Gorgias

Call.

To join in a fight or a fray, as the saying is, Socrates, you have chosen your time well enough.

Soc.

Do you mean, according to the proverb, we have come too late for a feast?

Call.

Yes, a most elegant feast; for Gorgias gave us a fine and varied display but a moment ago.

Soc.

But indeed, Callicles, it is Chaerephon here who must take the blame for this; he forced us to spend our time in the market-place.

Chaer.

No matter, Socrates I will take the curing of it too for Gorgias is a friend of mine, so that he will give us a display now, if you think fit, or if you prefer, on another occasion.

Call.

What, Chaerephon? Has Socrates a desire to hear Gorgias?

Chaer.

Yes, it is for that very purpose we are here.

Call.

Then whenever you have a mind to pay me a call—Gorgias is staying with me, and he will give you a display.

Soc.

Thank you, Callicles: but would he consent to discuss with us? For I want to find out from the man what is the function of his art, and what it is that he professes and teaches. As for the rest of his performance, he must give it us, as you suggest, on another occasion.

Call.

The best way is to ask our friend himself, Socrates: for indeed that was one of the features of his performance. Why, only this moment he was pressing for whatever questions anyone in the house might like to ask, and saying he would answer them all.

Soc.

What a good idea! Ask him, Chaerephon.

Chaer.

What am I to ask?

Soc.

What he is.

Chaer.

How do you mean?

Soc.

Just as, if he chanced to be in the shoe-making business, his answer would have been, I presume, a shoemaker. Now, don’t you see my meaning?

Chaer.

I see, and will ask him. Tell me, Gorgias, is Callicles here correct in saying that you profess to answer any questions one may ask you?

Gorg.

He is, Chaerephon; indeed, I was just now making this very profession, and I may add that nobody has asked me anything new for many years now.

Chaer.

So I presume you will easily answer, Gorgias.

Gorg.

You are free to make trial of that, Chaerephon.

Pol.

Yes, to be sure; and, if you like, Chaerephon, of me. For I think Gorgias must be quite tired out, after the long discourse he has just delivered.

Chaer.

Why, Polus, do you suppose you could answer more excellently than Gorgias?

Pol.

And what does that matter, if I should satisfy you?

Chaer.

Not at all; since it is your wish, answer.

Pol.

Ask.

Chaer.

Then I ask you, if Gorgias chanced to be skilled in the same art as his brother Herodicus, what should we be justified in calling him? What we call his brother, should we not?

Pol.

Certainly.

Chaer.

Then we should make a right statement if we described him as a doctor.

Pol.

Yes.

Chaer.

And if he were expert in the same art as Aristophon, son of Aglaophon, or his brother,[*](Polygnotus, the famous painter who decorated public buildings in Athens from about 470 B.C.) what name should we rightly give him?

Pol.

Obviously that of painter.

Chaer.

But as it is, we would like to know in what art he is skilled, and hence by what name we should rightly call him.

Pol.

Chaerephon, there are many arts amongst mankind that have been discovered experimentally, as the result of experiences: for experience conducts the course of our life according to art, but inexperience according to chance. Of these several arts various men partake in various ways, and the best men of the best. Gorgias here is one of these, and he is a partner in the finest art of all.

Soc.

Fine, at any rate, Gorgias, is the equipment for discourse that Polus seems to have got: but still he is not performing his promise to Chaerephon.

Gorg.

How exactly, Socrates ?

Soc.

He does not seem to me to be quite answering what he is asked.

Gorg.

Well, will you please ask him?

Soc.

No, if you yourself will be so good as to answer, why, I would far rather ask you. For I see plainly, from what he has said, that Polus has had more practice in what is called rhetoric than in discussion.

Pol.

How so, Socrates ?

Soc.

Because, Polus, when Chaerephon has asked in what art Gorgias is skilled, you merely eulogize his art as though it were under some censure, instead of replying what it is.

Pol.

Why, did I not reply that it was the finest?

Soc.

You certainly did: but nobody asked what was the quality of his art, only what it was, and by what name we ought to call Gorgias. Just as Chaerephon laid out the lines for you at first, and you answered him properly in brief words, in the same way you must now state what is that art, and what we ought to call Gorgias; or rather, Gorgias, do you tell us yourself in what art it is you are skilled, and hence, what we ought to call you.

Gorg.

Rhetoric, Socrates.

Soc.

So we are to call you a rhetorician ?

Gorg.

Yes, and a good one, if you would call me what—to use Homer’s phrase—

I vaunt myself to be.

[*](The regular phrase of a Homeric hero in boasting of his valor, parentage, etc.; cf. Hom. Il. 6.211, Hom. Il. 14.113.)

Soc.

Well, I shall be pleased to do so.

Gorg.

Then call me such.

Soc.

And are we to say that you are able to make others like yourself?

Gorg.

Yes, that is what I profess to do, not only here, but elsewhere also.

Soc.

Then would you be willing, Gorgias, to continue this present way of discussion, by alternate question and answer, and defer to some other time that lengthy style of speech in which Polus made a beginning? Come, be true to your promise, and consent to answer each question briefly.

Gorg.

There are some answers, Socrates, that necessitate a lengthy expression: however, I will try to be as brief as possible; for indeed it is one of my claims that no one could express the same thing in briefer terms than myself.

