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 Plato's GpraJas,,„liK!JX,,&lMiuill«ffill 
 
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PLATO'S GOEGIAS. 
 
PLATO'S GOEGIAS, 
 
 LITERALLY TEANSLATBD, 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTOET ESSAY, CONTAINING 
 A SUMMARY OF THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 ET THE LATE 
 
 E. M. COPE, 
 
 FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET, 
 
 COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 1883. 
 
OHISWICK PKESS : — 0. ■VTHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COTIBT, 
 CHANCEBY LANE. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The object aimed at in this Translation is, as the 
 title-page sets forth, to render Plato's text as nearly 
 as possible word for word into English, and it is 
 therefore not intended specially, for English readers. 
 On the contrary, it is intended principally for stu- 
 dents and scholars, for those who are learning or 
 have learnt to compare the structure and resources of 
 the Greek and the English language, and the several 
 modes of expression which the habits of thought pre- 
 vailing in times and places so far removed from one 
 another have stamped upon their respective idioms. 
 Those who have done so are the only fair judges of 
 such an attempt, and will be the first to make the 
 requisite allowance for the defects and shortcomings 
 which will most assuredly be found in this transla- 
 tion. My endeavour has been not only to convey 
 the spirit and freedom, which of course must be the 
 . aim of every translator, but also as far as possible to 
 preserve the form of the original language ; and I 
 have done my best to hold a middle course between 
 the pedantic and servile adherence to the letter by 
 
vi PBEFAOE. 
 
 which grace ease and English grammar are alike 
 sacrificed, and the looseness of a paraphrase, which 
 may indeed faithfully reproduce the thoughts of the : 
 writer, but must needs fail to give any idea of the 
 dress in which those thoughts are clothed. It seems 
 to me that the true spirit of an author can be con- ' 
 veyed only in his own words, that is, in a nteral| 
 translation ; and this view is I think supported by 
 the fact that all those translations which are gene- 
 rally recognised as the best are literal ; I need go no 
 further than our English version of the Bible for an 
 instance in support of this assertion. Of the greatj 
 perhaps insuperable, difficulties that stand in the way 
 of any such attempt none can be better aware than 
 myself : still this union of the letter with the spirit is 
 and must be, the ideal of a perfect translation, and 
 as such should always be kept in view by any one 
 who attempts faithfully to represent any work of 
 literature in the idiom of a foreign language ; but still 
 more when the interest of that work depends, as in 
 most of the Platonic dialogues, in no slight degree i 
 upon the external form and graces of style. The 
 difficulty of the task of translating is of course in- 
 creased in proportion to the distance of the age and 
 country in which the work was composed from thora 
 in which it is invested with its new dress. Thq 
 circumstances and associations amongst, which the 
 Greeks lived, and which impressed their distinctive 
 character upon their modes of thought and expres^ 
 
PEE FA OK vii 
 
 sion, are so entirely remote from those which prevail 
 in this England of the nineteenth ceatury that a mo- 
 dern translator cannot fail to be constantly at a loss'for 
 an exact equivalent in his own language for the tech- 
 nical terms, for example, the metaphor, the proverb, 
 the allusion, the distinctions, the turns of phrase, 
 which were current and familiar two thousand years, 
 ago. Hardest of all is the task of doing justice to 
 the language of a subtle as well as imaginative 
 writer like Plato ; of rendering adequately the grace- 
 ful flow of his natural and easy dialogue ;. of express- 
 ing in simple and yet appropriate terms the nice 
 distinctions, the rigorous and systematic, often ab- 
 struse, trains of reasoning which yet are made to 
 follow Ethe turns of a lively conversation, and never 
 except in his later dialogues take a formal and di- 
 dactic shape ; of worthilyj representing the playful 
 humour, the happy and ingenious phrase, the bril- 
 liant metaphor, the sly stroke of satire, the burst of 
 eloquence,! the sally of passion, the indignant invec- 
 tive, or the lofty flight of poetifcal imagery : and yet 
 all these have to be in their turn encountered by one 
 who undertakes to translate Plato. 
 
 One of the most marked characteristics of Plato's 
 earlier and more dramatic dialogues, and one that I 
 have been most anxious to preserve, is the perfect 
 simplicity ease and familiarity with which the ideas 
 are expressed and the conversation carried on : here 
 there are no laboured antitheses, no balanced clauses. 
 
viii PEEFAOE. 
 
 flo artificially constructed periods \ no pompouJ 
 phrases, no technical terms of science or philosophy i 
 all the grace is unstudied and the harmony naturalj 
 It seems to me that this unartificial character has| 
 been occasionally in some degree overlooked in more| 
 than one of the most approved, and otherwise most 
 excellent, of the recent English versions of Plato, i 
 Translators in turning their phrases and rounding, 
 their periods are constantly liable to lose sight of the , 
 unstudied and simple graces which charm us in thel 
 original, and to convey to their version a certaini 
 appearance of stifness and constraint altogether alieB| 
 from the unrestrained freedom of the Platonic style| 
 It is quite possible to translate Plato too neatly. In 
 endeavouring to avoid this error I have myself as 
 far as possible eschewed the use of all long and techfl 
 nical words, formal and set phrases, and elaborately 
 turned periods, and have been content, as far as I 
 could manage it, to let Plato speak in his own man- 
 ner, as well as in his own language. With this view 
 likewise I have sometimes preserved even the ana- 
 colutha, and always as far as I could retained thej 
 same order of the words as that in which Plato wrote ] 
 them. 
 
 One of the most prominent and striking difficul-l 
 ties which a translator of this author has to overcome 
 
 ■ Plato's style in respect of the structure of his sentences — they| 
 are hardly to be called regular periods — is well described by DissenJ 
 in the Essay De Structura Feriodorum, prefixed to his edition oy 
 Demosth. de Ooron. pp. Ixx — Ixxv. 
 
PBEFAOE. 
 
 IX 
 
 in the attempt to impart simplicity and freedom to 
 his version lies in the treatment of#the Greek par- 
 ticles. These, singly and in endless combinations, 
 are so numerous, the shades of meaning conveyed 
 by them are so fine and delicate, often by their sub- 
 tlety escaping detection, always difficult to render; 
 they have so few equivalents in our own language, 
 and many of these awkward and cumbrous words, 
 which thrust themselves forward and force them- 
 selves unduly upon our notice — whereas in the 
 Greek those which most frequently occur are little 
 creatures of no more than two or three, or at the 
 most four, letters^ occupy little space and attract 
 little attention to themselves — that they throw an 
 endless series of traps and stumblingblocks in the 
 way of a translator who is bent upon expressing 
 them, as perplexing and provoking as they are un- 
 avoidable. The simplest and most usual mode of 
 dealing with these particles is to omit them alto- 
 gether. Here however I must make a special ex- 
 ception in the case of Schleiermacher, who carrying 
 the literal and rigorous exactness by which his work 
 is characterised down to these minute particulars 
 conscientiously translates them all: though how far 
 the German substitutes actually correspond to the 
 Greek originals no foreigner probably is competent 
 
 ' Hcv Si ye yap irov iroi irwc toi St) av apa oiv fiijv dWa iron with 
 their various combinations make up pretty nearly the entire list of 
 the particles in common use in a Greek dialogue. 
 
X FBEFACE. 
 
 to decide. If I might venture to express my own 
 opinion upon the point, 1 should say that in this as 
 in other respects his version is rather over dry and 
 formal. But in omitting these particles we sacrifices 
 in a great measure the expression, so to call it, of 
 the dialogue. It is by these in a great degree that 
 the irony the insinuation the sneer, modesty delicacg 
 reserve hesitation diffidence vehemence resolutioi 
 positive assertion contempt indignation derision, and 
 numberless other shades and refinements of though^ 
 feeUng and character are conveyed, or at any rate 
 aided and heightened ; they give point to an obser-^ 
 vation and connection to an argument : they are the 
 light shades and dehcate touches of the picture^r 
 like the play of features in the actor — hard to catch, 
 easy to overlook or misapprehend, but essential no 
 less to the harmony and finish, the expression and 
 character of the performance. I have therefore neve> 
 designedly omitted any one of them, except in the 
 few cases where it seemed that such omission, would 
 more faithfully represent the original than their in- 
 sertion^; and in so doing have often I fear run the 
 risk of encumbering and impeding Plato's lively nar- 
 rative, smart cut and thrust dialectics, or easy 
 conversation, with a number of disproportionatidM 
 lengthy words — or more commonly phrases, for long 
 
 ' The case of the particle yap, when it occurs as introductory to !i| 
 narrative, is one of these. Schleiermaoher always renders this by 
 namlich ' that is to say , as follows ' : but I doubt if we have in our lans 
 guage anything exactly corresponding either to the one or the othei;| 
 
PBEFAGE. si 
 
 ■" words' I have always done my best to avoid — which 
 often must be employed in default df any others in 
 ' our own language capable of adequately expressing 
 ' the same meaning with greater conciseness. 
 
 Another error to be carefully avoided by a trans- 
 ' lator who desires to adhere faithfully to the simplicity 
 ' and freedom of the Platonic style is the use of tech- 
 ' nical terms to convey the doctrines and conceptions 
 of philosophy. One of the most striking peculiarities 
 of Plato's philosophical writings which distinguishes 
 them in a very marked manner from those of his 
 successors is the almost entire absence of any scien- 
 tific terminology : with the exception of one or two 
 peculiar terms such as aSoc or IBm and BioXsktuct), arid 
 the special appropriation of Sidvoia and Bv/xouSig in the 
 Kepublic, and possibly one or two others, Plato's 
 philosophy is absolutely devoid of any technical 
 pliraseology. This is no doubt in a great measure 
 due, and especially in the earlier dialogues such as 
 Gorgias, to the conversational and dramatic form 
 into which he has chosen to throw the greater part 
 of his writings, and also to the fact that in the de- 
 partments of mental and moral philbsophy which he 
 especially cultivated there was no terminology suffi- 
 ciently established and popular to be suited to his 
 purpose ; and partly also I should suppose from what 
 he says in the Phaedrus and elsewhere to a dislike 
 and suspicion of technical as well as all other pompous 
 phrases, as unable to ' give an account of themselves,' 
 
xii PEEFAGE. 
 
 and without a detailed explanation and modificatio| 
 according to circumstances likely only to mislead and 
 confuse, to pass off fallacies under cover of wisdon^ 
 That this may be, and indeed often is, actually the 
 effect of them, will hardly I believe be denied by any 
 one who has ever read even a few pages of any 
 modern German philosophical work : nor do I thin^ 
 that the harsh and ill-sounding terminology of the 
 Stoics, or even, may I say ? of Aristotle, contribute| 
 in any degree to render their systems more intelli-4 
 gible. But whatever the reason may be, the- fact at 
 aU events is that the stock of words and phrases by 
 which Plato carries on his arguments, and arrives at 
 his philosophical conclusions is borrowed almost 
 entirely from the commonest language of common 
 life, and the translator is therefore bound on his 
 part to abstain as far as possible from all tech- 
 nical terms, though they may seem perchance to 
 e,xpress the same ideas more neatly and compactly| 
 however authority may have sanctioned and sub- 
 sequent usage familiarised us with them. 
 
 I may here just notice two other classes of express 
 sion which offer* some difficulty — trifling compare™ 
 with the preceding — in a literal translation of PlatoJ 
 namely the complimentary formulas and the oaths I 
 these though of comparatively slight importance wiU 
 still often be found somewhat troublesome and im| 
 practicable. In regard of the former, which in^ 
 Plato's text are constantly making their appearanci 
 
PEE F AGE. xiii 
 
 where they seem least wanted, our English stock of 
 current and familiar expressions of Ais kind — titles 
 always excepted — is at the present day very low 
 indeed, and greatly reduced from what it was in the 
 more ceremonious days of our forefathers. Even 
 'fair Sir' has no longer a familiar sound in our 
 ordinary speech, and ' dear Sir ' ' good Sir ' ' worthy 
 Sir' 'my dear feUow', or the same adjectives with 
 'friend', and perhaps one or two more, fill up the 
 list of those which would nowadays be admitted on 
 any tefms into a friendly conversation ; and even 
 these are by no means adequate representations of 
 
 the 01 yiwaii, io KaWiOTt, o) apiare^ u) fiaKapix, a> jSeAtktte, 
 
 <i> Sat/uov(E, (5 Bavfidaii^ Z fiXraTe and the rest, which 
 occur with such provoking frequency in Socrates' 
 courteous addresses. As however these phrases so 
 seldom present themselves in an English dialogue, 
 as they are quite isolated, and afiect as little as possi- 
 ble the general meaning or spirit of the passage in 
 which they are found, the motives for retaining and 
 making the best of them are by no means so strong as 
 they have been shown to be in the case of the parti- 
 cles, indeed it may be said that the dmission of them 
 is justifiable or perhaps even advisable, when by 
 their introduction the translation would assuiiie an 
 antiquated or unfamiliar aspect. 
 
 Our modern stock of oaths recognised nowadays as 
 admissible in polite conversation is happily still more 
 limited than that of complimentary expressions. If 
 
xiv PBEFAOE. 
 
 we Still believed in saints sufficiently to swear by theiH| 
 Our Lady or St George or St Sophia might perha J 
 be allowed to take the place of'Upa or "Aprjc or 'AOrpi^ 
 in the Greek adjurations ; the chaste "Aprtfiig mig]a| 
 be represented by one of the virgin martyrs ; and St 
 Sebastian with his juvenile and faultless figure migh;^ 
 do duty for the beardless Apollo — unless indeed the 
 somewhat important difference between the two, thai 
 the one was a discharger the other a mere recipient of 
 arrows, the one an archer the other only a mark, were 
 thought to disqualify him for sustaining such a part | 
 but in these Protestant times such a resource is no 
 longer available. As to the commoner forms of 
 adjuration which are of such constant ocurrence, v^ 
 Aj'a, fxd Ai'a, vjj tovq Qeovg, Trpog Aioc, the rendering that 
 first suggests itself is to be sure appropriate and ex- 
 pressive enough, but shocking to modem ears ; wha^ 
 was harmless in a Greek and a heathen becomes 
 profane in a Christian and an Englishman : and 
 though your Italian would think no harm of trans^i 
 lating vij Ala by the plain per Dio, which he habitually 
 employs in his own ordinary conversation, and even 
 Schleiermacher sometimes blurts out an undisguisd| 
 'bei Gott', the reverence with which we are accus| 
 tomed to surround the sacred name of the Deity will] 
 not allow us to have recourse to the same mode of 
 representation, and we are obliged therefore to fal 
 back upon the somewhat poor and tame substitutfi| 
 of ' by heaven ' ' upon my word ' ' by my faith ' ' upon : 
 
PEEFAGE. XV 
 
 my honour' 'egad' 'in heaven's name', which fall 
 short indeed of the expressive force <bf the original, 
 but are the strongest forms which propriety permits 
 us to employ. 
 
 As this professes before all things to be a literal 
 translation, it may be well perhaps in order to avoid 
 the possible charge of carelessness or ignorance from 
 such scholars — if indeed there be any such — who 
 would in all cases sacrifice the English idiom to 
 the preservation of the Greek, to notice a few points 
 in which I have not always rigorously adhered to 
 certain rules of translation which have been inculcated 
 in us from our earhest years by lessons addressed 
 alike to the reason and the feelings, and enforced at 
 the same time by a priori authority and by a poste- 
 riori apphcation. My rule however has been to pay 
 due attention to such niceties, and I have only neg- 
 lected them when,the exigencies of translation seemed 
 to me to require the sacrifice in order to avoid stif- 
 ness and awkwardness in the English expression. 
 Some of these points are : the distinction of the 
 Greek aorist and perfect, the uniform observance of 
 which has been by some scholars so peremptorily 
 insisted on. The fact however is that the idiom of 
 our own language dififers in this particular so far 
 from the Greek that we are obliged very frequently 
 to express the Greek aorist by the English perfect. 
 For instance in the common phrase rJStj aSov, in which 
 the verb is rendered ' I have seen ', the adverb which 
 
XVI 
 
 PBEFAOE. 
 
 is supposed to account in this particular case for the 
 perfect sense of the aorist has really nothing what- 
 ever to do with it \ "Where the Greeks said ' I once 
 saw ', we say ' I have seen '. Again ; who would think- 
 of rendering the exulting song of the initiated, E^uyoffl 
 KOKov, eiipov afieivov, by anything but the English per-' 
 feet ? There is a similar difference between the Frencli! 
 and German idioms and our own in the use of thesi 
 tenses ; that is, in sometimes expressing our aorist: 
 by a perfect and vice vers&, as waren sie ? ' have yoi^ 
 been?'; j'ai6t6... 'Iwas...' 
 
 Again a Greek not unfrequently writes yl-yvtaOcm 
 where an Englishman says simply 'to be' ; and 
 though I hold that the distinction between the twoj 
 verbs is so philosophically important that it should| 
 always be maintained when it is possible so to do — 
 and it will be seen that I have sometimes gone a 
 little out of my way to maintain it — yet the negleci 
 of it is sometimes (not often I believe) not only justi-' 
 fiable but absolutely required. 
 
 Of minor importance is the occasional omissip^ 
 of the article in rendering ol aXXot, and perhaps otherl 
 similar phrases ; the non-observance of the positioti 
 of the article with substantive and adjective, in which] 
 
 ^ I cannot agree with Mr Shilleto, crit. not. on Demosth. de P-L.! 
 § 228, in thinking that the addition of temporal particles such as aprl, 
 TToWaKic, oil ■nuiTTOTe, can make any difference whatsoever in the " na- 
 ture " or sense of the tense : the translation of the Greek aorist by ' 
 our perfect in such oases is a mere matter of idiom. The text was 
 written before I had seen Mr Shilleto's note, and without any refereocef 
 to it. 
 
PBEFAGE. xvii 
 
 the Greek form of expression likewise not unfre- 
 quently differs from familiar and idioaiatic English ; 
 the substitution of the indefinite for the Greek de- 
 1 finite article when the latter denotes a class. On this 
 subject see Buttmann's Greek Grammar, § 124. 
 Obs. 2 (Engl. Transl.). It is explained quite uncon- 
 sciously and accidentally by Aristotle, Rhet. ii. 4. 31. 
 
 TO 06 /nao^ Kai irpog ra yEvri' tov yap kXetttjjv /iiati 
 
 K.T.X. See also Schneider's note on Plato de Rep. 
 vni. 564 A. 
 
 Passing over other idiomatic difi"erences of a simi- 
 |lar character, there remains one point which is 
 I important enough to be treated at greater length ; 
 I more especially as the question is still unsettled, and 
 a writer of high authority has pronounced a very 
 uncompromising opinion upon it entirely opposed to 
 what I believe to be the truth. I refer to the trans- 
 lation of oil Travv, and I will take this opportunity to 
 enter in detail upon the consideration of the whole 
 'Question ; but as the note promises to be a somewhat 
 loag one, it may perhaps find a fitter place in the 
 Appendix \ 
 
 As to the aids of which I have availed myself 
 in the translation, besides the notes of the Commen- 
 tators, I have constantly had before me Schleier- 
 macher's version and the Master of Trinity's Platonic 
 Dialogues for English Readers ; with the exception 
 
 ' See note 0, in the Appendix. 
 b 
 
xviii ' PBEFAGK 
 
 of Cousin's translation, which I looked throu 
 many years ago, I have seen no other. Schlei( 
 macher's version of this as of the other dialogs 
 is so literal and so exact that it serves the purpc 
 of a commentary of no mean order : as far as i 
 observation extends, he very seldom misses t 
 precise meaning of the original; and his extrei 
 acuteness and thorough knowledge of his auth 
 render his assistance always valuable. Cousin's i 
 any such purpose is absolutely worthless. The form 
 however is, if I may venture to say so, too flat ai 
 lifeless — at least to an English reader — to fumi 
 much assistance in turning a phrase or suggestii 
 an expression. Of Dr Whewell's work perhaps n 
 much more than a third of this particular dialogue 
 a direct translation. To this I have to acknowledgi 
 few obligations, for here and there a vigorous phra 
 or a happy turn of expression. But such dir€ 
 obhgations amount I believe scarcely to half a dozei 
 any other coincidences that may be found hetwd 
 our versions are accidental. > 
 
 It only remains to say that the text I ha 
 followed is that of the Zurich Editors, except i 
 a few rare instances which I have been careful , 
 point out. 
 
INTRODUCTION, 
 
 Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control. 
 These three alone lead life to sovereign power. 
 Yet not for power (power of herself 
 Would come uncalled for), but to live by law, 
 Acting the law we live by without fear ; 
 And, because right is right, to follow right 
 Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence. 
 
 TENNysON, (Enone-. 
 
 The course of the argument of this dialogue is somewhat in- 
 tricate and at first sight desultory, and the subjects treated 
 in it are so multifarious, that the most various and diverse 
 opinions have been entertained as to the leading purpose and 
 intention of Plato in its composition. A good deal of the 
 complexity and consequent difficulty vanishes upon closer in- 
 spection ; but enough remains to render the main scope and 
 design in some degree doubtful ; and accordingly the most re- 
 cent writers upon the subject are by no means in agreement 
 with one another upon the point. A fair summary of their 
 views is given by Stallbaum, Introduction, pp. 31 — 35, and I 
 neednot therefore repeat them here. Amongst these, a treatise 
 by Bonitz, published in the transactions of the Viennese Aca- 
 demy of Sciences(to which my references are made) and also 
 separately in Part I. of his Platonische Studien, deserves 
 especial mention. It contains a careful analysis of the argu- 
 ment together with an inquiry into the leading idea of the 
 dialogue, and a criticism of the views of two of his prede- 
 cessors, Steinhart^ and Susemihl, upon the same subject. 
 
 ' This name, that of the author of Introductions prefixed to Hieronymus 
 Miiller's translation of the Platonic dialogues, has been systematically converted 
 
XX PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 This essay is distinguished throughout by clearness moderar 
 tion and good sense. 
 
 The Greek title of the dialogue is ropyiac, V nepi priro- 
 ptKrJQ, avarpeTTTiKog, Diog. Laert. Vit. Plat. § 59. Ihese 
 second titles, though it is generally agreed that they do not 
 proceed from Plato himself, and have therefore no final and 
 decisive authority in determining the true subject of his 
 dialogues, yet as representing the earliest opinion as to the 
 nature of their contents of native and probably well informed 
 Platonists, should not I think be entirely set aside ; and in 
 this particular instance, as it seems to me, Rhetoric, the 
 subject assigned by the title as the leading one, may when 
 properly understood fairly put in its claim with the rest to 
 be that which was uppermost in the author's mind in writing 
 the Gorgias. 
 
 The term avaTpewriKO^, subversive, destructive, opposed 
 to Karao-KEuooTticoc, constructive, denotes that the Gorgias, 
 like the Thetetetus and Meno for example with which Schlei- 
 ermacher places it in immediate connection, belongs to the 
 class of polemical or diale^tical^ialoguea4_iii which the object 
 is not so much to establish a doctrine or build up a system, 
 as to clear the ground for either of these by the removal of 
 popular errors and fallacies and the refutation of antagonist: 
 speculations and theories. Of this class of the Platonic dia- 
 logues, to which Schleiermacher assigns the middle divisioii 
 in his arrangement, between the elementary and the con- 
 tructive, placing the Gorgias at their head, he says, Introd. 
 to Gorg.^ p. 4, that " they no longer treat as the first (the ele- 
 mentary) did of the Method of Philosophy, but of its object, 
 with a view to attain a complete conception and a right 
 distinction of it ; nor yet at the same time do they seek 
 
 by Stallbaum into Eeinhart, under which form it invariably appears iu his la- 
 troduction, to the passible perplexity of many of his readers. 
 
 ^ In citing Schleiermacher's Introductions I refer always to the original 
 Introductions prefixed to his translation of the dialogues, not to Mr Dobson's 
 English version. 
 
INTBODUGTION. 
 
 ZXl 
 
 ike the latter properly speaking to represent the two real 
 iciences. Physics (in its widest sense inoiuding Cosmology 
 md Ontology or Metaphysics) and Ethics, hut only in a pre- 
 )aratory and progressive way to determine what they are ; 
 md, whether considered singly or in their mutual connec- 
 ion, they are distinguished by a construction, less uniform 
 han in the first division, but particularly artificial and al- 
 nost difficult." Compare general Introd. pp. 49, 50. Ac- 
 jordingly this dialogue occupies pretty nearly the same_ 
 )osition in Ethical, as the Theaetetus in Intellectual, Phi- 
 osophy : as there the various existing theories of knowledge, 
 md especially the ultra Sceptical, and, as we may call it 
 rom its originator and supporters. Sophistical theory of Pro- 
 lagoras are examined and refuted ; so here the same course 
 s pursued with the current notions and doctrines about jus- 
 ice virtue a nd the rule of life ; and amongst them, the So- 
 )histical paradoxes th at might is the only right andjustice 
 lothing but a convention of society, and that pleasure is the 
 )nly good, are most prominently brought forward and most 
 ignally refuted. The solution of all these great questions, 
 md the true views of Knowledge and Science, of Justice 
 md the Good, are to be sought for in the Constructive or 
 Demonstrative Dialogues, the Philebus and B,epubhc. In 
 Be Gorgias, as in the Theaetetus, the process is indirect or 
 lialectical, and the result in some sense negative — negative 
 hat is for philosophical purposes and as regards the con- 
 truction of a system, the conclusions being all of a practical 
 iharacter and bearing solely upon the regulation of life and 
 ionduct. This will appear from the summary of them p. 
 •27 B, c. Compare the remarks of Bonitz u. s. p. 272. 
 
 But before we proceed to inqu ire into the cl gi"if "f T?.Tip- 
 oric to be regarded as the principal subjegtiQjJiia.^iak>g«,e, 
 ^ must first ponfiliripr tho npti ii- ili \\'Tiiph'"tTiifrRhptnrip is to 
 )e interpreted, and what is the light in which Plato here 
 egards it. 
 
 The modern and narrower sense of Rhetoric as the art of 
 
xxii PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 speaking, and even the ancient definitions of it, as ' the art of 
 persuasion,' the original definition, or Aristotle's correctioB'of 
 this, 'the faculty of discerning the possible means of pew 
 suasion in a given subject,' or any of the various definitioii| 
 enumerated by Quintilian in the 15th Chapter of his second 
 book, would give us a most inadequate notion of the real ex- 
 tent and bearings of this new art as it was understood and 
 practised by its Sophistical originators and Professors in the 
 time of Socrates ; and would leave entirely unexplained the 
 character ascribed to it in this dialogue, and the connecti^ 
 in which it there stands with the multifarious discussions 
 upon virtue and politics which are made to arise out of the 
 consideration of its nature and true meaning. The functio^ 
 which it assumed in the hands of its earliest Professors, and 
 the prominent part that it consequently plays in the Gorgia^ 
 will be best understood from the account that they are madii 
 to give of themselves by Plato, and similar notices of thei| 
 profession and practice which are to be found in othei| 
 writers. I 
 
 In Protag. 318 E, Protagoras in describing his own pror-; 
 fessional occupation says, " The instruction that I give H 
 good counsel with a view to the best management of a man'rf 
 private affairs and the administration of his own householl| 
 and with regard to affairs of state, to qualify him most effi- 
 ciently to act and speak in public life," that is, practicaB 
 economics and politics. To which Socrates replies, " I un- 
 derstand you to mean the art political, and that what yo^ 
 profess is to make men good citizens." " That is," answeii 
 Protagoras, "precisely the profession that I make." This wa| 
 in fact the usual profession of the early Sophistsl, and was 
 implied in their undertaking to teach virtue. 
 
 The same is ascribed to them by Meno, the pupil W 
 Gorgias, in the dialogue of that name p. 91 a. " He 
 (Meno)," says Socrates, " has been telling me ever so lon| 
 that the kind of wisdom and virtue that he covets is thJ 
 which enables men to administer well their houses and nm 
 
INTB OB UGTION, xxiii 
 
 ;ive cities, and to pay due respect to their parents, and to 
 know how to entertain and dismiss citizens and strangers in 
 \ manner worthy of a good man. To acquire these accom- 
 plishments a youth must be sent to those famous men who 
 jrofess to be teachers of virtue, and place themselves at the 
 iisposal of any Greek who desires to learn it, for which they 
 liave fixed and exact a certain fee." " And who do you 
 mean by these, Socrates ? " inquires Anytus. " Why you 
 surely must know yourself that these are they whom men 
 3all Sophists," is the reply. 
 
 To the same effect it is said, Rep. x. 600 c, that Pro- 
 tagoras of Abdera and Prodicus of Ceos and a host of others 
 [lave contrived to get the notion into the heads of their con- 
 temporaries that none of them will be able to manage either 
 bis own house or city unless they superintend their educa- 
 tion, and on the strength of this skill have so entirely gained 
 the affections of their associates that they are all but ready 
 to carry them about on their heads. 
 
 Similarly Isocrates, in the next generation, of himself and 
 bis pupils, de Perm. § 285 roue to. roiavTa fiavQavovTag Km 
 \iikiTwvTag £? ujv Koi Tov 'iSiov oIkov KOI TO KOtvo TO. rjjc 
 iroAfoie KoXwg SioiKriaovaiv, wvinp evcko koi TTOVTjriOv Koi 
 ^tXo(7O0jjrtov KOI rd irovro vpaKTiOv lari. 
 
 Again, "a man's virtue," according to Meno, Gorgias' 
 pupil, Meno 71 E, is iKavov elvai ra rijc iroXswg wpaTTUv, 
 'to be quahfied to play a part in public life," and in so 
 Joing to be of service to one's friends, and to do injury to 
 ine's enemies, at the same time taking good care oneself to 
 Incur no risk of the like. 
 
 Similarly Prodicus is reported to have said of himself 
 ind the Sophists in general, Euthyd. 305 c, that they stood 
 )n the boundary line between the philosopher and the 
 politician. 
 
 ■ In Hipp. Maj. 282 B, the object of Hippias' instructions 
 s dpfined in nearly the same terms as Protagoras uses : to 
 )ri{i6aia irpaTTUv SvvaaOai pird twv iSiwv, " to attain the 
 
xxiv PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 faculty of managing public affairs together with one's 
 own." 
 
 So Evenus of Paros, the Khetorical teacher and Elegiac 
 poet, was a professor aperfig avOpwirivrig ts koX woAiTiKrig. 
 Apol. Socr. 20 B. 
 
 Of the early Sophists or teachers of rhetoric in general 
 Isocrates says, Kara tuiv Soi^«Tr&»v, § 20, that they were 
 worse than the dialecticians in that they IttX tovq ttoXitikov^ 
 Xo-yovQ TrapaKoXovvTeg, afxeXna-avrsg twv aXXwv tiSv vpoaovf; 
 T(i)v avToig ayadwv, iroXvTrpayfioffvvng koi irkiovi^iag vvir 
 oTriaav uvai StSatrKaXoi. And of the same, Plutarch, Vit. 
 Themist. C. 2, rijv tote Ka\ovfiivr\v ao<j)iav, ovirav St Sitvo- 
 rrjra TroXiTiKrjv (cat cpacrrnpiav avvtaiv . . .r]v oi fitra Tama 
 SiKaviKolg fii^AVTsg ri^vaig, koI fisTayayovng airo rtJUv irpa^tuv, 
 TTJv atTKrtuiv ETTi Tovg \6yovg (jo(pi(TTai npoirriyopsvOriaav. 
 
 The profession then of these early Sophists and teachers 
 of Rhetoric implied nothing less than a complete training for 
 all public and private duties, and the formation of the cha- 
 racter of a good citizen and an honest man. How these lofty 
 pretensions were actually carried out in practice and their 
 assumed functions fulfilled we learn as well from the doctrines 
 and views of life propounded by Polus and Callicles in this 
 dialogue, and the thoroughly selfish objects which they pro- 
 pose to themselves as the end of a political career and of 
 rhetoric its instrument, as also from the more direct state- 
 ments of the gravest and most respectable authors, Xenophon, 
 Isocrates, Aristotle, Plato and others, which I have quoted 
 elsewhere (Journ. of Class, and Sacred Philology No. 2) and 
 need not here repeat. 
 
 The real use that was made of this new art by its dis- 
 ciples was to avail themselves of its powerful aid in securing 
 their own advancement by flattering and humouring th® 
 ■passions of the mob, or to prove that black is white in a law- 
 court in defence of themselves or others by whom they migM 
 be employed. That the inculcation of these deceitful arti- 
 fices was actually one of the objects of these teachers is showa 
 
INTB0D17GTI0N. 
 
 XXV 
 
 by the extracts and notices that remain to us of the rixvai or 
 treatises upon rhetoric of the early writers on the subject, 
 Corax, Tisias, and others, and by the Art now generally 
 ascribed to Anaximenes, but at all events proceeding from 
 the Sophistical school, which abounds with such immoral 
 suggestions : the object proposed in them was to persuade at . 
 any price regardless of any considerations of truth and 
 honour. The tov, rjrrw Xd-yov KpEirrw woiHv is no mere 
 calumny of Aristophanes, but the genuine profession of 
 Protagoras, to Ilpwrayopov iTrayyiXfia, Arist. Rhet. ii. 
 24 11. 
 
 It is this assumption as contrasted with the actual practice 
 of the Sophistical Rhetoricians and their pupils that justifies 
 the terms applied to their art by Plato, when he speaks of 
 it, Gorg. cc. XIX, XX. pp. 464 b — 466 A, and Sophistic with 
 which it is closely allied, as the spurious delusive unreal art 
 of Politics, bearing the same relation to the true arts of the 
 statesman, legislation and the administration of justice, as 
 cookery does to medicine, or the art of adorning the outside 
 of the person so as to produce a deceitful appearance of 
 health and comeliness, the perfumer's, tailor's, and hair-- 
 dresser's arts, to gymnastics. And Aristotle, Rhet. i. 2. 7, 
 describes it in precisely equivalent language, borrowing even 
 his phraseology from Plato (Gorg. 464 d), " Hence rhetoric 
 and those who lay claim to it assume the disguise of political 
 science, partly owing to ignorance (on the part of its professors) 
 partly to ostentation and quackery, and partly to other causes 
 incident to humanity," and again, Eth. Nic. x. 10, " The 
 sophists profess to teach politics but none of them practise 
 it ; " contrary to the habit of other artists, as physicians or 
 statuaries, who usually combine theory and practice. " But 
 of the Sophists, those who profess this are very far indeed 
 from really teaching it ; for they know absolutely nothing 
 whatever of its nature and objects : for if they had, they 
 would not have made it the same as rhetoric or even 
 worse...." 
 
xxvi PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 Thus of the two Platonic dialogues in which Rhetoric 
 plays a leading part, in the Gorgias it is looked at solely from 
 the moral side and as the instrument of politics with -vfrhich 
 it was in fact confounded ; it is the object of the rhetorician, 
 and not the method or means by which he seeks to attam 
 this object, that comes into consideration ; see especially^ J 
 c. 58 foil. pp. 502 D — 504 E, and the concluding words of 
 the summary, 527 C, icat rp priTopiKy ovtii) ^j^pTjortov, siri to 
 SIkuiov ad. In the Phsedrus on the contrary it is regarded 
 technically as an art ; its hollowness and insufficiency even 
 for the purposes for which it was invented exposed, its 
 technicalities and its method criticised and ridiculed : it is 
 shown how an art which would really effect the object pro- 
 posed to itself by Rhetoric, viz. persuasion or conviction, must 
 be based upon a thorough knowledge of all the varieties of 
 human character, and the modes of appealing effectually to 
 each variety studied and determined ; but after all, even if 
 i^the end be attained, no art or process which reaches no 
 further than mere probability and temporary persuasion can 
 be of the least value as compared with the true insight which 
 comes by the study of philosophy and by dialectics its instru- 
 ment. On the object and value of dialectics, contrasted with 
 those of rhetoric, see likewise Phileb. 58 a — d. Upon the 
 hints thus thrown out in the Phsedrus, 271 0^272 B, 
 27.3 D, E, is based the method pursued by Aristotle in his 
 treatment of Rhetoric ; it is this doubtless that first suggested 
 to him the elaborate and masterly analysis of human cha- 
 racter motives and passions which constitutes the novelty 
 and the peculiarity and the principal value of his great 
 work, and occupies the larger portion of its two first 
 books. 
 
 The fundamental difference of conception as to the pro- 
 vince, functions and value, and proper mode of dealing with 
 this art furnishes a curious and interesting illustration of the 
 diversity of intellectual character and aim by which the two 
 great philosophers of antiquity were so remarkably distin- 
 
INTEOBUGTION. xxvii 
 
 guished. The stern haughty^ uncompromising Idealist^ 
 wrapped up in his sublime speculations, and with his lofty 
 unattainable ideal of truth and right ever present to his 
 mind ; holding scornfully aloof from the business and pur- 
 suits of a world which he disdained, and rebuilding society 
 from its very foundations in the attempt to carry out his 
 grand visionary scheme of a perfect Republic ; acknowledging 
 no pleasure but the contemplation of truth, and sternly 
 banishing from his model state all the arts which minister 
 merely to the gratification of the senses or the intellect ; will 
 not stoop to recognise the value of an art which falls short of 
 perfection, and seeks to accommodate itself to human infir- 
 mity, and to serve the practical needs and uses of society ; 
 when conviction and full knowledge are impossible contents 
 itself with probability and persuasion, and wiU accept some- 
 thing short of complete justice from the imperfection of 
 human tribunals. 
 
 The shrewd observant sagacious Aristotle, the phHosopher-- 
 of experience and thorough man of the world, eschews all 
 s.uch Utopian and highflying notions ; he is satisfied to take 
 things as he finds them and make the best of existing cir- 
 cumstances. As the mountain will not come to Mahomet, 
 Mahomet goes to the mountain. Assemblies must be held 
 and governments carried on ; crimes will be committed and 
 disputes arise between man and man ; and these must be 
 submitted to courts of justice. Statesmen must speak in 
 
 ' This conception of Plato's character is derived solely from his writings. 
 It is however confirmed by the evidence of the Comic Poet Amphis, Fragm. 
 Dexidem. in Diogenes, Vit. Flat. $ 28 : 
 
 S) JtKdriav, 
 tvQ ovSev ^aOa ttX^v ffKvQptinrdZHv fwvovj 
 iiia-Ktp KO-xKiag aijxvdQ sinjpKfjjg rag oipffVQ, 
 
 And Heraclides reports (in the same Diogenes, $ 26) that in his youth he was 
 so modest and sober that he was never seen to indulge in a fit of boisterous or 
 excessive merriment. In his mature years he preserved the same character ; 
 most of his laughter is of the sardonic kind, and his humour is shown chiefly 
 in satire. How different from the loud hearty uproarious fun of Aristophanes ! 
 
xxviii PLATO'S GOBi^IAS. 
 
 the one, accusation and defence be carried on in the otherip 
 it is well to be prepared for both these contingencies.. If 
 we are not so prepared, innocence and right may be overcome^ 
 %bj fraud and injustice ; the artificial aid of rhetoric allows 
 truth and right to assert their natural superiority (Rhet. i. 
 1. 12), which might otherwise be often endangered by humanj 
 artifice and ingenuity. And further, as Gorgias is made by 
 Plato to plead in defence of his profession (Goi-g. c. xi.), we 
 have no right to argue from the use to the abuse of any- 
 thing. Again, in the conflict of human passions and inte- 
 rests truth is often unattainable, probable evidence must be 
 accepted ; mathematical demonstration belongs only to sci- 
 ence, necessity which is essential to demonstration can never< 
 be predicated of human actions and motives with which. alone 
 rhetoric deals ; and such as are the materials and elements 
 ^ such must the reasoning be. The probable is therefore as- 
 sumed as the necessary basis and groundwork of his system. 
 This premised, we now proceed to inquire whether rhe- 
 toric as thus explained may be regarded as the principal 
 subject of Plato's dialogue. This view is very unceremo- 
 niously rejected by Olympiodorus, without however assigning 
 any reason whatsoever for that rejection except that those 
 who hold this opinion ' characterise the whole from a part ; ' , 
 which assumes the very point in question. I will venture to ■ 
 say in addition, that whaf I know of Olympiodorus' com- 
 mentary has not inspired me with a very high opinion of his 
 judgment, nor at all inclined me to accept his ipse dixit 
 upon any matter of this kind. Next comes an authority of 
 - a very diff'erent order. Schleiermacher, Introd. to Gorg. pp. 
 1, 2, classes rhetoric with a number of other subjects prer- 
 viously suggested by others as containing the main gist and 
 purpose of the work ; ' in all of which views ' he says ' that 
 part of the whole which is brought so prominently forward i 
 appears only in a very loose connection with the rest ; so 
 that, if the whole be viewed in this light, the inquiry into' 
 the nature of pleasure especially, can only be regai-ded as 
 
INTBODUGTION. 
 
 XXIX 
 
 an almost superfluous patch strangely stuck on to the rest 
 of the work.' This is no doubt true in the main if rhetoric 
 be understood exclusively in its narrower sense of the art of 
 speaking ; though even in this case the exhibition of it as 
 one of the arts of flattery, and the classification of it with 
 the arts which seek only the gratification of those whom 
 they profess to serve without any consideration of their real 
 good, may be thought to connect it immediately with an in- 
 quiry into the nature g£ pleasure ; but when it is taken in 
 its wider signification as above explained, as a training for 
 public life and private duty, its connection with the esta- 
 blishment of the rule of life and the choice of a course of 
 life — which if rhetoric is not, must I think be regarded as 
 the leading conception of the dialogue — is too apparent to 
 be mistaken or require further explanation. The inquiry ■ 
 into the nature of pleasure I myself should regard as subor- 
 dinate to the great moral object of the dialogue, the deter- 
 mination of the end aim and rule of life. It is shown inci- 
 dentally from the nature of pleasure, that, not being identical 
 with the good, it cannot be and ought not to be a man's sole 
 or principal aim. 
 
 In fact if the main purpose of the dialogue be the prac- 
 tical moral one of contrasting the true and the false objects v 
 and rules of life ^ of exposing the vanity of the latter by a 
 
 ' This view agrees very well with that of Bonitz — a writer from whom one 
 would not desire to differ — as to the object and main purpose of the dialogue. 
 Op. cit.-p. 271. Schwerlich kann dann noch ein Zweifel sein, dass die mit 
 Kallikles verhandelte Frage : " ist Philosophic ira Platonischen Sinne, oder ist 
 politische Khetorilt in ihrem damaligen thatsiichliohen Zustande eine wiirdige 
 Lebensaufgabe?" den Kern und Zweok des ganzen Dialogs bezeichnet. Of 
 course the study and pursuit of Philosophy are in Plato's conception the higliest 
 and worthiest object and aim of life ; but as little is said of this during the 
 com'se of the dialogue and nothing at all at the conclusion, I would rather 
 instead of specifying philosophy and rhetoric as the contrasted members of the 
 antithesis, express the result in more general terms as I have done, as the true 
 and false object and rule of life, rhetoric being no doubt taken and put promi- 
 nently forward as the representative of the latter. In Bonitz's favour is the 
 passage, 500 c, but philosophy is dropped in the final summary. The opinion 
 
XXX 
 
 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 criticism of the popular views entertained upon this great ; 
 question, and establishing the superiority of the former, it 
 seems that no better representative of the false objects and 
 rules by which men direct and regulate their conduct in life 
 could have been selected than rhetoric, which stands for the 
 career of politics as vulgarly understood and the pursuits of 
 ambition, the most plausible and attractive and in some sort 
 the highest of these false ends and aims ; which may thus 
 be fairly regarded as involving the conception of both. When 
 we look at the dialogue alone, and apart from its enforced 
 connection with other works of the author, which I must be 
 permitted to say seems here as elsewhere to lead the acute 
 Schleiermacher somewhat astray ; when^we consider that the 
 three interlocutors who represent the three principal stages 
 or general divisions of the argument are all rhetoricians pro- 
 fessional or practical ; that each of these three main divisions 
 starts with and arises out of rhetoric and the views of life 
 which accompanied the cultivation of it ; that it recurs at 
 every turn, and that at any rate no other single topic occu- 
 pies anything like the amount of actual space that is as- 
 signed to this in the dialogue ; that the entire dialogue begins 
 and ends (see p. 527 c) with it ; that it was a subject of the 
 highest practical importance from the direct influence which 
 it exercised upon the education, habits, principles, and moral 
 conceptions of all those who aspired to distinction in the 
 state and to the fulfilment of the highest functions of citizen- 
 ship, and one thoroughly worthy to be so treated by Plato — ; 
 all this may well make us pause before we reject the opinion 
 that the correction of the immoral and ill-founded notions 
 which prevailed upon this weighty matter was not the imme- 
 diate object of the author in the composition of this work : 
 at the lowest we are compelled to admit that it is the main 
 
 of Dr Whewell, who does not enter into the discussion of the question, seems 
 to agree substantially with that which I have put forwai-d, judging by the 
 introductory note on the Title, Platonic Dialogties, ii. 166, and the brief obser- 
 vation at the end, p. 268. 
 
INTBODUOTION. 
 
 XXXI 
 
 thread upon which the argument hangs, and the most promi- 
 nent, if not the most philosophically iimortant, of those 
 which occupied the mind of the writer of the Gorgias. 
 
 The only modern writer however with whom I am ac- 
 quainted who adheres unreservedly to the most ancient 
 opinion upon this question is Van Heusde ; who in his review 
 of this dialogue, Init. Phil. Plat. pp. 163 — 174, seems to take 
 it for grant ed that rhetoric is in reality Plato's leading idea, 
 and traces the contrast between the true and false notions of 
 the perfection and proper office of the art through the various 
 stages of the discussion. But we want no other authority 
 than the work itself for the determination of the question '. 
 
 It is singular that amidst all the controversy and variety 
 of opinion to which this question has given rise so little at- 
 tention ° should have been paid to a passage, already referred 
 to, in which the author himself seems to state clearly enough 
 what his intention was in writing the dialogue and what its 
 conclusions amount to. It occurs at p. 527 B, c. The results , 
 arrived at as there stated are, that doing wrong is to be more l 
 carefully avoided than suffering it ; that sterling truth and 
 worth of character should be a man's study and not the mere 
 seeming and outside show ; t}m.t. wTiaff-ypi- pvi) thorp hr in 
 a m an must be removed by correction. w hich_i s the use o f 
 p unishment ; that next to being just and good it is desira- 
 "ble to be made so by correction and chastisement ; that all 
 flattering i.e. the seeking to impart mere gratification by 
 any ai't or pursuit is to be shunned ; and rhetoric as well as 
 
 ^ I may here observe that some of the most recent writers upon the history 
 of Greek philosophy, as Zeller and Butler, have treated the Gorgias with unde- 
 served neglect ; the latter especially hardly ever alludes to it ; I suppose because 
 they found more definite statements upon the same subjects in the constructive 
 dialogues. Still they have not dealt with the Thesetetus in the same way. 
 Brandis bestows about four pages chiefly made up of quotations to this dialogue. 
 He considers the several arguments merely in their ethical bearings, and pro- 
 nounces no direct opinion upon the point here in question. 
 
 ^ It is however noticed, but without any particular stress being laid upon 
 it, by Bonitz, Op. cii. p. 270. 
 
xxxii PLATO'S OOBGIAS. 
 
 every other action employed to promote the ends of justice 
 __and to enforce the right. Another passage equally explicit 
 occurs, c. 55, p. 500 C. 
 
 What all this amounts to may be thus expressed : that 
 in spite of all plausible theories and views of life, (such as, 
 that might alone is right, that pleasure is the only good, and 
 so forth,) and all fallacious appearances, (as the happiness 
 for example of Archelaus and those who resemble him, or 
 the external semblance without the reality of virtue by which 
 society is often imposed upon, )^ truth justice and right aj ie 
 alone to be aimed at, a nd to them all else is to be sacrificed 
 when they come into collision. In the pursuit of these pain 
 and danger, exposure and ridicule, are to be cheerfully en- 
 countered, and the remedial correction of legal punishment 
 to be eagerly sought, instead of shunned, with a view to the 
 attainment of these, the soul's only real good : and to this 
 end rhetoric like everything else is to be subordinate. Or 
 in other words, that right and justice are the only rule of 
 life, ambition and self-seeking only lead men to injustice and 
 wrong, that is to their own injury and ruin here and here- 
 after. And this I take to be the general conclusion scope 
 and purpose of Plato's dialogue. 
 
 We will now proceed to consider the argument in detail, 
 and trace the successive steps and stages of its progress to- 
 wards these conclusions. It divides itself naturally and easily 
 into three ^ principal portions distinguished by the three 
 interlocutors who come successively into collision with So- 
 
 ' Steinhart and Susemihl who appear to think that Plato constructed his 
 dramatic dialogue on the model of a five-act play, assume, after a short pro- 
 logue or introduction in cc. 1, 2, a fivefold division ; gc. 3 — 20, 21 — 36, 47 — 40, 
 47 — 61, 62 — 83 ; and to make the resemblance complete, compare the myths 
 to the Dcus ex machina which sometimes winds up an entangled plot, and the 
 summary of the principal results of the dialogue to " the anapiests which at 
 the conclusion are wont to express in a few words the fundamental idea of the 
 Tragedy." The utter baselessness of this fanciful comparison, and of the 
 fivefold division to which it gives rise, is easily and at no considerable length 
 exposed by Bonitz in his essay, pp. 275 — 278. 
 
INTB OB UGTION. xxxiii 
 
 crates and assist him by their opposition in carrying out his 
 argument. ^ 
 
 These three stages are distinctly marked, not only by the 
 change of interlocutors, and the change of tone and feeling 
 and expression and views of morality introduced with them, 
 corresponding to which is a change oi form in the mode of 
 conducting the conversation (see Bonitz, u. s. pp. 265 — 268), 
 but also by a retractation in the two latter of the principles 
 previously admitted, and a resumption of the argument upon 
 a new basis. ' The three principal divisions,' says Bonitz, 
 p. 263, ' are distinguished by the character of the moral views 
 of life therein subjected to criticism, by the depth of the 
 principles adduced agaiast them, and finally by the entire 
 form and tone adopted in carrying on the conversation.' 
 
 In the person of Gorgias we have represented the virtual 
 acknowledgement of moraTright, essentially, though not for- 
 malTy, expressed ; this appears in his hesitation to assert that 
 it is not the duty of a teacher of Rhetoric to impart to his 
 pupils-correct notions of right and wrong if they come to him 
 ignorant of such distinctions, though he is thereby involved 
 in a contradiction, and seems, from other evidence, in reality 
 to have differed from his sophistical brethren in abstaining 
 from making the ordinary profession of teaching virtue. 
 
 In Polus is marked the unsteady wavering between the 
 admiration of external power and splendour without regard 
 to moral considerations, and yet on the other side a reluc- 
 tance to deny that right is more fair and noble than wrong. 
 Plato thus makes him the type of that compromising spirit 
 which prevails so widely amongst the mass of mankind. 
 Video meliora proboque, Deteriora sequor. He has never 
 thought deeply and seriously upon any question and has no 
 fixed principles of action ; he is ready to take up with any 
 popular notions, and allows himself to be imposed upon by 
 the deceitful appearances of good : and it soon appears that 
 he has not even distinguished between real and apparent 
 power, between doing what one pleases or what seems fit, 
 
 c 
 
xxxiv PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 and doing that which is really good and of service to us, 
 in which true power can alone consist. Accordingly in his 
 answer Socrates deals with him dialectically without going 
 deep into the questions raised, and refutes him merely by 
 showing the inconsistency between his assumptions and the 
 admissions he is obliged to make, and by the aid of the 
 indefinite term koXov, of which the signification in the com- 
 mon use of language is very vague and uncertain. 
 
 In Callicles' hands all this is changed ; he impatiently 
 flings aside all compromise and all conventional expressions, 
 and boldly exposes the immoral theory in all its naked 
 deformity. He, unlike his ])redecessor, has thought upon 
 these questions, and is able to justify the self-seeking spirit 
 which he avows by a theory which makes so called justice 
 and right a mere convention established for the convenience 
 of the majority, who are the weaker party, in order to shackle 
 the stronger and prevent him from asserting his natural 
 right, which is the supreme authority over his fellows ; and 
 when further pressed he maintains in accordance with these 
 views that pleasure undistinguished and unlimited is the 
 only good. Such thorough going opinions require an equally 
 thorough examination of the principles on which they rest, 
 and we accordingly find in the last stage of the argument 
 a more fundamental and searching inquiry into the very 
 nature of the conception on which IMorality is based. The 
 substance of the remarks immediately preceding is derived 
 from Bonitz's Essay, pp. 263 — 268. 
 
 After a short preface, in which we are introduced to the 
 scene — Callicles' house at Athens — and the characters of the 
 dialogue, the argument opens at once with a question ad- 
 dressed by Socrates to Gorgias, the most distinguished living 
 professor of the art of Rhetoric, who is now on a second visit 
 to Athens and lodging with CalHcles, as to the nature and 
 meaning of his profession. The discussion which follows is 
 conducted with the utmost politeness and decorum on both 
 sides ; until Gorgias who has at first defined his art merely as 
 
INTBOBUGTION. xxxv 
 
 the art of persuasion — the received definition at the time, 
 from which it appears that it deals only jpith what is proba- 
 ble or plausible, and is satisfied with the appearance without 
 the reality of knowledge — (is made to acknowledge that the 
 Rhetorician is bound to teach justice, that is to impart some 
 moral instruction to his pupils, though as we learn from the 
 Meno as well as the present dialogue he not only made no 
 such profession himself but laughed at those that did. The 
 true rhetorician, is the conclusion of this first division of the / 
 argument, that is the master of the art, if it were what it 
 professed to be, the art political, whose office is to train men 
 for the duties of public and private life, must himself be a 
 just and good man ; that is, he must be acquainted with the 
 justice and virtue which he undertakes to teach, and will 
 then necessarily act in accordance with his knowledge ^ — at 
 least so says Socrates, and Gorgias does not contradict him. 
 
