Chapter XI: Part 11

161. _Socr._ For this reason then, as it appears, it is not at all disgraceful to take money for giving advice about other things, as, for instance, about architecture, or other arts.

_Cal._ So it appears.

_Socr._ But with respect to this study, by what means a man may become as good as possible, and may best govern his own family or a city, it is reckoned disgraceful to withhold advice, except one should give him money. Is it not so?

_Cal._ Yes.

_Socr._ For it is evident that this is the reason that this alone of all benefits makes the person who has received it desirous of requiting it; so that it appears to be a good sign, if he who has imparted this benefit shall be recompensed in return; but otherwise not. Is this so?

_Cal._ It is.

_Socr._ To which method, then, of taking care of the city do you advise me? explain to me; whether to that of thwarting the Athenians, in order that they may become as good as possible, as if I were a physician, or to that by which I should serve them, and curry favour with them. Tell me the truth, Callicles. For, as you begun to speak freely to me, it is right you should continue to say what you think. And now speak well and nobly.

_Cal._ I say, then, that I advise you to serve them.

162. _Socr._ You advise me, therefore, most noble Sir, to employ flattery.

_Cal._ Unless you prefer calling him a Mysian[82], Socrates; for if you will do so—

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Footnote 82:

A name of the utmost contempt.

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_Socr._ Do not repeat what you have often said, that any one who pleases will kill me, lest I too should say again, that a bad man would slay a good one; nor that he will take away my property, if I have any, lest I too should say again, that after he has taken it away he will not be able to make any use of it, but as he has unjustly taken it from me, so having got it, he will make an unjust use of it; and if unjustly, basely; and if basely, wickedly.

_Cal._ How confident you seem to me to be, Socrates, that you will never suffer any of these things, as being one who lives out of harm’s way, and who can never be brought before a court of justice by a man, perhaps, utterly depraved and vile!

_Socr._ I should indeed be foolish, Callicles, if I did not think that any one in this city might suffer any thing that might happen. This however I well know, that if I should go before a court of justice, and be exposed to any of the dangers you mention, he who takes me thither will be a bad man. For no good man would accuse one who has not committed injustice. And it would not be at all wonderful, if I should be condemned to death. Do you wish I should tell you why I expect this?

_Cal._ By all means.

163. _Socr._ I think that I, in conjunction with a few Athenians, (that I may not say alone,) apply myself to the true political art, and alone of those of the present day perform the duties of a citizen. Since, then, in the conversations which I enter into from time to time, I do not speak for the purpose of conciliating popular favour, but with a view to that which is best, and not to that which is most agreeable, and as I am not willing to do those fine things that you advise, I shall not have any thing to say in a court of justice. And the same illustration occurs to me that I mentioned to Polus. For I should be judged as a physician would be judged by children, with a cook for his accuser. For consider what defence such a man would make when taken before them, if one should accuse him as follows: ‘O boys, this man has done you a great deal of mischief, and destroys both you and even the youngest of you, for, by cutting, cauterizing, weakening and choking you, he reduces you to great straits, giving you the bitterest draughts, and compelling you to hunger and thirst; not as I do who feed you with many sweet and various dainties.’ What do you think a physician when brought to such an extremity would have to say? If he should say the truth, ‘I did all these things, boys, for your health,’ what a clamour do you think such judges would raise against him? Would it not be loud?

_Cal._ Probably; one must think so, at least.

164. _Socr._ Do you not think, then, that he would be altogether at a loss what to say?

_Cal._ Certainly.

_Socr._ And I know that I should be treated just in the same way, if I came before a court of justice. For I should not be able to mention any pleasures which I had procured for them, which they consider as benefits and advantages; but I neither envy those who procure them, nor those for whom they are procured. And if any one should say that I corrupt younger men, by causing them to doubt, or that I revile the elder men, by speaking bitter words, either privately or publicly, I should not be able to say the truth, that “I say and do all these things justly, and for your advantage, judges, and nothing else.” So that I should probably suffer whatever might happen.

_Cal._ Does a man, then, appear to you, Socrates, to be well off in a city who is thus circumstanced, and is unable to help himself?

165. _Socr._ If there is that in him, Callicles, which you have often allowed, namely, if he can assist himself, by neither having said or done any thing unjust towards men or towards gods. For this aid has often been acknowledged by us to be the best that a man can have for himself. If, therefore, any one could convict me of being unable to afford this assistance either to myself or another, I should be ashamed, whether convicted before many or few, or alone by myself, and if I should be put to death for this inability I should be deeply grieved: but if I should die through want of flattering rhetoric, I well know that you would behold me meeting death cheerfully. For death itself no one fears, who is not altogether irrational and cowardly, but he does fear to commit injustice; for to go to Hades with a soul full of crimes is the worst of all evils. But, if you please, I will tell you a story to shew that such is the case.

_Cal._ Since you have brought the rest to a conclusion, bring this to a conclusion also.

