Chapter XV: Part 15

The myths of Plato are a phenomenon unique in literature. There are four longer ones: these occur in the Phaedrus (244-256), Phaedo (110-115), Gorgias (523-527), and Republic (x. 614-621). That in the Republic is the most elaborate and finished of them. Three of these greater myths, namely those contained in the Phaedo, the Gorgias and the Republic, relate to the destiny of human souls in a future life. The magnificent myth in the Phaedrus treats of the immortality, or rather the eternity of the soul, in which is included a former as well as a future state of existence. To these may be added, (1) the myth, or rather fable, occurring in the Statesman (268-274), in which the life of innocence is contrasted with the ordinary life of man and the consciousness of evil: (2) the legend of the Island of Atlantis, an imaginary history, which is a fragment only, commenced in the Timaeus (21-26) and continued in the Critias: (3) the much less artistic fiction of the foundation of the Cretan colony which is introduced in the preface to the Laws (iii. 702), but soon falls into the background: (4) the beautiful but rather artificial tale of Prometheus and Epimetheus narrated in his rhetorical manner by Protagoras in the dialogue called after him (320-328): (5) the speech at the beginning of the Phaedrus (231-234), which is a parody of the orator Lysias; the rival speech of Socrates and the recantation of it (237-241). To these may be added (6) the tale of the grasshoppers, and (7) the tale of Thamus and of Theuth, both in the Phaedrus (259 and 274-5): (8) the parable of the Cave (Rep. vii. _ad init._), in which the previous argument is recapitulated, and the nature and degrees of knowledge having been previously set forth in the abstract are represented in a picture: (9) the fiction of the earth-born men (Rep. iii. 414; cp. Laws ii. 664), in which by the adaptation of an old tradition Plato makes a new beginning for his society: (10) the myth of Aristophanes respecting the division of the sexes, Sym. 189: (11) the parable of the noble captain, the pilot, and the mutinous sailors (Rep. vi. 488), in which is represented the relation of the better part of the world, and of the philosopher, to the mob of politicians: (12) the ironical tale of the pilot who plies between Athens and Aegina charging only a small payment for saving men from death, the reason being that he is uncertain whether to live or die is better for them (Gorg. 511): (13) the treatment of freemen and citizens by physicians and of slaves by their apprentices,—a somewhat laboured figure of speech intended to illustrate the two different ways in which the laws speak to men (Laws iv. 720). There also occur in Plato continuous images; some of them extend over several pages, appearing and reappearing at intervals: such as the bees stinging and stingless (paupers and thieves) in the Eighth Book of the Republic (554), who are generated in the transition from timocracy to oligarchy: the sun, which is to the visible world what the idea of good is to the intellectual, in the Sixth Book of the Republic (508-9): the composite animal, having the form of a man, but containing under a human skin a lion and a many-headed monster (Rep. ix. 588-9): the great beast (vi. 493), i. e. the populace: and the wild beast within us, meaning the passions which are always liable to break out (ix. 571): the animated comparisons of the degradation of philosophy by the arts to the dishonoured maiden (vi. 495-6), and of the tyrant to the parricide, who ‘beats his father, having first taken away his arms’ (viii. 569): the dog, who is your only philosopher (ii. 376 B): the grotesque and rather paltry image of the argument wandering about without a head (Laws vi. 752), which is repeated, not improved, from the Gorgias (509 D): the argument personified as veiling her face (Rep. vi. 503 A), as engaged in a chase (iv. 427 C), as breaking upon us in a first, second and third wave (v. 457 C, 472 A, 473 C):—on these figures of speech the changes are rung many times over. It is observable that nearly all these parables or continuous images are found in the Republic; that which occurs in the Theaetetus (149 ff.), of the midwifery of Socrates, is perhaps the only exception. To make the list complete, the mathematical figure of the number of the state (Rep. viii. 546), or the numerical interval which separates king from tyrant (ix. 587-8), should not be forgotten.

[Sidenote: _The myths of Plato._]

The myth in the Gorgias is one of those descriptions of another life which, like the Sixth Aeneid of Virgil, appear to contain reminiscences of the mysteries. It is a vision of the rewards and punishments which await good and bad men after death. It supposes the body to continue, and to be in another world what it has become in this. It includes a Paradiso, Purgatorio, and Inferno, like the sister myths of the Phaedo and the Republic. The Inferno is reserved for great criminals only. The argument of the dialogue is frequently referred to, and the meaning breaks through so as rather to destroy the liveliness and consistency of the picture. The structure of the fiction is very slight, the chief point or moral being that in the judgments of another world there is no possibility of concealment: Zeus has taken from men the power of foreseeing death, and brings together the souls both of them and their judges naked and undisguised at the judgment-seat. Both are exposed to view, stripped of the veils and clothes which might prevent them from seeing into or being seen by one another.

