SOCRATES: If I cared enough about the Cyrenians, Theodorus, I would ask
you whether there are any rising geometricians or philosophers in that
part of the world. But I am more interested in our own Athenian youth,
and I would rather know who among them are likely to do well. I observe
them as far as I can myself, and I enquire of any one whom they follow,
and I see that a great many of them follow you, in which they are quite
right, considering your eminence in geometry and in other ways. Tell me
then, if you have met with any one who is good for anything.
THEODORUS: Yes, Socrates, I have become acquainted with one very
remarkable Athenian youth, whom I commend to you as well worthy of your
attention. If he had been a beauty I should have been afraid to praise
him, lest you should suppose that I was in love with him; but he is no
beauty, and you must not be offended if I say that he is very like you;
for he has a snub nose and projecting eyes, although these features are
less marked in him than in you. Seeing, then, that he has no personal
attractions, I may freely say, that in all my acquaintance, which is
very large, I never knew any one who was his equal in natural gifts: for
he has a quickness of apprehension which is almost unrivalled, and he
is exceedingly gentle, and also the most courageous of men; there is a
union of qualities in him such as I have never seen in any other, and
should scarcely have thought possible; for those who, like him, have
quick and ready and retentive wits, have generally also quick tempers;
they are ships without ballast, and go darting about, and are mad rather
than courageous; and the steadier sort, when they have to face study,
prove stupid and cannot remember. Whereas he moves surely and smoothly
and successfully in the path of knowledge and enquiry; and he is full of
gentleness, flowing on silently like a river of oil; at his age, it is
wonderful.
SOCRATES: That is good news; whose son is he?
THEODORUS: The name of his father I have forgotten, but the youth
himself is the middle one of those who are approaching us; he and his
companions have been anointing themselves in the outer court, and now
they seem to have finished, and are coming towards us. Look and see
whether you know him.
SOCRATES: I know the youth, but I do not know his name; he is the son of
Euphronius the Sunian, who was himself an eminent man, and such another
as his son is, according to your account of him; I believe that he left
a considerable fortune.
THEODORUS: Theaetetus, Socrates, is his name; but I rather think that
the property disappeared in the hands of trustees; notwithstanding which
he is wonderfully liberal.
SOCRATES: He must be a fine fellow; tell him to come and sit by me.
THEODORUS: I will. Come hither, Theaetetus, and sit by Socrates.
SOCRATES: By all means, Theaetetus, in order that I may see the
reflection of myself in your face, for Theodorus says that we are alike;
and yet if each of us held in his hands a lyre, and he said that they
were tuned alike, should we at once take his word, or should we ask
whether he who said so was or was not a musician?
THEAETETUS: We should ask.
SOCRATES: And if we found that he was, we should take his word; and if
not, not?
THEAETETUS: True.
SOCRATES: And if this supposed likeness of our faces is a matter of any
interest to us, we should enquire whether he who says that we are alike
is a painter or not?
THEAETETUS: Certainly we should.
SOCRATES: And is Theodorus a painter?
THEAETETUS: I never heard that he was.
SOCRATES: Is he a geometrician?
THEAETETUS: Of course he is, Socrates.
SOCRATES: And is he an astronomer and calculator and musician, and in
general an educated man?
THEAETETUS: I think so.
SOCRATES: If, then, he remarks on a similarity in our persons, either
by way of praise or blame, there is no particular reason why we should
attend to him.
THEAETETUS: I should say not.
SOCRATES: But if he praises the virtue or wisdom which are the mental
endowments of either of us, then he who hears the praises will naturally
desire to examine him who is praised: and he again should be willing to
exhibit himself.
THEAETETUS: Very true, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Then now is the time, my dear Theaetetus, for me to examine,
and for you to exhibit; since although Theodorus has praised many a
citizen and stranger in my hearing, never did I hear him praise any one
as he has been praising you.
THEAETETUS: I am glad to hear it, Socrates; but what if he was only in
jest?
SOCRATES: Nay, Theodorus is not given to jesting; and I cannot allow you
to retract your consent on any such pretence as that. If you do, he will
have to swear to his words; and we are perfectly sure that no one will
be found to impugn him. Do not be shy then, but stand to your word.
THEAETETUS: I suppose I must, if you wish it.
SOCRATES: In the first place, I should like to ask what you learn of
Theodorus: something of geometry, perhaps?
THEAETETUS: Yes.
SOCRATES: And astronomy and harmony and calculation?
THEAETETUS: I do my best.
SOCRATES: Yes, my boy, and so do I; and my desire is to learn of him,
or of anybody who seems to understand these things. And I get on pretty
well in general; but there is a little difficulty which I want you and
the company to aid me in investigating. Will you answer me a question:
'Is not learning growing wiser about that which you learn?'
