PROTAGORAS, OR THE SOPHISTS.

A Friend, Socrates, Hippocrates, Protagoras, Alcibiades,

Callias, Critias, Prodicus, and Hippias.

Fr. Whence come you, Socrates? can there be any doubt but that it is from a chase after the beauty of Alcibiades? and to me, indeed, when I saw him lately, the man appeared still beautiful, though between ourselves, Socrates, he is a man and is now getting a pretty thick beard.

Socr. But what of that? Do you not approve of Homer^[93], then, who says, that the most graceful age is that of a youth with his first beard, which is now the age of Alcibiades?

Fr. What have we to do with that now? Do you come from him? And how is the youth disposed towards you?

Socr. Very well, I think, and not least so to-day; for he has said many things in my favour, assisting me, and indeed I have just now come from him. However, I have something strange to tell you: for though he was present I paid no attention to him, and even frequently forgot him.

2. Fr. But what great affair can have happened between you and him? for surely you have not met with any one else more beautiful, in this city at least?

Socr. By far.

Fr. What say you? A citizen, or a stranger?

Socr. A stranger.

Fr. From whence?

Socr. From Abdera.

Fr. And did this stranger appear to you so beautiful that you thought him more beautiful than the son of Clinias?

Socr. But how, my dear friend, can the wisest be thought otherwise than more beautiful?

238Fr. Have you come then, Socrates, from meeting one of our wise men?

Socr. Yes, and from the wisest of the present day, if you think Protagoras is the wisest.

Fr. Ha! What say you? Is Protagoras here?

Socr. And has been, these three days.

Fr. And are you just now come from his company?

Socr. I have, and from a very long conversation with him.

3. Fr. Why then should you not relate this conversation to us, unless something hinders you, having made this boy rise up, and seating yourself in his place?

Socr. Certainly; and I shall be obliged to you if you will listen to me.

Fr. And we to you, if you will tell us.

Socr. The obligation will be mutual. Listen then. This morning, while it was yet dark, Hippocrates, son of Apollodorus and brother of Phason, knocked very hard at my gate with his stick, and as soon as it was opened to him he came in, in great haste, and calling out with a loud voice, said, “Socrates, are you awake or asleep?” And I, knowing his voice, said, “Hippocrates is here: do you bring any news?”

“None,” he replied, “but what is good.”

“You say well,” said I, “but what is it? and why have you come so early?”

“Protagoras is come,” said he, standing by my side.

4. “He came the day before yesterday,” said I, “and have you only just heard of it?”

“By the gods,” he replied, “only yesterday evening,” and at the same time feeling about my bed, he sat down at my feet, and said, “Yesterday evening, very late, on my return from the village of Œnoe, for my slave Satyrus ran away, and I was purposing to tell you that I was going in pursuit of him, but something else put it out of my head; but when I had returned, and we had supped, and were going to bed, then my brother told me that Protagoras was arrived, and my first thought was to come immediately to you, but afterwards it appeared to me too late at night. As soon, however, as sleep had refreshed me after my fatigue, I immediately arose and came here.”

5. And I, knowing his earnestness and excitability, said, “What is this to you? Does Protagoras do you any harm?”

239And he, laughing, said, “By the gods, Socrates, he does, because he alone is wise, and does not make me so.”

“But, by Jupiter,” said I, “if you give him money and persuade him, he will make you wise too.”

“Would that, O Jupiter and ye gods,” he said, “it depended on that, for I would spare nothing of my own or of my friend’s property either, and I have now come to you for this very purpose, that you may speak to him in my behalf. For besides that I am too young, I have never yet seen Protagoras or heard him speak, for I was but a boy when he came here before. However, Socrates, all men praise him, and say that he is the wisest man to speak. But why do we not go to him that we may find him within? He is staying, as I have heard, with Callias son of Hipponicus. Let us go then.”

6. I said to him: “We will not go there yet my friend, it is too early; but let us rise up and go into our court, and spend the time there walking about, until it is light; then we will go. For Protagoras stays mostly within; therefore cheer up, we shall probably find him at home.”

After this we rose and walked about the court, and I in order to try the strength of Hippocrates, examined and questioned him; “Tell me,” said I, “Hippocrates, you are now purposing to go to Protagoras, and to pay him money as a fee for teaching you something; to what kind of person do you think you are going, and what do you expect to become? Just as if you thought of going to your own namesake, Hippocrates of Cos, one of the Asclepiads, and were to pay him money as a fee for teaching you, if any one asked you, ‘Tell me, Hippocrates, you are about to pay a fee to Hippocrates, in what capacity?’ what should you answer?”

“I should say,” he replied, “in that of a physician.”

“And what do you expect to become?” “A physician,” said he.

“But if you thought of going to Polycletus the Argive, or Phidias the Athenian, and were to pay them a fee for teaching you, if any one asked you, ‘In what capacity do you intend to pay this money to Polycletus and Phidias?’ what should you answer?”

“I should say, in that of statuaries.”

“And what do you expect to become yourself?”

“Clearly, a statuary.”

240“Be it so,” said I. “But we are now going, you and I, to Protagoras, and we are prepared to pay him money as a fee for teaching you, if our money is sufficient for the purpose, and we can persuade him by it; but if not, we mean to borrow from our friends. If, then, some one seeing us thus earnestly bent on this, should ask; ‘Tell me, Socrates and Hippocrates, in what capacity do you intend to pay money to Protagoras?’ what answer should we give him? What other name do we hear given to Protagoras, as that of statuary is given to Phidias, and that of poet to Homer? What name of this kind do we hear given to Protagoras?”

“They call him a sophist, Socrates,” he replied.

“As to a sophist, then, we are going to pay him money?”

“Assuredly.”

8. “If, then, any one should ask you this further question, ‘What do you expect to become yourself by going to Protagoras?’”

Upon which he said, blushing, (for the day was now beginning to dawn, so that I could see him,) “If this case is at all like the former, it is evident that I expect to become a sophist.”

“But, by the gods,” said I, “should you not be ashamed to shew yourself as a sophist before the Greeks?”

“By Jupiter, I should, Socrates, if I must say what I think.”

“Do you suppose, then, Hippocrates, that the instruction of Protagoras will not be of this kind, but such as you received from a grammarian, a musician, or a teacher of gymnastics? for you were not instructed in each of these for the sake of the art, meaning to become a professor yourself, but by way of accomplishment, as is proper for a private person and a freeman.”

“Just so,” he said, “such rather appears to me to be the instruction given by Protagoras.Protagoras.”

“Do you know, then,” said I, “what you are about to do, or does it escape you?”

“About what?”

“That you are about to entrust your soul to the care of a man, who, as you admit, is a sophist; and yet I should wonder if you know what a sophist is. Though, if you are ignorant of this, neither do you know to what you are confiding your soul, whether to a good or a bad thing.”

“But I think I know,” he said.

241“Tell me, then, what you think a sophist is.”

“I think,” said he, “as the name imports, that he is one learned in wisdom.”

“This, however,” I replied, “may be said of painters and architects, that they too are learned in wisdom. And if any one should ask us in what wisdom painters are learned, we should surely say to him, in that which relates to the production of pictures, and so on with respect to the rest. But if any one should ask this question, ‘In what wisdom is a sophist learned?’ what answer should we give him? of what production is he a master?”

“What else should we say he is, Socrates, but a master of the art that makes men able speakers?”

10. “Perhaps,” said I, “we should say truly, yet not sufficiently. For this answer requires from us another question, about what a sophist makes men able speakers; just as the musician, surely, makes a man speak ably on the subject in which he is learned, on music. Is it not so?”

“Yes.”

“Well; on what subject, then, does a sophist make a man an able speaker? clearly on that in which he is learned?”

“Apparently.”

“What then is that in which the sophist is both learned himself and makes his pupil learned?”

“By Jupiter,” he replied, “I am unable to tell you.”

11. After this I said, “What then? are you aware to what danger you are going to expose your soul? if you had occasion to entrust your body to some one, on the risk of its becoming healthy or diseased, should you not consider very carefully whether you ought to entrust it or not, and would you not summon your friends and relations to a consultation, and deliberate many days? But that which you esteem far more than the body, your soul, and on which your all depends, either to fare well or ill, according as it becomes healthy or diseased, concerning this do you neither communicate with your father nor your brother, nor with any of us your friends, whether or not you should commit your soul to this stranger who has arrived here, but having heard of his arrival yesterday evening, as you say, do you come before daybreak, and take no thought or advice on the matter, whether it is proper or not to entrust yourself to him, but are ready to 242spend both your own and your friends’ property, as having already resolved that you must in any event associate with Protagoras, whom you neither know, as you admit, nor have ever spoken to; but you call him a sophist, though what a sophist is, to whom you are about to entrust yourself, you are evidently ignorant?”

