Complete Works

by Plato, Cooper, John M. , Hutchinson, D. S.

  HIPPIAS: Of course, Socrates. Your answer’s right.

  [b] SOCRATES: Then listen. I’m sure of what he’ll say next. “What? If you put the class of girls together with the class of gods, won’t the same thing happen as happened when the class of pots was put together with that of girls? Won’t the finest girl be seen to be foul? And didn’t Heraclitus (whom you bring in) say the same thing too, that ‘the wisest of men is seen to be a monkey compared to god in wisdom and fineness and everything else?’ ” Should we agree, Hippias, that the finest girl is foul compared to the class of gods?

  HIPPIAS: Who would object to that, Socrates?

  [c] SOCRATES: Then if we agreed to that, he’d laugh and say, “Socrates, do you remember what you were asked?” “Yes,” I’ll say: “Whatever is the fine itself?” “Then,” he’ll say, “when you were asked for the fine, do you answer with something that turns out to be no more fine than foul, as you say yourself?” “Apparently,” I’ll say. Or what do you advise me to say, my friend?

  HIPPIAS: That’s what I’d say. Because compared to gods, anyway, the human race is not fine—that’s true.

  SOCRATES: He’ll say: “If I had asked you from the beginning what is both [d] fine and foul, and you had given me the answer you just gave, then wouldn’t you have given the right answer? Do you still think that the fine itself by which everything else is beautified and seen to be fine when that form is added to it—that that is a girl or a horse or a lyre?”

  HIPPIAS: But if that’s what he’s looking for, it’s the easiest thing in the world to answer him and tell him what the fine (thing) is by which everything else is beautified and is seen to be fine when it is added. The man’s [e] quite simple; he has no feeling at all for fine possessions. If you answer him that this thing he’s asking for, the fine, is just gold, he’ll be stuck and won’t try to refute you. Because we all know, don’t we, that wherever that is added, even if it was seen to be foul before, it will be seen to be fine when it has been beautified with gold.

  SOCRATES: You have no experience of this man, Hippias. He stops at nothing, and he never accepts anything easily.

  HIPPIAS: So what? He must accept what’s said correctly, or, if not, be a [290] laughingstock.

  SOCRATES: Well, that answer he certainly will not accept, my friend. And what’s more, he’ll jeer at me, and say, “Are you crazy? Do you think Phidias9 is a bad workman?” And I think I’ll say, “No, not at all.”

  HIPPIAS: And you’ll be right about that.

  SOCRATES: Right enough. Then when I agree that Phidias is a good [b] workman, this person will say, “Next, do you think Phidias didn’t know about this fine thing you mention?” “What’s the point?” I’ll say. “The point is,” he’ll say, “that Phidias didn’t make Athena’s eyes out of gold, nor the rest of her face, nor her feet, nor her hands—as he would have done if gold would really have made them be seen to be finest—but he made them out of ivory. Apparently he went wrong through ignorance; he didn’t know gold was what made everything fine, wherever it is added.” What shall we answer when he says that, Hippias?

  HIPPIAS: It’s not hard. We’ll say he made the statue right. Ivory’s fine [c] too, I think.

  SOCRATES: “Then why didn’t he work the middles of the eyes out of ivory? He used stone, and he found stone that resembled ivory as closely as possible. Isn’t a stone a fine thing too, if it’s a fine one?” Shall we agree?

  HIPPIAS: Yes, at least when it’s appropriate.

  SOCRATES: “But when it’s not appropriate it’s foul?” Do I agree or not?

  HIPPIAS: Yes, when it’s not appropriate anyway.

  [d] SOCRATES: “Well,” he’ll say. “You’re a wise man! Don’t ivory and gold make things be seen to be fine when they’re appropriate, but foul when they’re not?” Shall we be negative? Or shall we agree with him that he’s right?

  HIPPIAS: We’ll agree to this: whatever is appropriate to each thing makes that particular thing fine.

  SOCRATES: “Then,” he’ll say, “when someone boils the pot we just mentioned, the fine one, full of fine bean soup, is a gold stirring spoon or a figwood one more appropriate?”

  [e] HIPPIAS: Heracles! What kind of man is this! Won’t you tell me who he is?

  SOCRATES: You wouldn’t know him if I told you the name.

