For this is where your great difficulty lies: each of those whom you will strip has surely something—one a cup, another a chalice, another a garland, and each of these may be of bronze, gold, or silver. And it is still not clear whether that which each man has is the holy object. So you have every reason to hesitate about whom to accuse of temple-robbery. In this case, even if all had similar objects, even so it would be uncertain who had stolen the property of the god—for these articles may be private property too. The sole reason for our ignorance, I suppose, is that the missing chalice has no inscription (assuming that it is a chalice), since if it had been inscribed with the name of the god or the person who had made the dedication we should have had less difficulty, and when we had found the inscribed chalice we should stop stripping and troubling the others. I think, Hermotimus, that you have often watched athletic contests?
You think rightly. Many a time, in many places.
Now, have you ever sat near the judges themselves?
Yes, indeed. Recently at Olympia I sat to the left of the National Judges. Euandridas of Elis reserved me a seat among his fellow-citizens, for I wanted to see everything that happened among the judges from near at hand.
Well, do you know this too—how they draw lots for the pairs in the wrestling or the pancratium?
Yes, I know.
Then, since you have seen it from near at hand, you could give a better account of it than
Don’t tell me about former times, Hermotimus, but what you saw from near at hand.
A silver urn dedicated to the god is placed before them. Into this are thrown small lots, the size of beans, with letters on them. Two are marked alpha, two beta, two gamma, and so on in the same way, if there are more competitors, two lots always having the same letter. Each of the competitors comes up, offers a prayer to Zeus, puts his hand into the urn,
Stop there. This is just what I wanted. Now, suppose they are nine in number and they have all drawn and are holding their lots. You go round (I want to make you a National Judge instead of a spectator) and inspect the letters. I fancy you will not learn in advance who has been given a bye, unless you go to every one of them and pair them.
What do you mean by this, Lycinus?
It is impossible immediately to find that letter which gives you the bye, or perhaps you could find the letter, but you will certainly not know if it is that one, for there is no prior declaration of kappa or mu or iota as the letter which chooses the bye. When you find alpha, you look for the competitor who has the other alpha, and, when you find him, you have already paired them. Then again, when you come on beta, you look for the other beta, the counterpart of the one you have found, and so with all of them, until you are left with the competitor who has the only letter that has no counterpart.
What if you come on this one first or second, what will you do?
It is not what I shall do. You are the National Judge, and I want to know what you will do. Will you say at once that this man is given a bye, or will you have to go round them all, to see whether there is somewhere a corresponding letter? If you did not look at the lots of everyone, you would not discover who had the bye.
Oh, I should know quite easily, Lycinus. In the case of nine competitors, if I find epsilon first or second, I know that the one holding this lot is the one who has the bye.
How, Hermotimus?
In this way: two have alpha, and similarly two have beta. Of the remaining four, two have surely drawn gamma and two delta, and four letters have already been used up for eight competitors. So it is clear that only the next letter, epsilon, could be odd, and he who has drawn this one gets the bye.
Shall I praise you for your intelligence, or would you like me to explain the different view I have of the matter?
Certainly. But I fail to see what reasonable answer you can give to such an argument.
You have spoken as if the letters are definitely written in order—I mean alpha first, beta second, and so on through the alphabet, until the number of competitors is completed at one of them. I grant that this is so at Olympia. But suppose we choose five letters completely at random—chi, sigma, zeta, kappa, and theta—and we write four of these twice on eight lots, but the zeta only on the ninth, which is going to show us the bye. What will you do if you find the zeta first? How can you pick out the competitor who holds it as the man for the bye, without going to all the others and finding no letter to correspond to it? You cannot, as you were just now, be sure from the alphabetical order.
What you ask is difficult to answer.
Come now, look at the same question in another way. Suppose we wrote no letters on the lots, but signs and symbols, such as the many that the Egyptians use instead of letters—dog- and lion-headed men. What then? No, let us not use them, queer creatures that they are. No, let us write down simple, uniform symbols with as good a likeness as we can: human beings on two lots, two horses for another two, two cocks and two dogs, and for the ninth let the picture be a lion. Now, if at the beginning we find this lot with the picture of a lion, how will you be able to say that this is the one that gives the bye, unless you go to them all and compare whether another also has a lion?
I can give you no answer, Lycinus.