Complete Works (200 page)
H
IPPIAS
: You’re telling someone who already knows, Socrates. I know how everybody who’s involved in speeches operates. All the same, if it’s more pleasant for you, speak on.
S
OCRATES
: It really is more pleasant. We were so foolish, my friend, before you said what you did, that we had an opinion about me and you that
each
of us is
one,
but that we wouldn’t
both
be
one
(which is what
each
[e] of us would be) because we’re not
one
but
two
—we were so stupid-like. But now, we have been instructed by you that if two is what we both are, two is what each of us must be as well; and if each is one, then both must be one as well. The continuous theory of
being,
according to Hippias, does not allow it to be otherwise; but whatever both are, that each is as well; and whatever each is, both are. Right now I sit here persuaded by you. First, however, remind me, Hippias. Are you and I one? Or are you two and I two?
H
IPPIAS
: What do you mean, Socrates?
[302]
S
OCRATES
: Just what I say. I’m afraid of you, afraid to speak clearly, because you get angry at me whenever you think you’ve said anything. All the same, tell me more. Isn’t each of us one, and
that
—being one—is attributed to him?
H
IPPIAS
: Certainly.
S
OCRATES
: Then if each of us is one, wouldn’t he also be odd-numbered?
Or don’t you consider
one
to be odd?
H
IPPIAS
: I do.
S
OCRATES
: Then will both of us be odd-numbered, being two?
H
IPPIAS
: It couldn’t be, Socrates.
S
OCRATES
: But both are even-numbered. Yes?
H
IPPIAS
: Certainly.
S
OCRATES
: Then because both are even-numbered, on account of
that,
each of us is even-numbered as well. Right?
H
IPPIAS
: Of course not. [b]
S
OCRATES
: Then it’s not entirely necessary, as you said it was a moment ago, that whatever is true of both is also true of each, and that whatever is true of each is also true of both.
H
IPPIAS
: Not that sort of thing, but the sort I said earlier.
S
OCRATES
: They’re enough, Hippias. We have to accept them too, because we see that some are this way, and others are not this way. I said (if you remember how this discussion got started) that pleasure through sight and hearing was not fine by
this
—that each of them turned out to have [c] an attribute but not both, or that both had it but not each—but by that by which both and each are fine, because you agreed that they are both and each fine. That’s why I thought it was by the being that adheres to both, if both are fine—it was by
that
they had to be fine, and not by what falls off one or the other. And I still think so now. But let’s make a fresh start. Tell me, if the pleasure through sight and the one through hearing are [d] both and each fine, doesn’t what makes them fine adhere in both and in each of them?
H
IPPIAS
: Certainly.
S
OCRATES
: Then is it because each and both are
pleasure
—would they be fine because of that? Or would that make all other pleasures no less fine than these? Remember, we saw that they were no less pleasures.
H
IPPIAS
: I remember.
S
OCRATES
: But is it because they are through sight and hearing—are they [e] called
fine
because of that?
H
IPPIAS
: That’s the way it was put.
S
OCRATES
: See if this is true. It was said, I’m remembering, that the pleasant was fine this way: not all the pleasant, but whatever is through sight and hearing.
H
IPPIAS
: True.
S
OCRATES
: Doesn’t that attribute adhere in both, but not in each? I don’t suppose each of them is through both (as we said earlier), but both through both, not each. Is that right?
H
IPPIAS
: Yes.
S
OCRATES
: Then
that’s
not what makes each of them fine; it doesn’t adhere in each (because “both” doesn’t adhere in each). So the hypothesis lets us call both of them fine, but it doesn’t let us call each of them fine.
What else should we say? Isn’t it necessarily so?
[303]
H
IPPIAS
: So we see.
S
OCRATES
: Then should we call both fine, but not call each fine?
H
IPPIAS
: What’s to stop us?
S
OCRATES
:
This
stops us, friend, in my opinion. We had things that come to belong to particular things in this way: if they come to belong to both, they do to each also; and if to each, to both—all the examples you gave. Right?
H
IPPIAS
: Yes.
S
OCRATES
: But the examples
I
gave were not that way. Among them were “each” itself and “both.” Is that right?
H
IPPIAS
: It is.
