Plato
GORGIAS
translated
by Benjamin Jowett
Persons of the
Dialogue :
CALLICLES ; SOCRATES ; CHAEREPHON ;
GORGIAS ; POLUS.
Scene : The house of
Callicles
Callicles. The wise man, as
the proverb says, is late for a fray, but not for a feast.
Socrates. And are we late
for a feast ?
Cal. Yes, and a
delightful feast ; for Gorgias has just been exhibiting to us many fine
things.
Soc. It is not my
fault, Callicles ; our friend Chaerephon is to blame ; for he would
keep us loitering in the Agora.
Chaerephon. Never mind,
Socrates ; the misfortune of which I have been the cause I will also
repair ; for Gorgias is a friend of mine, and I will make him give the
exhibition again either now, or, if you prefer, at some other
time.
Cal. What is the
matter, Chaerephon — does Socrates want to hear
Gorgias ?
Chaer. Yes, that was our
intention in coming.
Cal. Come into my
house, then ; for Gorgias is staying with me, and he shall exhibit to
you.
Soc. Very good,
Callicles ; but will he answer our questions ? for I want to hear from
him what is the nature of his art, and what it is which he professes and
teaches ; he may, as you [Chaerephon] suggest, defer the exhibition to some
other time.
Cal. There is nothing
like asking him, Socrates ; and indeed to answer questions is a part of his
exhibition, for he was saying only just now, that any one in my house might put
any question to him, and that he would answer.
Soc. How
fortunate ! will you ask him, Chaerephon — ?
Chaer. What shall I ask
him ?
Soc. Ask him who he
is.
Chaer. What do you
mean ?
Soc. I mean such a
question as would elicit from him, if he had been a maker of shoes, the answer
that he is a cobbler. Do you understand ?
Chaer. I understand, and
will ask him : Tell me, Gorgias, is our friend Callicles right in saying
that you undertake to answer any questions which you are
asked ?
Gorgias. Quite right,
Chaerephon : I was saying as much only just now ; and I may add, that
many years have elapsed since any one has asked me a new
one.
Chaer. Then you must be
very ready, Gorgias.
Gor. Of that,
Chaerephon, you can make trial.
Polus. Yes, indeed, and
if you like, Chaerephon, you may make trial of me too, for I think that Gorgias,
who has been talking a long time, is tired.
Chaer. And do you, Polus,
think that you can answer better than Gorgias ?
Pol. What does that
matter if I answer well enough for you ?
Chaer. Not at all :
— and you shall answer if you like.
Pol. Ask : —
Chaer. My question is
this : If Gorgias had the skill of his brother Herodicus, what ought we to
call him ? Ought he not to have the name which is given to his
brother ?
Pol.
Certainly.
Chaer. Then we should be
right in calling him a physician ?
Pol.
Yes.
Chaer. And if he had the
skill of Aristophon the son of Aglaophon, or of his brother Polygnotus, what
ought we to call him ?
Pol. Clearly, a
painter.
Chaer. But now what shall
we call him — what is the art in which he is skilled.
Pol. O Chaerephon,
there are many arts among mankind which are experimental, and have their origin
in experience, for experience makes the days of men to proceed according to art,
and inexperience according to chance, and different persons in different ways
are proficient in different arts, and the best persons in the best arts. And our
friend Gorgias is one of the best, and the art in which he is a proficient is
the noblest.
Soc. Polus has been
taught how to make a capital speech, Gorgias ; but he is not fulfilling the
promise which he made to Chaerephon.
Gor. What do you mean,
Socrates ?
Soc. I mean that he has
not exactly answered the question which he was asked.
Gor. Then why not ask
him yourself ?
Soc. But I would much
rather ask you, if you are disposed to answer : for I see, from the few
words which Polus has uttered, that he has attended more to the art which is
called rhetoric than to dialectic.
Pol. What makes you say
so, Socrates ?
Soc. Because, Polus,
when Chaerephon asked you what was the art which Gorgias knows, you praised it
as if you were answering some one who found fault with it, but you never said
what the art was.
Pol. Why, did I not say
that it was the noblest of arts ?
Soc. Yes, indeed, but
that was no answer to the question : nobody asked what was the quality, but
what was the nature, of the art, and by what name we were to describe Gorgias.
And I would still beg you briefly and clearly, as you answered Chaerephon when
he asked you at first, to say what this art is, and what we ought to call
Gorgias : Or rather, Gorgias, let me turn to you, and ask the same question
what are we to call you, and what is the art which you
profess ?
Gor. Rhetoric,
Socrates, is my art.
Soc. Then I am to call
you a rhetorician ?
Gor. Yes, Socrates, and
a good one too, if you would call me that which, in Homeric language, “I boast
myself to be.”
Soc. I should wish to
do so.
Gor. Then pray
do.
Soc. And are we to say
that you are able to make other men rhetoricians ?
Gor. Yes, that is
exactly what I profess to make them, not only at Athens, but in all
places.
Soc. And will you
continue to ask and answer questions, Gorgias, as we are at present doing and
reserve for another occasion the longer mode of speech which Polus was
attempting ? Will you keep your promise, and answer shortly the questions
which are asked of you ?
Gor. Some answers,
Socrates, are of necessity longer ; but I will do my best to make them as
short as possible ; for a part of my profession is that I can be as short
as any one.
Soc. That is what is
wanted, Gorgias ; exhibit the shorter method now, and the longer one at
some other time.
Gor. Well, I
will ; and you will certainly say, that you never heard a man use fewer
words.
Soc. Very good
then ; as you profess to be a rhetorician, and a maker of rhetoricians, let
me ask you, with what is rhetoric concerned : I might ask with what is
weaving concerned, and you would reply (would you not ?), with the making
of garments ?
Gor.
Yes.
Soc. And music is
concerned with the composition of melodies ?
Gor. It
is.
Soc. By Here, Gorgias,
I admire the surpassing brevity of your answers.
Gor. Yes, Socrates, I
do think myself good at that.
Soc. I am glad to hear
it ; answer me in like manner about rhetoric : with what is rhetoric
concerned ?
Gor. With
discourse.
Soc. What sort of
discourse, Gorgias ? — such discourse as would teach the sick under what
treatment they might get well ?
Gor.
No.
Soc. Then rhetoric does
not treat of all kinds of discourse ?
Gor. Certainly
not.
Soc. And yet rhetoric
makes men able to speak ?
Gor.
Yes.
Soc. And to understand
that about which they speak ?
Gor. Of
course.
Soc. But does not the
art of medicine, which we were just now mentioning, also make men able to
understand and speak about the sick ?
Gor.
Certainly.
Soc. Then medicine also
treats of discourse ?
Gor.
Yes.
Soc. Of discourse
concerning diseases ?
Gor. Just
so.
Soc. And does not
gymnastic also treat of discourse concerning the good or evil condition of the
body ?
Gor. Very
true.
Soc. And the same,
Gorgias, is true of the other arts : — all of them treat of discourse
concerning the subjects with which they severally have to
do.
Gor.
Clearly.
Soc. Then why, if you
call rhetoric the art which treats of discourse, and all the other arts treat of
discourse, do you not call them arts of rhetoric ?
Gor. Because, Socrates,
the knowledge of the other arts has only to do with some sort of external
action, as of the hand ; but there is no such action of the hand in
rhetoric which works and takes effect only through the medium of discourse. And
therefore I am justified in saying that rhetoric treats of
discourse.
Soc. I am not sure
whether I entirely understand you, but I dare say I shall soon know
better ; please to answer me a question : — you would allow that there
are arts ?
Gor.
Yes.
Soc. As to the arts
generally, they are for the most part concerned with doing, and require little
or no speaking ; in painting, and statuary, and many other arts, the work
may proceed in silence ; and of such arts I suppose you would say that they
do not come within the province of rhetoric.
Gor. You perfectly
conceive my meaning, Socrates.
Soc. But there are
other arts which work wholly through the medium of language, and require either
no action or very little, as, for example, the arts of arithmetic, of
calculation, of geometry, and of playing draughts ; in some of these speech
is pretty nearly co-extensive with action, but in most of them the verbal
element is greater — they depend wholly on words for their efficacy and
power : and I take your meaning to be that rhetoric is an art of this
latter sort ?
Gor.
Exactly.
Soc. And yet I do not
believe that you really mean to call any of these arts rhetoric ; although
the precise expression which you used was, that rhetoric is an art which works
and takes effect only through the medium of discourse ; and an adversary
who wished to be captious might say, “And so, Gorgias, you call arithmetic
rhetoric.” But I do not think that you really call arithmetic rhetoric any more
than geometry would be so called by you.
Gor. You are quite
right, Socrates, in your apprehension of my meaning.
Soc. Well, then, let me
now have the rest of my answer : — seeing that rhetoric is one of those
arts which works mainly by the use of words, and there are other arts which also
use words, tell me what is that quality in words with which rhetoric is
concerned : — Suppose that a person asks me about some of the arts which I
was mentioning just now ; he might say, “Socrates, what is
arithmetic ?” and I should reply to him, as you replied to me, that
arithmetic is one of those arts which take effect through words. And then he
would proceed to ask : “Words about what ?” and I should reply, Words
about and even numbers, and how many there are of each. And if he asked
again : “What is the art of calculation ?” I should say, That also is
one of the arts which is concerned wholly with words. And if he further said,
“Concerned with what ?” I should say, like the clerks in the assembly, “as
aforesaid” of arithmetic, but with a difference, the difference being that the
art of calculation considers not only the quantities of odd and even numbers,
but also their numerical relations to themselves and to one another. And
suppose, again, I were to say that astronomy is only word — he would ask, “Words
about what, Socrates ?” and I should answer, that astronomy tells us about
the motions of the stars and sun and moon, and their relative
swiftness.
Gor. You would be quite
right, Socrates.
Soc. And now let us
have from you, Gorgias, the truth about rhetoric : which you would admit
(would you not ?) to be one of those arts which act always and fulfil all
their ends through the medium of words ?
Gor.
True.
Soc. Words which do
what ? I should ask. To what class of things do the words which rhetoric
uses relate ?
Gor. To the greatest,
Socrates, and the best of human things.
Soc. That again,
Gorgias is ambiguous ; I am still in the dark : for which are the
greatest and best of human things ? I dare say that you have heard men
singing at feasts the old drinking song, in which the singers enumerate the
goods of life, first health, beauty next, thirdly, as the writer of the song
says, wealth honesty obtained.
Gor. Yes, I know the
song ; but what is your drift ?
Soc. I mean to say,
that the producers of those things which the author of the song praises, that is
to say, the physician, the trainer, the money-maker, will at once come to you,
and first the physician will say : “O Socrates, Gorgias is deceiving you,
for my art is concerned with the greatest good of men and not his.” And when I
ask, Who are you ? he will reply, “I am a physician.” What do you
mean ? I shall say. Do you mean that your art produces the greatest
good ? “Certainly,” he will answer, “for is not health the greatest
good ? What greater good can men have, Socrates ?” And after him the
trainer will come and say, “I too, Socrates, shall be greatly surprised if
Gorgias can show more good of his art than I can show of mine.” To him again I
shall say, Who are you, honest friend, and what is your business ? “I am a
trainer,” he will reply, “and my business is to make men beautiful and strong in
body.” When I have done with the trainer, there arrives the money-maker, and he,
as I expect, utterly despise them all. “Consider Socrates,” he will say,
“whether Gorgias or any one else can produce any greater good than wealth.”
Well, you and I say to him, and are you a creator of wealth ? “Yes,” he
replies. And who are you ? “A money-maker.” And do you consider wealth to
be the greatest good of man ? “Of course,” will be his reply. And we shall
rejoin : Yes ; but our friend Gorgias contends that his art produces a
greater good than yours. And then he will be sure to go on and ask, “What
good ? Let Gorgias answer.” Now I want you, Gorgias, to imagine that this
question is asked of you by them and by me ; What is that which, as you
say, is the greatest good of man, and of which you are the creator ? Answer
us.
Gor. That good,
Socrates, which is truly the greatest, being that which gives to men freedom in
their own persons, and to individuals the power of ruling over others in their
several states.
Soc. And what would you
consider this to be ?
Gor. What is there
greater than the word which persuades the judges in the courts, or the senators
in the council, or the citizens in the assembly, or at any other political
meeting ? — if you have the power of uttering this word, you will have the
physician your slave, and the trainer your slave, and the money-maker of whom
you talk will be found to gather treasures, not for himself, but for you who are
able to speak and to persuade the multitude.
Soc. Now I think,
Gorgias, that you have very accurately explained what you conceive to be the art
of rhetoric ; and you mean to say, if I am not mistaken, that rhetoric is
the artificer of persuasion, having this and no other business, and that this is
her crown and end. Do you know any other effect of rhetoric over and above that
of producing persuasion ?
Gor. No : the
definition seems to me very fair, Socrates ; for persuasion is the chief
end of rhetoric.
Soc. Then hear me,
Gorgias, for I am quite sure that if there ever was a man who entered on the
discussion of a matter from a pure love of knowing the truth, I am such a one,
and I should say the same of you.
Gor. What is coming,
Socrates ?
Soc. I will tell
you : I am very well aware that do not know what, according to you, is the
exact nature, or what are the topics of that persuasion of which you speak, and
which is given by rhetoric ; although I have a suspicion about both the one
and the other. And I am going to ask — what is this power of persuasion which is
given by rhetoric, and about what ? But why, if I have a suspicion, do I
ask instead of telling you ? Not for your sake, but in order that the
argument may proceed in such a manner as is most likely to set forth the truth.
And I would have you observe, that I am right in asking this further
question : If I asked, “What sort of a painter is Zeuxis ?” and you
said, “The painter of figures,” should I not be right in asking, What kind of
figures, and where do you find them ?”
Gor.
Certainly.
Soc. And the reason for
asking this second question would be, that there are other painters besides, who
paint many other figures ?
Gor.
True.
Soc. But if there had
been no one but Zeuxis who painted them, then you would have answered very
well ?
Gor. Quite
so.
Soc. Now I was it to
know about rhetoric in the same way ; — is rhetoric the only art which
brings persuasion, or do other arts have the same effect ? I mean to say —
Does he who teaches anything persuade men of that which he teaches or
not ?
Gor. He persuades,
Socrates, — there can be no mistake about that.
Soc. Again, if we take
the arts of which we were just now speaking : — do not arithmetic and the
arithmeticians teach us the properties of number ?
Gor.
Certainly.
Soc. And therefore
persuade us of them ?
Gor.
Yes.
Soc. Then arithmetic as
well as rhetoric is an artificer of persuasion ?
Gor.
Clearly.
Soc. And if any one
asks us what sort of persuasion, and about what, — we shall answer, persuasion
which teaches the quantity of odd and even ; and we shall be able to show
that all the other arts of which we were just now speaking are artificers of
persuasion, and of what sort, and about what. Gor. Very
true.
Soc. Then rhetoric is
not the only artificer of persuasion ?
Gor.
True.
Soc. Seeing, then, that
not only rhetoric works by persuasion, but that other arts do the same, as in
the case of the painter, a question has arisen which is a very fair one :
Of what persuasion is rhetoric the artificer, and about what ? — is not
that a fair way of putting the question ?
Gor. I think
so.
Soc. Then, if you
approve the question, Gorgias, what is the answer ?
Gor. I answer,
Socrates, that rhetoric is the art of persuasion in courts of law and other
assemblies, as I was just now saying, and about the just and
unjust.
Soc. And that, Gorgias,
was what I was suspecting to be your notion ; yet I would not have you
wonder if by-and-by I am found repeating a seemingly plain question ; for I
ask not in order to confute you, but as I was saying that the argument may
proceed consecutively, and that we may not get the habit of anticipating and
suspecting the meaning of one another’s words ; I would have you develop
your own views in your own way, whatever may be your
hypothesis.
Gor. I think that you
are quite right, Socrates.
Soc. Then let me raise
another question ; there is such a thing as “having
learned” ?
Gor.
Yes.
Soc. And there is also
“having believed” ?
Gor.
Yes.
Soc. And is the “having
learned” the same “having believed,” and are learning and belief the same
things ?
Gor. In my judgment,
Socrates, they are not the same.
Soc. And your judgment
is right, as you may ascertain in this way : — If a person were to say to
you, “Is there, Gorgias, a false belief as well as a true ?” — you would
reply, if I am not mistaken, that there is.
Gor.
Yes.
Soc. Well, but is there
a false knowledge as well as a true ?
Gor.
No.
Soc. No, indeed ;
and this again proves that knowledge and belief differ.
Gor. Very
true.
Soc. And yet those who
have learned as well as those who have believed are
persuaded ?
Gor. Just
so.
Soc. Shall we then
assume two sorts of persuasion, — one which is the source of belief without
knowledge, as the other is of knowledge ?
Gor. By all
means.
Soc. And which sort of
persuasion does rhetoric create in courts of law and other assemblies about the
just and unjust, the sort of persuasion which gives belief without knowledge, or
that which gives knowledge ?
Gor. Clearly, Socrates,
that which only gives belief.
Soc. Then rhetoric, as
would appear, is the artificer of a persuasion which creates belief about the
just and unjust, but gives no instruction about
them ?
Gor.
True.
Soc. And the
rhetorician does not instruct the courts of law or other assemblies about things
just and unjust, but he creates belief about them ; for no one can be
supposed to instruct such a vast multitude about such high matters in a short
time ?
Gor. Certainly
not.
Soc. Come, then, and
let us see what we really mean about rhetoric ; for I do not know what my
own meaning is as yet. When the assembly meets to elect a physician or a
shipwright or any other craftsman, will the rhetorician be taken into
counsel ? Surely not. For at every election he ought to be chosen who is
most skilled ; and, again, when walls have to be built or harbours or docks
to be constructed, not the rhetorician but the master workman will advise ;
or when generals have to be chosen and an order of battle arranged, or a
proposition taken, then the military will advise and not the rhetoricians :
what do you say, Gorgias ? Since you profess to be a rhetorician and a
maker of rhetoricians, I cannot do better than learn the nature of your art from
you. And here let me assure you that I have your interest in view as well as my
own. For likely enough some one or other of the young men present might desire
to become your pupil, and in fact I see some, and a good many too, who have this
wish, but they would be too modest to question you. And therefore when you are
interrogated by me, I would have you imagine that you are interrogated by them.
“What is the use of coming to you, Gorgias ? they will say about what will
you teach us to advise the state ? — about the just and unjust only, or
about those other things also which Socrates has just mentioned ? How will
you answer them ?
Gor. I like your way of
leading us on, Socrates, and I will endeavour to reveal to you the whole nature
of rhetoric. You must have heard, I think, that the docks and the walls of the
Athenians and the plan of the harbour were devised in accordance with the
counsels, partly of Themistocles, and partly of Pericles, and not at the
suggestion of the builders.
Soc. Such is the
tradition, Gorgias, about Themistocles ; and I myself heard the speech of
Pericles when he advised us about the middle wall.
Gor. And you will
observe, Socrates, that when a decision has to be given in such matters the
rhetoricians are the advisers ; they are the men who win their
point.
Soc. I had that in my
admiring mind, Gorgias, when I asked what is the nature of rhetoric, which
always appears to me, when I look at the matter in this way, to be a marvel of
greatness.