[Sidenote: _The myths of Plato._]

The myth of the Phaedo is of the same type, but it is more cosmological, and also more poetical. The beautiful and ingenious fancy occurs to Plato that the upper atmosphere is an earth and heaven in one, a glorified earth, fairer and purer than that in which we dwell. As the fishes live in the ocean, mankind are living in a lower sphere, out of which they put their heads for a moment or two and behold a world beyond. The earth which we inhabit is a sediment of the coarser particles which drop from the world above, and is to that heavenly earth what the desert and the shores of the ocean are to us. A part of the myth consists of description of the interior of the earth, which gives the opportunity of introducing several mythological names and of providing places of torment for the wicked. There is no clear distinction of soul and body; the spirits beneath the earth are spoken of as souls only, yet they retain a sort of shadowy form when they cry for mercy on the shores of the lake; and the philosopher alone is said to have got rid of the body. All the three myths in Plato which relate to the world below have a place for repentant sinners, as well as other homes or places for the very good and very bad. It is a natural reflection which is made by Plato elsewhere, that the two extremes of human character are rarely met with, and that the generality of mankind are between them. Hence a place must be found for them. In the myth of the Phaedo they are carried down the river Acheron to the Acherusian lake, where they dwell, and are purified of their evil deeds, and receive the rewards of their good. There are also incurable sinners, who are cast into Tartarus, there to remain as the penalty of atrocious crimes; these suffer everlastingly. And there is another class of hardly curable sinners who are allowed from time to time to approach the shores of the Acherusian lake, where they cry to their victims for mercy; which if they obtain they come out into the lake and cease from their torments.

Neither this, nor any of the three greater myths of Plato, nor perhaps any allegory or parable relating to the unseen world, is consistent with itself. The language of philosophy mingles with that of mythology; abstract ideas are transformed into persons, figures of speech into realities. These myths may be compared with the Pilgrim’s Progress of Bunyan, in which discussions of theology are mixed up with the incidents of travel, and mythological personages are associated with human beings: they are also garnished with names and phrases taken out of Homer, and with other fragments of Greek tradition.

[Sidenote: _The myths of Plato._]

The myth of the Republic is more subtle and also more consistent than either of the two others. It has a greater verisimilitude than they have, and is full of touches which recall the experiences of human life. It will be noticed by an attentive reader that the twelve days during which Er lay in a trance after he was slain coincide with the time passed by the spirits in their pilgrimage. It is a curious observation, not often made, that good men who have lived in a well-governed city (shall we say in a religious and respectable society?) are more likely to make mistakes in their choice of life than those who have had more experience of the world and of evil. It is a more familiar remark that we constantly blame others when we have only ourselves to blame; and the philosopher must acknowledge, however reluctantly, that there is an element of chance in human life with which it is sometimes impossible for man to cope. That men drink more of the waters of forgetfulness than is good for them is a poetical description of a familiar truth. We have many of us known men who, like Odysseus, have wearied of ambition and have only desired rest. We should like to know what became of the infants ‘dying almost as soon as they were born’ (x. 615 B), but Plato only raises, without satisfying, our curiosity. The two companies of souls, ascending and descending at either chasm of heaven and earth, and conversing when they come out into the meadow, the majestic figures of the judges sitting in heaven, the voice heard by Ardiaeus, are features of the great allegory which have an indescribable grandeur and power. The remark already made respecting the inconsistency of the two other myths must be extended also to this: it is at once an orrery, or model of the heavens, and a picture of the Day of Judgment.

[Sidenote: _The myth in the Phaedrus._]

The three myths are unlike anything else in Plato. There is an Oriental, or rather an Egyptian element in them, and they have an affinity to the mysteries and to the Orphic modes of worship. To a certain extent they are un-Greek; at any rate there is hardly anything like them in other Greek writings which have a serious purpose; in spirit they are mediaeval. They are akin to what may be termed the underground religion in all ages and countries. They are presented in the most lively and graphic manner, but they are never insisted on as true; it is only affirmed that nothing better can be said about a future life. Plato seems to make use of them when he has reached the limits of human knowledge; or, to borrow an expression of his own, when he is standing on the outside of the intellectual world. They are very simple in style; a few touches bring the picture home to the mind, and make it present to us. They have also a kind of authority gained by the employment of sacred and familiar names, just as mere fragments of the words of Scripture, put together in any form and applied to any subject, have a power of their own. They are a substitute for poetry and mythology; and they are also a reform of mythology. The moral of them may be summed up in a word or two: After death the Judgment; and ‘there is some better thing remaining for the good than for the evil.’

All literature gathers into itself many elements of the past: for example, the tale of the earth-born men in the Republic appears at first sight to be an extravagant fancy, but it is restored to propriety when we remember that it is based on a legendary belief. The art of making stories of ghosts and apparitions credible is said to consist in the manner of telling them. The effect is gained by many literary and conversational devices, such as the previous raising of curiosity, the mention of little circumstances, simplicity, picturesqueness, the naturalness of the occasion, and the like. This art is possessed by Plato in a degree which has never been equalled.

The myth in the Phaedrus is even greater than the myths which have been already described, but is of a different character. It treats of a former rather than of a future life. It represents the conflict of reason aided by passion or righteous indignation on the one hand, and of the animal lusts and instincts on the other. The soul of man has followed the company of some god, and seen truth in the form of the universal before it was born in this world. Our present life is the result of the struggle which was then carried on. This world is relative to a former world, as it is often projected into a future. We ask the question, Where were men before birth? as we likewise enquire, What will become of them after death? The first question is unfamiliar to us, and therefore seems to be unnatural; but if we survey the whole human race, it has been as influential and as widely spread as the other. In the Phaedrus it is really a figure of speech in which the ‘spiritual combat’ of this life is represented. The majesty and power of the whole passage—especially of what may be called the theme or proem (beginning ‘The mind through all her being is immortal’)—can only be rendered very inadequately in another language.

