The Teacher 8–10

A. You have recalled from memory well enough everything I wanted; and, to confess it to you, these distinctions now seem much clearer to me than when we both dug them out, by inquiring and discussing, from some hiding places or other. But where I am trying to arrive with you by such long detours is hard to say at this point. For perhaps you think either that we are playing and calling the mind away from serious things with childish little questions, or that we are seeking some small or moderate benefit; or, if you suspect that this discussion is giving birth to something great, you want to know or at least hear it right away. But I would like you to believe that I have not undertaken this conversation for cheap amusement, although perhaps we are playing, and even that is not to be judged with a childish mind; nor am I thinking of small or moderate goods. And yet if I say that there is a happy life, and an everlasting one, to which I want us to be led, with God as guide, that is, Truth itself, by certain steps suited to our weak gait, I fear I may seem ridiculous for having set out on so long a road by considering, not the things themselves that are signified, but signs. You will pardon me, then, if I play a prelude with you, not for the sake of playing, but to exercise the strength and keenness of mind by which we may be able not only to endure but even to love the warmth and light of that region where the happy life is. Ad. Go on rather as you have begun: for I would never think contemptible what you have thought worth saying or doing. A. Come, then, let us now consider that part in which by signs are signified not other signs but the things we call signifiables. And first tell me whether man is man. Ad. Now I really do not know whether you are joking. A. Why so? Ad. Because you think I need to be asked whether man is anything other than man. A. In the same way, I believe, you would think you were being made fun of if I also asked whether the first syllable of this name is anything other than “ho,” and the second anything other than “mo.” Ad. Quite so. A. But these two syllables joined make homo (“man”): or will you deny it? Ad. Who would deny it? A. I ask, then: are you these two syllables joined? Ad. By no means: but I see where you are heading. A. Say it, then, so that you may not think me insulting. Ad. You think it is concluded that I am not a man. A. Well, do you not think the same, since you grant that all the earlier statements from which this is drawn are true? Ad. I will not tell you what I think until I have first heard from you whether, when you asked whether man is man, you were asking me about those two syllables or about the very thing they signify. A. Rather, you answer in which sense you took my question: for if it was ambiguous, you ought to have guarded against this first, and not have answered me before you were sure how I had asked. Ad. Why should this ambiguity hinder me, since I answered in both senses? For man is certainly man: for those two syllables are nothing but those two syllables, and what they signify is nothing but what it is. A. Cleverly said indeed: but why did you take in both senses only what was said, “man,” and not also the other things we said? Ad. How am I proved not to have taken the rest so too? A. To pass over other things, if you had taken that very first question of mine wholly in the sense in which syllables sound, you would have answered me nothing; for I might have seemed to you to have asked nothing. But since I sounded three words, of which I repeated one in the middle, saying “whether man is man,” it is plain from this alone that you took the first and last words not as the signs themselves but as the things they signify, since you at once, sure and confident, thought the question should be answered. Ad. You are right. A. Why, then, did you choose to take only the one placed in the middle both as it sounds and as it signifies? Ad. Look, I now take the whole only in the sense in which it is signified: for I agree with you that we cannot converse at all unless, when we hear words, the mind is carried to the things of which they are signs. So now show me how I was deceived by that reasoning which concludes that I am not a man. A. Rather, I will ask the same questions again, so that you may find for yourself where you slipped. Ad. That is good of you. A. I will not ask again what I asked first, since you have already granted it. Look more carefully, then, whether the syllable “ho” is nothing other than “ho,” and “mo” nothing other than “mo.” Ad. Here I see nothing other at all. A. See also whether when these two are joined “homo” is made. Ad. I would by no means grant this: for we agreed, and rightly agreed, that when a sign is given we should attend to what is signified, and from considering it either grant or deny what is said. But those syllables pronounced separately, because they sounded without any meaning, were granted to be what they sounded. A. So you are satisfied and hold firmly in mind that questions are to be answered only from the things signified by the words. Ad. I do not understand why it should not satisfy me, provided they are words. A. I would like to know how you would resist the man we usually hear of in jest, who concluded that a lion had come out of the mouth of the man he was