Protagoras
the purpose of our visit.
And what is your purpose? he said.
I must explain, I said, that my friend Hippocrates is a native Athenian;
he is the son of Apollodorus, and of a great and prosperous house, and
he is himself in natural ability quite a match for anybody of his own
age. I believe that he aspires to political eminence; and this he thinks
that conversation with you is most likely to procure for him. And
now you can determine whether you would wish to speak to him of your
teaching alone or in the presence of the company.
Thank you, Socrates, for your consideration of me. For certainly a
stranger finding his way into great cities, and persuading the flower
of the youth in them to leave company of their kinsmen or any other
acquaintances, old or young, and live with him, under the idea that they
will be improved by his conversation, ought to be very cautious; great
jealousies are aroused by his proceedings, and he is the subject of many
enmities and conspiracies. Now the art of the Sophist is, as I believe,
of great antiquity; but in ancient times those who practised it, fearing
this odium, veiled and disguised themselves under various names,
some under that of poets, as Homer, Hesiod, and Simonides, some,
of hierophants and prophets, as Orpheus and Musaeus, and some, as
I observe, even under the name of gymnastic-masters, like Iccus of
Tarentum, or the more recently celebrated Herodicus, now of Selymbria
and formerly of Megara, who is a first-rate Sophist. Your own Agathocles
pretended to be a musician, but was really an eminent Sophist; also
Pythocleides the Cean; and there were many others; and all of them, as
I was saying, adopted these arts as veils or disguises because they were
afraid of the odium which they would incur. But that is not my way, for
I do not believe that they effected their purpose, which was to deceive
the government, who were not blinded by them; and as to the people, they
have no understanding, and only repeat what their rulers are pleased
to tell them. Now to run away, and to be caught in running away, is the
very height of folly, and also greatly increases the exasperation of
mankind; for they regard him who runs away as a rogue, in addition to
any other objections which they have to him; and therefore I take an
entirely opposite course, and acknowledge myself to be a Sophist and
instructor of mankind; such an open acknowledgement appears to me to
be a better sort of caution than concealment. Nor do I neglect other
precautions, and therefore I hope, as I may say, by the favour of heaven
that no harm will come of the acknowledgment that I am a Sophist. And I
have been now many years in the profession--for all my years when added
up are many: there is no one here present of whom I might not be the
father. Wherefore I should much prefer conversing with you, if you want
to speak with me, in the presence of the company.
As I suspected that he would like to have a little display and
glorification in the presence of Prodicus and Hippias, and would gladly
show us to them in the light of his admirers, I said: But why should we
not summon Prodicus and Hippias and their friends to hear us?
Very good, he said.
Suppose, said Callias, that we hold a council in which you may sit
and discuss.--This was agreed upon, and great delight was felt at the
prospect of hearing wise men talk; we ourselves took the chairs and
benches, and arranged them by Hippias, where the other benches had been
already placed. Meanwhile Callias and Alcibiades got Prodicus out of bed
and brought in him and his companions.
When we were all seated, Protagoras said: Now that the company are
assembled, Socrates, tell me about the young man of whom you were just
now speaking.
I replied: I will begin again at the same point, Protagoras, and tell
you once more the purport of my visit: this is my friend Hippocrates,
who is desirous of making your acquaintance; he would like to know what
will happen to him if he associates with you. I have no more to say.
Protagoras answered: Young man, if you associate with me, on the very
first day you will return home a better man than you came, and better on
the second day than on the first, and better every day than you were on
the day before.
When I heard this, I said: Protagoras, I do not at all wonder at hearing
you say this; even at your age, and with all your wisdom, if any one
were to teach you what you did not know before, you would become better
no doubt: but please to answer in a different way--I will explain how
by an example. Let me suppose that Hippocrates, instead of desiring your
acquaintance, wished to become acquainted with the young man Zeuxippus
of Heraclea, who has lately been in Athens, and he had come to him as
he has come to you, and had heard him say, as he has heard you say, that
every day he would grow and become better if he associated with him: and
then suppose that he were to ask him, 'In what shall I become better,
and in what shall I grow?'--Zeuxippus would answer, 'In painting.' And
suppose that he went to Orthagoras the Theban, and heard him say the
same thing, and asked him, 'In what shall I become better day by day?'
he would reply, 'In flute-playing.' Now I want you to make the same sort
of answer to this young man and to me, who am asking questions on his
account. When you say that on the first day on which he associates with
you he will return home a better man, and on every day will grow in like
manner,--in what, Protagoras, will he be better? and about what?
