Gorgias

Soc.

I am certain that whenever you agree with me in any view that my soul takes, this must be the very truth. For I conceive that whoever would sufficiently test a soul as to rectitude of life or the reverse should go to work with three things which are all in your possession—knowledge, goodwill, and frankness. I meet with many people who are unable to test me, because they are not wise as you are; while others, though wise, are unwilling to tell me the truth, because they do not care for me as you do; and our two visitors here, Gorgias and Polus, though wise and friendly to me, are more lacking in frankness and inclined to bashfulness than they should be: nay, it must be so, when they have carried modesty to such a point that each of them can bring himself, out of sheer modesty, to contradict himself in face of a large company, and that on questions of the greatest importance. But you have all these qualities which the rest of them lack: you have had a sound education, as many here in Athens will agree; and you are well disposed to me. You ask what proof I have? I will tell you. I know, Callicles, that four of you have formed a partnership in wisdom—you, Tisander of Aphidnae, Andron, son of Androtion, and Nausicydes of Cholarges;[*](Andron is one of the wise men who meet in the house of Callias, Plat. Prot. 315; Nausicydes may be the wealthy meal-merchant mentioned in Aristoph. Eccl. 426, and Xen. Mem. 2.7.6. Of Tisander nothing is known.) and I once overheard you debating how far the cultivation of wisdom should be carried, and I know you were deciding in favor of some such view as this—that one should not be carried away into the minuter points of philosophy, but you exhorted one another to beware of making yourselves overwise, lest you should unwittingly work your own ruin. So when I hear you giving me the same advice as you gave your own most intimate friends, I have proof enough that you really are well disposed to me. And further, as to your ability to speak out frankly and not be bashful, you not only claim this yourself, but you are borne out too by the speech that you made a short while ago. Well, this is clearly the position of our question at present: if you can bear me out in any point arising in our argument, that point can at once be taken as having been amply tested by both you and me, and there will be no more need of referring it to a further test; for no defect of wisdom or access of modesty could ever have been your motive in making this concession, nor again could you make it to deceive me: for you are my friend, as you say yourself. Hence any agreement between you and me must really have attained the perfection of truth.

Soc.

And on no themes could one make more honorable inquiry, Callicles, than on those which you have reproached me with—what character one should have, and what should be one’s pursuits and up to what point, in later as in earlier years. For I assure you that if there is any fault of conduct to be found in my own life it is not an intentional error, but due to my ignorance: so I ask you not to break off in the middle of your task of admonishing me, but to make fully clear to me what it is that I ought to pursue and by what means I may attain it; and if you find me in agreement with you now, and afterwards failing to do what I agreed to, regard me as a regular dunce and never trouble any more to admonish me again—a mere good-for-nothing. Now, go right back and repeat to me what you and Pindar hold natural justice to consist in: is it that the superior should forcibly despoil the inferior, the better rule the worse, and the nobler have more than the meaner? Have you some other account to give of justice, or do I remember aright?

Call.

Why, that is what I said then, and I say it now also.

Soc.

Is it the same person that you call better and superior? For I must say I was no more able then to understand what your meaning might be. Is it the stronger folk that you call superior, and are the weaker ones bound to hearken to the stronger one—as for instance I think you were also pointing out then, that the great states attack the little ones in accordance with natural right, because they are superior and stronger, on the ground that the superior and the stronger and the better are all the same thing; or is it possible to be better and yet inferior and weaker, and to be superior and yet more wicked? Or is the definition of the better and the superior the same? This is just what I bid you declare in definite terms—whether the superior and the better and the stronger are the same or different.

Call.

Well, I tell you plainly, they are all the same.

Soc.

Now, are the many superior by nature to the one? I mean those who make the laws to keep a check on the one, as you were saying yourself just now.

Call.

Of course.

Soc.

Then the ordinances of the many are those of the superior.

Call.

Certainly.

Soc.

And so of the better? For the superior are far better, by your account.

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

And so their ordinances are by nature fair, since they are superior who made them?

Call.

I agree.

Soc.

Then is it the opinion of the many that—as you also said a moment ago—justice means having an equal share, and it is fouler to wrong than be wronged? Is that so, or not? And mind you are not caught this time in a bashful fit. Is it, or is it not, the opinion of the many that to have one’s equal share, and not more than others, is just, and that it is fouler to wrong than be wronged? Do not grudge me an answer to this, Callicles, so that—if I find you agree with me—I may then have the assurance that comes from the agreement of a man so competent to decide.

Call.

Well, most people do think so.

Soc.

Then it is not only by convention that doing wrong is fouler than suffering it, and having one’s equal share is just, but by nature also: and therefore it looks as though your previous statement was untrue, and your count against me incorrect, when you said that convention and nature are opposites and that I, forsooth, recognizing that, am an unscrupulous debater, turning to convention when the assertion refers to nature, and to nature when it refers to convention.

Call.

What an inveterate driveller the man is! Tell me, Socrates, are you not ashamed to be word-catching at your age, and if one makes a verbal slip, to take that as a great stroke of luck? Do you imagine that, when I said being superior, I meant anything else than better? Have I not been telling you ever so long that I regard the better and the superior as the same thing? Or do you suppose I mean that if a pack of slaves and all sorts of fellows who are good for nothing, except perhaps in point of physical strength, gather together and say something, that is a legal ordinance?

Soc.

Very well, most sapient Callicles: you mean that, do you?

Call.

Certainly I do.

Soc.