 The same opinion of the necessity of virtue to the perfec- 
 tion of an orator was held by Quintilian. See Inst. Orat. 
 Prooem. §§ 9, 18. In ii. 15, 24 — 28, he refers to this discus- 
 sion of the Gorgias, and argues that it is only ignorance of 
 Plato's writings and the neglect of the distinction between 
 the * elenctic ' and ' dogmatic ' dialogues that could lead any 
 one to suppose that his opinion of rhetoric was really un- 
 favourable, concluding thus, § 28, ut appareat, Platoni non 
 rhetoricen videri malum, sed earn veram nisi justo ac bono 
 non contingere. 
 
 The author of the Rhetorica ad Alexandrum in a very 
 absurd chapter, the 39th, hkewise inculcates the union of 
 virtue with rhetoric. He applies the rules of rhetoric to 
 the conduct of fife, and shows in detail how tHe principles 
 which regulate a man's moral behaviour agree with or may 
 be derived from the rules which determine the proper treat- 
 ment of the five divisions of the speech and their contents, 
 ithe Trpooifuov, Siriytimg, iriaTtic, to. wpoQ avrtSiKOv, and 
 
 if ' On this reasoning and tlie Ethical theory it implies, see below, p. Ixix. 
 
xxxvl PLATO'S QOBGIAS. 
 
 ETTiXoyoc ; the object proposed to a man to encourage him 
 in the practice of virtue being, that you thereby acquire 
 a reputation for honesty and respectability which has a 
 powerful influence in gaining credit with an audience. § 2. 
 
 In making the above admission, which is extracted from 
 him by a short course of Socratic cross-examination, Gorgias 
 has allowed himself to be betrayed into an inconsistency with 
 a statement which he had previously made in defending his 
 art from the popular aspersions founded upon the frequent 
 abuse of it ; that namely though it is quite possible to make 
 an improper use of rhetoric as of any other power acquired 
 by art, still the teachers of it and the art itself are not justly 
 chargeable wi th this, which is "Sue^sohily Lu the wickedness 
 of those who pervert to evil uHtiH the iusLruuLions Intended to 
 be employed upon honest and virtuous objects alone. The 
 admission ot the possibility ot injustice and fraud in a well 
 qualified rhetorician is plainly inconsistent with that sub- 
 sequently forced from him by Socrates, that a good rheto- 
 rician must also be a good man : this is gravely pointed 
 out by Socrates, and Grorgias who makes no attempt to 
 defend himself is allowed quietly to drop out of the dis- 
 cussion, in which he takes no further part except once or 
 twice as a deus ex machina to extricate the argument from 
 the dead-lock to which it has been brought by the obsti- 
 nacy of Callicles or some similar obstacle to its progress. 
 This carries us down to the end of the 15th chapter. 
 
 So far we have been occupied with the definition of 
 Rhetoric ; the argument now enters upon its second stage 
 and is consigned to the custody of Polus, the youthful 
 disciple of Gorgias, who shows himself in the course of it 
 inordinately vain, hot headed, intemperate, prone to exagge- 
 rate and moreover devoid of any deep or true insight into 
 the questions which he professes to be thoroughly acquainted 
 with, but withal upon the whole candid and tractable : ht 
 yields himself an easy victim to the Socratic dialectics. The 
 general subject of this second division is the value of Rhetoric: 
 
INTBOBUOTION." xxxvii 
 
 what true power consists in, and what is the worth of that 
 which may be obtained by rhetoric. ^ 
 
 Breaking abruptly into the conversation in order to 
 rescue his master from the contradiction into which he 
 had fallen, and to show his own superiority to vulgar pre- 
 judice, Polus now asserts that teaching justice does not lie 
 within the province of rhetoric at all ; and after some pre- 
 liminary sparring, and an awkward attempt on his part to 
 get at Socrates' own definition of the art, the latter at length 
 states, cc. 18, 19, 20, the famous distinction and classification^ 
 of true and false art, which Schleiermacher takes to be the 
 central idea and kernel of the dialogue ; which, together with 
 what is implied in it and arises immediately out of it, gives 
 connection to the several parts of the dialogue itself and 
 to this dialogue with the whole series, and justifies the 
 position assigned to it at the head of his second division 
 of the Platonic writings. The eight arts which are occu- 
 pied with the treatment of the human body and soul may 
 be divided in various ways. Four deal with the body, 
 cookery \ personal embellishment (the tailor's, hairdresser's, 
 perfumer's, milliner's arts), medicine, and gymnastics ; and 
 four with the soul, rhetoric, sophistic, justice (the admia- 
 istration of justice), and legislation : the four last come under 
 the general head of Politics : the first four have no collective 
 name. Secondly, four of them, two genuine and two spu- 
 rious arts, have a conservative and educational function, are 
 employed in training or pretending to train the body and mind, 
 Ko/ifitoTiKri, gymnastics, sophistic, and legislation : the other 
 four, cookery,, medicine, rhetoric and justice, are curative 
 or remedial, their office is to correct imperfections and restore 
 
 ' dij/OTTOuKri, cookery, is not the art of the simple preparation of food, plain 
 roasting and boiling, to fit it for man's use, but it professes to correct the 
 imperfections of the food proyided by nature by condiments and seasoning so 
 as to flatter or gratify the palate. Plato seems to be of the opinion with regard 
 to Cooks expressed in the familiar English proverb, that they are sent by the 
 author of all evil to spoil the good meat which God has provided. 
 
xxxviii PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 body and soid to their normal state of health and vigour| 
 Lastly, which is in fact the object of the entire classification, 
 four of them are true and genuine having the real good of 
 that which they profess to treat constantly in view, gym- 
 nastics, medicine, legislation, justice ; and four are mere 
 counterfeit spuriofts delusive arts of ' flattery ' or cajolery, 
 aiming only at the outward show and not the substantial 
 reality of good ; assuming the mask of the others to which 
 each severally corresponds, and deceiving by that assumption j 
 those whom they pretend to serve. Hence we get the fol- 
 lowing proportion : 
 
 1. Arts conservative, aiding growth and development of, 3. Arts remedial or corrective of, 
 
 Body. Soul. Body. Soul. 
 . . ^ . ^ . « ^ . . 
 
 KOfi/iiDTiic)] : gymnastics :: sophistic : legislation : : cookery : medicine :: rhetoric : justio 
 
 Some of these terms speak for themselves, and require 
 no explanation. vojuoOetikj), legislation, is the principal 
 branch of the duty of a statesman or ttoXitikt], whose pro- 
 per office it is, as subsequently appears in this dialogue, 
 to train and educate the citizens committed to his charge 
 to the practice of all intellectual and moral virtue : this is 
 (imperfectly) effected by the laws and institutions of the 
 state, supplemented by a general system of education which 
 it is likewise the statesman's business to establish and super- 
 intend. See Aristotle's Politics, Bks. VII. VIII. (Bekk.),Plato's 
 Republic and Politicus, &c. &c. Of this true and genuine 
 art (TO(j)i(TTiKn is the ilSwXov, um-eal image or counterfeit. 
 This pretends to effect what legislation really does, to lay 
 down moral rules for the regulation of life and conduct : and 
 the distinction here taken between this and rhetoric, is, as 
 Schleiermacher observes, Introd. to Gorg. p. 8, that sophistic 
 is represented as a sham philosophical art which lays down 
 and recognises first principles, by which the mind is shaped 
 and moulded as the body by gymnastics ; where as rhetoric ; 
 only apphes these to individual cases, that is, as a remedial 
 art to the cure of a given corruption. Of Justice, SiKaioavvn, 
 
INTBODUGTION. ' xxxix 
 
 standing here for Sf/cij, or rather 8tic?) StopOwriK^, I have 
 spoken in the note to the translation p^465, c. 20. Com- 
 pare Gorg. 478 A, B, which determines the precise meaning. 
 Stallbaum points out in his note on p. 464 B, that SiKaioavvr) 
 is elsewhere spoken of as an ' art ' ; Eep. i. 332 c, d, and 
 Erast. 137 d. 
 
 Polus in his bungling attempt to carry on the argument 
 by putting questions to Socrates had been very anxious to 
 get him to admit that Rhetoric is a very fine thing because 
 it confers great power upon its possessor ; he now endeavours 
 by the same argument to invalidate the contemptuous judg- 
 ment which his opponent has just pronounced upon it : how 
 can an art be a mere ' flattery ' and a sham which may be 
 made the instrument of acquiring the supreme power in a 
 State ? which enables its possessors to do what they please like 
 tyrants, and gratify all their passions and caprices at the 
 expense of their fellow-citizens ? The answer to this ques- 
 tion depends upon the proper definition of ' power.' True 
 power consists not in doing what we hke or what we think 
 fit, but in doing what is really good for us : now what we 
 like and what we think fit is often not really beneficial but 
 injurious to us, and therefore to do that without considera- 
 tion of consequences indicates not strength or power, but 
 weakness. The mistake arises from a confusion of means 
 with ends. The only true and universal end of all action is 
 Good. The acts that Polus mentions as constituting power, 
 putting to death, robbing, banishing any one at pleasure, are 
 not in themselves good but only means to attain that end : 
 now if owing to want of wisdom or true insight the par- 
 ticular end which a man has in view in doing such acts be 
 a bad and not a good one, the acts are not desirable ; he is 
 doing what he pleases, but not what he desires, which is good 
 alone, the end of all human action. But to do from ignorance 
 or want of self-control what one does not desire is a sign not 
 of strength but of weakness. Consequently unless the Rhe- 
 torician or the tyrant has a thorough knowledge of what is 
 
xl PLATO'S GOBOIAS. 
 
 good and evil, and knows how to choose the one and avoif 
 the other, his apparent power is a mere delusion, and a 
 despot may be in reality the weakest man in the realm, 
 CO. 21—24. Polus though unable to make any direct answer 
 to this, yet remains unconvinced and returns to the charge by 
 demanding whether Socrates himself would not be a tyrant 
 if he could ; explaining tyranny as before to mean the licence 
 to commit any arbitrary act at his pleasure. Socrates again 
 reminds him that regard must be had to consequences — that 
 such acts if followed by punishment for example are not de- 
 sirable, which Polus at once admits : and by the same rule 
 universally nothing is really desirable which is not attended 
 with good results, and that power like everything else must 
 be measured by this standard : good in this case means just 
 and right ; if acts are right they are good, if wrong evil; 
 c. 25. Polus now as a final and conclusive argument tri- 
 umphantly quotes the case of Archelaus the usurper and 
 tyrant, who had earned by a series of the most atrocious 
 crimes not punishment but the throne of Macedonia, on 
 which he was then seated in the enjoyment of the greatest 
 happiness, that is splendour and prosperity, c. 26. Upon 
 this case issue is now joined, Polus asserting that happiness 
 is compatible with injustice and wrong, Socrates on the other 
 hand maintaining that the wrongdoer and unjust man is in 
 every case miserable, less miserable if he be brought to 
 justice and corrected by punishment, but most miserable 
 of all if he escape with impunity and so be encouraged to 
 continue in his wickedness, c. 28 init. : but in the following 
 argument the question is made to assume the form, in which 
 Socrates had already expressed it (c. 24, p. 469 B, c), whether 
 doing wrong or suiFering it be worse. 
 
 To supply a basis for the reasoning that follows Polus 
 the half-thinker is first made to admit, that although to 
 suffer wrong is worse, kokiov, to do wrong is fouler, uglier, 
 more disgraceful, aiaxiov. This he is quite ready to do ; for, 
 not having examined the grounds of his own opinions, and 
 
INTBODUOTION. x\i 
 
 being in fact the representative of the popular unphiloso- 
 phical views of happiness in its relation to morality, though 
 he is persuaded that success in life however attained is the 
 highest good in one sense and man's highest aim, he is yet 
 not prepared to reject in terms those deeply rooted senti- 
 ments jji^erent in the human heart by which we approve of 
 what is right and condemn what is wrong, as such, and 
 irrespectijSE of their consequences : though at the same time 
 he sceaiig^ite unconscious of what they really imply, and 
 does notaiilkm them to exercise the smallest influence upon 
 the vie'wilficrfiife which he adopts and recommends: and 
 secondly hflj aP|epts a definition of ^caX6v and al(TXp6v j)ro- 
 posed by Soteratesiand established by a brief induction, which 
 makes the fwmwfcpnsist in what is pleasant or profitable or 
 both, and tlmBatterkin the opposites. c. 30. Armed with 
 these two adi^sBionslBocrates speedily proves his point, that 
 since doing injSBce ismot more painful than sufiering it, and 
 yet is fouler, i. ef by tWIdefinition either more painful or in- 
 jurious, it must blmiiteiMurious, and therefore worse : and 
 that consequently i^paryutg that he himself or Polus or any 
 one else would pJ'GV^jHHlt'^S wrong to doing it he was 
 maintaining no glariSBjpra^x as Polus had supposed but 
 following the dictates dfisiJHjde tfjommon sense, cc. 30, 31. 
 
 On the general motl^_beApigs of this argument the 
 principles therein appeal|^pS|||Elnthe terms employed, see 
 Dr Whewell's observations!^ latanir«i|)isdogues, ii. 195 — 197. 
 
 The validity of it rests ulMp'the tfeKfit^on of koXov and 
 alaxpov, and also upon the aditusaion of a real distinction 
 between right and wrong and&of ^the authority &£ those! 
 sentiments of moral approbatioSSand jjKgapprabati<in Ypith 
 which we instinctively regard them. , W hen these art ad- 
 mitted the rest follows of course. Jhe standard of 'good ' 
 andjliad,' ayaOov and ko/cov, on the other hand is utility or 
 _one|^s_owii_iiiteregt. Socrates in Xenophon's MemorabiliaV 
 III. 8. 5, 6. IV. 6. 9, goes so far as to identify ayaOov and 
 KoXov in this sense. But utility or one's own interest may 
 
xlii PLATO'S Q0BGIA8. 
 
 be regarded in two different aspects. There is an enli^ 
 self-interest which leads men to seek their real and ^abiding 
 good ; and it is in this sense, as afterwards appears, |e«ft7#'A, 
 and elsewhere in this dialogue, that justice is ^0^"^ Aan 
 injustice, however it may be attended wiih i'^jpBpiJi and 
 crowned with success and worldly prospeiiiy, ^eattsetbii 
 alone constitutes the soul's health, and is alciie tfconprtnity 
 with its real nature, being the principle of (jMp'haitoony 
 strength and stability in the human constitutpn-f*-aB<s more 
 largely set forth in the Republic — : and the^is.'d.^|Pier and 
 a lower kind of it which looks merely ^tha >*e';uisition 
 of power wealth station and other worldly faoj-antj^es. The 
 latter is evidently Polus' notion of utiliMopisejmnterest, as 
 appears from what he had just beford^rdj; Shd therefore 
 when he admits that to do wrong iSiUgly M'^ase he is, so 
 far as his conscious intention goes, mdHr-JUpig the current 
 popular language without observiiyfflSe. iafensistency with 
 his previously expressed views whijHtheWimission involves: 
 and when he assents so eager lyVfi^thfijIlefinition of khXov 
 which describes it as pleasure o^ujvanftge, it is plain that 
 the advantages that he contem^lites sec6 such as those which 
 he has described with such g«Pto ajiBajoyed by Archelaus, 
 and not those which are ur^rstoodpby Socrates, the only 
 sense in which the definitioj^ ve0^ apphcable : and so he 
 drifts on unconsciously, en||ref(ietl;4n the meshes of Socrates' 
 dialectical net, under .th^misiB^rstanding, to the conclu- 
 sions by which his r.Sisertftaiai|«e upset and the other's point 
 established. Tlie argiwaen* |Sius though logically sound 
 involves an essential uitf^ness. " Plato," as Mr Grote some- 
 where s^/s, "is playl^V^} 1||fi games upon the chess-board," 
 and ari:anges the i^^'.^r-b the moves at his pleasure. If 
 Polus had had hisj^t^s^^'pen, like his successor Callicles, he 
 never would hav§^pditiitted without distinction the positions 
 that lead to his diBCoBafitiire. He however serves the purpose 
 for which he is ^introdptced into the dialogue, to represent 
 the opinion based ti{ig& no real knowledge or insic^ht enter- 
 
 'b' 
 
INTBOJ^UGTION. xliii 
 
 tained by the vulgar upon happiness the rule of life and 
 moral obligation, and the iucoiksiBtency of |be principles which 
 men instinctively approve witii those by which their prac- 
 tice and conduct are actually regulated : and it is left for his 
 successor Callicles to justify this selfish practice by theory, 
 and in so doing to reject all notions of duty and morality. 
 
 Tl^e second ' paradox ' that Socrates undertakes to prove 
 (476 a) is that impunity in wrong doing is the greatest 
 of all evils, greater than suffering punishment, or being 
 chastised and corrected {KoXa^EuQaC), for one's offences. It is 
 first shown by induction, c. 32, that when any act is per- 
 formed it is performed upon some person or thing, that agent 
 necessarily implies patient, and that the quality or properties 
 of the act are the same in agent and patient, or that the 
 effect is of the same nature and character in the patient as 
 the action in the agent ; consequently if a judge inflicts a 
 just punishment upon an offender the punishment as re- 
 ceived by the patient is likewise just, and if so koAov, and if 
 KaXov, ayaBov. Punishment therefore if just is good for the 
 recipient. The good or benefit which he receives, c. 33, is 
 correction and moral improvement which is effected by the 
 removal of the evil that had lodged in his soul and corrupted 
 it ; and of the three restorative arts that apply a remedy 
 to the diseased condition of a man's mind body and estate, 
 trade medicine and corrective justice, .as injustice and vice, 
 the disease of the soul, are far ' fouler ' than poverty and sick- 
 ness, the diseases incident to a man's fortunes and body, and 
 yet not so painful, it follows again, from the definition of 
 kqXov, that the soul's disease must be an enormously greater 
 evil than the other two and the justice or punishment which 
 rida us of it infinitely to be preferred to all other blessings. 
 So far therefore from shunning and trying to escape justice, 
 the wicked man should eagerly have recourse to the judge, 
 as the sick man to the physician \ in order to be rid of his 
 
 ' On this false analogy, which in fact vitiates the entire reasoning, for if 
 punishment does not cure or eradicate vice, as the physician's art disease, if no 
 
xliv PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 wickedness the greatest of all calamities which must needs 
 render him miserable. And the general conclusion now is, 
 c. 35, 479 D, that injustice and wrong-doing is only second in 
 the degrees of evil, " to do wrong and escape the penalty 
 is the first and greatest of all ills," and by this we may 
 estimate the amount of real happiness enjoyed by Archelaus 
 and those who like him have committed the most enormous 
 crimes without repentance and atonement, and the value 
 of the maxims and principles by which Polus thought that a 
 man's conduct and pursuits in life should be guided. 
 
 Or the result may be stated thus : Vice and injustice are 
 the disease of the soul — comp. Rep. x. 608 E, foil. — the 
 noblest part of man, and therefore, as corruptio optimi fit 
 pessima, the worst thing that can happen to a man : 'justice ' 
 is the natural remedy for this : accordingly just as a man in 
 good health is in the best case, but if he be afflicted with a 
 disease the next best thing is to apply a remedy and get ridi 
 of it, so that man is to be most envied whose soul and morall 
 condition are sound and healthy ; he is happy in the next' 
 degree who is cured of his vice by correction and punish- 
 ment ; he most wretched of all who having a soul polluted 
 and depraved with crime remains undetected and unpunished , 
 until the ulcer and the disease have become inveterate and I 
 incurable. Finally the only legitimate use of rhetoric is not 
 as Polus maintains to excuse and palliate iniquity and avert 
 from oneself and friends its due penalty, but rather to bring 
 our hidden crimes to light and expose the guilty to the 
 correction which may operate as a cure\ Comp. E,ep. ix. 
 591 A, B. 
 
 moral improvement is really affected thereby, the argument fails, I have else- 
 whei-e quoted Eenouvier, Manuel de Fhil. Anc. Vol. ii. p. 31. See note on 
 Translation, p. 5 4. 
 
 ' In the interpretation of the passage, 480 e — 481 b, we must be careful 
 not to do Plato the injustice of construing his words too literally, and attri- 
 buting to him the horrible and revolting meaning which at first sight may seem 
 to be conveyed by the text, that in order to punish an enemy we may encou- 
 rage and foster in him all wickedness and depravity until he becomes incur- 
 
INTBODUOTION. xlv 
 
 This brings us down to the end of c. 36, p. 481 B, and 
 concludes the second division of the arguipient. 
 
 Polus being thus reduced to silence Callicles now steps 
 forward to the rescue, and the argument enters upon its 
 third stage. He first accuses Polus in his turn of timidity 
 and over deference to popular prejudices, and then turning 
 upon Socrates charges him with wilful sophistry in availing 
 himself of the ambiguity of the word ' right,' which is em- 
 ployed in two different significations according as ' natural ' 
 or 'legal and conventional ' right is thereby intended. When 
 Socrates declares that wrong doing is an evi l and worseJthan_ 
 wEong_su|fering he is speaEmg_'_accQrding_toJ[aw' or Con- 
 vention ; ' whereas ^bx.nat]irei_the. opposite is true. In ex- 
 planation of this he propounds his theory. AU distinctions 
 which imply moral approbation or disapprobation are now 
 swept away ; ' by nature ' every thing is ' fouler ' more dis- 
 graceful which is also ' worse ' more injurious, and therefore 
 suffering wrong: to endure injury or insult without the 
 power of helping oneself is unmanly and fit only for a slave ; 
 for such an one it is better to die than to live. The notion 
 that to suffer wrong is better and nobler than to inflict it 
 and such like are the inventions of the weaker majority who 
 constitute society ; these have agreed amongst themselves to 
 encourage such opinions, and to frame their laws in accord- 
 able, and thus ruin him body and soul. It is true that the Greek moralists 
 generally admitted the principle of doing good to one's friends and evil to one's 
 enemies as a maxim of their moral code ; and this is one of the most striking 
 of ajl the points of difference between heathen and Christian morals ; but none 
 of them it may safely be aifirmed would have ventured to go such lengths as 
 to include the promotion of injustice and vice amongst the allowable injuries 
 that might be inflicted on an enemy. The case is merely a supposed one. If 
 we desired to do an enemy all the mischief in our power, this is the way in 
 which we should proceed. If any doubt remained on the point, it would be 
 removed by the following passage of the Repvhlic, i. 335 B, D : avBpiinrovg Si /ir/ 
 OVTO) iputfjLEV f5\airTO[ikvovg dgrrlv avQpittTTEiav aperrlv x^ipovg yiyvetrdai ;...KaiToiiQ 
 (SXaiTTO^evovg dpa tuiv ctvQpdJirwv avciyKr] dSiKttiHpovg yiyviff9a(.;...ovK dpa rov 
 diKaiov (iXuTrreiv epyoVj ovre ipiXov oi;r' dXkov ovdeva, dWd tuv tt^avriov, tov 
 ddiKOv. 
 
:xlvi PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 ance with them, in order to protect themselves against the 
 superior or stronger, whose natural right it is to be their 
 lord and master, to gratify all his impulses and passions, and 
 in short to do as he pleases : and this is natural justice, c. 38. 
 The rest of his speech is occupied first in defending this po- 
 sition and in depicting the triumph of this natural right 
 when the stronger has shaken off the chains imposed upon 
 him by society and its conventions, when like a horse that has 
 broken loose he has burst his bonds and flung his rider and 
 escaped from human control, and rises in his might to assert 
 his natural superiority, and trample under foot the feeble 
 restraints that bound him, c. 39 ; and secondly, cc. 40, 41, 
 with a graphic description of the consequences of a life de- 
 voted to philosophy and the utter helplessness, the hability 
 to every insult and death itself, which attends it ; and an 
 earnest recommendation to Socrates (who here stands for 
 Plato himself) to renounce this childish study and betake 
 himself to more manly and useful pursuits, the career of the 
 rhetorician or politician. 
 
 j The theory of society and of morals here set forth seems 
 I to agree substantially with that propounded by Thrasyma- 
 Ichus in the Republic, Book I. Mr Grote however. Hist, of 
 Greece, viii. 537 (Ed. -2,) maintains that it is 'essentially 
 different ; ' but I think the difference between them lies ra- 
 ther in the point of view from which ' conventional ' right and 
 justice are looked at, and the terms in which the theories 
 are stated, than in the principles on which they are based 
 and the views of society and moral obligation which they 
 imply. Thrasymachus, it is true, says nothing about ' right.' 
 His theory is — I will adopt the tei-ms in which Mr Grote 
 himself expresses it, p. 536 — ' that justice is the interest of 
 the superior power ; that rule, which in every society the 
 dominant power prescribes as being for its own advantage. 
 A man is just for the advantage of another, not for his own: 
 he is weak, cannot help himself, and must submit to that 
 which the stronger authority, whether despot oHgarchy or 
 
INTBOBUGTION. xlvii 
 
 commonwealtli, commands.' But surely this implies a ' na- 
 tural right ' in the stronger or superior |o avail themselves 
 of the advantages thus offered to them : right must reside 
 somewhere ; and by Thrasymachus' theory it resides in the 
 governing body, whatever its special form may be, which 
 enacts laws establishes institutions and inculcates notions in 
 accordance with its own interests, that is, for the mainte- 
 nance of its authority. It is true again that according to 
 Thrasymachus the conventions which dictate the opinions 
 and rules by which man's conduct is regulated proceed from 
 the stronger, and are established for the purpose of ensuring 
 the obedience of the weaker or governed : whereas in Calli- 
 cles' view they arise out of the fears of the weaker majority 
 to hold the stronger in check and prevent him from breaking 
 loose and asserting his natural right to their obedience ; in 
 the one justice, conventional justice, is the interest of the 
 stronger, in the other the interest of the weaker : still the, 
 fundamental conception of law and right and th e'effect pro- 
 d uced IS tbe same in either case ; justice and right as men 
 commonly conceive them are equally delusive equally devoid 
 oF ajiyna tural and inlTerent claim to respect and olDservance ; 
 the stronger overrides them, establishes and alters them at 
 his pleasure, either by natural right which renders him 
 superior to all conventions, or (which seems in fact to come 
 to much the same thing) because he has himself introduced 
 and csth deal with them as he pleases : in both alike they are 
 mere human inventions and result in the established order of 
 society \ Thrasymachus' views are stated and discussed in 
 
 ' A question of this kind must be decided by reason and not authority. 
 But it may be as well to obserTe that at least three writers on this subject 
 whose opinion is deserving of the very highest consideration and respect seem 
 to agree, if not in identifying the two theories, at any rate in tracing in them 
 a v^ry close resemblance. Brandis in his Handbicch, Vol. ii. p. 464, note kk, 
 places Eep. i. 338 c side by side with Gorff. 482 E, 483 A, without comment, as 
 authorities for the following words of his text. Da aber der verwegenere 
 Kallikles Polus' Ziigestandniss verwirft und das der Natur nach Schone und 
 Gerechte von dem nach Satzung Schbnen und Gerechten unterscheidend, 
 
xlrai PLATO'S GOBOIAS. 
 
 the Republic, i. p. 338 to the end ; resumed in a more mode- 
 rate tone enlarged and corrected by Glaucon and Adimantus 
 at the beginning of the second, and summed up in a single 
 sentence, p. 367 c. 
 
 In Xenophon's Memorabiha, iv. 4. 14, Hippias argues 
 similarly about justice and law, that they vary at diflferent 
 times and places, and are therefore purely arbitrary and con- 
 ventional ; compare also the doctrines attributed to Prota- 
 goras in the Theaetetus, pp. 167 c, 172 B. The same views 
 are ascribed to the Sophists (as I have endeavoured to show, 
 Journal of Classical and Sacred Philology, No. 2, pp. 155— 
 157) in a mass. Plat. Legg. 889 E. 
 r—— The same theory, that justice in the ordinary acceptation 
 ) is a mere convention, invented for the convenience of socie- 
 ties and therefore liable to change according to the different 
 circumstances of time and place, that there is no natural 
 right, unless it be that of the stronger, and that consequently 
 every one has a right to get what he can and keep what he 
 can get — " the simple plan, that they should take who have 
 the power and they should keep who can " — was revived by 
 Carneades, the most celebrated of the Sceptical philosophers 
 of the New Academy, in a famous argumentation delivered 
 during his embassy at Rome in B. c. 156, and reported by 
 Cicero in the third book of his treatise de Republica, of which 
 
 ersteres auf das Recht des Starkeren zuriickfuhrt, &c. And again, p. 470, in 
 examining the theory as stated by Thrasymachus in the Eepublic, he speaks of 
 die Shnliclie Behauptung des Kallikles im Gorgias. And Schleiermacher, /«- 
 trod, to BcpubUc, p. 8, has, Und wenn allerdings das Thema des Thrasymachos 
 auch sehr bestimmt an den Gorgias erinnert, and immediately afterwards 
 speaks of the iihnlichkeit between them. As one of Sehleiermacher's principal^ 
 objects in his Introductions is to show how the later dialogues were developed | 
 out of germs already contained in the earlier ones, or carry on the same trains | 
 of thought, these expressions are at all events sufficient to show that he could i 
 not have found an ' essential difference ' between the two theories in question. 
 Lastly Zeller, Fhil. der Gricchen, Vol. i. p. 260, 1st ed. Die Sophistik, ufter 
 referring to the doctrine of Thrasymachus in the BepuUic, proceeds thus, am 
 bestimmtesten endlich wirddiese Ansicht, und namentlich...von dem Sophisten- 
 schuler Kallikles entwickelt. 
 
INTBODVOTION. xlix 
 
 '. few fragments still remain. Fragmm. viii — xviii. The 
 ummary of it is supplied by Lactantius in these terms. 
 Tragm. xv. " That men established for themselves a system 
 )f law or rights in conformity with their interests, that is to 
 ay, varying according to their habits and customs, and often 
 (hanged as circumstances required amongst the same people : 
 latural right there is none. All men as well as other living 
 reatures are impelled by the very guidance of nature to seek 
 heir own advantage ; therefore either there is no such thing 
 s justice, or if there be any, it is the height of folly, since it 
 urts itself in consulting the interests of others (here he is in 
 ntire agreement with Thrasymachus). All people who ever 
 njoyed a flourishing empire, in fact the Romans themselves, 
 rho hold the sovereignty of the whole globe, if they mean to 
 le just, that is to make restitution of what belongs to others, 
 aust return to their original cabins and lie prostrate in 
 loverty and misery." And further, Fragm. xiv. " As one 
 lan and one order is afraid of another, and again no one can 
 ely upon himself, a sort of compact is made between the 
 lass of the people and the powerful, from which arises the 
 ssociation of civil society. For it is weakness and not na- 
 ure nor free will that is the mother of justice. For whereas 
 ur choice has to be made out of three things ; either to do 
 frong and not suffer it, or to do and suffer it, or neither ; 
 he best of all is to do wrong with impunity if you can ; the 
 econd best neither to do nor to suffer it ; the most wretched 
 f all lots is to be in a perpetual conflict of inflicting and 
 uffering injuries." 
 
 Similar doctrines of the origin and nature of justice law 
 nd right were reasserted in the seventeenth century by 
 lobbes of Malmesbury, whose theory is absolutely identical 
 [ith that laid down by Callicles. He maintained in his Le- 
 iathan that right and wrong have no independent existence : 
 lat the natural state of mankind is one of mutual .war ; 
 nd that consequently the notions of right and wrong, just 
 ad unjust, have there no place : these spring from the union 
 
 d 
 
1 PLATO'S GOUGIAS. 
 
 of individuals in society, whence proceeds pc^itive law, a 
 convention which establishes right and wrong in and for that 
 society. Right is the power of enforcing ; duty the necessity 
 of obeying. See further in Dr Whewell's Hist, of Mor. Phil. 
 in Engl. p. 17. Compare p. 52. " Hobbes had maintained 
 that the state of the nature of man is an universal war of 
 each against all ; and that there is no such thing as natural 
 right and justice (that is, of course, in the ordinary sense); 
 these notions being only creations of civil society, and de- 
 riving their sanction entirely from the civil ruler." See 
 likewise Mackintosh, Dissert, on the Hist, of Eth. Phil., p. 122 
 (Ed. Whewell) ; and on Spinosa's Views, Ibid. p. 124. 
 
 In the following chapter, 42, Socrates is occupied chiefly 
 in quizzing Callicles for the uncompromising freespokenness 
 with which he has stated his theory, and the judicious advice 
 which he has so kindly and gratuitously bestowed upon him. 
 Fun to all appearance is its principal, if not sole, object; 
 and it seems to require no other justification than the hu- 
 mour that pervades it of its introduction here, though the 
 argument be not directly advanced thereby. There be how- 
 ever Teutonic writers who see in it a deeper meaning ; and 
 conceive that we are to understand by the compliments 
 which Socrates pays to Callicles on his candour, wisdom, and 
 kind feeling towards himself, that he has now found a worthy 
 antagonist with whom he can go deeper into the questions 
 proposed for discussion. 
 
 The argument is resumed in chapter 43, and the examina- 
 tion of Callicles' theory commenced. But first it is necessary 
 to state it a little more distinctly, and explain the meaning 
 of the terms in which it is expressed. What for instance does 
 KpaTTwv ' superior ' mean ? Callicles first says, (o-xiijoorfjooi 
 meaning doubtless to include all the resources of ability ant 
 power in the notion of strength. Socrates however coniinei 
 it to its literal sense ; and in this limited application to mere 
 strength of body it immediately appears that the many or 
 individually weaker are superior to the one stronger in whom 
 
INTRODUCTION. li 
 
 he natural i^ht resides, and therefore according to this view 
 f the case they have the right and not he.^ Callicles at once 
 bandons this, c. 44, and proposes afidvwv as a substitute, 
 ut this is just as vague as the word KpsirTtov or jdeXriwy 
 rhich it proposes to explain ; and he then suggests (ppovi- 
 dn-epog, that the superiority which gives the natural right 
 asides in practical wisdom and sagacity, skill and knowledge- 
 t is soon found, c. 45, that neither do these qualities entitle 
 heir possessor to an advantage over his fellows or an undue 
 hare in any of the good things of this life ; and then Calli- 
 leS finally pronounces that the strength and superiority that 
 le- .really means lies in a union of the highest qualities of the 
 tatesman, the knowledge and skill to form plans (for the 
 lublic good and his own) or to frame a policy, and the energy 
 nd vigour to carry them into execution. " These are the 
 len that have a right to bear rule, and justice consists in 
 his, that these should have the advantage over the rest, 
 he governors over the governed." c. 46, p. 491 D. Socrates 
 akes occasion by this to inquire who these governors and 
 ;overned are ? whether the notion of self-government is in- 
 luded ? and thus the subject of aoKJipotrvvri or self-control is 
 jitroduced, and the transition made to the next question, 
 he contrast between this and the unrestrained and unlimited 
 idulgence of the appetites and desires, and which of the two 
 onduces to virtue and happiness. Hereupon Callicles aban- 
 ons all reserve, and plainly states that a man's duty and 
 appiness consists in the gratification of all his desires ^ which 
 e is therefore bound to foster and encourage, provided only 
 e have the means of satisfying them, and this is to be sought 
 1 absolute power. 
 
 Socrates, c. 47, after commending Callicles' frankness in 
 peaking so boldly out what other people often think but 
 on't usually choose to express, first, cc. 47, 48, in two fables 
 r allegories, derived most probably from the Orphics and 
 
 ^ This is what Demosthenes calls, ry yaarpl liiTpilv rrjv tiScufnoviav, de Cor. 
 296. 
 
Hi PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 Pythagoreans (see note B. in the Appendix), draws a picture 
 of the condition of a man who thus passes his life in the con- 
 stant and unlimited indulgence of all his appetites and pas- 
 sions, like the daughters of Danaus, ever engaged in pouring 
 water into a vessel which he can never fill : but finding as 
 he anticipated that Callicles is proof against conviction by 
 any such means, and indeed laying no great stress on these 
 allegorical representations himself, he next proceeds, c. 49, to 
 a comparatively serious and searching examination of the 
 question virtually involved in the original theory put forth 
 by Callicles, but now more immediately raised by his recent 
 explanations, that is, the nature of pleasure and its relation 
 to the good. 
 
 The treatment of this subject however in our dialogue is 
 still dialectical and somewhat popular and negative. Plato's 
 maturer views upon the question are to be found in the 
 Philebus, to which the argument of the Gorgias may be 
 regarded in some sort as introductory, where pleasure is 
 submitted to a more thorough and fundamental analysis, 
 its true nature and distinctions determined, and its relation 
 to the ultimate good and the rank which is consequently to 
 be assigned to it in the scale of goods finally and definitively 
 settled. 
 
 It follows immediately from what Callicles has already 
 said that he regards pleasure as the only good, and it now 
 appears, c. 49, that he makes no distinction between the dif- 
 ferent kinds of pleasure ; all alike are good, every appetite 
 and desire is alike worthy of satisfaction. 
 
 The views here put forward in the person of Callicles are 
 in fact those of Aristippus and the Cyrenaics, upon whom 
 see Zeller, Phil, der Gr. i. 120, foil. Some of them seem to 
 have pushed their theory to the same extreme lengths as 
 Callicles does here, for Diogenes Laert. ii. 87, says that they 
 held firj Sia(l>ipiiv riSovrjV tjSov^e firfSl r]Si6v Ti iivat : thougll 
 he afterwards ascribes to Aristippus, § 90, the milder doc- 
 trine of a gradation of pleasures. The same is spoken of 
 
INTRODUCTION. liii 
 
 IS the popular view, Rep. vi. 505 b, toTc ttoWoXq riSovfi Soku 
 tvai TO ajaOov. It is often by modern \5riters ascribed to 
 lie Sophists : an d though we have I believe no direct ancient 
 tuthority for this, still it is an easy deduction from the moral 
 heories and views of life which they entertained . The 
 tncient authorities for the doctrines of Aristippus may be 
 een in Stallbaum's Introd. to Phileb. p. 23. Ed. 1. 
 
 The first argument against the identity of pleasure and 
 food occupies cc. 50, 51, and part of 52, to p. 497 d. It is to 
 his effect. Good and bad, it is admitted, like health and 
 lisease, strength and weakness, speed and slowness, are 
 )pposites, and as such mutually exclude one another, that is, 
 .hey cannot reside together in the same subject and the same 
 jart of it at the same time and place and under the same 
 ;ircumstances. Now from the nature of pleasure, that is 
 lensual corporeal pleasure which alone is here in question, 
 ;his cannot be asserted of pleasure and pain. On the con- 
 ;rary, the gratification of a bodily appetite consists in the 
 ■elief of a want, the filling up of a gap, the supply of a 
 leficiency of a certain part of the body, or of the entire 
 3odily constitution, and the restoration of the whole system 
 ;o the normal harmony of its condition. But we relieve 
 iistress, and a want is painful, and therefore in gratifying 
 m appetite we feel pain and pleasure together ; and not only 
 !0, but the two cease simultaneously, as in drinking the thirst 
 )r pain and the pleasure that arises from drinking by which 
 .hat pain is relieved, 497 A ; and therefore pleasure and pain 
 lince they coexist in the same subject and the same part of 
 t cannot be identical with good or evil. 
 
 The same view of the nature of the pleasures of sense is 
 expressed in a more dogmatic form in the Philebus, p. 31 d. 
 Pain is there made to consist in the Xvmg rrje apfiovlag of the 
 jodily frame, pleasure in the restoration of this balance or 
 larmony, in the filling up of the void produced by this disso- 
 .ution. Compare 32 b, 42 C, D : and Timteus, p. 64 D, where 
 pain is similarly referred to a violent disturbance of the 
 
liv PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 natural order, to vapa ^vaiv koI fiiaiov yiyvofiivov aOpoov 
 Trap' -hfiiv Tvadog aXyaivov ; and pleasure to a return to 'na- 
 ture,' that is the restoration of the natural order and har- 
 mony ; and some further details are added on the same 
 subject. Compare also Republic, ix. 585 a, -rrs'iva koi S(i/-a 
 Kol TO TOiavTa KEVwaug rivig dm ti'/c Tripl to mopa i^stog. 
 584 C, firj wiiQwfiida KaOapav i)dovrjv ilvai ttjv Xvirrjg cnraX- 
 Xayi'iv. In the entire passage on this subject Eep. ix.583 B— 
 586 C, the conclusions of the Philebus seem to be assumed. 
 In the scale of goods which is the general result of the dis- 
 cussions of the Philebus, 66 a, to the end, the pure and 
 painless pleasures of the intellect and imagination — and affec- 
 tions, which might have been added, but are not (comp, 
 p. 52 c) — in which sense has no direct share, except in certain 
 cases as a medium, occupy the fifth and lowest place ; sensual 
 pleasures, which belong to the aveipov or indefinite, the 
 fleeting shifting unstable element of the greater and less, 
 the principle therefore of all excess and defect — as opposed 
 to the fiiaov or julrptov, the highest of all goods — are the 
 causes only of excess and disturbance, and therefore excluded 
 altogether from the catalogue of good things. 
 
 The second argument, cc. 52 p. 497 d, and 53, is as fol- 
 lows. If pleasure is the _only g^cd^grH F*^^^ theon]j_evii, 
 good and bad men will be dist.ino;n i''hf^drnly hj thp nrTi";!"* 
 of pleasure and pain they feel. But experience shows that 
 Bad men, as fools and cowards, feel quite as much or even 
 more pleasure— as a coward for example in escaping danger— 
 that is, by the hypothesis, are as good or better, than the 
 wise and brave who are good : which is absurd. The same 
 reductio ad absurdum is thus briefly stated, Phileb. 55 b: 
 " How absurd it would be for a man when he feels pain 
 to be obliged to say that he is then a bad man, though he 
 may be the most virtuous person in the world, and vice 
 versa." 
 
 Again, when Callicles abandons his former ground and 
 endeavours to avoid the conclusion by accepting the dis- 
 
INTBOBUOTION. Iv 
 
 tinction of good and bad pleasures, Socrates immediately 
 shows him that if some pleasures are to 1|e avoided because 
 they are useless or injurious, it is not pleasure per se that 
 men seek when they indulge themselv.es, but profit or advan- 
 tage; or, that if they are persuaded that the evil conse- 
 quences of an indulgence overbalance the pleasure they feel 
 in it, they abstain. Consequently it is not pleasure that is 
 men's real object, but good, to ayaOov, the ultimate end of 
 all human action, c. 54. 
 
 In the following Chapter, 55, p. 500 b, these conclusions 
 are connected by another link with the general subject of 
 the dialogue, and employed in confirmation of the positions 
 laid down in the course of the arguments with Gorgias and 
 Polus. The distinction just established between pleasure and 
 good justifies that which was previously assumed without 
 proof between the spurious and genuine arts, and is now 
 directly applied to these, and to politics in general under 
 the name of rhetoric, the thread on which the entire argu- 
 ment is made to hang, cc. 56 — 58. Socrates is now enabled 
 to reassert more confidently and with a deeper meaning the 
 views then put forward rather tentatively and hypothetically. 
 The spurious art of pohtics, as it was interpreted by Callicles 
 and the Sophists, aims only at pleasure, that is, at gratifying 
 the passions and vanity of him who practises the art — this 
 may be included in the notion of 'flattery,' though it is 
 not expressly mentioned — and tickling the ears of the mob 
 to whom it is addressed, humouring them like children 
 {wairep iraial ^apiZo/xevov, 502 e) ; and this has been shown ^ 
 not to be the good. Whence it appears that its aim must 
 be a wrong one, and requires to be rectified by the study 
 of philosophy or dialectics, the only true art of words 
 (Phsedr. 261 e), and the only genuine qualification for 
 public life. 
 
 This is to be taken together with a great deal of what 
 follows, as Schleiermacher first pointed out, as an implied 
 justification of Plato's own abstinence from public affairs. 
 
Ivi PLATO'S QOBGIAS. 
 
 or rather neglect of his public duties, and exclusive devotion 
 to philosophical speculation, with which his enemies seem 
 to have reproached him', and may accordingly be compared 
 with the two more celebrated passages of a similar tendency, 
 Thefetetus, 172 c— 1 77 c, and Eepubhc, vi. 488 a— 497 A (and 
 the followmg), especially 496 c— e, where Plato is manifestly 
 drawing a picture of himself, his own feelings and position; 
 and also with the 7th Epistle in which either himself or 
 someone well acquainted with him and his history describes 
 the motives by, which he was led to abstain from politics and 
 the feelings which he entertained towards all existing govern- 
 ments. The duty of a philosopher in this particular, and the 
 reasons, founded upon the views of justice and happiness and 
 man's moral constitution previously developed in the course 
 of the dialogue, which will determine his choice of a career 
 in life, are stated still more explicitly. Rep. ix. 591 B, to the 
 end. And in Politicus, 299 A, the young Socrates seems to 
 express Plato's own sentiments when he exclaims after hear- 
 ing the Eleatic Stranger's description of certain existing in- 
 stitutions, oiiKOVi/ o y' idiXwv Koi ekwv ev toTq toiovtoiq ap^tiii 
 StKatorar' av oTiovv iraOoi kol aTTorivoi. 
 
 It must be owned that in all this the great Moralist 
 exhibits a somewhat singular unconsciousness that all these 
 fine motives and reasons are mere selfishness very thinly 
 
 ^ This apology which Plato here makes for himself, and the announcement 
 of his determination to persevere in the course of life which he had marked 
 out, combined with other reasons, have led Schleiermaoher to refer the composi- 
 tion of the dialogue to Plato's return from his first journey to Sicily in 389 B.C., 
 at the age of 40, after which he settled in Athens and opened his philosophical 
 school, as the period most suitable to such a defence and statement of his 
 intentions. Schleiermacher thinks that Plato did not return to Athens "for 
 any long time at least " after his residence at Megara. Professor Thompson 
 (quoted by Dr Donaldson, Cmitinuation of Miill. Hist. Gr. Lit, ii. 51 — 54) in 
 accordance with the usual opinion, derived from Diogenes Laertius, that Plato 
 returned to Athens, after his first absence, in 395 B.C., fixes the date of com- 
 position at an earlier period, between his return from his travels after hi! 
 residence at Megara and his first journey to Sicily in 389. 
 
INTB OB UGTION. Ivii 
 
 ' disguised ; a simple uiiwillingness to sacrifice Ms own ease 
 ^ comfort and pursuits to a possible publjp duty, with a eon- 
 ' siderable admixture of spite and scorn for the existing 
 ' government and policy of his native country. Not that I 
 * would affirm that he was not in reality better employed, and 
 ' conferring more benefit on the world at large, in speculating 
 ' on the true the good and the beautiful than in humbling 
 ' the pride of the great King, or invading Laconia (for which 
 ' however it would seem from the allusion, Gorg. 515 E, and 
 ' his expressions elsewhere, he would have had no particular 
 ' inclination) at the head of a combined force of Athenians and 
 ' Thebans, or in arguing with some Callicles before the public 
 ■ assembly about ships long walls docks and suchlike 'nonsense; ' 
 ' but that he seems to overlook the possibility of a man's being 
 I obliged by his duty as a citizen and a patriot to make the 
 ' sacrifice of his own inclinations and prepossessions to the 
 I interests of his country , to serve which he h igisg]ftell.s_us,SQ 
 ' often is paramount over all o ther o b jiga.tirmH ; nr Aga in t ha t 
 I if the state-of ^ciety at Athens was reallv as corrupt as he 
 I deemed it to be, it wM qA?_be his business actively to aid in 
 improving it, even at the risk of destroying the balance or 
 I dissolving the harmony (Kep. ix. 592 a) of his soul thereby. 
 \ This appears in fact to be one of the numerous instances 
 i in which great philosophers — need I refer to the case of 
 Bacon ? — see clearly enough what duty requires in others, 
 but are unable to apply their own rules to their own indi- 
 vidual circumstances. 
 
 I With rhetoric are included in the same category as arts 
 I of flattery other highly esteemed and popular arts, as the 
 '' various kinds of music, dithyrambic and even tragic poetry, 
 which have pleasure only for their object : and here again 
 I we seem to have an anticipation of the discussions of the 
 Republic, Books ii. iii. and x., which end in the exclu- 
 sion from the model state of poetry and music, with the 
 ' exception of the simplest and gravest branches of those arts. 
 Gorg; 502 D. 
 
Iviii PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 Continuing, c. 58, to apply the principles thus gradually 
 established to the solution of the main question, what is the 
 true rule of life, Socrates, after having shown that the real 
 end and aim of human action is not pleasure nor externa! 
 advantage, and therefore not power, but good, now infers 
 that this must likewise be the end and aim of all education, 
 and with it of political education or the statesman's art. A 
 man's private duty is therefore to aim at becoming good 
 himself, and his public duty to endeavour to make others so. 
 And herein lies the explanation of the failure of past and 
 present statesmen alike in fulfilling the true object of their 
 profession, which is to make men better, that they have been 
 ignorant of this great truth that good is to be preferred to 
 immediate gratification and external power and sjjlendour, 
 and so have mistaken their end and followed a wrong course 
 and left the citizens as bad or worse than they found 
 them. 
 
 Next follows, c. 59, an inquiry into the means by which 
 men are to be made good, and what it is that constitutes 
 soundness, health, goodness in man's moral constitution. It 
 appears, by the analogy of the arts as usual, that every artist 
 in dealing with his materials and shaping them to his end, 
 has in his mind a certain order and arrangement or settled 
 plan to which all that he uses and all that he does is sub- 
 ordinate and made to conform ; it is this order and harmony 
 and right arrangement that constitutes the ' goodness ' of a 
 house, a ship, the strength and health of the human body, 
 and so by analogy, the virtue or excellence of the soul. The 
 result of this order in the soul is obedience to law, by it 
 men are made observant of law and orderly ; and this is 
 StKaiocxvvri and (!w<ppoavvr\, justice and self-control, 504 D. 
 To the same rule, c. 60, the rhetorician or statesman must 
 likewise conform. The true, scientific, orator and statesman, 
 one who really understands his profession its end and ohh- 
 gations, must before all things seek to implant these vir- 
 tues in the souls of those who are entrusted to his charge. 
 
INTBOBUGTION. lix 
 
 Accordingly he must control their inclinations, correct and 
 chastise them, which is the only way in which their character 
 can be really improved, instead of trying to gratify, humour, 
 and indulge them, which Callicles thought to be the poli- 
 tician's object ; and so it is not itKoXaala unlimited unre- 
 strained indulgence of the appetites and desires, but the 
 opposite, KoXaZ^aOai, correction and control, which is a man's 
 true object^ alike as a statesman or a private citizen, 505 c. 
 Here Callicles, who is fairly silenced and can no longer find 
 any argument or subterfuge to serve his purpose, becomes 
 sulky and obstinate, and flatly refuses to continue the dis- 
 cussion. He now suggests, c. 61, that Socrates should carry 
 it on by himself, which after a show of modest hesitation 
 and reluctance, and earnest entreaties to his friends to be 
 very hard upon him and carefully to note and criticise any 
 error he falls into, and by the intervention of the Deus ex 
 machina (Gorgias), he at length is persuaded to do. 
 
 In chapter 62 he next proceeds to recapitulate in a sum- 
 mary way the results of the preceding argument ; and the 
 first general conclusion is that aux^poavvr], the principle of 
 order and of harmony, of due subordination and arrange- 
 ment in the human soul, which has been shown to be the 
 soul's highest good, rightly understood involves every virtue ; 
 piety and justice, which consist in doing what is right, one's 
 duty, TO. wpoariKovTa, to Gods and men\ and courage or for- 
 titude, which consists in seeking and avoiding the right 
 things and men, pleasures and pains, and enduring either 
 
 ' The reasoning here depends upon the interpretation of the words aiiijipuiv, 
 aouppovEiv. autippoauvri is here regarded as soundness of mind, in accordance 
 with its derivation, and ' soundness of mind ' it is argued necessarily implies 
 the notion of doing what is proper and fitting to every one, men and Gods ; and 
 therefore of doing one's duty to them, which is the meaning of piety and 
 justice. Schleiermacher accordingly renders aiiijipoiv der Besonnene. The same 
 may be said of the following argument to show that it implies bravery as well 
 as justice and piety. And by this interpretation aiiiippoavvri wiU also neces- 
 sarily imply ^povrime, the fourth of the cardinal virtues, and so include all 
 the four. 
 
Ix PLATO'S GOB Q IAS. 
 
 pain or danger when a man is bound to do so. Consequently 
 one who has the virtue of temperance or self-control must 
 be in all respects a good man, and a good man will * do 
 well,' and one * who does well ' will be happy : and the op- 
 posites of this, intemperance licentiousness self-indulgence, 
 must therefore be the soul's vice and lead to misery instead 
 of to happiness, as Callicles maintained, p. 507 C. 
 
 Accordingly the general conclusions of cc. 62, 63, may be 
 thus summed up. In opposition to Callicles' position that 
 happiness consists in intemperance licentiousness self-indul- 
 gence, it lias been shown (by induction) that order harmony 
 due subordination and arrangement are necessary to, or ra- 
 ther constitute, the well-being and perfection of everything 
 in art and nature ; by these principles heaven and earth, the 
 Gods and human society, are held together, and from this 
 the whole universe receives its name (Kocr^oe). In man 
 these principles are called KocFfiiorrfg, awippoavvri ; and this 
 is that temperance or self-control which necessarily brings 
 with it the other virtues, and unites all our faculties, physi- 
 cal mental and moral, in an orderly and harmonious co- 
 operation, tending to one end, the supreme good. Hence it 
 appears that orderliness and subordination, 'due measure' 
 proportion or ' law,' are necessary to the development and 
 maintenance of the integrity and perfection of the human 
 nature, as of all other things ; and that licentiousness, which 
 introduces disorder and is accompanied by TrXtovESta, a grasp- 
 ing rapacious dissatisfied spirit, a desire for inequality, and a 
 principle of insubordination, and thereby thwarts and mars 
 this harmonious development, so far from being good and 
 contributing to happiness, is in fact the worst evil that can 
 befal a man ; and that any remedy or correction however 
 painful must be resorted to by which we may be relieved of 
 it : and hence also those paradoxes, as they appeared when 
 first stated, are now shown to be really true, that to do 
 wrong is a greater calamity than to suffer it, that the only 
 use of rhetoric is to accuse, not to defend, oneself or one's 
 
INTEOBTJGTION. Ixi 
 
 cHld or friend o'f any secret crime which would otherwise 
 pass undetected and unpunished ; and so^e now come round 
 again to the conclusion of the original argument with Gor- 
 gias, that the genuine rhetorician or true statesman must be 
 just himself and acquainted with the principles of justice 
 and of virtue. 508 c. 
 