When Protagoras heard me say this, he replied: You ask questions fairly,
and I like to answer a question which is fairly put. If Hippocrates
comes to me he will not experience the sort of drudgery with which other
Sophists are in the habit of insulting their pupils; who, when they have
just escaped from the arts, are taken and driven back into them by these
teachers, and made to learn calculation, and astronomy, and geometry,
and music (he gave a look at Hippias as he said this); but if he comes
to me, he will learn that which he comes to learn. And this is prudence
in affairs private as well as public; he will learn to order his own
house in the best manner, and he will be able to speak and act for the
best in the affairs of the state.
Do I understand you, I said; and is your meaning that you teach the art
of politics, and that you promise to make men good citizens?
That, Socrates, is exactly the profession which I make.
Then, I said, you do indeed possess a noble art, if there is no mistake
about this; for I will freely confess to you, Protagoras, that I have
a doubt whether this art is capable of being taught, and yet I know not
how to disbelieve your assertion. And I ought to tell you why I am of
opinion that this art cannot be taught or communicated by man to man. I
say that the Athenians are an understanding people, and indeed they are
esteemed to be such by the other Hellenes. Now I observe that when we
are met together in the assembly, and the matter in hand relates to
building, the builders are summoned as advisers; when the question is
one of ship-building, then the ship-wrights; and the like of other arts
which they think capable of being taught and learned. And if some person
offers to give them advice who is not supposed by them to have any skill
in the art, even though he be good-looking, and rich, and noble, they
will not listen to him, but laugh and hoot at him, until either he is
clamoured down and retires of himself; or if he persist, he is dragged
away or put out by the constables at the command of the prytanes. This
is their way of behaving about professors of the arts. But when the
question is an affair of state, then everybody is free to have a
say--carpenter, tinker, cobbler, sailor, passenger; rich and poor, high
and low--any one who likes gets up, and no one reproaches him, as in
the former case, with not having learned, and having no teacher, and yet
giving advice; evidently because they are under the impression that this
sort of knowledge cannot be taught. And not only is this true of the
state, but of individuals; the best and wisest of our citizens are
unable to impart their political wisdom to others: as for example,
Pericles, the father of these young men, who gave them excellent
instruction in all that could be learned from masters, in his own
department of politics neither taught them, nor gave them teachers; but
they were allowed to wander at their own free will in a sort of hope
that they would light upon virtue of their own accord. Or take
another example: there was Cleinias the younger brother of our friend
Alcibiades, of whom this very same Pericles was the guardian; and he
being in fact under the apprehension that Cleinias would be corrupted by
Alcibiades, took him away, and placed him in the house of Ariphron to be
educated; but before six months had elapsed, Ariphron sent him back,
not knowing what to do with him. And I could mention numberless other
instances of persons who were good themselves, and never yet made any
one else good, whether friend or stranger. Now I, Protagoras, having
these examples before me, am inclined to think that virtue cannot be
taught. But then again, when I listen to your words, I waver; and am
disposed to think that there must be something in what you say, because
I know that you have great experience, and learning, and invention. And
I wish that you would, if possible, show me a little more clearly that
virtue can be taught. Will you be so good?
That I will, Socrates, and gladly. But what would you like? Shall I, as
an elder, speak to you as younger men in an apologue or myth, or shall I
argue out the question?
To this several of the company answered that he should choose for
himself.
Well, then, he said, I think that the myth will be more interesting.
Once upon a time there were gods only, and no mortal creatures. But when
the time came that these also should be created, the gods fashioned
them out of earth and fire and various mixtures of both elements in the
interior of the earth; and when they were about to bring them into the
light of day, they ordered Prometheus and Epimetheus to equip them, and
to distribute to them severally their proper qualities. Epimetheus said
to Prometheus: 'Let me distribute, and do you inspect.' This was agreed,
and Epimetheus made the distribution. There were some to whom he gave
strength without swiftness, while he equipped the weaker with swiftness;
some he armed, and others he left unarmed; and devised for the latter
some other means of preservation, making some large, and having their
size as a protection, and others small, whose nature was to fly in the
air or burrow in the ground; this was to be their way of escape.
Thus did he compensate them with the view of preventing any race from
becoming extinct. And when he had provided against their destruction by
one another, he contrived also a means of protecting them against
the seasons of heaven; clothing them with close hair and thick skins
sufficient to defend them against the winter cold and able to resist
the summer heat, so that they might have a natural bed of their own when
they wanted to rest; also he furnished them with hoofs and hair and
hard and callous skins under their feet. Then he gave them varieties
of food,--herb of the soil to some, to others fruits of trees, and to
others roots, and to some again he gave other animals as food. And some
he made to have few young ones, while those who were their prey were
very prolific; and in this manner the race was preserved. Thus did
Epimetheus, who, not being very wise, forgot that he had distributed
among the brute animals all the qualities which he had to give,--and
when he came to man, who was still unprovided, he was terribly