereas we ought always to come to an understanding about the thing itself in terms of a definition, and not merely about the name minus the definition. Now the tribe of Sophists which we are investigating is not easily caught or defined; and the world has long ago agreed, that if great subjects are to be adequately treated, they must be studied in the lesser and easier instances of them before we proceed to the greatest of all. And as I know that the tribe of Sophists is troublesome and hard to be caught, I should recommend that we practise beforehand the method which is to be applied to him on some simple and smaller thing, unless you can suggest a better way.
THEAETETUS: Indeed I cannot.
STRANGER: Then suppose that we work out some lesser example which will be a pattern of the greater?
THEAETETUS: Good.
STRANGER: What is there which is well known and not great, and is yet as susceptible of definition as any larger thing? Shall I say an angler? He is familiar to all of us, and not a very interesting or important person.
THEAETETUS: He is not.
STRANGER: Yet I suspect that he will furnish us with the sort of definition and line of enquiry which we want.
THEAETETUS: Very good.
STRANGER: Let us begin by asking whether he is a man having art or not having art, but some other power.
THEAETETUS: He is clearly a man of art.
STRANGER: And of arts there are two kinds?
THEAETETUS: What are they?
STRANGER: There is agriculture, and the tending of mortal creatures, and the art of constructing or moulding vessels, and there is the art of imitation – all these may be appropriately called by a single name.
THEAETETUS: What do you mean? And what is the name?
STRANGER: He who brings into existence something that did not exist before is said to be a producer, and that which is brought into existence is said to be produced.
THEAETETUS: True.
STRANGER: And all the arts which were just now mentioned are characterized by this power of producing?
THEAETETUS: They are.
STRANGER: Then let us sum them up under the name of productive or creative art.
THEAETETUS: Very good.
STRANGER: Next follows the whole class of learning and cognition; then comes trade, fighting, hunting. And since none of these produces anything, but is only engaged in conquering by word or deed, or in preventing others from conquering, things which exist and have been already produced – in each and all of these branches there appears to be an art which may be called acquisitive.
THEAETETUS: Yes, that is the proper name.
STRANGER: Seeing, then, that all arts are either acquisitive or creative, in which class shall we place the art of the angler?
THEAETETUS: Clearly in the acquisitive class.
STRANGER: And the acquisitive may be subdivided into two parts: there is exchange, which is voluntary and is effected by gifts, hire, purchase; and the other part of acquisitive, which takes by force of word or deed, may be termed conquest?
THEAETETUS: That is implied in what has been said.
STRANGER: And may not conquest be again subdivided?
THEAETETUS: How?
STRANGER: Open force may be called fighting, and secret force may have the general name of hunting?
THEAETETUS: Yes.
STRANGER: And there is no reason why the art of hunting should not be further divided.
THEAETETUS: How would you make the division?
STRANGER: Into the hunting of living and of lifeless prey.
THEAETETUS: Yes, if both kinds exist.
STRANGER: Of course they exist; but the hunting after lifeless things having no special name, except some sorts of diving, and other small matters, may be omitted; the hunting after living things may be called animal hunting.
THEAETETUS: Yes.
STRANGER: And animal hunting may be truly said to have two divisions, land-animal hunting, which has many kinds and names, and water-animal hunting, or the hunting after animals who swim?
THEAETETUS: True.
STRANGER: And of swimming animals, one class lives on the wing and the other in the water?
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
STRANGER: Fowling is the general term under which the hunting of all birds is included.
THEAETETUS: True.
STRANGER: The hunting of animals who live in the water has the general name of fishing.
THEAETETUS: Yes.
STRANGER: And this sort of hunting may be further divided also into two principal kinds?
THEAETETUS: What are they?
STRANGER: There is one kind which takes them in nets, another which takes them by a blow.
THEAETETUS: What do you mean, and how do you distinguish them?
STRANGER: As to the first kind – all that surrounds and encloses anything to prevent egress, may be rightly called an enclosure.
THEAETETUS: Very true.
STRANGER: For which reason twig baskets, casting-nets, nooses, creels, and the like may all be termed 'enclosures'?
THEAETETUS: True.
STRANGER: And therefore this first kind of capture may be called by us capture with enclosures, or something of that sort?
THEAETETUS: Yes.
STRANGER: The other kind, which is practised by a blow with hooks and three-pronged spears, when summed up under one name, may be called striking, unless you, Theaetetus, can find some better name?
THEAETETUS: Never mind the name – what you suggest will do very well.
STRANGER: There is one mode of striking, which is done at night, and by the light of a fire, and is by the hunters themselves called firing, or spearing by firelight.
THEAETETUS: True.
STRANGER: And the fishing by day is called by the general name of barbing, because the spears, too, are barbed at the point.
THEAETETUS: Yes, that is the term.
STRANGER: Of this barb-fishing, that which strikes the fish who is below from above is called spearing, because this is the way in which the three-pronged spears are mostly used.
THEAETETUS: Yes, it is often called so.
STRANGER: Then now there is only one kind remaining.
THEAETETUS: What is that?