12. And he having heard me, replied, “It seems so, Socrates, from what you say.”

“Is not a sophist, then, Hippocrates, a kind of merchant or retailer of commodities by which the soul is nourished? To me, at least, he appears to be so.”

“But by what is the soul nourished, Socrates?”

“By learning,” I replied. “But we must take care, my friend, that the sophist does not deceive us by praising what he sells, as those others do with respect to nutriment for the body, the merchant and the retailer. For neither do they themselves know which of the commodities in which they traffic are good or bad for the body, though they praise all that they sell, nor do those who buy from them, unless one happens to be a professor of gymnastics or a physician. In like manner, those who hawk about learning through cities, and who sell and retail it to every one that desires it, praise all that they sell, though perhaps some of these too, my excellent friend, may be ignorant which of the things they sell is good or bad for the soul; and this also may be the case with those that buy from them, unless some one happen to be skilled in the medicine of the soul. 13. If then you happen to know which of these is good or bad, you may safely buy learning from Protagoras or any one else; but if not, beware my good friend, that you do not hazard and imperil that which is most precious. For there is much greater danger in the purchase of learning than in that of food. For when one has purchased meat and drink from a retailer or merchant one may take them away in different vessels, and, before receiving them into one’s body by eating or drinking, one may set them down at home, and calling in some person who understands the matter, consult him as to what may be eaten and drunk, and what not, and how much and when; so that in this purchase there is no great danger. But it is not possible to carry away learning in a different vessel; but it is necessary, when one has paid the price, having received instruction in the soul itself 243and learnt it, to depart either injured or benefited. 14. Let us therefore consider these things with persons older than we are: for we are too young to decide on a matter of such importance. Now however, since we have made up our minds, let us go and hear the man, and after we have heard him, let us communicate with others. For not only is Protagoras there, but Hippias of Elis, and I think also Prodicus of Ceos, and many other wise men.”

This resolution taken, we set out. When we arrived at the front door, we stopped and discussed a question that had fallen out between us on the way; in order therefore that it might not be left unfinished, but that we might bring it to a conclusion and then enter the house, we stood at the front door talking together until we had agreed with each other. 15. Now it appears to me that the porter, who was a eunuch, overheard us, and he seems from the number of sophists to be out of humour with all who come to the house. For when we had knocked at the door, he having opened it and seeing us, said, “Ha, more sophists: he is not at leisure.” And at the same time with both his hands, he slammed to the door with all his might. Thereupon we knocked again, and he answering with the door shut, said, “Sirs, did not you hear me say that he is not at leisure?” “But, my good friend,” said I, “we are not come to Callias, nor are we sophists; cheer up then: for we are come wanting to see Protagoras: so announce us.” At length, with difficulty the fellow opened the door to us. 16. When we entered, we found Protagoras walking up and down in the portico, and in a line with him, there walked on one side Callias son of Hipponicus, and his brother by the mother’s side, Paralus son of Pericles, and Charmides son of Glaucon, and on the other side Xanthippus, the other son of Pericles, and Philippides son of Philomelus, and Antimœrus of Mende, who is the most famous of all the pupils of Protagoras, and who is learning professionally, meaning to become a sophist himself. Behind these there followed others who listened to what was said, the greater part appeared to be strangers, whom Protagoras brings with him from the several cities through which he passes, bewitching them by his voice like Orpheus, and they follow his voice, bewitched. Some of our countrymen also were in the band. 17. I was particularly pleased in observing this band, how well they took care never 244to be in the way of Protagoras by getting before him, but whenever he and those with him turned round, these listeners, in a good and regular manner, opened to the right and left, and wheeling round, always ranged themselves behind him in admirable order.

“After him I perceived,” as Homer^[94] says, Hippias of Elis sitting on a high seat in the opposite side of the portico, and round him on benches sat Eryximachus, son of Acumenus, Phædrus of Myrrhine, Andron son of Androtion, and some strangers partly his fellow citizens and others. They appeared to be asking Hippias questions on physics and astronomy; but he, sitting on a high seat, gave answers to each of them and resolved their questions. 18. “Moreover I saw Tantalus^[95];” for Prodicus of Ceos had lately arrived, but he was in a building which Hipponicus had before used as a store-room, but now, owing to the multitude of guests, Callias had emptied it and turned it into a lodging for strangers. Now Prodicus was still in bed wrapt up in a great number of skins and bed-clothes, as it appeared; and there were seated near him on sofas Pausanias of Ceramis, and with Pausanias a youth, quite a lad, as I thought of an excellent disposition, and of a very beautiful form. I thought I heard them call him Agathon, and I should not wonder if he was Pausanias’s favourite. This lad then was there, and the two Adimantuses, the one the son of Cepis, and the other of Leucolophides, and some others. But I was not able to learn from the outside what they were talking about, although I was exceedingly anxious to hear Prodicus; for he appears to me to be a very wise, nay a divine man, but owing to the harshness of his voice a kind of humming in the room made what he said indistinct.

19. We had just entered, and immediately after us there came in Alcibiades, the beautiful as you say, and as I am persuaded he is, and Critias, son of Callæschrus.

After we had entered, then, and waited a little while and observed what was going on, we went up to Protagoras, and I said, “Protagoras, I and Hippocrates here have come to see you.”

“Do you wish to speak with me alone,” he said, “or in the presence of the rest?”

“To us,” I replied, “it makes no difference, but when you 245have heard on what account we have come, you can determine yourself.”

“What is it then,” said he, “that you are come for?”

“Hippocrates here is a native of this country, son of Apollodorus, of a great and wealthy family; in natural ability he seems to be a match for the youth of his age; and he appears to me to be desirous of becoming a person of note in the city; and he thinks that he shall most readily become so, if he associates with you. Do you then determine, whether we ought to converse apart with you on this subject, or in the presence of others.”

20. “You very properly take precautions on my behalf, Socrates,” he replied. “For a stranger who visits powerful cities, and persuades the most distinguished of the youth in them to quit the society of others, both kindred and not kindred, both old and young, and associate with him, in the expectation of being improved by his society, ought in doing this to be very cautious, for things of this kind are attended with no slight jealousies and enmities, and even plots. For my part, I say that the art of a sophist is ancient, but the men who professed it in ancient times, fearing the odium attached to it, sought to conceal it, and veiled it over, some under the garb of poetry, as Homer, Hesiod, and Simonides, and others under that of the mysteries and prophecies, such as Orpheus and Musæus, and their followers, and some I perceive have veiled it under the gymnastic art, as Iccus of Tarentum, and one of the present day who is a sophist, inferior to none, Herodicus of Selymbria, who was originally of Megara. But your own Agathocles, who was a great sophist, concealed it under the garb of music, as did Pythoclides of Ceos, and many others. 21. All these, as I say, through fear of jealousies, employed these arts as veils. I, however, in this respect, do not agree with any of them; for I think that they did not by any means effect the object they wished; for they did not escape the observation of men of authority in the cities, on whose account they had recourse to these disguises, for the multitude perceive scarcely any thing at all, but whatever the former give out, that they sing. Now to try to escape and not to be able to do so, but to be detected, both shews great folly in the attempt, and necessarily makes men much more hostile: for they think that such a man is moreover an impostor. 22. I 246therefore have taken a path quite contrary to them, and I acknowledge that I am a sophist and teach men, and I think that this precaution is better than the other, to confess rather than to deny: I have also planned other precautions besides this; so that by God’s help I have suffered no harm through confessing that I am a sophist; though I have exercised this art now many years; for my age is very great, and there is not one amongst you all whose father I am not old enough to be. So that it will be by far the most agreeable to me, if you are willing, to discuss this matter in the presence of all who are in the house.”

I then, for I suspected that he wished to shew and make a display of himself before Prodicus and Hippias, that we had come as his admirers— 23. “Why then,” said I, “do we not summon Prodicus and Hippias, and their party, to listen to us?”

“By all means,” said Protagoras.

Callias therefore said, “Would you wish us to prepare seats, that you may sit down and converse?” It was agreed that this should be done. And we all of us, in great delight, as being about to listen to wise men, laid hold of the stools, and benches, and couches, and placed them in order near Hippias; for the stools were there already; meanwhile Callias and Alcibiades brought Prodicus and his party with them, having made him get out of bed.

When, therefore, we were all seated, “Now Socrates,” said Protagoras, “since they are all here, you may repeat what you just now mentioned to me respecting this youth.”

24. And I said, “My commencement, Protagoras, is the same as it was just now, namely, with what design we came to you. Hippocrates here is very desirous of your society, and says he shall be glad to hear what advantage he may expect to derive from associating with you. Such is our errand.”

