STRANGER: Can we wonder, then, that the soul has the same uncertainty
about the alphabet of things, and sometimes and in some cases is firmly
fixed by the truth in each particular, and then, again, in other cases
is altogether at sea; having somehow or other a correct notion of
combinations; but when the elements are transferred into the long and
difficult language (syllables) of facts, is again ignorant of them?
YOUNG SOCRATES: There is nothing wonderful in that.
STRANGER: Could any one, my friend, who began with false opinion ever
expect to arrive even at a small portion of truth and to attain wisdom?
YOUNG SOCRATES: Hardly.
STRANGER: Then you and I will not be far wrong in trying to see the
nature of example in general in a small and particular instance;
afterwards from lesser things we intend to pass to the royal class,
which is the highest form of the same nature, and endeavour to discover
by rules of art what the management of cities is; and then the dream
will become a reality to us.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very true.
STRANGER: Then, once more, let us resume the previous argument, and as
there were innumerable rivals of the royal race who claim to have the
care of states, let us part them all off, and leave him alone; and, as I
was saying, a model or example of this process has first to be framed.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Exactly.
STRANGER: What model is there which is small, and yet has any analogy
with the political occupation? Suppose, Socrates, that if we have no
other example at hand, we choose weaving, or, more precisely, weaving of
wool--this will be quite enough, without taking the whole of weaving, to
illustrate our meaning?
YOUNG SOCRATES: Certainly.
STRANGER: Why should we not apply to weaving the same processes of
division and subdivision which we have already applied to other classes;
going once more as rapidly as we can through all the steps until we come
to that which is needed for our purpose?
YOUNG SOCRATES: How do you mean?
STRANGER: I shall reply by actually performing the process.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very good.
STRANGER: All things which we make or acquire are either creative or
preventive; of the preventive class are antidotes, divine and human, and
also defences; and defences are either military weapons or protections;
and protections are veils, and also shields against heat and cold, and
shields against heat and cold are shelters and coverings; and coverings
are blankets and garments; and garments are some of them in one piece,
and others of them are made in several parts; and of these latter some
are stitched, others are fastened and not stitched; and of the not
stitched, some are made of the sinews of plants, and some of hair; and
of these, again, some are cemented with water and earth, and others are
fastened together by themselves. And these last defences and coverings
which are fastened together by themselves are called clothes, and
the art which superintends them we may call, from the nature of the
operation, the art of clothing, just as before the art of the Statesman
was derived from the State; and may we not say that the art of weaving,
at least that largest portion of it which was concerned with the making
of clothes, differs only in name from this art of clothing, in the same
way that, in the previous case, the royal science differed from the
political?
YOUNG SOCRATES: Most true.
STRANGER: In the next place, let us make the reflection, that the art
of weaving clothes, which an incompetent person might fancy to have been
sufficiently described, has been separated off from several others which
are of the same family, but not from the co-operative arts.
YOUNG SOCRATES: And which are the kindred arts?
STRANGER: I see that I have not taken you with me. So I think that we
had better go backwards, starting from the end. We just now parted off
from the weaving of clothes, the making of blankets, which differ from
each other in that one is put under and the other is put around: and
these are what I termed kindred arts.
YOUNG SOCRATES: I understand.
STRANGER: And we have subtracted the manufacture of all articles made
of flax and cords, and all that we just now metaphorically termed the
sinews of plants, and we have also separated off the process of felting
and the putting together of materials by stitching and sewing, of which
the most important part is the cobbler's art.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Precisely.
STRANGER: Then we separated off the currier's art, which prepared
coverings in entire pieces, and the art of sheltering, and subtracted
the various arts of making water-tight which are employed in building,
and in general in carpentering, and in other crafts, and all such
arts as furnish impediments to thieving and acts of violence, and are
concerned with making the lids of boxes and the fixing of doors, being
divisions of the art of joining; and we also cut off the manufacture
of arms, which is a section of the great and manifold art of making
defences; and we originally began by parting off the whole of the magic
art which is concerned with antidotes, and have left, as would appear,
the very art of which we were in search, the art of protection against
winter cold, which fabricates woollen defences, and has the name of
weaving.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very true.
