—I do not remember the exact words, but the meaning is,

that without buying them, and without their being given to

him, he carried off the oxen of Geryon, according to the law

of natural right, and that the oxen and other possessions of

the weaker and inferior properly belong to the stronger and

superior. And this is true, as you may ascertain, if you will

leave philosophy and go on to higher things: for philosophy,

Socrates, if pursued in moderation and at the proper age, is

an elegant accomplishment, but too much philosophy is the

ruin of human life. Even if a man has good parts, still, if he

carries philosophy into later life, he is necessarily ignorant

of all those things which a gentleman and a person of honour

ought to know; he is inexperienced in the laws of the State,

and in the language which ought to be used in the dealings

of man with man, whether private or public, and utterly

ignorant of the pleasures and desires of mankind and of human

character in general. And people of this sort, when they

betake themselves to politics or business, are as ridiculous as

I imagine the politicians to be, when they make their appearance

in the arena of philosophy. For, as Euripides says,

[Sidenote: Euripides.]

[Sidenote: _Philosophy not to be carried too far._]

[Sidenote: But the study should not be continued into later life.]

‘Every man shines in that and pursues that, and devotes

the greatest portion of the day to that in which he most

excels[35],’

but anything in which he is inferior, he avoids and depreciates, 485

and praises the opposite from partiality to himself, and

because he thinks that he will thus praise himself. The true

principle is to unite them. Philosophy, as a part of education,

is an excellent thing, and there is no disgrace to a man while

he is young in pursuing such a study; but when he is more

advanced in years, the thing becomes ridiculous, and I feel

towards philosophers as I do towards those who lisp and

imitate children. For I love to see a little child, who is not

of an age to speak plainly, lisping at his play; there is an

appearance of grace and freedom in his utterance, which is

natural to his childish years. But when I hear some small

creature carefully articulating its words, I am offended; the

sound is disagreeable, and has to my ears the twang of slavery.

So when I hear a man lisping, or see him playing like a

child, his behaviour appears to me ridiculous and unmanly

and worthy of stripes. And I have the same feeling about

students of philosophy; when I see a youth thus engaged,—the

study appears to me to be in character, and becoming a

man of a liberal education, and him who neglects philosophy

I regard as an inferior man, who will never aspire to anything

great or noble. But if I see him continuing the study in

later life, and not leaving off, I should like to beat him,

Socrates; for, as I was saying, such a one, even though he

have good natural parts, becomes effeminate. He flies from

the busy centre and the market-place, in which, as the poet

says, men become distinguished; he creeps into a corner for

the rest of his life, and talks in a whisper with three or four

admiring youths, but never speaks out like a freeman in a

satisfactory manner. Now I, Socrates, am very well inclined

towards you, and my feeling may be compared with that of

Zethus towards Amphion, in the play of Euripides, whom I

was mentioning just now: for I am disposed to say to you

much what Zethus said to his brother, that you, Socrates, are

careless about the things of which you ought to be careful;

and that you 486

‘Who have a soul so noble, are remarkable for a puerile exterior;

Neither in a court of justice could you state a case, or give any

reason or proof,

Or offer valiant counsel on another’s behalf.’

And you must not be offended, my dear Socrates, for I am

speaking out of good-will towards you, if I ask whether you

are not ashamed of being thus defenceless; which I affirm

to be the condition not of you only but of all those who will

carry the study of philosophy too far. For suppose that

some one were to take you, or any one of your sort, off to

prison, declaring that you had done wrong when you had

done no wrong, you must allow that you would not know

what to do:—there you would stand giddy and gaping, and

not having a word to say; and when you went up before the

Court, even if the accuser were a poor creature and not good

for much, you would die if he were disposed to claim the

penalty of death. And yet, Socrates, what is the value of

[Sidenote: _Callicles makes an appeal to the poets._]

‘An art which converts a man of sense into a fool,’

who is helpless, and has no power to save either himself or

others, when he is in the greatest danger and is going to be

despoiled by his enemies of all his goods, and has to live,

simply deprived of his rights of citizenship?—he being a

man who, if I may use the expression, may be boxed on the

ears with impunity. Then, my good friend, take my advice,

and refute no more:

‘Learn the philosophy of business, and acquire the reputation of

wisdom.

But leave to others these niceties,’

whether they are to be described as follies or absurdities:

‘For they will only

Give you poverty for the inmate of your dwelling.’

Cease, then, emulating these paltry splitters of words, and

emulate only the man of substance and honour, who is well

to do.

[Sidenote: Callicles the desired touchstone of Socrates.]

_Soc._ If my soul, Callicles, were made of gold, should I not

rejoice to discover one of those stones with which they test

gold, and the very best possible one to which I might bring

my soul; and if the stone and I agreed in approving of her

training, then I should know that I was in a satisfactory

state, and that no other test was needed by me.

_Cal._ What is your meaning, Socrates?

_Soc._ I will tell you; I think that I have found in you the

desired touchstone.

_Cal._ Why?

[Sidenote: _The gain of having an adversary like Callicles._]

[Sidenote: Other men have not the knowledge or frankness or good-will

which is required; and they are too modest. His sincerity is shown by his

consistency.]

[Sidenote: But still he would ask, What Callicles means by the superior?]

_Soc._ Because I am sure that if you agree with me in any

of the opinions which my soul forms, I have at last found the

truth indeed. For I consider that if a man is to make a

complete trial of the good or evil of the soul, he ought to 487

have three qualities—knowledge, good-will, outspokenness,

which are all possessed by you. Many whom I meet are unable

to make trial of me, because they are not wise as you are;

others are wise, but they will not tell me the truth, because

they have not the same interest in me which you have;

and these two strangers, Gorgias and Polus, are undoubtedly

wise men and my very good friends, but they are not outspoken

enough, and they are too modest. Why, their

modesty is so great that they are driven to contradict themselves,

first one and then the other of them, in the face of

a large company, on matters of the highest moment. But

you have all the qualities in which these others are deficient,

having received an excellent education; to this many Athenians

can testify. And you are my friend. Shall I tell you

why I think so? I know that you, Callicles, and Tisander of

Aphidnae, and Andron the son of Androtion, and Nausicydes

of the deme of Cholarges, studied together: there were four

of you, and I once heard you advising with one another as

to the extent to which the pursuit of philosophy should be

carried, and, as I know, you came to the conclusion that the

study should not be pushed too much into detail. You were

cautioning one another not to be overwise; you were afraid

that too much wisdom might unconsciously to yourselves be

the ruin of you. And now when I hear you giving the same

advice to me which you then gave to your most intimate

friends, I have a sufficient evidence of your real good-will

to me. And of the frankness of your nature and freedom

from modesty I am assured by yourself, and the assurance

is confirmed by your last speech. Well then, the inference

in the present case clearly is, that if you agree with me in

an argument about any point, that point will have been

sufficiently tested by us, and will not require to be submitted

to any further test. For you could not have agreed with

me, either from lack of knowledge or from superfluity of

modesty, nor yet from a desire to deceive me, for you are

my friend, as you tell me yourself. And therefore when you

and I are agreed, the result will be the attainment of perfect

truth. Now there is no nobler enquiry, Callicles, than that

which you censure me for making,—What ought the character

of a man to be, and what his pursuits, and how far is he to

go, both in maturer years and in youth? For be assured

that if I err in my own conduct I do not err intentionally, 488

but from ignorance. Do not then desist from advising me,

now that you have begun, until I have learned clearly what

this is which I am to practise, and how I may acquire it.

And if you find me assenting to your words, and hereafter

not doing that to which I assented, call me ‘dolt,’ and deem

me unworthy of receiving further instruction. Once more,

then, tell me what you and Pindar mean by natural justice:

Do you not mean that the superior should take the property

of the inferior by force; that the better should rule the

worse, the noble have more than the mean? Am I not

right in my recollection?

[Sidenote: _Callicles is drawn into a contradiction._]

_Cal._ Yes; that is what I was saying, and so I still aver.

_Soc._ And do you mean by the better the same as the

superior? for I could not make out what you were saying

at the time—whether you meant by the superior the stronger,

and that the weaker must obey the stronger, as you seemed

to imply when you said that great cities attack small ones

in accordance with natural right, because they are superior

and stronger, as though the superior and stronger and better

were the same; or whether the better may be also the inferior

and weaker, and the superior the worse, or whether

better is to be defined in the same way as superior:—this is

the point which I want to have cleared up. Are the superior

and better and stronger the same or different?

_Cal._ I say unequivocally that they are the same.

[Sidenote: He means the better and stronger, and therefore the many who

make the laws, which are noble because they are made by the better.]

_Soc._ Then the many are by nature superior to the one,

against whom, as you were saying, they make the laws?

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Soc._ Then the laws of the many are the laws of the

superior?

_Cal._ Very true.

_Soc._ Then they are the laws of the better; for the superior

class are far better, as you were saying?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And since they are superior, the laws which are made

by them are by nature good?

_Cal._ Yes.

[Sidenote: And the many are also of opinion that to do is more

disgraceful than to suffer injustice.]

_Soc._ And are not the many of opinion, as you were lately

saying, that justice is equality, and that to do is more 489

disgraceful than to suffer injustice?—is that so or not? Answer,

Callicles, and let no modesty be found to come in the way[36];

do the many think, or do they not think thus?—I must beg

of you to answer, in order that if you agree with me I may

fortify myself by the assent of so competent an authority.

[Sidenote: _He flounders impatiently._]

_Cal._ Yes; the opinion of the many is what you say.

_Soc._ Then not only custom but nature also affirms that

to do is more disgraceful than to suffer injustice, and that

justice is equality; so that you seem to have been wrong

in your former assertion, when accusing me you said that

nature and custom are opposed, and that I, knowing this,

was dishonestly playing between them, appealing to custom

when the argument is about nature, and to nature when the

argument is about custom?

[Sidenote: ‘Of course I don’t mean the mob.’]

_Cal._ This man will never cease talking nonsense. At

your age, Socrates, are you not ashamed to be catching at

words and chuckling over some verbal slip? do you not

see—have I not told you already, that by superior I mean

better: do you imagine me to say, that if a rabble of slaves

and nondescripts, who are of no use except perhaps for

their physical strength, get together, their ipsissima verba

are laws?

_Soc._ Ho! my philosopher, is that your line?

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Soc._ I was thinking, Callicles, that something of the kind

must have been in your mind, and that is why I repeated

the question,—What is the superior? I wanted to know

clearly what you meant; for you surely do not think that

two men are better than one, or that your slaves are better

than you because they are stronger? Then please to begin

again, and tell me who the better are, if they are not the

stronger; and I will ask you, great Sir, to be a little milder

in your instructions, or I shall have to run away from you.

_Cal._ You are ironical.

[Sidenote: Then once more,—Who are the better?]

_Soc._ No, by the hero Zethus, Callicles, by whose aid you

were just now saying (486 A) many ironical things against

me, I am not:—tell me, then, whom you mean by the better?

_Cal._ I mean the more excellent.

_Soc._ Do you not see that you are yourself using words

which have no meaning and that you are explaining nothing?—will

you tell me whether you mean by the better and

superior the wiser, or if not, whom?

[Sidenote: _Callicles grows more and more exasperated._]

_Cal._ Most assuredly, I do mean the wiser. 490

[Sidenote: The wiser: the one wise among ten thousand fools,—he ought to

rule.]

_Soc._ Then according to you, one wise man may often

be superior to ten thousand fools, and he ought to rule

them, and they ought to be his subjects, and he ought to

have more than they should. This is what I believe that

you mean (and you must not suppose that I am word-catching),

if you allow that the one is superior to the ten

thousand?

_Cal._ Yes; that is what I mean, and that is what I conceive

to be natural justice—that the better and wiser should rule

and have more than the inferior.

[Sidenote: But this is contrary to the analogy of the other arts.]