Thereupon Protagoras said in reply, “Young man, the advantage which you will derive from associating with me is this, that on the very day of your being with me you will go home a better man than you were before, and the same on the second day, and on each succeeding day you will make some further progress.”

25. And I, on hearing this, said, “Protagoras, this is nothing wonderful that you say, but very natural, since you too, old 247and wise as you are, would become better, if any one should teach you what you do not happen to know. But that is not what we require, but just as if Hippocrates here should on the instant change his mind, and desire to associate with the youth who has lately arrived, Zeuxippus of Heraclea, and coming to him as he now does to you, should be told by him the very same things that he has been by you, that by associating with him he would every day become better, and make further progress; if he should further ask him, ‘In what do you mean I shall become better, and in what make further progress?’ Zeuxippus would answer him, ‘In the art of painting.’ And if he were to attach himself to Orthagoras of Thebes, and being told by him the very same things that he has been by you, should further ask him in what he would daily become better by associating with him, he would reply, ‘In flute-playing.’ In like manner do you also reply to the youth, and to me who ask for him: Hippocrates here, by associating with Protagoras, on the very day in which he associates will go home a better man, and on each succeeding day will in like manner make further progress; in what Protagoras, and with respect to what?”

26. Protagoras, on hearing me thus speak, said, “You put the question fairly, Socrates, and I delight in answering those who put their questions well. For Hippocrates, if he comes to me, will not be treated as he would be treated if he were to attach himself to any other of the sophists. For others injure youth; for when they have shewn an aversion to the arts they drag them back again and force them to study the arts by teaching them arithmetic, astronomy, geometry, and music; and at the same time he looked aside at Hippias: but if he comes to me, he will not learn anything else than that for which he came. The instruction that he will receive is this, the method of consulting well about his domestic affairs, in what way he may best govern his own house, and with respect to public affairs, how he may be best able to act and speak on affairs of state.”

27. “Do I follow your meaning?” I replied, “for you appear to me to mean the political art, and to promise to make men good citizens.”

“That,” said he, “Socrates, is the very profession that I do make.”

“What an admirable skill you possess,” said I, “if you really 248do possess it; for I will say nothing else to you but what I think. For I imagined, Protagoras, that this could not be taught, yet since you say so, I know not how to disbelieve you. It is right, however, that I should tell you why I think it cannot be taught, nor acquired by men from men. For I, as well as the other Greeks, say that the Athenians are wise. I see, then, when we are met in the assembly, and when it is necessary for the city to settle any thing respecting architecture, that the architects are sent for and consulted about the buildings, and when respecting ship-building, ship-builders; and so with all other things which they think can be taught and learnt. But should any one else, whom they think is not an artist, attempt to give them advice, even though he may be very honourable, and rich and noble, they pay no more attention to him on this account, but laugh at him and make an uproar, until either he of his own accord desists from speaking, through being hooted down, or the archers drag him away or remove him by order of the prytanes. 28. Thus they proceed with respect to matters which they think pertain to art. But when it is necessary to consult on any matter which relates to the government of the city, any one rises up and gives his advice on such subjects, whether he be a builder, a brazier, a shoemaker, a merchant, a ship’s captain, rich, poor, noble or ignoble, and no one objects to them, as to the others, that without having received any instruction, or had any preceptor, they yet attempt to give advice; for it is clear that they think this cannot be taught. And not only are the public in general of this opinion, but privately, the wisest and best of our citizens are unable to impart to others the excellence which they possess: for Pericles, the father of these youths, as far as depended on masters, had them educated liberally and well; but in those things in which he is wise, he neither instructs them himself, nor entrusts them to any one else to be instructed; but they, roaming about, feed as it were without restraint, if by chance they may of themselves light on virtue. 29. If you will too, this very same Pericles, being guardian to Clinias the younger brother of this Alcibiades, and fearing lest he might be corrupted by Alcibiades, separated him from him and sent him to be educated by Ariphron; however, before six months had elapsed, Ariphron, being unable to do any thing with him, returned him to Pericles. I could also mention very many 249others to you, who being good themselves, have never made any one else better, either of their own kindred or others. I therefore, Protagoras, looking to these things, think that virtue cannot be taught. When, however, I hear you saying what you do, I waver, and am of opinion that there is something in what you say, because I think that you are a man of great experience, and that you have learnt many things and discovered some yourself. If, therefore, you can prove to us, more clearly, that virtue can be taught, do not grudge doing so, but prove it.”

“Indeed, Socrates,” he said, “I shall not grudge it. But whether shall I prove it by relating a fable to you, as an older to younger men, or shall I discuss it by way of argument?”

Thereupon many of those who sat with him, answered, that he might explain it in any way he pleased. “It appears to me, then,” said he, “more agreeable to relate a fable to you.

30. “There was once a time, when gods were, but mortal races were not. But when also their destined time of creation came, the gods fashioned them within the earth, composing them of earth and fire, and such things as are mingled with fire and earth. And when they were about to bring them into light, they commanded Prometheus and Epimetheus to adorn them and to distribute to each such faculties as were proper for them. But Epimetheus besought Prometheus that he might make this distribution. ‘And,’ he said, ‘when I have made it, do you examine it.’ Having thus persuaded him, he made the distribution. But in his distribution, to some he assigned strength without swiftness, and the weaker he adorned with swiftness; some he armed, but giving to others an unarmed nature, he devised some other faculty for their security: for to such of them as he clad with littleness, he assigned wings to fly with, or a subterranean abode; but such as he increased in magnitude he preserved by this very means; and thus he made the distribution, equalizing all things; he adapted these contrivances taking care that no race should be destroyed.

31. “When he had supplied them with the means of avoiding mutual destruction, he contrived means to defend them against the seasons, by clothing them with thick hairs and solid skins, sufficient to keep off cold and capable of averting heat, and so that, when they went to rest, these very things might serve 250each of them as his proper and natural bed; and under their feet he furnished some with hoofs, and some with hairs and solid and bloodless skins. After that he provided different food for different animals, for some, herbs from the earth, for others, the fruit of trees, for others, roots; and to some he gave the flesh of other animals as food: and to these he attached the property of producing few offspring, but to those that are consumed by them, fecundity, providing for the preservation of the race. However, as Epimetheus was not very wise, he ignorantly exhausted all the faculties at his disposal on irrational animals. 32. The human race, therefore, still remained to him unadorned, and he was in doubt what to do. While he is doubting, Prometheus comes to examine the distribution, and sees other animals provided with every thing suitable for them, but man naked and unshod, unbedded and unarmed. But now the destined day was at hand, on which it was necessary that man should go forth from earth to light. Prometheus, therefore, being in doubt what safety he can find for man, steals the artificial wisdom of Vulcan and Minerva, together with fire, for it was impossible that it could be acquired or used by any one without fire, and accordingly he presents it to man. 33. Thus, then, man became possessed of the wisdom pertaining to life, he had not, however, political wisdom; for that was with Jupiter; and Prometheus was no longer permitted to enter the citadel, the habitation of Jupiter; moreover the guards of Jupiter were terrible; but he secretly enters the common abode of Minerva and Vulcan, in which they practised their arts, and having stolen the fiery art of Vulcan, and the other that belonged to Minerva, he gives them to man, and from this man derives the means of sustenance, but afterwards, as it is said, through Epimetheus, punishment for the theft overtook Prometheus.

34. “When, therefore, man had become partaker of a divine condition, first of all through this relationship to deity, he alone of all animals acknowledged gods, and set about building altars and statues of gods: next, by art, he soon articulated sounds and words, and devised houses and garments, and shoes and beds, and food from the earth. Thus provided however, at first men lived dispersed; for cities were not: wherefore they were destroyed by wild beasts, through being every where weaker than them; and the mechanical art was indeed sufficient 251aid for their support, but was inadequate to the war with wild beasts; for they did not yet possess the political art, of which the military is a part. They sought therefore to collect themselves together, and to preserve themselves by building cities. When, however, they were thus collected, they injured one another, from not possessing the political art; so that, being again dispersed, they were destroyed. 35. Jupiter, therefore, fearing for our race, lest it should entirely perish, sends Hermes to carry shame and justice to men, that they might be ornaments of cities, and bonds to cement friendship. Hermes, therefore, asked Jupiter in what manner he was to give shame and justice to men. ‘Whether, as the arts have been distributed, so shall I distribute these also? for they have been distributed thus: one man who possesses the medicinal art is sufficient for many not skilled in it, and so with other craftsmen. Shall I thus dispense shame and justice among men, or distribute them to all?’ ‘To all,’ said Jupiter, ‘and let all partake of them: for there would be no cities, if a few only were to partake of them, as of other arts. Moreover enact a law in my name, that whosoever is unable to partake of shame and justice shall be put to death as a pest of a city.’