STRANGER: When a hook is used, and the fish is not struck in any chance part of his body, as he is with the spear, but only about the head and mouth, and is then drawn out from below upwards with reeds and rods: – What is the right name of that mode of fishing, Theaetetus?
THEAETETUS: I suspect that we have now discovered the object of our search.
STRANGER: Then now you and I have come to an understanding not only about the name of the angler's art, but about the definition of the thing itself. One half of all art was acquisitive – half of the acquisitive art was conquest or taking by force, half of this was hunting, and half of hunting was hunting animals, half of this was hunting water animals – of this again, the under half was fishing, half of fishing was striking; a part of striking was fishing with a barb, and one half of this again, being the kind which strikes with a hook and draws the fish from below upwards, is the art which we have been seeking, and which from the nature of the operation is denoted angling or drawing up (aspalieutike, anaspasthai).
THEAETETUS: The result has been quite satisfactorily brought out.
STRANGER: And now, following this pattern, let us endeavour to find out what a Sophist is.
THEAETETUS: By all means.
STRANGER: The first question about the angler was, whether he was a skilled artist or unskilled?
THEAETETUS: True.
STRANGER: And shall we call our new friend unskilled, or a thorough master of his craft?
THEAETETUS: Certainly not unskilled, for his name, as, indeed, you imply, must surely express his nature.
STRANGER: Then he must be supposed to have some art.
THEAETETUS: What art?
STRANGER: By heaven, they are cousins! it never occurred to us.
THEAETETUS: Who are cousins?
STRANGER: The angler and the Sophist.
THEAETETUS: In what way are they related?
STRANGER: They both appear to me to be hunters.
THEAETETUS: How the Sophist? Of the other we have spoken.
STRANGER: You remember our division of hunting, into hunting after swimming animals and land animals?
THEAETETUS: Yes.
STRANGER: And you remember that we subdivided the swimming and left the land animals, saying that there were many kinds of them?
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
STRANGER: Thus far, then, the Sophist and the angler, starting from the art of acquiring, take the same road?
THEAETETUS: So it would appear.
STRANGER: Their paths diverge when they reach the art of animal hunting; the one going to the sea-shore, and to the rivers and to the lakes, and angling for the animals which are in them.
THEAETETUS: Very true.
STRANGER: While the other goes to land and water of another sort – rivers of wealth and broad meadow-lands of generous youth; and he also is intending to take the animals which are in them.
THEAETETUS: What do you mean?
STRANGER: Of hunting on land there are two principal divisions.
THEAETETUS: What are they?
STRANGER: One is the hunting of tame, and the other of wild animals.
THEAETETUS: But are tame animals ever hunted?
STRANGER: Yes, if you include man under tame animals. But if you like you may say that there are no tame animals, or that, if there are, man is not among them; or you may say that man is a tame animal but is not hunted – you shall decide which of these alternatives you prefer.
THEAETETUS: I should say, Stranger, that man is a tame animal, and I admit that he is hunted.
STRANGER: Then let us divide the hunting of tame animals into two parts.
THEAETETUS: How shall we make the division?
STRANGER: Let us define piracy, man-stealing, tyranny, the whole military art, by one name, as hunting with violence.
THEAETETUS: Very good.
STRANGER: But the art of the lawyer, of the popular orator, and the art of conversation may be called in one word the art of persuasion.
THEAETETUS: True.
STRANGER: And of persuasion, there may be said to be two kinds?
THEAETETUS: What are they?
STRANGER: One is private, and the other public.
THEAETETUS: Yes; each of them forms a class.
STRANGER: And of private hunting, one sort receives hire, and the other brings gifts.
THEAETETUS: I do not understand you.
STRANGER: You seem never to have observed the manner in which lovers hunt.
THEAETETUS: To what do you refer?
STRANGER: I mean that they lavish gifts on those whom they hunt in addition to other inducements.
THEAETETUS: Most true.
STRANGER: Let us admit this, then, to be the amatory art.
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
STRANGER: But that sort of hireling whose conversation is pleasing and who baits his hook only with pleasure and exacts nothing but his maintenance in return, we should all, if I am not mistaken, describe as possessing flattery or an art of making things pleasant.
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
STRANGER: And that sort, which professes to form acquaintances only for the sake of virtue, and demands a reward in the shape of money, may be fairly called by another name?
THEAETETUS: To be sure.
STRANGER: And what is the name? Will you tell me?
THEAETETUS: It is obvious enough; for I believe that we have discovered the Sophist: which is, as I conceive, the proper name for the class described.
STRANGER: Then now, Theaetetus, his art may be traced as a branch of the appropriative, acquisitive family – which hunts animals, – living – land – tame animals; which hunts man, – privately – for hire, – taking money in exchange – having the semblance of education; and this is termed Sophistry, and is a hunt after young men of wealth and rank – such is the conclusion.
THEAETETUS: Just so.
STRANGER: Let us take another branch of his genealogy; for he is a professor of a great and many-sided art; and if we look back at what has preceded we see that he presents another aspect, besides that of which we are speaking.
THEAETETUS: In what respect?
STRANGER: There were two sorts of acquisitive art; the one concerned with hunting, the other with exchange.