_Soc._ Stop there, and let me ask you what you would say

in this case: Let us suppose that we are all together as we

are now; there are several of us, and we have a large

common store of meats and drinks, and there are all sorts

of persons in our company having various degrees of strength

and weakness, and one of us, being a physician, is wiser in

the matter of food than all the rest, and he is probably

stronger than some and not so strong as others of us—will

he not, being wiser, be also better than we are, and our

superior in this matter of food?

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Soc._ Either, then, he will have a larger share of the meats

and drinks, because he is better, or he will have the distribution

of all of them by reason of his authority, but he will not

expend or make use of a larger share of them on his own

person, or if he does, he will be punished;—his share will

exceed that of some, and be less than that of others, and if

he be the weakest of all, he being the best of all will have

the smallest share of all, Callicles:—am I not right, my

friend?

[Sidenote: Callicles is disgusted at the commonplace parallels of

Socrates.]

_Cal._ You talk about meats and drinks and physicians and

other nonsense; I am not speaking of them.

_Soc._ Well, but do you admit that the wiser is the better?

Answer ‘Yes’ or ‘No.’

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And ought not the better to have a larger share?

_Cal._ Not of meats and drinks.

[Sidenote: _Socrates grows more and more ironical._]

_Soc._ I understand: then, perhaps, of coats the skilfullest

weaver ought to have the largest coat, and the greatest

number of them, and go about clothed in the best and finest

of them?

_Cal._ Fudge about coats!

_Soc._ Then the skilfullest and best in making shoes ought

to have the advantage in shoes; the shoemaker, clearly,

should walk about in the largest shoes, and have the greatest

number of them?

_Cal._ Fudge about shoes! What nonsense are you talking?

_Soc._ Or, if this is not your meaning, perhaps you would

say that the wise and good and true husbandman should

actually have a larger share of seeds, and have as much seed

as possible for his own land?

_Cal._ How you go on, always talking in the same way, Socrates!

_Soc._ Yes, Callicles, and also about the same things. 491

_Cal._ Yes, by the Gods, you are literally always talking of

cobblers and fullers and cooks and doctors, as if this had to

do with our argument.

_Soc._ But why will you not tell me in what a man must be

superior and wiser in order to claim a larger share; will you

neither accept a suggestion, nor offer one?

_Cal._ I have already told you. In the first place, I mean

by superiors not cobblers or cooks, but wise politicians who

understand the administration of a state, and who are not

only wise, but also valiant and able to carry out their

designs, and not the men to faint from want of soul.

[Sidenote: Socrates is accused of always saying the same things: he

accuses Callicles of never saying the same about the same.]

_Soc._ See now, most excellent Callicles, how different my

charge against you is from that which you bring against me,

for you reproach me with always saying the same; but I reproach

you with never saying the same about the same

things, for at one time you were defining the better and the

superior to be the stronger, then again as the wiser, and now

you bring forward a new notion; the superior and the better

are now declared by you to be the more courageous: I wish,

my good friend, that you would tell me, once for all, whom

you affirm to be the better and superior, and in what they

are better?

[Sidenote: _The delights of successful wickedness._]

_Cal._ I have already told you that I mean those who are

wise and courageous in the administration of a state—they

ought to be the rulers of their states, and justice consists in

their having more than their subjects.

_Soc._ But whether rulers or subjects will they or will they

not have more than themselves, my friend?

_Cal._ What do you mean?

_Soc._ I mean that every man is his own ruler; but perhaps

you think that there is no necessity for him to rule himself;

he is only required to rule others?

_Cal._ What do you mean by his ‘ruling over himself’?

_Soc._ A simple thing enough; just what is commonly said,

that a man should be temperate and master of himself, and

ruler of his own pleasures and passions.

_Cal._ What innocence! you mean those fools,—the temperate?

_Soc._ Certainly:—any one may know that to be my

meaning.

[Sidenote: Callicles reasserts his doctrine that the esteem in which

virtue and justice are held is due only to men’s fear for themselves. No

man who has the power to enjoy himself practises self-control.]

[Sidenote: _The soul of the ignorant._]

_Cal._ Quite so, Socrates; and they are really fools, for how

can a man be happy who is the servant of anything? On

the contrary, I plainly assert, that he who would truly live

ought to allow his desires to wax to the uttermost, and not to

chastise them; but when they have grown to their greatest

he should have courage and intelligence to minister to 492

them and to satisfy all his longings. And this I affirm to be

natural justice and nobility. To this however the many cannot

attain; and they blame the strong man because they are

ashamed of their own weakness, which they desire to conceal,

and hence they say that intemperance is base. As I

have remarked already, they enslave the nobler natures, and

being unable to satisfy their pleasures, they praise temperance

and justice out of their own cowardice. For if a man

had been originally the son of a king, or had a nature

capable of acquiring an empire or a tyranny or sovereignty,

what could be more truly base or evil than temperance—to a

man like him, I say, who might freely be enjoying every

good, and has no one to stand in his way, and yet has

admitted custom and reason and the opinion of other men to

be lords over him?—must not he be in a miserable plight

whom the reputation of justice and temperance hinders from

giving more to his friends than to his enemies, even though

he be a ruler in his city? Nay, Socrates, for you profess to

be a votary of the truth, and the truth is this:—that luxury

and intemperance and licence, if they be provided with

means, are virtue and happiness—all the rest is a mere

bauble, agreements contrary to nature, foolish talk of men,

nothing worth[37].

_Soc._ There is a noble freedom, Callicles, in your way of

approaching the argument; for what you say is what the

rest of the world think, but do not like to say. And I must

beg of you to persevere, that the true rule of human life may

become manifest. Tell me, then:—you say, do you not, that

in the rightly-developed man the passions ought not to be

controlled, but that we should let them grow to the utmost

and somehow or other satisfy them, and that this is virtue?

_Cal._ Yes; I do.

_Soc._ Then those who want nothing are not truly said to

be happy?

[Sidenote: To live without pleasure or passion is to be dead.]

[Sidenote: No; the true death, as Pythagorean philosophy tells us, is to

pour water out of a vessel full of holes into a colander full of holes.]

[Sidenote: _The sound and leaky vessels._]

_Cal._ No indeed, for then stones and dead men would be

the happiest of all.

_Soc._ But surely life according to your view is an awful

thing; and indeed I think that Euripides may have been

right in saying,

‘Who knows if life be not death and death life;’

and that we are very likely dead; I have heard a philosopher 493

say that at this moment we are actually dead, and that the

body (σῶμα) is our tomb (σῆμα[38]), and that the part of the soul

which is the seat of the desires is liable to be tossed about by

words and blown up and down; and some ingenious person,

probably a Sicilian or an Italian, playing with the word,

invented a tale in which he called the soul—because of its

believing and make-believe nature—a vessel[39], and the ignorant

he called the uninitiated or leaky, and the place in

the souls of the uninitiated in which the desires are seated,

being the intemperate and incontinent part, he compared to

a vessel full of holes, because it can never be satisfied. He

is not of your way of thinking, Callicles, for he declares, that

of all the souls in Hades, meaning the invisible world (ἀειδὲς),

these uninitiated or leaky persons are the most miserable,

and that they pour water into a vessel which is full of holes

out of a colander which is similarly perforated. The colander,

as my informer assures me, is the soul, and the soul

which he compares to a colander is the soul of the ignorant,

which is likewise full of holes, and therefore incontinent,

owing to a bad memory and want of faith. These notions

are strange enough, but they show the principle which, if I

can, I would fain prove to you; that you should change your

mind, and, instead of the intemperate and insatiate life, choose

that which is orderly and sufficient and has a due provision

for daily needs. Do I make any impression on you, and are

you coming over to the opinion that the orderly are happier

than the intemperate? Or do I fail to persuade you, and,

however many tales I rehearse to you, do you continue of

the same opinion still?

_Cal._ The latter, Socrates, is more like the truth.

[Sidenote: The temperate man is the sound, the intemperate the leaky

vessel.]

_Soc._ Well, I will tell you another image, which comes out

of the same school:—Let me request you to consider how

far you would accept this as an account of the two lives of

the temperate and intemperate in a figure:—There are two

men, both of whom have a number of casks; the one man

has his casks sound and full, one of wine, another of honey,

and a third of milk, besides others filled with other liquids,

and the streams which fill them are few and scanty, and he

can only obtain them with a great deal of toil and difficulty;

but when his casks are once filled he has no need to feed

them any more, and has no further trouble with them or care

about them. The other, in like manner, can procure streams,

though not without difficulty; but his vessels are leaky and

unsound, and night and day he is compelled to be filling

them, and if he pauses for a moment, he is in an agony of 494

pain. Such are their respective lives:—And now would you

say that the life of the intemperate is happier than that of

the temperate? Do I not convince you that the opposite is

the truth?

[Sidenote: The life of desire and pleasure is not to be compared to a

full vessel, but to an ever-running stream.]

_Cal._ You do not convince me, Socrates, for the one who

has filled himself has no longer any pleasure left; and this,

as I was just now saying, is the life of a stone: he has

neither joy nor sorrow after he is once filled; but the pleasure

depends on the superabundance of the influx.

[Sidenote: _Callicles no longer a test,_]

_Soc._ But the more you pour in, the greater the waste; and

the holes must be large for the liquid to escape.

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Soc._ The life which you are now depicting is not that of a

dead man, or of a stone, but of a cormorant; you mean that

he is to be hungering and eating?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And he is to be thirsting and drinking?

_Cal._ Yes, that is what I mean; he is to have all his desires

about him, and to be able to live happily in the gratification

of them.

_Soc._ Capital, excellent; go on as you have begun, and

have no shame; I, too, must disencumber myself of shame:

and first, will you tell me whether you include itching and

scratching, provided you have enough of them and pass your

life in scratching, in your notion of happiness?

_Cal._ What a strange being you are, Socrates! a regular

mob-orator.

_Soc._ That was the reason, Callicles, why I scared Polus

and Gorgias, until they were too modest to say what they

thought; but you will not be too modest and will not be

scared, for you are a brave man. And now, answer my

question.

_Cal._ I answer, that even the scratcher would live pleasantly.

_Soc._ And if pleasantly, then also happily?

_Cal._ To be sure.

_Soc._ But what if the itching is not confined to the head?

Shall I pursue the question? And here, Callicles, I would

have you consider how you would reply if consequences are

pressed upon you, especially if in the last resort you are

asked, whether the life of a catamite is not terrible, foul,

miserable? Or would you venture to say, that they too are

happy, if they only get enough of what they want?

[Sidenote: Callicles professes a virtuous indignation at the very mention

of the consequences of his own doctrine.]

_Cal._ Are you not ashamed, Socrates, of introducing such

topics into the argument?

_Soc._ Well, my fine friend, but am I the introducer of these

topics, or he who says without any qualification that all who

feel pleasure in whatever manner are happy, and who admits

of no distinction between good and bad pleasures? And I 495

would still ask, whether you say that pleasure and good are

the same, or whether there is some pleasure which is not a

good?

[Sidenote: _because he will not say what he thinks._]

_Cal._ Well, then, for the sake of consistency, I will say that

they are the same.

_Soc._ You are breaking the original agreement, Callicles,

and will no longer be a satisfactory companion in the search

after truth, if you say what is contrary to your real opinion.

_Cal._ Why, that is what you are doing too, Socrates.

_Soc._ Then we are both doing wrong. Still, my dear friend,

I would ask you to consider whether pleasure, from whatever

source derived, is the good; for, if this be true, then the

disagreeable consequences which have been darkly intimated

must follow, and many others.

_Cal._ That, Socrates, is only your opinion.

_Soc._ And do you, Callicles, seriously maintain what you

are saying?

_Cal._ Indeed I do.

_Soc._ Then, as you are in earnest, shall we proceed with

the argument?

_Cal._ By all means[40].

[Sidenote: Callicles, having admitted that pleasure and good are the

same, is led to make the further admission that pleasure and knowledge

and courage are different.]

