PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE:
Socrates, Protarchus, Philebus.
SOCRATES: Observe, Protarchus,
the nature of the position which you are now going to take from
Philebus, and what the other position is which I maintain, and
which, if you do not approve of it, is to be controverted by you.
Shall you and I sum up the two sides?
PROTARCHUS: By all means.
SOCRATES: Philebus was saying
that enjoyment and pleasure and delight, and the class of feelings
akin to them, are a good to every living being, whereas I contend,
that not these, but wisdom and intelligence and memory, and their
kindred, right opinion and true reasoning, are better and more
desirable than pleasure for all who are able to partake of them,
and that to all such who are or ever will be they are the most
advantageous of all things. Have I not given, Philebus, a fair
statement of the two sides of the argument?
PHILEBUS: Nothing could be
fairer, Socrates.
SOCRATES: And do you, Protarchus,
accept the position which is assigned to you?
PROTARCHUS: I cannot do
otherwise, since our excellent Philebus has left the field.
SOCRATES: Surely the truth about
these matters ought, by all means, to be ascertained.
PROTARCHUS: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Shall we further
agree—
PROTARCHUS: To what?
SOCRATES: That you and I must now
try to indicate some state and disposition of the soul, which has
the property of making all men happy.
PROTARCHUS: Yes, by all
means.
SOCRATES: And you say that
pleasure, and I say that wisdom, is such a state?
PROTARCHUS: True.
SOCRATES: And what if there be a
third state, which is better than either? Then both of us are
vanquished—are we not? But if this life, which really has the power
of making men happy, turn out to be more akin to pleasure than to
wisdom, the life of pleasure may still have the advantage over the
life of wisdom.
PROTARCHUS: True.
SOCRATES: Or suppose that the
better life is more nearly allied to wisdom, then wisdom conquers,
and pleasure is defeated;—do you agree?
PROTARCHUS: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And what do you say,
Philebus?
PHILEBUS: I say, and shall always
say, that pleasure is easily the conqueror; but you must decide for
yourself, Protarchus.
PROTARCHUS: You, Philebus, have
handed over the argument to me, and have no longer a voice in the
matter?
PHILEBUS: True enough.
Nevertheless I would clear myself and deliver my soul of you; and I
call the goddess herself to witness that I now do so.
PROTARCHUS: You may appeal to us;
we too will be the witnesses of your words. And now, Socrates,
whether Philebus is pleased or displeased, we will proceed with the
argument.
SOCRATES: Then let us begin with
the goddess herself, of whom Philebus says that she is called
Aphrodite, but that her real name is Pleasure.
PROTARCHUS: Very good.
SOCRATES: The awe which I always
feel, Protarchus, about the names of the gods is more than human—it
exceeds all other fears. And now I would not sin against Aphrodite
by naming her amiss; let her be called what she pleases. But
Pleasure I know to be manifold, and with her, as I was just now
saying, we must begin, and consider what her nature is. She has one
name, and therefore you would imagine that she is one; and yet
surely she takes the most varied and even unlike forms. For do we
not say that the intemperate has pleasure, and that the temperate
has pleasure in his very temperance,—that the fool is pleased when
he is full of foolish fancies and hopes, and that the wise man has
pleasure in his wisdom? and how foolish would any one be who
affirmed that all these opposite pleasures are severally
alike!
PROTARCHUS: Why, Socrates, they
are opposed in so far as they spring from opposite sources, but
they are not in themselves opposite. For must not pleasure be of
all things most absolutely like pleasure,—that is, like
itself?
SOCRATES: Yes, my good friend,
just as colour is like colour;—in so far as colours are colours,
there is no difference between them; and yet we all know that black
is not only unlike, but even absolutely opposed to white: or again,
as figure is like figure, for all figures are comprehended under
one class; and yet particular figures may be absolutely opposed to
one another, and there is an infinite diversity of them. And we
might find similar examples in many other things; therefore do not
rely upon this argument, which would go to prove the unity of the
most extreme opposites. And I suspect that we shall find a similar
opposition among pleasures.
PROTARCHUS: Very likely; but how
will this invalidate the argument?
