Gorgias

2h 25m

PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: Callicles, Socrates, Chaerephon, Gorgias, Polus.

CHARACTERS IN THE DIALOGUE: Callicles, Socrates, Chaerephon, Gorgias, Polus.

SCENE: The house of Callicles.

SCENE: Callicles' house.

CALLICLES: The wise man, as the proverb says, is late for a fray, but not for a feast.

CALLICLES: As the saying goes, a wise man is late for a fight, but not for a feast.

SOCRATES: And are we late for a feast?

CALLICLES: Yes, and a delightful feast; for Gorgias has just been exhibiting to us many fine things.

CALLICLES: Yes, and a delightful feast, because Gorgias has just shown us many fine things.

SOCRATES: It is not my fault, Callicles; our friend Chaerephon is to blame; for he would keep us loitering in the Agora.

SOCRATES: It’s not my fault, Callicles. Our friend Chaerephon is to blame because he insisted on keeping us hanging around in the Agora.

CHAEREPHON: Never mind, Socrates; the misfortune of which I have been the cause I will also repair; for Gorgias is a friend of mine, and I will make him give the exhibition again either now, or, if you prefer, at some other time.

CHAEREPHON: Don't worry, Socrates. I caused this misfortune, and I will also put things right. Gorgias is a friend of mine, so I will make him give his demonstration again. He can do so now or, if you prefer, at some other time.

CALLICLES: What is the matter, Chaerephon—does Socrates want to hear Gorgias?

CALLICLES: What's the matter, Chaerephon? Does Socrates want to hear Gorgias?

CHAEREPHON: Yes, that was our intention in coming.

CHAEREPHON: Yes, that’s what we came for.

CALLICLES: Come into my house, then; for Gorgias is staying with me, and he shall exhibit to you.

CALLICLES: Come into my house, then, because Gorgias is staying with me. He’ll show you his skills.

SOCRATES: Very good, Callicles; but will he answer our questions? for I want to hear from him what is the nature of his art, and what it is which he professes and teaches; he may, as you (Chaerephon) suggest, defer the exhibition to some other time.

SOCRATES: Very good, Callicles. But will he answer our questions? I ask because I want to hear him explain his art and what he claims to teach. He may put off his demonstration until another time, as you (Chaerephon) suggest.

CALLICLES: There is nothing like asking him, Socrates; and indeed to answer questions is a part of his exhibition, for he was saying only just now, that any one in my house might put any question to him, and that he would answer.

CALLICLES: The best thing is to ask him, Socrates. Answering questions is part of his demonstration. In fact, he said just now that anyone in my house could ask him any question, and he would answer.

SOCRATES: How fortunate! will you ask him, Chaerephon—?

SOCRATES: What good luck! Will you ask him, Chaerephon?

CHAEREPHON: What shall I ask him?

CHAEREPHON: What should I ask him?

SOCRATES: Ask him who he is.

CHAEREPHON: What do you mean?

SOCRATES: I mean such a question as would elicit from him, if he had been a maker of shoes, the answer that he is a cobbler. Do you understand?

SOCRATES: I mean a question that would get him to say he's a shoemaker, if he made shoes. Do you understand?

CHAEREPHON: I understand, and will ask him: Tell me, Gorgias, is our friend Callicles right in saying that you undertake to answer any questions which you are asked?

CHAEREPHON: I understand, and I’ll ask him: Tell me, Gorgias, is our friend Callicles right? Do you promise to answer any questions you’re asked?

GORGIAS: Quite right, Chaerephon: I was saying as much only just now; and I may add, that many years have elapsed since any one has asked me a new one.

GORGIAS: Quite right, Chaerephon. I was saying the same thing just now. And I can add that no one has asked me a new question in many years.

CHAEREPHON: Then you must be very ready, Gorgias.

CHAEREPHON: Then you must be very well prepared, Gorgias.

GORGIAS: Of that, Chaerephon, you can make trial.

GORGIAS: You can test that, Chaerephon.

POLUS: Yes, indeed, and if you like, Chaerephon, you may make trial of me too, for I think that Gorgias, who has been talking a long time, is tired.

POLUS: Yes, certainly, and if you like, Chaerephon, you can test me too. For I think Gorgias is tired because he has been talking for a long time.

CHAEREPHON: And do you, Polus, think that you can answer better than Gorgias?

CHAEREPHON: And do you think you can answer better than Gorgias, Polus?

POLUS: What does that matter if I answer well enough for you?

POLUS: Why does that matter if my answer is good enough for you?

CHAEREPHON: Not at all:—and you shall answer if you like.

CHAEREPHON: Not at all. And you can answer if you like.

POLUS: Ask:—

POLUS: Ask.

CHAEREPHON: My question is this: If Gorgias had the skill of his brother Herodicus, what ought we to call him? Ought he not to have the name which is given to his brother?

CHAEREPHON: My question is this: If Gorgias had his brother Herodicus’s skill, what should we call him? Shouldn’t we give Gorgias the same title as his brother?

POLUS: Certainly.

CHAEREPHON: Then we should be right in calling him a physician?

CHAEREPHON: Then would we be right to call him a doctor?

POLUS: Yes.

CHAEREPHON: And if he had the skill of Aristophon the son of Aglaophon, or of his brother Polygnotus, what ought we to call him?

CHAEREPHON: And if he had the skill of Aristophon, son of Aglaophon, or of his brother Polygnotus, what should we call him?

POLUS: Clearly, a painter.

CHAEREPHON: But now what shall we call him—what is the art in which he is skilled.

CHAEREPHON: But now what should we call him? What skill does he specialize in?

POLUS: O Chaerephon, there are many arts among mankind which are experimental, and have their origin in experience, for experience makes the days of men to proceed according to art, and inexperience according to chance, and different persons in different ways are proficient in different arts, and the best persons in the best arts. And our friend Gorgias is one of the best, and the art in which he is a proficient is the noblest.

POLUS: Chaerephon, people practice many arts based on experiment and rooted in experience. For experience lets people live by skill, while inexperience leaves them at the mercy of chance. Different people excel in different arts, and the best people excel in the best arts. And our friend Gorgias is one of the best, and the art he excels in is the noblest.

SOCRATES: Polus has been taught how to make a capital speech, Gorgias; but he is not fulfilling the promise which he made to Chaerephon.

SOCRATES: Polus has been taught how to give an excellent speech, Gorgias. But he is not keeping his promise to Chaerephon.

GORGIAS: What do you mean, Socrates?

SOCRATES: I mean that he has not exactly answered the question which he was asked.

SOCRATES: I mean he hasn't quite answered the question he was asked.

GORGIAS: Then why not ask him yourself?

SOCRATES: But I would much rather ask you, if you are disposed to answer: for I see, from the few words which Polus has uttered, that he has attended more to the art which is called rhetoric than to dialectic.

SOCRATES: But I would much rather ask you, if you are willing to answer. For I can tell from Polus's few words that he has focused more on rhetoric than on dialectic.

POLUS: What makes you say so, Socrates?

POLUS: What makes you say that, Socrates?

SOCRATES: Because, Polus, when Chaerephon asked you what was the art which Gorgias knows, you praised it as if you were answering some one who found fault with it, but you never said what the art was.

SOCRATES: Because, Polus, when Chaerephon asked you what art Gorgias knows, you responded with praise. You praised the art as if someone had criticized it. But you never said what the art was.

POLUS: Why, did I not say that it was the noblest of arts?

POLUS: Well, didn’t I say it was the noblest of all arts?

SOCRATES: Yes, indeed, but that was no answer to the question: nobody asked what was the quality, but what was the nature, of the art, and by what name we were to describe Gorgias. And I would still beg you briefly and clearly, as you answered Chaerephon when he asked you at first, to say what this art is, and what we ought to call Gorgias: Or rather, Gorgias, let me turn to you, and ask the same question,—what are we to call you, and what is the art which you profess?

SOCRATES: Yes, indeed, but you haven't answered the question. Nobody asked how good the art was, but what kind of art it was and what to call Gorgias. I still ask you to answer briefly and clearly, as you did when Chaerephon first asked you. What is this art, and what should we call Gorgias? Or rather, Gorgias, let me turn to you and ask the same question. What should we call you, and what art do you practice?

GORGIAS: Rhetoric, Socrates, is my art.

GORGIAS: Rhetoric is my craft, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Then I am to call you a rhetorician?

SOCRATES: So should I call you a rhetorician?

GORGIAS: Yes, Socrates, and a good one too, if you would call me that which, in Homeric language, “I boast myself to be.”

GORGIAS: Yes, Socrates, and a good one too, if you call me what “I boast of being,” as Homer puts it.

SOCRATES: I should wish to do so.

SOCRATES: I'd like to do so.

GORGIAS: Then pray do.

GORGIAS: Then please do.

SOCRATES: And are we to say that you are able to make other men rhetoricians?

SOCRATES: And are we saying that you can teach other men to be skilled public speakers?

GORGIAS: Yes, that is exactly what I profess to make them, not only at Athens, but in all places.

GORGIAS: Yes, that is exactly what I claim to make them, not just in Athens, but everywhere.

SOCRATES: And will you continue to ask and answer questions, Gorgias, as we are at present doing, and reserve for another occasion the longer mode of speech which Polus was attempting? Will you keep your promise, and answer shortly the questions which are asked of you?

SOCRATES: And will you keep asking and answering questions, Gorgias, as we are doing now? Will you save the longer speeches Polus was attempting for another time? Will you keep your promise and give short answers to the questions you are asked?

GORGIAS: Some answers, Socrates, are of necessity longer; but I will do my best to make them as short as possible; for a part of my profession is that I can be as short as any one.

GORGIAS: Some answers, Socrates, have to be longer. But I will do my best to keep them as short as possible. For part of my professional claim is that I can be as brief as anyone.

SOCRATES: That is what is wanted, Gorgias; exhibit the shorter method now, and the longer one at some other time.

SOCRATES: That is what we want, Gorgias. Show us the shorter method now, and the longer one another time.

GORGIAS: Well, I will; and you will certainly say, that you never heard a man use fewer words.

GORGIAS: Well, I will. And you’ll certainly say you’ve never heard a man use fewer words.

SOCRATES: Very good then; as you profess to be a rhetorician, and a maker of rhetoricians, let me ask you, with what is rhetoric concerned: I might ask with what is weaving concerned, and you would reply (would you not?), with the making of garments?

SOCRATES: Very well, then. Since you claim to be a rhetorician and to train other rhetoricians, let me ask you: what does rhetoric concern? I might ask what weaving concerns. You would answer that weaving concerns making clothes, wouldn't you?

GORGIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And music is concerned with the composition of melodies?

SOCRATES: And music is about composing melodies?

GORGIAS: It is.

SOCRATES: By Here, Gorgias, I admire the surpassing brevity of your answers.

SOCRATES: By Here, Gorgias, I admire how remarkably brief your answers are.

GORGIAS: Yes, Socrates, I do think myself good at that.

GORGIAS: Yes, Socrates, I do think I’m good at that.

SOCRATES: I am glad to hear it; answer me in like manner about rhetoric: with what is rhetoric concerned?

SOCRATES: I’m glad to hear it. Answer me the same way about rhetoric: what does rhetoric deal with?

GORGIAS: With discourse.

GORGIAS: With words.

SOCRATES: What sort of discourse, Gorgias?—such discourse as would teach the sick under what treatment they might get well?

SOCRATES: What kind of discussion, Gorgias? The kind that would teach sick people what treatment might help them get well?

GORGIAS: No.

SOCRATES: Then rhetoric does not treat of all kinds of discourse?

SOCRATES: So rhetoric does not deal with all kinds of speech?

GORGIAS: Certainly not.

SOCRATES: And yet rhetoric makes men able to speak?

SOCRATES: And yet rhetoric gives men the ability to speak?

GORGIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And to understand that about which they speak?

SOCRATES: And to understand what they are talking about?

GORGIAS: Of course.

SOCRATES: But does not the art of medicine, which we were just now mentioning, also make men able to understand and speak about the sick?

SOCRATES: But what about medicine, which we were just discussing? Doesn't medicine also enable people to understand and talk about the sick?

GORGIAS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: Then medicine also treats of discourse?

SOCRATES: So medicine also deals with speech?

GORGIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: Of discourse concerning diseases?

SOCRATES: Discussion about diseases?

GORGIAS: Just so.

GORGIAS: Exactly.

SOCRATES: And does not gymnastic also treat of discourse concerning the good or evil condition of the body?

SOCRATES: And doesn't physical training also involve discussion of whether the body is in good or bad condition?

GORGIAS: Very true.

GORGIAS: Absolutely true.

SOCRATES: And the same, Gorgias, is true of the other arts:—all of them treat of discourse concerning the subjects with which they severally have to do.

SOCRATES: And the same is true of the other arts, Gorgias. All of them involve discussion of their own subjects.

GORGIAS: Clearly.

SOCRATES: Then why, if you call rhetoric the art which treats of discourse, and all the other arts treat of discourse, do you not call them arts of rhetoric?

SOCRATES: Then if you call rhetoric the art of discourse, and all the other arts also deal with discourse, why don't you call the other arts rhetoric too?

GORGIAS: Because, Socrates, the knowledge of the other arts has only to do with some sort of external action, as of the hand; but there is no such action of the hand in rhetoric which works and takes effect only through the medium of discourse. And therefore I am justified in saying that rhetoric treats of discourse.

GORGIAS: Because, Socrates, knowledge of the other arts concerns only some kind of physical action, such as using the hands. But rhetoric involves no such action of the hands. Rhetoric works and has its effect only through speech. So I am justified in saying that rhetoric deals with speech.

SOCRATES: I am not sure whether I entirely understand you, but I dare say I shall soon know better; please to answer me a question:—you would allow that there are arts?

SOCRATES: I’m not sure I fully understand you, but I expect I’ll understand better soon. Please answer a question for me: would you agree that there are arts?

GORGIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: As to the arts generally, they are for the most part concerned with doing, and require little or no speaking; in painting, and statuary, and many other arts, the work may proceed in silence; and of such arts I suppose you would say that they do not come within the province of rhetoric.

SOCRATES: The arts generally focus on doing things and require little or no speaking. In painting, sculpture, and many other arts, the work can proceed in silence. And I suppose you would say that such arts fall outside the scope of rhetoric.

GORGIAS: You perfectly conceive my meaning, Socrates.

GORGIAS: You understand exactly what I mean, Socrates.

SOCRATES: But there are other arts which work wholly through the medium of language, and require either no action or very little, as, for example, the arts of arithmetic, of calculation, of geometry, and of playing draughts; in some of these speech is pretty nearly co-extensive with action, but in most of them the verbal element is greater—they depend wholly on words for their efficacy and power: and I take your meaning to be that rhetoric is an art of this latter sort?

SOCRATES: But other arts work entirely through language and require little or no action. Examples include arithmetic, calculation, geometry, and playing draughts. In some of these arts, speech and action play almost equal parts. But in most, words play a greater part. These arts depend entirely on words for their effectiveness and power. And I take you to mean that rhetoric is an art of this last kind?

GORGIAS: Exactly.

SOCRATES: And yet I do not believe that you really mean to call any of these arts rhetoric; although the precise expression which you used was, that rhetoric is an art which works and takes effect only through the medium of discourse; and an adversary who wished to be captious might say, “And so, Gorgias, you call arithmetic rhetoric.” But I do not think that you really call arithmetic rhetoric any more than geometry would be so called by you.

SOCRATES: And yet I do not believe you really mean to call any of these arts rhetoric. Although your exact words were that rhetoric is an art that works and produces results only through speech. An opponent looking to pick apart your words might say, “So, Gorgias, you call arithmetic rhetoric.” But I do not think you really call arithmetic rhetoric any more than you would call geometry rhetoric.

GORGIAS: You are quite right, Socrates, in your apprehension of my meaning.

GORGIAS: You’ve understood my meaning exactly, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Well, then, let me now have the rest of my answer:—seeing that rhetoric is one of those arts which works mainly by the use of words, and there are other arts which also use words, tell me what is that quality in words with which rhetoric is concerned:—Suppose that a person asks me about some of the arts which I was mentioning just now; he might say, “Socrates, what is arithmetic?” and I should reply to him, as you replied to me, that arithmetic is one of those arts which take effect through words. And then he would proceed to ask: “Words about what?” and I should reply, Words about odd and even numbers, and how many there are of each. And if he asked again: “What is the art of calculation?” I should say, That also is one of the arts which is concerned wholly with words. And if he further said, “Concerned with what?” I should say, like the clerks in the assembly, “as aforesaid” of arithmetic, but with a difference, the difference being that the art of calculation considers not only the quantities of odd and even numbers, but also their numerical relations to themselves and to one another. And suppose, again, I were to say that astronomy is only words—he would ask, “Words about what, Socrates?” and I should answer, that astronomy tells us about the motions of the stars and sun and moon, and their relative swiftness.

SOCRATES: Well then, let me have the rest of my answer. Rhetoric is one of the arts that work mainly through words, but other arts also use words. So tell me what subject rhetoric’s words deal with. Suppose someone asks me about some of the arts I just mentioned. He might say, “Socrates, what is arithmetic?” I would answer, as you answered me, that arithmetic is one of the arts that work through words. Then he would ask: “Words about what?” I would reply, Words about odd and even numbers, and how many of each there are. And if he asked again: “What is the art of calculation?” I would say, Calculation is also one of the arts concerned entirely with words. And if he went on, “Concerned with what?” I would answer, like the clerks in the assembly, “as stated above” about arithmetic, but with a difference. Calculation considers not only the quantities of odd and even numbers, but also their numerical relationships within and between those groups. And suppose, again, I said that astronomy consists only of words. He would ask, “Words about what, Socrates?” I would answer that astronomy describes the movements of the stars, sun, and moon, and their speeds relative to one another.

GORGIAS: You would be quite right, Socrates.

GORGIAS: You would be completely right, Socrates.

SOCRATES: And now let us have from you, Gorgias, the truth about rhetoric: which you would admit (would you not?) to be one of those arts which act always and fulfil all their ends through the medium of words?

SOCRATES: Now, Gorgias, tell us the truth about rhetoric. Wouldn't you agree that rhetoric is one of those arts that always work and achieve all their aims through words?

GORGIAS: True.

SOCRATES: Words which do what? I should ask. To what class of things do the words which rhetoric uses relate?

SOCRATES: Words that do what? That is what I should ask. What kinds of things do the words used in rhetoric deal with?

GORGIAS: To the greatest, Socrates, and the best of human things.

GORGIAS: To the greatest and best things in human life, Socrates.

SOCRATES: That again, Gorgias is ambiguous; I am still in the dark: for which are the greatest and best of human things? I dare say that you have heard men singing at feasts the old drinking song, in which the singers enumerate the goods of life, first health, beauty next, thirdly, as the writer of the song says, wealth honestly obtained.

SOCRATES: Again, Gorgias, your answer is unclear. I still don’t understand. What are the greatest and best things in human life? I suppose you’ve heard men singing that old drinking song at feasts, listing the good things in life. Health comes first, beauty second, and third, as the songwriter says, wealth honestly earned.

GORGIAS: Yes, I know the song; but what is your drift?

GORGIAS: Yes, I know the song, but what are you getting at?

SOCRATES: I mean to say, that the producers of those things which the author of the song praises, that is to say, the physician, the trainer, the money-maker, will at once come to you, and first the physician will say: “O Socrates, Gorgias is deceiving you, for my art is concerned with the greatest good of men and not his.” And when I ask, Who are you? he will reply, “I am a physician.” What do you mean? I shall say. Do you mean that your art produces the greatest good? “Certainly,” he will answer, “for is not health the greatest good? What greater good can men have, Socrates?” And after him the trainer will come and say, “I too, Socrates, shall be greatly surprised if Gorgias can show more good of his art than I can show of mine.” To him again I shall say, Who are you, honest friend, and what is your business? “I am a trainer,” he will reply, “and my business is to make men beautiful and strong in body.” When I have done with the trainer, there arrives the money-maker, and he, as I expect, will utterly despise them all. “Consider Socrates,” he will say, “whether Gorgias or any one else can produce any greater good than wealth.” Well, you and I say to him, and are you a creator of wealth? “Yes,” he replies. And who are you? “A money-maker.” And do you consider wealth to be the greatest good of man? “Of course,” will be his reply. And we shall rejoin: Yes; but our friend Gorgias contends that his art produces a greater good than yours. And then he will be sure to go on and ask, “What good? Let Gorgias answer.” Now I want you, Gorgias, to imagine that this question is asked of you by them and by me; What is that which, as you say, is the greatest good of man, and of which you are the creator? Answer us.

SOCRATES: I mean that the people who produce the things praised by the songwriter will come to you at once. These are the physician, the trainer, and the money-maker. First, the physician will say: “Socrates, Gorgias is deceiving you. My skill, not his, provides the greatest good for human beings.” And when I ask, Who are you? he will reply, “I am a physician.” What do you mean? I will ask. Do you mean that your skill produces the greatest good? “Certainly,” he will answer, “for isn't health the greatest good? What greater good can people have, Socrates?” After him, the trainer will come and say, “I too, Socrates, will be very surprised if Gorgias can show that his skill does more good than mine.” I will ask him in turn, Who are you, my good friend, and what do you do? “I am a trainer,” he will reply, “and my work is to make men's bodies beautiful and strong.” When I have finished with the trainer, the money-maker arrives. I expect he will look down on all the others. “Consider, Socrates,” he will say, “whether Gorgias or anyone else can produce any greater good than wealth.” Well, you and I will ask him, do you create wealth? “Yes,” he replies. And who are you? “A money-maker.” And do you consider wealth the greatest good for human beings? “Of course,” he will reply. And we will answer: Yes, but our friend Gorgias claims that his skill produces a greater good than yours. Then he will certainly go on to ask, “What good? Let Gorgias answer.” Now, Gorgias, I want you to imagine that these men and I are asking you this question. What do you claim is the greatest good for human beings, the good you create? Answer us.

GORGIAS: That good, Socrates, which is truly the greatest, being that which gives to men freedom in their own persons, and to individuals the power of ruling over others in their several states.

GORGIAS: Socrates, the truly greatest good is what gives people personal freedom. It also gives individuals the power to rule over others in their own states.

SOCRATES: And what would you consider this to be?

SOCRATES: And what would you say this is?

GORGIAS: What is there greater than the word which persuades the judges in the courts, or the senators in the council, or the citizens in the assembly, or at any other political meeting?—if you have the power of uttering this word, you will have the physician your slave, and the trainer your slave, and the money-maker of whom you talk will be found to gather treasures, not for himself, but for you who are able to speak and to persuade the multitude.

GORGIAS: What is greater than speech that persuades judges in court, senators in council, or citizens in the assembly? Or speech that persuades people at any other political meeting? If you can speak like this, you will have the doctor as your slave and the trainer as your slave. And the money-maker you mention will gather wealth not for himself, but for you. That is because you can speak and persuade the crowd.

SOCRATES: Now I think, Gorgias, that you have very accurately explained what you conceive to be the art of rhetoric; and you mean to say, if I am not mistaken, that rhetoric is the artificer of persuasion, having this and no other business, and that this is her crown and end. Do you know any other effect of rhetoric over and above that of producing persuasion?

SOCRATES: Now, Gorgias, I think you have explained very accurately what you understand the art of rhetoric to be. If I am not mistaken, you mean that rhetoric produces persuasion and has no other task. Persuasion is its highest aim and ultimate purpose. Do you know of any other effect rhetoric has besides producing persuasion?

GORGIAS: No: the definition seems to me very fair, Socrates; for persuasion is the chief end of rhetoric.