166. _Socr._ Hear then, as they say, a very beautiful tale, which you will consider a fable, as I think, but I a tale; for what I am about to tell you, I tell you as being true. As Homer says[83], then, Jupiter, Neptune, and Pluto, divided the government among themselves, after they had received it from their father. This law, then, respecting men was in existence in the time of Saturn, and always was, and still is, established among the gods, that a man who has passed through life justly and piously when he dies should go to the isles of the blessed, and dwell in all perfect happiness free from evil, but that he who has lived unjustly and impiously should go to a prison of punishment and justice, which they call Tartarus. During the reign of Saturn, and even recently when Jupiter held the government, there were living judges of the living, who passed sentence on the very day on which any one was about to die. In consequence of this sentences were awarded badly. Pluto, therefore, and the guardians of the blessed isles, went to Jupiter, and informed him that men came to them who did not deserve either sentence. 167. Jupiter, therefore, said, I will prevent this in future. For now sentences are badly awarded, because those that are judged are judged clothed, for they are judged while living. Many, therefore, he continued, whose souls are depraved are invested with beautiful bodies, nobility of birth, and riches, and when the judgment takes place, many witnesses come in their behalf, to testify that they have lived justly. Hence the judges are awed by these things, and moreover, they too pass sentence when clothed, for their minds are veiled with eyes and ears, and the whole body. All these things, then, are obstacles to them, as well their own clothing as that of those that are judged. First of all, then, they must no longer be allowed to know beforehand the time of their death: for at present they do know it beforehand. Prometheus, therefore, has orders to deprive them of this power: next they must be judged divested of all these things; for they must be judged after they are dead: the judge too must be naked and dead, and examine with his soul the soul of each immediately after death, destitute of all his kindred, and leaving all that ornament on the earth, in order that the judgment may be just. 168. Now I had observed these things before you, and accordingly have appointed my sons as judges, two from Asia, Minos and Rhadamanthus, and one from Europe, Æacus. These, then, when they are dead, shall judge in the meadow, at the three roads, of which two lead one to the isles of the blessed, the other to Tartarus. And Rhadamanthus shall judge those from Asia, and Æacus those from Europe. But to Minos I will give the prerogative of deciding in case any doubt occurs to the two others, in order that the judgment respecting the path men are to take may be as just as possible.

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Footnote 83:

Iliad, xv. 187.

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These are the things, Callicles, which I have heard, and believe to be true: and from these statements I infer the following results. Death, as it appears to me, is nothing else than the separation of two things, the soul and the body, from each other. But when they are separated from each other, each of them possesses pretty much the same habit that the man had when alive, the body its own nature, culture and affections, all distinct. 169. So that if any one’s body, while living, was large by nature, or food, or both, his corpse when he is dead is also large; and if corpulent, his corpse is corpulent when he is dead; and so with respect to other things. And if again he took pains to make his hair grow long, his corpse also has long hair. Again, if any one has been well whipped, and while living had scars in his body, the vestiges of blows, either from scourges or other wounds, his dead body also is seen to retain the same marks. And if the limbs of any one were broken or distorted while he lived, these same defects are distinct when he is dead. In a word, of whatever character any one has made his body to be while living, such will it distinctly be, entirely or for the most part, for a certain time after he is dead. The same thing too, Callicles, appears to me to happen with respect to the soul; all things are distinctly manifest in the soul after it is divested of body, as well its natural disposition, as the affections which the man has acquired in his soul, from his various pursuits. 170. When, therefore, they come to the judge, those from Asia to Rhadamanthus, Rhadamanthus, having made them stand before him, examines the soul of each, not knowing whose it is, but often meeting with the soul of the great king, or of some other king or potentate, he sees nothing sound in the soul, but finds it thoroughly marked with scourges and full of scars, through perjuries and injustice, which the actions of each has imprinted on his soul, and _he finds_ all things distorted through falsehood and arrogance, and nothing upright, in consequence of its having been nurtured without truth; he also sees the soul full of disproportion and baseness through power, luxury, wantonness and intemperate conduct. On seeing it he forthwith sends it ignominiously to prison, where on its arrival it will undergo the punishment it deserves. But it is proper that every one who is punished, if he is rightly punished by another, should either become better, and be benefited by it, or should be an example to others, that they, beholding his sufferings, may be made better through fear. 171. But those that are benefited, at the same time that they suffer punishment both from gods and men, are such as have been guilty of curable offences; their benefit however both here and in Hades, accrues to them through means of pain and torments; for it is not possible to be freed from injustice in any other way. But those who have committed the most extreme injustice, and have become incurable through such crimes, serve as examples to others, and these are not benefited at all, as being incurable, but others are benefited by beholding them suffering for ever the greatest, most bitter, and most dreadful punishments for their sins, being suspended in the prison of Hades altogether as examples, a spectacle and warning to the unjust men who are constantly arriving. Of these, I say, Archelaus will be one, if Polus says true, and every other tyrant that resembles him. I think too, that the most of these examples will consist of tyrants, kings, and potentates, and such as have governed the affairs of cities; for these through their power commit the greatest and most impious crimes. 172. Homer[84] also bears witness to this; for he makes those to be kings and potentates, who are punished for ever in Hades, Tantalus, Sisyphus and Tityus; but Thersites, or any other private man who was depraved, no one has represented as suffering great punishments as if incurable; for I think it was not in his power to commit them; on which account he was more happy than those who had the power. But, Callicles, the most wicked men are amongst the powerful; nothing however hinders but that good men may be found amongst them; and when they are found they deserve the highest admiration: for it is a difficult thing, Callicles, and deserves high praise, when one who has great power of acting unjustly, passes through life justly. There are however a few men of this kind; for they have existed both here and elsewhere, and I think there will be hereafter good and upright men, endued with the virtue of administering justly whatever is committed to their charge. There has been one who is very celebrated among all the Greeks, Aristides, son of Lysimachus. But, my excellent friend, the generality of potentates prove wicked. 173. As I said, then, when Rhadamanthus has got any such person in his power, he knows nothing else about him, neither who he is, nor who are his parents, but only that he is wicked; and on discerning this, he sends him away to Tartarus, signifying at the same time whether he appears to be curable or incurable; but he arriving thither suffers according to his deserts. Sometimes, Rhadamanthus beholding another soul that has passed through life piously and with truth, whether it be of some private man, or any other, but I say, Callicles, especially of a philosopher, who has attended to his own affairs, and has not made himself very busy during life, he is delighted, and sends it to the isles of the blessed. Æacus too, does the very same things. And each of them passes sentence, holding a rod in his hand. But Minos sits apart looking on, and is the only one that has a golden sceptre, as the Ulysses of Homer[85] says he saw him; “bearing a golden sceptre, and administering justice to the dead.” I therefore, Callicles, am persuaded by these accounts, and consider how I may exhibit my soul before the judge in the most healthy condition. Wherefore, disregarding the honours that most men value, and looking to the truth, I shall endeavour in reality to live as virtuously as I can, and when I die, to die so. 174. And I invite all other men, to the utmost of my power, and you too I in turn invite to this life and this contest, which I affirm surpasses all contests here, and I upbraid you because you will not be able to assist yourself, when you will have to undergo the sentence and judgment which I have just now mentioned; but when you shall come before the judge, the son of Ægina, and when he shall seize you and bring you before his tribunal, you will there gape and become dizzy, no less than I should here, and perhaps some one will strike you ignominiously on the face, and treat you with every species of contumely.