Why, my wonderful friend, I have myself been guessing ever so long that you meant something of this sort by superior, and if I repeat my questions it is because I am so keen to know definitely what your meaning may be. For I presume you do not consider that two are better than one, or that your slaves are better than yourself, just because they are stronger than you are. Come now, tell me again from the beginning what it is you mean by the better, since you do not mean the stronger only, admirable sir, do be more gentle with me over my first lessons, or I shall cease attending your school.

Call.

You are sarcastic, Socrates.

Soc.

No, by Zethus, Callicles, whom you made use of just now[*](Above, Plat. Gorg. 486a.) for aiming a good deal of sarcasm at me: but come, tell us whom you mean by the better.

Call.

I mean the more excellent.

Soc.

So you see, you are uttering mere words yourself, and explaining nothing. Will you not tell us whether by the better and superior you mean the wiser, or some other sort?

Call.

Why, to be sure, I mean those, and very much so.

Soc.

Then one wise man is often superior to ten thousand fools, by your account, and he ought to rule and they to be ruled, and the ruler should have more than they whom he rules. That is what you seem to me to intend by your statement—and I am not word-catching here—if the one is superior to the ten thousand.

Call.

Why, that is my meaning. For this is what I regard as naturally just—that being better and wiser he should have both rule and advantage over the baser people.

Soc.

Stop there now. Once more, what is your meaning this time? Suppose that a number of us are assembled together, as now, in the same place, and we have in common a good supply of food and drink, and we are of all sorts—some strong, some weak; and one of us, a doctor, is wiser than the rest in this matter and, as may well be, is stronger than some and weaker than others; will not he, being wiser than we are, be better and superior in this affair?

Call.

Certainly.

Soc.

Then is he to have a larger ration than the rest of us because he is better, or ought he as ruler to have the distribution of the whole stock, with no advantage in spending and consuming it upon his own person, if he is to avoid retribution, but merely having more than some and less than others? Or if he chance to be the weakest of all, ought he not to get the smallest share of all though he be the best, Callicles? Is it not so, good sir?

Call.

You talk of food and drink and doctors and drivel: I refer to something different.

Soc.

Then tell me, do you call the wiser better? Yes or no?

Call.

Yes, I do.

Soc.

But do you not think the better should have a larger share?

Call.

Yes, but not of food and drink.

Soc.

I see; of clothes, perhaps; and the ablest weaver should have the largest coat, and go about arrayed in the greatest variety of the finest clothes?

Call.

What have clothes to do with it?

Soc.

Well, shoes then; clearly he who is wisest in regard to these, and best, should have some advantage. Perhaps the shoemaker should walk about in the biggest shoes and wear the largest number.

Call.

Shoes—what have they to do with it? You keep on drivelling.

Soc.

Well, if you do not mean things of that sort, perhaps you mean something like this: a farmer, for instance, who knows all about the land and is highly accomplished in the matter, should perhaps have an advantage in sharing the seed, and have the largest possible amount of it for use on his own land.

Call.

How you keep repeating the same thing, Socrates!

Soc.

Yes, and not only that, Callicles, but on the same subjects too.

Call.

I believe, on my soul, you absolutely cannot ever stop talking of cobblers and fullers, cooks and doctors, as though our discussion had to do with them.

Soc.

Then will you tell me in what things the superior and wiser man has a right to the advantage of a larger share? Or will you neither put up with a suggestion from me nor make one yourself?

Call.

Why, I have been making mine for sometime past. First of all, by the superior I mean, not shoemakers or cooks, but those who are wise as regards public affairs and the proper way of conducting them, and not only wise but manly, with ability to carry out their purpose to the full; and who will not falter through softness of soul.

Soc.

Do you perceive, my excellent Callicles, that your count against me is not the same as mine against you? For you say I am ever repeating the same things, and reproach me with it, whereas I charge you, on the contrary, with never saying the same thing on the same subject; but at one moment you defined the better and superior as the stronger, and at another as the wiser, and now you turn up again with something else: the manlier is what you now tell us is meant by the superior and better. No, my good friend, you had best say, and get it over, whom you do mean by the better and superior, and in what sphere.

Call.

But I have told you already: men of wisdom and manliness in public affairs. These are the persons who ought to rule our cities, and justice means this—that these should have more than other people, the rulers than the ruled.

Soc.

How so? Than themselves, my friend?

Call.

What do you mean?

Soc.

I mean that every man is his own ruler; or is there no need of one’s ruling oneself, but only of ruling others?

Call.

What do you mean by one who rules himself?

Soc.

Nothing recondite; merely what most people mean—one who is temperate and self-mastering, ruler of the pleasures and desires that are in himself.

Call.

You will have your pleasantry! You mean the simpletons by the temperate.

Soc.

How so? Nobody can fail to see that I do not mean that.

Call.

Oh, you most certainly do, Socrates. For how can a man be happy if he is a slave to anybody at all? No, natural fairness and justice, I tell you now quite frankly, is this—that he who would live rightly should let his desires be as strong as possible and not chasten them, and should be able to minister to them when they are at their height by reason of his manliness and intelligence, and satisfy each appetite in turn with what it desires. But this, I suppose, is not possible for the many; whence it comes that they decry such persons out of shame, to disguise their own impotence, and are so good as to tell us that licentiousness is disgraceful, thus enslaving—as I remarked before—the better type of mankind; and being unable themselves to procure achievement of their pleasures they praise temperance and justice by reason of their own unmanliness. For to those who started with the advantage of being either kings’ sons or able by their own parts to procure some authority or monarchy or absolute power, what in truth could be fouler or worse than temperance and justice in such cases? Finding themselves free to enjoy good things, with no obstacle in the way, they would be merely imposing on themselves a master in the shape of the law, the talk and the rebuke of the multitude. Or how could they fail to be sunk in wretchedness by that fairness of justice and temperance, if they had no larger portion to give to their own friends than to their enemies, that too when they were rulers in their own cities? No, in good truth, Socrates—which you claim to be seeking—the fact is this: luxury and licentiousness and liberty, if they have the support of force, are virtue and happiness, and the rest of these embellishments—the unnatural covenants of mankind—are all mere stuff and nonsense.

