And what will they make of you?
A statuary, of course.
Well now, I said, you and I are going to Protagoras, and we are ready
to pay him money on your behalf. If our own means are sufficient, and we
can gain him with these, we shall be only too glad; but if not, then we
are to spend the money of your friends as well. Now suppose, that while
we are thus enthusiastically pursuing our object some one were to say to
us: Tell me, Socrates, and you Hippocrates, what is Protagoras, and
why are you going to pay him money,--how should we answer? I know that
Pheidias is a sculptor, and that Homer is a poet; but what appellation
is given to Protagoras? how is he designated?
They call him a Sophist, Socrates, he replied.
Then we are going to pay our money to him in the character of a Sophist?
Certainly.
But suppose a person were to ask this further question: And how about
yourself? What will Protagoras make of you, if you go to see him?
He answered, with a blush upon his face (for the day was just beginning
to dawn, so that I could see him): Unless this differs in some way from
the former instances, I suppose that he will make a Sophist of me.
By the gods, I said, and are you not ashamed at having to appear before
the Hellenes in the character of a Sophist?
Indeed, Socrates, to confess the truth, I am.
But you should not assume, Hippocrates, that the instruction of
Protagoras is of this nature: may you not learn of him in the same way
that you learned the arts of the grammarian, or musician, or trainer,
not with the view of making any of them a profession, but only as a part
of education, and because a private gentleman and freeman ought to know
them?
Just so, he said; and that, in my opinion, is a far truer account of the
teaching of Protagoras.