Gor. A marvel, indeed,
Socrates, if you only knew how rhetoric comprehends and holds under her sway all
the inferior arts. Let me offer you a striking example of this. On several
occasions I have been with my brother Herodicus or some other physician to see
one of his patients, who would not allow the physician to give him medicine, or
apply a knife or hot iron to him ; and I have persuaded him to do for me
what he would not do for the physician just by the use of rhetoric. And I say
that if a rhetorician and a physician were to go to any city, and had there to
argue in the Ecclesia or any other assembly as to which of them should be
elected state-physician, the physician would have no chance ; but he who
could speak would be chosen if he wished ; and in a contest with a man of
any other profession the rhetorician more than any one would have the power of
getting himself chosen, for he can speak more persuasively to the multitude than
any of them, and on any subject. Such is the nature and power of the art of
rhetoric And yet, Socrates, rhetoric should be used like any other competitive
art, not against everybody — the rhetorician ought not to abuse his strength any
more than a pugilist or pancratiast or other master of fence ; because he
has powers which are more than a match either for friend or enemy, he ought not
therefore to strike, stab, or slay his friends. Suppose a man to have been
trained in the palestra and to be a skilful boxer — he in the fulness of his
strength goes and strikes his father or mother or one of his familiars or
friends ; but that is no reason why the trainers or fencing-masters should
be held in detestation or banished from the city — surely not. For they taught
their art for a good purpose, to be used against enemies and evil-doers, in
self-defence not in aggression, and others have perverted their instructions,
and turned to a bad use their own strength and skill. But not on this account
are the teachers bad, neither is the art in fault, or bad in itself ; I
should rather say that those who make a bad use of the art are to blame. And the
same argument holds good of rhetoric ; for the rhetorician can speak
against all men and upon any subject — in short, he can persuade the multitude
better than any other man of anything which he pleases, but he should not
therefore seek to defraud the physician or any other artist of his reputation
merely because he has the power ; he ought to use rhetoric fairly, as he
would also use his athletic powers. And if after having become a rhetorician he
makes a bad use of his strength and skill, his instructor surely ought not on
that account to be held in detestation or banished. For he was intended by his
teacher to make a good use of his instructions, but he abuses them. And
therefore he is the person who ought to be held in detestation, banished, and
put to death, and not his instructor.
Soc. You, Gorgias, like
myself, have had great experience of disputations, and you must have observed, I
think, that they do not always terminate in mutual edification, or in the
definition by either party of the subjects which they are discussing ; but
disagreements are apt to arise — somebody says that another has not spoken truly
or clearly ; and then they get into a passion and begin to quarrel, both
parties conceiving that their opponents are arguing from personal feeling only
and jealousy of themselves, not from any interest in the question at issue. And
sometimes they will go on abusing one another until the company at last are
quite vexed at themselves for ever listening to such fellows. Why do I say
this ? Why, because I cannot help feeling that you are now saying what is
not quite consistent or accordant with what you were saying at first about
rhetoric. And I am afraid to point this out to you, lest you should think that I
have some animosity against you, and that I speak, not for the sake of
discovering the truth, but from jealousy of you. Now if you are one of my sort,
I should like to cross-examine you, but if not I will let you alone. And what is
my sort ? you will ask. I am one of those who are very willing to be
refuted if I say anything which is not true, and very willing to refute any one
else who says what is not true, and quite as ready to be refuted as to refute —
I for I hold that this is the greater gain of the two, just as the gain is
greater of being cured of a very great evil than of curing another. For I
imagine that there is no evil which a man can endure so great as an erroneous
opinion about the matters of which we are speaking and if you claim to be one of
my sort, let us have the discussion out, but if you would rather have done, no
matter — let us make an end of it.
Gor. I should say,
Socrates, that I am quite the man whom you indicate ; but, perhaps, we
ought to consider the audience, for, before you came, I had already given a long
exhibition, and if we proceed the argument may run on to a great length. And
therefore I think that we should consider whether we, may not be detaining some
part of the company when they are wanting to do something
else.
Chaer. You hear the
audience cheering, Gorgias and Socrates, which shows their desire to listen to
you ; and for myself, Heaven forbid that I should have any business on hand
which would take me Away from a discussion so interesting and so ably
maintained.
Cal. By the gods,
Chaerephon, although I have been present at many discussions, I doubt whether I
was ever so much delighted before, and therefore if you go on discoursing all
day I shall be the better pleased. Soc. I may truly say, Callicles, that
I am willing, if Gorgias is.
Gor. After all this,
Socrates, I should be disgraced if I refused, especially as I have promised to
answer all comers ; in accordance with the wishes of the company, them, do
you begin. and ask of me any question which you like.
Soc. Let me tell you
then, Gorgias, what surprises me in your words ; though I dare say that you
may be right, and I may have understood your meaning. You say that you can make
any man, who will learn of you, a rhetorician ?
Gor.
Yes.
Soc. Do you mean that
you will teach him to gain the ears of the multitude on any subject, and this
not by instruction but by persuasion ?
Gor. Quite
so.
Soc. You were saying,
in fact, that the rhetorician will have, greater powers of persuasion than the
physician even in a matter of health ?
Gor. Yes, with the
multitude — that is.
Soc. You mean to say,
with the ignorant ; for with those who know he cannot be supposed to have
greater powers of persuasion.
Gor. Very
true.
Soc. But if he is to
have more power of persuasion than the physician, he will have greater power
than he who knows ?
Gor.
Certainly.
Soc. Although he is not
a physician : — is he ?
Gor.
No.
Soc. And he who is not
a physician must, obviously, be ignorant of what the physician
knows.
Gor.
Clearly.
Soc. Then, when the
rhetorician is more persuasive than the physician, the ignorant is more
persuasive with the ignorant than he who has knowledge ? — is not that the
inference ?
Gor. In the case
supposed : — Yes.
Soc. And the same holds
of the relation of rhetoric to all the other arts ; the rhetorician need
not know the truth about things ; he has only to discover some way of
persuading the ignorant that he has more knowledge than those who
know ?
Gor. Yes, Socrates, and
is not this a great comfort ? — not to have learned the other arts, but the
art of rhetoric only, and yet to be in no way inferior to the professors of
them ?
Soc. Whether the
rhetorician is or not inferior on this account is a question which we will
hereafter examine if the enquiry is likely to be of any service to us ; but
I would rather begin by asking, whether he is as ignorant of the just and
unjust, base and honourable, good and evil, as he is of medicine and the other
arts ; I mean to say, does he really know anything of what is good and
evil, base or honourable, just or unjust in them ; or has he only a way
with the ignorant of persuading them that he not knowing is to be esteemed to
know more about these things than some. one else who knows ? Or must the
pupil know these things and come to you knowing them before he can acquire the
art of rhetoric ? If he is ignorant, you who are the teacher of rhetoric
will not teach him — it is not your business ; but you will make him seem
to the multitude to know them, when he does not know them ; and seem to be
a good man, when he is not. Or will you be unable to teach him rhetoric at all,
unless he knows the truth of these things first ? What is to be said about
all this ? By heavens, Gorgias, I wish that you would reveal to me the
power of rhetoric, as you were saying that you would.
Gor. Well, Socrates, I
suppose that if the pupil does chance not to know them, he will have to learn of
me these things as well.
Soc. Say no more, for
there you are right ; and so he whom you make a rhetorician must either
know the nature of the just and unjust already, or he must be taught by
you.
Gor.
Certainly.
Soc. Well, and is not
he who has learned carpentering a carpenter ?
Gor.
Yes.
Soc. And he who has
learned music a musician ?
Gor.
Yes.
Soc. And he who has
learned medicine is a physician, in like manner ? He who has learned
anything whatever is that which his knowledge makes him.
Gor.
Certainly.
Soc. And in the same
way, he who has learned what is just is just ?
Gor. To be
sure.
Soc. And he who is just
may be supposed to do what is just ?
Gor.
Yes.
Soc. And must not the
just man always desire to do what is just ?
Gor. That is clearly
the inference.
Soc. Surely, then, the
just man will never consent to do injustice ?
Gor. Certainly
not.
Soc. And according to
the argument the rhetorician must be a just man ?
Gor.
Yes.
Soc. And will therefore
never be willing to do injustice ?
Gor. Clearly
not.
Soc. But do you
remember saying just now that the trainer is not to be accused or banished if
the pugilist makes a wrong use of his pugilistic art ; and in like manner,
if the rhetorician makes a bad and unjust use of rhetoric, that is not to be
laid to the charge of his teacher, who is not to be banished, but the wrong-doer
himself who made a bad use of his rhetoric — he is to be banished — was not that
said ?
Gor. Yes, it
was.
Soc. But now we are
affirming that the aforesaid rhetorician will never have done injustice at
all ?
Gor.
True.
Soc. And at the very
outset, Gorgias, it was said that rhetoric treated of discourse, not [like
arithmetic] about odd and even, but about just and unjust ? Was not this
said ?
Gor.
Yes.
Soc. I was thinking at
the time, when I heard you saying so, that rhetoric, which is always discoursing
about justice, could not possibly be an unjust thing. But when you added,
shortly afterwards, that the rhetorician might make a bad use of rhetoric I
noted with surprise the inconsistency into which you had fallen ; and I
said, that if you thought, as I did, that there was a gain in being refuted,
there would be an advantage in going on with the question, but if not, I would
leave off. And in the course of our investigations, as you will see yourself,
the rhetorician has been acknowledged to be incapable of making an unjust use of
rhetoric, or of willingness to do injustice. By the dog, Gorgias, there will be
a great deal of discussion, before we get at the truth of all
this.
Polus. And do even
you, Socrates, seriously believe what you are now saying about rhetoric ?
What ! because Gorgias was ashamed to deny that the rhetorician knew the
just and the honourable and the good, and admitted that to any one who came to
him ignorant of them he could teach them, and then out of this admission there
arose a contradiction — the thing which you dearly love, and to which not he,
but you, brought the argument by your captious questions — [do you seriously
believe that there is any truth in all this ?] For will any one ever
acknowledge that he does not know, or cannot teach, the nature of justice ?
The truth is, that there is great want of manners in bringing the argument to
such a pass.
Soc. Illustrious Polus,
the reason why we provide ourselves with friends and children is, that when we
get old and stumble, a younger generation may be at hand to set us on our legs
again in our words and in our actions : and now, if I and Gorgias are
stumbling, here are you who should raise us up ; and I for my part engage
to retract any error into which you may think that I have fallen — upon one
condition :
Pol. What
condition ?
Soc. That you contract,
Polus, the prolixity of speech in which you indulged at
first.
Pol. What ! do you
mean that I may not use as many words as I please ?
Soc. Only to think, my
friend, that having come on a visit to Athens, which is the most free-spoken
state in Hellas, you when you got there, and you alone, should be deprived of
the power of speech — that would be hard indeed. But then consider my
case : — shall not I be very hardly used, if, when you are making a long
oration, and refusing to answer what you are asked, I am compelled to stay and
listen to you, and may not go away ? I say rather, if you have a real
interest in the argument, or, to repeat my former expression, have any desire to
set it on its legs, take back any statement which you please ; and in your
turn ask and answer, like myself and Gorgias — refute and be refuted : for
I suppose that you would claim to know what Gorgias knows — would you
not ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. And you, like him,
invite any one to ask you about anything which he pleases, and you will know how
to answer him ?
Pol. To be
sure.
Soc. And now, which
will you do, ask or answer ?
Pol. I will ask ;
and do you answer me, Socrates, the same question which Gorgias, as you suppose,
is unable to answer : What is rhetoric ?
Soc. Do you mean what
sort of an art ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. To say the truth,
Polus, it is not an art at all, in my opinion.
Pol. Then what, in your
opinion, is rhetoric ?
Soc. A thing which, as
I was lately reading in a book of yours, you say that you have made an
art.
Pol. What
thing ?
Soc. I should say a
sort of experience.
Pol. Does rhetoric seem
to you to be an experience ?
Soc. That is my view,
but you may be of another mind.
Pol. An experience in
what ?
Soc. An experience in
producing a sort of delight and gratification.
Pol. And if able to
gratify others, must not rhetoric be a fine thing ?
Soc. What are you
saying, Polus ? Why do you ask me whether rhetoric is a fine thing or not,
when I have not as yet told you what rhetoric is ?
Pol. Did I not hear you
say that rhetoric was a sort of experience ?
Soc. Will you, who are
so desirous to gratify others, afford a slight gratification to
me ?
Pol. I
will.
Soc. Will you ask me,
what sort of an art is cookery ?
Pol. What sort of an
art is cookery ?
Soc. Not an art at all,
Polus.
Pol. What
then ?
Soc. I should say an
experience.
Pol. In what ? I
wish that you would explain to me.
Soc. An experience in
producing a sort of delight and gratification, Polus.
Pol. Then are cookery
and rhetoric the same ?
Soc. No, they are only
different parts of the same profession.
Pol. Of what
profession ?
Soc. I am afraid that
the truth may seem discourteous ; and I hesitate to answer, lest Gorgias
should imagine that I am making fun of his own profession. For whether or no
this is that art of rhetoric which Gorgias practises I really cannot tell :
— from what he was just now saying, nothing appeared of what he thought of his
art, but the rhetoric which I mean is a part of a not very creditable
whole.
Gor. A part of what,
Socrates ? Say what you mean, and never mind me.
Soc. In my opinion
then, Gorgias, the whole of which rhetoric is a part is not an art at all, but
the habit of a bold and ready wit, which knows how to manage mankind : this
habit I sum up under the word “flattery” ; and it appears to me to have
many other parts, one of which is cookery, which may seem to be an art, but, as
I maintain, is only an experience or routine and not an art : — another
part is rhetoric, and the art of attiring and sophistry are two others :
thus there are four branches, and four different things answering to them. And
Polus may ask, if he likes, for he has not as yet been informed, what part of
flattery is rhetoric : he did not see that I had not yet answered him when
he proceeded to ask a further question : Whether I do not think rhetoric a
fine thing ? But I shall not tell him whether rhetoric is a fine thing or
not, until I have first answered, “What is rhetoric ?” For that would not
be right, Polus ; but I shall be happy to answer, if you will ask me, What
part of flattery is rhetoric ?
Pol. I will ask and do
you answer ? What part of flattery is rhetoric ?
Soc. Will you
understand my answer ? Rhetoric, according to my view, is the ghost or
counterfeit of a part of politics.
Pol. And noble or
ignoble ?
Soc. Ignoble, I should
say, if I am compelled to answer, for I call what is bad ignoble : though I
doubt whether you understand what I was saying before.
Gor. Indeed, Socrates,
I cannot say that I understand myself.
Soc. I do not wonder,
Gorgias ; for I have not as yet explained myself, and our friend Polus,
colt by name and colt by nature, is apt to run away.
Gor. Never mind him,
but explain to me what you mean by saying that rhetoric is the counterfeit of a
part of politics.
Soc. I will try, then,
to explain my notion of rhetoric, and if I am mistaken, my friend Polus shall
refute me. We may assume the existence of bodies and of
souls ?
Gor. Of
course.
Soc. You would further
admit that there is a good condition of either of
them ?
Gor.
Yes.
Soc. Which condition
may not be really good, but good only in appearance ? I mean to say, that
there are many persons who appear to be in good health, and whom only a
physician or trainer will discern at first sight not to be in good
health.
Gor.
True.
Soc. And this applies
not only to the body, but also to the soul : in either there may be that
which gives the appearance of health and not the
reality ?
Gor. Yes,
certainly.
Soc. And now I will
endeavour to explain to you more clearly what I mean : The soul and body
being two, have two arts corresponding to them : there is the art of
politics attending on the soul ; and another art attending on the body, of
which I know no single name, but which may be described as having two divisions,
one of them gymnastic, and the other medicine. And in politics there is a
legislative part, which answers to gymnastic, as justice does to medicine ;
and the two parts run into one another, justice having to do with the same
subject as legislation, and medicine with the same subject as gymnastic, but
with a difference. Now, seeing that there are these four arts, two attending on
the body and two on the soul for their highest good ; flattery knowing, or
rather guessing their natures, has distributed herself into four shams or
simulations of them ; she puts on the likeness of some one or other of
them, and pretends to be that which she simulates, and having no regard for
men’s highest interests, is ever making pleasure the bait of the unwary, and
deceiving them into the belief that she is of the highest value to them. Cookery
simulates the disguise of medicine, and pretends to know what food is the best
for the body ; and if the physician and the cook had to enter into a
competition in which children were the judges, or men who had no more sense than
children, as to which of them best understands the goodness or badness of food,
the physician would be starved to death. A flattery I deem this to be and of an
ignoble sort, Polus, for to you I am now addressing myself, because it aims at
pleasure without any thought of the best. An art I do not call it, but only an
experience, because it is unable to explain or to give a reason of the nature of
its own applications. And I do not call any irrational thing an art ; but
if you dispute my words, I am prepared to argue in defence of
them.
Cookery, then, I
maintain to be a flattery which takes the form of medicine ; and tiring, in
like manner, is a flattery which takes the form of gymnastic, and is knavish,
false, ignoble, illiberal, working deceitfully by the help of lines, and
colours, and enamels, and garments, and making men affect a spurious beauty to
the neglect of the true beauty which is given by
gymnastic.
I would rather not
be tedious, and therefore I will only say, after the manner of the geometricians
(for I think that by this time you will be able to follow)
astiring :
gymnastic : : cookery : medicine ; or rather,
astiring :
gymnastic : : sophistry : legislation ; and
as cookery :
medicine : : rhetoric : justice. And this, I say, is the natural difference
between the rhetorician and the sophist, but by reason of their near connection,
they are apt to be jumbled up together ; neither do they know what to make
of themselves, nor do other men know what to make of them. For if the body
presided over itself, and were not under the guidance of the soul, and the soul
did not discern and discriminate between cookery and medicine, but the body was
made the judge of them, and the rule of judgment was the bodily delight which
was given by them, then the word of Anaxagoras, that word with which you, friend
Polus, are so well acquainted, would prevail far and wide : “Chaos” would
come again, and cookery, health, and medicine would mingle in an indiscriminate
mass. And now I have told you my notion of rhetoric, which is, in relation to
the soul, what cookery is to the body. I may have been inconsistent in making a
long speech, when I would not allow you to discourse at length. But I think that
I may be excused, because you did not understand me, and could make no use of my
answer when I spoke shortly, and therefore I had to enter into explanation. And
if I show an equal inability to make use of yours, I hope that you will speak at
equal length ; but if I am able to understand you, let me have the benefit
of your brevity, as is only fair : And now you may do what you please with
my answer.
Pol. What do you
mean ? do you think that rhetoric is flattery ?
Soc. Nay, I said a part
of flattery — if at your age, Polus, you cannot remember, what will you do
by-and-by, when you get older ?
Pol. And are the good
rhetoricians meanly regarded in states, under the idea that they are
flatterers ?
Soc. Is that a question
or the beginning of a speech ?
Pol. I am asking a
question.
Soc. Then my answer is,
that they are not regarded at all.
Pol. How not
regarded ? Have they not very great power in
states ?
Soc. Not if you mean to
say that power is a good to the possessor.
Pol. And that is what I
do mean to say.
Soc. Then, if so, I
think that they have the least power of all the citizens.
Pol. What ! Are
they not like tyrants ? They kill and despoil and exile any one whom they
please.
Soc. By the dog, Polus,
I cannot make out at each deliverance of yours, whether you are giving an
opinion of your own, or asking a question of me.
Pol. I am asking a
question of you.
Soc. Yes, my friend,
but you ask two questions at once.
Pol. How two
questions ?
Soc. Why, did you not
say just now that the rhetoricians are like tyrants, and that they kill and
despoil or exile any one whom they please ?
Pol. I
did.
Soc. Well then, I say
to you that here are two questions in one, and I will answer both of them. And I
tell you, Polus, that rhetoricians and tyrants have the least possible power in
states, as I was just now saying ; for they do literally nothing which they
will, but only what they think best.
Pol. And is not that a
great power ?
Soc. Polus has already
said the reverse.
Soc. No, by the great —
what do you call him ? — not you, for you say that power is a good to him
who has the power.
Pol. I
do.
Soc. And would you
maintain that if a fool does what he think best, this is a good, and would you
call this great power ?
Pol. I should
not.
Soc. Then you must
prove that the rhetorician is not a fool, and that rhetoric is an art and not a
flattery — and so you will have refuted me ; but if you leave me unrefuted,
why, the rhetoricians who do what they think best in states, and the tyrants,
will have nothing upon which to congratulate themselves, if as you say, power be
indeed a good, admitting at the same time that what is done without sense is an
evil.
Pol. Yes ; I admit
that.
Soc. How then can the
rhetoricians or the tyrants have great power in states, unless Polus can refute
Socrates, and prove to him that they do as they
will ?
