Rhetoric against Dialectic.

Here is a suitable termination for one of the Dialogues of Search: “My mind has been embarrassed by contradictions as yet unreconciled, but this is a stage indispensable to future improvement”. We have moreover an interesting passage of arms between Rhetoric and Dialectic: two contemporaneous and contending agencies, among the stirring minds of Athens, in the time of Plato and Isokrates. The Rhetor accuses the Dialectician of departing from the conditions of reality — of breaking up the integrity of those concretes, which occur in nature each as continuous and indivisible wholes. Each of the analogous particular cases forms a continuum or concrete by itself, which may be compared with the others, but cannot be taken to pieces, and studied in separate fragments.43 The Dialectician on his side treats the Abstract (τὸ καλὸν) as the real Integer, and the highest abstraction as the first of all integers, containing in itself and capable of evolving all the subordinate integers: the various accompaniments, which go along with each Abstract to make up a concrete, he disregards as shadowy and transient disguises.

Men who dealt with real life, contrasted with the speculative and analytical philosophers.

Hippias accuses Sokrates of never taking into his view Wholes, and of confining his attention to separate parts and fragments, obtained by logical analysis and subdivision. Aristophanes, when he attacks the Dialectic of Sokrates, takes the same ground, employing numerous comic metaphors to illustrate the small and impalpable fragments handled, and the subtle transpositions which they underwent in the reasoning. Isokrates again deprecates the over-subtlety of dialectic debate, contrasting it with discussions (in his opinion) more useful; wherein entire situations, each with its full clothing and assemblage of circumstances, were reviewed and estimated.44 All these are protests, by persons accustomed to deal with real life, and to talk to auditors both numerous and commonplace, against that conscious analysis and close attention to general and abstract terms, which Sokrates first insisted on and transmitted to his disciples. On the other side, we have the emphatic declaration made by the Platonic Sokrates (and made still earlier by the Xenophontic45 or historical Sokrates) — That a man was not fit to talk about beautiful things in the concrete — that he had no right to affirm or deny that attribute, with respect to any given subject — that he was not even fit to live unless he could explain what was meant by The Beautiful, or Beauty in the abstract. Here are two distinct and conflicting intellectual habits, the antithesis between which, indicated in this dialogue, is described at large and forcibly in the Theætêtus.46

Concrete Aggregates — abstract or logical Aggregates. Distinct aptitudes required by Aristotle for the Dialectician.

When Hippias accuses Sokrates of neglecting to notice Wholes or Aggregates, this is true in the sense of Concrete Wholes — the phenomenal sequences and co-existences, perceived by sense or imagined. But the Universal (as Aristotle says)47 is one kind of Whole: a Logical Whole, having logical parts. In the minds of Sokrates and Plato, the Logical Whole separable into its logical parts and into them only, were preponderant.

Antithesis of Absolute and Relative, here brought into debate by Plato, in regard to the Idea of Beauty.

One other point deserves peculiar notice, in the dialogue under our review. The problem started is, What is the Beautiful — the Self-Beautiful, or Beauty per se: and it is assumed that this must be Something,48 that from the accession of which, each particular beautiful thing becomes beautiful. But Sokrates presently comes to make a distinction between that which is really beautiful and that which appears to be beautiful. Some things (he says) appear beautiful, but are not so in reality: some are beautiful, but do not appear so. The problem, as he states it, is, to find, not what that is which makes objects appear beautiful, but what it is that makes them really beautiful. This distinction, as we find it in the language of Hippias, is one of degree only:49 that is beautiful which appears so to every one and at all times. But in the language of Sokrates, the distinction is radical: to be beautiful is one thing, to appear beautiful is another; whatever makes a thing appear beautiful without being so in reality, is a mere engine of deceit, and not what Sokrates is enquiring for.50 The Self-Beautiful or real Beauty is so, whether any one perceives it to be beautiful or not: it is an Absolute, which exists per se, having no relation to any sentient or percipient subject.51 At any rate, such is the manner in which Plato conceives it, when he starts here as a problem to enquire, What it is.

