Then to act foolishly is the opposite of acting temperately?
He assented.
And foolish actions are done by folly, and temperate actions by
temperance?
He agreed.
And that is done strongly which is done by strength, and that which is
weakly done, by weakness?
He assented.
And that which is done with swiftness is done swiftly, and that which is
done with slowness, slowly?
He assented again.
And that which is done in the same manner, is done by the same; and that
which is done in an opposite manner by the opposite?
He agreed.
Once more, I said, is there anything beautiful?
Yes.
To which the only opposite is the ugly?
There is no other.
And is there anything good?
There is.
To which the only opposite is the evil?
There is no other.
And there is the acute in sound?
True.
To which the only opposite is the grave?
There is no other, he said, but that.
Then every opposite has one opposite only and no more?
He assented.
Then now, I said, let us recapitulate our admissions. First of all we
admitted that everything has one opposite and not more than one?
We did so.
And we admitted also that what was done in opposite ways was done by
opposites?
Yes.
And that which was done foolishly, as we further admitted, was done in
the opposite way to that which was done temperately?
Yes.
And that which was done temperately was done by temperance, and that
which was done foolishly by folly?
He agreed.
And that which is done in opposite ways is done by opposites?
Yes.
And one thing is done by temperance, and quite another thing by folly?
Yes.
And in opposite ways?
Certainly.
And therefore by opposites:--then folly is the opposite of temperance?
Clearly.
And do you remember that folly has already been acknowledged by us to be
the opposite of wisdom?
He assented.
And we said that everything has only one opposite?
Yes.
Then, Protagoras, which of the two assertions shall we renounce? One
says that everything has but one opposite; the other that wisdom is
distinct from temperance, and that both of them are parts of virtue; and
that they are not only distinct, but dissimilar, both in themselves
and in their functions, like the parts of a face. Which of these two
assertions shall we renounce? For both of them together are certainly
not in harmony; they do not accord or agree: for how can they be said
to agree if everything is assumed to have only one opposite and not
more than one, and yet folly, which is one, has clearly the two
opposites--wisdom and temperance? Is not that true, Protagoras? What
else would you say?
He assented, but with great reluctance.
Then temperance and wisdom are the same, as before justice and holiness
appeared to us to be nearly the same. And now, Protagoras, I said, we
must finish the enquiry, and not faint. Do you think that an unjust man
can be temperate in his injustice?
I should be ashamed, Socrates, he said, to acknowledge this, which
nevertheless many may be found to assert.
And shall I argue with them or with you? I replied.
I would rather, he said, that you should argue with the many first, if
you will.
Whichever you please, if you will only answer me and say whether you
are of their opinion or not. My object is to test the validity of the
argument; and yet the result may be that I who ask and you who answer
may both be put on our trial.
Protagoras at first made a show of refusing, as he said that the
argument was not encouraging; at length, he consented to answer.
Now then, I said, begin at the beginning and answer me. You think that
some men are temperate, and yet unjust?
Yes, he said; let that be admitted.
And temperance is good sense?
Yes.
And good sense is good counsel in doing injustice?
Granted.
If they succeed, I said, or if they do not succeed?
If they succeed.
And you would admit the existence of goods?
Yes.
And is the good that which is expedient for man?
Yes, indeed, he said: and there are some things which may be
inexpedient, and yet I call them good.
I thought that Protagoras was getting ruffled and excited; he seemed
to be setting himself in an attitude of war. Seeing this, I minded my
business, and gently said:--
When you say, Protagoras, that things inexpedient are good, do you mean
inexpedient for man only, or inexpedient altogether? and do you call the
latter good?
Certainly not the last, he replied; for I know of many things--meats,
drinks, medicines, and ten thousand other things, which are inexpedient
for man, and some which are expedient; and some which are neither
expedient nor inexpedient for man, but only for horses; and some for
oxen only, and some for dogs; and some for no animals, but only for
trees; and some for the roots of trees and not for their branches, as
for example, manure, which is a good thing when laid about the roots
of a tree, but utterly destructive if thrown upon the shoots and young
branches; or I may instance olive oil, which is mischievous to all
plants, and generally most injurious to the hair of every animal with
the exception of man, but beneficial to human hair and to the human body
generally; and even in this application (so various and changeable
is the nature of the benefit), that which is the greatest good to the
outward parts of a man, is a very great evil to his inward parts: and
for this reason physicians always forbid their patients the use of
oil in their food, except in very small quantities, just enough to
extinguish the disagreeable sensation of smell in meats and sauces.
