In the
‘Preface’ to his History of Western
Philosophy Russell writes: ‘This book owes its existence to Dr Albert C.
Barnes, having been originally designed and partly delivered as lectures at the
Barnes Foundation in Pennsylvania.’ In his Autobiography,
in Chapter 13, ‘America 1938-1944’, he writes: ‘My duties with Dr Barnes began
at the New Year of 1941 … I was warned before accepting his offer that he
always tired of people before long, so I exacted a five-year contract from him.
On December 28th, 1942, I got a letter from him informing me that my
appointment was terminated as from January 1st … When my case came
into court, Dr Barnes complained that I had done insufficient work for my
lectures. So far as they had gone, they consisted of the first two-thirds of my
History of Western Philosophy, of
which I submitted the manuscript to the judge, though I scarcely suppose he
read it. Dr Barnes complained of my treatment of the men whom he called
Pither-gawras and Empi-Dokkles. I observed the judge taking notice, and I won
my case.’ (Published in the Routledge Classics in 2010, pp. 442-443)
Russell does
not explain who Pither-gawras and Empi-Dokkles were meant to be, but if
Ctesippus was one of these, Dr Barnes had a point. Russell wrote in his History: ‘Take the following passage
from the Euthydemus, in which two
Sophists, Dionysodorus and Euthydemus, set to work to puzzle a simple-minded
person named Ctesippus.’ For Ctesippus depicted by Plato in his dialogue is
anything but simple-minded. In my post on ‘The royal logos in Plato’s Sophist and the royal art in his Euthydemus’ I included a passage in
which Ctesippus enters the dialogue:
Socrates was
eager to see ‘where the sophists would start in their exhortation to the young
man [Cleinias] that he should practice wisdom and virtue (283a3-4).
Dionysosorus, the elder of the two brothers, began as follows: ‘Tell me,
Socrates and the rest of you who say that you want this young man to become
wise, are you in jest or in real earnest?’ When Socrates answered that they
were all in profound earnest, Dionysodorus resumed his questioning of Socrates:
‘And so you say that you wish Cleinias to become wise … And he is not wise yet
… you wish him to become wise and not ignorant … You wish him to be what he is
not, and no longer to be what he is? … You wish him no longer to be what he is,
which can only mean that you wish him to perish. Pretty lovers and friends they
must be who want their favourite not to be, or to perish.’ Ctesippus angrily
interposed: ‘What can make you tell such a lie about me and the others, which I
hardly like to repeat, as that I wish Cleinias to perish?’ Euthydemus stepped
in: ‘And do you think, Ctesippus, that it is possible to tell a lie?’ –
Ctesippus: ‘I should be mad to say anything else.’ – Euthydemus: ‘And in
telling a lie, do you tell the thing of which you speak or not? … And he who
tells, tells that thing which he tells, and no other? … And that is a distinct
thing apart from other things? … And he who says that thing says that which is?
… And he who says that which is, says the truth. And therefore Dionysodorus, if
he says that which is, says the truth of you and no lie.’ – Ctesippus: ‘But he
is saying what is not.’ Euthydemus: ‘And that which is not is not? … And that
which is not is nowhere? … And can anyone do anything about that which has no
existence, or do to Cleinias that which is not and is nowhere? … Then no one
says that which is not, for in saying what is not he would be doing something;
and you have already acknowledged that no one can do what is not. And
therefore, upon your own showing (hȏste
kata ton son logon), no one says what is false (oudeis pseudȇ legei); but if Dionysodorus says anything (all’ eiper legei Dionusodȏros), he says
what is true and what is (t’alȇthȇ te kai
ta onta legei).’ (283b4-284c6, tr. Jowett)
It is thus
in the discussion with Ctesippus that Euthydemus raises the question ‘And do
you think, Ctesippus, that it is possible to tell a lie (ȇ dokei soi hoion t’ einai pseudesthai)?’ which becomes the
philosophical crux of the dialogue, supported as it is by Euthydemus’ claim – which
goes back to Parmenides – that not being is not, which, thus linked, lie in the
centre of Plato’s Sophist.
I quoted the
given passage in my post before reading Russell’s chapter on ‘Protagoras’;
Russell’s verdict on Ctesippus compels me to bring in some more. Ctesippus
responded to Euthydemus’ last words as follows: ‘Yes, Euthydemus; but he speaks
of things in a certain way and manner (alla
ta onta men tropon tina legei), and not as they really are (ou mentoi hȏs echei).’ (284c7-8, tr.