  HIPPIAS: But I know right now he’s an ignoramus.

  SOCRATES: Oh, he’s a real plague, Hippias. Still, what shall we say? Which of the two spoons is appropriate to the soup and the pot? Isn’t it clearly the wooden one? It makes the soup smell better, and at the same time, my friend, it won’t break our pot, spill out the soup, put out the fire, and make us do without a truly noble meal, when we were going to have a [291] banquet. That gold spoon would do all these things; so I think we should say the figwood spoon is more appropriate than the gold one, unless you say otherwise.

  HIPPIAS: Yes, it’s more appropriate. But I wouldn’t talk with a man who asked things like that.

  SOCRATES: Right you are. It wouldn’t be appropriate for you to be filled up with words like that, when you’re so finely dressed, finely shod, and [b] famous for wisdom all over Greece. But it’s nothing much for me to mix with him. So help me get prepared. Answer for my sake. “If the figwood is really more appropriate than the gold,” the man will say, “wouldn’t it be finer? Since you agreed, Socrates, that the appropriate is finer than the not appropriate?”

  Hippias, don’t we agree that the figwood spoon is finer than the gold one?

  HIPPIAS: Would you like me to tell you what you can say the fine is—and save yourself a lot of argument?

  [c] SOCRATES: Certainly. But not before you tell me how to answer. Which of those two spoons I just mentioned is appropriate and finer?

  HIPPIAS: Answer, if you’d like, that it’s the one made of fig.

  SOCRATES: Now tell me what you were going to say. Because by that answer, if I say the fine is gold, apparently I’ll be made to see that gold is no finer than wood from a figtree. So what do you say the fine is this time?

  [d] HIPPIAS: I’ll tell you. I think you’re looking for an answer that says the fine is the sort of thing that will never be seen to be foul for anyone, anywhere, at any time.

  SOCRATES: Quite right, Hippias. Now you’ve got a fine grasp of it.

  HIPPIAS: Listen now, if anyone has anything to say against this, you can certainly say I’m not an expert on anything.

  SOCRATES: Tell me quickly, for god’s sake.

  HIPPIAS: I say, then, that it is always finest, both for every man and in every place, to be rich, healthy, and honored by the Greeks, to arrive at [e] old age, to make a fine memorial to his parents when they die, and to have a fine, grand burial from his own children.

  SOCRATES: Hurray, Hippias! What a wonderful long speech, worthy of yourself! I’m really delighted at the kind way in which—to the best of your ability—you’ve helped me out. But we didn’t hit the enemy, and now he’ll certainly laugh at us harder than ever.

  HIPPIAS: That laughter won’t do him any good, Socrates. When he has nothing to say in reply, but laughs anyway, he’ll be laughing at himself, [292] and he’ll be a laughingstock to those around.

  SOCRATES: That may be so. But maybe, as I suspect, he’ll do more than laugh at me for that answer.

  HIPPIAS: What do you mean?

  SOCRATES: If he happens to have a stick, and I don’t run and run away from him, he’ll try to give me a thrashing.

  HIPPIAS: What? Is the man your owner or something? Do you mean he could do that and not be arrested and convicted? Or don’t you have any [b] laws in this city, but people are allowed to hit each other without any right?

  SOCRATES: No, that’s not allowed at all.

  HIPPIAS: Then he’ll be punished for hitting you without any right.

  SOCRATES: I don’t think so, Hippias. No, if I gave that answer he’d have a right—in my opinion anyway.

  HIPPIAS: Then I think so too, seeing that you yourself believe it.
/>   SOCRATES: Should I tell you why I believe he’d have a right to hit me if I gave that answer? Or will you hit me without trial too? Will you hear my case?

  HIPPIAS: It would be awful if I wouldn’t. What do you have to say? [c]

  SOCRATES: I’ll tell you the same way as before. I’ll be acting out his part—so the words I use are not directed against you; they’re like what he says to me, harsh and grotesque. “Tell me, Socrates,” you can be sure he’ll say, “do you think it’s wrong for a man to be whipped when he sings such a dithyramb10 as that, so raucously, way out of tune with the question?” “How?” I’ll say. “How!” he’ll say. “Aren’t you capable of remembering that I asked for the fine itself? For what when added to anything—whether [d] to a stone or a plank or a man or a god or any action or any lesson—anything gets to be fine? I’m asking you to tell me what fineness is itself, my man, and I am no more able to make you hear me than if you were sitting here in stone—and a millstone at that, with no ears and no brain!”

