The dialogue called Protagoras presents a larger assemblage of varied and celebrated characters, with more of dramatic winding, and more frequent breaks and resumptions in the conversation, than any dialogue of Plato — not excepting even Symposion and Republic. It exhibits Sokrates in controversy with the celebrated Sophist Protagoras, in the presence of a distinguished society, most of whom take occasional part in the dialogue. This controversy is preceded by a striking conversation between Sokrates and Hippokrates — a youth of distinguished family, eager to profit by the instructions of Protagoras. The two Sophists Prodikus and Hippias, together with Kallias, Kritias, Alkibiades, Eryximachus, Phædrus, Pausanias, Agathon, the two sons of Periklês (Paralus and Xanthippus), Charmides, son of Glaukon, Antimœrus of Mende, a promising pupil of Protagoras, who is in training for the profession of a Sophist — these and others are all present at the meeting, which is held in the house of Kallias.1 Sokrates himself recounts the whole — both his conversation with Hippokrates and that with Protagoras — to a nameless friend.

This dialogue enters upon a larger and more comprehensive ethical theory than anything in the others hitherto noticed. But it contains also a great deal in which we hardly recognise, or at least cannot verify, any distinct purpose, either of search or exposition. Much of it seems to be composed with a literary or poetical view, to enhance the charm or interest of the composition. The personal characteristics of each speaker — the intellectual peculiarities of Prodikus and Hippias — the ardent partisanship of Alkibiades — are brought out as in a real drama. But the great and marked antithesis is that between the Sophist Protagoras and Sokrates — the Hektor and Ajax of the piece: who stand forward in single combat, exchange some serious blows, yet ultimately part as friends.

Introduction. Eagerness of the youthful Hippokrates to become acquainted with Protagoras.

An introduction of some length impresses upon us forcibly the celebrity of the Great Sophist, and the earnest interest excited by his visit to Athens. Hippokrates, a young man of noble family and eager aspirations for improvement, having just learnt the arrival of Protagoras, comes to the house of Sokrates and awakens him before daylight, entreating that Sokrates will introduce him to the new-comer. He is ready to give all that he possesses in order that he may become wise like Protagoras.2 While they are awaiting a suitable hour for such introduction, Sokrates puts a series of questions to test the force of Hippokrates.3

Sokrates questions Hippokrates as to his purpose and expectations from Protagoras.

Sokr. — You are now intending to visit Protagoras, and to pay him for something to be done for you — tell me what manner of man it is that you are going to visit — and what manner of man do you wish to become? If you were going in like manner to pay a fee for instruction to your namesake Hippokrates of Kos, you would tell me that you were going to him as to a physician — and that you wished to qualify yourself for becoming a physician. If you were addressing yourself with the like view to Pheidias or Polykleitus, you would go to them as to sculptors, and for the purpose of becoming yourself a sculptor. Now then that we are to go in all this hurry to Protagoras, tell me who he is and what title he bears, as we called Pheidias a sculptor? Hipp. — They call him a Sophist.4 Sokr. — We are going to pay him then as a Sophist? Hipp. — Certainly. Sokr. — And what are you to become by going to him? Hipp. — Why, judging from the preceding analogies, I am to become a Sophist. Sokr. — But would not you be ashamed of presenting yourself to the Grecian public as a Sophist? Hipp. — Yes: if I am to tell you my real opinion.5 Sokr. — Perhaps however you only propose to visit Protagoras, as you visited your schoolmaster and your musical or gymnastical teacher: not for the purpose of entering that career as a professional man, but to acquire such instruction as is suitable for a private citizen and a freeman? Hipp. — That is more the instruction which I seek from Protagoras. Sokr. — Do you know then what you are going to do? You are consigning your mind to be treated by one whom you call a Sophist: but I shall be surprised if you know what a Sophist is6 — and if you do not know, neither do you know what it is — good or evil — to which you are consigning your mind. Hipp. — I think I do know. The Sophist is, as the name implies, one cognizant of matters wise and able.7 Sokr. — That may be said also of painters and carpenters. If we were asked in what special department are painters cognizant of matters wise and able, we should specify that it was in the workmanship of portraits. Answer me the same question about the Sophist. What sort of workmanship does he direct? Hipp. — That of forming able speakers.8 Sokr. — Your answer may be correct, but it is not specific enough: for we must still ask, About what is it that the Sophist forms able speakers? just as the harp-master makes a man an able speaker about harping, at the same time that he teaches him harping. About what is it that the Sophist forms able speakers: of course about that which he himself knows?9 Hipp. — Probably. Sokr. — What then is that, about which the Sophist is himself cognizant, and makes his pupil cognizant? Hipp. — By Zeus, I cannot give you any farther answer.10

Danger of going to imbibe the instruction of a Sophist without knowing beforehand what he is about to teach.

Sokr. — Do you see then to what danger you are going to submit your mind? If the question were about going to trusting your body to any one, with the risk whether it should become sound or unsound, you would have thought long, and taken much advice, before you decided. But now, when it is about your mind, which you value more than your body, and upon the good or evil of which all your affairs turn11 — you are hastening without reflection and without advice, you are ready to pay all the money that you possess or can obtain, with a firm resolution already taken to put yourself at all hazard under Protagoras: whom you do not know — with whom you have never once talked — whom you call a Sophist, without knowing what a Sophist is? Hipp. — I must admit the case to be as you say.12 Sokr. — Perhaps the Sophist is a man who brings for sale those transportable commodities, instruction or doctrine, which form the nourishment of the mind. Now the traders in food for the body praise indiscriminately all that they have to sell, though neither they nor their purchasers know whether it is good for the body; unless by chance any one of them be a gymnastic trainer or a physician.13 So, too, these Sophists, who carry about food for the mind, praise all that they have to sell: but perhaps some of them are ignorant, and assuredly their purchasers are ignorant, whether it be good or bad for the mind: unless by accident any one possess medical knowledge about the mind. Now if you, Hippokrates, happen to possess such knowledge of what is good or bad for the mind, you may safely purchase doctrine from Protagoras or from any one else:14 but if not, you are hazarding and putting at stake your dearest interests. The purchase of doctrines is far more dangerous than that of eatables or drinkables. As to these latter, you may carry them away with you in separate vessels, and before you take them into your body you may invoke the Expert, to tell you what you may safely eat and drink, and when, and how much. But this cannot be done with doctrines. You cannot carry away them in a separate vessel to be tested; you learn them and take them into the mind itself; so that you go away, after having paid your money, actually damaged or actually benefited, as the case may be.15 We will consider these matters in conjunction with our elders. But first let us go and talk with Protagoras — we can consult the others afterwards.

Remarks on the Introduction. False persuasion of knowledge brought to light.

Such is the preliminary conversation of Sokrates with Hippokrates, before the interview with Protagoras. I have given it (like the introduction to the Lysis) at considerable length, because it is a very characteristic specimen of the Sokratico-Platonic point of view. It brings to light that false persuasion of knowledge, under which men unconsciously act, especially in what concerns the mind and its treatment. Common fame and celebrity suffice to determine the most vehement aspirations towards a lecturer, in one who has never stopped to reflect or enquire what the lecturer does. The pressure applied by Sokrates in his successive questions, to get beyond vague generalities into definite particulars — the insufficiency, thereby exposed, of the conceptions with which men usually rest satisfied — exhibit the working of his Elenchus in one of its most instructive ways. The parallel drawn between the body and the mind — the constant precaution taken in the case of the former to consult the professional man and to follow his advice in respect both to discipline and nourishment — are in the same vein of sentiment which we have already followed in other dialogues. Here too, as elsewhere, some similar Expert, in reference to the ethical and intellectual training of mind, is desiderated, as still more imperatively necessary. Yet where is he to be found? How is the business of mental training to be brought to a beneficial issue without him? Or is Protagoras the man to supply such a demand? We shall presently see.

Sokrates and Hippokrates go to the house of Kallias. Company therein. Respect shown to Protagoras.

Sokrates and Hippokrates proceed to the house of Kallias, and find him walking about in the fore-court with Protagoras, and some of the other company; all of whom are described as treating the Sophist with almost ostentatious respect. Prodikus and Hippias have each their separate hearers, in or adjoining to the court. Sokrates addresses Protagoras.

Questions of Sokrates to Protagoras. Answer of the latter, declaring the antiquity of the sophistical profession, and his own openness in avowing himself a sophist.

Sokr. — Protagoras, I and Hippokrates here are come to talk to you about something. Prot. — Do you wish to ta]k to me alone, or in presence of the rest? Sokr. — To us it is indifferent: but I will tell you what we come about, and you may then determine for yourself. This Hippokrates is a young man of noble family, and fully equal to his contemporaries in capacity. He wishes to become distinguished in the city; and he thinks he shall best attain that object through your society. Consider whether you would like better to talk with him alone, or in presence of the rest.16 Prot. — Your consideration on my behalf, Sokrates, is reasonable. A person of my profession must be cautious in his proceedings. I, a foreigner, visit large cities, persuading the youth of best family to frequent my society in preference to that of their kinsmen and all others; in the conviction that I shall do them good. I thus inevitably become exposed to much jealousy and even to hostile conspiracies.17 The sophistical art is an old one;18 but its older professors, being afraid of enmity if they proclaimed what they really were, have always disguised themselves under other titles. Some, like Homer, Hesiod, and Simonides, called themselves poets: others, Orpheus, Musæus, &c., professed to prescribe religious rites and mysteries: others announced themselves as gymnastic trainers or teachers of music. But I have departed altogether from this policy; which indeed did not succeed in really deceiving any leading men — whom alone it was intended to deceive — and which, when found out, entailed upon its authors the additional disgrace of being considered deceivers. The true caution consists in open dealing; and this is what I have always adopted. I avow myself a Sophist, educating men. I am now advanced in years, old enough to be the father of any of you, and have grown old in the profession: yet during all these years, thank God, I have suffered no harm either from my practice or my title.19 If therefore you desire to converse with me, it will be far more agreeable to me to converse in presence of all who are now in the house.20

Protagoras prefers to converse in presence of the assembled company.