_Soc._ Well, if you are willing to proceed, determine this

question for me:—There is something, I presume, which you

would call knowledge?

_Cal._ There is.

_Soc._ And were you not saying just now, that some courage

implied knowledge?

_Cal._ I was.

_Soc._ And you were speaking of courage and knowledge as

two things different from one another?

_Cal._ Certainly I was.

_Soc._ And would you say that pleasure and knowledge are

the same, or not the same?

_Cal._ Not the same, O man of wisdom.

_Soc._ And would you say that courage differed from

pleasure?

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Soc._ Well, then, let us remember that Callicles, the Acharnian,

says that pleasure and good are the same; but that

knowledge and courage are not the same, either with one

another, or with the good.

[Sidenote: _The law of contradiction._]

_Cal._ And what does our friend Socrates, of Foxton, say—does

he assent to this, or not?

_Soc._ He does not assent; neither will Callicles, when he

sees himself truly. You will admit, I suppose, that good and

evil fortune are opposed to each other?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And if they are opposed to each other, then, like

health and disease, they exclude one another; a man cannot

have them both, or be without them both, at the same time?

_Cal._ What do you mean?

_Soc._ Take the case of any bodily affection:—a man may

have the complaint in his eyes which is called ophthalmia?

_Cal._ To be sure. 496

_Soc._ But he surely cannot have the same eyes well and

sound at the same time?

_Cal._ Certainly not.

_Soc._ And when he has got rid of his ophthalmia, has he got

rid of the health of his eyes too? Is the final result, that he

gets rid of them both together?

_Cal._ Certainly not.

_Soc._ That would surely be marvellous and absurd?

_Cal._ Very.

[Sidenote: A man may have good and evil by turns, but not at the same

time.]

_Soc._ I suppose that he is affected by them, and gets rid of

them in turns?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And he may have strength and weakness in the same

way, by fits?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ Or swiftness and slowness?

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Soc._ And does he have and not have good and happiness,

and their opposites, evil and misery, in a similar

alternation[41]?

_Cal._ Certainly he has.

_Soc._ If then there be anything which a man has and has

not at the same time, clearly that cannot be good and evil—do

we agree? Please not to answer without consideration.

[Sidenote: _The law of contradiction._]

_Cal._ I entirely agree.

_Soc._ Go back now to our former admissions.—Did you say

that to hunger, I mean the mere state of hunger, was pleasant

or painful?

_Cal._ I said painful, but that to eat when you are hungry is

pleasant.

_Soc._ I know; but still the actual hunger is painful: am I

not right?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And thirst, too, is painful?

_Cal._ Yes, very.

_Soc._ Need I adduce any more instances, or would you

agree that all wants or desires are painful?

_Cal._ I agree, and therefore you need not adduce any more

instances.

_Soc._ Very good. And you would admit that to drink, when

you are thirsty, is pleasant?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And in the sentence which you have just uttered, the

word ‘thirsty’ implies pain?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And the word ‘drinking’ is expressive of pleasure,

and of the satisfaction of the want?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ There is pleasure in drinking?

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Soc._ When you are thirsty?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And in pain?

_Cal._ Yes.

[Sidenote: But he may have pleasure and pain at the same time.]

_Soc._ Do you see the inference:—that pleasure and pain are

simultaneous, when you say that being thirsty, you drink?

For are they not simultaneous, and do they not affect at the

same time the same part, whether of the soul or the body?—which

of them is affected cannot be supposed to be of any

consequence: Is not this true?

_Cal._ It is.

_Soc._ You said also, that no man could have good and evil

fortune at the same time?

_Cal._ Yes, I did.

[Sidenote: _The dialectical process_]

_Soc._ But you admitted, that when in pain a man might also 497

have pleasure?

_Cal._ Clearly.

[Sidenote: Therefore pleasure and pain are not the same as good and evil.]

_Soc._ Then pleasure is not the same as good fortune, or

pain the same as evil fortune, and therefore the good is not

the same as the pleasant?

_Cal._ I wish I knew, Socrates, what your quibbling means.

_Soc._ You know, Callicles, but you affect not to know.

_Cal._ Well, get on, and don’t keep fooling: then you will

know what a wiseacre you are in your admonition of me.

_Soc._ Does not a man cease from his thirst and from his

pleasure in drinking at the same time?

_Cal._ I do not understand what you are saying.

_Gor._ Nay, Callicles, answer, if only for our sakes;—we

should like to hear the argument out.

_Cal._ Yes, Gorgias, but I must complain of the habitual

trifling of Socrates; he is always arguing about little and

unworthy questions.

_Gor._ What matter? Your reputation, Callicles, is not at

stake. Let Socrates argue in his own fashion.

_Cal._ Well, then, Socrates, you shall ask these little peddling

questions, since Gorgias wishes to have them.

_Soc._ I envy you, Callicles, for having been initiated into

the great mysteries before you were initiated into the lesser.

I thought that this was not allowable. But to return to our

argument:—Does not a man cease from thirsting and from

the pleasure of drinking at the same moment?

_Cal._ True.

_Soc._ And if he is hungry, or has any other desire, does he

not cease from the desire and the pleasure at the same

moment?

_Cal._ Very true.

_Soc._ Then he ceases from pain and pleasure at the same

moment?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ But he does not cease from good and evil at the same

moment, as you have admitted:—do you still adhere to what

you said?

_Cal._ Yes, I do; but what is the inference?

[Sidenote: _to the man of the world is foolishness._]

[Sidenote: Another point of view.]

_Soc._ Why, my friend, the inference is that the good is not

the same as the pleasant, or the evil the same as the painful;

there is a cessation of pleasure and pain at the same moment;

but not of good and evil, for they are different. How then

can pleasure be the same as good, or pain as evil? And I

would have you look at the matter in another light, which

could hardly, I think, have been considered by you when you

identified them: Are not the good good because they have

good present with them, as the beautiful are those who have

beauty present with them?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And do you call the fools and cowards good men?

For you were saying just now that the courageous and the

wise are the good—would you not say so?

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Soc._ And did you never see a foolish child rejoicing?

_Cal._ Yes, I have.

_Soc._ And a foolish man too?

_Cal._ Yes, certainly; but what is your drift?

_Soc._ Nothing particular, if you will only answer. 498

_Cal._ Yes, I have.

_Soc._ And did you ever see a sensible man rejoicing or

sorrowing?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ Which rejoice and sorrow most—the wise or the

foolish?

_Cal._ They are much upon a par, I think, in that respect.

_Soc._ Enough: And did you ever see a coward in battle?

_Cal._ To be sure.

_Soc._ And which rejoiced most at the departure of the

enemy, the coward or the brave?

_Cal._ I should say ‘most’ of both; or at any rate, they rejoiced

about equally.

_Soc._ No matter; then the cowards, and not only the brave,

rejoice?

_Cal._ Greatly.

_Soc._ And the foolish; so it would seem?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And are only the cowards pained at the approach of

their enemies, or are the brave also pained?

_Cal._ Both are pained.

[Sidenote: _A far-fetched argument,_]

_Soc._ And are they equally pained?

_Cal._ I should imagine that the cowards are more pained.

_Soc._ And are they not better pleased at the enemy’s departure?

_Cal._ I dare say.

[Sidenote: Good is in proportion to pleasure, and the bad are often as

much or more pleased than the good.]

_Soc._ Then are the foolish and the wise and the cowards

and the brave all pleased and pained, as you were saying, in

nearly equal degree; but are the cowards more pleased and

pained than the brave?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ But surely the wise and brave are the good, and the

foolish and the cowardly are the bad?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ Then the good and the bad are pleased and pained in

a nearly equal degree?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ Then are the good and bad good and bad in a nearly

equal degree, or have the bad the advantage both in good

and evil? [i. e. in having more pleasure and more pain.]

_Cal._ I really do not know what you mean.

_Soc._ Why, do you not remember saying that the good were

good because good was present with them, and the evil

because evil; and that pleasures were goods and pains

evils?

_Cal._ Yes, I remember.

_Soc._ And are not these pleasures or goods present to those

who rejoice—if they do rejoice?

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Soc._ Then those who rejoice are good when goods are

present with them?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And those who are in pain have evil or sorrow present

with them?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And would you still say that the evil are evil by reason

of the presence of evil?

_Cal._ I should.

_Soc._ Then those who rejoice are good, and those who are

in pain evil?

_Cal._ Yes.

[Sidenote: _of which Callicles fails to see the drift._]

_Soc._ The degrees of good and evil vary with the degrees

of pleasure and of pain?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ Have the wise man and the fool, the brave and the

coward, joy and pain in nearly equal degrees? or would you

say that the coward has more?

_Cal._ I should say that he has.

_Soc._ Help me then to draw out the conclusion which

follows from our admissions; for it is good to repeat and

review what is good twice and thrice over, as they say. 499

Both the wise man and the brave man we allow to be good?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And the foolish man and the coward to be evil?

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Soc._ And he who has joy is good?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And he who is in pain is evil?

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Soc._ The good and evil both have joy and pain, but, perhaps,

the evil has more of them?

_Cal._ Yes.

[Sidenote: Therefore the bad man is as good as the good, or perhaps even

better.]

_Soc._ Then must we not infer, that the bad man is as good

and bad as the good, or, perhaps, even better?—is not this a

further inference which follows equally with the preceding

from the assertion that the good and the pleasant are the

same:—can this be denied, Callicles?

_Cal._ I have been listening and making admissions to you,

Socrates; and I remark that if a person grants you anything

in play, you, like a child, want to keep hold and will not give

it back. But do you really suppose that I or any other

human being denies that some pleasures are good and others

bad?

[Sidenote: Socrates begins again with some obvious truisms.]

_Soc._ Alas, Callicles, how unfair you are! you certainly treat

me as if I were a child, sometimes saying one thing, and then

another, as if you were meaning to deceive me. And yet I

thought at first that you were my friend, and would not have

deceived me if you could have helped. But I see that I was

mistaken; and now I suppose that I must make the best

of a bad business, as they said of old, and take what I

can get out of you.—Well, then, as I understand you to

say, I may assume that some pleasures are good and others

evil?

[Sidenote: _The unfairness of Callicles who, when beaten,_]

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ The beneficial are good, and the hurtful are evil?

_Cal._ To be sure.

_Soc._ And the beneficial are those which do some good, and

the hurtful are those which do some evil?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ Take, for example, the bodily pleasures of eating and

drinking, which we were just now mentioning—you mean to

say that those which promote health, or any other bodily excellence,

are good, and their opposites evil?

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Soc._ And in the same way there are good pains and there

are evil pains?

_Cal._ To be sure.

_Soc._ And ought we not to choose and use the good

pleasures and pains?

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Soc._ But not the evil?

_Cal._ Clearly.

_Soc._ Because, if you remember, Polus and I have agreed

that all our actions are to be done for the sake of the good;—and

will you agree with us in saying, that the good is the

end of all our actions, and that all our actions are to be done

for the sake of the good, and not the good for the sake of 500

them?—will you add a third vote to our two?

_Cal._ I will.

_Soc._ Then pleasure, like everything else, is to be sought

for the sake of that which is good, and not that which is good

for the sake of pleasure?

_Cal._ To be sure.

_Soc._ But can every man choose what pleasures are good

and what are evil, or must he have art or knowledge of them

in detail?

_Cal._ He must have art.

[Sidenote: _pretends that his answers are not serious._]

_Soc._ Let me now remind you of what I was saying to

Gorgias and Polus; I was saying, as you will not have forgotten,

that there were some processes which aim only at

pleasure, and know nothing of a better and worse, and there

are other processes which know good and evil. And I

considered that cookery, which I do not call an art, but only

an experience, was of the former class, which is concerned

with pleasure, and that the art of medicine was of the class

which is concerned with the good. And now, by the god of

friendship, I must beg you, Callicles, not to jest, or to

imagine that I am jesting with you; do not answer at

random and contrary to your real opinion;—for you will observe

that we are arguing about the way of human life; and to

a man who has any sense at all, what question can be more

serious than this?—whether he should follow after that way

of life to which you exhort me, and act what you call the

manly part of speaking in the assembly, and cultivating

rhetoric, and engaging in public affairs, according to the

principles now in vogue; or whether he should pursue the

life of philosophy;—and in what the latter way differs from

the former. But perhaps we had better first try to distinguish

them, as I did before, and when we have come to

an agreement that they are distinct, we may proceed to consider

in what they differ from one another, and which of

them we should choose. Perhaps, however, you do not

even now understand what I mean?