THEAETETUS: Of course.
SOCRATES: And by wisdom the wise are wise?
THEAETETUS: Yes.
SOCRATES: And is that different in any way from knowledge?
THEAETETUS: What?
SOCRATES: Wisdom; are not men wise in that which they know?
THEAETETUS: Certainly they are.
SOCRATES: Then wisdom and knowledge are the same?
THEAETETUS: Yes.
SOCRATES: Herein lies the difficulty which I can never solve to my
satisfaction--What is knowledge? Can we answer that question? What say
you? which of us will speak first? whoever misses shall sit down, as at
a game of ball, and shall be donkey, as the boys say; he who lasts out
his competitors in the game without missing, shall be our king,
and shall have the right of putting to us any questions which he
pleases...Why is there no reply? I hope, Theodorus, that I am not
betrayed into rudeness by my love of conversation? I only want to make
us talk and be friendly and sociable.
THEODORUS: The reverse of rudeness, Socrates: but I would rather that
you would ask one of the young fellows; for the truth is, that I am
unused to your game of question and answer, and I am too old to learn;
the young will be more suitable, and they will improve more than
I shall, for youth is always able to improve. And so having made a
beginning with Theaetetus, I would advise you to go on with him and not
let him off.
SOCRATES: Do you hear, Theaetetus, what Theodorus says? The philosopher,
whom you would not like to disobey, and whose word ought to be a command
to a young man, bids me interrogate you. Take courage, then, and nobly
say what you think that knowledge is.
THEAETETUS: Well, Socrates, I will answer as you and he bid me; and if I
make a mistake, you will doubtless correct me.
SOCRATES: We will, if we can.
THEAETETUS: Then, I think that the sciences which I learn from
Theodorus--geometry, and those which you just now mentioned--are
knowledge; and I would include the art of the cobbler and other
craftsmen; these, each and all of, them, are knowledge.
SOCRATES: Too much, Theaetetus, too much; the nobility and liberality of
your nature make you give many and diverse things, when I am asking for
one simple thing.
THEAETETUS: What do you mean, Socrates?
SOCRATES: Perhaps nothing. I will endeavour, however, to explain what I
believe to be my meaning: When you speak of cobbling, you mean the art
or science of making shoes?
THEAETETUS: Just so.
SOCRATES: And when you speak of carpentering, you mean the art of making
wooden implements?
THEAETETUS: I do.
SOCRATES: In both cases you define the subject matter of each of the two
arts?
THEAETETUS: True.
SOCRATES: But that, Theaetetus, was not the point of my question: we
wanted to know not the subjects, nor yet the number of the arts or
sciences, for we were not going to count them, but we wanted to know the
nature of knowledge in the abstract. Am I not right?
THEAETETUS: Perfectly right.
SOCRATES: Let me offer an illustration: Suppose that a person were to
ask about some very trivial and obvious thing--for example, What is
clay? and we were to reply, that there is a clay of potters, there is
a clay of oven-makers, there is a clay of brick-makers; would not the
answer be ridiculous?
THEAETETUS: Truly.
SOCRATES: In the first place, there would be an absurdity in assuming
that he who asked the question would understand from our answer the
nature of 'clay,' merely because we added 'of the image-makers,' or of
any other workers. How can a man understand the name of anything, when
he does not know the nature of it?
THEAETETUS: He cannot.
SOCRATES: Then he who does not know what science or knowledge is, has no
knowledge of the art or science of making shoes?
THEAETETUS: None.
SOCRATES: Nor of any other science?
THEAETETUS: No.
SOCRATES: And when a man is asked what science or knowledge is, to
give in answer the name of some art or science is ridiculous; for the
question is, 'What is knowledge?' and he replies, 'A knowledge of this
or that.'
THEAETETUS: True.
SOCRATES: Moreover, he might answer shortly and simply, but he makes an
enormous circuit. For example, when asked about the clay, he might have
said simply, that clay is moistened earth--what sort of clay is not to
the point.
THEAETETUS: Yes, Socrates, there is no difficulty as you put the
question. You mean, if I am not mistaken, something like what occurred
to me and to my friend here, your namesake Socrates, in a recent
discussion.
SOCRATES: What was that, Theaetetus?
THEAETETUS: Theodorus was writing out for us something about roots, such
as the roots of three or five, showing that they are incommensurable by
the unit: he selected other examples up to seventeen--there he stopped.
Now as there are innumerable roots, the notion occurred to us of
attempting to include them all under one name or class.
SOCRATES: And did you find such a class?
THEAETETUS: I think that we did; but I should like to have your opinion.
SOCRATES: Let me hear.