Jowett)
***
I can’t help
breaking the flow of the passage, for I must comment on the problem of
translation. Jowett translated ta onta
at 284c6 – Euthydemus’ last words – as ‘what is’, but in Ctesippus’ response he
translates ta onta as ‘things’. To
Euthydemus’ ‘but if Dionysodorus says anything (all’ eiper legei Dionusodȏros), he says what is true and what is (t’alȇthȇ te kai ta onta legei)’
Ctesippus replies: ‘But he says “which is” in a certain manner (alla ta onta men tropon tina legei), but
not as it is (ou mentoi hȏs echei).’
Of course there is a problem; ta onta
is in the plural, ‘what is’ is in the singular.
I can’t help
reflecting on ‘Russel’s struggles with certainty’, which I discussed in one of
my earlier posts: Russel opened The
Problems of Philosophy with a question: ‘Is there any knowledge in the
world which is so certain that no reasonable man can doubt it?’ … Russel wrote
in the ‘Postscript’ to his Autobiography
that up to the age of thirty-eight he gave most of his energies to finding out
whether anything could be known: ‘I wanted certainty in the kind of way in
which people want religious faith. I thought that certainty is more likely to
be found in mathematics than elsewhere. But I discovered that many mathematical
demonstrations, which my teachers expected me to accept, were full of
fallacies, and that, if certainty was indeed discoverable in mathematics, it
would be in a new kind of mathematics, with more solid foundations than those
that had hitherto been thought secure. But as the work proceeded, I was
continually reminded of the fable about the elephant and the tortoise. Having
constructed an elephant upon which the mathematical world could rest, I found
the elephant tottering, and proceeded to construct a tortoise to keep the
elephant from falling. But the tortoise was no more secure than the elephant.’
The quest
for ‘certainty’ is not alien to the study of the history of philosophy. This
quest led me inevitably to my learning English, German, French, Latin, and,
most importantly, Ancient Greek. I put ‘certainty’ in quotation marks, for when
one is doing one’s best in this field, one is always aware of the uncertainties
involved.
***
Dionysodorus
stepped in: ‘Why, Ctesippus, do you mean to say that any one speaks of things
as they are?’ – Ct.: ‘Yes, all gentlemen and truth-speaking persons.’ – Dion.:
‘And are not good things good, and evil things evil?’ – Ctesippus assented. –
Dion.: ‘And you say that gentlemen speak of things as they are?’ – Ct.: ‘Yes.’
– Dion.: ‘Then the good speak evil (Kakȏs
ara legousin hoi agathoi) of evil things (ta kaka), if they speak of them as they are (eiper hȏs echei legousi)?’ [Again a point of translation. Jowett’s ‘Then
the good speak evil of evil things’ misses the point, if I get the English
right. When Dionysodorus says Kakȏs ara
legousin hoi agathoi ta kaka, he means that the ‘good people speak badly’,
i.e. incorrectly, ‘of bad things’.] – Ct.: ‘Yes, indeed, and they speak evil of
evil men. And if I may give you a piece of advice, you had better take care
that they do not speak evil of you, since I can tell you that the evil speak
evil of the evil … I love you and am giving you my friendly advice, and, if I
could, would persuade you not like a boor to say in my presence that I desire
my beloved, whom I value above all men, to perish.’ (284c9-285a1, tr. Jowett)
When later
on Socrates showed to the two sophists that their argument denying the
possibility of error was self-refuting, Ctesippus was elated: ‘Men of Chios,
Thurii, or however and whatever you call yourselves, I wonder at you, for you
seem to have no objection to talking nonsense.’ (288a8-b2, tr. Jowett)
Let me end
my defence of Ctesippus with the following passage. Socrates: ‘O heavens,
Dionysodorus, I see now that you are in earnest; hardly have I got you to that
point. And do you really and truly know all things, including carpentering and
leather-cutting?’ – Dion.: ‘Certainly.’ – Soc.: ‘And do you know stitching?’ –
Dion.: ‘Yes, by the gods, we do, and cobbling too.’ – Soc.: ‘And do you know
such things as the number of the stars and of the sand?’ – Dion.: ‘Certainly;
did you think we should say no to that?’ – At that point Ctesippus stepped in:
‘By Zeus, I only wish that you would give me some proof which would enable me
to know whether you speak truly.’ – Dion.: ‘What proof shall I give you?’ –
Ct.: ‘Will you tell me how many teeth Euthydemus has? And Euthydemus shall tell
how many teeth you have.’ – Dion.: ’Will you not take our word that we know all
things?’ – Ct.: ‘Certainly not, you must further tell us this one thing, and
then we shall know that you are speaking the truth; if you tell us the number,
and we count them, and you are found to be right, we shall believe the rest.’
(294b1-c10, tr. Jowett)
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