Chapter XII: Part 12

26. Protagoras, on hearing me thus speak, said, “You put the question fairly, Socrates, and I delight in answering those who put their questions well. For Hippocrates, if he comes to me, will not be treated as he would be treated if he were to attach himself to any other of the sophists. For others injure youth; for when they have shewn an aversion to the arts they drag them back again and force them to study the arts by teaching them arithmetic, astronomy, geometry, and music; and at the same time he looked aside at Hippias: but if he comes to me, he will not learn anything else than that for which he came. The instruction that he will receive is this, the method of consulting well about his domestic affairs, in what way he may best govern his own house, and with respect to public affairs, how he may be best able to act and speak on affairs of state.”

27. “Do I follow your meaning?” I replied, “for you appear to me to mean the political art, and to promise to make men good citizens.”

“That,” said he, “Socrates, is the very profession that I do make.”

“What an admirable skill you possess,” said I, “if you really do possess it; for I will say nothing else to you but what I think. For I imagined, Protagoras, that this could not be taught, yet since you say so, I know not how to disbelieve you. It is right, however, that I should tell you why I think it cannot be taught, nor acquired by men from men. For I, as well as the other Greeks, say that the Athenians are wise. I see, then, when we are met in the assembly, and when it is necessary for the city to settle any thing respecting architecture, that the architects are sent for and consulted about the buildings, and when respecting ship-building, ship-builders; and so with all other things which they think can be taught and learnt. But should any one else, whom they think is not an artist, attempt to give them advice, even though he may be very honourable, and rich and noble, they pay no more attention to him on this account, but laugh at him and make an uproar, until either he of his own accord desists from speaking, through being hooted down, or the archers drag him away or remove him by order of the prytanes. 28. Thus they proceed with respect to matters which they think pertain to art. But when it is necessary to consult on any matter which relates to the government of the city, any one rises up and gives his advice on such subjects, whether he be a builder, a brazier, a shoemaker, a merchant, a ship’s captain, rich, poor, noble or ignoble, and no one objects to them, as to the others, that without having received any instruction, or had any preceptor, they yet attempt to give advice; for it is clear that they think this cannot be taught. And not only are the public in general of this opinion, but privately, the wisest and best of our citizens are unable to impart to others the excellence which they possess: for Pericles, the father of these youths, as far as depended on masters, had them educated liberally and well; but in those things in which he is wise, he neither instructs them himself, nor entrusts them to any one else to be instructed; but they, roaming about, feed as it were without restraint, if by chance they may of themselves light on virtue. 29. If you will too, this very same Pericles, being guardian to Clinias the younger brother of this Alcibiades, and fearing lest he might be corrupted by Alcibiades, separated him from him and sent him to be educated by Ariphron; however, before six months had elapsed, Ariphron, being unable to do any thing with him, returned him to Pericles. I could also mention very many others to you, who being good themselves, have never made any one else better, either of their own kindred or others. I therefore, Protagoras, looking to these things, think that virtue cannot be taught. When, however, I hear you saying what you do, I waver, and am of opinion that there is something in what you say, because I think that you are a man of great experience, and that you have learnt many things and discovered some yourself. If, therefore, you can prove to us, more clearly, that virtue can be taught, do not grudge doing so, but prove it.”

“Indeed, Socrates,” he said, “I shall not grudge it. But whether shall I prove it by relating a fable to you, as an older to younger men, or shall I discuss it by way of argument?”

Thereupon many of those who sat with him, answered, that he might explain it in any way he pleased. “It appears to me, then,” said he, “more agreeable to relate a fable to you.

30. “There was once a time, when gods were, but mortal races were not. But when also their destined time of creation came, the gods fashioned them within the earth, composing them of earth and fire, and such things as are mingled with fire and earth. And when they were about to bring them into light, they commanded Prometheus and Epimetheus to adorn them and to distribute to each such faculties as were proper for them. But Epimetheus besought Prometheus that he might make this distribution. ‘And,’ he said, ‘when I have made it, do you examine it.’ Having thus persuaded him, he made the distribution. But in his distribution, to some he assigned strength without swiftness, and the weaker he adorned with swiftness; some he armed, but giving to others an unarmed nature, he devised some other faculty for their security: for to such of them as he clad with littleness, he assigned wings to fly with, or a subterranean abode; but such as he increased in magnitude he preserved by this very means; and thus he made the distribution, equalizing all things; he adapted these contrivances taking care that no race should be destroyed.