Soc.

Far from ignoble, at any rate, Callicles, is the frankness with which you develop your thesis: for you are now stating in clear terms what the rest of the world think indeed, but are loth to say. So I beg you not to give up on any account, that it may be made really evident how one ought to live. Now tell me: do you say the desires are not to be chastened if a man would be such as he ought to be, but he should let them be as great as possible and provide them with satisfaction from some source or other, and this is virtue?

Call.

Yes, I say that.

Soc.

Then it is not correct to say, as people do, that those who want nothing are happy.

Call.

No, for at that rate stones and corpses would be extremely happy.

Soc.

Well, well, as you say, life is strange. For I tell you I should not wonder if Euripides’ words were true, when he says:

1. Who knows if to live is to be dead,
2. And to be dead, to live?

Eur. Polydus[*](Eur. fr. 638.) and we really, it may be, are dead; in fact I once heard sages say that we are now dead, and the body is our tomb,[*](The sage was perhaps Philolaus, a Pythagorean philosopher contemporary with Socrates. The phrase σῶμα σῆμα, suggesting a mystical similarity between body and tomb, was part of the Orphic doctrine.) and the part of the soul in which we have desires is liable to be over-persuaded and to vacillate to and fro, and so some smart fellow, a Sicilian, I daresay, or Italian,[*](Sicilian may refer to Empedocles; Italian to one of the Pythagoreans.) made a fable in which—by a play of words[*](The play is with πιθανόν and πίθον:πειστοκόν is added to explain that πιθανόν is not used in its ordinary active sense of impressive.)—he named this part, as being so impressionable and persuadable, a jar, and the thoughtless he called uninitiate:[*](The σοφός seems to have falsely derived ἀμυήτους from μύω (= close), with the meaning unclosed, in order to connect it with the notion of cracked or leaky.) in these uninitiate that part of the soul where the desires are, the licentious and fissured part, he named a leaky jar in his allegory, because it is so insatiate. So you see this person, Callicles, takes the opposite view to yours, showing how of all who are in Hades—meaning of course the invisible—these uninitiate will be most wretched, and will carry water into their leaky jar with a sieve which is no less leaky. And then by the sieve, as my story-teller said, he means the soul: and the soul of the thoughtless he likened to a sieve, as being perforated, since it is unable to hold anything by reason of its unbelief and forgetfulness. All this, indeed, is bordering pretty well on the absurd; but still it sets forth what I wish to impress upon you, if I somehow can, in order to induce you to make a change, and instead of a life of insatiate licentiousness to choose an orderly one that is set up and contented with what it happens to have got. Now, am I at all prevailing upon you to change over to the view that the orderly people are happier than the licentious or will no amount of similar fables that I might tell you have any effect in changing your mind?

Call.

The latter is more like the truth, Socrates.

Soc.

Come now, let me tell you another parable from the same school[*](Probably of Pythagoras.) as that I have just told. Consider if each of the two lives, the temperate and the licentious, might be described by imagining that each of two men had a number of jars, and those of one man were sound and full, one of wine, another of honey, a third of milk, and various others of various things, and that the sources of each of these supplies were scanty and difficult and only available through much hard toil:

Soc.

well, one man, when he has taken his fill, neither draws off any more nor troubles himself a jot, but remains at ease on that score; whilst the other finds, like his fellow, that the sources are possible indeed, though difficult, but his vessels are leaky and decayed, and he is compelled to fill them constantly, all night and day, or else suffer extreme distress. If such is the nature of each of the two lives, do you say that the licentious man has a happier one than the orderly? Do I, with this story of mine, induce you at all to concede that the orderly life is better than the licentious, or do I fail?

Call.

You fail, Socrates. For that man who has taken his fill can have no pleasure any more; in fact it is what I just now called living like a stone, when one has filled up and no longer feels any joy or pain. But a pleasant life consists rather in the largest possible amount of inflow.

Soc.

Well then, if the inflow be large, must not that which runs away be of large amount also, and must not the holes for such outflow be of great size?

Call.

Certainly.

Soc.

Then it is a plover’s life[*](Referring to this bird’s habit of drinking water and then ejecting it.) you are describing this time, not that of a corpse or a stone. Now tell me, is the life you mean something like feeling hunger and eating when hungry?

Call.

Yes, it is.

Soc.

And feeling thirst and drinking when thirsty?

Call.

Yes, and having all the other desires, and being able to satisfy them, and so with these enjoyments leading a happy life.

Soc.

Bravo, my fine fellow! Do go on as you have begun, and mind you show no bashfulness about it. I too, it seems, must try not to be too bashful. First of all, tell me whether a man who has an itch and wants to scratch, and may scratch in all freedom, can pass his life happily in continual scratching.

Call.

What an odd person you are, Socrates—a regular stump-orator!

Soc.

Why, of course, Callicles, that is how I upset Polus and Gorgias, and struck them with bashfulness; but you, I know, will never be upset or abashed; you are such a manly fellow. Come, just answer that.

Call.