disputing with. For when he had asked whether the things we speak come out of our mouth, and the other could not deny it, he contrived, which was easy, that the man should name a lion in speaking: when this was done, he began to mock and press him absurdly, so that, since he had confessed that whatever we speak comes out of our mouth and could not deny that he had spoken “lion,” this not wicked man seemed to have vomited so savage a beast. Ad. It would not be at all hard to resist this buffoon; for I would not grant that whatever we speak comes out of our mouth. For what we speak we signify; and what comes out of the speaker's mouth is not the thing signified but the sign by which it is signified, except when signs themselves are signified, a class we dealt with a little earlier. A. In this way you would be well prepared against him: yet what will you answer me if I ask whether “man” is a name? Ad. What but that it is a name? A. Well, when I see you, do I see a name? Ad. No. A. Do you want me to say, then, what follows? Ad. Please do not; for I declare myself that I am not a man, since I answered that it is a name when you asked whether “man” is a name. For we had already agreed to grant or deny what is said according to the thing signified. A. But it seems to me that you did not fall into this answer for nothing; for the very law of reason implanted in our minds overcame your watchfulness. For if I asked what man is, you would perhaps answer, “an animal”; but if I asked what part of speech “man” is, you could in no way answer rightly except “a name.” So, since “man” is found to be both a name and an animal, the former is said in the sense in which it is a sign, the latter in the sense of the thing it signifies. So to one who asks whether “man” is a name I would answer nothing but that it is: for he signifies plainly enough that he wants to hear in the sense in which it is a sign. But if he asks whether it is an animal, I would agree much more readily: for if, saying nothing of name or animal, he asked only what man is, the mind would run, by that agreed rule of speaking, to what is signified by the two syllables; and nothing would be answered but “an animal,” or even the whole definition would be given, that is, “a rational mortal animal.” Or do you not think so? Ad. I think so entirely: but since we have granted that it is a name, how shall we avoid that too insulting conclusion by which it is made out that we are not men? A. How do you think, except by teaching that it was drawn not in the sense in which we agreed with the questioner? Or if he admits that he draws it in that sense, it is not to be feared at all: for why should I fear to admit that I am not “man” (hominem), that is, those three syllables? Ad. Nothing is truer. Why, then, does it offend the mind when it is said, “So you are not a man,” though, according to what was granted, nothing truer could have been said? A. Because I cannot help thinking that the conclusion refers to what is signified by these two syllables as soon as these words have sounded, by that rule which naturally has the greatest force, that when signs are heard the attention is carried to the things signified. Ad. I accept what you say.

A. Now, then, I want you to understand that the things signified are to be valued more than the signs. For whatever exists for the sake of something else must be of less worth than that for whose sake it exists; unless you think otherwise. Ad. It seems to me that one should not agree rashly here: for when we say “filth” (caenum), I think this name far surpasses the thing it signifies. For what offends us when we hear it does not belong to the sound of the word itself; for the name caenum, with one letter changed, is caelum (“heaven”); but we see how great a difference there is between the things signified by these names. So I would by no means attribute to this sign what we hate in the thing it signifies; and therefore I rightly prefer the one to the other: for we hear the word more gladly than we touch the thing with any sense. A. Most watchful indeed. So it is false that all things are to be valued more than their signs. Ad. So it seems. A. Tell me, then, what you think those had in view who gave a name to a thing so foul and despicable; or whether you approve or disapprove of them. Ad. I dare neither approve nor disapprove of them, nor do I know what they had in view. A. Can you at least know what you have in view when you pronounce this name? Ad. That I plainly can: for I want to signify, so as to teach or remind the person I am speaking with about that thing, which I think he ought to be taught or reminded of. A. Well, is not the teaching or reminding itself, or being taught or reminded, which you suitably supply by this name or which is supplied to you, to be held dearer than the name itself? Ad. I grant that the knowledge itself which comes through this sign is to be preferred to the sign; but I do not think the thing itself is on that account to be preferred. A. In that statement of ours, then, although it is false that all things ought to be preferred to their signs, yet it is not false that everything that exists for the sake of something else is of less worth than that for whose sake it exists. For the knowledge of filth, for the sake of which this name was instituted, is to be valued more than the