On hearing this, Sokrates — under the suspicion (he tells us) that Protagoras wanted to show off in the presence of Prodikus and Hippias — proposes to convene all the dispersed guests, and to talk in their hearing. This is accordingly done, and the conversation recommences — Sokrates repeating the introductory request which he had preferred on behalf of Hippokrates.

Answers of Protagoras. He intends to train young men as virtuous citizens.

Sokr. — Hippokrates is anxious to distinguish himself in the city, and thinks that he shall best attain this end by placing himself under your instruction. He would gladly learn, Protagoras, what will happen to him, if he comes into intercourse with you. Prot. — Young man, if you come to me, on the day of your first visit, you will go home better than you came, and on the next day the like: each successive day you will make progress for the better.21 Sokr. — Of course he will; there is nothing surprising in that: but towards what, and about what, will he make progress? Prot. — Your question is a reasonable one, and I am glad to reply to it. I shall not throw him back — as other Sophists do, with mischievous effect — into the special sciences, geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, music, &c., just after he has completed his course in them. I shall teach him what he really comes to learn: wisdom and good counsel, both respecting his domestic affairs, that he may manage his own family well — and respecting the affairs of the city, that he may address himself to them most efficaciously, both in speech and act. Sokr. — You speak of political or social science. You engage to make men good citizens. Prot. — Exactly so.22

Sokrates doubts whether virtue is teachable. Reasons for such doubt. Protagoras is asked to explain whether it is or not.

Sokr. — That is a fine talent indeed, which you possess, if you do possess it; for (to speak frankly) I thought that the thing had not been teachable, nor intentionally communicable, by man to man.23 I will tell you why I think so. The Athenians are universally recognised as intelligent men. Now when our public assembly is convened, if the subject of debate be fortification, ship-building, or any other specialty which they regard as learnable and teachable, they will listen to no one except a professional artist or craftsman.24 If any non-professional man presumes to advise them on the subject, they refuse to hear him, however rich and well-born he may be. It is thus that they act in matters of any special art;25 but when the debate turns upon the general administration of the city, they hear every man alike — the brass-worker, leather-cutter, merchant, navigator, rich, poor, well-born, low-born, &c. Against none of them is any exception taken, as in the former case — that he comes to give advice on that which he has not learnt, and on which he has had no master.26 It is plain that the public generally think it not teachable. Moreover our best and wisest citizens, those who possess civic virtue in the highest measure, cannot communicate to their own children this same virtue, though they cause them to be taught all those accomplishments which paid masters can impart. Periklês and others, excellent citizens themselves, have never been able to make any one else excellent, either in or out of their own family. These reasons make me conclude that social or political virtue is not teachable. I shall be glad if you can show me that it is so.27

Explanation of Protagoras. He begins with a mythe.

Prot. — I will readily show you. But shall I, like an old man addressing his juniors, recount to you an illustrative mythe?28 or shall I go through an expository discourse? The mythe perhaps will be the more acceptable of the two.

Mythe. First fabrication of men by the Gods. Prometheus and Epimetheus. Bad distribution of endowments to man by the latter. It is partly amended by Prometheus.

There was once a time when Gods existed, but neither men nor animals had yet come into existence. At the epoch prescribed by Fate, the Gods fabricated men and animals in the interior of the earth, out of earth, fire, and other ingredients: directing the brothers Prometheus and Epimetheus to fit them out with suitable endowments. Epimetheus, having been allowed by his brother to undertake the task of distributing these endowments, did his work very improvidently, wasted all his gifts upon the inferior animals, and left nothing for man. When Prometheus came to inspect what had been done, he found that other animals were adequately equipped, but that man had no natural provision for clothing, shoeing, bedding, or defence. The only way whereby Prometheus could supply the defect was, by breaking into the common workshop of Athênê and Hephæstus, and stealing from thence their artistic skill, together with fire.29 Both of these he presented to man, who was thus enabled to construct for himself, by art, all that other animals received from nature and more besides.

Prometheus gave to mankind skill for the supply of individual wants, but could not give them the social art. Mankind are on the point of perishing, when Zeus sends to them the dispositions essential for society.

Still however, mankind did not possess the political or social art; which Zeus kept in his own custody, where Prometheus could not reach it. Accordingly, though mankind could provide for themselves as individuals, yet when they attempted to form themselves into communities, they wronged each other so much, from being destitute of the political or social art, that they were presently forced again into dispersion.30 The art of war, too, being a part of the political art, which mankind did not possess — they could not get up a common defence against hostile animals: so that the human race would have been presently destroyed, had not Zeus interposed to avert such a consummation. He sent Hermês to mankind, bearing with him Justice and the sense of Shame (or Moderation), as the bonds and ornaments of civic society, coupling men in friendship.31 Hermês asked Zeus — Upon what principle shall I distribute these gifts among mankind? Shall I distribute them in the same way as artistic skill is distributed, only to a small number — a few accomplished physicians, navigators, &c., being adequate to supply the wants of the entire community? Or are they to be apportioned in a certain dose to every man? Undoubtedly, to every man (was the command of Zeus). All without exception must be partakers in them. If they are confined exclusively to a few, like artistic or professional skill, no community can exist.32 Ordain, by my authority, that every man, who cannot take a share of his own in justice and the sense of shame, shall be slain, as a nuisance to the community.

Protagoras follows up his mythe by a discourse. Justice and the sense of shame are not professional attributes, but are possessed by all citizens and taught by all to all.

This fable will show you, therefore, Sokrates (continues Protagoras), that the Athenians have good reason for making the distinction to which you advert. When they are discussing matters of special art, they will hear only the few to whom such matters are known. But when they are taking counsel about social or political virtue, which consists altogether in justice and moderation, they naturally hear every one; since every one is presumed, as a condition of the existence of the commonwealth, to be a partaker therein.33 Moreover, even though they know a man not to have these virtues in reality, they treat him as insane if he does not proclaim himself to have them, and make profession of virtue: whereas, in the case of the special arts, if a man makes proclamation of his own skill as a physician or musician, they censure or ridicule him.34

Constant teaching of virtue. Theory of punishment.

Nevertheless, though they account this political or social virtue an universal endowment, they are far from thinking that it comes spontaneously or by nature. They conceive it to be generated by care and teaching. For in respect of all those qualities which come by nature or by accident, no one is ever angry with another or blames another for being found wanting. An ugly, dwarfish, or sickly man is looked upon simply with pity, because his defects are such as he cannot help. But when any one manifests injustice or other qualities the opposite of political virtue, then all his neighbours visit him with indignation, censure, and perhaps punishment: implying clearly their belief that this virtue is an acquirement obtained by care and learning.35 Indeed the whole institution of punishment has no other meaning. It is in itself a proof that men think social virtue to be acquirable and acquired. For no rational man ever punishes malefactors because they have done wrong, or simply with a view to the past:— since what is already done cannot be undone. He punishes with a view to the future, in order that neither the same man, nor others who see him punished, may be again guilty of similar wrong. This opinion plainly implies the belief, that virtue is producible by training, since men punish for the purpose of prevention.36

Why eminent men cannot make their sons eminent.

I come now to your remaining argument, Sokrates. You urge that citizens of eminent civil virtue cannot communicate that virtue to their own sons, to whom nevertheless they secure all the accomplishments which masters can teach. Now I have already shown you that civil virtue is the one accomplishment needful,37 which every man without exception must possess, on pain of punishment or final expulsion, if he be without it. I have shown you, moreover that every one believes it to be communicable by teaching and attention. How can you believe then that these excellent fathers teach their sons other things, but do not teach them this, the want of which entails such terrible penalties?

Teaching by parents, schoolmaster, harpist, laws, dikastery, &c.

The fact is, they do teach it: and that too with great pains.38 They begin to admonish and lecture their children, from the earliest years. Father, mother, tutor, nurse, all vie with each other to make the child as good as possible: by constantly telling him on every occasion which arises, This is right — That is wrong — This is honourable — That is mean — This is holy — That is unholy — Do these things, abstain from those.39 If the child obeys them, it is well: if he do not, they straighten or rectify him, like a crooked piece of wood, by reproof and flogging. Next, they send him to a schoolmaster, who teaches him letters and the harp; but who is enjoined to take still greater pains in watching over his orderly behaviour. Here the youth is put to read, learn by heart, and recite, the compositions of able poets; full of exhortations to excellence and of stirring examples from the good men of past times.40 On the harp also, he learns the best songs, his conduct is strictly watched, and his emotions are disciplined by the influence of rhythmical and regular measure. While his mind is thus trained to good, he is sent besides to the gymnastic trainer, to render his body a suitable instrument for it,41 and to guard against failure of energy under the obligations of military service. If he be the son of a wealthy man, he is sent to such training sooner, and remains in it longer. As soon as he is released from his masters, the city publicly takes him in hand, compelling him to learn the laws prescribed by old and good lawgivers,42 to live according to their prescriptions, and to learn both command and obedience, on pain of being punished. Such then being the care bestowed, both publicly and privately, to foster virtue, can you really doubt, Sokrates, whether it be teachable? You might much rather wonder if it were not so.43

All learn virtue from the same teaching by all. Whether a learner shall acquire more or less of it, depends upon his own individual aptitude.