THEAETETUS: There were.
STRANGER: And of the art of exchange there are two divisions, the one of giving, and the other of selling.
THEAETETUS: Let us assume that.
STRANGER: Next, we will suppose the art of selling to be divided into two parts.
THEAETETUS: How?
STRANGER: There is one part which is distinguished as the sale of a man's own productions; another, which is the exchange of the works of others.
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
STRANGER: And is not that part of exchange which takes place in the city, being about half of the whole, termed retailing?
THEAETETUS: Yes.
STRANGER: And that which exchanges the goods of one city for those of another by selling and buying is the exchange of the merchant?
THEAETETUS: To be sure.
STRANGER: And you are aware that this exchange of the merchant is of two kinds: it is partly concerned with food for the use of the body, and partly with the food of the soul which is bartered and received in exchange for money.
THEAETETUS: What do you mean?
STRANGER: You want to know what is the meaning of food for the soul; the other kind you surely understand.
THEAETETUS: Yes.
STRANGER: Take music in general and painting and marionette playing and many other things, which are purchased in one city, and carried away and sold in another – wares of the soul which are hawked about either for the sake of instruction or amusement; – may not he who takes them about and sells them be quite as truly called a merchant as he who sells meats and drinks?
THEAETETUS: To be sure he may.
STRANGER: And would you not call by the same name him who buys up knowledge and goes about from city to city exchanging his wares for money?
THEAETETUS: Certainly I should.
STRANGER: Of this merchandise of the soul, may not one part be fairly termed the art of display? And there is another part which is certainly not less ridiculous, but being a trade in learning must be called by some name germane to the matter?
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
STRANGER: The latter should have two names, – one descriptive of the sale of the knowledge of virtue, and the other of the sale of other kinds of knowledge.
THEAETETUS: Of course.
STRANGER: The name of art-seller corresponds well enough to the latter; but you must try and tell me the name of the other.
THEAETETUS: He must be the Sophist, whom we are seeking; no other name can possibly be right.
STRANGER: No other; and so this trader in virtue again turns out to be our friend the Sophist, whose art may now be traced from the art of acquisition through exchange, trade, merchandise, to a merchandise of the soul which is concerned with speech and the knowledge of virtue.
THEAETETUS: Quite true.
STRANGER: And there may be a third reappearance of him; – for he may have settled down in a city, and may fabricate as well as buy these same wares, intending to live by selling them, and he would still be called a Sophist?
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
STRANGER: Then that part of the acquisitive art which exchanges, and of exchange which either sells a man's own productions or retails those of others, as the case may be, and in either way sells the knowledge of virtue, you would again term Sophistry?
THEAETETUS: I must, if I am to keep pace with the argument.
STRANGER: Let us consider once more whether there may not be yet another aspect of sophistry.
THEAETETUS: What is it?
STRANGER: In the acquisitive there was a subdivision of the combative or fighting art.
THEAETETUS: There was.
STRANGER: Perhaps we had better divide it.
THEAETETUS: What shall be the divisions?
STRANGER: There shall be one division of the competitive, and another of the pugnacious.
THEAETETUS: Very good.
STRANGER: That part of the pugnacious which is a contest of bodily strength may be properly called by some such name as violent.
THEAETETUS: True.
STRANGER: And when the war is one of words, it may be termed controversy?
THEAETETUS: Yes.
STRANGER: And controversy may be of two kinds.
THEAETETUS: What are they?
STRANGER: When long speeches are answered by long speeches, and there is public discussion about the just and unjust, that is forensic controversy.
THEAETETUS: Yes.
STRANGER: And there is a private sort of controversy, which is cut up into questions and answers, and this is commonly called disputation?
THEAETETUS: Yes, that is the name.
STRANGER: And of disputation, that sort which is only a discussion about contracts, and is carried on at random, and without rules of art, is recognized by the reasoning faculty to be a distinct class, but has hitherto had no distinctive name, and does not deserve to receive one from us.
THEAETETUS: No; for the different sorts of it are too minute and heterogeneous.
STRANGER: But that which proceeds by rules of art to dispute about justice and injustice in their own nature, and about things in general, we have been accustomed to call argumentation (Eristic)?
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
STRANGER: And of argumentation, one sort wastes money, and the other makes money.
THEAETETUS: Very true.
STRANGER: Suppose we try and give to each of these two classes a name.
THEAETETUS: Let us do so.
STRANGER: I should say that the habit which leads a man to neglect his own affairs for the pleasure of conversation, of which the style is far from being agreeable to the majority of his hearers, may be fairly termed loquacity: such is my opinion.
THEAETETUS: That is the common name for it.
STRANGER: But now who the other is, who makes money out of private disputation, it is your turn to say.
THEAETETUS: There is only one true answer: he is the wonderful Sophist, of whom we are in pursuit, and who reappears again for the fourth time.
STRANGER: Yes, and with a fresh pedigree, for he is the money-making species of the Eristic, disputatious, controversial, pugnacious, combative, acquisitive family, as the argument has already proven.
THEAETETUS: Certainly.