Pol. This fellow —
Soc. I say that they do
not do as they will — now refute me.
Pol. Why, have you not
already said that they do as they think best ?
Soc. And I say so
still.
Pol. Then surely they
do as they will ?
Soc. I deny
it.
Pol. But they do what
they think best ?
Soc.
Aye.
Pol. That, Socrates, is
monstrous and absurd.
Soc. Good words, good
Polus, as I may say in your own peculiar style ; but if you have any
questions to ask of me, either prove that I am in error or give the answer
yourself.
Pol. Very well, I am
willing to answer that I may know what you mean.
Soc. Do men appear to
you to will that which they do, or to will that further end for the sake of
which they do a thing ? when they take medicine, for example, at the
bidding of a physician, do they will the drinking of the medicine which is
painful, or the health for the sake of which they
drink ?
Pol. Clearly, the
health.
Soc. And when men go on
a voyage or engage in business, they do not will that which they are doing at
the time ; for who would desire to take the risk of a voyage or the trouble
of business ? — But they will, to have the wealth for the sake of which
they go on a voyage.
Pol. Certainly.
Soc. And is not this universally true ? If a man does something for
the sake of something else, he wills not that which he does, but that for the
sake of which he does it.
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. And are not all
things either good or evil, or intermediate and
indifferent ?
Pol. To be sure,
Socrates.
Soc. Wisdom and health
and wealth and the like you would call goods, and their opposites
evils ?
Pol. I
should.
Soc. And the things
which are neither good nor evil, and which partake sometimes of the nature of
good and at other times of evil, or of neither, are such as sitting, walking,
running, sailing ; or, again, wood, stones, and the like : — these are
the things which you call neither good nor evil ?
Pol. Exactly
so.
Soc. Are these
indifferent things done for the sake of the good, or the good for the sake of
the indifferent ?
Pol. Clearly, the
indifferent for the sake of the good.
Soc. When we walk we
walk for the sake of the good, and under the idea that it is better to walk, and
when we stand we stand equally for the sake of the
good ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. And when we kill a
man we kill him or exile him or despoil him of his goods, because, as we think,
it will conduce to our good ?
Pol.
Certainly.
Soc. Men who do any of
these things do them for the sake of the good ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. And did we not
admit that in doing something for the sake of something else, we do not will
those things which we do, but that other thing for the sake of which we do
them ?
Pol. Most
true.
Soc. Then we do not
will simply to kill a man or to exile him or to despoil him of his goods, but we
will to do that which conduces to our good, and if the act is not conducive to
our good we do not will it ; for we will, as you say, that which is our
good, but that which is neither good nor evil, or simply evil, we do not will.
Why are you silent, Polus ? Am I not right ?
Pol. You are
right.
Soc. Hence we may
infer, that if any one, whether he be a tyrant or a rhetorician, kills another
or exiles another or deprives him of his property, under the idea that the act
is for his own interests when really not for his own interests, he may be said
to do what seems best to him ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. But does he do
what he wills if he does what is evil ? Why do you not
answer ?
Pol. Well, I suppose
not.
Soc. Then if great
power is a good as you allow, will such a one have great power in a
state ?
Pol. He will
not.
Soc. Then I was right
in saying that a man may do what seems good to him in a state, and not have
great power, and not do what he wills ?
Pol. As though you,
Socrates, would not like to have the power of doing what seemed good to you in
the state, rather than not ; you would not be jealous when you saw any one
killing or despoiling or imprisoning whom he pleased, Oh,
no !
Soc. Justly or
unjustly, do you mean ?
Pol. In either case is
he not equally to be envied ?
Soc. Forbear,
Polus !
Pol. Why
“forbear” ?
Soc. Because you ought
not to envy wretches who are not to be envied, but only to pity
them.
Pol. And are those of
whom spoke wretches ?
Soc. Yes, certainly
they are.
Pol. And so you think
that he who slays any one whom he pleases, and justly slays him, is pitiable and
wretched ?
Soc. No, I do not say
that of him : but neither do I think that he is to be
envied.
Pol. Were you not
saying just now that he is wretched ?
Soc. Yes, my friend, if
he killed another unjustly, in which case he is also to be pitied ; and he
is not to be envied if he killed him justly.
Pol. At any rate you
will allow that he who is unjustly put to death is wretched, and to be
pitied ?
Soc. Not so much,
Polus, as he who kills him, and not so much as he who is justly
killed.
Pol. How can that be,
Socrates ?
Soc. That may very well
be, inasmuch as doing injustice is the greatest of evils.
Pol. But is it the
greatest ? Is not suffering injustice a greater
evil ?
Soc. Certainly
not.
Pol. Then would you
rather suffer than do injustice ?
Soc. I should not like
either, but if I must choose between them, I would rather suffer than
do.
Pol. Then you would not
wish to be a tyrant ?
Soc. Not if you mean by
tyranny what I mean.
Pol. I mean, as I said
before, the power of doing whatever seems good to you in a state, killing,
banishing, doing in all things as you like.
Soc. Well then,
illustrious friend, when I have said my say, do you reply to me. Suppose that I
go into a crowded Agora, and take a dagger under my arm. Polus, I say to you, I
have just acquired rare power, and become a tyrant ; for if I think that
any of these men whom you see ought to be put to death, the man whom I have a
mind to kill is as good as dead ; and if I am disposed to break his head or
tear his garment, he will have his head broken or his garment torn in an
instant. Such is my great power in this city. And if you do not believe me, and
I show you the dagger, you would probably reply : Socrates, in that sort of
way any one may have great power — he may burn any house which he pleases, and
the docks and triremes of the Athenians, and all their other vessels, whether
public or private — but can you believe that this mere doing as you think best
is great power ?
Pol. Certainly not such
doing as this.
Soc. But can you tell
me why you disapprove of such a power ?
Pol. I
can.
Soc. Why
then ?
Pol. Why, because he
who did as you say would be certain to be punished.
Soc. And punishment is
an evil ?
Pol.
Certainly.
Soc. And you would
admit once more, my good sir, that great power is a benefit to a man if his
actions turn out to his advantage, and that this is the meaning of great
power ; and if not, then his power is an evil and is no power. But let us
look at the matter in another way do we not acknowledge that the things of which
we were speaking, the infliction of death, and exile, and the deprivation of
property are sometimes a good and sometimes not a
good ?
Pol.
Certainly.
Soc. About that you and
I may be supposed to agree ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. Tell me, then,
when do you say that they are good and when that they are evil — what principle
do you lay down ?
Pol. I would rather,
Socrates, that you should answer as well as ask that
question.
Soc. Well, Polus, since
you would rather have the answer from me, I say that they are good when they are
just, and evil when they are unjust.
Pol. You are hard of
refutation, Socrates, but might not a child refute that
statement ?
Soc. Then I shall be
very grateful to the child, and equally grateful to you if you will refute me
and deliver me from my foolishness. And I hope that refute me you will, and not
weary of doing good to a friend.
Pol. Yes, Socrates, and
I need not go far or appeal to antiquity ; events which happened only a few
days ago are enough to refute you, and to prove that many men who do wrong are
happy.
Soc. What
events ?
Pol. You see, I
presume, that Archelaus the son of Perdiccas is now the ruler of
Macedonia ?
Soc. At any rate I hear
that he is.
Pol. And do you think
that he is happy or miserable ?
Soc. I cannot say,
Polus, for I have never had any acquaintance with him.
Pol. And cannot you
tell at once, and without having an acquaintance with him, whether a man is
happy ?
Soc. Most certainly
not.
Pol. Then clearly,
Socrates, you would say that you did not even know whether the great king was a
happy man ?
Soc. And I should speak
the truth ; for I do not know how he stands in the matter of education and
justice.
Pol. What ! and
does all happiness consist in this ?
Soc. Yes, indeed,
Polus, that is my doctrine ; the men and women who are gentle and good are
also happy, as I maintain, and the unjust and evil are
miserable.
Pol. Then, according to
your doctrine, the said Archelaus is miserable ?
Soc. Yes, my friend, if
he is wicked.
Pol. That he is wicked
I cannot deny ; for he had no title at all to the throne which he now
occupies, he being only the son of a woman who was the slave of Alcetas the
brother of Perdiccas ; he himself therefore in strict right was the slave
of Alcetas ; and if he had meant to do rightly he would have remained his
slave, and then, according to your doctrine, he would have been happy. But now
he is unspeakably miserable, for he has been guilty of the greatest
crimes : in the first place he invited his uncle and master, Alcetas, to
come to him, under the pretence that he would restore to him the throne which
Perdiccas has usurped, and after entertaining him and his son Alexander, who was
his own cousin, and nearly of an age with him, and making them drunk, he threw
them into a waggon and carried them off by night, and slew them, and got both of
them out of the way ; and when he had done all this wickedness he never
discovered that he was the most miserable of all men, was very far from
repenting : shall I tell you how he showed his remorse ? he had a
younger brother, a child of seven years old, who was the legitimate son of
Perdiccas, and to him of right the kingdom belonged ; Archelaus, however,
had no mind to bring him up as he ought and restore the kingdom to him ;
that was not his notion of happiness ; but not long afterwards he threw him
into a well and drowned him, and declared to his mother Cleopatra that he had
fallen in while running after a goose, and had been killed. And now as he is the
greatest criminal of all the Macedonians, he may be supposed to be the most
miserable and not the happiest of them, and I dare say that there are many
Athenians, and you would be at the head of them, who would rather be any other
Macedonian than Archelaus !
Soc. I praised you at
first, Polus, for being a rhetorician rather than a reasoner. And this, as I
suppose, is the sort of argument with which you fancy that a child might refute
me, and by which I stand refuted when I say that the unjust man is not happy.
But, my good friend, where is the refutation ? I cannot admit a word which
you have been saying.
Pol. That is because
you will not ; for you surely must think as I do.
Soc. Not so, my simple
friend, but because you will refute me after the manner which rhetoricians
practise in courts of law. For there the one party think that they refute the
other when they bring forward a number of witnesses of good repute in proof of
their allegations, and their adversary has only a single one or none at all. But
this kind of proof is of no value where truth is the aim ; a man may often
be sworn down by a multitude of false witnesses who have a great air of
respectability. And in this argument nearly every one, Athenian and stranger
alike, would be on your side, if you should bring witnesses in disproof of my
statement — you may, if you will, summon Nicias the son of Niceratus, and let
his brothers, who gave the row of tripods which stand in the precincts of
Dionysus, come with him ; or you may summon Aristocrates, the son of
Scellius, who is the giver of that famous offering which is at Delphi ;
summon, if you will, the whole house of Pericles, or any other great Athenian
family whom you choose — they will all agree with you : I only am left
alone and cannot agree, for you do not convince me ; although you produce
many false witnesses against me, in the hope of depriving me of my inheritance,
which is the truth. But I consider that nothing worth speaking of will have been
effected by me unless I make you the one witness of my words ; nor by you,
unless you make me the one witness of yours ; no matter about the rest of
the world. For there are two ways of refutation, one which is yours and that of
the world in general ; but mine is of another sort — let us compare them,
and see in what they differ. For, indeed, we are at issue about matters which to
know is honourable and not to know disgraceful ; to know or not to know
happiness and misery — that is the chief of them. And what knowledge can be
nobler ? or what ignorance more disgraceful than this ? And therefore
I will begin by asking you whether you do not think that a man who is unjust and
doing injustice can be happy, seeing that you think Archelaus unjust, and yet
happy ? May I assume this to be your opinion ?
Pol.
Certainly.
Soc. But I say that
this is an impossibility — here is one point about which we are at issue :
— very good. And do you mean to say also that if he meets with retribution and
punishment he will still be happy ?
Pol. Certainly
not ; in that case he will be most miserable.
Soc. On the other hand,
if the unjust be not punished, then, according to you, he will be
happy ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. But in my opinion,
Polus, the unjust or doer of unjust actions is miserable in any case, — more
miserable, however, if he be not punished and does not meet with retribution,
and less miserable if he be punished and meets with retribution at the hands of
gods and men.
Pol. You are
maintaining a strange doctrine, Socrates. Soc. I shall try to make you
agree with me, O my friend, for as a friend I regard you. Then these are the
points at issue between us — are they not ? I was saying that to do is
worse than to suffer injustice ?
Pol. Exactly
so.
Soc. And you said the
opposite ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. I said also that
the wicked are miserable, and you refuted me ?
Pol. By Zeus, I
did.
Soc. In your own
opinion, Polus.
Pol. Yes, and I rather
suspect that I was in the right.
Soc. You further said
that the wrong-doer is happy if he be unpunished ?
Pol.
Certainly.
Soc. And I affirm that
he is most miserable, and that those who are punished are less miserable — are
you going to refute this proposition also ?
Pol. A proposition
which is harder of refutation than the other, Socrates.
Soc. Say rather, Polus,
impossible ; for who can refute the truth ?
Pol. What do you
mean ? If a man is detected in an unjust attempt to make himself a tyrant,
and when detected is racked, mutilated, has his eyes burned out, and after
having had all sorts of great injuries inflicted on him, and having seen his
wife and children suffer the like, is at last impaled or tarred and burned
alive, will he be happier than if he escape and become a tyrant, and continue
all through life doing what he likes and holding the reins of government, the
envy and admiration both of citizens and strangers ? Is that the paradox
which, as you say, cannot be refuted ?
Soc. There again, noble
Polus, you are raising hobgoblins instead of refuting me ; just now you
were calling witnesses against me. But please to refresh my memory a
little ; did you say — “in an unjust attempt to make himself a
tyrant” ?
Pol. Yes, I
did.
Soc. Then I say that
neither of them will be happier than the other — neither he who unjustly
acquires a tyranny, nor he who suffers in the attempt, for of two miserables one
cannot be the happier, but that he who escapes and becomes a tyrant is the more
miserable of the two. Do you laugh, Polus ? Well, this is a new kind of
refutation — when any one says anything, instead of refuting him to laugh at
him.
Pol. But do you not
think, Socrates, that you have been sufficiently refuted, when you say that
which no human being will allow ? Ask the company.
Soc. O Polus, I am not
a public man, and only last year, when my tribe were serving as Prytanes, and it
became my duty as their president to take the votes, there was a laugh at me,
because I was unable to take them. And as I failed then, you must not ask me to
count the suffrages of the company now ; but if, as I was saying, you have
no better argument than numbers, let me have a turn, and do you make trial of
the sort of proof which, as I think, is required ; for I shall produce one
witness only of the truth of my words, and he is the person with whom I am
arguing ; his suffrage I know how to take ; but with the many I have
nothing to do, and do not even address myself to them. May I ask then whether
you will answer in turn and have your words put to the proof ? For I
certainly think that I and you and every man do really believe, that to do is a
greater evil than to suffer injustice : and not to be punished than to be
punished.
Pol. And I should say
neither I, nor any man : would you yourself, for example, suffer rather
than do injustice ?
Soc. Yes, and you,
too ; I or any man would.
Pol. Quite the
reverse ; neither you, nor I, nor any man.
Soc. But will you
answer ?
Pol. To be sure, I will
— for I am curious to hear what you can have to say.
Soc. Tell me, then, and
you will know, and let us suppose that I am beginning at the beginning :
which of the two, Polus, in your opinion, is the worst ? — to do injustice
or to suffer ?
Pol. I should say that
suffering was worst.
Soc. And which is the
greater disgrace ? — Answer.
Pol. To
do.
Soc. And the greater
disgrace is the greater evil ?
Pol. Certainly
not.
Soc. I understand you
to say, if I am not mistaken, that the honourable is not the same as the good,
or the disgraceful as the evil ?
Pol. Certainly
not.
Soc. Let me ask a
question of you : When you speak of beautiful things, such as bodies,
colours, figures, sounds, institutions, do you not call them beautiful in
reference to some standard : bodies, for example, are beautiful in
proportion as they are useful, or as the sight of them gives pleasure to the
spectators ; can you give any other account of personal
beauty ?
Pol. I
cannot.
Soc. And you would say
of figures or colours generally that they were beautiful, either by reason of
the pleasure which they give, or of their use, or
both ?
Pol. Yes, I
should.
Soc. And you would call
sounds and music beautiful for the same reason ?
Pol. I should.
Soc. Laws and institutions also have no beauty in them except in so far
as they are useful or pleasant or both ?
Pol. I think
not.
Soc. And may not the
same be said of the beauty of knowledge ?
Pol. To be sure,
Socrates ; and I very much approve of your measuring beauty by the standard
of pleasure and utility.
Soc. And deformity or
disgrace may be equally measured by the opposite standard of pain and
evil ?
Pol.
Certainly.
Soc. Then when of two
beautiful things one exceeds in beauty, the measure of the excess is to be taken
in one or both of these ; that is to say, in pleasure or utility or
both ?
Pol. Very
true.
Soc. And of two
deformed things, that which exceeds in deformity or disgrace, exceeds either in
pain or evil — must it not be so ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. But then again,
what was the observation which you just now made, about doing and suffering
wrong ? Did you not say, that suffering wrong was more evil, and doing
wrong more disgraceful ?
Pol. I
did.
Soc. Then, if doing
wrong is more disgraceful than suffering, the more disgraceful must be more
painful and must exceed in pain or in evil or both : does not that also
follow ?
Pol. Of
course.
Soc. First, then, let
us consider whether the doing of injustice exceeds the suffering in the
consequent pain : Do the injurers suffer more than the
injured ?
Pol. No,
Socrates ; certainly not.
Soc. Then they do not
exceed in pain ?
Pol.
No.
Soc. But if not in
pain, then not in both ?
Pol. Certainly
not.
Soc. Then they can only
exceed in the other ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. That is to say, in
evil ?
Pol.
True.
Soc. Then doing
injustice will have an excess of evil, and will therefore be a greater evil than
suffering injustice ?
Pol.
Clearly.
Soc. But have not you
and the world already agreed that to do injustice is more disgraceful than to
suffer ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. And that is now
discovered to be more evil ?
Pol.
True.
Soc. And would you
prefer a greater evil or a greater dishonour to a less one ? Answer, Polus,
and fear not ; for you will come to no harm if you nobly resign yourself
into the healing hand of the argument as to a physician without shrinking, and
either say “Yes” or “No” to me.
Pol. I should say
“No.”
Soc. Would any other
man prefer a greater to a less evil ?
Pol. No, not according
to this way of putting the case, Socrates.
Soc. Then I said truly,
Polus that neither you, nor I, nor any man, would rather, do than suffer
injustice ; for to do injustice is the greater evil of the
two.
Pol. That is the
conclusion.
Soc. You see, Polus,
when you compare the two kinds of refutations, how unlike they are. All men,
with the exception of myself, are of your way of thinking ; but your single
assent and witness are enough for me — I have no need of any other, I take your
suffrage, and am regardless of the rest. Enough of this, and now let us proceed
to the next question ; which is, Whether the greatest of evils to a guilty
man is to suffer punishment, as you supposed, or whether to escape punishment is
not a greater evil, as I supposed. Consider : — You would say that to
suffer punishment is another name for being justly corrected when you do
wrong ?
Pol. I
should.
Soc. And would you not
allow that all just things are honourable in so far as they are just ?
Please to reflect, and, tell me your opinion.
Pol. Yes, Socrates, I
think that they are.
Soc. Consider
again : — Where there is an agent, must there not also be a
patient ?
Pol. I should say
so.
Soc. And will not the
patient suffer that which the agent does, and will not the suffering have the
quality of the action ? I mean, for example, that if a man strikes, there
must be something which is stricken ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. And if the striker
strikes violently or quickly, that which is struck will he struck violently or
quickly ?
Pol.
True.
Soc. And the suffering
to him who is stricken is of the same nature as the act of him who
strikes ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. And if a man
burns, there is something which is burned ?
Pol.
Certainly.
Soc. And if he burns in
excess or so as to cause pain, the thing burned will be burned in the same
way ?
Pol.
Truly.
Soc. And if he cuts,
the same argument holds — there will be something
cut ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. And if the cutting
be great or deep or such as will cause pain, the cut will be of the same
nature ?