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Footnote 84:

Odyss. xi. 575, &c.

Footnote 85:

Odyss. xi. 568.

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Perhaps, however, these things appear to you to be like an old woman’s fable, and you accordingly despise them. And it would not be at all wonderful that we should despise them, if on investigation we could find any thing better and more true than them. But now you see that you three, who are the wisest of the Greeks of this day, you, Polus, and Gorgias, are unable to prove that we ought to live any other life than such as appears to be advantageous hereafter, but among so many arguments, while others have been refuted, this alone remains unshaken, that we ought to beware of committing injustice rather than of being injured, and that above all a man ought to study not to appear good, but to be so, both privately and publicly: and that if any one is in any respect wicked, he should be punished, and that this is the next good to the being just, to become so[86], and to submit to the punishment one deserves; and that all flattery, whether of one’s-self or others, whether of few or many, must be avoided; and that rhetoric, and every other action, is always to be employed with a view to what is just.

175. Be persuaded by me then, and follow me to that place, by going to which you will be happy, both living and after you are dead, as your own argument proves. And suffer any one to despise you as senseless, and to treat you with contumely, if he pleases, and by Jupiter, do you cheerfully let him strike that ignominious blow; for you will suffer nothing dreadful, if you are in reality upright and good, and devoted to the practice of virtue. And when we have thus exercised ourselves in common, we will then, if it should appear desirable, apply ourselves to politics, or we will deliberate on whatever we shall think desirable, being better qualified to deliberate than we now are. For it is disgraceful, being in the condition in which we appear to be at present, to pride ourselves, like youths, as if we were something, who yet never retain the same opinion on the same subjects, and these of the greatest moment; to such a pitch of ignorance have we reached! Let us use as our guide, then, the reasoning that has now been made clear to us, which teaches us, that this is the best mode of life, to live and to die in the exercise of justice and the other virtues. This, then, let us follow, and invite others to do the same, not that, to which you confidently invited me: for it is of no value, Callicles.

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Footnote 86:

Τὸ γίγνεσθαι καὶ κολαζόμενον διδόναι δίκην, Stallbaum translates “to
become just by undergoing the punishment one deserves;” I cannot
extract this meaning from the passage.

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INTRODUCTION TO THE PROTAGORAS.

In this dialogue Socrates relates to a friend, whose name is not given, a discussion which he had just had with Protagoras the sophist, of Abdera.