Then I say that the man also who scratches himself will thus spend a pleasant life.

Soc.

And if a pleasant one, a happy one also?

Call.

Certainly.

Soc.

Is it so if he only wants to scratch his head? Or what more am I to ask you? See, Callicles, what your answer will be, if you are asked everything in succession that links on to that statement; and the culmination of the case, as stated—the life of catamites—is not that awful, shameful, and wretched? Or will you dare to assert that these are happy if they can freely indulge their wants?

Call.

Are you not ashamed, Socrates, to lead the discussion into such topics?

Soc.

What, is it I who am leading it there, noble sir, or the person who says outright that those who enjoy themselves, with whatever kind of enjoyment, are happy, and draws no distinction between the good and bad sorts of pleasure? But come, try again now and tell me whether you say that pleasant and good are the same thing, or that there is some pleasure which is not good.

Call.

Then, so that my statement may not be inconsistent through my saying they are different, I say they are the same.

Soc.

You are spoiling your first statements,[*](Cf. Plat. Gorg. 482d, where Callicles blamed Polus for not saying what he really thought.) Callicles, and you can no longer be a fit partner with me in probing the truth, if you are going to speak against your own convictions.

Call.

Why, you do the same, Socrates.

Soc.

Then I am just as much in the wrong if I do, as you are. But look here, my gifted friend, perhaps the good is not mere unconditional enjoyment: for if it is, we have to face not only that string of shameful consequences I have just shadowed forth, but many more besides.

Call.

In your opinion, that is, Socrates.

Soc.

And do you, Callicles, really maintain that it is?

Call.

I do.

Soc.

Then are we to set about discussing it as your serious view?

Call.

Oh yes, to be sure.

Soc.

Come then, since that is your opinion, resolve me this: there is something, I suppose, that you call knowledge?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

And were you not saying just now that knowledge can have a certain courage coupled with it?

Call.

Yes, I was.

Soc.

And you surely meant that they were two things, courage being distinct from knowledge?

Call.

Quite so.

Soc.

Well now, are pleasure and knowledge the same thing, or different?

Call.

Different, I presume, O sage of sages.

Soc.

And courage too, is that different from pleasure?

Call.

Of course it is.

Soc.

Come now, let us be sure to remember this, that Callicles the Acharnian said pleasant and good were the same, but knowledge and courage were different both from each other and from the good.

Call.

And Socrates of Alopece refuses to grant us this; or does he grant it?

Soc.

He does not; nor, I believe, will Callicles either, when he has rightly considered himself. For tell me, do you not regard people who are well off as being in the opposite condition to those who are badly off?

Call.

I do.

Soc.

Then if these conditions are opposite to each other, must not the same hold of them as of health and disease? For, you know, a man is never well and ill at the same time, nor gets rid of health and disease together.

Call.

How do you mean?

Soc.

Take, for instance, any part of the body you like by itself, and consider it. A man, I suppose, may have a disease of the eyes, called ophthalmia?

Call.

Certainly.

Soc.

Then I presume he is not sound also at that time in those same eyes?

Call.

By no conceivable means.

Soc.

And what say you, when he gets rid of his ophthalmia? Does he at that time get rid too of the health of his eyes, and so at last is rid of both things together?

Call.

Far from it.

Soc.

Because, I imagine, this would be an astonishing and irrational result, would it not?

Call.

Very much so.

Soc.

Whereas, I take it, he gets and loses either turn?

Call.

I agree.

Soc.

And so with strength and weakness in just the same way?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

And speed and slowness?

Call.

Certainly.

Soc.

And so too with good things and happiness and their opposites—bad things and wretchedness—does one take on each of these in turn, and in turn put it off?

Call.

Absolutely, I presume.

Soc.

Then if we find any things that a man puts off and retains at one and the same moment, clearly these cannot be the good and the bad. Do we admit this? Now consider very carefully before you answer.

Call.

Oh, I admit it down to the ground.

Soc.

So now for our former admissions: did you say that being hungry was pleasant or painful? I mean, hunger itself.

Call.

Painful, I said; though eating when one is hungry I call pleasant.

Soc.

I see: but at all events hunger itself is painful, is it not?

Call.

I agree.

Soc.

And so too with thirst?

Call.

Quite so.

Soc.

Then am I to ask you any further questions, or do you admit that all want and desire is painful?

Call.

I admit it; no, do not question me further.

Soc.

Very good: but drinking when one is thirsty you surely say is pleasant?

Call.

I do.

Soc.

Now, in this phrase of yours the words when one is thirsty, I take it, stand for when one is in pain?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

But drinking is a satisfaction of the want, and a pleasure?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

So in the act of drinking, you say, one has enjoyment?

Call.

Quite so.

Soc.

When one is thirsty?

Call.

I agree.

Soc.

That is, in pain?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

Then do you perceive the conclusion,—that you say one enjoys oneself, though in pain at the same moment, when you say one drinks when one is thirsty? Or does this not occur at once, at the same place and time—in either soul or body, as you please? For I fancy it makes no difference. Is this so or not?

Call.

It is.

Soc.

But further, you say it is impossible to be badly off, or to fare ill, at the same time as one is faring well.

Call.

Yes, I do.

Soc.

But to enjoy oneself when feeling pain you have admitted to be possible.

Call.

Apparently.

Soc.

Hence enjoyment is not faring well, nor is feeling pain faring ill, so that the pleasant is found to be different from the good.

Call.

I cannot follow these subtleties of yours, Socrates.

Soc.