36. “Thus, then, Socrates, and for these reasons, as well others as the Athenians, when a question arises about excellence in building, or any other mechanical art, think that few only should give their advice; and if any one, who is not of the number of the few, should offer to give advice, they do not allow him, as you say; and properly, as I say: but when they proceed to a consultation respecting political excellence, which ought to depend entirely on justice and temperance, they very properly allow every man to speak, because it is the duty of every one to partake of this excellence, otherwise there can be no cities. This, Socrates, is the cause of this fact.

37. “And that you may not think that you are deceived, when you are told that in reality all men are of opinion that every one partakes of justice, and of the other political excellences, take this additional proof. For in other kinds of excellence, as you say, if any one asserts that he is a good flute-player, or skilled in any other art, of which he is ignorant, they either ridicule him, or are indignant, and his friends go to him and admonish him as a madman; but in justice and other political virtues, even though they know of any man that 252he is unjust, yet if he himself tells the truth of himself in the presence of many persons, what in the other case they considered prudence, to speak the truth, in this case they consider madness; and they say that all men ought to say they are just, whether they are so or not, or that he is mad who does not lay claim to justice, because it is necessary that every one should, in some respect, partake of it, or no longer be a man.

38. “I say these things to shew that they very properly permit every man to give advice concerning this virtue, because they think that every one partakes of it. But that men think that it exists not naturally or spontaneously, but that it is taught and acquired by study, by whomsoever it is acquired, this I will in the next place endeavour to shew. For whatever evils men think others respectively have by nature or fortune no one is angry with, nor admonishes, or teaches, or punishes the possessors of them, in order to make them otherwise than they are, but pity them. For instance, who would be so foolish as to attempt to do any of these things to the deformed, or the little, or the weak? For they know, I think, that these things, such as are beautiful and the contraries, happen to men by nature and fortune: but such advantages as they think result to men from study, practice, and instruction, if any one does not possess them but their contrary evils, for these things anger, and punishment, and admonition, are had recourse to: of these one is injustice, and so is impiety, and in short, every thing that is contrary to political virtue. Here, then, every man is angry with and admonishes every other, clearly because he thinks it may be acquired by study and instruction. 39. For if you will consider, Socrates, of what avail it is to punish those who act unjustly, this very thing will teach you that men think virtue is to be acquired. For no one punishes those who act unjustly, merely attending to this and for this reason, that any one has so acted, unless it be one who like a brute avenges himself irrationally; but he who endeavours to punish with reason, does not exact vengeance for the sake of past offence, (for what has been done he cannot make undone,) but for the sake of the future, that neither this man himself, nor any other who sees him punished, may again act unjustly. And he who entertains such a thought must think that virtue may be taught; he punishes certainly for the sake of deterring from wickedness. 25340. All, therefore, have this opinion who inflict punishment, either privately or publicly. Now all other men, and especially the Athenians, your fellow-citizens, inflict punishment on and correct those who they think act unjustly; so that, according to this reasoning, the Athenians also are among the number of those who think that virtue may be acquired and taught. That your fellow-citizens, therefore, very properly allow a brazier and a shoemaker to give advice in political affairs, and that they think that virtue may be taught and acquired, has been sufficiently demonstrated to you, Socrates, at least as it appears to me.

41. “There still, however, remains a doubt which you entertain respecting those good men, why, in the world they have their sons instructed in such things as depend on masters, and make them wise, but in the virtue which they themselves possess do not make them better than others. With respect to this, then, Socrates, I shall no longer speak to you in fable, but argument. For consider the matter thus. Whether is there some one thing or not, of which it is necessary all the citizens should partake, if a city is to be? for in this or in no other way, the doubt which you entertain is solved. For if there is, and if this one thing is neither the art of a builder, nor of a brazier, nor of a potter, but is justice, and temperance, and holiness, and in a word I call it by one name, the virtue of a man; if this be the thing, of which all must partake, and with which every man if he wishes to learn or do any thing else, must learn or do it, but not without this, or if one who does not partake of it must be taught and punished, whether boy, or man, or woman, till through being punished he becomes better, and he who is not obedient, when punished or taught, is to be banished from cities, or put to death as incurable; if this is the case, and if, notwithstanding this, good men teach their children other things, but not this, consider what strange people those good men are: 42. for we have shewn that they think it may be taught, both privately and publicly. But since it may be taught, and acquired by study, do they teach their children other things, for which death is not imposed as a penalty, if they do not know them; but where the penalty of death or exile is imposed on their children, if they are not instructed or exercised in virtue, and besides death, the confiscation of their property, and in short the ruin of their families, do you 254think that they do not teach them these things nor bestow their whole care upon them? We must think they do, Socrates.

“Beginning from childhood they both teach and admonish them as long as they live. For as soon as any one understands what is said, nurse, mother, pedagogue, and the father himself, vie with each other in this, how the boy may become as good as possible; in every word and deed teaching and pointing out to him that this is just, and that unjust, this is honourable and that base, this is holy and that unholy, and this you must do and that you must not do. And if the boy obeys willingly, it is well; but if not, like a tree twisted and bent they make him straight by threats and blows. 43. After this they send him to masters, and give them much more strict injunctions to attend to the children’s morals than to their reading and music: and the masters do attend to this, and when the boys have learnt their letters, and are able to understand what is written, as before words spoken, they place before them on their benches to read, and compel them to learn by heart the compositions of good poets, in which there are many admonitions, and many details, and praises, and encomiums, of good men of former times, in order that the boy may imitate them through emulation, and strive to become such himself. Again, the music-masters, in the same way, pay attention to sobriety of behaviour, and take care that the boys commit no evil: besides this, when they have learnt to play on the harp, they teach them the compositions of other good poets, and those lyric, setting them to music, and they compel rhythm and harmony to become familiar to the boys’ souls, in order that they may become more gentle, and being themselves more rhythmical and harmonious, they may be able both to speak and act; for the whole life of man requires rhythm and harmony. 44. Moreover, besides this, they send them to a teacher of gymnastics, that having their bodies in a better state, they may be subservient to their well-regulated mind, and not be compelled to cowardice, through bodily infirmity, either in war or other actions. And these things they do who are most able; but the richest are the most able, and their sons beginning to frequent masters at the earliest time of life leave them the latest. And when they are set free from masters, the state still further compels them to learn the laws, and to live by them as a pattern, that they may not act at random 255after their own inclinations, but exactly as writing masters having ruled lines with a pen for those boys who have not yet learnt to write well, so give them the copy-book, and compel them to write according to the direction of the lines, so the state having prescribed laws which were the inventions of good and ancient legislators, compels them both to govern and be governed according to these, but whoso transgresses them, it punishes; and the name given to this chastisement, both among you, and in many other places, is correction, since punishment corrects. 45. So great therefore being the attention paid to virtue, privately and publicly, do you wonder and doubt, Socrates, whether virtue may be taught? There is no need, however, to wonder, but much more if it could not be taught.

“Why then are there many bad sons of good fathers? Learn again the reason of this; for it is not at all wonderful, if what I have before said is true, that, if a state is to subsist, no one must be unskilled in this thing, virtue. For if what I say is the case, (and it assuredly is), consider the matter by selecting any other study and subject of instruction whatever. 46. For instance, suppose that a city could not subsist unless we were all of us flute-players, each according to his capacity, and suppose every one should teach his neighbour, both privately and publicly, and should chide any one who did not play well, and should not grudge doing this, as now no one grudges a knowledge of what is just and legal, or conceals it, as is the case in other arts, for mutual justice and virtue are, I think, advantageous to us; and for this reason every one most willingly tells and teaches others what is just and legal. If then in the same way, in flute-playing, we had a perfectly willing and ungrudging disposition to teach each other, do you think, Socrates,” said he, “that the sons of good flute-players would become good players, rather than the sons of bad ones? I indeed think not; but the man’s son who happened to have the best natural talent for flute-playing, would rise to distinction; and the man’s son who had no such natural talent, would be undistinguished; and the son of a good flute-player would often turn out a bad one, and the son of a bad one would often turn out a good one. However, all would be sufficiently good flute-players, compared with those who are untaught, and who know nothing of flute-playing. 47. In like manner think that the man who appears to you to be the most unjust of those who 256are trained in the laws, and among civilized men, is just and a proficient in justice, when compared with men, who have neither instruction nor courts of justice, nor laws, nor any necessity that constantly compels them to attend to virtue, but may be considered as savages, such as those whom the poet Pherecrates represented last year, at the Lenæan festival. Assuredly, if you should chance to be thrown among such men as the misanthropes in that play, you would rejoice if you met with a Eurybates and a Phrynondas^[96], and you would deplore with regret the depravity of the men here. But now you are fastidious, Socrates, because all are teachers of virtue as far as they are severally able, though no one appears to you to be so. Again, if you were to enquire for a teacher of the Greek language, not one would be found: nor, I think, if you were to enquire for one who could instruct the sons of our artificers in the very art which they have learnt from their father, so far as the father and the father’s friends who follow the same art are able to teach it, if, I say, you were to enquire for one who could instruct them, I think, Socrates, that a teacher would not easily be found for them, but for those who are utterly unskilled, a teacher would easily be found, and so with respect to virtue and every thing else. 48. But if there is any one who excels us even but a little in advancing others in the road to virtue, we ought to be content. Of these, then, I think I am one, and that far above other men I know certain things by which a man will be made upright and good, and that worth the remuneration which I demand, and even more, as also my pupils think. Therefore I adopt the following method in my demand for remuneration; when any one has learnt from me, if he is willing, he pays the sum that I demand; but if not, having gone to a temple and sworn how much my instructions are worth, he pays that sum.