31. “When he had supplied them with the means of avoiding mutual destruction, he contrived means to defend them against the seasons, by clothing them with thick hairs and solid skins, sufficient to keep off cold and capable of averting heat, and so that, when they went to rest, these very things might serve each of them as his proper and natural bed; and under their feet he furnished some with hoofs, and some with hairs and solid and bloodless skins. After that he provided different food for different animals, for some, herbs from the earth, for others, the fruit of trees, for others, roots; and to some he gave the flesh of other animals as food: and to these he attached the property of producing few offspring, but to those that are consumed by them, fecundity, providing for the preservation of the race. However, as Epimetheus was not very wise, he ignorantly exhausted all the faculties at his disposal on irrational animals. 32. The human race, therefore, still remained to him unadorned, and he was in doubt what to do. While he is doubting, Prometheus comes to examine the distribution, and sees other animals provided with every thing suitable for them, but man naked and unshod, unbedded and unarmed. But now the destined day was at hand, on which it was necessary that man should go forth from earth to light. Prometheus, therefore, being in doubt what safety he can find for man, steals the artificial wisdom of Vulcan and Minerva, together with fire, for it was impossible that it could be acquired or used by any one without fire, and accordingly he presents it to man. 33. Thus, then, man became possessed of the wisdom pertaining to life, he had not, however, political wisdom; for that was with Jupiter; and Prometheus was no longer permitted to enter the citadel, the habitation of Jupiter; moreover the guards of Jupiter were terrible; but he secretly enters the common abode of Minerva and Vulcan, in which they practised their arts, and having stolen the fiery art of Vulcan, and the other that belonged to Minerva, he gives them to man, and from this man derives the means of sustenance, but afterwards, as it is said, through Epimetheus, punishment for the theft overtook Prometheus.

34. “When, therefore, man had become partaker of a divine condition, first of all through this relationship to deity, he alone of all animals acknowledged gods, and set about building altars and statues of gods: next, by art, he soon articulated sounds and words, and devised houses and garments, and shoes and beds, and food from the earth. Thus provided however, at first men lived dispersed; for cities were not: wherefore they were destroyed by wild beasts, through being every where weaker than them; and the mechanical art was indeed sufficient aid for their support, but was inadequate to the war with wild beasts; for they did not yet possess the political art, of which the military is a part. They sought therefore to collect themselves together, and to preserve themselves by building cities. When, however, they were thus collected, they injured one another, from not possessing the political art; so that, being again dispersed, they were destroyed. 35. Jupiter, therefore, fearing for our race, lest it should entirely perish, sends Hermes to carry shame and justice to men, that they might be ornaments of cities, and bonds to cement friendship. Hermes, therefore, asked Jupiter in what manner he was to give shame and justice to men. ‘Whether, as the arts have been distributed, so shall I distribute these also? for they have been distributed thus: one man who possesses the medicinal art is sufficient for many not skilled in it, and so with other craftsmen. Shall I thus dispense shame and justice among men, or distribute them to all?’ ‘To all,’ said Jupiter, ‘and let all partake of them: for there would be no cities, if a few only were to partake of them, as of other arts. Moreover enact a law in my name, that whosoever is unable to partake of shame and justice shall be put to death as a pest of a city.’

36. “Thus, then, Socrates, and for these reasons, as well others as the Athenians, when a question arises about excellence in building, or any other mechanical art, think that few only should give their advice; and if any one, who is not of the number of the few, should offer to give advice, they do not allow him, as you say; and properly, as I say: but when they proceed to a consultation respecting political excellence, which ought to depend entirely on justice and temperance, they very properly allow every man to speak, because it is the duty of every one to partake of this excellence, otherwise there can be no cities. This, Socrates, is the cause of this fact.

37. “And that you may not think that you are deceived, _when you are told_ that in reality all men are of opinion that every one partakes of justice, and of the other political excellences, take this additional proof. For in other kinds of excellence, as you say, if any one asserts that he is a good flute-player, or skilled in any other art, of which he is ignorant, they either ridicule him, or are indignant, and his friends go to him and admonish him as a madman; but in justice and other political virtues, even though they know of any man that he is unjust, yet if he himself tells the truth of himself in the presence of many persons, what in the other case they considered prudence, to speak the truth, in this case _they consider_ madness; and they say that all men ought to say they are just, whether they are so or not, or that he is mad who does not lay claim to justice, because it is necessary that every one should, in some respect, partake of it, or no longer be a man.

