Hippias Major

Soc.

But or the Lacedaemonians, as you say, it is more beneficial to be educated in your education, which is foreign, than in the local education.

Hipp.

Yes, and what I say is true.

Soc.

And do you say this also, Hippias, that beneficial things are more lawful?

Hipp.

Yes, I said so.

Soc.

Then, according to what you say, it is more lawful for the sons of the Lacedaemonians to be educated by Hippias and less lawful for them to be educated by their fathers, if in reality they will be more benefited by you.

Hipp.

But certainly they will be benefited, Socrates.

Soc.

Then the Lacedaemonians in not giving you money and entrusting their sons to you , act contrary to law.

Hipp.

I agree to that; for you seem to be making your argument in my favour, and there is no need of my opposing it.

Soc.

Then my friends, we find that the Lacedaemonians are law-breakers, and that too in the most important affairs—they who are regarded as the most law-abiding of men. But then, for Heaven’s sake, Hippias, what sort of discourses are those for which they applaud you and which they enjoy hearing? Or are they evidently those which you understand most admirably, those about the stars and the phenomena of the heavens?

Hipp.

Not in the least; they won’t even endure those.

Soc.

But they enjoy hearing about geometry?

Hipp.

Not at all, since one might say that many of them do not even know how to count.

Soc.

Then they are far from enduring a lecture by you on the processes of thought.

Hipp.

Far from it indeed, by Zeus.

Soc.

Well, then, those matters which you of all men know best how to discuss, concerning the value of letters and syllables and rhythms and harmonies?

Hipp.

Harmonies indeed, my good fellow, and letters!

Soc.

But then what are the things about which they like to listen to you and which they applaud? Tell me yourself, for I cannot discover them.

Hipp.

They are very fond of hearing about the genealogies of heroes and men, Socrates, and the foundations of cities in ancient times and, in short, about antiquity in general, so that for their sake I have been obliged to learn all that sort of thing by heart and practise it thoroughly.

Soc.

By Zeus, Hippias, it is lucky for you that the Lacedaemonians do not enjoy hearing one recite the list of our archons from Solon’s time; if they did, you would have trouble in learning it by heart.

Hipp.

How so, Socrates? After hearing them once, I can remember fifty names.

Soc.

True, but I did not understand that you possess the science of memory; and so I understand that the Lacedaemonians naturally enjoy you as one who knows many things, and they make use of you as children make use of old women, to tell stories agreeably.

Hipp.

And by Zeus, Socrates, I have just lately gained reputation there by telling about noble or beautiful pursuits, recounting what those of a young man should be. For I have a very beautiful discourse composed about them, well arranged in its words and also in other respects. And the plan of the discourse, and its beginning, is something like this: After the fall of Troy, the story goes that Neoptolemus asked Nestor what the noble and beautiful pursuits were, by following which a young man would become most famous; so after that we have Nestor speaking and suggesting to him very many lawful and most beautiful pursuits. That discourse, then, I delivered there and intend to deliver here the day after tomorrow in Pheidostratus’s schoolroom, with many other things worth hearing; for Eudicus, the son of Apemantus, asked me to do so. Now be sure to be there yourself and to bring others who are able to judge of discourses that they hear.

Soc.

Well, that shall be done, God willing, Hippias. Now, however, give me a brief answer to a question about your discourse, for you reminded me of the beautiful just at the right moment. For recently, my most excellent friend, as I was finding fault with some things in certain speeches as ugly and praising other things as beautiful, a man threw me into confusion by questioning me very insolently somewhat after this fashion: How, if you please, do you know, Socrates, said he, what sort of things are beautiful and ugly? For, come now, could you tell me what the beautiful is? And I, being of no account, was at a loss and could not answer him properly; and so, as I was going away from the company, I was angry with myself and reproached myself, and threatened that the first time I met one of you wise men, I would hear and learn and practise and then go back to the man who questioned me to renew the wordy strife. So now, as I say, you have come at the right moment; just teach me satisfactorily what the absolute beautiful is, and try in replying to speak as accurately as possible, that I may not be confuted a second time and be made ridiculous again. For you doubtless know clearly, and this would doubtless be but a small example of your wide learning.

Hipp.

Yes, surely, by Zeus, a small one, Socrates, and, I may say, of no value.

Soc.

Then I shall learn it easily, and nobody will confute me any more.

Hipp.

Nobody, surely; for in that case my profession would be worthless and ordinary.

Soc.

That is good, by Hera, Hippias, if we are to worst the fellow. But may I without hindering you imitate him, and when you answer, take exception to what you say, in order that you may give me as much practice as possible? For I am more or less experienced in taking exceptions. So, if it is all the same to you, I wish to take exceptions, that I may learn more vigorously.

Hipp.

Oh yes, take exceptions. For, as I said just now, the question is no great matter, but I could teach you to answer much harder ones than this, so that nobody in the world could confute you.

Soc.