Soc.

That is just what I want, Gorgias: give me a display of this very skill—in brevity of speech; your lengthy style will do another time.

Gorg.

Well, I will do that, and you will admit that you never heard anyone speak more briefly.

Soc.

Come then; since you claim to be skilled in rhetorical art, and to be able to make anyone else a rhetorician, tell me with what particular thing rhetoric is concerned: as, for example, weaving is concerned with the manufacture of clothes, is it not?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

And music, likewise, with the making of tunes?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

Upon my word, Gorgias, I do admire your answers! You make them as brief as they well can be.

Gorg.

Yes, Socrates, I consider myself a very fair hand at that.

Soc.

You are right there. Come now, answer me in the same way about rhetoric: with what particular thing is its skill concerned?

Gorg.

With speech.

Soc.

What kind of speech, Gorgias? Do you mean that which shows sick people by what regimen they could get well?

Gorg.

No.

Soc.

Then rhetoric is not concerned with all kinds of speech.

Gorg.

No, I say.

Soc.

Yet it does make men able to speak.

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

And to understand also the things about which they speak.

Gorg.

Of course.

Soc.

Now, does the medical art, which we mentioned just now, make men able to understand and speak about the sick?

Gorg.

It must.

Soc.

Hence the medical art also, it seems, is concerned with speech.

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

That is, speech about diseases?

Gorg.

Certainly.

Soc.

Now, is gymnastic also concerned with speech about the good and bad condition of our bodies?

Gorg.

Quite so.

Soc.

And moreover it is the same, Gorgias, with all the other arts; each of them is concerned with that kind of speech which deals with the subject matter of that particular art.

Gorg.

Apparently.

Soc.

Then why, pray, do you not give the name rhetorical to those other arts, when they are concerned with speech, if you call that rhetoric which has to do with speech?

Gorg.

Because, Socrates, the skill in those other arts is almost wholly concerned with manual work and similar activities, whereas in rhetoric there is no such manual working, but its whole activity and efficacy is by means of speech. For this reason I claim for the rhetorical art that it is concerned with speech, and it is a correct description, I maintain.

Soc.

Now, do I understand what sort of art you choose to call it? Perhaps, however, I shall get to know this more clearly. But answer me this: we have arts, have we not?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

Then amongst the various arts some, I take it, consist mainly of work, and so require but brief speech; while others require none, for the art’s object may be achieved actually in silence, as with painting, sculpture, and many other arts. It is to such as these that I understand you to refer when you say rhetoric has no concern with them; is not that so?

Gorg.

Your supposition is quite correct, Socrates.

Soc.

But there is another class of arts which achieve their whole purpose through speech and—to put it roughly—require either no action to aid them, or very little; for example, numeration, calculation, geometry, draught-playing, and many other arts: some of these have the speech in about equal proportion to the action, but most have it as the larger part, or absolutely the whole of their operation and effect is by means of speech. It is one of this class of arts that I think you refer to as rhetoric.

Gorg.

You are right.

Soc.

But, mind you, I do not think it is any one of these that you mean to call rhetoric; though, so far as your expression went, you did say that the art which has its effect through speech is rhetoric, and one might retort, if one cared to strain at mere words: So, Gorgias, you call numeration rhetoric! But I do not believe it is either numeration or geometry that you call rhetoric.

Gorg.

Your belief is correct, Socrates, and your supposition just.

Soc.

Come now, and do your part in finishing off the answer to my question. Since rhetoric is in fact one of these arts which depend mainly on speech, and there are likewise other arts of the same nature, try if you can tell me with what this rhetoric, which has its effect in speech, is concerned. For instance, suppose some one asked me about one or other of the arts which I was mentioning just now: Socrates, what is the art of numeration? I should tell him, as you did me a moment ago, that it is one of those which have their effect through speech. And suppose he went on to ask: With what is its speech concerned? I should say: With the odd and even numbers, and the question of how many units there are in each. And if he asked again: What art is it that you call calculation? I should say that this also is one of those which achieve their whole effect by speech. And if he proceeded to ask: With what is it concerned? I should say— in the manner of those who draft amendments in the Assembly—that in most respects calculation is in the same case as numeration, for both are concerned with the same thing, the odd and the even; but that they differ to this extent, that calculation considers the numerical values of odd and even numbers not merely in themselves but in relation to each other. And suppose, on my saying that astronomy also achieves its whole effect by speech, he were to ask me: And the speech of astronomy, with what is it concerned? I should say: With the courses of the stars and sun and moon, and their relative speeds.

Gorg.

And you would be right, Socrates.

Soc.

Come then and do your part, Gorgias: rhetoric is one of those arts, is it not, which carry out their work and achieve their effect by speech.

Gorg.

That is so.

Soc.

Then tell me what they deal with: what subject is it, of all in the world, that is dealt with by this speech employed by rhetoric?

Gorg.

The greatest of human affairs, Socrates, and the best.

Soc.

But that also, Gorgias, is ambiguous, and still by no means clear. I expect you have heard people singing over their cups the old catch, in which the singers enumerate the best things in life,—

first health, then beauty, and thirdly,

as the maker of the catch puts it,

wealth got without guile.

