So I said, “Why, Protagoras, do you neither admit nor deny what I ask?”
“Do you conclude the subject,” he said.
“I have only one more question to ask you,” said I, “whether some men
still appear to you as at first, to be most ignorant, and yet most
courageous.”
“You seem to be very anxious, Socrates, that I should be the person to
answer. I will therefore indulge you, and I say, that from what has been
granted, it appears to me to be impossible.”
“I ask all these questions,” said I, “on no other account, than because
I wish to examine how the case stands with respect to things pertaining
to virtue, and what virtue itself is. For I know that when this is
discovered, that other will be clearly ascertained, about which you and
I have both of us held so long a discussion, I maintaining that virtue
cannot be taught, but you that it can. 125. And the present issue of our
discussion appears to me, as if it were a man, to accuse and laugh at
us, and if it had a voice, it would say, Absurd men ye are, Socrates and
Protagoras; you, who at the outset maintained that virtue cannot be
taught, are now contending in opposition to yourself, and endeavouring
to shew that all things are knowledge, as justice, temperance, and
courage, according to which method of proceeding it will certainly
appear that virtue may be taught. For if virtue were any thing else than
knowledge, as Protagoras endeavours to maintain, it clearly could not be
taught; but now, if it shall appear to be altogether knowledge, as you
contend, Socrates, it will be wonderful if it cannot be taught.
Protagoras on the other hand, who at first insisted that it could be
taught, now seems to contend for the contrary, that it may appear to be
almost any thing else rather than knowledge; and so can on no account be
taught. 126. I therefore, Protagoras, seeing all these things terribly
confused, this way and that, am exceedingly anxious that they should be
made clear, and should wish, now we have discussed these things, to
proceed to enquire what virtue is, and to examine again respecting it,
whether it can be taught, or not, lest by chance that Epimetheus of
yours should treacherously deceive us in our enquiry, just as he
neglected us in the distribution which he made, as you say. Now in the
fable, Prometheus pleased me more than Epimetheus, and making use of
him, and looking forward with forethought to my whole life, I diligently
attend to all these matters; and if you are willing, as I said at the
beginning, I would most gladly join with you in examining them
thoroughly.”
To this Protagoras said, “I, Socrates, praise your zeal, and your method
of unfolding arguments. For I am not in other respects, I think, a bad
man, and least of all men envious: indeed I have often said of you to
many, that I admire you more than all whom I am in the habit of meeting,
and far above those of your own age: and I add, that I should not wonder
if you were to rank among men renowned for wisdom. And these matters we
will further discuss hereafter, when you please; but it is now time for
me to attend to other business.”
“It is right so to do,” I replied, “if you think fit. For I too ought
long since to have gone where I had to go, but I staid to oblige the
beautiful Callias.”
Having said and heard these things, we departed.