INTRODUCTION TO THE PROTAGORAS. In this dialogue Socrates relates to a friend, whose name is not given, a discussion which he had just had with Protagoras the sophist, of Abdera. Hippocrates, a young Athenian, had roused Socrates very early in the morning and entreated him to accompany him on a visit to Protagoras, who was then at Athens staying at the house of Callias, and whose pupil he was anxious to become. On arriving there, they find the sophist attended by a crowd of admirers, and moreover Hippias of Elis and Prodicus of Ceos, surrounded by their respective followers a. After Socrates had made known the object of his visit to Protagoras, Callias proposes that the whole party should sit down and listen to the conversation. When all are seated, Socrates repeats to Protagoras, that Hippocrates is desirous of becoming his pupil, and wishes to know what advantage he may expect to derive from associating with him. Protagoras tells him that from the very first day of their intercourse he will become a better man than he was before, and will daily make further progress. But, asks Socrates, in what will he become better, and in what make further progress ? In the management of his domestic and public affairs, that is to say, in the political art. To this Socrates objects that the general opinion is that political virtue cannot be taught, and that, whereas with respect to arts and sciences it was usual only to consult persons who had made them their study and were skilled in them, in affairs of state every one, of whatever condition, was at liberty to give his opinion; he therefore begs Protagoras to prove that virtue can be taught. To this end Protagoras relates a fable in which he explains how the capacity of becoming virtuous was imparted by Jupiter to § 1-18. § 19-29. b mankind; and then argues that as men are punished for injustice, impiety, and the like, it follows that they must think that these virtues ought to be possessed and may be acquired by all men, for that they would not punish them for a mere defect of mind any more than of body, if it were natural and not attributable to the fault of the individual. Socrates having complimented him on his eloquence, according to his usual method, begs that he will answer his questions briefly; and then expresses his surprise at having heard Protagoras speak of justice, temperance, holiness, and the like, as if they were collectively virtue. He therefore wishes to know whether virtue is one thing, and justice, temperance and holiness, parts of it, or whether they are all names of one and the same thing. Protagoras answers that virtue is one thing, and these several qualities parts of it. Are they then parts like the parts of a face, the mouth, nose, eyes, and ears, or like the parts of gold, which do not differ from each other? Like the former. In that case holiness and justice must be different from each other, which, as Protagoras is at length compelled, though unwillingly, to admit, is absurd d. Again, each several thing has only one contrary; for instance, strength is contrary to weakness, swiftness to slowness, ugliness to beauty, evil to good; in the same way each virtue must have its contrary. This being granted, Protagoras is led to admit that folly is contrary to temperance, and also to wisdom; but in that case wisdom and temperance cannot be different from each other, as was before stated, but must be one and the same thing. A similar course of enquiry is instituted by Socrates, in order to shew that justice and prudence likewise are one and the same, but the impatience of Protagoras at finding himself driven to repeated admissions which contradict the theory with which he set out, interrupts the discussion; at length, however, the breach is repaired by the interference of the company, and it is agreed that each shall question the с c § 30-39. ¿ 40-56. other in turn. Protagoras begins by getting Socrates to allow that an ode of Simonides is beautiful, but that it cannot be beautiful if the poet contradicts himself. He then shews that in one part of the ode it is said "that to become a good man is difficult," and in another part, "that he is not pleased with the saying of Pittacus, where he says that it is difficult to continue to be good." Socrates, however, justifies the opinion he had expressed by a minute and subtle examination of the object the poet had in view in composing the ode. Having concluded his criticism of the ode, Socrates is anxious to bring back the discussion to the original subject, and having with difficulty prevailed on Protagoras to consent to this, repeats the question with which they set out, which was to this effect: whether wisdom, temperance, courage, justice, and holiness are five parts of virtue, differing from each other as the parts of the face do? Protagoras answers that they all are parts of virtue, four of them very like each other, but the fifth, courage, very different from all the rest. But this distinction Socrates overthrows as follows: you admit that the courageous are daring; but they who, like divers, are bold in a matter in which they are skilled are commended as courageous, whereas they who are unskilled and yet bold are not courageous but mad; so that according to this reasoning wisdom and courage are the same. Protagoras, however, tries to avoid this conclusion by saying that Socrates has mis-stated his former admission, for that he allowed only that the courageous are bold, not that the bold are courageous. But Socrates, with a view more certainly to convict his opponent of error, changes his ground, and asks whether all pleasant things are good, and all painful things evil? Protagoras is in doubt what answer to give; Socrates, therefore, shews that pleasure is in itself a good, but that men mistake as to what things are pleasant; for knowledge alone ought to govern man, and if a man knows good and evil he will never be overcome by any thing $57-90. e so as to do any thing else but what knowledge bids him. Yet there are some who say that they are overcome by pleasure or pain; but what is it to be overcome by pleasure? nothing else than to choose present pleasure which will result in greater evil; in other words, to embrace a greater evil rather than a greater good; they, therefore, who are overcome by pleasure are so from ignorancef. Having established this, Socrates recurs to the statement of Protagoras, that courage differs from the other parts of virtue, because the most unholy, most unjust, most intemperate, and most ignorant men, are sometimes most courageous. It is admitted that no one willingly exposes himself to things that he believes to be evil; a brave man, therefore, incurs dangers which he knows to be honourable and good, and therefore pleasant, and is influenced by no base fear, nor inspired with base confidence; but the coward, on the contrary, is influenced by base fear and inspired by base confidence; he errs, therefore, through ignorance and want of knowledge, whence it follows that courage is contained in knowledge. The result of the whole is that virtue, since it consists in knowledge, can be taught, and so it turns out that Socrates, who began by maintaining that it could not be taught, has been arguing all along that it can, and Protagoras, who asserted that it could be taught, has been arguing that it cannot. f § 91-118. PROTAGORAS, OR THE SOPHISTS. A FRIEND, SOCRATES, HIPPOCRATES, PROTAGORAS, ALCIBIADES, CALLIAS, CRITIAS, PRODICUS, AND HIPPIAS. Fr. WHENCE come you, Socrates? can there be any doubt but that it is from a chase after the beauty of Alcibiades ? and to me, indeed, when I saw him lately, the man appeared still beautiful, though between ourselves, Socrates, he is a man and is now getting a pretty thick beard. Socr. But what of that? Do you not approve of Homera, then, who says, that the most graceful age is that of a youth with his first beard, which is now the age of Alcibiades ? Fr. What have we to do with that now? Do you come from him? And how is the youth disposed towards you? Socr. Very well, I think, and not least so to-day; for he has said many things in my favour, assisting me, and indeed I have just now come from him. However, I have something strange to tell you for though he was present I paid no attention to him, and even frequently forgot him. 2. Fr. But what great affair can have happened between you and him? for surely you have not met with any one else more beautiful, in this city at least ? Socr. By far. Fr. What say you? A citizen, or a stranger? Socr. A stranger. Socr. From Abdera. Fr. And did this stranger appear to you so beautiful that you thought him more beautiful than the son of Clinias? Socr. But how, my dear friend, can the wisest be thought otherwise than more beautiful? a Odyss. x. 279. |