38. “I say these things to shew that they very properly permit every man to give advice concerning this virtue, because they think that every one partakes of it. But that men think that it exists not naturally or spontaneously, but that it is taught and acquired by study, by whomsoever it is acquired, this I will in the next place endeavour to shew. For whatever evils men think others respectively have by nature or fortune no one is angry with, nor admonishes, or teaches, or punishes the possessors of them, in order to make them otherwise than they are, but pity them. For instance, who would be so foolish as to attempt to do any of these things to the deformed, or the little, or the weak? For they know, I think, that these things, such as are beautiful and the contraries, happen to men by nature and fortune: but such advantages as they think result to men from study, practice, and instruction, if any one does not possess them but their contrary evils, for these things anger, and punishment, and admonition, are had recourse to: of these one is injustice, and so is impiety, and in short, every thing that is contrary to political virtue. Here, then, every man is angry with and admonishes every other, clearly because he thinks it may be acquired by study and instruction. 39. For if you will consider, Socrates, of what avail it is to punish those who act unjustly, this very thing will teach you that men think virtue is to be acquired. For no one punishes those who act unjustly, merely attending to this and for this reason, that any one has so acted, unless it be one who like a brute avenges himself irrationally; but he who endeavours to punish with reason, does not exact vengeance for the sake of past offence, (for what has been done he cannot make undone,) but for the sake of the future, that neither this man himself, nor any other who sees him punished, may again act unjustly. And he who entertains such a thought must think that virtue may be taught; he punishes certainly for the sake of deterring from wickedness. 40. All, therefore, have this opinion who inflict punishment, either privately or publicly. Now all other men, and especially the Athenians, your fellow-citizens, inflict punishment on and correct those who they think act unjustly; so that, according to this reasoning, the Athenians also are among the number of those who think that virtue may be acquired and taught. That your fellow-citizens, therefore, very properly allow a brazier and a shoemaker to give advice in political affairs, and that they think that virtue may be taught and acquired, has been sufficiently demonstrated to you, Socrates, at least as it appears to me.

41. “There still, however, remains a doubt which you entertain respecting those good men, why, in the world they have their sons instructed in such things as depend on masters, and make them wise, but in the virtue which they themselves possess do not make them better than others. With respect to this, then, Socrates, I shall no longer speak to you in fable, but argument. For consider the matter thus. Whether is there some one thing or not, of which it is necessary all the citizens should partake, if a city is to be? for in this or in no other way, the doubt which you entertain is solved. For if there is, and if this one thing is neither the art of a builder, nor of a brazier, nor of a potter, but is justice, and temperance, and holiness, and in a word I call it by one name, the virtue of a man; if this be the thing, of which all must partake, and with which every man if he wishes to learn or do any thing else, must _learn or_ do it, but not without this, or if one who does not partake of it must be taught and punished, whether boy, or man, or woman, till through being punished he becomes better, and he who is not obedient, when punished or taught, is to be banished from cities, or put to death as incurable; if this is the case, and if, notwithstanding this, good men teach their children other things, but not this, consider what strange people those good men are: 42. for we have shewn that they think it may be taught, both privately and publicly. But since it may be taught, and acquired by study, do they teach their children other things, for which death is not imposed as a penalty, if they do not know them; but where the penalty of death or exile is imposed on their children, if they are not instructed or exercised in virtue, and besides death, the confiscation of their property, and in short the ruin of their families, _do you think that_ they do not teach them these things nor bestow their whole care upon them? We must think they do, Socrates.

“Beginning from childhood they both teach and admonish them as long as they live. For as soon as any one understands what is said, nurse, mother, pedagogue, and the father himself, vie with each other in this, how the boy may become as good as possible; in every word and deed teaching and pointing out to him that this is just, and that unjust, this is honourable and that base, this is holy and that unholy, and this you must do and that you must not do. And if the boy obeys willingly, it is well; but if not, like a tree twisted and bent they make him straight by threats and blows. 43. After this they send him to masters, and give them much more strict injunctions to attend to the children’s morals than to their reading and music: and the masters do attend to this, and when the boys have learnt their letters, and are able to understand what is written, as before words spoken, they place before them on their benches to read, and compel them to learn by heart the compositions of good poets, in which there are many admonitions, and many details, and praises, and encomiums, of good men of former times, in order that the boy may imitate them through emulation, and strive to become such himself. Again, the music-masters, in the same way, pay attention to sobriety of behaviour, and take care that the boys commit no evil: besides this, when they have learnt to play on the harp, they teach them the compositions of other good poets, and those lyric, setting them to music, and they compel rhythm and harmony to become familiar to the boys’ souls, in order that they may become more gentle, and being themselves more rhythmical and harmonious, they may be able both to speak and act; for the whole life of man requires rhythm and harmony. 44. Moreover, besides this, they send them to a teacher of gymnastics, that having their bodies in a better state, they may be subservient to their well-regulated mind, and not be compelled to cowardice, through bodily infirmity, either in war or other actions. And these things they do who are most able; but the richest are the most able, and their sons beginning to frequent masters at the earliest time of life leave them the latest. And when they are set free from masters, the state still further compels them to learn the laws, and to live by them as a pattern, that they may not act at random after their own inclinations, but exactly as writing masters having ruled lines with a pen for those boys who have not yet learnt to write well, so give them the copy-book, and compel them to write according to the direction of the lines, so the state having prescribed laws which were the inventions of good and ancient legislators, compels them both to govern and be governed according to these, but whoso transgresses them, it punishes; and the name given to this chastisement, both among you, and in many other places, is correction, since punishment corrects. 45. So great therefore being the attention paid to virtue, privately and publicly, do you wonder and doubt, Socrates, whether virtue may be taught? There is no need, however, to wonder, but much more if it could not be taught.