[Sidenote: _The myth in the Statesman._]

The myth in the Statesman relates to a former cycle of existence, in which men were born of the earth, and by the reversal of the earth’s motion had their lives reversed and were restored to youth and beauty: the dead came to life, the old grew middle-aged, and the middle-aged young; the youth became a child, the child an infant, the infant vanished into the earth. The connection between the reversal of the earth’s motion and the reversal of human life is of course verbal only, yet Plato, like theologians in other ages, argues from the consistency of the tale to its truth. The new order of the world was immediately under the government of God; it was a state of innocence in which men had neither wants nor cares, in which the earth brought forth all things spontaneously, and God was to man what man now is to the animals. There were no great estates, or families, or private possessions, nor any traditions of the past, because men were all born out of the earth. This is what Plato calls the ‘reign of Cronos;’ and in like manner he connects the reversal of the earth’s motion with some legend of which he himself was probably the inventor.

The question is then asked, under which of these two cycles of existence was man the happier,—under that of Cronos, which was a state of innocence, or that of Zeus, which is our ordinary life? For a while Plato balances the two sides of the serious controversy, which he has suggested in a figure. The answer depends on another question: What use did the children of Cronos make of their time? They had boundless leisure and the faculty of discoursing, not only with one another, but with the animals. Did they employ these advantages with a view to philosophy, gathering from every nature some addition to their store of knowledge? or, Did they pass their time in eating and drinking and telling stories to one another and to the beasts?—in either case there would be no difficulty in answering. But then, as Plato rather mischievously adds, ‘Nobody knows what they did,’ and therefore the doubt must remain undetermined.

[Sidenote: _Transition in Plato from the abstract to the concrete._]

To the first there succeeds a second epoch. After another natural convulsion, in which the order of the world and of human life is once more reversed, God withdraws his guiding hand, and man is left to the government of himself. The world begins again, and arts and laws are slowly and painfully invented. A secular age succeeds to a theocratical. In this fanciful tale Plato has dropped, or almost dropped, the garb of mythology. He suggests several curious and important thoughts, such as the possibility of a state of innocence, the existence of a world without traditions, and the difference between human and divine government. He has also carried a step further his speculations concerning the abolition of the family and of property, which he supposes to have no place among the children of Cronos any more than in the ideal state.

* * * * *

It is characteristic of Plato and of his age to pass from the abstract to the concrete, from poetry to reality. Language is the expression of the seen, and also of the unseen, and moves in a region between them. A great writer knows how to strike both these chords, sometimes remaining within the sphere of the visible, and then again comprehending a wider range and soaring to the abstract and universal. Even in the same sentence he may employ both modes of speech not improperly or inharmoniously. It is useless to criticise the broken metaphors of Plato, if the effect of the whole is to create a picture not such as can be painted on canvas, but which is full of life and meaning to the reader. A poem may be contained in a word or two, which may call up not one but many latent images; or half reveal to us by a sudden flash the thoughts of many hearts. Often the rapid transition from one image to another is pleasing to us: on the other hand, any single figure of speech if too often repeated, or worked out too much at length, becomes prosy and monotonous. In theology and philosophy we necessarily include both ‘the moral law within and the starry heaven above,’ and pass from one to the other (cp. for examples Psalm xviii. 1-25, xix. 1-9, etc.). Whether such a use of language is puerile or noble depends upon the genius of the writer or speaker, and the familiarity of the associations employed.

[Sidenote: _The myths not written, but spoken words._]

In the myths and parables of Plato the ease and grace of conversation is not forgotten: they are spoken, not written words, stories which are told to a living audience, and so well told that we are more than half-inclined to believe them (cp. Phaedrus 274). As in conversation too, the striking image or figure of speech is not forgotten, but is quickly caught up, and alluded to again and again; as it would still be in our own day in a genial and sympathetic society. The descriptions of Plato have a greater life and reality than is to be found in any modern writing. This is due to their homeliness and simplicity. Plato can do with words just as he pleases; to him they are indeed ‘more plastic than wax’ (Rep. ix. 588 D). We are in the habit of opposing speech and writing, poetry and prose. But he has discovered a use of language in which they are united; which gives a fitting expression to the highest truths; and in which the trifles of courtesy and the familiarities of daily life are not overlooked.

GORGIAS.

_PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE._

CALLICLES. GORGIAS. SOCRATES. POLUS. CHAEREPHON.

SCENE:—The house of Callicles.

[Sidenote: _Gorgias._]

_Callicles._ The wise man, as the proverb says, is late for a
fray, but not for a feast. =Steph.= 447

_Socrates._ And are we late for a feast?

_Cal._ Yes, and a delightful feast; for Gorgias has just been
exhibiting to us many fine things.

_Soc._ It is not my fault, Callicles; our friend Chaerephon
is to blame; for he would keep us loitering in the Agora.

_Chaerephon._ Never mind, Socrates; the misfortune of
which I have been the cause I will also repair; for Gorgias
is a friend of mine, and I will make him give the exhibition
again either now, or, if you prefer, at some other time.

_Cal._ What is the matter, Chaerephon—does Socrates want
to hear Gorgias?

_Chaer._ Yes, that was our intention in coming.

_Cal._ Come into my house, then; for Gorgias is staying
with me, and he shall exhibit to you.

_Soc._ Very good, Callicles; but will he answer our questions?
for I want to hear from him what is the nature of his
art, and what it is which he professes and teaches; he may,
as you [Chaerephon] suggest, defer the exhibition to some
other time.

_Cal._ There is nothing like asking him, Socrates; and indeed
to answer questions is a part of his exhibition, for he
was saying only just now, that any one in my house might
put any question to him, and that he would answer.