Pol. That is
evident.
Soc. Then you would
agree generally to the universal proposition which I was just now
asserting : that the affection of the patient answers to the affection of
the agent ?
Pol. I
agree.
Soc. Then, as this is
admitted, let me ask whether being punished is suffering or
acting ?
Pol. Suffering,
Socrates ; there can be no doubt of that.
Soc. And suffering
implies an agent ?
Pol. Certainly,
Socrates ; and he is the punisher.
Soc. And he who
punishes rightly, punishes justly ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. And therefore he
acts justly ?
Pol.
Justly.
Soc. Then he who is
punished and suffers retribution, suffers justly ?
Pol. That is
evident.
Soc. And that which is
just has been admitted to be honourable ?
Pol.
Certainly.
Soc. Then the punisher
does what is honourable, and the punished suffers what is
honourable ?
Pol.
True.
Soc. And if what is
honourable, then what is good, for the honourable is either pleasant or
useful ?
Pol.
Certainly.
Soc. Then he who is
punished suffers what is good ?
Pol. That is
true.
Soc. Then he is
benefited ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. Do I understand
you to mean what I mean by the term “benefited” ? I mean, that if he be
justly punished his soul is improved.
Pol.
Surely.
Soc. Then he who is
punished is delivered from the evil of his soul ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. And is he not then
delivered from the greatest evil ? Look at the matter in this way : —
In respect of a man’s estate, do you see any greater evil than
poverty ?
Pol. There is no
greater evil.
Soc. Again, in a man’s
bodily frame, you would say that the evil is weakness and disease and
deformity ?
Pol. I
should.
Soc. And do you not
imagine that the soul likewise has some evil of her
own ?
Pol. Of
course.
Soc. And this you would
call injustice and ignorance and cowardice, and the
like ?
Pol.
Certainly.
Soc. So then, in mind,
body, and estate, which are three, you have pointed out three corresponding
evils — injustice, disease, poverty ?
Pol.
True.
Soc. And which of the
evils is the most disgraceful ? — Is not the most disgraceful of them
injustice, and in general the evil of the soul ?
Pol. By far the
most.
Soc. And if the most
disgraceful, then also the worst ?
Pol. What do you mean,
Socrates ?
Soc. I mean to say,
that is most disgraceful has been already admitted to be most painful or
hurtful, or both.
Pol.
Certainly.
Soc. And now injustice
and all evil in the soul has been admitted by to be most
disgraceful ?
Pol. It has been
admitted.
Soc. And most
disgraceful either because most painful and causing excessive pain, or most
hurtful, or both ?
Pol.
Certainly.
Soc. And therefore to
be unjust and intemperate, and cowardly and ignorant, is more painful than to be
poor and sick ?
Pol. Nay,
Socrates ; the painfulness does not appear to me to follow from your
premises.
Soc. Then, if, as you
would argue, not more painful, the evil of the soul is of all evils the most
disgraceful ; and the excess of disgrace must be caused by some
preternatural greatness, or extraordinary hurtfulness of the
evil.
Pol.
Clearly.
Soc. And that which
exceeds most in hurtfulness will be the greatest of
evils ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. Then injustice and
intemperance, and in general the depravity of the soul, are the greatest of
evils !
Pol. That is
evident.
Soc. Now, what art is
there which delivers us from poverty ? Does not the art of making
money ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. And what art frees
us from disease ? Does not the art of medicine ?
Pol. Very
true.
Soc. And what from vice
and injustice ? If you are not able to answer at once, ask yourself whither
we go with the sick, and to whom we take them.
Pol. To the physicians,
Socrates.
Soc. And to whom do we
go with the unjust and intemperate ?
Pol. To the judges, you
mean.
Soc. — Who are to
punish them ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. And do not those
who rightly punish others, punish them in accordance with a certain rule of
justice ?
Pol.
Clearly.
Soc. Then the art of
money-making frees a man from poverty ; medicine from disease ; and
justice from intemperance and injustice ?
Pol. That is
evident.
Soc. Which, then, is
the best of these three ?
Pol. Will you enumerate
them ?
Soc. Money-making,
medicine, and justice.
Pol. Justice, Socrates,
far excels the two others.
Soc. And justice, if
the best, gives the greatest pleasure or advantage or
both ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. But is the being
healed a pleasant thing, and are those who are being healed
pleased ?
Pol. I think
not.
Soc. A useful thing,
then ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. Yes, because the
patient is delivered from a great evil ; and this is the advantage of
enduring the pain — that you get well ?
Pol.
Certainly.
Soc. And would he be
the happier man in his bodily condition, who is healed, or who never was out of
health ?
Pol. Clearly he who was
never out of health.
Soc. Yes ; for
happiness surely does not consist in being delivered from evils, but in never
having had them.
Pol.
True.
Soc. And suppose the
case of two persons who have some evil in their bodies, and that one of them is
healed and delivered from evil, and another is not healed, but retains the evil
— which of them is the most miserable ?
Pol. Clearly he who is
not healed.
Soc. And was not
punishment said by us to be a deliverance from the greatest of evils, which is
vice ?
Pol.
True.
Soc. And justice
punishes us, and makes us more just, and is the medicine of our
vice ?
Pol. True. Soc.
He, then, has the first place in the scale of happiness who has never had vice
in his soul ; for this has been shown to be the greatest of
evils.
Pol.
Clearly.
Soc. And he has the
second place, who is delivered from vice ?
Pol.
True.
Soc. That is to say, he
who receives admonition and rebuke and punishment ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. Then he lives
worst, who, having been unjust, has no deliverance from
injustice ?
Pol.
Certainly.
Soc. That is, he lives
worst who commits the greatest crimes, and who, being the most unjust of men,
succeeds in escaping rebuke or correction or punishment ; and this, as you
say, has been accomplished by Archelaus and other tyrants and rhetoricians and
potentates ?
Pol.
True.
Soc. May not their way
of proceeding, my friend, be compared to the conduct of a person who is
afflicted with the worst of diseases and yet contrives not to pay the penalty to
the physician for his sins against his constitution, and will not be cured,
because, like a child, he is afraid of the pain of being burned or cut : —
Is not that a parallel case ?
Pol. Yes,
truly.
Soc. He would seem as
if he did not know the nature of health and bodily vigour ; and if we are
right, Polus, in our previous conclusions, they are in a like case who strive to
evade justice, which they see to be painful, but are blind to the advantage
which ensues from it, not knowing how far more miserable a companion a diseased
soul is than a diseased body ; a soul, I say, which is corrupt and
unrighteous and unholy. And hence they do all that they can to avoid punishment
and to avoid being released from the greatest of evils ; they provide
themselves with money and friends, and cultivate to the utmost their powers of
persuasion. But if we, Polus, are right, do you see what follows, or shall we
draw out the consequences in form ?
Pol. If you
please.
Soc. Is it not a fact
that injustice, and the doing of injustice, is the greatest of
evils ?
Pol. That is quite
clear.
Soc. And further, that
to suffer punishment is the way to be released from this
evil ?
Pol.
True.
Soc. And not to suffer,
is to perpetuate the evil ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. To do wrong, then,
is second only in the scale of evils ; but to do wrong and not to be
punished, is first and greatest of all ?
Pol. That is
true.
Soc. Well, and was not
this the point in dispute, my friend ? You deemed Archelaus happy, because
he was a very great criminal and unpunished : I, on the other hand,
maintained that he or any other who like him has done wrong and has not been
punished, is, and ought to be, the most miserable of all men ; and that the
doer of injustice is more miserable than the sufferer ; and he who escapes
punishment, more miserable than he who suffers. — Was not that what I
said ?
Pol.
Yes.
Soc. And it has been
proved to be true ?
Pol.
Certainly.
Soc. Well, Polus, but
if this is true, where is the great use of rhetoric ? If we admit what has
been just now said, every man ought in every way to guard himself against doing
wrong, for he will thereby suffer great evil ?
Pol.
True.
Soc. And if he, or any
one about whom he cares, does wrong, he ought of his own accord to go where he
will be immediately punished ; he will run to the judge, as he would to the
physician, in order that the disease of injustice may not be rendered chronic
and become the incurable cancer of the soul ; must we not allow this
consequence, Polus, if our former admissions are to stand : — is any other
inference consistent with them ?
Pol. To that, Socrates,
there can be but one answer.
Soc. Then rhetoric is
of no use to us, Polus, in helping a man to excuse his own injustice, that of
his parents or friends, or children or country ; but may be of use to any
one who holds that instead of excusing he ought to accuse — himself above all,
and in the next degree his family or any of his friends who may be doing
wrong ; he should bring to light the iniquity and not conceal it, that so
the wrong-doer may suffer and be made whole ; and he should even force
himself and others not to shrink, but with closed eyes like brave men to let the
physician operate with knife or searing iron, not regarding the pain, in the
hope of attaining the good and the honourable ; let him who has done things
worthy of stripes, allow himself to be scourged, if of bonds, to be bound, if of
a fine, to be fined, if of exile, to be exiled, if of death, to die, himself
being the first to accuse himself and his relations, and using rhetoric to this
end, that his and their unjust actions may be made manifest, and that they
themselves may be delivered from injustice, which is the greatest evil. Then,
Polus, rhetoric would indeed be useful. Do you say “Yes” or “No” to
that ?
Pol. To me, Socrates,
what you are saying appears very strange, though probably in agreement with your
premises.
Soc. Is not this the
conclusion, if the premises are not disproven ?
Pol. Yes ; it
certainly is.
Soc. And from the
opposite point of view, if indeed it be our duty to harm another, whether an
enemy or not — I except the case of self-defence — then I have to be upon my
guard — but if my enemy injures a third person, then in every sort of way, by
word as well as deed, I should try to prevent his being punished, or appearing
before the judge ; and if he appears, I should contrive that he should
escape, and not suffer punishment : if he has stolen a sum of money, let
him keep what he has stolen and spend it on him and his, regardless of religion
and justice ; and if he has done things worthy of death, let him not die,
but rather be immortal in his wickedness ; or, if this is not possible, let
him at any rate be allowed to live as long as he can. For such purposes, Polus,
rhetoric may be useful, but is of small if of any use to him who is not
intending to commit injustice ; at least, there was no such use discovered
by us in the previous discussion.
Cal. Tell me,
Chaerephon, is Socrates in earnest, or is he joking ?
Chaer. I should say,
Callicles, that he is in most profound earnest ; but you may well ask
him
Cal. By the gods, and I
will. Tell me, Socrates, are you in earnest, or only in jest ? For if you
are in earnest, and what you say is true, is not the whole of human life turned
upside down ; and are we not doing, as would appear, in everything the
opposite of what we ought to be doing ?
Soc. O Callicles, if
there were not some community of feelings among mankind, however varying in
different persons — I mean to say, if every man’s feelings were peculiar to
himself and were not shared by the rest of his species — I do not see how we
could ever communicate our impressions to one another. I make this remark
because I perceive that you and I have a common feeling. For we are lovers both,
and both of us have two loves apiece : — I am the lover of Alcibiades, the
son of Cleinias — I and of philosophy ; and you of the Athenian Demus, and
of Demus the son of Pyrilampes. Now, I observe that you, with all your
cleverness, do not venture to contradict your favourite in any word or opinion
of his ; but as he changes you change, backwards and forwards. When the
Athenian Demus denies anything that you are saying in the assembly, you go over
to his opinion ; and you do the same with Demus, the fair young son of
Pyrilampes. For you have not the power to resist the words and ideas of your
loves ; and is a person were to express surprise at the strangeness of what
you say from time to time when under their influence, you would probably reply
to him, if you were honest, that you cannot help saying what your loves say
unless they are prevented ; and that you can only be silent when they are.
Now you must understand that my words are an echo too, and therefore you need
not wonder at me ; but if you want to silence me, silence philosophy, who
is my love, for she is always telling me what I am telling you, my friend ;
neither is she capricious like my other love, for the son of Cleinias says one
thing to-day and another thing to-morrow, but philosophy is always true. She is
the teacher at whose words you are. now wondering, and you have heard her
yourself. Her you must refute, and either show, as I was saying, that to do
injustice and to escape punishment is not the worst of all evils ; or, if
you leave her word unrefuted, by the dog the god of Egypt, I declare, O
Callicles, that Callicles will never be at one with himself, but that his whole
life, will be a discord. And yet, my friend, I would rather that my lyre should
be inharmonious, and that there should be no music in the chorus which I
provided ; aye, or that the whole world should be at odds with me, and
oppose me, rather than that I myself should be at odds with myself, and
contradict myself.
Cal. O Socrates, you
are a regular declaimer, and seem to be running riot in the argument. And now
you are declaiming in this way because Polus has fallen into the same error
himself of which he accused Gorgias : — for he said that when Gorgias was
asked by you, whether, if some one came to him who wanted to learn rhetoric, and
did not know justice, he would teach him justice, Gorgias in his modesty replied
that he would, because he thought that mankind in general would be displeased if
he answered “No” ; and then in consequence of this admission, Gorgias was
compelled to contradict himself, that being just the sort of thing in which you
delight. Whereupon Polus laughed at you deservedly, as I think ; but now he
has himself fallen into the same trap. I cannot say very much for his wit when
he conceded to you that to do is more dishonourable than to suffer injustice,
for this was the admission which led to his being entangled by you ; and
because he was too modest to say what he thought, he had his mouth stopped. For
the truth is, Socrates, that you, who pretend to be engaged in the pursuit of
truth, are appealing now to the popular and vulgar notions of right, which are
not natural, but only conventional. Convention and nature are generally at
variance with one another : and hence, if a person is too modest to say
what he thinks, he is compelled to contradict himself ; and you, in your
ingenuity perceiving the advantage to be thereby gained, slyly ask of him who is
arguing conventionally a question which is to be determined by the rule of
nature ; and if he is talking of the rule of nature, you slip away to
custom : as, for instance, you did in this very discussion about doing and
suffering injustice. When Polus was speaking of the conventionally
dishonourable, you assailed him from the point of view of nature ; for by
the rule of nature, to suffer injustice is the greater disgrace because the
greater evil ; but conventionally, to do evil is the more disgraceful. For
the suffering of injustice is hot the part of a man, but of a slave, who indeed
had better die than live ; since when he is wronged and trampled upon, he
is unable to help himself, or any other about whom he cares. The reason, as I
conceive, is that the makers of laws are the majority who are weak ; and
they, make laws and distribute praises and censures with a view to themselves
and to their own interests ; and they : terrify the stronger sort of
men, and those who are able to get the better of them in order that they may not
get the better of them ; and they say, that dishonesty is shameful and
unjust ; meaning, by the word injustice, the desire of a man to have more
than his neighbours ; for knowing their own inferiority, I suspect that
they are too glad of equality. And therefore the endeavour to have more than the
many, is conventionally said to be shameful and unjust, and is called injustice,
whereas nature herself intimates that it is just for the better to have more
than the worse, the more powerful than the weaker ; and in many ways she
shows, among men as well as among animals, and indeed among whole cities and
races, that justice consists in the superior ruling over and having more than
the inferior. For on what principle of justice did Xerxes invade Hellas, or his
father the Scythians ? (not to speak of numberless other examples). Nay,
but these are the men who act according to nature ; yes, by Heaven, and
according to the law of nature : not, perhaps, according to that artificial
law, which we invent and impose upon our fellows, of whom we take the best and
strongest from their youth upwards, and tame them like young lions, — charming
them with the sound of the voice, and saying to them, that with equality they
must be content, and that the equal is the honourable and the just. But if there
were a man who had sufficient force, he would shake off and break through, and
escape from all this ; he would trample under foot all our formulas and
spells and charms, and all our laws which are against nature : the slave
would rise in rebellion and be lord over us, and the light of natural justice
would shine forth. And this I take to be the sentiment of Pindar, when he says
in his poem, that
Law is the king of all, of mortals
as well as of immortals ;
this, as he
says,
Makes might to be right, doing violence with
highest hand ;
As I infer from the deeds of
Heracles, for without buying them
— I do not remember
the exact words, but the meaning is, that without buying them, and without their
being given to him, he carried off the oxen of Geryon, according to the law of
natural right, and that the oxen and other possessions of the weaker and
inferior properly belong to the stronger and superior. And this is true, as you
may ascertain, if you will leave philosophy and go on to higher things :
for philosophy, Socrates, if pursued in moderation and at the proper age, is an
elegant accomplishment, but too much philosophy is the ruin of human life. Even
if a man has good parts, still, if he carries philosophy into later life, he is
necessarily ignorant of all those things which a gentleman and a person of
honour ought to know ; he is inexperienced in the laws of the State, and in
the language which ought to be used in the dealings of man with man, whether
private or public, and utterly ignorant of the pleasures and desires of mankind
and of human character in general. And people of this sort, when they betake
themselves to politics or business, are as ridiculous as I imagine the
politicians to be, when they make their appearance in the arena of philosophy.
For, as Euripides says,
Every man shines in that and pursues
that, and devotes the greatest portion of the day to that in which he most
excels,
but anything in
which he is inferior, he avoids and depreciates, and praises the opposite
partiality to himself, and because he from that he will thus praise himself. The
true principle is to unite them. Philosophy, as a part of education, is an
excellent thing, and there is no disgrace to a man while he is young in pursuing
such a study ; but when he is more advanced in years, the thing becomes
ridiculous, and I feel towards philosophers as I do towards those who lisp and
imitate children. For I love to see a little child, who is not of an age to
speak plainly, lisping at his play ; there is an appearance of grace and
freedom in his utterance, which is natural to his childish years. But when I
hear some small creature carefully articulating its words, I am offended ;
the sound is disagreeable, and has to my ears the twang of slavery. So when I
hear a man lisping, or see him playing like a child, his behaviour appears to me
ridiculous and unmanly and worthy of stripes. And I have the same feeling about
students of philosophy ; when I see a youth thus engaged — the study
appears to me to be in character, and becoming a man of liberal education, and
him who neglects philosophy I regard as an inferior man, who will never aspire
to anything great or noble. But if I see him continuing the study in later life,
and not leaving off, I should like to beat him, Socrates ; for, as I was
saying, such a one, even though he have good natural parts, becomes effeminate.
He flies from the busy centre and the market-place, in which, as the poet says,
men become distinguished ; he creeps into a corner for the rest of his
life, and talks in a whisper with three or four admiring you, but never speaks
out like a freeman in a satisfactory manner. Now I, Socrates, am very well
inclined towards you, and my feeling may be compared with that of Zethus towards
Amphion, in the play of Euripides, whom I was mentioning just now : for I
am disposed to say to you much what Zethus said to his brother, that you,
Socrates, are careless about the things of which you ought to be careful ;
and that you
Who have a soul so noble, are remarkable for a
puerile exterior ;
Neither in a court of justice could
you state a case, or give any reason or proof, offer valiant counsel on
another’s behalf.
And you must not be
offended, my dear Socrates, for I am speaking out of good-will towards you, if I
ask whether you are not ashamed of being thus defenceless ; which I affirm
to be the condition not of you only but of all those who will carry the study of
philosophy too far. For suppose that some one were to take you, or any one of
your sort, off to prison, declaring that you had done wrong when you had done no
wrong, you must allow that you would not know what to do : — there you
would stand giddy and gaping, and not having a word to say ; and when you
went up before the Court, even if the accuser were a poor creature and not good
for much, you would die if he were disposed to claim the penalty of death. And
yet, Socrates, what is the value of
An art which converts a man of sense
into a fool,
who is helpless,
and has no power to save either himself or others, when he is in the greatest
danger and is going to be despoiled by his enemies of all his goods, and has to
live, simply deprived of his rights of citizenship ? — he being a man who,
if I may use the expression, may be boxed on the ears with impunity. Then, my
good friend, take my advice, and refute no more :
Learn the philosophy of business,
and acquire the reputation of wisdom.
But leave to others
these niceties, whether they are to be described as follies or
absurdities :
For they will only
Give you poverty for the inmate of
your dwelling.
