S
OCRATES
: Then it must surely be true that, when any one of the naturally active factors finds Socrates well, it will be dealing with one me, and when it finds Socrates ill, with a different me?
T
HEAETETUS
: Yes, surely.
S
OCRATES
: Then in these two events the combination of myself as passive and it as the active factor will generate different things?
T
HEAETETUS
: Of course.
S
OCRATES
: Now if I drink wine when I am well, it appears to me pleasant and sweet?
T
HEAETETUS
: Yes. [d]
S
OCRATES
: Going by what we earlier agreed, that is so because the active and passive factors, moving simultaneously, generate both sweetness and a perception; on the passive side, the perception makes the tongue percipient, while on the side of the wine, sweetness moving about it makes it both be and appear sweet to the healthy tongue.
T
HEAETETUS
: That’s certainly the sense of what we agreed to before.
S
OCRATES
: But when the active factor finds Socrates ill, then, to begin with, it is not in strict truth the same man that it gets hold of, is it? Because here, as we saw, it has come upon an unlike.
T
HEAETETUS
: Yes.
[e] S
OCRATES
: Then this pair, Socrates ill and the draft of wine, generates, presumably, different things again: a perception of bitterness in the region of the tongue, and bitterness coming to be and moving in the region of the wine. And then the wine becomes, not bitterness, but bitter; and I become, not perception, but percipient.
T
HEAETETUS
: Yes, quite.
S
OCRATES
: And I shall never again become
thus
percipient of anything
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else. A perception of something else is another perception, and makes another and a changed percipient. Nor again, in the case of that which acts on me, will it ever, in conjunction with something else, generate the same thing and itself become such as it now is. From something else it will generate something else, and itself become a changed thing.
T
HEAETETUS
: That is so.
S
OCRATES
: Nor will I become such for myself or it such for itself.
T
HEAETETUS
: No.
S
OCRATES
: But I must necessarily become percipient of something when [b] I become percipient; it is impossible to become percipient, yet percipient of nothing. And it again, when it becomes sweet or bitter or anything of that kind, must become so for somebody, because it is impossible to become sweet and yet sweet for no one.
T
HEAETETUS
: Quite impossible.
S
OCRATES
: It remains, then, that I and it, whether we are or whether we become, are or become for each other. For our being is, by Necessity’s decree, tied to a partner; yet we are tied neither to any other thing in the world nor to our respective selves. It remains, then, that we are tied to each other. Hence, whether you apply the term ‘being’ to a thing or the term ‘becoming’, you must always use the words ‘for somebody’ or ‘of something’ or ‘relatively to something’. You must not speak of anything [c] as in itself either being or becoming nor let anyone else use such expressions. That is the meaning of the theory we have been expounding.
T
HEAETETUS
: Yes, that’s certainly true, Socrates.
S
OCRATES
: Then since that which acts on me is for me, and not for anyone else, it is I who perceive it too, and nobody else?
T
HEAETETUS
: Undoubtedly.
S
OCRATES
: Then my perception is true for me—because it is always a perception of that being which is peculiarly mine; and I am judge, as Protagoras said, of things that are, that they are, for me; and of things that are not, that they are not.
T
HEAETETUS
: So it seems.
[d] S
OCRATES
: How then, if I am thus unerring and never stumble in my thought about what is—or what is coming to be—how can I fail to be a knower of the things of which I am a perceiver?
T
HEAETETUS
: There is no way you could fail.
S
OCRATES
: Then that was a grand idea of yours when you told us that knowledge is nothing more or less than perception. So we find the various theories have converged to the same thing: that of Homer and Heraclitus and all their tribe, that all things flow like streams; of Protagoras, wisest of men, that man is the measure of all things; and of Theaetetus that, [e] these things being so, knowledge proves to be perception. What about it, Theaetetus? Shall we say we have here your first-born child, the result of my midwifery? Or what would you say?
T
HEAETETUS
: Oh, there’s no denying it, Socrates.
S
OCRATES
: This, then, it appears, is what our efforts have at last brought forth—whatever it really is. And now that it has been born, we must perform the rite of running round the hearth with it; we must make it in good earnest go the round of discussion. For we must take care that we don’t overlook some defect in this thing that is entering into life; it may be something not worth bringing up, a wind-egg, a falsehood. What do
[161]
you say? Is it your opinion that your child ought in any case to be brought up and not exposed to die? Can you bear to see it found fault with, and not get into a rage if your first-born is stolen away from you?
T
HEODORUS
: Theaetetus will put up with it, Socrates. He is not at all one to lose his temper. But tell me, in Heaven’s name, in what way is it not as it should be?
S
OCRATES
: You are the complete lover of discussion, Theodorus, and it is too good of you to think that I am a sort of bag of arguments, and can easily pick one out which will show you that this theory is wrong. [b] But you don’t realize what is happening. The arguments never come from me; they always come from the person I am talking to. All that I know, such as it is, is how to take an argument from someone else—someone who
is
wise—and give it a fair reception. So, now, I propose to try to get our answer out of Theaetetus, not to make any contribution of my own.
T
HEODORUS
: That’s a better way of putting it, Socrates; do as you say.
S
OCRATES
: Well then, Theodorus, do you know what astonishes me about your friend Protagoras?
T
HEODORUS
: No—what is it? [c]
S
OCRATES
: Well, I was delighted with his general statement of the theory that a thing is for any individual what it seems to him to be; but I was astonished at the way he began. I was astonished that he did not state at the beginning of the
Truth
that ‘Pig is the measure of all things’ or ‘Baboon’ or some yet more out-of-the-way creature with the power of perception. That would have made a most imposing and disdainful opening. It would have made it clear to us at once that, while we were standing astounded at his wisdom as though he were a god, he was in reality no better authority [d] than a tadpole—let alone any other man.