“Thus much, Socrates,” he continued, “I have said by way of fable and argument, to prove that virtue may be taught, and that the Athenians are of that opinion, and that it is not at all wonderful that the sons of good fathers should turn out bad, or of bad fathers, good, since even the sons of Polycletus, who are of the same age with Paralus and Xanthippus here, are nothing compared with their father, and so with respect to the sons of other artists; these youths, however, do not yet deserve to be 257blamed in this respect; for we have still hopes in them, as they are young.”

49. Protagoras having made such and so long a display, ceased speaking; and I, having continued for a long time enchanted, still looked at him, expecting that he would say something more, and desiring to hear him. But when I perceived that he had in reality ceased, I with difficulty collected myself, and looking towards Hippocrates, said, “O son of Apollodorus, how thankful I am to you for having urged me to come hither; for I esteem it a great privilege to have heard what I have heard from Protagoras; for before this, I thought it was no human care by which good men become good, but now I am persuaded that it is. However, I feel a slight difficulty, which, doubtless, Protagoras will easily explain, since he has explained so much. For if any one should converse with any one of the popular orators on these subjects, he would perhaps hear similar arguments, as from Pericles, for instance, or some other able speaker; but if he should ask them any further questions, like books they are unable either to give an answer or to ask any question themselves. And if one should put any trifling question to them respecting what has been said, as brass when struck sounds for a long time, and prolongs its sound, unless some one lays hold of it, so these orators, when asked some trifling question, answer in a speech drawn out to a great length. 50. But Protagoras here is able to make long and beautiful speeches, as the fact proves, and is also able, when asked a question, to answer briefly, and when questioning, to wait and receive the answer, which are qualities possessed but by a few. Now then, Protagoras, I need a trifle only, so that I shall have all I want if you will answer me this. You say that virtue may be taught; and I, if I could be persuaded by any man, should be persuaded by you. But, what I wondered at your saying, satisfy my mind as to that. For you said that Jupiter sent justice and shame to men; and afterwards, in many parts of your discourse, justice, temperance, holiness, and all qualities of that kind, were spoken of by you, as if they were collectively one thing, virtue. Therefore explain this accurately to me, whether virtue is one thing, and justice, temperance, and holiness, parts of it; or whether these that I have now mentioned are all names of one and the same thing. This is what I still want to know.”

25851. “But it is easy,” said he, “Socrates, to answer this question, that the qualities about which you ask are parts of virtue, which is one thing.”

“Whether,” said I, “are they parts like the parts of a face, the mouth, nose, eyes, and ears; or like the parts of gold, which in no respect differ from each other and from the whole, except in magnitude and littleness?”

“Like the former, it appears to me Socrates, as the parts of the face are to the whole face.”

“Whether, then,” said I, “do men possess these parts of virtue, some one and others another part? or is it necessary that he who has received one should have all?”

“By no means,” he replied, “since many men are brave, but unjust, and again just, but not wise.”

“Are these, then, parts of virtue,” said I, “wisdom and courage?”

“Most assuredly,” he replied, “and wisdom is chief of all the parts.”

“And is every one of them,” said I, “different from every other?”

“Yes.”

“And has each of them its proper function, like the parts of the face? For instance, an eye is not like the ears, nor is its function the same; nor is any one of the others like any other, either as to its function, or in any other respect. Thus, then, with the parts of virtue, is not any one like any other, either in itself, or in its function? Is it not clear that such is the case, since it resembles our example?”

“Such is the case, Socrates,” he replied.

52. Then I said, “Therefore none of the other parts of virtue are like science, or like justice, or like courage, or like temperance, or like holiness.”

“No,” he said.

“Come then,” said I, “let us examine together what the character of each of them is. And first of all, thus; is justice a thing, or not a thing? to me it appears to be a thing; but what does it appear to you to be?”

“To me also it appears to be a thing,” he replied.

“What then? If some one were to ask you and me, ‘Protagoras and Socrates, tell me with respect to this very thing which you have just now named, justice, whether is it in itself 259just or unjust?’ I should answer him that it is just: but what decision would you give? the same as mine, or different?”

“The same,” he replied.

“‘Justice, then, is precisely similar to being just,’ I should say in answer to one who asked the question. And would not you, too?”

“Yes,” he said.

“If, then, after this, he should ask us, ‘Do you not also say that holiness is something?’ we should reply, I think that we do?”

“Yes,” he said.

“‘Do you not say that this too is a thing?’ should we say it is, or not?”

He allowed that we should say it is.

“‘But whether do you say that this very thing is of such a nature as to be unholy, or holy?’ I for my part,” I said, “should be indignant at the question, and should say, ‘Speak properly, my good sir, for scarcely could any thing else be holy, if holiness itself be not holy.’ But what should you say? should not you give the same answer?”

“Certainly,” he said.

“If, then, after this, he should ask us, and say, ‘What then did you mean a little while ago? Or did I not hear you aright? For you appeared to me to say that the parts of virtue are so disposed to each other, that no one of them resembles any other;’ I, for my part should reply, ‘In other respects you heard aright, but in thinking that I too said this, you were mistaken; for Protagoras gave this answer, and I put the question.’ If then he should say, ‘Does he speak the truth, Protagoras; do you say that no one part of virtue is like any other of its parts? Is this your assertion?’ what answer would you give him?”

“I must needs admit it, Socrates,” he replied.

“After admitting this, Protagoras, what answer should we give him, if he further asked us, ‘Is not holiness then of such a nature as to be a just thing, nor justice such as to be a holy thing, but such as to be not holy; and holiness such as to be not just, but unjust, and the former unholy? What answer should we give him? I, for myself, should say both that justice is holy, and holiness just. And for you, if you would permit me, I should make the very same answer, that justice is the same with holiness, or very like it, and that justice bears the nearest possible resemblance to holiness, and holiness to justice. 260But consider whether you would forbid me to give this answer, or does it seem so to you also?”

“It does not altogether appear to me, Socrates,” he said, “to be so absolutely true, that I can grant that justice is holy, and holiness just; but there appears to me to be a difference between them. However what matters that?” he continued: “if you wish it, let it be admitted between us that justice is holy, and holiness just.”

55. “Not so,” I replied, “for I do not require to examine into an ‘If you wish it,’ and ‘If you think so,’ but into what I think and what you think; but in saying ‘what I think and what you think,’ I mean this, I am of opinion that our argument will be best discussed if we put it out of the question altogether.”

“Well then,” he said, “justice has some resemblance to holiness, for every thing resembles every other thing in some respect, for white in some sort resembles black, and hard, soft, and so with respect to other things which appear to be most contrary to each other; and the things which we just now said have different functions, and are not the one like the other, as the parts of the face do in a certain respect resemble each other; so that in this way you could prove this, if you pleased, that all things are similar to each other; yet it is not right to call things that have a certain similarity, similar, nor things that have a certain dissimilarity, dissimilar, though the similarity is very trifling.”

56. And I, wondering, said to him, “Do you think then that the just and the holy are so related to each other, that they have but a trifling similarity to one another?”

“Not quite so,” he said, “nor on the other hand do I consider them in the same way as you appear to me to do.”

“However,” said I, “since you appear to me to be vexed at this, we will dismiss it, and consider this of the other things that you said. Do you call folly any thing?”

He admitted he did.

“And is not wisdom the direct contrary to this thing?”

“It appears so to me,” he replied.

“But when men act rightly and profitably, do they then appear to you to act temperately^[97], in so acting, or the contrary^[98]?”

261“To act temperately,” he replied.

“And are they not temperate by temperance?”

“Necessarily so.”