Cease, then,
emulating these paltry splitters of words, and emulate only the man of substance
and honour, who is well to do.
Soc. If my soul,
Callicles, were made of gold, should I not rejoice to discover one of those
stones with which they test gold, and the very best possible one to which I
might bring my soul ; and if the stone and I agreed in approving of her
training, then I should know that I was in a satisfactory state, and that no
other test was needed by me.
Cal. What is your
meaning, Socrates ?
Soc. I will tell
you ; I think that I have found in you the desired
touchstone.
Cal.
Why ?
Soc. Because I am sure
that if you agree with me in any of the opinions which my soul forms, I have at
last found the truth indeed. For I consider that if a man is to make a complete
trial of the good or evil of the soul, he ought to have three qualities —
knowledge, good-will, outspokenness, which are all possessed by you. Many whom I
meet are unable to make trial of me, because they are not wise as you are ;
others are wise, but they will not tell me the truth, because they have not the
same interest in me which you have ; and these two strangers, Gorgias and
Polus, are undoubtedly wise men and my very good friends, but they are not
outspoken enough, and they are too modest. Why, their modesty is so great that
they are driven to contradict themselves, first one and then the other of them,
in the face of a large company, on matters of the highest moment. But you have
all the qualities in which these others are deficient, having received an
excellent education ; to this many Athenians can testify. And are my
friend. Shall I tell you why I think so ? I know that you, Callicles, and
Tisander of Aphidnae, and Andron the son of Androtion, and Nausicydes of the
deme of Cholarges, studied together : there were four of you, and I once
heard you advising with one another as to the extent to which the pursuit of
philosophy should be carried, and, as I know, you came to the conclusion that
the study should not be pushed too much into detail. You were cautioning one
another not to be overwise ; you were afraid that too much wisdom might
unconsciously to yourselves be the ruin of you. And now when I hear you giving
the same advice to me which you then gave to your most intimate friends, I have
a sufficient evidence of your real goodwill to me. And of the frankness of your
nature and freedom from modesty I am assured by yourself, and the assurance is
confirmed by your last speech. Well then, the inference in the present case
clearly is, that if you agree with me in an argument about any point, that point
will have been sufficiently tested by us, and will not require to be submitted
to any further test. For you could not have agreed with me, either from lack of
knowledge or from superfluity of modesty, nor yet from a desire to deceive me,
for you are my friend, as you tell me yourself. And therefore when you and I are
agreed, the result will be the attainment of perfect truth. Now there is no
nobler enquiry, Callicles, than that which you censure me for making, — What
ought the character of a man to be, and what his pursuits, and how far is he to
go, both in maturer years and in youth ? For be assured that if I err in my
own conduct I do not err intentionally, but from ignorance. Do not then desist
from advising me, now that you have begun, until I have learned clearly what
this is which I am to practise, and how I may acquire it. And if you find me
assenting to your words, and hereafter not doing that to which I assented, call
me “dolt,” and deem me unworthy of receiving further instruction. Once more,
then, tell me what you and Pindar mean by natural justice : Do you not mean
that the superior should take the property of the inferior by force ; that
the better should rule the worse, the noble have more than the mean ? Am I
not right in my recollection ?
Cal. Yes ; that is
what I was saying, and so I still aver.
Soc. And do you mean by
the better the same as the superior ? for I could not make out what you
were saying at the time — whether you meant by the superior the stronger, and
that the weaker must obey the stronger, as you seemed to imply when you said
that great cities attack small ones in accordance with natural right, because
they are superior and stronger, as though the superior and stronger and better
were the same ; or whether the better may be also the inferior and weaker,
and the superior the worse, or whether better is to be defined in the same way
as superior : this is the point which I want to have cleared up. Are the
superior and better and stronger the same or
different ?
Cal. I say
unequivocally that they are the same.
Soc. Then the many are
by nature to the one, against whom, as you were saying, they make the
laws ?
Cal.
Certainly.
Soc. Then the laws of
the many are the laws of the superior ?
Cal. Very
true.
Soc. Then they are the
laws of the better ; for the superior class are far better, as you were
saying ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And since they are
superior, the laws which are made by them are by nature
good ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And are not the
many of opinion, as you were lately saying, that justice is equality, and that
to do is more disgraceful than to suffer injustice ? — is that so or
not ? Answer, Callicles, and let no modesty be : found to come in the
way ; do the many think, or do they not think thus ? — I must beg of
you to answer, in order that if you agree with me I may fortify myself by the
assent of so competent an authority.
Cal. Yes ; the
opinion of the many is what you say.
Soc. Then not only
custom but nature also affirms that to do is more disgraceful than to suffer
injustice, and that justice is equality ; so that you seem to have been
wrong in your former assertion, when accusing me you said that nature and custom
are opposed, and that I, knowing this, was dishonestly playing between them,
appealing to custom when the argument is about nature, and to nature when the
argument is about custom ?
Cal. This man will
never cease talking nonsense. At your age, Socrates, are you not ashamed to be
catching at words and chuckling over some verbal slip ? do you not see —
have I not told you already, that by superior I mean better : do you
imagine me to say, that if a rabble of slaves and nondescripts, who are of no
use except perhaps for their physical strength, get together their ipsissima
verba are laws ?
Soc. Ho ! my
philosopher, is that your line ?
Cal.
Certainly.
Soc. I was thinking,
Callicles, that something of the kind must have been in your mind, and that is
why I repeated the question — What is the superior ? I wanted to know
clearly what you meant ; for you surely do not think that two men are
better than one, or that your slaves are better than you because they are
stronger ? Then please to begin again, and tell me who the better are, if
they are not the stronger ; and I will ask you, great Sir, to be a little
milder in your instructions, or I shall have to run away from
you.
Cal. You are
ironiCal.
Soc. No, by the hero
Zethus, Callicles, by whose aid you were just now saying many ironical things
against me, I am not : — tell me, then, whom you mean, by the
better ?
Cal. I mean the more
excellent.
Soc. Do you not see
that you are yourself using words which have no meaning and that you are
explaining nothing ? — will you tell me whether you mean by the better and
superior the wiser, or if not, whom ?
Cal. Most assuredly, I
do mean the wiser.
Soc. Then according to
you, one wise man may often be superior to ten thousand fools, and he ought
them, and they ought to be his subjects, and he ought to have more than they
should. This is what I believe that you mean (and you must not suppose that I am
word-catching), if you allow that the one is superior to the ten
thousand ?
Cal. Yes ; that is
what I mean, and that is what I conceive to be natural justice — that the better
and wiser should rule have more than the inferior.
Soc. Stop there, and
let me ask you what you would say in this case : Let us suppose that we are
all together as we are now ; there are several of us, and we have a large
common store of meats and drinks, and there are all sorts of persons in our
company having various degrees of strength and weakness, and one of us, being
physician, is wiser in the matter of food than all the rest, and he is probably
stronger than some and not so strong as others of us — will he not, being wiser,
be also better than we are, and our superior in this matter of
food ?
Cal.
Certainly.
Soc. Either, then, he
will have a larger share of the meats and drinks, because he is better, or he
will have the distribution of all of them by reason of his authority, but he
will not expend or make use of a larger share of them on his own person, or if
he does, he will be punished — his share will exceed that of some, and be less
than that of others, and if he be the weakest of all, he being the best of all
will have the smallest share of all, Callicles : — am I not right, my
friend ?
Cal. You talk about
meats and drinks and physicians and other nonsense ; I am not speaking of
them.
Soc. Well, but do you
admit that the wiser is the better ? Answer “Yes” or
“No.”
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And ought not the
better to have a larger share ?
Cal. Not of meats and
drinks.
Soc. I
understand : then, perhaps, of coats — the skilfullest weaver ought to have
the largest coat, and the greatest number of them, and go about clothed in the
best and finest of them ?
Cal. Fudge about
coats !
Soc. Then the
skilfullest and best in making shoes ought to have the advantage in shoes ;
the shoemaker, clearly, should walk about in the largest shoes, and have the
greatest number of them ?
Cal. Fudge about
shoes ! What nonsense are you talking ?
Soc. Or, if this is not
your meaning, perhaps you would say that the wise and good and true husbandman
should actually have a larger share of seeds, and have as much seed as possible
for his own land ?
Cal. How you go on,
always talking in the same way, Socrates !
Soc. Yes, Callicles,
and also about the same things.
Cal. Yes, by the Gods,
you are literally always talking of cobblers and fullers and cooks and doctors,
as if this had to do with our argument.
Soc. But why will you
not tell me in what a man must be superior and wiser in order to claim a larger
share ; will you neither accept a suggestion, nor offer
one ?
Cal. I have already
told you. In the first place, I mean by superiors not cobblers or cooks, but
wise politicians who understand the administration of a state, and who are not
only wise, but also valiant and able to carry. out their designs, and not the
men to faint from want of soul.
Soc. See now, most
excellent Callicles, how different my charge against you is from that which you
bring against me, for you reproach me with always saying the same ; but I
reproach you with never saying the same about the same things, for at one time
you were defining the better and the superior to be the stronger, then again as
the wiser, and now you bring forward a new notion ; the superior and the
better are now declared by you to be the more courageous : I wish, my good
friend, that you would tell me once for all, whom you affirm to be the better
and superior, and in what they are better ?
Cal. I have already
told you that I mean those who are wise and courageous in the administration of
a state — they ought to be the rulers of their states, and justice consists in
their having more than their subjects.
Soc. But whether rulers
or subjects will they or will they not have more than themselves, my
friend ?
Cal. What do you
mean ?
Soc. I mean that every
man is his own ruler ; but perhaps you think that there is no necessity for
him to rule himself ; he is only required to rule
others ?
Cal. What do you mean
by his “ruling over himself” ?
Soc. A simple thing
enough ; just what is commonly said, that a man should be temperate and
master of himself, and ruler of his own pleasures and
passions.
Cal. What
innocence ! you mean those fools — the
temperate ?
Soc. Certainly : —
any one may know that to be my meaning.
Cal. Quite so,
Socrates ; and they are really fools, for how can a man be happy who is the
servant of anything ? On the contrary, I plainly assert, that he who would
truly live ought to allow his desires to wax to the uttermost, and not to
chastise them ; but when they have grown to their greatest he should have
courage and intelligence to minister to them and to satisfy all his longings.
And this I affirm to be natural justice and nobility. To this however the many
cannot attain ; and they blame the strong man because they are ashamed of
their own weakness, which they desire to conceal, and hence they say that
intemperance is base. As I have remarked already, they enslave the nobler
natures, and being unable to satisfy their pleasures, they praise temperance and
justice out of their own cowardice. For if a man had been originally the son of
a king, or had a nature capable of acquiring an empire or a tyranny or
sovereignty, what could be more truly base or evil than temperance — to a man
like him, I say, who might freely be enjoying every good, and has no one to
stand in his way, and yet has admitted custom and reason and the opinion of
other men to be lords over him ? — must not he be in a miserable plight
whom the reputation of justice and temperance hinders from giving more to his
friends than to his enemies, even though he be a ruler in his city ? Nay,
Socrates, for you profess to be a votary of the truth, and the truth is
this : — that luxury and intemperance and licence, if they be provided with
means, are virtue and happiness — all the rest is a mere bauble, agreements
contrary to nature, foolish talk of men, nothing worth.
Soc. There is a noble
freedom, Callicles, in your way of approaching the argument ; for what you
say is what the rest of the world think, but do not like to say. And I must beg
of you to persevere, that the true rule of human life may become manifest. Tell
me, then : — you say, do you not, that in the rightly-developed man the
passions ought not to be controlled, but that we should let them grow to the
utmost and somehow or other satisfy them, and that this is
virtue ?
Cal. Yes ; I
do.
Soc. Then those who
want nothing are not truly said to be happy ?
Cal. No indeed, for
then stones and dead men would be the happiest of all.
Soc. But surely life
according to your view is an awful thing ; and indeed I think that
Euripides may have been right in saying,
Who knows if life
be not death and death life ; and that we are very likely dead ; I
have heard a philosopher say that at this moment we are actually dead, and that
the body (soma) is our tomb (sema), and that the part of the soul which is the
seat of the desires is liable to be tossed about by words and blown up and
down ; and some ingenious person, probably a Sicilian or an Italian,
playing with the word, invented a tale in which he called the soul — because of
its believing and make-believe nature — a vessel, and the ignorant he called the
uninitiated or leaky, and the place in the souls of the uninitiated in which the
desires are seated, being the intemperate and incontinent part, he compared to a
vessel full of holes, because it can never be satisfied. He is not of your way
of thinking, Callicles, for he declares, that of all the souls in Hades, meaning
the invisible world these uninitiated or leaky persons are the most miserable,
and that they pour water into a vessel which is full of holes out of a colander
which is similarly perforated. The colander, as my informer assures me, is the
soul, and the soul which he compares to a colander is the soul of the ignorant,
which is likewise full of holes, and therefore incontinent, owing to a bad
memory and want of faith. These notions are strange enough, but they show the
principle which, if I can, I would fain prove to you ; that you should
change your mind, and, instead of the intemperate and insatiate life, choose
that which is orderly and sufficient and has a due provision for daily needs. Do
I make any impression on you, and are you coming over to the opinion that the
orderly are happier than the intemperate ? Or do I fail to persuade you,
and, however many tales I rehearse to you, do you continue of the same opinion
still ?
Cal. The latter,
Socrates, is more like the truth.
Soc. Well, I will tell
you another image, which comes out of the same school : — Let me request
you to consider how far you would accept this as an account of the two lives of
the temperate and intemperate in a figure : — There are two men, both of
whom have a number of casks ; the one man has his casks sound and full, one
of wine, another of honey, and a third of milk, besides others filled with other
liquids, and the streams which fill them are few and scanty, and he can only
obtain them with a great deal of toil and difficulty ; but when his casks
are once filled he has need to feed them anymore, and has no further trouble
with them or care about them. The other, in like manner, can procure streams,
though not without difficulty ; but his vessels are leaky and unsound, and
night and day he is compelled to be filling them, and if he pauses for a moment,
he is in an agony of pain. Such are their respective lives : — And now
would you say that the life of the intemperate is happier than that of the
temperate ? Do I not convince you that the opposite is the
truth ?
Cal. You do not
convince me, Socrates, for the one who has filled himself has no longer any
pleasure left ; and this, as I was just now saying, is the life of a
stone : he has neither joy nor sorrow after he is once filled ; but
the pleasure depends on the superabundance of the influx.
Soc. But the more you
pour in, the greater the waste ; and the holes must be large for the liquid
to escape.
Cal.
Certainly.
Soc. The life which you
are now depicting is not that of a dead man, or of a stone, but of a
cormorant ; you mean that he is to be hungering and
eating ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And he is to be
thirsting and drinking ?
Cal. Yes, that is what
I mean ; he is to have all his desires about him, and to be able to live
happily in the gratification of them.
Soc. Capital,
excellent ; go on as you have begun, and have no shame ; I, too, must
disencumber myself of shame : and first, will you tell me whether you
include itching and scratching, provided you have enough of them and pass your
life in scratching, in your notion of happiness ?
Cal. What a strange
being you are, Socrates ! a regular mob-orator.
Soc. That was the
reason, Callicles, why I scared Polus and Gorgias, until they were too modest to
say what they thought ; but you will not be too modest and will not be
scared, for you are a brave man. And now, answer my
question.
Cal. I answer, that
even the scratcher would live pleasantly.
Soc. And if pleasantly,
then also happily ?
Cal. To be
sure.
Soc. But what if the
itching is not confined to the head ? Shall I pursue the question ?
And here, Callicles, I would have you consider how you would reply if
consequences are pressed upon you, especially if in the last resort you are
asked, whether the life of a catamite is not terrible, foul, miserable ? Or
would you venture to say, that they too are happy, if they only get enough of
what they want ?
Cal. Are you not
ashamed, Socrates, of introducing such topics into the
argument ?
Soc. Well, my fine
friend, but am I the introducer of these topics, or he who says without any
qualification that all who feel pleasure in whatever manner are happy, and who
admits of no distinction between good and bad pleasures ? And I would still
ask, whether you say that pleasure and good are the same, or whether there is
some pleasure which is not a good ?
Cal. Well, then, for
the sake of consistency, I will say that they are the
same.
Soc. You are breaking
the original agreement, Callicles, and will no longer be a satisfactory
companion in the search after truth, if you say what is contrary to your real
opinion.
Cal. Why, that is what
you are doing too, Socrates.
Soc. Then we are both
doing wrong. Still, my dear friend, I would ask you to consider whether
pleasure, from whatever source derived, is the good ; for, if this be true,
then the disagreeable consequences which have been darkly intimated must follow,
and many others.
Cal. That, Socrates, is
only your opinion.
Soc. And do you,
Callicles, seriously maintain what you are saying ?
Cal. Indeed I
do.
Soc. Then, as you are
in earnest, shall we proceed with the argument ?
Cal. By all
means.
Soc. Well, if you are
willing to proceed, determine this question for me : — There is something,
I presume, which you would call knowledge ?
Cal. There
is.
Soc. And were you not
saying just now, that some courage implied
knowledge ?
Cal. I
was.
Soc. And you were
speaking of courage and knowledge as two things different from one
another ?
Cal. Certainly I
was.
Soc. And would you say
that pleasure and knowledge are the same, or not the
same ?
Cal. Not the same, O
man of wisdom.
Soc. And would you say
that courage differed from pleasure ?
Cal.
Certainly.
Soc. Well, then, let us
remember that Callicles, the Acharnian, says that pleasure and good are the
same ; but that knowledge and courage are not the same, either with one
another, or with the good.
Cal. And what does our
friend Socrates, of Foxton, say — does he assent to this, or
not ?
Soc. He does not
assent ; neither will Callicles, when he sees himself truly. You will
admit, I suppose, that good and evil fortune are opposed to each
other ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And if they are
opposed to each other, then, like health and disease, they exclude one
another ; a man cannot have them both, or be without them both, at the same
time ?
Cal. What do you
mean ?
Soc. Take the case of
any bodily affection : — a man may have the complaint in his eyes which is
called ophthalmia ?
Cal. To be
sure.
Soc. But he surely
cannot have the same eyes well and sound at the same
time ?
Cal. Certainly
not.
Soc. And when he has
got rid of his ophthalmia, has he got rid of the health of his eyes too ?
Is the final result, that he gets rid of them both
together ?
Cal. Certainly
not.
Soc. That would surely
be marvellous and absurd ?
Cal.
Very.
Soc. I suppose that he
is affected by them, and gets rid of them in turns ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And he may have
strength and weakness in the same way, by fits ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. Or swiftness and
slowness ?
Cal.
Certainly.
Soc. And does he have
and not have good and happiness, and their opposites, evil and misery, in a
similar alternation ?
Cal. Certainly he
has.
Soc. If then there be
anything which a man has and has not at the same time, clearly that cannot be
good and evil — do we agree ? Please not to answer without
consideration.
Cal. I entirely
agree.
Soc. Go back now to our
former admissions. — Did you say that to hunger, I mean the mere state of
hunger, was pleasant or painful ?
Cal. I said painful,
but that to eat when you are hungry is pleasant.
Soc. I know ; but
still the actual hunger is painful : am I not
right ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And thirst, too,
is painful ?
Cal. Yes,
very.
Soc. Need I adduce any
more instances, or would you agree that all wants or desires are
painful ?
Cal. I agree, and
therefore you need not adduce any more instances.
Soc. Very good. And you
would admit that to drink, when you are thirsty, is
pleasant ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And in the
sentence which you have just uttered, the word “thirsty” implies
pain ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And the word
“drinking” is expressive of pleasure, and of the satisfaction of the
want ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. There is pleasure
in drinking ?
Cal.
Certainly.
Soc. When you are
thirsty ?
Soc. And in
pain ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. Do you see the
inference : — that pleasure and pain are simultaneous, when you say that
being thirsty, you drink ? For are they not simultaneous, and do they not
affect at the same time the same part, whether of the soul or the body ? —
which of them is affected cannot be supposed to be of any consequence : Is
not this true ?