Hippocrates, a young Athenian, had roused Socrates very early in the morning and entreated him to accompany him on a visit to Protagoras, who was then at Athens staying at the house of Callias, and whose pupil he was anxious to become. On arriving there, they find the sophist attended by a crowd of admirers, and moreover Hippias of Elis and Prodicus of Ceos, surrounded by their respective followers[87].

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Footnote 87:

§ 1-18.

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After Socrates had made known the object of his visit to Protagoras, Callias proposes that the whole party should sit down and listen to the conversation. When all are seated, Socrates repeats to Protagoras, that Hippocrates is desirous of becoming his pupil, and wishes to know what advantage he may expect to derive from associating with him. Protagoras tells him that from the very first day of their intercourse he will become a better man than he was before, and will daily make further progress. But, asks Socrates, in what will he become better, and in what make further progress? In the management of his domestic and public affairs, that is to say, in the political art. To this Socrates objects that the general opinion is that political virtue cannot be taught, and that, whereas with respect to arts and sciences it was usual only to consult persons who had made them their study and were skilled in them, in affairs of state every one, of whatever condition, was at liberty to give his opinion; he therefore begs Protagoras to prove that virtue can be taught[88]. To this end Protagoras relates a fable in which he explains how the capacity of becoming virtuous was imparted by Jupiter to mankind; and then argues that as men are punished for injustice, impiety, and the like, it follows that they must think that these virtues ought to be possessed and may be acquired by all men, for that they would not punish them for a mere defect of mind any more than of body, if it were natural and not attributable to the fault of the individual[89].

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Footnote 88:

§ 19-29.

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Socrates having complimented him on his eloquence, according to his usual method, begs that he will answer his questions briefly; and then expresses his surprise at having heard Protagoras speak of justice, temperance, holiness, and the like, as if they were collectively virtue. He therefore wishes to know whether virtue is one thing, and justice, temperance and holiness, parts of it, or whether they are all names of one and the same thing. Protagoras answers that virtue is one thing, and these several qualities parts of it. Are they then parts like the parts of a face, the mouth, nose, eyes, and ears, or like the parts of gold, which do not differ from each other? Like the former. In that case holiness and justice must be different from each other, which, as Protagoras is at length compelled, though unwillingly, to admit, is absurd[90].

Again, each several thing has only one contrary; for instance, strength is contrary to weakness, swiftness to slowness, ugliness to beauty, evil to good; in the same way each virtue must have its contrary. This being granted, Protagoras is led to admit that folly is contrary to temperance, and also to wisdom; but in that case wisdom and temperance cannot be different from each other, as was before stated, but must be one and the same thing. A similar course of enquiry is instituted by Socrates, in order to shew that justice and prudence likewise are one and the same, but the impatience of Protagoras at finding himself driven to repeated admissions which contradict the theory with which he set out, interrupts the discussion; at length, however, the breach is repaired by the interference of the company, and it is agreed that each shall question the other in turn. Protagoras begins by getting Socrates to allow that an ode of Simonides is beautiful, but that it cannot be beautiful if the poet contradicts himself. He then shews that in one part of the ode it is said “that to become a good man is difficult,” and in another part, “that he is not pleased with the saying of Pittacus, where he says that it is difficult to continue to be good.” Socrates, however, justifies the opinion he had expressed by a minute and subtle examination of the object the poet had in view in composing the ode[91].

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Footnote 89:

§ 30-39.

Footnote 90:

§ 40-56

Footnote 91:

§ 57-90.

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Having concluded his criticism of the ode, Socrates is anxious to bring back the discussion to the original subject, and having with difficulty prevailed on Protagoras to consent to this, repeats the question with which they set out, which was to this effect: whether wisdom, temperance, courage, justice, and holiness are five parts of virtue, differing from each other as the parts of the face do? Protagoras answers that they all are parts of virtue, four of them very like each other, but the fifth, courage, very different from all the rest. But this distinction Socrates overthrows as follows: you admit that the courageous are daring; but they who, like divers, are bold in a matter in which they are skilled are commended as courageous, whereas they who are unskilled and yet bold are not courageous but mad; so that according to this reasoning wisdom and courage are the same. Protagoras, however, tries to avoid this conclusion by saying that Socrates has mis-stated his former admission, for that he allowed only that the courageous are bold, not that the bold are courageous. But Socrates, with a view more certainly to convict his opponent of error, changes his ground, and asks whether all pleasant things are good, and all painful things evil? Protagoras is in doubt what answer to give; Socrates, therefore, shews that pleasure is in itself a good, but that men mistake as to what things are pleasant; for knowledge alone ought to govern man, and if a man knows good and evil he will never be overcome by any thing so as to do any thing else but what knowledge bids him. Yet there are some who say that they are overcome by pleasure or pain; but what is it to be overcome by pleasure? nothing else than to choose present pleasure which will result in greater evil; in other words, to embrace a greater evil rather than a greater good; they, therefore, who are overcome by pleasure are so from ignorance[92].