How does it happen, then, you ask, that excellent men so frequently have worthless sons, to whom, even with all virtue from these precautions, they cannot teach their own virtue? This is not surprising, when you recollect what I have just said — That in regard to social virtue, every man must be a craftsman and producer; there must be no non-professional consumers.44 All of us are interested in rendering our neighbours just and virtuous, as well as in keeping them so. Accordingly, every one, instead of being jealous, like a professional artist, of seeing his own accomplishments diffused, stands forward zealously in teaching justice and virtue to every one else, and in reproving all short-comers.45 Every man is a teacher of virtue to others: every man learns his virtue from such general teaching, public and private. The sons of the best men learn it in this way, as well as others. The instruction of their fathers counts for comparatively little, amidst such universal and paramount extraneous influence; so that it depends upon the aptitude and predispositions of the sons themselves, whether they turn out better or worse than others. The son of a superior man will often turn out ill; while the son of a worthless man will prove meritorious. So the case would be, if playing on the flute were the one thing needful for all citizens; if every one taught and enforced flute-playing upon all others, and every one learnt it from the teaching of all others.46 You would find that the sons of good or bad flute-players would turn out good or bad, not in proportion to the skill of their fathers, but according to their own natural aptitudes. You would find however also, that all of them, even the most unskilful, would be accomplished flute-players, if compared with men absolutely untaught, who had gone through no such social training. So too, in regard to justice and virtue.47 The very worst man brought up in your society and its public and private training, would appear to you a craftsman in these endowments, if you compared him with men who had been brought up without education, without laws, without dikasteries, without any general social pressure bearing on them, to enforce virtue: such men as the savages exhibited last year in the comedy of Pherekrates at the Lenæan festival. If you were thrown among such men, you, like the chorus of misanthropes in that play, would look back with regret even upon the worst criminals of the society which you had left, such as Eurybatus and Phrynondas.48

Analogy of learning vernacular Greek. No special teacher thereof. Protagoras teaches virtue somewhat better than others.

But now, Sokrates, you are over-nice, because all of us are teachers of virtue, to the best of every man’s power; while no particular individual appears to teach it specially and ex professo49 By the same analogy, if you asked who was the teacher for speaking our vernacular Greek, no one special person could be pointed out:50 nor would you find out who was the finishing teacher for those sons of craftsmen who learnt the rudiments of their art from their own fathers — while if the son of any non-professional person learns a craft, it is easy to assign the person by whom he was taught.51 So it is in respect to virtue. All of us teach and enforce virtue to the best of our power; and we ought to be satisfied if there be any one of us ever so little superior to the rest, in the power of teaching it. Of such men I believe myself to be one.52 I can train a man into an excellent citizen, better than others, and in a manner worthy not only of the fee which I ask, but even of a still greater remuneration, in the judgment of the pupil himself. This is the stipulation which I make with him: when he has completed his course, he is either to pay me the fee which I shall demand — or if he prefers, he may go into a temple, make oath as to his own estimate of the instruction imparted to him, and pay me according to that estimate.53

The sons of great artists do not themselves become great artists.

I have thus proved to you, Sokrates — That virtue is teachable — That the Athenians account it to be teachable — That there is nothing wonderful in finding the sons of good men worthless, and the sons of worthless men good. Indeed this is true no less about the special professions, than about the common accomplishment, virtue. The sons of Polyklêtus the statuary, and of many other artists, are nothing as compared with their fathers.54

Remarks upon the mythe and discourse. They explain the manner in which the established sentiment of a community propagates and perpetuates itself.

Such is the discourse composed by Plato and attributed to the Platonic Protagoras — showing that virtue is teachable, and intended to remove the difficulties proposed by Sokrates. It is an exposition of some length: and because it is put into the mouth of a Sophist, many commentators presume, as a matter of course, that it must be a manifestation of some worthless quality:55 that it is either empty verbiage, or ostentatious self-praise, or low-minded immorality. I am unable to perceive in the discourse any of these demerits. I think it one of the best parts of the Platonic writings, as an exposition of the growth and propagation of common sense — the common, established, ethical and social sentiment, among a community: sentiment neither dictated in the beginning, by any scientific or artistic lawgiver, nor personified in any special guild of craftsmen apart from the remaining community — nor inculcated by any formal professional teachers — nor tested by analysis — nor verified by comparison with any objective standard: but self-sown and self-asserting, stamped, multiplied, and kept in circulation, by the unpremeditated conspiracy of the general56 public — the omnipresent agency of King Nomos and his numerous volunteers.

Antithesis of Protagoras and Sokrates. Whether virtue is to be assimilated to a special art.

In many of the Platonic dialogues, Sokrates is made to dwell upon the fact that there are no recognised professional teachers of virtue; and to ground upon this fact a doubt, whether virtue be really teachable. But the present dialogue is the only one in which the fact is accounted for, and the doubt formally answered. There are neither special teachers, nor professed pupils, nor determinate periods of study, nor definite lessons or stadia, for the acquirement of virtue, as there are for a particular art or craft: the reason being, that in that department every man must of necessity be a practitioner, more or less perfectly: every man has an interest in communicating it to his neighbour: hence every man is constantly both teacher and learner. Herein consists one main and real distinction between virtue and the special arts; an answer to the view most frequently espoused by the Platonic Sokrates, assimilating virtue to a professional craft, which ought to have special teachers, and a special season of apprenticeship, if it is to be acquired at all.

The speech is censured by some critics as prolix. But to me it seems full of matter and argument, exceedingly free from superfluous rhetoric. The fable with which it opens presents of course the poetical ornament which belongs to that manner of handling. It is however fully equal, in point of perspicuity as well as charm — in my judgment, it is even superior to any other fable in Plato.

Procedure of Sokrates in regard to the discourse of Protagoras — he compliments it as an exposition, and analyses some of the fundamental assumptions.

When the harangue, lecture, or sermon, of Protagoras is concluded, Sokrates both expresses his profound admiration of it, and admits the conclusion — That virtue is teachable — to be made out, as well as it can be made out by any continuous exposition.57 In fact, the speaker has done all that could be done by Perikles or the best orator of the assembly. He has given a long series of reasonings in support of his own case, without stopping to hear the doubts of opponents. He has sailed along triumphantly upon the stream of public sentiment, accepting all the established beliefs — appealing to his hearers with all those familiar phrases, round which the most powerful associations are grouped — and taking for granted that justice, virtue, good, evil, &c., are known, indisputable, determinate data, fully understood, and unanimously interpreted. He has shown that the community take great pains, both publicly and privately, to inculcate and enforce virtue: that is, what they believe in and esteem as virtue. But is their belief well founded? Is that which they esteem, really virtue? Do they and their elegant spokesman Protagoras, know what virtue is? If so, how do they know it, and can they explain it?

One purpose of the dialogue. To contrast continuous discourse with short cross-examining question and answer.

This is the point upon which Sokrates now brings his Elenchus to bear: his method of short question and answer. We have seen what long continuous speaking can do: we have now to see what short cross-questioning can do. The antithesis between the two is at least one main purpose of Plato — if it be not even the purpose (as Schleiermacher supposes it to be) in this memorable dialogue.

Questions by Sokrates — Whether virtue is one and indivisible, or composed of different parts? Whether the parts are homogeneous or heterogeneous?

After your copious exposition, Protagoras (says Sokrates), I have only one little doubt remaining, which you will easily explain.58 You have several times spoken of justice, moderation, holiness, &c., as if they all, taken collectively, made up virtue. Do you mean that virtue is a Whole, and that these three names denote distinct parts of it? Or are the three names all equivalent to virtue, different names for one and are the same thing? Prot. — They are names signifying distinct parts of virtue. Sokr. — Are these parts like the parts of the face, — eyes, nose, mouth, ears — each part not only distinct from the rest, but having its own peculiar properties? Or are they like the parts of gold, homogeneous with each other and with the whole, differing only in magnitude? Prot. — The former. Sokr. — Then some men may possess one part, some another. Or is it necessary that he who possesses one part, should possess all? Prot. — By no means necessary. Some men are courageous, but unjust: others are just, but not intelligent. Sokr. — Wisdom and courage then, both of them, are parts of virtue? Prot. — They are so. Wisdom is the greatest of the parts: but no one of the parts is the exact likeness of another: each of them has its own peculiar property.59

Whether justice is just, and holiness holy? How far justice is like to holiness? Sokrates protests against an answer, “If you please”.