“Do not they, then, who act wrongly, act foolishly, and are they not intemperate in so acting?”

“I agree with you,” he said.

“Acting foolishly, then, is the contrary to acting temperately.”

He said it was.

“Are not, therefore, things which are done foolishly, done through folly, and things done temperately through temperance?”

He agreed.

“If then any thing is done through strength, is it not done strongly, and if through weakness, weakly?”

“It appears so.”

“And if any thing is done with swiftness, swiftly, and if with slowness, slowly?”

He said it was.

“And if any thing is done in the same manner, is it not done by the same means, and if in a contrary manner by the contrary means?”

He granted it.

57. “Come then,” I said, “is there any thing beautiful?”

He admitted there was.

“Is any thing contrary to this except the ugly?”

“There is not.”

“But what? Is there any thing good?”

“There is.”

“And is any thing contrary to this except evil?”

“There is not.”

262“What? is there any thing high in voice?”

He said there is.

“And is any thing contrary to this except the low?”

“There is not,” he said.

“Therefore,” said I, “to each several contrary there is only one contrary, and not many.”

He granted it.

“Come then,” said I, “let us reckon up our admissions. We have admitted that one thing only is contrary to one, but not more?”

“We have.”

“And that what is done contrariwise, is done by contraries?”

He assented.

“We admitted also that what is done foolishly is done contrariwise to that which is done temperately?”

He assented.

“And that what is done temperately is done by temperance, and what foolishly, by folly?”

He agreed.

“If therefore it is done contrariwise, must it not be done by a contrary?”

“Yes.”

“And the one is done by temperance, and the other by folly?”

“Yes.”

“Contrariwise?”

“Certainly.”

“Through contraries therefore?”

“It appears so.”

“Folly therefore is contrary to temperance?”

“So it appears.”

“Do you remember, however, that we before admitted that folly is contrary to wisdom?”

He allowed it.

“And that one thing only is contrary to one?”

“I grant it.”

58. “Which, then, of these positions must we retract, Protagoras? That which says, that one thing only is contrary to one, or that in which it was asserted, that wisdom is different from temperance, but that each is a part of virtue, and that 263besides being different, both they and their functions are dissimilar, in the same manner as the parts of the face? Which of these, then, must we retract? for these two positions taken together are not set down in a very musical manner; for they neither accord, nor harmonize with each other. For how can they accord, since it is necessary that one thing only should be contrary to one, but not to more, but wisdom and temperance are found to be contrary to folly, which is one. Is it so, Protagoras,” I asked, “or otherwise?”

He admitted that it was so, though very unwillingly.

“Must not, then, temperance and wisdom be one and the same thing? Before, moreover, justice and holiness were found to be nearly the same. 59. Come, however,” said I, “Protagoras, let us not be disheartened, but examine the rest. Does a man who acts unjustly, appear to you to be prudent^[99], because he acts unjustly?”

“I should be ashamed, Socrates,” he said, “to acknowledge this, though many men do say so.”

“Whether, then, shall I address my argument to them,” I asked, “or to you?”

“If you please,” said he, “discuss this statement first, the statement of the many.”

“But it makes no difference to me, if only you will answer, whether these things appear so to you or not: for I am most anxious to sift the statement itself, though it may possibly happen, that both I who question, and you who answer, may ourselves be sifted.”

At first, then, Protagoras began to give himself airs, for he objected that the subject was difficult; afterwards however, he agreed to answer.

60. “Come then,” said I, “answer me from the beginning. Do persons who act unjustly, appear to you to be prudent?”

“Be it so,” he replied.

“And by being prudent, do you mean thinking rightly?” He assented.

“And by thinking rightly that they are well advised when they act unjustly?”

264“Be it so,” said he.

“Is this the case,” I asked, “if they fare well in acting unjustly, or if they fare ill?”

“If they fare well.”

“Do you say then that certain things are good?”

“I do.”

“Are those things good, then,” I asked, “which are advantageous to men?”

“By Jupiter,” said he, “and some things though they are not advantageous to men I call good.”

61. Protagoras now appeared to me to be ruffled and annoyed, and to be set against answering any more: when, therefore, I saw him in this state, I was cautious, and asked him gently: “Whether,” said I, “Protagoras, do you mean things that are advantageous to no man, or things that are advantageous in no respect whatever? and do you call such things good?”

“By no means,” said he; “but I know many things which are useless to men, meats and drinks, and drugs, and ten thousand other things, and some things that are advantageous; and some things that are neither the one nor the other to men, but are to horses, and some to oxen only, and others to dogs, others again to neither of these, but to trees, and others that are good for the roots of trees, but pernicious to their buds, for instance, dung is good when applied to the roots of all plants, but if you were to put it on their branches and young shoots, it destroys the whole. Oil too is very injurious to all plants, and is most destructive to the hairs of all animals except man, but it is of service to the hairs of man, and to the rest of his body. 62. So various and diversified a thing is good, that this very thing is good for the external parts of the human body, but most pernicious to the inward parts. And on this account all physicians forbid the sick to use oil, except only a very small quantity in what they are going to eat, just sufficient to overcome the disagreeable smell of the food and seasoning.”

Protagoras having said this, those that were present loudly applauded him, for that he spoke well. And I said, “Protagoras, I happen to be a forgetful sort of man, and if any one makes me a long speech, I forget what the discussion is about. As, therefore, if I happened to be deaf, you would have thought 265it necessary, if you were about to converse with me, to speak louder than you do to others, so now, since you have met with a forgetful person, curtail your answers for me, and make them briefer, if I am to follow you.”

“How do you bid me answer briefly? Must I answer you,” said he, “more briefly than is requisite?”

“By no means,” I replied.

“But at such length as is requisite?” he asked.

“Yes,” said I.

“Whether, then, must I answer at such length as I think requisite, or as you?”

63. “I have heard,” I replied, “that you are both yourself able, and can teach others to make a long speech on the same subject if you please, so as never to be in want of words, and again to speak so briefly, that no one can express himself in fewer words than you. If, therefore, you mean to converse with me, use the other method with me, that of brevity.”

“Socrates,” said he, “I have ere this entered into discussion with many men, and if I had done what you bid me, that is, had conversed as my antagonist bade me converse, I should not have appeared to excel any one, nor would the name of Protagoras have been celebrated in Greece.”

64. Then I (for I perceived that he was not pleased with his former answers, and that he would not willingly carry on the conversation by answering my questions) thinking that I had no longer any business to be present at the conference, said, “Protagoras, I am not anxious to continue our conference contrary to your wish; but whenever you are willing to converse in such a manner that I can follow you, I will then converse with you. For you, as is reported of you, and as you admit yourself, are able to carry on a conference both with prolixity and brevity; for you are wise; but I am unable to follow these long speeches; though I wish that I could. But it was fitting, that you, who are capable of doing both, should yield to me, in order that the conference might continue: now however, since you are not willing and I have business to attend to, and am unable to stay while you are extending your speeches to a great length (for I have somewhere to go to), I will take my departure; though otherwise perhaps I might have listened to these things with pleasure.”

65. And as I spoke thus, I rose to depart. And as I was 266rising, Callias takes hold of me with his right hand, and with his left seized my cloak, and said, “We shall not let you go, Socrates; for if you go away, our conversation will no longer be the same. I beseech you, therefore, stay with us; for there is no one I would more gladly hear than you and Protagoras conversing together; therefore oblige us all.”

To this I said—I already stood up ready to go—“Son of Hipponicus, I always admire your love of wisdom; but I now both praise and love it; so that I should wish to gratify you, if you asked me what was possible. But now it is as if you should ask me to keep up with Crison of Himera, a runner in his prime, or to run a race and keep up with one of the long-distance runners or day-couriers; I should say to you, that I wish much more than you do that I could keep pace with these runners, but I cannot, but if you wish to see me and Crison running together, you must request him to slacken his pace; for I am not able to run swiftly, but he is able to run slowly. So if you desire to hear me and Protagoras, you must request him to continue to answer as he did at first, briefly and to the question. But if not, what kind of conversation will arise? I for my part thought that it is one thing to converse together, and another to harangue.”

66. “But you see, Socrates,” said he, “Protagoras appears to ask what is just, in requiring that he may be allowed to converse as he pleases, and you as you please.”

Alcibiades, thereupon, taking up the discourse, said, “You do not speak fairly, Callias; for Socrates here admits that he has not the faculty of making long speeches, and yields to Protagoras, but in the power of conversing, and knowing how to give and receive a reason, I should wonder if he yielded to any man. If then, Protagoras confesses that he is inferior to Socrates in conversing, that is enough for Socrates; but if he pretends to rival him, let him carry on the conversation by question and answer, not making a long speech in answer to each question, evading the argument and not choosing to give a reason, but prolonging his speech until most of the hearers forget what the question was about. For as for Socrates, I will be his surety that he will not forget, notwithstanding he jests and says he is forgetful. To me, therefore, Socrates appears to make the fairer proposition; for it is right that every one should declare his own opinion.”