THEAETETUS: We divided all numbers into two classes: those which are
made up of equal factors multiplying into one another, which we compared
to square figures and called square or equilateral numbers;--that was
one class.
SOCRATES: Very good.
THEAETETUS: The intermediate numbers, such as three and five, and every
other number which is made up of unequal factors, either of a greater
multiplied by a less, or of a less multiplied by a greater, and when
regarded as a figure, is contained in unequal sides;--all these we
compared to oblong figures, and called them oblong numbers.
SOCRATES: Capital; and what followed?
THEAETETUS: The lines, or sides, which have for their squares the
equilateral plane numbers, were called by us lengths or magnitudes; and
the lines which are the roots of (or whose squares are equal to) the
oblong numbers, were called powers or roots; the reason of this latter
name being, that they are commensurable with the former [i.e., with the
so-called lengths or magnitudes] not in linear measurement, but in the
value of the superficial content of their squares; and the same about
solids.
SOCRATES: Excellent, my boys; I think that you fully justify the praises
of Theodorus, and that he will not be found guilty of false witness.
THEAETETUS: But I am unable, Socrates, to give you a similar answer
about knowledge, which is what you appear to want; and therefore
Theodorus is a deceiver after all.
SOCRATES: Well, but if some one were to praise you for running, and to
say that he never met your equal among boys, and afterwards you were
beaten in a race by a grown-up man, who was a great runner--would the
praise be any the less true?
THEAETETUS: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: And is the discovery of the nature of knowledge so small a
matter, as just now said? Is it not one which would task the powers of
men perfect in every way?
THEAETETUS: By heaven, they should be the top of all perfection!
SOCRATES: Well, then, be of good cheer; do not say that Theodorus was
mistaken about you, but do your best to ascertain the true nature of
knowledge, as well as of other things.
THEAETETUS: I am eager enough, Socrates, if that would bring to light
the truth.
SOCRATES: Come, you made a good beginning just now; let your own answer
about roots be your model, and as you comprehended them all in one
class, try and bring the many sorts of knowledge under one definition.
THEAETETUS: I can assure you, Socrates, that I have tried very often,
when the report of questions asked by you was brought to me; but I can
neither persuade myself that I have a satisfactory answer to give, nor
hear of any one who answers as you would have him; and I cannot shake
off a feeling of anxiety.
SOCRATES: These are the pangs of labour, my dear Theaetetus; you have
something within you which you are bringing to the birth.
THEAETETUS: I do not know, Socrates; I only say what I feel.
SOCRATES: And have you never heard, simpleton, that I am the son of a
midwife, brave and burly, whose name was Phaenarete?
THEAETETUS: Yes, I have.
SOCRATES: And that I myself practise midwifery?
THEAETETUS: No, never.
SOCRATES: Let me tell you that I do though, my friend: but you must not
reveal the secret, as the world in general have not found me out; and
therefore they only say of me, that I am the strangest of mortals and
drive men to their wits' end. Did you ever hear that too?
THEAETETUS: Yes.
SOCRATES: Shall I tell you the reason?
THEAETETUS: By all means.
SOCRATES: Bear in mind the whole business of the midwives, and then you
will see my meaning better:--No woman, as you are probably aware, who is
still able to conceive and bear, attends other women, but only those who
are past bearing.
THEAETETUS: Yes, I know.
SOCRATES: The reason of this is said to be that Artemis--the goddess of
childbirth--is not a mother, and she honours those who are like herself;
but she could not allow the barren to be midwives, because human nature
cannot know the mystery of an art without experience; and therefore she
assigned this office to those who are too old to bear.
THEAETETUS: I dare say.
SOCRATES: And I dare say too, or rather I am absolutely certain, that
the midwives know better than others who is pregnant and who is not?
THEAETETUS: Very true.
SOCRATES: And by the use of potions and incantations they are able to
arouse the pangs and to soothe them at will; they can make those bear
who have a difficulty in bearing, and if they think fit they can smother
the embryo in the womb.
THEAETETUS: They can.
SOCRATES: Did you ever remark that they are also most cunning
matchmakers, and have a thorough knowledge of what unions are likely to
produce a brave brood?
THEAETETUS: No, never.
SOCRATES: Then let me tell you that this is their greatest pride, more
than cutting the umbilical cord. And if you reflect, you will see that
the same art which cultivates and gathers in the fruits of the earth,
will be most likely to know in what soils the several plants or seeds
should be deposited.
THEAETETUS: Yes, the same art.
SOCRATES: And do you suppose that with women the case is otherwise?
THEAETETUS: I should think not.
SOCRATES: Certainly not; but midwives are respectable women who have a
character to lose, and they avoid this department of their profession,
because they are afraid of being called procuresses, which is a name
given to those who join together man and woman in an unlawful and
unscientific way; and yet the true midwife is also the true and only
matchmaker.