[b] S
OCRATES
: With which of these do you put the fine, Hippias? With those you mentioned? If I am strong and so are you, we’re both strong too; and if I am just and so are you, we both are too. And if both, then each. In the same way, if I am fine and so are you, we both are too; and if both, then each. Or does nothing stop them from being like the things I said I saw clearly: when both of anything are even-numbered, each may be either odd- or possibly even-numbered. And again, when each of them is [c] inexpressible, both together may be expressible, or possibly inexpressible.
14
And millions of things like that. With which do you place the fine? Do you see the matter the way I do? I think it’s a great absurdity for both of us to be fine, but each not; or each fine, but both not, or anything else like that.
Do you choose the way I do, or the other way?
H
IPPIAS
: The first way is for me, Socrates.
[d] S
OCRATES
: Well done, Hippias! We’ve saved ourselves a longer search. Because if the fine is with
those,
then the pleasant through sight and hearing is not fine anymore. “Through sight and hearing” makes both fine, but not each. But that’s impossible, as you and I agree, Hippias.
H
IPPIAS
: We do agree.
S
OCRATES
: Then it’s impossible for the pleasant through sight and hearing to be fine, since if it becomes fine it presents one of the impossibilities.
H
IPPIAS
: That’s right.
[e] S
OCRATES
: “Tell me again from the beginning,” he’ll say; “since you were quite wrong with that. What do you say that is—the fine in both pleasures, which made you value them above the others and call them fine?” Hippias, I think we have to say that they are the most harmless pleasures and the best, both and each as well. Or can you mention something else that distinguishes them from all the others?
H
IPPIAS
: Not at all. They really are best.
S
OCRATES
: He’ll say, “Then this is what you say is the fine—beneficial pleasure?”
“Apparently so,” I’ll say. And you?
H
IPPIAS
: Me too.
S
OCRATES
: He’ll say: “The maker of good is beneficial, but we just saw that the maker and what is made are different. Your account comes down
[304]
to the earlier account. The good would not be fine, or the fine good, if each of these were different.”
“Absolutely,” we’ll say, if we have any sense. It’s not proper to disagree with a man when he’s right.
H
IPPIAS
: But Socrates, really, what do you think of all that? It’s flakings and clippings of speeches, as I told you before, divided up small. But here’s what is fine and worth a lot: to be able to present a speech well [b] and finely, in court or council or any other authority to whom you give the speech, to convince them and go home carrying not the smallest but the greatest of prizes, the successful defense of yourself, your property, and friends. One should stick to that.
He should give up and abandon all that small-talking, so he won’t be thought a complete fool for applying himself, as he is now, to babbling nonsense.
S
OCRATES
: Hippias, my friend, you’re a lucky man, because you know which activities a man should practice, and you’ve practiced them too—[c] successfully, as you say. But I’m apparently held back by my crazy luck. I wander around and I’m always getting stuck. If I make a display of how stuck I am to you wise men, I get mud-spattered by your speeches when I display it. You all say what you just said, that I am spending my time on things that are silly and small and worthless. But when I’m convinced by you and say what you say, that it’s much the most excellent thing to be able to present a speech well and finely, and get things done in court [d] or any other gathering, I hear every insult from that man (among others around here) who has always been refuting me. He happens to be a close relative of mine, and he lives in the same house. So when I go home to my own place and he hears me saying those things, he asks if I’m not ashamed that I dare discuss fine activities when I’ve been so plainly refuted about the fine, and it’s clear I don’t even know at all what
that
is itself! “Look,” he’ll say. “How will you know whose speech—or any other action—is [e] finely presented or not, when you are ignorant of the fine? And when you’re in a state like that, do you think it’s any better for you to live than die?” That’s what I get, as I said. Insults and blame from you, insults from him. But I suppose it is necessary to bear all that. It wouldn’t be strange if it were good for me. I actually think, Hippas, that associating with both of you has done me good. The proverb says, “What’s fine is hard”—I think I know
that.
1
. Elis was an independent city-state in the northwest Peloponnesus, not far from Olympia. Although geographically close to Sparta, Elis was tilting toward Athens in the contest for leadership between the two.
2
. Pittacus ruled in Mytilene for ten years, about 600
B.C.
, and was famous as a lawgiver; Bias was a statesman of Priene, active in the mid–sixth century
B.C.
; and Thales is said to have predicted the eclipse of 585
B.C.