[*](Bergk, Poet. Lyr. Gr. viii., gives four lines of the (anonymous) song: ὑγιαίνειν μὲν ἄριστον ἀνδρὶ θνατῷ, δεύτερον δὲ φυὰν καλὸν γενέσθαι, τὸ τρίτον δὲ πλουτεῖν ἀδόλως, καὶ τὸ τέταρτον ἡβᾶν μετὰ τῶν φίλων.)

Gorg.

Yes, I have heard it; but what is the point of your quotation?

Soc.

I mean that, supposing the producers of those blessings which the maker of the catch commends—namely, the doctor, the trainer, and the money-getter—were to stand before you this moment, and the doctor first should say: Gorgias is deceiving you, Socrates for it is not his art, but mine, that deals with man’s greatest good. Then supposing I were to ask him: And who are you, to say so? He would probably reply: A doctor. Well, what do you mean? That the work of your art is the greatest good? What else, Socrates, I expect he would reply, is health? What greater good is there for men than health? And supposing the trainer came next and said: I also should be surprised indeed, Socrates, if Gorgias could show you a greater good in his art than I can in mine. Again I should say to him in his turn: And who are you, sir? What is your work? A trainer, he would reply, and my work is making men’s bodies beautiful and strong. After the trainer would come the money-getter, saying— with, I fancy, a fine contempt for every one: Pray consider, Socrates, if you can find a good that is greater than wealth, either in Gorgias’ view or in that of anyone else at all. Why then, we should say to him, are you a producer of that? Yes, he would say. And who are you? A money-getter. Well then, we shall say to him, do you judge wealth to be the greatest good for men? Of course, he will reply. But look here, we should say; our friend Gorgias contends that his own art is a cause of greater good than yours. Then doubtless his next question would be: And what is that good? Let Gorgias answer. Now come, Gorgias; imagine yourself being questioned by those persons and by me, and tell us what is this thing that you say is the greatest good for men, and that you claim to produce.

Gorg.

A thing, Socrates, which in truth is the greatest good, and a cause not merely of freedom to mankind at large, but also of dominion to single persons in their several cities.

Soc.

Well, and what do you call it?

Gorg.

I call it the ability to persuade with speeches either judges in the law courts or statesmen in the council-chamber or the commons in the Assembly or an audience at any other meeting that may be held on public affairs. And I tell you that by virtue of this power you will have the doctor as your slave, and the trainer as your slave; your money-getter will turn out to be making money not for himself, but for another,—in fact for you, who are able to speak and persuade the multitude.

Soc.

I think now, Gorgias, you have come very near to showing us the art of rhetoric as you conceive it, and if I at all take your meaning, you say that rhetoric is a producer of persuasion, and has therein its whole business and main consummation. Or can you tell us of any other function it can have beyond that of effecting persuasion in the minds of an audience?

Gorg.

None at all, Socrates; your definition seems to me satisfactory; that is the main substance of the art.

Soc.

Then listen, Gorgias: I, let me assure you, for so I persuade myself—if ever there was a man who debated with another from a desire of knowing the truth of the subject discussed, I am such a man; and so, I trust, are you.

Gorg.

Well, what then, Socrates?

Soc.

I will now tell you. What the real nature of the persuasion is that you speak of as resulting from rhetoric, and what the matters are with which persuasion deals, I assure you I do not clearly understand; though I may have my suspicions as to what I suppose you to mean by it, and with what things you think it deals. But nevertheless I will ask you what you do mean by the persuasion that results from rhetoric, and with what matters you think it deals. Now why is it that, having a suspicion of my own, I am going to ask you this, instead of stating it myself? It is not on your account, but with a view to the argument, and to such a progress in it as may best reveal to us the point we are discussing. Just see if you do not think it fair of me to press you with my question: suppose I happened to ask you what Zeuxis was among painters, and you said a figure painter, would it not be fair of me to ask you what sort of figures he painted, and where?

Gorg.

Certainly.

Soc.

Would this be the reason—that there are also other painters who depict a variety of other figures?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

But if no one besides Zeuxis were a painter, your answer would have been right?

Gorg.

Yes, of course.

Soc.

Come then, tell me now about rhetoric: do you think rhetoric alone effects persuasion, or can other arts do it as well? I mean, for example, when a man teaches anything, does he persuade in his teaching? Or do you think not?

Gorg.

No, to be sure, Socrates, I think he most certainly does persuade.

Soc.

Then let us repeat our question with reference to the same arts that we spoke of just now: does not numeration, or the person skilled in numeration, teach us all that pertains to number?

Gorg.

Certainly.

Soc.

And persuades also?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

So that numeration also is a producer of persuasion?

Gorg.

Apparently.

Soc.

Then if we are asked what kind of persuasion, and dealing with what, we shall reply, I suppose: The instructive kind, which deals with the amount of an odd or an even number; and we shall be able to demonstrate that all the other arts which we mentioned just now are producers of persuasion, and what kind it is, and what it deals with, shall we not?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

Hence rhetoric is not the only producer of persuasion.

Gorg.

You are right.

Soc.

Since then it is not the only one that achieves this effect, but others can also, we should be justified in putting this further question to the speaker, as we did concerning the painter: Then of what kind of persuasion, and of persuasion dealing with what, is rhetoric the art? Or do you not consider that such a further question would be justified?