Having established this, Socrates recurs to the statement of Protagoras, that courage differs from the other parts of virtue, because the most unholy, most unjust, most intemperate, and most ignorant men, are sometimes most courageous. It is admitted that no one willingly exposes himself to things that he believes to be evil; a brave man, therefore, incurs dangers which he knows to be honourable and good, and therefore pleasant, and is influenced by no base fear, nor inspired with base confidence; but the coward, on the contrary, is influenced by base fear and inspired by base confidence; he errs, therefore, through ignorance and want of knowledge, whence it follows that courage is contained in knowledge. The result of the whole is that virtue, since it consists in knowledge, can be taught, and so it turns out that Socrates, who began by maintaining that it could not be taught, has been arguing all along that it can, and Protagoras, who asserted that it could be taught, has been arguing that it cannot.

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Footnote 92:

§ 91-118.

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PROTAGORAS,

OR

THE SOPHISTS.

A FRIEND, SOCRATES, HIPPOCRATES, PROTAGORAS, ALCIBIADES,
CALLIAS, CRITIAS, PRODICUS, AND HIPPIAS.

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_Fr._ Whence come you, Socrates? can there be any doubt but that it is from a chase after the beauty of Alcibiades? and to me, indeed, when I saw him lately, the man appeared still beautiful, though between ourselves, Socrates, he is a man and is now getting a pretty thick beard.

_Socr._ But what of that? Do you not approve of Homer[93], then, who says, that the most graceful age is that of a youth with his first beard, which is now the age of Alcibiades?

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Footnote 93:

Odyss. x. 279.

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_Fr._ What have we to do with that now? Do you come from him? And how is the youth disposed towards you?

_Socr._ Very well, I think, and not least so to-day; for he has said many things in my favour, assisting me, and indeed I have just now come from him. However, I have something strange to tell you: for though he was present I paid no attention to him, and even frequently forgot him.

2. _Fr._ But what great affair can have happened between you and him? for surely you have not met with any one else more beautiful, in this city at least?

_Socr._ By far.

_Fr._ What say you? A citizen, or a stranger?

_Socr._ A stranger.

_Fr._ From whence?

_Socr._ From Abdera.

_Fr._ And did this stranger appear to you so beautiful that you thought him more beautiful than the son of Clinias?

_Socr._ But how, my dear friend, can the wisest be thought otherwise than more beautiful?

_Fr._ Have you come then, Socrates, from meeting one of our wise men?

_Socr._ Yes, and from the wisest of the present day, if you think Protagoras is the wisest.

_Fr._ Ha! What say you? Is Protagoras here?

_Socr._ And has been, these three days.

_Fr._ And are you just now come from his company?

_Socr._ I have, and from a very long conversation with him.

3. _Fr._ Why then should you not relate this conversation to us, unless something hinders you, having made this boy rise up, and seating yourself in his place?

_Socr._ Certainly; and I shall be obliged to you if you will listen to me.

_Fr._ And we to you, if you will tell us.

_Socr._ The obligation will be mutual. Listen then. This morning, while it was yet dark, Hippocrates, son of Apollodorus and brother of Phason, knocked very hard at my gate with his stick, and as soon as it was opened to him he came in, in great haste, and calling out with a loud voice, said, “Socrates, are you awake or asleep?” And I, knowing his voice, said, “Hippocrates is here: do you bring any news?”

“None,” he replied, “but what is good.”

“You say well,” said I, “but what is it? and why have you come so early?”

“Protagoras is come,” said he, standing by my side.

4. “He came the day before yesterday,” said I, “and have you only just heard of it?”

“By the gods,” he replied, “only yesterday evening,” and at the same time feeling about my bed, he sat down at my feet, and said, “Yesterday evening, very late, on my return from the village of Œnoe, for my slave Satyrus ran away, and I was purposing to tell you that I was going in pursuit of him, but something else put it out of my head; but when I had returned, and we had supped, and were going to bed, then my brother told me that Protagoras was arrived, and my first thought was to come immediately to you, but afterwards it appeared to me too late at night. As soon, however, as sleep had refreshed me after my fatigue, I immediately arose and came here.”

5. And I, knowing his earnestness and excitability, said, “What is this to you? Does Protagoras do you any harm?”

And he, laughing, said, “By the gods, Socrates, he does, because he alone is wise, and does not make me so.”

“But, by Jupiter,” said I, “if you give him money and persuade him, he will make you wise too.”

“Would that, O Jupiter and ye gods,” he said, “it depended on that, for I would spare nothing of my own or of my friend’s property either, and I have now come to you for this very purpose, that you may speak to him in my behalf. For besides that I am too young, I have never yet seen Protagoras or heard him speak, for I was but a boy when he came here before. However, Socrates, all men praise him, and say that he is the wisest man to speak. But why do we not go to him that we may find him within? He is staying, as I have heard, with Callias son of Hipponicus. Let us go then.”

6. I said to him: “We will not go there yet my friend, it is too early; but let us rise up and go into our court, and spend the time there walking about, until it is light; then we will go. For Protagoras stays mostly within; therefore cheer up, we shall probably find him at home.”