[Sidenote: _Gorgias is ready to answer all comers._]

_Soc._ How fortunate! will you ask him, Chaerephon—?

_Chaer._ What shall I ask him?

_Soc._ Ask him who he is.

_Chaer._ What do you mean?

_Soc._ I mean such a question as would elicit from him, if he
had been a maker of shoes, the answer that he is a cobbler.
Do you understand?

_Chaer._ I understand, and will ask him: Tell me, Gorgias,
is our friend Callicles right in saying that you undertake to
answer any questions which you are asked?

_Gorgias._ Quite right, Chaerephon: I was saying as much
only just now; and I may add, that many years have elapsed 448
since any one has asked me a new one.

_Chaer._ Then you must be very ready, Gorgias.

_Gor._ Of that, Chaerephon, you can make trial.

[Sidenote: Polus offers to take the place of Gorgias in the argument.]

_Polus._ Yes, indeed, and if you like, Chaerephon, you may
make trial of me too, for I think that Gorgias, who has been
talking a long time, is tired.

_Chaer._ And do you, Polus, think that you can answer
better than Gorgias?

_Pol._ What does that matter if I answer well enough for
you?

_Chaer._ Not at all:—and you shall answer if you like.

_Pol._ Ask:—

_Chaer._ My question is this: If Gorgias had the skill of his
brother Herodicus, what ought we to call him? Ought he
not to have the name which is given to his brother?

_Pol._ Certainly.

_Chaer._ Then we should be right in calling him a physician?

_Pol._ Yes.

[Sidenote: The question is asked, ‘What is Gorgias?’]

_Chaer._ And if he had the skill of Aristophon the son of
Aglaophon, or of his brother Polygnotus, what ought we to
call him?

_Pol._ Clearly, a painter.

_Chaer._ But now what shall we call him—what is the art in
which he is skilled?

[Sidenote: _Gorgias supersedes Polus._]

[Sidenote: Answer:—Gorgias is one of the best proficients in the noblest art.]

_Pol._ O Chaerephon, there are many arts among mankind
which are experimental, and have their origin in experience,
for experience makes the days of men to proceed according
to art, and inexperience according to chance, and different
persons in different ways are proficient in different arts, and
the best persons in the best arts. And our friend Gorgias is
one of the best, and the art in which he is a proficient is the
noblest.

_Soc._ Polus has been taught how to make a capital speech,
Gorgias; but he is not fulfilling the promise which he made
to Chaerephon.

_Gor._ What do you mean, Socrates?

_Soc._ I mean that he has not exactly answered the question
which he was asked.

_Gor._ Then why not ask him yourself?

_Soc._ But I would much rather ask you, if you are disposed
to answer: for I see, from the few words which Polus has
uttered, that he has attended more to the art which is called
rhetoric than to dialectic.

_Pol._ What makes you say so, Socrates?

[Sidenote: This is no answer.]

_Soc._ Because, Polus, when Chaerephon asked you what
was the art which Gorgias knows, you praised it as if you
were answering some one who found fault with it, but you
never said what the art was.

_Pol._ Why, did I not say that it was the noblest of arts?

_Soc._ Yes, indeed, but that was no answer to the question:
nobody asked what was the quality, but what was the nature,
of the art, and by what name we were to describe Gorgias.
And I would still beg you briefly and clearly, as you 449
answered Chaerephon when he asked you at first, to say
what this art is, and what we ought to call Gorgias: Or
rather, Gorgias, let me turn to you, and ask the same question,—what
are we to call you, and what is the art which you
profess?

[Sidenote: Better:—Gorgias is a rhetorician and a teacher of rhetoric.]

_Gor._ Rhetoric, Socrates, is my art.

_Soc._ Then I am to call you a rhetorician?

_Gor._ Yes, Socrates, and a good one too, if you would call
me that which, in Homeric language, ‘I boast myself
to be.’

_Soc._ I should wish to do so.

_Gor._ Then pray do.

[Sidenote: _The admirable brevity of Gorgias._]

_Soc._ And are we to say that you are able to make other
men rhetoricians?

_Gor._ Yes, that is exactly what I profess to make them, not
only at Athens, but in all places.

_Soc._ And will you continue to ask and answer questions,
Gorgias, as we are at present doing, and reserve for another
occasion the longer mode of speech which Polus was attempting?
Will you keep your promise, and answer shortly the
questions which are asked of you?

_Gor._ Some answers, Socrates, are of necessity longer; but
I will do my best to make them as short as possible; for a
part of my profession is that I can be as short as any one.

_Soc._ That is what is wanted, Gorgias; exhibit the shorter
method now, and the longer one at some other time.

_Gor._ Well, I will; and you will certainly say, that you
never heard a man use fewer words.

_Soc._ Very good then; as you profess to be a rhetorician,
and a maker of rhetoricians, let me ask you, with what is
rhetoric concerned: I might ask with what is weaving concerned,
and you would reply (would you not?), with the
making of garments?

_Gor._ Yes.

_Soc._ And music is concerned with the composition of
melodies?

_Gor._ It is.

_Soc._ By Herè, Gorgias, I admire the surpassing brevity of
your answers.

_Gor._ Yes, Socrates, I do think myself good at that.

[Sidenote: And rhetoric is concerned with discourse.]

_Soc._ I am glad to hear it; answer me in like manner about
rhetoric: with what is rhetoric concerned?

_Gor._ With discourse.