“Why then are there many bad sons of good fathers? Learn again the reason of this; for it is not at all wonderful, if what I have before said is true, that, if a state is to subsist, no one must be unskilled in this thing, virtue. For if what I say is the case, (and it assuredly is), consider the matter by selecting any other study and subject of instruction whatever. 46. For instance, suppose that a city could not subsist unless we were all of us flute-players, each according to his capacity, and suppose every one should teach his neighbour, both privately and publicly, and should chide any one who did not play well, and should not grudge doing this, as now no one grudges _a knowledge of_ what is just and legal, or conceals it, as is the case in other arts, for mutual justice and virtue are, I think, advantageous to us; and for this reason every one most willingly tells and teaches others what is just and legal. If then in the same way, in flute-playing, we had a perfectly willing and ungrudging disposition to teach each other, do you think, Socrates,” said he, “that the sons of good flute-players would become good players, rather than the sons of bad ones? I indeed think not; but the man’s son who happened to have the best natural talent for flute-playing, would rise to distinction; and the man’s son who had no such natural talent, would be undistinguished; and the son of a good flute-player would often turn out a bad one, and the son of a bad one would often turn out a good one. However, all would be sufficiently good flute-players, compared with those who are untaught, and who know nothing of flute-playing. 47. In like manner think that the man who appears to you to be the most unjust of those who are trained in the laws, and among civilized men, is just and a proficient in justice, when compared with men, who have neither instruction nor courts of justice, nor laws, nor any necessity that constantly compels them to attend to virtue, but may be considered as savages, such as those whom the poet Pherecrates represented last year, at the Lenæan festival. Assuredly, if you should chance to be thrown among such men as the misanthropes in that play, you would rejoice if you met with a Eurybates and a Phrynondas[96], and you would deplore with regret the depravity of the men here. But now you are fastidious, Socrates, because all are teachers of virtue as far as they are severally able, though no one appears to you to be so. Again, if you were to enquire for a teacher of the Greek language, not one would be found: nor, I think, if you were to enquire for one who could instruct the sons of our artificers in the very art which they have learnt from their father, so far as the father and the father’s friends who follow the same art are able to teach it, _if, I say, you were to enquire_ for one who could instruct them, I think, Socrates, that a teacher would not easily be found for them, but for those who are utterly unskilled, a teacher would easily be found, and so with respect to virtue and every thing else. 48. But if there is any one who excels us even but a little in advancing others in the road to virtue, we ought to be content. Of these, then, I think I am one, and that far above other men I know certain things by which a man will be made upright and good, and that worth the remuneration which I demand, and even more, as also my pupils think. Therefore I adopt the following method in my demand for remuneration; when any one has learnt from me, if he is willing, he pays the sum that I demand; but if not, having gone to a temple and sworn how much my instructions are worth, he pays that sum.

-----

Footnote 96:

Two men whose profligacy made their names proverbial.

-----

“Thus much, Socrates,” he continued, “I have said by way of fable and argument, to prove that virtue may be taught, and that the Athenians are of that opinion, and that it is not at all wonderful that the sons of good fathers should turn out bad, or of bad fathers, good, since even the sons of Polycletus, who are of the same age with Paralus and Xanthippus here, are nothing compared with their father, and so with respect to the sons of other artists; these youths, however, do not yet deserve to be blamed in this respect; for we have still hopes in them, as they are young.”

49. Protagoras having made such and so long a display, ceased speaking; and I, having continued for a long time enchanted, still looked at him, expecting that he would say something more, and desiring to hear him. But when I perceived that he had in reality ceased, I with difficulty collected myself, and looking towards Hippocrates, said, “O son of Apollodorus, how thankful I am to you for having urged me to come hither; for I esteem it a great privilege to have heard what I have heard from Protagoras; for before this, I thought it was no human care by which good men become good, but now I am persuaded that it is. However, I feel a slight difficulty, which, doubtless, Protagoras will easily explain, since he has explained so much. For if any one should converse with any one of the popular orators on these subjects, he would perhaps hear similar arguments, as from Pericles, for instance, or some other able speaker; but if he should ask them any further questions, like books they are unable either to give an answer or to ask any question themselves. And if one should put any trifling question to them respecting what has been said, as brass when struck sounds for a long time, and prolongs its sound, unless some one lays hold of it, so these orators, when asked some trifling question, answer in a speech drawn out to a great length. 50. But Protagoras here is able to make long and beautiful speeches, as the fact proves, and is also able, when asked a question, to answer briefly, and when questioning, to wait and receive the answer, which are qualities possessed but by a few. Now then, Protagoras, I need a trifle only, so that I shall have all I want if you will answer me this. You say that virtue may be taught; and I, if I could be persuaded by any man, should be persuaded by you. But, what I wondered at your saying, satisfy my mind as to that. For you said that Jupiter sent justice and shame to men; and afterwards, in many parts of your discourse, justice, temperance, holiness, and all qualities of that kind, were spoken of by you, as if they were collectively one thing, virtue. Therefore explain this accurately to me, whether virtue is one thing, and justice, temperance, and holiness, parts of it; or whether these that I have now mentioned are all names of one and the same thing. This is what I still want to know.”

