"Nor, again, is Simmias exceeded by Phaedo, because Phaedo is Phaedo, but because Phaedo possesses magnitude in comparison with Simmias"s littleness?"
"It is so."
"Thus, then, Simmias has the appellation of being both little and great, being between both, by exceeding the littleness of one through his own magnitude, and to the other yielding a magnitude that exceeds his own littleness." And at the same time, smiling, he said, "I seem to speak with the precision of a short-hand writer; however, it is as I say."
He allowed it.
118. "But I say it for this reason, wishing you to be of the same opinion as myself. For it appears to me, not only that magnitude itself is never disposed to be at the same time great and little, but that magnitude in us never admits the little nor is disposed to be exceeded, but one of two things, either to flee and withdraw when its contrary, the little, approaches it, or, when it has actually come, to perish; but that it is not disposed, by sustaining and receiving littleness, to be different from what it was. Just as I, having received and sustained littleness, and still continuing the person that I am, am this same little person; but that, while it is great, never endures to be little.
And, in like manner, the little that is in us is not disposed at any time to become or to be great, nor is any thing else among contraries, while it continues what it was, at the same time disposed to become and to be its contrary; but in this contingency it either departs or perishes."
119. "It appears so to me," said Cebes, "in every respect."
But some one of those present, on hearing this, I do not clearly remember who he was, said, "By the G.o.ds! was not the very contrary of what is now a.s.serted admitted in the former part of our discussion, that the greater is produced from the less, and the less from the greater, and, in a word, that the very production of contraries is from contraries? But now it appears to me to be a.s.serted that this can never be the case."
Upon this Socrates, having leaned his head forward and listened, said, "You have reminded me in a manly way; you do not, however, perceive the difference between what is now and what was then a.s.serted. For then it was said that a contrary thing is produced from a contrary; but now, that a contrary can never become contrary to itself--neither that which is in us, nor that which is in nature. For then, my friend, we spoke of things that have contraries, calling them by the appellation of those things; but now we are speaking of those very things from the presence of which things so called receive their appellation, and of these very things we say that they are never disposed to admit of production from each other." 120. And, at the same time looking at Cebes, "Has anything that has been said, Cebes, disturbed you?"
"Indeed," said Cebes, "I am not at all so disposed; however, I by no means say that there are not many things that disturb me."
"Then," he continued, "we have quite agreed to this, that a contrary can never be contrary to itself."
"Most certainly," he replied.
"But, further," he said, "consider whether you will agree with me in this also. Do you call heat and cold any thing?"
"I do."
"The same as snow and fire?"
"By Jupiter! I do not."
"But heat is something different from fire, and cold something different from snow?"
"Yes."
"But this, I think, is apparent to you--that snow, while it is snow, can never, when it has admitted heat, as we said before, continue to be what it was, snow and hot; but, on the approach of heat, it must either withdraw or perish?"
"Certainly."
"And, again, that fire, when cold approaches it, must either depart or perish; but that it will never endure, when it has admitted coldness, to continue what it was, fire and cold?"
121. "You speak truly," he said.
"It happens, then," he continued, "with respect to some of such things, that not only is the idea itself always thought worthy of the same appellation, but likewise something else which is not, indeed, that idea itself, but constantly retains its form so long as it exists. What I mean will perhaps be clearer in the following examples: the odd in number must always possess the name by which we now call it, must it not?"
"Certainly."
"Must it alone, of all things--for this I ask--or is there any thing else which is not the same as the odd, but yet which we must always call odd, together with its own name, because it is so const.i.tuted by nature that it can never be without the odd? But this, I say, is the case with the number three, and many others. For consider with respect to the number three: does it not appear to you that it must always be called by its own name, as well as by that of the odd, which is not the same as the number three? Yet such is the nature of the number three, five, and the entire half of number, that though they are not the same as the odd, yet each of them is always odd. And, again, two and four, and the whole other series of number, though not the same as the even, are nevertheless each of them always even: do you admit this, or not?"
122. "How should I not?" he replied.
"Observe then," said he, "what I wish to prove. It is this--that it appears not only that these contraries do not admit each other, but that even such things as are not contrary to each other, and yet always possess contraries, do not appear to admit that idea which is contrary to the idea that exists in themselves, but, when it approaches, perish or depart. Shall we not allow that the number three would first perish, and suffer any thing whatever, rather than endure, while it is still three, to become even?"
"Most certainly," said Cebes.
"And yet," said he, "the number two is not contrary to three."
"Surely not."
"Not only, then, do ideas that are contrary never allow the approach of each other, but some other things also do not allow the approach of contraries."
"You say very truly," he replied.
"Do you wish, then," he said, "that, if we are able, we should define what these things are?"
"Certainly."
"Would they not then, Cebes," he said, "be such things as, whatever they occupy, compel that thing not only to retain its own idea, but also that of something which is always a contrary?"
"How do you mean?"
123. "As we just now said. For you know, surely, that whatever things the idea of three occupies must of necessity not only be three, but also odd?"
"Certainly."
"To such a thing, then, we a.s.sert, that the idea contrary to that form which const.i.tutes this can never come."
"It can not."
"But did the odd make it so?"
"Yes."
"And is the contrary to this the idea of the even?"
"Yes."
"The idea of the even, then, will never come to the three?"
"No, surely."
"Three, then, has no part in the even?"
"None whatever."
"The number three is uneven?"
"Yes."
"What, therefore, I said should be defined--namely, what things they are which, though not contrary to some particular thing, yet do not admit of the contrary itself; as, in the present instance, the number three, though not contrary to the even, does not any the more admit it, for it always brings the contrary with it, just as the number two does to the odd, fire to cold, and many other particulars. Consider, then, whether you would thus define, not only that a contrary does not admit a contrary, but also that that which brings with it a contrary to that to which it approaches will never admit the contrary of that which it brings with it. 124. But call it to mind again, for it will not be useless to hear it often repeated. Five will not admit the idea of the even, nor ten, its double, that of the odd. This double, then, though it is itself contrary to something else,[38] yet will not admit the idea of the odd, nor will half as much again, nor other things of the kind, such as the half and the third part, admit the idea of the whole, if you follow me, and agree with me that it is so."