26767. After Alcibiades, it was Critias, I think, who said, “Prodicus and Hippias, Callias appears to me to be very much on the side of Protagoras; but Alcibiades is always fond of contention, to whatever he applies himself. We, however, ought not to contend with each other, either for Socrates or Protagoras, but we should join in requesting them both not to break up the conference in the middle.”

When he had spoken thus, Prodicus^[100] said, “You seem to me to say well, Critias: for it is right that those who are present at discussions of this kind should be common, but not equal hearers of both speakers. For it is not the same thing: for it is requisite to hear both in common, but not to give equal attention to each of them, but to the wiser more, and to the less learned less. 68. I too, Protagoras and Socrates, beg of you to make concessions to each other, and to argue with one another, but not to wrangle; for friends argue with friends out of good will, but adversaries and enemies wrangle with one another. And thus the conference will be most admirably conducted. For you, the speakers, will thus be highly approved, not praised, by us the hearers; for approbation is felt in the mind of the hearers, and is without deception; but praise is bestowed in words, by persons often who speak untruly, contrary to their real opinion; again, we, the hearers, shall thus be highly delighted, not pleased, for delight takes place when one learns something and acquires wisdom in one’s mind, but pleasure when one eats something, or experiences some other agreeable sensation in one’s body.”

69. When Prodicus had thus spoken, many of those that were present approved of what he said. But after Prodicus, Hippias the wise spoke: “My friends who are here present,” said he, “I regard you all as kinsmen, relatives, and fellow-citizens by nature, though not by law; for like is by nature akin to like, but law being a tyrant over men, compels many things to be done contrary to nature. It were disgraceful, then, for us to know the nature of things, to be the wisest of the Greeks, and in this very character to have met together in the city of Greece, which is the very prytaneum of wisdom, and in the noblest and wealthiest house in this city, and then to exhibit 268nothing worthy of this high rank, but like the lowest of men to disagree with each other. 70. I therefore both entreat and advise you, Protagoras and Socrates, to come to terms under our authority, who as arbitrators will bring you to an agreement; and neither do you, Socrates, require that exact form of dialogue, which is so very concise, unless it is agreeable to Protagoras, but relax somewhat and give the reins to your discourse, that it may appear to us with more majesty and grace; nor on the other hand, do you, Protagoras, stretching every rope, and carrying all sail, scud to an ocean of words out of sight of land, but both of you keep a middle course. Do thus then, and be persuaded by me to choose a moderator, president, and prytanis, who will oblige you to keep within moderate bounds on either side.”

This pleased those that were present, and all approved, and Callias said that he would not let me go, and they urged me to choose a president. 71. I said therefore, “that it would be a shame to choose an umpire for our arguments; for if the person chosen should be our inferior, it would not be right that the inferior should preside over his superiors, nor if he should be equal, would this be right; for one that is equal will act the same as we do, so that the choice will be superfluous. But you will choose some one better than we are; in reality I think it impossible for you to choose any one wiser than Protagoras here: but if you should choose one in no respect superior, though you shall affirm that he is, this also will be a disgrace to him, to have a president chosen for him, as if he were a common person: for as to myself it makes no difference. I am willing, then, to act as follows, that our conference and conversation may continue, which you so earnestly desire: if Protagoras is not willing to answer, let him ask questions, and I will answer; and at the same time I will endeavour to shew him, how I say one who answers ought to answer. But when I have answered all the questions that he chooses to ask, let him in his turn, in like manner, reply to me. If, however, he should not appear disposed to answer the exact question put to him, both you and I will join in intreating of him, as you now do of me, not to destroy the conversation. And for this purpose there is no occasion for one president to be appointed, but you will all be presidents in common.”

72. It appeared to all that this was what ought to be done. 269And though Protagoras was not very willing to comply, yet he was compelled to consent to ask questions, and when he had asked enough in his turn to reply to my questions with brevity. He began therefore pretty nearly as follows:

“I think,” said he, “Socrates, that the most important part of a man’s education consists in being skilled in poetical composition; that is, to be able to understand what has been said by the poets, both what has been correctly composed and what incorrectly, and to know how to distinguish and to give a reason when asked about them. And now the question shall be on the very subject about which you and I have been conversing, virtue, but it shall be transferred to poetry. For Simonides somewhere says to Scopas, son of Creon the Thessalian, ‘That to become a good man is truly difficult, square as to his hands and feet and mind, fashioned without fault.’ Do you know the ode, or shall I repeat the whole to you?”

73. I said, “There is no necessity, for I know it, and have studied the ode with great attention.”

“You say well,” he then observed, “Whether, does it appear to you to have been composed beautifully and correctly or not?”

“Certainly,” said I, “both beautifully and correctly.”

“But does it appear to you to have been composed beautifully if the poet contradicts himself?”

“Not beautifully,” I replied.

“Consider it, then, more attentively,” said he.

“But my good friend, I have examined it sufficiently.”

“You know, then,” said he, “that in the course of the ode he says somewhere, ‘That saying of Pittacus does not please me, though uttered by a wise man, wherein he says, it is difficult to continue to be good.’ Do you observe, that the same person makes both this and the former remark?”

“I know it,” I replied.

“Does it appear to you then,” said he, “that the one agrees with the other?”

“It appears so to me.” And at the same time I was afraid lest there should be something in what he said. “But,” said I, “does not it appear so to you?”

“How can he who made both these assertions agree with himself, who first of all laid it down in his own person, that it is truly difficult to become a good man, and a little further 270on this person forgets himself and blames Pittacus for saying the same thing that he had said himself, ‘that it is difficult to be good,’ and asserts that he cannot approve of his saying the very same thing as himself. Surely in blaming a man who says the same things as himself, it is clear that he blames himself, so that in the former or the latter place he does not speak correctly.”

74. In saying this he elicited applause and praise from many of the hearers. And I, at first, as if I had been hit by a skilful boxer, was blinded, and made giddy, by his saying this, and by the applause of the others; but afterwards, to tell you the truth, that I might have time to consider what the poet meant, I turned to Prodicus, and calling out to him, said, “Prodicus, Simonides was your fellow-citizen; you are bound to assist the man. I seem then, to call upon you, in the same manner as Homer^[101] says Scamander, when assailed by Achilles, called upon Simois, saying, ‘Dear brother, let us unite to repel the prowess of this man.’ So I call upon you, let not Protagoras overthrow Simonides. For the defence of Simonides requires that exquisite skill of yours, by which you distinguish between to will and to desire, as not being the same, and by which you just now established many and beautiful distinctions. And now consider, whether your opinion agrees with mine: for Simonides does not appear to me to contradict himself. But do you, Prodicus, first declare your opinion. Does it appear to you that to become and to be are the same or different?”

“Different by Jupiter,” said Prodicus.

75. “Has not Simonides himself then,” said I, “in the first passage, declared his own opinion, that it is in truth difficult to become a good man?”

“You say truly,” replied Prodicus.

“But he blames Pittacus,” I continued, “not as Protagoras thinks, for saying the same thing that he had said, but something different. For Pittacus does not say that this is the difficulty, to become a good man, as Simonides does, but this, to be so; but Protagoras, as Prodicus here says, to be and to become are not the same; and if to be and to become are not the same, Simonides does not contradict himself. And perhaps Prodicus here, and many others, may say with Hesiod,^[102] ‘that it is difficult to become good; for that the gods have placed 271sweat before virtue; but when any one has reached its summit, it is then easy to acquire, though before it was difficult.’”

76. Prodicus, on hearing this, commended me; but Protagoras said, “Your defence, Socrates, is more erroneous than the passage which you defend.”

And I said, “Then I have done ill, as it seems, Protagoras, and I am an absurd physician; in attempting to cure, I make the disease worse.”

“So it is however,” he said.

“But how?” I asked.

“Great must have been the poet’s ignorance,” he replied, “if he asserts that virtue is so easy a thing to be acquired, whereas it is the most difficult of all, as all men think.”