Sokr. — Now let us examine what sort of thing each of these parts is. Tell me — is justice some thing, or no thing? I think it is some thing: are you of the same opinion?60 Prot. — Yes. Sokr. — Now this thing which you call justice: is it itself just or unjust? I should say that it was just: what do you say?61 Prot. — I think so too. Sokr. — Holiness also is some thing: is the thing called holiness, itself holy or unholy? As for me, if any one were to ask me the question, I should reply — Of course it is: nothing else can well be holy, if holiness itself be not holy. Would you say the same? Prot. — Unquestionably. Sokr. — Justice being admitted to be just, and holiness to be holy — do not you think that justice also is holy, and that holiness is just? If so, how can you reconcile that with your former declaration, that no one of the parts of virtue is like any other part? Prot. — I do not altogether admit that justice is holy, and that holiness is just. But the matter is of little moment: if you please, let both of them stand as admitted. Sokr. — Not so:62 I do not want the debate to turn upon an “If you please“: You and I are the debaters, and we shall determine the debate best without “Ifs”. Prot. — I say then that justice and holiness are indeed, in a certain way, like each other; so also there is a point of analogy between white and black,63 hard and soft, and between many other things which no one would pronounce to be like generally. Sokr. — Do you think then that justice and holiness have only a small point of analogy between them? Prot. — Not exactly so: but I do not concur with you when you declare that one is like the other. Sokr. — Well then! since you seem to follow with some repugnance this line of argument, let us enter upon another.64

Intelligence and moderation are identical, because they have the same contrary.

Sokrates then attempts to show that intelligence and moderation are identical with each other (σοφία and σωφροσύνη). The proof which he produces, elicited by several questions, is — that both the one and the other are contrary to folly (ἀφροσύνη), and, that as a general rule, nothing can have more than one single contrary.65

Insufficient reasons given by Sokrates. He seldom cares to distinguish different meanings of the same term.

Sokrates thus seems to himself to have made much progress in proving all the names of different virtues to be names of one and the same thing. Moderation and intelligence are shown to be the same: justice and holiness had before been shown to be nearly the same:66 though we must recollect that this last point had not been admitted by Protagoras. It must be confessed however that neither the one nor the other is proved by any conclusive reasons. In laying down the maxim — that nothing can have more than one single contrary — Plato seems to have forgotten that the same term may be used in two different senses. Because the term folly (ἀφροσύνη), is used sometimes to denote the opposite of moderation (σωφροσύνη), sometimes the opposite of intelligence (σοφία), it does not follow that moderation and intelligence are the same thing.67 Nor does he furnish more satisfactory proof of the other point, viz.: That holiness and justice are the same, or as much alike as possible. The intermediate position which is assumed to form the proof, viz.: That holiness is holy, and that justice is just — is either tautological, or unmeaning; and cannot serve as a real proof of any thing. It is indeed so futile, that if it were found in the mouth of Protagoras and not in that of Sokrates, commentators would probably have cited it as an illustration of the futilities of the Sophists. As yet therefore little has been done to elucidate the important question to which Sokrates addresses himself — What is the extent of analogy between the different virtues? Are they at bottom one and the same thing under different names? In what does the analogy or the sameness consist?

Protagoras is puzzled, and becomes irritated.

But though little progress has been made in determining the question mooted by Sokrates, enough has been done to discompose and mortify Protagoras. The general tenor of the dialogue is, to depict this man, so eloquent in popular and continuous exposition, as destitute of the analytical acumen requisite to meet cross-examination, and of promptitude for dealing with new aspects of the case, on the very subjects which form the theme of his eloquence. He finds himself brought round, by a series of short questions, to a conclusion which — whether conclusively proved or not — is proved in a manner binding upon him, since he has admitted all the antecedent premisses. He becomes dissatisfied with himself, answers with increasing reluctance,68 and is at last so provoked as to break out of the limits imposed upon a respondent.

Sokrates presses Protagoras farther. His purpose is, to test opinions and not persons. Protagoras answers with angry prolixity.

Meanwhile Sokrates pursues his examination, with intent to prove that justice (δικαιοσύνη) and moderation (σωφροσύνη) are identical. Does a man who acts unjustly conduct himself with moderation? I should be ashamed (replies Protagoras) to answer in the affirmative, though many people say so. Sokr. — It is indifferent to me whether you yourself think so or not, provided only you consent to make answer. What I principally examine is the opinion itself: though it follows perhaps as a consequence, that I the questioner, and the respondent along with me, undergo examination at the same time.69 You answer then (though without adopting the opinion) that men who act unjustly sometimes behave with moderation, or with intelligence: that is, that they follow a wise policy in committing injustice. Prot. — Be it so. Sokr. — You admit too that there exist certain things called good things. Are those things good, which are profitable to mankind? Prot. — By Zeus, I call some things good, even though they be not profitable to men (replies Protagoras, with increasing acrimony).70 Sokr. — Do you mean those things which are not profitable to any man, or those which are not profitable to any creature whatever? Do you call these latter good also? Prot. — Not at all: but there are many things profitable to men, yet unprofitable or hurtful to different animals. Good is of a character exceedingly diversified and heterogeneous.71

Remonstrance of Sokrates against long answers as inconsistent with the laws of dialogue. Protagoras persists. Sokrates rises to depart.

Protagoras is represented as giving this answer at considerable length, and in a rhetorical manner, so as to elicit applause from the hearers.72 Upon this Sokrates replies, “I am a man of short memory, and if any one speaks at length, I forget what he has said. If you wish me to follow you, I must entreat you to make shorter answers.” Prot. — What do you mean by asking me to make shorter answers? Do you mean shorter than the case requires? Sokr. — No, certainly not. Prot. — But who is to be judge of the brevity necessary, you or I? Sokr. — I have understood that you profess to be master and teacher both of long speech and of short speech: what I beg is, that you will employ only short speech, if you expect me to follow you. Prot. — Why, Sokrates, I have carried on many debates in my time; and if, as you ask me now, I had always talked just as my opponent wished, I should never have acquired any reputation at all. Sokr. — Be it so: in that case I must retire; for as to long speaking, I am incompetent: I can neither make long speeches, nor follow them.73

Interference of Kallias to get the debate continued. Promiscuous conversation. Alkibiades declares that Protagoras ought to acknowledge superiority of Sokrates in dialogue.

Here Sokrates rises to depart; but Kallias, the master of the house, detains him, and expresses an earnest wish that the debate may be continued. A promiscuous conversation ensues, in which most persons present take part. Alkibiades, as the champion of Sokrates, gives, what seems really to be the key of the dialogue, when he says — “Sokrates admits that he has no capacity for long speaking, and that he is no match therein for Protagoras. But as to dialectic debate, or administering and resisting cross-examination, I should be surprised if any one were a match for him. If Protagoras admits that on this point he is inferior, Sokrates requires no more: if he does not, let him continue the debate: but he must not lengthen his answers so that hearers lose the thread of the subject.”

Claim of a special locus standi and professorship for Dialectic, apart from Rhetoric.

This remark of Alkibiades, speaking altogether as a vehement partisan of Sokrates, brings to view at least one purpose — if not the main purpose — of Plato in the dialogue. “Sokrates acknowledges the superiority of Protagoras in rhetoric: if Protagoras acknowledges the superiority of Sokrates in dialectic, Sokrates is satisfied.”74 An express locus standi is here claimed for dialectic, and a recognised superiority for its professors on their own ground. Protagoras professes to be master both of long speech and of short speech: but in the last he must recognise a superior.

Sokrates is prevailed upon to continue, and invites Protagoras to question him.

Kritias, Prodikus, and Hippias all speak (each in a manner of his own) deprecating marked partisanship on either side, exhorting both parties to moderation, and insisting that the conversation shall be continued. At length Sokrates consents to remain, yet on condition that Protagoras shall confine himself within the limits of the dialectic procedure. Protagoras (he says) shall first question me as long as he pleases: when he has finished, I will question him. The Sophist, though at first reluctant, is constrained, by the instance of those around, to accede to this proposition.75

Protagoras extols the importance of knowing the works of the poets, and questions about parts of a song of Simonides. Dissenting opinions about the interpretation of the song.

For the purpose of questioning, Protagoras selects a song of Simonides: prefacing it with a remark, that the most important accomplishment of a cultivated man consists in being thorough master of the works of the poets, so as to understand and appreciate them correctly, and answer all questions respecting them.76 Sokrates intimates that he knows and admires the song: upon which Protagoras proceeds to point out two passages in it which contradict each other, and asks how Sokrates can explain or justify such contradiction.77 The latter is at first embarrassed, and invokes the aid of Prodikus; who interferes to uphold the consistency of his fellow-citizen Simonides, but is made to speak (as elsewhere by Plato) in a stupid and ridiculous manner. After a desultory string of remarks,78 with disputed interpretation of particular phrases and passages of the song, but without promise of any result — Sokrates offers to give an exposition of the general purpose of the whole song, in order that the company may see how far he has advanced in that accomplishment which Protagoras had so emphatically extolled — complete mastery of the works of the poets.79

Long speech of Sokrates, expounding the purpose of the song, and laying down an ironical theory about the numerous concealed sophists at Krete and Sparta, masters of short speech.