_Soc._ What sort of discourse, Gorgias?—such discourse as
would teach the sick under what treatment they might get
well?

_Gor._ No.

_Soc._ Then rhetoric does not treat of all kinds of discourse?

_Gor._ Certainly not.

_Soc._ And yet rhetoric makes men able to speak?

_Gor._ Yes.

[Sidenote: _How is rhetoric distinguished from more special arts?_]

_Soc._ And to understand that about which they speak?

_Gor._ Of course.

_Soc._ But does not the art of medicine, which we were just
now mentioning, also make men able to understand and 450
speak about the sick?

_Gor._ Certainly.

_Soc._ Then medicine also treats of discourse?

_Gor._ Yes.

_Soc._ Of discourse concerning diseases?

_Gor._ Just so.

_Soc._ And does not gymnastic also treat of discourse concerning
the good or evil condition of the body?

_Gor._ Very true.

[Sidenote: But so are all the other arts.]

_Soc._ And the same, Gorgias, is true of the other arts:—all
of them treat of discourse concerning the subjects with which
they severally have to do.

_Gor._ Clearly.

_Soc._ Then why, if you call rhetoric the art which treats of
discourse, and all the other arts treat of discourse, do you
not call them arts of rhetoric?

_Gor._ Because, Socrates, the knowledge of the other arts
has only to do with some sort of external action, as of the
hand; but there is no such action of the hand in rhetoric
which works and takes effect only through the medium of
discourse. And therefore I am justified in saying that rhetoric
treats of discourse.

_Soc._ I am not sure whether I entirely understand you, but
I dare say I shall soon know better; please to answer me a
question:—you would allow that there are arts?

_Gor._ Yes.

_Soc._ As to the arts generally, they are for the most part
concerned with doing, and require little or no speaking; in
painting, and statuary, and many other arts, the work may
proceed in silence; and of such arts I suppose you would
say that they do not come within the province of rhetoric.

_Gor._ You perfectly conceive my meaning, Socrates.

[Sidenote: You mean to say that rhetoric belongs to that class of arts which is chiefly concerned with words.]

[Sidenote: _Rhetoric and arithmetic._]

_Soc._ But there are other arts which work wholly through
the medium of language, and require either no action or very
little, as, for example, the arts of arithmetic, of calculation, of
geometry, and of playing draughts; in some of these speech
is pretty nearly coextensive with action, but in most of them
the verbal element is greater—they depend wholly on words
for their efficacy and power: and I take your meaning to
be that rhetoric is an art of this latter sort?

_Gor._ Exactly.

[Sidenote: And yet you would not call arithmetic rhetoric.]

_Soc._ And yet I do not believe that you really mean to call
any of these arts rhetoric; although the precise expression
which you used was, that rhetoric is an art which works and
takes effect only through the medium of discourse; and an
adversary who wished to be captious might say, ‘And so,
Gorgias, you call arithmetic rhetoric.’ But I do not think
that you really call arithmetic rhetoric any more than geometry
would be so called by you. 451

_Gor._ You are quite right, Socrates, in your apprehension of
my meaning.

[Sidenote: Illustrations.]

_Soc._ Well, then, let me now have the rest of my answer:—seeing
that rhetoric is one of those arts which works mainly
by the use of words, and there are other arts which also use
words, tell me what is that quality in words with which rhetoric
is concerned:—Suppose that a person asks me about
some of the arts which I was mentioning just now; he might
say, ‘Socrates, what is arithmetic?’ and I should reply to
him, as you replied to me, that arithmetic is one of those arts
which take effect through words. And then he would proceed
to ask: ‘Words about what?’ and I should reply,
Words about odd and even numbers, and how many there are
of each. And if he asked again: ‘What is the art of calculation?’
I should say, That also is one of the arts which is
concerned wholly with words. And if he further said, ‘Concerned
with what?’ I should say, like the clerks in the
assembly, ‘as aforesaid’ of arithmetic, but with a difference,
the difference being that the art of calculation considers not
only the quantities of odd and even numbers, but also their
numerical relations to themselves and to one another. And
suppose, again, I were to say that astronomy is only words—he
would ask, ‘Words about what, Socrates?’ and I should
answer, that astronomy tells us about the motions of the
stars and sun and moon, and their relative swiftness.

_Gor._ You would be quite right, Socrates.

[Sidenote: _The old drinking song._]

_Soc._ And now let us have from you, Gorgias, the truth
about rhetoric: which you would admit (would you not?) to
be one of those arts which act always and fulfil all their
ends through the medium of words?

[Sidenote: Rhetoric has to do with words: about the greatest and best of human things.]

_Gor._ True.

_Soc._ Words which do what? I should ask. To what
class of things do the words which rhetoric uses relate?

_Gor._ To the greatest, Socrates, and the best of human
things.

_Soc._ That again, Gorgias, is ambiguous; I am still in the
dark: for which are the greatest and best of human things?
I dare say that you have heard men singing at feasts the old
drinking song, in which the singers enumerate the goods of
life, first health, beauty next, thirdly, as the writer of the
song says, wealth honestly obtained.

_Gor._ Yes, I know the song; but what is your drift? 452

[Sidenote: But which are they?]