 Soj^potTuvjj, which stands in this dialogue for the prin- 
 ciple of order, the supreme regulative and controlling au- 
 thority in man's moral constitution, takes here the place 
 which is assigned to Sjko£0(twi/j) in the psychological analysis 
 of the Republic. There Justice (that is, distributive Justice) 
 is the principle which orders and harmonises that constitu- 
 tion, introduces a right arrangement of the several parts, 
 keeps the desires and appetites and the lower elements in 
 general in due subordination to the higher, the reason or 
 vov^, governs the whole and regulates the action of the en- 
 tire machine. Compare also. Rep. ix. 591 A — E, where this 
 effect is described as the apfiovia, ^vfKpwvia, of the soul, 17 
 iv avTi^ TToXtTsla ; and the same views of man's nature in 
 its perfection, of the aim of life conduct and education, are 
 expressed in terms derived from the conclusions moral and 
 psychological previously established in the course of that 
 dialogue. Here again therefore the arguments of the Gor- 
 gias may be regarded as anticipatory of or introductory to 
 the more advanced and dogmatic statements of the Republic. 
 To use Dr Whewell's words, Platonic Dialogues, 11. 222, " So 
 given, the discourse (Socrates' recapitulation) becomes a 
 statement of Plato's philosophy at this period ; that is, at a 
 stage of his doctrines preceding that which the Republic 
 presents ; namely, when he regarded the soul of man as a 
 constitution, but had not yet discerned clearly what were the 
 component elements of that constitution." 
 
 The high value which Plato attached to this conception 
 of order harmony, proportion, law, and the important place 
 which it fills in the entire scheme of his philosophy, may be 
 further estimated by the prominent part assigned to it in 
 
Ixii PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 the discussions of the Philebus. It first appears there as the 
 TTspag, or rb Trepalvov, or we-rrpacTiutvov. Borrowing the notion 
 from the Pythagoreans Plato commences that dialogue by lay- 
 ing down three original elements in the entire constitution 
 of things, together with a fourth, the first cause, which is 
 independent of the rest. The awstpov, or indefinite matter, 
 assumes a definite shape and a positive existence by the in- 
 troduction of the TTipag, the limit, the principle of the defi- 
 nite or determinate, or, in a wider sense, of order symmetry 
 harmony organization, which the Pythagoreans represented 
 under the form of numbers, but may be conceived more 
 definitely and expressed in one word as ' law.' The third 
 element is the mixture of these two ; and besides these as a 
 fourth, there is the cause of the mixture, or independent first 
 cause. The awupov per se is the principle of evil. In it is 
 included all that is susceptible of degree, to fxaXXov koI yittov, 
 all excess and defect. This evil tendency is corrected by the 
 introduction of the irtpag, and from the blending of the two 
 proceeds all that is good. Thus in the human bodily con- 
 stitution, the airtipov is the principle of the excess or defect 
 in which consists disease : the iripag corrects this, and the 
 union of the two produces health, the normal or perfect state 
 of the constitution of the body. In sounds, the indefinite 
 materials sharp and flat, quick and sjow, which are naturally 
 and in themselves devoid of musical harmony, are harmo- 
 nized by the iripaq and become music. Similarly in hot 
 and cold, the iripag brings with it the due temperature of the 
 seasons ; and so on in other things. And in the classification 
 of the various forms of good which concludes the dialogue, 
 p. 65 C, the first place is assigned to to ptTptov koi to Kalpiov, 
 the general principle of harmony proportion and measure, or 
 in other words of ' law ' and ' order,' in place and time. In 
 the Laws, iv. 716 c, God himself is called (UErpfo'rjjc, fiirpov 
 TcdvTUjv ■)(prffiaT(i>v. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to observe that from the principles 
 thus set forth in the Philebus Aristotle has derived two of 
 
INTBODUOTION. Ixiii 
 
 the most prominent and leading doctrines of his Metaphysical 
 and Ethical system. The'ctTTEipov appeajp amongst his four 
 causes as the JJXrj, the material cause or element, the indefi- 
 nite shapeless matter of things, having only a potential ex- 
 istence, Evva/jLu ; the iripaq becomes the \6joq, or to ,tI ^v 
 Hvm, which gives the formless matter a definite shape and 
 substantial existence, hipydt}, and ma;kes it what it is, or 
 toas to be ; fulfils, that is, its idea, the end or riXog of its 
 being. It is equally plain that the airupov with its excess 
 and defect, and the iripag, which by limiting and defining 
 these converts them into good, furnished his Ethical philoso- 
 phy with the notion of the mean, to fxiaov, in which virtue 
 resides, and the virip(3o\ri and 'iWiiipig which constitute vice 
 and error. 
 
 To return to the Gorgias. In c. 64 Socrates first replies 
 to the taunts which Callicles had thrown out against his 
 livelong devotion to philosophy, which it now appears were 
 misdirected and baseless : and then proceeds to recapitulate his 
 previous assertions which have at length been established by 
 argument and become conclusions. And now Callicles is again 
 enticed back into the discussion: but his spirit is by this 
 time broken and his objections exhausted, and though still 
 secretly of the same mind as before he shows no further fight, 
 and does little more than express assent until the end of the 
 dialogue. 
 
 The comparative value of a defence against doing and 
 sufiering wrong is now therefore determined, since it has been 
 proved that doing wrong is undoubtedly the greater evil of 
 the two. A defence against this is to be found only in the 
 knowledge of right and wrong, what is just and what is unjust 
 (in the study, that is, of Ethical Philosophy), since no one does 
 wrong intentionally and with his eyes open, c. 65 ; protection 
 against suffering wrong, c. 66, can be secured only by making 
 oneself like the ruling powers ; by setting oneself from one's 
 earliest youth to copy their manners, adopt their feelings and 
 opinions, and in short assimilate one's mind and character 
 
/ Ixiv PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 in every point as nearly as possible to theirs : this ]S the only 
 way of ingratiating oneself with them and thereby ensuring 
 one's safety. Callicles here objects that this is a necessity; 
 one who sets himself in opposition to the powers that be will 
 be put to death ; but this makes no difference to the question ; 
 it still remains true that to conform oneself to a vicious pat- 
 tern and so become wicked is a greater evil than to suffer 
 any calamity : and again, cc. 67, 68, if rhetoric is of that 
 high value which Callicles attributes to it in virtue of its 
 being the art of self-preservation, the same must be true of a 
 number of other arts, swimming, navigation, fortification or 
 military engineering, which are equally necessary in many 
 cases to the preservation of a man's life and fortunes, and yet 
 none of them assumes the consequence or gives itself the 
 pretentious airs of self-importance which are exhibited by 
 the Rhetorician, or Politician as Callicles understands it. (In 
 the connection of the argument in the last paragraph I have 
 followed Bonitz, u. s. p. 258.) 
 ! -J In proving the first point in the above argument Plato 
 has recourse to the axiom which is elsewhere expressed in 
 the phrase oiiSdc Ikwi' kokoc : a principle which, Socrates 
 observes, has been already admitted in the course of the dis- 
 cussion with Polus. He refers to c. 24, p. 468 c. foil., where 
 / it is argued that good is a lways a man's real object, or jhat 
 Xwiien a m an does what he really wish es, he does what i s 
 /^good. This principle, directly or indirectly stated, and what- 
 ever its exact meaning may be, is asserted through the entire 
 series of Plato's works from the Protagoras to the Laws, and 
 therefore must have been held by him in some sense or other 
 at all periods of his philosophical career. It occurs Protag. 
 358 C,it is implied and argued upon, Meno, 77 B — 78 B,and, 
 to refer only to his later writings, is found in the Philebus, 
 22 B (indirectly stated), Rep. ix. 589 C, Timajus, 86 D, Laws, 
 V. 731 c, 734 B, IX. 860 d, where it is discussed at length. 
 Various meanings may be attached to the axiom. It may 
 signify, as in the Tim^us, 86 D, that all vice arises from an 
 
INTBODUOTION. Ixv 
 
 imperfect faulty bodily organization, an evil nature, and 
 defects of education, public and private, -vihicli prevent men 
 from seeing and following what is good. KUKoe fitv yapsKwv 
 ovSdg' Sta Si irovripdv t^iv riva rov aw/iarog Koi cnraiBavTov 
 rpo^fjv 6 KttKOQ y'lyvirai kukoq. These vices of bodily con- 
 stitution are explained to be the various bad humours which 
 produce all sorts of diseases in the soul, generating ill-temper 
 and peevishness and rashness and cowardice and forgetfulness 
 and stupidity. (Of course these must be understood as mere 
 hindrances, not as insurmountable obstacles to the attain- 
 ment of virtue and good, otherwise what is here said would 
 be absolutely irreconcileable with the passages quoted below 
 from the Eepublic, x. and Laws, x. in which the entire free- 
 dom of the will in the choice of our path in life, of virtue 
 'and vice, is most exphcitly affirmed.) And further, Tim. 87 a, 
 "and besides all this... when the forms of government, and 
 'the doctrines current, and the language held in public and in 
 private through our cities are all so bad, and the studies 
 'pursued by the young are by no means calculated to correct 
 these influences, thus it is that from these two causes all 
 those of us that are bad are made so most involuntarily." 
 
 Again it may be a deduction from the ethical theory that 
 virtue is nothing but knowledge : and in this sense it stands -^ 
 doubtless in the Protagoras, which was written while Plato 
 was still under the immediate influence of the teaching of 
 Socrates, who as is well known from Xenophon Aristotle 
 and other authorities held this view of the nature of virtue. 
 From this theory it follows at once as a necessary consequence 
 Ihat vice being mere ignorance is unintentional ; " for," as 
 Socrates himself says in Xenophon, Memor. iii. 9, 4, " all 
 choose out of the possible courses of action those which they 
 );hink most advantageous to themselves, and neither can those 
 iB'ho are acquainted with virtu e and jusjtice_choose_aaiy-thing 
 ?lse in pref erence to them , nor ^aajthosfi^who do notjindgr- 
 ^tand the m act in c onformity with them." In this sense the 
 inaxim is criticised and rejected by Aristotle, Eth. Nic. iii. 7 
 
 e 
 
Ixvi PLATO'S OOBGIAS. 
 
 (Bekk.), VI. 5 ult., Metaph. A. 29, 1025, a. 9, compare Magn. 
 Moral. I. 1. 6. The criticism in one word amounts to this; 
 ' that in pronouncing vice to be involuntary Socrates over- 
 ' looked the freedom of the will ; the apxn of all moral action 
 -resides in ourselves ; until the habit has become confirmed, and 
 then perhaps vice may be said in a sense to be unintentional. 
 Plato's opinion upon the subject, the connection of wisdom 
 or knowledge and virtue, gradually underwent a change as 
 his knowledge widened and his views became enlarged. In 
 the Gorgias 495 d, avSpiia is expressly distinguished from 
 E7r«Tr»)(Ujj, (with which it is identified in the Protagoras, and 
 jJerhaps also the Laches,) and therefore from virtue in gene- 
 ral ; and in Meno, 98 D, E, the identity of virtue and ^povrimQ 
 is explicitly denied. Still he continued to maintain to the 
 end of his career the inseparable union of the two, that virtue 
 in the highest sense without philosophical insight was impos- 
 sible. See especially the passage of the Phsedo 68 b — 69 d 
 and the references given by Stallbaum in his valuable note on 
 p. 68 c, in which he distinguishes three kinds or degrees of 
 virtue recognised by Plato. The highest form of virtue 
 based upon and springing from philosophical knowledge, and 
 due in part to a happy organisation of body (compare the 
 curious passage of Timaeus, 86 d), and soul (Republic) is of 
 course beyond the reach of vulgar mortals and cannot be 
 imparted by precept or training alone (Meno) Rep. Tli. 518 
 B, C. However, the freedom of the will in the determination 
 of a man's conduct is most distinctly asserted in two remark- 
 able passages of his latest works. Rep. x. 617 E, ajOErij Xt 
 aSicFTTOTov, fjv TifiCov Ti KOI oLTifiaZittv ttXiov Kol sXaVTOV aVTTK 
 t/caoToe E^Et. ahia iXofxivov' O^og avairiog. And Laws X. 
 904 C, rjje Se ytvEO-EWC to ttoiov tjvoc aipriKE raig j3ov\fiamv 
 tKaartov rifiiov tuq aiTiag. liiry yap av tTriOvfiy kol uttoIoq tic 
 wv TTiv Tpvx>)v, Tavrrj (txeSov tKaarOTt koI toiovtoq yiyvsrm 
 atrag r\(xil)v iig to ttoXv. 
 
 As regards the communicability of virtue, h SiSuktov i 
 aptTT], Plato's expressions in his earlier dialogues, particularly 
 
INTBODUGTION. Ixvii 
 
 he Meno, are very various and puzzling, and might seem 
 iven to be contradictory. Writing late in*life, he attributes 
 he greatest importance to education in the formation of cha- 
 •aeter. In the Timseus, p. 86 D, he says Sta irovripav e^iv rivd 
 ■ov (ruifiaroc koX aTraiSevTOv Tpo^jjv 6 kukoq yljvsTai KUKog, and 
 igain 87 B, wv (i.e. rije kok^oc) alnaTiov fiiv rovg ^vrevovTag 
 iti Tuv ^VT£vofiivb)v jUoXXov Kai roue rpi^ovraQ twv rpt^o- 
 dvbiv, TrpoOvfiririov firjv owig Tig Svvarai koi Sia Tpo(j>rig Koi 
 5i' EiririjStVjUOT&JV /jLaOrmaTwv re ^vjiiv (i\v KUKiav Tovvavriov 
 5e iXiiv, Another important passage on the nature and 
 jfFect of education occurs in Legg. ii. 653 a foil., which is 
 kowever too long to quote. He seems in this to be speaking 
 Df virtue in its popular and ordinary sense, ri Srifiorucrj koi 
 iroXiTtKi) aperfi as he elsewhere calls it, not of the highest or 
 philosophical form of it. 
 
 To reconcile the various and apparently conflicting ex- 
 pressions of Plato upon the subject of virtue and especially 
 upon the possibility of imparting it, is a task of great diffi- 
 culty, and I know not if I have anywhere seen it thoroughly 
 and satisfactorily executed in detail. The distinction of 
 philosophical and popular virtue which he recognised may go 
 some way towards helping us out of the embarrassment ; 
 and perhaps the following account may in some degree 
 represent his ultimate views upon the conditions of virtue 
 and the possibility of teaching or imparting it. The Sophists 
 by their unlimited professions of teaching virtue seem first 
 to have raised the question whether it really could be 
 taught. This in their sense, that is that it could be sown like 
 a seed or planted like a tree and made to grow in any soil or 
 under any conditions, is disproved in the Meno ; compare 
 Isocr. avTiS. § 274 : and especially the impossibility of trans- 
 mitting virtue in the sense of skill and ability is shown by 
 the failure of all the famous statesmen of Athens to impart 
 it to their children, because we may fairly assume that they 
 would have done so if it had been possible. The perfection 
 of virtue requires first a happy natural organization even of 
 
Ixviii PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 body, Tim. 86 D already quoted, and mind ' (Republic) ; and 
 favourable antecedents, as of the form of government and 
 state institutions, virtuous parents and capable instructors. 
 Tim. u. s. 86, 87. In its highest perfection it cannot exist 
 without a full knowledge of the realities of things, and there- 
 fore requires a thorough philosophical training and insight 
 into truth (Phaido and Republic). Philosophy and educatioj 
 it is true cannot impart virtue when no favourable conditions 
 of temper and knowledge exist. All that they can dojn any 
 case is to encourage and stimulate, guide and direct the soul 
 in the pursuit of virtue, by diverting it from fleeting^ trans- 
 itory phenomena and things of sense, together with the 
 pleasures and passions which cling to this lower worldjof 
 phenomena, and so by raising it to the contemplation of 
 truth and reality and revealing to it the excellence of virtue 
 and real good, to inspire it with a passion and a desire to 
 attain to it. See Repubhc vii. and especially the passage 
 already referred to 518 B, C, D, foil, which seems to furnish 
 the key to the solution of the riddle of the Meno, by con- 
 trasting the pretensions of education — o'lav nvlg iirayytWo- 
 Hivoi ^atnv ilvat. ^acri Se ttov ovk Ivovtrrjc Iv ry i^^XV 
 t7r((TTj)/ir)g tr^Eie tvTidivat, oiov rv(p\o7g o^aoXjuoTe b\(itv 
 ivTidivTsi; — with its true meaning office and capacity ^ 
 
 ' Aristotle likewise admits this, at all events as far as the mind is con- 
 cerned. To the attainment of complete virtue, or the perfection of character, 
 a certain evipvta, u happy constitution or natural capacity of mind, and pro- 
 bably of body too, is essential. 
 
 ^ Compare Dr Whewell's excellent observations upon the philosophical 
 meaning and purpose of the Meno, Platonic Dialoc/ues, i. 2.55, 6. It is thus 
 briefly stated in the Introductory note upon the second title, p. 196: "tlie 
 conclusion, in which it is implied that the Virtue which does not involve 
 knowledge is not what the pliilosopher seeks." The same writer, p. 255, inti- 
 mates that the doctrines upon the connection of virtue and knowledge, whict 
 the dialogue is really intended to convey, represent the opinions held by Platii 
 at this period, i.e. at the very early period of Plato's literary career, while he 
 was htill under Socratic influences, to which Dr Whcwell assigns it. Butil 
 the opinions intended amount to nothing more than that true virtue must be 
 based on philosophical knowledge of the true and good and cannot exist with- 
 
INTBODUGTION. Ixix 
 
 But, returning to the Gorgias, from which we have per- 
 haps strayed too far away, all that seems (g;o be meant here, 
 and generally in the later dialogues, by saying that those who 
 do wrong do it unintentionally is that as good is the univer- 
 sal aim, and moral good the only real good, when once a man 
 has acquired a knowledge of the true nature and excellence 
 of -virtue it will exercise an overpowering attraction upon his 
 conduct, and he will be irresistibly impelled to the pursuit 
 of it ; as upon the same principle it was argued in the con- 
 versation with Gorgias, p. 460 b, c, that those that have 
 learntjusticeare just, and the just will always act justly; not 
 n^eaning that justice is nothing but knowledge and a kind of 
 s^kill to be acquired by teaching like any of the arts, nor 
 amounting like the Socratic doctrine to a total suppression 
 of the will, but implying merely that, as the will is in- 
 fluenced byjnotivefij-the good or virtue,_whicli supplies an 
 overpowering motive, cannot fail to attract the enlightened 
 will and d etefmiH#Tf tcrttreTJursuit of virtue. 
 
 And now we are brought to the final judgment and con- 
 Jemnation of the views of life and the course of conduct set 
 forth by Callicles as those which alone lead to happiness, 
 3C. 69 — 78. As the starting point and basis for this last stage 
 jf the argument, Socrates first reminds his opposite, now no 
 longer his active opponent, that of the two varieties of modes 
 jf dealing with body and soul all those that aim exclusively at 
 pleasure are to be rejected, and consequently that the object 
 )f the genuine statesman must be to promote the good, that 
 s, the moral improvement, of the citizens, compared with 
 
 ut it, we need not thus limit the period at which the author held them to the 
 arly part of his life : the terms in which Dr Whewell describes these opinions, 
 1 the sentences beginning " over against this stands the opposite opinion, &c." 
 resent a most curiously exact parallel (considering that it is to all appearance 
 ccidental) to the passage from the Republic, Bk. vii. quoted in the text, which 
 e does not refer to : and there can be no doubt that this must represent the 
 lews entertained upon the question by Plato in the fully developed matu- 
 ity of his philosophical creed. 
 
Ixx PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 which every other service real or supposed that he can ren- 
 der them, as the acquisition of vcealth power dominion, is 
 absolutely worthless. There is accordingly an art of Politics 
 in which the would-be statesman ought to be thoroughly 
 versed and his skill tested before he enters upon any public 
 duties ; just as the state physicians, shipwrights, architects, 
 and so forth, are obliged to give some proof of their qualifi- 
 cations before they are entrusted with any public functions; 
 and this is in fact moral science or ethical philosophy, 
 which teaches what are the true objects and rule of life, and 
 by what means this moral improvement may be attained, 
 cc. 69, 70. Tried by this standard the shortcomings of 
 the Athenian statesmen, even the most famous of the past 
 ages, are brought to light. Their claim to admiration and 
 respect as statesmen must be estimated by the moral pro- 
 gress made by the citizens whilst under their care : without 
 this all mere external embellishments, all accession of power 
 wealth and splendour provided by then* administration, weigh 
 as nothing in the balance. But it is precisely in this point 
 that their deficiencies are most manifest. Even Pericles the 
 most celebrated of them all is acknowledged to have left the 
 citizens more lazy and garrulous and effeminate and greedy 
 than he found them by the system of fees that he was the 
 first to introduce. But just as we should charge a herdsman 
 or horsebreaker with utter ignorance of his business if the 
 animals which he received free from vice had learnt under 
 his hands to butt or kick or bite, so by the same rule a 
 statesman who is charged with the care and training of men 
 must be pronounced incompetent if the animals that he has 
 to deal with become worse under his management. And 
 this is shown by the conduct of the citizens themselves to 
 these their supposed benefactors. Cimon they ostracised ; 
 Themistocles they treated in the same way, and banished to 
 boot ; Miltiades narrowly escaped being thrown into the Pit; 
 and Pericles was found guilty of embezzlement and nearly 
 condemned to death. But had they been really trained in 
 
INTBOBUOTION. Ixxi 
 
 justice and vi'ftue they never could have been guilty of such 
 flagrant ingratitude, cc. 71, 72, These men it is true were 
 most skilful and able ministers to the city's vanity and am- 
 bition, which they pampered by providing her with docks 
 fleets long walls and other such non-essentials, but they are 
 no more entitled for this to the credit of genuine statesman- 
 ship than the baker the tavern-keeper or the cook can pro- 
 perly claim to fulfil the oflSce of the trainer and physician 
 in the development of the strength and comeliness and the 
 maintenance of health in the body, c. 73 : although, as po- 
 pular approbation is no test of truth, the men who are the 
 real authors of disease in the body corporate will very likely 
 escape all censure from those whom they have corrupted, and 
 all the blame will be thrown upon the advisers who are 
 called in, like a physician in a fever, when the complaint 
 has reached its crisis. However in any case it is just as 
 absurd for a statesman to complain of the ingratitude of the 
 -citizens by whom he has been ill treated as it is for a sophist 
 to accuse those whom he has proposed to educate in justice 
 and virtue of cheating him of the fee that he has earned : 
 for such ingratitude only shows that the work has not been 
 properly done. c. 74. In fact the teacher of virtue is the 
 only artist who can safely leave the remuneration' of his 
 services to the gratitude of those whom he has instructed ; 
 and this is why for this particular service, that namely which 
 the Sophists proposed to render', for giving instruction in 
 public and private virtue, the previous demand of a pecuniary 
 compensation is condemned by public opinion, because in 
 this case if the service is really performed the reward is 
 certain, cc. 75, 76, to p. 520 e. 
 
 ' Compare the well-known definition of these Professors and their profes- 
 sion in Aristotle, de Soph. El. 165 a, 21 : eari yap >j ao^wnicfi tprnvopivri ao^ia 
 oiffa 5' ov, Kal 6 aotpiaTYiq •^TjfiariaTriQ airb ^aivofjikvris aofioQ oXA' o^k ovuti^, 
 and 171 b, 25, foil. Sophistic in the latter passage is distinguished from the 
 kindred arts and pursuits by two specific characters ; 1. the mercenary object, 
 and 2. the ostentatious exhibition of unreal knowledge or wisdom. 
 
Ixxii PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 " The man convinced against his will Is of his first opi- 
 nion still," says Hudibras : and it now appears that Callicles' 
 recent acquiescence has been a mere pretence ; for upon being 
 asked by Socrates whether he still recommends the same 
 course of political conduct as before, he replies that he does. 
 c. 76. 
 
 The two directions of public life and conduct are now 
 finally contrasted. Socrates now claims to be the only man 
 in Athens, or nearly so, past and present who has true no- 
 tions of what Politics are and what public duty means. Any 
 one however who like him really aims at the improvement 
 of his fellow-citizens must expect unpopularity, if not perse- 
 cution and death : he will be like a physician on his trial 
 before a jury of children to whom he has given much neces- 
 sary pain in the course of his medical practice ; all his pleas 
 of having acted for their advantage in what he did will be 
 set at nought or misunderstood ; he ^ill be accused (as So- 
 crates actually was) of corrupting the young and slandering| 
 the old, and his ultimate fate will not be doubtful. But 
 armed with the consciousness of his innocence he will fear 
 neither danger nor death : death is terrible to none but the 
 fool and the coward ; the only real evil and the real object of 
 dread is injustice and wickedness, and to go with a soul laden 
 with crimes to the world below, cc. 77, 78. 
 
 The dialogue concludes with a myth in which the con- 
 dition of the soul in the other world after its separation from 
 the body, together with the doctrine of a future judgment 
 and retribution, are represented in accordance with the cui^ 
 rent popular and traditionary belief. Then the true nature 
 of justice and injustice will be finally and fully revealed^ 
 then when the soul is stript bare of all the adventitious ac- 
 complishments and worldly advantages, rank wealth splen- 
 dour talents personal beauty, by which men's eyes are daz- 
 zled and her true condition disguised, when she stands thus 
 naked face to face before her Judge and all her corruption 
 and depravity is brought to light, then it will be the turn 
 
INTBOD UGTION. Ixxiii 
 
 of Callicles and those who with him have preferred wrong 
 and injustice in this life to stand amazed and abashed, ' dizzy 
 and open-mouthed,' in the presence of tneir Judge — like So- 
 crates the philosopher before a human tribunal — and then 
 they may chance to meet with the same insults that Socrates 
 was threatened with by Calhcles if he neglected the cultiva- 
 tion of rhetoric as an instrument of self-defence, whilst the 
 philosopher who has " minded his own business and not med- 
 dled with other people's affairs " will be approved by the 
 Judge and sent to dwell in the Isles of the Blest. 
 
 And so with a brief summary of the conclusions to which 
 the argument has led them, and renewed exhortations to 
 Callicles to abandon those views of life which now have been 
 shown to be false and delusive, and to follow the path of 
 duty which alone leads to true and abiding happiness, with 
 a genuine Platonic simplicity which reminds us of the cele- 
 brated opening of the Kepublic, the conversation is brought 
 to a close. 
 
 The myth of which the general moral purpose has been 
 thus briefly expressed is one of four, or five if we include the 
 Cosmogony of the Tim8eus,that occur in Plato's writings upon 
 a similar subject, the condition of the souls of men in another 
 state of being \ The immortality of the soul, which is neces- 
 sarily involved in the doctrine of a retribution after death, 
 is here assumed, not proved. These conceptions are invested 
 with this fabulous character doubtless as conveying doctrines 
 which agree indeed with the conclusions of a sound philoso- 
 phy, and being based upon the inmost convictions of the 
 human mind itself have existed in some form or other at 
 all times and in all places, but cannot be made to rest on a 
 scientific basis, and therefore may be allowed to assume this 
 fanciful half-poetical shape, and to fall in with the traditions 
 
 ' The myth of the Tima3us should perhaps hardly be included amongst 
 those which shadow forth the destiny that awaits men after this life. The pas- 
 sage that relates to this subject, 42 B, c, is very short and only incidental to 
 the main subject. 
 
Ixxiv PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 of the mythologist and the fictions of the poet. The notions 
 that they embody of a future state of retribution, happiness 
 and misery, however they may have been acquired — whether 
 derived from primeval tradition, or inherent in the human 
 heart and conscience — were at all events current in Greece 
 from the earliest period of which the records remain to us ; 
 they appear in the most ancient of her literary monuments, 
 the Homeric poems. 
 
 The representation of the soul's future state assumes in 
 accordance with the general scope and intention of the 
 dialogue the most purely moral aspect in the myth of the 
 Gorgias, and there is here little that is original in the 
 scenery and concomitant circumstances of the judgment in the 
 world below, these being derived with only slight alteration 
 from the traditions of the Poets and Mythologists : it is 
 mixed up with no cosmical speculations as in the Phsedo and 
 Republic, no physical theories or scientific calculations de- 
 rived from Geometry Harmonics and Astronomy as in the 
 Timseus, nb metaphysical and psychological allegorizing as in 
 the Phaedrus,no Pythagorean or Orphic^ metempsychosis as 
 in the Phaedrus Phsedo and Republic. From these two 
 points of difierence an argument might be derived — ^if any 
 such were necessary — for assigning an earlier period to the 
 composition of the Gorgias than to the other four : but the 
 whole dialogue is animated by a youthful spirit of fun, here 
 and there, one might almost say, of levity ; and not only 
 the tone, but the matter and the mode in which it is dealt 
 with, and the state of knowledge and progress in the develop- 
 ment of the author's system which it presents — for example 
 there is no hint of the Ideal Theory — all seem to imply that 
 the writer was a comparatively young man, and to agree per- 
 fectly well with the date which has been determined by other 
 considerations (see above p. Ivi. note), the period, that is, in- 
 tervening between Plato's return from his first travels in 
 395 B. c. and his first journey to Sicily in 389 b. c. 
 ' See Eenouvier, Manuel de Phil. Anc. i. p. 68, Bk. ii. § 1. 
 
INTBOBUGTION. Ixxv 
 
 As to the degree of faith which Plato himself reposed 
 in these representations of a future st|te, whether they are 
 to be regarded as speculations, or traditions, or the natural 
 and universal but indemonstrable convictions of the human 
 conscience, his own somewhat contradictory expressions hardly 
 enable us to pronounce with certainty. In the Gorgias, 
 523 A, he speaks of the story that he is going to tell as 
 ' a true tale,' though Callicles will probably regard it as a 
 mere myth, wg aXrjfljJ jap ovra aoi Xe^w a fiiXXw Xiytiv. 
 At the conclusion of it he expresses himself with less cer- 
 tainty, 527 A. "All this very likely seems to you to be a 
 mere fable, like an old wife's tale, and you look with con- 
 tempt upon it. And there would be no wonder in your doing 
 so, if by any research we could find anything truer and 
 better." And in the Phsedo, 114 d foil., he says that no man 
 of sense would maintain the exact truth of the description of 
 the other world that he has been giving ; still he thinks that 
 such a state of things is in conformity with reason and what 
 ought to be, and the probability of such reward of virtue and 
 punishment of vice is sufficient- for a man to stake his hopes 
 of the future upon. And much the same kind of conviction of 
 the general, though not particular, truth of such representa- 
 tions, as sufficient to determine a man's conduct in life, is 
 expressed at the beginning and end of the myth of the Re- 
 public, 614 a and 62 1 C. From a comparison of these passages 
 it seems that an inference may be drawn as to Plato's views 
 upon the subject such as I have already intimated : that 
 these doctrines harmonising as they do with the conclusions 
 of philosophy as to the immortality of the soul, the aim 
 and end of life, and the true nature of virtue and vice, and 
 likewise with the universal popular belief upon the subject — 
 see upon this a striking passage. Rep. i. 330 d, and compare 
 Epist. VII. 335 A — may in some form or other be accepted as 
 sufficiently certain to supply a solid ground of action : against 
 the supposition that the particular mode of representation 
 adopted is meant for the literal reality, the mythical form 
 
Ixxvi PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 in which they are clothed, and the statements aheady quoted, 
 Pha3d. 114 D, Gorg. 523 a, seem expressly intended to guard. 
 See the observations of Zeller on this subject, Phil, der 
 Griechen, ii. 266, and Brandis, Handbuch, ii. 442, foil.: also 
 Prof. Thompson's note in Butler's Hist. Phil. ii. 246, whose 
 interpretation of Plato's meaning appears to coincide exactly 
 with my own. 
 
 On the foundation of the universal belief in a future 
 state, the proofs of it, and the arguments derivable from it, 
 see Cicero, Tusc. Quaest. i. 12 — 15. 
 
INTBODUOTION. Ixxvii 
 
 Of the Dkamatis Persons, 
 
 GoEGiAS is a pompous and dignified but courteous old 
 gentleman of about 75 or 80 — as to the exact date of his 
 birth the authorities vary ; Clinton, Fast. Hell., sub annis 427 
 and 459,inclines to the year 485 B.C. ; Foss, De Gorgia Leon- 
 tino, and others place it five years later — with a great deal of 
 simple and harmless vanity, fully alive to the splendour of his 
 own reputation and the extent of his acquirements, of which 
 he reminds us ever and anon in the course of conversation, but 
 at the same time with a most gracious condescension for the 
 ignorance and infirmities of his inferiors — that is, of all the 
 rest of the world. He is treated with great respect by 
 Socrates in consideration of his venerable age and distinc- 
 tion, and after a short conversation, in which he defends his 
 art by the ordinary arguments and finally contradicts him- 
 self, is allowed to sink into a dignified repose, from which he 
 only emerges for an instant whenever a dignus vindice nodus 
 calls for the interposition of such a godlike personage. On 
 the hypothesis which fixes the scenic date of the dialogue in 
 the year 405 B.C. he is now staying at Athens on a second 
 visit. 
 
 PoLTJS is his disciple and famulus, young hot and impetu- 
 ous, vioQ Koi o^vQ, forward and conceited to the very verge 
 of presumption — extremely like Thrasymachus in the Re- 
 public, whose general views of life and conduct coincide 
 pretty nearly with his own — and quite unable to understand 
 a distinction or see a difficulty. He has caught all the graces 
 and affectations of his master's new prose style, and has all 
 Gorgias' ostentation without his courtesy and moderation in 
 expressing himself. And so he plays his part \ 
 
 ' Of Polus' intellectual character and opinions something more has been 
 said in the Introduction, pp. xxxvi. and xl. foil. 
 
Ixxviii PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 Ch^erephon is the familiar and constant attendant of 
 Socrates, whose pale face and sloveniy exterior are so well 
 known to us from Aristophanes' Clouds, where his manners 
 habits and pursuits are caricatured for the amusement 
 of the Athenian play-goers. His part in this dialogue is 
 confined to a very few short sentences. In the Charmides, 
 the only other of Plato's dialogues in which he is introduced, 
 he is treated in the same way, and is little more than a Koxjtov 
 irpoawTTov. All that we learn of him from that work is 
 that he was of an eager and enthusiastic temper, which pro- 
 cures for him the epithet of /iuvikoc- 
 " The character of Callicles is muchmore fully exhibited 
 to us, and is therefore of a more composite order than any of 
 the preceding. He is a man of good family and position in 
 Athenian society, which entitles him to look down with a 
 very lofty scorn upon all professional people and mechanical 
 occupations ; see p. 512 c. He seems to be a young man 
 from the half patronising politeness and afiectionately de- 
 risive tone with which Socrates occasionally addresses him. 
 His temper is ambitious ; he regards honour and distinction 
 and power as the highest good ; thinks that a man's own 
 advancement is the true object of life, and that this is to 
 be sought at his country's expense by ingratiating himself 
 with the governing mob and thus obtaining office and au- 
 thority. As a means of attaining this end he vaunts the 
 new art of Rhetoric, the artificer of persuasion, as the only 
 study worthy of a man of sense ; philosophy, the rival pursuit 
 recommended by Socrates, he deems only fit for a child, as 
 a training and preparation for the more serious business of 
 public life. He is much clearer-headed and sharper-witted 
 than the juvenile and half-educated Polus, though eventually 
 he has to succumb to the irresistible cogency of the Socratic 
 dialectics. He dislikes contradiction and defeat, and is apt 
 to turn sulky and stubborn, as well as to have recourse to 
 underhand subterfuges, (so Bonitz, op. cit. p. 267) when 
 shown to be in the wrong, and always displays a good deal 
 
INTB OB UGTION. Ixxix 
 
 of petulance and a bold freedom sometimes almost amounting 
 to efirontery. * Finally lie has imbibed either from his master 
 GorglaSj or rather perhaps (for we have no evidence for the 
 former supposition) from the Athenian freethinkers of the 
 day ' — see E,ep. ii. 358 B. foil., -where the exposition of these 
 doctrines is prefaced with a (paal, — ^;he ethical theory that' 
 might is the only right, that a man's own interest and ad- 
 vantage is the only true end and rule of life, to which he 
 gives expression in its most undisguised and offensive form 
 and in the most uncompromi^'g terms. V 
 
 Lastly, SocEATES is the Platonic Socrates ; per- 
 haps the completest and most highly finished portrait in the 
 entire range of dramatic literature of one of the most extra- 
 ordinary men, hero, saint (saint after the fashion of the fifth 
 century before Christ), philosopher, that ever dignified human 
 nature and puzzled his contemporaries ; and no where more 
 graphically and skilfully represented than in this dialogue 
 with all his odd peculiarities, his humour, his never-failing 
 good-temper, his mock humility, his pretence of ignorance, his 
 scrupulous politeness and affected deference for those whom 
 he is all the while turning into ridicule, his 'irony' in a 
 word — a term which as Aristotle hints took its special sense 
 from these very peculiarities in Socrates' ordinary manner — 
 lastly with his real heroism, his unyielding firmness and 
 strength of resolution, and above all that gigantic intellectual 
 power which enabled him as Xenophon says, (Memor. i. 2. 
 14) " to do just what he pleased with any body in argument." 
 
 This is not the place to enter into any details about the 
 person manners and character of Socrates, which have been 
 so often and so ably described by others, by none more ably 
 
 ' The word ipaai in the Eepublie is perfectly indefinite and we are not told 
 whether it was any particular class of persons that held and propagated these 
 doctrines ; but all the evidence we have upon the subject induces me to believe 
 that they were originated by one of the Sophists, the Freethinkers of the day 
 in religion and morals, Protagoras or Thrasymachus or others, one of whom 
 actually states the theory as I have endeavoiired to show, whilst it Ugrees per- 
 fectly with the known opinions of Protagoras and others of the early Sophists. 
 
Ixxx PLATO'S GOBOIAS. 
 
 than by Mr Grote,Hist.ofGreece, Vol. VIII. 68,andlwlll there- 
 fore only add one single observation ; what must be thought 
 of the genius of the writer who could place such a character 
 in all its strength so fully and vividly before us that the 
 Socrates of two thousand years ago is to us as one whom we 
 have seen and heard and conversed with ? who has presented 
 the scenes in which he always plays the principal part with 
 such perfect liveliness and fidelity that we seem ourselves to 
 be looking on and listening to the argument as it turns and 
 winds through its devious course, and find it hard to believe 
 that such a drama as the Phsedo, or the Symposium, or the 
 Phsedrus, or the Gorgias, is after all nothing but a fiction, and 
 a ' Philosophical Dialogue ' ? 
 
PLATO'S GOEGIAS. 
 
 Callicles. This is the time, they say, Socrates, to come p. 447 
 in at a fight and afray^S c. 1 
 
 Socrates. What ? are we come at the tail of a feast, as 
 the saying is, and too late ? 
 
 Cal. Yes indeed, and a very dainty feast it was. For 
 Gorgias has just been treating us to a fine long declamation. 
 
 Soc. A-je but for that, Callicles, my friendChsirepEon 
 here is to blame, because he forced me to stay loitering in 
 the market-place. 
 
 Chcerephon. No matter, Socrates : as I was the cause 
 so I'll find the cure. For Gorgias is a friend of mine^ and 
 therefore he'll declaim for us, if you^ like at once, or if you 
 prefer it by and by. 
 
 Cal. How's that, Chserephon ? Is Socrates anxious to 
 hear Gorgias? 
 
 ChfEr. To be sure, that's precisely the object of our being 
 here. 
 
 Cal. Well then if you please to come home to my 
 house — For Gorgias is staying^ with me, and he'll favour you 
 with one of his. addresses. 
 
 Soc. Thank you, Callicles. But do you think he wouldn't 
 mind conversing with us? for I want to learn from the 
 
 1 Hmry IV. Part i. Act iv. So. 2, v. 74. 
 
 mi. WeU, 
 
 To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast 
 Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest. 
 B 
 
2 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 gentleman whatjsjhe, real meaning of his art, and what it 
 is that he professes to teach. The rest of his address he 
 may deliver, as you say, at some future time. 
 
 Cal. There's nothing like asking him, Socrates. That 
 in fact was one of the points in the address that he gave us. 
 At all events he invited just now every one of the present 
 company ^ to ask him any question he pleased, and he said 
 he was ready to answer them all. 
 
 Soc. I am so glad to hear it. Ask him, Chferephon. 
 
 Cheer. Ask him what ? 
 
 Soc, Who he is. 
 
 Char. What do you mean ? 
 
 Soc. Why suppose he had been a maker of shoes, he 
 would have answered, I presume, that he is a shoe-maker. 
 You understand what I mean, don't you ? 
 c. 2 Cheer. I understand, and will ask him the question. Tell 
 
 me, Gorgias, is it true, as CaUicles here says, that you pro- 
 fess to answer any question that may be put to you ? 
 448 Gorgias. Quite true, Chaerephon ; in fact, that was the 
 
 very profession that I was making just now, and I tell you 
 that for many years nobody has ever yet asked me any new 
 question. 
 
 Cheer. Then I presume you find no difficulty in answer- 
 ing, Gorgias. 
 
 Gar. You may try the experiment if you please, Chae- 
 rephon. 
 
 Polus. Yes, 'egad, and upon me too, if you like, Chsere- 
 phon. For I am afraid Gorgias must be quite tired by the 
 long speech which he has just been delivering. 
 
 Cheer. How say you, Polus ? do you think that you can 
 answer better than Gorgias ? 
 
 ^ Twv evdov ovTb)v. The dialogue opens in the street where Socrates and 
 Chserephon, who are hurrying from the market-place to Callioles' house to 
 see the distinguished foreigner, meet Callicles and his party who are just 
 quitting it. Upon CaUicles' invitation they turn back together : and the words 
 Tuv tvdov ovTuv show that they are supposed by this time to have reached the 
 house, where the rest of the dialogue is carried on. 
 
^:~ PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 3 
 
 Pol. And pray what does thait matter, if I do it well 
 enough for you ? • 
 
 Char. Not at all. Well then, since such is your wish, 
 answer me. 
 
 Pol. Ask away. 
 
 Char. I will. If Gorgias had been master of the same 
 art as his brother Herodicus, what name would it have been 
 proper to give him ? Would it not have been the same as 
 the other ? ' 
 
 Pol. No doubt it would. . • 
 
 Char. Then in calling him a phy sician we should' have 
 given mm his right name. >' 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Cheer. And if he had been skilled in the art of Aristophon 
 son of Aglaophon, or his brother (iPolygnotus), what would 
 it have been proper to call him ? 
 
 Pol. Plainly a painter ;__ 
 
 Char. And as it is, what is the art in which his skill 
 lies ? and what would be the proper naftie to give him in 
 consequence ? 
 
 Pol. , Ghaerephon, there are many arts, amongst mankind 
 from experiences experimentally invented : for it . is experi- 
 ence that makes our days proceed by rule of art, the want 
 of it by chance : and in each of these men participate various 
 in various variously, the best of them in the best : of whom 
 in fact Gorgias here is one, and so is a member o f the nob lest 
 of all professions '. 
 
 < " - V- 
 
 ^ This is no caricature, as Dr Whewell (Platonic Dialogues, n. 171), who 
 adopts Mr Grote's views about Plato's relation to the early Sophists and their 
 followers, insinuates : it is a literal quotation from Polus' Art of Eh etoHo. 
 The first clause is quoted by Syrianus, 8chol. ad Uermog. ap. Spengel, Art. 
 Script, p. 87 ; and the second by Aristotle^ Meiaph. A. 1. It 'Appears probable 
 frpm the' former passage that these were the words with which the work com- 
 
 ^menced. It is characterised by the symmetrical and highly artificial structure 
 which Gorgias introduced into his prose compositions, and even reproduces 
 
 ' anothpr of his peculiarities in the use of the poetical word aidva for fSiov. It 
 displays besides a rhetorical figure, of which Polus seems to have been him- 
 
4 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 c. 3 Soc. Rarely indeed to all appearance, Gorgias, is Polus 
 
 provided for making speeches ; still however he is not fulfil- 
 ling his promise to Chjerephon. 
 
 Gor. What in particular, Socrates ? 
 
 Soc. He doesn't seem to me exactly to answer the 
 question put to him. 
 
 Gor. Well then, if you please, do r/ou ask him. 
 
 Soc. Not if you wouldn't mind answering yourself, but 
 y I should much prefer asking you. For it is plain to me 
 even from what Polus has already said, that he has studied 
 rather what is called the art of rhetoric, than that of (dia- 
 lectical) conversation. 
 
 I^ol. How so, Socrates? 
 
 Soc. Because, Polus, when Chferephon asks you what 
 art Gorgias is master of, you pronounce an eulogium upon 
 his art, just as if any one found fault with it ; without an- 
 swering what it is. 
 
 Pol. Why, didn't I answer that it was the noblest 
 of all? 
 
 Soc. Yes indeed you did. But no one asked you what 
 sort of art Gorgias' was, but what, and by what name Gor- 
 449 gias ought to be called ; just as Chjerephon traced out the 
 line for you before, and you answered him fairly and in 
 few words, so now in the same way tell us what the art is, 
 and what we are to call Gorgias. Or rather, Gorgias, do you 
 tell us yourself what is the art you are master of, and what 
 we are to call j^ou in consequence. 
 
 Go r. The art of rhetoric, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. Are we then to call you a rhetorician ? 
 
 Gor. Aye a good one, Socrates, if you please to call 
 me what ' I boast myself to be,' as Homer says. 
 
 Soc. Well, I will with pleasure. 
 
 Gor. Then pray do. 
 
 self the inventor : for the reduplication of the words i/m-Hpiiiv i/iTnlpug, and 
 dWoi aX\u>v aWcoQ, is doubtless an exemplification of the ^iTrXatrioXoyia which 
 Plato, Phcsdr. 267. B... mentions as having been treated of by Polus in his art. 
 
PIjATO'8 G0BGIA8. 5' 
 
 Soc. So then are we to say that you have the power 
 of making others besides yourself the same ? 
 
 Gor. Yes, I certainly make this profession, not only 
 here but elsewhere as well. 
 
 Soc. Would you then be good enough, Gorgias, to finish 
 the conversation in the way in which we are now talking 
 together, in alternate question and answer, and lay aside 
 that lengthy style, in which Polus just began, for a future 
 occasion ? Come now, keep your promise, and don't disap- 
 point me ; but consent to answer briefly-tbe^uestions put to 
 you- 
 
 Gor. There are some answers, Socrates, which are obliged 
 to express themselves at great length : not but that I will do 
 my best to make them as short as possible. For in fact 
 this again is one of the things that I lay claim to, that no 
 one could ever express the same meaning in fewer words 
 than myself 
 
 Soc. That's exactly what we want, Gorgias. This is 
 precisely what I should like you to give us a specimen of, 
 your short style ; your lengthy one you can reserve for some 
 future time. 
 
 Gor. Well, I will do so ; and you shall say that you never 
 heard any one use fewer words. 
 
 Soc. Come then. Since you say that you are master c. 4 
 of the art of rhetoric, and can make any one else an orator 
 ■ — ^whatof_alljAings is it that jhetori c deals wit h ? as weav- 
 ing for instance is employed upon the production of clothes ; 
 isn't it? 
 
 Gor. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And music, again, upon the composition of tunes ? 
 
 Gor. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Faith, Gorgias, I do admire your replies. You are 
 indeed answering in the very fewest possible words. 
 
 Gor. {Complacently.) Yes, and I think I do it very 
 tolerably well, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. You are perfectly right. Come^ then, answer me 
 
6 FLAW'S GOBOIAS. 
 
 in the same way about rhetoric again ; wha t^are the thing s 
 to which its knowledge i s applied ? 
 Gor. To wor ds. 
 
 Soc. To what sort of words, Gorgias ? Do you mean those 
 that point out by what course of treatment the sick may 
 recover their health ? 
 Gor. No. 
 
 Soc. Then rhetoric does not deal with all words. 
 Gor. Certainly not. 
 
 Soc. But Btill it makes men able to speak. 
 Gor. Yes. 
 
 Soc, And to understand what they talk about as well ? 
 450 Gor. Of course it does. 
 
 Soc. Well, but doesn't the art we were just now speak- ; 
 ing of, medicine I mean, make men able to understand as 
 well as to speak about the sick ? 
 Gor. NecgBsar^ily. 
 
 Soc. Then medicine too, it seems, deals with words ? 
 Gor. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Those which are about diseases ? 
 Gor. Precisely. ,. 
 
 Soc. Well and doesn't the gymnastic art too deal_with 
 wQxds, those namely which relate toihe good and bad con- 
 dition of bodies ? 
 
 Gor. Certainly. i 
 
 Soc. And moreover the case is the same, Gorgias, with 
 
 all other arts besides: each of them deals with words — 
 
 those, that is, that belong to the thing which is the object of 
 
 each particular art. 
 
 Gor. So it appears. 
 
 Soc. Then why in the world don't you call all the rest 
 of the arts rhetorical, when they are about ' words,' if you 
 give the name of rhetoric to every one which deals with 
 words ? 
 
 Gor. Because, Socrates, in_alljbhe ot her ar tg -t^" kTinw- 
 ledge is, so to speak, entirelyconfine^ to manjjal^operatioBS 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 7 
 
 and suc h like action s^ wheraag in rhetoEJc^here i s no such 
 piaB^Harl -prooo oo in AOtlE&d i^Jntt-efLall that it does and all 
 that it effects words ar^hg_vehide^ That is why I claim 
 • on hehalf of rhetoric that it is the art that deals with words ; 
 and I maintain that I am right. 
 
 Soc. I wonder whether I quite understand what sort ^ g 
 of art you mean to caU it? (Never mind.) I shall hnow 
 better by and by. Pray now answer me. We have such 
 things as arts, haven't we? 
 
 Gor. Yes. 
 
 Soc. But of all these arts, some I believe have produc- 
 tion for their chief object, and require few words — some in- 
 , deed none at all ; in fact, the objects of the art might be 
 carried out even in silence ; such as painting_jnd_sculgture 
 and many others. That is the Kind which you seem to 
 have in view, when you say that rhetoric has no connection 
 with them. Isn't it ? 
 
 Gor. You take my m eaning perfectly, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. But other artsthere are^ which perform all their 
 operations by means of words, and as to acts, require either 
 none at all, as one may say, in addition, or only in a very 
 trifling degree ; such as numeration for example, and reckon- 
 ing, and 1-and-measuring, and draughts, and a number of other 
 arts, some of which have their ' words ' pretty nearly equal 
 in amount to their actions, most of them indeed more 
 numerous ; or even altogether their processes are carried on 
 and their effects produced entirely by means of words. It 
 is to this class, I believe, that you understand rhetoric to 
 belong. 
 
 Gor. Quite true. 
 
 Soc. But I don't at all suppose that you mean to call 
 any one of these rhetoric, although this was implied by the 
 expression you used, in saying that the art whose effects are 
 produced by words is rhetoric ; and one might suppose if one 
 (Chose to be captious in arguing, so then you mean arith- 
 metic by rhetoric, do you, Gorgias ? But I don't believe you 
 
? 
 
 8 PLATO'S GOEGIAS. 
 
 do mean either arithmetic or geometry when you speak of 
 
 rhetoric. _ ? 
 
 451 Gor. And quite right too, Soci-ates ; your suppoBitioWis 
 
 perfectly just. ' 
 
 c. 6 Soc. Then let us begin at once, and do you do your part 
 in dispatching the answer to my question. For as rhetoric 
 ' is found to be one of those arts which chiefly employjEordsi | 
 and there are others also of the same kind, try to explain ; 
 to me what it is in words upon which rhetoric operates in 
 producing its effects; suppose, for instance, a,ny one were 
 toUSine about any one you please of the arts I just now 
 mentioned — what is the art of numeration, Socrates? I should * 
 tell him, as you said just now, that it is one of those that 
 produce their effects by words. And if he were further to 
 inquire, what are those about ? I should say that it is one 
 of those which are about (have for their object) the even 
 and odd, the whole series of each of them, whatever t^e num- 
 ber may amount to. And if again he were to ask. And 
 reckoning, what art do you call that ? I should reply that 
 this likewise is one of those that effects all its operations by 
 words. And if he were to ask still further, what is its ob- 
 ject ? I should say, in the lajiguage of the framers of bills 
 drawn for the assembly, ' in all else ' the art of reckoning 
 is ' like the foregoing ' ; ' for its object is the same, the even 
 and the odd ; but there is just this amount of difference be- 
 tween them, that the art of reckoning (^arithmetic takes 
 into consideration the relative as well as the absolute pro- 
 perties and relations of the even and the odd in point of 
 number. And if the same question were repeated aboul 
 
 ' This refers to the formula employed when a Trpo^ovXevna of the Council J 
 was altered and modified in the general assembly. It was open to any citizen 
 when a measure was sent down by the former body to the latter for its rati- 
 fication, either to oppose it by a counter-proposition, or, accepting some of its 
 provisions, to add others of his own, or to cancel or alter such as he dis- 
 approved. In the latter case, to avoid repetition, the proposed ypfi^urna usually 
 commenced with the words rd fitv dWa KaBavep ry ^ov\y eSoKi. 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 9 
 
 •i gastronomy, and upon my replying, that this again effects all 
 its processes by words, the questioner were to say. And what 
 are the 'words' (calculations, the science) of astronomy about, 
 Socrates ? I should tell him that" they are about the motion 
 of the stars and the sun and moon, that is to say, their 
 relative velocitie s. 
 
 Gor. And you would be quite right, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. Come then, in your turn, Gorgias. It so happens, 
 you see, that rhetoric is one of those arts that effect and 
 give force to all their operations by words. Isn't it ? 
 
 Gor. It is so. 
 