He then proceeds to deliver a long harangue, the commencement of which appears to be a sort of counter-part and parody of the first speech delivered by Protagoras in this dialogue. That Sophist had represented that the sophistical art was ancient:80 and that the poets, from Homer downward, were Sophists, but dreaded the odium of the name, and professed a different avocation with another title. Sokrates here tells us that philosophy was more ancient still in Krete and Sparta, and that there were more Sophists (he does not distinguish between the Sophist and the philosopher), female as well as male, in those regions, than anywhere else: but that they concealed their name and profession, for fear that others should copy them and acquire the like eminence:81 that they pretended to devote themselves altogether to arms and gymnastic — a pretence whereby (he says) all the other Greeks were really deluded. The special characteristic of these philosophers or Sophists was, short and emphatic speech — epigram shot in at the seasonable moment, and thoroughly prostrating an opponent.82 The Seven Wise Men, among whom Pittakus was one, were philosophers on this type, of supreme excellence: which they showed by inscribing their memorable brief aphorisms at Delphi. So great was the celebrity which Pittakus acquired by his aphorism, that Simonides the poet became jealous, and composed this song altogether for the purpose of discrediting him. Having stated this general view, Sokrates illustrates it by going through the song, with exposition and criticism of several different passages.83 As soon as Sokrates has concluded, Hippias84 compliments him, and says that he too has a lecture ready prepared on the same song: which he would willingly deliver: but Alkibiades and the rest beg him to postpone it.

Character of this speech — its connection with the dialogue, and its general purpose. Sokrates inferior to Protagoras in continuous speech.

No remark is made by any one present, either upon the circumstance that Sokrates, after protesting against long speeches, has here delivered one longer by far than the first speech of Protagoras, and more than half as long as the second, which contains a large theory — nor upon the sort of interpretation that he bestows upon the Simonidean song. That interpretation is so strange and forced — so violent in distorting the meaning of the poet — so evidently predetermined by the resolution to find Platonic metaphysics in a lyric effusion addressed to a Thessalian prince85 — that if such an exposition had been found under the name of Protagoras, critics would have dwelt upon it as an additional proof of dishonest perversions by the Sophists.86 It appears as if Plato, intending in this dialogue to set out the contrast between long or continuous speech (sophistical, rhetorical, poetical) represented by Protagoras, and short, interrogatory speech (dialectical) represented by Sokrates — having moreover composed for Protagoras in the earlier part of the dialogue, an harangue claiming venerable antiquity for his own accomplishment — has thought it right to compose for Sokrates a pleading with like purpose, to put the two accomplishments on a par. And if that pleading includes both pointless irony and misplaced comparisons (especially what is said about the Spartans) — we must remember that Sokrates has expressly renounced all competition with Protagoras in continuous speech, and that he is here handling the weapon in which he is confessedly inferior. Plato secures a decisive triumph to dialectic, and to Sokrates as representing it: but he seems content here to leave Sokrates on the lower ground as a rhetorician.

Sokrates depreciates the value of debates on the poets. Their meaning is always disputed, and you can never ask from themselves what it is. Protagoras consents reluctantly to resume the task of answering.

Moreover, when Sokrates intends to show himself off as a master of poetical lore (περὶ ἐπῶν δεινὸς), he at the same time claims a right of interpreting the poets in his own way. He considers the poets either as persons divinely inspired, who speak fine things without rational understanding (we have seen this in the Apology and the Ion) — or as men of superior wisdom, who deliver valuable truth lying beneath the surface, and not discernible by vulgar eyes. Both these views differ from that of literal interpretation, which is here represented by Protagoras and Prodikus. And these two Sophists are here contrasted with Sokrates as interpreters of the poets. Protagoras and Prodikus look upon poetical compositions as sources of instruction: and seek to interpret them literally, as an intelligent hearer would have understood them when they were sung or recited for the first time. Towards that end, discrimination of the usual or grammatical meaning of words was indispensable. Sokrates, on the contrary, disregards the literal interpretation, derides verbal distinctions as useless, or twists them into harmony with his own purpose: Simonides and other poets are considered as superior men, and even as inspired men in whose verses wisdom and virtue must be embodied and discoverable87 — only that they are given in an obscure and enigmatical manner: requiring to be extracted by the divination of the philosopher, who alone knows what wisdom and virtue are. It is for the philosopher to show his ingenuity by detecting the traces of them. This is what Sokrates does with the song of Simonides. He discovers in it supposed underlying thoughts (ὑπονοίας):88 distinctions of Platonic Metaphysics (between εἶναι and γενέσθαι), and principles of Platonic Ethics (οὐδεὶς ἕκω κακός) — he proceeds to point out passages in which they are to be found, and explains the song conformably to them, in spite of much violence to the obvious meaning and verbal structure.89 But though Sokrates accepts, when required, the task of discussing what is said by the poets, and deals with them according to his own point of view — yet he presently lets us see that they are witnesses called into court by his opponent and not by himself. Alkibiades urges that the debate which had been interrupted shall be resumed and Sokrates himself requests Protagoras to consent. “To debate about the compositions of poets” (says Sokrates), “is to proceed as silly and common-place men do at their banquets: where they cannot pass the time without hiring musical or dancing girls. Noble and well-educated guests, on the contrary, can find enough to interest them in their own conversation, even if they drink ever so much wine.90 Men such as we are, do not require to be amused by singers nor to talk about the poets, whom no one can ask what they mean; and who, when cited by different speakers, are affirmed by one to mean one thing, and by another to mean something else, without any decisive authority to appeal to. Such men as you and I ought to lay aside the poets, and test each other by colloquy of our own. If you wish to persist in questioning, I am ready to answer: if not, consent to answer me, and let us bring the interrupted debate to a close.”91

Purpose of Sokrates to sift difficulties which he really feels in his own mind. Importance of a colloquial companion for this purpose.

In spite of this appeal, Protagoras is still unwilling to resume, and is only forced to do so by a stinging taunt from Alkibiades, enforced by requests from Kallias and others. He is depicted as afraid of Sokrates, who, as soon as consent is given, recommences the discussion by saying — “Do not think, Protagoras, that I have any other purpose in debating, except to sift through and through, in conjunction with you, difficulties which puzzle my own mind. Two of us together can do more in this way than any one singly.92

“We are all more fertile and suggestive, with regard to thought, word, and deed, when we act in couples. If a man strikes out anything new by himself, he immediately goes about looking for a companion to whom he can communicate it, and with whom he can jointly review it. Moreover, you are the best man that I know for this purpose, especially on the subject of virtue: for you are not only virtuous yourself, but you can make others so likewise, and you proclaim yourself a teacher of virtue more publicly than any one has ever done before. Whom can I find so competent as you, for questioning and communication on these very subjects?”93

The interrupted debate is resumed. Protagoras says that courage differs materially from the other branches of virtue.

After this eulogy on dialectic conversation (illustrating still farther the main purpose of the dialogue), Sokrates resumes the argument as it stood when interrupted. Sokr. — You, Protagoras, said that intelligence, moderation, justice, holiness, courage, were all parts of virtue; but each different from the others, and each having a separate essence and properties of its own. Do you still adhere to that opinion? Prot. — I now think that the first four are tolerably like and akin to each other, but that courage is very greatly different from all the four. The proof is, that you will find many men pre-eminent for courage, but thoroughly unjust, unholy, intemperate, and stupid.94 Sokr. — Do you consider that all virtue, and each separate part of it, is fine and honourable? Prot. — I consider it in the highest degree fine and honourable: I must be mad to think otherwise.95

Sokrates argues to prove that courage consists in knowledge or intelligence. Protagoras does not admit this. Sokrates changes his attack.

Sokrates then shows that the courageous men are confident men, forward in dashing at dangers, which people in general will not affront: that men who dive with confidence into the water, are those who know how to swim; men who go into battle with confidence as horse-soldiers or light infantry, are those who understand their profession as such. If any men embark in these dangers, without such preliminary knowledge, do you consider them men of courage? Not at all (says Protagoras), they are madmen: courage would be a dishonourable thing, if they were reckoned courageous.96 Then (replies Sokrates) upon this reasoning, those who face dangers confidently, with preliminary knowledge, are courageous: those who do so without it, are madmen. Courage therefore must consist in knowledge or intelligence?97 Protagoras declines to admit this, drawing a distinction somewhat confused:98 upon which Sokrates approaches the same argument from a different point.

Identity of the pleasurable with the good — of the painful with the evil. Sokrates maintains it. Protagoras denies. Debate.

Sokr. — You say that some men live well, others badly. Do you think that a man lives well if he lives in pain and distress? Prot. — No. Sokr. — But if he passes his life pleasurably until its close, does he not then appear to you to have lived well? Prot. — I think so. Sokr. — To live pleasurably therefore is good: to live disagreeably is evil. Prot. — Yes: at least provided he lives taking pleasure in fine or honourable things.99 Sokr. — What! do you concur with the generality of people in calling some pleasurable things evil, and some painful things good? Prot. — That is my opinion. Sokr. — But are not all pleasurable things, so far forth as pleasurable, to that extent good, unless some consequences of a different sort result from them? And again, subject to the like limitation, are not all painful things evil, so far forth as they are painful? Prot. — To that question, absolutely as you put it, I do not know whether I can reply affirmatively — that all pleasurable things are good, and all painful things evil. I think it safer — with reference not merely to the present answer, but to my manner of life generally — to say, that there are some pleasurable things which are good, others which are not good — some painful things which are evil, others which are not evil: again, some which are neither, neither good nor evil.100 Sokr. — You call those things pleasurable, which either partake of the nature of pleasure, or cause pleasure? Prot. — Unquestionably. Sokr. — When I ask whether pleasurable things are not good, in so far forth as pleasurable — I ask in other words, whether pleasure itself be not good? Prot. — As you observed before, Sokrates,101 let us examine the question on each side, to see whether the pleasurable and the good be really the same.