GORGIAS: No, the definition seems very fair to me, Socrates, because persuasion is the main goal of rhetoric.

SOCRATES: Then hear me, Gorgias, for I am quite sure that if there ever was a man who entered on the discussion of a matter from a pure love of knowing the truth, I am such a one, and I should say the same of you.

SOCRATES: Then listen to me, Gorgias. For I am quite sure that if anyone ever entered a discussion purely out of love for the truth, I have. And I would say the same of you.

GORGIAS: What is coming, Socrates?

GORGIAS: What's coming next, Socrates?

SOCRATES: I will tell you: I am very well aware that I do not know what, according to you, is the exact nature, or what are the topics of that persuasion of which you speak, and which is given by rhetoric; although I have a suspicion about both the one and the other. And I am going to ask—what is this power of persuasion which is given by rhetoric, and about what? But why, if I have a suspicion, do I ask instead of telling you? Not for your sake, but in order that the argument may proceed in such a manner as is most likely to set forth the truth. And I would have you observe, that I am right in asking this further question: If I asked, “What sort of a painter is Zeuxis?” and you said, “The painter of figures,” should I not be right in asking, “What kind of figures, and where do you find them?”

SOCRATES: I will tell you: I know very well that I do not understand exactly what you mean by persuasion through rhetoric. Nor do I know what subjects that persuasion deals with, although I have a suspicion about both. So I am going to ask: what is this power of persuasion that rhetoric provides, and what does it concern? But if I have a suspicion, why do I ask instead of telling you? Not for your sake, but so that our discussion can proceed in the way most likely to reveal the truth. And I want you to see that I am right to ask this further question. Suppose I asked, “What sort of painter is Zeuxis?” and you answered, “A painter of figures.” Would I not be right to ask, “What kind of figures, and where do you find them?”

GORGIAS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And the reason for asking this second question would be, that there are other painters besides, who paint many other figures?

SOCRATES: And you would ask this second question because there are other painters who paint many other figures?

GORGIAS: True.

SOCRATES: But if there had been no one but Zeuxis who painted them, then you would have answered very well?

SOCRATES: But if only Zeuxis had painted them, then your answer would have been very good, wouldn't it?

GORGIAS: Quite so.

GORGIAS: Exactly.

SOCRATES: Now I want to know about rhetoric in the same way;—is rhetoric the only art which brings persuasion, or do other arts have the same effect? I mean to say—Does he who teaches anything persuade men of that which he teaches or not?

SOCRATES: Now I want to ask the same question about rhetoric. Is rhetoric the only art that persuades people, or do other arts have the same effect? I mean, does someone who teaches anything persuade people of what they teach, or not?

GORGIAS: He persuades, Socrates,—there can be no mistake about that.

GORGIAS: He persuades, Socrates. There’s no doubt about that.

SOCRATES: Again, if we take the arts of which we were just now speaking:—do not arithmetic and the arithmeticians teach us the properties of number?

SOCRATES: Again, if we consider the skills we just discussed, don't arithmetic and arithmetic teachers teach us the properties of numbers?

GORGIAS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And therefore persuade us of them?

SOCRATES: And so persuade us to believe them?

GORGIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: Then arithmetic as well as rhetoric is an artificer of persuasion?

SOCRATES: So arithmetic, like rhetoric, produces persuasion?

GORGIAS: Clearly.

SOCRATES: And if any one asks us what sort of persuasion, and about what,—we shall answer, persuasion which teaches the quantity of odd and even; and we shall be able to show that all the other arts of which we were just now speaking are artificers of persuasion, and of what sort, and about what.

SOCRATES: And if anyone asks what kind of persuasion we mean and what it concerns, we shall answer. It is persuasion that teaches the quantities of odd and even numbers. And we shall be able to show that all the other arts we just discussed also produce persuasion. We shall also be able to show what kind of persuasion each art produces and what it concerns.

GORGIAS: Very true.

GORGIAS: Absolutely true.

SOCRATES: Then rhetoric is not the only artificer of persuasion?

SOCRATES: So rhetoric is not the only way to persuade?

GORGIAS: True.

SOCRATES: Seeing, then, that not only rhetoric works by persuasion, but that other arts do the same, as in the case of the painter, a question has arisen which is a very fair one: Of what persuasion is rhetoric the artificer, and about what?—is not that a fair way of putting the question?

SOCRATES: Since rhetoric is not the only art that uses persuasion, other arts do too, as painting does. So a very reasonable question arises: What kind of persuasion does rhetoric produce, and what is that persuasion about? Isn't that a fair way to put the question?

GORGIAS: I think so.

SOCRATES: Then, if you approve the question, Gorgias, what is the answer?

SOCRATES: Then, if you think the question is fair, Gorgias, what is your answer?

GORGIAS: I answer, Socrates, that rhetoric is the art of persuasion in courts of law and other assemblies, as I was just now saying, and about the just and unjust.

GORGIAS: My answer, Socrates, is that rhetoric is the art of persuasion in courts of law and other assemblies. As I just said, rhetoric deals with what is just and unjust.

SOCRATES: And that, Gorgias, was what I was suspecting to be your notion; yet I would not have you wonder if by-and-by I am found repeating a seemingly plain question; for I ask not in order to confute you, but as I was saying that the argument may proceed consecutively, and that we may not get the habit of anticipating and suspecting the meaning of one another’s words; I would have you develope your own views in your own way, whatever may be your hypothesis.

SOCRATES: Gorgias, I suspected that was your view. But don't be surprised if I later repeat a question whose answer seems obvious. I am not asking to prove you wrong. As I said, I want the argument to proceed step by step. I also want us to avoid getting into the habit of guessing what the other means before hearing him out. I want you to explain your views in your own way, whatever your starting assumptions may be.

GORGIAS: I think that you are quite right, Socrates.

GORGIAS: I think you’re quite right, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Then let me raise another question; there is such a thing as “having learned”?

SOCRATES: Then let me ask another question. Is there such a thing as “having learned”?

GORGIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And there is also “having believed”?

SOCRATES: And is there also “having believed”?

GORGIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And is the “having learned” the same as “having believed,” and are learning and belief the same things?

SOCRATES: And is “having learned” the same as “having believed”? Are learning and belief the same thing?

GORGIAS: In my judgment, Socrates, they are not the same.

GORGIAS: I don't think they're the same, Socrates.

SOCRATES: And your judgment is right, as you may ascertain in this way:—If a person were to say to you, “Is there, Gorgias, a false belief as well as a true?”—you would reply, if I am not mistaken, that there is.

SOCRATES: And your judgment is right, as you can see from the following example: If someone asked you, “Gorgias, are there false beliefs as well as true ones?” you would answer yes, unless I am mistaken.

GORGIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: Well, but is there a false knowledge as well as a true?

SOCRATES: But can knowledge be false as well as true?

GORGIAS: No.

SOCRATES: No, indeed; and this again proves that knowledge and belief differ.

SOCRATES: Certainly not. And this proves again that knowledge and belief are different.

GORGIAS: Very true.

GORGIAS: Absolutely true.

SOCRATES: And yet those who have learned as well as those who have believed are persuaded?

SOCRATES: And yet both those who have learned and those who have believed are convinced?

GORGIAS: Just so.

GORGIAS: Exactly.

SOCRATES: Shall we then assume two sorts of persuasion,—one which is the source of belief without knowledge, as the other is of knowledge?

SOCRATES: Shall we then assume there are two kinds of persuasion? One produces belief without knowledge, while the other produces knowledge.

GORGIAS: By all means.

GORGIAS: Absolutely.

SOCRATES: And which sort of persuasion does rhetoric create in courts of law and other assemblies about the just and unjust, the sort of persuasion which gives belief without knowledge, or that which gives knowledge?

SOCRATES: And what kind of persuasion does rhetoric create in courts and other assemblies about justice and injustice? Does it give people belief without knowledge, or does it give them knowledge?

GORGIAS: Clearly, Socrates, that which only gives belief.

GORGIAS: Clearly, Socrates, the kind that only produces belief.

SOCRATES: Then rhetoric, as would appear, is the artificer of a persuasion which creates belief about the just and unjust, but gives no instruction about them?

SOCRATES: So it seems rhetoric produces persuasion that creates beliefs about what is just and unjust, but teaches nothing about either?

GORGIAS: True.

SOCRATES: And the rhetorician does not instruct the courts of law or other assemblies about things just and unjust, but he creates belief about them; for no one can be supposed to instruct such a vast multitude about such high matters in a short time?

SOCRATES: And the rhetorician does not teach courts of law or other assemblies about what is just and unjust. Instead, he creates beliefs about justice and injustice. For no one could teach so many people about such important matters in so little time, could they?

GORGIAS: Certainly not.

GORGIAS: Definitely not.

SOCRATES: Come, then, and let us see what we really mean about rhetoric; for I do not know what my own meaning is as yet. When the assembly meets to elect a physician or a shipwright or any other craftsman, will the rhetorician be taken into counsel? Surely not. For at every election he ought to be chosen who is most skilled; and, again, when walls have to be built or harbours or docks to be constructed, not the rhetorician but the master workman will advise; or when generals have to be chosen and an order of battle arranged, or a position taken, then the military will advise and not the rhetoricians: what do you say, Gorgias? Since you profess to be a rhetorician and a maker of rhetoricians, I cannot do better than learn the nature of your art from you. And here let me assure you that I have your interest in view as well as my own. For likely enough some one or other of the young men present might desire to become your pupil, and in fact I see some, and a good many too, who have this wish, but they would be too modest to question you. And therefore when you are interrogated by me, I would have you imagine that you are interrogated by them. “What is the use of coming to you, Gorgias?” they will say—“about what will you teach us to advise the state?—about the just and unjust only, or about those other things also which Socrates has just mentioned?” How will you answer them?

SOCRATES: Come, then, let us see what we really mean by rhetoric. I do not yet know what I mean myself. When the assembly meets to choose a physician, shipwright, or other craftsman, will it ask the rhetorician for advice? Surely not. In every selection, the most skilled person should be chosen. And when walls, harbours, or docks need building, the master craftsman will advise, not the rhetorician. Or suppose generals must be chosen, troops arranged for battle, or a position taken. Then military experts will advise, not rhetoricians. What do you say, Gorgias? You claim to be a rhetorician and to train others in rhetoric. So I can do no better than learn from you what your art involves. Let me assure you that I have your interests in mind as well as my own. Some of the young men here are likely to want to become your pupils. In fact, I see some, quite a few, who do want to, but would be too shy to question you. So when I question you, imagine that these young men are asking the questions. “What would we gain by coming to you, Gorgias?” they will ask. “What subjects will you teach us to advise the state about? Only what is just and unjust, or also the other subjects Socrates has just mentioned?” How will you answer them?

GORGIAS: I like your way of leading us on, Socrates, and I will endeavour to reveal to you the whole nature of rhetoric. You must have heard, I think, that the docks and the walls of the Athenians and the plan of the harbour were devised in accordance with the counsels, partly of Themistocles, and partly of Pericles, and not at the suggestion of the builders.

GORGIAS: I like the way you guide our discussion, Socrates, and I will try to explain the whole nature of rhetoric. I think you must have heard how the Athenians’ docks, walls, and harbour layout were planned. The plans followed advice partly from Themistocles and partly from Pericles, not suggestions from the builders.

SOCRATES: Such is the tradition, Gorgias, about Themistocles; and I myself heard the speech of Pericles when he advised us about the middle wall.

SOCRATES: That's the story passed down about Themistocles, Gorgias. And I myself heard Pericles speak when he advised us about the middle wall.

GORGIAS: And you will observe, Socrates, that when a decision has to be given in such matters the rhetoricians are the advisers; they are the men who win their point.

GORGIAS: And you will notice, Socrates, that when decisions must be made on such matters, rhetoricians give the advice. They are the ones who win their arguments.

SOCRATES: I had that in my admiring mind, Gorgias, when I asked what is the nature of rhetoric, which always appears to me, when I look at the matter in this way, to be a marvel of greatness.

SOCRATES: That was what I had in mind with admiration, Gorgias, when I asked what rhetoric is. Whenever I look at rhetoric this way, its greatness always amazes me.

GORGIAS: A marvel, indeed, Socrates, if you only knew how rhetoric comprehends and holds under her sway all the inferior arts. Let me offer you a striking example of this. On several occasions I have been with my brother Herodicus or some other physician to see one of his patients, who would not allow the physician to give him medicine, or apply the knife or hot iron to him; and I have persuaded him to do for me what he would not do for the physician just by the use of rhetoric. And I say that if a rhetorician and a physician were to go to any city, and had there to argue in the Ecclesia or any other assembly as to which of them should be elected state-physician, the physician would have no chance; but he who could speak would be chosen if he wished; and in a contest with a man of any other profession the rhetorician more than any one would have the power of getting himself chosen, for he can speak more persuasively to the multitude than any of them, and on any subject. Such is the nature and power of the art of rhetoric! And yet, Socrates, rhetoric should be used like any other competitive art, not against everybody,—the rhetorician ought not to abuse his strength any more than a pugilist or pancratiast or other master of fence;—because he has powers which are more than a match either for friend or enemy, he ought not therefore to strike, stab, or slay his friends. Suppose a man to have been trained in the palestra and to be a skilful boxer,—he in the fulness of his strength goes and strikes his father or mother or one of his familiars or friends; but that is no reason why the trainers or fencing-masters should be held in detestation or banished from the city;—surely not. For they taught their art for a good purpose, to be used against enemies and evil-doers, in self-defence not in aggression, and others have perverted their instructions, and turned to a bad use their own strength and skill. But not on this account are the teachers bad, neither is the art in fault, or bad in itself; I should rather say that those who make a bad use of the art are to blame. And the same argument holds good of rhetoric; for the rhetorician can speak against all men and upon any subject,—in short, he can persuade the multitude better than any other man of anything which he pleases, but he should not therefore seek to defraud the physician or any other artist of his reputation merely because he has the power; he ought to use rhetoric fairly, as he would also use his athletic powers. And if after having become a rhetorician he makes a bad use of his strength and skill, his instructor surely ought not on that account to be held in detestation or banished. For he was intended by his teacher to make a good use of his instructions, but he abuses them. And therefore he is the person who ought to be held in detestation, banished, and put to death, and not his instructor.

GORGIAS: A marvel indeed, Socrates, if you only knew how rhetoric includes and rules over all the lesser arts. Let me give you a striking example. Several times I have gone with my brother Herodicus or another physician to visit a patient. The patient refused to take medicine or let the physician use a knife or hot iron on him. But through rhetoric alone, I persuaded the patient to accept the treatment he had refused from the physician. And suppose a rhetorician and a physician went to any city. Suppose they had to argue before the Ecclesia, the citizens’ assembly, or any other assembly over becoming the state physician. I say the physician would have no chance. The skilled speaker would be chosen if he wanted the position. And against someone from any other profession, the rhetorician would have the greatest power to get himself chosen. For he can speak to the crowd more persuasively than any of those professionals, on any subject. Such is the nature and power of rhetoric! Yet, Socrates, rhetoric should be used like any other competitive skill, not against everyone indiscriminately. A rhetorician should not abuse his strength, any more than a boxer, wrestler-boxer, or other skilled fighter should. His powers may be more than a match for either friend or enemy. But that superiority does not entitle him to strike, stab, or kill his friends. Suppose a man has trained at a wrestling school and become a skilled boxer. At the height of his strength, he strikes his father, mother, relative, or friend. But surely that is no reason to hate the trainers or combat instructors or banish them from the city. They taught their skills for a good purpose: protection against enemies and wrongdoers, in self-defense, not aggression. Others have twisted those lessons and misused their own strength and skill. But that misuse does not make the teachers bad. Nor is the skill at fault or bad in itself. I would say instead that the people who misuse the skill are to blame. The same argument applies to rhetoric. A rhetorician can speak against anyone and on any subject. In short, he can persuade the crowd better than anyone else of anything he wishes. But that power does not entitle him to unfairly damage the reputation of a physician or any other professional. He should use rhetoric fairly, just as he should use his athletic powers. And suppose that, after becoming a rhetorician, he misuses his strength and skill. Surely his instructor should not be hated or banished because of that misuse. His teacher intended him to use his lessons well, but he abuses them. So the person who misuses rhetoric deserves hatred, banishment, and death, not his instructor.

SOCRATES: You, Gorgias, like myself, have had great experience of disputations, and you must have observed, I think, that they do not always terminate in mutual edification, or in the definition by either party of the subjects which they are discussing; but disagreements are apt to arise—somebody says that another has not spoken truly or clearly; and then they get into a passion and begin to quarrel, both parties conceiving that their opponents are arguing from personal feeling only and jealousy of themselves, not from any interest in the question at issue. And sometimes they will go on abusing one another until the company at last are quite vexed at themselves for ever listening to such fellows. Why do I say this? Why, because I cannot help feeling that you are now saying what is not quite consistent or accordant with what you were saying at first about rhetoric. And I am afraid to point this out to you, lest you should think that I have some animosity against you, and that I speak, not for the sake of discovering the truth, but from jealousy of you. Now if you are one of my sort, I should like to cross-examine you, but if not I will let you alone. And what is my sort? you will ask. I am one of those who are very willing to be refuted if I say anything which is not true, and very willing to refute any one else who says what is not true, and quite as ready to be refuted as to refute; for I hold that this is the greater gain of the two, just as the gain is greater of being cured of a very great evil than of curing another. For I imagine that there is no evil which a man can endure so great as an erroneous opinion about the matters of which we are speaking; and if you claim to be one of my sort, let us have the discussion out, but if you would rather have done, no matter;—let us make an end of it.

SOCRATES: Gorgias, like me, you have a great deal of experience in debate. I think you must have noticed that debates do not always leave both sides better informed. Nor does either side always clearly define the subjects under discussion. Instead, disagreements tend to arise. Someone says that the other person has said something untrue or unclear. Then they get angry and begin to quarrel. Each side thinks the other is arguing only out of personal resentment and jealousy, not interest in the question. Sometimes they keep insulting one another until the listeners regret ever having listened to such people. Why do I say this? Because I cannot help feeling that what you are saying now does not quite agree with your earlier statements about rhetoric. And I am afraid to point out the inconsistency. You might think I bear you some ill will and speak out of jealousy, not to discover the truth. Now, if you are the same kind of person as I am, I would like to question you further. But if not, I will leave you alone. What kind of person am I? You may well ask. I am very willing to be proved wrong if I say anything untrue. I am also very willing to prove someone else wrong if they say anything untrue. And I am just as ready to be proved wrong as to prove someone else wrong. For I believe being proved wrong is the greater benefit of the two. Being cured of a very great evil is better than curing someone else of it. For I think no evil anyone can suffer is as great as a false belief about the matters we are discussing. So if you say you are the same kind of person, let us discuss the matter fully. But if you would rather stop, that is no problem. Let us end the discussion.

GORGIAS: I should say, Socrates, that I am quite the man whom you indicate; but, perhaps, we ought to consider the audience, for, before you came, I had already given a long exhibition, and if we proceed the argument may run on to a great length. And therefore I think that we should consider whether we may not be detaining some part of the company when they are wanting to do something else.

GORGIAS: I would say, Socrates, that I am exactly the kind of man you describe. But perhaps we should consider the audience. Before you arrived, I had already given a long demonstration. And if we continue, the discussion may go on for a very long time. So I think we should consider whether we might be keeping some people here when they want to do something else.

CHAEREPHON: You hear the audience cheering, Gorgias and Socrates, which shows their desire to listen to you; and for myself, Heaven forbid that I should have any business on hand which would take me away from a discussion so interesting and so ably maintained.

CHAEREPHON: You hear the audience cheering, Gorgias and Socrates. Their cheers show how much they want to listen to you. As for me, heaven forbid any business should take me away from such an interesting and skillfully conducted discussion.

CALLICLES: By the gods, Chaerephon, although I have been present at many discussions, I doubt whether I was ever so much delighted before, and therefore if you go on discoursing all day I shall be the better pleased.

CALLICLES: By the gods, Chaerephon, although I’ve heard many discussions, I doubt I’ve ever enjoyed one so much before. So if you keep talking all day, I’ll be even more pleased.

SOCRATES: I may truly say, Callicles, that I am willing, if Gorgias is.

SOCRATES: I can honestly say, Callicles, that I’m willing if Gorgias is.

GORGIAS: After all this, Socrates, I should be disgraced if I refused, especially as I have promised to answer all comers; in accordance with the wishes of the company, then, do you begin, and ask of me any question which you like.

GORGIAS: After all this, Socrates, I would be disgraced if I refused, especially since I promised to answer everyone. So, as everyone here wishes, go ahead and ask me any question you like.

SOCRATES: Let me tell you then, Gorgias, what surprises me in your words; though I dare say that you may be right, and I may have misunderstood your meaning. You say that you can make any man, who will learn of you, a rhetorician?

SOCRATES: Let me tell you, then, Gorgias, what surprises me about what you say. Though you may well be right, and I may have misunderstood you. You say you can make any man who learns from you a rhetorician?

GORGIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: Do you mean that you will teach him to gain the ears of the multitude on any subject, and this not by instruction but by persuasion?

SOCRATES: Do you mean you will teach him to win over the crowd on any subject? And to do so by persuading them, not by teaching them?

GORGIAS: Quite so.

GORGIAS: Exactly.

SOCRATES: You were saying, in fact, that the rhetorician will have greater powers of persuasion than the physician even in a matter of health?

SOCRATES: So you were saying that a rhetorician will be more persuasive than a doctor, even about health?

GORGIAS: Yes, with the multitude,—that is.

GORGIAS: Yes, with the crowd, I mean.

SOCRATES: You mean to say, with the ignorant; for with those who know he cannot be supposed to have greater powers of persuasion.

SOCRATES: You mean with people who don't know. For with those who know, he can't be assumed to be more persuasive.

GORGIAS: Very true.

GORGIAS: Absolutely true.

SOCRATES: But if he is to have more power of persuasion than the physician, he will have greater power than he who knows?

SOCRATES: But if he can persuade people better than the doctor, will he have more power than someone with knowledge?

GORGIAS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: Although he is not a physician:—is he?

SOCRATES: Although he's not a doctor, is he?

GORGIAS: No.

SOCRATES: And he who is not a physician must, obviously, be ignorant of what the physician knows.

SOCRATES: And anyone who is not a doctor must obviously lack the knowledge a doctor has.

GORGIAS: Clearly.

SOCRATES: Then, when the rhetorician is more persuasive than the physician, the ignorant is more persuasive with the ignorant than he who has knowledge?—is not that the inference?

SOCRATES: So, when the rhetorician is more persuasive than the doctor, doesn't the following conclusion follow? Someone without knowledge is more persuasive to others without knowledge than someone who has knowledge.

GORGIAS: In the case supposed:—yes.

GORGIAS: In the situation you describe, yes.

SOCRATES: And the same holds of the relation of rhetoric to all the other arts; the rhetorician need not know the truth about things; he has only to discover some way of persuading the ignorant that he has more knowledge than those who know?

SOCRATES: And the same is true of rhetoric in relation to all the other arts. The rhetorician does not need to know the truth about things. He only needs to find some way to convince people who don't know the subject that he knows more than those who do?

GORGIAS: Yes, Socrates, and is not this a great comfort?—not to have learned the other arts, but the art of rhetoric only, and yet to be in no way inferior to the professors of them?

GORGIAS: Yes, Socrates, and isn't it a great comfort to learn only rhetoric, without learning the other arts? Yet you are in no way inferior to the experts in those arts.