name itself, which we found is to be preferred to filth itself. For this knowledge was preferred to the sign we are dealing with for no other reason than that the sign is proved to exist for the sake of the knowledge, not the knowledge for the sake of the sign. So when a certain glutton, a worshiper of the belly, as the Apostle says, said that he lived in order to eat, a frugal man who heard him could not bear it, and said, “How much better if you ate in order to live?” He certainly spoke according to this same rule. For the former displeased for no other reason than that he valued his life so little as to think it worth less than the pleasure of his throat, saying that he lived for the sake of feasting: and the latter is rightly praised for no other reason than that, understanding in these two which was done for the sake of which, that is, which was subordinate to which, he reminded him that we should eat in order to live rather than live in order to eat. Similarly you too perhaps, and any person who judges things not unskillfully, would answer someone talkative and a lover of words who said, “I teach in order to speak”: “Man, why do you not rather speak in order to teach?” And if these things are true, as you recognize they are, you surely see how much less words are to be valued than that for whose sake we use words; since the very use of words is already to be preferred to words: for words exist so that we may use them; and we use them in order to teach. As much better, then, as teaching is than speaking, so much better is speech than words. Teaching, then, is much better than words. But I want to hear whether you perhaps think something should be said against this. Ad. I agree indeed that teaching is better than words; but whether nothing can be objected against that rule which says that everything that exists for the sake of something else is inferior to that for whose sake it exists, I do not know. A. We will deal with this at another time more fittingly and carefully: for now what you grant is enough for what I am trying to establish. For you grant that the knowledge of things is dearer than the signs of things. Therefore the knowledge of the things signified is to be preferred to the knowledge of the signs: or do you not think so? Ad. Did I grant that the knowledge of things is more excellent than the knowledge of signs, and not than the signs themselves? So I am afraid to agree with you here. For what if, just as the name “filth” is better than the thing it signifies, so the knowledge of this name is also to be preferred to the knowledge of that thing, although the name itself is inferior to that knowledge? For there are four things: the name, and the thing, the knowledge of the name, and the knowledge of the thing. So, just as the first surpasses the second, why should not the third also surpass the fourth? And even if it does not surpass it, must it also be placed below it? A. I see that you have wonderfully both kept hold of what you granted and explained what you think. But, I think, you understand that this three-syllable name which sounds when we say vitium (“vice”) is better than what it signifies, while the knowledge of the name itself is much inferior to the knowledge of vices. So, although you may set up and consider these four, the name and the thing, the knowledge of the name and the knowledge of the thing, we rightly put the first before the second. For this name, placed in a poem when Persius says, “But this man is dazed by vice,” not only did no harm to the line but even gave it some ornament: although the thing itself signified by this name makes vicious whomever it is in. But we see that the third does not likewise surpass the fourth, but the fourth the third. For the knowledge of this name is worthless compared with the knowledge of vices. Ad. Do you think it is to be preferred even when that knowledge makes people more wretched? For the same Persius puts this one punishment above all the punishments which the cruelty of tyrants has devised or their greed has weighed out: that by which people are tortured who are forced to recognize vices they cannot avoid. A. In this way you might also deny that the knowledge of the virtues themselves is to be preferred to the knowledge of this name; for to see virtue and not hold it is a torment, by which that same satirist wished tyrants to be punished. Ad. God avert such madness! For now I understand that the kinds of knowledge with which the best of all disciplines fills the mind are not to be blamed; but that those are to be judged the most wretched of all, as I think Persius also judged, who are afflicted with such a disease that not even so great a medicine can help them. A. You understand well: but whatever Persius' view may be, what is it to us? For we are not subject to the authority of such writers in such matters. And whether one kind of knowledge is to be preferred to another is not easy to explain here. I am content with what has been achieved: that the knowledge of the things signified, though not better than the knowledge of the signs, is still better than the signs themselves. So let us discuss more and more what kind of things those are which we said can be shown by themselves without signs, such as speaking, walking, sitting, lying, and others of this kind. Ad. Now I recall what you mean.