_Cal._ No, I do not.

_Soc._ Then I will explain myself more clearly: seeing that

you and I have agreed that there is such a thing as good,

and that there is such a thing as pleasure, and that pleasure

is not the same as good, and that the pursuit and process of

acquisition of the one, that is pleasure, is different from the

pursuit and process of acquisition of the other, which is

good—I wish that you would tell me whether you agree

with me thus far or not—do you agree?

_Cal._ I do.

[Sidenote: Socrates repeats his distinction between true arts and

flatteries or shams, to which Callicles pretends to give assent.]

[Sidenote: _Callicles grows more and more_]

_Soc._ Then I will proceed, and ask whether you also agree

with me, and whether you think that I spoke the truth when 501

I further said to Gorgias and Polus that cookery in my

opinion is only an experience, and not an art at all; and

that whereas medicine is an art, and attends to the nature and

constitution of the patient, and has principles of action and

reason in each case, cookery in attending upon pleasure

never regards either the nature or reason of that pleasure to

which she devotes herself, but goes straight to her end, nor

ever considers or calculates anything, but works by experience

and routine, and just preserves the recollection of what she

has usually done when producing pleasure. And first, I

would have you consider whether I have proved what I was

saying, and then whether there are not other similar processes

which have to do with the soul—some of them processes

of art, making a provision for the soul’s highest

interest—others despising the interest, and, as in the

previous case, considering only the pleasure of the soul,

and how this may be acquired, but not considering what

pleasures are good or bad, and having no other aim but to

afford gratification, whether good or bad. In my opinion,

Callicles, there are such processes, and this is the sort of

thing which I term flattery, whether concerned with the

body or the soul, or whenever employed with a view to

pleasure and without any consideration of good and evil.

And now I wish that you would tell me whether you agree

with us in this notion, or whether you differ.

_Cal._ I do not differ; on the contrary, I agree; for in that

way I shall soonest bring the argument to an end, and shall

oblige my friend Gorgias.

_Soc._ And is this notion true of one soul, or of two or

more?

_Cal._ Equally true of two or more.

_Soc._ Then a man may delight a whole assembly, and yet

have no regard for their true interests?

_Cal._ Yes.

[Sidenote: There are arts which delight mankind but which never consider

the soul’s higher interest.]

_Soc._ Can you tell me the pursuits which delight mankind—or

rather, if you would prefer, let me ask, and do you

answer, which of them belong to the pleasurable class, and

which of them not? In the first place, what say you of flute-playing?

Does not that appear to be an art which seeks

only pleasure, Callicles, and thinks of nothing else?

_Cal._ I assent.

_Soc._ And is not the same true of all similar arts, as, for

example, the art of playing the lyre at festivals?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And what do you say of the choral art and of dithyrambic

poetry?—are not they of the same nature? Do you

imagine that Cinesias the son of Meles cares about what

will tend to the moral improvement of his hearers, or about 502

what will give pleasure to the multitude?

[Sidenote: _impatient of the argument._]

_Cal._ There can be no mistake about Cinesias, Socrates.

_Soc._ And what do you say of his father, Meles the harp-player?

Did he perform with any view to the good of his

hearers? Could he be said to regard even their pleasure?

For his singing was an infliction to his audience. And of

harp-playing and dithyrambic poetry in general, what would

you say? Have they not been invented wholly for the sake

of pleasure?

_Cal._ That is my notion of them.

_Soc._ And as for the Muse of Tragedy, that solemn and

august personage—what are her aspirations? Is all her

aim and desire only to give pleasure to the spectators, or

does she fight against them and refuse to speak of their

pleasant vices, and willingly proclaim in word and song

truths welcome and unwelcome?—which in your judgment

is her character?

_Cal._ There can be no doubt, Socrates, that Tragedy has

her face turned towards pleasure and the gratification of the

audience.

_Soc._ And is not that the sort of thing, Callicles, which we

were just now describing as flattery?

_Cal._ Quite true.

_Soc._ Well now, suppose that we strip all poetry of song

and rhythm and metre, there will remain speech[42]?

_Cal._ To be sure.

_Soc._ And this speech is addressed to a crowd of people?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ Then poetry is a sort of rhetoric?

_Cal._ True.

_Soc._ And do not the poets in the theatres seem to you to

be rhetoricians?

_Cal._ Yes.

[Sidenote: Poetry is of the nature of flattery.]

_Soc._ Then now we have discovered a sort of rhetoric

which is addressed to a crowd of men, women, and children,

freemen and slaves. And this is not much to our taste, for

we have described it as having the nature of flattery.

[Sidenote: _The two sorts of rhetoric._]

_Cal._ Quite true.

[Sidenote: Oratory, too, as practised regards the interest of the speaker

rather than the good of the people.]

_Soc._ Very good. And what do you say of that other

rhetoric which addresses the Athenian assembly and the

assemblies of freemen in other states? Do the rhetoricians

appear to you always to aim at what is best, and do they

seek to improve the citizens by their speeches, or are they

too, like the rest of mankind, bent upon giving them pleasure,

forgetting the public good in the thought of their own

interest, playing with the people as with children, and trying

to amuse them, but never considering whether they are

better or worse for this?

_Cal._ I must distinguish. There are some who have a real 503

care of the public in what they say, while others are such as

you describe.

[Sidenote: There might be a higher style of oratory; and Callicles thinks

that such really existed in the great days of old, the days of Miltiades

and Themistocles and Pericles.]

_Soc._ I am contented with the admission that rhetoric is of

two sorts; one, which is mere flattery and disgraceful declamation;

the other, which is noble and aims at the

training and improvement of the souls of the citizens, and

strives to say what is best, whether welcome or unwelcome,

to the audience; but have you ever known such a rhetoric;

or if you have, and can point out any rhetorician who is of

this stamp, who is he?

_Cal._ But, indeed, I am afraid that I cannot tell you of any

such among the orators who are at present living.

_Soc._ Well, then, can you mention any one of a former

generation, who may be said to have improved the Athenians,

who found them worse and made them better, from the day

that he began to make speeches? for, indeed, I do not know

of such a man.

_Cal._ What! did you never hear that Themistocles was a

good man, and Cimon and Miltiades and Pericles, who is

just lately dead, and whom you heard yourself?

[Sidenote: Yet even these famous men had no ideal or standard.]

_Soc._ Yes, Callicles, they were good men, if, as you said at

first, true virtue consists only in the satisfaction of our own

desires and those of others; but if not, and if, as we were

afterwards compelled to acknowledge, the satisfaction of

some desires makes us better, and of others, worse, and we

ought to gratify the one and not the other, and there is an

art in distinguishing them,—can you tell me of any of these

statesmen who did distinguish them?

[Sidenote: _The good man, like the good artist, a lover of order._]

_Cal._ No, indeed, I cannot.

[Sidenote: Some standard needed other than a man’s interest.]

_Soc._ Yet, surely, Callicles, if you look you will find such

a one. Suppose that we just calmly consider whether any

of these was such as I have described. Will not the good

man, who says whatever he says with a view to the best,

speak with a reference to some standard and not at random;

just as all other artists, whether the painter, the builder, the

shipwright, or any other look all of them to their own work,

and do not select and apply at random what they apply, but

strive to give a definite form to it? The artist disposes all

things in order, and compels the one part to harmonize and 504

accord with the other part, until he has constructed a regular

and systematic whole; and this is true of all artists, and in

the same way the trainers and physicians, of whom we spoke

before, give order and regularity to the body: do you deny

this?

_Cal._ No; I am ready to admit it.

[Sidenote: Order is good, disorder evil, in a ship, in a human body, in a

human soul.]

_Soc._ Then the house in which order and regularity prevail

is good; that in which there is disorder, evil?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And the same is true of a ship?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And the same may be said of the human body?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And what would you say of the soul? Will the good

soul be that in which disorder is prevalent, or that in which

there is harmony and order?

_Cal._ The latter follows from our previous admissions.

_Soc._ What is the name which is given to the effect of

harmony and order in the body?

_Cal._ I suppose that you mean health and strength?

_Soc._ Yes, I do; and what is the name which you

would give to the effect of harmony and order in the

soul? Try and discover a name for this as well as for the

other.

_Cal._ Why not give the name yourself, Socrates?

_Soc._ Well, if you had rather that I should, I will; and

you shall say whether you agree with me, and if not, you

shall refute and answer me. ‘Healthy,’ as I conceive, is the

name which is given to the regular order of the body,

whence comes health and every other bodily excellence: is

that true or not?

[Sidenote: _Callicles again turns restive._]

_Cal._ True.

[Sidenote: From order and law spring temperance and justice.]

_Soc._ And ‘lawful’ and ‘law’ are the names which are

given to the regular order and action of the soul, and these

make men lawful and orderly:—and so we have temperance

and justice: have we not?

_Cal._ Granted.

[Sidenote: The true rhetorician will seek to implant these virtues, to

implant justice and take away injustice.]

_Soc._ And will not the true rhetorician who is honest and

understands his art have his eye fixed upon these, in all the

words which he addresses to the souls of men, and in all his

actions, both in what he gives and in what he takes away?

Will not his aim be to implant justice in the souls of his

citizens and take away injustice, to implant temperance and

take away intemperance, to implant every virtue and take

away every vice? Do you not agree?

_Cal._ I agree.

_Soc._ For what use is there, Callicles, in giving to the body

of a sick man who is in a bad state of health a quantity of

the most delightful food or drink or any other pleasant

thing, which may be really as bad for him as if you gave him 505

nothing, or even worse if rightly estimated. Is not that

true?

_Cal._ I will not say No to it.

[Sidenote: The body of the sick and the soul of the wicked must be

chastised and improved.]

_Soc._ For in my opinion there is no profit in a man’s life if

his body is in an evil plight—in that case his life also is evil:

am I not right?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ When a man is in health the physicians will generally

allow him to eat when he is hungry and drink when he

is thirsty, and to satisfy his desires as he likes, but when he

is sick they hardly suffer him to satisfy his desires at all:

even you will admit that?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And does not the same argument hold of the soul,

my good sir? While she is in a bad state and is senseless

and intemperate and unjust and unholy, her desires ought to

be controlled, and she ought to be prevented from doing

anything which does not tend to her own improvement.

_Cal._ Yes.

[Sidenote: _Then ‘One man must do for two.’_]

_Soc._ Such treatment will be better for the soul herself?

_Cal._ To be sure.

_Soc._ And to restrain her from her appetites is to chastise

her?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ Then restraint or chastisement is better for the soul

than intemperance or the absence of control, which you

were just now preferring?

_Cal._ I do not understand you, Socrates, and I wish that

you would ask some one who does.

[Sidenote: Callicles does not wish to be improved.]

_Soc._ Here is a gentleman who cannot endure to be improved

or to subject himself to that very chastisement of

which the argument speaks!

_Cal._ I do not heed a word of what you are saying, and

have only answered hitherto out of civility to Gorgias.

_Soc._ What are we to do, then? Shall we break off in the

middle?

_Cal._ You shall judge for yourself.

_Soc._ Well, but people say that ‘a tale should have a head

and not break off in the middle,’ and I should not like to

have the argument going about without a head[43]; please

then to go on a little longer, and put the head on.

_Cal._ How tyrannical you are, Socrates! I wish that you

and your argument would rest, or that you would get some

one else to argue with you.

_Soc._ But who else is willing?—I want to finish the

argument.

