“It appeared to me then,” said he, “after this, when I was wearied with
considering things that exist, that I ought to beware lest I should
suffer in the same way as they do who look at and examine an eclipse of
the sun, for some lose the sight of their eyes, unless they behold its
image in water, or some similar medium. And I was affected with a
similar feeling, and was afraid lest I should be utterly blinded in my
soul through beholding things with the eyes, and endeavouring to grasp
them by means of the several senses. It seemed to me, therefore, that I
ought to have recourse to reasons, and to consider in them the truth of
things. Perhaps, however, this similitude of mine may in some respect be
incorrect; for I do not altogether admit that he who considers things in
their reasons considers them in their images, more than he does who
views them in their effects. However, I proceeded thus, and on each
occasion laying down the reason, which I deem to be the strongest,
whatever things appear to me to accord with this I regard as true, both
with respect to the cause and every thing else, but such as do not
accord I regard as not true. 112. But I wish to explain my meaning to
you in a clearer manner; for I think that you do not yet understand me.”
“No, by Jupiter,” said Cebes, “not well.”
“However,” continued he, “I am now saying nothing new, but what I have
always at other times, and in a former part of this discussion, never
ceased to say. I proceed then to attempt to explain to you that species
of cause which I have busied myself about, and return again to those
well-known subjects, and set out from them, laying down as an
hypothesis, that there is a certain abstract beauty, and goodness, and
magnitude, and so of all other things; which if you grant me, and allow
that they do exist, I hope that I shall be able from these to explain
the cause to you, and to discover that the soul is immortal.”
“But,” said Cebes, “since I grant you this, you may draw your conclusion
at once.”
“But consider,” he said, “what follows from thence, and see if you can
agree with me. For it appears to me, that if there be any thing else
beautiful, besides beauty itself, it is not beautiful for any other
reason than because it partakes of that abstract beauty; and I say the
same of every thing. Do you admit such a cause?”
“I do admit it,” he replied.
113. “I do not yet understand,” he continued, “nor am I able to
conceive, those other wise causes; but if any one should tell me why any
thing is beautiful, either because it has a blooming florid colour, or
figure, or any thing else of the kind, I dismiss all other reasons, for
I am confounded by them all; but I simply, wholly, and perhaps
foolishly, confine myself to this, that nothing else causes it to be
beautiful, except either the presence or communication of that abstract
beauty, by whatever means and in whatever way communicated: for I cannot
yet affirm this with certainty, but only that by means of beauty all
beautiful things become beautiful. For this appears to me the safest
answer to give both to myself and others, and adhering to this, I think
that I shall never fall, but that it is a safe answer both for me and
any one else to give, that by means of beauty beautiful things become
beautiful. Does it not also seem so to you?”
“It does.”
“And that by magnitude great things become great, and greater things,
greater; and by littleness less things become less?”
“Yes.”
114. “You would not then approve of it, if any one said that one person
is greater than another by the head, and that the less is less by the
very same thing, but you would maintain that you mean nothing else than
that every thing that is greater than another is greater by nothing else
than magnitude, and that it is greater on this account, that is on
account of magnitude, and that the less is less by nothing else than
littleness, and on this account less, that is, on account of littleness,
being afraid, I think, lest some opposite argument should meet you if
you should say that any one is greater and less by the head; as first,
that the greater is greater, and the less less, by the very same thing;
and next, that the greater is greater by the head, which is small; and
that it is monstrous to suppose that any one is great through something
small. Should you not be afraid of this?”
To which said Cebes, smilingly, “Indeed I should.”
“Should you not, then,” he continued, “be afraid to say that ten is more
than eight by two, and for this cause exceeds it, and not by number, and
on account of number? and that two cubits are greater than one cubit by
half, and not by magnitude? for the fear is surely the same.”
“Certainly,” he replied.
115. “What then? when one has been added to one, would you not beware of
saying that the addition is the cause of its being two, or division when
it has been divided; and would you not loudly assert that you know no
other way in which each thing subsists, than by partaking of the
peculiar essence of each of which it partakes, and that in these cases
you can assign no other cause of its becoming two than its partaking of
duality; and that such things as are to become two must needs partake of
this, and what is to become one, of unity; but these divisions and
additions, and other such subtleties, you would dismiss, leaving them to
be given as answers by persons wiser than yourself: whereas you,
fearing, as it is said, your own shadow and inexperience, would adhere
to this safe hypothesis, and answer accordingly? But if any one should
assail this hypothesis of yours, would you not dismiss him and refrain
from answering him till you had considered the consequences resulting
from it, whether in your opinion they agree with or differ from each
other? But when it should be necessary for you to give a reason for it,
would you give one in a similar way, by again laying down another
hypothesis, which should appear the best of higher principles, until you
arrived at something satisfactory, but at the same time you would avoid
making confusion, as disputants do, in treating of the first principle
and the results arising from it, if you really desire to arrive at the
truth of things. 116. For they, perhaps, make no account at all of this,
nor pay any attention to it, for they are able, through their wisdom, to
mingle all things together, and at the same time please themselves. But
you, if you are a philosopher, would act, I think, as I now describe.”
“You speak most truly,” said Simmias and Cebes together.
_Echec._ By Jupiter, Phædo, they said so with good reason: for he
appears to me to have explained these things with wonderful clearness,
even to one endued with a small degree of intelligence.
_Phæd._ Certainly, Echecrates, and so it appeared to all who were
present.
_Echec._ And so it appears to me, who was absent, and now hear it
related. But what was said after this?
As well as I remember, when these things had been granted him, and it
was allowed that each several idea exists of itself[37], and that other
things partaking of them receive their denomination from them, he next
asked: “If then,” he said, “you admit that these things are so, whether,
when you say that Simmias is greater than Socrates, but less than Phædo,
do you not then say that magnitude and littleness are both in Simmias?”
-----
Footnote 37:
εἶναί τι, literally, “is something.”
-----
“I do.”
117. “And yet,” he said, “you must confess that Simmias’s exceeding
Socrates is not actually true in the manner in which the words express
it; for Simmias does not naturally exceed Socrates, in that he is
Simmias, but in consequence of the magnitude which he happens to have;
nor, again, does he exceed Socrates, because Socrates is Socrates, but
because Socrates possesses littleness in comparison with his magnitude?”
“True.”
“Nor, again, is Simmias exceeded by Phædo, because Phædo is Phædo, but
because Phædo possesses magnitude in comparison with Simmias’s
littleness?”
“It is so.”
“Thus, then, Simmias has the appellation of being both little and great,
being between both, by exceeding the littleness of one through his own
magnitude, and to the other yielding a magnitude that exceeds his own
littleness.” And at the same time, smiling, he said, “I seem to speak
with the precision of a short-hand writer; however, it is as I say.”
He allowed it.
118. “But I say it for this reason, wishing you to be of the same
opinion as myself. For it appears to me, not only that magnitude itself
is never disposed to be at the same time great and little, but that
magnitude in us never admits the little, nor is disposed to be exceeded,
but one of two things, either to flee and withdraw when its contrary,
the little, approaches it, or when it has actually come, to perish; but
that it is not disposed, by sustaining and receiving littleness, to be
different from what it was. Just as I, having received and sustained
littleness, and still continuing the same person that I am, am this same
little person: but that, while it is great, never endures to be little.
And in like manner the little that is in us is not disposed at any time
to become or to be great, nor is any thing else among contraries, while
it continues what it was, at the same time disposed to become and to be
its contrary; but in this contingency it either departs or perishes.”