PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: Cephalus, Adeimantus, Glaucon, Antiphon,
Pythodorus, Socrates, Zeno, Parmenides, Aristoteles.
Cephalus rehearses a dialogue which is supposed to have been narrated in
his presence by Antiphon, the half-brother of Adeimantus and Glaucon, to
certain Clazomenians.
We had come from our home at Clazomenae to Athens, and met Adeimantus
and Glaucon in the Agora. Welcome, Cephalus, said Adeimantus, taking me
by the hand; is there anything which we can do for you in Athens?
Yes; that is why I am here; I wish to ask a favour of you.
What may that be? he said.
I want you to tell me the name of your half brother, which I have
forgotten; he was a mere child when I last came hither from Clazomenae,
but that was a long time ago; his father's name, if I remember rightly,
was Pyrilampes?
Yes, he said, and the name of our brother, Antiphon; but why do you ask?
Let me introduce some countrymen of mine, I said; they are lovers of
philosophy, and have heard that Antiphon was intimate with a certain
Pythodorus, a friend of Zeno, and remembers a conversation which took
place between Socrates, Zeno, and Parmenides many years ago, Pythodorus
having often recited it to him.
Quite true.
And could we hear it? I asked.
Nothing easier, he replied; when he was a youth he made a careful study
of the piece; at present his thoughts run in another direction; like his
grandfather Antiphon he is devoted to horses. But, if that is what you
want, let us go and look for him; he dwells at Melita, which is quite
near, and he has only just left us to go home.
Accordingly we went to look for him; he was at home, and in the act
of giving a bridle to a smith to be fitted. When he had done with the
smith, his brothers told him the purpose of our visit; and he saluted me
as an acquaintance whom he remembered from my former visit, and we
asked him to repeat the dialogue. At first he was not very willing, and
complained of the trouble, but at length he consented. He told us that
Pythodorus had described to him the appearance of Parmenides and Zeno;
they came to Athens, as he said, at the great Panathenaea; the former
was, at the time of his visit, about 65 years old, very white with age,
but well favoured. Zeno was nearly 40 years of age, tall and fair to
look upon; in the days of his youth he was reported to have been
beloved by Parmenides. He said that they lodged with Pythodorus in the
Ceramicus, outside the wall, whither Socrates, then a very young man,
came to see them, and many others with him; they wanted to hear the
writings of Zeno, which had been brought to Athens for the first time
on the occasion of their visit. These Zeno himself read to them in the
absence of Parmenides, and had very nearly finished when Pythodorus
entered, and with him Parmenides and Aristoteles who was afterwards
one of the Thirty, and heard the little that remained of the dialogue.
Pythodorus had heard Zeno repeat them before.
When the recitation was completed, Socrates requested that the first
thesis of the first argument might be read over again, and this having
been done, he said: What is your meaning, Zeno? Do you maintain that
if being is many, it must be both like and unlike, and that this is
impossible, for neither can the like be unlike, nor the unlike like--is
that your position?
Just so, said Zeno.
And if the unlike cannot be like, or the like unlike, then according to
you, being could not be many; for this would involve an impossibility.
In all that you say have you any other purpose except to disprove the
being of the many? and is not each division of your treatise intended to
furnish a separate proof of this, there being in all as many proofs of
the not-being of the many as you have composed arguments? Is that your
meaning, or have I misunderstood you?
No, said Zeno; you have correctly understood my general purpose.
I see, Parmenides, said Socrates, that Zeno would like to be not only
one with you in friendship but your second self in his writings too; he
puts what you say in another way, and would fain make believe that he is
telling us something which is new. For you, in your poems, say The All
is one, and of this you adduce excellent proofs; and he on the other
hand says There is no many; and on behalf of this he offers overwhelming
evidence. You affirm unity, he denies plurality. And so you deceive the
world into believing that you are saying different things when really
you are saying much the same. This is a strain of art beyond the reach
of most of us.
Yes, Socrates, said Zeno. But although you are as keen as a Spartan
hound in pursuing the track, you do not fully apprehend the true motive
of the composition, which is not really such an artificial work as you
imagine; for what you speak of was an accident; there was no pretence of
a great purpose; nor any serious intention of deceiving the world.
The truth is, that these writings of mine were meant to protect the
arguments of Parmenides against those who make fun of him and seek to
show the many ridiculous and contradictory results which they suppose
to follow from the affirmation of the one. My answer is addressed to the
partisans of the many, whose attack I return with interest by retorting
upon them that their hypothesis of the being of many, if carried out,
appears to be still more ridiculous than the hypothesis of the being
of one. Zeal for my master led me to write the book in the days of
my youth, but some one stole the copy; and therefore I had no choice
whether it should be published or not; the motive, however, of writing,
was not the ambition of an elder man, but the pugnacity of a young one.
This you do not seem to see, Socrates; though in other respects, as I
was saying, your notion is a very just one.
I understand, said Socrates, and quite accept your account. But tell
me, Zeno, do you not further think that there is an idea of likeness
in itself, and another idea of unlikeness, which is the opposite of
likeness, and that in these two, you and I and all other things to
which we apply the term many, participate--things which participate
in likeness become in that degree and manner like; and so far as they
participate in unlikeness become in that degree unlike, or both like and
unlike in the degree in which they participate in both? And may not all
things partake of both opposites, and be both like and unlike, by reason
of this participation?--Where is the wonder? Now if a person could prove
the absolute like to become unlike, or the absolute unlike to become
like, that, in my opinion, would indeed be a wonder; but there is
nothing extraordinary, Zeno, in showing that the things which only
partake of likeness and unlikeness experience both. Nor, again, if a
person were to show that all is one by partaking of one, and at the same
time many by partaking of many, would that be very astonishing. But if
he were to show me that the absolute one was many, or the absolute
many one, I should be truly amazed. And so of all the rest: I should
be surprised to hear that the natures or ideas themselves had these
opposite qualities; but not if a person wanted to prove of me that I was
many and also one. When he wanted to show that I was many he would say
that I have a right and a left side, and a front and a back, and an
upper and a lower half, for I cannot deny that I partake of multitude;
when, on the other hand, he wants to prove that I am one, he will say,
that we who are here assembled are seven, and that I am one and partake
of the one. In both instances he proves his case. So again, if a person
shows that such things as wood, stones, and the like, being many are
also one, we admit that he shows the coexistence of the one and many,
but he does not show that the many are one or the one many; he
is uttering not a paradox but a truism. If however, as I just now
suggested, some one were to abstract simple notions of like, unlike,
one, many, rest, motion, and similar ideas, and then to show that these
admit of admixture and separation in themselves, I should be very much
astonished. This part of the argument appears to be treated by you,
Zeno, in a very spirited manner; but, as I was saying, I should be
far more amazed if any one found in the ideas themselves which are
apprehended by reason, the same puzzle and entanglement which you have
shown to exist in visible objects.
While Socrates was speaking, Pythodorus thought that Parmenides and Zeno
were not altogether pleased at the successive steps of the argument; but
still they gave the closest attention, and often looked at one another,
and smiled as if in admiration of him. When he had finished, Parmenides
expressed their feelings in the following words:--
Socrates, he said, I admire the bent of your mind towards philosophy;
tell me now, was this your own distinction between ideas in themselves
and the things which partake of them? and do you think that there is an
idea of likeness apart from the likeness which we possess, and of the
one and many, and of the other things which Zeno mentioned?