Gorg.

Yes, I do.

Soc.

Then answer me, Gorgias, since you agree with me on that.

Gorg.

Well then, I mean that kind of persuasion, Socrates, which you find in the law-courts and in any public gatherings, as in fact I said just now; and it deals with what is just and unjust.

Soc.

I, too, I may tell you, had a suspicion that it was this persuasion that you meant, and as dealing with those things, Gorgias; but you must not be surprised if I ask you by-and-by some such question as may seem to be obvious, though I persist in it; for, as I say, I ask my questions with a view to an orderly completion of our argument—I am not aiming at you, but only anxious that we do not fall into a habit of snatching at each other’s words with a hasty guess, and that you may complete your own statement in your own way, as the premises may allow.

Gorg.

And I think you are quite right in doing so, Socrates.

Soc.

Come then, let us consider another point. Is there something that you call having learnt.

Gorg.

There is.

Soc.

And again, having believed?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

Then do you think that having learnt and having believed, or learning and belief, are the same thing, or different?

Gorg.

In my opinion, Socrates, they are different.

Soc.

And your opinion is right, as you can prove in this way: if some one asked you—Is there, Gorgias, a false and a true belief?—you would say, Yes, I imagine.

Gorg.

I should.

Soc.

But now, is there a false and a true knowledge?

Gorg.

Surely not.

Soc.

So it is evident again that they[*](i.e. knowledge and belief.) are not the same.

Gorg.

You are right.

Soc.

But yet those who have learnt have been persuaded, as well as those who have believed.

Gorg.

That is so.

Soc.

Then would you have us assume two forms of persuasion—one providing belief without knowledge, and the other sure knowledge?

Gorg.

Certainly.

Soc.

Now which kind of persuasion is it that rhetoric creates in law courts or any public meeting on matters of right and wrong? The kind from which we get belief without knowledge, or that from which we get knowledge?

Gorg.

Obviously, I presume, Socrates, that from which we get belief.

Soc.

Thus rhetoric, it seems, is a producer of persuasion for belief, not for instruction in the matter of right and wrong.

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

And so the rhetorician’s business is not to instruct a law court or a public meeting in matters of right and wrong, but only to make them believe; since, I take it, he could not in a short while instruct such a mass of people in matters so important.

Gorg.

No, to be sure.

Soc.

Come then, let us see what actually is our account of rhetoric: for I confess I am not yet able to distinguish what my own account of it is. When the city holds a meeting to appoint doctors or shipbuilders or any other set of craftsmen, there is no question then, is there, of the rhetorician giving advice? And clearly this is because in each appointment we have to elect the most skilful person. Again, in a case of building walls or constructing harbors or arsenals, our only advisers are the master-builders; or in consulting on the appointment of generals, or on a manoeuvre against the enemy, or on a military occupation, it is the general staff who will then advise us, and not the rhetoricians. Or what do you say, Gorgias, to these instances? For as you claim to be an orator yourself and to make orators of others, it is proper to inquire of you concerning your own craft. And here you must regard me as furthering your own interest: for it is quite likely that some one within these walls has a wish to become your pupil—indeed I fancy I perceive more than one, yes, a number of them, who, perhaps, would be ashamed to press you with questions. So, when you are being pressed with mine, consider that you are being questioned by them as well: What shall we get, Gorgias, by coming to hear you? On what matters shall we be enabled to give advice to the state? Will it be only on right and wrong, or on those things besides which Socrates was mentioning just now? So try to give them an answer.

Gorg.

Well, I will try, Socrates, to reveal to you clearly the whole power of rhetoric: and in fact you have correctly shown the way to it yourself. You know, I suppose, that these great arsenals and walls of Athens, and the construction of your harbors, are due to the advice of Themistocles, and in part to that of Pericles, not to your craftsmen.

Soc.

So we are told, Gorgias, of Themistocles; and as to Pericles, I heard him myself when he was advising us about the middle wall.[*](Built about 440 B.C. between the two walls built in 456 B.C., one connecting the Piraeus, and the other Phalerum, with Athens. The middle wall ran parallel to the former, and secured from hostile attack a narrow strip of land between Athens and the Piraeus. Socrates was born in 469 B.C.)

Gorg.

So whenever there is an election of such persons as you were referring to, Socrates, you see it is the orators who give the advice and get resolutions carried in these matters.

Soc.

That is just what surprises me, Gorgias, and has made me ask you all this time what in the world the power of rhetoric can be. For, viewed in this light, its greatness comes over me as something supernatural.

Gorg.