SOCRATES: Whether the rhetorician is or not inferior on this account is a question which we will hereafter examine if the enquiry is likely to be of any service to us; but I would rather begin by asking, whether he is or is not as ignorant of the just and unjust, base and honourable, good and evil, as he is of medicine and the other arts; I mean to say, does he really know anything of what is good and evil, base or honourable, just or unjust in them; or has he only a way with the ignorant of persuading them that he not knowing is to be esteemed to know more about these things than some one else who knows? Or must the pupil know these things and come to you knowing them before he can acquire the art of rhetoric? If he is ignorant, you who are the teacher of rhetoric will not teach him—it is not your business; but you will make him seem to the multitude to know them, when he does not know them; and seem to be a good man, when he is not. Or will you be unable to teach him rhetoric at all, unless he knows the truth of these things first? What is to be said about all this? By heavens, Gorgias, I wish that you would reveal to me the power of rhetoric, as you were saying that you would.

SOCRATES: We can examine later whether the rhetorician is inferior for this reason, if that inquiry would help us. But I would rather begin with another question. Is he as ignorant of justice and injustice, shame and honor, good and evil, as of medicine and other arts? Does he really know what is good or evil, shameful or honorable, just or unjust in these fields? Or does he merely know how to persuade ignorant people that he knows more than someone who actually knows? Or must a student already know these things before coming to you to learn the art of rhetoric? If the student is ignorant, you, as his teacher of rhetoric, will not teach him these things. That is not your job. But you will make him appear knowledgeable to the crowd when he is not. You will make him seem a good man when he is not. Or will you be unable to teach him rhetoric unless he first knows the truth about these things? What do you say to all these questions? By heavens, Gorgias, I wish you would show me the power of rhetoric, as you said you would.

GORGIAS: Well, Socrates, I suppose that if the pupil does chance not to know them, he will have to learn of me these things as well.

GORGIAS: Well, Socrates, I suppose if the student happens not to know these things, he’ll have to learn them from me too.

SOCRATES: Say no more, for there you are right; and so he whom you make a rhetorician must either know the nature of the just and unjust already, or he must be taught by you.

SOCRATES: Say no more. You are right about that. So anyone you train as a rhetorician must already know what is just and unjust. Otherwise, you must teach them.

GORGIAS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: Well, and is not he who has learned carpentering a carpenter?

SOCRATES: Well, isn't someone who has learned carpentry a carpenter?

GORGIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And he who has learned music a musician?

SOCRATES: And is someone who has learned music a musician?

GORGIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And he who has learned medicine is a physician, in like manner? He who has learned anything whatever is that which his knowledge makes him.

SOCRATES: And in the same way, someone who has learned medicine is a doctor? Anyone who has learned anything is what their knowledge makes them.

GORGIAS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And in the same way, he who has learned what is just is just?

SOCRATES: And in the same way, is someone who has learned what is just also just?

GORGIAS: To be sure.

GORGIAS: Of course.

SOCRATES: And he who is just may be supposed to do what is just?

SOCRATES: And can we assume that a just person does what is just?

GORGIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And must not the just man always desire to do what is just?

SOCRATES: And mustn't a just man always want to do what is just?

GORGIAS: That is clearly the inference.

GORGIAS: That clearly follows.

SOCRATES: Surely, then, the just man will never consent to do injustice?

SOCRATES: Surely, then, a just man will never agree to do anything unjust?

GORGIAS: Certainly not.

SOCRATES: And according to the argument the rhetorician must be a just man?

SOCRATES: And according to the argument, must the rhetorician be a just man?

GORGIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And will therefore never be willing to do injustice?

SOCRATES: And so will never be willing to act unjustly?

GORGIAS: Clearly not.

SOCRATES: But do you remember saying just now that the trainer is not to be accused or banished if the pugilist makes a wrong use of his pugilistic art; and in like manner, if the rhetorician makes a bad and unjust use of his rhetoric, that is not to be laid to the charge of his teacher, who is not to be banished, but the wrong-doer himself who made a bad use of his rhetoric—he is to be banished—was not that said?

SOCRATES: But do you remember what you said just now? If a boxer misuses his boxing skills, his trainer should not be blamed or banished. Likewise, if a public speaker uses his speaking skills badly and unjustly, his teacher should not be blamed or banished. Instead, the wrongdoer himself, who misused his speaking skills, should be banished. Wasn’t that what you said?

GORGIAS: Yes, it was.

SOCRATES: But now we are affirming that the aforesaid rhetorician will never have done injustice at all?

SOCRATES: But now we’re saying that the rhetorician we mentioned will never have acted unjustly at all?

GORGIAS: True.

SOCRATES: And at the very outset, Gorgias, it was said that rhetoric treated of discourse, not (like arithmetic) about odd and even, but about just and unjust? Was not this said?

SOCRATES: And at the very beginning, Gorgias, didn't we say that rhetoric dealt with speech? Not speech about odd and even numbers, as arithmetic does, but about right and wrong? Didn't we say that?

GORGIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: I was thinking at the time, when I heard you saying so, that rhetoric, which is always discoursing about justice, could not possibly be an unjust thing. But when you added, shortly afterwards, that the rhetorician might make a bad use of rhetoric I noted with surprise the inconsistency into which you had fallen; and I said, that if you thought, as I did, that there was a gain in being refuted, there would be an advantage in going on with the question, but if not, I would leave off. And in the course of our investigations, as you will see yourself, the rhetorician has been acknowledged to be incapable of making an unjust use of rhetoric, or of willingness to do injustice. By the dog, Gorgias, there will be a great deal of discussion, before we get at the truth of all this.

SOCRATES: When I heard you say that, I thought rhetoric could not possibly be unjust, since it always discusses justice. But shortly afterward, you added that a rhetorician might misuse rhetoric. I was surprised to notice the contradiction you had fallen into. So I said we would benefit from continuing the discussion if you agreed with me that being proved wrong is beneficial. But if you disagreed, I would stop. And during our inquiry, as you will see for yourself, we have agreed on something. A rhetorician cannot use rhetoric unjustly or be willing to act unjustly. By the dog, Gorgias, we will need a great deal of discussion before we reach the truth about all this.

POLUS: And do even you, Socrates, seriously believe what you are now saying about rhetoric? What! because Gorgias was ashamed to deny that the rhetorician knew the just and the honourable and the good, and admitted that to any one who came to him ignorant of them he could teach them, and then out of this admission there arose a contradiction—the thing which you dearly love, and to which not he, but you, brought the argument by your captious questions—(do you seriously believe that there is any truth in all this?) For will any one ever acknowledge that he does not know, or cannot teach, the nature of justice? The truth is, that there is great want of manners in bringing the argument to such a pass.

POLUS: Socrates, do even you seriously believe what you are now saying about rhetoric? What! Just because Gorgias was ashamed to deny that a rhetorician knew what was just, honorable, and good? And because he admitted he could teach these things to anyone who came to him without knowing them? And then a contradiction arose from that admission, just the kind you love so much. You led the argument into that contradiction with your trick questions, not Gorgias. Do you seriously believe there is any truth in all this? For will anyone ever admit that he does not know what justice is, or cannot teach it? The truth is, pushing the argument to that point is extremely rude.

SOCRATES: Illustrious Polus, the reason why we provide ourselves with friends and children is, that when we get old and stumble, a younger generation may be at hand to set us on our legs again in our words and in our actions: and now, if I and Gorgias are stumbling, here are you who should raise us up; and I for my part engage to retract any error into which you may think that I have fallen-upon one condition:

SOCRATES: My distinguished Polus, we make friends and have children so that younger people may help us when we grow old. When we stumble in our words and actions, they can set us back on our feet. So now, if Gorgias and I are stumbling, you are here to help us up. For my part, I promise to take back any mistake you may think I have made, on one condition:

POLUS: What condition?

SOCRATES: That you contract, Polus, the prolixity of speech in which you indulged at first.

SOCRATES: That you speak more briefly, Polus, instead of going on at length as you did at first.

POLUS: What! do you mean that I may not use as many words as I please?

POLUS: What! Do you mean I’m not allowed to use as many words as I want?

SOCRATES: Only to think, my friend, that having come on a visit to Athens, which is the most free-spoken state in Hellas, you when you got there, and you alone, should be deprived of the power of speech—that would be hard indeed. But then consider my case:—shall not I be very hardly used, if, when you are making a long oration, and refusing to answer what you are asked, I am compelled to stay and listen to you, and may not go away? I say rather, if you have a real interest in the argument, or, to repeat my former expression, have any desire to set it on its legs, take back any statement which you please; and in your turn ask and answer, like myself and Gorgias—refute and be refuted: for I suppose that you would claim to know what Gorgias knows—would you not?

SOCRATES: Just think, my friend. You have come to visit Athens, the state with the greatest freedom of speech in Hellas. How unfair if you alone, once here, were denied the right to speak! But then consider my position. Wouldn’t I be treated just as unfairly if I had to stay and listen, with no right to leave? Suppose you were giving a long speech and refusing to answer my questions. If you really care about the argument, take back any statement you like. Or, to use my earlier expression, if you want to get the argument on its feet, do the same. Then take turns asking and answering questions, as Gorgias and I have done. Refute others and let yourself be refuted. For I suppose you would claim to know what Gorgias knows, wouldn’t you?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And you, like him, invite any one to ask you about anything which he pleases, and you will know how to answer him?

SOCRATES: And like him, you invite anyone to ask you anything they want? And you will know how to answer them?

POLUS: To be sure.

POLUS: Of course.

SOCRATES: And now, which will you do, ask or answer?

SOCRATES: Now, will you ask the questions or answer them?

POLUS: I will ask; and do you answer me, Socrates, the same question which Gorgias, as you suppose, is unable to answer: What is rhetoric?

POLUS: I'll ask the question, Socrates, and you answer. It's the same question you think Gorgias can't answer: What is rhetoric?

SOCRATES: Do you mean what sort of an art?

SOCRATES: Do you mean what kind of art?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: To say the truth, Polus, it is not an art at all, in my opinion.

SOCRATES: Honestly, Polus, I don't think it's an art at all.

POLUS: Then what, in your opinion, is rhetoric?

POLUS: Then what do you think rhetoric is?

SOCRATES: A thing which, as I was lately reading in a book of yours, you say that you have made an art.

SOCRATES: Something you say you have turned into an art, as I recently read in one of your books.

POLUS: What thing?

POLUS: What?

SOCRATES: I should say a sort of experience.

SOCRATES: I’d say a kind of experience.

POLUS: Does rhetoric seem to you to be an experience?

POLUS: Do you think rhetoric is a matter of experience?

SOCRATES: That is my view, but you may be of another mind.

SOCRATES: That’s what I think, but you may disagree.

POLUS: An experience in what?

POLUS: Experience in what?

SOCRATES: An experience in producing a sort of delight and gratification.

SOCRATES: Practical experience in creating a kind of pleasure and satisfaction.

POLUS: And if able to gratify others, must not rhetoric be a fine thing?

POLUS: And if rhetoric can please others, mustn't it be a fine thing?

SOCRATES: What are you saying, Polus? Why do you ask me whether rhetoric is a fine thing or not, when I have not as yet told you what rhetoric is?

SOCRATES: What are you saying, Polus? Why ask me whether rhetoric is admirable when I haven't yet told you what rhetoric is?

POLUS: Did I not hear you say that rhetoric was a sort of experience?

POLUS: Didn't I hear you say that rhetoric was a kind of practical experience?

SOCRATES: Will you, who are so desirous to gratify others, afford a slight gratification to me?

SOCRATES: You’re so eager to please others. Will you do me a small favor?

POLUS: I will.

SOCRATES: Will you ask me, what sort of an art is cookery?

SOCRATES: Will you ask me what kind of art cooking is?

POLUS: What sort of an art is cookery?

POLUS: What kind of art is cooking?

SOCRATES: Not an art at all, Polus.

POLUS: What then?

POLUS: So what?

SOCRATES: I should say an experience.

SOCRATES: I'd say an experience.

POLUS: In what? I wish that you would explain to me.

POLUS: In what? Please explain it to me.

SOCRATES: An experience in producing a sort of delight and gratification, Polus.

SOCRATES: A knack for producing a kind of pleasure and satisfaction, Polus.

POLUS: Then are cookery and rhetoric the same?

POLUS: So are cooking and rhetoric the same?

SOCRATES: No, they are only different parts of the same profession.

SOCRATES: No, they’re just different parts of the same profession.

POLUS: Of what profession?

POLUS: What profession?

SOCRATES: I am afraid that the truth may seem discourteous; and I hesitate to answer, lest Gorgias should imagine that I am making fun of his own profession. For whether or not this is that art of rhetoric which Gorgias practises I really cannot tell:—from what he was just now saying, nothing appeared of what he thought of his art, but the rhetoric which I mean is a part of a not very creditable whole.

SOCRATES: I’m afraid the truth may sound rude. I hesitate to answer because Gorgias might think I’m making fun of his profession. For I really cannot tell whether the rhetoric I mean is the art Gorgias practices. What he just said gave no clear sense of what he thought of his art. But the rhetoric I mean is part of something not very respectable.

GORGIAS: A part of what, Socrates? Say what you mean, and never mind me.

GORGIAS: A part of what, Socrates? Say what you mean, and don't worry about me.

SOCRATES: In my opinion then, Gorgias, the whole of which rhetoric is a part is not an art at all, but the habit of a bold and ready wit, which knows how to manage mankind: this habit I sum up under the word “flattery”; and it appears to me to have many other parts, one of which is cookery, which may seem to be an art, but, as I maintain, is only an experience or routine and not an art:—another part is rhetoric, and the art of attiring and sophistry are two others: thus there are four branches, and four different things answering to them. And Polus may ask, if he likes, for he has not as yet been informed, what part of flattery is rhetoric: he did not see that I had not yet answered him when he proceeded to ask a further question: Whether I do not think rhetoric a fine thing? But I shall not tell him whether rhetoric is a fine thing or not, until I have first answered, “What is rhetoric?” For that would not be right, Polus; but I shall be happy to answer, if you will ask me, What part of flattery is rhetoric?

SOCRATES: In my opinion, then, Gorgias, rhetoric belongs to a broader practice that is not an art at all. It is the habit of a bold, quick mind that knows how to manage people. I call this habit “flattery”. It seems to me to have many other branches. One is cooking, which may seem to be an art. But I maintain that cooking is merely a matter of experience or routine, not an art. Another branch is rhetoric, and dressing up and sophistry are two others. So there are four branches, with four different activities corresponding to them. And Polus may ask, if he likes, what branch of flattery rhetoric is, since he has not yet been told. He did not realize I had not yet answered him when he went on to ask another question. He asked whether I think rhetoric is a fine thing. But I will not tell him whether rhetoric is fine until I have first answered, “What is rhetoric?” Answering in that order would not be right, Polus. But I will gladly answer if you ask me, What branch of flattery is rhetoric?

POLUS: I will ask and do you answer? What part of flattery is rhetoric?

POLUS: I'll ask, and will you answer? What kind of flattery is rhetoric?

SOCRATES: Will you understand my answer? Rhetoric, according to my view, is the ghost or counterfeit of a part of politics.

SOCRATES: Will you understand my answer? In my view, rhetoric is a shadow or imitation of one part of politics.

POLUS: And noble or ignoble?

POLUS: And honorable or shameful?

SOCRATES: Ignoble, I should say, if I am compelled to answer, for I call what is bad ignoble: though I doubt whether you understand what I was saying before.

SOCRATES: Shameful, I would say, if I must answer, because I call what is bad shameful. Though I doubt you understood what I was saying before.

GORGIAS: Indeed, Socrates, I cannot say that I understand myself.

GORGIAS: Honestly, Socrates, I can’t say I understand myself.

SOCRATES: I do not wonder, Gorgias; for I have not as yet explained myself, and our friend Polus, colt by name and colt by nature, is apt to run away. (This is an untranslatable play on the name “Polus,” which means “a colt.”)

SOCRATES: I’m not surprised, Gorgias, because I haven’t explained myself yet. And our friend Polus, a colt in both name and nature, tends to run away. (The joke cannot be translated. The name “Polus” means “a colt.”)

GORGIAS: Never mind him, but explain to me what you mean by saying that rhetoric is the counterfeit of a part of politics.

GORGIAS: Never mind him. But explain what you mean when you say rhetoric is a fake version of one part of politics.

SOCRATES: I will try, then, to explain my notion of rhetoric, and if I am mistaken, my friend Polus shall refute me. We may assume the existence of bodies and of souls?

SOCRATES: Then I will try to explain what I think rhetoric is. If I am wrong, my friend Polus will prove me wrong. Can we assume that bodies and souls exist?

GORGIAS: Of course.

SOCRATES: You would further admit that there is a good condition of either of them?

SOCRATES: Would you also agree that each of them can be in good condition?

GORGIAS: Yes.

SOCRATES: Which condition may not be really good, but good only in appearance? I mean to say, that there are many persons who appear to be in good health, and whom only a physician or trainer will discern at first sight not to be in good health.

SOCRATES: What condition may only seem good without really being good? I mean that many people seem healthy. But only a doctor or trainer can tell at first glance that these people are not healthy.

GORGIAS: True.

SOCRATES: And this applies not only to the body, but also to the soul: in either there may be that which gives the appearance of health and not the reality?

SOCRATES: And this applies not only to the body but also to the soul. Can either contain something that gives the appearance of health without actually being healthy?

GORGIAS: Yes, certainly.

SOCRATES: And now I will endeavour to explain to you more clearly what I mean: The soul and body being two, have two arts corresponding to them: there is the art of politics attending on the soul; and another art attending on the body, of which I know no single name, but which may be described as having two divisions, one of them gymnastic, and the other medicine. And in politics there is a legislative part, which answers to gymnastic, as justice does to medicine; and the two parts run into one another, justice having to do with the same subject as legislation, and medicine with the same subject as gymnastic, but with a difference. Now, seeing that there are these four arts, two attending on the body and two on the soul for their highest good; flattery knowing, or rather guessing their natures, has distributed herself into four shams or simulations of them; she puts on the likeness of some one or other of them, and pretends to be that which she simulates, and having no regard for men’s highest interests, is ever making pleasure the bait of the unwary, and deceiving them into the belief that she is of the highest value to them. Cookery simulates the disguise of medicine, and pretends to know what food is the best for the body; and if the physician and the cook had to enter into a competition in which children were the judges, or men who had no more sense than children, as to which of them best understands the goodness or badness of food, the physician would be starved to death. A flattery I deem this to be and of an ignoble sort, Polus, for to you I am now addressing myself, because it aims at pleasure without any thought of the best. An art I do not call it, but only an experience, because it is unable to explain or to give a reason of the nature of its own applications. And I do not call any irrational thing an art; but if you dispute my words, I am prepared to argue in defence of them.

SOCRATES: Now I will try to explain more clearly what I mean. The soul and body are two distinct things, and each has a corresponding art. Politics is the art that cares for the soul. I know no single name for the art that cares for the body. But we can divide that art into physical training and medicine. Politics includes lawmaking, which corresponds to physical training, and justice, which corresponds to medicine. These related arts overlap, though they differ. Justice deals with the same subject as lawmaking, and medicine deals with the same subject as physical training. So there are four arts, two caring for the body and two for the soul, all seeking their highest good. Flattery understands their nature, or rather guesses at it, and has divided itself into four imitations of these arts. Flattery takes on the appearance of one or another of these arts and pretends to be the art it imitates. Flattery has no concern for people's highest interests. Instead, flattery always uses pleasure to bait the unwary, deceiving them into believing it offers them the greatest benefit. Cooking disguises itself as medicine and pretends to know what food is best for the body. Suppose a doctor and a cook competed over who best understood which foods were good or bad. If children judged the contest, or adults with no more sense than children, the doctor would starve to death. I consider cooking a form of flattery, Polus, and a low one. I am addressing you now. Cooking aims at pleasure without giving any thought to what is best. I do not call cooking an art, but only a skill gained through practice. Cooking cannot explain the nature of its own methods or give reasons for using them. And I do not call anything an art if it has no rational basis. But if you dispute what I say, I am ready to defend my position.

Cookery, then, I maintain to be a flattery which takes the form of medicine; and tiring, in like manner, is a flattery which takes the form of gymnastic, and is knavish, false, ignoble, illiberal, working deceitfully by the help of lines, and colours, and enamels, and garments, and making men affect a spurious beauty to the neglect of the true beauty which is given by gymnastic.

Cooking, then, I maintain, is a form of flattery disguised as medicine. Likewise, beautifying the body is a form of flattery disguised as physical training. Such beautification is dishonest, false, dishonorable, and unworthy of a free person. It deceives through drawn outlines, colors, cosmetics, and clothes. It makes people pursue a false beauty while neglecting the true beauty that physical training provides.

I would rather not be tedious, and therefore I will only say, after the manner of the geometricians (for I think that by this time you will be able to follow)

I would rather not bore you. So I will just put it as geometers do (because I think you can follow the reasoning by now).

as tiring: gymnastic:: cookery: medicine;

Just as cosmetics relate to physical training, cooking relates to medicine.

or rather,

as tiring: gymnastic:: sophistry: legislation;

Cosmetic adornment is to physical training as sophistry is to legislation.

and

as cookery: medicine:: rhetoric: justice.

Cooking is to medicine as rhetoric is to justice.

And this, I say, is the natural difference between the rhetorician and the sophist, but by reason of their near connection, they are apt to be jumbled up together; neither do they know what to make of themselves, nor do other men know what to make of them. For if the body presided over itself, and were not under the guidance of the soul, and the soul did not discern and discriminate between cookery and medicine, but the body was made the judge of them, and the rule of judgment was the bodily delight which was given by them, then the word of Anaxagoras, that word with which you, friend Polus, are so well acquainted, would prevail far and wide: “Chaos” would come again, and cookery, health, and medicine would mingle in an indiscriminate mass. And now I have told you my notion of rhetoric, which is, in relation to the soul, what cookery is to the body. I may have been inconsistent in making a long speech, when I would not allow you to discourse at length. But I think that I may be excused, because you did not understand me, and could make no use of my answer when I spoke shortly, and therefore I had to enter into an explanation. And if I show an equal inability to make use of yours, I hope that you will speak at equal length; but if I am able to understand you, let me have the benefit of your brevity, as is only fair: And now you may do what you please with my answer.

This, I say, is the natural difference between the rhetorician and the sophist. But because the two are closely connected, people tend to confuse them. Neither the rhetoricians and sophists themselves nor anyone else knows what to make of them. Suppose the body governed itself without the soul’s guidance. Suppose the soul did not distinguish cooking from medicine, but the body judged them by the physical pleasure they gave. Then the saying of Anaxagoras would apply everywhere, a saying you know so well, my friend Polus. “Chaos” would return, and cooking, health, and medicine would all blend into one confused mass. Now I have explained my view of rhetoric: it does for the soul what cooking does for the body. I may have been inconsistent by giving a long speech after refusing to let you speak at length. But I think I may be excused, because you did not understand my brief answer and could not use it. So I had to explain further. And if I find myself equally unable to use your answer, I hope you will speak at equal length. But if I can understand you, let me benefit from a brief answer, as is only fair. Now you may do whatever you please with my answer.

POLUS: What do you mean? do you think that rhetoric is flattery?

POLUS: What do you mean? Do you think rhetoric is flattery?

SOCRATES: Nay, I said a part of flattery; if at your age, Polus, you cannot remember, what will you do by-and-by, when you get older?

SOCRATES: No, I said a part of flattery. If you can't remember at your age, Polus, what will you do when you're older?