You can, but you play the innocent, Callicles. Just go on a little further, that you may realize how subtle is your way of reproving me. Does not each of us cease at the same moment from thirst and from the pleasure he gets by drinking?

Call.

I cannot tell what you mean.

Gorg.

No, no, Callicles, you must answer him, for our sakes also, that the arguments may be brought to a conclusion.

Call.

But Socrates is always like this, Gorgias he keeps on asking petty, unimportant questions until he refutes one.

Gorg.

Why, what does that matter to you? In any case it is not your credit that is at stake, Callicles; just permit Socrates to refute you in such manner as he chooses.

Call.

Well then, proceed with those little cramped questions of yours, since Gorgias is so minded.

Soc.

You are fortunate, Callicles, in having been initiated into the Great Mysteries before the Little:[*](Socrates means that one cannot hope to know great things without first learning the truth about little things.) I did not think that was the proper thing. So go on answering where you left off—as to whether each of us does not cease to feel thirst and pleasure at the same time.

Call.

I grant it.

Soc.

And so, with hunger and the rest, does he cease to feel the desires and pleasures at the same time?

Call.

That is so.

Soc.

And also ceases to feel the pains and pleasures at the same time?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

But still he does not cease to have the good and bad at the same time, as you agreed; and now, you do not agree?

Call.

I do; and what then?

Soc.

Only that we get the result, my friend, that the good things are not the same as the pleasant, nor the bad as the painful. For with the one pair the cessation is of both at once, but with the other two it is not, since they are distinct. How then can pleasant things be the same as good, or painful things as bad? Or if you like, consider it another way—for I fancy that even after that you do not admit it. Just observe: do you not call good people good owing to the presence of good things, as you call beautiful those in whom beauty is present?

Call.

I do.

Soc.

Well now, do you give the name of good men to fools and cowards? It was not they just now but brave and wise men whom you so described. Or is it not these that you call good?

Call.

To be sure it is.

Soc.

And now, have you ever seen a silly child enjoying itself?

Call.

I have.

Soc.

And have you never seen a silly man enjoying himself?

Call.

I should think I have; but what has that to do with it?

Soc.

Nothing; only answer.

Call.

I have seen one.

Soc.

And again, a man of sense in a state of pain or enjoyment?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

And which sort are more apt to feel enjoyment or pain, the wise or the foolish?

Call.

I should think there is not much difference.

Soc.

Well, that will suffice. In war have you ever seen a coward?

Call.

Of course I have.

Soc.

Well now, when the enemy withdrew, which seemed to you to enjoy it more, the cowards or the brave?

Call.

Both did, I thought; or if not that, about equally.

Soc.

No matter. Anyhow, the cowards do enjoy it?

Call.

Very much.

Soc.

And the fools, it would seem.

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

And when the foe advances, do the cowards alone feel pain, or the brave as well?

Call.

Both.

Soc.

Alike?

Call.

More, perhaps, the cowards.

Soc.

And when the foe withdraws, do they not enjoy it more?

Call.

Perhaps.

Soc.

So the foolish and the wise, and the cowardly and the brave, feel pain and enjoyment about equally, according to you, but the cowardly more than the brave?

Call.

I agree.

Soc.

But further, are the wise and brave good, and the cowards and fools bad?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

Then the good and the bad feel enjoyment and pain about equally?

Call.

I agree.

Soc.

Then are the good and the bad about equally good and bad? Or are the bad in some yet greater measure good and bad?

Call.

Why, upon my word, I cannot tell what you mean.

Soc.

You are aware, are you not, that you hold that the good are good by the presence of good things, and that the bad are so by the presence of bad things? And that the pleasures are the good things, and the pains bad things?

Call.

Yes, I am.

Soc.

Hence in those who have enjoyment the good things—the pleasures—are present, so long as they enjoy?

Call.

Of course.

Soc.

Then, good things being present, those who enjoy are good?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

Well now, in those who feel pain are not bad things present, namely pains?

Call.

They are.

Soc.

And it is by the presence of bad things, you say, that the bad are bad? Or do you no longer say so?

Call.

I do say so.

Soc.

Then whoever enjoys is good, and whoever is pained, bad?

Call.

Certainly.

Soc.

You mean, those more so who feel these things more, and those less who feel less, and those about equally who feel about equally?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

Now you say that the wise and the foolish, the cowardly and the brave, feel enjoyment and pain about equally, or the cowards even more?

Call.

I do.

Soc.

Then just help me to reckon up the results we get from our admissions for you know they say:

That which seemeth well, ’tis well twice and also thrice to tell,

[*](The saying—καὶ δὶς γὰρ ὃ δεῖ καλόν ἐστιν ἐνισπεῖν—was attributed by some to Empedocles.) and to examine too. We say that the wise and brave man is good, do we not?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

And that the foolish and cowardly is bad?

Call.

Certainly.

Soc.

And again, that he who enjoys is good?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

And that he who feels pain is bad?

Call.

Necessarily.

Soc.

And that the good and the bad feel enjoyment and pain in a like manner, or perhaps the bad rather more?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

Then is the bad man made bad or good in a like manner to the good man, or even good in a greater measure? Does not this follow, along with those former statements, from the assumption that pleasant things and good things are the same? Must not this be so, Callicles?

Call.

Let me tell you, Socrates, all the time that I have been listening to you and yielding you agreement, I have been remarking the puerile delight with which you cling to any concession one may make to you, even in jest. So you suppose that I or anybody else in the world does not regard some pleasures as better, and others worse!

Soc.

