Yes, Socrates, said Zeno. But although you are as keen as a
Spartan hound in pursuing the track, you do not fully apprehend the
true motive of the composition, which is not really such an artificial
work as you imagine; for what you speak of was an accident; there
was no pretence of a great purpose; nor any serious intention of
deceiving the world. The truth is, that these writings of mine were
meant to protect the arguments of Parmenides against those who make
fun of him and seek to show the many ridiculous and contradictory
results which they suppose to follow from the affirmation of the
one. My answer is addressed to the partisans of the many, whose attack
I return with interest by retorting upon them that their hypothesis of
the being of many, if carried out, appears to be still more ridiculous
than the hypothesis of the being of one. Zeal for my master led me
to write the book in the days of my youth, but some one stole the
copy; and therefore I had no choice whether it should be published
or not; the motive, however, of writing, was not the ambition of an
elder man, but the pugnacity of a young one. This you do not seem to
see, Socrates; though in other respects, as I was saying, your
notion is a very just one.

  I understand, said Socrates, and quite accept your account. But tell
me, Zeno, do you not further think that there is an idea of likeness
in itself, and another idea of unlikeness, which is the opposite of
likeness, and that in these two, you and I and all other things to
which we apply the term many, participate-things which participate
in likeness become in that degree and manner like; and so far as
they participate in unlikeness become in that degree unlike, or both
like and unlike in the degree in which they participate in both? And
may not all things partake of both opposites, and be both like and
unlike, by reason of this participation?-Where is the wonder? Now if a
person could prove the absolute like to become unlike, or the absolute
unlike to become like, that, in my opinion, would indeed be a
wonder; but there is nothing extraordinary, Zeno, in showing that
the things which only partake of likeness and unlikeness experience
both. Nor, again, if a person were to show that all is one by
partaking of one, and at the same time many by partaking of many,
would that be very astonishing. But if he were to show me that the
absolute one was many, or the absolute many one, I should be truly
amazed. And so of all the rest: I should be surprised to hear that the
natures or ideas themselves had these opposite qualities; but not if a
person wanted to prove of me that I was many and also one. When he
wanted to show that I was many he would say that I have a right and
a left side, and a front and a back, and an upper and a lower half,
for I cannot deny that I partake of multitude; when, on the other
hand, he wants to prove that I am one, he will say, that we who are
here assembled are seven, and that I am one and partake of the one. In
both instances he proves his case. So again, if a person shows that
such things as wood, stones, and the like, being many are also one, we
admit that he shows the coexistence the one and many, but he does
not show that the many are one or the one many; he is uttering not a
paradox but a truism. If however, as I just now suggested, some one
were to abstract simple notions of like, unlike, one, many, rest,
motion, and similar ideas, and then to show that these admit of
admixture and separation in themselves, I should be very much
astonished. This part of the argument appears to be treated by you,
Zeno, in a very spirited manner; but, as I was saying, I should be far
more amazed if any one found in the ideas themselves which are
apprehended by reason, the same puzzle and entanglement which you have
shown to exist in visible objects.

  While Socrates was speaking, Pythodorus thought that Parmenides
and Zeno were not altogether pleased at the successive steps of the
argument; but still they gave the closest attention and often looked
at one another, and smiled as if in admiration of him. When he had
finished, Parmenides expressed their feelings in the following words:-

  Socrates, he said, I admire the bent of your mind towards
philosophy; tell me now, was this your own distinction between ideas
in themselves and the things which partake of them? and do you think
that there is an idea of likeness apart from the likeness which we
possess, and of the one and many, and of the other things which Zeno
mentioned?

  I think that there are such ideas, said Socrates.

  Parmenides proceeded: And would you also make absolute ideas of
the just and the beautiful and the good, and of all that class?

  Yes, he said, I should.

  And would you make an idea of man apart from us and from all other
human creatures, or of fire and water?

  I am often undecided, Parmenides, as to whether I ought to include
them or not.

  And would you feel equally undecided, Socrates, about things of
which the mention may provoke a smile?-I mean such things as hair,
mud, dirt, or anything else which is vile and paltry; would you
suppose that each of these has an idea distinct from the actual
objects with which we come into contact, or not?

  Certainly not, said Socrates; visible things like these are such
as they appear to us, and I am afraid that there would be an absurdity
in assuming any idea of them, although I sometimes get disturbed,
and begin to think that there is nothing without an idea; but then
again, when I have taken up this position, I run away, because I am
afraid that I may fall into a bottomless pit of nonsense, and
perish; and so I return to the ideas of which I was just now speaking,
and occupy myself with them.