Herein we note one of the material points of disagreement between Plato and his master: for Sokrates (in the Xenophontic Memorabilia) affirms distinctly that Beauty is altogether relative to human wants and appreciations. The Real and Absolute, on the one hand, wherein alone resides truth and beauty — as against the phenomenal and relative, on the other hand, the world of illusion and meanness — this is an antithesis which we shall find often reproduced in Plato. I shall take it up more at large, when I come to discuss his argument against Protagoras in the Theætêtus.

Hippias Minor — characters and situation supposed.

I now come to the Lesser Hippias: in which (as we have already seen in the Greater) that Sophist is described by epithets, affirming varied and extensive accomplishments, as master of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, poetry (especially that of Homer), legendary lore, music, metrical and rhythmical diversities, &c. His memory was prodigious, and he had even invented for himself a technical scheme for assisting memory. He had composed poems, epic, lyric, and tragic, as well as many works in prose: he was, besides, a splendid lecturer on ethical and political subjects, and professed to answer any question which might be asked. Furthermore, he was skilful in many kinds of manual dexterity: having woven his own garments, plaited his own girdle, made his own shoes, engraved his own seal-ring, and fabricated for himself a curry-comb and oil-flask.52 Lastly, he is described as wearing fine and showy apparel. What he is made to say is rather in harmony with this last point of character, than with the preceding. He talks with silliness and presumption, so as to invite and excuse the derisory sting of Sokrates, There is a third interlocutor, Eudikus: but he says very little, and other auditors are alluded to generally, who say nothing.53

Hippias has just delivered a lecture, in which he extols Achilles as better than Odysseus — the veracious and straightforward hero better than the mendacious and crafty.

Homer (says Hippias) considers veracious men, and mendacious men, to be not merely different, but opposite: and I agree with him. Permit me (Sokrates remarks) to ask some questions about the meaning of this from you, since I cannot ask any from Homer himself. You will answer both for yourself and him.54

Mendacious men (answers Hippias, to a string of questions, somewhat prolix) are capable, intelligent, wise: they are not incapable or ignorant. If a man be incapable of speaking falsely, or ignorant, he is not mendacious. Now the capable man is one who can make sure of doing what he wishes to do, at the time and occasion when he does wish it, without let or hindrance.55

This is contested by Sokrates. The veracious man and the mendacious man are one and the same — the only man who can answer truly if he chooses, is he who can also answer falsely if he chooses, i.e. the knowing man — the ignorant man cannot make sure of doing either the one or the other.

You, Hippias (says Sokrates), are expert on matters of arithmetic: you can make sure of answering truly any question put to you on the subject. You are better on the subject than the ignorant man, who cannot make sure of doing the same. But as you can make sure of answering truly, so likewise you can make sure of answering falsely, whenever you choose to do so. Now the ignorant man cannot make sure of answering falsely. He may, by reason of his ignorance, when he wishes to answer falsely, answer truly without intending it. You, therefore, the intelligent man and the good in arithmetic, are better than the ignorant and the bad for both purposes — for speaking falsely, and for speaking truly.56

Analogy of special arts — it is only the arithmetician who can speak falsely on a question of arithmetic when he chooses.

What is true about arithmetic, is true in other departments also. The only man who can speak falsely whenever he chooses is the man who can speak truly whenever he chooses. Now, the mendacious man, as we agreed, is the man who can speak falsely whenever he chooses. Accordingly, the mendacious man, and the veracious man, are the same. They are not different, still less opposite: nay, the two epithets belong only to one and the same person. The veracious man is not better than the mendacious — seeing that he is one and the same.57

You see, therefore, Hippias, that the distinction, which you drew and which you said that Homer drew, between Achilles and Odysseus, will not hold. You called Achilles veracious, and Odysseus, mendacious: but if one of the two epithets belongs to either of them, the other must belong to him also.58

View of Sokrates respecting Achilles in the Iliad. He thinks that Achilles speaks falsehood cleverly. Hippias maintains that if Achilles ever speaks falsehood, it is with an innocent purpose, whereas Odysseus does the like with fraudulent purpose.