Oh ho, Callicles, what a rascal you are, treating me thus like a child—now asserting that the same things are one way, now another, to deceive me! And yet I started with the notion that I should not have to fear any intentional deception on your part, you being my friend; but now I find I was mistaken, and it seems I must, as the old saying goes, e’en make the best of what I have got,[*](The proverb usually has τίθεσθαι instead of ποιεῖν; cf. Lucian, Necyom. 21.) and accept just anything you offer. Well then, what you now state, it seems, is that there are certain pleasures, some good, and some bad; is not that so?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

Then are the beneficial ones good, and the harmful ones bad?

Call.

Certainly.

Soc.

And are those beneficial which do some good, and those evil which do some evil?

Call.

I agree.

Soc.

Now are these the sort you mean—for instance, in the body, the pleasures of eating and drinking that we mentioned a moment ago? Then the pleasures of this sort which produce health in the body, or strength, or any other bodily excellence,—are these good, and those which have the opposite effects, bad?

Call.

Certainly.

Soc.

And similarly in the case of pains, are some worthy and some base?

Call.

Of course.

Soc.

So it is the worthy pleasures and pains that we ought to choose in all our doings?

Call.

Certainly.

Soc.

And the base ones not?

Call.

Clearly so.

Soc.

Because, you know, Polus and I, if you recollect, decided[*](Cf. Plat. Gorg. 468c). that everything we do should be for the sake of what is good. Do you agree with us in this view—that the good is the end of all our actions, and it is for its sake that all other things should be done, and not it for theirs? Do you add your vote to ours, and make a third?

Call.

I do.

Soc.

Then it is for the sake of what is good that we should do everything, including what is pleasant, not the good for the sake of the pleasant.

Call.

Certainly.

Soc.

Now is it in every man’s power to pick out which sort of pleasant things are good and which bad, or is professional skill required in each case?

Call.

Professional skill.

Soc.

Then let us recall those former points I was putting to Polus and Gorgias.[*](Cf. Plat. Gorg. 464-5.) I said, if you remember, that there were certain industries, some of which extend only to pleasure, procuring that and no more, and ignorant of better and worse; while others know what is good and what bad. And I placed among those that are concerned with pleasure the habitude, not art, of cookery, and among those concerned with good the art of medicine. Now by the sanctity of friendship, Callicles, do not on your part indulge in jesting with me, or give me random answers against your conviction, or again, take what I say as though I were jesting. For you see that our debate is upon a question which has the highest conceivable claims to the serious interest even of a person who has but little intelligence—namely, what course of life is best; whether it should be that to which you invite me, with all those manly pursuits of speaking in Assembly and practicing rhetoric and going in for politics after the fashion of you modern politicians, or this life of philosophy; and what makes the difference between these two. Well, perhaps it is best to do what I attempted a while ago, and distinguish them; and then, when we have distinguished them and come to an agreement with each other as to these lives being really two, we must consider what is the difference between them and which of them is the one we ought to live. Now I daresay you do not yet grasp my meaning.

Call.

No, I do not.

Soc.

Well, I will put it to you more plainly. Seeing that we have agreed, you and I, that there is such a thing as good, and such a thing as pleasant, and that the pleasant is other than the good, and that for the acquisition of either there is a certain practice or preparation—the quest of the pleasant in the one case, and that of the good in the other—but first you must either assent or object to this statement of mine: do you assent?

Call.

I am with you entirely.

Soc.

Then try and come to a definite agreement with me on what I was saying to our friends here, and see if you now find that what I then said was true. I was saying, I think, that cookery seems to me not an art but a habitude, unlike medicine, which, I argued, has investigated the nature of the person whom she treats and the cause of her proceedings, and has some account to give of each of these things; so much for medicine: whereas the other, in respect of the pleasure to which her whole ministration is given, goes to work there in an utterly inartistic manner, without having investigated at all either the nature or the cause of pleasure, and altogether irrationally—with no thought, one may say, of differentiation, relying on routine and habitude for merely preserving a memory of what is wont to result; and that is how she is enabled to provide her pleasures. Now consider first whether you think that this account is satisfactory, and that there are certain other such occupations likewise, having to do with the soul; some artistic, with forethought for what is to the soul’s best advantage, and others making light of this, but again, as in the former case, considering merely the soul’s pleasure and how it may be contrived for her, neither inquiring which of the pleasures is a better or a worse one, nor caring for aught but mere gratification, whether for better or worse. For I, Callicles, hold that there are such, and for my part I call this sort of thing flattery, whether in relation to the body or to the soul or to anything else, whenever anyone ministers to its pleasure without regard for the better and the worse; and you now, do you support us with the same opinion on this matter, or do you gainsay us?

Call.

Not I; I agree with you, in order that your argument may reach a conclusion, and that I may gratify Gorgias here.

Soc.

And is this the case with only one soul, and not with two or many?

Call.

No, it is also the case with two or many.

Soc.

Then is it possible also to gratify them all at once, collectively, with no consideration of what is best?

Call.

I should think it is.

Soc.

Then can you say what are the pursuits which effect this? Or rather, if you like, when I ask you, and one of them seems to you to be of this class, say yes, and when one does not, say no. And first let us consider flute-playing. Does it not seem to you one of this sort, Callicles, aiming only at our pleasure, and caring for naught else ?

Call.

It does seem so to me.

Soc.

And so too with all similar pursuits, such as harp-playing in the contests?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

And what of choral productions and dithyrambic compositions? Are they not manifestly, in your view, of the same kind? Or do you suppose Cinesias,[*](A dithyrambic poet whose extravagant style was ridiculed by Aristophanes (Aristoph. Frogs 153; Aristoph. Cl. 333; Aristoph. Birds 1379).) son of Meles, cares a jot about trying to say things of a sort that might be improving to his audience, or only what is likely to gratify the crowd of spectators?