51. “But it is easy,” said he, “Socrates, to answer this question, that the qualities about which you ask are parts of virtue, which is one thing.”

“Whether,” said I, “are they parts like the parts of a face, the mouth, nose, eyes, and ears; or like the parts of gold, which in no respect differ from each other and from the whole, except in magnitude and littleness?”

“Like the former, it appears to me Socrates, as the parts of the face are to the whole face.”

“Whether, then,” said I, “do men possess these parts of virtue, some one and others another part? or is it necessary that he who has received one should have all?”

“By no means,” he replied, “since many men are brave, but unjust, and again just, but not wise.”

“Are these, then, parts of virtue,” said I, “wisdom and courage?”

“Most assuredly,” he replied, “and wisdom is chief of all the parts.”

“And is every one of them,” said I, “different from every other?”

“Yes.”

“And has each of them its proper function, like the parts of the face? For instance, an eye is not like the ears, nor is its function the same; nor is any one of the others like any other, either as to its function, or in any other respect. Thus, then, with the parts of virtue, is not any one like any other, either in itself, or in its function? Is it not clear that such is the case, since it resembles our example?”

“Such is the case, Socrates,” he replied.

52. Then I said, “Therefore none of the other parts of virtue are like science, or like justice, or like courage, or like temperance, or like holiness.”

“No,” he said.

“Come then,” said I, “let us examine together what the character of each of them is. And first of all, thus; is justice a thing, or not a thing? to me it appears to be a thing; but what does it appear to you to be?”

“To me also it appears to be a thing,” he replied.

“What then? If some one were to ask you and me, ‘Protagoras and Socrates, tell me with respect to this very thing which you have just now named, justice, whether is it in itself just or unjust?’ I should answer him that it is just: but what decision would you give? the same as mine, or different?”

“The same,” he replied.

“‘Justice, then, is precisely similar to being just,’ I should say in answer to one who asked the question. And would not you, too?”

“Yes,” he said.

“If, then, after this, he should ask us, ‘Do you not also say that holiness is something?’ we should reply, I think that we do?”

“Yes,” he said.

“‘Do you not say that this too is a thing?’ should we say it is, or not?”

He allowed that we should say it is.

“‘But whether do you say that this very thing is of such a nature as to be unholy, or holy?’ I for my part,” I said, “should be indignant at the question, and should say, ‘Speak properly, my good sir, for scarcely could any thing else be holy, if holiness itself be not holy.’ But what should you say? should not you give the same answer?”

“Certainly,” he said.

“If, then, after this, he should ask us, and say, ‘What then did you mean a little while ago? Or did I not hear you aright? For you appeared to me to say that the parts of virtue are so disposed to each other, that no one of them resembles any other;’ I, for my part should reply, ‘In other respects you heard aright, but in thinking that I too said this, you were mistaken; for Protagoras gave this answer, and I put the question.’ If then he should say, ‘Does he speak the truth, Protagoras; do you say that no one part of virtue is like any other of its parts? Is this your assertion?’ what answer would you give him?”

“I must needs admit it, Socrates,” he replied.

“After admitting this, Protagoras, what answer should we give him, if he further asked us, ‘Is not holiness then of such a nature as to be a just thing, nor justice such as to be a holy thing, but such as to be not holy; and holiness such as to be not just, but unjust, and the former unholy? What answer should we give him? I, for myself, should say both that justice is holy, and holiness just. And for you, if you would permit me, I should make the very same answer, that justice is the same with holiness, or very like it, and that justice bears the nearest possible resemblance to holiness, and holiness to justice. But consider whether you would forbid me to give this answer, or does it seem so to you also?”

“It does not altogether appear to me, Socrates,” he said, “to be so absolutely true, that I can grant that justice is holy, and holiness just; but there appears to me to be a difference between them. However what matters that?” he continued: “if you wish it, let it be admitted between us that justice is holy, and holiness just.”