STRANGER: Yes, my boy, but that is not all; for the first process to
which the material is subjected is the opposite of weaving.
YOUNG SOCRATES: How so?
STRANGER: Weaving is a sort of uniting?
YOUNG SOCRATES: Yes.
STRANGER: But the first process is a separation of the clotted and
matted fibres?
YOUNG SOCRATES: What do you mean?
STRANGER: I mean the work of the carder's art; for we cannot say that
carding is weaving, or that the carder is a weaver.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Certainly not.
STRANGER: Again, if a person were to say that the art of making the warp
and the woof was the art of weaving, he would say what was paradoxical
and false.
YOUNG SOCRATES: To be sure.
STRANGER: Shall we say that the whole art of the fuller or of the mender
has nothing to do with the care and treatment of clothes, or are we to
regard all these as arts of weaving?
YOUNG SOCRATES: Certainly not.
STRANGER: And yet surely all these arts will maintain that they are
concerned with the treatment and production of clothes; they will
dispute the exclusive prerogative of weaving, and though assigning
a larger sphere to that, will still reserve a considerable field for
themselves.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very true.
STRANGER: Besides these, there are the arts which make tools and
instruments of weaving, and which will claim at least to be co-operative
causes in every work of the weaver.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Most true.
STRANGER: Well, then, suppose that we define weaving, or rather that
part of it which has been selected by us, to be the greatest and noblest
of arts which are concerned with woollen garments--shall we be right?
Is not the definition, although true, wanting in clearness and
completeness; for do not all those other arts require to be first
cleared away?
YOUNG SOCRATES: True.
STRANGER: Then the next thing will be to separate them, in order that
the argument may proceed in a regular manner?
YOUNG SOCRATES: By all means.
STRANGER: Let us consider, in the first place, that there are two kinds
of arts entering into everything which we do.
YOUNG SOCRATES: What are they?
STRANGER: The one kind is the conditional or co-operative, the other the
principal cause.
YOUNG SOCRATES: What do you mean?
STRANGER: The arts which do not manufacture the actual thing, but which
furnish the necessary tools for the manufacture, without which the
several arts could not fulfil their appointed work, are co-operative;
but those which make the things themselves are causal.
YOUNG SOCRATES: A very reasonable distinction.
STRANGER: Thus the arts which make spindles, combs, and other
instruments of the production of clothes, may be called co-operative,
and those which treat and fabricate the things themselves, causal.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very true.
STRANGER: The arts of washing and mending, and the other preparatory
arts which belong to the causal class, and form a division of the
great art of adornment, may be all comprehended under what we call the
fuller's art.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very good.
STRANGER: Carding and spinning threads and all the parts of the process
which are concerned with the actual manufacture of a woollen garment
form a single art, which is one of those universally acknowledged,--the
art of working in wool.
YOUNG SOCRATES: To be sure.
STRANGER: Of working in wool, again, there are two divisions, and both
these are parts of two arts at once.
YOUNG SOCRATES: How is that?
STRANGER: Carding and one half of the use of the comb, and the other
processes of wool-working which separate the composite, may be classed
together as belonging both to the art of wool-working, and also to one
of the two great arts which are of universal application--the art of
composition and the art of division.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Yes.
STRANGER: To the latter belong carding and the other processes of which
I was just now speaking; the art of discernment or division in wool and
yarn, which is effected in one manner with the comb and in another with
the hands, is variously described under all the names which I just now
mentioned.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very true.
STRANGER: Again, let us take some process of wool-working which is also
a portion of the art of composition, and, dismissing the elements of
division which we found there, make two halves, one on the principle of
composition, and the other on the principle of division.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Let that be done.