Sokrates then tries to make out that Achilles speaks falsehood in the Iliad, and speaks it very cleverly, because he does so in a way to escape detection from Odysseus himself. To this Hippias replies, that if Achilles ever speaks falsehood, he does it innocently, without any purpose of cheating or injuring any one; whereas the falsehoods of Odysseus are delivered with fraudulent and wicked intent.59 It is impossible (he contends) that men who deceive and do wrong wilfully and intentionally, should be better than those who do so unwillingly and without design. The laws deal much more severely with the former than with the latter.60

Issue here taken — Sokrates contends that those who hurt, or cheat, or lie wilfully, are better than those who do the like unwillingly — he entreats Hippias to enlighten him and answer his questions.

Upon this point, Hippias (says Sokrates), I dissent from you entirely. I am, unhappily, a stupid person, who cannot find out the reality of things: and this appears plainly enough when I come to talk with wise men like you, for I always find myself differing from you. My only salvation consists in my earnest anxiety to put questions and learn from you, and in my gratitude for your answers and teaching. I think that those who hurt mankind, or cheat, or lie, or do wrong, wilfully — are better than those who do the same unwillingly. Sometimes, indeed, from my stupidity, the opposite view presents itself to me, and I become confused: but now, after talking with you, the fit of confidence has come round upon me again, to pronounce and characterise the persons who do wrong unwillingly, as worse than those who do wrong wilfully. I entreat you to heal this disorder of my mind. You will do me much more good than if you cured my body of a distemper. But it will be useless for you to give me one of your long discourses: for I warn you that I cannot follow it. The only way to confer upon me real service, will be to answer my questions again, as you have hitherto done. Assist me, Eudikus, in persuading Hippias to do so.

Assistance from me (says Eudikus) will hardly be needed, for Hippias professed himself ready to answer any man’s questions.

Yes — I did so (replies Hippias) — but Sokrates always brings trouble into the debate, and proceeds like one disposed to do mischief.

Eudikus repeats his request, and Hippias, in deference to him, consents to resume the task of answering.61

Questions of Sokrates — multiplied analogies of the special arts. The unskilful artist, who runs, wrestles, or sings badly, whether he will or not, is worse than the skilful, who can sing well when he chooses, but can also sing badly when he chooses.

Sokrates then produces a string of questions, with a view to show that those who do wrong wilfully, are better than those who do wrong unwillingly. He appeals to various analogies. In running, the good runner is he who runs quickly, the bad runner is he who runs slowly. What is evil and base in running is, to run slowly. It is the good runner who does this evil wilfully: it is the bad runner who does it unwillingly.62 The like is true about wrestling and other bodily exercises. He that is good in the body, can work either strongly or feebly, — can do either what is honourable or what is base; so that when he does what is base, he does it wilfully. But he that is bad in the body does what is base unwillingly, not being able to help it.63

What is true about the bodily movements depending upon strength, is not less true about those depending on grace and elegance. To be wilfully ungraceful, belongs only to the well-constituted body: none but the badly-constituted body is ungraceful without wishing it. The same, also, about the feet, voice, eyes, ears, nose: of these organs, those which act badly through will and intention, are preferable to those which act badly without will or intention. Lameness of feet is a misfortune and disgrace: feet which go lame only by intention are much to be preferred.64

Again, in the instruments which we use, a rudder or a bow, — or the animals about us, horses or dogs, — those are better with which we work badly when we choose; those are worse, with which we work badly without design, and contrary to our own wishes.

It is better to have the mind of a bowman who misses his mark only by design, than that of one who misses even when he intends to hit.

It is better to have the mind of a bowman who misses his mark by design, than that of one who misses when he tries to hit. The like about all other arts — the physician, the harper, the flute-player. In each of these artists, that mind is better, which goes wrong only wilfully — that mind is worse, which goes wrong unwillingly, while wishing to go right. In regard to the minds of our slaves, we should all prefer those which go wrong only when they choose, to those which go wrong without their own choice.65

Having carried his examination through this string of analogous particulars, and having obtained from Hippias successive answers — “Yes — true in that particular case,” Sokrates proceeds to sum up the result:—

Sokr. — Well! should we not wish to have our own minds as good as possible? Hip. — Yes. Sokr. — We have seen that they will be better if they do mischief and go wrong wilfully, than if they do so unwillingly? Hip. — But it will be dreadful, Sokrates, if the willing wrong-doers are to pass for better men than the unwilling.

