Protagoras
would impute to Simonides a character of recklessness which is very
unlike his countrymen. And I should like to tell you, I said, what I
imagine to be the real meaning of Simonides in this poem, if you will
test what, in your way of speaking, would be called my skill in poetry;
or if you would rather, I will be the listener.
To this proposal Protagoras replied: As you please;--and Hippias,
Prodicus, and the others told me by all means to do as I proposed.
Then now, I said, I will endeavour to explain to you my opinion about
this poem of Simonides. There is a very ancient philosophy which is more
cultivated in Crete and Lacedaemon than in any other part of Hellas, and
there are more philosophers in those countries than anywhere else in
the world. This, however, is a secret which the Lacedaemonians deny; and
they pretend to be ignorant, just because they do not wish to have it
thought that they rule the world by wisdom, like the Sophists of whom
Protagoras was speaking, and not by valour of arms; considering that
if the reason of their superiority were disclosed, all men would be
practising their wisdom. And this secret of theirs has never been
discovered by the imitators of Lacedaemonian fashions in other cities,
who go about with their ears bruised in imitation of them, and have the
caestus bound on their arms, and are always in training, and wear short
cloaks; for they imagine that these are the practices which have
enabled the Lacedaemonians to conquer the other Hellenes. Now when the
Lacedaemonians want to unbend and hold free conversation with their
wise men, and are no longer satisfied with mere secret intercourse, they
drive out all these laconizers, and any other foreigners who may happen
to be in their country, and they hold a philosophical seance unknown
to strangers; and they themselves forbid their young men to go out into
other cities--in this they are like the Cretans--in order that they may
not unlearn the lessons which they have taught them. And in Lacedaemon
and Crete not only men but also women have a pride in their high
cultivation. And hereby you may know that I am right in attributing to
the Lacedaemonians this excellence in philosophy and speculation: If
a man converses with the most ordinary Lacedaemonian, he will find him
seldom good for much in general conversation, but at any point in the
discourse he will be darting out some notable saying, terse and full of
meaning, with unerring aim; and the person with whom he is talking seems
to be like a child in his hands. And many of our own age and of former
ages have noted that the true Lacedaemonian type of character has the
love of philosophy even stronger than the love of gymnastics; they are
conscious that only a perfectly educated man is capable of uttering such
expressions. Such were Thales of Miletus, and Pittacus of Mitylene, and
Bias of Priene, and our own Solon, and Cleobulus the Lindian, and
Myson the Chenian; and seventh in the catalogue of wise men was the
Lacedaemonian Chilo. All these were lovers and emulators and disciples
of the culture of the Lacedaemonians, and any one may perceive that
their wisdom was of this character; consisting of short memorable
sentences, which they severally uttered. And they met together and
dedicated in the temple of Apollo at Delphi, as the first-fruits
of their wisdom, the far-famed inscriptions, which are in all men's
mouths--'Know thyself,' and 'Nothing too much.'
Why do I say all this? I am explaining that this Lacedaemonian brevity
was the style of primitive philosophy. Now there was a saying of
Pittacus which was privately circulated and received the approbation of
the wise, 'Hard is it to be good.' And Simonides, who was ambitious of
the fame of wisdom, was aware that if he could overthrow this saying,
then, as if he had won a victory over some famous athlete, he would
carry off the palm among his contemporaries. And if I am not mistaken,
he composed the entire poem with the secret intention of damaging
Pittacus and his saying.
Let us all unite in examining his words, and see whether I am speaking
the truth. Simonides must have been a lunatic, if, in the very first
words of the poem, wanting to say only that to become good is hard, he
inserted (Greek) 'on the one hand' ('on the one hand to become good is
hard'); there would be no reason for the introduction of (Greek),
unless you suppose him to speak with a hostile reference to the words
of Pittacus. Pittacus is saying 'Hard is it to be good,' and he, in
refutation of this thesis, rejoins that the truly hard thing, Pittacus,
is to become good, not joining 'truly' with 'good,' but with 'hard.'