POLUS: And are the good rhetoricians meanly regarded in states, under the idea that they are flatterers?

POLUS: And are good public speakers looked down on in states because they are seen as flatterers?

SOCRATES: Is that a question or the beginning of a speech?

SOCRATES: Is that a question, or are you starting a speech?

POLUS: I am asking a question.

POLUS: I'm asking a question.

SOCRATES: Then my answer is, that they are not regarded at all.

SOCRATES: Then my answer is that they aren't considered at all.

POLUS: How not regarded? Have they not very great power in states?

POLUS: What do you mean, they aren't respected? Don't they have a great deal of power in their states?

SOCRATES: Not if you mean to say that power is a good to the possessor.

SOCRATES: Not if you mean that power is good for the person who has it.

POLUS: And that is what I do mean to say.

POLUS: And that is exactly what I mean to say.

SOCRATES: Then, if so, I think that they have the least power of all the citizens.

SOCRATES: Then, if that's true, I think they have the least power of all the citizens.

POLUS: What! are they not like tyrants? They kill and despoil and exile any one whom they please.

POLUS: What! Aren't they like tyrants? They kill, rob, and exile anyone they please.

SOCRATES: By the dog, Polus, I cannot make out at each deliverance of yours, whether you are giving an opinion of your own, or asking a question of me.

SOCRATES: By the dog, Polus, every time you speak, I can't tell whether you're stating your own opinion or asking me a question.

POLUS: I am asking a question of you.

POLUS: I’m asking you a question.

SOCRATES: Yes, my friend, but you ask two questions at once.

SOCRATES: Yes, my friend, but you’re asking two questions at once.

POLUS: How two questions?

POLUS: What do you mean by two questions?

SOCRATES: Why, did you not say just now that the rhetoricians are like tyrants, and that they kill and despoil or exile any one whom they please?

SOCRATES: Didn't you just say that rhetoricians are like tyrants? And that rhetoricians kill, rob, or exile anyone they please?

POLUS: I did.

SOCRATES: Well then, I say to you that here are two questions in one, and I will answer both of them. And I tell you, Polus, that rhetoricians and tyrants have the least possible power in states, as I was just now saying; for they do literally nothing which they will, but only what they think best.

SOCRATES: Well then, you have asked two questions in one, and I will answer both. And I tell you, Polus, that orators and tyrants have the least possible power in states, as I just said. That is because orators and tyrants do absolutely nothing they want to do, but only what they think best.

POLUS: And is not that a great power?

POLUS: And isn't that a great power?

SOCRATES: Polus has already said the reverse.

SOCRATES: Polus has already said the opposite.

POLUS: Said the reverse! nay, that is what I assert.

POLUS: Said the opposite! No, that is exactly what I’m saying.

SOCRATES: No, by the great—what do you call him?—not you, for you say that power is a good to him who has the power.

SOCRATES: No, by the great... What do you call him? Not you, because you say power is good for the person who has it.

POLUS: I do.

SOCRATES: And would you maintain that if a fool does what he thinks best, this is a good, and would you call this great power?

SOCRATES: And would you still say that if a fool does what he thinks best, that is good? And would you call doing what he thinks best great power?

POLUS: I should not.

POLUS: I wouldn't.

SOCRATES: Then you must prove that the rhetorician is not a fool, and that rhetoric is an art and not a flattery—and so you will have refuted me; but if you leave me unrefuted, why, the rhetoricians who do what they think best in states, and the tyrants, will have nothing upon which to congratulate themselves, if as you say, power be indeed a good, admitting at the same time that what is done without sense is an evil.

SOCRATES: Then you must prove that the rhetorician is not a fool and that rhetoric is an art, not flattery. By doing so, you will have proved me wrong. But if you fail, rhetoricians who do what they think best in states, and tyrants, have nothing to congratulate themselves on. That follows if power really is a good thing, as you say, while you also admit that acting without sense is bad.

POLUS: Yes; I admit that.

POLUS: Yes, I admit that.

SOCRATES: How then can the rhetoricians or the tyrants have great power in states, unless Polus can refute Socrates, and prove to him that they do as they will?

SOCRATES: Then how can public speakers or tyrants have great power in states unless Polus can prove Socrates wrong and show him that these speakers and tyrants do what they want?

POLUS: This fellow—

POLUS: This guy...

SOCRATES: I say that they do not do as they will;—now refute me.

SOCRATES: I say they do not do what they want. Now prove me wrong.

POLUS: Why, have you not already said that they do as they think best?

POLUS: But haven't you already said that they do what they think is best?

SOCRATES: And I say so still.

SOCRATES: And I still say so.

POLUS: Then surely they do as they will?

POLUS: Then surely they do what they want?

SOCRATES: I deny it.

POLUS: But they do what they think best?

POLUS: But they do what they think is best?

SOCRATES: Aye.

SOCRATES: Yes.

POLUS: That, Socrates, is monstrous and absurd.

POLUS: Socrates, that is outrageous and ridiculous.

SOCRATES: Good words, good Polus, as I may say in your own peculiar style; but if you have any questions to ask of me, either prove that I am in error or give the answer yourself.

SOCRATES: Fine words, my good Polus, if I may borrow your own distinctive style. But if you have any questions for me, either prove me wrong or give the answer yourself.

POLUS: Very well, I am willing to answer that I may know what you mean.

POLUS: All right, I’m willing to answer so I can understand what you mean.

SOCRATES: Do men appear to you to will that which they do, or to will that further end for the sake of which they do a thing? when they take medicine, for example, at the bidding of a physician, do they will the drinking of the medicine which is painful, or the health for the sake of which they drink?

SOCRATES: Do you think people want the actions they take, or the goals they take those actions to achieve? For example, when people take medicine on a doctor's orders, do they want to drink the unpleasant medicine? Or do they want the health they drink it to gain?

POLUS: Clearly, the health.

POLUS: Clearly, health.

SOCRATES: And when men go on a voyage or engage in business, they do not will that which they are doing at the time; for who would desire to take the risk of a voyage or the trouble of business?—But they will, to have the wealth for the sake of which they go on a voyage.

SOCRATES: And when people go on a voyage or do business, they do not want those activities for their own sake. For who would want the risks of a voyage or the trouble of doing business? But they do want the wealth they go on a voyage to gain.

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And is not this universally true? If a man does something for the sake of something else, he wills not that which he does, but that for the sake of which he does it.

SOCRATES: And isn't the following always true? If someone does something for another purpose, he wants not the action itself, but what the action is for.

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And are not all things either good or evil, or intermediate and indifferent?

SOCRATES: And aren't all things either good, bad, or somewhere in between, neither good nor bad?

POLUS: To be sure, Socrates.

POLUS: Of course, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Wisdom and health and wealth and the like you would call goods, and their opposites evils?

SOCRATES: Would you call wisdom, health, wealth, and similar things good, and their opposites evil?

POLUS: I should.

POLUS: I would.

SOCRATES: And the things which are neither good nor evil, and which partake sometimes of the nature of good and at other times of evil, or of neither, are such as sitting, walking, running, sailing; or, again, wood, stones, and the like:—these are the things which you call neither good nor evil?

SOCRATES: And what about things that are neither good nor evil? Such things can sometimes be good, sometimes evil, or neither. Examples include sitting, walking, running, sailing, or, again, wood, stones, and the like. Are these the things you call neither good nor evil?

POLUS: Exactly so.

POLUS: Exactly.

SOCRATES: Are these indifferent things done for the sake of the good, or the good for the sake of the indifferent?

SOCRATES: Do we do these neutral things for the sake of what is good? Or do we do good things for the sake of what is neutral?

POLUS: Clearly, the indifferent for the sake of the good.

POLUS: Clearly, we do things that are neither good nor bad for the sake of good.

SOCRATES: When we walk we walk for the sake of the good, and under the idea that it is better to walk, and when we stand we stand equally for the sake of the good?

SOCRATES: When we walk, we do so for the sake of the good, believing that walking is better. And when we stand, don't we also do so for the sake of the good?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And when we kill a man we kill him or exile him or despoil him of his goods, because, as we think, it will conduce to our good?

SOCRATES: And when we kill a man, exile him, or take his property, is it because we think doing so will benefit us?

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: Men who do any of these things do them for the sake of the good?

SOCRATES: Do men who do any of these things do them for the sake of what is good?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And did we not admit that in doing something for the sake of something else, we do not will those things which we do, but that other thing for the sake of which we do them?

SOCRATES: And didn't we agree that when we act for another purpose, we don't want the action itself? Instead, we want what we're trying to achieve through the action.

POLUS: Most true.

POLUS: Absolutely true.

SOCRATES: Then we do not will simply to kill a man or to exile him or to despoil him of his goods, but we will to do that which conduces to our good, and if the act is not conducive to our good we do not will it; for we will, as you say, that which is our good, but that which is neither good nor evil, or simply evil, we do not will. Why are you silent, Polus? Am I not right?

SOCRATES: Then we do not simply want to kill a man, exile him, or take his possessions. Rather, we want to do what benefits us. And if the act does not benefit us, we do not want to do it. For, as you say, we want what is good for us. But we do not want what is neither good nor bad, or what is simply bad. Why are you silent, Polus? Am I not right?

POLUS: You are right.

POLUS: You're right.

SOCRATES: Hence we may infer, that if any one, whether he be a tyrant or a rhetorician, kills another or exiles another or deprives him of his property, under the idea that the act is for his own interests when really not for his own interests, he may be said to do what seems best to him?

SOCRATES: So suppose someone, whether a tyrant or a rhetorician, kills another person, exiles him, or takes his property. Suppose he believes the act serves his own interests, when it really does not. May we then conclude that he is doing what seems best to him?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: But does he do what he wills if he does what is evil? Why do you not answer?

SOCRATES: But is he doing what he wants if he does something evil? Why don’t you answer?

POLUS: Well, I suppose not.

SOCRATES: Then if great power is a good as you allow, will such a one have great power in a state?

SOCRATES: Then if great power is good, as you agree, will such a person have great power in the state?

POLUS: He will not.

POLUS: He won’t.

SOCRATES: Then I was right in saying that a man may do what seems good to him in a state, and not have great power, and not do what he wills?

SOCRATES: So was I right to say this? A man may do what seems good to him in a state, yet lack great power. And he may not do what he wants.

POLUS: As though you, Socrates, would not like to have the power of doing what seemed good to you in the state, rather than not; you would not be jealous when you saw any one killing or despoiling or imprisoning whom he pleased, Oh, no!

POLUS: As if you, Socrates, wouldn’t rather have the power to do whatever seemed good to you in the state. And you wouldn’t be jealous of someone who could kill, rob, or imprison anyone he pleased. Oh, no!

SOCRATES: Justly or unjustly, do you mean?

SOCRATES: Do you mean fairly or unfairly?

POLUS: In either case is he not equally to be envied?

POLUS: Isn't he equally worth envying in either case?

SOCRATES: Forbear, Polus!

SOCRATES: Stop, Polus!

POLUS: Why “forbear”?

POLUS: Why “hold back”?

SOCRATES: Because you ought not to envy wretches who are not to be envied, but only to pity them.

SOCRATES: Because you should not envy miserable people who deserve no envy. You should only pity them.

POLUS: And are those of whom I spoke wretches?

POLUS: And are the people I mentioned miserable?

SOCRATES: Yes, certainly they are.

SOCRATES: Yes, they certainly are.

POLUS: And so you think that he who slays any one whom he pleases, and justly slays him, is pitiable and wretched?

POLUS: So you think a man who kills anyone he chooses, and does so justly, is pitiful and miserable?

SOCRATES: No, I do not say that of him: but neither do I think that he is to be envied.

SOCRATES: No, I’m not saying that about him. But I don’t think he’s someone to envy either.

POLUS: Were you not saying just now that he is wretched?

POLUS: Didn’t you just say that he’s miserable?

SOCRATES: Yes, my friend, if he killed another unjustly, in which case he is also to be pitied; and he is not to be envied if he killed him justly.

SOCRATES: Yes, my friend, if he killed someone unjustly. In that case, he also deserves pity. And if he killed someone justly, he is not to be envied.

POLUS: At any rate you will allow that he who is unjustly put to death is wretched, and to be pitied?

POLUS: At least you’ll agree that someone unjustly put to death is miserable and deserves pity?

SOCRATES: Not so much, Polus, as he who kills him, and not so much as he who is justly killed.

SOCRATES: Not as much, Polus, as the person who kills him. And not as much as someone who is justly killed.

POLUS: How can that be, Socrates?

POLUS: How is that possible, Socrates?

SOCRATES: That may very well be, inasmuch as doing injustice is the greatest of evils.

SOCRATES: That may well be true, since committing injustice is the greatest evil.

POLUS: But is it the greatest? Is not suffering injustice a greater evil?

POLUS: But is it the greatest evil? Isn't suffering injustice a greater evil?

SOCRATES: Certainly not.

POLUS: Then would you rather suffer than do injustice?

POLUS: Then would you rather be wronged than do wrong?

SOCRATES: I should not like either, but if I must choose between them, I would rather suffer than do.

SOCRATES: I wouldn't want either. But if I must choose between them, I would rather suffer wrong than do wrong.

POLUS: Then you would not wish to be a tyrant?

POLUS: So you wouldn't want to be a tyrant?

SOCRATES: Not if you mean by tyranny what I mean.

SOCRATES: Not if you mean the same thing by tyranny as I do.

POLUS: I mean, as I said before, the power of doing whatever seems good to you in a state, killing, banishing, doing in all things as you like.

POLUS: As I said before, I mean the power to do whatever seems good to you in a state. You can kill, banish, and do whatever you like in all matters.

SOCRATES: Well then, illustrious friend, when I have said my say, do you reply to me. Suppose that I go into a crowded Agora, and take a dagger under my arm. Polus, I say to you, I have just acquired rare power, and become a tyrant; for if I think that any of these men whom you see ought to be put to death, the man whom I have a mind to kill is as good as dead; and if I am disposed to break his head or tear his garment, he will have his head broken or his garment torn in an instant. Such is my great power in this city. And if you do not believe me, and I show you the dagger, you would probably reply: Socrates, in that sort of way any one may have great power—he may burn any house which he pleases, and the docks and triremes of the Athenians, and all their other vessels, whether public or private—but can you believe that this mere doing as you think best is great power?

SOCRATES: Well then, my distinguished friend, reply when I have finished speaking. Suppose I go into a crowded Agora with a dagger under my arm. Polus, I tell you, I have just gained extraordinary power and become a tyrant. For if I think any man you see here ought to die, whoever I choose is as good as dead. And if I want to break his head or tear his clothes, his head will be broken or his clothes torn immediately. Such is my great power in this city. And if you do not believe me, and I show you the dagger, you would probably reply: Socrates, anyone may have great power in that way. Anyone may burn down any house he pleases. He may also burn the docks and triremes of the Athenians, and all their other ships, public or private. But can you believe that merely doing whatever you think best amounts to great power?

POLUS: Certainly not such doing as this.

POLUS: Certainly not doing something like this.

SOCRATES: But can you tell me why you disapprove of such a power?

SOCRATES: But can you tell me why you disapprove of that kind of power?

POLUS: I can.

SOCRATES: Why then?

SOCRATES: Why, then?

POLUS: Why, because he who did as you say would be certain to be punished.

POLUS: Well, because anyone who did what you say would certainly be punished.

SOCRATES: And punishment is an evil?

SOCRATES: And is punishment a bad thing?

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And you would admit once more, my good sir, that great power is a benefit to a man if his actions turn out to his advantage, and that this is the meaning of great power; and if not, then his power is an evil and is no power. But let us look at the matter in another way:—do we not acknowledge that the things of which we were speaking, the infliction of death, and exile, and the deprivation of property are sometimes a good and sometimes not a good?

SOCRATES: And once again, my good sir, would you agree that great power benefits a man if his actions help him? Would you agree that this benefit is what great power means? If his actions do not help him, his power is harmful and is not really power at all. But let us look at the matter another way. Were we not discussing putting people to death, exiling them, and taking away their property? Do we not agree that these actions are sometimes good and sometimes not?

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: About that you and I may be supposed to agree?

SOCRATES: Can we assume that you and I agree on that?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: Tell me, then, when do you say that they are good and when that they are evil—what principle do you lay down?

SOCRATES: Tell me, then, when do you say they are good, and when do you say they are evil? What principle do you use?

POLUS: I would rather, Socrates, that you should answer as well as ask that question.

POLUS: Socrates, I’d rather you answer that question as well as ask it.

SOCRATES: Well, Polus, since you would rather have the answer from me, I say that they are good when they are just, and evil when they are unjust.

SOCRATES: Well, Polus, since you’d rather hear the answer from me, here it is. They are good when they are just, and evil when they are unjust.

POLUS: You are hard of refutation, Socrates, but might not a child refute that statement?

POLUS: You're hard to prove wrong, Socrates. But couldn't even a child prove that statement wrong?

SOCRATES: Then I shall be very grateful to the child, and equally grateful to you if you will refute me and deliver me from my foolishness. And I hope that refute me you will, and not weary of doing good to a friend.

SOCRATES: Then I’ll be very grateful to the child. I’ll be just as grateful to you if you prove me wrong and free me from my foolishness. And I hope you will prove me wrong and not grow tired of helping a friend.

POLUS: Yes, Socrates, and I need not go far or appeal to antiquity; events which happened only a few days ago are enough to refute you, and to prove that many men who do wrong are happy.

POLUS: Yes, Socrates, and I don’t need to look far or turn to ancient history. Events from just a few days ago are enough to prove you wrong. And those events prove that many men who do wrong are happy.

SOCRATES: What events?

POLUS: You see, I presume, that Archelaus the son of Perdiccas is now the ruler of Macedonia?

POLUS: I assume you know that Archelaus, son of Perdiccas, now rules Macedonia?

SOCRATES: At any rate I hear that he is.

SOCRATES: Anyway, that’s what I hear.

POLUS: And do you think that he is happy or miserable?

POLUS: And do you think he’s happy or miserable?

SOCRATES: I cannot say, Polus, for I have never had any acquaintance with him.

SOCRATES: I can’t say, Polus, because I’ve never known him.

POLUS: And cannot you tell at once, and without having an acquaintance with him, whether a man is happy?

POLUS: And can't you tell right away whether a man is happy, even without knowing him?

SOCRATES: Most certainly not.

SOCRATES: Definitely not.

POLUS: Then clearly, Socrates, you would say that you did not even know whether the great king was a happy man?

POLUS: So clearly, Socrates, you would say you don’t even know whether the great king is happy?

SOCRATES: And I should speak the truth; for I do not know how he stands in the matter of education and justice.

SOCRATES: And I would be telling the truth. That's because I don't know how educated or just he is.

POLUS: What! and does all happiness consist in this?

POLUS: What! And does all happiness come down to this?

SOCRATES: Yes, indeed, Polus, that is my doctrine; the men and women who are gentle and good are also happy, as I maintain, and the unjust and evil are miserable.

SOCRATES: Yes, indeed, Polus, that is what I believe. I maintain that men and women who are gentle and good are also happy. And those who are unjust and evil are miserable.

POLUS: Then, according to your doctrine, the said Archelaus is miserable?

POLUS: So, according to your view, Archelaus is miserable?

SOCRATES: Yes, my friend, if he is wicked.

SOCRATES: Yes, my friend, if he is evil.

POLUS: That he is wicked I cannot deny; for he had no title at all to the throne which he now occupies, he being only the son of a woman who was the slave of Alcetas the brother of Perdiccas; he himself therefore in strict right was the slave of Alcetas; and if he had meant to do rightly he would have remained his slave, and then, according to your doctrine, he would have been happy. But now he is unspeakably miserable, for he has been guilty of the greatest crimes: in the first place he invited his uncle and master, Alcetas, to come to him, under the pretence that he would restore to him the throne which Perdiccas has usurped, and after entertaining him and his son Alexander, who was his own cousin, and nearly of an age with him, and making them drunk, he threw them into a waggon and carried them off by night, and slew them, and got both of them out of the way; and when he had done all this wickedness he never discovered that he was the most miserable of all men, and was very far from repenting: shall I tell you how he showed his remorse? he had a younger brother, a child of seven years old, who was the legitimate son of Perdiccas, and to him of right the kingdom belonged; Archelaus, however, had no mind to bring him up as he ought and restore the kingdom to him; that was not his notion of happiness; but not long afterwards he threw him into a well and drowned him, and declared to his mother Cleopatra that he had fallen in while running after a goose, and had been killed. And now as he is the greatest criminal of all the Macedonians, he may be supposed to be the most miserable and not the happiest of them, and I dare say that there are many Athenians, and you would be at the head of them, who would rather be any other Macedonian than Archelaus!

POLUS: I cannot deny that he is wicked. He had no right at all to the throne he now holds. His mother was a slave of Alcetas, the brother of Perdiccas. So he himself was, by strict legal right, Alcetas’s slave. If he had intended to do right, he would have remained Alcetas’s slave. Then, according to your teaching, he would have been happy. But now he is unspeakably miserable, because he has committed the greatest crimes. First, he invited his uncle and master, Alcetas, to visit him. He pretended that he would restore to Alcetas the throne Perdiccas had seized. He entertained Alcetas and his son Alexander, who was his own cousin and almost his age. After getting them drunk, he threw them into a wagon and carried them away at night. Then he killed them, getting both of them out of the way. Yet after all these wicked deeds, he never realized that he was the most miserable of all men. And he was very far from regretting his actions. Shall I tell you how he showed his remorse? He had a younger brother, a seven-year-old child, who was the legitimate son of Perdiccas. The kingdom rightfully belonged to this child. But Archelaus had no intention of raising his brother as he should and restoring the kingdom to him. That was not his idea of happiness. Instead, not long afterward, he threw his brother into a well and drowned him. He told his mother Cleopatra that the child had fallen in while chasing a goose and had died. And now, since he is the greatest criminal of all the Macedonians, he must presumably be the most miserable. He cannot be the happiest. I dare say many Athenians would rather be any other Macedonian than Archelaus. And you would be at the head of them!

SOCRATES: I praised you at first, Polus, for being a rhetorician rather than a reasoner. And this, as I suppose, is the sort of argument with which you fancy that a child might refute me, and by which I stand refuted when I say that the unjust man is not happy. But, my good friend, where is the refutation? I cannot admit a word which you have been saying.

SOCRATES: At first, Polus, I praised you for being a skilled speaker rather than a logical thinker. And I suppose you imagine a child could use this kind of argument to prove me wrong. You think it disproves my claim that an unjust person is not happy. But, my good friend, where is the proof that I am wrong? I cannot accept a word you have said.

POLUS: That is because you will not; for you surely must think as I do.

POLUS: That's because you refuse to. Surely you must think as I do.

SOCRATES: Not so, my simple friend, but because you will refute me after the manner which rhetoricians practise in courts of law. For there the one party think that they refute the other when they bring forward a number of witnesses of good repute in proof of their allegations, and their adversary has only a single one or none at all. But this kind of proof is of no value where truth is the aim; a man may often be sworn down by a multitude of false witnesses who have a great air of respectability. And in this argument nearly every one, Athenian and stranger alike, would be on your side, if you should bring witnesses in disproof of my statement;—you may, if you will, summon Nicias the son of Niceratus, and let his brothers, who gave the row of tripods which stand in the precincts of Dionysus, come with him; or you may summon Aristocrates, the son of Scellius, who is the giver of that famous offering which is at Delphi; summon, if you will, the whole house of Pericles, or any other great Athenian family whom you choose;—they will all agree with you: I only am left alone and cannot agree, for you do not convince me; although you produce many false witnesses against me, in the hope of depriving me of my inheritance, which is the truth. But I consider that nothing worth speaking of will have been effected by me unless I make you the one witness of my words; nor by you, unless you make me the one witness of yours; no matter about the rest of the world. For there are two ways of refutation, one which is yours and that of the world in general; but mine is of another sort—let us compare them, and see in what they differ. For, indeed, we are at issue about matters which to know is honourable and not to know disgraceful; to know or not to know happiness and misery—that is the chief of them. And what knowledge can be nobler? or what ignorance more disgraceful than this? And therefore I will begin by asking you whether you do not think that a man who is unjust and doing injustice can be happy, seeing that you think Archelaus unjust, and yet happy? May I assume this to be your opinion?

SOCRATES: No, my simple friend. It is because you will try to refute me as public speakers do in courts of law. There, one side thinks they have refuted the other by bringing forward many respected witnesses to support their claims. Their opponent has only one witness or none at all. But this kind of evidence is worthless when the aim is truth. A man may often be overwhelmed by the sworn testimony of many false witnesses who seem highly respectable. And in this argument, nearly everyone, Athenian and foreigner alike, would support you if you brought witnesses against my claim. If you like, you may summon Nicias the son of Niceratus, and bring his brothers with him. They donated the row of tripods that stand in the sacred grounds of Dionysus. Or you may summon Aristocrates, the son of Scellius, who donated that famous offering at Delphi. Summon, if you like, the whole house of Pericles, or any other great Athenian family you choose. They will all agree with you. I alone remain opposed, and I cannot agree, because you have not convinced me. You produce many false witnesses against me, hoping to rob me of my inheritance, the truth. But I believe I will have achieved nothing worth mentioning unless I make you the sole witness supporting my words. Nor will you have achieved anything unless you make me the sole witness supporting yours. The rest of the world does not matter. For there are two ways to refute someone. One is yours and the world's in general. Mine is different. Let us compare the two methods and see how they differ. After all, we are debating matters that are honorable to understand and shameful not to understand. Above all, we are asking what happiness and misery are. What knowledge could be nobler? What ignorance could be more shameful? So I will begin with a question. Do you think a man can be happy while he is unjust and acts unjustly? You think Archelaus is unjust, yet happy. May I take this to be your view?

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: But I say that this is an impossibility—here is one point about which we are at issue:—very good. And do you mean to say also that if he meets with retribution and punishment he will still be happy?

SOCRATES: But I say this is impossible. So here is one point we disagree on. Very well. And do you also mean that if he faces retribution and punishment, he will still be happy?

POLUS: Certainly not; in that case he will be most miserable.

POLUS: Certainly not. In that case, he will be utterly miserable.

SOCRATES: On the other hand, if the unjust be not punished, then, according to you, he will be happy?

SOCRATES: On the other hand, if an unjust man goes unpunished, will he be happy, according to you?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: But in my opinion, Polus, the unjust or doer of unjust actions is miserable in any case,—more miserable, however, if he be not punished and does not meet with retribution, and less miserable if he be punished and meets with retribution at the hands of gods and men.

SOCRATES: But in my opinion, Polus, an unjust person or someone who acts unjustly is miserable in any case. However, he is more miserable if he goes unpunished and faces no retribution. He is less miserable if he is punished and faces retribution from gods and men.

POLUS: You are maintaining a strange doctrine, Socrates.

POLUS: You're arguing for a strange idea, Socrates.

SOCRATES: I shall try to make you agree with me, O my friend, for as a friend I regard you. Then these are the points at issue between us—are they not? I was saying that to do is worse than to suffer injustice?

SOCRATES: I’ll try to get you to agree with me, my friend, because I do consider you a friend. So these are the points we disagree on, aren’t they? I was saying that doing an injustice is worse than suffering one?

POLUS: Exactly so.

POLUS: Exactly.

SOCRATES: And you said the opposite?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: I said also that the wicked are miserable, and you refuted me?

SOCRATES: I also said that wicked people are miserable, and you proved me wrong?

POLUS: By Zeus, I did.

SOCRATES: In your own opinion, Polus.

POLUS: Yes, and I rather suspect that I was in the right.

POLUS: Yes, and I rather suspect I was right.

SOCRATES: You further said that the wrong-doer is happy if he be unpunished?

SOCRATES: You also said that someone who does wrong is happy if he goes unpunished?

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And I affirm that he is most miserable, and that those who are punished are less miserable—are you going to refute this proposition also?

SOCRATES: And I say he is the most miserable, and those who are punished are less miserable. Are you going to disprove this claim too?

POLUS: A proposition which is harder of refutation than the other, Socrates.

POLUS: A claim that's harder to disprove than the other, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Say rather, Polus, impossible; for who can refute the truth?

SOCRATES: You should say impossible, Polus. After all, who can disprove the truth?

POLUS: What do you mean? If a man is detected in an unjust attempt to make himself a tyrant, and when detected is racked, mutilated, has his eyes burned out, and after having had all sorts of great injuries inflicted on him, and having seen his wife and children suffer the like, is at last impaled or tarred and burned alive, will he be happier than if he escape and become a tyrant, and continue all through life doing what he likes and holding the reins of government, the envy and admiration both of citizens and strangers? Is that the paradox which, as you say, cannot be refuted?

POLUS: What do you mean? Suppose a man is caught unjustly trying to make himself a tyrant. Once caught, he is tortured on the rack, mutilated, and has his eyes burned out. He suffers all kinds of terrible injuries and sees his wife and children suffer the same. Finally, he is impaled or covered in tar and burned alive. Will he be happier than if he escapes and becomes a tyrant? Happier than if he spends his whole life doing whatever he likes and ruling the state? Happier than if citizens and foreigners alike envy and admire him? Is that the paradox you say cannot be disproved?

SOCRATES: There again, noble Polus, you are raising hobgoblins instead of refuting me; just now you were calling witnesses against me. But please to refresh my memory a little; did you say—“in an unjust attempt to make himself a tyrant”?

SOCRATES: There you go again, noble Polus, trying to scare me instead of proving me wrong. Just now you were calling witnesses against me. But please refresh my memory a little. Did you say, “in an unjust attempt to make himself a tyrant”?

POLUS: Yes, I did.

SOCRATES: Then I say that neither of them will be happier than the other,—neither he who unjustly acquires a tyranny, nor he who suffers in the attempt, for of two miserables one cannot be the happier, but that he who escapes and becomes a tyrant is the more miserable of the two. Do you laugh, Polus? Well, this is a new kind of refutation,—when any one says anything, instead of refuting him to laugh at him.

SOCRATES: Then I say that neither man will be happier than the other. One unjustly gains power as a tyrant, while the other suffers in the attempt. For when two people are miserable, neither can be happier than the other. But the man who escapes and becomes a tyrant is the more miserable of the two. Are you laughing, Polus? Well, that is a new way to refute someone. When someone says something, you laugh at him instead of refuting him.

POLUS: But do you not think, Socrates, that you have been sufficiently refuted, when you say that which no human being will allow? Ask the company.

POLUS: But Socrates, don't you think you've been thoroughly proven wrong when you say something no one will accept? Ask everyone here.

SOCRATES: O Polus, I am not a public man, and only last year, when my tribe were serving as Prytanes, and it became my duty as their president to take the votes, there was a laugh at me, because I was unable to take them. And as I failed then, you must not ask me to count the suffrages of the company now; but if, as I was saying, you have no better argument than numbers, let me have a turn, and do you make trial of the sort of proof which, as I think, is required; for I shall produce one witness only of the truth of my words, and he is the person with whom I am arguing; his suffrage I know how to take; but with the many I have nothing to do, and do not even address myself to them. May I ask then whether you will answer in turn and have your words put to the proof? For I certainly think that I and you and every man do really believe, that to do is a greater evil than to suffer injustice: and not to be punished than to be punished.

SOCRATES: Polus, I am not a public figure. Just last year, my tribe was serving as Prytanes, and as their president, I had to count the votes. People laughed at me because I could not manage the task. Since I failed then, you must not ask me to count the votes of everyone here now. But if, as I was saying, you have no better argument than numbers, let me take a turn. Then you can try the kind of proof I think we need. I will call only one witness to the truth of my words: the person I am arguing with. I know how to get his vote. But I have nothing to do with the crowd, and I do not even address them. May I ask, then, whether you will take your turn answering and let your statements be tested? For I certainly think that you, I, and everyone else really believe that doing injustice is worse than suffering it. And we believe that going unpunished is worse than being punished.

POLUS: And I should say neither I, nor any man: would you yourself, for example, suffer rather than do injustice?

POLUS: And I would say neither I nor anyone else would. Would you yourself, for example, rather suffer injustice than commit it?

SOCRATES: Yes, and you, too; I or any man would.

SOCRATES: Yes, and you would too. I would, and so would any man.

POLUS: Quite the reverse; neither you, nor I, nor any man.

POLUS: Just the opposite. Not you, not me, not anyone.

SOCRATES: But will you answer?

POLUS: To be sure, I will; for I am curious to hear what you can have to say.

POLUS: Of course I will, because I’m curious to hear what you could possibly have to say.

SOCRATES: Tell me, then, and you will know, and let us suppose that I am beginning at the beginning: which of the two, Polus, in your opinion, is the worst?—to do injustice or to suffer?

SOCRATES: Answer me, then, and you will know. Let us suppose I am starting at the beginning. Polus, in your opinion, which is worse: doing injustice or suffering injustice?

POLUS: I should say that suffering was worst.

POLUS: I'd say suffering was the worst.

SOCRATES: And which is the greater disgrace?—Answer.

SOCRATES: And which is more shameful? Answer.

POLUS: To do.

SOCRATES: And the greater disgrace is the greater evil?

SOCRATES: And is the more shameful thing also the greater evil?

POLUS: Certainly not.

POLUS: Definitely not.

SOCRATES: I understand you to say, if I am not mistaken, that the honourable is not the same as the good, or the disgraceful as the evil?

SOCRATES: If I understand you correctly, you’re saying that what is honorable is not the same as what is good? And what is disgraceful is not the same as what is evil?

POLUS: Certainly not.

POLUS: Definitely not.

SOCRATES: Let me ask a question of you: When you speak of beautiful things, such as bodies, colours, figures, sounds, institutions, do you not call them beautiful in reference to some standard: bodies, for example, are beautiful in proportion as they are useful, or as the sight of them gives pleasure to the spectators; can you give any other account of personal beauty?

SOCRATES: Let me ask you a question. You speak of beautiful things, such as bodies, colours, shapes, sounds, and institutions. Don't you call them beautiful according to some standard? For example, aren't bodies beautiful to the extent that they are useful or give pleasure to those who see them? Can you give any other explanation of physical beauty?

POLUS: I cannot.

POLUS: I can't.

SOCRATES: And you would say of figures or colours generally that they were beautiful, either by reason of the pleasure which they give, or of their use, or of both?

SOCRATES: And would you say shapes or colours in general are beautiful because they give pleasure, are useful, or both?

POLUS: Yes, I should.

POLUS: Yes, I would.

SOCRATES: And you would call sounds and music beautiful for the same reason?

SOCRATES: And would you call sounds and music beautiful for the same reason?

POLUS: I should.

POLUS: I would.

SOCRATES: Laws and institutions also have no beauty in them except in so far as they are useful or pleasant or both?

SOCRATES: And laws and institutions are beautiful only to the extent that they are useful, pleasant, or both?

POLUS: I think not.

POLUS: I don't think so.

SOCRATES: And may not the same be said of the beauty of knowledge?

SOCRATES: And can't we say the same about the beauty of knowledge?

POLUS: To be sure, Socrates; and I very much approve of your measuring beauty by the standard of pleasure and utility.

POLUS: Certainly, Socrates. And I strongly approve of your judging beauty by pleasure and usefulness.

SOCRATES: And deformity or disgrace may be equally measured by the opposite standard of pain and evil?

SOCRATES: And may ugliness or disgrace likewise be measured by the opposite standard, pain and evil?

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: Then when of two beautiful things one exceeds in beauty, the measure of the excess is to be taken in one or both of these; that is to say, in pleasure or utility or both?

SOCRATES: Then when one of two beautiful things is more beautiful, how do we measure the difference? By pleasure, usefulness, or both?

POLUS: Very true.

POLUS: Absolutely true.

SOCRATES: And of two deformed things, that which exceeds in deformity or disgrace, exceeds either in pain or evil—must it not be so?

SOCRATES: And of two ugly things, mustn't the uglier or more shameful one involve more pain or evil?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: But then again, what was the observation which you just now made, about doing and suffering wrong? Did you not say, that suffering wrong was more evil, and doing wrong more disgraceful?

SOCRATES: But then again, what did you just say about doing wrong and suffering wrong? Didn’t you say that suffering wrong was worse, but doing wrong was more shameful?

POLUS: I did.

SOCRATES: Then, if doing wrong is more disgraceful than suffering, the more disgraceful must be more painful and must exceed in pain or in evil or both: does not that also follow?

SOCRATES: Then, if doing wrong is more shameful than suffering wrong, doing wrong must be more painful. Doing wrong must exceed suffering wrong in pain, evil, or both. Doesn't that follow too?

POLUS: Of course.

SOCRATES: First, then, let us consider whether the doing of injustice exceeds the suffering in the consequent pain: Do the injurers suffer more than the injured?

SOCRATES: First, then, let us consider whether doing injustice causes more pain than suffering injustice. Do those who harm others suffer more than those they harm?

POLUS: No, Socrates; certainly not.

POLUS: No, Socrates. Certainly not.

SOCRATES: Then they do not exceed in pain?

SOCRATES: Then they do not feel more pain?

POLUS: No.

SOCRATES: But if not in pain, then not in both?

SOCRATES: But if there’s no pain, then you don’t have both?

POLUS: Certainly not.

POLUS: Definitely not.

SOCRATES: Then they can only exceed in the other?

SOCRATES: Then they can only be greater in the other respect?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: That is to say, in evil?

SOCRATES: You mean, in evil?

POLUS: True.

SOCRATES: Then doing injustice will have an excess of evil, and will therefore be a greater evil than suffering injustice?

SOCRATES: Then doing injustice involves more evil, and so is a greater evil than suffering injustice?

POLUS: Clearly.

SOCRATES: But have not you and the world already agreed that to do injustice is more disgraceful than to suffer?

SOCRATES: But haven't you and everyone else already agreed that doing injustice is more shameful than suffering it?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And that is now discovered to be more evil?

SOCRATES: And have we now found that to be more evil?

POLUS: True.

SOCRATES: And would you prefer a greater evil or a greater dishonour to a less one? Answer, Polus, and fear not; for you will come to no harm if you nobly resign yourself into the healing hand of the argument as to a physician without shrinking, and either say “Yes” or “No” to me.

SOCRATES: And would you prefer a greater evil or greater dishonour to a lesser one? Answer, Polus, and don’t be afraid. For you will come to no harm if you bravely trust the argument’s healing care, as you would a doctor’s. Don’t shrink back, and say either “Yes” or “No” to me.

POLUS: I should say “No.”

POLUS: I would say “No.”

SOCRATES: Would any other man prefer a greater to a less evil?

SOCRATES: Would any other man choose a greater evil over a lesser one?

POLUS: No, not according to this way of putting the case, Socrates.

POLUS: No, not when you put it that way, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Then I said truly, Polus, that neither you, nor I, nor any man, would rather do than suffer injustice; for to do injustice is the greater evil of the two.

SOCRATES: Then I was right, Polus. Neither you nor I nor anyone else would rather commit injustice than suffer it. For committing injustice is the greater of the two evils.

POLUS: That is the conclusion.

POLUS: That's the conclusion.

SOCRATES: You see, Polus, when you compare the two kinds of refutations, how unlike they are. All men, with the exception of myself, are of your way of thinking; but your single assent and witness are enough for me,—I have no need of any other, I take your suffrage, and am regardless of the rest. Enough of this, and now let us proceed to the next question; which is, Whether the greatest of evils to a guilty man is to suffer punishment, as you supposed, or whether to escape punishment is not a greater evil, as I supposed. Consider:—You would say that to suffer punishment is another name for being justly corrected when you do wrong?

SOCRATES: You see, Polus, how different the two kinds of refutation are when you compare them. Everyone except me agrees with you. But your agreement and testimony alone are enough for me. I need no one else. I accept your vote and pay no attention to the rest. Enough of that discussion. Now let us move to the next question. Is being punished the greatest evil for a guilty person, as you thought? Or is escaping punishment a greater evil, as I thought? Consider this: Would you say that being punished means being justly corrected when you do wrong?

POLUS: I should.

POLUS: I would.

SOCRATES: And would you not allow that all just things are honourable in so far as they are just? Please to reflect, and tell me your opinion.

SOCRATES: And wouldn't you agree that all just things are honorable to the extent that they are just? Please think about this question and tell me what you think.

POLUS: Yes, Socrates, I think that they are.

POLUS: Yes, Socrates, I think they are.

SOCRATES: Consider again:—Where there is an agent, must there not also be a patient?

SOCRATES: Think about this again: If something acts, must there not also be something acted on?

POLUS: I should say so.

POLUS: I'd say so.

SOCRATES: And will not the patient suffer that which the agent does, and will not the suffering have the quality of the action? I mean, for example, that if a man strikes, there must be something which is stricken?

SOCRATES: And won't the person acted on experience what the person acting does? And won't that experience have the same qualities as the action? I mean, for example, if a man strikes, mustn't something be struck?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And if the striker strikes violently or quickly, that which is struck will be struck violently or quickly?

SOCRATES: And if someone strikes violently or quickly, won't whatever is struck be struck violently or quickly?

POLUS: True.

SOCRATES: And the suffering to him who is stricken is of the same nature as the act of him who strikes?

SOCRATES: And does the suffering of the person being hit have the same nature as the act of the person hitting them?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And if a man burns, there is something which is burned?

SOCRATES: And if a man burns something, isn't something being burned?

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And if he burns in excess or so as to cause pain, the thing burned will be burned in the same way?

SOCRATES: And if he burns something too much or painfully, will the thing be burned in the same way?

POLUS: Truly.

POLUS: That's true.

SOCRATES: And if he cuts, the same argument holds—there will be something cut?

SOCRATES: And if he cuts, the same reasoning applies: something will be cut, right?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And if the cutting be great or deep or such as will cause pain, the cut will be of the same nature?

SOCRATES: And if the cutting is extensive, deep, or causes pain, will the cut have those same qualities?

POLUS: That is evident.

POLUS: That is clear.

SOCRATES: Then you would agree generally to the universal proposition which I was just now asserting: that the affection of the patient answers to the affection of the agent?

SOCRATES: Then would you agree with the general principle I just stated? The effect on anyone acted on corresponds to the action of the person acting.

POLUS: I agree.

SOCRATES: Then, as this is admitted, let me ask whether being punished is suffering or acting?

SOCRATES: Then, since we agree on that, let me ask: is being punished a form of suffering or acting?

POLUS: Suffering, Socrates; there can be no doubt of that.

POLUS: Suffering, Socrates. There’s no doubt about it.

SOCRATES: And suffering implies an agent?

SOCRATES: And if someone suffers, does that mean someone causes the suffering?

POLUS: Certainly, Socrates; and he is the punisher.

POLUS: Certainly, Socrates, and he is the one who punishes.

SOCRATES: And he who punishes rightly, punishes justly?

SOCRATES: And someone who punishes rightly also punishes justly?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And therefore he acts justly?

SOCRATES: So he acts justly?

POLUS: Justly.

POLUS: Fairly.

SOCRATES: Then he who is punished and suffers retribution, suffers justly?

SOCRATES: Then someone who is punished and pays for wrongdoing suffers justly?

POLUS: That is evident.

POLUS: That’s clear.

SOCRATES: And that which is just has been admitted to be honourable?

SOCRATES: And haven't we agreed that what is just is honorable?

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: Then the punisher does what is honourable, and the punished suffers what is honourable?

SOCRATES: So the person giving punishment does something honorable, and the person being punished experiences something honorable?

POLUS: True.

SOCRATES: And if what is honourable, then what is good, for the honourable is either pleasant or useful?

SOCRATES: And if something is honorable, is it good, since honorable things are either pleasant or useful?

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: Then he who is punished suffers what is good?

SOCRATES: So someone who is punished experiences something good?

POLUS: That is true.

POLUS: That's true.

SOCRATES: Then he is benefited?

SOCRATES: So he benefits?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: Do I understand you to mean what I mean by the term “benefited”? I mean, that if he be justly punished his soul is improved.

SOCRATES: Do you mean the same thing I do by “benefited”? I mean that if he is justly punished, his soul improves.

POLUS: Surely.

POLUS: Of course.

SOCRATES: Then he who is punished is delivered from the evil of his soul?

SOCRATES: So, is a person who is punished freed from the evil in his soul?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And is he not then delivered from the greatest evil? Look at the matter in this way:—In respect of a man’s estate, do you see any greater evil than poverty?

SOCRATES: And isn’t he then freed from the greatest evil? Look at the matter this way: When it comes to a man’s wealth, do you see any greater evil than poverty?

POLUS: There is no greater evil.

POLUS: There is no worse evil.

SOCRATES: Again, in a man’s bodily frame, you would say that the evil is weakness and disease and deformity?

SOCRATES: Again, would you say that the evils of a man’s body are weakness, disease, and deformity?

POLUS: I should.

POLUS: I would.

SOCRATES: And do you not imagine that the soul likewise has some evil of her own?

SOCRATES: And don’t you think the soul also has some evil of its own?

POLUS: Of course.

SOCRATES: And this you would call injustice and ignorance and cowardice, and the like?

SOCRATES: And would you call this injustice, ignorance, cowardice, and so on?

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: So then, in mind, body, and estate, which are three, you have pointed out three corresponding evils—injustice, disease, poverty?

SOCRATES: So you have named three areas: mind, body, and wealth. And you have identified three corresponding evils: injustice, disease, and poverty?

POLUS: True.

SOCRATES: And which of the evils is the most disgraceful?—Is not the most disgraceful of them injustice, and in general the evil of the soul?

SOCRATES: And which of these evils is the most disgraceful? Isn't it injustice and, more generally, evil in the soul?

POLUS: By far the most.

SOCRATES: And if the most disgraceful, then also the worst?

SOCRATES: And if it's the most disgraceful, is it also the worst?

POLUS: What do you mean, Socrates?

SOCRATES: I mean to say, that is most disgraceful has been already admitted to be most painful or hurtful, or both.

SOCRATES: I mean, we have already agreed that what is most disgraceful is most painful or harmful, or both.

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And now injustice and all evil in the soul has been admitted by us to be most disgraceful?

SOCRATES: And now, haven't we agreed that injustice and all evil in the soul are most disgraceful?

POLUS: It has been admitted.

POLUS: That's been admitted.

SOCRATES: And most disgraceful either because most painful and causing excessive pain, or most hurtful, or both?

SOCRATES: And most shameful because it is the most painful and causes extreme pain, the most harmful, or both?

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And therefore to be unjust and intemperate, and cowardly and ignorant, is more painful than to be poor and sick?

SOCRATES: So being unjust, lacking self-control, being cowardly and ignorant is more painful than being poor and sick?

POLUS: Nay, Socrates; the painfulness does not appear to me to follow from your premises.

POLUS: No, Socrates. I don’t see how your premises lead to the conclusion about pain.

SOCRATES: Then, if, as you would argue, not more painful, the evil of the soul is of all evils the most disgraceful; and the excess of disgrace must be caused by some preternatural greatness, or extraordinary hurtfulness of the evil.