Cal. It
is.
Soc. You said also,
that no man could have good and evil fortune at the same
time ?
Cal. Yes, I
did.
Soc. But, you admitted
that when in pain a man might also have pleasure ?
Cal.
Clearly.
Soc. Then pleasure is
not the same as good fortune, or pain the same as evil fortune, and therefore
the good is not the same as the pleasant ?
Cal. I wish I knew,
Socrates, what your quibbling means.
Soc. You know,
Callicles, but you affect not to know.
Cal. Well, get on, and
don’t keep fooling : then you will know what a wiseacre you are in your
admonition of me.
Soc. Does not a man
cease from his thirst and from his pleasure in drinking at the same
time ?
Cal. I do not
understand what you are saying.
Gor. Nay, Callicles,
answer, if only for our sakes ; — we should like to hear the argument
out.
Cal. Yes, Gorgias, but
I must complain of the habitual trifling of Socrates ; he is always arguing
about little and unworthy questions.
Gor. What matter ?
Your reputation, Callicles, is not at stake. Let Socrates argue in his own
fashion.
Cal. Well, then,
Socrates, you shall ask these little peddling questions, since Gorgias wishes to
have them.
Soc. I envy you,
Callicles, for having been initiated into the great mysteries before you were
initiated into the lesser. I thought that this was not allowable, But to return
to our argument : — Does not a man cease from thirsting and from pleasure
of drinking at the same moment ?
Cal.
True.
Soc. And if he is
hungry, or has any other desire, does he not cease from the desire and the
pleasure at the same moment ?
Cal. Very
true.
Soc. Then he ceases
from pain and pleasure at the same moment ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. But he does not
cease from good and evil at the same moment, as you have admitted : do you
still adhere to what you said ?
Cal. Yes, I do ;
but what is the inference ?
Soc. Why, my friend,
the inference is that the good is not the same as the pleasant, or the evil the
same as the painful ; there is a cessation of pleasure and pain at the same
moment ; but not of good and evil, for they are different. How then can
pleasure be the same as good, or pain as evil ? And I would have you look
at the matter in another light, which could hardly, I think, have been
considered by you identified them : Are not the good they have good present
with them, as the beautiful are those who have beauty present with
them ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And do you call
the fools and cowards good men ? For you were saying just now that the
courageous and the wise are the good would you not say
so ?
Cal.
Certainly.
Soc. And did you never
see a foolish child rejoicing ?
Cal. Yes, I
have.
Soc. And a foolish man
too ?
Cal. Yes,
certainly ; but what is your drift ?
Soc. Nothing
particular, if you will only answer.
Cal. Yes, I
have.
Soc. And did you ever
see a sensible man rejoicing or sorrowing ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. Which rejoice and
sorrow most — the wise or the foolish ?
Cal. They are much upon
a par, I think, in that respect.
Soc. Enough : And
did you ever see a coward in battle ?
Cal. To be
sure.
Soc. And which rejoiced
most at the departure of the enemy, the coward or the
brave ?
Cal. I should say
“most” of both ; or at any rate, they rejoiced about
equally.
Soc. No matter ;
then the cowards, and not only the brave, rejoice ?
Cal.
Greatly.
Soc. And the
foolish ; so it would seem ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And are only the
cowards pained at the approach of their enemies, or are the brave also
pained ?
Cal. Both are
pained.
Soc. And are they
equally pained ?
Cal. I should imagine
that the cowards are more pained.
Soc. And are they
better pleased at the enemy’s departure ?
Cal. I dare
say.
Soc. Then are the
foolish and the wise and the cowards and the brave all pleased and pained, as
you were saying, in nearly equal degree ; but are the cowards more pleased
and pained than the brave ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. But surely the
wise and brave are the good, and the foolish and the cowardly are the
bad ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. Then the good and
the bad are pleased and pained in a nearly equal
degree ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. Then are the good
and bad good and bad in a nearly equal degree, or have the bad the advantage
both in good and evil ? [i.e. in having more pleasure and more
pain.]
Cal I really do not
know what you mean.
Soc. Why, do you not
remember saying that the good were good because good was present with them, and
the evil because evil ; and that pleasures were goods and pains
evils ?
Cal. Yes, I
remember.
Soc. And are not these
pleasures or goods present to those who rejoice — if they do
rejoice ?
Cal.
Certainly.
Soc. Then those who
rejoice are good when goods are present with them ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And those who are
in pain have evil or sorrow present with them ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And would you
still say that the evil are evil by reason of the presence of
evil ?
Cal. I
should.
Soc. Then those who
rejoice are good, and those who are in pain evil ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. The degrees of
good and evil vary with the degrees of pleasure and of
pain ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. Have the wise man
and the fool, the brave and the coward, joy and pain in nearly equal
degrees ? or would you say that the coward has
more ?
Cal. I should say that
he has.
Soc. Help me then to
draw out the conclusion which follows from our admissions ; for it is good
to repeat and review what is good twice and thrice over, as they say. Both the
wise man and the brave man we allow to be good ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And the foolish
man and the coward to be evil ?
Cal.
Certainly.
Soc. And he who has joy
is good ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And he who is in
pain is evil ?
Cal.
Certainly.
Soc. The good and evil
both have joy and pain, but, perhaps, the evil has more of
them ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. Then must we not
infer, that the bad man is as good and bad as the good, or, perhaps, even
better ? — is not this a further inference which follows equally with the
preceding from the assertion that the good and the pleasant are the same :
— can this be denied, Callicles ?
Cal. I have been
listening and making admissions to you, Socrates ; and I remark that if a
person grants you anything in play, you, like a child, want to keep hold and
will not give it back. But do you really suppose that I or any other human being
denies that some pleasures are good and others bad ?
Soc. Alas, Callicles,
how unfair you are ! you certainly treat me as if I were a child, sometimes
saying one thing, and then another, as if you were meaning to deceive me. And
yet I thought at first that you were my friend, and would not have deceived me
if you could have helped. But I see that I was mistaken ; and now I suppose
that I must make the best of a bad business, as they said of old, and take what
I can get out of you. — Well, then, as I understand you to say, I may assume
that some pleasures are good and others evil ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. The beneficial are
good, and the hurtful are evil ?
Cal. To be
sure.
Soc. And the beneficial
are those which do some good, and the hurtful are those which do some
evil ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. Take, for example,
the bodily pleasures of eating and drinking, which were just now mentioning —
you mean to say that those which promote health, or any other bodily excellence,
are good, and their opposites evil ?
Cal.
Certainly.
Soc. And in the same
way there are good pains and there are evil pains ?
Cal. To be
sure.
Soc. And ought we not
to choose and use the good pleasures and pains ?
Cal.
Certainly.
Soc. But not the
evil ?
Cal.
Clearly.
Soc. Because, if you
remember, Polus and I have agreed that all our actions are to be done for the
sake of the good — and will you agree with us in saying, that the good is the
end of all our actions, and that all our actions are to be done for the sake of
the good, and not the good, for of them ? — will you add a third vote to
our two ?
Cal. I
will.
Soc. Then pleasure,
like everything else, is to be sought for the sake of that which is good, and
not that which is good for the sake of pleasure ?
Cal. To be
sure.
Soc. But can every man
choose what pleasures are good and what are evil, or must he have art or
knowledge of them in detail ?
Cal. He must have
art.
Soc. Let me now remind
you of what I was saying to Gorgias and Polus ; I was saying, as you will
not have forgotten, that there were some processes which aim only at pleasure,
and know nothing of a better and worse, and there are other processes which know
good and evil. And I considered that cookery, which I do not call an art, but
only an experience, was of the former class, which is concerned with pleasure,
and that the art of medicine was of the class which is concerned with the good.
And now, by the god of friendship, I must beg you, Callicles, not to jest, or to
imagine that I am jesting with you ; do not answer at random and contrary
to your real opinion — for you will observe that we are arguing about the way of
human life ; and to a man who has any sense at all, what question can be
more serious than this ? — whether he should follow after that way of life
to which you exhort me, and act what you call the manly part of speaking in the
assembly, and cultivating rhetoric, and engaging in public affairs, according to
the principles now in vogue ; or whether he should pursue the life of
philosophy — and in what the latter way differs from the former. But perhaps we
had better first try to distinguish them, as I did before, and when we have come
to an agreement that they are distinct, we may proceed to consider in what they
differ from one another, and which of them we should choose. Perhaps, however,
you do not even now understand what I mean ?
Cal. No, I do
not.
Soc. Then I will
explain myself more clearly : seeing that you and I have agreed that there
is such a thing as good, and that there is such a thing as pleasure, and that
pleasure is not the same as good, and that the pursuit and process of
acquisition of the one, that is pleasure, is different from the pursuit and
process of acquisition of the other, which is good — I wish that you would tell
me whether you agree with me thus far or not — do you
agree ?
Cal. I
do.
Soc. Then I will
proceed, and ask whether you also agree with me, and whether you think that I
spoke the truth when I further said to Gorgias and Polus that cookery in my
opinion is only an experience, and not an art at all ; and that whereas
medicine is an art, and attends to the nature and constitution of the patient,
and has principles of action and reason in each case, cookery in attending upon
pleasure never regards either the nature or reason of that pleasure to which she
devotes herself, but goes straight to her end, nor ever considers or calculates
anything, but works by experience and routine, and just preserves the
recollection of what she has usually done when producing pleasure. And first, I
would have you consider whether I have proved what I was saying, and then
whether there are not other similar processes which have to do with the soul —
some of them processes of art, making a provision for the soul’s highest
interest — others despising the interest, and, as in the previous case,
considering only the pleasure of the soul, and how this may be acquired, but not
considering what pleasures are good or bad, and having no other aim but to
afford gratification, whether good or bad. In my opinion, Callicles, there are
such processes, and this is the sort of thing which I term flattery, whether
concerned with the body or the soul, or whenever employed with a view to
pleasure and without any consideration of good and evil. And now I wish that you
would tell me whether you agree with us in this notion, or whether you
differ.
Cal. I do not
differ ; on the contrary, I agree ; for in that way I shall soonest
bring the argument to an end, and shall oblige my friend
Gorgias.
Soc. And is this notion
true of one soul, or of two or more ?
Cal. Equally true of
two or more.
Soc. Then a man may
delight a whole assembly, and yet have no regard for their true
interests ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. Can you tell me
the pursuits which delight mankind — or rather, if you would prefer, let me ask,
and do you answer, which of them belong to the pleasurable class, and which of
them not ? In the first place, what say you of flute-playing ? Does
not that appear to be an art which seeks only pleasure, Callicles, and thinks of
nothing else ?
Cal. I
assent.
Soc. And is not the
same true of all similar arts, as, for example, the art of playing the lyre at
festivals ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And what do you
say of the choral art and of dithyrambic poetry ? — are not they of the
same nature ? Do you imagine that Cinesias the son of Meles cares about
what will tend to the moral improvement of his hearers, or about what will give
pleasure to the multitude ?
Cal. There can be no
mistake about Cinesias, Socrates.
Soc. And what do you
say of his father, Meles the harp-player ? Did he perform with any view to
the good of his hearers ? Could he be said to regard even their
pleasure ? For his singing was an infliction to his audience. And of harp
playing and dithyrambic poetry in general, what would you say ? Have they
not been invented wholly for the sake of pleasure ?
Cal. That is my notion
of them.
Soc. And as for the
Muse of Tragedy, that solemn and august personage — what are her
aspirations ? Is all her aim and desire only to give pleasure to the
spectators, or does she fight against them and refuse to speak of their pleasant
vices, and willingly proclaim in word and song truths welcome and
unwelcome ? — which in your judgment is her
character ?
Cal. There can be no
doubt, Socrates, that Tragedy has her face turned towards pleasure and the
gratification of the audience.
Soc. And is not that
the sort of thing, Callicles, which we were just now describing as
flattery ?
Cal. Quite
true.
Soc. Well now, suppose
that we strip all poetry of song and rhythm and metre, there will remain
speech ?
Cal. To be
sure.
Soc. And this speech is
addressed to a crowd of people ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. Then, poetry is a
sort of rhetoric ?
Cal.
True.
Soc. And do not the
poets in the theatres seem to you to be
rhetoricians ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. Then now we have
discovered a sort of rhetoric which is addressed to a crowd of men, women, and
children, freemen and slaves. And this is not much to our taste, for we have
described it as having the nature of flattery.
Cal. Quite
true.
Soc. Very good. And
what do you say of that other rhetoric which addresses the Athenian assembly and
the assemblies of freemen in other states ? Do the rhetoricians appear to
you always to aim at what is best, and do they seek to improve the citizens by
their speeches, or are they too, like the rest of mankind, bent upon giving them
pleasure, forgetting the public good in the thought of their own interest,
playing with the people as with children, and trying to amuse them, but never
considering whether they are better or worse for
this ?
Cal. I must
distinguish. There are some who have a real care of the public in what they say,
while others are such as you describe.
Soc. I am contented
with the admission that rhetoric is of two sorts ; one, which is mere
flattery and disgraceful declamation ; the other, which is noble and aims
at the training and improvement of the souls of the citizens, and strives to say
what is best, whether welcome or unwelcome, to the audience ; but have you
ever known such a rhetoric ; or if you have, and can point out any
rhetorician who is of this stamp, who is he ?
Cal. But, indeed, I am
afraid that I cannot tell you of any such among the orators who are at present
living.
Soc. Well, then, can
you mention any one of a former generation, who may be said to have improved the
Athenians, who found them worse and made them better, from the day that he began
to make speeches ? for, indeed, I do not know of such a
man.
Cal. What ! did
you never hear that Themistocles was a good man, and Cimon and Miltiades and
Pericles, who is just lately dead, and whom you heard
yourself ?
Soc. Yes, Callicles,
they were good men, if, as you said at first, true virtue consists only in the
satisfaction of our own desires and those of others ; but if not, and if,
as we were afterwards compelled to acknowledge, the satisfaction of some desires
makes us better, and of others, worse, and we ought to gratify the one and not
the other, and there is an art in distinguishing them — can you tell me of any
of these statesmen who did distinguish them ?
Cal. No, indeed, I
cannot.
Soc. Yet, surely,
Callicles, if you look you will find such a one. Suppose that we just calmly
consider whether any of these was such as I have described. Will not the good
man, who says whatever he says with a view to the best, speak with a reference
to some standard and not at random ; just as all other artists, whether the
painter, the builder, the shipwright, or any other look all of them to their own
work, and do not select and apply at random what they apply, but strive to give
a definite form to it ? The artist disposes all things in order, and
compels the one part to harmonize and accord with the other part, until he has
constructed a regular and systematic whole ; and this is true of all
artists, and in the same way the trainers and physicians, of whom we spoke
before, give order and regularity to the body : do you deny
this ?
Cal. No ; I am
ready to admit it.
Soc. Then the house in
which order and regularity prevail is good, that in which there is disorder,
evil ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And the same is
true of a ship ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And the same may
be said of the human body ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And what would you
say of the soul ? Will the good soul be that in which disorder is
prevalent, or that in which there is harmony and
order ?
Cal. The latter follows
from our previous admissions.
Soc. What is the name
which is given to the effect of harmony and order in the
body ?
Cal. I suppose that you
mean health and strength ?
Soc. Yes, I do ;
and what is the name which you would give to the effect of harmony and order in
the soul ? Try and discover a name for this as well as for the
other.
Cal. Why not give the
name yourself, Socrates ?
Soc. Well, if you had
rather that I should, I will ; and you shall say whether you agree with me,
and if not, you shall refute and answer me. “Healthy,” as I conceive, is the
name which is given to the regular order of the body, whence comes health and
every other bodily excellence : is that true or
not ?
Cal.
True.
Soc. And “lawful” and
“law” are the names which are given to the regular order and action of the soul,
and these make men lawful and orderly : — and so we have temperance and
justice : have we not ?
Cal.
Granted.
Soc. And will not the
true rhetorician who is honest and understands his art have his eye fixed upon
these, in all the words which he addresses to the souls of men, and in all his
actions, both in what he gives and in what he takes away ? Will not his aim
be to implant justice in the souls of his citizens mind take away injustice, to
implant temperance and take away intemperance, to implant every virtue and take
away every vice ? Do you not agree ?
Cal. I
agree.
Soc. For what use is
there, Callicles, in giving to the body of a sick man who is in a bad state of
health a quantity of the most delightful food or drink or any other pleasant
thing, which may be really as bad for him as if you gave him nothing, or even
worse if rightly estimated. Is not that true ?
Cal. I will not say No
to it.
Soc. For in my opinion
there is no profit in a man’s life if his body is in an evil plight — in that
case his life also is evil : am I not right ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. When a man is in
health the physicians will generally allow him to eat when he is hungry and
drink when he is thirsty, and to satisfy his desires as he likes, but when he is
sick they hardly suffer him to satisfy his desires at all : even you will
admit that ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And does not the
same argument hold of the soul, my good sir ? While she is in a bad state
and is senseless and intemperate and unjust and unholy, her desires ought to be
controlled, and she ought to be prevented from doing anything which does not
tend to her own improvement.
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. Such treatment
will be better for the soul herself ? Cal. To be
sure.
Soc. And to restrain
her from her appetites is to chastise her ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. Then restraint or
chastisement is better for the soul than intemperance or the absence of control,
which you were just now preferring ?
Cal. I do not
understand you, Socrates, and I wish that you would ask some one who
does.
Soc. Here is a
gentleman who cannot endure to be improved or : to subject himself to that
very chastisement of which the argument speaks !
Cal. I do not heed a
word of what you are saying, and have only answered hitherto out of civility to
Gorgias.
Soc. What are we to do,
then ? Shall we break off in the middle ?
Cal. You shall judge
for yourself.
Soc. Well, but people
say that “a tale should have a head and not break off in the middle,” and I
should not like to have the argument going about without a head ; please
then to go on a little longer, and put the head on.
Cal. How tyrannical you
are, Socrates ! I wish that you and your argument would rest, or that you
would get some one else to argue with you.
Soc. But who else is
willing ? — I want to finish the argument.
Cal. Cannot you finish
without my help, either talking straight : on, or questioning and answering
yourself ?
Soc. Must I then say
with Epicharmus, “Two men spoke before, but now one shall be enough” ? I
suppose that there is absolutely no help. And if I am to carry on the enquiry by
myself, I will first of all remark that not only, but all of us should have an
ambition to know what is true and what is false in this matter, for the
discovery of the truth is common good. And now I will proceed to argue according
to my own notion. But if any of you think that I arrive at conclusions which are
untrue you must interpose and refute me, for I do not speak from any knowledge
of what I am saying ; I am an enquirer like yourselves, and therefore, if
my opponent says anything which is of force, I shall be the first to agree with
him. I am speaking on the supposition that the argument ought to be
completed ; but if you think otherwise let us leave off and go our
ways.
Gor. I think, Socrates,
that we should not go our ways until you have completed the argument ; and
this appears to me to be the wish of the rest of the company ; I myself
should very much like to hear what more you have to say.
Soc. I too, Gorgias,
should have liked to continue the argument with Callicles, and then I might have
given him an “Amphion” in return for his “Zethus” ; but since you,
Callicles, are unwilling to continue, I hope that you will listen, and interrupt
me if I seem to you to be in error. And if you refute me, I shall not be angry
with you as you are with me, but I shall inscribe you as the greatest of
benefactors on the tablets of my soul.
Cal. My good fellow,
never mind me, but get on.
Soc. Listen to me,
then, while I recapitulate the argument : — Is the pleasant the same as the
good ? Not the same. Callicles and I are agreed about that. And is the
pleasant to be pursued for the sake of the good ? or the good for the sake
of the pleasant ? The pleasant is to be pursued for the sake of the good.
And that is pleasant at the presence of which we are pleased, and that is good
at the presence of which we are good ? To be sure. And we — good, and all
good things whatever are good when some virtue is present in us or them ?