THEAETETUS: Clearly.
SOCRATES: Such are the midwives, whose task is a very important one, but
not so important as mine; for women do not bring into the world at one
time real children, and at another time counterfeits which are with
difficulty distinguished from them; if they did, then the discernment of
the true and false birth would be the crowning achievement of the art of
midwifery--you would think so?
THEAETETUS: Indeed I should.
SOCRATES: Well, my art of midwifery is in most respects like theirs; but
differs, in that I attend men and not women; and look after their souls
when they are in labour, and not after their bodies: and the triumph of
my art is in thoroughly examining whether the thought which the mind of
the young man brings forth is a false idol or a noble and true birth.
And like the midwives, I am barren, and the reproach which is often
made against me, that I ask questions of others and have not the wit to
answer them myself, is very just--the reason is, that the god compels me
to be a midwife, but does not allow me to bring forth. And therefore
I am not myself at all wise, nor have I anything to show which is
the invention or birth of my own soul, but those who converse with me
profit. Some of them appear dull enough at first, but afterwards, as
our acquaintance ripens, if the god is gracious to them, they all make
astonishing progress; and this in the opinion of others as well as in
their own. It is quite clear that they never learned anything from me;
the many fine discoveries to which they cling are of their own making.
But to me and the god they owe their delivery. And the proof of my words
is, that many of them in their ignorance, either in their self-conceit
despising me, or falling under the influence of others, have gone away
too soon; and have not only lost the children of whom I had previously
delivered them by an ill bringing up, but have stifled whatever else
they had in them by evil communications, being fonder of lies and shams
than of the truth; and they have at last ended by seeing themselves, as
others see them, to be great fools. Aristeides, the son of Lysimachus,
is one of them, and there are many others. The truants often return to
me, and beg that I would consort with them again--they are ready to
go to me on their knees--and then, if my familiar allows, which is not
always the case, I receive them, and they begin to grow again. Dire
are the pangs which my art is able to arouse and to allay in those who
consort with me, just like the pangs of women in childbirth; night and
day they are full of perplexity and travail which is even worse than
that of the women. So much for them. And there are others, Theaetetus,
who come to me apparently having nothing in them; and as I know that
they have no need of my art, I coax them into marrying some one, and
by the grace of God I can generally tell who is likely to do them good.
Many of them I have given away to Prodicus, and many to other inspired
sages. I tell you this long story, friend Theaetetus, because I suspect,
as indeed you seem to think yourself, that you are in labour--great with
some conception. Come then to me, who am a midwife's son and myself a
midwife, and do your best to answer the questions which I will ask you.
And if I abstract and expose your first-born, because I discover upon
inspection that the conception which you have formed is a vain shadow,
do not quarrel with me on that account, as the manner of women is when
their first children are taken from them. For I have actually known some
who were ready to bite me when I deprived them of a darling folly; they
did not perceive that I acted from goodwill, not knowing that no god is
the enemy of man--that was not within the range of their ideas; neither
am I their enemy in all this, but it would be wrong for me to admit
falsehood, or to stifle the truth. Once more, then, Theaetetus, I repeat
my old question, 'What is knowledge?'--and do not say that you cannot
tell; but quit yourself like a man, and by the help of God you will be
able to tell.
THEAETETUS: At any rate, Socrates, after such an exhortation I should be
ashamed of not trying to do my best. Now he who knows perceives what he
knows, and, as far as I can see at present, knowledge is perception.
SOCRATES: Bravely said, boy; that is the way in which you should express
your opinion. And now, let us examine together this conception of yours,
and see whether it is a true birth or a mere wind-egg:--You say that
knowledge is perception?
THEAETETUS: Yes.
SOCRATES: Well, you have delivered yourself of a very important doctrine
about knowledge; it is indeed the opinion of Protagoras, who has another
way of expressing it. Man, he says, is the measure of all things, of the
existence of things that are, and of the non-existence of things that
are not:--You have read him?
THEAETETUS: O yes, again and again.
SOCRATES: Does he not say that things are to you such as they appear to
you, and to me such as they appear to me, and that you and I are men?
THEAETETUS: Yes, he says so.
SOCRATES: A wise man is not likely to talk nonsense. Let us try to
understand him: the same wind is blowing, and yet one of us may be cold
and the other not, or one may be slightly and the other very cold?
THEAETETUS: Quite true.
SOCRATES: Now is the wind, regarded not in relation to us but
absolutely, cold or not; or are we to say, with Protagoras, that the
wind is cold to him who is cold, and not to him who is not?
THEAETETUS: I suppose the last.
SOCRATES: Then it must appear so to each of them?
THEAETETUS: Yes.