STRANGER: And once more, Socrates, we must divide the part which belongs
at once both to wool-working and composition, if we are ever to discover
satisfactorily the aforesaid art of weaving.
YOUNG SOCRATES: We must.
STRANGER: Yes, certainly, and let us call one part of the art the art of
twisting threads, the other the art of combining them.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Do I understand you, in speaking of twisting, to be
referring to manufacture of the warp?
STRANGER: Yes, and of the woof too; how, if not by twisting, is the woof
made?
YOUNG SOCRATES: There is no other way.
STRANGER: Then suppose that you define the warp and the woof, for I
think that the definition will be of use to you.
YOUNG SOCRATES: How shall I define them?
STRANGER: As thus: A piece of carded wool which is drawn out lengthwise
and breadthwise is said to be pulled out.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Yes.
STRANGER: And the wool thus prepared, when twisted by the spindle, and
made into a firm thread, is called the warp, and the art which regulates
these operations the art of spinning the warp.
YOUNG SOCRATES: True.
STRANGER: And the threads which are more loosely spun, having a softness
proportioned to the intertexture of the warp and to the degree of force
used in dressing the cloth,--the threads which are thus spun are called
the woof, and the art which is set over them may be called the art of
spinning the woof.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very true.
STRANGER: And, now, there can be no mistake about the nature of the part
of weaving which we have undertaken to define. For when that part of the
art of composition which is employed in the working of wool forms a web
by the regular intertexture of warp and woof, the entire woven substance
is called by us a woollen garment, and the art which presides over this
is the art of weaving.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very true.
STRANGER: But why did we not say at once that weaving is the art of
entwining warp and woof, instead of making a long and useless circuit?
YOUNG SOCRATES: I thought, Stranger, that there was nothing useless in
what was said.
STRANGER: Very likely, but you may not always think so, my sweet friend;
and in case any feeling of dissatisfaction should hereafter arise in
your mind, as it very well may, let me lay down a principle which will
apply to arguments in general.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Proceed.
STRANGER: Let us begin by considering the whole nature of excess and
defect, and then we shall have a rational ground on which we may praise
or blame too much length or too much shortness in discussions of this
kind.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Let us do so.
STRANGER: The points on which I think that we ought to dwell are the
following:--
YOUNG SOCRATES: What?
STRANGER: Length and shortness, excess and defect; with all of these the
art of measurement is conversant.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Yes.
STRANGER: And the art of measurement has to be divided into two parts,
with a view to our present purpose.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Where would you make the division?
STRANGER: As thus: I would make two parts, one having regard to the
relativity of greatness and smallness to each other; and there is
another, without which the existence of production would be impossible.
YOUNG SOCRATES: What do you mean?
STRANGER: Do you not think that it is only natural for the greater to be
called greater with reference to the less alone, and the less less with
reference to the greater alone?
YOUNG SOCRATES: Yes.
STRANGER: Well, but is there not also something exceeding and exceeded
by the principle of the mean, both in speech and action, and is not this
a reality, and the chief mark of difference between good and bad men?
YOUNG SOCRATES: Plainly.
STRANGER: Then we must suppose that the great and small exist and are
discerned in both these ways, and not, as we were saying before, only
relatively to one another, but there must also be another comparison of
them with the mean or ideal standard; would you like to hear the reason
why?
YOUNG SOCRATES: Certainly.
STRANGER: If we assume the greater to exist only in relation to the
less, there will never be any comparison of either with the mean.
YOUNG SOCRATES: True.
STRANGER: And would not this doctrine be the ruin of all the arts and
their creations; would not the art of the Statesman and the aforesaid
art of weaving disappear? For all these arts are on the watch against
excess and defect, not as unrealities, but as real evils, which occasion
a difficulty in action; and the excellence or beauty of every work of
art is due to this observance of measure.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Certainly.