That, Callicles, is my conviction. But the virtue of each thing, whether body or
soul, instrument or creature, when given to them in the best way comes to them
not by chance but as the result of the order and truth and art which are
imparted to them : Am I not right ? I maintain that I am. And is not
the virtue of each thing dependent on order or arrangement ? Yes, I say.
And that which makes a thing good is the proper order inhering in each
thing ? Such is my view. And is not the soul which has an order of her own
better than that which has no order ? Certainly. And the soul which has
order is orderly ? Of course. And that which is orderly is temperate ?
Assuredly. And the temperate soul is good ? No other answer can I give,
Callicles dear ; have you any ?
Cal. Go on, my good
fellow.
Soc. Then I shall
proceed to add, that if the, temperate soul is the good soul, the soul which is
in the opposite condition, that is, the foolish and intemperate, is the bad
soul. Very true.
And will not the
temperate man do what is proper, both in relation to the gods and to men ;
— for he would not be temperate if he did not ? Certainly he will do what
is proper. In his relation to other men he will do what is just ; See and
in his relation to the gods he will do what is holy ; and he who does what
is just and holy must be just and holy ? Very true. And must he not be
courageous ? for the duty of a temperate man is not to follow or to avoid
what he ought not, but what he ought, whether things or men or pleasures or
pains, and patiently to endure when he ought ; and therefore, Callicles,
the temperate man, being, as we have described, also just and courageous and
holy, cannot be other than a perfectly good man, nor can the good man do
otherwise than well and perfectly whatever he does ; and he who does well
must of necessity be happy and blessed, and the evil man who does evil,
miserable : now this latter is he whom you were applauding — the
intemperate who is the opposite of the temperate. Such is my position, and these
things I affirm to be true. And if they are true, then I further affirm that he
who desires to be happy must pursue and practise temperance and run away from
intemperance as fast as his legs will carry him : he had better order his
life so as not to need punishment ; but if either he or any of his friends,
whether private individual or city, are in need of punishment, then justice must
be done and he must suffer punishment, if he would be happy. This appears to me
to be the aim which a man ought to have, and towards which he ought to direct
all the energies both of himself and of the state, acting so that he may have
temperance and justice present with him and be happy, not suffering his lusts to
be unrestrained, and in the never-ending desire satisfy them leading a robber’s
life. Such ; one is the friend neither of God nor man, for he is incapable
of communion, and he who is incapable of communion is also incapable of
friendship. And philosophers tell us, Callicles, that communion and friendship
and orderliness and temperance and justice bind together heaven and earth and
gods and men, and that this universe is therefore called Cosmos or order, not
disorder or misrule, my friend. But although you are a philosopher you seem to
me never to have observed that geometrical equality is mighty, both among gods
and men ; you think that you ought to cultivate inequality or excess, and
do not care about geometry. — Well, then, either the principle that the happy
are made happy by the possession of justice and temperance, and the miserable
the possession of vice, must be refuted, or, if it is granted, what will be the
consequences ? All the consequences which I drew before, Callicles, and
about which you asked me whether I was in earnest when I said that a man ought
to accuse himself and his son and his friend if he did anything wrong, and that
to this end he should use his rhetoric — all those consequences are true. And
that which you thought that Polus was led to admit out of modesty is true, viz.,
that, to do injustice, if more disgraceful than to suffer, is in that degree
worse ; and the other position, which, according to Polus, Gorgias admitted
out of modesty, that he who would truly be a rhetorician ought to be just and
have a knowledge of justice, has also turned out to be
true.
And now, these
things being as we have said, let us proceed in the next place to consider
whether you are right in throwing in my teeth that I am unable to help myself or
any of my friends or kinsmen, or to save them in the extremity of danger, and
that I am in the power of another like an outlaw to whom anyone may do what he
likes — he may box my ears, which was a brave saying of yours ; or take
away my goods or banish me, or even do his worst and kill me ; a condition
which, as you say, is the height of disgrace. My answer to you is one which has
been already often repeated, but may as well be repeated once more. I tell you,
Callicles, that to be boxed on the ears wrongfully is not the worst evil which
can befall a man, nor to have my purse or my body cut open, but that to smite
and slay me and mine wrongfully is far more disgraceful and more evil ;
aye, and to despoil and enslave and pillage, or in any way at all to wrong me
and mine, is far more disgraceful and evil to the doer of the wrong than to me
who am the sufferer. These truths, which have been already set forth as I state
them in the previous discussion, would seem now to have been fixed and riveted
by us, if I may use an expression which is certainly bold, in words which are
like bonds of iron and adamant ; and unless you or some other still more
enterprising hero shall break them, there is no possibility of denying what I
say. For my position has always been, that I myself am ignorant how these things
are, but that I have never met any one who could say otherwise, any more than
you can, and not appear ridiculous. This is my position still, and if what I am
saying is true, and injustice is the greatest of evils to the doer of injustice,
and yet there is if possible a greater than this greatest of evils, in an unjust
man not suffering retribution, what is that defence of which the want will make
a man truly ridiculous ? Must not the defence be one which will avert the
greatest of human evils ? And will not worst of all defences be that with
which a man is unable to defend himself or his family or his friends ? —
and next will come that which is unable to avert the next greatest evil ;
thirdly that which is unable to avert the third greatest evil ; and so of
other evils. As is the greatness of evil so is the honour of being able to avert
them in their several degrees, and the disgrace of not being able to avert them.
Am I not right Callicles ?
Cal. Yes, quite
right.
Soc. Seeing then that
there are these two evils, the doing injustice and the suffering injustice — and
we affirm that to do injustice is a greater, and to suffer injustice a lesser
evil — by what devices can a man succeed in obtaining the two advantages, the
one of not doing and the other of not suffering injustice ? must he have
the power, or only the will to obtain them ? I mean to ask whether a man
will escape injustice if he has only the will to escape, or must he have
provided himself with the power ?
Cal. He must have
provided himself with the power ; that is clear.
Soc. And what do you
say of doing injustice ? Is the will only sufficient, and will that prevent
him from doing injustice, or must he have provided himself with power and
art ; and if he has not studied and practised, will he be unjust
still ? Surely you might say, Callicles, whether you think that Polus and I
were right in admitting the conclusion that no one does wrong voluntarily, but
that all do wrong against their will ?
Cal. Granted, Socrates,
if you will only have done.
Soc. Then, as would
appear, power and art have to be provided in order that we may do no
injustice ?
Cal.
Certainly.
Soc. And what art will
protect us from suffering injustice, if not wholly, yet as far as
possible ? I want to know whether you agree with me ; for I think that
such an art is the art of one who is either a ruler or even tyrant himself, or
the equal and companion of the ruling power.
Cal. Well said,
Socrates ; and please to observe how ready I am to praise you when you talk
sense.
Soc. Think and tell me
whether you would approve of another view of mine : To me every man appears
to be most the friend of him who is most like to him — like to like, as ancient
sages say : Would you not agree to this ?
Cal. I
should.
Soc. But when the
tyrant is rude and uneducated, he may be expected to fear any one who is his
superior in virtue, and will never be able to be perfectly friendly with
him.
Cal. That is
true.
Soc. Neither will he be
the friend of any one who greatly his inferior, for the tyrant will despise him,
and will never seriously regard him as a friend.
Cal. That again is
true.
Soc. Then the only
friend worth mentioning, whom the tyrant can have, will be one who is of the
same character, and has the same likes and dislikes, and is at the same time
willing to be subject and subservient to him ; he is the man who will have
power in the state, and no one will injure him with impunity : — is not
that so ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And if a young man
begins to ask how he may become great and formidable, this would seem to be the
way — he will accustom himself, from his youth upward, to feel sorrow and joy
on, the same occasions as his master, and will contrive to be as like him as
possible ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And in this way he
will have accomplished, as you and your friends would. say, the end of becoming
a great man and not suffering injury ?
Cal. Very
true.
Soc. But will he also
escape from doing injury ? Must not the very opposite be true, — if he is
to be like the tyrant in his injustice, and to have influence with him ?
Will he not rather contrive to do as much wrong as possible, and not be
punished ?
Cal.
True.
Soc. And by the
imitation of his master and by the power which he thus acquires will not his
soul become bad and corrupted, and will not this be the greatest evil to
him ?
Cal. You always
contrive somehow or other, Socrates, to invert everything : do you not know
that he who imitates the tyrant will, if he has a mind, kill him who does not
imitate him and take away his goods ?
Soc. Excellent
Callicles, I am not deaf, and I have heard that a great many times from you and
from Polus and from nearly every man in the city, but I wish that you would hear
me too. I dare say that he will kill him if he has a mind — the bad man will
kill the good and true.
Cal. And is not that
just the provoking thing ?
Soc. Nay, not to a man
of sense, as the argument shows : do you think that all our cares should be
directed to prolonging life to the uttermost, and to the study of those arts
which secure us from danger always ; like that art of rhetoric which saves
men in courts of law, and which you advise me to
cultivate ?
Cal. Yes, truly, and
very good advice too.
Soc. Well, my friend,
but what do you think of swimming ; is that an art of any great
pretensions ?
Cal. No,
indeed.
Soc. And yet surely
swimming saves a man from death, there are occasions on which he must know how
to swim. And if you despise the swimmers, I will tell you of another and greater
art, the art of the pilot, who not only saves the souls of men, but also their
bodies and properties from the extremity of danger, just like rhetoric. Yet his
art is modest and unpresuming : it has no airs or pretences of doing
anything extraordinary, and, in return for the same salvation which is given by
the pleader, demands only two obols, if he brings us from Aegina to Athens, or
for the longer voyage from Pontus or Egypt, at the utmost two drachmae, when he
has saved, as I was just now saying, the passenger and his wife and children and
goods, and safely disembarked them at the Piraeus — this is the payment which he
asks in return for so great a boon ; and he who is the master of the art,
and has done all this, gets out and walks about on the sea-shore by his ship in
an unassuming way. For he is able to reflect and is aware that he cannot tell
which of his fellow-passengers he has benefited, and which of them he has
injured in not allowing them to be drowned. He knows that they are just the same
when he has disembarked them as when they embarked, and not a whit better either
in their bodies or in their souls ; and he considers that if a man who is
afflicted by great and incurable bodily diseases is only to be pitied for having
escaped, and is in no way benefited by him in having been saved from drowning,
much less he who has great and incurable diseases, not of the body, but of the
soul, which is the more valuable part of him ; neither is life worth having
nor of any profit to the bad man, whether he be delivered from the sea, or the
law-courts, or any other devourer — and so he reflects that such a one had
better not live, for he cannot live well.
And this is the
reason why the pilot, although he is our saviour, is not usually conceited, any
more than the engineer, who is not at all behind either the general, or the
pilot, or any one else, in his saving power, for he sometimes saves whole
cities. Is there any comparison between him and the pleader ? And if he
were to talk, Callicles, in your grandiose style, he would bury you under a
mountain of words, declaring and insisting that we ought all of us to be
engine-makers, and that no other profession is worth thinking about ; he
would have plenty to say. Nevertheless you despise him and his art, and
sneeringly call him an engine-maker, and you will not allow your daughters to
marry his son, or marry your son to his daughters. And yet, on your principle,
what justice or reason is there in your refusal ? What right have you to
despise the engine-maker, and the others whom I was just now mentioning ? I
know that you will say, “I am better, better born.” But if the better is not
what I say, and virtue consists only in a man saving himself and his, whatever
may be his character, then your censure of the engine-maker, and of the
physician, and of the other arts of salvation, is ridiculous. O my friend !
I want you to see that the noble and the good may possibly be something
different from saving and being saved : — May not he who is truly a man
cease to care about living a certain time ? — he knows, as women say, that
no man can escape fate, and therefore he is not fond of life ; he leaves
all that with God, and considers in what way he can best spend his appointed
term — whether by assimilating himself to the constitution under which he lives,
as you at this moment have to consider how you may become as like as possible to
the Athenian people, if you mean to be in their good graces, and to have power
in the state ; whereas I want you to think and see whether this is for the
interest of either of us — I would not have us risk that which is dearest on the
acquisition of this power, like the Thessalian enchantresses, who, as they say,
bring down the moon from heaven at the risk of their own perdition. But if you
suppose that any man will show you the art of becoming great in the city, and
yet not conforming yourself to the ways of the city, whether for better or
worse, then I can only say that you are mistaken, Callides ; for he who
would deserve to be the true natural friend of the Athenian Demus, aye, or of
Pyrilampes’ darling who is called after them, must be by nature like them, and
not an imitator only. He, then, who will make you most like them, will make you
as you desire, a statesman and orator : for every man is pleased when he is
spoken to in his own language and spirit, and dislikes any other. But perhaps
you, sweet Callicles, may be of another mind. What do you
say ?
Cal. Somehow or other
your words, Socrates, always appear to me to be good words ; and yet, like
the rest of the world, I am not quite convinced by them.
Soc. The reason is,
Callicles, that the love of Demus which abides in your soul is an adversary to
me ; but I dare say that if we recur to these same matters, and consider
them more thoroughly, you may be convinced for all that. Please, then, to
remember that there are two processes of training all things, including body and
soul ; in the one, as we said, we treat them with a view to pleasure, and
in the other with a view to the highest good, and then we do not indulge but
resist them : was not that the distinction which we
drew ?
Cal. Very
true.
Soc. And the one which
had pleasure in view was just a vulgar flattery : — was not that another of
our conclusions ?
Cal. Be it so, if you
will have it.
Soc. And the other had
in view the greatest improvement of that which was ministered to, whether body
or soul ?
Cal. Quite
true.
Soc. And must we not
have the same end in view in the treatment of our city and citizens ? Must
we not try and make them as good as possible ? For we have already
discovered that there is no use in imparting to them any other good, unless the
mind of those who are to have the good, whether money, or office, or any other
sort of power, be gentle and good. Shall we say
that ?
Cal. Yes, certainly, if
you like.
Soc. Well, then, if you
and I, Callicles, were intending to set about some public business, and were
advising one another to undertake buildings, such as walls, docks or temples of
the largest size, ought we not to examine ourselves, first, as to whether we
know or do not know the art of building, and who taught us ? — would not
that be necessary, Callicles ?
Cal.
True.
Soc. In the second
place, we should have to consider whether we had ever constructed any private
house, either of our own or for our friends, and whether this building of ours
was a success or not ; and if upon consideration we found that we had had
good and eminent masters, and had been successful in constructing many fine
buildings, not only with their assistance, but without them, by our own unaided
skill — in that case prudence would not dissuade us from proceeding to the
construction of public works. But if we had no master to show, and only a number
of worthless buildings or none at all, then, surely, it would be ridiculous in
us to attempt public works, or to advise one another to undertake them. Is not
this true ?
Cal.
Certainly.
Soc. And does not the
same hold in all other cases ? If you and I were physicians, and were
advising one another that we were competent to practise as state-physicians,
should I not ask about you, and would you not ask about me, Well, but how about
Socrates himself, has he good health ? and was any one else ever known to
be cured by him, whether slave or freeman ? And I should make the same
enquiries about you. And if we arrived at the conclusion that no one, whether
citizen or stranger, man or woman, had ever been any the better for the medical
skill of either of us, then, by Heaven, Callicles, what an absurdity to think
that we or any human being should be so silly as to set up as state-physicians
and advise others like ourselves to do the same, without having first practised
in private, whether successfully or not, and acquired experience of the
art ! Is not this, as they say, to begin with the big jar when you are
learning the potter’s art ; which is a foolish
thing ?
Cal.
True.
Soc. And now, my
friend, as you are already beginning to be a public character, and are
admonishing and reproaching me for not being one, suppose that we ask a few
questions of one another. Tell me, then, Callicles, how about making any of the
citizens better ? Was there ever a man who was once vicious, or unjust, or
intemperate, or foolish, and became by the help of Callicles good and
noble ? Was there ever such a man, whether citizen or stranger, slave or
freeman ? Tell me, Callicles, if a person were to ask these questions of
you, what would you answer ? Whom would you say that — you had improved by
your conversation ? There may have been good deeds of this sort which were
done by you as a private person, before you came forward in public. Why will you
not answer ?
Cal. You are
contentious, Socrates.
Soc. Nay, I ask you,
not from a love of contention, but because I really want to know in what way you
think that affairs should be administered among us — whether, when you come to
the administration of them, you have any other aim but the improvement of the
citizens ? Have we not already admitted many times over that such is the
duty of a public man ? Nay, we have surely said so ; for if you will
not answer for yourself I must answer for you. But if this is what the good man
ought to effect for the benefit of his own state, allow me to recall to you the
names of those whom you were just now mentioning, Pericles, and Cimon, and
Miltiades, and Themistocles, and ask whether you still think that they were good
citizens.
Cal. I
do.
Soc. But if they were
good, then clearly each of them must have made the citizens better instead of
worse ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And, therefore,
when Pericles first began to speak in the assembly, the Athenians were not so
good as when he spoke last ?
Cal. Very
likely.
Soc. Nay, my friend,
“likely” is not the word ; for if he was a good citizen, the inference is
certain.
Cal. And what
difference does that make ?
Soc. None ; only I
should like further to know whether the Athenians are supposed to have been made
better by Pericles, or, on the contrary, to have been corrupted by him ;
for I hear that he was the first who gave the people pay, and made them idle and
cowardly, and encouraged them in the love of talk and
money.
Cal. You heard that,
Socrates, from the laconising set who bruise their ears.
Soc. But what I am
going to tell you now is not mere hearsay, but well known both to you and
me : that at first, Pericles was glorious and his character unimpeached by
any verdict of the Athenians — this was during the time when they were not so
good — yet afterwards, when they had been made good and gentle by him, at the
very end of his life they convicted him of theft, and almost put him to death,
clearly under the notion that he was a malefactor.
Cal. Well, but how does
that prove Pericles’ badness ?
Soc. Why, surely you
would say that he was a bad manager of asses or horses or oxen, who had received
them originally neither kicking nor butting nor biting him, and implanted in
them all these savage tricks ? Would he not be a bad manager of any animals
who received them gentle, and made them fiercer than they were when he received
them ? What do you say ?
Cal. I will do you the
favour of saying “yes.”
Soc. And will you also
do me the favour of saying whether man is an animal ?
Cal. Certainly he
is.
Soc. And was not
Pericles a shepherd of men ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. And if he was a
good political shepherd, ought not the animals who were his subjects, as we were
just now acknowledging, to have become more just, and not more
unjust ?
Cal. Quite
true.
Soc. And are not just
men gentle, as Homer says ? — or are you of another
mind ?
Cal. I
agree.
Soc. And yet he really
did make them more savage than he received them, and their savageness was shown
towards himself ; which he must have been very far from
desiring.
Cal. Do you want me to
agree with you ?
Soc. Yes, if I seem to
you to speak the truth.
Cal. Granted
then.
Soc. And if they were
more savage, must they not have been more unjust and
inferior ?
Cal. Granted
again.
Soc. Then upon this
view, Pericles was not a good statesman ?
Cal. That is, upon your
view.
Soc. Nay, the view is
yours, after what you have admitted. Take the case of Cimon again. Did not the
very persons whom he was serving ostracize him, in order that they might not
hear his voice for ten years ? and they did just the same to Themistocles,
adding the penalty of exile ; and they voted that Miltiades, the hero of
Marathon, should be thrown into the pit of death, and he was only saved by the
Prytanis. And yet, if they had been really good men, as you say, these things
would never have happened to them. For the good charioteers are not those who at
first keep their place, and then, when they have broken — in their horses, and
themselves become better charioteers, are thrown out — that is not the way
either in charioteering or in any profession — What do you
think ?
Cal. I should think
not.
Soc. Well, but if so,
the truth is as I have said already, that in the Athenian State no one has ever
shown himself to be a good statesman — you admitted that this was true of our
present statesmen, but not true of former ones, and you preferred them to the
others ; yet they have turned out to be no better than our present
ones ; and therefore, if they were rhetoricians, they did not use the true
art of rhetoric or of flattery, or they would not have fallen out of
favour.
Cal. But surely,
Socrates, no living man ever came near any one of them in his
performances.