After this we rose and walked about the court, and I in order to try the strength of Hippocrates, examined and questioned him; “Tell me,” said I, “Hippocrates, you are now purposing to go to Protagoras, and to pay him money as a fee for teaching you something; to what kind of person do you think you are going, and what do you expect to become? Just as if you thought of going to your own namesake, Hippocrates of Cos, one of the Asclepiads, and were to pay him money as a fee for teaching you, if any one asked you, ‘Tell me, Hippocrates, you are about to pay a fee to Hippocrates, in what capacity?’ what should you answer?”

“I should say,” he replied, “in that of a physician.”

“And what do you expect to become?” “A physician,” said he.

“But if you thought of going to Polycletus the Argive, or Phidias the Athenian, and were to pay them a fee for teaching you, if any one asked you, ‘In what capacity do you intend to pay this money to Polycletus and Phidias?’ what should you answer?”

“I should say, in that of statuaries.”

“And what do you expect to become yourself?”

“Clearly, a statuary.”

“Be it so,” said I. “But we are now going, you and I, to Protagoras, and we are prepared to pay him money as a fee for teaching you, if our money is sufficient for the purpose, and we can persuade him by it; but if not, we mean to borrow from our friends. If, then, some one seeing us thus earnestly bent on this, should ask; ‘Tell me, Socrates and Hippocrates, in what capacity do you intend to pay money to Protagoras?’ what answer should we give him? What other name do we hear given to Protagoras, as that of statuary is given to Phidias, and that of poet to Homer? What name of this kind do we hear given to Protagoras?”

“They call him a sophist, Socrates,” he replied.

“As to a sophist, then, we are going to pay him money?”

“Assuredly.”

8. “If, then, any one should ask you this further question, ‘What do you expect to become yourself by going to Protagoras?’”

Upon which he said, blushing, (for the day was now beginning to dawn, so that I could see him,) “If this case is at all like the former, it is evident that I expect to become a sophist.”

“But, by the gods,” said I, “should you not be ashamed to shew yourself as a sophist before the Greeks?”

“By Jupiter, I should, Socrates, if I must say what I think.”

“Do you suppose, then, Hippocrates, that the instruction of Protagoras will not be of this kind, but such as you received from a grammarian, a musician, or a teacher of gymnastics? for you were not instructed in each of these for the sake of the art, meaning to become a professor yourself, but by way of accomplishment, as is proper for a private person and a freeman.”

“Just so,” he said, “such rather appears to me to be the instruction given by Protagoras.”

“Do you know, then,” said I, “what you are about to do, or does it escape you?”

“About what?”

“That you are about to entrust your soul to the care of a man, who, as you admit, is a sophist; and yet I should wonder if you know what a sophist is. Though, if you are ignorant of this, neither do you know to what you are confiding your soul, whether to a good or a bad thing.”

“But I think I know,” he said.

“Tell me, then, what you think a sophist is.”

“I think,” said he, “as the name imports, that he is one learned in wisdom.”

“This, however,” I replied, “may be said of painters and architects, that they too are learned in wisdom. And if any one should ask us in what wisdom painters are learned, we should surely say to him, in that which relates to the production of pictures, and so on with respect to the rest. But if any one should ask this question, ‘In what wisdom is a sophist learned?’ what answer should we give him? of what production is he a master?”

“What else should we say he is, Socrates, but a master of the art that makes men able speakers?”

10. “Perhaps,” said I, “we should say truly, yet not sufficiently. For this answer requires from us another question, about what a sophist makes men able speakers; just as the musician, surely, makes a man speak ably on the subject in which he is learned, on music. Is it not so?”

“Yes.”

“Well; on what subject, then, does a sophist make a man an able speaker? clearly on that in which he is learned?”

“Apparently.”

“What then is that in which the sophist is both learned himself and makes his pupil learned?”

“By Jupiter,” he replied, “I am unable to tell you.”

11. After this I said, “What then? are you aware to what danger you are going to expose your soul? if you had occasion to entrust your body to some one, on the risk of its becoming healthy or diseased, should you not consider very carefully whether you ought to entrust it or not, and would you not summon your friends and relations to a consultation, and deliberate many days? But that which you esteem far more than the body, your soul, and on which your all depends, either to fare well or ill, according as it becomes healthy or diseased, concerning this do you neither communicate with your father nor your brother, nor with any of us your friends, whether or not you should commit your soul to this stranger who has arrived here, but having heard of his arrival yesterday evening, as you say, do you come before daybreak, and take no thought or advice on the matter, whether it is proper or not to entrust yourself to him, but are ready to spend both your own and your friends’ property, as having already resolved that you must in any event associate with Protagoras, whom you neither know, as you admit, nor have ever spoken to; but you call him a sophist, though what a sophist is, to whom you are about to entrust yourself, you are evidently ignorant?”