  Hippias, wouldn’t you be upset if I got scared and came back with this: [e] “But that’s what Hippias said the fine was. And I asked him the way you asked me, for that which is fine always and for everyone.” So what do you say? Wouldn’t you be upset if I said that?

  HIPPIAS: Socrates, I know perfectly well that what I said is fine for everyone—everyone will think so.

  SOCRATES: “And will be fine?” he’ll ask. “I suppose the fine is always fine.”

  HIPPIAS: Certainly.

  SOCRATES: “Then it was fine, too,” he’ll say.

  HIPPIAS: It was.

  SOCRATES: “For Achilles as well?” he’ll ask. “Does the visitor from Elis [293] say it is fine for him to be buried after his parents? And for his grandfather Aeacus? And for the other children of the gods? And for the gods themselves?”11

  HIPPIAS: What’s that? Go to blessedness. These questions the man asks, Socrates, they’re sacrilegious!

  SOCRATES: What? Is it a sacrilege to say that’s so when someone else asks the question?

  HIPPIAS: Maybe.

  SOCRATES: “Then maybe you’re the one who says that it is fine for everyone, always, to be buried by his children, and to bury his parents? And isn’t Heracles included in ‘everyone’ as well as everybody we mentioned a moment ago?”

  HIPPIAS: But I didn’t mean it for the gods.

  [b] SOCRATES: “Apparently you didn’t mean it for the heroes either.”

  HIPPIAS: Not if they’re children of gods.

  SOCRATES: “But if they’re not?”

  HIPPIAS: Certainly.

  SOCRATES: “Then according to your latest theory, I see, what’s awful and unholy and foul for some heroes—Tantalus and Dardanus and Zethus—is fine for Pelops and those with similar parentage.”

  HIPPIAS: That’s my opinion.

  SOCRATES: “Then what you think is what you did not say a moment [c] ago—that being buried by your children and burying your parents is foul sometimes, and for some people. Apparently it’s still more impossible for that to become and be fine for everyone; so that has met the same fate as the earlier ones, the girl and the pot, and a more laughable fate besides; it is fine for some, not fine for others. And to this very day, Socrates, you aren’t able to answer the question about the fine, what it is.”

  That’s how he’ll scold me—and he’s right if I give him such an answer.

  [d] Most of what he says to me is somewhat like that. But sometimes, as if he took pity on my inexperience and lack of education, he himself makes me a suggestion. He asks if I don’t think such and such is the fine, or whatever else he happens to be investigating and the discussion is about.

  HIPPIAS: How do you mean?

  SOCRATES: I’ll show you. “You’re a strange man, Socrates,” he’ll say, “giving answers like that, in that way. You should stop that. They’re very [e] simple and easy to refute. But see if you think this sort of answer is fine. We had a grip on it just now when we replied that gold is fine for things it’s appropriate to, but not for those it’s not. And anything else is fine if this has been added to it: this, the appropriate itself—the nature of the appropriate itself. See if it turns out to be the fine.”

  I’m used to agreeing with such things every time, because I don’t know what to say. What do you think? Is the appropriate fine?

  HIPPIAS: In every way, Socrates.

  SOCRATES: Let’s look it over. We’d better not be deceived.

  HIPPIAS: We have to look it over.

  SOCRATES: See here, then. What do we say about the appropriate: Is it [294] what makes—by coming to be present—each thing to which it is present be seen to be fine, or be fine, or neither?

  HIPPIAS: I think it’s what makes things be seen to be fine. For example, when someone puts on clothes and shoes that suit him, even if he’s ridiculous, he is seen to be finer.