Enquiry about knowledge. Is it the dominant agency in the mind? Or is it overcome frequently by other agencies, pleasure or pain? Both agree that knowledge is dominant.

Sokr. — Let us penetrate from the surface to the interior of the question.102 What is your opinion about knowledge? Do you share the opinion of mankind generally about it, as you do about pleasure and pain? Mankind regard knowledge as something neither strong nor directive nor dominant. Often (they say), when knowledge is in a man, it is not knowledge which governs him, but something else — passion, pleasure, pain, love, fear — all or any of which overpower knowledge, and drag it round about in their train like a slave. Are you of the common opinion on this point also?103 Or do you believe that knowledge is an honourable thing, and made to govern man: and that when once a man knows what good and evil things are, he will not be over-ruled by any other motive whatever, so as to do other things than what are enjoined by such knowledge — his own intelligence being a sufficient defence to him?104 Prot. — The last opinion is what I hold. To me, above all others, it would be disgraceful not to proclaim that knowledge or intelligence was the governing element of human affairs.

Mistake of supposing that men act contrary to knowledge. We never call pleasures evils, except when they entail a preponderance of pain, or a disappointment of greater pleasures.

Sokr. — You speak well and truly. But you are aware that most men are of a different opinion. They affirm that many who know what is best, act against their own knowledge, overcome by pleasure or by pain. Prot. — Most men think so: incorrectly, in my judgment, as they say many other things besides.105 Sokr. — When they say that a man, being overcome by food or drink or other temptations, will do things which he knows to be evil, we must ask them, On what ground do you call these things evil? Is it because they impart pleasure at the moment, or because they prepare disease, poverty, and other such things, for the future?106 Most men would reply, I think, that they called these things evil not on account of the present pleasure which the things produced, but on account of their ulterior consequences — poverty and disease being both of them distressing? Prot. — Most men would say this. Sokr. — It would be admitted then that these things were evil for no other reason, than because they ended in pain and in privation of pleasure.107 Prot. — Certainly. Sokr. — Again, when it is said that some good things are painful, such things are meant as gymnastic exercises, military expeditions, medical treatment. Now no one will say that these things are good because of the immediate suffering which they occasion, but because of the ulterior results of health, wealth, and security, which we obtain by them. Thus, these also are good for no other reason, than because they end in pleasures, or in relief or prevention of pain.108 Or can you indicate any other end, to which men look when they call these matters evil? Prot. — No other end can be indicated.

Pleasure is the only good — pain the only evil. No man does evil voluntarily, knowing it to be evil. Difference between pleasures present and future — resolves itself into pleasure and pain.

Sokr. — It thus appears that you pursue pleasure as good, and avoid pain as evil. Pleasure is what you think good: pain is what you think evil: for even pleasure itself appears to you evil, when it either deprives you of pleasures greater than itself, or entails upon you pains outweighing itself. Is there any other reason, or any other ulterior end, to which you look when you pronounce pleasure to be evil? If there be any other between reason, or any other end, tell us what it is.109 Prot. — There is none whatever. Sokr. — The case is similar about pains: you call pain good, when it preserves you from greater pains, or procures for you a future balance of pleasure. If there be any other end to which you look when you call pain good, tell us what it is. Prot. — You speak truly. Sokr. — If I am asked why I insist so much on the topic now before us, I shall reply, that it is no easy matter to explain what is meant by being overcome by pleasure; and that the whole proof hinges upon this point — whether there is any other good than pleasure, or any other evil than pain; and whether it be not sufficient, that we should go through life pleasurably and without pains.110 If this be sufficient, and if no other good or evil can be pointed out, which does not end in pleasures and pains, mark the consequences. Good and evil being identical with pleasurable and painful, it is ridiculous to say that a man does evil voluntarily, knowing it to be evil, under the overpowering influence of pleasure: that is, under the overpowering influence of good.111 How can it be wrong, that a man should yield to the influence of good? It never can be wrong, except in this case — when the good obtained is of smaller amount than the consequent good forfeited or the consequent evil entailed. What other exchangeable value can there be between pleasures and pains, except in the ratio of quantity — greater or less, more or fewer?112 If an objector tells me that there is a material difference between pleasures and pains of the moment, and pleasures and pains postponed to a future time, I ask him in reply, Is there any other difference, except in pleasure and pain? An intelligent man ought to put them both in the scale, the pleasures and the pains, the present and the future, so as to determine the balance. Weighing pleasures against pleasures, he ought to prefer the more and the greater: weighing pains against pains, the fewer and the less. If pleasures against pains, then when the latter outweigh the former, reckoning distant as well as near, he ought to abstain from the act: when the pleasures outweigh, he ought to do it. Prot. — The objectors could have nothing to say against this.113

Necessary resort to the measuring art for choosing pleasures rightly — all the security of our lives depend upon it.

Sokr. — Well then — I shall tell them farther — you know that the same magnitude, and the same voice, appears to you greater when near than when distant. Now, if all our well-doing depended upon our choosing the magnitudes really greater and avoiding those really less, where would the security of our life be found? In the art of mensuration, or in the apparent impression?114 Would not the latter lead us astray, causing us to vacillate and judge badly in our choice between great and little, with frequent repentance afterwards? Would not the art of mensuration set aside these false appearances, and by revealing to us the truth, impart tranquillity to our minds and security to our lives? Would not the objectors themselves acknowledge that there was no other safety, except in the art of mensuration? Prot. — They would acknowledge it. Sokr. — Again, If the good conduct of our lives depended on the choice of odd and even, and in distinguishing rightly the greater from the less, whether far or near, would not our safety reside in knowledge, and in a certain knowledge of mensuration too, in Arithmetic? Prot. — They would concede to you that also. Sokr. — Well then, my friends, since the security of our lives has been found to depend on the right choice of pleasure and pain — between the more and fewer, greater and less, nearer and farther — does it not come to a simple estimate of excess, deficiency, and equality between them? in other words, to mensuration, art, or science?115 What kind of art or science it is, we will enquire another time: for the purpose of our argument, enough has been done when we have shown that it is science.

To do wrong, overcome by pleasure, is only a bad phrase for describing what is really a case of grave ignorance.

For when we (Protagoras and Sokrates) affirmed, that nothing was more powerful than science or knowledge, and that this, in whatsoever minds it existed, prevailed over pleasure and every thing else — you (the supposed objectors) maintained, on the contrary, that pleasure often prevailed over knowledge even in the instructed man: and you called upon us to explain, upon our principles, what that mental affection was, which people called, being overcome by the seduction of pleasure. We have now shown you that this mental affection is nothing else but ignorance, and the gravest ignorance. You have admitted that those who go wrong in the choice of pleasures and pains — that is, in the choice of good and evil things — go wrong from want of knowledge, of the knowledge or science of mensuration. The wrong deed done from want of knowledge, is done through ignorance. What you call being overcome by pleasure is thus, the gravest ignorance; which these Sophists, Protagoras, Prodikus, and Hippias, engage to cure: but you (the objectors whom we now address) not believing it to be ignorance, or perhaps unwilling to pay them their fees, refuse to visit them, and therefore go on doing ill, both privately and publicly.116

Reasoning of Sokrates assented to by all. Actions which conduct to pleasures or freedom from pain, are honourable.

Now then, Protagoras, Prodikus, and Hippias (continues Sokrates), I turn to you, and ask, whether you account my reasoning true or false? (All of them pronounced it to be surpassingly true.) Sokr. — You all agree, then, all three, that the pleasurable is good, and that the painful is evil:117 for I take no account at present of the verbal distinctions of Prodikus, discriminating between the pleasurable, the delightful, and the enjoyable. If this be so, are not all those actions, which conduct to a life of pleasure or to a life free from pain, honourable? and is not the honourable deed, good and profitable?118 (In this, all persons present concurred.) If then the pleasurable is good, no one ever does anything, when he either knows or believes other things in his power to be better. To be inferior to yourself is nothing else than ignorance: to be superior to yourself, is nothing else than wisdom. Ignorance consists in holding false opinions, and in being deceived respecting matters of high importance. (Agreed by all.) Accordingly, no one willingly enters upon courses which are evil, or which he believes to be evil; nor is it in the nature of man to enter upon what he thinks evil courses, in preference to good. When a man is compelled to make choice between two evils, no one will take the greater when he might take the less.119 (Agreed to by all three.) Farther, no one will affront things of which he is afraid, when other things are open to him, of which he is not afraid: for fear is an expectation of evil, so that what a man fears, he of course thinks to be an evil, — and will not approach it willingly. (Agreed.)120

Explanation of courage. It consists in a wise estimate of things terrible and not terrible.

