And the reason of this is that they have knowledge?
Yes, that is the reason.
And who have confidence when fighting on horseback--the skilled horseman
or the unskilled?
The skilled.
And who when fighting with light shields--the peltasts or the
nonpeltasts?
The peltasts. And that is true of all other things, he said, if that is
your point: those who have knowledge are more confident than those who
have no knowledge, and they are more confident after they have learned
than before.
And have you not seen persons utterly ignorant, I said, of these things,
and yet confident about them?
Yes, he said, I have seen such persons far too confident.
And are not these confident persons also courageous?
In that case, he replied, courage would be a base thing, for the men of
whom we are speaking are surely madmen.
Then who are the courageous? Are they not the confident?
Yes, he said; to that statement I adhere.
And those, I said, who are thus confident without knowledge are really
not courageous, but mad; and in that case the wisest are also the most
confident, and being the most confident are also the bravest, and upon
that view again wisdom will be courage.
Nay, Socrates, he replied, you are mistaken in your remembrance of
what was said by me. When you asked me, I certainly did say that
the courageous are the confident; but I was never asked whether the
confident are the courageous; if you had asked me, I should have
answered 'Not all of them': and what I did answer you have not proved to
be false, although you proceeded to show that those who have knowledge
are more courageous than they were before they had knowledge, and more
courageous than others who have no knowledge, and were then led on to
think that courage is the same as wisdom. But in this way of arguing you
might come to imagine that strength is wisdom. You might begin by asking
whether the strong are able, and I should say 'Yes'; and then whether
those who know how to wrestle are not more able to wrestle than those
who do not know how to wrestle, and more able after than before they had
learned, and I should assent. And when I had admitted this, you might
use my admissions in such a way as to prove that upon my view wisdom is
strength; whereas in that case I should not have admitted, any more than
in the other, that the able are strong, although I have admitted that
the strong are able. For there is a difference between ability and
strength; the former is given by knowledge as well as by madness or
rage, but strength comes from nature and a healthy state of the body.
And in like manner I say of confidence and courage, that they are not
the same; and I argue that the courageous are confident, but not all
the confident courageous. For confidence may be given to men by art, and
also, like ability, by madness and rage; but courage comes to them from
nature and the healthy state of the soul.
I said: You would admit, Protagoras, that some men live well and others
ill?
He assented.
And do you think that a man lives well who lives in pain and grief?
He does not.
But if he lives pleasantly to the end of his life, will he not in that
case have lived well?
He will.
Then to live pleasantly is a good, and to live unpleasantly an evil?
Yes, he said, if the pleasure be good and honourable.
And do you, Protagoras, like the rest of the world, call some pleasant
things evil and some painful things good?--for I am rather disposed to
say that things are good in as far as they are pleasant, if they have no
consequences of another sort, and in as far as they are painful they are
bad.
I do not know, Socrates, he said, whether I can venture to assert in
that unqualified manner that the pleasant is the good and the painful
the evil. Having regard not only to my present answer, but also to the
whole of my life, I shall be safer, if I am not mistaken, in saying that
there are some pleasant things which are not good, and that there are
some painful things which are good, and some which are not good, and
that there are some which are neither good nor evil.
And you would call pleasant, I said, the things which participate in
pleasure or create pleasure?
Certainly, he said.
Then my meaning is, that in as far as they are pleasant they are good;
and my question would imply that pleasure is a good in itself.
According to your favourite mode of speech, Socrates, 'Let us reflect
about this,' he said; and if the reflection is to the point, and the
result proves that pleasure and good are really the same, then we will
agree; but if not, then we will argue.
And would you wish to begin the enquiry? I said; or shall I begin?
You ought to take the lead, he said; for you are the author of the
discussion.