A. Do all the things we can do soon after being asked seem to you to be able to be shown without a sign? Or do you except anything? Ad. Considering this whole class again and again, I find nothing yet that can be taught without a sign, except perhaps speech, and perhaps if someone asks what teaching itself is. For I see that whatever I do after his question so that he may learn, he does not learn from the very thing he wants shown to him: for if, as was said, someone asks me what walking is when I am at rest or doing something else, and I try to teach him what he asked without a sign by walking at once, how shall I guard against his thinking that walking is only as much as I have walked? And if he thinks so, he will be deceived: for whoever walks more or less than I did he will not think has walked. And what I have said about this one word applies to everything which I had agreed could be shown without a sign, except those two we excepted. A. I accept that indeed: but does it not seem to you that speaking is one thing and teaching another? Ad. It certainly does: for if they were the same, no one would teach except by speaking; but since we teach many things by other signs besides words, who would doubt this difference? A. Well, is there no difference between teaching and signifying? Or do they differ in some way? Ad. I think they are the same. A. Does not one speak correctly who says that we signify in order to teach? Ad. Quite correctly. A. What if another says that we teach in order to signify? Will he not easily be refuted by the former statement? Ad. That is so. A. So if we signify in order to teach, we do not teach in order to signify; teaching is one thing, signifying another. Ad. You are right, and I answered wrongly that the two are the same. A. Now answer this: does one who teaches what teaching is do it by signifying, or otherwise? Ad. I do not see how he could do it otherwise. A. So what you said a little while ago is false, that the thing can be taught without signs when the question is what teaching itself is; since we see that not even this can be done without signifying, since you have granted that signifying is one thing and teaching another. For if they are different, as appears, and this is not shown except through that, it is certainly not shown by itself, as you had thought. So nothing has yet been found that can be shown by itself except speech, which signifies itself among other things: yet since it too is a sign, there is still absolutely nothing that seems able to be taught without signs. Ad. I have no reason not to agree. A. It has been established, then, both that nothing is taught without signs, and that knowledge itself ought to be dearer to us than the signs by which we know, although not all the things signified can be better than their signs. Ad. So it seems. A. Do you remember, I ask, by what a long detour so small a result has been reached? For since we began tossing words at each other, as we have done for so long, we have labored to find these three things: whether nothing can be taught without signs; whether some signs are to be preferred to the things they signify; and whether the knowledge of things itself is better than signs. But there is a fourth thing I would like to learn briefly from you: whether you think these things have been found in such a way that you can no longer doubt them. Ad. I would like indeed to have reached certainty after such windings and turnings; but this question of yours somehow troubles me and deters me from assenting. For you seem to me not to be about to ask me this unless you had something to say against it: and the very entanglement of the matters does not let me examine the whole and answer securely, since I fear that something may lie hidden in such wrappings which the keenness of my mind cannot search out. A. I am not sorry to receive your doubt; for it signifies a mind not at all rash, which is the greatest safeguard of tranquility. For it is very hard indeed not to be disturbed when the things we held by easy and ready approval are shaken by contrary arguments and, as it were, wrenched from our hands. So, just as it is fair to yield to reasons well considered and examined, so it is dangerous to hold unknown things as known. For there is a fear that, when the things we presume will stand and remain most firmly are often undermined, we may fall into such hatred or fear of reason that not even plain truth itself seems worthy of belief.