STRANGER: But if the science of the Statesman disappears, the search for
the royal science will be impossible.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very true.
STRANGER: Well, then, as in the case of the Sophist we extorted the
inference that not-being had an existence, because here was the point
at which the argument eluded our grasp, so in this we must endeavour
to show that the greater and less are not only to be measured with one
another, but also have to do with the production of the mean; for if
this is not admitted, neither a statesman nor any other man of action
can be an undisputed master of his science.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Yes, we must certainly do again what we did then.
STRANGER: But this, Socrates, is a greater work than the other, of which
we only too well remember the length. I think, however, that we may
fairly assume something of this sort--
YOUNG SOCRATES: What?
STRANGER: That we shall some day require this notion of a mean with a
view to the demonstration of absolute truth; meanwhile, the argument
that the very existence of the arts must be held to depend on the
possibility of measuring more or less, not only with one another, but
also with a view to the attainment of the mean, seems to afford a grand
support and satisfactory proof of the doctrine which we are maintaining;
for if there are arts, there is a standard of measure, and if there is a
standard of measure, there are arts; but if either is wanting, there is
neither.
YOUNG SOCRATES: True; and what is the next step?
STRANGER: The next step clearly is to divide the art of measurement into
two parts, as we have said already, and to place in the one part all the
arts which measure number, length, depth, breadth, swiftness with their
opposites; and to have another part in which they are measured with the
mean, and the fit, and the opportune, and the due, and with all those
words, in short, which denote a mean or standard removed from the
extremes.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Here are two vast divisions, embracing two very
different spheres.
STRANGER: There are many accomplished men, Socrates, who say, believing
themselves to speak wisely, that the art of measurement is universal,
and has to do with all things. And this means what we are now saying;
for all things which come within the province of art do certainly in
some sense partake of measure. But these persons, because they are
not accustomed to distinguish classes according to real forms, jumble
together two widely different things, relation to one another, and to a
standard, under the idea that they are the same, and also fall into
the converse error of dividing other things not according to their real
parts. Whereas the right way is, if a man has first seen the unity of
things, to go on with the enquiry and not desist until he has found all
the differences contained in it which form distinct classes; nor again
should he be able to rest contented with the manifold diversities which
are seen in a multitude of things until he has comprehended all of them
that have any affinity within the bounds of one similarity and embraced
them within the reality of a single kind. But we have said enough on
this head, and also of excess and defect; we have only to bear in mind
that two divisions of the art of measurement have been discovered which
are concerned with them, and not forget what they are.
YOUNG SOCRATES: We will not forget.
STRANGER: And now that this discussion is completed, let us go on to
consider another question, which concerns not this argument only but the
conduct of such arguments in general.
YOUNG SOCRATES: What is this new question?
STRANGER: Take the case of a child who is engaged in learning his
letters: when he is asked what letters make up a word, should we say
that the question is intended to improve his grammatical knowledge of
that particular word, or of all words?
YOUNG SOCRATES: Clearly, in order that he may have a better knowledge of
all words.
STRANGER: And is our enquiry about the Statesman intended only to
improve our knowledge of politics, or our power of reasoning generally?
YOUNG SOCRATES: Clearly, as in the former example, the purpose is
general.
STRANGER: Still less would any rational man seek to analyse the notion
of weaving for its own sake. But people seem to forget that some things
have sensible images, which are readily known, and can be easily pointed
out when any one desires to answer an enquirer without any trouble or
argument; whereas the greatest and highest truths have no outward image
of themselves visible to man, which he who wishes to satisfy the soul
of the enquirer can adapt to the eye of sense (compare Phaedr.), and
therefore we ought to train ourselves to give and accept a rational
account of them; for immaterial things, which are the noblest and
greatest, are shown only in thought and idea, and in no other way, and
all that we are now saying is said for the sake of them. Moreover, there
is always less difficulty in fixing the mind on small matters than on
great.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very good.