[Sidenote: _Gorgias is brought to the point._]

_Soc._ I mean to say, that the producers of those things
which the author of the song praises, that is to say, the
physician, the trainer, the money-maker, will at once come
to you, and first the physician will say: ‘O Socrates,
Gorgias is deceiving you, for my art is concerned with the
greatest good of men and not his.’ And when I ask, Who
are you? he will reply, ‘I am a physician.’ What do you
mean? I shall say. Do you mean that your art produces
the greatest good? ‘Certainly,’ he will answer, ‘for is not
health the greatest good? What greater good can men
have, Socrates?’ And after him the trainer will come and
say, ‘I too, Socrates, shall be greatly surprised if Gorgias
can show more good of his art than I can show of mine.’
To him again I shall say, Who are you, honest friend, and
what is your business? ‘I am a trainer,’ he will reply, ‘and
my business is to make men beautiful and strong in body.’
When I have done with the trainer, there arrives the
money-maker, and he, as I expect, will utterly despise them
all. ‘Consider, Socrates,’ he will say, ‘whether Gorgias or
any one else can produce any greater good than wealth.’
Well, you and I say to him, and are you a creator of
wealth? ‘Yes,’ he replies. And who are you? ‘A money-maker.’
And do you consider wealth to be the greatest
good of man? ‘Of course,’ will be his reply. And we
shall rejoin: Yes; but our friend Gorgias contends that his
art produces a greater good than yours. And then he will
be sure to go on and ask, ‘What good? Let Gorgias
answer.’ Now I want you, Gorgias, to imagine that this
question is asked of you by them and by me; What is that
which, as you say, is the greatest good of man, and of which
you are the creator? Answer us.

[Sidenote: Freedom and power, and the word which gives them.]

_Gor._ That good, Socrates, which is truly the greatest,
being that which gives to men freedom in their own persons,
and to individuals the power of ruling over others in their
several states.

_Soc._ And what would you consider this to be?

_Gor._ What is there greater than the word which persuades
the judges in the courts, or the senators in the
council, or the citizens in the assembly, or at any other
political meeting?—if you have the power of uttering this
word, you will have the physician your slave, and the trainer
your slave, and the money-maker of whom you talk will be
found to gather treasures, not for himself, but for you who
are able to speak and to persuade the multitude.

_Soc._ Now I think, Gorgias, that you have very accurately
explained what you conceive to be the art of rhetoric; and
you mean to say, if I am not mistaken, that rhetoric is the 453
artificer of persuasion, having this and no other business,
and that this is her crown and end. Do you know any
other effect of rhetoric over and above that of producing
persuasion?

[Sidenote: Rhetoric is the art of persuading, says Gorgias.]

_Gor._ No: the definition seems to me very fair, Socrates;
for persuasion is the chief end of rhetoric.

_Soc._ Then hear me, Gorgias, for I am quite sure that if
there ever was a man who entered on the discussion of a
matter from a pure love of knowing the truth, I am such
a one, and I should say the same of you.

_Gor._ What is coming, Socrates?

[Sidenote: _Socrates insists on taking ‘one step at a time.’_]

_Soc._ I will tell you: I am very well aware that I do not
know what, according to you, is the exact nature, or what
are the topics of that persuasion of which you speak, and
which is given by rhetoric; although I have a suspicion
about both the one and the other. And I am going to ask—what
is this power of persuasion which is given by rhetoric,
and about what? But why, if I have a suspicion, do I ask
instead of telling you? Not for your sake, but in order that
the argument may proceed in such a manner as is most
likely to set forth the truth. And I would have you observe,
that I am right in asking this further question: If I asked,
‘What sort of a painter is Zeuxis?’ and you said, ‘The
painter of figures,’ should I not be right in asking, ‘What
kind of figures, and where do you find them?’

_Gor._ Certainly.

_Soc._ And the reason for asking this second question
would be, that there are other painters besides, who paint
many other figures?

_Gor._ True.

_Soc._ But if there had been no one but Zeuxis who painted
them, then you would have answered very well?

_Gor._ Quite so.

[Sidenote: But so is arithmetic, so is painting.]

_Soc._ Now I want to know about rhetoric in the same way;—is
rhetoric the only art which brings persuasion, or do
other arts have the same effect? I mean to say—Does he
who teaches anything persuade men of that which he teaches
or not?

_Gor._ He persuades, Socrates,—there can be no mistake
about that.

_Soc._ Again, if we take the arts of which we were just now
speaking:—do not arithmetic and the arithmeticians teach us
the properties of number?

_Gor._ Certainly.

_Soc._ And therefore persuade us of them?

_Gor._ Yes.

_Soc._ Then arithmetic as well as rhetoric is an artificer of
persuasion?

_Gor._ Clearly.

_Soc._ And if any one asks us what sort of persuasion, and
about what,—we shall answer, persuasion which teaches the
quantity of odd and even; and we shall be able to show that
all the other arts of which we were just now speaking are 454
artificers of persuasion, and of what sort, and about what.

_Gor._ Very true.

_Soc._ Then rhetoric is not the only artificer of persuasion?

_Gor._ True.

[Sidenote: _Knowledge and belief._]

[Sidenote: Of what persuasion is rhetoric the artificer?]

_Soc._ Seeing, then, that not only rhetoric works by persuasion,
but that other arts do the same, as in the case of
the painter, a question has arisen which is a very fair one:
Of what persuasion is rhetoric the artificer, and about what?—is
not that a fair way of putting the question?

_Gor._ I think so.

_Soc._ Then, if you approve the question, Gorgias, what is
the answer?

[Sidenote: Of persuasion in the courts and assemblies about the just and unjust.]

_Gor._ I answer, Socrates, that rhetoric is the art of persuasion
in courts of law and other assemblies, as I was just
now saying, and about the just and unjust.