55. “Not so,” I replied, “for I do not require to examine into an ‘If you wish it,’ and ‘If you think so,’ but into what I think and what you think; but in saying ‘what I think and what you think,’ I mean this, I am of opinion that our argument will be best discussed if we put it out of the question altogether.”

“Well then,” he said, “justice has some resemblance to holiness, for every thing resembles every other thing in some respect, for white in some sort resembles black, and hard, soft, and so with respect to other things which appear to be most contrary to each other; and the things which we just now said have different functions, and are not the one like the other, as the parts of the face do in a certain respect resemble each other; so that in this way you could prove this, if you pleased, that all things are similar to each other; yet it is not right to call things that have a certain similarity, similar, nor things that have a certain dissimilarity, dissimilar, though the similarity is very trifling.”

56. And I, wondering, said to him, “Do you think then that the just and the holy are so related to each other, that they have but a trifling similarity to one another?”

“Not quite so,” he said, “nor on the other hand do I consider them in the same way as you appear to me to do.”

“However,” said I, “since you appear to me to be vexed at this, we will dismiss it, and consider this of the other things that you said. Do you call folly any thing?”

He admitted he did.

“And is not wisdom the direct contrary to this thing?”

“It appears so to me,” he replied.

“But when men act rightly and profitably, do they then appear to you to act temperately[97], in so acting, or the contrary[98]?”

-----

Footnote 97:

Cousin has well remarked that σωφροσύνη, which Socrates opposes to
ἀφροσύνη, means both _temperance_ and _prudence_. We, as well as the
French, have no single word that expresses both ideas at once. I have
therefore, in imitation of Cousin, adopted the word _temperance_
throughout this part of the dialogue, for otherwise the dilemma to
which Socrates brings his antagonist would be lost sight of, for he
now compels him to admit that _temperance_ and _wisdom_ which he
before distinguished from each other, are identical. Mr. Wright, in
his scholar-like version of this dialogue, has used the word
_discretion_ throughout, but it appears to me scarce worthy to be
exalted into a virtue that is the twin-sister of wisdom. Further on,
as will be noticed, I have also followed Cousin in translating
σωφροσύνη prudence.

Footnote 98:

I have followed Stallbaum’s reading, who omits εἰ and ἔπραττον.

-----

“To act temperately,” he replied.

“And are they not temperate by temperance?”

“Necessarily so.”

“Do not they, then, who act wrongly, act foolishly, and are they not intemperate in so acting?”

“I agree with you,” he said.

“Acting foolishly, then, is the contrary to acting temperately.”

He said it was.

“Are not, therefore, things which are done foolishly, done through folly, and things done temperately through temperance?”

He agreed.

“If then any thing is done through strength, is it not done strongly, and if through weakness, weakly?”

“It appears so.”

“And if any thing is done with swiftness, swiftly, and if with slowness, slowly?”

He said it was.

“And if any thing is done in the same manner, is it not done by the same means, and if in a contrary manner by the contrary means?”

He granted it.

57. “Come then,” I said, “is there any thing beautiful?”

He admitted there was.

“Is any thing contrary to this except the ugly?”

“There is not.”

“But what? Is there any thing good?”

“There is.”

“And is any thing contrary to this except evil?”

“There is not.”

“What? is there any thing high in voice?”

He said there is.

“And is any thing contrary to this except the low?”

“There is not,” he said.

“Therefore,” said I, “to each several contrary there is only one contrary, and not many.”

He granted it.

“Come then,” said I, “let us reckon up our admissions. We have admitted that one thing only is contrary to one, but not more?”

“We have.”

“And that what is done contrariwise, is done by contraries?”

He assented.

“We admitted also that what is done foolishly is done contrariwise to that which is done temperately?”

He assented.

“And that what is done temperately is done by temperance, and what foolishly, by folly?”

He agreed.

“If therefore it is done contrariwise, must it not be done by a contrary?”

“Yes.”

“And the one is done by temperance, and the other by folly?”

“Yes.”

“Contrariwise?”

“Certainly.”

“Through contraries therefore?”

“It appears so.”

“Folly therefore is contrary to temperance?”

“So it appears.”

“Do you remember, however, that we before admitted that folly is contrary to wisdom?”

He allowed it.

“And that one thing only is contrary to one?”

“I grant it.”

58. “Which, then, of these positions must we retract, Protagoras? That which says, that one thing only is contrary to one, or that in which it was asserted, that wisdom is different from temperance, but that each is a part of virtue, and that besides being different, both they and their functions are dissimilar, in the same manner as the parts of the face? Which of these, then, must we retract? for these two positions taken together are not set down in a very musical manner; for they neither accord, nor harmonize with each other. For how can they accord, since it is necessary that one thing only should be contrary to one, but not to more, but wisdom and temperance are found to be contrary to folly, which is one. Is it so, Protagoras,” I asked, “or otherwise?”

