A FRIEND, SOCRATES, HIPPOCRATES, PROTAGORAS, ALCIBIADES,
CALLIAS, CRITIAS, PRODICUS, AND HIPPIAS.
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_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?
-----
Footnote 93:
Odyss. x. 279.
-----
_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?
_Fr._ 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?”
And 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.”
“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.”
“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.
“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 spend 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 and 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 to 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.
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Footnote 94:
Odyss. xi. 601.
Footnote 95:
Homer Odyss. xi. 582.
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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 have 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
therefore 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 and 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 do 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 others 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 each 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 aid 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 he 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. 40. 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 think 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 after 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 are 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.
-----
Footnote 96:
Two men whose profligacy made their names proverbial.
-----
“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 blamed 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.”
51. “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 just 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. But 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]?”
-----
Footnote 97:
Cousin has well remarked that σωφροσύνη, which Socrates opposes to
ἀφροσύνη, means both _temperance_ and _prudence_. We, as well as the
French, have no single word that expresses both ideas at once. I have
therefore, in imitation of Cousin, adopted the word _temperance_
throughout this part of the dialogue, for otherwise the dilemma to
which Socrates brings his antagonist would be lost sight of, for he
now compels him to admit that _temperance_ and _wisdom_ which he
before distinguished from each other, are identical. Mr. Wright, in
his scholar-like version of this dialogue, has used the word
_discretion_ throughout, but it appears to me scarce worthy to be
exalted into a virtue that is the twin-sister of wisdom. Further on,
as will be noticed, I have also followed Cousin in translating
σωφροσύνη prudence.
Footnote 98: