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Gorgias, by Plato
INTRODUCTION.
In several of
the dialogues of Plato, doubts have arisen among his
interpreters as to which
of the various subjects discussed in them
is the main thesis. The speakers
have the freedom of conversation; no
severe rules of art restrict them, and
sometimes we are inclined to
think, with one of the dramatis personae in the
Theaetetus, that the
digressions have the greater interest. Yet in the most
irregular of the
dialogues there is also a certain natural growth or unity;
the beginning
is not forgotten at the end, and numerous allusions and
references are
interspersed, which form the loose connecting links of the
whole. We
must not neglect this unity, but neither must we attempt to
confine
the Platonic dialogue on the Procrustean bed of a single idea.
(Compare
Introduction to the Phaedrus.)
Two tendencies seem to have
beset the interpreters of Plato in this
matter. First, they have endeavoured
to hang the dialogues upon one
another by the slightest threads; and have
thus been led to opposite and
contradictory assertions respecting their order
and sequence. The mantle
of Schleiermacher has descended upon his successors,
who have applied
his method with the most various results. The value and use
of the
method has been hardly, if at all, examined either by him or
them.
Secondly, they have extended almost indefinitely the scope of
each
separate dialogue; in this way they think that they have escaped
all
difficulties, not seeing that what they have gained in generality
they
have lost in truth and distinctness. Metaphysical conceptions
easily
pass into one another; and the simpler notions of antiquity,
which
we can only realize by an effort, imperceptibly blend with the
more
familiar theories of modern philosophers. An eye for proportion
is
needed (his own art of measuring) in the study of Plato, as well as
of
other great artists. We may hardly admit that the moral antithesis
of
good and pleasure, or the intellectual antithesis of knowledge
and opinion,
being and appearance, are never far off in a Platonic
discussion. But because
they are in the background, we should not bring
them into the foreground, or
expect to discern them equally in all the
dialogues.
There may be some
advantage in drawing out a little the main outlines
of the building; but the
use of this is limited, and may be easily
exaggerated. We may give Plato too
much system, and alter the natural
form and connection of his thoughts. Under
the idea that his dialogues
are finished works of art, we may find a reason
for everything, and lose
the highest characteristic of art, which is
simplicity. Most great works
receive a new light from a new and original
mind. But whether these new
lights are true or only suggestive, will depend
on their agreement with
the spirit of Plato, and the amount of direct
evidence which can
be urged in support of them. When a theory is running away
with
us, criticism does a friendly office in counselling moderation,
and
recalling us to the indications of the text.
Like the Phaedrus,
the Gorgias has puzzled students of Plato by the
appearance of two or more
subjects. Under the cover of rhetoric higher
themes are introduced; the
argument expands into a general view of the
good and evil of man. After
making an ineffectual attempt to obtain a
sound definition of his art from
Gorgias, Socrates assumes the
existence of a universal art of flattery or
simulation having several
branches:--this is the genus of which rhetoric is
only one, and not the
highest species. To flattery is opposed the true and
noble art of life
which he who possesses seeks always to impart to others,
and which at
last triumphs, if not here, at any rate in another world. These
two
aspects of life and knowledge appear to be the two leading ideas
of
the dialogue. The true and the false in individuals and states, in
the
treatment of the soul as well as of the body, are conceived under
the
forms of true and false art. In the development of this
opposition
there arise various other questions, such as the two famous
paradoxes of
Socrates (paradoxes as they are to the world in general, ideals
as they
may be more worthily called): (1) that to do is worse than to
suffer
evil; and (2) that when a man has done evil he had better be
punished
than unpunished; to which may be added (3) a third Socratic paradox
or
ideal, that bad men do what they think best, but not what they
desire,
for the desire of all is towards the good. That pleasure is to
be
distinguished from good is proved by the simultaneousness of
pleasure
and pain, and by the possibility of the bad having in certain
cases
pleasures as great as those of the good, or even greater. Not
merely
rhetoricians, but poets, musicians, and other artists, the whole
tribe
of statesmen, past as well as present, are included in the class
of
flatterers. The true and false finally appear before the
judgment-seat
of the gods below.
The dialogue naturally falls into
three divisions, to which the three
characters of Gorgias, Polus, and
Callicles respectively correspond; and
the form and manner change with the
stages of the argument. Socrates is
deferential towards Gorgias, playful and
yet cutting in dealing with the
youthful Polus, ironical and sarcastic in his
encounter with Callicles.
In the first division the question is asked--What
is rhetoric? To this
there is no answer given, for Gorgias is soon made to
contradict
himself by Socrates, and the argument is transferred to the hands
of his
disciple Polus, who rushes to the defence of his master. The answer
has
at last to be given by Socrates himself, but before he can even
explain
his meaning to Polus, he must enlighten him upon the great subject
of
shams or flatteries. When Polus finds his favourite art reduced to
the
level of cookery, he replies that at any rate rhetoricians, like
despots,
have great power. Socrates denies that they have any real
power, and hence
arise the three paradoxes already mentioned. Although
they are strange to
him, Polus is at last convinced of their truth; at
least, they seem to him to
follow legitimately from the premises. Thus
the second act of the dialogue
closes. Then Callicles appears on the
scene, at first maintaining that
pleasure is good, and that might is
right, and that law is nothing but the
combination of the many weak
against the few strong. When he is confuted he
withdraws from the
argument, and leaves Socrates to arrive at the conclusion
by himself.
The conclusion is that there are two kinds of statesmanship, a
higher
and a lower--that which makes the people better, and that which
only
flatters them, and he exhorts Callicles to choose the higher.
The
dialogue terminates with a mythus of a final judgment, in which
there
will be no more flattery or disguise, and no further use for
the
teaching of rhetoric.
The characters of the three interlocutors
also correspond to the parts
which are assigned to them. Gorgias is the great
rhetorician, now
advanced in years, who goes from city to city displaying his
talents,
and is celebrated throughout Greece. Like all the Sophists in
the
dialogues of Plato, he is vain and boastful, yet he has also a
certain
dignity, and is treated by Socrates with considerable respect. But he
is
no match for him in dialectics. Although he has been teaching
rhetoric
all his life, he is still incapable of defining his own art. When
his
ideas begin to clear up, he is unwilling to admit that rhetoric can
be
wholly separated from justice and injustice, and this lingering
sentiment of
morality, or regard for public opinion, enables Socrates to
detect him in a
contradiction. Like Protagoras, he is described as of
a generous nature; he
expresses his approbation of Socrates' manner of
approaching a question; he
is quite 'one of Socrates' sort, ready to
be refuted as well as to refute,'
and very eager that Callicles and
Socrates should have the game out. He knows
by experience that rhetoric
exercises great influence over other men, but he
is unable to explain
the puzzle how rhetoric can teach everything and know
nothing.
Polus is an impetuous youth, a runaway 'colt,' as Socrates
describes
him, who wanted originally to have taken the place of Gorgias
under
the pretext that the old man was tired, and now avails himself of
the
earliest opportunity to enter the lists. He is said to be the
author
of a work on rhetoric, and is again mentioned in the Phaedrus, as
the
inventor of balanced or double forms of speech (compare Gorg.;
Symp.).
At first he is violent and ill-mannered, and is angry at seeing
his
master overthrown. But in the judicious hands of Socrates he is
soon
restored to good-humour, and compelled to assent to the
required
conclusion. Like Gorgias, he is overthrown because he compromises;
he is
unwilling to say that to do is fairer or more honourable than to
suffer
injustice. Though he is fascinated by the power of rhetoric, and
dazzled
by the splendour of success, he is not insensible to higher
arguments.
Plato may have felt that there would be an incongruity in a
youth
maintaining the cause of injustice against the world. He has never
heard
the other side of the question, and he listens to the paradoxes,
as
they appear to him, of Socrates with evident astonishment. He can
hardly
understand the meaning of Archelaus being miserable, or of
rhetoric
being only useful in self-accusation. When the argument with him
has
fairly run out.
Callicles, in whose house they are assembled, is
introduced on the
stage: he is with difficulty convinced that Socrates is in
earnest;
for if these things are true, then, as he says with real emotion,
the
foundations of society are upside down. In him another type of
character
is represented; he is neither sophist nor philosopher, but man of
the
world, and an accomplished Athenian gentleman. He might be described
in
modern language as a cynic or materialist, a lover of power and also
of
pleasure, and unscrupulous in his means of attaining both. There is
no
desire on his part to offer any compromise in the interests of
morality;
nor is any concession made by him. Like Thrasymachus in the
Republic,
though he is not of the same weak and vulgar class, he
consistently
maintains that might is right. His great motive of action is
political
ambition; in this he is characteristically Greek. Like Anytus in
the
Meno, he is the enemy of the Sophists; but favours the new art
of
rhetoric, which he regards as an excellent weapon of attack and
defence.
He is a despiser of mankind as he is of philosophy, and sees in the
laws
of the state only a violation of the order of nature, which
intended
that the stronger should govern the weaker (compare Republic).
Like
other men of the world who are of a speculative turn of mind,
he
generalizes the bad side of human nature, and has easily brought
down
his principles to his practice. Philosophy and poetry alike supply
him
with distinctions suited to his view of human life. He has a good
will
to Socrates, whose talents he evidently admires, while he censures
the
puerile use which he makes of them. He expresses a keen
intellectual
interest in the argument. Like Anytus, again, he has a sympathy
with
other men of the world; the Athenian statesmen of a former
generation,
who showed no weakness and made no mistakes, such as
Miltiades,
Themistocles, Pericles, are his favourites. His ideal of human
character
is a man of great passions and great powers, which he has developed
to
the utmost, and which he uses in his own enjoyment and in the
government
of others. Had Critias been the name instead of Callicles, about
whom
we know nothing from other sources, the opinions of the man would
have
seemed to reflect the history of his life.
And now the combat
deepens. In Callicles, far more than in any sophist
or rhetorician, is
concentrated the spirit of evil against which
Socrates is contending, the
spirit of the world, the spirit of the
many contending against the one wise
man, of which the Sophists, as
he describes them in the Republic, are the
imitators rather than the
authors, being themselves carried away by the great
tide of public
opinion. Socrates approaches his antagonist warily from a
distance, with
a sort of irony which touches with a light hand both his
personal vices
(probably in allusion to some scandal of the day) and his
servility
to the populace. At the same time, he is in most profound earnest,
as
Chaerephon remarks. Callicles soon loses his temper, but the more he
is
irritated, the more provoking and matter of fact does Socrates
become.
A repartee of his which appears to have been really made to
the
'omniscient' Hippias, according to the testimony of Xenophon (Mem.),
is
introduced. He is called by Callicles a popular declaimer, and
certainly
shows that he has the power, in the words of Gorgias, of being 'as
long
as he pleases,' or 'as short as he pleases' (compare Protag.).
Callicles
exhibits great ability in defending himself and attacking Socrates,
whom
he accuses of trifling and word-splitting; he is scandalized that
the
legitimate consequences of his own argument should be stated in
plain
terms; after the manner of men of the world, he wishes to preserve
the
decencies of life. But he cannot consistently maintain the bad
sense
of words; and getting confused between the abstract notions of
better,
superior, stronger, he is easily turned round by Socrates, and
only
induced to continue the argument by the authority of Gorgias. Once,
when
Socrates is describing the manner in which the ambitious citizen has
to
identify himself with the people, he partially recognizes the truth
of
his words.
The Socrates of the Gorgias may be compared with the
Socrates of the
Protagoras and Meno. As in other dialogues, he is the enemy
of the
Sophists and rhetoricians; and also of the statesmen, whom he regards
as
another variety of the same species. His behaviour is governed by
that
of his opponents; the least forwardness or egotism on their part is
met
by a corresponding irony on the part of Socrates. He must speak,
for
philosophy will not allow him to be silent. He is indeed more
ironical
and provoking than in any other of Plato's writings: for he is
'fooled
to the top of his bent' by the worldliness of Callicles. But he is
also
more deeply in earnest. He rises higher than even in the Phaedo
and
Crito: at first enveloping his moral convictions in a cloud of dust
and
dialectics, he ends by losing his method, his life, himself, in
them.
As in the Protagoras and Phaedrus, throwing aside the veil of irony,
he
makes a speech, but, true to his character, not until his adversary
has
refused to answer any more questions. The presentiment of his own
fate
is hanging over him. He is aware that Socrates, the single real
teacher
of politics, as he ventures to call himself, cannot safely go
to
war with the whole world, and that in the courts of earth he will
be
condemned. But he will be justified in the world below. Then the
position of
Socrates and Callicles will be reversed; all those things
'unfit for ears
polite' which Callicles has prophesied as likely to
happen to him in this
life, the insulting language, the box on the
ears, will recoil upon his
assailant. (Compare Republic, and the similar
reversal of the position of the
lawyer and the philosopher in the
Theaetetus).
There is an interesting
allusion to his own behaviour at the trial
of the generals after the battle
of Arginusae, which he ironically
attributes to his ignorance of the manner
in which a vote of the
assembly should be taken. This is said to have
happened 'last year'
(B.C. 406), and therefore the assumed date of the
dialogue has been
fixed at 405 B.C., when Socrates would already have been an
old man.
The date is clearly marked, but is scarcely reconcilable with
another
indication of time, viz. the 'recent' usurpation of Archelaus,
which
occurred in the year 413; and still less with the 'recent' death
of
Pericles, who really died twenty-four years previously (429 B.C.)
and
is afterwards reckoned among the statesmen of a past age; or with
the
mention of Nicias, who died in 413, and is nevertheless spoken of as
a
living witness. But we shall hereafter have reason to observe, that
although
there is a general consistency of times and persons in the
Dialogues of
Plato, a precise dramatic date is an invention of his
commentators (Preface
to Republic).
The conclusion of the Dialogue is remarkable, (1) for the
truly
characteristic declaration of Socrates that he is ignorant of the
true
nature and bearing of these things, while he affirms at the same
time
that no one can maintain any other view without being ridiculous.
The
profession of ignorance reminds us of the earlier and more
exclusively
Socratic Dialogues. But neither in them, nor in the Apology, nor
in
the Memorabilia of Xenophon, does Socrates express any doubt of
the
fundamental truths of morality. He evidently regards this 'among
the
multitude of questions' which agitate human life 'as the principle
which
alone remains unshaken.' He does not insist here, any more than in
the
Phaedo, on the literal truth of the myth, but only on the soundness
of
the doctrine which is contained in it, that doing wrong is worse
than
suffering, and that a man should be rather than seem; for the next
best
thing to a man's being just is that he should be corrected and
become
just; also that he should avoid all flattery, whether of himself or
of
others; and that rhetoric should be employed for the maintenance of
the
right only. The revelation of another life is a recapitulation of
the
argument in a figure.
(2) Socrates makes the singular remark, that
he is himself the only true
politician of his age. In other passages,
especially in the Apology, he
disclaims being a politician at all. There he
is convinced that he or
any other good man who attempted to resist the
popular will would be
put to death before he had done any good to himself or
others. Here he
anticipates such a fate for himself, from the fact that he is
'the only
man of the present day who performs his public duties at all.' The
two
points of view are not really inconsistent, but the difference
between
them is worth noticing: Socrates is and is not a public man. Not in
the
ordinary sense, like Alcibiades or Pericles, but in a higher one;
and
this will sooner or later entail the same consequences on him.
He
cannot be a private man if he would; neither can he separate morals
from
politics. Nor is he unwilling to be a politician, although he
foresees
the dangers which await him; but he must first become a better
and
wiser man, for he as well as Callicles is in a state of perplexity
and
uncertainty. And yet there is an inconsistency: for should not
Socrates
too have taught the citizens better than to put him to
death?
And now, as he himself says, we will 'resume the argument from
the
beginning.'
Socrates, who is attended by his inseparable disciple,
Chaerephon, meets
Callicles in the streets of Athens. He is informed that he
has just
missed an exhibition of Gorgias, which he regrets, because he
was
desirous, not of hearing Gorgias display his rhetoric, but of
interrogating
him concerning the nature of his art. Callicles proposes
that they shall go
with him to his own house, where Gorgias is staying.
There they find the
great rhetorician and his younger friend and
disciple Polus.
SOCRATES:
Put the question to him, Chaerephon.
CHAEREPHON: What
question?
SOCRATES: Who is he?--such a question as would elicit from a
man the
answer, 'I am a cobbler.'
Polus suggests that Gorgias may be
tired, and desires to answer for him.
'Who is Gorgias?' asks Chaerephon,
imitating the manner of his master
Socrates. 'One of the best of men, and a
proficient in the best and
noblest of experimental arts,' etc., replies
Polus, in rhetorical
and balanced phrases. Socrates is dissatisfied at the
length and
unmeaningness of the answer; he tells the disconcerted volunteer
that
he has mistaken the quality for the nature of the art, and remarks
to
Gorgias, that Polus has learnt how to make a speech, but not how
to
answer a question. He wishes that Gorgias would answer him. Gorgias
is
willing enough, and replies to the question asked by
Chaerephon,--that
he is a rhetorician, and in Homeric language, 'boasts
himself to be a
good one.' At the request of Socrates he promises to be
brief; for 'he
can be as long as he pleases, and as short as he pleases.'
Socrates
would have him bestow his length on others, and proceeds to ask
him
a number of questions, which are answered by him to his own
great
satisfaction, and with a brevity which excites the admiration
of
Socrates. The result of the discussion may be summed up as
follows:--
Rhetoric treats of discourse; but music and medicine, and
other
particular arts, are also concerned with discourse; in what way
then
does rhetoric differ from them? Gorgias draws a distinction between
the
arts which deal with words, and the arts which have to do with
external
actions. Socrates extends this distinction further, and divides
all
productive arts into two classes: (1) arts which may be carried on
in
silence; and (2) arts which have to do with words, or in which
words
are coextensive with action, such as arithmetic, geometry,
rhetoric.
But still Gorgias could hardly have meant to say that arithmetic
was the
same as rhetoric. Even in the arts which are concerned with words
there
are differences. What then distinguishes rhetoric from the other
arts
which have to do with words? 'The words which rhetoric uses relate
to
the best and greatest of human things.' But tell me, Gorgias, what
are
the best? 'Health first, beauty next, wealth third,' in the words
of
the old song, or how would you rank them? The arts will come to you in
a
body, each claiming precedence and saying that her own good is
superior
to that of the rest--How will you choose between them? 'I should
say,
Socrates, that the art of persuasion, which gives freedom to all
men,
and to individuals power in the state, is the greatest good.' But
what
is the exact nature of this persuasion?--is the persevering retort:
You
could not describe Zeuxis as a painter, or even as a painter of
figures,
if there were other painters of figures; neither can you define
rhetoric
simply as an art of persuasion, because there are other arts
which
persuade, such as arithmetic, which is an art of persuasion about
odd
and even numbers. Gorgias is made to see the necessity of a
further
limitation, and he now defines rhetoric as the art of persuading in
the
law courts, and in the assembly, about the just and unjust. But
still
there are two sorts of persuasion: one which gives knowledge,
and
another which gives belief without knowledge; and knowledge is
always
true, but belief may be either true or false,--there is therefore
a
further question: which of the two sorts of persuasion does
rhetoric
effect in courts of law and assemblies? Plainly that which
gives
belief and not that which gives knowledge; for no one can impart a
real
knowledge of such matters to a crowd of persons in a few minutes.
And
there is another point to be considered:--when the assembly meets
to
advise about walls or docks or military expeditions, the rhetorician
is
not taken into counsel, but the architect, or the general. How would
Gorgias
explain this phenomenon? All who intend to become disciples,
of whom there
are several in the company, and not Socrates only, are
eagerly asking:--About
what then will rhetoric teach us to persuade or
advise the
state?
Gorgias illustrates the nature of rhetoric by adducing the
example
of Themistocles, who persuaded the Athenians to build their docks
and
walls, and of Pericles, whom Socrates himself has heard speaking
about
the middle wall of the Piraeus. He adds that he has exercised a
similar
power over the patients of his brother Herodicus. He could be chosen
a
physician by the assembly if he pleased, for no physician could
compete
with a rhetorician in popularity and influence. He could
persuade
the multitude of anything by the power of his rhetoric; not that
the
rhetorician ought to abuse this power any more than a boxer should
abuse
the art of self-defence. Rhetoric is a good thing, but, like all
good
things, may be unlawfully used. Neither is the teacher of the art to
be
deemed unjust because his pupils are unjust and make a bad use of
the
lessons which they have learned from him.
Socrates would like to
know before he replies, whether Gorgias will
quarrel with him if he points
out a slight inconsistency into which he
has fallen, or whether he, like
himself, is one who loves to be refuted.
Gorgias declares that he is quite
one of his sort, but fears that
the argument may be tedious to the company.
The company cheer, and
Chaerephon and Callicles exhort them to proceed.
Socrates gently points
out the supposed inconsistency into which Gorgias
appears to
have fallen, and which he is inclined to think may arise out of
a
misapprehension of his own. The rhetorician has been declared by
Gorgias
to be more persuasive to the ignorant than the physician, or any
other
expert. And he is said to be ignorant, and this ignorance of his
is
regarded by Gorgias as a happy condition, for he has escaped the
trouble
of learning. But is he as ignorant of just and unjust as he is
of
medicine or building? Gorgias is compelled to admit that if he did
not
know them previously he must learn them from his teacher as a part
of
the art of rhetoric. But he who has learned carpentry is a
carpenter,
and he who has learned music is a musician, and he who has
learned
justice is just. The rhetorician then must be a just man, and
rhetoric
is a just thing. But Gorgias has already admitted the opposite of
this,
viz. that rhetoric may be abused, and that the rhetorician may
act
unjustly. How is the inconsistency to be explained?
The fallacy of
this argument is twofold; for in the first place, a man
may know justice and
not be just--here is the old confusion of the arts
and the virtues;--nor can
any teacher be expected to counteract wholly
the bent of natural character;
and secondly, a man may have a degree of
justice, but not sufficient to
prevent him from ever doing wrong. Polus
is naturally exasperated at the
sophism, which he is unable to detect;
of course, he says, the rhetorician,
like every one else, will admit
that he knows justice (how can he do
otherwise when pressed by the
interrogations of Socrates?), but he thinks
that great want of manners
is shown in bringing the argument to such a pass.
Socrates ironically
replies, that when old men trip, the young set them on
their legs again;
and he is quite willing to retract, if he can be shown to
be in error,
but upon one condition, which is that Polus studies brevity.
Polus is
in great indignation at not being allowed to use as many words as
he
pleases in the free state of Athens. Socrates retorts, that yet
harder
will be his own case, if he is compelled to stay and listen to
them.
After some altercation they agree (compare Protag.), that Polus
shall
ask and Socrates answer.
'What is the art of Rhetoric?' says
Polus. Not an art at all, replies
Socrates, but a thing which in your book
you affirm to have created art.
Polus asks, 'What thing?' and Socrates
answers, An experience or routine
of making a sort of delight or
gratification. 'But is not rhetoric a
fine thing?' I have not yet told you
what rhetoric is. Will you ask me
another question--What is cookery? 'What is
cookery?' An experience or
routine of making a sort of delight or
gratification. Then they are the
same, or rather fall under the same class,
and rhetoric has still to be
distinguished from cookery. 'What is rhetoric?'
asks Polus once more.
A part of a not very creditable whole, which may be
termed flattery,
is the reply. 'But what part?' A shadow of a part of
politics. This, as
might be expected, is wholly unintelligible, both to
Gorgias and
Polus; and, in order to explain his meaning to them, Socrates
draws a
distinction between shadows or appearances and realities; e.g. there
is
real health of body or soul, and the appearance of them; real arts
and
sciences, and the simulations of them. Now the soul and body have
two
arts waiting upon them, first the art of politics, which attends on
the
soul, having a legislative part and a judicial part; and another
art
attending on the body, which has no generic name, but may also
be
described as having two divisions, one of which is medicine and
the
other gymnastic. Corresponding with these four arts or sciences
there
are four shams or simulations of them, mere experiences, as they may
be
termed, because they give no reason of their own existence. The art
of
dressing up is the sham or simulation of gymnastic, the art of
cookery,
of medicine; rhetoric is the simulation of justice, and sophistic
of
legislation. They may be summed up in an arithmetical
formula:--
Tiring: gymnastic:: cookery: medicine:: sophistic:
legislation.
And,
Cookery: medicine:: rhetoric: the art of
justice.
And this is the true scheme of them, but when measured only by
the
gratification which they procure, they become jumbled together
and
return to their aboriginal chaos. Socrates apologizes for the length
of
his speech, which was necessary to the explanation of the subject,
and
begs Polus not unnecessarily to retaliate on him.
'Do you mean to
say that the rhetoricians are esteemed flatterers?' They
are not esteemed at
all. 'Why, have they not great power, and can they
not do whatever they
desire?' They have no power, and they only do what
they think best, and never
what they desire; for they never attain the
true object of desire, which is
the good. 'As if you, Socrates, would
not envy the possessor of despotic
power, who can imprison, exile, kill
any one whom he pleases.' But Socrates
replies that he has no wish to
put any one to death; he who kills another,
even justly, is not to be
envied, and he who kills him unjustly is to be
pitied; it is better to
suffer than to do injustice. He does not consider
that going about with
a dagger and putting men out of the way, or setting a
house on fire, is
real power. To this Polus assents, on the ground that such
acts would
be punished, but he is still of opinion that evil-doers, if
they
are unpunished, may be happy enough. He instances Archelaus, son
of
Perdiccas, the usurper of Macedonia. Does not Socrates think
him
happy?--Socrates would like to know more about him; he cannot
pronounce
even the great king to be happy, unless he knows his mental and
moral
condition. Polus explains that Archelaus was a slave, being the son
of
a woman who was the slave of Alcetas, brother of Perdiccas king
of
Macedon--and he, by every species of crime, first murdering his
uncle
and then his cousin and half-brother, obtained the kingdom. This
was
very wicked, and yet all the world, including Socrates, would like
to
have his place. Socrates dismisses the appeal to numbers; Polus, if
he
will, may summon all the rich men of Athens, Nicias and his
brothers,
Aristocrates, the house of Pericles, or any other great
family--this is
the kind of evidence which is adduced in courts of justice,
where truth
depends upon numbers. But Socrates employs proof of another sort;
his
appeal is to one witness only,--that is to say, the person with
whom
he is speaking; him he will convict out of his own mouth. And he
is
prepared to show, after his manner, that Archelaus cannot be a
wicked
man and yet happy.
The evil-doer is deemed happy if he escapes,
and miserable if he suffers
punishment; but Socrates thinks him less
miserable if he suffers than
if he escapes. Polus is of opinion that such a
paradox as this hardly
deserves refutation, and is at any rate sufficiently
refuted by the
fact. Socrates has only to compare the lot of the successful
tyrant who
is the envy of the world, and of the wretch who, having been
detected
in a criminal attempt against the state, is crucified or burnt
to
death. Socrates replies, that if they are both criminal they are
both
miserable, but that the unpunished is the more miserable of the two.
At
this Polus laughs outright, which leads Socrates to remark that
laughter
is a new species of refutation. Polus replies, that he is
already
refuted; for if he will take the votes of the company, he will
find
that no one agrees with him. To this Socrates rejoins, that he is
not
a public man, and (referring to his own conduct at the trial of
the
generals after the battle of Arginusae) is unable to take the
suffrages
of any company, as he had shown on a recent occasion; he can only
deal
with one witness at a time, and that is the person with whom he
is
arguing. But he is certain that in the opinion of any man to do is
worse
than to suffer evil.
Polus, though he will not admit this, is
ready to acknowledge that to do
evil is considered the more foul or
dishonourable of the two. But what
is fair and what is foul; whether the
terms are applied to bodies,
colours, figures, laws, habits, studies, must
they not be defined
with reference to pleasure and utility? Polus assents to
this latter
doctrine, and is easily persuaded that the fouler of two things
must
exceed either in pain or in hurt. But the doing cannot exceed
the
suffering of evil in pain, and therefore must exceed in hurt. Thus
doing
is proved by the testimony of Polus himself to be worse or more
hurtful
than suffering.
There remains the other question: Is a guilty
man better off when he is
punished or when he is unpunished? Socrates
replies, that what is done
justly is suffered justly: if the act is just, the
effect is just; if
to punish is just, to be punished is just, and therefore
fair, and
therefore beneficent; and the benefit is that the soul is
improved.
There are three evils from which a man may suffer, and which affect
him
in estate, body, and soul;--these are, poverty, disease, injustice;
and
the foulest of these is injustice, the evil of the soul, because
that
brings the greatest hurt. And there are three arts which heal
these
evils--trading, medicine, justice--and the fairest of these is
justice.
Happy is he who has never committed injustice, and happy in the
second
degree he who has been healed by punishment. And therefore the
criminal
should himself go to the judge as he would to the physician, and
purge
away his crime. Rhetoric will enable him to display his guilt in
proper
colours, and to sustain himself and others in enduring the
necessary
penalty. And similarly if a man has an enemy, he will desire not
to
punish him, but that he shall go unpunished and become worse and
worse,
taking care only that he does no injury to himself. These are at
least
conceivable uses of the art, and no others have been discovered by
us.
Here Callicles, who has been listening in silent amazement,
asks
Chaerephon whether Socrates is in earnest, and on receiving
the
assurance that he is, proceeds to ask the same question of
Socrates
himself. For if such doctrines are true, life must have been
turned
upside down, and all of us are doing the opposite of what we ought to
be
doing.
Socrates replies in a style of playful irony, that before
men can
understand one another they must have some common feeling. And such
a
community of feeling exists between himself and Callicles, for both
of
them are lovers, and they have both a pair of loves; the beloved of
Callicles
are the Athenian Demos and Demos the son of Pyrilampes; the
beloved of
Socrates are Alcibiades and philosophy. The peculiarity of
Callicles is that
he can never contradict his loves; he changes as his
Demos changes in all his
opinions; he watches the countenance of both
his loves, and repeats their
sentiments, and if any one is surprised
at his sayings and doings, the
explanation of them is, that he is not a
free agent, but must always be
imitating his two loves. And this is the
explanation of Socrates'
peculiarities also. He is always repeating what
his mistress, Philosophy, is
saying to him, who unlike his other love,
Alcibiades, is ever the same, ever
true. Callicles must refute her, or
he will never be at unity with himself;
and discord in life is far worse
than the discord of musical
sounds.
Callicles answers, that Gorgias was overthrown because, as Polus
said,
in compliance with popular prejudice he had admitted that if his
pupil
did not know justice the rhetorician must teach him; and Polus has
been
similarly entangled, because his modesty led him to admit that to
suffer
is more honourable than to do injustice. By custom 'yes,' but not
by
nature, says Callicles. And Socrates is always playing between the
two
points of view, and putting one in the place of the other. In
this
very argument, what Polus only meant in a conventional sense has
been
affirmed by him to be a law of nature. For convention says that
'injustice is
dishonourable,' but nature says that 'might is right.'
And we are always
taming down the nobler spirits among us to the
conventional level. But
sometimes a great man will rise up and reassert
his original rights,
trampling under foot all our formularies, and then
the light of natural
justice shines forth. Pindar says, 'Law, the
king of all, does violence with
high hand;' as is indeed proved by the
example of Heracles, who drove off the
oxen of Geryon and never paid for
them.
This is the truth, Socrates,
as you will be convinced, if you leave
philosophy and pass on to the real
business of life. A little philosophy
is an excellent thing; too much is the
ruin of a man. He who has not
'passed his metaphysics' before he has grown up
to manhood will never
know the world. Philosophers are ridiculous when they
take to politics,
and I dare say that politicians are equally ridiculous when
they take to
philosophy: 'Every man,' as Euripides says, 'is fondest of that
in which
he is best.' Philosophy is graceful in youth, like the lisp of
infancy,
and should be cultivated as a part of education; but when a grown-up
man
lisps or studies philosophy, I should like to beat him. None of
those
over-refined natures ever come to any good; they avoid the busy
haunts
of men, and skulk in corners, whispering to a few admiring youths,
and
never giving utterance to any noble sentiments.
For you, Socrates,
I have a regard, and therefore I say to you,
as Zethus says to Amphion in the
play, that you have 'a noble soul
disguised in a puerile exterior.' And I
would have you consider the
danger which you and other philosophers incur.
For you would not know
how to defend yourself if any one accused you in a
law-court,--there you
would stand, with gaping mouth and dizzy brain, and
might be murdered,
robbed, boxed on the ears with impunity. Take my advice,
then, and get a
little common sense; leave to others these frivolities; walk
in the ways
of the wealthy and be wise.
Socrates professes to have
found in Callicles the philosopher's
touchstone; and he is certain that any
opinion in which they both agree
must be the very truth. Callicles has all
the three qualities which are
needed in a critic--knowledge, good-will,
frankness; Gorgias and Polus,
although learned men, were too modest, and
their modesty made them
contradict themselves. But Callicles is
well-educated; and he is not
too modest to speak out (of this he has already
given proof), and his
good-will is shown both by his own profession and by
his giving the same
caution against philosophy to Socrates, which Socrates
remembers hearing
him give long ago to his own clique of friends. He will
pledge himself
to retract any error into which he may have fallen, and which
Callicles
may point out. But he would like to know first of all what he and
Pindar
mean by natural justice. Do they suppose that the rule of justice is
the
rule of the stronger or of the better?' 'There is no difference.'
Then
are not the many superior to the one, and the opinions of the
many
better? And their opinion is that justice is equality, and that to do
is
more dishonourable than to suffer wrong. And as they are the superior
or
stronger, this opinion of theirs must be in accordance with natural
as
well as conventional justice. 'Why will you continue splitting
words?
Have I not told you that the superior is the better?' But what do
you
mean by the better? Tell me that, and please to be a little milder
in
your language, if you do not wish to drive me away. 'I mean the
worthier, the
wiser.' You mean to say that one man of sense ought to
rule over ten thousand
fools? 'Yes, that is my meaning.' Ought the
physician then to have a larger
share of meats and drinks? or the weaver
to have more coats, or the cobbler
larger shoes, or the farmer more
seed? 'You are always saying the same
things, Socrates.' Yes, and on the
same subjects too; but you are never
saying the same things. For, first,
you defined the superior to be the
stronger, and then the wiser, and now
something else;--what DO you mean? 'I
mean men of political ability, who
ought to govern and to have more than the
governed.' Than themselves?
'What do you mean?' I mean to say that every man
is his own governor. 'I
see that you mean those dolts, the temperate. But my
doctrine is, that a
man should let his desires grow, and take the means of
satisfying them.
To the many this is impossible, and therefore they combine
to prevent
him. But if he is a king, and has power, how base would he be
in
submitting to them! To invite the common herd to be lord over him,
when
he might have the enjoyment of all things! For the truth is,
Socrates,
that luxury and self-indulgence are virtue and happiness; all the
rest
is mere talk.'
Socrates compliments Callicles on his frankness in
saying what other men
only think. According to his view, those who want
nothing are not happy.
'Why,' says Callicles, 'if they were, stones and the
dead would be
happy.' Socrates in reply is led into a half-serious,
half-comic vein
of reflection. 'Who knows,' as Euripides says, 'whether life
may not be
death, and death life?' Nay, there are philosophers who maintain
that
even in life we are dead, and that the body (soma) is the tomb (sema)
of
the soul. And some ingenious Sicilian has made an allegory, in which
he
represents fools as the uninitiated, who are supposed to be carrying
water to
a vessel, which is full of holes, in a similarly holey sieve,
and this sieve
is their own soul. The idea is fanciful, but nevertheless
is a figure of a
truth which I want to make you acknowledge, viz. that
the life of contentment
is better than the life of indulgence. Are you
disposed to admit that? 'Far
otherwise.' Then hear another parable.
The life of self-contentment and
self-indulgence may be represented
respectively by two men, who are filling
jars with streams of wine,
honey, milk,--the jars of the one are sound, and
the jars of the other
leaky; the first fils his jars, and has no more trouble
with them; the
second is always filling them, and would suffer extreme misery
if he
desisted. Are you of the same opinion still? 'Yes, Socrates, and
the
figure expresses what I mean. For true pleasure is a perpetual
stream,
flowing in and flowing out. To be hungry and always eating, to
be
thirsty and always drinking, and to have all the other desires and
to
satisfy them, that, as I admit, is my idea of happiness.' And to
be
itching and always scratching? 'I do not deny that there may be
happiness
even in that.' And to indulge unnatural desires, if they are
abundantly
satisfied? Callicles is indignant at the introduction of such
topics. But he
is reminded by Socrates that they are introduced, not by
him, but by the
maintainer of the identity of pleasure and good. Will
Callicles still
maintain this? 'Yes, for the sake of consistency, he
will.' The answer does
not satisfy Socrates, who fears that he is losing
his touchstone. A
profession of seriousness on the part of Callicles
reassures him, and they
proceed with the argument. Pleasure and good
are the same, but knowledge and
courage are not the same either with
pleasure or good, or with one another.
Socrates disproves the first of
these statements by showing that two
opposites cannot coexist, but must
alternate with one another--to be well and
ill together is impossible.
But pleasure and pain are simultaneous, and the
cessation of them is
simultaneous; e.g. in the case of drinking and
thirsting, whereas good
and evil are not simultaneous, and do not cease
simultaneously, and
therefore pleasure cannot be the same as
good.
Callicles has already lost his temper, and can only be persuaded to
go
on by the interposition of Gorgias. Socrates, having already
guarded
against objections by distinguishing courage and knowledge from
pleasure
and good, proceeds:--The good are good by the presence of good, and
the
bad are bad by the presence of evil. And the brave and wise are
good,
and the cowardly and foolish are bad. And he who feels pleasure is
good,
and he who feels pain is bad, and both feel pleasure and pain in
nearly
the same degree, and sometimes the bad man or coward in a
greater
degree. Therefore the bad man or coward is as good as the brave or
may
be even better.
Callicles endeavours now to avert the inevitable
absurdity by affirming
that he and all mankind admitted some pleasures to be
good and others
bad. The good are the beneficial, and the bad are the
hurtful, and
we should choose the one and avoid the other. But this, as
Socrates
observes, is a return to the old doctrine of himself and Polus, that
all
things should be done for the sake of the good.
Callicles assents
to this, and Socrates, finding that they are agreed
in distinguishing
pleasure from good, returns to his old division of
empirical habits, or
shams, or flatteries, which study pleasure only,
and the arts which are
concerned with the higher interests of soul and
body. Does Callicles agree to
this division? Callicles will agree to
anything, in order that he may get
through the argument. Which of
the arts then are flatteries? Flute-playing,
harp-playing, choral
exhibitions, the dithyrambics of Cinesias are all
equally condemned on
the ground that they give pleasure only; and Meles the
harp-player, who
was the father of Cinesias, failed even in that. The stately
muse of
Tragedy is bent upon pleasure, and not upon improvement. Poetry
in
general is only a rhetorical address to a mixed audience of men,
women,
and children. And the orators are very far from speaking with a
view
to what is best; their way is to humour the assembly as if they
were
children.
Callicles replies, that this is only true of some of
them; others have
a real regard for their fellow-citizens. Granted; then
there are two
species of oratory; the one a flattery, another which has a
real regard
for the citizens. But where are the orators among whom you find
the
latter? Callicles admits that there are none remaining, but there
were
such in the days when Themistocles, Cimon, Miltiades, and the
great
Pericles were still alive. Socrates replies that none of these were
true
artists, setting before themselves the duty of bringing order out
of
disorder. The good man and true orator has a settled design,
running
through his life, to which he conforms all his words and actions;
he
desires to implant justice and eradicate injustice, to implant
all
virtue and eradicate all vice in the minds of his citizens. He is
the
physician who will not allow the sick man to indulge his
appetites
with a variety of meats and drinks, but insists on his
exercising
self-restraint. And this is good for the soul, and better than
the
unrestrained indulgence which Callicles was recently
approving.
Here Callicles, who had been with difficulty brought to this
point,
turns restive, and suggests that Socrates shall answer his
own
questions. 'Then,' says Socrates, 'one man must do for two;' and
though
he had hoped to have given Callicles an 'Amphion' in return for
his
'Zethus,' he is willing to proceed; at the same time, he hopes
that
Callicles will correct him, if he falls into error. He recapitulates
the
advantages which he has already won:--
The pleasant is not the
same as the good--Callicles and I are agreed
about that,--but pleasure is to
be pursued for the sake of the good, and
the good is that of which the
presence makes us good; we and all things
good have acquired some virtue or
other. And virtue, whether of body or
soul, of things or persons, is not
attained by accident, but is due to
order and harmonious arrangement. And the
soul which has order is better
than the soul which is without order, and is
therefore temperate and is
therefore good, and the intemperate is bad. And he
who is temperate
is also just and brave and pious, and has attained the
perfection
of goodness and therefore of happiness, and the intemperate whom
you
approve is the opposite of all this and is wretched. He therefore
who
would be happy must pursue temperance and avoid intemperance, and
if
possible escape the necessity of punishment, but if he have done
wrong
he must endure punishment. In this way states and individuals
should
seek to attain harmony, which, as the wise tell us, is the bond
of
heaven and earth, of gods and men. Callicles has never discovered
the
power of geometrical proportion in both worlds; he would have men
aim
at disproportion and excess. But if he be wrong in this, and
if
self-control is the true secret of happiness, then the paradox is
true
that the only use of rhetoric is in self-accusation, and Polus was
right
in saying that to do wrong is worse than to suffer wrong, and
Gorgias
was right in saying that the rhetorician must be a just man. And
you
were wrong in taunting me with my defenceless condition, and in
saying
that I might be accused or put to death or boxed on the ears
with
impunity. For I may repeat once more, that to strike is worse than
to
be stricken--to do than to suffer. What I said then is now made fast
in
adamantine bonds. I myself know not the true nature of these things,
but
I know that no one can deny my words and not be ridiculous. To do
wrong
is the greatest of evils, and to suffer wrong is the next greatest
evil.
He who would avoid the last must be a ruler, or the friend of a
ruler;
and to be the friend he must be the equal of the ruler, and must
also
resemble him. Under his protection he will suffer no evil, but will
he
also do no evil? Nay, will he not rather do all the evil which he
can
and escape? And in this way the greatest of all evils will befall
him.
'But this imitator of the tyrant,' rejoins Callicles, 'will kill
any
one who does not similarly imitate him.' Socrates replies that he
is
not deaf, and that he has heard that repeated many times, and can
only
reply, that a bad man will kill a good one. 'Yes, and that is the
provoking
thing.' Not provoking to a man of sense who is not studying
the arts which
will preserve him from danger; and this, as you say, is
the use of rhetoric
in courts of justice. But how many other arts are
there which also save men
from death, and are yet quite humble in their
pretensions--such as the art of
swimming, or the art of the pilot? Does
not the pilot do men at least as much
service as the rhetorician, and
yet for the voyage from Aegina to Athens he
does not charge more than
two obols, and when he disembarks is quite
unassuming in his demeanour?
The reason is that he is not certain whether he
has done his passengers
any good in saving them from death, if one of them is
diseased in body,
and still more if he is diseased in mind--who can say? The
engineer too
will often save whole cities, and yet you despise him, and would
not
allow your son to marry his daughter, or his son to marry yours.
But
what reason is there in this? For if virtue only means the saving
of
life, whether your own or another's, you have no right to despise him
or
any practiser of saving arts. But is not virtue something different
from
saving and being saved? I would have you rather consider whether
you
ought not to disregard length of life, and think only how you can
live
best, leaving all besides to the will of Heaven. For you must not
expect
to have influence either with the Athenian Demos or with Demos the
son
of Pyrilampes, unless you become like them. What do you say to
this?
'There is some truth in what you are saying, but I do not entirely
believe you.' |
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