Protagoras
(and here observe that he uses a Lesbian word, epainemi (approve),
because he is addressing Pittacus,
'Who love and APPROVE every one VOLUNTARILY, who does no evil:'
and that the stop should be put after 'voluntarily'); 'but there are
some whom I involuntarily praise and love. And you, Pittacus, I would
never have blamed, if you had spoken what was moderately good and true;
but I do blame you because, putting on the appearance of truth, you are
speaking falsely about the highest matters.'--And this, I said, Prodicus
and Protagoras, I take to be the meaning of Simonides in this poem.
Hippias said: I think, Socrates, that you have given a very good
explanation of the poem; but I have also an excellent interpretation of
my own which I will propound to you, if you will allow me.
Nay, Hippias, said Alcibiades; not now, but at some other time. At
present we must abide by the compact which was made between Socrates and
Protagoras, to the effect that as long as Protagoras is willing to ask,
Socrates should answer; or that if he would rather answer, then that
Socrates should ask.
I said: I wish Protagoras either to ask or answer as he is inclined; but
I would rather have done with poems and odes, if he does not object,
and come back to the question about which I was asking you at first,
Protagoras, and by your help make an end of that. The talk about the
poets seems to me like a commonplace entertainment to which a vulgar
company have recourse; who, because they are not able to converse or
amuse one another, while they are drinking, with the sound of their own
voices and conversation, by reason of their stupidity, raise the price
of flute-girls in the market, hiring for a great sum the voice of a
flute instead of their own breath, to be the medium of intercourse among
them: but where the company are real gentlemen and men of education,
you will see no flute-girls, nor dancing-girls, nor harp-girls; and
they have no nonsense or games, but are contented with one another's
conversation, of which their own voices are the medium, and which they
carry on by turns and in an orderly manner, even though they are very
liberal in their potations. And a company like this of ours, and men
such as we profess to be, do not require the help of another's voice, or
of the poets whom you cannot interrogate about the meaning of what they
are saying; people who cite them declaring, some that the poet has
one meaning, and others that he has another, and the point which is in
dispute can never be decided. This sort of entertainment they decline,
and prefer to talk with one another, and put one another to the proof
in conversation. And these are the models which I desire that you and I
should imitate. Leaving the poets, and keeping to ourselves, let us try
the mettle of one another and make proof of the truth in conversation.
If you have a mind to ask, I am ready to answer; or if you would rather,
do you answer, and give me the opportunity of resuming and completing
our unfinished argument.
I made these and some similar observations; but Protagoras would
not distinctly say which he would do. Thereupon Alcibiades turned to
Callias, and said:--Do you think, Callias, that Protagoras is fair in
refusing to say whether he will or will not answer? for I certainly
think that he is unfair; he ought either to proceed with the argument,
or distinctly refuse to proceed, that we may know his intention; and
then Socrates will be able to discourse with some one else, and the rest
of the company will be free to talk with one another.
I think that Protagoras was really made ashamed by these words of
Alcibiades, and when the prayers of Callias and the company were
superadded, he was at last induced to argue, and said that I might ask
and he would answer.
So I said: Do not imagine, Protagoras, that I have any other interest in
asking questions of you but that of clearing up my own difficulties. For
I think that Homer was very right in saying that
'When two go together, one sees before the other (Il.),'
for all men who have a companion are readier in deed, word, or thought;
but if a man
'Sees a thing when he is alone,'
he goes about straightway seeking until he finds some one to whom he
may show his discoveries, and who may confirm him in them. And I would
rather hold discourse with you than with any one, because I think that
no man has a better understanding of most things which a good man may be
expected to understand, and in particular of virtue. For who is there,
but you?--who not only claim to be a good man and a gentleman, for many
are this, and yet have not the power of making others good--whereas you
are not only good yourself, but also the cause of goodness in others.
Moreover such confidence have you in yourself, that although other
Sophists conceal their profession, you proclaim in the face of Hellas
that you are a Sophist or teacher of virtue and education, and are
the first who demanded pay in return. How then can I do otherwise than
invite you to the examination of these subjects, and ask questions and
consult with you? I must, indeed. And I should like once more to have
my memory refreshed by you about the questions which I was asking you
at first, and also to have your help in considering them. If I am not
mistaken the question was this: Are wisdom and temperance and courage
and justice and holiness five names of the same thing? or has each of
the names a separate underlying essence and corresponding thing having a
peculiar function, no one of them being like any other of them? And you
replied that the five names were not the names of the same thing, but
that each of them had a separate object, and that all these objects were
parts of virtue, not in the same way that the parts of gold are like
each other and the whole of which they are parts, but as the parts of
the face are unlike the whole of which they are parts and one another,
and have each of them a distinct function. I should like to know whether
this is still your opinion; or if not, I will ask you to define your
meaning, and I shall not take you to task if you now make a different
statement. For I dare say that you may have said what you did only in
order to make trial of me.