Ah yes, if you knew all, Socrates,—how it comprises in itself practically all powers at once! And I will tell you a striking proof of this: many and many a time have I gone with my brother or other doctors to visit one of their patients, and found him unwilling either to take medicine or submit to the surgeon’s knife or cautery; and when the doctor failed to persuade him I succeeded, by no other art than that of rhetoric. And I further declare that, if a rhetorician and a doctor were to enter any city you please, and there had to contend in speech before the Assembly or some other meeting as to which of the two should be appointed physician, you would find the physician was nowhere, while the master of speech would be appointed if he wished. And if he had to contend with a member of any other profession whatsoever, the rhetorician would persuade the meeting to appoint him before anyone else in the place: for there is no subject on which the rhetorician could not speak more persuasively than a member of any other profession whatsoever, before a multitude. So great, so strange, is the power of this art. At the same time, Socrates, our use of rhetoric should be like our use of any other sort of exercise. For other exercises are not to be used against all and sundry, just because one has learnt boxing or wrestling or fighting in armour so well as to vanquish friend and foe alike: this gives one no right to strike one’s friends, or stab them to death. Nor, in all conscience, if a man took lessons at a wrestling-school, and having got himself into good condition and learnt boxing he proceeded to strike his father and mother, or some other of his relations or friends, should that be a reason for hating athletic trainers and teachers of fighting in armour, and expelling them from our cities. For they imparted their skill with a view to its rightful use against enemies and wrongdoers, in self-defence, not provocation; whereas the others have perverted their strength and art to an improper use.

Gorg.

So it is not the teachers who are wicked, nor is the art either guilty or wicked on this account, but rather, to my thinking, those who do not use it properly. Now the same argument applies also to rhetoric: for the orator is able, indeed, to speak against every one and on every question in such a way as to win over the votes of the multitude, practically in any matter he may choose to take up: but he is no whit the more entitled to deprive the doctors of their credit, just because he could do so, or other professionals of theirs; he must use his rhetoric fairly, as in the case of athletic exercise. And, in my opinion, if a man becomes a rhetorician and then uses this power and this art unfairly, we ought not to hate his teacher and cast him out of our cities. For he imparted that skill to be used in all fairness, whilst this man puts it to an opposite use. Thus it is the man who does not use it aright who deserves to be hated and expelled and put to death, and not his teacher.

Soc.

I expect, Gorgias, that you as well as I have had no small practice in arguments, and have observed the following fact about them, that it is not easy for people to define to each other the matters which they take in hand to discuss, and to make such exchange of instruction as will fairly bring their debate to an end: no, if they find that some point is in dispute between them, and one of them says that the other is speaking incorrectly or obscurely, they are annoyed and think the remark comes from jealousy of themselves, and in a spirit of contention rather than of inquiry into the matter proposed for discussion. In some cases, indeed, they end by making a most disgraceful scene, with such abusive expressions on each side that the rest of the company are vexed on their own account that they allowed themselves to listen to such fellows. Well, what is my reason for saying this? It is because your present remarks do not seem to me quite in keeping or accord with what you said at first about rhetoric. Now I am afraid to refute you, lest you imagine I am contentiously neglecting the point and its elucidation, and merely attacking you.

Soc.

I therefore, if you are a person of the same sort as myself, should be glad to continue questioning you: if not, I can let it drop. Of what sort am I? One of those who would be glad to be refuted if I say anything untrue, and glad to refute anyone else who might speak untruly; but just as glad, mind you, to be refuted as to refute, since I regard the former as the greater benefit, in proportion as it is a greater benefit for oneself to be delivered from the greatest evil than to deliver some one else. For I consider that a man cannot suffer any evil so great as a false opinion on the subjects of our actual argument. Now if you say that you too are of that sort, let us go on with the conversation; but if you think we had better drop it, let us have done with it at once and make an end of the discussion.

Gorg.

Nay, I too, Socrates, claim to be of the sort you indicate; though perhaps we should have taken thought also for the wishes of our company. For, let me tell you, some time before you and your friend arrived, I gave the company a performance of some length; and if we now have this conversation I expect we shall seriously protract our sitting. We ought, therefore, to consider their wishes as well, in case we are detaining any of them who may want to do something else.

Chaer.

You hear for yourselves, Gorgias and Socrates, the applause by which these gentlemen show their desire to hear anything you may say; for my own part, however, Heaven forbid that I should ever be so busy as to give up a discussion so interesting and so conducted, because I found it more important to attend to something else.

Call.

Yes, by all that’s holy, Chaerephon; and let me say, moreover, for myself that among the many discussions which I have attended in my time I doubt if there was one that gave me such delight as this present one. So, for my part, I shall count it a favor even if you choose to continue it all day long.

Soc.

Why, Callicles, I assure you there is no hindrance on my side, if Gorgias is willing.

Gorg.

After that, Socrates, it would be shameful indeed if I were unwilling, when it was I who challenged everybody to ask what questions they pleased. But if our friends here are so minded, go on with the conversation and ask me anything you like.

Soc.

Hark you then, Gorgias, to what surprises me in your statements: to be sure, you may possibly be right, and I may take your meaning wrongly. You say you are able to make a rhetorician of any man who chooses to learn from you?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

Now, do you mean, to make him carry conviction to the crowd on all subjects, not by teaching them, but by persuading?

Gorg.

Certainly I do.

Soc.

You were saying just now, you know, that even in the matter of health the orator will be more convincing than the doctor.

Gorg.

Yes, indeed, I was—meaning, to the crowd.

Soc.

And to the crowd means to the ignorant? For surely, to those who know, he will not be more convincing than the doctor.

Gorg.

You are right.

Soc.

And if he is to be more convincing than the doctor, he thus becomes more convincing than he who knows?

Gorg.

Certainly.

Soc.

Though not himself a doctor, you agree?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

But he who is not a doctor is surely without knowledge of that whereof the doctor has knowledge.