When he had given this answer, the company cheered him. And I said:
Protagoras, I have a wretched memory, and when any one makes a long
speech to me I never remember what he is talking about. As then, if I
had been deaf, and you were going to converse with me, you would have
had to raise your voice; so now, having such a bad memory, I will ask
you to cut your answers shorter, if you would take me with you.
What do you mean? he said: how am I to shorten my answers? shall I make
them too short?
Certainly not, I said.
But short enough?
Yes, I said.
Shall I answer what appears to me to be short enough, or what appears to
you to be short enough?
I have heard, I said, that you can speak and teach others to speak about
the same things at such length that words never seemed to fail, or with
such brevity that no one could use fewer of them. Please therefore, if
you talk with me, to adopt the latter or more compendious method.
Socrates, he replied, many a battle of words have I fought, and if I had
followed the method of disputation which my adversaries desired, as you
want me to do, I should have been no better than another, and the name
of Protagoras would have been nowhere.
I saw that he was not satisfied with his previous answers, and that he
would not play the part of answerer any more if he could help; and I
considered that there was no call upon me to continue the conversation;
so I said: Protagoras, I do not wish to force the conversation upon you
if you had rather not, but when you are willing to argue with me in such
a way that I can follow you, then I will argue with you. Now you, as
is said of you by others and as you say of yourself, are able to have
discussions in shorter forms of speech as well as in longer, for you are
a master of wisdom; but I cannot manage these long speeches: I only wish
that I could. You, on the other hand, who are capable of either, ought
to speak shorter as I beg you, and then we might converse. But I see
that you are disinclined, and as I have an engagement which will prevent
my staying to hear you at greater length (for I have to be in another
place), I will depart; although I should have liked to have heard you.
Thus I spoke, and was rising from my seat, when Callias seized me by the
right hand, and in his left hand caught hold of this old cloak of mine.
He said: We cannot let you go, Socrates, for if you leave us there will
be an end of our discussions: I must therefore beg you to remain, as
there is nothing in the world that I should like better than to hear you
and Protagoras discourse. Do not deny the company this pleasure.
Now I had got up, and was in the act of departure. Son of Hipponicus,
I replied, I have always admired, and do now heartily applaud and love
your philosophical spirit, and I would gladly comply with your request,
if I could. But the truth is that I cannot. And what you ask is as great
an impossibility to me, as if you bade me run a race with Crison of
Himera, when in his prime, or with some one of the long or day course
runners. To such a request I should reply that I would fain ask the same
of my own legs; but they refuse to comply. And therefore if you want
to see Crison and me in the same stadium, you must bid him slacken his
speed to mine, for I cannot run quickly, and he can run slowly. And in
like manner if you want to hear me and Protagoras discoursing, you must
ask him to shorten his answers, and keep to the point, as he did at
first; if not, how can there be any discussion? For discussion is one
thing, and making an oration is quite another, in my humble opinion.
But you see, Socrates, said Callias, that Protagoras may fairly claim to
speak in his own way, just as you claim to speak in yours.
Here Alcibiades interposed, and said: That, Callias, is not a true
statement of the case. For our friend Socrates admits that he cannot
make a speech--in this he yields the palm to Protagoras: but I should
be greatly surprised if he yielded to any living man in the power of
holding and apprehending an argument. Now if Protagoras will make
a similar admission, and confess that he is inferior to Socrates in
argumentative skill, that is enough for Socrates; but if he claims a
superiority in argument as well, let him ask and answer--not, when
a question is asked, slipping away from the point, and instead of
answering, making a speech at such length that most of his hearers
forget the question at issue (not that Socrates is likely to forget--I
will be bound for that, although he may pretend in fun that he has a
bad memory). And Socrates appears to me to be more in the right than
Protagoras; that is my view, and every man ought to say what he thinks.
When Alcibiades had done speaking, some one--Critias, I believe--went on
to say: O Prodicus and Hippias, Callias appears to me to be a partisan
of Protagoras: and this led Alcibiades, who loves opposition, to take
the other side. But we should not be partisans either of Socrates or of
Protagoras; let us rather unite in entreating both of them not to break
up the discussion.