He admitted that it was so, though very unwillingly.

“Must not, then, temperance and wisdom be one and the same thing? Before, moreover, justice and holiness were found to be nearly the same. 59. Come, however,” said I, “Protagoras, let us not be disheartened, but examine the rest. Does a man who acts unjustly, appear to you to be prudent[99], because he acts unjustly?”

-----

Footnote 99:

As was before observed, it is now necessary for the thread of the
argument to use the word _prudent_ instead of _temperate_, but the
reader must bear in mind that in the original the two ideas are
expressed by one word.

-----

“I should be ashamed, Socrates,” he said, “to acknowledge this, though many men do say so.”

“Whether, then, shall I address my argument to them,” I asked, “or to you?”

“If you please,” said he, “discuss this statement first, the statement of the many.”

“But it makes no difference to me, if only you will answer, whether these things appear so to you or not: for I am most anxious to sift the statement itself, though it may possibly happen, that both I who question, and you who answer, may ourselves be sifted.”

At first, then, Protagoras began to give himself airs, for he objected that the subject was difficult; afterwards however, he agreed to answer.

60. “Come then,” said I, “answer me from the beginning. Do persons who act unjustly, appear to you to be prudent?”

“Be it so,” he replied.

“And by being prudent, do you mean thinking rightly?” He assented.

“And by thinking rightly that they are well advised when they act unjustly?”

“Be it so,” said he.

“Is this the case,” I asked, “if they fare well in acting unjustly, or if they fare ill?”

“If they fare well.”

“Do you say then that certain things are good?”

“I do.”

“Are those things good, then,” I asked, “which are advantageous to men?”

“By Jupiter,” said he, “and some things though they are not advantageous to men I call good.”

61. Protagoras now appeared to me to be ruffled and annoyed, and to be set against answering any more: when, therefore, I saw him in this state, I was cautious, and asked him gently: “Whether,” said I, “Protagoras, do you mean things that are advantageous to no man, or things that are advantageous in no respect whatever? and do you call such things good?”

“By no means,” said he; “but I know many things which are useless to men, meats and drinks, and drugs, and ten thousand other things, and some things that are advantageous; and some things that are neither the one nor the other to men, but are to horses, and some to oxen only, and others to dogs, others again to neither of these, but to trees, and others that are good for the roots of trees, but pernicious to their buds, for instance, dung is good when applied to the roots of all plants, but if you were to put it on their branches and young shoots, it destroys the whole. Oil too is very injurious to all plants, and is most destructive to the hairs of all animals except man, but it is of service to the hairs of man, and to the rest of his body. 62. So various and diversified a thing is good, that this very thing is good for the external parts of the human body, but most pernicious to the inward parts. And on this account all physicians forbid the sick to use oil, except only a very small quantity in what they are going to eat, just sufficient to overcome the disagreeable smell of the food and seasoning.”

Protagoras having said this, those that were present loudly applauded him, for that he spoke well. And I said, “Protagoras, I happen to be a forgetful sort of man, and if any one makes me a long speech, I forget what the discussion is about. As, therefore, if I happened to be deaf, you would have thought it necessary, if you were about to converse with me, to speak louder than you do to others, so now, since you have met with a forgetful person, curtail your answers for me, and make them briefer, if I am to follow you.”

“How do you bid me answer briefly? Must I answer you,” said he, “more briefly than is requisite?”

“By no means,” I replied.

“But at such length as is requisite?” he asked.

“Yes,” said I.

“Whether, then, must I answer at such length as I think requisite, or as you?”

63. “I have heard,” I replied, “that you are both yourself able, and can teach others to make a long speech on the same subject if you please, so as never to be in want of words, and again to speak so briefly, that no one can express himself in fewer words than you. If, therefore, you mean to converse with me, use the other method with me, that of brevity.”

“Socrates,” said he, “I have ere this entered into discussion with many men, and if I had done what you bid me, that is, had conversed as my antagonist bade me converse, I should not have appeared to excel any one, nor would the name of Protagoras have been celebrated in Greece.”

64. Then I (for I perceived that he was not pleased with his former answers, and that he would not willingly carry on the conversation by answering my questions) thinking that I had no longer any business to be present at the conference, said, “Protagoras, I am not anxious to continue our conference contrary to your wish; but whenever you are willing to converse in such a manner that I can follow you, I will then converse with you. For you, as is reported of you, and as you admit yourself, are able to carry on a conference both with prolixity and brevity; for you are wise; but I am unable to follow these long speeches; though I wish that I could. But it was fitting, that you, who are capable of doing both, should yield to me, in order that the conference might continue: now however, since you are not willing and I have business to attend to, and am unable to stay while you are extending your speeches to a great length (for I have somewhere to go to), I will take my departure; though otherwise perhaps I might have listened to these things with pleasure.”