But come, let us now reconsider more quickly whether you were right to think these things doubtful. For I ask you: if someone ignorant of the snaring of birds, which is done with reeds and birdlime, met a fowler equipped with his gear, not fowling but traveling, and on seeing him slowed his step and, wondering, as happens, thought to himself and asked what the man's equipment meant; and the fowler, seeing him attentive, and eager to show himself off, got his reeds ready and, with a pipe and a hawk, caught, subdued, and took some little bird he noticed nearby; would he not teach his spectator what he wanted to know, by no signifying, but by the thing itself? Ad. I fear there may be something here like what I said about the man who asks what walking is. For I do not see that here too the whole of fowling has been shown. A. It is easy to free you from this worry; for I add: if he were so intelligent as to recognize the whole kind of art from what he saw. For it is enough for our purpose that some things, though not all, can be taught to some people without a sign. Ad. I too can add this for the other case: for if he is quite intelligent, once walking has been shown in a few steps, he will know the whole of what walking is. A. You may do so as far as I am concerned, and I not only do not resist but even approve: for you see that it is established by both of us that certain things can be taught to certain people without signs, and that what seemed to us a little while ago is false, that there is nothing at all that can be shown without signs. For now not one or two things, but thousands of things come to mind which may be shown by themselves without any sign being given. Why should we doubt it, I ask you? For, to pass over the countless spectacles of men in all the theaters, who show things without a sign by the things themselves, does not God and nature show and display by themselves to those who see this sun and the light that floods and clothes all things, the moon and the other stars, the lands and seas, and the countless things born in them?

And if we consider more carefully, perhaps you will find nothing that is learned through its signs. For when a sign is given to me, if it finds me not knowing what thing it is the sign of, it can teach me nothing; and if it finds me knowing, what do I learn through the sign? For the word does not show me the thing it signifies when I read, “And their saraballae were not changed.” For if certain head coverings are called by this name, did I, on hearing it, learn either what a head is or what coverings are? I knew these before; and my knowledge of them came not when they were named by others but when they were seen by me. For when these two syllables, caput (“head”), first struck my ears, I no more knew what they signified than when I first heard or read saraballae. But when caput was said often, noting and observing when it was said, I found that it was the term for a thing already well known to me by seeing. Before I found this, this word was merely a sound to me; but I learned that it was a sign when I found what thing it was the sign of; which, as I said, I had learned not by signifying but by looking. So the sign is learned rather from the thing known than the thing from the sign given.

To understand this more clearly, suppose we now hear caput said for the first time, and, not knowing whether this word is merely a sound or also signifies something, we ask what caput is (remember that we want to have knowledge not of the thing signified but of the sign itself, which we certainly lack as long as we do not know what it is a sign of): if, then, as we ask this, the thing itself is pointed out with a finger, on seeing it we learn the sign which we had only heard and did not yet know. But since there are two things in that sign, sound and meaning, we certainly do not perceive the sound through a sign, but by the ear being struck by it; and the meaning by seeing the thing signified. For that pointing of the finger can signify nothing but that at which the finger is pointed; and it was pointed not at a sign but at the member called the head. So through it I can know neither the thing, which I knew already, nor the sign, at which the finger was not pointed. But I do not much care about the pointing of the finger, because it seems to me a sign of the pointing itself rather than of any things that are pointed out, like the adverb ecce (“look”); for we usually point the finger along with this adverb too, lest one sign of pointing should not be enough. And what I am trying above all to persuade you of, if I can, is that we learn nothing through those signs which are called words; for, as I said, we learn the force of a word, that is, the meaning hidden in the sound, rather by knowing the thing signified, than we perceive the thing by such signifying.

And what I have said of the head I would also say of coverings and of countless other things: yet, though I already know these, I still do not know those saraballae; and if someone signified them to me by a gesture, or painted them, or showed me something they resemble, I will not say he did not teach me, which I could easily maintain if I wished to say a little more; but I say what is nearest the point: he did not teach me by words. And if, when they happen to be in view while I am present, he reminds me, saying, “Look, saraballae,” I will learn a thing I did not know, not through the words that were spoken, but through seeing it, by which it came about that I also knew and retained what that name meant. For when I learned the thing itself, I trusted not another's words but my own eyes; yet perhaps I trusted the words so as to attend, that is, to seek by looking what I should see.