Protagoras

Soc.

And that one thing has but one opposite? Yes. Then which, Protagoras, of our propositions are we to reject—the statement that one thing has but one opposite; or the other, that wisdom is different from temperance, and each is a part of virtue, and moreover, a different part, and that the two are as unlike, both in themselves and in their faculties, as the parts of the face? Which are we to upset? The two of them together are not quite in tune; they do not chime in harmony. How could they, if one thing must needs have but one opposite and no more, while wisdom, and temperance likewise, appear both to be opposite to folly, which is a single thing? Such is the position, Protagoras, I said or is it otherwise? He admitted it was so, much against his will. Then temperance and wisdom must be one thing? And indeed we found before that justice and holiness were almost the same thing. Come, Protagoras, I said, let us not falter, but carry out our inquiry to the end. Tell me, does a man who acts unjustly seem to you to be temperate in so acting? I should be ashamed, Socrates, he replied, to admit that, in spite of what many people say. Then shall I address my argument to them, I asked, or to you? If you please, he answered, debate first against that popular theory. It is all the same to me, I said, so long as you make answer, whether it be your own opinion or not. For although my first object is to test the argument, the result perhaps will be that both I, the questioner, and my respondent are brought to the test. At first Protagoras appeared to be coy, alleging that the argument was too disconcerting: however he consented at length to make answer. Well now, I said, begin at the beginning, and tell me, do you consider people to be temperate when they are unjust? Let us suppose so, he said. And by being temperate you mean being sensible? Yes. And being sensible is being well-advised in their injustice? Let us grant it, he said. Does this mean, I asked, if they fare well by their injustice, or if they fare ill? If they fare well. Now do you say there are things that are good? I do. Then, I asked, are those things good which are profitable to men? Oh yes, to be sure, he replied, and also when they are not profitable to men I call them good. Here Protagoras seemed to me to be in a thoroughly provoked and harassed state, and to have set his face against answering: so when I saw him in this mood I grew wary and went gently with my questions.

Soc.

Do you mean, Protagoras, I asked, things that are profitable to no human being, or things not profitable in any way at all? Can you call such things as these good? By no means, he replied; but I know a number of things that are unprofitable to men, namely, foods, drinks, drugs, and countless others, and some that are profitable; some that are neither one nor the other to men, but are one or the other to horses; and some that are profitable only to cattle, or again to dogs; some also that are not profitable to any of those, but are to trees; and some that are good for the roots of a tree, but bad for its shoots—such as dung, which is a good thing when applied to the roots of all plants, whereas if you chose to cast it on the young twigs and branches, it will ruin all. And oil too is utterly bad for all plants, and most deadly for the hair of all animals save that of man, while to the hair of man it is helpful, as also to the rest of his body. The good is such an elusive and diverse thing that in this instance it is good for the outward parts of man’s body, but at the same time as bad as can be for the inward; and for this reason all doctors forbid the sick to take oil, except the smallest possible quantity, in what one is going to eat—just enough to quench the loathing that arises in the sensations of one’s nostrils from food and its dressings.[*](Probably such oil had a specially appetizing flavor or scent.) When he had thus spoken, the company acclaimed it as an excellent answer; and then I remarked: Protagoras, I find I am a forgetful sort of person, and if someone addresses me at any length I forget the subject on which he is talking. So, just as you, in entering on a discussion with me, would think fit to speak louder to me than to others if I happened to be hard of hearing, please bear in mind now that you have to deal with a forgetful person, and therefore cut up your answers into shorter pieces, that I may be able to follow you. Well, what do you mean by short answers? he asked: do you want me to make them shorter than they should be? Not at all, I said. As long as they should be? he asked. Yes, I said. Then are my answers to be as long as I think they should be, or as you think they should be?

Soc.

Well, for instance, I have heard, I said, that you yourself are able, in treating one and the same subject, not only to instruct another person in it but to speak on it at length, if you choose, without ever being at a loss for matter; or again briefly, so as to yield to no one in brevity of expression. So, if you are going to argue with me, employ with me the latter method, that of brevity. Socrates, he said, I have undertaken in my time many contests of speech, and if I were to do what you demand, and argue just in the way that my opponent demanded, I should not be held superior to anyone nor would Protagoras have made a name among the Greeks. Then, as I saw that he had not been quite satisfied with himself in making his former answers, and that he would not readily accept the part of answerer in debate, I considered it was not my business to attend his meetings further, and remarked: But you know, Protagoras, I too feel uncomfortable about our having this discussion against your inclination; but when you agree to argue in such a way that I can follow, then I will argue with you. For you—as people relate of you, and you yourself assert—are able to hold a discussion in the form of either long or short speeches; you are a man of knowledge: but I have no ability for these long speeches, though I could wish that I had it. Surely you, who are proficient in both ways, ought to have made us this concession, that so we might have had our debate. But now that you refuse, and I am somewhat pressed for time and could not stay to hear you expatiate at any length—for I have an appointment—I will be off; though I daresay I should be happy enough to hear your views. With these words I rose as if to go away; but, as I was getting up, Callias laid hold of my arm with his right hand, and grasped this cloak of mine with his left, and said: We will not let you go, Socrates; for if you leave us our discussions will not go so well. I beg you therefore to stay with us, for there is nothing I would rather hear than an argument between you and Protagoras. Come, you must oblige us all. Then I said (I was now standing up as though to go out): Son of Hipponicus, I always admire your love of knowledge, but especially do I commend and love it now, so that I should be very glad to oblige you if you asked of me something that I could do:

Soc.