SOCRATES: Why, I shall reply,
that dissimilar as they are, you apply to them a new predicate, for
you say that all pleasant things are good; now although no one can
argue that pleasure is not pleasure, he may argue, as we are doing,
that pleasures are oftener bad than good; but you call them all
good, and at the same time are compelled, if you are pressed, to
acknowledge that they are unlike. And so you must tell us what is
the identical quality existing alike in good and bad pleasures,
which makes you designate all of them as good.
PROTARCHUS: What do you mean,
Socrates? Do you think that any one who asserts pleasure to be the
good, will tolerate the notion that some pleasures are good and
others bad?
SOCRATES: And yet you will
acknowledge that they are different from one another, and sometimes
opposed?
PROTARCHUS: Not in so far as they
are pleasures.
SOCRATES: That is a return to the
old position, Protarchus, and so we are to say (are we?) that there
is no difference in pleasures, but that they are all alike; and the
examples which have just been cited do not pierce our dull minds,
but we go on arguing all the same, like the weakest and most
inexperienced reasoners? (Probably corrupt.)
PROTARCHUS: What do you
mean?
SOCRATES: Why, I mean to say,
that in self-defence I may, if I like, follow your example, and
assert boldly that the two things most unlike are most absolutely
alike; and the result will be that you and I will prove ourselves
to be very tyros in the art of disputing; and the argument will be
blown away and lost. Suppose that we put back, and return to the
old position; then perhaps we may come to an understanding with one
another.
PROTARCHUS: How do you
mean?
SOCRATES: Shall I, Protarchus,
have my own question asked of me by you?
PROTARCHUS: What question?
SOCRATES: Ask me whether wisdom
and science and mind, and those other qualities which I, when asked
by you at first what is the nature of the good, affirmed to be
good, are not in the same case with the pleasures of which you
spoke.
PROTARCHUS: What do you
mean?
SOCRATES: The sciences are a
numerous class, and will be found to present great differences. But
even admitting that, like the pleasures, they are opposite as well
as different, should I be worthy of the name of dialectician if, in
order to avoid this difficulty, I were to say (as you are saying of
pleasure) that there is no difference between one science and
another;—would not the argument founder and disappear like an idle
tale, although we might ourselves escape drowning by clinging to a
fallacy?
PROTARCHUS: May none of this
befal us, except the deliverance! Yet I like the even-handed
justice which is applied to both our arguments. Let us assume,
then, that there are many and diverse pleasures, and many and
different sciences.
SOCRATES: And let us have no
concealment, Protarchus, of the differences between my good and
yours; but let us bring them to the light in the hope that, in the
process of testing them, they may show whether pleasure is to be
called the good, or wisdom, or some third quality; for surely we
are not now simply contending in order that my view or that yours
may prevail, but I presume that we ought both of us to be fighting
for the truth.
PROTARCHUS: Certainly we
ought.
SOCRATES: Then let us have a more
definite understanding and establish the principle on which the
argument rests.
PROTARCHUS: What principle?
SOCRATES: A principle about which
all men are always in a difficulty, and some men sometimes against
their will.
PROTARCHUS: Speak plainer.
SOCRATES: The principle which has
just turned up, which is a marvel of nature; for that one should be
many or many one, are wonderful propositions; and he who affirms
either is very open to attack.
PROTARCHUS: Do you mean, when a
person says that I, Protarchus, am by nature one and also many,
dividing the single ‘me’ into many ‘me’s,’ and even opposing them
as great and small, light and heavy, and in ten thousand other
ways?
SOCRATES: Those, Protarchus, are
the common and acknowledged paradoxes about the one and many, which
I may say that everybody has by this time agreed to dismiss as
childish and obvious and detrimental to the true course of thought;
and no more favour is shown to that other puzzle, in which a person
proves the members and parts of anything to be divided, and then
confessing that they are all one, says laughingly in disproof of
his own words: Why, here is a miracle, the one is many and
infinite, and the many are only one.
PROTARCHUS: But what, Socrates,
are those other marvels connected with this subject which, as you
imply, have not yet become common and acknowledged?