SOCRATES: Then, if the soul’s evil is not more painful, as you would argue, it is the most disgraceful of all evils. And that greater disgrace must come from the evil’s immense size or extraordinary harmfulness.

POLUS: Clearly.

SOCRATES: And that which exceeds most in hurtfulness will be the greatest of evils?

SOCRATES: And whatever causes the most harm will be the greatest evil?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: Then injustice and intemperance, and in general the depravity of the soul, are the greatest of evils?

SOCRATES: So injustice, lack of self-control, and corruption of the soul in general are the greatest evils?

POLUS: That is evident.

POLUS: That's clear.

SOCRATES: Now, what art is there which delivers us from poverty? Does not the art of making money?

SOCRATES: Now, what skill frees us from poverty? Isn't it the skill of making money?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And what art frees us from disease? Does not the art of medicine?

SOCRATES: And what skill frees us from disease? Isn't it medicine?

POLUS: Very true.

POLUS: Absolutely true.

SOCRATES: And what from vice and injustice? If you are not able to answer at once, ask yourself whither we go with the sick, and to whom we take them.

SOCRATES: And what frees us from vice and injustice? If you can't answer right away, ask yourself where we take sick people, and who we take them to.

POLUS: To the physicians, Socrates.

POLUS: To the doctors, Socrates.

SOCRATES: And to whom do we go with the unjust and intemperate?

SOCRATES: And who do we go to with people who are unjust and lack self-control?

POLUS: To the judges, you mean.

POLUS: You mean to the judges.

SOCRATES: —Who are to punish them?

SOCRATES: Who is supposed to punish them?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And do not those who rightly punish others, punish them in accordance with a certain rule of justice?

SOCRATES: And don’t those who rightly punish others follow a certain rule of justice when doing so?

POLUS: Clearly.

SOCRATES: Then the art of money-making frees a man from poverty; medicine from disease; and justice from intemperance and injustice?

SOCRATES: So the skill of making money frees a person from poverty? Medicine frees a person from disease? And justice frees a person from lack of self-control and injustice?

POLUS: That is evident.

POLUS: That's clear.

SOCRATES: Which, then, is the best of these three?

SOCRATES: So, which of these three is the best?

POLUS: Will you enumerate them?

POLUS: Will you list them?

SOCRATES: Money-making, medicine, and justice.

SOCRATES: Making money, medicine, and justice.

POLUS: Justice, Socrates, far excels the two others.

POLUS: Justice, Socrates, is far better than the other two.

SOCRATES: And justice, if the best, gives the greatest pleasure or advantage or both?

SOCRATES: And if justice is the best, does justice bring the greatest pleasure or benefit or both?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: But is the being healed a pleasant thing, and are those who are being healed pleased?

SOCRATES: But is being healed pleasant? And do people being healed feel pleasure?

POLUS: I think not.

POLUS: I don't think so.

SOCRATES: A useful thing, then?

SOCRATES: So, something useful?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: Yes, because the patient is delivered from a great evil; and this is the advantage of enduring the pain—that you get well?

SOCRATES: Yes, because the patient is freed from a great evil. And the benefit of enduring the pain is that you get well, isn't it?

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And would he be the happier man in his bodily condition, who is healed, or who never was out of health?

SOCRATES: And who would be happier with his physical health: a man who recovered, or one who was never ill?

POLUS: Clearly he who was never out of health.

POLUS: Clearly, the man who was never sick.

SOCRATES: Yes; for happiness surely does not consist in being delivered from evils, but in never having had them.

SOCRATES: Yes, because happiness surely isn't about being freed from suffering. It's about never having suffered at all.

POLUS: True.

SOCRATES: And suppose the case of two persons who have some evil in their bodies, and that one of them is healed and delivered from evil, and another is not healed, but retains the evil—which of them is the most miserable?

SOCRATES: And suppose two people have something wrong with their bodies. One is healed and freed from the illness, but the other is not healed and remains ill. Which of the two is more miserable?

POLUS: Clearly he who is not healed.

POLUS: Clearly, the person who isn't healed.

SOCRATES: And was not punishment said by us to be a deliverance from the greatest of evils, which is vice?

SOCRATES: And didn't we say that punishment frees us from the greatest evil, namely vice?

POLUS: True.

SOCRATES: And justice punishes us, and makes us more just, and is the medicine of our vice?

SOCRATES: And justice punishes us, makes us more just, and acts as medicine for our moral faults?

POLUS: True.

SOCRATES: He, then, has the first place in the scale of happiness who has never had vice in his soul; for this has been shown to be the greatest of evils.

SOCRATES: So the happiest person is someone who has never had vice in his soul. For vice has been shown to be the greatest evil.

POLUS: Clearly.

SOCRATES: And he has the second place, who is delivered from vice?

SOCRATES: And does the person who is freed from vice take second place?

POLUS: True.

SOCRATES: That is to say, he who receives admonition and rebuke and punishment?

SOCRATES: You mean the person who receives warnings, criticism, and punishment?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: Then he lives worst, who, having been unjust, has no deliverance from injustice?

SOCRATES: Then does the person who has acted unjustly and is never freed from injustice live the worst life?

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: That is, he lives worst who commits the greatest crimes, and who, being the most unjust of men, succeeds in escaping rebuke or correction or punishment; and this, as you say, has been accomplished by Archelaus and other tyrants and rhetoricians and potentates? (Compare Republic.)

SOCRATES: So the person who lives worst commits the greatest crimes and is the most unjust of all. Yet he manages to escape criticism, correction, or punishment. And you say Archelaus and other tyrants, rhetoricians, and powerful rulers have managed to do just that? (Compare Republic.)

POLUS: True.

SOCRATES: May not their way of proceeding, my friend, be compared to the conduct of a person who is afflicted with the worst of diseases and yet contrives not to pay the penalty to the physician for his sins against his constitution, and will not be cured, because, like a child, he is afraid of the pain of being burned or cut:—Is not that a parallel case?

SOCRATES: My friend, couldn't their behavior be compared to that of someone suffering from the worst of diseases? Yet the sick person manages to avoid the doctor's punishment for mistreating his body. He refuses to be cured because, like a child, he fears the pain of being burned or cut. Isn't that a similar case?

POLUS: Yes, truly.

POLUS: Yes, that's true.

SOCRATES: He would seem as if he did not know the nature of health and bodily vigour; and if we are right, Polus, in our previous conclusions, they are in a like case who strive to evade justice, which they see to be painful, but are blind to the advantage which ensues from it, not knowing how far more miserable a companion a diseased soul is than a diseased body; a soul, I say, which is corrupt and unrighteous and unholy. And hence they do all that they can to avoid punishment and to avoid being released from the greatest of evils; they provide themselves with money and friends, and cultivate to the utmost their powers of persuasion. But if we, Polus, are right, do you see what follows, or shall we draw out the consequences in form?

SOCRATES: He would seem not to understand the nature of health and physical strength. And if our earlier conclusions are right, Polus, the same is true of those who try to escape justice. They see that justice is painful but are blind to the benefit it brings. They do not know how much more miserable living with a sick soul is than living with a sick body. I mean a soul that is corrupt, unjust, and unholy. So they do all they can to avoid punishment and avoid being freed from the greatest of evils. They gather money and friends and develop their powers of persuasion as much as they can. But if we are right, Polus, do you see what follows? Or shall we work through the consequences step by step?

POLUS: If you please.

POLUS: If you’d like.

SOCRATES: Is it not a fact that injustice, and the doing of injustice, is the greatest of evils?

SOCRATES: Isn't it true that injustice, and acting unjustly, is the greatest evil?

POLUS: That is quite clear.

POLUS: That's quite clear.

SOCRATES: And further, that to suffer punishment is the way to be released from this evil?

SOCRATES: And also, that being punished is the way to be freed from this evil?

POLUS: True.

SOCRATES: And not to suffer, is to perpetuate the evil?

SOCRATES: And if you don't suffer, do you keep the evil going?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: To do wrong, then, is second only in the scale of evils; but to do wrong and not to be punished, is first and greatest of all?

SOCRATES: So doing wrong is the second greatest evil? But doing wrong and going unpunished is the greatest evil of all?

POLUS: That is true.

POLUS: That's true.

SOCRATES: Well, and was not this the point in dispute, my friend? You deemed Archelaus happy, because he was a very great criminal and unpunished: I, on the other hand, maintained that he or any other who like him has done wrong and has not been punished, is, and ought to be, the most miserable of all men; and that the doer of injustice is more miserable than the sufferer; and he who escapes punishment, more miserable than he who suffers.—Was not that what I said?

SOCRATES: Well, my friend, wasn’t our disagreement about this very point? You thought Archelaus was happy because he was a terrible criminal who had gone unpunished. But I argued that he, or anyone else who has done wrong like him and gone unpunished, is utterly miserable. Such a person is, and deserves to be, the most miserable of all people. I also said that someone who commits injustice is more miserable than someone who suffers it. And someone who escapes punishment is more miserable than someone who is punished. Wasn’t that what I said?

POLUS: Yes.

SOCRATES: And it has been proved to be true?

SOCRATES: And has it been proven true?

POLUS: Certainly.

SOCRATES: Well, Polus, but if this is true, where is the great use of rhetoric? If we admit what has been just now said, every man ought in every way to guard himself against doing wrong, for he will thereby suffer great evil?

SOCRATES: Well, Polus, but if this is true, what great use is rhetoric? If we accept what we have just said, shouldn't everyone do everything possible to avoid doing wrong? For by doing wrong, they will suffer great harm.

POLUS: True.

SOCRATES: And if he, or any one about whom he cares, does wrong, he ought of his own accord to go where he will be immediately punished; he will run to the judge, as he would to the physician, in order that the disease of injustice may not be rendered chronic and become the incurable cancer of the soul; must we not allow this consequence, Polus, if our former admissions are to stand:—is any other inference consistent with them?

SOCRATES: And if he, or anyone he cares about, does wrong, he should willingly go where he will be punished immediately. He will run to the judge, just as he would to a doctor. He will do so to prevent the disease of injustice from becoming chronic and turning into the soul’s incurable cancer. Must we not accept this conclusion, Polus, if we stand by what we agreed earlier? Is any other conclusion consistent with those agreements?

POLUS: To that, Socrates, there can be but one answer.

POLUS: There can only be one answer to that, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Then rhetoric is of no use to us, Polus, in helping a man to excuse his own injustice, that of his parents or friends, or children or country; but may be of use to any one who holds that instead of excusing he ought to accuse—himself above all, and in the next degree his family or any of his friends who may be doing wrong; he should bring to light the iniquity and not conceal it, that so the wrong-doer may suffer and be made whole; and he should even force himself and others not to shrink, but with closed eyes like brave men to let the physician operate with knife or searing iron, not regarding the pain, in the hope of attaining the good and the honourable; let him who has done things worthy of stripes, allow himself to be scourged, if of bonds, to be bound, if of a fine, to be fined, if of exile, to be exiled, if of death, to die, himself being the first to accuse himself and his own relations, and using rhetoric to this end, that his and their unjust actions may be made manifest, and that they themselves may be delivered from injustice, which is the greatest evil. Then, Polus, rhetoric would indeed be useful. Do you say “Yes” or “No” to that?

SOCRATES: Then rhetoric is no use to us, Polus, in helping someone excuse his own injustice. Nor does it help him excuse injustice by his parents, friends, children, or country. But rhetoric may help anyone who believes he should accuse rather than excuse. He should accuse himself first, then his family or any friends who may be doing wrong. He should expose the wrongdoing, not hide it, so the wrongdoer can suffer punishment and be made well again. He should even force himself and others not to flinch. Like brave men, they should close their eyes and let the doctor cut or burn them. They should disregard the pain, hoping to achieve what is good and honorable. Anyone who deserves whipping should submit to whipping. If he deserves chains, he should be chained. If he deserves a fine, he should pay it. If he deserves exile, he should be exiled. If he deserves death, he should die. He should be the first to accuse himself and his own relatives. He should use rhetoric to expose his own unjust actions and theirs. The purpose is to free himself and his relatives from injustice, the greatest evil. Then, Polus, rhetoric would indeed be useful. Do you say “Yes” or “No” to that?

POLUS: To me, Socrates, what you are saying appears very strange, though probably in agreement with your premises.

POLUS: Socrates, what you’re saying seems very strange to me, though it probably follows from your starting assumptions.

SOCRATES: Is not this the conclusion, if the premises are not disproven?

SOCRATES: Doesn't this conclusion follow if the starting points haven't been disproved?

POLUS: Yes; it certainly is.

POLUS: Yes, it certainly is.

SOCRATES: And from the opposite point of view, if indeed it be our duty to harm another, whether an enemy or not—I except the case of self-defence—then I have to be upon my guard—but if my enemy injures a third person, then in every sort of way, by word as well as deed, I should try to prevent his being punished, or appearing before the judge; and if he appears, I should contrive that he should escape, and not suffer punishment: if he has stolen a sum of money, let him keep what he has stolen and spend it on him and his, regardless of religion and justice; and if he have done things worthy of death, let him not die, but rather be immortal in his wickedness; or, if this is not possible, let him at any rate be allowed to live as long as he can. For such purposes, Polus, rhetoric may be useful, but is of small if of any use to him who is not intending to commit injustice; at least, there was no such use discovered by us in the previous discussion.

SOCRATES: Now consider the opposite view, if we really ought to harm someone, whether an enemy or not. I exclude cases of self-defense. Then I must be on my guard. But if my enemy injures someone else, I should do everything possible, in word and deed, to prevent his punishment. I should also try to keep him from appearing before a judge. And if he does appear, I should arrange for him to escape without punishment. If he has stolen money, let him keep it and spend it on himself and his family. Let him do so without regard for religion or justice. And if he has done things deserving death, let him not die. Instead, let him live forever in his wickedness. Or, if living forever is impossible, let him at least live as long as he can. For such purposes, Polus, rhetoric may be useful. But rhetoric is of little use, if any, to someone who does not intend to commit injustice. At least, we found no such use in our earlier discussion.

CALLICLES: Tell me, Chaerephon, is Socrates in earnest, or is he joking?

CALLICLES: Tell me, Chaerephon, is Socrates serious, or is he joking?

CHAEREPHON: I should say, Callicles, that he is in most profound earnest; but you may well ask him.

CHAEREPHON: I’d say, Callicles, that he is completely serious. But you can certainly ask him.

CALLICLES: By the gods, and I will. Tell me, Socrates, are you in earnest, or only in jest? For if you are in earnest, and what you say is true, is not the whole of human life turned upside down; and are we not doing, as would appear, in everything the opposite of what we ought to be doing?

CALLICLES: By the gods, I will. Tell me, Socrates, are you serious or just joking? For if you are serious, and what you say is true, isn't all human life turned upside down? And doesn't it seem that in everything we do, we are doing the opposite of what we should?

SOCRATES: O Callicles, if there were not some community of feelings among mankind, however varying in different persons—I mean to say, if every man’s feelings were peculiar to himself and were not shared by the rest of his species—I do not see how we could ever communicate our impressions to one another. I make this remark because I perceive that you and I have a common feeling. For we are lovers both, and both of us have two loves apiece:—I am the lover of Alcibiades, the son of Cleinias, and of philosophy; and you of the Athenian Demus, and of Demus the son of Pyrilampes. Now, I observe that you, with all your cleverness, do not venture to contradict your favourite in any word or opinion of his; but as he changes you change, backwards and forwards. When the Athenian Demus denies anything that you are saying in the assembly, you go over to his opinion; and you do the same with Demus, the fair young son of Pyrilampes. For you have not the power to resist the words and ideas of your loves; and if a person were to express surprise at the strangeness of what you say from time to time when under their influence, you would probably reply to him, if you were honest, that you cannot help saying what your loves say unless they are prevented; and that you can only be silent when they are. Now you must understand that my words are an echo too, and therefore you need not wonder at me; but if you want to silence me, silence philosophy, who is my love, for she is always telling me what I am now telling you, my friend; neither is she capricious like my other love, for the son of Cleinias says one thing to-day and another thing to-morrow, but philosophy is always true. She is the teacher at whose words you are now wondering, and you have heard her yourself. Her you must refute, and either show, as I was saying, that to do injustice and to escape punishment is not the worst of all evils; or, if you leave her word unrefuted, by the dog the god of Egypt, I declare, O Callicles, that Callicles will never be at one with himself, but that his whole life will be a discord. And yet, my friend, I would rather that my lyre should be inharmonious, and that there should be no music in the chorus which I provided; aye, or that the whole world should be at odds with me, and oppose me, rather than that I myself should be at odds with myself, and contradict myself.

SOCRATES: Callicles, suppose people had no feelings in common, however much those feelings might vary from person to person. Suppose each person’s feelings were unique, shared by no one else. I do not see how we could ever communicate our experiences to one another. I say this because I see that you and I share a feeling. We are both lovers, and each of us has two loves. I love Alcibiades, the son of Cleinias, and philosophy. You love the Athenian Demus, the people of Athens, and Demus, the son of Pyrilampes. Now, I notice that, despite all your cleverness, you dare not contradict anything your beloved says or thinks. Instead, as your beloved changes, you change too, back and forth. When the Athenian Demus rejects something you say in the assembly, you adopt the people’s opinion. You do the same with Demus, the handsome young son of Pyrilampes. For you cannot resist the words and ideas of those you love. Suppose someone expressed surprise at the strange things you sometimes say under their influence. If you were honest, you would probably reply that you cannot help repeating your loves unless they are stopped. You would say that you can be silent only when they are silent. Now you must understand that my words are an echo too, so you need not be surprised at me. But if you want to silence me, silence philosophy, whom I love. For she is always telling me what I am telling you now, my friend. Nor is she changeable like my other love. The son of Cleinias says one thing today and another tomorrow, but philosophy is always true. She is the teacher whose words now surprise you, and you have heard her yourself. You must refute her. As I was saying, you must show that committing injustice and escaping punishment is not the worst of all evils. But suppose you leave her words unchallenged. Then, by the dog, the god of Egypt, I declare, Callicles, that you will never be at peace with yourself. Your whole life will be out of tune. And yet, my friend, I would rather have my lyre out of tune, or the chorus I provided singing without harmony. Yes, I would even rather have the whole world disagree with me and oppose me. I would prefer any of that to being at odds with myself and contradicting myself.

CALLICLES: O Socrates, you are a regular declaimer, and seem to be running riot in the argument. And now you are declaiming in this way because Polus has fallen into the same error himself of which he accused Gorgias:—for he said that when Gorgias was asked by you, whether, if some one came to him who wanted to learn rhetoric, and did not know justice, he would teach him justice, Gorgias in his modesty replied that he would, because he thought that mankind in general would be displeased if he answered “No”; and then in consequence of this admission, Gorgias was compelled to contradict himself, that being just the sort of thing in which you delight. Whereupon Polus laughed at you deservedly, as I think; but now he has himself fallen into the same trap. I cannot say very much for his wit when he conceded to you that to do is more dishonourable than to suffer injustice, for this was the admission which led to his being entangled by you; and because he was too modest to say what he thought, he had his mouth stopped. For the truth is, Socrates, that you, who pretend to be engaged in the pursuit of truth, are appealing now to the popular and vulgar notions of right, which are not natural, but only conventional. Convention and nature are generally at variance with one another: and hence, if a person is too modest to say what he thinks, he is compelled to contradict himself; and you, in your ingenuity perceiving the advantage to be thereby gained, slyly ask of him who is arguing conventionally a question which is to be determined by the rule of nature; and if he is talking of the rule of nature, you slip away to custom: as, for instance, you did in this very discussion about doing and suffering injustice. When Polus was speaking of the conventionally dishonourable, you assailed him from the point of view of nature; for by the rule of nature, to suffer injustice is the greater disgrace because the greater evil; but conventionally, to do evil is the more disgraceful. For the suffering of injustice is not the part of a man, but of a slave, who indeed had better die than live; since when he is wronged and trampled upon, he is unable to help himself, or any other about whom he cares. The reason, as I conceive, is that the makers of laws are the majority who are weak; and they make laws and distribute praises and censures with a view to themselves and to their own interests; and they terrify the stronger sort of men, and those who are able to get the better of them, in order that they may not get the better of them; and they say, that dishonesty is shameful and unjust; meaning, by the word injustice, the desire of a man to have more than his neighbours; for knowing their own inferiority, I suspect that they are too glad of equality. And therefore the endeavour to have more than the many, is conventionally said to be shameful and unjust, and is called injustice (compare Republic), whereas nature herself intimates that it is just for the better to have more than the worse, the more powerful than the weaker; and in many ways she shows, among men as well as among animals, and indeed among whole cities and races, that justice consists in the superior ruling over and having more than the inferior. For on what principle of justice did Xerxes invade Hellas, or his father the Scythians? (not to speak of numberless other examples). Nay, but these are the men who act according to nature; yes, by Heaven, and according to the law of nature: not, perhaps, according to that artificial law, which we invent and impose upon our fellows, of whom we take the best and strongest from their youth upwards, and tame them like young lions,—charming them with the sound of the voice, and saying to them, that with equality they must be content, and that the equal is the honourable and the just. But if there were a man who had sufficient force, he would shake off and break through, and escape from all this; he would trample under foot all our formulas and spells and charms, and all our laws which are against nature: the slave would rise in rebellion and be lord over us, and the light of natural justice would shine forth. And this I take to be the sentiment of Pindar, when he says in his poem, that

CALLICLES: Socrates, you really are a speechmaker, and you seem to be running wild with this argument. You are speaking this way because Polus has made the same mistake he accused Gorgias of making. Polus said you asked Gorgias about someone who wanted to learn rhetoric but knew nothing about justice. Would Gorgias teach that person justice too? Out of embarrassment, Gorgias said he would. He thought people in general would be offended if he answered “No”. That admission forced Gorgias to contradict himself, which is just the sort of thing you enjoy. Polus then laughed at you, rightly so, I think. But now he has fallen into the same trap himself. I cannot give him much credit for intelligence. He conceded that doing injustice is more shameful than suffering it. That admission let you tie him in knots. Because he was too embarrassed to say what he thought, he was silenced. The truth is, Socrates, you claim to be searching for truth. But now you appeal to popular, vulgar ideas of right, based not on nature but only on convention. Convention and nature are generally at odds. So anyone too embarrassed to speak his mind is forced to contradict himself. You cleverly spot the advantage this gives you. When someone argues from convention, you slyly ask a question that must be answered by nature's standard. And when someone speaks by nature's standard, you shift to custom. You did exactly that in this discussion about doing and suffering injustice. Polus was talking about what convention considers shameful, but you attacked him from nature's standpoint. By nature's standard, suffering injustice is more shameful because it is the greater evil. But by convention, doing wrong is more shameful. Suffering injustice is fit not for a man but for a slave, who would indeed be better dead than alive. For when he is wronged and trampled on, he cannot help himself or anyone he cares about. The reason, as I see it, is that laws are made by the weak majority. They make laws and hand out praise and blame to suit themselves and their own interests. They intimidate stronger men and those capable of getting the better of them, to prevent those men from doing so. They say dishonesty is shameful and unjust. By injustice, they mean a man's desire to have more than his neighbors. Knowing their own inferiority, I suspect they are only too glad to have equality. So convention calls the attempt to have more than the majority shameful and unjust. It calls that attempt injustice (compare Republic). Yet nature herself indicates that the better should justly have more than the worse, the stronger more than the weaker. Nature shows this in many ways among human beings and animals, and indeed among whole cities and peoples. Justice consists in the superior ruling over the inferior and having more. For by what principle of justice did Xerxes invade Hellas, or his father invade the Scythians? There are countless other examples I could mention. No, these men act according to nature. Yes, by Heaven, they follow the law of nature. Perhaps they do not follow the artificial law we invent and impose on one another. We take the best and strongest among us from childhood and tame them like young lions. We charm them with our voices, telling them they must be content with equality. We tell them equality is honorable and just. But suppose a man had enough strength. He would shake off these restraints, break through them, and escape them all. He would trample all our formulas, spells, and charms, and all our laws that go against nature. The slave would rise in rebellion and become our master. Then the light of natural justice would shine out. And I take this to be what Pindar means when he says in his poem that

“Law is the king of all, of mortals as well as of immortals;”

“Law rules over all, both mortals and immortals.”

this, as he says,

“Makes might to be right, doing violence with highest hand; as I infer from the deeds of Heracles, for without buying them—” (Fragm. Incert. 151 (Bockh).) —I do not remember the exact words, but the meaning is, that without buying them, and without their being given to him, he carried off the oxen of Geryon, according to the law of natural right, and that the oxen and other possessions of the weaker and inferior properly belong to the stronger and superior. And this is true, as you may ascertain, if you will leave philosophy and go on to higher things: for philosophy, Socrates, if pursued in moderation and at the proper age, is an elegant accomplishment, but too much philosophy is the ruin of human life. Even if a man has good parts, still, if he carries philosophy into later life, he is necessarily ignorant of all those things which a gentleman and a person of honour ought to know; he is inexperienced in the laws of the State, and in the language which ought to be used in the dealings of man with man, whether private or public, and utterly ignorant of the pleasures and desires of mankind and of human character in general. And people of this sort, when they betake themselves to politics or business, are as ridiculous as I imagine the politicians to be, when they make their appearance in the arena of philosophy. For, as Euripides says,

“Makes might right, using overwhelming force, as I gather from the deeds of Heracles, for without buying them...” (Fragm. Incert. 151 (Bockh).) I do not remember the exact words, but the meaning is this. Heracles carried off the oxen of Geryon without buying them or receiving them as a gift. He acted according to the law of natural right. Under that law, the oxen and other possessions of the weaker and inferior rightfully belong to the stronger and superior. And this is true, as you can discover if you leave philosophy behind and move on to higher things. For philosophy, Socrates, is a fine accomplishment if pursued in moderation and at the proper age. But too much philosophy ruins a person's life. Even a man with natural ability necessarily remains ignorant of certain things if he pursues philosophy into later life. He remains ignorant of everything a gentleman and a man of honor ought to know. He has no experience of the State's laws. Nor does he know how people should speak to one another in private or public affairs. He is utterly ignorant of human pleasures and desires, and of human character in general. And when people like this enter politics or business, they look ridiculous. They look as ridiculous as I imagine politicians do when they enter the world of philosophy. For, as Euripides says,

“Every man shines in that and pursues that, and devotes the greatest portion of the day to that in which he most excels,” (Antiope, fragm. 20 (Dindorf).)