12. And he having heard me, replied, “It seems so, Socrates, from what you say.”

“Is not a sophist, then, Hippocrates, a kind of merchant or retailer of commodities by which the soul is nourished? To me, at least, he appears to be so.”

“But by what is the soul nourished, Socrates?”

“By learning,” I replied. “But we must take care, my friend, that the sophist does not deceive us by praising what he sells, as those others do with respect to nutriment for the body, the merchant and the retailer. For neither do they themselves know which of the commodities in which they traffic are good or bad for the body, though they praise all that they sell, nor do those who buy from them, unless one happens to be a professor of gymnastics or a physician. In like manner, those who hawk about learning through cities, and who sell and retail it to every one that desires it, praise all that they sell, though perhaps some of these too, my excellent friend, may be ignorant which of the things they sell is good or bad for the soul; and this also may be the case with those that buy from them, unless some one happen to be skilled in the medicine of the soul. 13. If then you happen to know which of these is good or bad, you may safely buy learning from Protagoras or any one else; but if not, beware my good friend, that you do not hazard and imperil that which is most precious. For there is much greater danger in the purchase of learning than in that of food. For when one has purchased meat and drink from a retailer or merchant one may take them away in different vessels, and, before receiving them into one’s body by eating or drinking, one may set them down at home, and calling in some person who understands the matter, consult him as to what may be eaten and drunk, and what not, and how much and when; so that in this purchase there is no great danger. But it is not possible to carry away learning in a different vessel; but it is necessary, when one has paid the price, having received instruction in the soul itself and learnt it, to depart either injured or benefited. 14. Let us therefore consider these things with persons older than we are: for we are too young to decide on a matter of such importance. Now however, since we have made up our minds, let us go and hear the man, and after we have heard him, let us communicate with others. For not only is Protagoras there, but Hippias of Elis, and I think also Prodicus of Ceos, and many other wise men.”

This resolution taken, we set out. When we arrived at the front door, we stopped and discussed a question that had fallen out between us on the way; in order therefore that it might not be left unfinished, but that we might bring it to a conclusion and then enter the house, we stood at the front door talking together until we had agreed with each other. 15. Now it appears to me that the porter, who was a eunuch, overheard us, and he seems from the number of sophists to be out of humour with all who come to the house. For when we had knocked at the door, he having opened it and seeing us, said, “Ha, more sophists: he is not at leisure.” And at the same time with both his hands, he slammed to the door with all his might. Thereupon we knocked again, and he answering with the door shut, said, “Sirs, did not you hear me say that he is not at leisure?” “But, my good friend,” said I, “we are not come to Callias, nor are we sophists; cheer up then: for we are come wanting to see Protagoras: so announce us.” At length, with difficulty the fellow opened the door to us. 16. When we entered, we found Protagoras walking up and down in the portico, and in a line with him, there walked on one side Callias son of Hipponicus, and his brother by the mother’s side, Paralus son of Pericles, and Charmides son of Glaucon, and on the other side Xanthippus, the other son of Pericles, and Philippides son of Philomelus, and Antimœrus of Mende, who is the most famous of all the pupils of Protagoras, and who is learning professionally, meaning to become a sophist himself. Behind these there followed others who listened to what was said, the greater part appeared to be strangers, whom Protagoras brings with him from the several cities through which he passes, bewitching them by his voice like Orpheus, and they follow his voice, bewitched. Some of our countrymen also were in the band. 17. I was particularly pleased in observing this band, how well they took care never to be in the way of Protagoras by getting before him, but whenever he and those with him turned round, these listeners, in a good and regular manner, opened to the right and left, and wheeling round, always ranged themselves behind him in admirable order.

“After him I perceived,” as Homer[94] says, Hippias of Elis sitting on a high seat in the opposite side of the portico, and round him on benches sat Eryximachus, son of Acumenus, Phædrus of Myrrhine, Andron son of Androtion, and some strangers partly his fellow citizens and others. They appeared to be asking Hippias questions on physics and astronomy; but he, sitting on a high seat, gave answers to each of them and resolved their questions. 18. “Moreover I saw Tantalus[95];” for Prodicus of Ceos had lately arrived, but he was in a building which Hipponicus had before used as a store-room, but now, owing to the multitude of guests, Callias had emptied it and turned it into a lodging for strangers. Now Prodicus was still in bed wrapt up in a great number of skins and bed-clothes, as it appeared; and there were seated near him on sofas Pausanias of Ceramis, and with Pausanias a youth, quite a lad, as I thought of an excellent disposition, and of a very beautiful form. I thought I heard them call him Agathon, and I should not wonder if he was Pausanias’s favourite. This lad then was there, and the two Adimantuses, the one the son of Cepis, and the other of Leucolophides, and some others. But I was not able to learn from the outside what they were talking about, although I was exceedingly anxious to hear Prodicus; for he appears to me to be a very wise, nay a divine man, but owing to the harshness of his voice a kind of humming in the room made what he said indistinct.

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Footnote 94:

Odyss. xi. 601.

Footnote 95:

Homer Odyss. xi. 582.

