Hippias Major

Hipp.

Your reply, Socrates, seems to involve miracles again even greater than those of your previous reply. For consider: if we are both just, would not each of us be just also, and if each is unjust, would not both again also be unjust, or if both are healthy, each of us also? Or if each of us were to be tired or wounded or struck or affected in any other way whatsoever, should we not both of us be affected in the same way? Then, too, if we were to be golden or of silver or of ivory, or, if you please, noble or wise or honored or old or young or whatever else you like of all that flesh is heir to, is it not quite inevitable that each of us be that also?

Soc.

Absolutely.

Hipp.

But you see, Socrates, you do not consider the entirety of things, nor do they with whom you are in the habit of conversing, but you all test the beautiful and each individual entity by taking them separately and cutting them to pieces. For this reason you fail to observe that embodiments of reality are by nature so great and undivided. And now you have failed to observe to such a degree that you think there is some affection or reality which pertains to both of these together, but not to each individually, or again to each, but not to both; so unreasoning and undiscerning and foolish and unreflecting is your state of mind.

Soc.

Human affairs, Hippias, are not what a man wishes, but what he can, [*](Suidas gives the proverb in the form: ζῶμεν γὰρ οὐχ ὡς θέλομεν, ἀλλ’ ὡς δυνάμεθα. Man proposes, but God disposes would be an English equivalent.) as the proverb goes which people are constantly citing; but you are always aiding us with admonitions. For now too, until we were admonished by you of our foolish state of mind—shall I continue to speak and make you a still further exhibition of our thoughts on the subject, or shall I not speak?

Hipp.

You will speak to one who knows, Socrates, for I know the state of mind of all who are concerned with discussions; but nevertheless, if you prefer, speak.

Soc.

Well, I do prefer. For we, my friend, were so stupid, before you spoke, as to have an opinion concerning you and me, that each of us was one, but that we were not both that which each of us was—for we are not one, but two —so foolish were we. But now we have been taught by you that if we are both two, then each of us is inevitably two, and if each is one, then both are inevitably one; for it is impossible, by the continuous doctrine of reality according to Hippias, that it be otherwise, but what we both are, that each is, and what each is, both are. So now I have been convinced by you, and I hold this position. But first, Hippias, refresh my memory: Are you and I one, or are you two and I two?

Hipp.

What do you mean, Socrates?

Soc.

Just what I say; for I am afraid to speak plainly to you, because you are vexed with me, when you think you are talking sensibly; however, tell me further: Is not each of us one and affected in such a way as to be one?

Hipp.

Certainly.

Soc.

Then each of us, if one, would be an odd number; or do you not consider one an odd number?

Hipp.

I do.

Soc.

Then are we both an odd number, being two?

Hipp.

That could not be, Socrates.

Soc.

But we are both an even number, are we not?

Hipp.

Certainly.

Soc.

Then because we are both even, is each of us on that account even?

Hipp.

No, surely not.

Soc.

Then it is not absolutely inevitable, as you said just now, that what both are, each is, and what each is, both are.

Hipp.

Not things of this sort, but such as I mentioned before.

Soc.

That suffices, Hippias; for even this is welcome, since it appears that some things are so and some are not so. For I said, if you remember the beginning of this discussion, that pleasure through sight and through hearing were beautiful, not by that by which each of them was so affected as to be beautiful, but not both, nor both but not each, but by that by which both and each were so affected, because you conceded that both and each were beautiful. For this reason I thought that if both are beautiful they must be beautiful by that essence which belongs to both, but not by that which is lacking in each; and I still think so. But tell me, as in the beginning: If pleasure through sight and pleasure through hearing are both and each beautiful, does not that which makes them beautiful belong to both and to each?

Hipp.

Certainly.

Soc.

Is it, then, for this reason, because each is a pleasure and both are pleasures, that they would be beautiful? Or would all other pleasures be for this reason no less beautiful than they? For we saw, if you remember, that they were no less pleasures.

Hipp.

Yes,I remember.

Soc.

But for this reason, because these pleasures were through sight and hearing, it was said that they are beautiful.

Hipp.

Yes, that is what was said.

Soc.

See if what I say is true. For it was said, if my memory serves me, that this pleasant was beautiful, not all pleasant, but that which is through sight and hearing.

Hipp.

True.

Soc.

Now this quality belongs to both, but not to each, does it not? For surely each of them, as was said before, is not through both senses, but both are through both, and each is not. Is that true?

Hipp.

It is.

Soc.

Then it is not by that which does not belong to each that each of them is beautiful; for both does not belong to each; so that it is possible, according to our hypothesis, to say that they both are beautiful, but not to say that each is so; or what shall we say? Is that not inevitable?

Hipp.

It appears so.

Soc.