“Every man shines at what he does best and pursues it. He spends most of his day on that activity,” (Antiope, fragment 20 (Dindorf).)

but anything in which he is inferior, he avoids and depreciates, and praises the opposite from partiality to himself, and because he thinks that he will thus praise himself. The true principle is to unite them. Philosophy, as a part of education, is an excellent thing, and there is no disgrace to a man while he is young in pursuing such a study; but when he is more advanced in years, the thing becomes ridiculous, and I feel towards philosophers as I do towards those who lisp and imitate children. For I love to see a little child, who is not of an age to speak plainly, lisping at his play; there is an appearance of grace and freedom in his utterance, which is natural to his childish years. But when I hear some small creature carefully articulating its words, I am offended; the sound is disagreeable, and has to my ears the twang of slavery. So when I hear a man lisping, or see him playing like a child, his behaviour appears to me ridiculous and unmanly and worthy of stripes. And I have the same feeling about students of philosophy; when I see a youth thus engaged,—the study appears to me to be in character, and becoming a man of liberal education, and him who neglects philosophy I regard as an inferior man, who will never aspire to anything great or noble. But if I see him continuing the study in later life, and not leaving off, I should like to beat him, Socrates; for, as I was saying, such a one, even though he have good natural parts, becomes effeminate. He flies from the busy centre and the market-place, in which, as the poet says, men become distinguished; he creeps into a corner for the rest of his life, and talks in a whisper with three or four admiring youths, but never speaks out like a freeman in a satisfactory manner. Now I, Socrates, am very well inclined towards you, and my feeling may be compared with that of Zethus towards Amphion, in the play of Euripides, whom I was mentioning just now: for I am disposed to say to you much what Zethus said to his brother, that you, Socrates, are careless about the things of which you ought to be careful; and that you

But he avoids and belittles anything he is worse at. He praises the opposite out of bias toward himself, because he thinks he will be praising himself that way. The right approach is to combine the two. Philosophy is an excellent part of education. There is no shame in a young man studying it. But when he is older, studying philosophy becomes ridiculous. I feel about philosophers as I do about people who lisp and imitate children. I love to see a little child lisping at play, before the child is old enough to speak clearly. The child's speech has a natural charm and freedom suited to that age. But when I hear a little child carefully pronouncing every word, I am offended. The sound is unpleasant and, to my ears, has the ring of slavery. Likewise, when I hear a grown man lisping or see him playing like a child, I find his behavior ridiculous. It is unmanly and deserves a beating. I feel the same about people who study philosophy. When I see a young man studying it, I think the study suits his age and a well-rounded education. I regard anyone who neglects philosophy as an inferior man who will never aspire to anything great or noble. But if I see him continuing to study philosophy later in life without stopping, I would like to beat him, Socrates. For, as I was saying, even if such a man has natural talent, he becomes effeminate. He avoids the busy city center and the marketplace, where, as the poet says, men make their names. He hides in a corner for the rest of his life, whispering with three or four admiring young men. But he never speaks up effectively as a free man should. Now, Socrates, I am very fond of you. My feelings resemble those of Zethus toward Amphion in the play by Euripides I mentioned just now. For I feel like saying much the same to you as Zethus said to his brother. You, Socrates, neglect the things you ought to care about, and you

“Who have a soul so noble, are remarkable for a puerile exterior; Neither in a court of justice could you state a case, or give any reason or proof, Or offer valiant counsel on another’s behalf.”

“Those with such noble souls stand out for their childish appearance. In a court of law, you could not present a case or offer any argument or evidence. Nor could you give courageous advice on someone else’s behalf.”

And you must not be offended, my dear Socrates, for I am speaking out of good-will towards you, if I ask whether you are not ashamed of being thus defenceless; which I affirm to be the condition not of you only but of all those who will carry the study of philosophy too far. For suppose that some one were to take you, or any one of your sort, off to prison, declaring that you had done wrong when you had done no wrong, you must allow that you would not know what to do:—there you would stand giddy and gaping, and not having a word to say; and when you went up before the Court, even if the accuser were a poor creature and not good for much, you would die if he were disposed to claim the penalty of death. And yet, Socrates, what is the value of

And you must not be offended, my dear Socrates, if I ask whether you are ashamed of being so defenseless. I ask out of goodwill toward you. I say that not only you but all who take the study of philosophy too far are defenseless. Suppose someone took you, or anyone like you, off to prison, accusing you of wrongdoing when you had done nothing wrong. You must admit that you would not know what to do. You would stand there dazed, with your mouth hanging open, unable to say a word. And when you appeared in court, even a weak and worthless accuser could secure your death. You would die if he chose to demand the death penalty. And yet, Socrates, what is the value of

“An art which converts a man of sense into a fool,”

“An art that turns a sensible man into a fool,”

who is helpless, and has no power to save either himself or others, when he is in the greatest danger and is going to be despoiled by his enemies of all his goods, and has to live, simply deprived of his rights of citizenship?—he being a man who, if I may use the expression, may be boxed on the ears with impunity. Then, my good friend, take my advice, and refute no more:

who is helpless and cannot save himself or others when he is in the greatest danger? His enemies are about to rob him of all his possessions, and he must live stripped of his citizenship rights. If I may put it this way, anyone can slap him in the face without being punished. So, my good friend, take my advice and stop trying to refute others:

“Learn the philosophy of business, and acquire the reputation of wisdom. But leave to others these niceties,”

“Learn the philosophy of practical affairs and gain a reputation for wisdom. But leave these fine points to others,”

whether they are to be described as follies or absurdities:

whether to call them foolish or absurd:

“For they will only Give you poverty for the inmate of your dwelling.”

“For they will only bring poverty into your home.”

Cease, then, emulating these paltry splitters of words, and emulate only the man of substance and honour, who is well to do.

Stop copying these petty word-splitters, then. Follow only the example of a wealthy man of substance and honor.

SOCRATES: If my soul, Callicles, were made of gold, should I not rejoice to discover one of those stones with which they test gold, and the very best possible one to which I might bring my soul; and if the stone and I agreed in approving of her training, then I should know that I was in a satisfactory state, and that no other test was needed by me.

SOCRATES: Callicles, if my soul were made of gold, wouldn’t I be delighted to find a stone used to test gold? Wouldn’t I want the very best stone to test my soul? And if the stone and I agreed that my soul had been properly trained, I would know my soul was in good condition. I would need no further test.

CALLICLES: What is your meaning, Socrates?

CALLICLES: What do you mean, Socrates?

SOCRATES: I will tell you; I think that I have found in you the desired touchstone.

SOCRATES: I'll tell you. I think you're the touchstone I've been looking for.

CALLICLES: Why?

SOCRATES: Because I am sure that if you agree with me in any of the opinions which my soul forms, I have at last found the truth indeed. For I consider that if a man is to make a complete trial of the good or evil of the soul, he ought to have three qualities—knowledge, good-will, outspokenness, which are all possessed by you. Many whom I meet are unable to make trial of me, because they are not wise as you are; others are wise, but they will not tell me the truth, because they have not the same interest in me which you have; and these two strangers, Gorgias and Polus, are undoubtedly wise men and my very good friends, but they are not outspoken enough, and they are too modest. Why, their modesty is so great that they are driven to contradict themselves, first one and then the other of them, in the face of a large company, on matters of the highest moment. But you have all the qualities in which these others are deficient, having received an excellent education; to this many Athenians can testify. And you are my friend. Shall I tell you why I think so? I know that you, Callicles, and Tisander of Aphidnae, and Andron the son of Androtion, and Nausicydes of the deme of Cholarges, studied together: there were four of you, and I once heard you advising with one another as to the extent to which the pursuit of philosophy should be carried, and, as I know, you came to the conclusion that the study should not be pushed too much into detail. You were cautioning one another not to be overwise; you were afraid that too much wisdom might unconsciously to yourselves be the ruin of you. And now when I hear you giving the same advice to me which you then gave to your most intimate friends, I have a sufficient evidence of your real good-will to me. And of the frankness of your nature and freedom from modesty I am assured by yourself, and the assurance is confirmed by your last speech. Well then, the inference in the present case clearly is, that if you agree with me in an argument about any point, that point will have been sufficiently tested by us, and will not require to be submitted to any further test. For you could not have agreed with me, either from lack of knowledge or from superfluity of modesty, nor yet from a desire to deceive me, for you are my friend, as you tell me yourself. And therefore when you and I are agreed, the result will be the attainment of perfect truth. Now there is no nobler enquiry, Callicles, than that which you censure me for making,—What ought the character of a man to be, and what his pursuits, and how far is he to go, both in maturer years and in youth? For be assured that if I err in my own conduct I do not err intentionally, but from ignorance. Do not then desist from advising me, now that you have begun, until I have learned clearly what this is which I am to practise, and how I may acquire it. And if you find me assenting to your words, and hereafter not doing that to which I assented, call me “dolt,” and deem me unworthy of receiving further instruction. Once more, then, tell me what you and Pindar mean by natural justice: Do you not mean that the superior should take the property of the inferior by force; that the better should rule the worse, the noble have more than the mean? Am I not right in my recollection?

SOCRATES: Because I am sure that if you agree with any opinion I hold, I have finally found the truth. To fully test whether a soul is good or bad, I believe a person needs three qualities. These are knowledge, goodwill, and frankness, and you possess all three. Many people I meet cannot put me to the test because they are not as wise as you. Others are wise but will not tell me the truth because they do not care about me as you do. These two strangers, Gorgias and Polus, are certainly wise men and very good friends of mine. But they are not frank enough, and they are too easily embarrassed. Indeed, their embarrassment makes them contradict themselves, one after the other, before a large gathering on matters of the greatest importance. But you have all the qualities the others lack. You have received an excellent education, as many Athenians can testify. And you are my friend. Shall I tell you why I think so? I know that you, Callicles, studied with Tisander of Aphidnae, Andron the son of Androtion, and Nausicydes of the deme of Cholarges. There were four of you. I once heard you discussing how far the study of philosophy should go. And I know you concluded that the subject should not be studied in too much detail. You warned one another against becoming too wise. You feared that too much wisdom might ruin you without your realizing it. Now I hear you giving me the same advice you gave your closest friends. So I have enough evidence that you truly wish me well. You yourself assure me that you are frank and not easily embarrassed. Your last speech confirms that assurance. So the conclusion here is clear. If you agree with me on any point in our argument, we will have tested that point thoroughly enough. We will not need to test it further. For you could not have agreed through lack of knowledge or excessive embarrassment. Nor could you have agreed because you wanted to deceive me, since you are my friend, as you yourself say. So when you and I agree, we will have reached the complete truth. Now, Callicles, no inquiry is nobler than the one you criticize me for pursuing. What sort of person should a man be? What should he pursue, and how far should he go, both in adulthood and in youth? For you can be sure that if I act wrongly, I do so not deliberately but out of ignorance. So now that you have begun advising me, do not stop. Continue until I clearly understand what I should practice and how I can learn it. And if you find that I agree with your words but later fail to act accordingly, call me “dolt.” Consider me unworthy of any further instruction. So tell me once again what you and Pindar mean by natural justice. Do you mean that the superior should seize the property of the inferior by force? That the better should rule the worse, and the noble should have more than the lowly? Am I remembering correctly?

CALLICLES: Yes; that is what I was saying, and so I still aver.

CALLICLES: Yes, that's what I was saying, and I still stand by it.

SOCRATES: And do you mean by the better the same as the superior? for I could not make out what you were saying at the time—whether you meant by the superior the stronger, and that the weaker must obey the stronger, as you seemed to imply when you said that great cities attack small ones in accordance with natural right, because they are superior and stronger, as though the superior and stronger and better were the same; or whether the better may be also the inferior and weaker, and the superior the worse, or whether better is to be defined in the same way as superior:—this is the point which I want to have cleared up. Are the superior and better and stronger the same or different?

SOCRATES: And do you mean the same thing by better and superior? I couldn't tell what you meant at the time. Did you mean that the superior are the stronger, and that the weaker must obey the stronger? You seemed to suggest this when you said that great cities attack small ones by natural right. You said this was because the great cities are superior and stronger, as if superior, stronger, and better all meant the same thing. Or can the better also be inferior and weaker, and the superior be worse? Or does better mean the same thing as superior? That is what I want to clear up. Are superior, better, and stronger the same or different?

CALLICLES: I say unequivocally that they are the same.

CALLICLES: I say without a doubt that they are the same.

SOCRATES: Then the many are by nature superior to the one, against whom, as you were saying, they make the laws?

SOCRATES: So the many are naturally superior to the individual? And, as you said, the many make laws against that individual?

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: Then the laws of the many are the laws of the superior?

SOCRATES: So the laws of the majority are the laws of those who are superior?

CALLICLES: Very true.

CALLICLES: Absolutely true.

SOCRATES: Then they are the laws of the better; for the superior class are far better, as you were saying?

SOCRATES: Then these are the laws of better people? After all, the superior class is far better, as you said.

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And since they are superior, the laws which are made by them are by nature good?

SOCRATES: And since they are superior, are the laws they make naturally good?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And are not the many of opinion, as you were lately saying, that justice is equality, and that to do is more disgraceful than to suffer injustice?—is that so or not? Answer, Callicles, and let no modesty be found to come in the way; do the many think, or do they not think thus?—I must beg of you to answer, in order that if you agree with me I may fortify myself by the assent of so competent an authority.

SOCRATES: And don't most people believe, as you were saying earlier, that justice is equality? And don't they believe that doing injustice is more shameful than suffering it? Is that so or not? Answer, Callicles, and don't let modesty get in the way. Do most people believe these things or not? I must ask you to answer so that, if you agree, I can strengthen my position with your support. You are such a qualified authority.

CALLICLES: Yes; the opinion of the many is what you say.

CALLICLES: Yes, most people think as you say.

SOCRATES: Then not only custom but nature also affirms that to do is more disgraceful than to suffer injustice, and that justice is equality; so that you seem to have been wrong in your former assertion, when accusing me you said that nature and custom are opposed, and that I, knowing this, was dishonestly playing between them, appealing to custom when the argument is about nature, and to nature when the argument is about custom?

SOCRATES: Then both custom and nature say that doing injustice is more shameful than suffering it, and that justice is equality. So you seem to have been wrong in your earlier claim, when you accused me. You said that nature and custom are opposed, and that I knew they were opposed. You accused me of dishonestly switching between them. You said I appealed to custom when the argument concerned nature, and to nature when the argument concerned custom, right?

CALLICLES: This man will never cease talking nonsense. At your age, Socrates, are you not ashamed to be catching at words and chuckling over some verbal slip? do you not see—have I not told you already, that by superior I mean better: do you imagine me to say, that if a rabble of slaves and nondescripts, who are of no use except perhaps for their physical strength, get together, their ipsissima verba are laws?

CALLICLES: This man will never stop talking nonsense. At your age, Socrates, aren't you ashamed to pick at words and chuckle over some slip of the tongue? Don't you see? Haven't I already told you that by superior I mean better? Do you think I mean that if a mob of slaves and nobodies gathers, their very words become laws? Such people are useless except perhaps for their physical strength.

SOCRATES: Ho! my philosopher, is that your line?

SOCRATES: Oh! My philosopher, is that your approach?

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: I was thinking, Callicles, that something of the kind must have been in your mind, and that is why I repeated the question,—What is the superior? I wanted to know clearly what you meant; for you surely do not think that two men are better than one, or that your slaves are better than you because they are stronger? Then please to begin again, and tell me who the better are, if they are not the stronger; and I will ask you, great Sir, to be a little milder in your instructions, or I shall have to run away from you.

SOCRATES: I thought, Callicles, that you must have had something like that in mind. That is why I repeated the question: Who is superior? I wanted to understand clearly what you meant. Surely you do not think two men are better than one, or your slaves better than you because they are stronger? So please start again and tell me who the better people are, if they are not the stronger ones. And, great sir, please be a little gentler when you teach me, or I shall have to run away from you.

CALLICLES: You are ironical.

CALLICLES: You're being ironic.

SOCRATES: No, by the hero Zethus, Callicles, by whose aid you were just now saying many ironical things against me, I am not:—tell me, then, whom you mean, by the better?

SOCRATES: No, Callicles, by the hero Zethus, I am not. You were just using him to help you make so many sarcastic remarks about me. Tell me, then, who do you mean by the better?

CALLICLES: I mean the more excellent.

CALLICLES: I mean the better ones.

SOCRATES: Do you not see that you are yourself using words which have no meaning and that you are explaining nothing?—will you tell me whether you mean by the better and superior the wiser, or if not, whom?

SOCRATES: Don't you see that you yourself are using meaningless words and explaining nothing? Will you tell me whether by better and superior you mean wiser? If not, who do you mean?

CALLICLES: Most assuredly, I do mean the wiser.

CALLICLES: Yes, I definitely mean the wiser.

SOCRATES: Then according to you, one wise man may often be superior to ten thousand fools, and he ought to rule them, and they ought to be his subjects, and he ought to have more than they should. This is what I believe that you mean (and you must not suppose that I am word-catching), if you allow that the one is superior to the ten thousand?

SOCRATES: So, according to you, one wise man may often be superior to ten thousand fools? And he ought to rule them, and they ought to be his subjects. And he ought to have more than they should. I believe this is what you mean, if you agree that one man is superior to ten thousand. (And you must not think I am trying to catch you out over your words.)

CALLICLES: Yes; that is what I mean, and that is what I conceive to be natural justice—that the better and wiser should rule and have more than the inferior.

CALLICLES: Yes, that is what I mean. And I believe natural justice means that the better and wiser should rule and have more than their inferiors.

SOCRATES: Stop there, and let me ask you what you would say in this case: Let us suppose that we are all together as we are now; there are several of us, and we have a large common store of meats and drinks, and there are all sorts of persons in our company having various degrees of strength and weakness, and one of us, being a physician, is wiser in the matter of food than all the rest, and he is probably stronger than some and not so strong as others of us—will he not, being wiser, be also better than we are, and our superior in this matter of food?

SOCRATES: Stop there, and let me ask what you would say in this case. Suppose we are all together, as we are now. There are several of us, and we share a large supply of food and drink. Our group includes all sorts of people, with different levels of strength and weakness. One of us is a doctor who knows more about food than all the rest. He is probably stronger than some of us and weaker than others. Since he knows more, wouldn't he also be better than us and our superior when it comes to food?

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: Either, then, he will have a larger share of the meats and drinks, because he is better, or he will have the distribution of all of them by reason of his authority, but he will not expend or make use of a larger share of them on his own person, or if he does, he will be punished;—his share will exceed that of some, and be less than that of others, and if he be the weakest of all, he being the best of all will have the smallest share of all, Callicles:—am I not right, my friend?

SOCRATES: Then either he will get a larger share of food and drink because he is better. Or his authority will let him distribute all the food and drink. But he will not use or consume a larger share himself. If he does, he will be punished. His share will be larger than some people's and smaller than others'. And if he is the weakest of all, he will get the smallest share, despite being the best of all. Am I not right, my friend Callicles?

CALLICLES: You talk about meats and drinks and physicians and other nonsense; I am not speaking of them.

CALLICLES: You talk about food and drink and doctors and other nonsense. I’m not talking about those things.

SOCRATES: Well, but do you admit that the wiser is the better? Answer “Yes” or “No.”

SOCRATES: Well, but do you agree that the wiser person is the better person? Answer “Yes” or “No.”

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And ought not the better to have a larger share?

SOCRATES: And shouldn't those who are better get a larger share?

CALLICLES: Not of meats and drinks.

CALLICLES: Not of food and drink.

SOCRATES: I understand: then, perhaps, of coats—the skilfullest weaver ought to have the largest coat, and the greatest number of them, and go about clothed in the best and finest of them?

SOCRATES: I understand. Then perhaps, when it comes to coats, the most skilled weaver should have the largest coat? And the most coats, and go around wearing the best and finest of them?

CALLICLES: Fudge about coats!

CALLICLES: What nonsense about coats!

SOCRATES: Then the skilfullest and best in making shoes ought to have the advantage in shoes; the shoemaker, clearly, should walk about in the largest shoes, and have the greatest number of them?

SOCRATES: Then the most skilled and best shoemaker ought to have the advantage when it comes to shoes? Clearly, the shoemaker should walk around in the largest shoes and have the most pairs?

CALLICLES: Fudge about shoes! What nonsense are you talking?

CALLICLES: Enough nonsense about shoes! What nonsense are you talking about?

SOCRATES: Or, if this is not your meaning, perhaps you would say that the wise and good and true husbandman should actually have a larger share of seeds, and have as much seed as possible for his own land?

SOCRATES: Or, if you mean something else, perhaps you would say a wise, good, and truly skilled farmer should actually get a larger share of seeds? And should he have as much seed as possible for his own land?