  SOCRATES: Then if the appropriate makes things be seen to be finer than they are, it would be a kind of deceit about the fine, and it wouldn’t be what we are looking for, would it, Hippias? I thought we were looking [b] for that by which all fine things are fine. For example, what all large things are large by is the projecting. For by that all large things—even if they are not seen to be so—if they project they are necessarily large. Similarly, we say the fine is what all things are fine by, whether or not they are seen to be fine. What would it be? It wouldn’t be the appropriate. Because that makes things be seen to be finer than they are—so you said—and it won’t let things be seen to be as they are. We must try to say what it is that [c] makes things fine, whether they are seen to be fine or not, just as I said a moment ago. That’s what we’re looking for, if we’re really looking for the fine.

  HIPPIAS: But Socrates, the appropriate makes things both be fine and be seen to be fine, when it’s present.

  SOCRATES: Is it impossible for things that are really fine not to be seen to be fine, since what makes them be seen is present?

  HIPPIAS: It’s impossible.

  SOCRATES: Then shall we agree to this, Hippias: that everything really [d] fine—customs and activities both—are both thought to be, and seen to be, fine always, by everybody? Or just the opposite, that they’re unknown, and individuals in private and cities in public both have more strife and contention about them than anything?

  HIPPIAS: Much more the latter, Socrates. They are unknown.

  SOCRATES: They wouldn’t be, if “being seen to be” had been added to them. And that would have been added if the appropriate were fine and made things not only be but be seen to be fine. Therefore, if the appropriate is what makes things fine, it would be the fine we’re looking for, but it [e] would not be what makes things be seen to be fine. Or, if the appropriate is what makes things be seen to be fine, it wouldn’t be the fine we’re looking for. Because that makes things be; but by itself it could not make things be seen to be and be, nor could anything else. Let’s choose whether we think the appropriate is what makes things be seen to be, or be, fine.

  HIPPIAS: It’s what makes things be seen to be, in my opinion, Socrates.

  SOCRATES: Oh dear! It’s gone and escaped from us, our chance to know what the fine is, since the appropriate has been seen to be something other than fine.

  HIPPIAS: God yes, Socrates. And I think that’s very strange.

  [295] SOCRATES: But we shouldn’t let it go yet, my friend. I still have some hope that the fine will make itself be seen for what it is.

  HIPPIAS: Of course it will. It’s not hard to find. I’m sure if I went off and looked for it by myself—in quiet—I would tell it to you more precisely than any preciseness.

  SOCRATES: Ah, Hippias! Don’t talk big. You see how much trouble it has [b] given us already; and if it gets mad at us I’m afraid it will run away still harder. But that’s nonsense. You’ll easily find it, I think, when you’re alone. But for god’s sake, find it in front of me, or look for it with me if you want, as we’ve been doing. If we find it, that would be the finest thing; but i
f not, I will content myself with my fate, while you go away and find it easily. And if we find it now, of course I won’t be a nuisance to you [c] later, trying to figure out what it was you found on your own. Now see what you think the fine is: I’m saying that it’s—pay attention now, be careful I’m not raving—let this be fine for us: whatever is useful. What I had in mind when I said that was this. We say eyes are fine not when we think they are in such a state they’re unable to see, but whenever they are able, and are useful for seeing. Yes?

  HIPPIAS: Yes.

  SOCRATES: And that’s how we call the whole body fine, sometimes for [d] running, sometimes for wrestling. And the same goes for all animals—a fine horse, rooster, or quail—and all utensils and means of transport on land and sea, boats and warships, and the tools of every skill, music and all the others; and, if you want, activities and laws—virtually all these are called fine in the same way. In each case we look at the nature it’s got, its [e] manufacture, its condition; then we call what is useful “fine” in respect of the way it is useful, what it is useful for, and when it is useful; but anything useless in all those respects we call “foul.” Don’t you think that way too, Hippias?

  HIPPIAS: Yes, I do.

  SOCRATES: So then are we right to say now that the useful more than anything turns out to be fine?

  HIPPIAS: Right, Socrates.

  SOCRATES: So what’s able to accomplish a particular thing is useful for that for which it is able; and what’s unable is useless.

  HIPPIAS: Certainly.

  SOCRATES: Then is ability12 fine, but inability foul?

  HIPPIAS: Very much so. Many things give us evidence for the truth of [296] that, especially politics. The finest thing of all is to be able politically in your own city, and to be unable is the foulest of all.

  SOCRATES: Good! Then doesn’t it follow from these points that, by god, wisdom is really the finest thing of all, and ignorance the foulest?