Shall we say, then, that both are beautiful, but that each is not?

Hipp.

What is to prevent?

Soc.

This seems to me, my friend, to prevent, that there were some attributes thus belonging to individual things, which belonged, we thought, to each, if they belonged to both, and to both, if they belonged to each—I mean all those attributes which you specified. [*](See 300 E., 301 A.) Am I right?

Hipp.

Yes.

Soc.

But those again which I specified [*](See 301 E, 302 A.) did not; and among those were precisely each and both. Is that so?

Hipp.

It is.

Soc.

To which group, then, Hippias, does the beautiful seem to you to belong? To the group of those that you mentioned? If I am strong and you also, are we both collectively strong, and if I am just and you also, are we both collectively just, and if both collectively, then each individually so, too, if I am beautiful and you also, are we both collectively beautiful, and if both collectively, then each individually? Or is there nothing to prevent this, as in the case that when given things are both collectively even, they may perhaps individually be odd, or perhaps even, and again, when things are individually irrational quantities they may perhaps both collectively be rational, or perhaps irrational, and countless other cases which, you know, I said appeared before my mind? [*](See 300 C.) To which group do you assign the beautiful? Or have you the same view about it as I? For to me it seems great foolishness that we collectively are beautiful, but each of us is not so, or that each of us is so, but both are not, or anything else of that sort. Do you choose in this way, as I do, or in some other way?

Hipp.

In this way, Socrates.

Soc.

You choose well, Hippias, that we may be free from the need of further search; for if the beautiful is in this group, that which is pleasing through sight and hearing would no longer be the beautiful. For the expression through sight and hearing makes both collectively beautiful, but not each individually; and this was impossible, as you and I agree.

Hipp.

Yes, we agree.

Soc.

It is, then, impossible that the pleasant through sight and hearing be the beautiful, since in becoming beautiful it offers an impossibility.

Hipp.

That is true.

Soc.

Then tell us again, he will say, from the beginning, since you failed this time; what do you say that this ’beautiful,’ belonging to both the pleasures, is, on account of which you honored them before the rest and called them beautiful? It seems to me, Hippias, inevitable that we say that these are the most harmless and the best of pleasures, both of them collectively and each of them individually; or have you anything else to suggest, by which they excel the rest?

Hipp.

Not at all; for really they are the best.

Soc.

This, then, he will say, you say is the beautiful, beneficial pleasure? It seems that we do, I shall say; and you?

Hipp.

I also.

Soc.

Well, then, he will say, beneficial is that which creates the good, but that which creates and that which is created were just now seen to be different, and our argument has come round to the earlier argument, has it not? For neither could the good be beautiful nor the beautiful good, if each of them is different from the other. Absolutely true, we shall say, if we are reasonable; for it is inadmissible to disagree with him who says what is right.

Hipp.

But now, Socrates, what do you think all this amounts to? It is mere scrapings and shavings of discourse, as I said a while ago, [*](See 301 B.) divided into bits; but that other ability is beautiful and of great worth, the ability to produce a discourse well and beautifully in a court of law or a council-house or before any other public body before which the discourse may be delivered, to convince the audience and to carry off, not the smallest, but the greatest of prizes, the salvation of oneself, one’s property, and one’s friends. For these things, therefore, one must strive, renouncing these petty arguments, that one may not, by busying oneself, as at present, with mere talk and nonsense, appear to be a fool.

Soc.

My dear Hippias, you are blessed because you know the things a man ought to practise, and have, as you say, practised them satisfactorily. But I, as it seems, am possessed by some accursed fortune, so that I am always wandering and perplexed, and, exhibiting my perplexity to you wise men, am in turn reviled by you in speech whenever I exhibit it. For you say of me, what you are now saying, that I busy myself with silly little matters of no account; but when in turn I am convinced by you and say what you say, that it is by far the best thing to be able to produce a discourse well and beautifully and gain one’s end in a court of law or in any other assemblage, I am called everything that is bad by some other men here and especially by that man who is continually refuting me; for he is a very near relative of mine and lives in the same house. So whenever I go home to my own house, and he hears me saying these things, he asks me if I am not ashamed that I have the face to talk about beautiful practices, when it is so plainly shown, to my confusion, that I do not even know what the beautiful itself is. And yet how are you to know, he will say, either who produced a discourse, or anything else whatsoever, beautifully, or not, when you are ignorant of the beautiful? And when you are in such a condition, do you think it is better for you to be alive than dead? So it has come about, as I say, that I am abused and reviled by you and by him. But perhaps it is necessary to endure all this, for it is quite reasonable that I might be benefited by it. So I think, Hippias, that I have been benefited by conversation with both of you; for I think I know the meaning of the proverb beautiful things are difficult.