Dissent and repugnance of Hippias.

Sokr. — Nevertheless — it seems so: from what we have said. Hip. — It does not seem so to me. Sokr. — I thought that it would have seemed so to you, as it does to me. However, answer me once more — Is not justice either a certain mental capacity? or else knowledge? or both together?66 Hip. — Yes! it is. Sokr. — If justice be a capacity of the mind, the more capable mind will also be the juster: and we have already seen that the more capable soul is the better. Hip. — We have. Sokr. — If it be knowledge, the more knowing or wiser mind will of course be the juster: if it be a combination of both capacity and knowledge, that mind which is more capable as well as more knowing, — will be the juster that which is less capable and less knowing, will be the more unjust. Hip. — So it appears. Sokr. — Now we have shown that the more capable and knowing mind is at once the better mind, and more competent to exert itself both ways — to do what is honourable as well as what is base — in every employment. Hip. — Yes. Sokr. — When, therefore, such a mind does what is base, it does so wilfully, through its capacity or intelligence, which we have seen to be of the nature of justice? Hip. — It seems so. Sokr. — Doing base things, is acting unjustly: doing honourable things, is acting justly. Accordingly, when this more capable and better mind acts unjustly, it will do so wilfully; while the less capable and worse mind will do so without willing it? Hip. — Apparently.

Conclusion — That none but the good man can do evil wilfully: the bad man does evil unwillingly. Hippias cannot resist the reasoning, but will not accept the conclusion — Sokrates confesses his perplexity.

Sokr. — Now the good man is he that has the good mind: the bad man is he that has the bad mind. It belongs therefore to the good man to do wrong wilfully, to the bad man, to do wrong without wishing it — that is, if the good man be he that has the good mind? Hip. — But that is unquestionable — that he has it. Sokr. — Accordingly, he that goes wrong and does base and unjust things wilfully, if there be any such character — can be no other than the good man. Hip. — I do not know how to concede that to you, Sokrates.67 Sokr. — Nor I, how to concede it to myself, Hippias: yet so it must appear to us, now at least, from the past debate. As I told you long ago, I waver hither and thither upon this matter; my conclusions never remain the same. No wonder indeed that I and other vulgar men waver; but if you wise men waver also, that becomes a fearful mischief even to us, since we cannot even by coming to you escape from our embarrassment.68

I will here again remind the reader, that in this, as in the other dialogues, the real speaker is Plato throughout: and that it is he alone who prefixes the different names to words determined by himself.

Remarks on the dialogue. If the parts had been inverted, the dialogue would have been cited by critics as a specimen of the sophistry and corruption of the Sophists.

Now, if the dialogue just concluded had come down to us with the parts inverted, and with the reasoning of Sokrates assigned to Hippias, most critics would probably have produced it as a tissue of sophistry justifying the harsh epithets which they bestow upon the Athenian Sophists — as persons who considered truth and falsehood to be on a par — subverters of morality — and corruptors of the youth of Athens.69 But as we read it, all that, which in the mouth of Hippias would have passed for sophistry, is here put forward by Sokrates; while Hippias not only resists his conclusions, and adheres to the received ethical sentiment tenaciously, even when he is unable to defend it, but hates the propositions forced upon him, protests against the perverse captiousness of Sokrates, and requires much pressing to induce him to continue the debate. Upon the views adopted by the critics, Hippias ought to receive credit for this conduct, as a friend of virtue and morality. To me, such reluctance to debate appears a defect rather than a merit; but I cite the dialogue as illustrating what I have already said in another place — that Sokrates and Plato threw out more startling novelties in ethical doctrine, than either Hippias or Protagoras, or any of the other persons denounced as Sophists.

Polemical purpose of the dialogue — Hippias humiliated by Sokrates.

Philosophical purpose of the dialogue — theory of the Dialogues of Search generally, and of Knowledge as understood by Plato.