_Cal._ Cannot you finish without my help, either talking

straight on, or questioning and answering yourself?

[Sidenote: _Recapitulation of the argument._]

_Soc._ Must I then say with Epicharmus, ‘Two men spoke

before, but now one shall be enough’? I suppose that there

is absolutely no help. And if I am to carry on the enquiry

by myself, I will first of all remark that not only I but all of

us should have an ambition to know what is true and what is

false in this matter, for the discovery of the truth is a common

good. And now I will proceed to argue according to

my own notion. But if any of you think that I arrive at 506

conclusions which are untrue you must interpose and refute

me, for I do not speak from any knowledge of what I am

saying, I am an enquirer like yourselves, and therefore, if

my opponent says anything which is of force, I shall be the

first to agree with him. I am speaking on the supposition

that the argument ought to be completed; but if you think

otherwise let us leave off and go our ways.

_Gor._ I think, Socrates, that we should not go our ways

until you have completed the argument; and this appears to

me to be the wish of the rest of the company; I myself

should very much like to hear what more you have to say.

_Soc._ I too, Gorgias, should have liked to continue the

argument with Callicles, and then I might have given him an

‘Amphion’ in return for his ‘Zethus’[44]; but since you, Callicles,

are unwilling to continue, I hope that you will listen,

and interrupt me if I seem to you to be in error. And if you

refute me, I shall not be angry with you as you are with me,

but I shall inscribe you as the greatest of benefactors on the

tablets of my soul.

_Cal._ My good fellow, never mind me, but get on.

[Sidenote: The pleasant not the same as the good, and is to be sought

only for the sake of the good: and we are good when good is present in

us, and good is the effect of order and truth and art.]

_Soc._ Listen to me, then, while I recapitulate the argument:—Is

the pleasant the same as the good? Not the same.

Callicles and I are agreed about that. And is the pleasant

to be pursued for the sake of the good? or the good for the

sake of the pleasant? The pleasant is to be pursued for the

sake of the good. And that is pleasant at the presence of

which we are pleased, and that is good at the presence of

which we are good? To be sure. And we are good, and all

good things whatever are good when some virtue is present

in us or them? That, Callicles, is my conviction. But the

virtue of each thing, whether body or soul, instrument or

creature, when given to them in the best way comes to them

not by chance but as the result of the order and truth and

art which are imparted to them: Am I not right? I maintain

that I am. And is not the virtue of each thing dependent on

order or arrangement? Yes, I say. And that which makes

a thing good is the proper order inhering in each thing?

Such is my view. And is not the soul which has an order of

her own better than that which has no order? Certainly.

And the soul which has order is orderly? Of course. And

that which is orderly is temperate? Assuredly. And the 507

temperate soul is good? No other answer can I give, Callicles

dear; have you any?

[Sidenote: _The intercommunion of the virtues._]

_Cal._ Go on, my good fellow.

_Soc._ Then I shall proceed to add, that if the temperate

soul is the good soul, the soul which is in the opposite

condition, that is, the foolish and intemperate, is the bad soul.

Very true.

[Sidenote: The temperate soul is the good soul, just in relation to men,

and holy in relation to gods, and is therefore happy; and the intemperate

is the reverse of all this.]

[Sidenote: If it be admitted that virtue is happiness and vice misery,

then what Socrates said about the use of rhetoric in self-accusation

turns out to be true.]

[Sidenote: _Geometry in both worlds._]

And will not the temperate man do what is proper, both in

relation to the gods and to men;—for he would not be temperate

if he did not? Certainly he will do what is proper.

In his relation to other men he will do what is just; and in

his relation to the gods he will do what is holy; and he who

does what is just and holy must be just and holy? Very

true. And must he not be courageous? for the duty of a

temperate man is not to follow or to avoid what he ought not,

but what he ought, whether things or men or pleasures or

pains, and patiently to endure when he ought; and therefore,

Callicles, the temperate man, being, as we have described,

also just and courageous and holy, cannot be other than

a perfectly good man, nor can the good man do otherwise

than well and perfectly whatever he does; and he who does

well must of necessity be happy and blessed, and the evil

man who does evil, miserable: now this latter is he whom

you were applauding—the intemperate who is the opposite of

the temperate. Such is my position, and these things I

affirm to be true. And if they are true, then I further affirm

that he who desires to be happy must pursue and practise

temperance and run away from intemperance as fast as his

legs will carry him: he had better order his life so as not to

need punishment; but if either he or any of his friends,

whether private individual or city, are in need of punishment,

then justice must be done and he must suffer punishment, if

he would be happy. This appears to me to be the aim which

a man ought to have, and towards which he ought to direct

all the energies both of himself and of the state, acting so

that he may have temperance and justice present with him

and be happy, not suffering his lusts to be unrestrained, and

in the never-ending desire to satisfy them leading a robber’s

life. Such a one is the friend neither of God nor man, for

he is incapable of communion, and he who is incapable of

communion is also incapable of friendship. And philosophers

tell us, Callicles, that communion and friendship

and orderliness and temperance and justice bind together 508

heaven and earth and gods and men, and that this universe is

therefore called Cosmos or order, not disorder or misrule,

my friend. But although you are a philosopher you seem to

me never to have observed that geometrical equality is

mighty, both among gods and men; you think that you ought

to cultivate inequality or excess, and do not care about

geometry.—Well, then, either the principle that the happy

are made happy by the possession of justice and temperance,

and the miserable miserable by the possession of vice, must

be refuted, or, if it is granted, what will be the consequences?

All the consequences which I drew before, Callicles, and

about which you asked me whether I was in earnest when I

said that a man ought to accuse himself and his son and his

friend if he did anything wrong, and that to this end he

should use his rhetoric—all those consequences are true.

And that which you thought that Polus was led to admit out

of modesty is true, viz. that, to do injustice, if more disgraceful

than to suffer, is in that degree worse; and the other

position, which, according to Polus, Gorgias admitted out of

modesty, that he who would truly be a rhetorician ought to

be just and have a knowledge of justice, has also turned out

to be true.

[Sidenote: _The paradoxes are proven._]

[Sidenote: The greatest evil to do injustice, but there is a greater

still, not to be punished for doing injustice.]

And now, these things being as we have said, let us

proceed in the next place to consider whether you are right

in throwing in my teeth that I am unable to help myself

or any of my friends or kinsmen, or to save them in the

extremity of danger, and that I am in the power of another

like an outlaw to whom any one may do what he likes,—he

may box my ears, which was a brave saying of yours; or

take away my goods or banish me, or even do his worst and

kill me; a condition which, as you say, is the height of

disgrace. My answer to you is one which has been already

often repeated, but may as well be repeated once more. I

tell you, Callicles, that to be boxed on the ears wrongfully is

not the worst evil which can befall a man, nor to have my

purse or my body cut open, but that to smite and slay me

and mine wrongfully is far more disgraceful and more evil;

aye, and to despoil and enslave and pillage, or in any way at

all to wrong me and mine, is far more disgraceful and evil to

the doer of the wrong than to me who am the sufferer.

These truths, which have been already set forth as I state 509

them in the previous discussion, would seem now to have

been fixed and riveted by us, if I may use an expression

which is certainly bold, in words which are like bonds of

iron and adamant; and unless you or some other still more

enterprising hero shall break them, there is no possibility of

denying what I say. For my position has always been, that

I myself am ignorant how these things are, but that I have

never met any one who could say otherwise, any more than

you can, and not appear ridiculous. This is my position

still, and if what I am saying is true, and injustice is the

greatest of evils to the doer of injustice, and yet there is if

possible a greater than this greatest of evils[45], in an unjust

man not suffering retribution, what is that defence of which

the want will make a man truly ridiculous? Must not the

defence be one which will avert the greatest of human evils?

And will not the worst of all defences be that with which

a man is unable to defend himself or his family or his

friends?—and next will come that which is unable to avert

the next greatest evil; thirdly that which is unable to avert

the third greatest evil; and so of other evils. As is the

greatness of evil so is the honour of being able to avert them

in their several degrees, and the disgrace of not being able to

avert them. Am I not right, Callicles?

_Cal._ Yes, quite right.

_Soc._ Seeing then that there are these two evils, the doing

injustice and the suffering injustice—and we affirm that to do

injustice is a greater, and to suffer injustice a lesser evil—by

what devices can a man succeed in obtaining the two

advantages, the one of not doing and the other of not suffering

injustice? must he have the power, or only the will to

obtain them? I mean to ask whether a man will escape injustice

if he has only the will to escape, or must he have

provided himself with the power?

_Cal._ He must have provided himself with the power; that

is clear.

[Sidenote: _The tyrant and his satellites._]

_Soc._ And what do you say of doing injustice? Is the will

only sufficient, and will that prevent him from doing injustice,

or must he have provided himself with power and art; and

if he have not studied and practised, will he be unjust still?

Surely you might say, Callicles, whether you think that Polus

and I were right in admitting the conclusion that no one

does wrong voluntarily, but that all do wrong against their

will?

_Cal._ Granted, Socrates, if you will only have done. 510

_Soc._ Then, as would appear, power and art have to be provided

in order that we may do no injustice?

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Soc._ And what art will protect us from suffering injustice,

if not wholly, yet as far as possible? I want to know whether

you agree with me; for I think that such an art is the art of

one who is either a ruler or even tyrant himself, or the equal

and companion of the ruling power.

_Cal._ Well said, Socrates; and please to observe how

ready I am to praise you when you talk sense.

_Soc._ Think and tell me whether you would approve of another

view of mine: To me every man appears to be most

the friend of him who is most like to him—like to like, as

ancient sages say: Would you not agree to this?

_Cal._ I should.

[Sidenote: The tyrant naturally hates both his superiors and inferiors:

he likes only those who resemble him in character.]

_Soc._ But when the tyrant is rude and uneducated, he may

be expected to fear any one who is his superior in virtue, and

will never be able to be perfectly friendly with him.

_Cal._ That is true.

_Soc._ Neither will he be the friend of any one who is greatly

his inferior, for the tyrant will despise him, and will never

seriously regard him as a friend.

_Cal._ That again is true.

_Soc._ Then the only friend worth mentioning, whom the

tyrant can have, will be one who is of the same character, and

has the same likes and dislikes, and is at the same time

willing to be subject and subservient to him; he is the man

who will have power in the state, and no one will injure him

with impunity:—is not that so?

_Cal._ Yes.

[Sidenote: _The bad man will kill the good._]

_Soc._ And if a young man begins to ask how he may become

great and formidable, this would seem to be the way—he

will accustom himself, from his youth upward, to feel

sorrow and joy on the same occasions as his master, and will

contrive to be as like him as possible?

_Cal._ Yes.

[Sidenote: And the way to be a great man and not to suffer injury is to

become like him. And there can be no greater evil to him than this.]

_Soc._ And in this way he will have accomplished, as you

and your friends would say, the end of becoming a great man

and not suffering injury?

_Cal._ Very true.

_Soc._ But will he also escape from doing injury? Must not

the very opposite be true, if he is to be like the tyrant in his

injustice, and to have influence with him? Will he not 511

rather contrive to do as much wrong as possible, and not be

punished?

_Cal._ True.

_Soc._ And by the imitation of his master and by the power

which he thus acquires will not his soul become bad and

corrupted, and will not this be the greatest evil to him?

_Cal._ You always contrive somehow or other, Socrates, to

invert everything: do you not know that he who imitates the

tyrant will, if he has a mind, kill him who does not imitate

him and take away his goods?

[Sidenote: But how provoking that the bad man should slay the good!]

_Soc._ Excellent Callicles, I am not deaf, and I have heard

that a great many times from you and from Polus and from

nearly every man in the city, but I wish that you would hear

me too. I dare say that he will kill him if he has a mind—the

bad man will kill the good and true.

_Cal._ And is not that just the provoking thing?

[Sidenote: Nay, but we should not always study the arts which save us

from death;—the art of swimming, the art of the pilot, &c.]