Call.

Clearly the latter is the case, Socrates, with Cinesias.

Soc.

And what of his father Meles? Did he ever strike you as looking to what was best in his minstrelsy? Or did he, perhaps, not even make the pleasantest his aim? For his singing used to be a pain to the audience. But consider now: do you not think that all minstrelsy and composing of dithyrambs have been invented for the sake of pleasure?

Call.

I do.

Soc.

Then what of the purpose that has inspired our stately and wonderful tragic poetry? Are her endeavor and purpose, to your mind, merely for the gratification of the spectators, or does she strive hard, if there be anything pleasant and gratifying, but bad for them, to leave that unsaid, and if there be anything unpleasant, but beneficial, both to speak and sing that, whether they enjoy it or not? To which of these two aims, think you, is tragic poetry devoted ?

Call.

It is quite obvious, in her case, Socrates, that she is bent rather upon pleasure and the gratification of the spectators.

Soc.

Well now, that kind of thing, Callicles, did we say just now, is flattery ?

Call.

Certainly.

Soc.

Pray then, if we strip any kind of poetry of its melody, its rhythm and its meter, we get mere speeches as the residue, do we not?

Call.

That must be so.

Soc.

And those speeches are spoken to a great crowd of people?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

Hence poetry is a kind of public speaking.

Call.

Apparently.

Soc.

Then it must be a rhetorical public speaking or do you not think that the poets use rhetoric in the theaters?

Call.

Yes, I do.

Soc.

So now we have found a kind of rhetoric addressed to such a public as is compounded of children and women and men, and slaves as well as free; an art that we do not quite approve of, since we call it a flattering one.

Call.

To be sure.

Soc.

Very well; but now, the rhetoric addressed to the Athenian people, or to the other assemblies of freemen in the various cities—what can we make of that? Do the orators strike you as speaking always with a view to what is best, with the single aim of making the citizens as good as possible by their speeches, or are they, like the poets, set on gratifying the citizens, and do they, sacrificing the common weal to their own personal interest, behave to these assemblies as to children, trying merely to gratify them, nor care a jot whether they will be better or worse in consequence?

Call.

This question of yours is not quite so simple; for there are some who have a regard for the citizens in the words that they utter, while there are also others of the sort that you mention.

Soc.

That is enough for me. For if this thing also is twofold, one part of it, I presume, will be flattery and a base mob-oratory, while the other is noble—the endeavor, that is, to make the citizens’ souls as good as possible, and the persistent effort to say what is best, whether it prove more or less pleasant to one’s hearers. But this is a rhetoric you never yet saw; or if you have any orator of this kind that you can mention, without more ado let me know who he is!

Call.

No, upon my word, I cannot tell you of anyone, at least among the orators of today.

Soc.

Well then, can you mention one among those of older times whom the Athenians have to thank for any betterment that started at the time of his first harangues, as a change from the worse state in which he originally found them? For my part, I have no idea who the man is.

Call.

Why, do you hear no mention of Themistocles and what a good man he was, and Cimon and Miltiades and the great Pericles, who has died recently,[*](429 B.C. We saw at Plat. Gorg. 473e that the supposed date of the discussion is 405 B.C., so that recently here is hardly accurate.) and whom you have listened to yourself?

Soc.

Yes, Callicles, if that which you spoke of just now is true virtue—the satisfaction of one’s own and other men’s desires; but if that is not so, and the truth is—as we were compelled to admit in the subsequent discussion—that only those desires which make man better by their satisfaction should be fulfilled, but those which make him worse should not, and that this is a special art, then I for one cannot tell you of any man so skilled having appeared among them.

Call.

Ah, but if you search properly you will find one.

Soc.

Then let us just consider the matter calmly, and see if any of them has appeared with that skill. Come now: the good man, who is intent on the best when he speaks, will surely not speak at random in whatever he says, but with a view to some object? He is just like any other craftsman, who having his own particular work in view selects the things he applies to that work of his, not at random, but with the purpose of giving a certain form to whatever he is working upon.

Soc.

You have only to look, for example, at the painters, the builders, the shipwrights, or any of the other craftsmen, whichever you like, to see how each of them arranges everything according to a certain order, and forces one part to suit and fit with another, until he has combined the whole into a regular and well-ordered production; and so of course with all the other craftsmen, and the people we mentioned just now, who have to do with the body—trainers and doctors; they too, I suppose, bring order and system into the body. Do we admit this to be the case, or not?

Call.

Let it be as you say.

Soc.

Then if regularity and order are found in a house, it will be a good one, and if irregularity, a bad one?

Call.

I agree.

Soc.

And it will be just the same with a ship?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

And further, with our bodies also, can we say?

Call.

Certainly.

Soc.

And what of the soul? If it shows irregularity, will it be good, or if it has a certain regularity and order?

Call.

Our former statements oblige us to agree to this also.

Soc.

Then what name do we give to the effect of regularity and order in the body?

Call.

Health and strength, I suppose you mean.

Soc.

I do. And what, again, to the effect produced in the soul by regularity and order? Try to find the name here, and tell it me as before.

Call.

Why not name it yourself, Socrates ?

Soc.

Well, if you prefer it, I will; and do you, if I seem to you to name it rightly, say so; if not, you must refute me and not let me have my way. For it seems to me that any regularity of the body is called healthiness, and this leads to health being produced in it, and general bodily excellence. Is that so or not?

