Protagoras
invention of good lawgivers living in the olden time; these are given
to the young man, in order to guide him in his conduct whether he is
commanding or obeying; and he who transgresses them is to be corrected,
or, in other words, called to account, which is a term used not only in
your country, but also in many others, seeing that justice calls men
to account. Now when there is all this care about virtue private and
public, why, Socrates, do you still wonder and doubt whether virtue
can be taught? Cease to wonder, for the opposite would be far more
surprising.
But why then do the sons of good fathers often turn out ill? There
is nothing very wonderful in this; for, as I have been saying, the
existence of a state implies that virtue is not any man's private
possession. If so--and nothing can be truer--then I will further ask
you to imagine, as an illustration, some other pursuit or branch of
knowledge which may be assumed equally to be the condition of the
existence of a state. Suppose that there could be no state unless we
were all flute-players, as far as each had the capacity, and everybody
was freely teaching everybody the art, both in private and public, and
reproving the bad player as freely and openly as every man now teaches
justice and the laws, not concealing them as he would conceal the other
arts, but imparting them--for all of us have a mutual interest in the
justice and virtue of one another, and this is the reason why every one
is so ready to teach justice and the laws;--suppose, I say, that there
were the same readiness and liberality among us in teaching one
another flute-playing, do you imagine, Socrates, that the sons of good
flute-players would be more likely to be good than the sons of bad
ones? I think not. Would not their sons grow up to be distinguished
or undistinguished according to their own natural capacities as
flute-players, and the son of a good player would often turn out to be a
bad one, and the son of a bad player to be a good one, all flute-players
would be good enough in comparison of those who were ignorant and
unacquainted with the art of flute-playing? In like manner I would have
you consider that he who appears to you to be the worst of those who
have been brought up in laws and humanities, would appear to be a just
man and a master of justice if he were to be compared with men who had
no education, or courts of justice, or laws, or any restraints upon them
which compelled them to practise virtue--with the savages, for example,
whom the poet Pherecrates exhibited on the stage at the last year's
Lenaean festival. If you were living among men such as the man-haters
in his Chorus, you would be only too glad to meet with Eurybates and
Phrynondas, and you would sorrowfully long to revisit the rascality
of this part of the world. You, Socrates, are discontented, and why?
Because all men are teachers of virtue, each one according to his
ability; and you say Where are the teachers? You might as well ask, Who
teaches Greek? For of that too there will not be any teachers found. Or
you might ask, Who is to teach the sons of our artisans this same art
which they have learned of their fathers? He and his fellow-workmen
have taught them to the best of their ability,--but who will carry
them further in their arts? And you would certainly have a difficulty,
Socrates, in finding a teacher of them; but there would be no difficulty
in finding a teacher of those who are wholly ignorant. And this is true
of virtue or of anything else; if a man is better able than we are to
promote virtue ever so little, we must be content with the result. A
teacher of this sort I believe myself to be, and above all other men
to have the knowledge which makes a man noble and good; and I give my
pupils their money's-worth, and even more, as they themselves confess.
And therefore I have introduced the following mode of payment:--When
a man has been my pupil, if he likes he pays my price, but there is no
compulsion; and if he does not like, he has only to go into a temple and
take an oath of the value of the instructions, and he pays no more than
he declares to be their value.
Such is my Apologue, Socrates, and such is the argument by which I
endeavour to show that virtue may be taught, and that this is the
opinion of the Athenians. And I have also attempted to show that you are
not to wonder at good fathers having bad sons, or at good sons having
bad fathers, of which the sons of Polycleitus afford an example, who
are the companions of our friends here, Paralus and Xanthippus, but are
nothing in comparison with their father; and this is true of the sons
of many other artists. As yet I ought not to say the same of Paralus
and Xanthippus themselves, for they are young and there is still hope of
them.
Protagoras ended, and in my ear
'So charming left his voice, that I the while Thought him still
speaking; still stood fixed to hear (Borrowed by Milton, "Paradise
Lost".).'