In a former chapter, I tried to elucidate the general character and purpose of those Dialogues of Search, which occupy more than half the Thrasyllean Canon, and of which we have already reviewed two or three specimens — Euthyphron, Alkibiadês, &c. We have seen that they are distinguished by the absence of any affirmative conclusion: that they prove nothing, but only, at the most, disprove one or more supposable solutions: that they are not processes in which one man who knows communicates his knowledge to ignorant hearers, but in which all are alike ignorant, and all are employed, either in groping, or guessing, or testing the guesses of the rest. We have farther seen that the value of these Dialogues depends upon the Platonic theory about knowledge; that Plato did not consider any one to know, who could not explain to others all that he knew, reply to the cross-examination of a Sokratic Elenchus, and cross-examine others to test their knowledge: that knowledge in this sense could not be attained by hearing, or reading, or committing to memory a theorem, together with the steps of reasoning which directly conducted to it: — but that there was required, besides, an acquaintance with many counter-theorems, each having more or less appearance of truth; as well as with various embarrassing aspects and plausible delusions on the subject, which an expert cross-examiner would not fail to urge. Unless you are practised in meeting all the difficulties which he can devise, you cannot be said to know. Moreover, it is in this last portion of the conditions of knowledge, that most aspirants are found wanting.

The Hippias is an exemplification of this theory — Sokrates sets forth a case of confusion, and avows his inability to clear it up. Confusion shown up in the Lesser Hippias — Error in the Greater.

Now the Greater and Lesser Hippias are peculiar specimens of these Dialogues of Search, and each serves the purpose above indicated. The Greater Hippias enumerates a string of tentatives, each one of which ends in acknowledged failure: the Lesser Hippias enunciates a thesis, which Sokrates proceeds to demonstrate, by plausible arguments such as Hippias is forced to admit. But though Hippias admits each successive step, he still mistrusts the conclusion, and suspects that he has been misled — a feeling which Plato70 describes elsewhere as being frequent among the respondents of Sokrates. Nay, Sokrates himself shares in the mistrust — presents himself as an unwilling propounder of arguments which force themselves upon him,71 and complains of his own mental embarrassment. Now you may call this sophistry, if you please; and you may silence its propounders by calling them hard names. But such ethical prudery — hiding all the uncomfortable logical puzzles which start up when you begin to analyse an established sentiment, and treating them as non-existent because you refuse to look at them — is not the way, to attain what Plato calls knowledge. If there be any argument, the process of which seems indisputable, while yet its conclusion contradicts, or seems to contradict, what is known, upon other evidence — the full and patient analysis of that argument is indispensable, before you can become master of the truth and able to defend it. Until you have gone through such analysis, your mind must remain in that state of confusion which is indicated by Sokrates at the end of the Lesser Hippias. As it is a part of the process of Search, to travel in the path of the Greater Hippias — that is, to go through a string of erroneous solutions, each of which can be proved, by reasons shown, to be erroneous: so it is an equally important part of the same process, to travel in the path of the Lesser Hippias — that is, to acquaint ourselves with all those arguments, bearing on the case, in which two contrary conclusions appear to be both of them plausibly demonstrated, and in which therefore we cannot as yet determine which of them is erroneous — or whether both are not erroneous. The Greater Hippias exhibits errors, — the Lesser Hippias puts before us confusion. With both these enemies the Searcher for truth must contend: and Bacon tells us, that confusion is the worst enemy of the two — “Citius emergit veritas ex errore, quam ex confusione”. Plato, in the Lesser Hippias, having in hand a genuine Sokratic thesis, does not disdain to invest Sokrates with the task (sophistical, as some call it, yet not the less useful and instructive) of setting forth at large this case of confusion, and avowing his inability to clear it up. It is enough for Sokrates that he brings home the painful sense of confusion to the feelings of his hearer as well as to his own. In that painful sentiment lies the stimulus provocative of farther intellectual effort.72 The dialogue ends but the process of search, far from ending along with it, is emphatically declared to be unfinished, and, to be in a condition not merely unsatisfactory but intolerable, not to be relieved except by farther investigation, which thus becomes a necessary sequel.