_Soc._ And that, Gorgias, was what I was suspecting to be
your notion; yet I would not have you wonder if by-and-by
I am found repeating a seemingly plain question; for I ask
not in order to confute you, but as I was saying that the
argument may proceed consecutively, and that we may not
get the habit of anticipating and suspecting the meaning of
one another’s words; I would have you develope your own
views in your own way, whatever may be your hypothesis.

_Gor._ I think that you are quite right, Socrates.

_Soc._ Then let me raise another question; there is such
a thing as ‘having learned’?

_Gor._ Yes.

_Soc._ And there is also ‘having believed’?

_Gor._ Yes.

[Sidenote: Knowledge and belief are not the same things; for there may be a false belief, but not a false knowledge.]

_Soc._ And is the ‘having learned’ the same as ‘having
believed,’ and are learning and belief the same things?

_Gor._ In my judgment, Socrates, they are not the same.

_Soc._ And your judgment is right, as you may ascertain in
this way:—If a person were to say to you, ‘Is there,
Gorgias, a false belief as well as a true?’—you would reply,
if I am not mistaken, that there is.

_Gor._ Yes.

_Soc._ Well, but is there a false knowledge as well as a
true?

_Gor._ No.

_Soc._ No, indeed; and this again proves that knowledge
and belief differ.

_Gor._ Very true.

_Soc._ And yet those who have learned as well as those
who have believed are persuaded?

[Sidenote: _What do we really mean concerning rhetoric?_]

_Gor._ Just so.

_Soc._ Shall we then assume two sorts of persuasion,—one
which is the source of belief without knowledge, as the other
is of knowledge?

_Gor._ By all means.

_Soc._ And which sort of persuasion does rhetoric create in
courts of law and other assemblies about the just and unjust,
the sort of persuasion which gives belief without knowledge,
or that which gives knowledge?

_Gor._ Clearly, Socrates, that which only gives belief. 455

[Sidenote: And rhetoric is only the creator of a belief, but gives no instruction.]

_Soc._ Then rhetoric, as would appear, is the artificer of a
persuasion which creates belief about the just and unjust,
but gives no instruction about them?

_Gor._ True.

_Soc._ And the rhetorician does not instruct the courts of
law or other assemblies about things just and unjust, but he
creates belief about them; for no one can be supposed to
instruct such a vast multitude about such high matters in a
short time?

_Gor._ Certainly not.

[Sidenote: Neither is the rhetorician taken into counsel when anything has to be done.]

_Soc._ Come, then, and let us see what we really mean about
rhetoric; for I do not know what my own meaning is as yet.
When the assembly meets to elect a physician or a shipwright
or any other craftsman, will the rhetorician be taken
into counsel? Surely not. For at every election he ought
to be chosen who is most skilled; and, again, when walls
have to be built or harbours or docks to be constructed, not
the rhetorician but the master workman will advise; or when
generals have to be chosen and an order of battle arranged,
or a position taken, then the military will advise and not the
rhetoricians: what do you say, Gorgias? Since you profess
to be a rhetorician and a maker of rhetoricians, I cannot do
better than learn the nature of your art from you. And here
let me assure you that I have your interest in view as well
as my own. For likely enough some one or other of the
young men present might desire to become your pupil, and in
fact I see some, and a good many too, who have this wish,
but they would be too modest to question you. And therefore
when you are interrogated by me, I would have you
imagine that you are interrogated by them. ‘What is the
use of coming to you, Gorgias?’ they will say—‘about what
will you teach us to advise the state?—about the just and
unjust only, or about those other things also which Socrates
has just mentioned?’ How will you answer them?

[Sidenote: _Gorgias and his brother Herodicus._]

[Sidenote: But, says Gorgias, he will persuade people to do it.]

_Gor._ I like your way of leading us on, Socrates, and I will
endeavour to reveal to you the whole nature of rhetoric.
You must have heard, I think, that the docks and the walls
of the Athenians and the plan of the harbour were devised
in accordance with the counsels, partly of Themistocles, and
partly of Pericles, and not at the suggestion of the builders.

_Soc._ Such is the tradition, Gorgias, about Themistocles;
and I myself heard the speech of Pericles when he advised
us about the middle wall.

_Gor._ And you will observe, Socrates, that when a decision 456
has to be given in such matters the rhetoricians are the
advisers; they are the men who win their point.

_Soc._ I had that in my admiring mind, Gorgias, when I
asked what is the nature of rhetoric, which always appears
to me, when I look at the matter in this way, to be a marvel
of greatness.

[Sidenote: The rhetorician more than a match for a man of any other profession.]

[Sidenote: _The apology of Gorgias._]

[Sidenote: His pupils may make a bad use of his instructions, but he is not to be blamed for this.]