 Soc. Then tell me what they deal with. . Wha t of all 
 things injthe world is that which is the object of the words 
 vEEch_ritietoric employs ? 
 y' Gor. The ^bst important of all human things, Socrates, 
 and the best. 
 
 ISocT Nay, Grorgias, here again what you say is open to c. 7 
 question, and by no means clear as yet. For I think you 
 must have heard at parties after dinner people singing this 
 catch, in which in the words of the song the good things of 
 this life are enumerated, how that health is best of all, the 
 second best thing is to be born handsome, and the third, as 
 the author of the catch says, to be rich without fraud. 
 
 Gor. To be sure 1 have ; but what is your object in 
 mentioning this ? 
 
 Soc. Because those whose business lies in all those things 452 
 that the composer of the catch spoke so highly of would 
 straightway present themselves, physician and training-master 
 and tradesman ; and first of all the physician would say. 
 My dear Socrates, Gorgias is deceiving you : for it is not his 
 art that is employed upon mankind's greatest good, but mine. 
 If then I were to ask him. And who are you that say this? 
 he would reply probably, A physician. What say you then ? 
 Is it your art that has the greatest good for its object ? How 
 can health, Socrates, he would say very likely, be anything 
 else ? What greater blessing can men have than health ? 
 
10 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 And if again after him the trainer were to say, I should be 
 surprised too myself, Socrates, if Gorgias can point out to 
 you any greater good in his own art than I in mine ; I should 
 make answer to him again as to the other. And who may" 
 you be, my friend, I should like to know ? and what^s j/owr, 
 business ? A professor of gymnastics, he would say ; and my 
 business is to make men strong and handsome in their per- 
 sons. And next to the training-master the tradesman, I dare 
 say, would tell us with a lofty scorn of them all. Do pray 
 consider, Socrates, whether you think that there is any 
 blessing superior to wealth, either in the eyes of Gorgias or 
 of any one else whatsoever. We should say to him accord- 
 ingly, What's that pray ? are you the man that makes that ? 
 He would say yes. And what's your name ? A man of busi- 
 ness. How then ? do you judge wealth to be the greatest| 
 blessing to mankind ? we shall say. Of course I do, he will 
 reply. Aye, but Gorgias here contends that his own art is the 
 source of greater good than yours, we should say. Plainly 
 then his next question would be. And what is this good ? let 
 Gorgias make answer. Come then, Gorgias, consider your 
 self to be questioned by them as well as me, and answer us 
 what is that which you say is the greatest good to mankind^ , 
 and that you can produce it. -^ 
 
 Gor. That, Socrates, wMch really is the greatest good 
 and the cause at once of freedom to men in general in their 
 own persons, and no less to the individual man of acquiring 
 power over others in his own city. 
 
 Soc. What name then pray do you give to this ? 
 
 Gor. The power of persuading by words, I^ should call 
 it, the judges in a court of law, or the councillor^.; in a 
 council-room, or the assembly men in an assemblji^or any 
 other kind of meeting which is convened for a publicjpur- 
 pose. And yet (in spite of all you have said) by the aid of j 
 this talent you may make the physician your slave, and 
 the trainer your slave : and for your famous man of busir 
 ness, it will turn out that he makes his money for somebody; 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 11 
 
 else and, not -fiar-Juiasel^ but for you who Jbaxa the jgower 
 of speaking and gaining thfe ear of the multitudes. 
 
 , Soc. Now, Gorgias, I think you have come very near c. 8 
 to an explanation of what you understand by the art of 
 , rhetoric, and, if I at all enter into your meaning, you define 453 
 rhetoric to be the artificer of persuasion, and you say that y/ 
 its entire business and the whole sum and substance of it 
 results in this. Or have you any power to mention that 
 rhetoric possesses beyond that of producing persuasion in the 
 minds of the hearers ? 
 
 -J Gor. None at all, Socrates ; your definition seems to me 
 to be sufficient ; this is no doubt the sum and substance 
 of it. - r : 
 
 Soc. Then listen to me, Gorgias. I flatter myself, you 
 may be quite sure, that if there be any one else ' in the 
 whole world that engages in a discussion from a genuine 
 desire to know just what the argument is about and no 
 .more, / too am one of that sort ; and I make no doubt that 
 you are another. 
 
 Gor. Well, what then, Socrates? 
 
 Soc. rU tell you directly. What your view is of the 
 exact nature of the persuasion produced by rhetoric, and of 
 the subjects to which it is applied, I assure you I by no 
 means clearly understand ; though at the same time I have a 
 kind of suspicion of what, I suppose you to mean by it, 
 and what it deals with. Still I will ask you nevertheless 
 what you do mean by the persuasion that proceeds from 
 rhetoric, and what are the objects on which it is exercised. 
 
 ' The' word ' else,' jnst like the Greek aXXog, with which it may be etymo- 
 
 logically connected, as well as ' other ' ' the rest ' and so on, are frequently 
 
 found in the best English writers where they are redundant or involve a logical 
 
 and grammatical inconsistency. I have elsewhere quoted Macbeth, 'Of all 
 
 ; men else I have avoided thee.' ^ 
 
 The explanation of this logical blunder, and the false grammar which ex- 
 presses it, -in the two classes of idioms in which it appears in Greek, I reservOf 
 for a more appropriate occasion than that which is offered by the notes to a 
 mere tra.nslation. 
 
12 PLATO'S G0EGIA8. 
 
 Now why when I have a suspicion about the matter my- 
 self am I going to ask you instead of myself stating it ? 
 It is noi on your account (not to refute or annoy you),;| 
 but for the sake of the argument, that it may proceed in ~ 
 such a way as may make the subject of our conversation 
 most clear to us. For see now if you don't think I am 
 right in repeating my question. Take a parallel case. If 
 my question had be^n, to what class of painters does Zeuxis 
 belong? had you replied, he is a figure-painter, would it 
 'not have been quite fair in me to ask you, what sort of 
 figures he paints, and on what occasions ? 
 
 Gor. Quite so. 
 
 Soc. And is not the reason this, that there are besides 
 him other painters employed upon a number of other figures ? 
 
 Gor. Yes. 
 
 Soc. But if no one else were a painter but Zeuxisj I 
 your^jmSwer would have been right enough ? 
 
 Gor. Of course it would. 
 
 Soc. Well then tell me about rhetoric in the same 
 way ; whether it is your opinion that rhetoric is the only 
 art that produces persuasion, or others besides it. What 
 I mean is something of this sort : when any one teaches 
 anything, does he persuade in teaching it ? or do you think 
 otherwise ? 
 
 Gor. Certainly not, Socrates ; on the contrary, he most 
 assuredly does persuade. 
 
 Soc. And again, if we apply our question to the same 
 arts as we mentioned just now, does not numeration, or the 
 man conversant with that science, teach us all the properties I 
 of number? 
 
 Gor.- Yes, no doubt. 
 
 Soc. And so likewise persuades ? 
 
 Gor. Yes. ' ^ „T v 
 
 Soc. Then numeM,tion also is an artificer of persuasion ? 
 
 Gor. It seems so. — 
 
 Soc. So then if we are asked what kind of persuasion 
 
PLATO'S aOBGIAS. 13 
 
 and what about, we shall reply J presume, that which 
 conveys instruction, which deals Tvith Jjjhe amounts of all 454 
 the odd and even numbers. And we shall be able to show 
 that all the rest of the arts that we were just now referring 
 to are artificers of persuasion, and what that is, and what it 
 is about. Shan't we ? 
 
 Gor. Yes. 
 
 Soc. It follows that rhetoric is not the only artificer of 
 ■ persuasion. 
 
 Gor. True. 
 
 Soc. Since then it is not the only one that effects c. 9 
 this object, but others besides it, we should be entitled next 
 to put a further question to the speaker, as we did in the 
 case of the painter. What sort of persuasion then is it of which 
 rhetoric is the art, and what is that persuasion about ? You 
 think it would be fair, don't you, to put such a further ques- 
 tion? 
 
 Gor. Oh, yes. 
 
 Soc. Answer- me then, Gorgias, since you agree with 
 me in this view. 
 
 Gor. Well then I mean JJiat~, kind, of .^persuasion, 
 Socrates, which is exercised in law-courts -and any other 
 great c rowds, as indged I said just now ; and it is about 
 everything that is just and unjust. 
 
 Soc. I had a suspicion myself, to tell you the truth, 
 Gorgias, that that was the kind of persuasion you meant, 
 and that those were its objects : but that you may not be 
 surprised if I ask you by and by some such question as 
 seems to be quite clear, though I repeat it — for, as I say, 
 I do so in order that our argument may be brought 
 regula.rly to a conclusion ; not on your account (for the 
 pleasure of annoying or refuting you),, but that we may not 
 get into the habit of snatching up an over-hasty conclusion 
 as to one another's meaning founded on a mere guess, but 
 that you may state your views as you think fit according to 
 your own notions. 
 
14 PLATO'S GOBOIAS. 
 
 Gor. Indeed, Socrates, in my opinion you are doing 
 quite right. 
 
 Soc. Come then, let this be the next thing we ex- 
 amine. There is such a thing as what you call 'to have 
 learnt ' ? 
 
 Gor. There is. 
 
 Soc. And again ' to have believed ' ? 
 
 Gor. Oh, yes. 
 
 Soc. Do you think then to have learnt and to have 
 believed, and learning and believing, are the same thing, 
 or something different ? 
 
 Gor. Different, I should think, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. And quite right too : and you may be sure of it 
 from this. If you were asked. Is there such a thing, 
 Gorgias, as false as well as true belief? you would say yes, 
 I presume. 
 
 Gor. I should. 
 / Soc. But again, is there false as well as true knowledge? 
 
 Gor. Certainly not. 
 
 Soc. To be sure, because it plainly appears a second 
 time that they are not identical \ 
 
 Gor. True. 
 
 Soc. But stUl those that have learnt are persuaded, 
 as well as those that have believed. 
 
 Gor. It is so. 
 
 Soc. Would you have us then assume two forms of per^ 
 suasion, the one conveying belief without knowledge, the 
 other knowledge ? 
 
 Gor. Yes, by all means. 
 
 Soc. Then which of the two kinds of persuasion is it 
 that rhetoric effects in law-courts or any other large as- 
 semblies on the subject of right and wrong? Is it that 
 
 ^ In this sentence yap has reference to Gorgias' decided ovSapuaq. ' Yon 
 deny it so readily and so positively, beoame, here again, by this second process 
 (all), it is quite plain that they are not the same.' 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 15 
 
 which gives rise to belief without knowledge, or that from 
 which knowledge springs ? _ ' 
 
 Gor. Plainly, of course, Socrates, that which gives rise 
 to belief. 
 
 Soc. Rhetoric then, it seems, is an artificer of persuasion 455. 
 EToductive^of b elief but no t of instruction in matters of 
 righ£_and_wrong. 
 
 Gor. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Nor consequently is the rhetorician qualified to 
 instructj law-courts or any other large masses of people on 
 questions of right and wrong, but only to persuade them. 
 For surely he never could be able to instruct such a great 
 crowd in things of such importance in a few minutes. 
 
 Gor. Certainly not. 
 
 Soc. Come, then, let us see what we do actually mean c. 10 
 by rhetoric : for to tell you the truth, I can't yet distinctly 
 make out even myself what my own opinion is. Whenever 
 the city holds a meeting for the election of state-physicians 
 or shipwrights or any other class of craftsmen, will not on 
 such occasions the rhetorician refrain from offering his advice ? 
 plainly because in every election we are bound to choose the 
 most skilful practitioner. Or, again, as to the building of 
 walls, or ,the construction of harbours or docks, it is not he 
 that will give advice, but the master-builders. Or, again, 
 when advice is to be given upon the election of generals, or 
 the disposition of troops to meet an enemy, or the occupa- 
 tion of mihtary positions, on such occasions it is the military 
 men that will advise, and not the rhetoricians. Or what 
 say you, Gorgias, to such cases ? For as you profess to be 
 a speaker yourself and to qualify others for speaking, it is 
 right to learn your opinion upon the matters of your own 
 art. So pray suppose that I am acting now with a view to 
 your interests. For very likely one of the present company 
 here may be desirous of becoming a pupil of yours — as in 
 fact I think I see some, and I dare say a good many — ^who 
 perhaps might be ashamed to trouble you with repeated 
 
16 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 I 
 
 questions. And so when I repeat mine, suppose yourself to 
 be questioned by them as well. What good shall we ge t, 
 Gorgias, by frequenting your society ? O n what Bubiectaghall 
 we be able to otter advice tolEe cityfls it about right and 
 wrong alone, or all those thinp "Besides which Socrates was 
 just now mentioning ? Try then to give them an answer. 
 
 Gor. Well, Socrates, I will try to reveal to you clearly 
 the entire force and meaning of rhetoric : in fact you pointed 
 out the way very well yourself. You know, I presume, that 
 yonder docks and walls, the pride of your city ', and the 
 construction of your harbours, are due to the counsels of 
 Themistocles, and partly to those of Pericles, but not to the 
 masters of the several crafts. 
 
 Soc. So I am told, Gorgias, of Themistocles ; Pericles I 
 heard myself when he gave us his advice about building 
 the ' middle walP.' 
 456 Gor. And so you see, Socrates, that wherever there is an 
 election "of such officers as you were just speaking of, it is 
 the orators that give advice, and carry their opinions in 
 such matters. 
 
 Soc. It is exactly because I was so surprised at this that 
 I have been asking ever so long what the virtue of rhetoric 
 can possibly be. For regarded in this light its grandeur 
 and importance appear to me to be something quite super- 
 natural. 
 
 Gor. Aye, if you knew all, Socrates, how it embraces 
 
 ' On the difference between t& vtiltpia Kai rd reixij rd 'AOtivaiav and tUv 
 'AOrivaiiov, see Stallbaum's note. *: 
 
 ^ T& Std fiiaov T&x°e is the interior or southern of the two ' long walls,' 
 of 40 stadia each, which connected Athens with the Pirseus. A third wall, 
 shorter than the ' long walls,' of 35 stadia, led to the harbour of Phalerum. :-i 
 The ' middle wall ' was built last of the three, in 457 B. c, during the adminis- * ; 
 tration of Pericles. It is called by .Sschines, de Fals. Leg. rb v6tiov raxos-^ "■ 
 the exterior of the two /laicpii rdxt being styled by way of distinction ri 
 ejwetv, or rb /Boptiov ruxoQ. Thuo. i. 107, 108, ii. 13, with Arnold's notei 
 Thirlw. His(. of Greece, iii. 62, and' note, Ist-^d. ; Grote,.^?^*. of ffwecgj^ol. 
 v. p. 440, VI. 26 ; and the article ' Athens ' fii Smith's Diet, of Geographj/. h 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 17 
 
 under it every kind of power, as one may say. I will give 
 you a convincing proof of it. I myself have often ere now, 
 in company with my brother (Her odious), or any other 
 physician, gone into the house of one of their patients, and 
 upon his refusing to take their medicines, or to submit to be 
 operated upon either by the knife or the cautery, when the 
 physician failed to persuade him, I succeeded, by the aid 
 of no other art than that of rhetoric. // And I maintain too 
 that if a physician and a rhetorician went together into any 
 city you please, supposing they had to argue out the ques- 
 tion before a general assembly or any other kind of meeting 
 which of the two was to be elected, orator or physician, 
 the latter would be totally extinguished (totally eclipsed, alto- 
 gether distanced), and the able speaker elected if he chose. 
 And if the contest lay between him and the master of any 
 other craft you please to name, the rhetorician would carryi 
 his own election sooner than any one else whatever: fori 
 there is no subject in the world on which the rhetorician 
 could not, speak more persuasively than the master of any 
 other art whatsoever, before a multitude. Such then is the' 
 extent and such the quality of the power of this art. Wa 
 are bound however, Socrates, to employ rhetoric in the same 
 way as every other kind of exercise. For in fact aU other 
 exercises are not to be employed against every body indis- 
 criminately merely because a man has become such a pro- 
 ficient in boxing and wrestling or the use of arms as to have 
 the advantage over friend and foe : this does not entitle him 
 to knock his friends down or stab or assassinate them. No 
 by my faith, nor again if any one were to frequent a 
 wrestling-school until he had got his body into prime con- 
 dition, and become an expert pugUist, and then go and strike 
 his father and his mother or any other of his relations or 
 friends, would that be any reason for conceiving an aversion 
 to trainers and fencing-masters, and expelling them from our 
 cities. For they no doubt gave their lessons to these pupils 
 of theirs with a view to the proper employment of them 
 
 c 
 
18 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 i against enemies and wrong-doers, in self-defence, not aggres-^ 
 457ysion : whereas the others pervert their strength and their 
 art to an improper use. Yet it does not follow that the 
 teachers are rogues, nor that their art is either to blame 
 for all this, or bad in itself ; but those that misuse it, in my 
 opinion. j^For it is true that the orator is able to speak against 
 every booy and upon every question in such a way as to find 
 greater acceptance with all large assemblies, on any subject, 
 in a word he chooses. But he is none the more entitled on 
 that account to rob either the physicians of their due credit^ 
 because he could do it if he liked, or artists of any other 
 kind ; but he is Ijpiind to use his rhetoric fairly, like skill in 
 any other exerci sej But it seems to me that, supposing a 
 man to make himself a rhetorician and then to use this 
 faculty and this art to commit wrong, it is -not the teacher -■ 
 that ought to incur odium and to be banished from our cities. 
 For he gave his lessons to be turned to a fair use, but the 
 -J other perverts them. It is therefore he that abuses the art 
 that may fairly be held in aversion and banished or put to 
 death, and not the teacherJ 
 c. 12 Soc. I believe, Gorgias,that you Uke myself have had a 
 good deal of experience in arguments, and in the course of 
 them have arrived at the discovery of something of this sort, 
 that it is no easy matter for people to come to any definite 
 agreement upon any questions they may have undertaken to 
 discuss, and after giving and receiving instruction so to bring 
 the conversation to an end ; but on the contrary, if a dispute 
 arises between them upon any point, and the one declares! 
 that the other expresses himself either incorrectly or indis- 
 tinctly, they get angry, and suppose that what is said pro- 
 ceeds from jealousy of themselves, from a spirit of mere 
 rivalry, and not from a wish to sift the question proposed for 
 discussion. And in fact occasionally this results at last in 
 the most indecent scenes, in mutual abuse aud recrimination^ 
 of such a kind that even the bystanders are vexed on their 
 own account that they ever condescended to Usten to such 'a 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 19 
 
 set of fellows. What then is my motive in saying this ? It 
 is because your present statements don't "feeem to me quite 
 consistent or in harmony with what you said at first about 
 rhetoric. Now I am afraid to refute you, for fear you should 
 suppose that I speak with a disputatious object, not with a 
 view to throw light upon the subject under discussion, but 
 aiming at you personally. Now if you are one of the same 458 
 sort ofpersons as I am myself I should be glad to continue 
 my questions, but if not, I would rather let it alone. And 
 what sort of person am I ? I am one of those that would be 
 glad to be refuted when I assert* anything that is untrue, and 
 glad to refute any one else supposing he fall ^ into any error ; 
 but just as glad to be refuted as to refute, because I consider 
 it a greater benefit, in proportion as the benefit is greater to 
 be delivered oneself from the greatest evil than to deliver 
 another. For I think that there is no evil that can befall a 
 man so great as a false opinion upon the subjects which we 
 now have under discussion. Now if you as well as myself 
 profess yourself to be one of this sort let us go on with the 
 conversation : but if on the other hand you think we had 
 better drop it, let us at once dismiss it and break off the 
 argument. 
 
 Gor. Nay, Socrates, I myself like you pretend to be one 
 of that sort of persons whose character you are sketching : 
 perhaps however we ought also to have consulted the con- 
 venience of the company present. For to say the truth, for 
 some time before you came I had been delivering a long 
 address to our friends here, and now again if we go on with 
 our discussion we shall very likely protract it to a consider- 
 able length. We ought therefore to consider their inclina- 
 
 ^ Observe here the politeness of Socrates. In speaking of his own liability 
 to error he uses the indicative mood, making a definite and positive supposition, 
 and assuming the probability of the occurrence. In speaking of a similar in- 
 firmity in others the optative is substituted for the indicative, implying the uncer- 
 tainty of the event, and avoiding the assertion that such a thing is at all likely 
 to happen. There is the same distinction in our own language between the in- 
 dicative and subjunetive after ' if.' 
 
20 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 tions as well as our own, and not to detain them when the; 
 may be wanting to do something else. (Sensation). 
 e. 13 Cheer. You hear yourselves, Gorgias and Socrates, thi 
 
 applause of our friends there, how anxious they are to hea 
 any thing you have to say. For my own part however, Go( 
 forbid that I should ever be so busy as to give up an argu 
 ment so important and so well treated because I preferrec 
 doing anything else. 
 
 Cal Yes, by my faith, Chserephon. And indeed for my- 
 self, though I have been present ere now at plenty of dis- 
 cussions I don't know that I ever in my life was so mucli 
 gratified as on the present occasion ; and therefore as far x 
 I am concerned, if yeu choose to go on talking all day long 
 you will do me a favour. 
 
 Soc. Well you may be sure, Callicles, there is nothing to 
 prevent it on my part, if Gorgias consents. 
 
 Gor. After this, Socrates, it would indeed be a shame 
 for me to hang back, when I myself challenged the company 
 to ask me any question they pleased. But if our friends 
 here are of this mind, go on with the conversation and ask 
 me what you like. 
 
 Soc. Then let me tell you, Gorgias, what surprises me in 
 the words you used : to be sure I dare say you are right and 
 it is I that misunderstand you. You say you are able to 
 qualify any one for speaking who chooses to become your 
 pupil. 
 
 Gor. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Does that mean then that he is qualified to gain 
 the ear of a crowd on any subject, not by way of instruction 
 but persuasion ? 
 459 Gor. Just so. 
 
 Soc. You said just now if I mistake not that in sanitary 
 matters too the orator wiU be more persuasive than the 
 physician ? 
 
 \ Gor. I certainly did, in a crowd that is to say. 
 
 Soc. "Well and doesn't ' a crowd ' mean the ignorant ? for 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 21 
 
 Surely amongst the well-informed he won't carry more weight 
 than the physician ? 
 
 Gor. Quite true. * 
 
 Soc. And so if he is to be better able to persuade than 
 the physician, he becomes better able to persuade than the 
 man of real knowledge ? 
 
 Gor. Yes certainly. 
 
 Soc. Not being a physician though, is he ? 
 
 Gor. True. 
 
 Soc. But one who is not a physician is unversed I pre- 
 sume in the art of which the physician is master. 
 
 Gor. Plainly so. 
 
 Soc. It follows then that the ignorant man will be more 
 persuasive among the ignorant than the man ofrealinforma- ^ 
 tjon, supposing the orator to be more persuasive than the 
 physician. Does this follow, or any thing else? 
 
 Gor. In this case no doubt it does. 
 
 Soc. And so likewise in respect of all the rest of the arts 
 the. case is the same with the orator and with rhetoric ; there 
 is no occasion, that is to say, for them to be acquainted with 
 the things themselves, but it is enough for them to have 
 discovered some instrument of persuasion which may enable 
 them to present the appearance to the ignorant of know- 
 ing b.etterJiaa_the^welHnformed. ~ ~' 
 
 Gor. Well and isn't it a great comfort, Socrates, with- c. 14 
 out learning any of the other arts, but with this one alone, to 
 be at no disadvantage in comparison with the professional 
 people ? 
 
 Soc. Whether the rhetorician is or is not at a disad- 
 vantage with the rest of the world by reason of this state of 
 things [or, in consequence of this character, these quali^ca- 
 tions of his] we will examine Ijy and by, if we find that our 
 argument requires it ; but just at present let us consider this 
 first, whether the rhetorician stands in the same relation to 
 what is just and unjust and base and noble and good and bad, 
 as to what is wholesome and the several objects of all the 
 
22 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 other arts ; that is to say, that he is ignorant of what is good 
 or bad or honourable or disgraceful or just or unjust, in itself 
 but has devised the means of persuasion about them, so as 
 with no knowledge at all to get the credit amongst the 
 ignorant of knowing better than the man of real knowledge| 
 Or is this knowledge absolutely required ? and must any one 
 who means to learn rhetoric be prepared with all this before 
 he comes to you ? or if not, shall you the master of the art 
 give one who does come no instruction at all ia these 
 matters — for it's no business of yours — but make him in the 
 eyes of the vulgar seem to know things of this kind when he 
 doesn't, and seem to be good when he isn't ? or will you be 
 altogether unable to teach him rhetoric unless he have a 
 previous acquaintance with the truth in these matters? or 
 460 what are the real facts of the case, Gorgias ? Do in heaven'a^i 
 name, as you said just now, draw aside the veil and tell us 
 in what the virtue of rhetoric really does consist. 
 
 Gor. Well I suppose, Socrates, if he does not know all 
 this..alr,eady-I shalLhave to teach him thisjsjvell. 
 
 Soe. Hold there (don't say any more) for that is well 
 said. If you make a man a rhetorician he must needs be 
 -acq^uaiuted with what is just and unjust either beforehan d.Cr 
 afterwards from your instructions. T 
 
 . Gac Just so. 
 
 Soc. How then ? one who has learnt the art of building 
 is a builder, isn't he ? 
 Gor. . Yes. 
 
 Soc. And so one who has learnt music a musician ? 
 _ Gor. Yes. 
 
 ■ Soc. And one who has studied medicine a physician? 
 and so on for all the rest upon the same principle ; every one 
 who has studied any particular subject acquires that cha- 
 racter which is imparted to him by the knowledge of it ? 
 Gor. No doubt. 
 
 Soc. And so likewise by the same rule one that has 
 learnt justice is a just man ? ^^r- — 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 23 
 
 Most undoubtedly. 
 
 But the just man it is to be presumed does just 
 
 Yes. 
 
 So then must the rhetorician needs be a just man, 
 _andjthe^just man desire to act justly ? " 
 Gor. Yes, so it appears. 
 
 (Sue. _^ Consequently the just-man will never desire to do v 
 wrong. ~ 
 
 Gor. Necessarily. 
 
 Soc. And it follows from what we said that ■ the rheto- 
 rician must be a just man. , 1 
 Gor. Yes. 
 
 _Qfijjseq,uently the rhetorician will never desire to do 
 
 No, it seems not. 
 
 Then do you remember saying a little while ago c. 15 
 that we have no right to find fault with the training masters 
 nor expel them from our cities if a boxer makes an unfair 
 use of his boxing and does wrong ? and so in like manner 
 . if an orator employs his rhetoric unfairly, we are not to accuse 
 the teacher or expel him from the city, but the man that 
 does the wrong and misuses his rhetoric? was that said 
 or not? 
 
 Gor. It was. 
 
 Soc. But now it appears that that very same person, the 
 rhetorician, never could have been guilty of any wrong at 
 all, doesn't it ? 
 
 Gor. It does. 
 
 Soc. And at the beginning of our conversation, Gorgias, 
 it was stated that rhetoric deals with words, not words about 
 even and odd numbers, but about what is just and unjust ; 
 wasn't it ? 
 
 Gor. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Well I supposed at the very time when you made 
 that remark that rhetoric never could be an unjust thing. 
 
24 PLATO'S GOBQIAS. 
 
 when all the speeches that it makes are about justice ; but, 
 461 when you told us shortly after that the orator might make an 
 unjust use of his rhetoric, then I was surprised, and thinking 
 that the two assertions did not harmonize with one another I 
 said what I did, that if you thought it like myself an advan- 
 tage to be refuted it was advisable to continue the conversa- 
 tion, or if not to let it drop : and now that we afterwards . 
 come to examine the point, you see yourself that we are come 
 again to the conclusion that it is impossible for the rheto- 
 rician to make an unjust use of his rhetoric or consent to do 
 wrong. Now to sift this matter thoroughly and satisfactoriIy| 
 to make out what the exact truth of it may be, by the dog, 
 Gorgias, is a thing not to be done in a short interview, 
 c. 16 Pol. How's that, Socrates? is that your real opinion, 
 about rhetoric that you are now stating ? Or do you suppose 
 because Gorgias was ashamed not to admit that the rhetori- 
 cian is acquainted with justice and honour and good, and if a 
 pupil come to him without knowing all this that he will 
 teach it himself — and then from this admis^)n there followed j 
 I dare, say some slight inconsistency in the expressions he 
 used — ^just what you are so fond of, when it was you yourself .j 
 that turned the conversation upon questions of that sort'? 
 
 ^ In the foregoing sentence, if 'on is rendered ' because,' as it probably 
 should be, there is an anacoluthon. Stallbaum in his 3rd ed. supposes that 
 Folus means to deny that there is any inconsistency, and therefore thinks that 
 the anacoluthon resides in the change of avuPrjvai, which should foUow oiti, 
 into avve^i) : and that the note of interrogation should be removed after 'Ji^a^Eiv 
 and a comma substituted. As I beliere that the supposition upon which this 
 rendering is based is incorrect, I prefer following the Zurich Editors and re- 
 taining the note of interrogation. The entire sentence down to epwr^/iarais'ii 
 irregular ; and this irregularity is very likely meant to express, as Stallbaum 
 conjectures, the impetuosity and precipitation by which Polus' language is cha- 
 racterised. I have rendered it as if the apodosis were wanting after o'isi !)n. 
 
 This would naturally be, 'think you because that this is really his opinion, 
 
 and that you have any right to triumph over him ? ' and this is implied in what 
 ) follows. If on is rendered 'that,' the meaning is, 'or rather, think you, 
 that. . .' i.e. don't you rathir think that. Heindorf s version is ' an (quod res 
 est) pudore deterritum Gorgiam putas...' which is tantamount to the pre- 
 ceding. 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 25 
 
 For who do you think is likely to deny either that he is 
 acquainted with justice himself, or cap teach it to others ? 
 Nay, it is very unmannerly- (ill bred, bad taste in you) to 
 turn the conversation upon such things as these. 
 
 Soc. Well to be sure, fairest Polus, it is precisely for this 
 reason that we provide ourselves with friends and children 
 that as soon as the advance of age has made our footing uncer- 
 tain you youngsters may be there to set our life on its legs 
 again in word as well as in deed. And now if Gorgias and 
 I are making any false step in our argument there you are to 
 set us right again : indeed you are bound to do so. And I 
 on my part am ready if you think any of our conclusions are 
 wrong to retract any one of them you please, provided only 
 you do me the favour (fioi) to observe just one thing. 
 
 Pol. What thing do you mean ? 
 
 Soc. To keep that discursive style of yours in check, 
 Polus, which you made the attempt to indulge in at first. 
 
 Pol. How? Mayn'tlbeallowedtosayasmuchaslplease? 
 
 ^Soc. It would indeed be hard upon you, my admirable 
 friend, if you were to have come to Athens, where there is 
 the greatest freedom of speech in all Greece, and then r/ou 
 were to be the only person there who was debarred from it. 
 But just set my case against yours. If you make a long 
 speech and refuse to reply to my questions, wouldn't it be 
 equally hard upon me not to be allowed to go away and not 
 listen to you ? No, no, if you have any regard for the argu- 462 
 ment we have been holding and want to set it right again, as 
 I said just now take back any thing you please, and in your 
 turn questioning and questioned, like myself and Gorgias, 
 refute or submit to refutation. For you claim to be ac- 
 quainted with all that Gorgias knows, I believe, don't you? 
 
 Pol. Yes to be sure I do. 
 
 Soc. Then I suppose you like him invite people on all 
 occasions to put any question to you they like as one that 
 knows how to find an answer ? 
 
 Pol. No doubt I do. 
 
26 PLATO'S GOSaiAS. 
 
 Soc. Well then MOW, either put the questions or answer 
 them, whichever you like. 
 c. 17 Pol. Well, so I will. Answer me then, Socrates. Since 
 you seem to think that Gorgias is at a loss about rhetoric, 
 what do you say it is yourself? 
 
 Soc. Do you ask me what art I say it is ? 
 
 Pol. Yes I do. 
 
 Soc. None at all, it seems to me, Polus, to tell you the 
 exact truth. 
 
 Pol Well what do you take rhetoric to be then ? 
 
 Soc. A thing which you teU us in the work that I lately 
 read gave rise to art. 
 
 Pol. What thinff do you mean ? 
 
 Soc. I mean a kind of acquired habit (or 'routine,' 
 Cousin). 
 
 Pol. So you take rhetoric to be an acquired habit ? 
 
 Soc. Yes I do — if you have no particular objection. 
 
 Pol. A habit of what ? 
 
 Soc. Of the production of a sort of gratification and 
 pleasure. 
 
 Pol. . Well and don't you think rhetoric a very fine thing, 
 to be able to oblige one's fellow creatures ? 
 
 Soc. Hallo, Polus, have I told you yet what I say it is, 
 that you think yourself entitled to ask what follows that, 
 whether I don't think it very fine ? 
 
 Pol. Why, haven't you told me that you call it a sort of 
 habit ? 
 
 Soc. Will you please then, since you set such a high 
 value on * obliging,' to oblige me in a trifling matter? 
 
 Pol. To be sure I will. 
 
 Soc. Ask me now what art I take cookery to be. 
 
 Pol. I ask you then, what art is cookery ? 
 
 Soc. None at all, Polus. 
 
 Pol. Well what is it ? tell us. 
 
 Soc I tell you then, a sort of habit. 
 
 Pol. Of what ? let us hear. 
 
 y 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 27 
 
 Soc. What / say is, of the production of gratification 
 and pleasure, Polus. 
 
 Pol. Do you mean to say then tlilit cookery and rhetoric 
 are the same thing ? 
 
 Soc. Oh dear no, but a branch of the same kind of 
 pursuit. 
 
 Pol. What pursuit do you mean ? 
 
 Soc. I fear it may be somewhat rude to say the truth : 
 for on Gorgias' account I am reluctant to speak out, for fear 
 he should suppose that I am satirizing his professional pur- 
 suits. At the same time whether this is the kind of rhetoric 463 
 that Gorgias practises, I really don't know ; for in fact from 
 bur argument just now we arrived at no distinct notion of 
 his views on this matter. But what / mean by rhetoric 
 is a branch of a particular set of things which have nothing 
 ' fine ' about them at all. 
 
 Gor. What is it, Socrates, pray let us know; don't hesi- 
 tate on my account. 
 
 Soc. It seems to me then, Gorgias, to be a sort of pur- c. 18 
 suit not scientific at all, but of a shrewd and bold spirit, 
 quick and clever in its d^ahngs with the world. And the 
 sum and substance of it I call flattery [coaxing of wheedling]. 
 Amongst a great number of branches of this kind of study 
 one in particular I take to be cookery: which has indeed 
 the appearance of an art, but according to my view is no art, 
 _but ahabit and a knack. Of this I call the art of rhetoric a 
 branch, as well as that of dressing and adorning oneself and 
 of sophistic, four branches of it applied to four varieties of 
 things. If then Polus wishes to make any inquiry, let him do 
 so : for he has not yet heard which sort of-branch of flattery 
 I pronounce rhetoric to be ; but without observing that I 
 have not yet answered that question, he goes on to ask 
 further whether I don't think it a very fine thing. But I 
 jwon't answer him whether I think rhetoric a fine thing or a 
 foul one until I have first made answer what it is. For it is 
 not fair, Polus : but if you want to learn (what my opinion is). 
 
28 PLATO'S GOB 01 AS. 
 
 ask me what kind of branch of flattery I pronounce rhetoric 
 to be. 
 
 Pol. I ask you then, and do you answer me, what kind 
 of branch ? 
 
 Soc. I wonder whether you will understand me when 
 I do answer. JBhetoric is according to my vi ew the unrea l 
 vaaa,ge (counterfeit prgsRrit.rnfint) n f.a-branch of P olitics. 
 
 Pol. Well then, do you say it is a fine thing or a foul 
 one? 
 
 Soc. A fouLone, I-should-saiyr-for-aHHbad-thiiigs_X_call 
 foul ; since I must answer you as though you already under- 
 stood my meaning. 
 
 Gar. No upon my word, Socrates ; why I myself don't' 
 understand what you say either. 
 
 Soc. Like enough, Gorgias, for I have not yet explained 
 myself distinctly ; but Polus (Colt) here is so young and 
 hot. 
 
 Gor. Well never mind him ; but tell me what you mean 
 by saying that rhetoric is the unreal image of a brancji of 
 Politics. 
 
 Soc. Well I will try to tell you what rhetoric appears to 
 me to be : and if I am wrong Polus here will refute me. 
 There is such a thing I presume as what you call body and 
 soul? 
 464 Gor. Of course there is. 
 
 Soc. And in these again you believe that there is a good 
 > condition of each ? 
 } Gor. To be sure I do. 
 
 Soc. And again, an apparent but not real good con- 
 dition ? Take a case like the following : there are many 
 that appear to have their bodies in good condition in whom 
 it would not be easy for any one but a physician or one of, 
 your professors of gymnastics to discover that they are not so. 
 
 Gor. Quite true. 
 
 Soc. Something of this sort I say there is in body and 
 in soul, and that is what makes the body and the soul seem 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 29 
 
 to be in good condition when they are not really so never- 
 theless. « 
 
 Gor. It is so. . 
 
 Soc. Let me see then if I can explain my meaning more c. 19 
 clearly to you. Two classes of things have, I say, two arts 
 corresponding to them ; that which has the soul under its. 
 direction (or, that which is applied to the soul) I call Politics i^ 
 and though for that whichhas charge of the body I can't find 
 you (just on the spur of the moihmj^any single name, still 
 the care of the body is one and has as I reckon two divisions, 
 the one gymnastics- aniLthe other medicine(ViVlp Politics 
 against gyinnastics I set legislation, and as the counterpart 
 to mediCme I assign justice. In each of these pairs, how- 
 ever, medicine and gymnastics, justice and legislation, there 
 is a good deal of intercommunication seeing that they deal 
 severally with the same objects ; yet still there is a difference 
 between them. Well then of these four, which always have 
 the highest good the one of the body the other of the soul 
 in view in their treatment of them, the art of flattery takes 
 note, and I don't say with a full knowledge but by a shrewd 
 guess divides herself into four branches, and then smuggling 
 herself into the guise of each of those other divisions pre- 
 tends to be that of which she has assumed the semblance, 
 and cares iiot one jot for what is best, but with the bait 
 of what is most agreeable for the moment angles for folly 
 and deludes it to such a degree as to get the credit of 
 being something of the highest value. And so I say cookery 
 has assumed the disguise of medlrane^ anid~^pfetends to the 
 knowledge of the kinds of food that are best for the body, 
 so that if a cook and a physician had to go through a 
 contest before a set of boys, or men as silly as boys, to de- 
 cide which of the two understood the subject of good and 
 bad kinds of food, the physician or the cook, the physician 
 would die of starvation. Now / call it flattery, and I say that 465 
 such a thing as this is base and contemptible, Polus — ^for 
 now I am addressing you — because it aims solely at what is 
 
30 PLATO'S 00BGIA8. 
 
 agreeable without considering what is best : and an art I do 
 not call it but a habit, because it can render no account of 
 the exact nature of the things which it applies, and so cannot 
 tell the cause of any of them. But to nothing which is irra- 
 tional can I give the name of art. If you contest any of 
 20 these points I am ready to stand an examination. Now 
 as I say cookery has taken the disguise of medicine, and the 
 art of dressing^ in just the same way that of ^mnastics, a 
 knavish and cozening and ignoble and illiberal art, cheating 
 people so by the aid of forms and colours and polish and 
 dress as to make them in the endeavour to assume a bor- 
 rowed beauty neglect the native and genuine beauty which 
 comes by gymnastics. However not to be tedious, I will 
 state the thing like the geometers — for by this time I dare 
 say you will be prepared to follow me — as the art of dressing 
 is to gymnastics so is cooking to mejjicuiQ a, or rather thus, 
 as dressing to gymnastics so is sophi^ic to leg^lation, and as 
 cookery to medicine so isjhetd nc to justice ^. However as I 
 say, though such is the natural distinction between them, 
 still, as these arts are so nearly allied, sophists and rhetoricians 
 and the things with which they deal are a good deal jumbled 
 
 "^ The 'justice' here spoken of is the principle of fftmj iiravoftSinTudi or 
 iiopBoiTud], remedial or corrective, one of the branches of Political Justice, 
 which governs the decisions of courts of law j see c. 34. p. 478 a. It redresses 
 the disturbed balance of society, heals the diseases which injustice and wrong 
 have introduced into the body corporate, and so corresponds to medicine which 
 operates similarly upon the individual human body. Of this rhetoric, which 
 pretends to maintain the right and redress wrong, is the spurious and counter- 
 feit copy, the um'eal unsubstantial image (eiSoAov). 
 
 The other branch of Political Justice is the distributive kind, Jikjj Sia- 
 vi/itiTiKri. This assigns to every citizen his due position and rights, functions 
 and authority, in the society of which he is a member. A third variety is dis- 
 tinguished from these two by the author of the fifth book of the Nicomachean 
 Ethics. This he calls ro avTmiirovBbg iv raXe dWoKTiKOLQ kolvuivicuq, k. 8. It 
 establishes a due proportion in the transactions of barter or exchange, or more 
 generally, is the regulating and controlling principle of commercial morality. 
 It seems to me to be a mere variety of ' distributive justice ' understood in its 
 widest sense. 
 
PLATO'S aOBGIAS. 31 
 
 together, and they don't know either themselves what to 
 make of their own profession, or any body else what to make 
 of them. For in fact, if it were not the soul that had the 
 control of the body, but the latter were its own master, and 
 so cookery and medicine were not surveyed and distin- 
 guished by it, but the body itself were the judge, weighing 
 and estimating them by the gratifications that they procure 
 for it, the state of things described in the saying of Anaxagoras 
 would prevail far and wide, my dear Polus — for you under- 
 stand these things — every thing would be jumbled together 
 in a mass (there would be an universal chaos) and things 
 sanitary and wholesome and the cook's sauces and condiments 
 undistinguishable. You have heard now what I affirm rhe- 
 toric to be, the counterpart of cookery in the soul corre- 
 sponding to that in the body. Now perhaps I have done 
 rather an odd thing in expatiating at such length myself 
 when I refused to let i/ou make a long speech. How- 
 ever I deserve to be excused ; for when I spoke in short 
 sentences you didn't understand me, nor could you make any 
 use of the answer I then gave you, but required a detailed 
 explanation. Now if I on my side don't know what to 
 make of any of your answers you may expatiate in your 466 
 turn, but if I can make good use of it, let me do so : for that 
 is fair. And now if you can make any thing of this answer 
 of mine, there it is for you. 
 
 Fol. What say you then ? Do you take rhetoric to be a c. 21 
 sort of flattery ? 
 
 Soc. Nay I said a branch of flattery. Why, have you 
 no better memory at ^our age, Polus ? What will you do by 
 and by? 
 
 Pol. ' Then is it your opinion that good orators are 
 est0emed worthless in their cities as flatterers ? 
 
 Soc. Is that a question you are asking, or the beginning 
 of a speech ? 
 
 Pol. A question to be sure. 
 
 Soc. Then I "don't think they are esteemed at all. 
 
32 PLATO'S GOBOIAS. 
 
 Pol. How not esteemed ? Are they not all-powerful in 
 their cities ? 
 I Soc. No, if at least you mean that power is a good to its 
 
 \ possessor. 
 
 f- I Pol. Why of course I mean that. 
 
 — ~ Soc. Then it seems to me that the orators have of all 
 citizens the least power. 
 
 Pol. How? Don't they^like tyrants, put to death. any 
 one they please, or strip of his property or banish from their 
 cities any one they think proper ? 
 
 Soc. By the dog, Polus, I am really quite in doubt at 
 every word you say whether you are making an assertion '. 
 yourself and delivering your own opinion, or asking me a 
 question. 
 
 Pol. Why I'm asking you to be sure. 
 
 Soc. Very good, my friend : and then do you ask me 
 twQ questions at once ? 
 
 Pol. How two ? 
 
 Soc, Didn't you say just now something of this sort, that 
 the orators put any one they please to death, like the tyrants, 
 or rob of his money, or banish from their cities any one they 
 think proper ? 
 
 Pol. Yes I did. 
 c. 22 Soc. I tell you then that these questions of yours are 
 two, and I will give you an answer to both. For I maintain, 
 Polus, that the orators and the tyrants have the smallest 
 possible power in their cities, as I said just now ; for they 
 I don't do anything at all that th ey desire, so to speak: how- ;,, 
 ever 1 admit that tney do anything ikat the y think best. | 
 
 PoT. vV ell and isn't that great power ? 
 
 Soc. No, at least according to what Polus says. 
 
 Pol. I say no ? I beg your pardon, I say yes. 
 ^ Soc. No by — indeed you don't, for you said that great 
 power is a good to its possessor. 
 
 Pol. Well and so I do. 
 
 Soc. Then do you think it a good for a man to do any- 
 
PLATO'S aOBGIAS. 33 
 
 thing he thinks best, supposing he has no understanding ? 
 and do you call that great power ? 
 
 Pol. No not I. 
 
 Soc. Then you must prove to me that the orators are 
 men of understanding, and that rhetoric is an art, and not a 467 
 mere flattery, and so refute me. But if you leave me un- 
 refuted, your orators who do what, they think proper in their 
 cities, and your tyrants, will find no advantage in that, if 
 iiideed power is as you say a good, and doing what one 
 thinks "^t without understanding you too admit to be an 
 evil. You do, don't you ? 
 
 Pol. Yes I do. 
 
 Soc. Then how can orators or tyrants have great power 
 in their cities unless Socrates be forced by Polus to own that 
 they do what they desire ? 
 
 Pel. Here's a fellow — 
 
 Soc. I say they don't do what they desire — There now, 
 refute me. 
 
 Pol. Didn't you admit just before that they do what 
 they tjiink best ? 
 
 Soc. Well and so I do now. 
 
 Pol. Why then they do what they desire. 
 
 Sloe; I say no. 
 
 Pol. What ? whilst they do what they think fit ? 
 
 Soc. Yes. 
 
 Pol. This is abominable, Socrates, quite monstrous. 
 
 Soc. Don't be abusive, most polite Polus, to address you 
 in your own style ^ : but if you have any question to put to 
 me prove that I am wrong, or if not answer yourself. 
 
 ' Polus' ' own style ' has been already partially exemplified at p. 448 c. 
 He was a disciple of Gorgias and had adopted the rhetorical figures introduced 
 by the other into prose composition, which he disfigured by the lavish excess to 
 which he indulged in them. See further on this subject, Jowmal of Classical 
 and Sacred Philology, No. vii. pp. 69 — 72, where these figures are classified 
 and illustrated. £1 XifOTC IIwXe is referred by Plato to the class Trapiauiaig, as 
 we may see from the similar example in Si/mp. 185 c, where Havaaviov vav- 
 
 D 
 
34 PLATO'S GOBQIAS. 
 
 Pol. "Well I will answer, to find out what really you do 
 mean. 
 c. 23 Soc. Is it your opinion then that people in doing any 
 thing on any occasion desire simply what they do [i.e. the 
 means to their end] or that which is the object of their doing 
 what they do ? As in the case of patients for instance who 
 take medicine prescribed by the physicians, think you they 
 desire merely what they do, to swallow the medicine and; 
 suffer pain, or that, health to wit, which is the object of 
 their taking it ? 
 
 Pol. Plainly health, which is the object in taking it.. 
 
 Soc. And so with foreign merchants or those that are 
 engaged in any other branch of trade, what they desire is not 
 what they are habitually doing ; for who desires to incur all 
 the risk and trouble of a voyage ? what they desire I pre- 
 sume is that which is the object of their voyage, wealth : for 
 it is for wealth they undertake it. 
 
 Pol. Yes certainly. 
 
 Soc. And isn't the same true in all other cases ? If a 
 man do any thing for an object, he doesn't desire that which 
 he does, but that which was his object in doing it ? 
 
 Pol. Yes. '' 
 
 Soc. Well then, is there any thing existing that is not 
 either good or bad or indifferent, neither good nor bad ? 
 
 Pol. Most decidedly, nothing, "Socrates. 
 
 Soc. Well do you call wisdom and health and wealth 
 and every thing else of that sort good, and the opposites 
 of these bad ? ~^ ', 
 
 Pol. Yes I do. 
 
 Soc. And by things neither good nor bad do you mean 
 
 468 things like these, suclji as sometimes partake of the nature of 
 
 the good and sometimes of the bad and sometimes of neither, , 
 
 as sitting for example and walking and running and sailing,' 
 
 aa/ievov is afterwEirds described as laa Xiyuv. It would however usually be 
 regarded as a case of irapofioiuatg or Trcii«)xitng, or the subordinate vai'iety jrap- 
 ovoiiaaia. 
 
PLATO'S G0B0IA8. 35 
 
 or again things such as stones or sticks or any thing else of 
 that sort ? These are what you mean^re they not ? or is 
 there any thing else to which you give the name of neither 
 good nor bad ? 
 
 Pol No, these are what I mean. 
 
 Soc. Do people then do these indifferent (intermediate) 
 things when they do them for the sake of the good, or the 
 good for the sake of the indifferent ? 
 
 Pol The indifferent for the sake of the good to be sure. 
 
 Soc. Consequently it is in pursuit of good that we either 
 walk^hen we do walk, because we think it better for us, or, 
 the contrary, stand, still, when we do stand, with the same 
 object, the good, don't we ? 
 
 Pol Yes. 
 
 Soc. And so likewise don't we put a man to death if we 
 ever do such a thing, or banish him, or deprive him of his 
 property, because we think it is better for us to do it than 
 not ? 
 
 Pol Yes no doubt. 
 
 Soc. So then it is for the sake of what is good that | 
 people do all these things that do them. 
 
 Pol. I allow it. 
 
 Soc. Well but didn't we admit that when we do things c. 24 
 with an object in view we don't desire those things, but that 
 which is the object of our doing them ? 
 
 Pol Quite so. 
 
 Soc. Then we don't desire to massacre people or expel 
 them from our cities or rob them of their money merely in 
 the abstract, but if these things are advantageous we desire 
 to do them, but if mischievous we do not. For we desire what 
 is good, as you allow ; but what is neither good nor bad we 
 do not desire, nor what is bad, do we ? Do you think what I 
 say is true, Polus, or not? [a pause']. Why don't you 
 answer ? 
 
 Pol {Sulkily.) True. 
 
 • Soc. Well then admitting this, if a man puts any one to 
 
36 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 death or expels Mm from the city or strips him of his pro- 
 perty, whether he be tyrant or orator that does it, bgcause he 
 thinks it is better for him, when it is really worse, he I pre^ 
 sume does what he thinks fit, doesn't he ? 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. But does he also do what he desires, supposing 
 these things to be bad for him ? — Why don't you answer ? 
 
 Pol. No, I don't think he does what he desires. 
 
 Soc. Can it be said then that such an one has great 
 power in that city, if great power means something good 
 according to your admission ? 
 - -- Pol. It can not. 
 
 Soc. I spoke the truth tiben in saying that it is. possible 
 for a man to do what he pleases in a city and yet not to have 
 great power nor to do what he desires. 
 >-'' Pol. Just as if you, Socrates, would not choose to harei 
 the liberty of doing what you please in your city rather than 
 not, and don't envy a man when you see one that has either 
 put some one to death or robbed or imprisoned him because 
 he thought proper to do so. 
 
 Soc. Do you mean justly or unjustly ? 
 469 Pol. Whichever it be, is it not enviable either way ? 
 
 Soc. Hush, hush, Polus. 
 
 Pol. Why so? 
 
 Soc. Because we mustn't envy the unenviable nor the 
 miserable, but pity them. 
 
 Pol. What ? Is this your opinion of the condition of 
 the men that I speak of? 
 
 Soc. How can it be otherwise ? 
 
 Pol. Then do you think a man who puts any one he- 
 pleases to death if he does it justly is wretched and an object 
 of pity ? 
 
 Soc. No I don't ; but not enviable either. 
 
 Pol. Didn't you say just now that he was wretched ? 
 
 Soc. Nay I said if he did it unjustly, my friend, and an 
 object of pity into the bargain ; but if justly, unenviable. 
 
fl 
 
 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 37 
 
 Pal. O no doubt a man who is put to death unjustly is 
 pitiable and^ -wrdtched. 
 
 Soc. Less so than the author of nis death, Polus, and 
 less so than one who deserves to die. 
 
 Pol. In what way pray, Socrates ? 
 
 Soc. In this, that to do wrong is the greatest of all 
 evils. 
 
 Pol. "What ? this the greatest ? is not to suiFer wrong a 
 greater ? 
 
 Soc. No by no means. ' 
 
 Pol. Would you prefer then suffering wrong to doing it ? 
 
 Soc. I should jore/er neither for my own part ; but if I 
 were obKged either to do wrong or to suffer it I should choose 
 suffering rather than doing it. 
 
 Pol. Then I suppose you wouldn't accept despotic 
 power ? 
 
 : Soc. 'No, if you mean by despotic power the same as 
 I do. 
 
 Pol. Well / mean what I said just now, to have the 
 liberty of doing anything one pleases in one's city, the power 
 of death or banishment or,,in short, doing anything according ' 
 to one's own will and pleasure. 
 
 Soc. J My worthy friend, let me tell you something and c. 25 
 then when it comes to your turn to speak you may criticise it. 
 If in a crowded market ' I were to take a dagger under my 
 arm, and whisper to you, Polus, I have just come into posses- 
 • pion of quite a despotic power, perfectly amazing ;, for if I think 
 fit that any one of those men that you see there should die 
 , this instant, he'll be a dead man, any one of them I please ; 
 'i)r if it .sieems to me that any one of them ought to have his 
 head broken, it'll be broken on the spot, or to have his 
 coat torn in two, it'll be done : so great is my power in this 
 city — If I say on finding you incredulous I.were to show you 
 
 ' sv dyopf irKrjBovay is not used here as a note of time to signify the fore- 
 noon; but, as inThiic. viii. 92, it denotes simply the crowded state of the 
 market-place. See Arnold and Poppo's Notes. 
 