_Soc._ Nay, not to a man of sense, as the argument shows: do

you think that all our cares should be directed to prolonging

life to the uttermost, and to the study of those arts which

secure us from danger always; like that art of rhetoric

which saves men in courts of law, and which you advise me

to cultivate?

_Cal._ Yes, truly, and very good advice too.

_Soc._ Well, my friend, but what do you think of swimming;

is that an art of any great pretensions?

_Cal._ No, indeed.

_Soc._ And yet surely swimming saves a man from death,

and there are occasions on which he must know how to swim.

[Sidenote: _Who can say whether to be saved_]

[Sidenote: The pilot demands a very moderate payment as the fare of

a passenger from Athens to Aegina, because he is not certain whether

salvation from death be a good or an evil.]

And if you despise the swimmers, I will tell you of another

and greater art, the art of the pilot, who not only saves the

souls of men, but also their bodies and properties from the

extremity of danger, just like rhetoric. Yet his art is modest

and unpresuming: it has no airs or pretences of doing anything

extraordinary, and, in return for the same salvation

which is given by the pleader, demands only two obols, if he

brings us from Aegina to Athens, or for the longer voyage

from Pontus or Egypt, at the utmost two drachmae, when he

has saved, as I was just now saying, the passenger and his

wife and children and goods, and safely disembarked them at

the Piraeus,—this is the payment which he asks in return for

so great a boon; and he who is the master of the art, and has

done all this, gets out and walks about on the sea-shore by

his ship in an unassuming way. For he is able to reflect and

is aware that he cannot tell which of his fellow-passengers he

has benefited, and which of them he has injured in not allowing

them to be drowned. He knows that they are just the

same when he has disembarked them as when they embarked, 512

and not a whit better either in their bodies or in their souls;

and he considers that if a man who is afflicted by great and

incurable bodily diseases is only to be pitied for having

escaped, and is in no way benefited by him in having been

saved from drowning, much less he who has great and incurable

diseases, not of the body, but of the soul, which is the

more valuable part of him; neither is life worth having nor

of any profit to the bad man, whether he be delivered from

the sea, or the law-courts, or any other devourer;—and so he

reflects that such a one had better not live, for he cannot

live well[46].

[Sidenote: _from death be good or evil?_]

[Sidenote: The engineer, too:—how much better than the pleader!]

[Sidenote: He too is another of your saviours: but you despise him,

whereas you ought to esteem him highly.]

[Sidenote: I want you to consider whether you can possibly become great

among the people unless you become like them.]

And this is the reason why the pilot, although he is our

saviour, is not usually conceited, any more than the engineer,

who is not at all behind either the general, or the pilot, or

any one else, in his saving power, for he sometimes saves

whole cities. Is there any comparison between him and the

pleader? And if he were to talk, Callicles, in your grandiose

style, he would bury you under a mountain of words, declaring

and insisting that we ought all of us to be engine-makers,

and that no other profession is worth thinking about;

he would have plenty to say. Nevertheless you despise him

and his art, and sneeringly call him an engine-maker, and

you will not allow your daughters to marry his son, or marry

your son to his daughters. And yet, on your principle, what

justice or reason is there in your refusal? What right have

you to despise the engine-maker, and the others whom I was

just now mentioning? I know that you will say, ‘I am

better, and better born.’ But if the better is not what I say,

and virtue consists only in a man saving himself and his,

whatever may be his character, then your censure of the

engine-maker, and of the physician, and of the other arts of

salvation, is ridiculous. O my friend! I want you to see that

the noble and the good may possibly be something different

from saving and being saved:—May not he who is truly a

man cease to care about living a certain time?—he knows, as

women say, that no man can escape fate, and therefore he is

not fond of life; he leaves all that with God, and considers

in what way he can best spend his appointed term;—whether

by assimilating himself to the constitution under which he

lives, as you at this moment have to consider how you may 513

become as like as possible to the Athenian people, if you

mean to be in their good graces, and to have power in the

state; whereas I want you to think and see whether this is

for the interest of either of us;—I would not have us risk

that which is dearest on the acquisition of this power, like

the Thessalian enchantresses, who, as they say, bring down

the moon from heaven at the risk of their own perdition.

But if you suppose that any man will show you the art of

becoming great in the city, and yet not conforming yourself

to the ways of the city, whether for better or worse, then I

can only say that you are mistaken, Callicles; for he who

would deserve to be the true natural friend of the Athenian

Demus, aye, or of Pyrilampes’ darling who is called after

them, must be by nature like them, and not an imitator only.

He, then, who will make you most like them, will make you

as you desire, a statesman and orator: for every man is

pleased when he is spoken to in his own language and spirit,

and dislikes any other. But perhaps you, sweet Callicles,

may be of another mind. What do you say?

[Sidenote: Callicles inclines for an instant to the Gospel of Socrates,

but the love of the world and of popularity overcomes him.]

[Sidenote: _Reiteration._]

_Cal._ Somehow or other your words, Socrates, always

appear to me to be good words; and yet, like the rest of the

world, I am not quite convinced by them[47].

_Soc._ The reason is, Callicles, that the love of Demus which

abides in your soul is an adversary to me; but I dare say that

if we recur to these same matters, and consider them more

thoroughly, you may be convinced for all that. Please, then,

to remember that there are two processes of training all

things, including body and soul; in the one, as we said, we

treat them with a view to pleasure, and in the other with a

view to the highest good, and then we do not indulge but

resist them: was not that the distinction which we drew?

[Sidenote: Two processes of training: one having a view to pleasure, the

other to good.]

_Cal._ Very true.

_Soc._ And the one which had pleasure in view was just a

vulgar flattery:—was not that another of our conclusions?

_Cal._ Be it so, if you will have it.

_Soc._ And the other had in view the greatest improvement

of that which was ministered to, whether body or soul?

_Cal._ Quite true.

[Sidenote: And we must train our citizens with a view to their good; and,

as in other arts, we must show that we can be trusted to improve them.]

_Soc._ And must we not have the same end in view in the

treatment of our city and citizens? Must we not try and

make them as good as possible? For we have already discovered

that there is no use in imparting to them any other 514

good, unless the mind of those who are to have the good,

whether money, or office, or any other sort of power, be

gentle and good. Shall we say that?

_Cal._ Yes, certainly, if you like.

_Soc._ Well, then, if you and I, Callicles, were intending[48] to

set about some public business, and were advising one another

to undertake buildings, such as walls, docks or temples of the

largest size, ought we not to examine ourselves, first, as to

whether we know or do not know the art of building, and

who taught us?—would not that be necessary, Callicles?

_Cal._ True.

_Soc._ In the second place, we should have to consider

whether we had ever constructed any private house, either of

our own or for our friends, and whether this building of ours

was a success or not; and if upon consideration we found

that we had had good and eminent masters, and had been

successful in constructing many fine buildings, not only with

their assistance, but without them, by our own unaided skill—in

that case prudence would not dissuade us from proceeding

to the construction of public works. But if we had no

master to show, and only a number of worthless buildings or

none at all, then, surely, it would be ridiculous in us to

attempt public works, or to advise one another to undertake

them. Is not this true?

[Sidenote: _The silence of Callicles._]

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Soc._ And does not the same hold in all other cases? If

you and I were physicians, and were advising one another

that we were competent to practise as state-physicians,

should I not ask about you, and would you not ask about

me, Well, but how about Socrates himself, has he good

health? and was any one else ever known to be cured by

him, whether slave or freeman? And I should make the

same enquiries about you. And if we arrived at the conclusion

that no one, whether citizen or stranger, man or

woman, had ever been any the better for the medical skill

of either of us, then, by Heaven, Callicles, what an absurdity

to think that we or any human being should be so silly as to

set up as state-physicians and advise others like ourselves to

do the same, without having first practised in private,

whether successfully or not, and acquired experience of the

art! Is not this, as they say, to begin with the big jar

when you are learning the potter’s art; which is a foolish

thing?

_Cal._ True. 515

[Sidenote: And now, Callicles, what are you who are a public character

doing for the improvement of the citizens?]

_Soc._ And now, my friend, as you are already beginning to

be a public character, and are admonishing and reproaching

me for not being one, suppose that we ask a few questions

of one another. Tell me, then, Callicles, how about making

any of the citizens better? Was there ever a man who was

once vicious, or unjust, or intemperate, or foolish, and became

by the help of Callicles good and noble? Was there ever

such a man, whether citizen or stranger, slave or freeman?

Tell me, Callicles, if a person were to ask these questions

of you, what would you answer? Whom would you say

that you had improved by your conversation? There may

have been good deeds of this sort which were done by you

as a private person, before you came forward in public.

Why will you not answer?

[Sidenote: _Pericles a bad political shepherd._]

[Sidenote: Callicles makes no answer.]

_Cal._ You are contentious, Socrates.

[Sidenote: Or how did Pericles and the great of old benefit the citizens?]

_Soc._ Nay, I ask you, not from a love of contention, but

because I really want to know in what way you think that

affairs should be administered among us—whether, when you

come to the administration of them, you have any other aim

but the improvement of the citizens? Have we not already

admitted many times over that such is the duty of a public

man? Nay, we have surely said so; for if you will not

answer for yourself I must answer for you. But if this is

what the good man ought to effect for the benefit of his own

state, allow me to recall to you the names of those whom

you were just now mentioning, Pericles, and Cimon, and

Miltiades, and Themistocles, and ask whether you still think

that they were good citizens.

_Cal._ I do.

_Soc._ But if they were good, then clearly each of them

must have made the citizens better instead of worse?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And, therefore, when Pericles first began to speak in

the assembly, the Athenians were not so good as when he

spoke last?

_Cal._ Very likely.

_Soc._ Nay, my friend, ‘likely’ is not the word; for if he

was a good citizen, the inference is certain.

_Cal._ And what difference does that make?

[Sidenote: Pericles corrupted them by giving them pay.]

_Soc._ None; only I should like further to know whether

the Athenians are supposed to have been made better by

Pericles, or, on the contrary, to have been corrupted by him;

for I hear that he was the first who gave the people pay,

and made them idle and cowardly, and encouraged them in

the love of talk and of money.

_Cal._ You heard that, Socrates, from the laconising set

who bruise their ears.

[Sidenote: He made them worse instead of better, for they all but put him

to death.]

[Sidenote: _For he taught the citizens only to kick and butt._]

_Soc._ But what I am going to tell you now is not mere

hearsay, but well known both to you and me: that at first,

Pericles was glorious and his character unimpeached by any

verdict of the Athenians—this was during the time when 516

they were not so good—yet afterwards, when they had been

made good and gentle by him, at the very end of his life

they convicted him of theft, and almost put him to death,

clearly under the notion that he was a malefactor.

_Cal._ Well, but how does that prove Pericles’ badness?

_Soc._ Why, surely, you would say that he was a bad

manager of asses or horses or oxen, who had received them

originally neither kicking nor butting nor biting him, and

implanted in them all these savage tricks? Would he not

be a bad manager of any animals who received them gentle,

and made them fiercer than they were when he received

them? What do you say?

_Cal._ I will do you the favour of saying ‘yes.’

_Soc._ And will you also do me the favour of saying whether

man is an animal?

_Cal._ Certainly he is.

_Soc._ And was not Pericles a shepherd of men?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ And if he was a good political shepherd, ought not

the animals who were his subjects, as we were just now

acknowledging, to have become more just, and not more

unjust?

_Cal._ Quite true.

_Soc._ And are not just men gentle, as Homer says?—or

are you of another mind?

_Cal._ I agree.

_Soc._ And yet he really did make them more savage than

he received them, and their savageness was shown towards

himself; which he must have been very far from desiring.

_Cal._ Do you want me to agree with you?

_Soc._ Yes, if I seem to you to speak the truth.

_Cal._ Granted then.

_Soc._ And if they were more savage, must they not have

been more unjust and inferior?

_Cal._ Granted again.