65. And as I spoke thus, I rose to depart. And as I was rising, Callias takes hold of me with his right hand, and with his left seized my cloak, and said, “We shall not let you go, Socrates; for if you go away, our conversation will no longer be the same. I beseech you, therefore, stay with us; for there is no one I would more gladly hear than you and Protagoras conversing together; therefore oblige us all.”

To this I said—I already stood up ready to go—“Son of Hipponicus, I always admire your love of wisdom; but I now both praise and love it; so that I should wish to gratify you, if you asked me what was possible. But now it is as if you should ask me to keep up with Crison of Himera, a runner in his prime, or to run a race and keep up with one of the long-distance runners or day-couriers; I should say to you, that I wish much more than you do that I could keep pace with these runners, but I cannot, but if you wish to see me and Crison running together, you must request him to slacken his pace; for I am not able to run swiftly, but he is able to run slowly. So if you desire to hear me and Protagoras, you must request him to continue to answer as he did at first, briefly and to the question. But if not, what kind of conversation will arise? I for my part thought that it is one thing to converse together, and another to harangue.”

66. “But you see, Socrates,” said he, “Protagoras appears to ask what is just, in requiring that he may be allowed to converse as he pleases, and you as you please.”

Alcibiades, thereupon, taking up the discourse, said, “You do not speak fairly, Callias; for Socrates here admits that he has not the faculty of making long speeches, and yields to Protagoras, but in the power of conversing, and knowing how to give and receive a reason, I should wonder if he yielded to any man. If then, Protagoras confesses that he is inferior to Socrates in conversing, that is enough for Socrates; but if he pretends to rival him, let him carry on the conversation by question and answer, not making a long speech in answer to each question, evading the argument and not choosing to give a reason, but prolonging his speech until most of the hearers forget what the question was about. For as for Socrates, I will be his surety that he will not forget, notwithstanding he jests and says he is forgetful. To me, therefore, Socrates appears to make the fairer proposition; for it is right that every one should declare his own opinion.”

67. After Alcibiades, it was Critias, I think, who said, “Prodicus and Hippias, Callias appears to me to be very much on the side of Protagoras; but Alcibiades is always fond of contention, to whatever he applies himself. We, however, ought not to contend with each other, either for Socrates or Protagoras, but we should join in requesting them both not to break up the conference in the middle.”

When he had spoken thus, Prodicus[100] said, “You seem to me to say well, Critias: for it is right that those who are present at discussions of this kind should be common, but not equal hearers of both speakers. For it is not the same thing: for it is requisite to hear both in common, but not to give equal attention to each of them, but to the wiser more, and to the less learned less. 68. I too, Protagoras and Socrates, beg of you to make concessions to each other, and to argue with one another, but not to wrangle; for friends argue with friends out of good will, but adversaries and enemies wrangle with one another. And thus the conference will be most admirably conducted. For you, the speakers, will thus be highly approved, not praised, by us the hearers; for approbation is felt in the mind of the hearers, and is without deception; but praise is bestowed in words, by persons often who speak untruly, contrary to their real opinion; again, we, the hearers, shall thus be highly delighted, not pleased, for delight takes place when one learns something and acquires wisdom in one’s mind, but pleasure when one eats something, or experiences some other agreeable sensation in one’s body.”

-----

Footnote 100:

It will be observed that Prodicus’s method, of drawing nice
distinctions between words nearly resembling each other in meaning, is
here ridiculed.

-----

69. When Prodicus had thus spoken, many of those that were present approved of what he said. But after Prodicus, Hippias the wise spoke: “My friends who are here present,” said he, “I regard you all as kinsmen, relatives, and fellow-citizens by nature, though not by law; for like is by nature akin to like, but law being a tyrant over men, compels many things to be done contrary to nature. It were disgraceful, then, for us to know the nature of things, to be the wisest of the Greeks, and in this very character to have met together in the city of Greece, which is the very prytaneum of wisdom, and in the noblest and wealthiest house in this city, and then to exhibit nothing worthy of this high rank, but like the lowest of men to disagree with each other. 70. I therefore both entreat and advise you, Protagoras and Socrates, to come to terms under our authority, who as arbitrators will bring you to an agreement; and neither do you, Socrates, require that exact form of dialogue, which is so very concise, unless it is agreeable to Protagoras, but relax somewhat and give the reins to your discourse, that it may appear to us with more majesty and grace; nor on the other hand, do you, Protagoras, stretching every rope, and carrying all sail, scud to an ocean of words out of sight of land, but both of you keep a middle course. Do thus then, and be persuaded by me to choose a moderator, president, and prytanis, who will oblige you to keep within moderate bounds on either side.”