Gorg.

Clearly.

Soc.

So he who does not know will be more convincing to those who do not know than he who knows, supposing the orator to be more convincing than the doctor. Is that, or something else, the consequence?

Gorg.

In this case it does follow.

Soc.

Then the case is the same in all the other arts for the orator and his rhetoric: there is no need to know the truth of the actual matters, but one merely needs to have discovered some device of persuasion which will make one appear to those who do not know to know better than those who know.

Gorg.

Well, and is it not a great convenience, Socrates, to make oneself a match for the professionals by learning just this single art and omitting all the others?

Soc.

Whether the orator is or is not a match for the rest of them by reason of that skill, is a question we shall look into presently, if our argument so requires: for the moment let us consider first whether the rhetorician is in the same relation to what is just and unjust, base and noble, good and bad, as to what is healthful, and to the various objects of all the other arts; he does not know what is really good or bad, noble or base, just or unjust, but he has devised a persuasion to deal with these matters so as to appear to those who, like himself, do not know to know better than he who knows. Or is it necessary to know, and must anyone who intends to learn rhetoric have a previous knowledge of these things when he comes to you? Or if not, are you, as the teacher of rhetoric, to teach the person who comes to you nothing about them—for it is not your business—but only to make him appear in the eyes of the multitude to know things of this sort when he does not know, and to appear to be good when he is not? Or will you be utterly unable to teach him rhetoric unless he previously knows the truth about these matters? Or what is the real state of the case, Gorgias? For Heaven’s sake, as you proposed just now, draw aside the veil and tell us what really is the function of rhetoric.

Gorg.

Why, I suppose, Socrates, if he happens not to know these things he will learn them too from me.

Soc.

Stop there: I am glad of that statement. If you make a man a rhetorician he must needs know what is just and unjust either previously or by learning afterwards from you.

Gorg.

Quite so.

Soc.

Well now, a man who has learnt building is a builder, is he not?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

And he who has learnt music, a musician?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

Then he who has learnt medicine is a medical man, and so on with the rest on the same principle; anyone who has learnt a certain art has the qualification acquired by his particular knowledge?

Gorg.

Certainly.

Soc.

And so, on this principle, he who has learnt what is just is just?

Gorg.

Absolutely, I presume.

Soc.

And the just man, I suppose, does what is just.

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

Now the just man must wish to do what is just?

Gorg.

Apparently.

Soc.

Hence the just man will never wish to act unjustly?

Gorg.

That must needs be so.

Soc.

But it follows from our statements[*](i.e. that he must know what is just, and that he who knows this must be just (see ¤¤ A and B above).) that the rhetorician must be just.

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

Hence the rhetorician will never wish to do wrong.

Gorg.

Apparently not.

Soc.

Then do you remember saying a little while ago that we ought not to complain against the trainers or expel them from our cities, if a boxer makes not merely use, but an unfair use, of his boxing? So in just the same way, if an orator uses his rhetoric unfairly, we should not complain against his teacher or banish him from our city, but the man who does the wrong and misuses his rhetoric. Was that said or not?

Gorg.

It was.

Soc.

But now we find that this very person, the rhetorician, could never be guilty of wrongdoing, do we not?

Gorg.

We do.

Soc.

And in our first statements, Gorgias, we said that rhetoric dealt with speech, not on even and odd, but on the just and unjust, did we not?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

Well then, I supposed at the time when you were saying this that rhetoric could never be an unjust thing, since the speeches it made were always about justice but when a little later you told us that the orator might make even an unjust use of his rhetoric, that indeed surprised me, and thinking the two statements were not in accord I made those proposals,—that if, like myself, you counted it a gain to be refuted, it was worth while to have the discussion, but if not, we had better have done with it. And now that we have come to examine the matter, you see for yourself that we agree once more that it is impossible for the rhetorician to use his rhetoric unjustly or consent to do wrong. Now, to distinguish properly which way the truth of the matter lies will require, by the Dog,[*](This favorite oath of Socrates was derived from Egypt, where the god Anubis was represented with a dog’s head; cf. Plat. Gorg. 482b.) Gorgias, no short sitting.

Pol.

How is this, Socrates? Is that really your opinion of rhetoric, as you now express it? Or, think you, because Gorgias was ashamed not to admit your point that the rhetorician knows what is just and noble and good, and will himself teach these to anyone who comes to him without knowing them; and then from this admission I daresay there followed some inconsistency in the statements made—the result that you are so fond of—when it was yourself who led him into that set of questions For who do you think will deny that he has a knowledge of what is just and can also teach it to others? I call it very bad taste to lead the discussion in such a direction.

Soc.

Ah, sweet Polus, of course it is for this very purpose we possess ourselves of companions and sons, that when the advance of years begins to make us stumble, you younger ones may be at hand to set our lives upright again in words as well as deeds. So now if Gorgias and I are stumbling in our words, you are to stand by and set us up again—it is only your duty; and for my part I am willing to revoke at your pleasure anything that you think has been wrongly admitted, if you will kindly observe one condition.

Pol.

What do you mean by that?

Soc.

That you keep a check on that lengthy way of speaking, Polus, which you tried to employ at first.

Pol.

Why, shall I not be at liberty to say as much as I like?