38 PLATO'S G0EGIA8. 
 
 my dagger, you would ^ay probably when you saw It, why, 
 Socrates, at this rate every body would have great power, for 
 in this fashion any house too you please might be set on 
 fire, aye and the Athenian docks as well and their men of 
 war and all their other vessels public as well as private. 
 But surely this is not the meaning of having great power, to 
 do anything one pleases. Do you think it is ? 
 
 Pol. No certainly not, in that way. 
 
 470 . Soc. Can you tell me then why you disapprove of power 
 
 /of this kind ? 
 / Pol. Yes I can. 
 v Soc. "Why is it then ? say. 
 
 Pol. Because punishment is the inevitable consequence 
 of doing such things as that. 
 
 Soc. And is not punishment a bad thing ? 
 
 Pol. To be sure it is. 
 
 Soc. And so, my fine fellow, you have come round again 
 to the opinion that great power is a good provided the doing 
 what one pleases be accompanied by some advantage in do- 
 ing it, and that this alone really is great power ; otherwise it 
 is a bad thing and mere weakness. And next let us consider 
 this point. We admit, don't we, that it is sometimes better 
 to do such things as we were just speaking of, to put men to 
 death or banish them or deprive them of their property, and 
 sometimes not ? 
 
 Pol. Yes certainly. 
 
 Soc. Well then, it seems, you and I agree in admitting 
 this. 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Then when do you say it is better to do them ? 
 Tell me where you draw your line ? 
 
 Pol. Nay, Socrates, do ^ou answer this same question 
 yourself. 
 
 Soc. Well then I say, Polus, if you prefer hearing it from 
 me, that it is better to do these things when they are done 
 justly, and when unjustly then worse. 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 39 
 
 Pol. Very hard ' indeed it is to refute you, Socrates, c. 26 
 Why, couldn't any child prove you to be in the wrong ? 
 
 Soc. Then I shall be very mucn obliged to the child, 
 and equally so to you, if you refute me and deliver me from 
 my absurdity. Pray now don't shrink from the trouble of 
 doing a friend a kindness, but refute me. 
 
 Pol. Why really, Socrates, there is no occasion to go 
 back to stories of old times to refute you ; for the events of 
 only the other day '' are quite enough to prove you in the 
 wrong and to show that many wrong doers are happy. 
 
 Soc. What are they ? 
 
 Pol. You see I presume that the famous Archelaus son 
 of Perdiccas is king of Macedonia ? 
 
 Soc. Well if I don't, I hear of it at any rate. 
 
 Pol. .Do you take him then to be happy or wretched ? 
 
 Soc. I don't know, Polus, for I haven't the honour of his 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Pol. How's that ? Do you mean to say you could dis- 
 
 ' Polus' irony is here directed against the opinion which prevailed amongst 
 the friends of Socrates that it was impossible to refute him. 
 
 ^ ' Only the other day ' really means eight years ago. The dramatic date 
 of the dialogue is fixed by the passage 473 E, mpvm fiovKeiuv Xaxiliv k.t.X. in 
 the year 405 E. c, and Archelaus usurped the throne of Macedonia in 413. Stall- 
 baum's arguments (Tntrod. pp. 56 — 72) are quite conclusive in favour of the 
 year 405, and against an earlier date. He is also very fairly successful in 
 explaining away all the historical references, such as the present passage, 
 which seem to- clash with this supposition. But it may reasonably be doubted 
 .whether it is worth while to bestow any great amount of pains and labour upon 
 such an attempt. All great writers of fiction such as Shakespeare and Walter 
 Scott allow themselves great licence in this particular ; and I strongly suspect 
 that Plato was no more careful to avoid such lapses than his literary brethren. 
 This seems to me to be proved by the great difficulty which is almost invariably 
 found in fixing the dramatic date of any of his dialogues, arising partly from 
 the numerous inconsistencies and historical inaccuracies which we seldom fail to 
 find in them. These most easUy escape detection on the part of the author 
 and the reader, both of them having their attention occupied with more 
 important matters ; a fact which seems to show how slight and excusable such 
 blemishes are in a work of fiction ; at all events, how little thfey interfere with 
 the real interest of this kind of composition. 
 
40 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 cover it by making his acquaintance ? Don't you know with- 
 out that at once (or, instinctively, Heind.) that he is happy ? 
 
 Soc. No by my faith I don't. 
 
 Fol. Then it's plain, Socrates, that you will say that 
 you don't know that the great king is happy either. 
 
 Soc. And if I do I shall say the truth : for I don't know 
 what is his condition in respect of his mental cultivation and 
 moral character '. 
 
 Pol, How then ? does happiness consist solely in this ? ■[ 
 
 y^ Soc, Yes according to my view, Polus/f for an honest 
 
 man or woman 1 say is happy, and one that is unjust and 
 
 wicked miserable. 
 
 471/^ Pol. Then according to your account the great Archelaus' 
 
 is miserable ? 
 
 Soc. Yes, my friend, if he is unjust. 
 
 Pol. Why of course, how can he be otherwise ? He had 
 no claim whatever to the throne which he now occupies, 
 being the son of a woman (Simiche) who was the slave of 
 Perdiccas' brother Alcetas, and in strict justice was Alcetas' 
 slave ; and if he had desired to do what was right he would' 
 have been the slave of Alcetas and happy according to your 
 account. But now it is really amazing how miserable he has 
 become, for he has done the most enormous wrong. First of 
 all he invited this very same master and uncle of his to his' 
 court as if he meant to restore to him the dominions of which« 
 Perdiccas robbed him, and after entertaining hini and his son 
 Alexander, his own cousin, about the same age as himself, 
 and making them drunk, he stowed them away in a carriage, 
 carried them oif by night, murdered them both and made 
 away with them. And after all this wickedness he never 
 . discovered that he had made himself the most miserable 
 of men, nor repented of what he had done, but he did not 
 choose to make' himself happy by bringing up as he was 
 bound to do his brother the legitimate s6n of Perdiccas, a 
 
 ' Cicero, Tmc. 2?Mp. v. 12, renders this, quam sit doctus, quam vir bonus. ' 
 
PLATO'S GOEGIAS. 41 
 
 boy of about seven years old, to whom the throne came by 
 
 right, and restoring to him his kingdom, but shortly after he 
 
 : threw him into a well and drowned nim, and then told his 
 
 .-mother Cleopatra that he had tumbled in as he was running 
 
 .after a goose andr so come by his death. Doubtless therefore 
 
 now as he is the greatest criminal in Macedonia he is the 
 
 'most miserable of all the Macedonians, and not the happiest, 
 
 and I dare say there are a good many people in Athens, with 
 
 yourself at their head, who would rathei- take the place of 
 
 any other Macedonian whatever than that of Archelaiis. 
 
 Soc. I complimented you before at the beginning of our c. 27 
 
 •jeonversation, Polus, upon your being as it seemed to me so 
 
 cadmirably instructed in the art of rhetoric, though at the 
 
 same time I thought you had somewhat neglected the dia- 
 
 . logue. And so now, this is the famous argument, is it, with 
 
 •) which any child could refute me? and this is the sort of talk 
 
 'by which in your opinion I now stand convicted when I 
 
 ; assert that the wrong doer is not happy? How can that be, 
 
 ipy good friend? And yet I don't admit a single word 
 
 .you say. 
 
 Pol. No because you won't ; for I'm sure you think as 
 I say. 
 
 ; Soc. My dear creature, tha.t's because you try to refute me 
 .'in, rhetorical fashion, as they fancy they do in the law courts. 
 • Por there indeed the one party is supposed to refute the other 
 when he brings forward a number of respectable witnesses in 
 , support of any statements he happens to make, whilst the 
 , opponent produces only a single one or none at all. But refu- 
 tation of this kind is absolutely worthless for the purpose of 472 
 .ascertaining the truth: for it may even happen sometimes 
 that a man niay be overborne by the false witness of numbers 
 ' and apparent respectability. And now if you want to bring 
 -' forward witnesses to prove that I am wrong on the j)oints you 
 sjJeak of, you will find nearly every body, Athenians and 
 ^foreigners, agree with you. You may have for witnesses 
 • Nicias, if you please, son of Niceratus with his brothers. 
 
42 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 whose tripods are standing in a row in the Dionysium, or if 
 you please Aristocrates son of Scellias, the doiior of that 
 splendid offering again at Delphi ^ or if you like, the whole 
 house of Pericles or any other family you choose to select 
 out of those of this place. But I, alone as I stand here, 
 refuse to admit it iffor you can't convince me, but you try by 
 bringing forward a number of false witnesses against me to 
 dispossess me of my substance ' and of the truth. But for 
 . my part, if I don't produce yourself for one as a witness in 
 confirmation of what I say, I think I have effected nothing 
 of the least importance in advancing the object of our discus- 
 sion ; nor you either I think, unless I singly and alone bear 
 witness in your favour, and you leave all the rest of those 
 people entirely out of the question. This then is one kind of 
 proof, as you and a good'many others besides you imagine it 
 to be ; and there is also another which I on my side deem to 
 be such. Let us then compare them together and see if we 
 shall find any difference between them. For in truth the 
 
 ' This is one of the passages which has been sapposed to disagree with the 
 date 405 B.C. assigned as the dramatic date of the dialogue : and even Sehleier- 
 macher who adopts it conceires that Nicias and Aristocrates, who died in 413 
 and 406 respectively, are spoken of as living witnesses, and that this is there- 
 fore an anachronism. I have already expressed my belief that Plato thought 
 little of historical consistency in writing his dialogues ; but in the present 
 instance we are not driven to any such supposition. Ast has pointed ont that 
 it is the evidence of the monuments that is here appealed to. They testify 
 to the wealth and splendour of those who dedicated them, and also to their 
 opinion upon the advantages of such things by the desire they evince for the 
 perpetuation of the memory of them. They are " the bricks " in short " that be 
 alive to this day to testify" to their regard for worldly advantages. In fact, 
 unless this were Plato's meaning, there could be no conceivable reason for men- 
 tioning their offerings at all. 
 
 " This is what I may call the 'received' translation of oiiaia, which of 
 course has a double meaning ' property ' and ' reality * or real truth. It is open 
 however to the objection of being too technical in its philosophical sense. The 
 Aristotelian ' substance ' was unknown to the Platonic terminology. I believe 
 the lawyers have a word ' realty ' or ' realties,' used as an alternative for real 
 property. If so, this I think would render the original better, as coming much 
 nearer to the Platonic conception of oiiaia ; though from its technicality I have 
 hesitated to introduce it into the text. 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 43 
 
 subject we are debating is one of by no means slight import- 
 iance, nay it is < ^e mi^t almost say that on which to know 
 is noblest and not to know most disgraceful : for what it all 
 amounts to is, either to know or to be ignorant who is a 
 happy man and who is not. First of all for instance, to take_ 
 the particular point we are now discussing, j/ou conceive it 
 possible for a man to be happy in wrong doing and in wicked- 
 •ness, supposing that you think Archelaus to be a wicked 
 man and yet happy. Are we not to suppose that this is 
 your opinion ? 
 
 Pol. Yes certainly. 
 
 Soc. And I say it's impossible. Here is one point on c. 28 
 which we differ. So far so good. But will then a man be 
 happy in wrong doing if he be overtake^ by justice and 
 punishment ? 
 
 Pol. No, by no means ; in that case he woul(^ be most 
 miserable. 
 
 Soc. But if the wrong doer chance to escape justice, 
 accordijig to your account he will be happy ? 
 
 Pol.. That is my view. 
 
 Soc. And in my opinion, Polus, the wrong doer and 
 the wicked, man is in every case miserable ; more' miser- 
 able however if he escape justice and evade punish- 
 ment for his iniquity, but less miserable if he pay the 
 penalty of his crimes, and be duly punished by Gods and 
 men. 
 
 Pol. A strange paradox this, Socrates, that you under- 473 
 take to maintain. 
 
 Soc. Aye and I will try to make you too maintain the 
 same, my friend, for as a friend I regard you. So now, the 
 points on which we differ are these. Look at them yourself. 
 I told you I believe before that doing wrong is worse than 
 suffering it. 
 
 Pol. No doubt you did. 
 
 Soci You on the contrary thought suffering it worse. 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
44 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 Soc. And / said that the wrong doers are miserable, and 
 you refuted me. 
 
 Pol. Yes, egad, that I did. 
 
 Soc. At least in your own opinion, Polus. 
 
 Pol. And my opinion is right I should rather think. 
 
 Soc. But you said on the other hand that the wicked are 
 happy, provided they escape justice. 
 
 Pol. No doubt of it. 
 
 Soc. And I say they are most miserable, and those that 
 are brought to justice less so. Will you refute that too ? 
 
 Pol. Why that's still harder to refute than the other, 
 Socrates. 
 
 Soc. Not only so, Polus, but impossible ; for the truth 
 can never be refuted. 
 
 Pol. How say you ? If a man be detected in a criminal 
 design of making himself absolute, and thereupon be put to 
 the torture or mutilated or have his eyes burnt out ; or, after 
 having been himself subjected to every possible variety of the 
 severest torments and been forced to look on whilst his own 
 children and wife endured the like, then last of all be cruci- 
 fied or burnt to death in a coat of pitch — will he be a happier 
 man than if he were to escape and make himself tyrant, and 
 pass his life as supreme ruler in his city in doing whatsoever 
 he pleases, an object of envy and congi-atulation to his own 
 citizens and all foreigners to boot ? Is this what you say it 
 is impossible to refute ? 
 c- 29 Soc. Now you are trying to scare me with bugbears, my 
 brave Polus, instead of refuting me ; just now you were 
 citing witnesses against me. However never mind that, but 
 " just refresh my memory a httle : " in a criminal design upon 
 the tyranny," you said ? 
 
 Pol. Yes I did. 
 
 Soc. Then neither of them will ever be happier than 
 the other, neither he that has unjustly compassed the tyranny 
 nor he that is punished for his misdeeds : for of two miserable 
 men neither can be said to be happier: still the more 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 45 
 
 miserable is he that remains undiscovered and secures him- 
 self on the throne. [^Polus smiles.] ^hat does that mean, 
 Polus? Are you laughing? Here's another new kind of 
 refutation ; when an assertion is made to refute it by grin- 
 ning instead of argument \ 
 
 Pol. Don't you think, Socrates, you are confuted already, 
 when you assert such things as no human being would main- 
 tain ? Only ask any one of the company there. 
 , Soc. Polus, I am not one of your public men ; in fact 
 only last year when I was elected member of the Council, 
 and, my tribe having the Presidency, it became my duty 
 to put a question to the vote, I made, myself ridiculous by 
 not knowing how to do it '. So don't ask me again this time 474 
 
 ' " And coxcombs ranquish Berkeley with a grin." — Pope. 
 
 ' This is the passage by which the dramatic date of the dialogue is deter- 
 mined. It is so precise and positive that there can I think be no doubt that 
 Plato really intended it as a mark of time : and whereas the chronological indi- 
 cations and allusions which have suggested an earlier period can all be made 
 very fairly to harmonise with this by merely allowing a very reasonable latitude 
 in the use of indefinite expressions, such as veiaari and ix9ie Koii irpifi/jv, the de- 
 finite and precise mpvai absolutely precludes any other date than the year 405 
 B.C. — except upon the most improbable supposition that Socrates twice held the 
 office of kirurTdrric : a notion which to say nothing of other arguments, is di- 
 rectly contradicted by Socrates' own assertion, Apol. Socr. 32 b, that he never 
 engaged in public business but once in his life. 
 
 The real cii'cumstances of the case are related by Xenophon, Hellen. i. 7" 
 15, and alluded to Memor. i. i. 18, and Plat. Apol. Socr. 32 B. Mr Grote, 
 Hist. ofGreeoe, Part ii. ch. Ixiv. Vol. vm. p. 271, note, expresses a doubt as to 
 the correctness of Xenophon's statement in the Memorabilia that Socrates was 
 imaTortis on this occasion. He omits however to refer to the present passage 
 of the Gorffias, where the use of the technical term i7rc\pti<ptZuv, expressive of 
 the special function of the iTTiffrarije, seems fully to confirm Xenophon's state- 
 ment and to remove all doubt upon the point. 
 
 The reason here assigned by Socrates for not putting the illegal question to 
 the vote in the memorable trial of the generals after Arginusae, and his at- 
 tributing to ignorance what was in fact an act of heroic firmness and resolution 
 which has few, if any, parallels in history, is a most curious and striking ex- 
 ample of that form of 'dissimulation' which as Aristotle tells us, Eih. Nic. 
 IV. 7. 14, from Socrates' constant use of it, came to be distinguished as dpiavtia 
 in a proper or special use, the ' mock humility ' or ' self-disparagement ' in 
 which in fact Socrates' ' irony ' mainly consists. In another aspect, it is hardly 
 
46 PLATO'S GOBOIAS. 
 
 to take the votes of the present company ; but, as I said just 
 now, if you have no better argument than those you have 
 used.hand the matter over to me in my turn, and try the sort 
 of proof that I think ought to be employed. For I know 
 how to produce one witness in support of my assertions, and 
 that is the man himself with whom I am arguing, the many 
 i utterly disregard .; and there is one whose vote I know how 
 to take, whilst to the multitude I have nothing whatever to 
 say. See then whether you will consent to submit to be 
 refuted in your turn by answering my . questions. For I 
 think, you know, that you and I and every one else believes 
 doing wrong to be worse than suffering it, and escaping 
 punishment for one's transgressions worse than enduring it. 
 — Pol. And I, that neither I nor anyone else in the world 
 believes it. For would you rather suffer wrong than do it ? 
 
 Soc. Yes, and so would you and every body else. 
 
 Pol. You are quite wrong ; on the contrary neither I nor 
 you nor any one else. 
 
 Soc. Then will you answer ? 
 
 Pol. By all means, for in fact I am quite curious to know 
 what you can possibly have to say. 
 
 Soc. Then tell me that you may know, just as if I was 
 beginning my questions all over again, which of the two 
 sepms to you to be worse, Polus, doing or suffering wrong ? 
 |,i Pol. Suffering it to be sure. 
 "if f Soc. But what say you to ' fouler ' ? ' Which of the two 
 is that ? 
 
 I 
 
 distinguishable from that form of pleasantry which now passes under the name 
 of ' quizzing.' 
 
 ' In the absence of any English words in common use which convey both 
 the physical and the moral application of koXov and aia'jfpov, I have taken 
 refuge in translating them by the somewhat poetical terms ' fair ' and 'foul.' 
 Dr Whewell renders them by ' handsome ' and ' ugly.' The difficulty of trans- 
 lating them lies in this; that whilst sometimes the one sense and sometimes, 
 the other is uppermost in the originals, and this would lead us to choose differ- 
 ent words to express them, yet the argument frequently obliges us to retain 
 the same throughout, because it would be obscured or rendered unmeaning by 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 47 
 
 JPol. Wrong doing. 
 
 Soc. And so likewise worse, if fquler. c. 30 
 
 Pol. No by no means. 
 
 Soc. Oh, I understand : you think fair and good and 
 bad and foul are not the same things. 
 
 Pol. Certainly not. 
 
 Soc. But what of this ? All fair things, as bodies and 
 colours and figures and sounds and pursuits — is it with refer- 
 ence to no standard at all that you call them fair every time 
 you use the word ? for instance first, when you apply the 
 term fair to fair^bodies is it not either in respect of their 
 use, with reference, that is, to the purpose which any of 
 them may be made to serve ; or in respect of some kind of 
 pleasure, when they give deUght to those that look at "them 
 in the act of contemplation ? Have you any account to give 
 beyond this of beauty of body ? 
 
 Pol. None. 
 
 Soc. And so with everything else in the same way, 
 figures and colours, is it in virtue of some pleasure or ad- 
 vantage or both that you term them fair? 
 
 Pol. Yes it is. 
 
 Soc. And with sounds too and every thing in music, is 
 it not just the same ? 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And moreover in all that belongs to laws and habits 
 of life, their beauty I presume is to be found .nowhere beyond 
 these limits, that is to say, either the utility or the pleasure 
 that is in them, or both. 
 
 Pol. No, I think not. 
 
 Soc. And so again with the beauty of studies is it not 475 
 the same ? 
 
 Pol. Yes no doubt ; and this time, Socrates, I do really 
 
 'changing them : and hence we are reduced to the alternative of either marring 
 the argument or adopting some unfamiliar terms to represent two of the com- 
 monest words in the Greek language. 
 

 48 PLATO'S^QOBGIAS. 
 
 like your definition, when you define what is fair by pleasure 
 and good. 
 
 Soc. And may I in the same way define what is foul by 
 the opposites, pain and evil ? 
 — ^ Pol. Of course you may. 
 
 Soc. So then when of two fair things one is fairer, it is 
 so because it surpasses in one of these two things or both of 
 them, either in pleasure or utility or both. 
 
 Pol. Certainly. 
 
 Soc. And when again of two foul things the one is fouler, 
 it will be so by the excess either of pain or mischief. Is not 
 that a necessary consequence ? 
 
 Pol: Yes. 
 
 Soc. Come then, what was said just no^i^bout doing 
 and sufiering wrong ? didn't you say that suffering wrong is 
 worse, but doing it fouler ? 
 
 Pol. I did. 
 
 Soc. "Well then if doing wrong is fouler than suffering 
 it, it is either more painful, and fouler by excess of pain, or 
 of mischief or both ? Does not this also necessarily foUow ? 
 
 Pol. Of course it does. 
 c. 31 Soc. First of all then let us consider whether doing 
 wrong exceeds suffering it in pain, whether, that is, those 
 that do wrong feel more pain than those that suffer it ? 
 
 Pol. 1 Oh no, Socrates, not that. 
 
 Soc. So then it is not in pain that it exceeds. 
 
 Pol. Certainly not. 
 
 Soc. And accordingly if not in pain, it cannot now^ ex- 
 ceed in both. ^ 
 
 Pol. It appears not. 
 
 Soc. It only remains then (that it exceed) in the other. 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. In mischief. 
 
 ' in, ' any longer, after this, as it might have done if this had not been 
 the case.' Corresponding to ySri in affirmative sentences. 
 
PLATO'S G0B6IAS. 49 
 
 Pol. It seems so. 
 
 Soc. So it is because it exceeds in mischief that doing 
 wrong is worse than suffering it. 
 
 Pol. Plainly so. 
 
 Soc. Is it not then admitted by the mass of mankind, as 
 it was in fact by yourself a little while ago, that doing wrong 
 is fouler than suffering it ? 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And now it turns out to be worse. 
 
 Pol. It seems so. "\^ 
 
 Soc. Would you then prefer the greater evil and the 
 greater deformity to that which is less ? Don't hesitate to 
 reply, Polus, it will do you no harm, but bravely submit 
 yourself to the argument as to a physician, and answer yes 
 or no to my question. 
 
 Pol. Well I should not prefer it, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. And would any one else in the world ? 
 
 Pol. No I think oot, as you put the ease now. 
 
 Soc. Then I spoke the truth in saying that neither you 
 nor I nor any one else in the world would prefer doing to 
 suflFering wrong ; because it's worse. 
 
 Pol. So it appears. 
 
 Soc. You see then, Polus, that when the one mode of 
 proof is brought into comparison with the other, there is no 
 resemblance between them ; but you have the assent of every 
 one else except myself, whereas / am satisfied with you? own 
 assent and your own evidence single and alone, and I take 476 
 only your own vote and pay no sort of attention to the rest. 
 And so let this be considered settled between us. And next 
 let us examine the second question on which we differed ; 
 whether, namely, for a guilty man to be brought to justice is 
 the greatest of all evils as you thought, or to escape it is a 
 . greater as was my opinion. Let us consider it thus. Do 
 you call being brought to justice and being justly chastised 
 for wrong doing the same thing ? 
 
 Pol. Yes I do. 
 
 E 
 
50 PLATO'S O0EGIA8. 
 
 Soc. Can you deny that all just things are fair, in so far 
 as they are just ? Now consider well before you speak. 
 
 Pol. Well I do think so, Socrates. 
 c. 32 Soc. Then look at this again. When any one does an 
 act, is it necessary that there should be a something acted 
 upon by this agent? 
 
 Pol. Yes 1 think so. 
 
 Soc. And does that something suffer exactly what the 
 agent does ? and receive an impression of the same kind as 
 the action of the agent? To explain my meaning by an 
 example — ^when any one strikes a blow, something must 
 necessarily be struck? 
 
 Pol. Just so. 
 
 Soc. And if the striker strikes hard or quick, the 
 object struck is struck in the same way ?• 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Consequently the effect is of the same kind in the 
 object struck as is the action in the striking agent ? 
 
 Pol. To be sure. 
 
 Soc. Or again, when a man burns, something must of 
 necessity be burnt ? 
 
 Pol. Of course. 
 
 Soc. And if he burns severely or painfully, the object 
 burnt must be burnt in the same way as the burning agent 
 burns ? 
 
 Pol. Yes certainly. 
 
 Soc, And so when a man cuts, the same rule applies, 
 that is to say something is cut ? 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And if the cut is large or deep or painful, the cut 
 produced in the object cut is precisely of the same kind as 
 the thing cutting cuts it ? 
 
 Pol. So it appears. 
 
 Soc. Well then in a word, see if you admit universally 
 the rule I just stated : the effect in the patient is of exactly 
 the same kind as the action in the agent. 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. (^ 
 
 Pol. Well I do. 
 
 Soc. _Tlds then being admitted, is to be punished to 
 suffer something or to do it ? 
 
 JPol To suffer of course, Socrates. 
 
 Soc, And that too by the hands of some agent ? 
 
 Pol. No doubt of it, by the hands of him that inflicts 
 the punishment. 
 
 Soc. But he that punishes aright punishes justly. 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And in doing that does he do what is just ? 
 
 Pol. What is just. 
 
 Soc, And again one that atones for his crime by punish- 
 ment suffers what is just ? 
 
 Pol. So it appears. 
 
 Soc. And what is just I believe we have admitted to be 
 fair ? 
 
 Pol. Yes certainly. 
 
 Soc. Consequently of these two the one does what is 
 fair, and the other, the man who is punished, suffers it. 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And so if fair then good, for that is either pleasant c. 33 
 or useful \ 477 
 
 Pol. Of course. -.^ 
 
 Soc. So then one who is punished for his sins suffers 
 what is good ? 
 
 Pol. It seems so; ?r^E 
 
 Soc. Then he receives a benefit ? 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. It is that kind of benefit which I suspect ? namely 
 that his soul is improved if he is justly punished. 
 
 Pol. Yes probably. 
 
 Soc. Then is one that is brought to justice relieved from 
 vice of soul ? 
 
 Pol. . Yes. 
 
 1 By the definition, c. 30, 474, d, e. 
 
52 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 Soc. And is not that the greatest of all evils that he 
 is relieved from ? Look at it in this^ way. In a man's 
 pecuniary condition do you discern any other evil than 
 poverty ? 
 
 Pol. No, only poverty. 
 
 Soc. Or again in his bodily condition (constitution) ? 
 would you not say the evil is weakness and disease and 
 ugliness and such like ? 
 
 Pol. Yes I should. 
 
 Soc. And so in soul don't you believe that there is some 
 inherent vice ? 
 
 Pol. No doubt of it. 
 
 Soc. And don't you call this injustice and ignorance and 
 cowardice and so forth ? 
 
 Pol. To be sure. 
 
 Soc. So then in mind body and estate, these three, you 
 have pointed out three several vices, poverty disease in- 
 justice ? 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Then which of these kinds of vice is the foulest ? 
 Is it not injustice, or in a word the vice of the soul ? 
 
 Pol. Yes by far. 
 
 Soc, And if foulest then likewise worst ? 
 
 Pol. How mean you by that, Socrates ? 
 
 Soc. This. It follows from our previous conclusionsthat 
 what is most foul is so always by reason of its bringing with 
 it either the greatest pain or bane or both. 
 
 Pol. Quite so. 
 
 Soc. And now we have just admitted injustice and ,in 
 general vice of soul to be what is foulest ? 
 
 Pol. We have no doubt. 
 
 Soc. So then it is either most painful, or in other words 
 it is because it surpasses in painfulness that it is the foulest 
 of all of them (i.e. the beforementioned kinds of vice), or 
 banefulness or in both ways ? 
 
 Pol. Necessarily. 
 
PLATO'S aOEGIAS. 53 
 
 Soc. Is then to be unjust and licentious and cowardly 
 and ignorant more painful than povertp and sickness ? 
 
 Pol. No I think not, Socrates, from what we haye been 
 saying. 
 
 Soc. Prodigious then must be the amount of baneful- 
 ness and amazing the evil by which the soul's vice exceeds 
 all the rest so as to make it the foulest of them all, since it 
 is not by pain, according to your account. 
 
 Pol. So it appears. 
 
 Soc. But further, where the excess consists in the highest 
 degree of banefulness that must I should think be the great- 
 est of all evils. 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Injustice then and licentious indulgence and all the 
 rest,of the soul's vices are the greatest of all evils. 
 
 Pol. So it appears. "^ 
 
 Soc. What is the art then that delivers us from poverty ? c. 34 
 Is it not that of trading ? 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And what from disease ? Is it not the art of medi- 
 cine. 
 
 Pol. Beyond all doubt. S 
 
 Soc. And what from wickedness and injustice ? If you 478 
 haven't an answer ready when the question is put in this 
 way, look at it thus : Whither and to whom do we carry 
 those whose bodies are diseased ? 
 
 Pol. To the physicians, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. And whither do we send the evil-doers and licen- 
 tious ? 
 
 Pol. Before the judges do you mean ? 
 
 Soc. To suffer for their crimes, isn't it ? 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Is it not then by the application of a sort of justice 
 that those chastise who chastise aright ? 
 
 Pol. Plainly. 
 
64 PLATO'S 00BGIA8. 
 
 Soc. So then trading delivers us from poverty, medicine 
 from disease, and justice from licentiousness and wickedness, 
 Pol. So it appears. 
 Soc. Whicli then is fairest of these ? 
 Fol. What do you mean ? 
 Soc. Trading, medicine, justice. 
 Pol. Justice, Socrates, is far superior. 
 Soc. So then, again, if it is fairest it produces either the " 
 greatest pleasure or profit or both ? (recurring again to the 
 definition). 
 Pol, Yes. 
 
 Soc. Well then, is medical treatment pleasant ^ and do 
 those who submit themselves to such treatment Uke it ? 
 Pol. No I should think not. 
 Soc. But it is beneficial, isn't it ? 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 SoCf^ Because the patient is rid of a great evil, and there- 
 fore it is well worth his while to undergo the pain and be well. 
 Pol. Of course it is. 
 
 Soc. Is this then the happiest condition for a man's 
 body to be in, to be cured by medical treatment, or never to 
 be ill at all ? 
 
 Pol. Plainly never to be ill. 
 
 Soc. For, it seems, this is not what we said happiness 
 consisted in, the deliverance from evil, but in never having 
 had it at all. 
 Pol. It is so. 
 Soc. Again. Oftwo persons that have something wrong 
 
 ' On the analogy here assumed (and so frequently repeated in this arid 
 other dialogues of Plato) hetween corrective justice and medicine, and the 
 curative effect of the former upon the diseased human soul, Eenouvier very 
 justly remarks, Manuel de Philosophie Ancienme, ii, 31 : Quelquefois enfin 
 Platon procfede par simple comparaison et se laisse aller it une analogic dou- 
 teuse : c'est ainsi qu'il compare celui qui fait justice au m^decin, et que par 
 suite il regarde le ch§,timent comme un bien pour le coupable, sans examiner si 
 le chatiment am^liore toujours, et si la peine est a I'injustice ce que la brMure 
 est a la plaie. 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 55 
 
 in body or soul which is the more miserable ? The one who 
 puts himself into the physician's hands and so gets rid of 
 the mischief, or he who does not and retains it ? 
 
 Pol. I should suppose the one who does not. 
 
 Soc. And didn't we say that to be punished for one's 
 faults is a deliverance from the greatest evil, that is wicked- 
 ness? 
 
 Pol. We did. 
 
 Soc. Because I suppose justice brings us under control 
 and makes us juster, and so becomes the art by which wicked- 
 ness is cured. 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Happiest of all then is he who is free from vice in 
 his soul, seeing that we proved this to be the greatest of all 
 evils. 
 
 Pol. Evidently. 
 
 Soc. And in the second degree, I should suppose, he 
 who gets rid of it. 
 
 Pol. It seems so. 
 
 Soc. And he as we said is one who is admonished and 
 rebuked and punished. 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Consequently one who retains injustice and is not 
 delivered from it leads the worst kind of life. 
 
 Pol. So it appears. 
 
 Soc. And is not he that man who in the commission of 
 the greatest crimes and the practice of the greatest iniquity 479 
 has managed to escape reproof and correction and punish- 
 ment, as you say Archelaus has contrived to do, and the rest 
 t)f your tyrants and orators and potentates ? 
 
 Pol. It seems so. 
 
 Soc. Because, I should think, my excellent friend, what c. 35 
 men of this sort have contrived to do for themselves is very 
 much the same as if a man afflicted with disease of the 
 worst kind were to contrive to escape giving satisfaction to 
 the physicians for the faults of his body, that is, undergoing 
 
56 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 medical treatment, dreading like a child the pain inflicted by 
 the cautery or the knife. Don't you think so yourself? 
 
 Pol Yes I do. 
 
 S'oc. In ignorance it would seem of the great advantage 
 of health and soundness of body. For it appears from the 
 conclusions at which we have just arrived that the conduct 
 of those likewise who try to escape the penalty due to their 
 transgressions is very much of this .kind, Polus ; they discern 
 clearly enough its painfulness but are bhnd to its benefits, 
 and are not aware how much more miserable than an unsound 
 body' it is to be associated with a soul that is not sound but 
 corrupt and unjust and unholy. And hence it is that they 
 strain every nerve to escape punishment and deliverance 
 from the direst evil, by providing themselves either with 
 money or friends or the means of making themselves the 
 most accomplished speakers. But if our conclusions are true, 
 Polus, do you perceive what follows from our argument ? or 
 would you like us to reckon it aU up together ? 
 
 Pol. Yes if you don't objejct. 
 
 Soc. Is not one result then that injustice and wrong 
 doing is the worst of evils ? 
 
 Pol. So it appears. 
 
 Soc. And further it appeared that to suffer for one's 
 faults is a deliverance from this evil ? 
 
 Pol. It seems so. 
 
 Soc. And not to be punished for them is an abiding in 
 us of the evil ? 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 '. Soc. Wrong doing then is second of evils in degree ; but 
 to do wrong and not suffer for it is the first and greatest of 
 them all. 
 
 .Pol. It seems so. 
 
 Soc. Well, my friend, was not this the point in dispute 
 
 ^ I have here intentionally preserved the false comparison of the original. 
 Such blunders (exceptions we call them in the Classics) are as common in 
 English as they are in Greek and Latin. 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 67 
 
 between us, that you pronounced Archelaus, the greatest 
 of all criminals, happy because he enjoyed a complete immu- 
 nity from punishment for his crimes, whilst I thought on the 
 contrary that if any one, whether it be Archelaus or any one 
 else in the world, pay no penalty for the wrong that he does 
 he may justly be called preeminently miserable above all 
 other men ; and universally, that he that does wrong is more 
 miserable than he that suffers it, and he that escapes the 
 penalty for his transgressions than he that submits to it ? Is 
 hot this what I said ? 
 
 Pol. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Well then is it not now proved that what I said 
 was true ? 
 
 Pol. It appears so. 
 
 Soc. Very good. If then this is true, Polus, what is the 480 
 great use of rhetoric ? For, you know, it follows from our c. 36 
 present conclusions that a man should himself keep the 
 strictest watch over his own conduct to avoid all wrong, 
 seeing that thereby he will bring on himself great evil ; 
 should he not. ? 
 
 Pol. Yes surely. 
 
 Soc. But if he do commit a wrong, either himself or any 
 one else he cares for, he must go of his own accord to the 
 place where he may most speedily be punished for i t^^to the 
 j udge as to his physi cian, striving earnestly that the disease 
 of his iniquity may not become inveterate and so make the 
 ulcer of his soul deep-seated and incm-able. Or if not, what 
 are we to say, Polus, supposing our former admissions are to 
 stand ? Can the one be brought into harmony with the other 
 in any other way than this ? 
 
 Pol. Why to be sure what else can we say, Socrates ? 
 
 Soc. It follows then that for the purpose of a defence of 
 crime, whether the guilt be in oneself or one's parents or 
 friends or children or country, your rhetoric is of no use to us 
 at all, Polus, unless indeed one were to suppose the very 
 contrary, that it is a man's duty to accuse himself first of all. 
 
68 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 and in the next degree his relations or any one else of his 
 friends who may at any time be guilty of a wrong ; and in- 
 stead of concealing the wrong to bring it to light, that the 
 offender may suffer the penalty and so be restored to health ; 
 and again to force oneself and others not to flinch out of 
 cowardice, but submit bravely with closed eyes as it were to 
 a physician to be cut or burned, in the pursuit of what is good 
 and fair, not counting the pain ; if his crimes have been 
 worthy of stripes submitting to the rod, or if of bonds to 
 imprisonment, or if of a fine to payment of the fine, or if 
 of exile to banishment, or of death to die ; himself the first > 
 to be his own accuser and of all his friends and relations as 
 well, and to this end employing his rhetoric that they may 
 all by the disclosure of their crimes be delivered from the 
 greatest of all evils, which is unrighteousness. Is this to be 
 our conclusion, or not, Polus ? 
 
 Fol. A strange one, Socrates, it seems to me, but stiU 
 perhaps you do find it (<toi) in agreement with what you 
 said before. 
 
 Soc. Well then either the other must be disproved, or 
 this is the inevitable result. 
 
 Pol. Yes, that is certainly so. 
 
 Soc. And conversely again, if on the contrary one were 
 ever required to do a man a njischief, whether an enemy 
 or any one else — provided only the wrong be not inflicted 
 by the enemy on oneself, for that we must be very car"eful to ' 
 avoid' — but supposing the wrong to be done by him to 
 
 ^ This simple and innocent observation has been so strangely misinterpreted 
 by ^tS/llbaum, that a word of explanation may not be out of place. His note 
 is " qnoniam scilicet isto pacto neeesse fuerit ut alter in judicium vocetur 
 (why ? on the contrary, such a course would be inconsistent with the moral of 
 the entire passage, which is, that if you want to punish an enemy you must let 
 bJTn alone and not bring him to justice), et justa poena afiiciatur, quod beneficii 
 loco habendum fuerit." The plain meaning is that in punishing our enemies 
 we must take care not to punish ourselves. If we desire to inflict real damage 
 upon an enemy or offender, we must not send him before tbe tribunals of 
 justice or subject him to any penalty personal or pecuniary — these are instrn- 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 59 
 
 some one else, we should contrive by every means in our 
 
 power both by word and deed to se^re him impunity and 481 
 
 prevent him from appearing before the judge, or if he do, 
 
 we must devise means that the enemy may effect his escape 
 
 and not sufl^r punishment; but if he have stolen large sums 
 
 ■ of gold we must contrive that he may not refund it, but keep 
 
 - and spend it, on him and his, lawlessly and godlessly ; or ^ 
 
 y if again he have committed crimes worthy of death, that 
 
 he may not die ; if possible never, but be immortal in his 
 
 ' wickedness, or if not, that he may prolong his life to the 
 
 utmost being such as he is. Such are the objects as it seems 
 
 to me, Polus, for which rhetoric is serviceable, for to one 
 
 who does not intend to do wrong the use of it does not seem 
 
 to me particularly great — if indeed there be any use in it at 
 
 all — for to be sure in our preceding discourse it no where 
 
 came to hght. 
 
 Cal. Tell me, ChEerephon, is Socrates in earnest in all c. 37 
 this, or only joking. 
 
 Cheer. I should say, Callicles, prodigiously in earnest. 
 However there's nothing like asking him the question. 
 
 Cal. I'faith, that's just what I am curious to do. Tell 
 me, Socrates, are we to suppose that you are serious now or 
 in jest. For if you are serious and what you say is really 
 true, the life of all of us must have been turned upside down, 
 mustn't it ? and we are all doing the exact contrary it seems 
 " to what we ought to do. 
 
 Soc. Callicles, if we men had not certain feelings in 
 common, though they do vary in different individuals ', but 
 
 ments of correction and cure, they are no injury -but a benefit. Tlie true and 
 real punishment of injustice and vice is to let them take their course, and to 
 encourage and foster their growth as well as secure the impunity of the offender 
 by every means in our power — only in so doing, he adds half in joke, we must 
 take good care that the injustice which we encourage is not exercised at our 
 own expense, which would rather spoil the fun for us. 
 
 1 That is there are 'affections,' irdBri, vadijjmTa, feelings, sentiments, 
 common to the whole human race, the same in kind, but rarying in different 
 individuals in the mode degree circumstances and objects of their exercise. 
 
60 PLATO'S GOBGIASi. 
 
 if one of us had feelings peculiar to himself and so differing 
 from the rest of mankind ', it would not be easy for one of 
 us to exhibit to his neighbour any of his own impressions. I 
 ^ake this remark in consequence of having observed that 
 you and I are just now in pretty much the sanie condition, 
 enamoured, that is, the pair of us, of two things apiecCj I of 
 Alcibiades son of Clinias and philosophy, and you of the 
 Athenian Demus and the son of Pyrilampes". Now I re- 
 mark constantly that' with all your cleverness however much 
 your favourite may talk and whatever opinion he may hap- 
 pen to pronounce about any thing, you can't contradict him, 
 but are constantly changing backwards and forwards. If it 
 be in the assembly that you are making a speech, and Demus 
 — the Athenian Demus I mean — doesn't agree with you, 
 you veer roupd at once and say any thing it pleases, or when 
 you are talking to that fair youth the son of Pyrilampes, 
 the very same thing happens to you ; you can't resist any 
 thing that your minion resolves or says, and therefore if any 
 one were to express surprise at the oddity of what you are 
 constantly saying to oblige (fEe^a;' you would tell ttin I dare 
 482 say, if you chose to speak the truth, that unless your favour- 
 ite can be prevented from talking in that "way you too must 
 always go on saying the same. Imagine then that you 
 have to receive precisely the same answer fronn me, and don't 
 be surprised at my saying this, but (if you don't like it) 
 make my mistress Philosophy leave off talking in this way. 
 For, my dear friend, she always holds the same language 
 as you hear from me now, and is far less inconstant (caprici- 
 ous) to me than any other mistress ; for that son of Clinias 
 is at the mercy now of this now of that opinion, but Philo- 
 sophy is ever constant to the same. Her assertions are what 
 
 ^ 'idwv is followed here by the comparative ij, as aXXo, 'cTBpov, aSXdiov, Sia- 
 i^opov, kvavnov, even avofiowv, Cratyl. 435 E, and other words in which a com- 
 parison is implied. Peculiarity in an individual implies a difference from the 
 rest of the species, and in this the comparison is conveyed, 
 
 ' His name was Demus ; see Arist. Vesp. 97. 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 61 
 
 you are now so surprised at, though you were present your- 
 self when they were made. So then either refute her, as I 
 said just now, by showing that wrong doing and impunity in 
 guilt is not the extremest of all evils ; or if you leave this un- 
 refuted, by tl^ dog, God of the Egyptians, Callicles, Callicles 
 won't agree with you, but there wUl be a discord between 
 you all your hfe long. And yet I should think that it were 
 better for me that my lyre should be out of tune and dis- 
 cordant, or any chorus that I had furnished, or that any 
 number of men should disagree with me and say the contrary, 
 than for my own single self to be out of harmony with and 
 contradict myself. 
 
 Cal. Socrates, you seem to be running riot (wantonly o. 38 
 extravagant) in your talk like a genuine popular orator ; and 
 now you are declaiming in this way because Polus has fallen 
 into just the same error as he was accusing Gorgias of being 
 betrayed into in his argument with you. For he said if I 
 remember right, that when you asked Gprgias, supposing any 
 one came to him with the intention of studying rhetoric 
 without the knowledge of justice, whether he would teach 
 it him, he turned bashful and said he would, in compliance 
 with the popular prejudice, because people would be indig- 
 nant if £^ said no ; and so by reason of this admission hi 
 was forced to contradict himself ; which is exactly what you 
 are so fond of. And he_was quite right in my opinion in 
 "ridiculing you as he did then. But now this time he has met 
 with the very same disaster himself ; and for my own part, 
 what I don't approve of in what Polus said is just this, that 
 he conceded to you that doing wrong is fouler than suffering 
 it ; for it was in consequence of this admission that he him- 
 self in his turn got completely entangled by you in the argu- 
 ment and had his mouth stopped, because he was ashamed 
 to say what he thought. For, Socrates, you do really divert 
 the argument to such vulgar fallacies and popular claptrap, 
 whilst you pretend all the time to be in the pursuit of truth, 
 to what is 'fair' not by nature but merely by law or con- 
 
62 PLATO'S 60BGIAS. 
 
 vention : whereasjnjactJbrJhe most part these are oppos ed 
 483 to one another, nature and convention : and so if a man 
 is~Ermid~and^oesn't venture to say^ what he thinks, he 
 is forced to contradict himself. And this forsooth is your 
 ingenious device that you have discovered to 1|ake people in 
 with in your discussions ; when a man asserts any thing as 
 according to law or convention you slyly substitute ' accord^ 
 ing to nature ' in your questions, and when he is appealing / 
 to natural principles you refer to convention. As for in- 
 stance in the present case, of doing and suffering wrong, 
 when Polus was speaking of what is conventionally ' fouler,' 
 you followed up what he meant ' conventionally' by arguing 
 upon it in the ' natural ' sense. For it is only by custom and 
 c onvention that doing wrong is fouler ; b y nature every thine;' ^ 
 is fouler whidLJa likewise worse. as_suffenng_wrong^ For 
 in fact the endurance of such a thing as wrong is not a man's 
 part at all, but a poor slave's, for whom death is better than 
 living — as it is indeed for any one who is unable to help him- 
 self when wronged and insulted or any one else for whom he 
 cares. However the law makers to be sure are the weakeiu 
 and- more numerous part of mankind. It is with a view 
 therefore to themselves and their own interest that they 
 frame their laws and bestow their praises and their censures ; 
 and by way of frightening the stronger sort of men who are 
 able to assert their superiority, in order that they mayn't 
 assert it over them, they tell them that self-seeking is foul 
 and unjust, and that this is what wrong doing consists in, 
 trying namely to get the advantage over one's neighbours ; 
 • for they are quite satisfied no doubt, being the inferiors 
 - themselves, to be on an equality with the rest. 
 c. 39 Such then is the reason why seeking to get more than 
 the mass of mankind is conventionally styled unjust and foul, 
 and why they caU it doing wrong : whereas the truth is, in 
 my opinion, that nature herself shows on the other hand^ 
 
 1 av, Bekk. Edd, Tur. 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 63 
 
 that it, is just that the better should h av e more than the 
 yorse, and the abler than the less able. And it is plain 
 
 : in many instances that this is so, noU only in all the other 
 animals, but also in mankind in entire states and races^ that 
 right I mean is decided to consist in this, that t he strong er |\ 
 should bear rule and have the advantage over the weake r. | j 
 For by what right did Xerxes invade Greece, or his fa- 
 ther Scythia ? or in any other of the ten thousand similar 
 cases of the kind that might be produced ? No, no, these 
 men no doubt follow nature in acting thus, aye by my faith 
 and law too, the law of nature ; not however I dare say that 
 which we frame by way of moulding the characters of the 
 best and strongest of us, whom we take from infancy, and 
 timing them like lions by spells and conjuring tricks reduce 
 the^ to abject^slavery, telling them that they must be 484 
 content with their fair share and that this is the meaning of 
 
 , fairness and justice. But I fancy when there arises a man of 
 ability he flin gs off all these restraints and bursts them 
 asunder and makes his escape; and trampling under foot a ll 
 our written enac tme nts (formularies)' and juggleries and 
 spells and laws, clean againstnature every one of them, our 
 would-be slave rises up against us and shows himself our 
 master, and then natural justice shines forth in its true Ught . 
 And it seems to me that Pindar too confirms what I say in 
 the ode in which he says " Law the Lord of all, mortals and 
 
 ' Lit. in states and races as wholes, or collectively. 
 
 " ypaufwra, non de psephismatis intelligenda sunt, quod roluit Heindorfius, 
 sed omnino de formulis in quarum numero sunt psephismata, ut Tere monuit 
 Schseferus ad Demosth. Appar. rv. 260. Stallb. The -writings documents or 
 formtdaries expressed by ypaiiiiara are of course the yiypafipiivoQ vofiog, the 
 human written laws, enacted by the several societies for their own purposes, 
 adapted to the habits customs and opinions prevailing in these societies, and 
 therefore varying according to time place and circumstance. To them are op- 
 posed the unwritten laws aypaipoQ vo/iog, aypavra Kaa^aXij 9mv vompia, the 
 higher and immutable law, natural or divine, or rather natural and divine, 
 whose sanctions are always superior, and sometimes may be opposed, to human 
 institutions. 
 
64 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 immortals :" He, you know, he continues, "inflicts, and justi- 
 fies, the utmost violence with supreme hand'.; I appeal in 
 proof to the deeds of Hercules, for unbought — " The words 
 are something like that, for I don't know the ode well. He 
 says however, that he neither piu-chased nor received as a 
 gift from Geryones the cows that he drove off, as though 
 this were natural right, that cows or any other property of 
 the inferior and weaker should all belong to the superior 
 and stronger. 
 c. 4(i Such then is the truth in this matter, and you will be 
 convinced of it ifat length you leave off your philospbhy and 
 pass on to higher things. For to be sure, Socrates, philosophy 
 is a pretty thing enough, if only a man apply himself to it to 
 a moderate extent at the proper age ; but if he go on spending 
 his time upon it too long, it's the ruin of a man. For if he 
 be ever so clever and yet carries these studies far on into life 
 he must needs turn out ignorant of every thing that one who 
 would be an accomplished and eminent citizen should be con- 
 versant with. For in fact people of this sort show themselves 
 ignorant of the laws of their own cities, and of all that a man 
 ought to say in his ordinary dealings with the world, pubUc 
 or private, and of human pleasures and desires, and in short 
 quite unacquainted with the varieties of human character. 
 Accordingly when they come to undertake any private or 
 public business they make themselves ridiculous — just as no 
 ' doubt youl^public men do when they take part in your occu- 
 pations and discussions. For the fact is, as Euripidei says. 
 
 Each shines in that, t<> that end presses forward, 
 Devotes to that the better part o' the day. 
 Wherein he chances to surpass himself: 
 
 485 Whereas everything in which a man is weak he shuns, and 
 
 calls it bad names ; but the other he praises, out of regard 
 
 ** for himself, thinking in this way to praise himself at the same 
 
 time. But no doubt the best course is to take advantage of 
 
 ' i.e. violence is justified by the same supreme authority which inflicts it. 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 65 
 
 both. Philosophy it is well to cultivate just so far as serves 
 for laducation, and it is no disgrace for a lad to study it : but 
 ■whin a man already advanced in life still goes on with it, 
 the 'thing, Socrates, becomes ridiculous ; and for my own part 
 the feeling which I have towards students of philosophy 
 is very much the same as that with which I regard those that 
 lisp in a childish way ^J For whenever I see a little child to 
 whom it is still natural to talk in this way with a childish 
 lisp, I hke it, and it strikes me as pretty and a sign of gentle 
 breeding and suitable to the infant's age : but when I hear a 
 little creature talk distinctly it gives me quite a disagreeable 
 impression and offends my ears and seems to me vulgar and 
 only fit for a slave. When on the other hand one hears a 
 man lisp or sees him playing childish tricks it appears 
 unmanly and one would like to give him a good flogging. 
 Just the same is the feeling that I have towards philosophical 
 studies. For when I observe attention to philosophy in a 
 young lad I approve of it, and it strikes me as becoming, and 
 I look upon it as a mark of gentle birth and breeding in 
 him, and one who neglects it I account illiberal, and, as one 
 that will never deem himself capable of any fine or generous 
 action : but then when I see one advanced in life stiU going 
 on with his philosophy, and unable to lay it aside, such a 
 man as that (rjSTj), Socrates, seems to me to want flogging. 
 For as I said just now a man like that, clever as he may be, 
 cannot fail to become unmanly by avoiding the centres 
 (frequented places) of the city and the market-places which 
 as the poet° said are the places where men acquire distinc- 
 tion ; his fate is to skulk in a corner and pass the rest of his 
 life whispering with three or four lads, and never give utter- 
 ance to any free and noble and generous sentiment. 
 
 ' Schleiermacher; note, p. 487, points out as singular and unPlaionic that 
 iraiZeiv here has nothing opposed to it ; aaipHQ SuAiyia9ai alone standing in 
 opposition to ^iXKiZiadai and iraiZttv. I have for this reason translated the 
 two latter here and in the next sentence as a hendiadys. 
 
 " Homer, II. ix. 441. 
 
66 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 I 
 
 c 41 Now, Socrates, I have a great regard for you ; and accord' 
 ingly I seem to be inspired now with the same feeding 
 towards you as Zethus in Euripides, whom I just referted 
 to, has towards Amphion. In fact it occurs to me to say 
 very "touch the same to you as he says to his brother, lihat 
 * you neglect,' Socrates, ' what you ought to pay attention to, 
 and a soul endowed by nature with her noblest gifts you 
 486- disfigure by a boyish disguise'; and neither amid the counsiek 
 of justice will you ever deliver an opinion aright, nor find 
 aught probable and persuasive, nor devise any gallant resolu- 
 tion on,. another's behalf ^' And yet, my dear Socratesy— 
 and now don't be angry with me, for all that I am about to 
 say is out of regard for you — don't you think it a shame for a 
 man to be in the condition which I consider you to be in, 
 together with all those who are constantly going deeper and ' 
 deeper into philosophy. For as it is, if a man were to arrest 
 you or any one else of those like you and drag you ofi' to 
 prison charging you with some crime of which you were 
 entirely innocent, you know very well that you wouldn't 
 know what to do with yourself, but there you would stand 
 with your head swimming and your mouth open not know- 
 ing what to say ; and when you were brought up before the 
 court, however contemptible and wretched your accuser 
 might be, you would be condemned to die if he chose to 
 lay the penalty at death. And yet how can this be a wise 
 thing, Socrates, ' for an art to find a man highly gifted and 
 make him worse,' unable either to help himself or to rescue 
 
 ' See note A in the Appendix.' 
 