77. And I said, “By Jupiter, Prodicus here is very opportunely present at our discussion. For the wisdom of Prodicus appears, O Protagoras, to have been of old divine, whether it began with Simonides, or is even still more ancient. But you, who are skilled in many other things, appear to be unskilled in this, and not skilled in it as I am, from being the disciple of this Prodicus. And now you appear to me not to be aware that Simonides probably did not understand this word ‘difficult,’ in the same sense as you understand it; but as with the word δεινὸς, (terrible and clever,) Prodicus here is continually taking me to task, when in praising you, or any one else, I say, that Protagoras is a wise and terrible man, he asks if I am not ashamed of calling good things terrible, for what is terrible, he says, is evil; hence no one ever speaks of terrible riches, or terrible peace, or terrible health, but every one says terrible disease, and terrible war, and terrible poverty, since whatever is terrible is evil. Perhaps, therefore, the Ceans and Simonides understand by the word difficult either that which is bad, or something else that you are not aware of. 78. Let us then ask Prodicus; for it is right to enquire of him the meaning of words used by Simonides; what, Prodicus, does Simonides mean by the word difficult?”

“Evil,” he replied.

“For this reason, then,” I continued, “Prodicus, he blames Pittacus for saying that it is difficult to be good, as if he had heard him say that it is evil to be good.”

“But what else but this, Socrates,” he asked, “do you think Simonides meant and found fault with in Pittacus, that he did 272not know how to distinguish terms rightly, as being a Lesbian, and educated in a barbarous dialect?”

“Do you hear Prodicus,” said I, “Protagoras? And have you any objection to make to this?”

Thereupon Protagoras said, 79. “This is far from being the case, Prodicus; for I am very sure that Simonides meant by the word difficult the same that we all do, not what is evil, but that which is not easy, but is accomplished by much toil.”

“And I too think, Protagoras,” I said, “that Simonides meant this, and that Prodicus here knows he did, but he is jesting, and is willing to try whether you are able to maintain your own assertion. For that Simonides does not by the word difficult mean evil, is strongly confirmed by the expression immediately after this; for he says, that ‘God alone possesses this privilege,’ not surely meaning that it is evil to be good; then he adds that God alone possesses this, and he attributes this privilege to God alone; for in that case Prodicus would call Simonides a profligate, and by no means a Cean. But I am willing to tell you what appears to me to have been the design of Simonides in this ode, if you think proper to make trial of my poetical skill, as you call it; or if you prefer it, I will listen to you.”

80. Protagoras, therefore, hearing me speak thus, said, “If you please, Socrates;” but Prodicus, Hippias, and the rest, urged me very much.

“I will endeavour, then,” said I, “to explain to you what I think of this ode. Philosophy is most ancient and most prevalent in Crete and Lacedæmon of all Greece, and sophists are more numerous there than any where else. They deny it, however, and pretend to be ignorant, in order that they may not be discovered to surpass the rest of the Greeks in wisdom, like those sophists whom Protagoras mentioned, but that they may appear to excel in fighting and courage, thinking that, if it were known in what they excel, all men would engage in the same pursuit. But now, concealing this, they deceive those who affect Spartan manners in other cities, for some, in imitation of them, have their ears bruised, and bind their arms with the thongs of the cestus, and devote themselves to gymnastic exercises, and wear short garments, as if in these things the Lacedæmonians excelled the other Greeks. But the Lacedæmonians, now that they wish to converse without restraint with 273the sophists among them, and are wearied with conversing with them in secret, expelling these imitators of Spartan manners, and any other stranger that is living in their country, converse with the sophists unknown to all strangers; and they do not suffer any of their young men to go out to other cities, as neither do the Cretans, lest they should unlearn what they have taught them. 81. And in these cities there are not only men that pride themselves on their learning, but women also. And you may know, that in this I speak truly, and that the Lacedæmonians are admirably instructed in philosophy and the art of speaking, from the following circumstance: for if any one wishes to converse with the meanest of the Lacedæmonians, he will find him, for the most part, apparently an ordinary person in conversation, but afterwards, when a proper opportunity presents itself, he sends forth, like a skilful lancer, a notable saying, brief and pointed, so that he who converses with him will appear to be nothing better than a boy. Accordingly some persons, both of the present day and of former times, have observed this very thing, that to imitate Spartan manners consists much more in studying philosophy, than devoting one’s-self to gymnastic exercises, since they know that to be able to utter such sayings is a proof of a highly educated man. 82. Among these were Thales of Miletus, Pittacus of Mitylene, Bias of Priene, our own Solon, Cleobulus of Lindus, Myson of Chene, and the seventh among them was reckoned the Lacedæmonian Chilo. These all were emulators, lovers, and disciples of the Lacedæmonian education, and any one may discover that their wisdom was of this kind, brief and memorable sayings uttered by each of them. These men also, having met together, consecrated the first-fruits of their wisdom to Apollo in the temple at Delphi, inscribing those sentences which all men have in their mouths: ‘Know thyself,’ and ‘Nothing in extremes.’

“But why do I mention these things? To shew that this was the mode of philosophy among the ancients, a certain laconic brevity of diction. Amongst the rest this particular saying of Pittacus was noised abroad, being extolled by the wise men: ‘It is difficult to be good.’ Simonides, therefore, as being ambitious of a reputation for wisdom, knew that if he could overthrow this saying, as if it were a famous wrestler, and could master it, he himself would become famous amongst the men of 274his own time. In opposition to this sentence, therefore, and with this object, designing to put it down, he composed the whole of this ode, as it appears to me.

83. “Let all of us, however, examine it together, to see whether what I say is true. For the very commencement of the ode would appear to be insane, if, wishing to say that it is difficult to become a good man, he had afterwards inserted the particle ‘indeed.’ For this appears to have been inserted for no purpose whatever, unless we suppose that Simonides is speaking as if he were quarrelling with the saying of Pittacus; and that when Pittacus says, that ‘it is difficult to be good,’ he, disputing this, says, ‘Not so,’ but it is indeed difficult, Pittacus, to become good in very truth; not ‘truly good.’ For he does not use the word truly in this way, as if some men were truly good, and others good indeed, but not truly so, for this would have been silly, and not worthy of Simonides; but it is necessary to transpose the word ‘truly’ in the ode, understanding the saying of Pittacus somewhat as follows, as if we were to make Pittacus himself speak, and Simonides answer, saying, ‘O men, it is difficult to be good,’ but the latter answers, ‘Pittacus, your assertion is not true: for not to be, but to become indeed a good man, square as to one’s hands and feet, and mind, fashioned without blame, is truly difficult.’ Thus it appears that the particle ‘indeed’ is inserted with good reason, and that the word ‘truly’ is rightly placed at the end. And all that follows bears witness to this, that such is the meaning. 84. Many things might be said to prove with respect to each several passage in this ode, that it is well composed; for it is very elegant and elaborate; but it would be too long to go through the whole of it in this way. Let us then consider its whole outline and design, which is nothing else than a refutation of the saying of Pittacus throughout the ode. For he says shortly after this, proceeding as if he would say, to become a good man is truly difficult, it is possible however for a certain time: but having become to continue in this condition, and to be a good man, as you say, Pittacus, is impossible and more than human, but God alone possesses this privilege; ‘but it cannot be that a man should be otherwise than evil, whomsoever irresistible calamity prostrates.’ 85. Whom, then, does irresistible calamity prostrate in the command of a ship? Clearly not a private person, for the private person is always 275prostrate; as therefore no one can throw down a man who is lying on the ground, but sometimes one may throw down one who is standing upright, so as to make him lie on the ground, but not one already lying there, so an irresistible calamity may sometimes prostrate a skilful man, but never one who is always unskilful; and a violent storm bursting on a pilot may make his skill of no avail, and a bad season befalling a farmer may make his skill of no avail, and the same with a physician: for it befals a good man to become evil, as is also testified by another poet, who says, ‘A good man is sometimes evil, and sometimes good:’ but it does not befal the evil to become so, but he must needs always be so. So that when an irresistible calamity prostrates a skilful, wise, and good man, it is not possible for him not to be evil; but you say, Pittacus, that it is difficult to be good; but the difficulty is to become good, though it is possible, but impossible to be so. 86. ‘For every man who fares well is good, but evil if he fares ill.’ What then is faring well with respect to literature? and what makes a man good in literature? Clearly the being instructed in it. What faring well makes a good physician? Clearly the being instructed in the art of curing the sick. ‘And evil if he fares ill.’ Who then would become an evil physician? Clearly he to whom it happens first to be a physician, and then a good physician; for he may become an evil physician. But we who are ignorant of the medical art, can never by faring ill become either physicians, or builders, or any thing else of the kind; but whoever cannot become a physician by faring ill, clearly cannot become an evil physician. Thus also a good man may sometime or other become evil, either from length of time, or labour, or disease, or some other accident, for this alone is a faring ill, to be deprived of knowledge, but the evil man can never become evil, for he is always so; but if he is to become evil, it is necessary for him first to become good. So that this part of the ode tends to this, that it is not possible to be a good man, so as to continue good; but that it is possible to become good, and for the same person to become evil: ‘and they are for the longest time best whom the gods love.’