Not, that the hard thing is to be truly good, as though there were some
truly good men, and there were others who were good but not truly
good (this would be a very simple observation, and quite unworthy of
Simonides); but you must suppose him to make a trajection of the word
'truly' (Greek), construing the saying of Pittacus thus (and let us
imagine Pittacus to be speaking and Simonides answering him): 'O my
friends,' says Pittacus, 'hard is it to be good,' and Simonides answers,
'In that, Pittacus, you are mistaken; the difficulty is not to be good,
but on the one hand, to become good, four-square in hands and feet
and mind, without a flaw--that is hard truly.' This way of reading the
passage accounts for the insertion of (Greek) 'on the one hand,' and for
the position at the end of the clause of the word 'truly,' and all that
follows shows this to be the meaning. A great deal might be said
in praise of the details of the poem, which is a charming piece of
workmanship, and very finished, but such minutiae would be tedious. I
should like, however, to point out the general intention of the poem,
which is certainly designed in every part to be a refutation of the
saying of Pittacus. For he speaks in what follows a little further on
as if he meant to argue that although there is a difficulty in becoming
good, yet this is possible for a time, and only for a time. But having
become good, to remain in a good state and be good, as you, Pittacus,
affirm, is not possible, and is not granted to man; God only has this
blessing; 'but man cannot help being bad when the force of circumstances
overpowers him.' Now whom does the force of circumstance overpower in
the command of a vessel?--not the private individual, for he is always
overpowered; and as one who is already prostrate cannot be overthrown,
and only he who is standing upright but not he who is prostrate can be
laid prostrate, so the force of circumstances can only overpower him
who, at some time or other, has resources, and not him who is at
all times helpless. The descent of a great storm may make the pilot
helpless, or the severity of the season the husbandman or the physician;
for the good may become bad, as another poet witnesses:--
'The good are sometimes good and sometimes bad.'
But the bad does not become bad; he is always bad. So that when the
force of circumstances overpowers the man of resources and skill and
virtue, then he cannot help being bad. And you, Pittacus, are saying,
'Hard is it to be good.' Now there is a difficulty in becoming good; and
yet this is possible: but to be good is an impossibility--
'For he who does well is the good man, and he who does ill is the bad.'
But what sort of doing is good in letters? and what sort of doing makes
a man good in letters? Clearly the knowing of them. And what sort of
well-doing makes a man a good physician? Clearly the knowledge of the
art of healing the sick. 'But he who does ill is the bad.' Now who
becomes a bad physician? Clearly he who is in the first place a
physician, and in the second place a good physician; for he may become a
bad one also: but none of us unskilled individuals can by any amount of
doing ill become physicians, any more than we can become carpenters or
anything of that sort; and he who by doing ill cannot become a physician
at all, clearly cannot become a bad physician. In like manner the good
may become deteriorated by time, or toil, or disease, or other accident
(the only real doing ill is to be deprived of knowledge), but the bad
man will never become bad, for he is always bad; and if he were to
become bad, he must previously have been good. Thus the words of the
poem tend to show that on the one hand a man cannot be continuously
good, but that he may become good and may also become bad; and again
that
'They are the best for the longest time whom the gods love.'
All this relates to Pittacus, as is further proved by the sequel. For he
adds:--
'Therefore I will not throw away my span of life to no purpose in
searching after the impossible, hoping in vain to find a perfectly
faultless man among those who partake of the fruit of the broad-bosomed
earth: if I find him, I will send you word.'
(this is the vehement way in which he pursues his attack upon Pittacus
throughout the whole poem):
'But him who does no evil, voluntarily I praise and love;--not even the
gods war against necessity.'
All this has a similar drift, for Simonides was not so ignorant as to
say that he praised those who did no evil voluntarily, as though there
were some who did evil voluntarily. For no wise man, as I believe, will
allow that any human being errs voluntarily, or voluntarily does evil
and dishonourable actions; but they are very well aware that all who do
evil and dishonourable things do them against their will. And Simonides
never says that he praises him who does no evil voluntarily; the word
'voluntarily' applies to himself. For he was under the impression that
a good man might often compel himself to love and praise another, and
to be the friend and approver of another; and that there might be an
involuntary love, such as a man might feel to an unnatural father or
mother, or country, or the like. Now bad men, when their parents or
country have any defects, look on them with malignant joy, and find
fault with them and expose and denounce them to others, under the idea
that the rest of mankind will be less likely to take themselves to task
and accuse them of neglect; and they blame their defects far more than
they deserve, in order that the odium which is necessarily incurred by
them may be increased: but the good man dissembles his feelings, and
constrains himself to praise them; and if they have wronged him and he
is angry, he pacifies his anger and is reconciled, and compels himself
to love and praise his own flesh and blood. And Simonides, as is
probable, considered that he himself had often had to praise and magnify
a tyrant or the like, much against his will, and he also wishes to imply
to Pittacus that he does not censure him because he is censorious.
'For I am satisfied' he says, 'when a man is neither bad nor very
stupid; and when he knows justice (which is the health of states), and
is of sound mind, I will find no fault with him, for I am not given to
finding fault, and there are innumerable fools'
(implying that if he delighted in censure he might have abundant
opportunity of finding fault).
'All things are good with which evil is unmingled.'
In these latter words he does not mean to say that all things are good
which have no evil in them, as you might say 'All things are white which
have no black in them,' for that would be ridiculous; but he means to
say that he accepts and finds no fault with the moderate or intermediate
state.
('I do not hope' he says, 'to find a perfectly blameless man among those
who partake of the fruits of the broad-bosomed earth (if I find him,
I will send you word); in this sense I praise no man. But he who is
moderately good, and does no evil, is good enough for me, who love and
approve every one')