Oh how good that is! But come, since you tell me to do so, now let me try to play that man’s part, so far as possible, and ask you questions. For if you were to deliver for him this discourse that you mention, the one about beautiful pursuits, when he had heard it, after you had stopped speaking, the very first thing he would ask about would be the beautiful; for he has that sort of habit, and he would say, Stranger from Elis, is it not by justice that the just are just? So answer, Hippias, as though he were asking the question.

Hipp.

I shall answer that it is by justice.

Soc.

Then this—I mean justice—is something?

Hipp.

Certainly.

Soc.

Then, too, by wisdom the wise are wise and by the good all things are good, are they not?

Hipp.

Of course.

Soc.

And justice, wisdom, and so forth are something; for the just, wise, and so forth would not be such by them, if they were not something.

Hipp.

To be sure, they are something.

Soc.

Then are not all beautiful things beautiful by the beautiful?

Hipp.

Yes, by the beautiful.

Soc.

By the beautiful, which is something?

Hipp.

Yes, for what alternative is there?

Soc.

Tell me, then, stranger, he will say, what is this, the beautiful?

Hipp.

Well, Socrates, does he who asks this question want to find out anything else than what is beautiful?

Soc.

I do not think that is what he wants to find out, but what the beautiful is.

Hipp.

And what difference is there between the two?

Soc.

Do you think there is none?

Hipp.

Yes, for there is no difference.

Soc.

Well, surely it is plain that you know best; but still, my good friend, consider; for he asked you, not what is beautiful, but what the beautiful is.

Hipp.

I understand, my good friend, and I will answer and tell him what the beautiful is, and I shall never be confuted. For be assured, Socrates, if I must speak the truth, a beautiful maiden is beautiful.

Soc.

Beautifully answered, Hippias, by the dog, and notably! Then if I give this answer, I shall have answered the question that was asked, and shall have answered it correctly, and shall never be confuted?

Hipp.

Yes, for how could you, Socrates, be confuted, when you say what everybody thinks, and when all who hear it will bear witness that what you say is correct?

Soc.

Very well; certainly. Come, then, Hippias, let me rehearse to myself what you say. The man will question me in some such fashion as this: Come Socrates, answer me. All these things which you say are beautiful, if the absolute beautiful is anything, would be beautiful? And I shall say that if a beautiful maiden is beautiful, there is something by reason of which these things would be beautiful.

Hipp.

Do you think, then, that he will still attempt to refute you and to show that what you say is not beautiful, or, if he does attempt it, that he will not be ridiculous?

Soc.

That he will attempt it, my admirable friend, I am sure but whether the attempt will make him ridiculous, the event will show. However, I should like to tell you what he will ask.

Hipp.

Do so.

Soc.

How charming you are, Socrates! he will say. But is not a beautiful mare beautiful, which even the god praised in his oracle? [*](Heindorf and other commentators connect this reference with an oracle quoted by a scholiast on Theocritus, Idyl xiv. 48. The Megarians, being filled with pride, asked the god who were better then they. The first lines of the reply they received are: Γαίης μέν πάσης τὸ Πελασγικὸν Ἄργος ἄμεινον,ἵπποι Θρηΐκιαι, Λακεδαιμόνιαι δὲ γυναῖκες Better than all other land is the land of Pelasgian Argos, | Thracian mares are the best, and the Lacedaemonian women. To be sure, nothing is said about the beauty of the mares, and the reference to Elis contained in παρ’ ἡμῖν just below is hard to reconcile with the Thracian mares of the oracle.) What shall we say, Hippias? Shall we not say that the mare is beautiful, I mean the beautiful mare? For how could we dare to deny that the beautiful thing is beautiful?

Hipp.

Quite true, Socrates for what the god said is quite correct, too; for very beautiful mares are bred in our country.

Soc.

Very well, he will say, and how about a beautiful lyre? Is it not beautiful? Shall we agree, Hippias?

Hipp.

Yes.

Soc.

After this, then, the man will ask, I am sure, judging by his character: You most excellent man, how about a beautiful pot? Is it, then, not beautiful?

Hipp.

Socrates, who is the fellow? What an uncultivated person, who has the face to mention such worthless things in a dignified discussion!

Soc.

That’s the kind of person he is, Hippias, not elegant, but vulgar, thinking of nothing but the truth. But nevertheless the man must be answered, and I will declare my opinion beforehand: if the pot were made by a good potter, were smooth and round and well fired, as are some of the two-handled pots, those that hold six choes, [*](The χοῦς was 5.76 pints.) very beautiful ones— if that were the kind of pot he asked about, we must agree that it is beautiful; for how could we say that being beautiful it is not beautiful?

Hipp.

We could not at all, Socrates.

Soc.

Then, he will say, a beautiful pot also is beautiful, is it not? Answer.

Hipp.

Well, Socrates, it is like this, I think. This utensil, when well wrought, is beautiful, but absolutely considered it does not deserve to be regarded as beautiful in comparison with a mare and a maiden and all the beautiful things.