Protagoras
for there is always some point of view in which everything is like every
other thing; white is in a certain way like black, and hard is like
soft, and the most extreme opposites have some qualities in common; even
the parts of the face which, as we were saying before, are distinct and
have different functions, are still in a certain point of view similar,
and one of them is like another of them. And you may prove that they
are like one another on the same principle that all things are like one
another; and yet things which are like in some particular ought not to
be called alike, nor things which are unlike in some particular, however
slight, unlike.
And do you think, I said in a tone of surprise, that justice and
holiness have but a small degree of likeness?
Certainly not; any more than I agree with what I understand to be your
view.
Well, I said, as you appear to have a difficulty about this, let us take
another of the examples which you mentioned instead. Do you admit the
existence of folly?
I do.
And is not wisdom the very opposite of folly?
That is true, he said.
And when men act rightly and advantageously they seem to you to be
temperate?
Yes, he said.
And temperance makes them temperate?
Certainly.
And they who do not act rightly act foolishly, and in acting thus are
not temperate?
I agree, he said.
Then to act foolishly is the opposite of acting temperately?
He assented.
And foolish actions are done by folly, and temperate actions by
temperance?
He agreed.
And that is done strongly which is done by strength, and that which is
weakly done, by weakness?
He assented.
And that which is done with swiftness is done swiftly, and that which is
done with slowness, slowly?
He assented again.
And that which is done in the same manner, is done by the same; and that
which is done in an opposite manner by the opposite?
He agreed.
Once more, I said, is there anything beautiful?
Yes.
To which the only opposite is the ugly?
There is no other.
And is there anything good?
There is.
To which the only opposite is the evil?
There is no other.
And there is the acute in sound?
True.
To which the only opposite is the grave?
There is no other, he said, but that.
Then every opposite has one opposite only and no more?
He assented.
Then now, I said, let us recapitulate our admissions. First of all we
admitted that everything has one opposite and not more than one?
We did so.
And we admitted also that what was done in opposite ways was done by
opposites?
Yes.
And that which was done foolishly, as we further admitted, was done in
the opposite way to that which was done temperately?
Yes.
And that which was done temperately was done by temperance, and that
which was done foolishly by folly?
He agreed.
And that which is done in opposite ways is done by opposites?
Yes.
And one thing is done by temperance, and quite another thing by folly?
Yes.
And in opposite ways?
Certainly.
And therefore by opposites:--then folly is the opposite of temperance?
Clearly.
And do you remember that folly has already been acknowledged by us to be
the opposite of wisdom?
He assented.
And we said that everything has only one opposite?
Yes.
Then, Protagoras, which of the two assertions shall we renounce? One
says that everything has but one opposite; the other that wisdom is
distinct from temperance, and that both of them are parts of virtue; and
that they are not only distinct, but dissimilar, both in themselves
and in their functions, like the parts of a face. Which of these two
assertions shall we renounce? For both of them together are certainly
not in harmony; they do not accord or agree: for how can they be said
to agree if everything is assumed to have only one opposite and not
more than one, and yet folly, which is one, has clearly the two
opposites--wisdom and temperance? Is not that true, Protagoras? What
else would you say?
He assented, but with great reluctance.
Then temperance and wisdom are the same, as before justice and holiness
appeared to us to be nearly the same. And now, Protagoras, I said, we
must finish the enquiry, and not faint. Do you think that an unjust man
can be temperate in his injustice?
I should be ashamed, Socrates, he said, to acknowledge this, which
nevertheless many may be found to assert.
And shall I argue with them or with you? I replied.
I would rather, he said, that you should argue with the many first, if
you will.
Whichever you please, if you will only answer me and say whether you
are of their opinion or not. My object is to test the validity of the
argument; and yet the result may be that I who ask and you who answer
may both be put on our trial.
Protagoras at first made a show of refusing, as he said that the
argument was not encouraging; at length, he consented to answer.
Now then, I said, begin at the beginning and answer me. You think that
some men are temperate, and yet unjust?
Yes, he said; let that be admitted.
And temperance is good sense?
Yes.
And good sense is good counsel in doing injustice?
Granted.
If they succeed, I said, or if they do not succeed?
If they succeed.
And you would admit the existence of goods?
Yes.
And is the good that which is expedient for man?
Yes, indeed, he said: and there are some things which may be
inexpedient, and yet I call them good.
I thought that Protagoras was getting ruffled and excited; he seemed
to be setting himself in an attitude of war. Seeing this, I minded my
business, and gently said:--
When you say, Protagoras, that things inexpedient are good, do you mean
inexpedient for man only, or inexpedient altogether? and do you call the
latter good?