Or what are we to say, Theodorus? If whatever the individual judges by means of perception is true for him; if no man can assess another’s experience better than he, or can claim authority to examine another man’s judgment and see if it be right or wrong; if, as we have repeatedly said, only the individual himself can judge of his own world, and what he judges is always true and correct: how could it ever be, my friend, that [e] Protagoras was a wise man, so wise as to think himself fit to be the teacher of other men and worth large fees; while we, in comparison with him the ignorant ones, needed to go and sit at his feet—we who are ourselves each the measure of his own wisdom? Can we avoid the conclusion that Protagoras was just playing to the crowd when he said this? I say nothing about my own case and my art of midwifery and how silly we look. So too, I think, does the whole business of philosophical discussion. To examine and try to refute each other’s appearances and judgments, when each
[162]
person’s are correct—this is surely an extremely tiresome piece of nonsense, if the
Truth
of Protagoras is true, and not merely an oracle speaking in jest from the impenetrable sanctuary of the book.
T
HEODORUS
: Protagoras was my friend, Socrates, as you have just remarked. I could not consent to have him refuted through my admissions; and yet I should not be prepared to resist you against my own judgment. So take on Theaetetus again. He seemed to be following you very sympathetically just now.
[b] S
OCRATES
: Now, Theodorus, supposing you went to Sparta and were visiting the wrestling-schools. Would you think it right to sit and watch other men exercising naked—some of them not much to look at—and refuse to strip yourself alongside of them, and take your turn of letting people see what you look like?
T
HEODORUS
: Why not, if I could persuade them to leave the choice to me? Similarly I am hoping to persuade you to allow me to be a spectator and not drag me into the arena now that I am grown stiff; but to take on someone who is younger and more supple.
S
OCRATES
: Well, Theodorus, what you like I’ll not dislike, as the saying [c] goes. So we must again resort to our wise Theaetetus. Come, Theaetetus. Think, to begin with, of what we have just been saying, and tell me if you are not yourself astonished at suddenly finding that you are the equal in wisdom of any man or even a god?—Or do you think the Protagorean measure isn’t meant to be applied to gods as much as to men?
T
HEAETETUS
: I most certainly don’t. And, to answer your question, yes, [d] I am very much astonished. When we were working out the meaning of the principle that a thing is for each man what it seems to him to be, it appeared to me a very sound one. But now, all in a minute, it is quite the other way round.
S
OCRATES
: Yes, because you are young, dear lad; and so you lend a ready ear to mob-oratory and let it convince you. For Protagoras, or anyone speaking on his behalf, will answer us like this: ‘My good people, young [e] and old,’ he will say, ‘you sit here orating; you drag in gods, whose existence or nonexistence I exclude from all discussion, written or spoken;
14
you keep on saying whatever is likely to be acceptable to the mob, telling them that it would be a shocking thing if no man were wiser than any cow in a field; but of proof or necessity not a word. You just rely on plausibility; though if Theodorus or any other geometer were to do that in his branch of science, it’s a good-for-nothing geometer he would be’. So you and Theodorus had better consider whether, in matters of such importance, you are going to accept arguments which are merely persuasive
[163]
or plausible.
T
HEAETETUS
: You wouldn’t say we had any business to do that, Socrates; and neither should we.
S
OCRATES
: Then, it seems, you and Theodorus say our criticism should take a different line?
T
HEAETETUS
: Yes, it certainly should.
S
OCRATES
: Here, then, is another way in which we might consider whether knowledge and perception are the same or different things—for that is the question which our argument has held in view throughout, isn’t it? And it was for its sake that we have unearthed all this extraordinary stuff?
T
HEAETETUS
: Undoubtedly.
S
OCRATES
: Well, now, are we going to agree that when we perceive things [b] by seeing or hearing them, we always at the same time
know
them? Take, for example, the case of hearing people speaking a foreign language which we have not yet learned. Are we going to say that we do not hear the sound of their voices when they speak? Or that we both hear it and know what they are saying? Again, supposing we do not know our letters, are we going to insist that we do not see them when we look at them? Or shall we maintain that, if we see them, we know them?
T
HEAETETUS
: We shall say, Socrates, that we know just that in them which we see and hear. We both see and know the shape and the color of the letters; and with the spoken words we both hear and know the rise and [c] fall of the voice. But what schoolmasters and interpreters tell us about them, we don’t perceive by seeing or hearing, and we don’t know, either.
S
OCRATES
: Very good indeed, Theaetetus; and it would not be right for me to stand in the way of your progress by raising objections to what you say. But look, there is another difficulty coming upon us. You must think now how we are going to fend it off.
T
HEAETETUS
: What kind of difficulty?
S
OCRATES
: I mean something like this. Supposing you were asked, ‘If a [d] man has once come to know a certain thing, and continues to preserve the memory of it, is it possible that, at the moment when he remembers it, he doesn’t know this thing that he is remembering?’ But I am being long-winded, I’m afraid. What I am trying to ask is, ‘Can a man who has learned something not know it when he is remembering it?’
T
HEAETETUS
: How could that happen, Socrates? That would be a most extraordinary thing.
S
OCRATES
: Then am I perhaps talking nonsense? But think now. You say that seeing is perceiving and sight is perception?
T
HEAETETUS
: Yes.
[e] S
OCRATES
: Then a man who has seen something has come to know that which he saw, according to the statement you made just now?
T
HEAETETUS
: Yes.
S
OCRATES
: But you do say—don’t you?—that there is such a thing as memory?