Gorgias
Gorgias illustrates the nature of rhetoric by adducing the example of
Themistocles, who persuaded the Athenians to build their docks and
walls, and of Pericles, whom Socrates himself has heard speaking about
the middle wall of the Piraeus. He adds that he has exercised a similar
power over the patients of his brother Herodicus. He could be chosen a
physician by the assembly if he pleased, for no physician could compete
with a rhetorician in popularity and influence. He could persuade the
multitude of anything by the power of his rhetoric; not that the
rhetorician ought to abuse this power any more than a boxer should
abuse the art of self-defence. Rhetoric is a good thing, but, like all
good things, may be unlawfully used. Neither is the teacher of the art
to be deemed unjust because his pupils are unjust and make a bad use of
the lessons which they have learned from him.
Socrates would like to know before he replies, whether Gorgias will
quarrel with him if he points out a slight inconsistency into which he
has fallen, or whether he, like himself, is one who loves to be
refuted. Gorgias declares that he is quite one of his sort, but fears
that the argument may be tedious to the company. The company cheer, and
Chaerephon and Callicles exhort them to proceed. Socrates gently points
out the supposed inconsistency into which Gorgias appears to have
fallen, and which he is inclined to think may arise out of a
misapprehension of his own. The rhetorician has been declared by
Gorgias to be more persuasive to the ignorant than the physician, or
any other expert. And he is said to be ignorant, and this ignorance of
his is regarded by Gorgias as a happy condition, for he has escaped the
trouble of learning. But is he as ignorant of just and unjust as he is
of medicine or building? Gorgias is compelled to admit that if he did
not know them previously he must learn them from his teacher as a part
of the art of rhetoric. But he who has learned carpentry is a
carpenter, and he who has learned music is a musician, and he who has
learned justice is just. The rhetorician then must be a just man, and
rhetoric is a just thing. But Gorgias has already admitted the opposite
of this, viz. that rhetoric may be abused, and that the rhetorician may
act unjustly. How is the inconsistency to be explained?
The fallacy of this argument is twofold; for in the first place, a man
may know justice and not be just—here is the old confusion of the arts
and the virtues;—nor can any teacher be expected to counteract wholly
the bent of natural character; and secondly, a man may have a degree of
justice, but not sufficient to prevent him from ever doing wrong. Polus
is naturally exasperated at the sophism, which he is unable to detect;
of course, he says, the rhetorician, like every one else, will admit
that he knows justice (how can he do otherwise when pressed by the
interrogations of Socrates?), but he thinks that great want of manners
is shown in bringing the argument to such a pass. Socrates ironically
replies, that when old men trip, the young set them on their legs
again; and he is quite willing to retract, if he can be shown to be in
error, but upon one condition, which is that Polus studies brevity.
Polus is in great indignation at not being allowed to use as many words
as he pleases in the free state of Athens. Socrates retorts, that yet
harder will be his own case, if he is compelled to stay and listen to
them. After some altercation they agree (compare Protag.), that Polus
shall ask and Socrates answer.
“What is the art of Rhetoric?” says Polus. Not an art at all, replies
Socrates, but a thing which in your book you affirm to have created
art. Polus asks, “What thing?” and Socrates answers, An experience or
routine of making a sort of delight or gratification. “But is not
rhetoric a fine thing?” I have not yet told you what rhetoric is. Will
you ask me another question—What is cookery? “What is cookery?” An
experience or routine of making a sort of delight or gratification.
Then they are the same, or rather fall under the same class, and
rhetoric has still to be distinguished from cookery. “What is
rhetoric?” asks Polus once more. A part of a not very creditable whole,
which may be termed flattery, is the reply. “But what part?” A shadow
of a part of politics. This, as might be expected, is wholly
unintelligible, both to Gorgias and Polus; and, in order to explain his
meaning to them, Socrates draws a distinction between shadows or
appearances and realities; e.g. there is real health of body or soul,
and the appearance of them; real arts and sciences, and the simulations
of them. Now the soul and body have two arts waiting upon them, first
the art of politics, which attends on the soul, having a legislative
part and a judicial part; and another art attending on the body, which
has no generic name, but may also be described as having two divisions,
one of which is medicine and the other gymnastic. Corresponding with
these four arts or sciences there are four shams or simulations of
them, mere experiences, as they may be termed, because they give no
reason of their own existence. The art of dressing up is the sham or
simulation of gymnastic, the art of cookery, of medicine; rhetoric is
the simulation of justice, and sophistic of legislation. They may be
summed up in an arithmetical formula:—
Tiring: gymnastic:: cookery: medicine:: sophistic: legislation.
And,
Cookery: medicine:: rhetoric: the art of justice.
And this is the true scheme of them, but when measured only by the
gratification which they procure, they become jumbled together and
return to their aboriginal chaos. Socrates apologizes for the length of
his speech, which was necessary to the explanation of the subject, and
begs Polus not unnecessarily to retaliate on him.