All three were included in the “Seven Sages.” Anaxagoras (c. 500–c. 428) was a philosopher active in Athens in Socrates’ youth.
3
. Daedalus was praised in legend as an inventor of lifelike statues for King Minos of Crete.
4
. “Intelligence” (
nous
) was said to be prominent in Anaxagoras’ philosophy as the source of order for the entire universe.
5
. The chief elected magistrates of Athens were called archons. Solon was a lawgiver, political reformer, and poet (c. 640/635 to soon after 561/560
B.C.
).
6
. Neoptolemus, son of Achilles, is the type of the young hero; Nestor, the oldest of the Greeks in the expedition against Troy, is a proverbial wise old man.
7
. Eudicus was probably Hippias’ host in Athens (
Lesser Hippias
363b). Nothing is known about Phidostratus.
8
. Reading
all
ō
i
at a4; Heraclitus B82 Diels-Kranz.
9
. Phidias (b. ca. 490
B.C.
), an Athenian sculptor, was best known as designer of the Parthenon sculptures. The statue of Athena mentioned in Socrates’ next speech was fashioned of ivory and gold for the Parthenon.
10
. A dithyramb is a sort of choral ode heavily embellished with music.
11
. Achilles’ mother, Thetis, was a goddess. His grandfather, Aeacus, was a son of Zeus. Heracles, Tantalus, Dardanus, and Zethus (below) were all said to be sons of Zeus. Pelops, son of Tantalus, was of human parentage.
12
. Alternatively, “power.”
13
. Sophroniscus’ son is Socrates himself.
14
. By “inexpressible number” is probably meant an irrational surd (square root of a non-square number). If so, the claim is false. The sum of two such numbers is irrational.
Translated by Nicholas D. Smith.
The great sophist Hippias, who has come to Athens on his rounds of the Greek cities, has just exhibited his talents in a discourse on Homer. Socrates asks Hippias to explain further his view on Achilles and Odysseus, the heroes of the two Homeric poems. In the poems, says Hippias, Achilles is ‘best and bravest’ of the Greek heroes at Troy, and truthful, while Odysseus is ‘wily and a liar’—he speaks untruths. Homer implies, and Hippias agrees, that being truthful and being a liar (speaking untruths) are two distinct, contrasting things—one and the same person cannot be both truthful and a ‘liar’. But is that so, Socrates wants to know? Isn’t the one who
has
the truth about some matter the best able to tell an untruth? After all, only he is in a position even to know what
would
be an untruth to say! So the good and truthful man—Achilles, according to Hippias—would also be a liar, one accomplished at telling untruths. On this account, it could not be right to contrast Achilles, as a truthful person, with Odysseus as a liar—they would both have to be both. Hippias proves unable to sort these questions out satisfactorily, and so to explain adequately his own view about the differences between the two Homeric heroes: his self-proclaimed wisdom about the interpretation of Homer and indeed about everything else is thus shown up as no wisdom at all.
Toward the end of this short dialogue Socrates presses Hippias to admit that those who make moral errors ‘voluntarily’—e.g., the just person, who knows what the just thing to do is, but precisely through knowing that does the unjust thing instead—are better people than those who act unjustly ‘involuntarily’, from ignorance and by being unjust. Given his earlier inability to show how the good, knowledgeable, truthful person is not also the liar—the person most adept at telling untruths—Hippias is in no position to reject this suggestion, however unpalatable the thought may be that just people are exquisitely good at doing injustice! Nonetheless, he resists—no doubt correctly, however illogically, given his own earlier statements. As usual, in pressing him to accept this conclusion, Socrates is arguing only on the basis of assertions Hippias has made, not his own personal views. Indeed, Socrates indicates his own disavowal of this conclusion when he introduces at the end of the dialogue his own ‘if’:
if
there is anyone who voluntarily does what is unjust, then perhaps that person would be a ‘good’ doer of injustice. So we have no good reason to doubt, as some scholars have done, fearing for Socrates’ moral reputation, that this dialogue is Plato’s work. It is cited by Aristotle under the simple title
Hippias
(we call it
Lesser
to distinguish it from the longer or
Greater Hippias
dialogue). As often in citing Plato, Aristotle names no author, but—provided, as seems reasonable, that he means the reader to know it as Plato’s—his citation seems to assure its genuineness.