At length, when the truth dawned upon me, that he had really finished,
not without difficulty I began to collect myself, and looking at
Hippocrates, I said to him: O son of Apollodorus, how deeply grateful
I am to you for having brought me hither; I would not have missed the
speech of Protagoras for a great deal. For I used to imagine that no
human care could make men good; but I know better now. Yet I have still
one very small difficulty which I am sure that Protagoras will easily
explain, as he has already explained so much. If a man were to go and
consult Pericles or any of our great speakers about these matters, he
might perhaps hear as fine a discourse; but then when one has a question
to ask of any of them, like books, they can neither answer nor ask;
and if any one challenges the least particular of their speech, they
go ringing on in a long harangue, like brazen pots, which when they
are struck continue to sound unless some one puts his hand upon them;
whereas our friend Protagoras can not only make a good speech, as he has
already shown, but when he is asked a question he can answer briefly;
and when he asks he will wait and hear the answer; and this is a very
rare gift. Now I, Protagoras, want to ask of you a little question,
which if you will only answer, I shall be quite satisfied. You were
saying that virtue can be taught;--that I will take upon your authority,
and there is no one to whom I am more ready to trust. But I marvel at
one thing about which I should like to have my mind set at rest. You
were speaking of Zeus sending justice and reverence to men; and several
times while you were speaking, justice, and temperance, and holiness,
and all these qualities, were described by you as if together they made
up virtue. Now I want you to tell me truly whether virtue is one whole,
of which justice and temperance and holiness are parts; or whether all
these are only the names of one and the same thing: that is the doubt
which still lingers in my mind.
There is no difficulty, Socrates, in answering that the qualities of
which you are speaking are the parts of virtue which is one.
And are they parts, I said, in the same sense in which mouth, nose, and
eyes, and ears, are the parts of a face; or are they like the parts of
gold, which differ from the whole and from one another only in being
larger or smaller?
I should say that they differed, Socrates, in the first way; they are
related to one another as the parts of a face are related to the whole
face.
And do men have some one part and some another part of virtue? Or if a
man has one part, must he also have all the others?
By no means, he said; for many a man is brave and not just, or just and
not wise.
You would not deny, then, that courage and wisdom are also parts of
virtue?
Most undoubtedly they are, he answered; and wisdom is the noblest of the
parts.
And they are all different from one another? I said.
Yes.
And has each of them a distinct function like the parts of the
face;--the eye, for example, is not like the ear, and has not the same
functions; and the other parts are none of them like one another, either
in their functions, or in any other way? I want to know whether the
comparison holds concerning the parts of virtue. Do they also differ
from one another in themselves and in their functions? For that is
clearly what the simile would imply.
Yes, Socrates, you are right in supposing that they differ.
Then, I said, no other part of virtue is like knowledge, or like
justice, or like courage, or like temperance, or like holiness?
No, he answered.
Well then, I said, suppose that you and I enquire into their natures.
And first, you would agree with me that justice is of the nature of a
thing, would you not? That is my opinion: would it not be yours also?
Mine also, he said.
And suppose that some one were to ask us, saying, 'O Protagoras, and
you, Socrates, what about this thing which you were calling justice, is
it just or unjust?'--and I were to answer, just: would you vote with me
or against me?
With you, he said.
Thereupon I should answer to him who asked me, that justice is of the
nature of the just: would not you?
Yes, he said.
And suppose that he went on to say: 'Well now, is there also such a
thing as holiness?'--we should answer, 'Yes,' if I am not mistaken?
Yes, he said.
Which you would also acknowledge to be a thing--should we not say so?
He assented.
'And is this a sort of thing which is of the nature of the holy, or
of the nature of the unholy?' I should be angry at his putting such a
question, and should say, 'Peace, man; nothing can be holy if holiness
is not holy.' What would you say? Would you not answer in the same way?
Certainly, he said.
And then after this suppose that he came and asked us, 'What were you
saying just now? Perhaps I may not have heard you rightly, but you
seemed to me to be saying that the parts of virtue were not the same as
one another.' I should reply, 'You certainly heard that said, but not,
as you imagine, by me; for I only asked the question; Protagoras gave
the answer.' And suppose that he turned to you and said, 'Is this
true, Protagoras? and do you maintain that one part of virtue is unlike
another, and is this your position?'--how would you answer him?
I could not help acknowledging the truth of what he said, Socrates.
Well then, Protagoras, we will assume this; and now supposing that
he proceeded to say further, 'Then holiness is not of the nature of
justice, nor justice of the nature of holiness, but of the nature of
unholiness; and holiness is of the nature of the not just, and therefore
of the unjust, and the unjust is the unholy': how shall we answer him?
I should certainly answer him on my own behalf that justice is holy,
and that holiness is just; and I would say in like manner on your
behalf also, if you would allow me, that justice is either the same with
holiness, or very nearly the same; and above all I would assert that
justice is like holiness and holiness is like justice; and I wish that
you would tell me whether I may be permitted to give this answer on your
behalf, and whether you would agree with me.
He replied, I cannot simply agree, Socrates, to the proposition that
justice is holy and that holiness is just, for there appears to me to be
a difference between them. But what matter? if you please I please; and
let us assume, if you will I, that justice is holy, and that holiness is
just.
Pardon me, I replied; I do not want this 'if you wish' or 'if you will'
sort of conclusion to be proven, but I want you and me to be proven: I
mean to say that the conclusion will be best proven if there be no 'if.'
Well, he said, I admit that justice bears a resemblance to holiness,