STRANGER: Let us call to mind the bearing of all this.
YOUNG SOCRATES: What is it?
STRANGER: I wanted to get rid of any impression of tediousness which we
may have experienced in the discussion about weaving, and the reversal
of the universe, and in the discussion concerning the Sophist and the
being of not-being. I know that they were felt to be too long, and I
reproached myself with this, fearing that they might be not only tedious
but irrelevant; and all that I have now said is only designed to prevent
the recurrence of any such disagreeables for the future.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very good. Will you proceed?
STRANGER: Then I would like to observe that you and I, remembering
what has been said, should praise or blame the length or shortness of
discussions, not by comparing them with one another, but with what is
fitting, having regard to the part of measurement, which, as we said,
was to be borne in mind.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very true.
STRANGER: And yet, not everything is to be judged even with a view to
what is fitting; for we should only want such a length as is suited to
give pleasure, if at all, as a secondary matter; and reason tells us,
that we should be contented to make the ease or rapidity of an enquiry,
not our first, but our second object; the first and highest of all being
to assert the great method of division according to species--whether the
discourse be shorter or longer is not to the point. No offence should
be taken at length, but the longer and shorter are to be employed
indifferently, according as either of them is better calculated to
sharpen the wits of the auditors. Reason would also say to him who
censures the length of discourses on such occasions and cannot away with
their circumlocution, that he should not be in such a hurry to have
done with them, when he can only complain that they are tedious, but he
should prove that if they had been shorter they would have made
those who took part in them better dialecticians, and more capable of
expressing the truth of things; about any other praise and blame, he
need not trouble himself--he should pretend not to hear them. But we
have had enough of this, as you will probably agree with me in thinking.
Let us return to our Statesman, and apply to his case the aforesaid
example of weaving.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very good;--let us do as you say.
STRANGER: The art of the king has been separated from the similar arts
of shepherds, and, indeed, from all those which have to do with herds
at all. There still remain, however, of the causal and co-operative arts
those which are immediately concerned with States, and which must first
be distinguished from one another.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very good.
STRANGER: You know that these arts cannot easily be divided into two
halves; the reason will be very evident as we proceed.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Then we had better do so.
STRANGER: We must carve them like a victim into members or limbs, since
we cannot bisect them. (Compare Phaedr.) For we certainly should divide
everything into as few parts as possible.
YOUNG SOCRATES: What is to be done in this case?
STRANGER: What we did in the example of weaving--all those arts which
furnish the tools were regarded by us as co-operative.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Yes.
STRANGER: So now, and with still more reason, all arts which make any
implement in a State, whether great or small, may be regarded by us as
co-operative, for without them neither State nor Statesmanship would
be possible; and yet we are not inclined to say that any of them is a
product of the kingly art.
YOUNG SOCRATES: No, indeed.
STRANGER: The task of separating this class from others is not an easy
one; for there is plausibility in saying that anything in the world
is the instrument of doing something. But there is another class of
possessions in a city, of which I have a word to say.
YOUNG SOCRATES: What class do you mean?
STRANGER: A class which may be described as not having this power; that
is to say, not like an instrument, framed for production, but designed
for the preservation of that which is produced.
YOUNG SOCRATES: To what do you refer?
STRANGER: To the class of vessels, as they are comprehensively termed,
which are constructed for the preservation of things moist and dry, of
things prepared in the fire or out of the fire; this is a very large
class, and has, if I am not mistaken, literally nothing to do with the
royal art of which we are in search.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Certainly not.
STRANGER: There is also a third class of possessions to be noted,
different from these and very extensive, moving or resting on land or
water, honourable and also dishonourable. The whole of this class has
one name, because it is intended to be sat upon, being always a seat for
something.
YOUNG SOCRATES: What is it?
STRANGER: A vehicle, which is certainly not the work of the Statesman,
but of the carpenter, potter, and coppersmith.
YOUNG SOCRATES: I understand.