Soc. O, my dear friend,
I say nothing against them regarded as the serving-men of the State ; and I
do think that they were certainly more serviceable than those who are living
now, and better able to gratify the wishes of the State ; but as to
transforming those desires and not allowing them to have their way, and using
the powers which they had, whether of persuasion or of force, in the improvement
of their fellow citizens, which is the prime object of the truly good citizen, I
do not see that in these respects they were a whit superior to our present
statesmen, although I do admit that they were more clever at providing ships and
walls and docks, and all that. You and I have a ridiculous way, for during the
whole time that we are arguing, we are always going round and round to the same
point, and constantly misunderstanding one another. If I am not mistaken, you
have admitted and acknowledged more than once, that there are two kinds of
operations which have to do with the body, and two which have to do with the
soul : one of the two is ministerial, and if our bodies are hungry provides
food for them, and if they are thirsty gives them drink, or if they are cold
supplies them with garments, blankets, shoes, and all that they crave. I use the
same images as before intentionally, in order that you may understand me the
better. The purveyor of the articles may provide them either wholesale or
retail, or he may be the maker of any of them, — the baker, or the cook, or the
weaver, or the shoemaker, or the currier ; and in so doing, being such as
he is, he is naturally supposed by himself and every one to minister to the
body. For none of them know that there is another art — an art of gymnastic and
medicine which is the true minister of the body, and ought to be the mistress of
all the rest, and to use their results according to the knowledge which she has
and they have not, of the real good or bad effects of meats and drinks on the
body. All other arts which have to do with the body are servile and menial and
illiberal ; and gymnastic and medicine are, as they ought to be, their
mistresses.
Now, when I say
that all this is equally true of the soul, you seem at first to know and
understand and assent to my words, and then a little while afterwards you come
repeating, Has not the State had good and noble citizens ? and when I ask
you who they are, you reply, seemingly quite in earnest as if I had asked, Who
are or have been good trainers ? — and you had replied, Thearion, the
baker, Mithoecus, who wrote the Sicilian cookery-book, Sarambus, the
vintner : these are ministers of the body, first-rate in their art ;
for the first makes admirable loaves, the second excellent dishes, and the third
capital wine — to me these appear to be the exact parallel of the statesmen whom
you mention. Now you would not be altogether pleased if I said to you, My
friend, you know nothing of gymnastics ; those of whom you are speaking to
me are only the ministers and purveyors of luxury, who have no good or noble
notions of their art, and may very likely be filling and fattening men’s bodies
and gaining their approval, although the result is that they lose their original
flesh in the long run, and become thinner than they were before ; and yet
they, in their simplicity, will not attribute their diseases and loss of flesh
to their entertainers ; but when in after years the unhealthy surfeit
brings the attendant penalty of disease, he who happens to be near them at the
time, and offers them advice, is accused and blamed by them, and if they could
they would do him some harm ; while they proceed to eulogize the men who
have been the real authors of the mischief.
And that,
Callicles, is just what you are now doing. You praise the men who feasted the
citizens and satisfied their desires, and people say that they have made the
city great, not seeing that the swollen And ulcerated condition of the State is
to be attributed to these elder statesmen ; for they have filled the city
full of harbours and docks and walls and revenues and all that, and have left no
room for justice and temperance. And when the crisis of the disorder comes, the
people will blame the advisers of the hour, and applaud Themistocles and Cimon
and Pericles, who are the real authors of their calamities ; and if you are
not careful they may assail you and my friend Alcibiades, when they are losing
not only their new acquisitions, but also their original possessions ; not
that you are the authors of these misfortunes of theirs, although you may
perhaps be accessories to them. A great piece of work is always being made, as I
see and am told, now as of old ; about our statesmen. When the State treats
any of them as malefactors, I observe that there is a great uproar and
indignation at the supposed wrong which is done to them ; “after all their
many services to the State, that they should unjustly perish” — so the tale
runs. But the cry is all a lie ; for no statesman ever could be unjustly
put to death by the city of which he is the head. The case of the professed
statesman is, I believe, very much like that of the professed sophist ; for
the sophists, although they are wise men, are nevertheless guilty of a strange
piece of folly ; professing to be teachers of virtue, they will often
accuse their disciples of wronging them, and defrauding them of their pay, and
showing no gratitude for their services. Yet what can be more absurd than that
men who have become just and good, and whose injustice has been taken away from
them, and who have had justice implanted in them by their teachers, should act
unjustly by reason of the injustice which is not in them ? Can anything be
more irrational, my friends, than this ? You, Callicles, compel me to be a
mob-orator, because you will not answer.
Cal. And you are the
man who cannot speak unless there is some one to
answer ?
Soc. I suppose that I
can ; just now, at any rate, the speeches which I am making are long enough
because you refuse to answer me. But I adjure you by the god of friendship, my
good sir, do tell me whether there does not appear to you to be a great
inconsistency in saying that you have made a man good, and then blaming him for
being bad ?
Cal. Yes, it appears so
to me.
Soc. Do you never hear
our professors of education speaking in this inconsistent
manner ?
Cal. Yes, but why talk
of men who are good for nothing ?
Soc. I would rather
say, why talk of men who profess to be rulers, and declare that they are devoted
to the improvement of the city, and nevertheless upon occasion declaim against
the utter vileness of the city : — do you think that there is any
difference between one and the other ? My good friend, the sophist and the
rhetorician, as I was saying to Polus, are the same, or nearly the same ;
but you ignorantly fancy that rhetoric is a perfect thing, sophistry a thing to
be despised ; whereas the truth is, that sophistry is as much superior to
rhetoric as legislation is to the practice of law, or gymnastic to medicine. The
orators and sophists, as I am inclined to think, are the only class who cannot
complain of the mischief ensuing to themselves from that which they teach
others, without in the same breath accusing themselves of having done no good to
those whom they profess to benefit. Is not this a
fact ?
Cal. Certainly it
is.
Soc. If they were right
in saying that they make men better, then they are the only class who can afford
to leave their remuneration to those who have been benefited by them. Whereas if
a man has been benefited in any other way, if, for example, he has been taught
to run by a trainer, he might possibly defraud him of his pay, if the trainer
left the matter to him, and made no agreement with him that he should receive
money as soon as he had given him the utmost speed ; for not because of any
deficiency of speed do men act unjustly, but by reason of
injustice.
Cal. Very
true.
Soc. And he who removes
injustice can be in no danger of being treated unjustly : he alone can
safely leave the honorarium to his pupils, if he be really able to make them
good — am I not right ?
Cal.
Yes.
Soc. Then we have found
the reason why there is no dishonour in a man receiving pay who is called in to
advise about building or any other art ?
Cal. Yes, we have found
the reason.
Soc. But when the point
is, how a man may become best himself, and best govern his family and state,
then to say that you will give no advice gratis is held to be
dishonourable ?
Cal.
True.
Soc. And why ?
Because only such benefits call forth a desire to requite them, and there is
evidence that a benefit has been conferred when the benefactor receives a
return ; otherwise not. Is this true ?
Cal. It
is.
Soc. Then to which
service of the State do you invite me ? determine for me. Am I to be the
physician of the State who will strive and struggle to make the Athenians as
good as possible ; or am I to be the servant and flatterer of the
State ? Speak out, my good friend, freely and fairly as you did at first
and ought to do again, and tell me your entire mind.
Cal. I say then that
you should be the servant of the State.
Soc. The
flatterer ? well, sir, that is a noble invitation.
Cal. The Mysian,
Socrates, or what you please. For if you refuse, the consequences will be —
Soc. Do not repeat the
old story — that he who likes will kill me and get my money ; for then I
shall have to repeat the old answer, that he will be a bad man and will kill the
good, and that the money will be of no use to him, but that he will wrongly use
that which he wrongly took, and if wrongly, basely, and if basely,
hurtfully.
Cal. How confident you
are, Socrates, that you will never come to harm ! you seem to think that
you are living in another country, and can never be brought into a court of
justice, as you very likely may be brought by some miserable and mean
person.
Soc. Then I must indeed
be a fool, Callicles, if I do not know that in the Athenian State any man may
suffer anything. And if I am brought to trial and incur the dangers of which you
speak, he will be a villain who brings me to trial — of that I am very sure, for
no good man would accuse the innocent. Nor shall I be surprised if I am put to
death. Shall I tell you why I anticipate this ?
Cal. By all
means.
Soc. I think that I am
the only or almost the only Athenian living who practises the true art of
politics ; I am the only politician of my time. Now, seeing that when I
speak my words are not uttered with any view of gaining favour, and that I look
to what is best and not to what is most pleasant, having no mind to use those
arts and graces which you recommend, I shall have nothing to say in the justice
court. And you might argue with me, as I was arguing with Polus : — I shall
be tried just as a physician would be tried in a court of little boys at the
indictment of the cook. What Would he reply under such circumstances, if some
one were to accuse him, saying, “O my boys, many evil things has this man done
to you : he is the death of you, especially of the younger ones among you,
cutting and burning and starving and suffocating you, until you know not what to
do ; he gives you the bitterest potions, and compels you to hunger and
thirst. How unlike the variety of meats and sweets on which I feasted
you !” What do you suppose that the physician would be able to reply when
he found himself in such a predicament ? If he told the truth he could only
say, “All these evil things, my boys, I did for your health,” and then would
there not just be a clamour among a jury like that ? How they would cry
out !
Cal. I dare
say.
Soc. Would he not be
utterly at a loss for a reply ?
Cal. He certainly
would.
Soc. And I too shall be
treated in the same way, as I well know, if I am brought before the court. For I
shall not be able to rehearse to the people the pleasures which I have procured
for them, and which, although I am not disposed to envy either the procurers or
enjoyers of them, are deemed by them to be benefits and advantages. And if any
one says that I corrupt young men, and perplex their minds, or that I speak evil
of old men, and use bitter words towards them, whether in private or public, it
is useless for me to reply, as I truly might : — “All this I do for the
sake of justice, and with a view to your interest, my judges, and to nothing
else.” And therefore there is no saying what may happen to
me.
Cal. And do you think,
Socrates, that a man who is thus defenceless is in a good
position ?
Soc. Yes, Callicles, if
he have that defence, which as you have often acknowledged he should have — if
he be his own defence, and have never said or done anything wrong, either in
respect of gods or men ; and this has been repeatedly acknowledged by us to
be the best sort of defence. And if anyone could convict me of inability to
defend myself or others after this sort, I should blush for shame, whether I was
convicted before many, or before a few, or by myself alone ; and if I died
from want of ability to do so, that would indeed grieve me. But if I died
because I have no powers of flattery or rhetoric, I am very sure that you would
not find me repining at death. For no man who is not an utter fool and coward is
afraid of death itself, but he is afraid of doing wrong. For to go to the world
below having one’s soul full of injustice is the last and worst of all evils.
And in proof of what I say, if you have no objection, I should like to tell you
a story.
Cal. Very well,
proceed ; and then we shall have done.
Soc. Listen, then, as
story-tellers say, to a very pretty tale, which I dare say that you may be
disposed to regard as a fable only, but which, as I believe, is a true tale, for
I mean to speak the truth. Homer tells us, how Zeus and Poseidon and Pluto
divided the empire which they inherited from their father. Now in the days of
Cronos there existed a law respecting the destiny of man, which has always been,
and still continues to be in Heaven — that he who has lived all his life in
justice and holiness shall go, when he is dead, to the Islands of the Blessed,
and dwell there in perfect happiness out of the reach of evil ; but that he
who has lived unjustly and impiously shall go to the house of vengeance and
punishment, which is called Tartarus. And in the time of Cronos, and even quite
lately in the reign of Zeus, the judgment was given on the very day on which the
men were to die ; the judges were alive, and the men were alive ; and
the consequence was that the judgments were not well given. Then Pluto and the
authorities from the Islands of the Blessed came to Zeus, and said that the
souls found their way to the wrong places. Zeus said : “I shall put a stop
to this ; the judgments are not well given, because the persons who are
judged have their clothes on, for they are alive ; and there are many who,
having evil souls, are apparelled in fair bodies, or encased in wealth or rank,
and, when the day of judgment arrives, numerous witnesses come forward and
testify on their behalf that they have lived righteously. The judges are awed by
them, and they themselves too have their clothes on when judging ; their
eyes and ears and their whole bodies are interposed as a well before their own
souls. All this is a hindrance to them ; there are the clothes of the
judges and the clothes of the judged — What is to be done ? I will tell
you : — In the first place, I will deprive men of the foreknowledge of
death, which they possess at present : this power which they have
Prometheus has already received my orders to take from them : in the second
place, they shall be entirely stripped before they are judged, for they shall be
judged when they are dead ; and the judge too shall be naked, that is to
say, dead — he with his naked soul shall pierce into the other naked
souls ; and they shall die suddenly and be deprived of all their kindred,
and leave their brave attire strewn upon the earth — conducted in this manner,
the judgment will be just. I knew all about the matter before any of you, and
therefore I have made my sons judges ; two from Asia, Minos and
Rhadamanthus, and one from Europe, Aeacus. And these, when they are dead, shall
give judgment in the meadow at the parting of the ways, whence the two roads
lead, one to the Islands of the Blessed, and the other to Tartarus. Rhadamanthus
shall judge those who come from Asia, and Aeacus those who come from Europe. And
to Minos I shall give the primacy, and he shall hold a court of appeal, in case
either of the two others are in any doubt : — then the judgment respecting
the last journey of men will be as just as possible.”
From this tale,
Callicles, which I have heard and believe, I draw the following
inferences : — Death, if I am right, is in the first place the separation
from one another of two things, soul and body ; nothing else. And after
they are separated they retain their several natures, as in life ; the body
keeps the same habit, and the results of treatment or accident are distinctly
visible in it : for example, he who by nature or training or both, was a
tall man while he was alive, will remain as he was, after he is dead ; and
the fat man will remain fat ; and so on ; and the dead man, who in
life had a fancy to have flowing hair, will have flowing hair. And if he was
marked with the whip and had the prints of the scourge, or of wounds in him when
he was alive, you might see the same in the dead body ; and if his limbs
were broken or misshapen when he was alive, the same appearance would be visible
in the dead. And in a word, whatever was the habit of the body during life would
be distinguishable after death, either perfectly, or in a great measure and for
a certain time. And I should imagine that this is equally true of the soul,
Callicles ; when a man is stripped of the body, all the natural or acquired
affections of the soul are laid open to view. And when they come to the judge,
as those from Asia come to Rhadamanthus, he places them near him and inspects
them quite impartially, not knowing whose the soul is : perhaps he may lay
hands on the soul of the great king, or of some other king or potentate, who has
no soundness in him, but his soul is marked with the whip, and is full of the
prints and scars of perjuries and crimes with which each action has stained him,
and he is all crooked with falsehood and imposture, and has no straightness,
because he has lived without truth. Him Rhadamanthus beholds, full of all
deformity and disproportion, which is caused by licence and luxury and insolence
and incontinence, and despatches him ignominiously to his prison, and there he
undergoes the punishment which he deserves.
Now the proper
office of punishment is twofold : he who is rightly punished ought either
to become better and profit by it, or he ought to be made an example to his
fellows, that they may see what he suffers, and fear and become better. Those
who are improved when they are punished by gods and men, are those whose sins
are curable ; and they are improved, as in this world so also in another,
by pain and suffering ; for there is no other way in which they can be
delivered from their evil. But they who have been guilty of the worst crimes,
and are incurable by reason of their crimes, are made examples ; for, as
they are incurable, the time has passed at which they can receive any benefit.
They get no good themselves, but others get good when they behold them enduring
for ever the most terrible and painful and fearful sufferings as the penalty of
their sins — there they are, hanging up as examples, in the prison-house of the
world below, a spectacle and a warning to all unrighteous men who come thither.
And among them, as I confidently affirm, will be found Archelaus, if Polus truly
reports of him, and any other tyrant who is like him. Of these fearful examples,
most, as I believe, are taken from the class of tyrants and kings and potentates
and public men, for they are the authors of the greatest and most impious
crimes, because they have the power. And Homer witnesses to the truth of
this ; for they are always kings and potentates whom he has described as
suffering everlasting punishment in the world below : such were Tantalus
and Sisyphus and Tityus. But no one ever described Thersites, or any private
person who was a villain, as suffering everlasting punishment, or as incurable.
For to commit the worst crimes, as I am inclined to think, was not in his power,
and he was happier than those who had the power. No, Callicles, the very bad men
come from the class of those who have power. And yet in that very class there
may arise good men, and worthy of all admiration they are, for where there is
great power to do wrong, to live and to die justly is a hard thing, and greatly
to be praised, and few there are who attain to this. Such good and true men,
however, there have been, and will be again, at Athens and in other states, who
have fulfilled their trust righteously ; and there is one who is quite
famous all over Hellas, Aristeides, the son of Lysimachus. But, in general,
great men are also bad, my friend.
As I was saying,
Rhadamanthus, when he gets a soul of the bad kind, knows nothing about him,
neither who he is, nor who his parents are ; he knows only that he has got
hold of a villain ; and seeing this, he stamps him as curable or incurable,
and sends him away to Tartarus, whither he goes and receives his proper
recompense. Or, again, he looks with admiration on the soul of some just one who
has lived in holiness and truth ; he may have been a private man or
not ; and I should say, Callicles, that he is most likely to have been a
philosopher who has done his own work, and not troubled himself with the doings
of other in his lifetime ; him Rhadamanthus sends to the Islands of the
Blessed. Aeacus does the same ; and they both have sceptres, and
judge ; but Minos alone has a golden sceptre and is seated looking on, as
Odysseus in Homer declares that he saw him :
Holding a sceptre of gold, and
giving laws to the dead.
Now I, Callicles,
am persuaded of the truth of these things, and I consider how I shall present my
soul whole and undefiled before the judge in that day. Renouncing the honours at
which the world aims, I desire only to know the truth, and to live as well as I
can, and, when I die, to die as well as I can. And, to the utmost of my power, I
exhort all other men to do the same. And, in return for your exhortation of me,
I exhort you also to take part in the great combat, which is the combat of life,
and greater than every other earthly conflict. And I retort your reproach of me,
and say, that you will not be able to help yourself when the day of trial and
judgment, of which I was speaking, comes upon you ; you will go before the
judge, the son of Aegina, and, when he has got you in his grip and is carrying
you off, you will gape and your head will swim round, just as mine would in the
courts of this world, and very likely some one will shamefully box you on the
ears, and put upon you any sort of insult.
Perhaps this may
appear to you to be only an old wife’s tale, which you will contemn. And there
might be reason in your contemning such tales, if by searching we could find out
anything better or truer : but now you see that you and Polus and Gorgias,
who are the three wisest of the Greeks of our day, are not able to show that we
ought to live any life which does not profit in another world as well as in
this. And of all that has been said, nothing remains unshaken but the saying,
that to do injustice is more to be avoided than to suffer injustice, and that
the reality and not the appearance of virtue is to be followed above all things,
as well in public as in private life ; and that when any one has been wrong
in anything, he is to be chastised, and that the next best thing to a man being
just is that he should become just, and be chastised and punished ; also
that he should avoid all flattery of himself as well as of others, of the few or
of the many : and rhetoric and any other art should be used by him, and all
his actions should be done always, with a view to justice.
Follow me then, and
I will lead you where you will be happy in life and after death, as the argument
shows. And never mind if some one despises you as a fool, and insults you, if he
has a mind ; let him strike you, by Zeus, and do you be of good cheer, and
do not mind the insulting blow, for you will never come to any harm in the
practise of virtue, if you are a really good and true man. When we have
practised virtue together, we will apply ourselves to politics, if that seems
desirable, or we will advise about whatever else may seem good to us, for we
shall be better able to judge then. In our present condition we ought not to
give ourselves airs, for even on the most important subjects we are always
changing our minds ; so utterly stupid are we ! Let us, then, take the
argument as our guide, which has revealed to us that the best way of life is to
practise justice and every virtue in life and death. This way let us go ;
and in this exhort all men to follow, not in the way to which you trust and in
which you exhort me to follow you ; for that way, Callicles, is nothing
worth.