Sokr. — Let us now revert to the explanation of courage, given by Protagoras. He said that four out of the five parts of virtue were tolerably similar; but that courage differed greatly from all of them. And he affirmed that there were men distinguished for courage; yet at the same time eminently unjust, immoderate, unholy, and stupid. He said, too, that the courageous men were men to attempt things which timid men would not approach. Now, Protagoras, what are these things which the courageous men alone are prepared to attempt? Will they attempt terrible things, believing them to be terrible? Prot. — That is impossible, as you have shown just now. Sokr. — No one will enter upon that which he believes to be terrible, — or, in other words, will go into evil knowing it to be evil: a man who does so is inferior to himself — and this, as we have agreed, is ignorance, or the contrary of knowledge. All men, both timid and brave, attempt things upon which they have a good heart: in this respect, the things which the timid and the brave go at, are the same.121 Prot. — How can this be? The things which the timid and the brave go at or affront, are quite contrary: for example, the latter are willing to go to war, which the former are not. Sokr. — Is it honourable to go to war, or dishonourable? Prot. — Honourable. Sokr. — If it be honourable, it must also be good:122 for we have agreed, in the preceding debate, that all honourable things were good. Prot. — You speak truly.123 I at least always persist in thinking so. Sokr. — Which of the two is it, who (you say) are unwilling to go into war; it being an honourable and good thing? Prot. — The cowards. Sokr. — But if going to war be an honourable and good thing, it is also pleasurable? Prot. — Certainly that has been admitted.124 Sokr. — Is it then knowingly that cowards refuse to go into war, which is both more honourable, better, and more pleasurable? Prot. — We cannot say so, without contradicting our preceding admissions. Sokr. — What about the courageous man? does not he affront or go at what is more honourable, better, and more pleasurable? Prot. — It cannot be denied. Sokr. — Courageous men then, generally, are those whose fears, when they are afraid, are honourable and good — not dishonourable or bad: and whose confidence, when they feel confident, is also honourable and good?125 On the contrary, cowards, impudent men, and madmen, both fear, and feel confidence, on dishonourable occasions? Prot. — Agreed. Sokr. — When they thus view with confidence things dishonourable and evil, is it from any other reason than from ignorance and stupidity? Are they not cowards from stupidity, or a stupid estimate of things terrible? And is it not in this ignorance, or stupid estimate of things terrible, and things not terrible — that cowardice consists? Lastly,126 — courage being the opposite of cowardice — is it not in the knowledge, or wise estimate, of things terrible and things not terrible, that courage consists?

Reluctance of Protagoras to continue answering. Close of the discussion. Sokrates declares that the subject is still in confusion, and that he wishes to debate it again with Protagoras. Amicable reply of Protagoras.

Protagoras is described as answering the last few questions with increasing reluctance. But at this final question, he declines altogether to answer, or even to imply assent by a gesture.127 Sokr. — Why will you not answer my question, either affirmatively or negatively? Prot. — Finish the exposition by yourself. Sokr. — I will only ask you one more question. Do you still think, as you said before, that there are some men extremely stupid, but extremely courageous? Prot. — You seem to be obstinately bent on making me answer: I will therefore comply with your wish: I say that according to our previous admissions, it appears to me impossible. Sokr. — I have no other motive for questioning you thus, except the wish to investigate how the truth stands respecting virtue and what virtue is in itself.128 To determine this, is the way to elucidate the question which you and I first debated at length:— I, affirming that virtue was not teachable — you, that it was teachable. The issue of our conversation renders both of us ridiculous. For I, who denied virtue to be teachable, have shown that it consists altogether in knowledge, which is the most teachable of all things: while Protagoras, who affirmed that it was teachable, has tried to show that it consisted in every thing rather than knowledge: on which supposition it would be hardly teachable at all. I therefore, seeing all these questions sadly confused and turned upside down, am beyond measure anxious to clear them up;129 and should be glad, conjointly with you, to go through the whole investigation — First, what Virtue is, — Next, whether it is teachable or not. It is with a provident anxiety for the conduct of my own life that I undertake this research, and I should be delighted to have you as a coadjutor.130 Prot. — I commend your earnestness, Sokrates, and your manner of conducting discussion. I think myself not a bad man in other respects: and as to jealousy, I have as little of it as any one. For I have always said of you, that I admire you much more than any man of my acquaintance — decidedly more than any man of your own age. It would not surprise me, if you became one day illustrious for wisdom.

Remarks on the dialogue. It closes without the least allusion to Hippokrates.

Such is the end of this long and interesting dialogue.131 We remark with some surprise that it closes without any mention of Hippokrates, and without a word addressed to him respecting his anxious request for admission to the society of Protagoras: though such request had been presented at the beginning, with much emphasis, as the sole motive for the intervention of Sokrates. Upon this point132 the dialogue is open to the same criticism as that which Plato (in the Phædrus) bestows on the discourse of Lysias: requiring that every discourse shall be like a living organism, neither headless nor footless, but having extremities and a middle piece adapted to each other.

Two distinct aspects of ethics and politics exhibited: one under the name of Protagoras; the other, under that of Sokrates.

In our review of this dialogue, we have found first, towards the beginning, an expository discourse from Protagoras, describing the maintenance and propagation of virtue in an established community: next, towards the close, an expository string of interrogatories by Sokrates, destined to establish the identity of Good with Pleasurable, Evil with Painful; and the indispensable supremacy of the calculating or measuring science, as the tutelary guide of human life. Of the first, I speak (like other critics) as the discourse of Protagoras: of the second, as the theory of Sokrates. But I must again remind the reader, that both the one and the other are compositions of Plato; both alike are offspring of his ingenious and productive imagination. Protagoras is not the author of that which appears here under his name: and when we read the disparaging epithets which many critics affix to his discourse, we must recollect that these epithets, if they were well-founded, would have no real application to the historical Protagoras, but only to Plato himself. He has set forth two aspects, distinct and in part opposing, of ethics and politics: and he has provided a worthy champion for each. Philosophy, or “reasoned truth,” if it be attainable at all, cannot most certainly be attained without such many-sided handling: still less can that which Plato calls knowledge be attained — or such command of philosophy as will enable a man to stand a Sokratic cross-examination in it.

Order of ethical problems, as conceived by Sokrates.

In the last speech of Sokrates in the dialogue,133 we find him proclaiming, that the first of all problems to be solved was, What virtue really is? upon which there prevails serious confusion of opinions. It was a second question — important, yet still second and presupposing the solution of the first — Whether virtue is teachable? We noticed the same judgment as to the order of the two questions delivered by Sokrates in the Menon.134

Difference of method between him and Protagoras flows from this difference of order. Protagoras assumes what virtue is, without enquiry.

Now the conception of ethical questions in this order — the reluctance to deal with the second until the first has been fully debated and settled — is one fundamental characteristic of Sokrates. The difference of method, between him and Protagoras, flows from this prior difference between them in fundamental conception. What virtue is, Protagoras neither defines nor analyses, nor submits to debate. He manifests no consciousness of the necessity of analysis: he accepts the ground already prepared for him by King Nomos: he thus proceeds as if the first step had been made sure, and takes his departure from hypotheses of which he renders no account — as the Platonic Sokrates complains of the geometers for doing.135 To Protagoras, social or political virtue is a known and familiar datum, about which no one can mistake: which must be possessed, in greater or less measure, by every man, as a condition of the existence of society: which every individual has an interest in promoting in all his neighbours: and which every one therefore teaches and enforces upon every one else. It is a matter of common sense or common sentiment, and thus stands in contrast with the special professional accomplishments; which are confined only to a few — and the possessors, teachers, and learners of which are each an assignable section of the society. The parts or branches of virtue are, in like manner, assumed by him as known, in their relations to each other and to the whole. This persuasion of knowledge, without preliminary investigation, he adopts from the general public, with whom he is in communion of sentiment. What they accept and enforce as virtue, he accepts and enforces also.

Method of Protagoras. Continuous lectures addressed to established public sentiments with which he is in harmony.

Again, the method pursued by Protagoras, is one suitable to a teacher who has jumped over this first step; who assumes virtue, as something fixed in the public sentiments — and addresses himself to those sentiments, ready-made as he finds them. He expands and illustrates them in continuous lectures of some length, which fill both the ears and minds of the listener — “Spartam nactus es, hanc exorna”: he describes their growth, propagation, and working in the community: he gives interesting comments on the poets, eulogising the admired heroes who form the theme of their verses, and enlarging on their admonitions. Moreover, while resting altogether upon the authority of King Nomos, he points out the best jewel in the crown of that potentate; the great social fact of punishment prospective, rationally apportioned, and employed altogether for preventing and deterring — instead of being a mere retrospective impulse, vindictive or retributive for the past. He describes instructively the machinery operative in the community for ensuring obedience to what they think right: he teaches, in his eloquent expositions and interpretations, the same morality, public and private, that every one else teaches: while he can perform the work of teaching, somewhat more effectively than they. Lastly, his method is essentially showy and popular; intended for numerous assemblies, reproducing the established creeds and sentiments of those assemblies, to their satisfaction and admiration. He is prepared to be met and answered in his own way, by opposing speakers; and he conceives himself more than a match for such rivals. He professes also to possess the art of short conversation or discussion. But in the exercise of this art, he runs almost involuntarily into his more characteristic endowment of continuous speech: besides that the points which he raises for discussion assume all the fundamental principles, and turn only upon such applications of those principles as are admitted by most persons to be open questions, not foreclosed by a peremptory orthodoxy.