 = The following verses may perhaps represent as much as Plato has here 
 given us of what Euripides wrote : 
 
 Thou shunn'st, Amphion, what thou should'st pursue ; 
 
 The nobly-gifted soul which nature gave thee 
 
 Disgracing thus by womanish disguise. 
 
 No voice hast thou where Justice holds her council, 
 
 No words of weight persuasive canst thou find. 
 
 Nor prompt in injured innocence' defence, 
 
 The gallant counsel and the high resolve. 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 67 
 
 from the greatest dangers himself or any one else, and liable 
 to be stript by his enemies of all his substance, and to pass 
 his life in the city an absolute outlaw . Why such an one, 
 though the expression is perhaps somewhat coarse, may be 
 slipped in the face with impunity. Come, come, my good 
 friend, 'take my advice, leave off' refuting, 'and cultivate 
 the accomplishment ' of business, and cultivate what will gain 
 you the reputation of good sense ; leave to others these over- 
 nice frivolities or nonsense or whatever else they should be 
 called, ' which will end in your dwelling in an empty and 
 desolate house ' (i.e. end in poverty and isolation) ; and emu- 
 late, not men who ^fvasteThg SJSmg' in such trivial debates, 
 but those whose portion is wealth and fame and many other 
 good things, 
 
 Soc. If my soul had happened to be made of gold, Cal- c. 42 
 licles, don't you think I should have been delighted to find one 
 of those stones with which they test gold, the best of them, 
 which would enable me by the application of it — provided, 
 that is, it Jbore me witness that my soul had been duly cared 
 for — to be quite sure that I am in a satisfactory state, and 
 have no need of any other touchstone ? 
 
 Cal. What is the meaning of this question, Socrates ? 
 
 Soc. I'll tell you directly. It seems to me that in meet- 
 ing you I have met with such a treasure. 
 
 Cal. Why so? 
 
 Soc. I am quite convinced that whenever you agree 
 with me in any of the opinions that my soul forms, that ^lust 
 needs be the very truth. For I perceive that one who would 
 
 ' B.TII10Q is usually understood to mean here 'in dishonour.' I think it 
 has rather the technical sense of ' one under dri/tiW Callicles says that a man 
 who can't defend himself in a court of justice is in the same position as one who 
 has lost his civil rights, or is outlawed. The latter has lost the right of appearing 
 in court to defend himself, and the former by his ignorance and incompetency 
 is no better off, since he can make no good use of his privilege ; he is equally at 
 the mercy of his enemies, and may like the other be wronged and insulted 
 with impunity. This interpretation is fully confirmed by the reference to this 
 
C8 FLAWS G0BGIA8. 
 
 487 put a soul to a sufficient test as to whether she is leading a 
 right life or the reverse, ought for that purpose (apa, accord- 
 ingly,) to be possessed of three things, all of which you 
 have, kno wledge and good-will and candour. For I meet 
 with many people who are unable to test me because they 
 are not wise, as you are ; others again are wise enough, but 
 don't choose to tell me the truth because they don't care for 
 me, as you do ; and our two foreign friends here, Gorgias 
 and Polus, are no doubt wise and kindly disposed towards 
 rae, but they are somewhat deficient in frankness and are 
 rather more shy and bashful than the occasion requires: 
 surely it must be so, when they carried their modesty to 
 such a pitch, that out of sheer moilesty each of them ven- 
 tures to contradict himself in the presence of a large com- 
 pany, and that on subjects of the highest importance. But 
 you have all .these qualifications which the others want. 
 For you are sufficiently instructed as many of your country- 
 men will be ready to allow, and well disposed to me. What 
 proof have I of that ? I will tell you. I know, Callicles, 
 that there are four of you that have set up a partnership 
 for the pursuit of wisdom, yourself, and Tisander of Aphidnae, 
 and Andron son of Androtion, and Nausicydes of Cholarges. 
 And I once heard you deliberating how far the cultivation of 
 wisdom should be carried, and I remember that an opinion 
 something like this was carried in your society ; that the 
 study of philosophy was not to be so eagerly .pushed forward 
 into' all its minutiae, but you recommended one another to 
 be very careful not to make yourselves over wise for fear you 
 should unconsciously get spoiled. So then when I hear you 
 giving me the same advice as you did to your most intimate 
 friends it is a satisfactory proof to me that you really have 
 a kindness for me. And further that you are able to speak 
 out your mind without any superfluous modesty, you not 
 only say yourself, but the speech which you made us no long 
 time ago fully bears out your assertion. Well then, this is 
 plainly the st£^e of the case at present ; if there be any 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. G9 
 
 point in which you agree with me ia our argument that must 
 have been fully tested by both of us^and there will be no 
 ■ further occasion to submit it to any other touchstone ; for 
 it cannot have been either want of wisdom or excess of 
 modesty that induced you to make the concession, nor again 
 could it be for the purpose of deceiving me, because you 
 are my friend, as you tell me yourself: and so any argument 
 between you and me must in reality attain the very perfec- 
 tion of truth. And, Callicles, there can be no nobler subject 
 of inquiry than that on which you just now took me to task, 
 what a man's character ought to be, and what pursuits he 
 should engage in, and to what extent, early or late in life. 
 For of this you may be sure, that if there be any thing 488 
 in my own conduct in life that is wrong, the error on my 
 part is not intentional but is due solely to my ignorance. 
 Pray then don't desist from admonishing' me as you did at 
 first, but point out to me clearly what it is that I ought 
 to pursue, and how I may best attain it. And if you find 
 me assenting to you now, and afterwards not acting in con- 
 formity with what I agreed to, set me down for an abso- 
 lute dunce and never give me any advice again as an 
 irrecjaimable reprobate. And now pray repeat to me all 
 over again what you and Pindar understand natural justice 
 to consist in. 'Cls it that the superior should carry off by 
 force the property of the inferior, and the better rule the 
 worse, and the nobler have more than the meaner ? Is 
 jiistice any thing else according to you, or does my memory 
 serve me right ? 
 
 Cal. No, I said that before, and I say so now. c. 43 
 
 Soc. And do you mean the same thing in calling a mau 
 better and superior ? For to tell you the truth I was just as 
 unable before as now to make out your precise meaning. Is 
 it the stronger that you call superior, and are the weaker 
 bound to Ksten to the stronger — as for example I believe you 
 showed us before that it is in pursuance, of their natural 
 * right that the great states attack the little ones, because they 
 
70 PLATO'S 00BGIA8. 
 
 are superior and stronger, on the assumption that what is 
 superior and better and stronger is all the same — or is it 
 possible to be better and at the same time inferior and 
 weaker, and to be superior and yet worse ? or is the definition 
 of the better and superior the same ? This is precisely the 
 thing that I want you distinctly to determine for me, whether 
 what is superior and what is better and what is stronger are 
 the same thing or different. 
 
 Cal. Well I tell you distinctly that it is all the same. 
 
 Sac. Well but are not the many superior by nature to 
 the one ? those you know that make the laws to control the 
 one, as you said yourself just now. 
 
 Cal. Of course. 
 
 Soc. Consequently the institutions of the many are those 
 of the superior. 
 
 Cal. No doubt. 
 
 Soc. And so of the better ? for the superior are far better 
 according to your account. 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And so their institutions are naturally ' fair,' since 
 they are superior ? 
 
 Cal. I allow it. 
 
 Soc. Is not this then the opinion of the many, as you said 
 just now yourself, that justice consists in having an equal 
 share, and that it is ' fouler ' to do wrong than to sufier it ? It^ 
 489 that so. or not ? And mind i/ou don't allow yourself this time 
 to be caught in a fit of modesty. Is it, or is it not, the opi- 
 nion of the many that to have one's fair share, and not a larger 
 share. Is just, and that there Is more disgrace In doing than in 
 sufiering wrong ? Don't grudge me an answer to my question, 
 Calllcles ; in order that, supjiosing you agree with me, I may 
 then fairly assure myself of the truth of it as coming from 
 you, when I find It admitted by a man so competent to decide. 
 
 Cal. Well to be sure the geuerahty of men do think so. 
 
 Soc. Then It Is not by law (convention) alone that doing 
 wrong Is more disgraceful than suffering it, and that justice 
 
PLATO'S GOEGIAS. 71 
 
 consists in having one's fair share, but by nature too. And 
 so you seem to be mistaken in what you said before and to 
 find fault -with me unjustly in saying that law and nature are 
 opposite to one another, and that I, you know, am perfectly 
 aware of all that, and take an unfair advantage of it in 
 arguing ; when a thing is asserted ' according to nature ' 
 recurring to law, and when * according to law ' is meant, to 
 nature. 
 
 Cal. Here's a fellow that can not forbear trifling. Tell c. 44 
 me, Socrates, are you not ashamed to be word-catching at 
 your age, and if a man happen to trip in an expression flo 
 take that for a wonderful piece of luck ? For do you suppose 
 I mean anything else by being superior than being better ? 
 Haven't I been telling you ever so long that I maintain what 
 is better and superior to be the same thing ? Or do you sup- 
 pose I mean that if a rabble of slaves and all sorts of fellows 
 good for nothing except perhaps in mere bodily strength 
 get together, and they pronounce anything, that this and 
 nothing else is law. 
 
 Soc. Very good, most sagacious Callicles ; thafs your 
 opinion, is it ? 
 
 Cal. To be sure it is. 
 
 Soc. Well, my dear sir, I have been surmising myself 
 ever so long that you meant something of that sort by 
 superior, and I now repeat my questions from a real curiosity 
 to know what your meaning is. For I presume you donH 
 think that two are better than one or that your slaves are 
 better than yourself because they are stronger than you are. 
 Come now tell me all over again, what you really mean by 
 ' the better,' since it is not the stronger. Only, my good 
 friend, do pray be a little milder in your lessons that I may 
 not be obliged to run away from your school. 
 
 Cal. ■ JTou are sarcastic, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. No by Zethus, Callicles, whose character you as- 
 sumed just now to indulge in a good deal of sarcasm against 
 me ; but come, do tell us who you mean by the better. 
 
72 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 Cal. I mean the more worthy, 
 
 Soc. There now, you see you are word-catching your- 
 self and explaining nothing. "Won't you say whether you 
 mean by the better and superior the wiser or any others ? 
 
 Cal. Why to be sure of course I mean these, most em- 
 phatically. 
 490 Soc. Then according t o your account one man of sense 
 is often superior to ten thousand fools, and he ought to b e 
 maito.' and the otherg.^-Su.bmit- to Jiis. gittthojity ? 3,nd the 
 governor ought to have mo re than the go verned. That is 
 ■vC^iaf youFwor^ seem to me to imply — and I am not word- 
 catching — if the one is superior to the ten thousand. 
 
 Cal. Well that is what I mean. For my opinion is that 
 this is what natural justice consists in, and that one that i s 
 he±±fiE_and wiser should have power _and other advan tages 
 
 over the meaner and inferior. 
 
 0. 45 Soc. Stop there now. What Is it that you say again 
 this time ? Supposing that there are a number of us together, 
 as now, in the same place, and we have in a common stock 
 a quantity of eatables and drinkables, and are people of all 
 sorts, some strong others weak ; and one of us, a physician 
 say, be wiser than the rest in such matters, and be as is likely 
 stronger than some of us and weaker than others, will not 
 he as being wiser than we are be better and superior in these 
 things ? 
 
 Cal. No doubt of it. 
 
 Soc. Is he then to have a larger share than the rest of 
 '^ us in these provisions because he is better ? or ought he in 
 virtue of his authority to have the distribution of them aU, but 
 in respect of spending and consuming them upon his own 
 person to have no advantage at all, but only have more than 
 some and less than others ? or if he chance to be the weakest 
 of us all, ought he not, Callicles, though the best to have the 
 smallest share of all ? Is it not so, my -good friend ? 
 
 Cal. You are talking about things to eat and drink and 
 physicians and a parcel of stuff ; but that's not what I mean. 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 73 
 
 Soc. Well then, do you call one that is wiser better ? say- 
 yes or no. 
 • Cal Yes I do. 
 
 Soc. But don't you allow that the better ought to have 
 the larger share ? 
 
 Cal. YeSj but not of things to eat and drink. 
 
 Soc. I understand. Well, of clothes perhaps, and the 
 most skilful weaver ought to have the largest coat and go 
 about dressed in the most extensive assortment of the finest 
 clothes. 
 
 Cal. Clothes indeed ! Nonsense. 
 
 Soc. Well in shoes then ; plainly the wisest in them and 
 the best ought to have the advantage. The shoemaker I dare 
 say ought to walk about in the biggest shoes and the largest 
 stock of them. 
 
 Cal. Shoes ? Stufi". What nonsense you keep talking. 
 
 Soc. Well if you don't mean that sort of thing, perhaps 
 it is something of this kind : a farmer for instance of know- 
 ledge and skill in the cultivation of land ; he perhaps ought 
 to have an advantage in seed, and use the largest allowance 
 of seed upon his own land. 
 
 Cal. How fond you are of perpetually repeating the 
 same things, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. Yes, and not only that, Callicles, but on the same 
 subjects too '. 
 
 Cal. Yes by heaven, you absolutely never leave off 491 
 talking about cobblers and fullers and cooks and physicians, 
 just as if our argument had any thing to do with them. 
 
 Soc. Well then will you tell me what the things are 
 
 ^ This repartee was really made by Socrates to the omniscient and all ac- 
 complished Hippias, Xen. Memor. iv. 4. 6, to whom it is applied with much 
 greater force and propriety than to Callicles here — and I think also, in spite of 
 the a priori improbability of the supposition, expressed by the dry matter-of- 
 fect Xenophon with more point and pungency than by Plato in the text. 
 
 With the next sentence compare Xen. Memor. i. 2. 37 ; iv. 4. 5 ; Grote, Hi^t. 
 of Greece, Vol. viii. p. 597, ed. 2. 
 
. 74 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 in which the superior and the wiser man has a right to a 
 larger share ? or will you neither tolerate any suggestion of 
 mine nor offer one yourself ? 
 
 Cal. Why I have been telling you ever so long. Fii-st 
 of all by ' the superior ' I don't mean shoemakers nor cooks, 
 but those who have skill and ability in the administration of 
 the affairs of state, and not only skill but energy and vigour 
 too, able to execute any designs they have conceived and not 
 men to flinch from feebleness of spirit. 
 c. 46 Soc. Do you observe, most worthy Callicles, that you 
 
 don't find the same fault with me that I do with you ? For 
 you say that I am constantly repeating the same things and 
 reproach me for it, whereas I charge you on the contrary with 
 
 Sr saying the same thing on the same subject ; but first 
 defined the better and superior to be the stronger, and 
 the wiser, and now here you are again with something 
 different ; you tell us that superiority and merit consists in a 
 certain manliness and energy. Nay, my good friend, do tell 
 us and have done with it who you really do mean by the 
 better and superior and in what. 
 
 Cal. Why I have told you already, men of ability and 
 energy in affairs of state. These are the men that ought to be 
 masters in their cities, and justice means this, that these 
 should have more than the rest, the governors than the 
 governed. 
 
 Soc. How's that ? Than themselves, my friend ' ? 
 
 ' I have followed here, as usual, the text of the Zurich Editors, who with 
 Bekker from one MS. omit the words fi ti dpxovrag t) apxofihovc, as an explana- 
 tory gloss on avrwv. Heindorf retains them without alteration, and it cannot be 
 denied that they make perfectly good sense in that position. Otherwise they 
 may be made to follow Callicles' Trwg \kytig ; and then Socrates' answer 'ha 
 eicaarov k.t.X. will be a direct reply to them. Stallbaum extracts from Olym- 
 piodorus' commentary an entirely different reading, which makes excellent 
 sense, but is not as it seems to me a very Platonic bit of dialogue. The ob- 
 ject of the question is, as Olympiodorus notes, to introduce the subject of 
 aw^poavvri, self-government or self-control. What do you say, asks Socrates, 
 to the case of a man governing himself ? must he have a larger share than — 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 75 
 
 Cal. What do you mean ? 
 
 Soc. I mean that every man is hj^ own governor. Or is 
 this governing one's self not required, but only governing 
 others ? 
 
 Cal. What do you mean by governing one's self ? 
 
 Soc. Nothing that need puzzle you, but just what people 
 in general mean ; one that is temperate and has the control 
 over himself, master of all the pleasures and desires in 
 himself. 
 
 Cal. What a charming person you are ! you mean those 
 simpletons ' the temperate.' 
 
 Soc. How should I ? every one knows that I don't mean 
 that \ 
 
 Cal. No indeed I should think not, Socrates. For^Kr 
 can a man be happy if he is a slave to any one whateWr? 
 But this is what is fair and just according to nature, as I 
 tell'yCTr'now quite frankly, that ' a man who would lead a 
 right life is bound to let all his desures grow to their full 492 
 extent and not to repress them, and to be competent to 
 minister-to them when they are as great as they can be by 
 his manly energy and wisdom and to satisfy every desire that 
 he may chance to conceive. But this I dare say is for the 
 many impossible. And this is why they find fault with such 
 characters, out of shame, to disguise their own weakness, and 
 
 itioneo. 
 
 himself? It is of course only half in earnest. I should myself have prefer 
 Se atiTSiv, M, haXpe ; without the interrogation at H Ss. ' What say you < 
 themselves, my friend ? ' There are other conjectures besides those mentionefl 
 which may be found in Stallbaum's note. 
 
 ' Here again there is a difference of reading. The MSS. have ttmc y&p ov ; 
 and oil tovto. One of the two negatives must be rejected. The Zurich Editors, 
 after Hermann, have omitted the first. Stallbaum retains this, and alters ov 
 TOVTO into ovTO) in this sense ; ' Of course I do, i.e. mean those that you call 
 simpletons : every one must know that this is my meaning.' Then wavv ye a^6- 
 Spa in Callicles' reply will signify, yes indeed those are what you mean ; i.e. 
 they really are simpletons that you call temperate. 
 
 ' 'on Sel K.T.\. mm/ be the epeixegesis of tovto, but I think rather that 
 there is a slight change of construction, and that Srt Bit is accommodated to 
 the \iy(ii immediately preceding. 
 
76 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 say forsooth that unrestrained indulgence is disgraceful, 
 .enslaving as I said before the more highly gifted of mankind ; 
 and, unable themselves to procure the gratification of their 
 appetites, they commend self-control and justice by reason of 
 their own want of manhood. For to suchjeafia.as.ia2£jip.d 
 the adva,ntage of being either kings' sons nr of haviijig abili- 
 t ies of their own ada qimte to pr ocure for the mselves any kin d 
 of power or tyranny or despotic authority ^ wh at in very 
 trutEwere baser and worse than self-control ? if, when they 
 are at liberty to have the enjoyment of all goo 3~tEmgs aip d 
 nothing stands in then* way, they wereoi their own accord t o 
 invite to be masters over them^the laws and noti ons and 
 censures of the vulgar herd of men ?_ Or bow could they fai l 
 toHave been made miserable by the Lfai rness -' aayoii call it g f 
 justice and self-control, if they have no mqre^to bestowupon 
 their own friends thaoJjbieir.,enemies, and that too when th ey 
 are rulers ia their native cities ? Nay, in good truth, Socra- 
 tes, which you profess to seek after, the case stands thus : 
 "^xury and self-indulgence and liberty to do as you please , 
 p rovide d they have power to back them, these are vurt ue an d. 
 happiness j and all the rest ol these line-sounding phrases, 
 your conventions in violation of nature, are nothing but 
 people's nonsense and utterly contemptible. 
 47 Soc. Upon my word, Callicles, there is really something 
 quite noble in the candour with which you follow out your 
 
 ' SvvaffTeia, Thucyd. III. 62. r/fiiv fUv yap rj noKig tote iTvy\avw ovts 
 KUT oKiyapxiav iaovojiov •ndKiTWOvaa, ovTt Kara SrnioKpariav' oirep Se ian 
 vofioig fiev Kal ti^ tTbt^povsffTdrqt kvavTiMTarov iyyvTCLTia Sk rvpdvvov, dvva- 
 OTiia dXiyiov dvSpdv eixe to. irpdyfiaTa. Arist. Fol. iv. 5 (Bekk.), nrapTov d' 
 (AXiyapxiae ilSos) 'orav iirdp\y to te vvv XcxSiv xdl dpxy firi o vojioi dXK' oi 
 dpyovTEQ, KoX ^iTTiv avriaTpo^oQ avrri hv Toig dXiyapxiaig MfTTrtp 17 Tvpavvig kv 
 
 rdlg fiovapxidiQ koX KoKomi Sij rrjv rouwrtiv dXiyapxfav Bwaaraav. So that 
 
 SwaaTcia is despotic power shared amongst several riilers : tyranny is confined 
 to one. That the meaning of this word however and'of Swdarrig is not confined 
 to this special sense will appear from p. 525 b, compared with 526 b, where 
 Bwdarai is equivalent to oi dwdfiEVoi, and the Lexicons, I have therefore 
 usually rendered it ' potentates.' 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 77 
 
 theory : you are indeed stating now distinctly what the rest 
 of the world thinks no doubt, but doesn't choose to express. 
 I beg you therefore by no means to relax your efforts, that it 
 may be made really plain how one ought to live. And now 
 telFme ; you say, do you^ that the desires are not to be re- 
 pressed if a man would be what he ought to be, but that he 
 is to let them grow to their fullest extent and procure from 
 some source or other satisfaction for them, and that this is 
 virtue ? 
 
 Cal. Yes, that's what I say. o^rx. 
 
 Soc. Then it isn't true as people say that those that 
 want nothing are happy. 
 
 Cal. Why at that rate stones and corpses would be 
 happy. 
 
 Soc. Well to be sure, as you say, our life is indeed a 
 strange one. For to say the truth I shouldn't be surprised if 
 Euripides is right when he says. 
 
 Who knoweth if to live is to be dead, 
 And to be dead to live ? 
 
 and we are all really dead — as indeed I once heard from one 493 
 of our sages, that in our present state we are dead, and the 
 body is our tomb, and that part of the soul in which the 
 desires reside is of a nature liable to be over persuaded and 
 to be swayed continually to and fro. And so some smart 
 clever fellow, a Sicihan I dare say or Italian, turned this into 
 a fable or allegory, and, playing with the word, from its sus- 
 ceptibility to all impressions and capacity for holding belief 
 gave it the name of a jar, and the foolish he called uniniti- 
 ated : in these uninitiated, that part of the soul where the 
 desires lie, the licentious and non-retentive portion of it, he 
 compared to a jar full of holes, because there was no pos- 
 sibility of filling or satisfying it. So then he you see, Calli- 
 cles, takes the opposite view to you, showing that of all those 
 in Hades — meaning you know the invisible — those who are 
 unfnitiated will be the inost miserable, and have to carry 
 water into their leaky jar in a sieve perforated just like the 
 
78 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 other. And then ' by the sieve, as my informant told me, he 
 means the soul: and the soul of the foolish he likened to a -. 
 sieve because it is full of holes, as incapable of holding any- 
 thing by reason of its incredulity and forgetfulness (i.e. its 
 inaptitude for receiving and retaining knowledge). Now all 
 this to be sure is pretty tolerably whimsical ; still it repre-^ 
 sents clearly what I want to prove to you, if I can manage it. 
 any how, in order to persuade you to change your mind ; to 
 choose, that is, in preference to a life of insatiable self-indul- 
 gence one that is orderly and regular and ever content and 
 satisfied with what it has for the time being. But now am I 
 making any impression upon you, and are you coming round 
 to my opinion that the regular livers are happier than those 
 who indulge themselves without restraint ? or none at all ? 
 and will no amount of such fables incline you a bit the more 
 to change your mind ? 
 
 Cal. The latter is nearer the truth, Socrates. '■*,: 
 
 c. 48 Soc. Well then, let me give you another comparison 
 
 from the same school ^ as the preceding. See if you allow 
 
 something of this sort to be a representation of each of the 
 
 1 two lives, the life of self-control and of self-indulgence, as it 
 
 might be if of two men each had several jars, and those of 
 
 the one were sound and full, one of wine and another of 
 
 honey and a thu-d of milk and a number of others full of 
 
 various things, and of these there were streams scanty and 
 
 hard to get at and procurable only by many severe toils. 
 
 Well, the one when he has filled himself draws no more and 
 
 troubles himself no more about the matter, but as far as this 
 
 . is concerned remains quite at his ease : but the other findsj 
 
 like the former, the streams possible though difficult to come 
 
 at, and his vessels leaky and decayed, and is forced to be 
 
 494 constantly filling them all day and aU night on pain of suf- 
 
 ' apa may be here either the mere mark of a quotation, or, as I have 
 translated it, indicate the consequence or connection of oneT)art of the allegory 
 with the preceding — ^how the one thing follows the other. 
 
 " See note B, Appendix. 
 
PLATO'S aOBGIAS. 79 
 
 fering the extremity of misery. If such be the nature of 
 .each of these two lives do you maintain that that of the 
 self-indulgent man is happier than tl?kt of the regular and 
 orderly? Have I moved you at all by what I have said to 
 admit that the hfe of order is better than that of self-indul- 
 gence, or have I not ? 
 
 Cal. You have not, Socrates. For the one who has 
 filled himself has no more pleasure remaining, but that is 
 just what I called awhile ago living like a stone after a man 
 is full ', no more sensible to pleasure or pain. But the real 
 pleasure of life consists in this, in the influx of as much as 
 possible. 
 
 Soc: Well but if the amount of the influx be great must 
 not that of what runs away be great too ? and must not the 
 holes for these discharges be of large size ? 
 
 Cal. No doubt. 
 
 .aSoc. Then it's a plover's life ^ that you are describing this 
 
 time, and not that of a corpse or a stone. And now tell me, 
 
 do you mean (by a life of pleasure) something of this kind, 
 
 as for instance to be constantly eating when you are hungry ? 
 
 Cal. Yes I do. 
 
 Soc. And to be thirsty, and always drinking when you 
 are thirsty ? 
 
 ' irXtipiiay, the reading of MSS., requires ns to understand rovg ni9ovg, or 
 sometliing similar ; but this ellipse is so awkward and seems so uulikelj, that 
 I think the true reading must be TrXtipojOy, a conjecture which Stallbaum has 
 also hit upon. And so I have translated it. 
 
 ^ XapaSpiie- The habit of this bird which determines Socrates' selection of 
 it for his illustration may be found in the Scholiast and in Buhnken's note on 
 Timaeus, p. 273, but cannot be further disciissed here. We gather from the 
 derivation of its name (xapa^pa) that it haunted the narrow rocky ravines 
 which formed the beds of mountain-torrents ; from Arist. Av. 226, that it had 
 a shrill cry; from the same play, v. 1141, that it was a river-bird; and again 
 from Aristotle, Hist. Anim. viii. 3. 593, b. 15, that it lived by the water — it is 
 classed by him with the white cormorant, XapoQ XtvKOQ, the xkir^oQ and al9via, 
 all«ea-birds — and said to live upon the fish and other waifs and strays that were 
 thrown on shore. I have used the word plover merely as the customary ren- 
 dering ; the real species is I beli?ve unknown. 
 
8P PLATO'S Q0BQIA8. 
 
 Cal. That is what I mean, and to have all the other de- 
 sires, and to be able by the enjoyment one feels in the satis- 
 faction of them to lead k life of happiness, 
 c. 49. Soc. Bravo, most wprthy Callicles ; only go on as you 
 have begun, and mind you don't let your modesty balk you. 
 ■^ And it seems that / mustn't be deteiTed by any shyness 
 either. So tell me first of all if a man in a constant state of 
 itching and irritation, provided he have abundant oppor- 
 tunity of scratching himself, may pass his life happily In 
 continual scratching ^ ? 
 
 Cal. What a strange creature you are, Socrates ; and a 
 thoroughpaced declaimer'' (platform orator). 
 
 Soc. Just so, Callicles, and that's how I came to startle 
 Polus and Gorgias before and put them out of countenance ; 
 but you never will be either startled or disconcerted, you are 
 such a brave fellow. Come now, just answer my question. 
 
 Cal. Well then I allow that a man may pass a pleasant 
 life in scratching himself. 
 
 Soc. And if a pleasant one a happy one too ? 
 
 Cal. Yes certainly. 
 
 Soc. Is that so if the itching bd confined to his head ? or 
 what more must I ask you ? See, Callicles, what answer you 
 will make if you be asked all that is naturally connected with 
 (logically follows from) this theory of yours one after another. 
 And the climax of all things of this sort, the life of those 
 who addict themselves to the indulgence of unnatural appe- 
 tites, is not that scandalous and shameful and miserable ? or 
 will you venture to say that these are happy, provided they 
 are abundantly supplied with what they want ? 
 
 Cal. Are you not ashamed, Socrates, to introduce such 
 abominations into the conversation ? 
 
 ' See Bacon, de Awgmentis, Bk. vii. c. 2, Vol. i. p. 725, Ellis and Speddiijg's 
 Edition. Compare Phileb. 47 b. 
 
 ^ The sense in which the word SriiiijyopoQ ' declaimer or popular orator ' is 
 here applied to Socrates, is that from what he had just said it appears that he 
 would have recourse to any kind of vulgar claptrap, any rhetorical or dialectical 
 trick — in short that he was ready to say anything in order to gain his point. 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. \ 81 
 
 Soc. What ? is it / that introduce them, my fine\fel- 
 loWj or the man that pronounces so recklessly that all fihat 
 feel pleasure, whatever that pleasure may be, are happy ; and 495 
 makes no distinction between the good and bad sorts of it? 
 But come now, tell me once more whether you say that ple^ 
 7 sure and good are the same things or that there is some kinoy 
 of pleasure which is not good ? 
 
 Cal. Well then in order to avoid the inconsistency of 
 proiiouncing them to be different, I say they are the same. 
 
 Soc. You are spoiling all the professions ' you made at 
 the outset, Callicles, and you can no longer go along with me 
 satisfactorily in the investigation of the truth, if you say 
 what is contrary to your real opinion. 
 
 Cal. Why so do you, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. Well then I am quite in the wrong if I do, and so 
 are you. But now, my dear fellow, look whether good be not 
 something entirely different to what you say, that is to plea- 
 sure from whatever source derived : for not only those that I 
 have just now hinted at, but a number of other shameful 
 consequences manifestly follow, if this is really so. 
 
 Cal. Yes in your opinion, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. And do you really mean to maintain this, Callicles ? 
 
 Cal. Yes I do. 
 
 Soc. Then are we to suppose you to be serious and so c. 50 
 enter upon the discussion of the ques'tion ? 
 
 Cal. Oh yes by all means. 
 
 Soc. Well then since that is your opinion explain me 
 this distinctly. There is some thing I presume to which you 
 give the name of knowledge ? 
 
 Cal. To be sure there is. 
 
 Soc. And didn't you say just now that there is such 
 a thing as courage also as well as knowledge ? 
 
 Cal. I did no doubt. ,; 
 
 ' Professions of dealing frankly and openly in stating his convictions. 
 Mol. >3>. 
 
 a 
 
82 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 Soc. And you meant, didn't you, to speak of them as 
 two things, because the one is distinct from the other ? 
 
 Cal. Yes quite. 
 
 Soc. Again ; pleasure and knowledge, are they the same 
 thing or different ? 
 
 Cal. Different to be sure, you mighty genius. 
 
 Soc. And courage again, is that distinct from pleasure? 
 
 Cal. Of course it is. 
 
 Soc. Come now, mind we don't forget this, that Callicles 
 of Acharnae pronounced pleasure and good to be the same 
 thing, and knowledge and courage to be different from one 
 another and from the good. 
 
 Cal. And Socrates of Alopece we can't get (17/itv) to ad- 
 mit it. He doesn't, does he ? 
 
 Soc. He does not ; and I think not Callicles either, 
 when he has duly examined himself. For tell me this, don't 
 you think that those that are well off are in the opposite 
 condition to those that are ill off? 
 
 Cal, Yes I do. 
 
 Soc. If then these two states are opposite to one another, 
 must not the case be the same with them as with health and 
 disease ? For to be sure a man is never well and ill at once, 
 nor is he delivered from health and disease at one and the 
 same time. 
 
 Cal. How do you mean ? 
 496 Soc. Take for instance any part of the body you please 
 separately and look at it. A man we may suppose has that 
 complaint in his eyes which is called ophthalmia ? 
 
 Cal. Of course we may. 
 
 Soc. Then, it is to be presumed, he can't be sound in 
 those same eyes also at the same time ? 
 
 Cal. By no manner of means. 
 
 Soc. And again, when he gets rid of his ophthalmia, does 
 he at that same time get rid of the health of his eyes too, 
 and so at last get rid of them both together ? 
 
 Cal. Quite impossible. 
 
PLATO'S 00BGIA8. 83 
 
 Soc. Because such a result would be marvellous and 
 unreasonable, wouldn't it ? • 
 
 Cal. Very much so. 
 
 Soc. • On the contrary, I should suppose, he acquires and 
 loses either of them alternately. 
 
 Cal. I agree. 
 
 Soc. And so with strength and weakness in the same 
 way ? 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And speed and slowness ? 
 
 Cal. Certainly. 
 
 Soc. And likewise good things and happiness, |ind their 
 opposites, bad things and misery, does a man acquire-each of 
 them in turn, and in turn lose it ? 
 
 Cal. Most assuredly. 
 
 Soc. Then if we find any things which a man loses and 
 retains simultaneously, it is plain that these cannot be what 
 is good and what is bad. Do we admit this ? Now consider 
 very carefully before you answer. 
 
 Cal. Oh, I admit it to the most unlimited (prodigious, 
 supernatural) extent. 
 
 Soc. Then let us pass on to our former admissions. Did c. 51 
 you say that hunger is pleasant or painful ? hunger I mean 
 in itself. 
 
 Cal. Painful to he sure; though at the same time 
 eating when one is hungry is pleasant. 
 
 Soc. I understand: however at all events hunger in 
 itself is painful, is it not ? 
 
 Cal. I allow it. 
 
 Soc. And so with thirst likewise ? 
 
 Cal. Quite so. 
 
 Soc. Must I then ask you any more questions, or do you 
 admit that every kind of want and desire is painful ? 
 
 Cal. I admit it, don't ask me any more. 
 
 Soc. Very good. But drinking when one is thirsty, you 
 admit, don't you, to be pleasant ? 
 
(84^ PLATO'S GOBQIAS. 
 
 Cal. Certainly I do. 
 
 Soc. And in this phrase of yours the words ' when one is 
 thirsty ' imply pain I presume. 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Soc. But ' drinking ' is the supplying of a want, and a 
 pleasure ? 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Soc. So then in the act of drinking you say a man feels 
 pleasure ? 
 
 Cal. Certainly. 
 
 Soc. When he is thirsty ? 
 
 Cal. To be sure. 
 
 Soc. That is with pain ? 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Do you perceive then what follows, that you allow 
 that pleasure and pain are felt at once when you say that 
 a man drinks when he is thirsty ? Or does this not take 
 place at once at the same time and place, in the soul or the 
 body, whichever you prefer to call it : for I fancy it makes 
 no difference. Is this so, or not ? 
 
 Cal. It is. 
 
 Soc. But moreover you said it was impossible to fare 
 well and ill at the same time. 
 
 Cal. And so I do. 
 497 Soc. But to feel pleasure in feeling pain you have 
 admitted to be possible. 
 
 Cal. So it appears. 
 
 Soc. Consequently to feel pleasure is not to fare well, 
 nor pain ill, so that it follows that what is pleasant is different 
 from what is good. 
 
 Cal. I don't kaojF what all this quibbling of yours 
 means, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. Oh yes you do, but you affect ignorance, Callicles. 
 Pray now go on yet a little further ', in order that you may 
 
 ^ I have followed the Zurich Editors and Heindorf in omitting the words 
 on ^xitiv Xripiig which are not only inconsistent with Socrates' scrupulous and 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 86 
 
 learn what a clever fellow yoa are that take me to task. Do 
 not in each one of us the thirst and theipleasure conveyed by 
 drinking cease simultaneously ? 
 
 Cal. I don't know what you are talking about. 
 
 Gorgias. Don't do that Callicles, but answer him, if it 
 be only for our sakes, that the argument may be fairly 
 brought to a conclusion. 
 
 Cal. Oh but Socrates is always like this, Gorgias ; he 
 goes on asking over and over again a number of trifling and 
 unimportant questions and so refutes one. 
 
 Gor. Well but what does that matter to you ? Any how 
 the penalty does not fall upon you, Callicles : come, come, 
 submit yourself to Socrates to refute as he pleases. 
 
 Cal. . "Well then go on with your paltry trumpery ques- 
 tions, since Gorgias wishes it. 
 
 Soc. You are a lucky fellow, Callicles, in having got ini- c. 52 
 tiated into the greater mysteries before the lesser ; I thought 
 that wasn't allowed. So then let us begin at the point where 
 you left, off, and let us know whether each of us doesn't cease 
 to feel thirst and pleasure simultaneously. 
 
 Cal. I allow it. 
 
 Soc. And the same with hunger ; and in all other cases, 
 doesn't he cease to feel the desires and the pleasures to- 
 gether ? 
 
 Cal. It is so. 
 ■ Soc. So then the pains likewise and the pleasures he 
 ceases to feel together ? 
 
 Cal Yes. 
 
 Soc. But the cessation of what is good and bad is not 
 simultaneous in him, as you admitted before — and won't you 
 do so now? 
 
 Cal. Yes I will ; and what then ? 
 
 unfailing politeness, but also interrupt the natural run of the sentence. I take 
 n Ixwi/ XtifiUQ to be a gloss on (7o0ijei. Heindorf would transfer them to Oal- 
 licles' next reply and read o^k dlSa o n 1%"^ \7]peli. Stallbaum's defence and 
 interpretation of them seem to me unsatisfactory. 
 
86 PLATO'S QOBGIAS. 
 
 Soc. Only that it turns out, my friend, that the good is 
 not the same as the pleasant nor the bad as the painful ; for 
 the one pair ceases in a man simultaneously and the other 
 does not, because they are distinct^ How then can what is 
 pleasant be the same as what is good or what is painful as 
 what is bad ? Or if you please, consider it again in this way ; 
 for I dare say even yet you don't admit it. However look at 
 it. In those that you call good, is not that name due to the 
 presence of goodness, just as it is in the handsome to the 
 presence of beauty ? 
 
 Cal. To be sure. 
 
 Soc. Well ; do you give the name of good men to fools 
 and cowards ? You didn't just now at any rate, but to the 
 brave and wise. These are the sort of people that you c'all 
 good, are they not ? 
 
 Cal. Certainly. 
 
 Soc. Well ; have you ever seen a silly child pleased ? 
 
 Cal. Yes I have. 
 
 Sac. And have you never seen a silly man pleased before 
 now ? 
 
 Cal. I should think so ; but what has that to do with it ? 
 
 Soc. Oh nothing ; only answer the question. 
 
 Cal. I have. 
 498 Soc. And again, a man of sense under the influence of 
 pain or pleasure ? 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And which of the two are more susceptible of plea- 
 sure and pain, wise men or fools ? 
 
 Cal I should suppose there isn't much diflFerence.- ^ 
 
 Soc. Well even that's enough. And have you ever seen 
 a coward -in time of war ? 
 
 Cal Of course I have. 
 
 Soc. Well then, upon the enemy's retreat, which of the 
 
 ' (if Mpiov &VTIHV may be translated either as in the text, as a repetition of 
 'oTi oil ravTO. yiyverai, which ij.«8tallbaum's view: or 'which shows that they, 
 are disliact ' as Schleirmacher understands it. 
 
PLATO'S GOUGIAS. 87 
 
 two seemed to you to feel more pleasure, the cowards or the 
 brave ? , 
 
 Cal. Both of them, I thought : or if not more, pretty 
 nearly equal. 
 
 Soc. That'll do just as well. However, the cowards. rfo 
 feel pleasure ? 
 
 Cal. Oh yes, keenly. 
 
 Soc. And the fools, it seems. 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And upon their approach, do the cowards alone feel 
 pain, or the brave as well ? 
 
 Cal. Both. 
 
 Soc. In an equal degree. 
 
 Cal. More perhaps the cowards. 
 
 Soc. And on their retreat don't they feel more pleasure ? 
 
 Cal. Very likely. 
 
 Soc. So then according to you the fools and the wise 
 men, and the cowards and the brave feel pain and pleasure 
 in pretty nearly the same degree, or the cowards more than 
 the brave ? 
 
 Cal. That is my opinion. 
 
 Soc. But further, are the wise and brave good, and the 
 cowards and fools bad ? 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Then the good and the bad are susceptible of pain 
 and pleasure pretty nearly in the same degree ? 
 
 Cal. True. 
 
 Soc. Are then the good and the bad good and bad in 
 pretty nearly the same degree ? or the bad even in a higher 
 degree good and bad ? 
 
 Cal. Upon my word I don't know what you mean. c. 53 
 
 Soc. Don't you know that you affirm that it is by the 
 presence of good things that the good are good, and of evil 
 things (that men) are bad ? and that the good things are the 
 pleasures, and the pains evil things ? 
 . Cal. Yes I do. 
 
88 FLAW'S 60BGIAS. 
 
 Soc. Accordingly in those that feel pleasure, good, that 
 is pleasure, is present whenever they are pleased ? 
 Cal. Doubtless, 
 p. -Soc. And so, since good is present in them, those that 
 
 ^ feel pleasure are good ? 
 Cal Yes. 
 
 -Soc. Again, in those that feel pain is not evil present, 
 that is pain ? 
 Cal. It is. 
 
 Soc. And it is by the presence of evil you say that the 
 bad are bad. Or are you no longer of the same mind ? 
 Cal. Oh yes, I am. 
 
 -Soc. It foUows then that all that feel pleasure are good, 
 and all that feel pain bad ? 
 Cal. Certainly. 
 
 -Soc. And are they better the more they feel it, and 
 worse the less, and if in the same degree about the same ? 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 -Soc. Well and you admit don't you that the wise and 
 the fools, the cowards and the brave, are about equally ac- 
 cessible to pleasure and pain, or the cowards even more so ? 
 Cal. Yes I do. 
 
 -Soc. Aid me then in reckoning up the results we obtain 
 from our conclusions. For, to be sure, as the saying is, 
 499 'twice yea thrice is it good to repeat fair things^' and re- 
 consider them. We say that the wise and brave man is good, 
 don't we ? 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 -Soc. And the fool and coward bad ? 
 Cal. No doubt. 
 ;n>^ -Soc. And again one that feels pleasure good ? 
 
 ' A proverb derived, as the Scholiast informs us, from a verse of Empedo- 
 cles, Kai Sis y&p 8 iv. koXov iariv iviairuv, a fragment which does not appear in 
 Karsten's collection. The same proverb is referred to Phileb. 59 e, and Legg. 
 VI. 754 B ; XII. 956 E. It seems probable from three of these references that 
 the verse ran, Sie Kai rpiQ yap k. t. X. 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 89 
 
 Cal Yes. 
 
 Soc. And one that feels pain ba(^? 
 
 Cal. Necessarily. 
 
 Soc. And that the good and had are susceptible of 
 pleasure and pain in the like degree, or perhaps the bad even 
 more ? 
 
 Cal Yes. 
 
 Soc. So then is the bad man made good or bad in the 
 same degree as the good one, or even good in a greater 
 degree ? Does not this follow as well as what we said before 
 from the assertion that pleasure is identical with good ? Is 
 not this necessarily the consequence, Calhcles ? 
 
 Cal. To tell you the truth, Socrates, all this while that c. 54 
 I have been listening to you and assenting to all you say, 
 I have been thinking, if one makes you any concession even 
 in joke, how delighted you are with it, and hold it tight 
 like a child. Just as if you suppose that I or any one else in 
 the whole world does not believe tha"t some pleasures are 
 better and others worse. 
 
 Soc. Ho ho! Callicles, what a sly rogue you are ^ You 
 do indeed use me like a child, sometimes telling me that 
 things are one way sometimes another, trying to mislead 
 me. Why I thought you were my friend, and never would 
 mislead me intentionally: but now I see I was mistaken, and 
 it seems I must needs, as the old saying has it, make the 
 best of what I can get, and accept anything you are pleased 
 to offer me. — Well then what you say now, it seems, is that 
 there are certain pleasures, some good and some bad. Isn't 
 it? , ■ 
 
 ' I have translated ioi iov as an exclamation ' mirantis et exultantls ' after 
 Heindoif, Stallbaum and Suidas. Perhaps however from the tone of what 
 follows, in which Socrates is affecting the manner of a child, to which Callioles 
 had compared him, in a, pet, the interjection is rather ax^TKiaanicov — another 
 of its senses — and the words should be interpreted, ' Oh for shame, CaUicles, 
 what a sly fellow you are, you are indeed treating me like a baby.' Upon the 
 whole however I thinlc the other is to be preferred. 
 
90 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Are then those that are beneficial good, and the' 
 injurious bad ? 
 
 Cal. Certainly. 
 
 Soc. And are those beneficial which effect something 
 that is good, and injurious something that is bad ? 
 
 Cal. I believe so. 
 
 Soc. Are then these the sort you mean ? To take for 
 instance the bodily pleasures of eating and drinking that we 
 were speaking of a moment ago, if some of them produce in 
 the body health or strength or any other bodily excellence 
 are those good, and tho^e whose effects are contrary bad ? 
 
 Cal. No doubt. 
 
 Soc. And so with pains in like manner, are some of 
 them good and some bad ? 
 
 Cal. Of course. 
 
 Soc. Accordingly the good pleasures and pains we are 
 to choose and try to bring about ? 
 
 Cal. To be sure. 
 
 Soc. And the bad ones not ? 
 
 Cal. Evidently. 
 
 Soc. Because if you remember. Polios and I decided that 
 all our actions should be done for the sake of what is eood. 
 Do you too agree in this view, that good is the end and aim 
 500 of all our actions and that for the sake of that everything 
 else is to be done, not that for the sake of the rest ? Do you 
 vote on our side as well, and make a third ? 
 
 Cal. Yes I do. ; 
 
 Soc. Then it is for the sake of what is good that every- 
 thing else including what is pleasant is to be done, not the 
 good for the sake of what is pleasant. 
 
 Cal. -No doubt. 
 
 Soc. Is it then in everybody's power to make the selec- 
 tion amongst things pleasant what are good and what bad, or 
 is professional knbwledge required for each case ? 
 
 Cal. Professional knowledge. 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 91 
 
 Soc. Then let us recall to mind wiat I was saying to c. 55 
 Polus and Gorgias. I said, if you reqgllect, that there were 
 contrivances some extending only to pleasure, effecting 
 tnerely that and no more, and ignorant of the distinction 
 between better and worse, and others which distinguish what 
 is good and bad : and I placed amongst those which deal 
 with pleasure, the empirical skill, not art, of the cook, and 
 amongst those which have good for their object the art of 
 medicine. And now, by the God of friendship, Callicles, 
 don't be so ill natured as either to jest with me yourself, 
 or answer at random contrary to your real opinion, or again 
 to take what I say as if / were joking. For you see that 
 this subject on which we are talking is of a nature to engage 
 the most serious attention of every man of the smallest 
 sense, I mean what course of life one ought to follow ; 
 whether it be that to which you invite me, taking part in 
 those manly duties you wot of (Sri), speaking in the public 
 assemblies and cultivating rhetoric and engaging in public 
 business as you do now a days, or this life of philosophical 
 study ; and what it is in which the one differs from the other. 
 Perhaps then it is the best way to distinguish them first, as 
 I attempted to do before, and when we have done that and 
 come to an agreement between ourselves as to whether these 
 two lives really are distinguishable ^ to consider next what is 
 the difference between them and which of the two ought tp 
 
 ' si 1(77-1 Toirm SiTTui Til} P'liii. Compare Arist. J^esp. 58, t'liilv y&p oiK for' 
 ovTe Kopu' kic ^opfiiSog SovXio TrapappnTTovvTS toiq Qsiufikvoig. The expli^nation 
 of this union of singular verb with dual substantive is that the notion presents 
 itself first collectively as a single whole or pair to the writer's mind and is 
 afterwards separated into its parts by the introduction of the dual. Hence it 
 is that in this construction the verb precedes the substantive, as it usually does 
 likewise in the analogous case of the Schema Pindaricum or Bceoticum (kvrjv 
 S' vipavTai ypajificuiiv roiaiS' vijtai. Eur. Ion, 1146, &c. See for examples, Mat- 
 thias, Gr. Gr. § 303, Jelf, Gr. Gr. § 386). Similar considerations explain the 
 combination of plural substantive and dual verb. In this case the persons 
 or things spoken Of in the plural are tacitly divided by the writer into two 
 separate groups or classes so as to form a pair or two pairs. See the ex- 
 amples and authorities quoted by Jelfj Gr. Gr. §388. 1. 
 
92 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 be adopted. Perhaps now you don't yet quite understand my 
 meaning. 
 
 Cal, No indeed I don't. 
 
 Soc. Well I will explain it more clearly. Now that you 
 and I have agreed that there is such a thing as good and also 
 such a thing as pleasant, and the pleasant different from the 
 good, and that there is a particular mode of pursuit and 
 contrivance for the acquisition of either of them, the one the 
 quest of pleasure, the other of good — but first of all let me 
 know whether you assent to as much as this or not : do you ? 
 
 Cal. I do. \ 
 
 c. 56 Soc. Well then to proceed, let us come to an under- 
 standing about what I was saying to our friends here, and see 
 whether you think that what I then said was true. What 
 I said was if I remember right, that Cookery seems to me 
 to be no art at all but a mere empirical habit ; medicine an 
 501 art ; meaning that the one, that is medicine, has inquired 
 into the nature of that which it treats and the causes of what 
 it does, and can give an account of each of them ; but the 
 other enters upon the pursuit of the pleasure which is the 
 object of all her care and attention quite unscientifically, 
 without having bestowed any consideration upon either the 
 nature or the cause of pleasure, and proceeds in a manner 
 absolutely irrational, as one may say, without the smallest 
 calculation, a mere knack and routine, simply retaining the 
 recollection of what usually happens, by which you know in 
 fact she provides all her pleasures \ Now consider first of all 
 whether you think that this account is so far^satisfactory, 
 and that there are in like manner certain, other' (jccupations 
 of the same sort which deal with the soul, soiup of them 
 scientific, exercising some forethought for the soul's best 
 interests ; and others that pay no regard to this, but again as 
 in the former case, study merely the soul'^ pleasure, how, that 
 
 1 Compare Aristotle's account of linrnpta in the first chapter of hia Meta- 
 physics. It is possible that his description of it there may be one of his count- 
 less obligations to his master. 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 93 
 
 is, it may be procured for her, neither inquiring which of the 
 pleasures is better or worse, nor concerning themselves with 
 any thing else but mere gratification, whether that be better or 
 worse. For to me, Callicles, it seems that there are, and this 
 sort of thing I call flattery whether it be applied to body or 
 soul or anything else, when the pleasure alone is studied 
 without any regard to the better and the worse. And you 
 now, do you coincide with us in opinion upon this matter or 
 dissent ? 
 
 Cal. Not I, I assent — in order that you may get through 
 your argument, and I oblige my friend Gorgias here. 
 
 Soc. And is this true of only one soul, and not of two or 
 many ? 
 
 Cal. Not so, it is true of two and of many. 
 
 Soc. Then is it possible to gratify them in a mass all at 
 once without taking any thought for what is best ? 
 
 Cal. Yes I suppose so. 
 
 Soc. Can you tell me then which are the practices that c. 57 
 do this ? Or rather, if you please, as I ask you, when any of 
 them seems to you to belong to this class say yes, and when 
 not say no. And first of all let us examine the case of flute 
 playing. Don't you think it is one of that sort, C allicles ? that 
 it aims only at our gratification and cares for nothing else ? 
 
 Cal. Yes I do. 
 
 Soc. And so with all others of the same kind, for ex- 
 ample harp playing, as it is practised in the musical contests ? 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And again the Choral exhibitions and dithyrambic 
 compositions, don't they appear to you to belong to the same 
 class ? Or do you suppose that Cinesias ' son of Meles ever 
 
 ' Cinesias was one of the principal living representatives of the modern or 
 florid school of dithyrambic composers, who in the opinion of severe judges had 
 corrupted and debased this species of poetry and its musical accompaniment by 
 the relaxation of the gravity, sobriety, and antistrophic arrangement of its 
 earlier form. Melanippides, contemporary vrith Cinesias, was the earliest of 
 these innovators. Aristophanes likewise ridicules the wild rambling flights and 
 affected far-fetched phraseology of the modern dithyrambic in the person of 
 
94 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 502 troubles himself in the least about the improvement of the 
 audience by anything he says, or merely thinks of saying- 
 what will please the mob of spectators ? 
 
 Cal. There is no doubt about that, Socrates, in Cinesias' 
 case at least. 
 
 Soc. And his father Meles again — Did you ever suppose 
 that he looked to what is best in his harp playing ? Or rather, 
 his aim perhaps was not what is most agreeable either ; for 
 he used to annoy the audience by his performance. But just 
 consider ; don't you think that all harp music and dithyram- 
 bic composition has been invented for the sake of pleasure ? 
 
 Cal. Yes certainly. 
 • Soc. But what say you now to the object of all the 
 efforts of that stately and wonderful Tragic poetry ? Are all 
 her efforts and her pains, think you, bestowed merely upon 
 the gratification of the spectators ? or does she strive to the 
 uttermost, if there be anything that is pleasant and agreeable 
 but bad for them, not to say that, but if there be aught un- 
 pleasant but profitable, that to say and to sing whether they 
 like it or not ? Which of these two, think you, is the fashion 
 that Tragic poetry assumes ? 
 
 Cal. There can't be any doubt, Socrates, that she is 
 more bent upon pleasure and the gratification of the spec- 
 tators. 
 