but I am afraid it is as though you asked me to keep pace with Criso the runner of Himera in his prime, or to keep up in a match with one of the long-distance[*](See Plat. Prot. 329b, note.) or day-course[*](cf. Pheidippides in Hdt. 6.105.) racers, and I could only tell you that I wish that of myself, without your asking, I could keep pace with such runners, but of course I cannot. If you want to have the spectacle of Criso and me running together, you must ask him to adapt his pace; for whereas I cannot run fast, he can run slowly. So if you desire to hear Protagoras and me, ask him to resume the method of answering which he used at first—in short sentences and keeping to the point raised. Otherwise what is to be our mode of discussion? For I thought that to hold a joint discussion and to make a harangue were two distinct things. Ah, but you see, Socrates, he said, Protagoras thinks it only fair to claim that he be allowed to discuss in his chosen style, in return for your claim that it should be in yours. At this Alcibiades intervened, saying: You do not state it quite philosophically, Callias,[*](The translation attempts to follow the jingle of καλῶς . . . Καλλία ) for Socrates here confesses he is no hand at long discourses, and yields therein to Protagoras; but I should be surprised if he yields to any man in ability to argue, or in understanding the interchange of reason. Now if Protagoras confesses himself inferior to Socrates in argumentation, Socrates has no more to ask: but if he challenges him, let him discuss by question and answer; not spinning out a lecture on each question—beating off the arguments, refusing to give a reason, and so dilating until most of his hearers have forgotten the point at issue. For Socrates, I warrant you, will not forget, despite his jesting way of calling himself forgetful. Now I think Socrates’ proposal is the more equitable—for each of us should declare his personal opinion. After Alcibiades, the next, I believe, to speak was Critias: Prodicus and Hippias, he said, it seems to me that Callias is all for supporting Protagoras, while Alcibiades is always for a contest in anything he takes up. It is not for us to contend on either side for Socrates or for Protagoras, but jointly to request them both not to break off our conference unconcluded.

Soc.

When he had said this, Prodicus[*](Prodicus was specially expert in nice verbal distinctions) remarked: I think you are right, Critias: those who attend this sort of discussion ought to be joint, but not equal, hearers of both disputants. For there is a difference: we should listen jointly to them both, yet not give equal heed to each, but more to the wiser and less to the less intelligent. I on my part also, Protagoras and Socrates, call upon you to accede to our request, and to dispute, but not wrangle, with each other over your arguments: for friends dispute with friends, just from good feeling; whereas wrangling is between those who are at variance and enmity with one another. In this way our meeting will have highest success, since you the speakers will thus earn the greatest measure of good repute, not praise, from us who hear you. For good repute is present in the hearers’ souls without deception, but praise is too often in the words of liars who hide what they really think. Again, we listeners would thus be most comforted, not pleased; for he is comforted who learns something and gets a share of good sense in his mind alone, whereas he is pleased who eats something or has some other pleasant sensation only in his body. When Prodicus had thus spoken, quite a number of the company showed their approval then after Prodicus the learned Hippias[*](Hippias professed to teach a great variety of subjects. His frequent metaphors were evidently designed to display his wide range of knowledge.) spoke: Gentlemen, he said, who are here present, I regard you all as kinsmen and intimates and fellow-citizens by nature, not by law: for like is akin to like by nature, whereas law, despot of mankind, often constrains us against nature. Hence it would be shameful if we, while knowing the nature of things, should yet—being the wisest of the Greeks, and having met together for the very purpose in the very sanctuary of the wisdom of Greece, and in this the greatest and most auspicious house of the city of cities—display no worthy sign of this dignity, but should quarrel with each other like low churls.

Soc.

Now let me beg and advise you, Protagoras and Socrates, to come to terms arranged, as it were, under our arbitration: you, Socrates, must, not require that precise form of discussion with its extreme brevity, if it is disagreeable to Protagoras, but let the speeches have their head with a loose rein, that they may give us a more splendid and elegant impression; nor must you, Protagoras, let out full sail, as you run before the breeze, and so escape into the ocean of speech leaving the land nowhere in sight; rather, both of you must take a middle course. So you shall do as I say, and I strongly urge you to choose an umpire or supervisor or chairman who will keep watch for you over the due measure of either’s speeches.His proposal was approved by the company, and they all applauded it: Callias said he would not let me go, and they requested me to choose a supervisor. To this I replied that it would be a shame to choose an arbiter for our discussion; for if he who is chosen, said I, is to be our inferior, it would not be right to have the inferior overseeing the superior; while if he is our equal, that will be just as wrong, for our equal will only do very much as we do, and it will be superfluous to choose him. You may say you will choose one who is our superior. This, in very truth, I hold to be impossible—to choose someone who is wiser than our friend Protagoras; and if you choose one who is not his superior, though you may say he is, that again would cast a slur on him, as if he were some paltry fellow requiring a supervisor; for, as far as I am concerned, the matter is indifferent. But let me tell you how I would have the thing done, so that your eagerness for a conference and a discussion may be satisfied. If Protagoras does not wish to answer, let him ask questions, and I will answer: at the same time I will try to show him how the answerer, in my view, ought to answer; and when I have answered all the questions that he wishes to ask, in his turn he shall render account in like manner to me. So if he does not seem very ready to answer the particular question put to him, you and I will join in beseeching him, as you have besought me, not to upset our conference. And for this plan there is no need to have one man as supervisor; you will all supervise it together. They all resolved that it should be done in this way: Protagoras, though very unwilling, was obliged after all to agree to ask questions and then, when he had asked a sufficient number, to take his turn at making due response in short answers.