Soc.

It would indeed be a hard fate for you, my excellent friend, if having come to Athens, where there is more freedom of speech than anywhere in Greece, you should be the one person there who could not enjoy it.

Soc.

But as a set-off to that, I ask you if it would not be just as hard on me, while you spoke at length and refused to answer my questions, not to be free to go away and avoid listening to you. No, if you have any concern for the argument that we have carried on, and care to set it on its feet again, revoke whatever you please, as I suggested just now; take your turn in questioning and being questioned, like me and Gorgias; and thus either refute or be refuted. For you claim, I understand, that you yourself know all that Gorgias knows, do you not?

Pol.

I do.

Soc.

Then are you with him also in bidding us ask at each point any questions we like of you, as one who knows how to answer?

Pol.

Certainly I am.

Soc.

So now, take whichever course you like: either put questions, or answer them.

Pol.

Well, I will do as you say. So answer me this, Socrates: since you think that Gorgias is at a loss about rhetoric, what is your own account of it?

Soc.

Are you asking what art I call it?

Pol.

Yes.

Soc.

None at all, I consider, Polus, if you would have the honest truth.

Pol.

But what do you consider rhetoric to be?

Soc.

A thing which you say—in the treatise which I read of late—made art.

Pol.

What thing do you mean?

Soc.

I mean a certain habitude.

Pol.

Then do you take rhetoric to be a habitude?

Soc.

I do, if you have no other suggestion.

Pol.

Habitude of what?

Soc.

Of producing a kind of gratification and pleasure.

Pol.

Then you take rhetoric to be something fine—an ability to gratify people?

Soc.

How now, Polus? Have you as yet heard me tell you what I say it is, that you ask what should follow that—whether I do not take it to be fine?

Pol.

Why, did I not hear you call it a certain habitude?

Soc.

Then please—since you value gratification—be so good as gratify me in a small matter.

Pol.

I will.

Soc.

Ask me now what art I take cookery to be.

Pol.

Then I ask you, what art is cookery ?

Soc.

None at all, Polus.

Pol.

Well, what is it ? Tell me.

Soc.

Then I reply, a certain habitude.

Pol.

Of what? Tell me.

Soc.

Then I reply, of production of gratification and pleasure, Polus.

Pol.

So cookery and rhetoric are the same thing?

Soc.

Not at all, only parts of the same practice.

Pol.

What practice do you mean?

Soc.

I fear it may be too rude to tell the truth; for I shrink from saying it on Gorgias’ account, lest he suppose I am making satirical fun of his own profession. Yet indeed I do not know whether this is the rhetoric which Gorgias practices, for from our argument just now we got no very clear view as to how he conceives it; but what I call rhetoric is a part of a certain business which has nothing fine about it.

Gorg.

What is that, Socrates? Tell us, without scruple on my account.

Soc.

It seems to me then, Gorgias, to be a pursuit that is not a matter of art, but showing a shrewd, gallant spirit which has a natural bent for clever dealing with mankind, and I sum up its substance in the name flattery. This practice, as I view it, has many branches, and one of them is cookery; which appears indeed to be an art but, by my account of it, is not an art but a habitude or knack. I call rhetoric another branch of it, as also personal adornment and sophistry—four branches of it for four kinds of affairs. So if Polus would inquire, let him inquire: he has not yet been informed to what sort of branch of flattery I assign rhetoric; but without noticing that I have not yet answered that, he proceeds to ask whether I do not consider it a fine thing. But I am not going to reply to the question whether I consider rhetoric a fine or a base thing, until I have first answered what it is; for it would not be fair, Polus: but if you want the information, ask me what sort of branch of flattery I assert rhetoric to be.

Pol.

I ask you then; so answer, what sort of branch it is.

Soc.

Now, will you understand when I answer? Rhetoric, by my account, is a semblance[*](i.e.an unreal image or counterfeit: Quintilian (ii. 15.25) renders simulacrum.) of a branch of politics.

Pol.

Well then, do you call it a fine or a base thing?

Soc.

A base one, I call it—for all that is bad I call base—since I am to answer you as though you had already understood my meaning.

Gorg.

Nor do I myself, upon my word, Socrates, grasp your meaning either.

Soc.

And no wonder, Gorgias, for as yet my statement is not at all clear; but Polus[*](Socrates alludes to the meaning of πῶλος (a colt).) here is so young and fresh!

Gorg.

Ah, do not mind him; but tell me what you mean by rhetoric being a semblance of a branch of politics.

Soc.

Well, I will try to express what rhetoric appears to me to be: if it is not in fact what I say, Polus here will refute me. There are things, I suppose, that you call body and soul?

Gorg.

Of course.

Soc.

And each of these again you believe to have a good condition?

Gorg.

I do.

Soc.

And again, a good condition that may seem so, but is not? As an example, let me give the following: many people seem to be in good bodily condition when it would not be easy for anyone but a doctor, or one of the athletic trainers, to perceive that they are not so.

Gorg.

You are right.

Soc.

Something of this sort I say there is in body and in soul, which makes the body or the soul seem to be in good condition, though it is none the more so in fact.

Gorg.

Quite so.

Soc.