Call.

It is.

Soc.

And the regular and orderly states of the soul are called lawfulness and law, whereby men are similarly made law-abiding and orderly; and these states are justice and temperance. Do you agree or not?

Call.

Be it so.

Soc.

Then it is this that our orator, the man of art and virtue, will have in view, when he applies to our souls the words that he speaks, and also in all his actions, and in giving any gift he will give it, and in taking anything away he will take it, with this thought always before his mind— how justice may be engendered in the souls of his fellow-citizens, and how injustice may be removed; how temperance may be bred in them and licentiousness cut off; and how virtue as a whole may be produced and vice expelled. Do you agree to this or not?

Call.

I agree.

Soc.

For what advantage is there, Callicles, in giving to a sick and ill-conditioned body a quantity of even the most agreeable things to eat and drink, or anything else whatever, if it is not going to profit thereby any more, let us say, than by the opposite treatment, on any fair reckoning, and may profit less? Is this so?

Call.

Be it so.

Soc.

Because, I imagine, it is no gain for a man to live in a depraved state of body, since in this case his life must be a depraved one also. Or is not that the case?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

And so the satisfaction of one’s desires—if one is hungry, eating as much as one likes, or if thirsty, drinking—is generally allowed by doctors when one is in health; but they practically never allow one in sickness to take one’s fill of things that one desires: do you agree with me in this?

Call.

I do.

Soc.

And does not the same rule, my excellent friend, apply to the soul? So long as it is in a bad state—thoughtless, licentious, unjust and unholy—we must restrain its desires and not permit it to do anything except what will help it to be better: do you grant this, or not?

Call.

I do.

Soc.

For thus, I take it, the soul itself is better off?

Call.

To be sure.

Soc.

And is restraining a person from what he desires correcting him?

Call.

Yes.

Soc.

Then correction is better for the soul than uncorrected licence, as you were thinking just now.

Call.

I have no notion what you are referring to, Socrates; do ask some one else.

Soc.

Here is a fellow who cannot endure a kindness done him, or the experience in himself of what our talk is about—a correction!

Call.

Well, and not a jot do I care, either, for anything you say; I only gave you those answers to oblige Gorgias.

Soc.

Very good. So now, what shall we do? Break off our argument midway?

Call.

You must decide that for yourself.

Soc.

Why, they say one does wrong to leave off even stories in the middle; one should set a head on the thing, that it may not go about headless. So proceed with the rest of your answers, that our argument may pick up a head.

Call.

How overbearing you are, Socrates! Take my advice, and let this argument drop, or find some one else to argue with.

Soc.

Then who else is willing? Surely we must not leave the argument there, unfinished?

Call.

Could you not get through it yourself, either talking on by yourself or answering your own questions?

Soc.

So that, in Epicharmus’s phrase,[*](Epicharmus of Cos produced philosophic comedies in Sicily during the first part of the fifth century. The saying is quoted in full by Athenaeus, vii. 308 τὰ πρὸ τοῦ δύ’ ἄνδρες ἔλεγον εἶς ἐγὼν ἀποχρέω.)

what two men spake erewhile

I may prove I can manage single-handed. And indeed it looks as though it must of sheer necessity be so. Still, if we are to do this, for my part I think we ought all to vie with each other in attempting a knowledge of what is true and what false in the matter of our argument; for it is a benefit to all alike that it be revealed.

Soc.

Now I am going to pursue the argument as my view of it may suggest; but if any of you think the admissions I am making to myself are not the truth, you must seize upon them and refute me. For I assure you I myself do not say what I say as knowing it, but as joining in the search with you; so that if anyone who disputes my statements is found to be on the right track, I shall be the first to agree with him. This, however, I say on the assumption that you think the argument should be carried through to a conclusion; but if you would rather it were not, let us have done with it now and go our ways.

Gorg.

Well, my opinion is, Socrates, that we ought not to go away yet, but that you should go through with the argument; and I fancy the rest of them think the same. For I myself, in fact, desire to hear you going through the remainder by yourself.

Soc.

Why, to be sure, Gorgias, I myself should have liked to continue discussing with Callicles here until I had paid him an Amphion’s speech in return for his of Zethus.[*](Cf. Plat. Gorg. 485 above.) But since you, Callicles, are unwilling to join me in finishing off the argument, you must at any rate pull me up, as you listen, if it seems to you that my statements are wrong. And if you refute me, I shall not be vexed with you as you were with me; you will only be recorded in my mind as my greatest benefactor.

Call.

Proceed, good sir, by yourself, and finish it off.

Soc.

Give ear, then; but first I will resume our argument from the beginning. Are the pleasant and the good the same thing? Not the same, as Callicles and I agreed. Is the pleasant thing to be done for the sake of the good, or the good for the sake of the pleasant? The pleasant for the sake of the good. And is that thing pleasant by whose advent we are pleased, and that thing good by whose presence we are good? Certainly. But further, both we and everything else that is good, are good by the advent of some virtue? In my view this must be so, Callicles. But surely the virtue of each thing, whether of an implement or of a body, or again of a soul or any live creature, does not arrive most properly by accident, but by an order or rightness or art that is apportioned to each. Is that so? I certainly agree. Then the virtue of each thing is a matter of regular and orderly arrangement? I at least should say so. Hence it is a certain order proper to each existent thing that by its advent in each makes it good? That is my view. So then a soul which has its own proper order is better than one which is unordered? Necessarily. But further, one that has order is orderly? Of course it will be.