Method of Sokrates. Dwells upon that part of the problem which Protagoras had left out.

Upon all these points, Sokrates is the formal antithesis of Protagoras. He disclaims altogether the capacities to which that Sophist lays claim. Not only he cannot teach virtue, but he professes not to know what it is, nor whether it be teachable at all, He starts from a different point of view: not considering virtue as a known datum, or as an universal postulate, but assimilating it to a special craft or accomplishment, in which a few practitioners suffice for the entire public: requiring that in this capacity it shall be defined, and its practitioners and teachers pointed out. He has no common ground with Protagoras; for the difficulties which he moots are just such as the common consciousness (and Protagoras along with it) overleaps or supposes to be settled. His first requirement, advanced under the modest guise of a small doubt136 which Protagoras must certainly be competent to remove, is, to know — What virtue is? What are the separate parts of virtue — justice, moderation, holiness, &c.? What is the relation which they bear to each other and to the whole — virtue? Are they homogeneous, differing only in quantity or has each of them its own specific essence and peculiarity?137 Respecting virtue as a whole, we must recollect, Protagoras had discoursed eloquently and confidently, as of a matter perfectly known. He is now called back as it were to meet an attack in the rear: to answer questions which he had never considered, and which had never even presented themselves to him as questions. At first he replies as if the questions offered no difficulty;138 sometimes he does not feel their importance, so that it seems to him a matter of indifference whether he replies in the affirmative or negative.139 But he finds himself brought round, by a series of questions, to assent to conclusions which he nevertheless thinks untrue, and which are certainly unwelcome. Accordingly, he becomes more and more disgusted with the process of analytical interrogation: and at length answers with such impatience and prolixity, that the interrogation can no longer be prosecuted. Here comes in the break — the remonstrance of Sokrates — and the mediation of the by-standers.

Antithesis between the eloquent lecturer and the analytical cross-examiner.

It is this antithesis between the eloquent popular lecturer, and the analytical enquirer and cross-examiner, which the dialogue seems mainly intended to set forth. Protagoras professes to know that which he neither knows, nor has ever tried to probe to the bottom. Upon this false persuasion of knowledge, the Sokratic Elenchus is brought to bear. We are made to see how strange, repugnant, and perplexing, is the process of analysis to this eloquent expositor: how incompetent he is to go through it without confusion: how little he can define his own terms, or determine the limits of those notions on which he is perpetually descanting.

Protagoras not intended to be always in the wrong, though he is described as brought to a contradiction.

It is not that Protagoras is proved to be wrong (I speak now of this early part of the conversation, between chapters 51-62 — pp. 329-335) in the substantive ground which he takes. I do not at all believe (as many critics either affirm or imply) that Plato intended all which he in the composed under the name of Protagoras to be vile perversion of truth, with nothing but empty words and exorbitant pretensions. I do not even believe that Plato intended all those observations, to which the name of Protagoras is prefixed, to be accounted silly — while all that is assigned to Sokrates,140 is admirable sense and acuteness. It is by no means certain that Plato intended to be understood as himself endorsing the opinions which he ascribes everywhere to Sokrates: and it is quite certain that he does not always make the Sokrates of one dialogue consistent with the Sokrates of another. For the purpose of showing the incapacity of the respondent to satisfy the exigencies of analysis, we need not necessarily suppose that the conclusion to which the questions conduct should be a true one. If the respondent be brought, through his own admissions, to a contradiction, this is enough to prove that he did not know the subject deeply enough to make the proper answers and distinctions.

Affirmation of Protagoras about courage is affirmed by Plato himself elsewhere.

But whatever may have been the intention of Plato, if we look at the fact, we shall find that what he has assigned to Sokrates is not always true, nor what he has given to Protagoras, always false. The positions laid down by the latter — That many men are courageous, but unjust: that various persons are just, without being wise and intelligent: that he who possesses one virtue, does not of necessity possess all:141 — are not only in conformity with the common opinion, but are quite true, though Sokrates is made to dispute them. Moreover, the arguments employed by Sokrates (including in those arguments the strange propositions that justice is just, and that holiness is holy) are certainly noway conclusive.142 Though Protagoras, becoming entangled in difficulties, and incapable of maintaining his consistency against an embarrassing cross-examination, is of course exhibited as ignorant of that which he professes to know — the doctrine which he maintains is neither untrue in itself, nor even shown to be apparently untrue.

The harsh epithets applied by critics to Protagoras are not borne out by the dialogue. He stands on the same ground as the common consciousness.

As to the arrogant and exorbitant pretensions which the Platonic commentators ascribe to Protagoras, more is said than the reality justifies. He pretends to know what virtue, justice, moderation, courage, &c., are, and he is proved not to know. But this is what every one else pretends to know also, and what every body else teaches as well as he — “Hæc Janus summus ab imo Perdocet: hæc recinunt juvenes dictata senesque”. What he pretends to do, beyond the general public, he really can do. He can discourse, learnedly and eloquently, upon these received doctrines and sentiments: he can enlist the feelings and sympathies of the public in favour of that which he, in common with the public, believes to be good — and against that which he and they believe to be bad: he can thus teach virtue more effectively than others. But whether that which is received as virtue, be really such — he has never analysed or verified: nor does he willingly submit to the process of analysis. Here again he is in harmony with the general public; for they hate, as much as he does, to be dragged back to fundamentals, and forced to explain, defend, revise, or modify, their established sentiments and maxims: which they apply as principia for deduction to particular cases, and which they recognise as axioms whereby other things are to be tried, not as liable to be tried themselves. Protagoras is one of the general public, in dislike of, and inaptitude for, analysis and dialectic discussion: while he stands above them in his eloquence and his power of combining, illustrating, and adorning, received doctrines. These are points of superiority, not pretended, but real.

Aversion of Protagoras for dialectic. Interlude about the song of Simonides.

The aversion of Protagoras for dialectic discussion — after causing an interruption of the ethical argument, and an interlude of comment on the poet Simonides — is at length with difficulty overcome, and the argument is then resumed. The question still continues, What is virtue? What are the five different parts of virtue? Yet it is so far altered that Protagoras now admits that the four parts of virtue which Sokrates professed to have shown to be nearly identical, really are tolerably alike: but he nevertheless contends that courage is very different from all of them, repeating his declaration that many men are courageous, but unjust and stupid at the same time. This position Sokrates undertakes to refute. In doing so, he lays out one of the largest, most distinct, and most positive theories of virtue, which can be found in the Platonic writings.

Ethical view given by Sokrates worked out at length clearly. Good and evil consist in right or wrong calculation of pleasures and pains of the agent.

Virtue, according to this theory, consists in a right measurement and choice of pleasures and pains: in deciding correctly, wherever we have an alternative, on which side lies the largest pleasure or the least pain — and choosing the side which presents this balance. To live pleasurably, is pronounced to be good: to live without pleasure or in pain, is evil. Moreover, nothing but pleasure, or comparative mitigation of pain, is good: nothing but pain is evil.143 Good, is identical with the greatest pleasure or least pain: evil, with greatest pain: meaning thereby each pleasure and each pain when looked at along with its consequences and concomitants. The grand determining cause and condition of virtue is knowledge: the knowledge, science, or art, of correctly measuring the comparative value of different pleasures and pains. Such knowledge (the theory affirms), wherever it is possessed, will be sure to command the whole man, to dictate all his conduct, and to prevail over every temptation of special appetite or aversion. To say that a man who knows on which side the greatest pleasure or the least pain lies, will act against his knowledge — is a mistake. If he acts in this way, it is plain that he does not possess the knowledge, and that he sins through ignorance.

Protagoras is at first opposed to this theory.

Protagoras agrees with Sokrates in the encomiums bestowed on the paramount importance and ascendancy of knowledge: but does not at first agree with him in identifying good with pleasure, and evil with pain. Upon this point, too, he is represented as agreeing in opinion with the Many. He does not admit that to live pleasurably is good, unless where a man takes his pleasure in honourable things. He thinks it safer, and more consistent with his own whole life, to maintain — That pleasurable things, or painful things, may be either good, or evil, or indifferent, according to the particular case.

Reasoning of Sokrates.

This doctrine Sokrates takes much pains to refute. He contends that pleasurable things, so far forth as pleasurable, are always good — and painful things, so far forth as painful, always evil. When some pleasures are called evil, that is not on account of any thing belonging to the pleasure itself, but because of its ulterior consequences and concomitants, which are painful or distressing in a degree more than countervailing the pleasure. So too, when some pains are pronounced to be good, this is not from any peculiarity in the pain itself, but because of its consequences and concomitants: such pain being required as a condition to the attainment of health, security, wealth, and other pleasures or satisfactions more than counter-balancing. Sokrates challenges opponents to name any other end, with reference to which things are called good, except their tendency to prevent or relieve pains and to ensure a balance of pleasure: he challenges them to name any other end, with reference to which things are called evil, except their tendency to produce pains and to intercept or destroy pleasures. In measuring pleasures and pains against each other, there is no other difference to be reckoned except that of greater or less, more or fewer. The difference between near and distant, does indeed obtrude itself upon us as a misleading element. But it is the special task of the “measuring science” to correct this illusion — and to compare pleasures or pains, whether near or distant, according to their real worth: just as we learn to rectify the illusions of the sight in regard to near and distant objects.

Notes in this chapter