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19. We had just entered, and immediately after us there came in Alcibiades, the beautiful as you say, and as I am persuaded he is, and Critias, son of Callæschrus.

After we had entered, then, and waited a little while and observed what was going on, we went up to Protagoras, and I said, “Protagoras, I and Hippocrates here have come to see you.”

“Do you wish to speak with me alone,” he said, “or in the presence of the rest?”

“To us,” I replied, “it makes no difference, but when you have heard on what account we have come, you can determine yourself.”

“What is it then,” said he, “that you are come for?”

“Hippocrates here is a native of this country, son of Apollodorus, of a great and wealthy family; in natural ability he seems to be a match for the youth of his age; and he appears to me to be desirous of becoming a person of note in the city; and he thinks that he shall most readily become so, if he associates with you. Do you then determine, whether we ought to converse apart with you on this subject, or in the presence of others.”

20. “You very properly take precautions on my behalf, Socrates,” he replied. “For a stranger who visits powerful cities, and persuades the most distinguished of the youth in them to quit the society of others, both kindred and not kindred, both old and young, and associate with him, in the expectation of being improved by his society, ought in doing this to be very cautious, for things of this kind are attended with no slight jealousies and enmities, and even plots. For my part, I say that the art of a sophist is ancient, but the men who professed it in ancient times, fearing the odium attached to it, sought to conceal it, and veiled it over, some under the garb of poetry, as Homer, Hesiod, and Simonides, and others under that of the mysteries and prophecies, such as Orpheus and Musæus, and their followers, and some I perceive have veiled it under the gymnastic art, as Iccus of Tarentum, and one of the present day who is a sophist, inferior to none, Herodicus of Selymbria, who was originally of Megara. But your own Agathocles, who was a great sophist, concealed it under the garb of music, as did Pythoclides of Ceos, and many others. 21. All these, as I say, through fear of jealousies, employed these arts as veils. I, however, in this respect, do not agree with any of them; for I think that they did not by any means effect the object they wished; for they did not escape the observation of men of authority in the cities, on whose account they had recourse to these disguises, for the multitude perceive scarcely any thing at all, but whatever the former give out, that they sing. Now to try to escape and not to be able to do so, but to be detected, both shews great folly in the attempt, and necessarily makes men much more hostile: for they think that such a man is moreover an impostor. 22. I therefore have taken a path quite contrary to them, and I acknowledge that I am a sophist and teach men, and I think that this precaution is better than the other, to confess rather than to deny: I have also planned other precautions besides this; so that by God’s help I have suffered no harm through confessing that I am a sophist; though I have exercised this art now many years; for my age is very great, and there is not one amongst you all whose father I am not old enough to be. So that it will be by far the most agreeable to me, if you are willing, to discuss this matter in the presence of all who are in the house.”

I then, for I suspected that he wished to shew and make a display of himself before Prodicus and Hippias, that we had come as his admirers— 23. “Why then,” said I, “do we not summon Prodicus and Hippias, and their party, to listen to us?”

“By all means,” said Protagoras.

Callias therefore said, “Would you wish us to prepare seats, that you may sit down and converse?” It was agreed that this should be done. And we all of us, in great delight, as being about to listen to wise men, laid hold of the stools, and benches, and couches, and placed them in order near Hippias; for the stools were there already; meanwhile Callias and Alcibiades brought Prodicus and his party with them, having made him get out of bed.

When, therefore, we were all seated, “Now Socrates,” said Protagoras, “since they are all here, you may repeat what you just now mentioned to me respecting this youth.”

24. And I said, “My commencement, Protagoras, is the same as it was just now, namely, with what design we came to you. Hippocrates here is very desirous of your society, and says he shall be glad to hear what advantage he may expect to derive from associating with you. Such is our errand.”

Thereupon Protagoras said in reply, “Young man, the advantage which you will derive from associating with me is this, that on the very day of your being with me you will go home a better man than you were before, and the same on the second day, and on each succeeding day you will make some further progress.”

25. And I, on hearing this, said, “Protagoras, this is nothing wonderful that you say, but very natural, since you too, old and wise as you are, would become better, if any one should teach you what you do not happen to know. But that is not what we require, but just as if Hippocrates here should on the instant change his mind, and desire to associate with the youth who has lately arrived, Zeuxippus of Heraclea, and coming to him as he now does to you, should be told by him the very same things that he has been by you, that by associating with him he would every day become better, and make further progress; if he should further ask him, ‘In what do you mean I shall become better, and in what make further progress?’ Zeuxippus would answer him, ‘In the art of painting.’ And if he were to attach himself to Orthagoras of Thebes, and being told by him the very same things that he has been by you, should further ask him in what he would daily become better by associating with him, he would reply, ‘In flute-playing.’ In like manner do you also reply to the youth, and to me who ask for him: Hippocrates here, by associating with Protagoras, on the very day in which he associates will go home a better man, and on each succeeding day will in like manner make further progress; in what Protagoras, and with respect to what?”