 Soc. Well but this kind of proceeding, Callicles, we said 
 just now is flattery. 
 
 Cal. Certainly we did. 
 
 Soc. Again, if any kind of poetry be stript of its melody 
 and rhythm and metre, is not the residue plain prose ? 
 
 Cal. No doubt of it. 
 
 Soc. And this prose is addressed to great crowds of 
 people. 
 
 Cal. It is. 
 
 Cinesias. Av. 1373 foil. Compare Nvh. 332, Pane. 827 foil. See on the entire 
 subject, MuUer, Hist. Gr. Lit. eh. xxx, and on the earlier form of the dithy- 
 ramb, ch. XIV. 
 
PLATO' 8 G0BGIA8. 95 
 
 Soc. Consequently poetry is a kind of public speaking. , 
 
 Cal. So it appears. 
 
 Soc. And so it will be a rhetoricaf address to the public. 
 You do think, don't you, that the poets in the theatres prac- 
 tise rhetoric ? 
 
 Cal. Yes I do. 
 
 Soc. So then now we have found a kind of rhetoric ad- 
 dressed to such a popular audience as consists of a mixture 
 of women and children with men, and slaves as well as free, 
 which we don't altogether approve of, because we say it is of 
 the nature of flattery. > 
 
 Cal. Quite so. 
 
 Soc. Very good. But again, as to the rhetoric that is c. 58 
 addressed to the Athenian people or to any other popular 
 assembhes of freemen established in the various cities, what 
 are we to say to that ? Think you that the orators always 
 speak with a view to what is best, with the sole aim of im- 
 proving the citizens as far as possible by their speeches ? Or 
 do they too, bent upon gratifying their fellow-citizens, and 
 sacrificing the public weal to their own private interest, deal 
 with these assemblies as with children, trying only to humour 
 them ? and whether they will be better or worse in conse- 
 quence trouble themselves not at all ? 
 
 Cal. Your present question is not a simple one hke the 503 
 preceding ; for there are some who show a real regard for 
 their fellow-citizens in saying what they say ; others there are 
 again such as you describe. 
 
 Soc. That's enough. For if this also is two-fold, the one 
 branch of it is, it may be presumed, a trick of flattery and a 
 base kind of popular declamation ; the other noble — the at- 
 tempt, that is, to improve to the utmost the souls of the citi- i 
 zens, and the earnest striving to say what is best, whether 
 that will prove more or less agreeable to the audience. But 
 such rhetoric as this you never yet saw ; or if you have any 
 one of this sort to point out amongst the orators, let me 
 know at once who he is. 
 
96 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 Cat. No, by my faith, I can't name you any one, at any 
 rate of the orators of the present day. 
 
 Soc. Well then, can you name any one of those of by- 
 gone days to whom the Athenians are indebted for any im- 
 provement, dating from the commencement of his harangueSi 
 from the worse condition in which they were previously? 
 For for my own part / don't know who it is. 
 
 Cal. What ? Haven't you heard of the virtues of The- 
 mistocles and Cimon and Miltiades and the famous Pericles 
 who is lately dead ^, whom you have heard speak yourself ? 
 
 Soc. Yes, Callicles, if that is true virtue which you 
 spoke of just now, the satisfaction namely of one's own and 
 other people's desires (this may be all very well) ; but if this 
 is not so, but the truth is what we were forced to admit in 
 the argument that followed, that those desires only which 
 improve a man's character by their gratification should be 
 fulfilled, and those which deteriorate it not, and that there is 
 an art by which this may be efiected — can you affirm that 
 any one of these men has shown himself such an artist as that ? 
 
 Cal. I really don't know what to say. 
 c. 59 Soc. Nayif you search well you will find out.' So then 
 let us just consider this matter quietly and see whether any 
 of these men have shown himself such — To begin ; a good man 
 and one who looks to what is best in everything that he says 
 will not speak at random, will he, but always with some defi- 
 ^ nite object in view ? He will proceed in fact just like all other 
 workmen, each with his own proper work in view, selecting 
 anything that he happens to apply towards the forwarding 
 of his work not at random, but for the purpose of giving some 
 particular form to the work that he is engaged upon. Look 
 at the painter for instance, if you please, or the builder or 
 the shipwright, and all other trades and professions, any one 
 
 ^ The scene of the dialogue being laid in the year 405 B.C., the word 
 witari here is either an oversight on Plato's part — perhaps the more probable 
 supposition — or it must be interpreted with great latitude of a period of 
 twenty-four years. Pericles died in 429 b. c. 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 97 
 
 of them you please, how each of these disposes everything in 504 
 a fixed order, and forces the one part into conformity and 
 harmony with the other, until he has constructed a regular 
 and well ordered whole ; and tjie same may be said you know 
 of all other artists ; and so with those that we were speak- 
 ing of just now that deal with the body, trainers and physi- 
 cians, they likewise it would seem introduce order and system 
 into the body. Do we admit that this is so or not ? 
 
 Cal. Let it be as you say. 
 
 Soc. So then a house in which order and harmony appear 
 will be a good one, and where there is disorder a bad one ? 
 
 Cal. I, allow that. 
 
 Soc. And a vessel again in like manner ? 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And further in our own bodies do we admit the 
 same principle ? 
 
 Cal. Yes certainly. 
 
 Soe. And how about the soul ? Is it by disorder that it 
 will be made good, or by some kind of order and harmony ? 
 
 Cal. In accordance with our previous conclusions we 
 must needs admit this too. 
 
 Soc. What name then do we give to that which arises 
 in the body from order and harmony ? 
 
 Cal. Health and strength I dare say you mean. 
 
 Soc. I do. And 'what again to that which is engen- 
 dered in the soul from the same ? Try to find the name of 
 it, and tell it me as in the other case. 
 
 Cal. And why don't you name it yourself, Socrates ? 
 
 Soc. "Well if you prefer it I will. And you, if you think 
 what I say is right, say so ; or if not, refute it and don't let 
 it pass. For my opinion is that order in the body of every 
 kind bears the name of ' healthy,' whence it is that health 
 is produced in it and every other bodily excellence. Is it so 
 or not ? 
 
 Cal. It is. 
 
 Soc. And the name of all the orders and harmonies of 
 
 H 
 
98 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 the soul is lawfulness and law, by which also men are made 
 observant of law and orderly ; and these are justice andjglf- 
 control. Do you allow this or not ? 
 
 Cal. Be it so. 
 c. 60^.^- Soc. So then it is to this that that genuine orator, the 
 man of science and virtue, will have regard in applying to 
 men's souls whatsoever words he addresses to them, and will 
 cpnform all his actions ; and if he give any gift he will give 
 it, or if he take aught away he will take it, with his mind 
 always fixed upon this, how to implant justice in the souls of 
 his citizens and eradicate injustice, to engender self-control 
 ' and extirpate self-indulgence, to engender all other virtue 
 
 and remove all vice. Do you agree or not ? 
 
 Cal. I agree. 
 
 Soc. To be sure, Callicles, for what can be the advantage 
 of offering to a sick and diseased body a quantity of the 
 nicest things to eat and drink or anything else, when, fairly 
 considered, they will do it no more good sometimes than the 
 contrary, nay less ' ? Is this so ? 
 505 Cal. So be it. 
 
 Soc. Because I presume it is no advantage to a man to 
 live with his body in a vicious state, since in that case his 
 life also must needs be a vicious ^ one. It is so, isn't it ? 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 1 I have followed Stallbaum in tlte interpretation of this passage, who 
 agrees with Heindorf in understanding r) Tohvavriov to mean, '^than not giving 
 it any at all,' i.e. entire abstinence. Heindorf, after Cornarius, would prefer 
 to read, Tovvavriov, jj Kara, " the contrary, or fairly considered even less than 
 that contrary," but this has no MSS. authority. Sohleiermacher renders it ; 
 'was ihm bisweilen um niohts mehr dient, oder im gegentheil recht ge- 
 sprochen, wolil noch weniger,' apparently understanding ovhau iKarTOV in the 
 sense of ' doing harm ; ' but this is very doubtful Greek. 
 
 ^ /loxStipoQ ' vicious,' that is, here, ' misei-able,' belongs to a large family of 
 words which transfer the signification of physical distress to moral depravity 
 or vice versd. Everything which is vicious or depraved is in an unhealthy 
 abnormal condition, diseased 'and therefore not what it ought to be, or bad. 
 But a life, for example, may be bad or diseased in two different senses, accord- 
 ing to the standard which you have in view. Referred to an exclusively moral 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 99 
 
 Soc. And so again when a man is in health, the physi- 
 cians for the most part allow him to gratify his appetite, as 
 for instance to eat as much as he pleases when he is hungry 
 or drink when he is thirsty, but a sick man they never so 
 to speak allow to indulge his appetites to the full. Do you 
 agree to this too ? 
 
 Cal* Yes I do. 
 
 Soc. And with the soul, my excellent friend, is it not 
 the same ? as long as it is in a bad condition, senseless and 
 self-indulgent and unjust and unholy, we must prevent it 
 indulging its appetites, and not suffer it to do anything but 
 what will make it better ? Do you assent, or not ? 
 
 Cal. I assent. 
 
 Soc. For so I presume it is better for th& soul itself ? 
 
 Cal. No doubt of it. 
 
 Soc. And is not restraining a man from what he desires 
 correcting him ? 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Soc. Then correction or restraint is better for the soul 
 than unrestrained self-indulgence, as you thought just now. 
 
 Cal. I don't know what you are talking about, Socra- 
 tes ? do pray put your questions to some one else. 
 
 Soc. Here's a man that can't bear to have a service done 
 him, and to submit to that himself which is the very subject 
 of our conversation, to be corrected. 
 
 Cal. Well and I don't care a straw for anything that i/ou 
 say, and I only answered you thus far to oblige Gorgias. 
 
 Soc. Very good. Then what shall we do ? Are we to 
 break off our argument in the middle ? 
 
 standard it is an immoral life, but measured by the popular notions of happiness 
 and good it is a life of calamity and wretchedness. 
 
 In Greek, the words vovTjpog, kcikoq and /caiconjc, 8a\6g, iiarrivoQ, jjiXiog, 
 ffxIrXioe, 7-aXoiVupoc, rXijiim), are all employed, by the poets principally, in 
 this double sense. In Latin we have miser and tristis (te triste lignum, Hor. 
 Od. II. 13. 11); in French miserable; in Italian .tristo (see Trench, Proverbs, 
 p. 37) ; and in English wretch and wretched, and sad, as a sad fellow, a sad 
 dog. 
 
100 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 Cal. You must decide that yourself (/don't care). 
 
 Soc. "Well they say that we have no right to leave off 
 even one of our stories in the middle, in fact not till we have 
 put a head upon it, that it mayn't wander about hke a head- 
 less monster. So pray finish your answers, that our argu- 
 ment may have a head too. 
 c. 61 Cal. What a tyrant you are, Socrates ; if you will take 
 
 my advice, you will let this argument drop, or else carry on 
 the conversation with some one else. 
 
 Soc. Who else will then ? Surely we ought not to leave 
 off the argument before it is finished. 
 
 Cal. Can't you go through with it by yourself, either 
 continuously in your own person, or (by way of dialogue) 
 answering your own questions ? 
 
 Soc. And so as Epicharmus has it, that ' what two men 
 said before ' I may show myself equal to single-handed. 
 Well it seems it must absolutely be so. Still if we are to do 
 this, my own opinion is that we ought all of us to vie with 
 one another in trying to discover what is true and what 
 is false in this matter that we are discussing, for it is a 
 common benefit to all that it be made plain. Well then I 
 506 will carry on the discussion of this question as seems to me 
 to be right ; but if any of the admissions that I make to my- 
 self appear to any one of you to be untrue, it is his duty to 
 lay hold of it and confute me. For to tell you the truth 
 neither do I myself say what I say as having any certain 
 knowledge, I am only engaged with you all in a search ; and 
 therefore if any one that disputes my assertions appear to 
 have right on his side, I wiU be the first to admit it. This 
 however I say on the supposition that you think the argu- 
 ment ought to be finished : but if you don't like that, let 
 us drop it and go home. 
 
 Gor. Well my opinion is, Socrates, that we ought not 
 to go away yet, but that you should finish your argument : 
 and I believe the rest of the company agree with me. For 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 101 
 
 in fact I am myself desirous of hearing you go through the 
 -remainder by yourself. 
 
 Soc. Well to be sure, Gorgias/I should have been very 
 glad on my own account to have continued the conversation 
 with Callicles here until I had paid him Amphion's speech 
 in return fbr his Zethus. But since you, Callicles, refuse 
 to join me in bringing the argument to an end, at any rate 
 check me as you listen whenever you think me wrong. And 
 if you refute me I won't be angry with you as you were with 
 me, on the contrary you shall be recorded in my memory as 
 my greatest benefactor, 
 
 Cal. Go on, my good sir, by yourself, and make an 
 end of it. - — ^ 
 
 Soc. Then listen to me whilst I resume the argument ^. 62 
 from the beginning. Are pleasure and good the same thing ? 
 Not the same, as CaUicles and I agreed. Is pleasure to be 
 pursued for the sake of the good, or good for the sake of 
 pleasure ? Pleasure for the sake of the good. And is that 
 pleasant which brings pleasure by its presence, and that good 
 which by its presence makes us good ? Just so. But further, 
 we ourselves, as well as every thing else that is good, have that 
 character by the acquisition of some virtue or other ? In my 
 opinion, Callicles, that is necessarily so. But to be sure the 
 virtue of every thing, whether it be implement or body, or 
 again soul or any hving creature whatsoever, cannot be ac- 
 quired best by accident ; it must be due to that particular 
 order and rightness and art which is assigned severally to 
 each of them. Is that so ? That is certainly my opinion. So 
 then the virtue of everything implies order and haj-monious 
 arrangement ? / should say so. In everything then it is by 
 the introduction of some kind of order, that viz. which is 
 proper to each, that this is in every case made good ? I 
 think so. Consequently a soul also .when it has its own 
 proper order and harmony is better than one which is devoid 
 of order ? Necessarily. But further one which is endowed 
 with order is orderly ? Of course it is. And the orderly 507 
 
102 PLATO'S 60BGIAS. 
 
 soul is ' temperate ' ? Beyond all doubt. Consequently the 
 temperate soul is good, /have nothing to say to the con- 
 trary, my dear Callicles : but if you have, pray inform us. 
 
 Cal. Go on, my good sir. 
 
 Soc. I proceed then to say, that if the temperate soul is 
 good, that which has the properties contraiy to temperance 
 or soundness of mind' is bad: and that was one that is 
 devoid of sense and self-control ? No doubt. And further 
 the man of sound mind will do what is right towards gods 
 and men ? for no man could be sound in mind if he did the 
 contrary ? This must needs be so. And again when he does 
 what is right and proper towards men, his actions will be just, 
 and towards the gods pious ; but a man who does what is 
 just and pious must needs be a just and pious man ? It is so. 
 And to be sure he must be brave too : for certainly temperance 
 or self-control consists not in pursuing or avoiding what one 
 ought not, but in pursuing and avoiding what one ought, 
 whether things or men, or pleasures or pains, and in stedfast 
 endurance at the call of duty. So that we may be fully 
 convinced, Callicles, that the 'temperate 'man, as our argu- 
 ment has shown, being juSt and brave and pious has attained 
 the perfection of goodness, and that the good man does well 
 and fairly all that he does, and that he that does well is 
 blessed and happy, and the bad man and evil doer wretched. 
 And this must be the man who is in the opposite condition 
 (of mind) to the temperate, the licentious namely, whom 
 you were applauding. 
 c. 63 Such then is the view that I take of these matters, and 
 this I assert to be the truth ; and if it be true, that every one, 
 as it appears, who desires to be happy must seek after and 
 practise self-control, and flee from licentiousness, every one 
 
 ^ The virtue auxppoavvri here appears in a new aspect, that of soundminded- 
 ness or sanity, the mens sana in corpore sano (its proper meaning in accord- 
 ance with the derivation), as opposed to atppoavvti. We have seen it hitherto 
 contrasted with AKoXaffia^ the absence of KoXaaig, correction or restraint, unre-i 
 strained self-indulgence ; in which view it is properly rendered by self-control. 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 103 
 
 of us as fast as his feet will carry him, and contrive if pos- 
 sible to stand in no need of correction y but if he do require 
 it, either himself or any of those connected with him, be it 
 individual or state, then justice must be applied and cor- 
 rection, if he is to have any chance of happiness. Such 
 seems to me to be the aim which a man should keep in view 
 through life, and so act as to concentrate all his own efforts 
 as well as those of the state upon this one object, that justice 
 and temperance may be essential to the attainment of hap- 
 piness, not letting his desires grow without restraint, and so 
 in the attempt to satisfy them, a never-ending torment, 
 leading the Hfe of a robber. For neither to any man else ^ 
 can such an one be dear, nor to God ; for he is incapable of 
 fellowship, but with one in whom there is no fellowship 
 friendship is impossible. And, Callicles, the heaven and ^.^-^ 
 the earth and gods and men, as the wise tell us, are kept 508 
 together by fellowship and friendship and orderliness and 
 temperance and justice, and this is why, my friend, they give 
 the name of ' order ' to yonder universe and not of disorder 
 or hcence (unrestraint). But you it seems have not paid 
 attention to this, clever as you are; but have overlooked the 
 mighty power of geometrical equality^ in heaven as well as 
 earth. Vou suppose that a spirit of inequality, the desire of 
 obtaining more than one's fair share, is what ought to be cul- 
 tivated ; because you don't care for geometry. Well. Either 
 then we must refute this argument that it is by the posses- 
 sion of justice and self-control that the happy are happy, 
 and by that of vice that the wretched are wretched ; or if 
 this be true, we must consider what are the consequences. 
 All those former results follow, Callicles, about which you 
 asked me if I was in earnest, when I said that a man should 
 accuse himself or his son or friend if he do wrong, and that 
 this is what rhetoric should be used for. And what you sup- 
 
 ' " Of all men else I have avoided thee." Macbeth. 
 
 ^ That is, proportion : which assigns to every man what is his due in accord- 
 ance with his deserts, and to every thing its due rank and place in a given system. 
 
(104, PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 posed Polns to concede out of mere shame was true after all, 
 that to do wrong is worse than to suffer it in the same pro- 
 portion as it is baser : and that any one who means to be a 
 J I'hetorician in any true sense of the word must after all be 
 a just man, and fully acquainted with the principles of 
 justice, which again Polus said that Gorgias was forced by 
 shame to admit. 
 c. 64 This being the case, let us consider what amount of truth 
 there really is in all that you taunt me with ; that I am un- 
 able to help myself or any of my friends or connections, or 
 to rescue them from the greatest dangers ; and that, like the 
 outlaws who are at every one's mercy, I am in the power of 
 any one that chooses to slap me in the face, according to your 
 truly spirited expression, or rob me of my property, or expel 
 me from the city, or, worst of all, put me to death : and to be 
 in such a condition is according to your accountthe very worst 
 of all infamies. But my view you know — and though it has 
 been aheady repeatedly stated, yet there is no reason why it 
 should not be repeated once more — (is this): I deny,Callicles, 
 that to be slapt on the cheek wrongfully is the worst of all 
 disgrace, or to have my purse cut or my person ; but I say 
 that to strike or wound me or mine wrongfully is more dis- 
 graceful and worse : aye and steahng besides and kidnapping 
 and housebreaking, and in a word any wrong whatsoever 
 done to me or mine, is worse and more disgraceful to the 
 doer of the wron g than to me who suffer it^ All this, which 
 has already been brought before us in an earlier part, of our 
 509 discourse in the way that now I state it, is bound down and 
 fastened — though the expression may appear somewhat too 
 strong ^ — with arguments of iron and adamant, as it would 
 
 ^ dypoiKOTipov is literally ' too rude or coarse, iU-bred or ill-mannered.' 
 This coarseness and want of good breeding may be shown in the expression, 
 either by the absence of refinement and delicacy, in which case the word 
 means, too broad, not sufficiently guarded or reserved, or 'too strong' as I 
 have rendered it ; or by a want of modesty, an undue arrogance or presump- 
 tion, as StaUbaum understands it — which in fact does not materially differ 
 from the other. Schleiermaeher has ' derb ' ' harsh.' 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 105 
 
 seem at any rate on the face of it ; which you, or some still 
 more gallant and enterprising spirit than yourself, must an- 
 swer, or else you wiU find it impossible to speak aright upon 
 the subject in any other language than that which I now use. 
 For I for my part always say the same, that I am ignorant of 
 ,the true nature and bearings of these things, and yet of all 
 that I have ever encountered as now none has ever been able to 
 maintain any other views without making himself ridiculous. 
 Well then I assume again that it is as I say. But if it be so, 
 and injustice is the greatest of all evils to the wrong doer, 
 and still ^eater than this greatest, if that be possible, to do 
 wrong with impunity, what sort of help is that which a man 
 must be able to render to himself on pain of being really 
 ridiculous ? is it not that which will avert from us the greatest 
 mischief ? Nay surely this must needs be the kind of help 
 which it is most disgraceful ^ not to be able to render to one's 
 self or one's friends or connections, and second to it the in- 
 ability to avert the second degree of evil, and the third the 
 third, and so forth ; in proportion to the magnitude of each 
 kind of evil, so likewise is the glory of being able to find help 
 against each sort, and the disgrace of failure. Is it so, Calli- 
 cles, or otherwise ? 
 
 Cal. Not otherwise. 
 
 Soc. Then of the two, doing and sufiering wrong, we pro- 1 c. 65 
 nounce doing wrong to be the greater, and suffering it the! 
 lesser evil. What provision then must a man make for help-| 
 ing himself in order to secure both of these advantages, those ' 
 namely which arise from not doing and not suffering wrong ? ; 
 Is it power or will ? What I mean is this. Will a man escape i 
 suffering wrong by merely wishing not to suffer it, or will he 
 escape it by procuring power to avert it ? ' 
 
 ^ Plato has here fallen into a not uncommon error in expressing himself— 
 attraction Stallbaum calls it — by coupling aiax'orrjv with ^or)6tuiv, so that he 
 makes Socrates say ' the most shameful help to be unable to render,' whereas 
 it is the inability or failure that is shameful and not the help. This blunder 
 I have, with some misgivings, corrected in the translation. 
 
106' PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 CaL Oh that's plain enough, by power. 
 Soc. But what say you to doing wrong ? Is the mere 
 wish to avoid injustice sufficient for a man, because in that 
 case he won't do it ? or again to effect this must some kind of 
 power or art be provided, because if he do not learn and 
 practise it he will do wrong ? This is a point on which I par- 
 ticularly want your answer, Callicles, so tell me at once 
 whether you think there was any real necessity or not for 
 Polus and me to admit as we did in the foregoing argument 
 that no one desires to do wrong, but all that do wrong do it 
 against their will. 
 "510^ — Cal. Let it be as you please, Socrates, that you may get 
 your argument finished. 
 
 Soc. Then for this purpose again, it seems, we must pro- 
 vide ourselves with some kind of power or art, to avoid doinff 
 wrong. 
 
 Cal. Yes by all means. 
 J^oc. Then what may be the art that supplies the means 
 of suffering no wrong at all or as little as possible ? See if 
 you agree with me as to what it is. For in my opinion it is 
 this : one must either be a ruler — or indeed a tyrant — ^in 
 one's state, or else a friend of the existing government. 
 
 Cal. I hope you observe, Socrates, how ready I am to 
 praise you when you say anything that deserves it. This 
 seems to me to be extremely well said. 
 c. 66 Soc. Then see if you think this well said too. It seems 
 to me that the strongest bond of friendship between man and 
 man is that which the wise men of old tell us of ; ' like to 
 like.' Don't you agree with me. 
 
 Cal. Yes I do. 
 
 Soc. And so where a savage and illiterate ruler is lord 
 and master, if there were any one in the city far better than 
 he, the tyrant it may be presumed would be afraid of him 
 and never could possibly become his friend with his whole 
 heart ? 
 
 Cal. It is so. 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 107 
 
 Soc. Nor again the friend of one who was far inferior 
 to himself, any more than the other ; for the tyrant would 
 despise him, and never treat him with the attention due to a 
 friend. 
 
 Cal. That is true too. 
 
 Soc. So then the only friend worth speaking of that is 
 left for such an one is the man who resembling him in cha- 
 racter, blaming and praising the same things, chooses to sub- 
 mit to his authority, and to be subject to him as his ruler. 
 He it is that will have power in such a state, him none will 
 wrong with impunity. Is it not so ? 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Sec. Accordingly if in such a city as this one of the 
 young men were to reflect within himself — how can I acquh-e 
 great power and no one do me wrong ? — he has the same 
 path it seems to follow, to accustom himself from his very 
 earliest years to feel delight and displeasure in the same 
 things as his master, and to make himself as nearly as pos- 
 sible like the other : hasn't he ? 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And so he will establish for himself a lasting ^ im- 
 munity from suffering wrong, and to use your own language, 
 great power in the city. 
 
 Cal. No doubt of it. 
 
 Soc. And from doing wrong too ? or quite the contrary, 
 if he is to resemble the wicked governor and acquire great 
 influence with him ? Nay /should think that his efforts wUl 
 be directed to the exact opposite, to the acquisition that is of 
 the power of doing as much wrong as possible, and escaping 
 the penalty for all the wrong that he does. Won't they ? 
 
 Cal. It seems so. 
 
 Soc. So then the greatest of all evils, will befal him, to 511 
 have his soul depraved and deformed by the imitation of his 
 master and the power that he has acquired, 
 
 1 SmTreirpd^tTM, Matth. Gr. Gr. § 498. 
 
108 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 Cal. You have the oddest way, Socrates, of twisting ar- 
 guments every now and then and turning them upside dowa. 
 Don't you know that this imitator, as you call him, will put 
 to death any one that does not imitate him if he pleasesj or 
 "strip him of all he possesses ? 
 
 Soc. Indeed I do, my worthy Callicles, if I am not deaf, 
 so often have I heard it from you and Polus of late, and in- 
 deed from nearly every body else in the city. But now do 
 you in your turn hear what I have to say, that he may kill 
 me if he pleases, but it wiU be a villain killing an honest 
 man. 
 
 Cal. Well and isn't this the very thing that arouses 
 one's indignation ? 
 
 Soc. Not in a man of sense,' as our argument indicates. 
 You don't think, do you, that the object of all a man's efforts 
 should be to live as long as possible, and to study those arts 
 which preserve us from dangers ; like that for instance which 
 J you bid me study, the art of rhetoric, which ensures us safety 
 in courts of justice ? 
 
 Cal. Yes indeed I do, and very good advice it is. 
 c. 67 Soc. Well but, my excellent friend, do you think the art 
 of swimming a very dignified one ? 
 
 Cal. No faith not. I. 
 
 Soc. And yet that too saves men from death when any 
 accident happens to them in which the knowledge of the art 
 is required. But if this appears to you of too trivial a cha- 
 racter, I'll mention to you another of more importance than 
 this, the arroFnavigation, which not only saves men's hves, 
 but their bodies too and goods from the extremest perils, just 
 like rhetoric. And yet this is modest and sober, and does 
 not give itself airs, and throw itself into attitudes, as if it 
 ^ were performing some very" extraordinary feat : but for a ser- 
 vice at least equal to that of the art forensic, for conveying 
 one safe home, it may be from JEgina, it asks a fee I dare say 
 of a couple of obols ; or if it be from Egypt or the Pontus, at 
 the utmost in return for this important service, for carrying 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 109 
 
 safe as I said just now self and children and goods and 
 women (i.e. female slaves and their mistress), when it has 
 landed them all in the harbour its fare is a couple of drach- 
 mas : and the possessor of the art himself after he has done 
 all this gets out and takes his walk by the shore alongside of 
 his vessel with a perfectly unassuming demeanour. For he 
 knows I dare say how to take into account that it is quite 
 uncertain which of his passengers he has done a service to 
 by saving them from drowning, and which of them he has 
 injured, fully aware that he has landed them not a bit better 
 than they were when they went on board in body or soul. 512 
 He reflects accordingly that it cannot be that a man who has 
 escaped drowning whilst he labours under the affliction of ^ 
 great and incurable bodily diseases is miserable in that he J 
 has been preserved from death, and has received no benefit 
 from him at all — and yet that one who is laden with many 
 incurable diseases in that which is so much more precious 
 than the body — in the soul — that he, I say, should be allowed 
 to live on, and that he did him service in rescuing him 
 whether it be from the sea or a lawcourt or anywhere else 
 you please — No, he knows that it is better for man in a 
 vicious state not to live, for he must needs live ill. 
 
 This is why it is not the fashion for the pilot to give him- c. 68 
 self airs, though he does save our lives. No nor the (military) 
 engineer either, my w'orthy friend, though he has sometimes 
 the power of saving lives just as much as a general — to say 
 nothing of a pilot — or any one else. For sometimes he saves 
 whole cities. Think you he is to be compared with the 
 lawyer ? And yet if he chose to talk and magnify his busi- 
 ness'as you do, Callicles, he might overwhelm you with his 
 words, arguing and urging upon you the duty of making 
 yourselves engineers, for there is nothing else like it : for 
 he would have plenty to say for himself. Still you none the 
 less look down upon him and his art, and as a term of re- 
 proach would nickname him ' the machine maker,' and you 
 wouldn't consent to bestow your daughter upon his son. 
 
110 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 nor to take his yourself for your own. And yet on the 
 principles upon which you extol your own pursuits, what 
 fair excuse have you for despising the engineer and all the 
 rest that I just now mentioned ? I know you would say that 
 you are a better man and better born. But if ' better ' does 
 not mean what I say it does ; if virtue means this and 
 nothing more, to save one's self and what belongs to one, 
 whatever one's character may chance to be, your contempt 
 for the engineer and the physician and all the other arts 
 which have been invented with the object of saving men's 
 lives becomes ridiculous. Nay, my dear fellow, see to it, 
 whether the noble and the good be not something quite 
 different from saving and being saved. 
 
 Consider whether the true man ought not to disregard 
 this, I mean any particular length of life ^ and to renounce all 
 love of mere life ; ought not rather to leave all this to the will 
 of heaven, and, believing what the women say that no one 
 can escape his destiny, consider hereupon how he may best 
 513 pass his allotted portion of life ; whether it be in assimilating 
 himself to any form of government under which he may hap- 
 pen to live, and so now accordingly, whether you are bound 
 to make yourself as like as possible to the Athenian people, 
 if you mean to gain its affections and acquire great power in 
 the city. Consider whether this is really beneficial to you and 
 me, that we mayn't meet with the fate of the Thessalian. 
 women who draw down the moon from heaven ' : upon the 
 
 ' I have here, for once, abandoned the Zurich text which is adopted by 
 Stallbaum, and followed the old reading retained by Heindorf, Buttmann, 
 and Ast, /iij yip tovto /ikv, r6 Zyv oiroaov S^ xpovov k.t.X. The negative is 
 implied in /irj lariov, as it so often is in interrogative sentences beginning with 
 ovKovv, and in other cases. It seems to me that in the reading of the Zurich 
 Editors, which is taken from the Vatican MS. , there is no proper and reason- 
 able opposition between tovto ixkv rb Zyv and biroami Si i^pdvov, and that the 
 construction of the whole is intolei-ably awkward. The validity of Stallbaum's 
 explanation rests mainly upon his interpretation of Sk by ' immo ;' but he would 
 have found it difficult to produce another example of the particle used with 
 a similar emphasis. 
 
 ' tipijrai r) vapoijuia knl tSiv eavToXg xaxd imaTru/ikviav, Suid. 
 
PLATO' 8' GOBGIAS. Ill 
 
 choice of this power in the state our dearest interests will be 
 stated. But if you suppose that any one in the world can 
 impart to you such an art as will raise y^ to great power in 
 the state without being like the government either for the 
 better or worse, it seems to me, Callicles, that you are very 
 ill advised : for you must be not a mere imitator but radi- 
 cally like them, if ypu mean to effect any thing genuine in 
 the way of friendship witji Demus the Athenian people, aye 
 faith and with Demus thb son of Pyrilampesto boot. Who- 
 ever therefore shall produce in you the nearest possible 
 resemblance to them, he it is that will make you a states- 
 man, in the sense in which you desire to be a statesman, and 
 a rhetorician : for with words accommodated to their own 
 character every body is pleased, but such as are adapted to a 
 foreign one they dislike — ^unless you have any thing to say 
 to the contrary, my darliifig. Have we (insinuatingly) any- 
 thing to say ^ against all this, Callicles ? 
 
 Cal. Some how or other, Socrates, there seems to me to c. 69 
 be truth in what you say. \ But I feel as most people do, I 
 don't quite believe you. 
 
 Soc. That's because the love of Demus has planted itself 
 in your soul and resists me, Callicles ; but if perhaps we were 
 to examine these same questions often over again and better, _ 
 you'd be convinced. Remember howev er that we said that ., 
 there are two processes which may be adoj gted in training 
 anjlEmg,. whether body or soul, o ne to make its pleasure the 
 object of all our d ealings with it ; the other what is best for 
 it, jflt- ^umouring i t, but striving against it to the .utter.- 
 most.__ This is the distinction that we drew before, is it not ? 
 
 Cal. Yes, certainly. 
 
 Soc. Well then, the one, that which is directed .to plea- 
 sure, is ignoble and nothing but flattery, is it not ? 
 
 Cal. Be it so, if you please. 
 
 Soc. And of the other the object is to make that which 
 
 ' Eead Xkyojiiv with v. 1. and Stallbaum. The Zur. Edd. give Mywjucv. 
 
112 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 we have charge of, whether it be body or soul, a^ good as 
 possible ? 
 
 Cal. Yes, no doubt. 
 
 Soc. Ought not then our object to be in undertaking 
 the care of our city and its citizens to make them as good as 
 possible ? For without this, you know, as we found in our 
 preceding argument, there is no use in offering any other 
 514 kind of service, unless, that is, the thoughts and intentions 
 of those who are to acquire either wealth or authority over 
 others or any other kind of power be honest and virtuous. 
 Are we to assume this ? 
 
 Cal. Yes, by all means, if you prefer it. 
 
 Soc. Supposing then that you and I, Callicles, in the 
 ordinary course of public business ', were inviting one another 
 to undertake the building department, the most important 
 structures it may be of walls or docks or temples, would it 
 have been our duty to consider and examine ourselves, first 
 of all whether we are acquainted or not with the art of build- 
 ing, and from whom we learnt it ? would it, or not ? 
 
 Cal. Yes no doubt. 
 
 Soc. And again, in the second place, whether we have 
 ever erected any building for private use, either for one of 
 our friends or ourselves, and whether this building is hand- 
 some or ugly ? And if we found upon consideration that we 
 had had good and well-reputed masters, and that many hand- 
 some buildings had been erected by us under our masters' 
 direction, and many by ourselves of our own, after we had 
 parted from our masters ; under such circumstances men of 
 sense might be permitted to undertake public works ; but if 
 we had no master of ourselves to produce, and of buildings 
 either none at all, or ever so many and all worthless, surely 
 
 ' The aorist participle Trpa^avTeg denotes, as Stallbaum observes, quod quis 
 jam facere instituit. It would be more fully rendered by the addition of the 
 words ' in which we had engaged ' or something equivalent ; but as this is 
 rather too long for the translation of a single participle, I have endeavoured 
 to express the notion by the words ' ordinary course,' 
 
PLATO'B 00BGIA8. 113 
 
 in this case it would be the height of folly to attempt public 
 works, and invite one another to undertake them. May we 
 pronounce this to be correct, or not ? 
 
 Cal. Yes, certainly. 
 
 Soc. And similarly with the rest ; supposing for in- c. 70 
 stance ' we had undertaken the office of state-physicians, and 
 were inviting one another to it as thoroughly well qualified 
 for the task, our first step would be, I presume, to examine 
 one another's qualifications, you mine and I yours. Marry 
 now, let us see, how stands the case with Socrates in regard 
 of the health of his own body ? or has any one else, slave or 
 free man, ever yet been cured of a disease by means of 
 Socrates ? And I again, I dare say, should have made exactly 
 similar inquiries about you. And if we found that we had 
 never been the means of making any one better in his bodily 
 health, citizen or stranger, man or woman, in heaven's name, 
 Callicles, would it not be truly absurd that human beings 
 should ever be brought to such a pitch of folly as to begin 
 with the wine-jar in learning the potter's art, as the saying 
 is, you know, and before they had in their private practice, 
 often failing it may be, and often succeeding, exercised them- 
 selves sufficiently in the art, undertake to serve publicly as 
 physicians themselves and invite others like them to do the 
 same ? Don't you think it would be folly to act so ? 
 
 Cal. Yes I do. 
 
 Soc. And now, my excellent friend, as you yourself are 515 
 just beginning to enter into public life, and are urging me to 
 do the same, and reproaching me for not doing it, shall we 
 not examine one another, as thus. Let us see, has Callicles 
 ever yet made any of the citizens better than he was before ? 
 Is there any one of them who was before wicked, unjust and 
 licentious and foolish, and by Callicles' means has been made 
 an honest man, stranger or citizen, bond or free ? Tell me, 
 Callicles, if any one examines you thus, what will you say? 
 
 ' Ta re aXKa, Kai . . 
 I 
 
114 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 What human creature will you claim to have improved 
 by his intercourse with you ? Do you hesitate to answer, if 
 you have anything to show which you have done in your 
 private capacity as a preliminary to engaging in public 
 business ? 
 
 Cal. You are captious, Socrates. 
 
 Soc. Nay it is not out of captiousness that I put the 
 question but from a real wish to know what you think your 
 duty as a public man is in our city, whether, that is to say, 
 we shall find you (rifuv) concerning yourself about anything 
 else in your administration but making us citizens as good as 
 possible. We have already several times adr&itted, haven't 
 we, that this is the statesman's proper business ? Have we 
 admitted it or not ? Answer me. We have ; I will answer 
 for you. If then this is what a good man is bound to effect 
 for his native city, now call to mind those men whom you 
 mentioned just now, Pericles, and Cimon, and Miltiades, and 
 Themistocles, and tell me if you still think that they ap- 
 proved themselves good citizens. 
 
 Cal. Yes I do. 
 
 Soc. Well then if they were good, it is plain that every 
 one of them made the citizens better than they were before. 
 Did they do so, or not ? 
 
 Cal. They did. 
 
 Soc. . Accordingly when Pericles began to speak before 
 the People the Athenians were worse than when he made his 
 last speeches ? 
 
 Cal. Perhaps. 
 
 Soc. Not perhaps at all, my very good sir : it follows 
 necessarily from our admissions, if at least he was a good 
 statesman. 
 
 Cal. Well what then ? 
 
 Soc. Oh nothing. Only just tell me this as well, whether 
 the Athenians are commonly said to have owed any improve- 
 ment to Pericles, or just the contrary, to have been corrupted 
 by him. For what /hear is this, that Pericles has made the 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 115 
 
 Athenians lazy and cowardly and talkative and greedy, by 
 establishing first the system of fees. 
 
 Cat. You hear all that from those broken-nosed ' gentry, 
 Socrates. 
 
 Soc. Aye but this I don't hear merely, but know full 
 well, and so do you, that first of all Pericles was popular with 
 the Athenians, who never passed a sentence upon him in- 
 volving any disgrace as long as they were 'worse ;' but as 
 soon as they had been made by him thoroughly honest and 516 
 good men, at the end of Pericles' life they found him guilty 
 of peculation, and nearly condemned him to death — plainly 
 because they thought him a rogue. 
 
 Cal. What then ? did that make Pericles a bad man ? c. 72 
 
 Soc. At all events a herdsman of that sort who had 
 the care of asses or horses or oxen would be thought a bad 
 one, if the animals which he took under his charge free 
 from all propensity to kick or butt or bite turned out , 
 under his management given to all these tricks out of 
 mere wildness. You would call, wouldn't you, any keeper 
 of any animal whatsoever a bad one who makes those 
 which he has received under his charge tame and gentle 
 wilder than they were when he took them ? Would you 
 do so or not ? 
 
 Cal. Oh yes, by all means, to oblige you. 
 
 Soc. Then oblige me still further by answering this one 
 question whether man too is one of the animal creation or 
 no? 
 
 Cal. Of course he is. 
 
 Soc. And had not Pericles the charge of man ? 
 
 CaL Yes. 
 
 Soc. Well then, ought they not, as we agreed just now, 
 
 '. I have here taken a liberty with the Greek text by substituting the nose, 
 the aim of modern boxers, and the mark of addiction to suck exercises, for 
 the ears which told the same tale to the Athenian public. The unpatriotic 
 ' Laconisers,' the admirers of Spartan habits institutions and policy, are here 
 indicated, Explanatory references are given in Stallbaum's note. 
 
116 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 to have been improved by him in justice if they really were 
 under the care of a good statesman. 
 
 Cal. Yes certainly. 
 
 Soc. Well and the just are tame and gentle, as Homer 
 said '. But what say you ? Is it not so ? 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Soc. But yet he made them wilder and more savage 
 than they were when he took them in hand, and that against 
 himself, the very case in which he would least have desired it. 
 
 Cal. Do you want me to agree with you ? 
 
 Soc. Yes if you think I speak the truth. 
 
 Cal. Then let it be as you say. 
 
 Soc. And accordingly if wilder, more unjust and worse. 
 
 Cal. Be it so. 
 
 Soc. So then it follows from what we have said that 
 Pericles was not a good statesman. 
 
 Cal. So you say. 
 
 Soc. Faith and so must t/ou say too, after the admissions 
 you just made. And now again about Cimon, tell me ; did 
 not those whom he tended ostracise him in order that they 
 mightn't hear the sound of his voice for ten years ? And 
 didn't they treat Themistocles in the very same way, and 
 punish him with exile to boot ? and Miltiades the hero of 
 Marathon they sentenced to be thrown into the pit, and had 
 it not been for the president into it he would have been 
 thrown. And yet these men had they been good in the way 
 that you describe them, would never have been treated thus. 
 At all events good drivers don't keep their seat in the chariot 
 at the commencement of their career, and then get thrown 
 out after they have trained their horses and improved them- 
 selves in driving. Thisisnotthe case either in charioteering or 
 in anyother business whatsoever. Youdon'tthinkso,doyou? 
 
 Cal. No, not I. 
 517 Soc. So then what we said before was true, that we know 
 
 ' Odt/ss. ?'. 120. 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 117 
 
 no one who has approved himself a good statesman in this 
 city of ours. You admitted this of th* men of the present 
 day, but (m-ged that) some of those of former times (were en- 
 titled to be so regarded), and to these men you gave the pre- 
 ference. But these now turn out to be on a par with the men 
 of the present day ; and therefore if these were orators, they 
 employed neither the genuine art of rhetoric, else they would 
 not have lost the popular favour, nor the flattering sort of it. 
 
 Cal. But surely, Socrates, none of the present generation c. 73 
 has ever done anything like such deeds as one of those others, 
 any one of them you please. 
 
 Soc. My dear sir, neither do I find any fault with them, 
 at least as ministers in the state's service, on the contrary I 
 think they have shown themselves more dexterous ministers 
 than the men of our time, and better able to provide the city 
 with all that she desired. However in, changing the direction 
 of the citizens' desires instM,d of giving way to them, leading 
 them by persuasion or compulsion to that which would im- 
 prove their character, in all this so to speak these were in no 
 respect superior to the others : and yet this is the only busi- 
 ness of a good statesman. But as to providing ships and 
 walls and docks and a variety of other such-like things, I 
 grant you myself that these men were cleverer than the 
 others. So it seems you and I are doing an absurd thing in 
 this argument of ours. For during the whole time that our 
 conversation has lasted we have never ceased coming round 
 constantly to the same point and misunderstanding one an- 
 other's meaning. I at all events believe that you have ad- 
 mitted ever so many times and decided that this business of 
 dealing with either body or soul is two-fold, and that the one 
 of these is ministerial ; whereby meat may be provided for 
 our bodies when they, are hungry, and drink when they are 
 thirsty, and when cold clothing, bedding, shoes, or anything 
 else that bodies are led to desire. And I purposely use the 
 same images in my illustration that you may the more easily 
 understand vae. For as to being capable of supplying such 
 
118 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 things, either as a shopkeeper or merchant, or maker of any 
 of the things themselves, baker or cook or weaver or shoe- 
 maker or tanner — it is no wonder, I say, that a man being 
 such should fancy himself and be considered by others as one 
 who takes care of the body ; by every one, that is, who is not 
 aware that there is besides all these an art of medicine and 
 gymnastics which really is a training of the body ; which has 
 in fact a natural claim to authority over all the arts, and a 
 right to make use of their works, because it knows what is good 
 and bad in meat and drink for promoting a perfect condition 
 518 of body, of which all those others are ignorant ; and so it is 
 that all these are servile and ministerial and illiberal in their 
 treatment of the body, I mean aU the rest, and medicine and 
 gymnastics have a fair claim to be their mistresses. That I 
 maintain the very same to be the case with the soul you 
 seem to me at one time to understand, and admit it as though 
 you knew what I meant ; and then by and by you come and 
 tell me that men in our city have shown themselves citizens 
 of sterling worth, and when I ask you who, you seem to me 
 to put forward men of exactly the same sort in statecraft, as 
 , if when I asked you who are or ever have been good trainers 
 of the body in gymnastics you told me quite seriously, The- 
 arion the baker, and Mithaecus the author of the treatise on 
 Sicilian cookery, and Sarambus the vintner, these are they 
 that have shown marvellous skill in training men's bodies by 
 supplying the one admirable loaves, the second entrees, and 
 c. 74 the third wine. Now perhaps you would have been offended 
 if I had said to you. My friend, you know nothing at all 
 about gymnastics : you tell me of a parcel of fellows, ministers 
 and caterers to men's appetites, with no sound and true 
 knowledge of them whatever, who, very likely, will first stuff 
 and fatten men's bodies — applauded by them for it all the 
 while — and then make them lose even the flesh they had of 
 old. They in their turn from ignorance will not throw the 
 blame of their diseases and the loss of their old flesh upon 
 those who .thus indulge them ; but whoever happen to be 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 119 
 
 near them at the time or to offer them any advice, just at 
 the moment when the original stuffing and pampering, car- 
 ried on as it was without the least regafd to what is whole- 
 some, has at length, it may be ever so long after, brought 
 disease upon them, them they will accuse and find fault with 
 and do them a mischief if they can, whilst they will applaud 
 those earlier advisers, the real authors of the disaster. And 
 you, Callicles, are now doing something precisely similar : 
 you are applauding men who have indulged those charges of 
 theirs with all the good things that they desired. And 
 people say that they have made the city great: but that 
 it is mere swelling ^ and internal ulceration that has been 
 brought about by these famous statesmen of old, they do 
 not perceive. For disregarding temperance and justice they 519 
 have stuffed the city with harbours and docks and walls and 
 tribute and suchlike nonsense: and so whenever the fit of sick- 
 ness we spoke of actually comes, they will lay the blame upon 
 their then present advisers, and applaud Themistocles and 
 Cimon and Pericles, the authors of all the mischief: and when 
 besides their subsequent acquisitions they have lost all that 
 they originally had into the bargain, they will probably lay 
 hold of you, if you don't take good care, and my friend Alci- 
 biades, who though not the immediate authors of all the 
 mischief are yet perhaps partly to blame for it. There is 
 however one senseless thing which I see happening now, and 
 hear of the men of thfe past generation. Whenever, that is, 
 the city takes one of these public men in hand as a wrong- 
 doer, I hear them venting their indignation with loud outcries 
 against such shameful treatment : * so then after all their 
 long and valuable services to the city the return she makes is 
 injustice and ruin,' according to their story. But all this is 
 entirely false. For there is no single instance in which th e 
 ruler of a city could ever b e unjustly brought to ruin by the 
 
 ' " Where great additions swell 's and virtue none, 
 
 It is a dropsical honour.'* 
 
 All's Well that ends Well, ii. 3. 124. 
 
120 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 very city over which he bears rule. For the case appears to 
 be precisely the same with those that pretend to the name of 
 statesmen as with those who profess the sophistical art. The 
 sophists in fact with all their cleverness in everything else in 
 this one point are guilty of an egregious absurdity: for 
 claiming to be teachers of virtue they often charge their 
 pupils with wronging them by cheating them of their fees 
 and in other respects showing them no gratitude for all 
 the service they have done them. Now what can be more 
 unreasonable than such language ? That men after they have 
 been made good and just, after all their injustice has been 
 eradicated by their teacher and justice planted in its stead, 
 should commit injustice by means of that which they have 
 not. Does not this seem to you absurd, my friend ? You 
 have really forced me to make quite a speech, Callicles, by 
 refusing to answer. 
 c. 75 Cal. So 1/ou then pretend that you can't speak unless 
 some one answer you ? 
 
 Soc. It seems I can. This time at any rate I have gone 
 on talking a good while, because you won't answer me. Come 
 now, my good fellow, tell me in the name of the god of 
 friendship, don't you think it is unreasonable for a man to 
 profess to have made another good, and then,, after he has 
 been made by him and still is good, to find fault with him 
 for being bad ? 
 
 Cal. Yes, I do think so. 
 
 Soc. Well and you heai', don't you, those that profess to 
 train men in virtue say such things ? 
 520 Cal. Yes I do. But what is to be said [what's the use of 
 talking] of such a worthless set of fellows ? 
 
 Soc. And what is to be said of those who, pretending to 
 control the state and to take care that it be made as good 
 as possible, turn round upon her when the occasion arisles, and 
 accuse her of being as bad as she can be ? Think you there 
 is any diiference between these and the others ? The sophist 
 and the orator, my dear fellow, are the same thing, or as 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 121 
 
 (nearly as possible alike, as I said to Polus. But you for want 
 \)f knowledge tliink the one, rhetoric, a very fine thing, and 
 the other you despise. Whereas in trifth sophistic is a finer 
 thing than rhetoric, in proportion as legislation is superior 
 to the administration of justice, and gymnastics to medicine. 
 In fact for my own part I always thought that public speakers 
 and sophists were the only class of people who have no right 
 to find fault with the thing that they have themselves trained 
 for behaving ill to them ; or else they must at the same time 
 by these very same words charge themselves as well with ^ 
 having done no good to those that they pretend to benefit. 
 Is it not so ? 
 
 Cal. Yes, quite so. 
 
 Soc. Aye, and they alone might be expected according 
 to all probability to have the power of bestowing their ser- 
 vices freely without fee or reward, if what they say were 
 true. For a man when he has received any other benefit, as 
 for instance if he has been taught to run fast by a trainer, 
 might perhaps cheat him of his reward, supposing the trainer 
 gave him his services for nothing, and made no agreement 
 with him for a fee which was to be paid as nearly as possible 
 at the very moment of imparting to him the speed in ques- 
 tion : for it is not by slowness of foot I conceive that men 
 do wrong, but by injustice ; isn't it ? 
 
 Cal. Yes. 
 
 Soc. And so if any one removes from others this par- 
 ticular vice, that is injustice, he need never be afraid of 
 being unjustly treated ; but this benefit alone can be bestow- 
 ed for nothing with security — supposing that is^ that any 
 one really has the power of making men good. Is it not so ? 
 
 Cal. I allow it. 
 
 Soc. This then, it appears, is the reason why there is no c. 76 
 disgrace in taking money for giving advice of any other kind, 
 as about building or the rest of the arts. 
 
 Cal. So it seems. 
 
 Soc. But about this particular process of making a man 
 
■r 
 
 322 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 as good as possible, and enabling him to manage to the best' ; 
 advantage his own household or a state, it is reckoned dis-^ 
 graceful to refuse to give advice without receiving money' 
 for it. Isn't it? 
 
 Cal Yes. 
 
 Soc. The reason plainly being this, that this is the only 
 kind of service that makes the recipient desire to requite the 
 benefit ; and therefore the symptom seems a favourable one 
 [of something having been really taught], when any one after 
 having performed this particular service is repaid for it ; and 
 if not, the contrary [an unfavourable one]. Is this as I say ? 
 521 Cal. It is. 
 
 Soc. Then tell me definitely which of those two modes 
 of serving the state it is that you invite me to ? that of 
 carrying on a constant struggle with the Athenians, like a 
 physician, to make them as good as possible, or (of behaving) 
 as one that would minister to all their humours and deal 
 with them solely with a view to their gratification ? Tell me 
 the truth, Callicles : for you are bound, as you began by 
 speaking your mind so freely to me, to go on now and tell 
 me all that you think. So now pray speak out fairly and 
 frankly. 
 
 Cal. I say then, as one that would minister to them. 
 
 Soc. Then, my very ingenuous friend, you invite me to 
 play the flatterer. 
 
 Cal. (^angrily). You may call yourself a Mysian^, if you 
 like it better, Socrates ; for if you don't do as I say — 
 
 ^ The proverb 'M.vomv \vxi is plainly not alluded to here, except so far as it 
 shows the low estimation in which the Mysians were held by the Greeks. The 
 proverb is explained by Aristotle, Bhet. i. 12. 20, to mean ' an easy prey,' and 
 is applied to tovq virb ttoWuiv adiKtiBivTag Kai fifi iTr(^iKd6vTaQ ; whence it ap- 
 pears that the Mysians were regarded as pusillanimous and feeble, unable to 
 protect themselves from injury or resent it when inflicted ; and the national 
 designation of Mysian, like that of Carian, passed into a by-word and a term 
 of reproach. Socrates had implied in his last observation that if he took 
 Callicles' advice he should render himself liable to be called a flatterer ; to this 
 Callicles aiigrily replies ; you may call yourself something worse if you please; 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 123 
 
 Soc. Don't repeat what you have said so often, that I 
 am at the mercy of any one that chooses to put me to death, 
 that I may not be obliged to repeat in my turn, that it will 
 be the case of a rogue putting to-^eathan honest man : nor 
 that any one can strip me of all that I have, that I may not 
 be obUged to say in my turn. Well, but after he has done so, 
 he won't know how to us% what he has got, but as he robbed 
 me wrongfully so in like manner he will employ wrongfully 
 what he has taken ; and if wrongfully then basely ; and if 
 basely then ill (mischievously, to his own detriment). 
 