Certainly not the last, he replied; for I know of many things--meats,
drinks, medicines, and ten thousand other things, which are inexpedient
for man, and some which are expedient; and some which are neither
expedient nor inexpedient for man, but only for horses; and some for
oxen only, and some for dogs; and some for no animals, but only for
trees; and some for the roots of trees and not for their branches, as
for example, manure, which is a good thing when laid about the roots
of a tree, but utterly destructive if thrown upon the shoots and young
branches; or I may instance olive oil, which is mischievous to all
plants, and generally most injurious to the hair of every animal with
the exception of man, but beneficial to human hair and to the human body
generally; and even in this application (so various and changeable
is the nature of the benefit), that which is the greatest good to the
outward parts of a man, is a very great evil to his inward parts: and
for this reason physicians always forbid their patients the use of
oil in their food, except in very small quantities, just enough to
extinguish the disagreeable sensation of smell in meats and sauces.
When he had given this answer, the company cheered him. And I said:
Protagoras, I have a wretched memory, and when any one makes a long
speech to me I never remember what he is talking about. As then, if I
had been deaf, and you were going to converse with me, you would have
had to raise your voice; so now, having such a bad memory, I will ask
you to cut your answers shorter, if you would take me with you.
What do you mean? he said: how am I to shorten my answers? shall I make
them too short?
Certainly not, I said.
But short enough?
Yes, I said.
Shall I answer what appears to me to be short enough, or what appears to
you to be short enough?
I have heard, I said, that you can speak and teach others to speak about
the same things at such length that words never seemed to fail, or with
such brevity that no one could use fewer of them. Please therefore, if
you talk with me, to adopt the latter or more compendious method.
Socrates, he replied, many a battle of words have I fought, and if I had
followed the method of disputation which my adversaries desired, as you
want me to do, I should have been no better than another, and the name
of Protagoras would have been nowhere.
I saw that he was not satisfied with his previous answers, and that he
would not play the part of answerer any more if he could help; and I
considered that there was no call upon me to continue the conversation;
so I said: Protagoras, I do not wish to force the conversation upon you
if you had rather not, but when you are willing to argue with me in such
a way that I can follow you, then I will argue with you. Now you, as
is said of you by others and as you say of yourself, are able to have
discussions in shorter forms of speech as well as in longer, for you are
a master of wisdom; but I cannot manage these long speeches: I only wish
that I could. You, on the other hand, who are capable of either, ought
to speak shorter as I beg you, and then we might converse. But I see
that you are disinclined, and as I have an engagement which will prevent
my staying to hear you at greater length (for I have to be in another
place), I will depart; although I should have liked to have heard you.
Thus I spoke, and was rising from my seat, when Callias seized me by the
right hand, and in his left hand caught hold of this old cloak of mine.
He said: We cannot let you go, Socrates, for if you leave us there will
be an end of our discussions: I must therefore beg you to remain, as
there is nothing in the world that I should like better than to hear you
and Protagoras discourse. Do not deny the company this pleasure.
Now I had got up, and was in the act of departure. Son of Hipponicus,
I replied, I have always admired, and do now heartily applaud and love
your philosophical spirit, and I would gladly comply with your request,
if I could. But the truth is that I cannot. And what you ask is as great
an impossibility to me, as if you bade me run a race with Crison of
Himera, when in his prime, or with some one of the long or day course
runners. To such a request I should reply that I would fain ask the same
of my own legs; but they refuse to comply. And therefore if you want
to see Crison and me in the same stadium, you must bid him slacken his
speed to mine, for I cannot run quickly, and he can run slowly. And in
like manner if you want to hear me and Protagoras discoursing, you must
ask him to shorten his answers, and keep to the point, as he did at
first; if not, how can there be any discussion? For discussion is one
thing, and making an oration is quite another, in my humble opinion.
But you see, Socrates, said Callias, that Protagoras may fairly claim to
speak in his own way, just as you claim to speak in yours.
Here Alcibiades interposed, and said: That, Callias, is not a true
statement of the case. For our friend Socrates admits that he cannot
make a speech--in this he yields the palm to Protagoras: but I should
be greatly surprised if he yielded to any living man in the power of
holding and apprehending an argument. Now if Protagoras will make
a similar admission, and confess that he is inferior to Socrates in
argumentative skill, that is enough for Socrates; but if he claims a
superiority in argument as well, let him ask and answer--not, when
a question is asked, slipping away from the point, and instead of
answering, making a speech at such length that most of his hearers
forget the question at issue (not that Socrates is likely to forget--I
will be bound for that, although he may pretend in fun that he has a
bad memory). And Socrates appears to me to be more in the right than
Protagoras; that is my view, and every man ought to say what he thinks.
When Alcibiades had done speaking, some one--Critias, I believe--went on
to say: O Prodicus and Hippias, Callias appears to me to be a partisan