Now let me see if I can explain my meaning to you more clearly. There are two different affairs to which I assign two different arts: the one, which has to do with the soul, I call politics; the other, which concerns the body, though I cannot give you a single name for it offhand, is all one business, the tendance of the body, which I can designate in two branches as gymnastic and medicine. Under politics I set legislation in the place of gymnastic, and justice to match medicine. In each of these pairs, of course—medicine and gymnastic, justice and legislation—there is some intercommunication, as both deal with the same thing; at the same time they have certain differences. Now these four, which always bestow their care for the best advantage respectively of the body and the soul, are noticed by the art of flattery which, I do not say with knowledge, but by speculation, divides herself into four parts, and then, insinuating herself into each of those branches, pretends to be that into which she has crept, and cares nothing for what is the best, but dangles what is most pleasant for the moment as a bait for folly, and deceives it into thinking that she is of the highest value. Thus cookery assumes the form of medicine, and pretends to know what foods are best for the body; so that if a cook and a doctor had to contend before boys, or before men as foolish as boys, as to which of the two, the doctor or the cook, understands the question of sound and noxious foods, the doctor would starve to death.

Soc.

Flattery, however, is what I call it, and I say that this sort of thing is a disgrace, Polus—for here I address you—because it aims at the pleasant and ignores the best; and I say it is not an art, but a habitude, since it has no account to give of the real nature of the things it applies, and so cannot tell the cause of any of them. I refuse to give the name of art to anything that is irrational: if you dispute my views, I am ready to give my reasons. However, as I put it, cookery is flattery disguised as medicine; and in just the same manner self-adornment personates gymnastic: with its rascally, deceitful, ignoble, and illiberal nature it deceives men by forms and colors, polish and dress so as to make them, in the effort of assuming an extraneous beauty, neglect the native sort that comes through gymnastic. Well, to avoid prolixity, I am willing to put it to you like a geometer[*](i.e. in the concise mathematical manner, such as that which later appeared in the writings of Euclid)—for by this time I expect you can follow me: as self-adornment is to gymnastic, so is sophistry to legislation; and as cookery is to medicine, so is rhetoric to justice.[*](Administrative justice is here specially meant.) But although, as I say, there is this natural distinction between them,[*](i.e. sophistry and rhetoric.) they are so nearly related that sophists and orators are jumbled up as having the same field and dealing with the same subjects, and neither can they tell what to make of each other, nor the world at large what to make of them. For indeed, if the soul were not in command of the body, but the latter had charge of itself, and so cookery and medicine were not surveyed and distinguished by the soul, but the body itself were the judge, forming its own estimate of them by the gratifications they gave it, we should have a fine instance of what Anaxagoras described, my dear Polus,—for you are versed in these matters: everything would be jumbled together, without distinction as between medicinal and healthful and tasty concoctions. Well now, you have heard what I state rhetoric to be—the counterpart of cookery in the soul, acting here as that does on the body. It may, indeed, be absurd of me, when I do not allow you to make long speeches, to have extended mine to so considerable a length. However, I can fairly claim indulgence: for when I spoke briefly you did not understand me; you were unable to make any use of the answer I gave you, but required a full exposition.

Soc.

Now if I on my part cannot tell what use to make of any answers you may give me, you shall extend your speech also; but if I can make some use of them, allow me to do it; that will only be fair. And now, if you can make any use of this answer of mine, do so.

Pol.

Then what is it you say? Do you take rhetoric to be flattery?

Soc.

Well, I said rather a branch of flattery. Why, at your age, Polus, have you no memory? What will you do later on?

Pol.

Then do you think that good orators are considered to be flatterers in their cities, and so worthless?

Soc.

Is that a question you are asking, or are you beginning a speech?

Pol.

I am asking a question.

Soc.

To my mind, they are not considered at all.

Pol.

How not considered? Have they not the chief power in their cities?

Soc.

No, if you mean power in the sense of something good for him who has it.

Pol.

Why, of course I mean that.

Soc.

Then, to my thinking, the orators have the smallest power of all who are in their city.

Pol.

What? Are they not like the despots, in putting to death anyone they please, and depriving anyone of his property and expelling him from their cities as they may think fit?

Soc.

By the Dog, I fear I am still in two minds, Polus, at everything you say, as to whether this is a statement on your own part, and a declaration of your own opinion, or a question you are putting to me.

Pol.

Why, I am asking you.

Soc.

Very well, my friend then are you asking me two things at once?

Pol.

How two?

Soc.

Were you not this moment saying something like this: Is it not the case that the orators put to death anyone they wish, like the despots, and deprive people of property and expel them from their cities as they may think fit?

Pol.

I was.

Soc.

Then I tell you that there are two questions here, and I will give you answers to them both. For I say, Polus, that the orators and the despots alike have the least power in their cities, as I stated just now; since they do nothing that they wish to do, practically speaking, though they do whatever they think to be best.

Pol.

Well, and is not that a great power to have?

Soc.

No, judging at least by what Polus says.

Pol.

I say no! Pardon me, I say yes.

Soc.

No, by the ————, you do not; for you said that great power is a good to him who has it.

Pol.

Yes, and I maintain it.

Soc.

Then do you regard it as a good, when a man does what he thinks to be best, without having intelligence? Is that what you call having a great power?

Pol.

No, I do not.