“Do you mean to say that the rhetoricians are esteemed flatterers?”
They are not esteemed at all. “Why, have they not great power, and can
they not do whatever they desire?” They have no power, and they only do
what they think best, and never what they desire; for they never attain
the true object of desire, which is the good. “As if you, Socrates,
would not envy the possessor of despotic power, who can imprison,
exile, kill any one whom he pleases.” But Socrates replies that he has
no wish to put any one to death; he who kills another, even justly, is
not to be envied, and he who kills him unjustly is to be pitied; it is
better to suffer than to do injustice. He does not consider that going
about with a dagger and putting men out of the way, or setting a house
on fire, is real power. To this Polus assents, on the ground that such
acts would be punished, but he is still of opinion that evil-doers, if
they are unpunished, may be happy enough. He instances Archelaus, son
of Perdiccas, the usurper of Macedonia. Does not Socrates think him
happy?—Socrates would like to know more about him; he cannot pronounce
even the great king to be happy, unless he knows his mental and moral
condition. Polus explains that Archelaus was a slave, being the son of
a woman who was the slave of Alcetas, brother of Perdiccas king of
Macedon—and he, by every species of crime, first murdering his uncle
and then his cousin and half-brother, obtained the kingdom. This was
very wicked, and yet all the world, including Socrates, would like to
have his place. Socrates dismisses the appeal to numbers; Polus, if he
will, may summon all the rich men of Athens, Nicias and his brothers,
Aristocrates, the house of Pericles, or any other great family—this is
the kind of evidence which is adduced in courts of justice, where truth
depends upon numbers. But Socrates employs proof of another sort; his
appeal is to one witness only,—that is to say, the person with whom he
is speaking; him he will convict out of his own mouth. And he is
prepared to show, after his manner, that Archelaus cannot be a wicked
man and yet happy.
The evil-doer is deemed happy if he escapes, and miserable if he
suffers punishment; but Socrates thinks him less miserable if he
suffers than if he escapes. Polus is of opinion that such a paradox as
this hardly deserves refutation, and is at any rate sufficiently
refuted by the fact. Socrates has only to compare the lot of the
successful tyrant who is the envy of the world, and of the wretch who,
having been detected in a criminal attempt against the state, is
crucified or burnt to death. Socrates replies, that if they are both
criminal they are both miserable, but that the unpunished is the more
miserable of the two. At this Polus laughs outright, which leads
Socrates to remark that laughter is a new species of refutation. Polus
replies, that he is already refuted; for if he will take the votes of
the company, he will find that no one agrees with him. To this Socrates
rejoins, that he is not a public man, and (referring to his own conduct
at the trial of the generals after the battle of Arginusae) is unable
to take the suffrages of any company, as he had shown on a recent
occasion; he can only deal with one witness at a time, and that is the
person with whom he is arguing. But he is certain that in the opinion
of any man to do is worse than to suffer evil.
Polus, though he will not admit this, is ready to acknowledge that to
do evil is considered the more foul or dishonourable of the two. But
what is fair and what is foul; whether the terms are applied to bodies,
colours, figures, laws, habits, studies, must they not be defined with
reference to pleasure and utility? Polus assents to this latter
doctrine, and is easily persuaded that the fouler of two things must
exceed either in pain or in hurt. But the doing cannot exceed the
suffering of evil in pain, and therefore must exceed in hurt. Thus
doing is proved by the testimony of Polus himself to be worse or more
hurtful than suffering.
There remains the other question: Is a guilty man better off when he is
punished or when he is unpunished? Socrates replies, that what is done
justly is suffered justly: if the act is just, the effect is just; if
to punish is just, to be punished is just, and therefore fair, and
therefore beneficent; and the benefit is that the soul is improved.
There are three evils from which a man may suffer, and which affect him
in estate, body, and soul;—these are, poverty, disease, injustice; and
the foulest of these is injustice, the evil of the soul, because that
brings the greatest hurt. And there are three arts which heal these
evils—trading, medicine, justice—and the fairest of these is justice.
Happy is he who has never committed injustice, and happy in the second
degree he who has been healed by punishment. And therefore the criminal
should himself go to the judge as he would to the physician, and purge
away his crime. Rhetoric will enable him to display his guilt in proper
colours, and to sustain himself and others in enduring the necessary
penalty. And similarly if a man has an enemy, he will desire not to
punish him, but that he shall go unpunished and become worse and worse,
taking care only that he does no injury to himself. These are at least
conceivable uses of the art, and no others have been discovered by us.
Here Callicles, who has been listening in silent amazement, asks
Chaerephon whether Socrates is in earnest, and on receiving the
assurance that he is, proceeds to ask the same question of Socrates
himself. For if such doctrines are true, life must have been turned
upside down, and all of us are doing the opposite of what we ought to
be doing.
Socrates replies in a style of playful irony, that before men can
understand one another they must have some common feeling. And such a
community of feeling exists between himself and Callicles, for both of