 Cal. It seems to me, Socrates, that you don't believe in c. 77 
 the possibility of your meeting with any one of these calami- 
 ties, as though you were dwelling far out of harm's way, and 
 never could be dragged into a court of justfcei-fey some per- 
 haps utterly wretched^ and contemptible fellow. 
 
 Soc. Then I must indeed be a fool, Callicles, if I think 
 that in this city of ours any one whatsoever is exempt from 
 the risk of any possible form of calamity. Of this however 1 
 am quite sure, that if I ever am brought before a court of 
 justice and incur any of those risks you speak of, it will be 
 some villain that brings me there : for no honest man would 
 ever prefer a criminal charge against an innocent person. Aye 
 and it were no marvel if I were condemned to death. Would 
 you have me tell you why I expect this ? 
 
 Cal. Yes, by all means. 
 
 Soc. I think that I am one of very few, not to say the 
 dhly man in all Athens, that attempts the true art of Politics, 
 and that I am the only man of the present day that performs 
 his pubKc duties at all. Seeing then that the gratification of 
 my hearers is never the object of the discussions that I am 
 in the habit of taking part in, that they aim at what is best, 
 not what is most agreeable, and because I don't choose to do 
 those fine clever things that you recommend, I shall have not 
 
 a poor-spirited contemptible wretch, unable to protect or avenge yourself, like 
 a Mjsian. 
 
 1 See note 2, p. 98. 
 
124. PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 a word to say before the tribunal. And the same case may 
 now be applied to me as I was describing to Polus: for I 
 shall be like a physician tried before a jury of children on a 
 charge brought by a cook. Only consider what defence a 
 man like this would make in such a predicament, if the 
 prosecutor were to open his case thus : My dears, here's a 
 man that has done you all (icai uvtovq) a vast deal of mischief, 
 and even the very youngest of you he maims for life by 
 522 cutting and burning, and drives you to your wits' end by 
 starving and choking you, administering the bitterest draughts 
 and forcing you to abstain from eating and drinking ; not 
 like me, who used to feast you with every variety of nice 
 things "in abundance.. What think you that a physician re- 
 duced to such a strait would find to say for himself? Or sup- 
 posing hife were to say the truth. All this I did, my boys, for 
 your health — how great think you would be the outcry that 
 such judges would set up ? a loud one, wouldn't it ? 
 
 Cal. I dare say : one would think so. 
 ■ Soc. Don't you suppose then that he would be utterly at 
 a loss what to say_?_ 
 
 Cal. Certainly he would. 
 c. 78 Soc. Such however I well know would be my own fate 
 if I were brought before a court of justice. For I shalraiave 
 I no pleasure to describe that I have provided for them ; which 
 they account as benefits and services — whereas I envy neither 
 those that procure them nor those for whom they are pro- 
 cured — and if any one charges me either with corrupting thb 
 juniors by perplexing their minds with doubts, or with 
 reviling the seniors with bitter words either in private or in 
 public, I shall not be able to tell them either the truth, ' all 
 this that I say is right, and it is your interest, alone, o my 
 judges, that I am serving in acting thus,' or indeed any- 
 thing else. And therefore very likely there is no saying what 
 my fate may be. 
 
 Cal. Do you think then, Socrates, that a man in such a 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 125 
 
 condition and unable to help himself cuts a good figure in 
 a city. 
 
 Soc. Yes, Callicles, he would if h^had that advantage 
 which you have so often admitted ; if he had 'helped himself 
 by never having said or done any wrong either to men or 
 gods. For this we have repeatedly allowed to be the best of 
 all possible kinds of self-help. Now were I to be convicted 
 of incapacity for rendering help of this kind to myself or 
 another, of such conviction I should be ashamed whether it 
 took place before many or few or by myself alone ; and if 
 my death were due to this kind of incapacity I should indeed 
 be vexed. But if it were for want of your ' flattering ' rhe- 
 toric that I died, I am very sure you would see me meet my 
 death with calmness and composure. For death itself no I 
 man ifears, unless he be an absolute fool or coward ; it is / 
 doing wrong that a man fears : for to arrive at the wotld ( 
 below with the soul laden with many offences is the utter- 
 most of all evils. And now, if you please, I'll tell you a 
 tale to show you that this is really so. 
 
 Cal. Well as you have done all the rest, you may as 
 well finish this too. * — 
 
 Soc. 'Listen then,' as they (the story-tellers) say, 'to a c. 79 
 very pretty story ; ' which you, I dare say, wiU take for a fable, 523 
 but I regard as a true story : for all that I am about to say 
 I wish to be regarded as true. 
 
 Zeus, Poseidon^ and Pluto, as Homer ' tells us, divided 
 .amongst themselves the empire which they derived from 
 their father. Now in the days of Cronus there was a law 
 concerning mankind, which still at the prfesent day as ever 
 prevails in heaven, that every man who has lived a just 
 and holy life departs after death to the Islands of the 
 Blest,-, and there dwells in perfect happiness beyond the 
 resMsh of ill ; but whosoever has led a life of injustice and 
 impiety is consigned to the dungeon of vengeance and 
 punishment, which, you know, they call Tartarus. Of these 
 ... ' ' 7Z. XV. 187 foil. 
 
126 PLATO'S QOBGIAS. 
 
 there were in the days of Cronus, and still are in more 
 recent times under the empire of Zeus, living judges of 
 living men, who were appoiated to sit in judgment upon 
 every man on the very day on which he was to die. And so 
 the cases were (often) decided amiss. So Pluto and the 
 guardians from the Isles of the Blest came and reported to 
 Zeus how that men undeserving were constantly coming 
 to them as well as to the other place. So spake Zeus : Nay, 
 said he, I will put an end to this. For true it is that now 
 the cases are ill judged. And this is hecause they that are 
 brought to trial are tried with their clothes on, seeing that | 
 they are tried alive. Now many, said he, whose souls are 
 wicked are ^loth^' with fair bodies and nobility and wealth, 
 and ait the judgment many witnesses appear to testify on 
 their behalf that their lives have been passed in justice. So 
 the judges are confounded not only by their evidencSj but at 
 the same time because they themselves sit in judgment 
 wrapt in clothes, with the veil of eyes and ears and indeed of 
 the entire body interposed before their own soul. All this 
 therefore stands in their way, their own wrappings as well as 
 those of them that stand before their bar..^(Tirst of all then, 
 he continued, we must pu,t an end to their foreknowledge of 
 their own death, for now they have this foreknowledge. This 
 however Prometheus has already refceived my orders to put a 
 stop to. Next they must be stript of all these clothes before 
 they are brought to trial ; for they must be tried after death. 
 The Judge too must be naked, dead, with very soul scruti-' 
 nising the very soul of each the moment after his death, each 
 man bereft of the aid of all his friends and relations and with 
 all that ornamental furniture left behind him upon earth that 
 the judgment may be just. Knowing all this before your- 
 selves, I have already appointed judges sons of my own, 
 524 two from Asia, Minos and Ehadamanthus, and one from 
 Europe, JEacus : These three after their death shall sit in 
 judgment in the Meadow at the Cross Roads, whence the 
 two lead, one to the Isles of the Blest, the other to TartaruS. ■? 
 
PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 127 
 
 And the souls from Asia Khadamanthus shall try, and those 
 from Europe ^acus : and upon Minos I will confer the privi- 
 lege of deciding in the last resort (or, reviewing their sen- 
 tence) in case of doubt on the part of the other two, that the 
 
 1 judgment upon man's final journey may be perfectly just. 
 
 This, Callicles, is what I have heard and believe to be true, c. 80 
 and I reckon that from these tales may be drawn some such 
 ^moral as this. Death, as it seems to me, is nothing but the 
 
 ■'.- idiasoliitioni the parting from one another, of two things, the 
 soul and the body. And accordingly after their separation, 
 each pf);them retains its own state and cmdition pretty 
 
 I. :B.early the same asCiThaJ^when the man was alwe, the body 
 fl:et*ilHitg its own nature with the results of its training and 
 its lajefcidental affections, all quite visible. For instance, if any 
 one'^rbody was of great size either naturally or by feeding or 
 bothj-.whilst he was alive, his corpse will be of great size too 
 after;he is dead: and if he was fat, it will be just as fat after 
 his ;d^ath ; and so on for the rest. Or i^ again ^he adopted 
 the fashion of wearing his hair long, his dead body in like 
 mailner will have long hair. Again if any one had been flog- 
 ged; 'and bore traces of the stripes in the shape of scars on his 
 body, Tiyhether these were left by the scourge or by wounds 
 of any. other kind, in life, his body visibly retains the marks ■ 
 of them ^hen: the man is dead. And if the limbs of any one 
 were broken or distorted in life the very same will be visible 
 in death. , And in a word, whatever characteristics a man's 
 ' b^dyVpiJOsented in life, the same likewise are visible in it 
 aflpr/his death, all or most of them, for a certain time. And 
 ■ sQiidallicles, it seems to me, the very same is the case with 
 the soul also; when a man's soul is stript of its bodily covering, 
 all;, it$. natural properties, as well as those I^Sd^ital ones 
 which the man's soul contracted from his various habits and ■ 
 p:ij(iSwitSj are visible in it. So as soon as they are arrived at 
 the; place of judgment, they of Asia before Ehadamanthus, 
 them Bihadaman thus sets before him, and examines each man's 
 .spul,:not knowing whose it is ; nay often when he has laid 
 
128 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 hold upon the Great King .himself, or any other prince or 
 potentate, he detects at once the utter unsoundness of his 
 soul, deeply marked by the scourge and covered with wounds 
 inflicted by perjury and iniquity, of which its own acts have 
 525 left the print on each individual soul ; full of distortion 
 arising from falsehood and imposture, and all crooked by 
 I'eason of its having been reared without truth: or from 
 power and pride and insolence and incontinence finds the 
 soul laden with disproportion and ugliness. When he has 
 found such an one he sends it away in disgrace straight to \ 
 the place of ward, where on its arrival it is doomed to endure 
 all the sufferings that are its due. 
 c. 8 1 Every one who undergoes punishment, if that punishment • 
 be rightly inflicted by another, ought either to be made better 
 thereby and derive benefit from it, or serve as a n example to 
 the rest of ina nkind, that others seeing the sufferings that 
 he endures may be brought by terror to amendment of life. 
 Now those who derive benefit from the punishment which 
 they receive at the hands of Gods and men are they that have 
 been guilty of remediable offences : yet still the benefit both 
 here and in the wo rld below is conveyed to them througnthe 
 medium of pain and suffering ; for in no other way caii iJie-re- 
 l ease from iniquity be efi'ec^ed. But all those that have done 
 extreme wrong and by reason of such crimes have become in- 
 curable, jthese are they of whom the examples are made: and 
 these are no longer capable of receiving any benefit themselves, 
 seeing that they are incurable, but others are benefited who 
 behold them for their transgressions enduring the severest, 
 most painful^ and most fearful sufferings in that prison-house 
 in the world below, time without end ; hung up as signal 
 examples there, a spectacle and a warning to the wicked as 
 they continually arrive. Of whom I say Archelaus too will 
 be one, if what Polus tells us is true, and every other tyrant 
 that resembles him. And I believe that the majority of these 
 examples is derived from tyrants and kings and potentates 
 and ministers of the affairs of states : for they by reason of 
 
FLAWS GOBGIAS. ^ 129 
 
 the licence that they enjoy are usually guilty of the greatest 
 and most impious transgressions. Hom^ too is a witness to 
 the truth of this ; for he has introduced kings and lords, Tan- 
 talus and Sisyphus and Tityus, as those who are suffering 
 everlasting punishment in the lower world. But Thersites or 
 any other private person that was wicked no poet has described 
 as incurable and therefore subjected to any heavy punish- 
 ment ; because no doubt he wanted the power, and therefore 
 was so far happier than those that had it. However, Callicles, 
 be that as it Inay, it is to the class of the powerful that the 
 men who are distinguished for wickedness actually belong. 
 Still there is nothing to prevent good men being found even 526 
 amongst these, and eminently worthy of admiration are those 
 that' prove themselves such: for it is hard, Callicles, and 
 highly 'praiseworthy for a ma n to lead a ^just li fe when he 
 has full liberty of doinpj wro np. But small indeed is the ■ 
 number of such : for true it is that here and elsewhere there 
 have been,''and I don't doubt there will be hereafter, men 
 thoroughly accomplished in this virtue, the virtue of adminis- 
 tering justly all that has been confided to their care. And 
 one there has been very celebrated indeed, whose fame is 
 spread' all over ' Greece, Aristides son of Lysimachus. But 
 most powerful men, my good, friend, turn out bad. 
 
 So' as I was saying, whenever such an one appears before c. 82 
 that Ehadamanthus we spoke of, he knows nothing else about 
 him- whatsoever, neither who he is nor whence derived, except 
 that he is a . bad man : and as soon as he discovers this he 
 sends him away at once to Tartarus, with a mark set upon 
 him ;to show whether he is curable or incurable ; and upon his 
 arrival there he is submitted to the sufferings appropriate to 
 his ch^: ■ And sometimes, when he sets his eyes upon another 
 soul that has lived a holy life in the society of truth, a private 
 man's br'any other's, especially as I should say, Callicles, that 
 of a- philosopher who has attended to his own business, and 
 not meddled in the affau-s of (public) life, he is struck with ad- 
 miration and sends it off to the Isle of the Blest. Precisely 
 
 K 
 
130 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 t 
 
 the same is the practice of ^acus. And each of these two 
 sits in judgment with a rod in his hand. But Minos sits 
 alone overlooking the proceedings holding a golden sceptre, 
 as Ulysses in Homer says that he saw him, 
 
 ' Wielding a sceptre of gold, and judging amongst the Departed.' 
 
 Nowfor mypartjCallicles, I ameonvincedby these stories, 
 and I consider how I may appear before my judge with my 
 soul in its healthiest condition. So.renouncingthe honours 
 which are the aim of the mass of mankind J shall endeavour 
 in the search after truth really to the utmost of my power 
 to lead a life of virtue and so to meet death when it comes. 
 And all other men I invite likewise to the best of my ability, 
 and you especially I invite in return to this course of life and 
 this conflict, which I say is worth all other conflicts here on 
 earth put together ; and I retort your reproach, that i/ou will 
 be unable to help yourself when that trial and that judg- 
 ment comes upon you of which I was even now speaking ; 
 527 but when you appear before your judge, the son of ^gina, 
 and he lays hold on you to drag you to his bar,yoM will stand 
 with open mouth and dizzy brain, you there no less than I 
 here, and some one perchance will smite you, yea shamefully 
 slap you in the face, and treat you with every variety of insult. 
 ^. All this however may ■perhaps seem to you a mere fable, 
 like an old wife's tale, and you look upon it with contempt. 
 And there would have been no wonder in our despising it, if 
 we could have found by any amount of search anything better 
 and truer. But as it is, you see that you three, three of the 
 wisest of the Greeks of our time, you and Polus and Gorgias, 
 are unable to prove that we should lead any other life than 
 this, which appears to be of advantage to us for the other 
 world as well as this ; but amidst the multitude of questions 
 that we have been arguing, whilst all the rest were refuted 
 this doctrine alone sta nds unshaken, that doing wrong is to 
 be more carefully avoided than suffering it : that before all 
 ■ things a man should study not to see7)i but to be good in his 
 
PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 131 
 
 private and public lijSfc ; timt if a man become bad in any 
 respect, he is to be eorrOifcd ; and that.this is good in the 
 second degree, next to 9einff just to become so, and to be 
 corrected by~pu nishment : and that all kinds of ' flattery,' 
 ^vhether of oneself or others, of few or of many, are to be 
 avoided : and that rhetoric, as well as every other kind of 
 action, is to be employed ^ver for the maintenance of the 
 right, and for that al one {o'iitwq). 
 
 So take my advice and follow me to that bourn, where c. 8 
 when you have attained it, you will be happy in life and 
 after death, as our argument promises, and let any one look 
 down upon y ou as a tool and msult you if he pleases — aye, 
 By heaven, and cheerfully submit to endure from him even 
 that blow o f infamy rT 6i-~TF will do you no harm if you be 
 really an honest and true man, practising virtue. And here- 
 after when we have so practised it together, then and not till 
 then will we set about politics, if it seem right to do so, or 
 consult then about any other plans we think proper, bet ter 
 prepared for deliberation th an we are now. For it is a shame 
 for men in the condition in which we now manifestly are to 
 assume airs of consec|uencej,tliough we are never of the same * 
 mind for two iiiom«ft.t&'^xifiiWSer upon the same subjects, and 
 those of the deepin*i*M«|fiCi^ ; such is the undisciplined state 
 or om- minds. • .iMPMi'^*''*^ take as a guide the views that ' 
 have even noT^JllMHP ^llilnselves to us, which point out 
 that this cours|f|imi'#ts''IBfe9^ in the practice of justice and 
 of every other viWGe to live and to die. These then let us 
 follow and invite all others thereto ; not those you put faith 
 in and invite me to: for they are nothing worth, Callicles. 
 
Addendum to note (2) p. 98. 
 
 ' Unhappy,' is another English word which " unites the 
 meanings of wicked and miserable " ; as Trench notes in his 
 Select Glossary, p. 220, illustrating thQ former by quotations 
 from our earlier writers. ' Unlucky ' has the same double 
 meaning. And similarly ' poor rogue, poor devil,' are often 
 employed, without intending thereby to impute to the persons so 
 designated any other crimes but those of misfortune or misery. 
 
 Another remarkable example of this association or confusion 
 of physical and moral good and evil appears in the modem 
 application of the English villain, and the French vilain, which 
 have transferred to the signification of moral depravity in the 
 former case, and of all that is mean and contemptible including 
 even personal ugliness in the latter, a term which originally 
 marked the low servile condition of the adsoripti glebae under 
 the Feudal system. The moral application of the word ' base ' 
 seems to be similarly derived. The exact converse of this is 
 shown in the identification of high social rank and position with 
 moral worth in the names ajaOoi, apitjTOi, ajOtorijtC) ii t^^ earlier 
 ■ Greek authors, and koXoi, Ka-yaBoi, iTruiKtig in the later ; of 
 optimates, boni, optimi, by the Latins ; and Gute Manner, 
 Herrn von Bechte, and similar terms by the old Germans; 
 which are bestowed upon the nobility, the men of rank and 
 wealth, of the highest social and political importance in the state. 
 
 See more on this latter subject in Donaldson's New CratyluB,| 
 sicker, Theognis, Introd. p. xxi foil to 
 efers. 
 
 wever of this association or transfer which 
 correct. The ' virtue ' which is ascribed,! 
 
133 
 
 to tlie higher classes in the earh and half-civilized times in 
 which these terms originated is o{ a different kind to that more 
 comprehensive sort which is aftorwards tinderstood nnder the 
 same name. This is apparentlj- overlooked by Dr Donaldson 
 when he says, Art. 327, "it was because the better classes, 
 having no temptations like theixl poorer brethren, abstained from 
 those vices which common opinion reprobated, that their regular 
 name became an epithet descrip tive of good moral conduct." 
 
 This no doubt would help to fix such a designation upon 
 them : but the aptrri, or virtus, which was ascribed to them was 
 above all others the martial pre wess in which their wealth and 
 consequent superiority in arms and armour over the less fa.voured 
 classes, and the leisure for the oiiltivation of military habits and 
 exercises which it allowed, enabled them actually to excel : whilst 
 the same circumstances would adWit and encourage the exercise 
 of generosity, liberality, courtesy, affability, and those other 
 shining qualities by which especially in rude and simple times 
 the popular imagination is most captivated. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 Note A. 
 
 Callicles' bad memory has here deprivefd us of the true read- 
 ing of an interesting fragment of Euripides. The interpretation 
 and restoration of this mnch vexed passage are alike doubtful. 
 As to the former, Stallbaum construes BiaTrpiTreiQ in a neuter 
 sense, indolem animi adeo generosam puerili conspicuua es 
 decore ; but I think such a construction is far too awkward to 
 be found in a writer celebrated for the neatness of his style like 
 Euripides ; and that we ought certainly to give the verb a 
 transitive sense, ' make conspicuous.' Ifext, it appears from 
 the general tenor of the passage, and from the adverb al<T\p(!)Q, 
 which is attached to BiairpiTrtig by Philostratus in a reference 
 to be cited below, that the word has an unfavourable sense, and 
 implies a disgraceful notoriety ; aicrxp'i'e SiaTrpiirEig being, 
 turpiter insignem reddis : whence it may be translated ' dis- 
 figure ' or ' disgrace.' 
 
 Yalckenaer actually proposes SiafjTpiipug, and Heindorf, 
 who thinks SiaTrpiTTug corrupt, hesitates whether to accept this 
 inexcusable false quantity or Grotius' vox nihili, SiarpiTrsig- 
 
 As regards the restoration of the verses, we are told by 
 Olympiodorus in his commentary that the word fxupaKiwSei is 
 ' substituted by Plato for yvvaiKwSu in the original. The more 
 probable reading yvvaiKOfdfit^ is supplied by a quotation, in 
 Philostratus' life of Apollonius of Tyana, iv. 21 , p. 160, referred 
 to by Grotius, yvvaiKOfilfiOf) fiopfufiari Kara, tov 'EvpnrlSnM 
 ai(j-)(pwq SiairpiTTHv. It would seem from this latter passage 
 that ai(T^pa»c likewise stood in Euripides' text — a word which 
 may be thought almost necessary to qualify the favourable sense 
 which is elsewhere attached to SiaTrpiTreiv. Valckenaer's restora- 
 tion, which Stallbaum unsuspicious of the violation of metre 
 
APPENDIX. 135 
 
 reproduces without remark in his note, as Heindorf had done 
 before him, is as follows ; 
 
 "AfKJiiov afiiXstg wv lirifiiKuaBai (jt BtT 
 alcTXpiHQ TE, \pv)(tjg (L§£ •yivvaia (pvtrt^, 
 yvvaiKOinifKf) SianpiTriiQ fiop^wfiari. 
 
 in which, besides the metrical objection, the phrase ipvyriQ... 
 ijtvatg as an apposition to av the suppressed nominative to 
 itairpiTTEiQ, seems to me quite un-Euripidean. I had thought 
 of the following : 
 
 al(T\p<t)C re rijc ffijc wSe jevvalav (pv(Tiv 
 i^u^ije yvvMKwv ciawptTretc fiopipwpaTi. 
 
 To this reading of course the words of Philostratus are opposed, 
 supposing them to be a direct and literal quotation. Yet such 
 a supposition is by no means necessary, for they do not run in 
 verse ; or again the author may have been quoting from memory, 
 in which case the compound yvvaiKOfiifioQ, which occurs in all 
 three tragedians, might very naturally suggest itself as the 
 more poetical representative of yvvaiKoJv. 
 
 Nauck, Trag. Grcec. Fragm. p. 329, substitutes wv ae 
 ippovTiZuv ixP^^ ^°^ ^^ kirifieXuaOai tre Sti, apparently because 
 he thinks it is more poetical. If that be his reason, he might 
 have rememberedthat the language of Euripides is often so familiar 
 as nearly to approach that of every-day life ; and also that the 
 poet employs the word himself iin Pham. 569. Besides this, 
 the apparently intentional opposition between a/xeXsiv and 
 iirifiiXticTOai seems to vindicate the claim of the latter to a place 
 in the text of Euripides. Of Nauck's reading of the second line, 
 \Lv\riQ i)(wv yap (&§£ yevvaiav <pv<nv, I need say nothing roTc 
 <n)vsToT(7iv. 
 
 Valckenaer's restoration of the next line runs thus ; 
 
 OVT kv S('ki)c j3oi;Xa(<T(V opuCtQ av Xoyov 
 irpoQtin wiOavov, ovt av cKnrioog Trort 
 KVTii -y' ofiiXrjCTiiaQ, ovt aXXoJv virip 
 veaviKOV liovXtvfia jjovXtvaaio ti. 
 
 The words ovt' av aoTTiSoe — ofiiXr'iasiag are adapted from 
 another hint of Olympiodorus. 
 
136 PLATO'S OOBGIAS. 
 
 This likewise is open to the objection that it omits the word 
 XajSojc, which certainly would not have been chosen here by 
 Plato, and therefore probably belongs to Euripides. It would be 
 easy to express the whole of this clause in a verse such as 
 
 our' EiKoe ovv (or av) koL TriOavov oiiStv av \a(3oig, 
 but much more diflSoult to accommodate the verse when made to 
 the structure of the entire passage. 
 
 The remainder of the verses are I think satisfactorily recon- 
 structed by Valckenaer. Except that for Travcrai S' aoiSwv it 
 seems to me that the pa/rticiple substituted by Callicles, Travaai 
 S' iXiy)(o>v, leads us rather to the reading asiSwi'. Nauck, 
 from Aristoph. Av. 13.82, aud another passage, writes jueXwSwv, 
 but I cannot see how the fact of Aristophanes having once used 
 the phrase TrawaL /xeXuEwv can have any bearing upon the 
 present passage ; all that can fairly be inferred from it is that 
 Euripides might have so written in conformity with the laws of 
 the Greek language, which no one even without this evidence 
 would probably be disposed to deny. 
 
 It has not been observed that the injunction toluvt ciejSe 
 comes in rather oddly after the very decided recommendation 
 plxpov \vpav, in one of the previous lines, however it may be 
 qualified by the reference of Toiavra to woXefiltov, ' feats of war, 
 martial achievements,' exclusively. Perhaps the word is corrupt ; 
 and the mistake may have arisen from a confusion with asiBuv 
 in the line before. 
 
 See Valckenaer's Diatribe on the Fragments of Euripides, and 
 Wagner's and Nauck's Golleotions of the Tragic Fragments. 
 
 Note B. 
 
 This ' school ' is, I have little doubt, the Pythagorean. First, 
 that the doctrine or fancy that the soul is buried in the body as 
 in a grave, or place of ward or punishment, was held by the 
 Orphic mystics, is distinctly shown by the passage of the Gratylws, 
 400 B. Compare Phced. 62 b, where it is referred to as an uTrop- 
 priTog Xoyog by Cebes, who had been intimate with PhiloloMS in 
 Thebes his native city, p, 61 d. See also Brandis, Handh. i. 
 
APPENDIX. 137 
 
 p. 87 and the reff. Now with the Orphics the Pythagoreans were 
 closely connected in doctrine and discipline. Herod, ii. 81. See 
 hoheck, Aglaoph. -p. 795 foil. Prof. Thompson's note on Butler's 
 Lectwres on the Hist, of Phil. i. 343. On the Orphics, their 
 traditions, poems, doctrines, and ceremonies, Miiller, Mist. Gk. 
 Lit. c. XVI. And this very same opinion on the condition of the 
 soul in this life was held likewise and expressed in the same 
 words by the Pythagoreans. Brandis, Handbuch, i. 496, notes 
 h and i ; and Bockh, Philolcms, pp. 178 — 180 and foil. See 
 especially the extracts from Clemens Alexandrinus, Theodorefc 
 and AthensBus cited by both writers. Brandis refers to the 
 whole of this passage of the Gorgias as Pythagorean. And 
 Bockh u. s. pp. 186, 7 adds some other considerations, especially 
 the fondness of the Pythngoreans for etymologizing, tracing 
 verbal resemblances, or ' playing with words ; ' of which there 
 are no less than four examples here in Plato — (no/na and crf;/io, 
 iriOavog and iri9og, avorirog and afivrfroQ, and ae(S?je and "AiStjc 
 (the last of which occurs likewise, Phced. 50 d and 81 c); all which 
 coupled with the direct authorities cited by him is to my mind 
 almost conclusive in favour of ascribing these opinions to that 
 sect together with the Orphics. 
 
 Karsten however, Oomm. in Erwpedoolem, pp. 301, — 303, and 
 Stallbaum in his note on this passage, differ from Bockh and 
 Brandis, and agree in attributing them to Heraclitus and 
 Empedocles. Heraclitus' claims may be despatched in a very 
 few words. He is neither a Sicilian nor an Italian, but an 
 Ephesian : and though he said no doubt in his symbolical 
 mysterious way that life is death (or what is equivalent to it), 
 and that our souls are buried in our bodies, there is no verbal 
 correspondence as there is in the other case. The authorities 
 on which they both rely are Olympiodorus and the Scholiast, 
 who agree in calling Empedocles a Pythagorean, and are there- 
 fore at least half in favour of the other supposition. Karsten's 
 remaining arguments are almost too trifling to deserve notice. 
 The first is derived from the words StKEXop jj 'IraXtKog, which 
 he says suit no one so well as Empedocles on account of his 
 Sicilian birthplace. But at all events he was not born in both ; 
 and Philolaus and the Pythagoreans were all natives of Itaily, 
 
138 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 and therefore seem to have at least as good a claim to be repre- 
 sented by Plato's alternative as the other. Next he says that 
 the paronomasise are rhetoricae argutiee Bmpedocli non alienee — 
 bnt Bockh gives a much better reason, PhUolaus' actual practice, 
 for ascribing them to the latter. The last two are that Empe- 
 docles was Gorgias' master ; and that in a passage of the Sophist, 
 242 D, Heraclitus and Empedocles are coupled together in a 
 similar phrase, 'IoSec Se koi 'SiiKiKiKoi Moiktui ; both true, but 
 apparently not very much to the purpose. 
 
 In illustration of the hidden meaning of the allegory I 
 cannot do better than quote the words of Steinhart in his 
 Introduction to Hieron. Miiller's translation of this dialogue, p. 
 378. Denn das dichterische Gewand lasst die grossen Gedanken 
 durchschimmern, dass die Herrschaft der Lust nicht das wahre 
 Leben, sondern der Tod des Geistes sei, dass sie die Seele zur 
 Anfnahme reinerer nnd hoherer Ideen unfahig mache, und zu 
 einem eitlen nichtigen unseligen Leben fiihre. The same writer 
 goes on to ascribe a serious meaning, and an argumentative 
 intention to both of these fables ; a view which is likewise 
 adopted by Susemihl, another recent writer on the Platonic 
 Philosophy. On this Bonitz, Platonisclie Studien (in Sitzungs 
 herichte der Kais. Akad. der Wissenschaften, Vol. xxvi. p. 255) 
 justly observes, that the expressions used by Plato on the subject, 
 493 D, 494 A (and he might have added the introductory phrases, 
 493 E, oil yap OavfiaZoifi av K.r.X.) are entirely opposed to the 
 notion that he designed to lay any stress whatever upon them 
 as a proof : vielmehr bezeichnen die angefiihrten Worte des 
 Sokrates in aller Deutlichkeit, dass Platon in solchen Bildern 
 nicht eine beweisende Kraft anerkennt, sondern nur den bildlich 
 anschaulichen Ausdruck fiir eine Uberzeugung, welche bereits 
 auf anderem Wege sicher gestellt sein muss. The same may be 
 said of the Myths ; with the exception that in their case no 
 other kind of confirmation is possible ; in them poetical imagina- 
 tions and popular convictions and traditions take the place of 
 the unattainable truth. Schleiermacher in his note on the 
 passage, p. 489, had already guarded his readers against the 
 error of attributing a serious purpose to these allegories and an 
 intention on the author's part of employing them in establishing 
 
APPENDIX. 139 
 
 his conclusions : he says that Plato is speaking half in derision 
 of such pompous trifling, and means to imply that the argument 
 can make no real progress until it returns to his own simple 
 and natural method. 
 
 Note C. 
 
 The late Dr Donaldson, in his little book on Classical 
 Scholarship and Classical Learning, Appendix, p. 253, writes 
 thus : " Now it is well known to all really good Scholars that 
 01) Travv does not mean, as it is so often rendered by those who 
 are imperfectly trained, whether Germans or Englishmen, ' not 
 altogether,' which admits that the thing may be so partially, 
 but ' altogether not,' which contradicts the supposition that it 
 can be so at all," quoting Soph. CEd. Col. 142 ov ttuvv fiolpag 
 tv^mfiovhai TTpwTriQ as necessarily meaning " not at all of an 
 enviable condition," though Hermann had rendered it non primse 
 profecto sortis hominem. ov Travv therefore is always omnino 
 non, never non omnino. 
 
 To the same effect Buttmann, Index to Plato's four Dialogues, 
 p. 223, says, ov voces non solum negat, sed in contrarium vertit 
 (cf . (jtavai) : sic imprimis ov iravv non vertendum est ' non 
 omnino' sed omnmo non, prorsus non, [I presume he means 
 invariably, as he adds no qualification or exception] ut apparet 
 ex locis quales sunt Men. 77 r, Crit. 48 A : sic igitur intelligenda 
 sunt etiam Men. 71 0, Ale. 1. 128 B. This inference I altogether 
 deny. 
 
 To these authorities I have nothing to oppose but reason and 
 facts. First it is unreasonable and improbable to suppose that 
 two words which express by the very order in which they are 
 placed a qualified negative should inmwriahly be applied to convey 
 an unqualified negation. The emphatic negation is of course 
 naturally and properly expressed by the words in the reversed 
 order ttovu oh, as in Thucydides, l. 8, aAXci to. /Jtkv Trp6"F.XXrivoQ 
 Tov AsvKoXiwvoc KOI TTOvu ovSe uvtti 7) ETTiKXjjtTie aiixi) ; though 
 it is true that by some caprice of language usage has attached 
 the same signification to them in the other collocation, and this 
 sense has become perhaps the more common of the two ; all that 
 
140 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 I argue for is that this is not the only, nor the original, sense of 
 oil iravv in this their nsual order. This stronger sense, when it 
 occurs, may arise out of the other by giving an ironical tone to 
 the words ; ' not quite ' may convey by the tone and manner of 
 utterance identically the same meaning as ' absolutely not,' and 
 so may pass by usage into that signification when no irony at 
 all is intended ; and this is probably the actual origin of the 
 unqualified meaning ; at least I can see no other way of account- 
 ing for it. This view is further confirmed by the parallel case 
 of 011% ^K/ora, which by the same fisitixrig, softening of the 
 language, expressing a decided meaning in mild terms (and this 
 is a sort of irony), has acquired by usage the sense of fiaXurra. 
 
 As to the question of fact, the difficulty in deciding the point 
 lies in this, that in the great majority of instances either sense is 
 sufficiently applicable, and many of them may be quoted iu 
 support of either interpretation. Thus in the passage above 
 quoted from the (Edipus Coloneus it seems to me that it is by the 
 ironical emphasis that the words are made to convey the un- 
 qualified negative, and that they do really mean there ' not 
 altogether.; ' which I have always regarded as at once more 
 poetical ^ and more forcible than the naked statement of the 
 
 ' That this is no mere fancy of mine, but is actually warranted by the 
 facts of the case, will appear from the following considerations. Bp Thirlwall, 
 in his famous paper on the Irony of Sophocles, Phil. Mus. il. 483, thus defines 
 verbal irony. " This most familiar species of irony may be described as a 
 figure which enables the speaker to convey his meaning with greater force by 
 means of a contrast between his thought and his expression, or, to speak more 
 accurately, between the thought which he evidently designs to express, and 
 that which his words properly signify." 
 
 But there is a melancholy as well as a sportive irony ; and, " where irony 
 is not merely jocular, it is not simply serious, but earnest." It is this kind of 
 irony which here gives character to the expression ; and I need hardly point 
 out how much more appropriate such a subdued tone of melancholy is to the 
 old, blind, desolate CEdipus, in whose mouth the words are put, and how much 
 more in conformity with the spirit which, as Dr Thirlwall shows in detail, per- 
 vades and characterises the dramas of Sophocles, that deep feeling of the con- 
 trast between the reality and the outward appearance which constitutes the 
 very essence of Tragic pathos, than the sharp, flippant, querulous, " not at all 
 of an enviable condition,'' which is the rendering of Dr Donaldson. In fact 
 when we look at the interpretation of the passage of Sophocles from this point 
 of view, it may I think be safely asserted that here at all events the ironical 
 
APPENDIX. 141 
 
 fact. Still, examples may be produced which establish incontro- 
 vertibly that the words are susceptible of the milder interpreta- 
 tion ; some of these I will now proceed to cite. 
 
 In Xen. CEcon. vii. 1, we have : tI, 5) 'laxofiax^, oh fxaXa 
 sitaOwg axoXaZitv KaOriaai ; ettei raye TrXsiara rj irpaTTOvTO. ri 
 bpu) aE 7) oil iravv ajj^oXa^ovra iv ry ayopq. Here plainly the 
 opposition is between being ' actively engaged ' and ' not entirely 
 idle: ' were ov wdw to be understood in the sense of omuino non, 
 ' not at all idle, quite busy,' there would be no distinction or 
 opposition at all. In Cyrop. ii. 4. 13, ai fiiv olKriaug ov iravv 
 iv e\vpo'iQ...6pri fiivTOi iuTi k.t.X. though the instance is not 
 decisive, the probability is, as the country spoken of is Armenia, 
 and from the opt) fxivroi that follows, that the meaning intended 
 is ' not very strong positions,' rather than, ' not at all strong.' 
 The same may be said of viii. 2. 24, ov iravv iTriixiXovfiivovg. 
 II. 4. 27, eav fjLrj iravv iro\v tXarrbJV ri oSoe y, is a more certain 
 example ; as is also Anab. i. 8. 14, 6 KvpoQ irapeXavvcuv ov 
 iravv TTjooe avri^ ti^ (TTpanvfiaTi , and Hellen. VI. 4. 14, ^v fikvToi 
 
 or qualified sense of the negative is the only one that good taste will 
 tolerate. 
 
 It is singular that this of the CEdipus Coloneus is the only instance of the 
 use of this phrase that is to be found in the extant plays of Sophocles — this 
 may be stated with confidence on the authority of EUendt's elaborate Lexicon 
 to this author. In ^schylus it never occurs at all : nor does it appear in the 
 Lexicons to Homer, Pindar, Herodotus, or Euripides. It seems that it did not 
 become common till Plato's time : and the fact that it is more common in 
 him than in any other writer, is as far as it goes an additional argument in 
 favour of the ironical interpretation. In all earlier writers, so far as my 
 memory (and Indices) serve me, it is comparatively rare. In Caravella's very 
 complete Index to Aristophanes I find no instance of ou ■kclvv. ovSiv Trdw 
 "nothing at all," occurs Nub. 733, and oiiSt Travv " no such thing at all as..." 
 lb. 902. firiSi Trdw in the same sense, Pac. 121, and ovSk iravv, Lysistr. 588. 
 In Thucydides it appears from Be'tant's Lexicon that there are only tvco exam- 
 ples, vm. 38. 3 and 56. 2, both of them indeterminate. It first becomes tolerably 
 frequent in Xenophon. 
 
 I had not seen until this Appendix was written the following explanation 
 in Eost and Palm's Lexicon, Art. irdvv. oii iravv, ' nicht sehr, nicht eben,' mit 
 ironischer wendung bisweilen so viel wie ' durchaus nicht.' 
 
 ■ ' Kriiger's note on this passage is, non adeo prope ab exercitu suo, 5. satis 
 longinquo a suis intervallo. Weisk. He refers also to v. 9. 26 as a similar 
 instance. 
 
142 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 ov iravv Iv tTrtTrlSif), aXXo Trpoe opd'ioj (xaXKov ti to (XTpaTOinoov, 
 These examples, with the exception of the first, I hare taken 
 from Sturz's Lexicon: hia list however is by no means 
 complete. 
 
 In Demosthenes the phrase is seldom found. Adv. NesBr. 
 1347. 14, is the only example given in Reiske's Index. Here, 
 ij juev "yajO ovaia ow'Se rpiHiv raXavTwv iravv ti ?iv seems plainly 
 to mean, " did not altogether amount to," though Schafer thinks 
 differently. In Olynth. y. 34. 18, fiifiovvTai S' ov rrdw, on the 
 other hand, I agree with Schafer, Appar. Crit. i. 297, in inter- 
 preting it, omnino non, haudquaquam. Again, ov iravv Sti... 
 iaxupiZioOai, Xipp- p. 90. 18, may be rendered either 'there is 
 no occasion at all,' or, ' there is no great need, no particular 
 occasion to...;' the qualified sense however seems to me to 
 agree rather better with the preceding context. In the Philip- 
 pics, Olynthiacs with the one exception quoted, de Pace, de 
 Symmoriis, de Rhod. Libertate, Pro Megalop., de Corona, no 
 example occurs. In de F. L. § 189, ov iravv KaXov ovS' a<j<j)aXig, 
 there is nothing to fix the meaning either way. In Contra Lept. 
 480. 1, ovTs iravv p^'Stov, the adverb seems to belong to pqdiov 
 rather than to the negative. In Contra Aristocr. § 104, iva Se 
 jui) iravv davfiaI,r\Ti is interpreted by the last Editor Weber in 
 the milder or qualified sense, as seems reasonable ; though 
 Schafer, App. Crit., renders it as usual by firiSafiwg. Weber 
 says, " Quippe hae dicendi formse ad eas pertinent qnibus aliquid 
 lenius exprimitur quam intelligi debet, sed quomodo id intelligi 
 debeat in loquendo sono vocis indioatur ; " thus plainly taking 
 the same view that I have done of the mode in which the em- 
 phatic denial is conveyed. He seems however to go too far, if 
 he means to reject altogether the sense omnino non, when he 
 adds, " Quare non in negatione ea vis est, ut cum Buttmanno Gr. 
 p. 135. n. 2, Passovio Lexic. s.v. ov, et Hartungio de Part. ii. 
 Gr. II. p. 87, contendamus, eam quia coalescat cum irdvv hujns 
 notionem non solum negare, sed plane in contrarium convertere. 
 Id quam falsum sit, jam inde apparet, quod negatio non ubique 
 cum iravv conjuncta est, ut Xenoph. Cyrop. i. 6. 21, oute 
 Zriixiaie iravv ti OiXovaiv t'lKeiv, &c." The last observation 
 however deserves attention : where irdvv belongs to the adjective 
 
APPENBIX. 143 
 
 and is to be construed with it, the transposition of the negative 
 and the interpretation ' not at all ' are alike inadmissible. 
 
 On Isffius, de Mcostr. Hered. § 12, ttejO* juev yap riov ctXXwv 
 avfi^oikaiwv ov Travv ^oXettov rohg to. ipevSi) fjiaprvpovvrag 
 iXiy)(iiv, Schomann writes thus : non toUit negatio vim adverbii, 
 Bed adverbiam negationem intendit, quasi dicas, wavv ov vaXtTrov, 
 h.e. Travv pq.Biov, ovSafiu)Q ^^oXettov. There is nothing in this 
 sentence to determine the meaning of the two words except the 
 general scope and intention of this passage ; and it is certainly 
 truer, and at least equally probable that Iseeus intended to say, 
 that in the case of all other contracts (except wills) false evidence 
 is not very difficult to detect, rather than that the detection of it 
 is not at all difficult. But as all orators are prone to exaggerate, 
 this must be classed with the doubtful instances. 
 
 Schomann refers to ov fiaXa ^, ovwpo TroXXoi, ov fiera ttoXv, 
 01/1^ wg Bsi (to which may be added ov irpocnroiiiaBai, for 
 irpoawoiEiadai fii], ov ^rfiii, ouk olfiat, ov\ riyovfiat, ovk iq.v, ov 
 /3ouXoiju?)v av, Dem. Phil. j3'. p. 73. 24, ov vpomtaQai, Dem. de 
 F. L. § 365, and other similar phrases) as parallel examples of 
 the transposition of the negative, explaining the signification 
 ' omnino non ' by this transposition. This however cannot I 
 think be the true explanation of the usage ; for, if it were, it 
 would seem that the phrase ought always to have the same 
 meaning, which is certainly not the case. 
 
 In Aristotle, Bth. Nic. i. 8. 16 (c. 9 Bekk.), ov travv yap 
 svSaifioviKog 6 ttiv iSiav Travaio-^rje 17 ovayivfjg rj povwrrjc koi 
 OTEKvoe, 'in Si 'itrwg tJttov e? t(^ k.t.X., it is quite clear that if the 
 first class of persons mentioned ' are incapable of any happiness 
 at all,' the second class must have less than none, which is 
 absurd, and therefore ov iravv must here signify non omnino. 
 
 In the same treatise Vlll. 3 in speaking oicjtiXia Sia to xP'?"''" 
 juov he says that this kind of friendship is generally contracted 
 by men advanced in life ; and that it is only men of a selfish 
 disposition who form intimacies from such motives in youth or 
 middle life. He then continues 011 Travv 8' oi toiovtoi ovSe 
 
 ' apveiySm S' vm dXkiav ov fiaKa i9i\eiv iXeycro, Xen. Anab. ii. 6. 15, and 
 ov fiaXa a.(panairra.vtiv, Hellen. vi. 1. 4, are examples of this use of ov naXa. 
 
144 PLATO'S G0BGIA8. 
 
 avZcScn fiBr' a\Xri\<i)v' svIots yap oiiS' slmv riSsig- Here again 
 it is equally plain that if lie had meant to say that such men 
 never live together at all he would not have added eviore ydp. 
 The fact that they are sometimes disagreeable is given as a reason 
 for their not heing very fond of intimate association, for their not 
 often entering into it. In the same book, c. 7, aXX' ol toiovtoi 
 svvoi fikv Hfftv aXkrikoiQ...(pi\oi S' ov iravv... clearly means 
 that such persons are kindly disposed to one another, but that 
 their friendliness does not qmte amount to friendship. Towards 
 the end of the same chapter the phrase occurs "three times, and 
 in each case denotes the rarity of the union of agreeable and 
 useful qualities in the same person. Aristotle cannot mean to 
 affirm (1) that men in high station can never find friends who 
 are at once useful and agreeable, however rare such a combina- 
 tion may be ; nor (2) that easy good manners and conversational 
 powers are never united in the same individual with skill and 
 dexterity in the conduct of business ; in the third instance he 
 may mean to say that ' such persons are never to be found. 
 Similarly in c. 15 of the same book : oi) wavv S' oi»S' si/ toIq &' 
 ii^ovrjV' He had begun by saying that cornplaints and accusations 
 arise between friends in that form of friendship which is founded 
 on interest, ij fiovt} r) fiakiuTa ivkoyw^, the latter alternative 
 therefore implies the possibility of their arising in the two other 
 kinds also. Then after explaining why they are not likely to 
 take place in the friendship which is founded on virtue, he adds 
 the words which I have already quoted. So that not only 
 would it be altogether unreasonable to deny the possibility of 
 their occurrence in this third kind of friendship, but that sup- 
 position is already excluded by the above-mentioned alternative 
 t) fiaXidTa ivkoyii}^. In other words ov wdvv here necessarily 
 means 'not often, rarely' and not 'never.' 
 
 The next example from Categ. c. 8. p. 9. a. 6, is equally 
 decisive. The author is explaining the difference between e^ig 
 and Siddeacg : (j>avepov Be on Tovra jiovXovTai t^ug Xiysiv, d 
 EOT/ 'iro\v)(ffoviiljTcpa Koi 8t)(7K«VT)rorepo' rovg yap tHjv iiriaTrifiwV 
 firj iravv KaTi\ovTaQ., ov (jiacriv i^iv tx^'**' '^''■i'''oi SiaKUVTal 
 irwQ Kara ttjv kirKTrrifiriv rj 'x^sipov rj j3eXt(ov. He cannot mean 
 that these have no power of retaining knowledge at all ; because. 
 
APPENDIX. 145 
 
 they have sufficient to oonatitute a transient SidOecFig though not 
 a permanent 'i^ig, 
 
 Waitz in his brief note on Categ, 6. a. 82 says, ov wavv, non 
 omnino, non proprie ; and cites 5. a. 32 and 500. a. 21 in 
 illustration. 
 
 Luoian, Ver. Hist. ii. 43, has ov irdw iroppwOev, and again 
 Qnomodo Hist, sit conscr. § 5, ov Trdvv ttoXXouc- 
 
 Hermogenes Trspi tSewv, /3'. (ii. 424, ed. Spengel), ov wavv 
 Ti, fiaXkov Si ouS' oXwg, a passage which, if it stood alone, is 
 qnite sufficient to decide the point in question. 
 
 Of the multitude of examples which occur in Plato's writings, 
 most are somewhat doubtful and can be interpreted either way 
 without prejudice to the sense. There can however be no doubt 
 about the meaning of the following. Symp. 178 A, wavrwy fitv 
 ovv a SKaoTOg sIttsv, ovte ndvv 6 ' AptaroSrifMOQ liiifxvr\TO ovt' av 
 tyw a £K£ivoe tXeyE irdvTa' a Be fidXtara k.t.X. and by the 
 light of this I should be disposed to interpret wv ov irdvv Sufivri- 
 fiovivcv, which follows at p. 180 C. Also, Lys. 204 r>, Suva ovra 
 ov Trdvv Ti Bsivd i<TTiv is an unquestionable example of the milder 
 or qualified negation, ov Trdvv ive6vfi0riv Oratyl. 411 c, I 
 should certainly understand to mean ' I have paid no particular 
 attention to it ; ' though of course it may signify ' I have never 
 considered it at all.' So ov irdvv ti aoijiog, applied to Bpime- 
 theus, Protag. 321 b, should in my opinion be rendered ' not 
 being particularly wise,' which with the help of the Platonic 
 irony amounts to much the same thing as the ' absolutely silly 
 person ' which Dr Donaldson, op. cit. p. 254, tells us is the 
 only admissible rendering, and much more conformable to Plato's 
 usual style. The same may be said of the rendering of the same 
 phrase in Theaet. 150 c, where Socrates' modesty in disclaiming 
 all pretension to wisdom is quite sufficiently expressed, and 
 more in his own style, by the milder form of abnegation : and I 
 have equally little doubt that ov Trdvv dpi pvripwv, Meno, 71c, 
 is to be interpreted, " I have not a very good memory," rather 
 than " I am altogether without it, or, I have no memory at all," 
 though Buttmann (see above p. 139) takes the other view. In 
 Rep. IV. 432 d, kuI poi SoKtl ov Trdvv ti tKfsv^sirrOai vpag seems 
 to me to mean ' not very likely to escape ns,' rather than ' there 
 
 L 
 
146 PLATO'S GOBGIAS. 
 
 is no chance of its escaping ns,' ' it is certain not to escape ns ' 
 for the same reason, viz. that Socrates is not in the habit of 
 expressing himself strongly, or assuming the certainty of any 
 given resnlt. 
 
 Philebus, 38 C, iSovri rivl iropptoOev fifj travv aaijtwg is more 
 natnrally nnderstood in the sense of seeing ' not quite distinctly,' 
 than ' quite indistinctly ; ' though the latter is certainly admis- 
 sible. But the constant and scrupulous politeness of Socrates 
 will not allow of any other rendering of ov ndw 'iTV)(tgov Xiyui, 
 Rep. VII. 623 b, than "you did not quite catch my meaning." 
 Again, ov irdw eytoye Oapp^ irepl twv yoviwv tov toiovtov 
 Rep. IX. 574 b, certainly means ' I have no great confidence as 
 to the fate of the parents of such a man,' and in Rep. ix. 582 A, 
 ov TTavv iywyt t^^o) eitteTv seems to express a qualified rather 
 than an unqualified ignorance. These examples might be multi- 
 plied almost indefinitely, but I have already cited sufficient for 
 my purpose. In the Gorgias the phrase occurs in five places, 
 in all of which I have rendered it by not quite, not exactly, not 
 altogether, or something equivalent. 448 d, 457 e, 472 c, 502 d, 
 513 C. In none of them is the meaning cAsolutely certain, but in the 
 second and last of them the general sense is decidedly in favour 
 of the milder form of interpretation. 
 
 As I have already said, a very large number of the instances 
 of this formula in Plato are of doubtful interpretation, in which 
 the sense will admit of either rendering indifierently ; but in 
 most of these doubtful cases, as I have shown that we hme the 
 choice, considerations such as I have already referred to, the 
 Socratic irony, the modest and ill-assured tone which the hero 
 and chief speaker of these dialogues is so fond of afiecting, will, 
 at all events when the phrase is put into Ms mouth, usually 
 incline us to reject the decided and peremptory, in favour of the 
 milder and qualified form of denial. 
 
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 * Qreat Englishmen. Short Lives for Tonng Ohildien, 
 Great Englishwomen. Short Lives of. 
 Great Scotsmen. Short Lives of. 
 Parables from Nature. (Selected.) By Mrs. Gatty.. 
 
 *£dgeworj^'s Tales. (A Selection.) 
 
 'Scott's Talisman, (Abridged.) 
 'Friends In For and Feathers. By Gwynfiyn. 
 *Foor Jack. By Captain Marryat, B.N. Abgd. 
 'Dickens's Little Nell. Abridged from the ■ The Old 
 OnriOBity Shop.* 
 
 * Oliver Twist. By Charles Dickens. (Abridged.) 
 'Masterman Beady. ByCapt. Marryat. Illns. (Abgd.) 
 'Gulliver's Travels. (Abridged.) 
 'Arabian Nights. (A Selection Bewritten.) 
 
 standards 
 IY.»T. 
 
 'The Vicar of Wakefield. \ 
 
 Lamb's Tales f^om Shakespeare. (Selected.) 
 
 'Robinson Crusoe. Blnstrated. 
 
 'Settlers in Canada. By Capt. Marryat. (Abridged.) 
 Poetry for Boys. Selected by D. Mnnro. 
 
 'Southey's Life of Nelson. (Abridged.) 
 
 'Life of the Duke of Wellington, withMaps andPlans. 
 
 'Sir Boger de Coverley and other Essays from the 
 Tales of the Coast. By J. Bonoiman. Spectator. 
 
 * Thsse Vohvnus are Illustrated. 
 
 Standards 
 
 V..TI.,i 
 
 VII. 
 
 I 
 
 Uniform with the Seriei, in 2inip cloth, Gd. each. 
 
 Shakespeare's Plays. Eemble's Beading Edition. With Ex- 
 planatory Notes for Bohool Use. 
 JTTLITTS O.SiSAB. THE UBBCHANT OV VBIIiaB. KING JOHN. 
 HENBT THE HFTH. MACBETH. AS TO0 LIKE IT. 
 
 London : GEORGE BELL & SONS, York Street, Covent Gturden. 
 

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