_Soc._ Then upon this view, Pericles was not a good statesman?

_Cal._ That is, upon your view.

[Sidenote: Cimon was ostracised; Themistocles was exiled; Miltiades was

nearly thrown from the rock.]

[Sidenote: _The old argument repeated, with illustrations taken from

common life._]

_Soc._ Nay, the view is yours, after what you have admitted.

Take the case of Cimon again. Did not the very persons

whom he was serving ostracize him, in order that they might

not hear his voice for ten years? and they did just the same

to Themistocles, adding the penalty of exile; and they voted

that Miltiades, the hero of Marathon, should be thrown into

the pit of death, and he was only saved by the Prytanis.

And yet, if they had been really good men, as you say, these

things would never have happened to them. For the good

charioteers are not those who at first keep their place, and

then, when they have broken-in their horses, and themselves

become better charioteers, are thrown out—that is not the

way either in charioteering or in any profession.—What do

you think?

_Cal._ I should think not.

[Sidenote: The older statesmen no better than the existing ones.]

_Soc._ Well, but if so, the truth is as I have said already, 517

that in the Athenian State no one has ever shown himself to

be a good statesman—you admitted that this was true of

our present statesmen, but not true of former ones, and you

preferred them to the others; yet they have turned out

to be no better than our present ones; and therefore, if

they were rhetoricians, they did not use the true art of

rhetoric or of flattery, or they would not have fallen out

of favour.

_Cal._ But surely, Socrates, no living man ever came near

any one of them in his performances.

[Sidenote: The older statesmen not able really to elevate the state to a

higher level, but more capable of gratifying its desires.]

[Sidenote: You might as well say that the cook or the baker is a good

trainer as that they were great statesmen.]

[Sidenote: The statesman-like the Sophist; neither has any right to

accuse their followers of wronging them; they should have taught them

better.]

[Sidenote: _Nonsense about the cry of ingratitude which_]

_Soc._ O, my dear friend, I say nothing against them regarded

as the serving-men of the State; and I do think that

they were certainly more serviceable than those who are

living now, and better able to gratify the wishes of the State;

but as to transforming those desires and not allowing them

to have their way, and using the powers which they had,

whether of persuasion or of force, in the improvement of

their fellow-citizens, which is the prime object of the truly

good citizen, I do not see that in these respects they were a

whit superior to our present statesmen, although I do admit

that they were more clever at providing ships and walls and

docks, and all that. You and I have a ridiculous way, for

during the whole time that we are arguing, we are always

going round and round to the same point, and constantly

misunderstanding one another. If I am not mistaken, you

have admitted and acknowledged more than once, that there

are two kinds of operations which have to do with the body,

and two which have to do with the soul: one of the two is

ministerial, and if our bodies are hungry provides food for

them, and if they are thirsty gives them drink, or if they are

cold supplies them with garments, blankets, shoes, and all

that they crave. I use the same images as before intentionally,

in order that you may understand me the better.

The purveyor of the articles may provide them either wholesale

or retail, or he may be the maker of any of them,—the

baker, or the cook, or the weaver, or the shoemaker, or the

currier; and in so doing, being such as he is, he is naturally

supposed by himself and every one to minister to the body.

For none of them know that there is another art—an art of

gymnastic and medicine which is the true minister of the

body, and ought to be the mistress of all the rest, and to

use their results according to the knowledge which she has

and they have not, of the real good or bad effects of meats

and drinks on the body. All other arts which have to do 518

with the body are servile and menial and illiberal; and

gymnastic and medicine are, as they ought to be, their

mistresses. Now, when I say that all this is equally true of

the soul, you seem at first to know and understand and

assent to my words, and then a little while afterwards you

come repeating, Has not the State had good and noble

citizens? and when I ask you who they are, you reply,

seemingly quite in earnest, as if I had asked, Who are or

have been good trainers?—and you had replied, Thearion,

the baker, Mithoecus, who wrote the Sicilian cookery-book,

Sarambus, the vintner: these are ministers of the body,

first-rate in their art; for the first makes admirable loaves,

the second excellent dishes, and the third capital wine;—to

me these appear to be the exact parallel of the statesmen

whom you mention. Now you would not be altogether

pleased if I said to you, My friend, you know nothing of

gymnastics; those of whom you are speaking to me are only

the ministers and purveyors of luxury, who have no good or

noble notions of their art, and may very likely be filling and

fattening men’s bodies and gaining their approval, although

the result is that they lose their original flesh in the long

run, and become thinner than they were before; and yet

they, in their simplicity, will not attribute their diseases and

loss of flesh to their entertainers; but when in after years

the unhealthy surfeit brings the attendant penalty of disease,

he who happens to be near them at the time, and offers them

advice, is accused and blamed by them, and if they could they

would do him some harm; while they proceed to eulogize

the men who have been the real authors of the mischief.

And that, Callicles, is just what you are now doing. You

praise the men who feasted the citizens and satisfied their

desires, and people say that they have made the city great,

not seeing that the swollen and ulcerated condition of the

State is to be attributed to these elder statesmen; for they

have filled the city full of harbours and docks and walls and

revenues and all that, and have left no room for justice and

temperance. And when the crisis of the disorder comes, 519

the people will blame the advisers of the hour, and applaud

Themistocles and Cimon and Pericles, who are the real

authors of their calamities; and if you are not careful they

may assail you and my friend Alcibiades, when they are

losing not only their new acquisitions, but also their original

possessions; not that you are the authors of these misfortunes

of theirs, although you may perhaps be accessories to them.

A great piece of work is always being made, as I see and

am told, now as of old, about our statesmen. When the

State treats any of them as malefactors, I observe that there

is a great uproar and indignation at the supposed wrong

which is done to them; ‘after all their many services to the

State, that they should unjustly perish,’—so the tale runs.

But the cry is all a lie; for no statesman ever could be unjustly

put to death by the city of which he is the head. The

case of the professed statesman is, I believe, very much like

that of the professed sophist; for the sophists, although they

are wise men, are nevertheless guilty of a strange piece of

folly; professing to be teachers of virtue, they will often

accuse their disciples of wronging them, and defrauding

them of their pay, and showing no gratitude for their services.

Yet what can be more absurd than that men who have become

just and good, and whose injustice has been taken

away from them, and who have had justice implanted in

them by their teachers, should act unjustly by reason of the

injustice which is not in them? Can anything be more

irrational, my friend, than this? You, Callicles, compel me

to be a mob-orator, because you will not answer.

[Sidenote: _is shown to statesmen at Athens._]

_Cal._ And you are the man who cannot speak unless there

is some one to answer?

_Soc._ I suppose that I can; just now, at any rate, the

speeches which I am making are long enough because you

refuse to answer me. But I adjure you by the god of

friendship, my good sir, do tell me whether there does

not appear to you to be a great inconsistency in saying

that you have made a man good, and then blaming him for

being bad?

_Cal._ Yes, it appears so to me.

_Soc._ Do you never hear our professors of education speaking 520

in this inconsistent manner?

_Cal._ Yes, but why talk of men who are good for nothing?

[Sidenote: Sophistry is much superior to rhetoric.]

_Soc._ I would rather say, why talk of men who profess to

be rulers, and declare that they are devoted to the improvement

of the city, and nevertheless upon occasion declaim

against the utter vileness of the city:—do you think that

there is any difference between one and the other? My

good friend, the sophist and the rhetorician, as I was saying

to Polus, are the same, or nearly the same; but you ignorantly

fancy that rhetoric is a perfect thing, and sophistry a thing to

be despised; whereas the truth is, that sophistry is as much

superior to rhetoric as legislation is to the practice of law, or

gymnastic to medicine. The orators and sophists, as I am

inclined to think, are the only class who cannot complain of

the mischief ensuing to themselves from that which they

teach others, without in the same breath accusing themselves

of having done no good to those whom they profess to

benefit. Is not this a fact?

_Cal._ Certainly it is.

[Sidenote: He who teaches honesty ought to teach his pupils to pay him

for the lesson.]

[Sidenote: _The physician of the state_]

_Soc._ If they were right in saying that they make men

better, then they are the only class who can afford to leave

their remuneration to those who have been benefited by

them. Whereas if a man has been benefited in any other

way, if, for example, he has been taught to run by a trainer,

he might possibly defraud him of his pay, if the trainer left

the matter to him, and made no agreement with him that he

should receive money as soon as he had given him the

utmost speed; for not because of any deficiency of speed do

men act unjustly, but by reason of injustice.

_Cal._ Very true.

_Soc._ And he who removes injustice can be in no danger

of being treated unjustly: he alone can safely leave the

honorarium to his pupils, if he be really able to make them

good—am I not right[49]?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Soc._ Then we have found the reason why there is no dishonour

in a man receiving pay who is called in to advise

about building or any other art?

_Cal._ Yes, we have found the reason.

_Soc._ But when the point is, how a man may become best

himself, and best govern his family and state, then to say

that you will give no advice gratis is held to be dishonourable?

_Cal._ True.

_Soc._ And why? Because only such benefits call forth a

desire to requite them, and there is evidence that a benefit

has been conferred when the benefactor receives a return;

otherwise not. Is this true?

_Cal._ It is.

[Sidenote: Callicles advises Socrates to be the servant of the state, and

not run the risk of popular enmity.]

_Soc._ Then to which service of the State do you invite

me? determine for me. Am I to be the physician of the 521

State who will strive and struggle to make the Athenians as

good as possible; or am I to be the servant and flatterer of

the State? Speak out, my good friend, freely and fairly as

you did at first and ought to do again, and tell me your

entire mind.

_Cal._ I say then that you should be the servant of the

State.

[Sidenote: _and the flatterer of the state._]

_Soc._ The flatterer? well, sir, that is a noble invitation.

_Cal._ The Mysian, Socrates, or what you please. For if

you refuse, the consequences will be—

_Soc._ Do not repeat the old story—that he who likes will

kill me and get my money; for then I shall have to repeat

the old answer, that he will be a bad man and will kill the

good, and that the money will be of no use to him, but that

he will wrongly use that which he wrongly took, and if

wrongly, basely, and if basely, hurtfully.

_Cal._ How confident you are, Socrates, that you will never

come to harm! you seem to think that you are living in

another country, and can never be brought into a court of

justice, as you very likely may be brought by some miserable

and mean person.

[Sidenote: Socrates has no fear of popular enmity, but is quite aware

that he will incur it, because he is the only true politician of his

time, and he has no defence against men such as his opponents: that is

to say, he has the defence of truth, but not such a defence as men

ordinarily produce.]

_Soc._ Then I must indeed be a fool, Callicles, if I do not

know that in the Athenian State any man may suffer anything.

And if I am brought to trial and incur the dangers

of which you speak, he will be a villain who brings me to

trial—of that I am very sure, for no good man would accuse

the innocent. Nor shall I be surprised if I am put to death.

Shall I tell you why I anticipate this?

_Cal._ By all means.

_Soc._ I think that I am the only or almost the only

Athenian living who practises the true art of politics; I am

the only politician of my time. Now, seeing that when I

speak my words are not uttered with any view of gaining

favour, and that I look to what is best and not to what is

most pleasant, having no mind to use those arts and graces

which you recommend, I shall have nothing to say in the

justice court. And you might argue with me, as I was

arguing with Polus:—I shall be tried just as a physician

would be tried in a court of little boys at the indictment of

the cook. What would he reply under such circumstances,

if some one were to accuse him, saying, ‘O my boys, many

evil things has this man done to you: he is the death of

you, especially of the younger ones among you, cutting and

burning and starving and suffocating you, until you know 522

not what to do; he gives you the bitterest potions, and

compels you to hunger and thirst. How unlike the variety

of meats and sweets on which I feasted you!’ What do

you suppose that the physician would be able to reply when

he found himself in such a predicament? If he told the

truth he could only say, ‘All these evil things, my boys, I

did for your health,’ and then would there not just be a

clamour among a jury like that? How they would cry out!