Prodicus added: That, Critias, seems to me to be well said, for those
who are present at such discussions ought to be impartial hearers of
both the speakers; remembering, however, that impartiality is not the
same as equality, for both sides should be impartially heard, and yet
an equal meed should not be assigned to both of them; but to the wiser a
higher meed should be given, and a lower to the less wise. And I as well
as Critias would beg you, Protagoras and Socrates, to grant our request,
which is, that you will argue with one another and not wrangle; for
friends argue with friends out of good-will, but only adversaries and
enemies wrangle. And then our meeting will be delightful; for in this
way you, who are the speakers, will be most likely to win esteem, and
not praise only, among us who are your audience; for esteem is a sincere
conviction of the hearers' souls, but praise is often an insincere
expression of men uttering falsehoods contrary to their conviction.
And thus we who are the hearers will be gratified and not pleased; for
gratification is of the mind when receiving wisdom and knowledge, but
pleasure is of the body when eating or experiencing some other bodily
delight. Thus spoke Prodicus, and many of the company applauded his
words.
Hippias the sage spoke next. He said: All of you who are here present I
reckon to be kinsmen and friends and fellow-citizens, by nature and not
by law; for by nature like is akin to like, whereas law is the tyrant
of mankind, and often compels us to do many things which are against
nature. How great would be the disgrace then, if we, who know the nature
of things, and are the wisest of the Hellenes, and as such are met
together in this city, which is the metropolis of wisdom, and in the
greatest and most glorious house of this city, should have nothing to
show worthy of this height of dignity, but should only quarrel with
one another like the meanest of mankind! I do pray and advise you,
Protagoras, and you, Socrates, to agree upon a compromise. Let us be
your peacemakers. And do not you, Socrates, aim at this precise and
extreme brevity in discourse, if Protagoras objects, but loosen and let
go the reins of speech, that your words may be grander and more becoming
to you. Neither do you, Protagoras, go forth on the gale with every sail
set out of sight of land into an ocean of words, but let there be a mean
observed by both of you. Do as I say. And let me also persuade you to
choose an arbiter or overseer or president; he will keep watch over your
words and will prescribe their proper length.
This proposal was received by the company with universal approval;
Callias said that he would not let me off, and they begged me to choose
an arbiter. But I said that to choose an umpire of discourse would be
unseemly; for if the person chosen was inferior, then the inferior or
worse ought not to preside over the better; or if he was equal, neither
would that be well; for he who is our equal will do as we do, and what
will be the use of choosing him? And if you say, 'Let us have a better
then,'--to that I answer that you cannot have any one who is wiser than
Protagoras. And if you choose another who is not really better, and whom
you only say is better, to put another over him as though he were an
inferior person would be an unworthy reflection on him; not that, as far
as I am concerned, any reflection is of much consequence to me. Let
me tell you then what I will do in order that the conversation and
discussion may go on as you desire. If Protagoras is not disposed to
answer, let him ask and I will answer; and I will endeavour to show at
the same time how, as I maintain, he ought to answer: and when I have
answered as many questions as he likes to ask, let him in like manner
answer me; and if he seems to be not very ready at answering the precise
question asked of him, you and I will unite in entreating him, as you
entreated me, not to spoil the discussion. And this will require no
special arbiter--all of you shall be arbiters.
This was generally approved, and Protagoras, though very much against
his will, was obliged to agree that he would ask questions; and when he
had put a sufficient number of them, that he would answer in his turn
those which he was asked in short replies. He began to put his questions
as follows:--
I am of opinion, Socrates, he said, that skill in poetry is the
principal part of education; and this I conceive to be the power of
knowing what compositions of the poets are correct, and what are not,
and how they are to be distinguished, and of explaining when asked the
reason of the difference. And I propose to transfer the question which
you and I have been discussing to the domain of poetry; we will speak as
before of virtue, but in reference to a passage of a poet. Now Simonides
says to Scopas the son of Creon the Thessalian:
'Hardly on the one hand can a man become truly good, built four-square
in hands and feet and mind, a work without a flaw.'
Do you know the poem? or shall I repeat the whole?
There is no need, I said; for I am perfectly well acquainted with the
ode,--I have made a careful study of it.
Very well, he said. And do you think that the ode is a good composition,
and true?
Yes, I said, both good and true.
But if there is a contradiction, can the composition be good or true?
No, not in that case, I replied.
And is there not a contradiction? he asked. Reflect.
Well, my friend, I have reflected.
And does not the poet proceed to say, 'I do not agree with the word of
Pittacus, albeit the utterance of a wise man: Hardly can a man be good'?
Now you will observe that this is said by the same poet.