I answer, Socrates, he said, that all these qualities are parts of
virtue, and that four out of the five are to some extent similar, and
that the fifth of them, which is courage, is very different from the
other four, as I prove in this way: You may observe that many men are
utterly unrighteous, unholy, intemperate, ignorant, who are nevertheless
remarkable for their courage.
Stop, I said; I should like to think about that. When you speak of brave
men, do you mean the confident, or another sort of nature?
Yes, he said; I mean the impetuous, ready to go at that which others are
afraid to approach.
In the next place, you would affirm virtue to be a good thing, of which
good thing you assert yourself to be a teacher.
Yes, he said; I should say the best of all things, if I am in my right
mind.
And is it partly good and partly bad, I said, or wholly good?
Wholly good, and in the highest degree.
Tell me then; who are they who have confidence when diving into a well?
I should say, the divers.
And the reason of this is that they have knowledge?
Yes, that is the reason.
And who have confidence when fighting on horseback--the skilled horseman
or the unskilled?
The skilled.
And who when fighting with light shields--the peltasts or the
nonpeltasts?
The peltasts. And that is true of all other things, he said, if that is
your point: those who have knowledge are more confident than those who
have no knowledge, and they are more confident after they have learned
than before.
And have you not seen persons utterly ignorant, I said, of these things,
and yet confident about them?
Yes, he said, I have seen such persons far too confident.
And are not these confident persons also courageous?
In that case, he replied, courage would be a base thing, for the men of
whom we are speaking are surely madmen.
Then who are the courageous? Are they not the confident?
Yes, he said; to that statement I adhere.
And those, I said, who are thus confident without knowledge are really
not courageous, but mad; and in that case the wisest are also the most
confident, and being the most confident are also the bravest, and upon
that view again wisdom will be courage.
Nay, Socrates, he replied, you are mistaken in your remembrance of
what was said by me. When you asked me, I certainly did say that
the courageous are the confident; but I was never asked whether the
confident are the courageous; if you had asked me, I should have
answered 'Not all of them': and what I did answer you have not proved to
be false, although you proceeded to show that those who have knowledge
are more courageous than they were before they had knowledge, and more
courageous than others who have no knowledge, and were then led on to
think that courage is the same as wisdom. But in this way of arguing you
might come to imagine that strength is wisdom. You might begin by asking
whether the strong are able, and I should say 'Yes'; and then whether
those who know how to wrestle are not more able to wrestle than those
who do not know how to wrestle, and more able after than before they had
learned, and I should assent. And when I had admitted this, you might
use my admissions in such a way as to prove that upon my view wisdom is
strength; whereas in that case I should not have admitted, any more than
in the other, that the able are strong, although I have admitted that
the strong are able. For there is a difference between ability and
strength; the former is given by knowledge as well as by madness or
rage, but strength comes from nature and a healthy state of the body.
And in like manner I say of confidence and courage, that they are not
the same; and I argue that the courageous are confident, but not all
the confident courageous. For confidence may be given to men by art, and
also, like ability, by madness and rage; but courage comes to them from
nature and the healthy state of the soul.
I said: You would admit, Protagoras, that some men live well and others
ill?
He assented.
And do you think that a man lives well who lives in pain and grief?
He does not.
But if he lives pleasantly to the end of his life, will he not in that
case have lived well?
He will.
Then to live pleasantly is a good, and to live unpleasantly an evil?
Yes, he said, if the pleasure be good and honourable.
And do you, Protagoras, like the rest of the world, call some pleasant
things evil and some painful things good?--for I am rather disposed to
say that things are good in as far as they are pleasant, if they have no
consequences of another sort, and in as far as they are painful they are
bad.
I do not know, Socrates, he said, whether I can venture to assert in
that unqualified manner that the pleasant is the good and the painful
the evil. Having regard not only to my present answer, but also to the
whole of my life, I shall be safer, if I am not mistaken, in saying that
there are some pleasant things which are not good, and that there are
some painful things which are good, and some which are not good, and
that there are some which are neither good nor evil.
And you would call pleasant, I said, the things which participate in
pleasure or create pleasure?
Certainly, he said.
Then my meaning is, that in as far as they are pleasant they are good;
and my question would imply that pleasure is a good in itself.
According to your favourite mode of speech, Socrates, 'Let us reflect
about this,' he said; and if the reflection is to the point, and the