_Cal._ I dare say.

_Soc._ Would he not be utterly at a loss for a reply?

[Sidenote: _The myth._]

_Cal._ He certainly would.

_Soc._ And I too shall be treated in the same way, as I well

know, if I am brought before the court. For I shall not

be able to rehearse to the people the pleasures which I have

procured for them, and which, although I am not disposed

to envy either the procurers or enjoyers of them, are deemed

by them to be benefits and advantages. And if any one says

that I corrupt young men, and perplex their minds, or that

I speak evil of old men, and use bitter words towards them,

whether in private or public, it is useless for me to reply, as

I truly might:—‘All this I do for the sake of justice, and

with a view to your interest, my judges, and to nothing else.’

And therefore there is no saying what may happen to me.

_Cal._ And do you think, Socrates, that a man who is thus

defenceless is in a good position?

_Soc._ Yes, Callicles, if he have that defence, which as you

have often acknowledged he should have—if he be his own

defence, and have never said or done anything wrong, either

in respect of gods or men; and this has been repeatedly acknowledged

by us to be the best sort of defence. And if any

one could convict me of inability to defend myself or others

after this sort, I should blush for shame, whether I was convicted

before many, or before a few, or by myself alone; and

if I died from want of ability to do so, that would indeed grieve

me. But if I died because I have no powers of flattery or

rhetoric, I am very sure that you would not find me repining

at death. For no man who is not an utter fool and coward

is afraid of death itself, but he is afraid of doing wrong.

For to go to the world below having one’s soul full of injustice

is the last and worst of all evils. And in proof of

what I say, if you have no objection, I should like to tell you

a story.

_Cal._ Very well, proceed; and then we shall have done.

[Sidenote: The philosopher has no reason to dread death, as Socrates will

prove by a relation of what happens in the world below.]

[Sidenote: Before the days of Zeus, the judgments of another world too

much resembled the judgments of this.]

[Sidenote: Zeus takes measures for the correction and improvement of

them.]

[Sidenote: _The souls of the departed._]

_Soc._ Listen, then, as story-tellers say, to a very pretty 523

tale, which I dare say that you may be disposed to regard as

a fable only, but which, as I believe, is a true tale, for I

mean to speak the truth. Homer tells us[50], how Zeus and

Poseidon and Pluto divided the empire which they inherited

from their father. Now in the days of Cronos there existed

a law respecting the destiny of man, which has always been,

and still continues to be in Heaven,—that he who has lived

all his life in justice and holiness shall go, when he is dead,

to the Islands of the Blessed, and dwell there in perfect

happiness out of the reach of evil; but that he who has lived

unjustly and impiously shall go to the house of vengeance

and punishment, which is called Tartarus. And in the time

of Cronos, and even quite lately in the reign of Zeus, the

judgment was given on the very day on which the men were

to die; the judges were alive, and the men were alive; and

the consequence was that the judgments were not well given.

Then Pluto and the authorities from the Islands of the

Blessed came to Zeus, and said that the souls found their

way to the wrong places. Zeus said: ‘I shall put a stop to

this; the judgments are not well given, because the persons

who are judged have their clothes on, for they are alive; and

there are many who, having evil souls, are apparelled in fair

bodies, or encased in wealth or rank, and, when the day of

judgment arrives, numerous witnesses come forward and

testify on their behalf that they have lived righteously. The

judges are awed by them, and they themselves too have their

clothes on when judging; their eyes and ears and their whole

bodies are interposed as a veil before their own souls. All

this is a hindrance to them; there are the clothes of the

judges and the clothes of the judged.—What is to be done?

I will tell you:—In the first place, I will deprive men of

the foreknowledge of death, which they possess at present:

this power which they have Prometheus has already received

my orders to take from them: in the second place, they shall

be entirely stripped before they are judged, for they shall be

judged when they are dead; and the judge too shall be naked,

that is to say, dead—he with his naked soul shall pierce

into the other naked souls; and they shall die suddenly

and be deprived of all their kindred, and leave their brave

attire strewn upon the earth—conducted in this manner, the

judgment will be just. I knew all about the matter before

any of you, and therefore I have made my sons judges; two

from Asia, Minos and Rhadamanthus, and one from Europe,

Aeacus. And these, when they are dead, shall give judgment 524

in the meadow at the parting of the ways, whence the

two roads lead, one to the Islands of the Blessed, and the

other to Tartarus. Rhadamanthus shall judge those who

come from Asia, and Aeacus those who come from Europe.

And to Minos I shall give the primacy, and he shall hold

a court of appeal, in case either of the two others are in any

doubt:—then the judgment respecting the last journey of

men will be as just as possible.’

[Sidenote: As the body is, so is the soul after death; they both retain

the traces of what they were in life, and they are punished accordingly.]

From this tale, Callicles, which I have heard and believe,

I draw the following inferences:—Death, if I am right, is in

the first place the separation from one another of two things,

soul and body; nothing else. And after they are separated

they retain their several natures, as in life; the body keeps

the same habit, and the results of treatment or accident are

distinctly visible in it: for example, he who by nature or

training or both, was a tall man while he was alive, will

remain as he was, after he is dead; and the fat man will

remain fat; and so on; and the dead man, who in life had a

fancy to have flowing hair, will have flowing hair. And if he

was marked with the whip and had the prints of the scourge,

or of wounds in him when he was alive, you might see the

same in the dead body; and if his limbs were broken or mis-shapen

when he was alive, the same appearance would be

visible in the dead. And in a word, whatever was the habit

of the body during life would be distinguishable after death,

either perfectly, or in a great measure and for a certain time.

And I should imagine that this is equally true of the soul,

Callicles; when a man is stripped of the body, all the natural

or acquired affections of the soul are laid open to view.—And

when they come to the judge, as those from Asia come

to Rhadamanthus, he places them near him and inspects

them quite impartially, not knowing whose the soul is: perhaps

he may lay hands on the soul of the great king, or of

some other king or potentate, who has no soundness in him,

but his soul is marked with the whip, and is full of the prints

and scars of perjuries and crimes with which each action has

stained him, and he is all crooked with falsehood and imposture, 525

and has no straightness, because he has lived without

truth. Him Rhadamanthus beholds, full of all deformity

and disproportion, which is caused by licence and luxury

and insolence and incontinence, and despatches him ignominiously

to his prison, and there he undergoes the punishment

which he deserves.

[Sidenote: _The Homeric heroes in the world below._]

[Sidenote: The proper office of punishment is either to improve or to

deter.]

[Sidenote: The meaner sort of men are incapable of great crimes.]

[Sidenote: Great men have sometimes been good men; but power is apt to

corrupt them.]

Now the proper office of punishment is twofold: he who

is rightly punished ought either to become better and profit

by it, or he ought to be made an example to his fellows, that

they may see what he suffers, and fear and become better.

Those who are improved when they are punished by gods

and men, are those whose sins are curable; and they are

improved, as in this world so also in another, by pain and

suffering; for there is no other way in which they can be

delivered from their evil. But they who have been guilty of

the worst crimes, and are incurable by reason of their crimes,

are made examples; for, as they are incurable, the time has

passed at which they can receive any benefit. They get no

good themselves, but others get good when they behold them

enduring for ever the most terrible and painful and fearful

sufferings as the penalty of their sins—there they are, hanging

up as examples, in the prison-house of the world below,

a spectacle and a warning to all unrighteous men who come

thither. And among them, as I confidently affirm, will be

found Archelaus, if Polus truly reports of him, and any other

tyrant who is like him. Of these fearful examples, most, as

I believe, are taken from the class of tyrants and kings and

potentates and public men, for they are the authors of the

greatest and most impious crimes, because they have the

power. And Homer witnesses to the truth of this; for they

are always kings and potentates whom he has described as

suffering everlasting punishment in the world below: such

were Tantalus and Sisyphus and Tityus. But no one ever

described Thersites, or any private person who was a villain,

as suffering everlasting punishment, or as incurable. For to

commit the worst crimes, as I am inclined to think, was not

in his power, and he was happier than those who had the

power. No, Callicles, the very bad men come from the 526

class of those who have power[51]. And yet in that very class

there may arise good men, and worthy of all admiration they

are, for where there is great power to do wrong, to live and

to die justly is a hard thing, and greatly to be praised, and

few there are who attain to this. Such good and true men,

however, there have been, and will be again, at Athens and

in other states, who have fulfilled their trust righteously; and

there is one who is quite famous all over Hellas, Aristeides,

the son of Lysimachus. But, in general, great men are also

bad, my friend.

[Sidenote: _The spiritual combat._]

[Sidenote: The impartiality of the judges in another world.]

As I was saying, Rhadamanthus, when he gets a soul of

the bad kind, knows nothing about him, neither who he is,

nor who his parents are; he knows only that he has got hold

of a villain; and seeing this, he stamps him as curable or incurable,

and sends him away to Tartarus, whither he goes

and receives his proper recompense. Or, again, he looks

with admiration on the soul of some just one who has lived

in holiness and truth; he may have been a private man or

not; and I should say, Callicles, that he is most likely to

have been a philosopher who has done his own work, and

not troubled himself with the doings of other men in his lifetime;

him Rhadamanthus sends to the Islands of the Blessed.

Aeacus does the same; and they both have sceptres, and

judge; but Minos alone has a golden sceptre and is seated

looking on, as Odysseus in Homer[52] declares that he saw

him:

‘Holding a sceptre of gold, and giving laws to the dead.’

Now I, Callicles, am persuaded of the truth of these things,

and I consider how I shall present my soul whole and

undefiled before the judge in that day. Renouncing the

honours at which the world aims, I desire only to know the

truth, and to live as well as I can, and, when I die, to die as

well as I can. And, to the utmost of my power, I exhort all

other men to do the same. And, in return for your exhortation

of me, I exhort you also to take part in the great combat,

which is the combat of life, and greater than every other

earthly conflict. And I retort your reproach of me, and say,

that you will not be able to help yourself when the day of

trial and judgment, of which I was speaking, comes upon

you; you will go before the judge, the son of Aegina, and,

when he has got you in his grip and is carrying you off, you 527

will gape and your head will swim round, just as mine would

in the courts of this world, and very likely some one will

shamefully box you on the ears, and put upon you any sort of

insult.

[Sidenote: _The better path._]

Perhaps this may appear to you to be only an old wife’s tale,

which you will contemn. And there might be reason in your

contemning such tales, if by searching we could find out anything

better or truer: but now you see that you and Polus

and Gorgias, who are the three wisest of the Greeks of our

day, are not able to show that we ought to live any life which

does not profit in another world as well as in this. And of

all that has been said, nothing remains unshaken but the

saying, that to do injustice is more to be avoided than to suffer

injustice, and that the reality and not the appearance of virtue

is to be followed above all things, as well in public as in

private life; and that when any one has been wrong in anything,

he is to be chastised, and that the next best thing to a

man being just is that he should become just, and be chastised

and punished; also that he should avoid all flattery of himself

as well as of others, of the few or of the many: and

rhetoric and any other art should be used by him, and all his

actions should be done always, with a view to justice.

Follow me then, and I will lead you where you will be

happy in life and after death, as the argument shows. And

never mind if some one despises you as a fool, and insults

you, if he has a mind; let him strike you, by Zeus, and do

you be of good cheer, and do not mind the insulting blow, for

you will never come to any harm in the practice of virtue, if

you are a really good and true man. When we have practised

virtue together, we will apply ourselves to politics, if

that seems desirable, or we will advise about whatever else

may seem good to us, for we shall be better able to judge

then. In our present condition we ought not to give ourselves

airs, for even on the most important subjects we are

always changing our minds; so utterly stupid are we! Let

us, then, take the argument as our guide, which has revealed

to us that the best way of life is to practise justice and every

virtue in life and death. This way let us go; and in this

exhort all men to follow, not in the way to which you trust

and in which you exhort me to follow you; for that way, Callicles,

is nothing worth.