May I employ an illustration? I said. Suppose some one who is enquiring
into the health or some other bodily quality of another:--he looks at
his face and at the tips of his fingers, and then he says, Uncover your
chest and back to me that I may have a better view:--that is the sort of
thing which I desire in this speculation. Having seen what your opinion
is about good and pleasure, I am minded to say to you: Uncover your mind
to me, Protagoras, and reveal your opinion about knowledge, that I may
know whether you agree with the rest of the world. Now the rest of the
world are of opinion that knowledge is a principle not of strength, or
of rule, or of command: their notion is that a man may have knowledge,
and yet that the knowledge which is in him may be overmastered by anger,
or pleasure, or pain, or love, or perhaps by fear,--just as if knowledge
were a slave, and might be dragged about anyhow. Now is that your view?
or do you think that knowledge is a noble and commanding thing, which
cannot be overcome, and will not allow a man, if he only knows the
difference of good and evil, to do anything which is contrary to
knowledge, but that wisdom will have strength to help him?
I agree with you, Socrates, said Protagoras; and not only so, but I,
above all other men, am bound to say that wisdom and knowledge are the
highest of human things.
Good, I said, and true. But are you aware that the majority of the world
are of another mind; and that men are commonly supposed to know the
things which are best, and not to do them when they might? And most
persons whom I have asked the reason of this have said that when men act
contrary to knowledge they are overcome by pain, or pleasure, or some of
those affections which I was just now mentioning.
Yes, Socrates, he replied; and that is not the only point about which
mankind are in error.
Suppose, then, that you and I endeavour to instruct and inform them
what is the nature of this affection which they call 'being overcome by
pleasure,' and which they affirm to be the reason why they do not always
do what is best. When we say to them: Friends, you are mistaken, and
are saying what is not true, they would probably reply: Socrates and
Protagoras, if this affection of the soul is not to be called 'being
overcome by pleasure,' pray, what is it, and by what name would you
describe it?
But why, Socrates, should we trouble ourselves about the opinion of the
many, who just say anything that happens to occur to them?
I believe, I said, that they may be of use in helping us to discover how
courage is related to the other parts of virtue. If you are disposed to
abide by our agreement, that I should show the way in which, as I think,
our recent difficulty is most likely to be cleared up, do you follow;
but if not, never mind.
You are quite right, he said; and I would have you proceed as you have
begun.
Well then, I said, let me suppose that they repeat their question, What
account do you give of that which, in our way of speaking, is termed
being overcome by pleasure? I should answer thus: Listen, and Protagoras
and I will endeavour to show you. When men are overcome by eating and
drinking and other sensual desires which are pleasant, and they, knowing
them to be evil, nevertheless indulge in them, would you not say that
they were overcome by pleasure? They will not deny this. And suppose
that you and I were to go on and ask them again: 'In what way do you say
that they are evil,--in that they are pleasant and give pleasure at the
moment, or because they cause disease and poverty and other like evils
in the future? Would they still be evil, if they had no attendant evil
consequences, simply because they give the consciousness of pleasure
of whatever nature?'--Would they not answer that they are not evil
on account of the pleasure which is immediately given by them, but on
account of the after consequences--diseases and the like?
I believe, said Protagoras, that the world in general would answer as
you do.
And in causing diseases do they not cause pain? and in causing poverty
do they not cause pain;--they would agree to that also, if I am not
mistaken?
Protagoras assented.
Then I should say to them, in my name and yours: Do you think them evil
for any other reason, except because they end in pain and rob us of
other pleasures:--there again they would agree?
We both of us thought that they would.
And then I should take the question from the opposite point of view, and
say: 'Friends, when you speak of goods being painful, do you not mean
remedial goods, such as gymnastic exercises, and military service, and
the physician's use of burning, cutting, drugging, and starving? Are
these the things which are good but painful?'--they would assent to me?
He agreed.
'And do you call them good because they occasion the greatest immediate
suffering and pain; or because, afterwards, they bring health and
improvement of the bodily condition and the salvation of states
and power over others and wealth?'--they would agree to the latter
alternative, if I am not mistaken?
He assented.
'Are these things good for any other reason except that they end in
pleasure, and get rid of and avert pain? Are you looking to any other
standard but pleasure and pain when you call them good?'--they would
acknowledge that they were not?