_Gor._ A marvel, indeed, Socrates, if you only knew how
rhetoric comprehends and holds under her sway all the
inferior arts. Let me offer you a striking example of this.
On several occasions I have been with my brother Herodicus
or some other physician to see one of his patients, who
would not allow the physician to give him medicine, or
apply the knife or hot iron to him; and I have persuaded
him to do for me what he would not do for the physician
just by the use of rhetoric. And I say that if a rhetorician
and a physician were to go to any city, and had there to
argue in the Ecclesia or any other assembly as to which of
them should be elected state-physician, the physician would
have no chance; but he who could speak would be chosen if
he wished; and in a contest with a man of any other profession
the rhetorician more than any one would have the
power of getting himself chosen, for he can speak more
persuasively to the multitude than any of them, and on
any subject. Such is the nature and power of the art
of rhetoric! And yet, Socrates, rhetoric should be used
like any other competitive art, not against everybody,—the
rhetorician ought not to abuse his strength any more than
a pugilist or pancratiast or other master of fence;—because
he has powers which are more than a match either for
friend or enemy, he ought not therefore to strike, stab, or
slay his friends. Suppose a man to have been trained in
the palestra and to be a skilful boxer,—he in the fulness of
his strength goes and strikes his father or mother or one of
his familiars or friends; but that is no reason why the trainers
or fencing-masters should be held in detestation or banished
from the city;—surely not. For they taught their art for a
good purpose, to be used against enemies and evil-doers, in
self-defence not in aggression, and others have perverted
their instructions, and turned to a bad use their own strength 457
and skill. But not on this account are the teachers bad,
neither is the art in fault, or bad in itself; I should rather
say that those who make a bad use of the art are to blame.
And the same argument holds good of rhetoric; for the
rhetorician can speak against all men and upon any subject,—in
short, he can persuade the multitude better than
any other man of anything which he pleases, but he should
not therefore seek to defraud the physician or any other
artist of his reputation merely because he has the power; he
ought to use rhetoric fairly, as he would also use his athletic
powers. And if after having become a rhetorician he makes
a bad use of his strength and skill, his instructor surely
ought not on that account to be held in detestation or
banished. For he was intended by his teacher to make
a good use of his instructions, but he abuses them. And
therefore he is the person who ought to be held in detestation,
banished, and put to death, and not his instructor.

[Sidenote: If Gorgias, like Socrates, is one of those who rejoice in being refuted, he would like to cross-examine him; if not, not.]

[Sidenote: _The inconsistency of Gorgias._]

_Soc._ You, Gorgias, like myself, have had great experience
of disputations, and you must have observed, I think, that
they do not always terminate in mutual edification, or in the
definition by either party of the subjects which they are
discussing; but disagreements are apt to arise—somebody
says that another has not spoken truly or clearly; and then
they get into a passion and begin to quarrel, both parties
conceiving that their opponents are arguing from personal
feeling only and jealousy of themselves, not from any
interest in the question at issue. And sometimes they will
go on abusing one another until the company at last are quite
vexed at themselves for ever listening to such fellows. Why
do I say this? Why, because I cannot help feeling that you
are now saying what is not quite consistent or accordant with
what you were saying at first about rhetoric. And I am
afraid to point this out to you, lest you should think that I
have some animosity against you, and that I speak, not for
the sake of discovering the truth, but from jealousy of you.
Now if you are one of my sort, I should like to cross-examine
you, but if not I will let you alone. And what is my sort? 458
you will ask. I am one of those who are very willing to be
refuted if I say anything which is not true, and very willing
to refute any one else who says what is not true, and quite as
ready to be refuted as to refute; for I hold that this is the
greater gain of the two, just as the gain is greater of being
cured of a very great evil than of curing another. For I
imagine that there is no evil which a man can endure so great
as an erroneous opinion about the matters of which we are
speaking; and if you claim to be one of my sort, let us have
the discussion out, but if you would rather have done, no
matter;—let us make an end of it.

_Gor._ I should say, Socrates, that I am quite the man whom
you indicate; but, perhaps, we ought to consider the audience,
for, before you came, I had already given a long exhibition,
and if we proceed the argument may run on to a great length.
And therefore I think that we should consider whether we
may not be detaining some part of the company when they
are wanting to do something else.

[Sidenote: Delight of the audience at the prospect of an argument.]

_Chaer._ You hear the audience cheering, Gorgias and
Socrates, which shows their desire to listen to you; and for
myself, Heaven forbid that I should have any business on
hand which would take me away from a discussion so
interesting and so ably maintained.

_Cal._ By the gods, Chaerephon, although I have been present
at many discussions, I doubt whether I was ever so much
delighted before, and therefore if you go on discoursing all
day I shall be the better pleased.

_Soc._ I may truly say, Callicles, that I am willing, if
Gorgias is.

[Sidenote: _The rhetorician need only know appearance._]

_Gor._ After all this, Socrates, I should be disgraced if I
refused, especially as I have promised to answer all comers;
in accordance with the wishes of the company, then, do you
begin, and ask of me any question which you like.

_Soc._ Let me tell you then, Gorgias, what surprises me in
your words; though I dare say that you may be right, and I
may have misunderstood your meaning. You say that you
can make any man, who will learn of you, a rhetorician?

_Gor._ Yes.

_Soc._ Do you mean that you will teach him to gain the ears
of the multitude on any subject, and this not by instruction
but by persuasion? 459

_Gor._ Quite so.

[Sidenote: The rhetorician has greater powers of persuasion with the mob than e. g. the physician.]

_Soc._ You were saying, in fact, that the rhetorician will
have greater powers of persuasion than the physician even
in a matter of health?

_Gor._ Yes, with the multitude,—that is.

_Soc._ You mean to say, with the ignorant; for with those
who know he cannot be supposed to have greater powers of
persuasion.

_Gor._ Very true.

[Sidenote: The more ignorant therefore will have more power than he who knows.]

_Soc._ But if he is to have more power of persuasion than
the physician, he will have greater power than he who knows?

_Gor._ Certainly.

_Soc._ Although he is not a physician:—is he?

_Gor._ No.