CALLICLES: How you go on, always talking in the same way, Socrates!

CALLICLES: You go on and on, always talking the same way, Socrates!

SOCRATES: Yes, Callicles, and also about the same things.

SOCRATES: Yes, Callicles, and about the same things too.

CALLICLES: Yes, by the Gods, you are literally always talking of cobblers and fullers and cooks and doctors, as if this had to do with our argument.

CALLICLES: Yes, by the Gods! You are literally always talking about shoemakers, cloth cleaners, cooks, and doctors, as if those trades had anything to do with our argument.

SOCRATES: But why will you not tell me in what a man must be superior and wiser in order to claim a larger share; will you neither accept a suggestion, nor offer one?

SOCRATES: But why won’t you say what a man must be better and wiser at to claim a larger share? Will you neither accept a suggestion nor offer one?

CALLICLES: I have already told you. In the first place, I mean by superiors not cobblers or cooks, but wise politicians who understand the administration of a state, and who are not only wise, but also valiant and able to carry out their designs, and not the men to faint from want of soul.

CALLICLES: I have already told you. First, by superior people I don't mean shoemakers or cooks. I mean wise politicians who understand how to run a state. These politicians are not only wise but also brave and able to carry out their plans. They are not men who give up because they lack courage.

SOCRATES: See now, most excellent Callicles, how different my charge against you is from that which you bring against me, for you reproach me with always saying the same; but I reproach you with never saying the same about the same things, for at one time you were defining the better and the superior to be the stronger, then again as the wiser, and now you bring forward a new notion; the superior and the better are now declared by you to be the more courageous: I wish, my good friend, that you would tell me, once for all, whom you affirm to be the better and superior, and in what they are better?

SOCRATES: Now look, my excellent Callicles, at how different my criticism of you is from your criticism of me. You accuse me of always saying the same thing. But I accuse you of never saying the same thing about the same subjects. First, you defined the better and superior as the stronger. Then you defined them as the wiser. Now you introduce a new idea: the superior and better are the more courageous. My good friend, I wish you would tell me once and for all who you consider better and superior. And in what ways are they better?

CALLICLES: I have already told you that I mean those who are wise and courageous in the administration of a state—they ought to be the rulers of their states, and justice consists in their having more than their subjects.

CALLICLES: I have already told you I mean people who are wise and courageous in governing a state. They should rule their states, and justice means these rulers should have more than their subjects.

SOCRATES: But whether rulers or subjects will they or will they not have more than themselves, my friend?

SOCRATES: But whether they rule or are ruled, will they have more than themselves, my friend?

CALLICLES: What do you mean?

SOCRATES: I mean that every man is his own ruler; but perhaps you think that there is no necessity for him to rule himself; he is only required to rule others?

SOCRATES: I mean that every man rules himself. But perhaps you think a man doesn't need to rule himself and only needs to rule others?

CALLICLES: What do you mean by his “ruling over himself”?

CALLICLES: What do you mean by him “controlling himself”?

SOCRATES: A simple thing enough; just what is commonly said, that a man should be temperate and master of himself, and ruler of his own pleasures and passions.

SOCRATES: It's simple enough. As people commonly say, a man should practice moderation and control himself, his pleasures, and his passions.

CALLICLES: What innocence! you mean those fools,—the temperate?

CALLICLES: How naive! You mean those fools, the self-controlled people?

SOCRATES: Certainly:—any one may know that to be my meaning.

SOCRATES: Certainly. Anyone can tell that’s what I mean.

CALLICLES: Quite so, Socrates; and they are really fools, for how can a man be happy who is the servant of anything? On the contrary, I plainly assert, that he who would truly live ought to allow his desires to wax to the uttermost, and not to chastise them; but when they have grown to their greatest he should have courage and intelligence to minister to them and to satisfy all his longings. And this I affirm to be natural justice and nobility. To this however the many cannot attain; and they blame the strong man because they are ashamed of their own weakness, which they desire to conceal, and hence they say that intemperance is base. As I have remarked already, they enslave the nobler natures, and being unable to satisfy their pleasures, they praise temperance and justice out of their own cowardice. For if a man had been originally the son of a king, or had a nature capable of acquiring an empire or a tyranny or sovereignty, what could be more truly base or evil than temperance—to a man like him, I say, who might freely be enjoying every good, and has no one to stand in his way, and yet has admitted custom and reason and the opinion of other men to be lords over him?—must not he be in a miserable plight whom the reputation of justice and temperance hinders from giving more to his friends than to his enemies, even though he be a ruler in his city? Nay, Socrates, for you profess to be a votary of the truth, and the truth is this:—that luxury and intemperance and licence, if they be provided with means, are virtue and happiness—all the rest is a mere bauble, agreements contrary to nature, foolish talk of men, nothing worth. (Compare Republic.)

CALLICLES: Exactly, Socrates. And they really are fools, because how can a man be happy if he serves anything? On the contrary, I firmly maintain that anyone who wants to truly live should let his desires grow without restraint. He should not discipline them. But once his desires reach their height, he should have the courage and intelligence to serve them and satisfy every longing. This, I say, is justice and nobility according to nature. Most people, however, cannot achieve this. They blame the strong man because they are ashamed of their own weakness and want to hide it. That is why they say a lack of self-control is shameful. As I have already said, they enslave nobler people. And because they cannot satisfy their own desires, their cowardice leads them to praise self-control and justice. Suppose a man was born a king’s son, or had the natural ability to gain an empire or absolute rule. For such a man, what could be more shameful or harmful than self-control? He could freely enjoy every good thing, with no one standing in his way. Yet he has allowed custom, reason, and other people’s opinions to become his masters. Even as ruler of his city, he cannot give more to his friends than to his enemies. His concern for a reputation for justice and self-control prevents him. Must he not be miserable? No, Socrates, you claim to be devoted to the truth, and here is the truth. Luxury, lack of self-control, and freedom from restraint are virtue and happiness, provided you have the means to support them. Everything else is a worthless trinket, agreements that go against nature, foolish human talk worth nothing. (Compare Republic.)

SOCRATES: There is a noble freedom, Callicles, in your way of approaching the argument; for what you say is what the rest of the world think, but do not like to say. And I must beg of you to persevere, that the true rule of human life may become manifest. Tell me, then:—you say, do you not, that in the rightly-developed man the passions ought not to be controlled, but that we should let them grow to the utmost and somehow or other satisfy them, and that this is virtue?

SOCRATES: There is a noble freedom in how you approach the argument, Callicles. You say what everyone else thinks but does not like to say. And I must ask you to keep going, so that the true rule for human life may become clear. Tell me, then: you say that a properly developed man should not control his passions, do you not? Instead, we should let our passions grow as strong as possible and somehow satisfy them. And you say that living this way is virtue?

CALLICLES: Yes; I do.

CALLICLES: Yes, I do.

SOCRATES: Then those who want nothing are not truly said to be happy?

SOCRATES: Then we can't truly call people who need nothing happy?

CALLICLES: No indeed, for then stones and dead men would be the happiest of all.

CALLICLES: Of course not, because then stones and dead men would be the happiest of all.

SOCRATES: But surely life according to your view is an awful thing; and indeed I think that Euripides may have been right in saying,

SOCRATES: But surely life, as you see it, is a terrible thing. And I do think Euripides may have been right when he said,

“Who knows if life be not death and death life;”

“Who knows if life is really death and death is life?”

and that we are very likely dead; I have heard a philosopher say that at this moment we are actually dead, and that the body (soma) is our tomb (sema (compare Phaedr.)), and that the part of the soul which is the seat of the desires is liable to be tossed about by words and blown up and down; and some ingenious person, probably a Sicilian or an Italian, playing with the word, invented a tale in which he called the soul—because of its believing and make-believe nature—a vessel (An untranslatable pun,—dia to pithanon te kai pistikon onomase pithon.), and the ignorant he called the uninitiated or leaky, and the place in the souls of the uninitiated in which the desires are seated, being the intemperate and incontinent part, he compared to a vessel full of holes, because it can never be satisfied. He is not of your way of thinking, Callicles, for he declares, that of all the souls in Hades, meaning the invisible world (aeides), these uninitiated or leaky persons are the most miserable, and that they pour water into a vessel which is full of holes out of a colander which is similarly perforated. The colander, as my informer assures me, is the soul, and the soul which he compares to a colander is the soul of the ignorant, which is likewise full of holes, and therefore incontinent, owing to a bad memory and want of faith. These notions are strange enough, but they show the principle which, if I can, I would fain prove to you; that you should change your mind, and, instead of the intemperate and insatiate life, choose that which is orderly and sufficient and has a due provision for daily needs. Do I make any impression on you, and are you coming over to the opinion that the orderly are happier than the intemperate? Or do I fail to persuade you, and, however many tales I rehearse to you, do you continue of the same opinion still?

and that we are very likely dead. I have heard a philosopher say that we are actually dead right now. He said the body (soma) is our tomb (sema (compare Phaedr.)). He also said the part of the soul where desires live can be tossed about by words, blown up and down. Some clever person, probably a Sicilian or an Italian, played on these words and invented a story. He called the soul a vessel because of its tendency to believe and make believe. (An untranslatable pun, dia to pithanon te kai pistikon onomase pithon.) He called ignorant people uninitiated or leaky. He compared the part of their souls where desires live to a vessel full of holes. This part lacks moderation and self-control, and he used this comparison because it can never be satisfied. He does not think as you do, Callicles. He says these uninitiated or leaky people are the most miserable of all the souls in Hades. By Hades he means the invisible world (aeides). They pour water into a vessel full of holes, using a colander that is also full of holes. The colander, as the person who told me this assures me, is the soul. The soul compared to a colander is the soul of an ignorant person. That soul, too, is full of holes and therefore cannot hold anything, because of poor memory and lack of faith. These ideas are strange enough. But they illustrate the principle I would like to prove to you, if I can. I want you to change your mind. Instead of a life without restraint or satisfaction, choose an orderly life, with enough to meet your daily needs. Am I making any impression on you? Are you coming around to the view that orderly people are happier than those who lack restraint? Or am I failing to persuade you? However many stories I tell you, do you still hold the same opinion?

CALLICLES: The latter, Socrates, is more like the truth.

CALLICLES: The second option is closer to the truth, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Well, I will tell you another image, which comes out of the same school:—Let me request you to consider how far you would accept this as an account of the two lives of the temperate and intemperate in a figure:—There are two men, both of whom have a number of casks; the one man has his casks sound and full, one of wine, another of honey, and a third of milk, besides others filled with other liquids, and the streams which fill them are few and scanty, and he can only obtain them with a great deal of toil and difficulty; but when his casks are once filled he has no need to feed them any more, and has no further trouble with them or care about them. The other, in like manner, can procure streams, though not without difficulty; but his vessels are leaky and unsound, and night and day he is compelled to be filling them, and if he pauses for a moment, he is in an agony of pain. Such are their respective lives:—And now would you say that the life of the intemperate is happier than that of the temperate? Do I not convince you that the opposite is the truth?

SOCRATES: Well, I will give you another image from the same school of thought. Consider how far you would accept this picture of two lives: one self-controlled, the other uncontrolled. There are two men, each with several casks. The first man's casks are sound and full. One holds wine, another honey, a third milk, and the others hold other liquids. The streams supplying these liquids are few and meager, and he can obtain the liquids only with great effort and difficulty. But once his casks are full, he no longer needs to keep filling them. He has no more trouble with them and need not worry about them. The other man can likewise obtain supplies of these liquids, though not without difficulty. But his casks are leaky and damaged, and he must keep filling them day and night. If he stops for even a moment, he suffers agonizing pain. Such are the lives of these two men. Now, would you say that the man without self-control lives more happily than the man with self-control? Have I not convinced you that the opposite is true?

CALLICLES: You do not convince me, Socrates, for the one who has filled himself has no longer any pleasure left; and this, as I was just now saying, is the life of a stone: he has neither joy nor sorrow after he is once filled; but the pleasure depends on the superabundance of the influx.

CALLICLES: You do not convince me, Socrates, because someone who has filled himself no longer has any pleasure left. As I was just saying, that is the life of a stone. Once he is filled, he feels neither joy nor sorrow. But pleasure depends on more and more flowing in.

SOCRATES: But the more you pour in, the greater the waste; and the holes must be large for the liquid to escape.

SOCRATES: But the more you pour in, the more you waste. And the holes must be large for the liquid to escape.

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: The life which you are now depicting is not that of a dead man, or of a stone, but of a cormorant; you mean that he is to be hungering and eating?

SOCRATES: The life you’re describing isn’t the life of a dead man or a stone, but of a cormorant. Do you mean he is to keep getting hungry and eating?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And he is to be thirsting and drinking?

SOCRATES: And is he to be thirsty and drinking?

CALLICLES: Yes, that is what I mean; he is to have all his desires about him, and to be able to live happily in the gratification of them.

CALLICLES: Yes, that is what I mean. He should have all his desires and be able to live happily by satisfying them.

SOCRATES: Capital, excellent; go on as you have begun, and have no shame; I, too, must disencumber myself of shame: and first, will you tell me whether you include itching and scratching, provided you have enough of them and pass your life in scratching, in your notion of happiness?

SOCRATES: Wonderful, excellent. Go on as you have begun, and don't be ashamed. I, too, must put aside my shame. First, tell me: does your idea of happiness include itching and scratching, provided you have plenty of both and spend your life scratching?

CALLICLES: What a strange being you are, Socrates! a regular mob-orator.

CALLICLES: What a strange person you are, Socrates! You're a real rabble-rouser.

SOCRATES: That was the reason, Callicles, why I scared Polus and Gorgias, until they were too modest to say what they thought; but you will not be too modest and will not be scared, for you are a brave man. And now, answer my question.

SOCRATES: That was why I scared Polus and Gorgias, Callicles, until they were too embarrassed to say what they thought. But you won't be too embarrassed or scared, because you're a brave man. Now answer my question.

CALLICLES: I answer, that even the scratcher would live pleasantly.

CALLICLES: My answer is that even someone scratching themselves would live pleasantly.

SOCRATES: And if pleasantly, then also happily?

SOCRATES: And if pleasantly, then happily too?

CALLICLES: To be sure.

CALLICLES: Of course.

SOCRATES: But what if the itching is not confined to the head? Shall I pursue the question? And here, Callicles, I would have you consider how you would reply if consequences are pressed upon you, especially if in the last resort you are asked, whether the life of a catamite is not terrible, foul, miserable? Or would you venture to say, that they too are happy, if they only get enough of what they want?

SOCRATES: But what if the itching is not limited to the head? Should I take the question further? And here, Callicles, consider how you would answer if someone pressed you on the consequences of your argument. Suppose, in the end, you were asked whether a catamite’s life is terrible, filthy, and miserable. Or would you dare say that catamites too are happy, if only they get enough of what they want?

CALLICLES: Are you not ashamed, Socrates, of introducing such topics into the argument?

CALLICLES: Aren’t you ashamed, Socrates, to bring up such topics in the argument?

SOCRATES: Well, my fine friend, but am I the introducer of these topics, or he who says without any qualification that all who feel pleasure in whatever manner are happy, and who admits of no distinction between good and bad pleasures? And I would still ask, whether you say that pleasure and good are the same, or whether there is some pleasure which is not a good?

SOCRATES: Well, my fine friend, am I the one bringing up these topics? Or is it the person who says, without qualification, that all who feel pleasure are happy, however they feel pleasure? That person also makes no distinction between good and bad pleasures. And I would still ask: do you say that pleasure and goodness are the same? Or is there some pleasure that is not good?

CALLICLES: Well, then, for the sake of consistency, I will say that they are the same.

CALLICLES: Well, then, to stay consistent, I'll say they're the same.

SOCRATES: You are breaking the original agreement, Callicles, and will no longer be a satisfactory companion in the search after truth, if you say what is contrary to your real opinion.

SOCRATES: You are breaking our original agreement, Callicles, if you say the opposite of what you really think. If you do, you will no longer be a suitable partner in the search for truth.

CALLICLES: Why, that is what you are doing too, Socrates.

CALLICLES: Well, you're doing the same thing, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Then we are both doing wrong. Still, my dear friend, I would ask you to consider whether pleasure, from whatever source derived, is the good; for, if this be true, then the disagreeable consequences which have been darkly intimated must follow, and many others.

SOCRATES: Then we are both doing wrong. Still, my dear friend, consider whether pleasure is the good, no matter where the pleasure comes from. For if pleasure is the good, the unpleasant consequences already hinted at must follow, along with many others.

CALLICLES: That, Socrates, is only your opinion.

CALLICLES: That’s just your opinion, Socrates.

SOCRATES: And do you, Callicles, seriously maintain what you are saying?

SOCRATES: And do you really mean what you're saying, Callicles?

CALLICLES: Indeed I do.

CALLICLES: Yes, I do.

SOCRATES: Then, as you are in earnest, shall we proceed with the argument?

SOCRATES: Then, since you're serious, shall we continue the argument?

CALLICLES: By all means. (Or, “I am in profound earnest.”)

CALLICLES: Absolutely. (Or, “I am completely serious.”)

SOCRATES: Well, if you are willing to proceed, determine this question for me:—There is something, I presume, which you would call knowledge?

SOCRATES: Well, if you are willing to continue, answer this question for me: There is something you call knowledge, I assume?

CALLICLES: There is.

SOCRATES: And were you not saying just now, that some courage implied knowledge?

SOCRATES: And weren't you just saying that some courage involves knowledge?

CALLICLES: I was.

SOCRATES: And you were speaking of courage and knowledge as two things different from one another?

SOCRATES: And you were saying that courage and knowledge are two different things?

CALLICLES: Certainly I was.

CALLICLES: I certainly was.

SOCRATES: And would you say that pleasure and knowledge are the same, or not the same?

SOCRATES: And would you say pleasure and knowledge are the same or different?

CALLICLES: Not the same, O man of wisdom.

CALLICLES: Not the same, wise man.

SOCRATES: And would you say that courage differed from pleasure?

SOCRATES: And would you say that courage is different from pleasure?

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: Well, then, let us remember that Callicles, the Acharnian, says that pleasure and good are the same; but that knowledge and courage are not the same, either with one another, or with the good.

SOCRATES: Well, then, let us remember what Callicles, the Acharnian, says. Pleasure and good are the same. But knowledge and courage are different from each other, and neither is the same as good.

CALLICLES: And what does our friend Socrates, of Foxton, say—does he assent to this, or not?

CALLICLES: And what does our friend Socrates of Foxton say? Does he agree with this or not?

SOCRATES: He does not assent; neither will Callicles, when he sees himself truly. You will admit, I suppose, that good and evil fortune are opposed to each other?

SOCRATES: He does not agree. Nor will Callicles when he sees himself as he truly is. You will agree, I suppose, that good fortune and bad fortune are opposites?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And if they are opposed to each other, then, like health and disease, they exclude one another; a man cannot have them both, or be without them both, at the same time?

SOCRATES: And if they are opposites, then, like health and disease, they rule each other out, don’t they? So a person cannot have both at once or lack both at once, can they?

CALLICLES: What do you mean?

SOCRATES: Take the case of any bodily affection:—a man may have the complaint in his eyes which is called ophthalmia?

SOCRATES: Consider any physical ailment. A man may have an eye condition called ophthalmia?

CALLICLES: To be sure.

CALLICLES: Of course.

SOCRATES: But he surely cannot have the same eyes well and sound at the same time?

SOCRATES: But surely he can't have those same eyes healthy and sound at the same time?

CALLICLES: Certainly not.

CALLICLES: Definitely not.

SOCRATES: And when he has got rid of his ophthalmia, has he got rid of the health of his eyes too? Is the final result, that he gets rid of them both together?

SOCRATES: And when he gets rid of his eye inflammation, does he lose his eyes’ health too? Does he end up losing both the inflammation and his eyes’ health at the same time?

CALLICLES: Certainly not.

CALLICLES: Definitely not.

SOCRATES: That would surely be marvellous and absurd?

SOCRATES: Surely that would be astonishing and absurd?

CALLICLES: Very.

SOCRATES: I suppose that he is affected by them, and gets rid of them in turns?

SOCRATES: I suppose he alternates between being affected by them and getting rid of them?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And he may have strength and weakness in the same way, by fits?

SOCRATES: And in the same way, may he be strong at some times and weak at others?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: Or swiftness and slowness?

SOCRATES: Or speed and slowness?

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And does he have and not have good and happiness, and their opposites, evil and misery, in a similar alternation? (Compare Republic.)

SOCRATES: And does he similarly alternate between having and lacking good and happiness, and their opposites, evil and misery? (Compare Republic.)

CALLICLES: Certainly he has.

CALLICLES: He certainly has.

SOCRATES: If then there be anything which a man has and has not at the same time, clearly that cannot be good and evil—do we agree? Please not to answer without consideration.

SOCRATES: So if a man can both have and lack something at the same time, it clearly cannot be good or evil. Do we agree? Please think carefully before answering.

CALLICLES: I entirely agree.

CALLICLES: I completely agree.

SOCRATES: Go back now to our former admissions.—Did you say that to hunger, I mean the mere state of hunger, was pleasant or painful?

SOCRATES: Let's return to what we agreed on earlier. Did you say being hungry was pleasant or painful? I mean just the state of being hungry.

CALLICLES: I said painful, but that to eat when you are hungry is pleasant.

CALLICLES: I said painful, but eating when you're hungry is pleasant.

SOCRATES: I know; but still the actual hunger is painful: am I not right?

SOCRATES: I know, but the hunger itself is still painful. Am I right?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And thirst, too, is painful?

SOCRATES: And is thirst painful too?

CALLICLES: Yes, very.

SOCRATES: Need I adduce any more instances, or would you agree that all wants or desires are painful?

SOCRATES: Do I need to give more examples, or would you agree that all wants or desires are painful?

CALLICLES: I agree, and therefore you need not adduce any more instances.

CALLICLES: I agree, so you don't need to give any more examples.

SOCRATES: Very good. And you would admit that to drink, when you are thirsty, is pleasant?

SOCRATES: Very good. And would you agree that drinking when you're thirsty is pleasant?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And in the sentence which you have just uttered, the word “thirsty” implies pain?

SOCRATES: And in what you just said, does the word “thirsty” imply pain?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And the word “drinking” is expressive of pleasure, and of the satisfaction of the want?

SOCRATES: And does the word “drinking” express pleasure and the satisfaction of a need?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: There is pleasure in drinking?

SOCRATES: Is drinking pleasurable?

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: When you are thirsty?

SOCRATES: When you're thirsty?

SOCRATES: And in pain?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: Do you see the inference:—that pleasure and pain are simultaneous, when you say that being thirsty, you drink? For are they not simultaneous, and do they not affect at the same time the same part, whether of the soul or the body?—which of them is affected cannot be supposed to be of any consequence: Is not this true?

SOCRATES: Do you see what follows when you say you drink while thirsty? Pleasure and pain happen at the same time. Don’t pleasure and pain affect the same part at the same time, whether of the soul or the body? Whether the soul or the body is affected cannot matter. Isn’t that true?

CALLICLES: It is.

SOCRATES: You said also, that no man could have good and evil fortune at the same time?

SOCRATES: You also said that no one could have good and bad luck at the same time?

CALLICLES: Yes, I did.

SOCRATES: But you admitted, that when in pain a man might also have pleasure?

SOCRATES: But you admitted that a man in pain could also feel pleasure?

CALLICLES: Clearly.

SOCRATES: Then pleasure is not the same as good fortune, or pain the same as evil fortune, and therefore the good is not the same as the pleasant?

SOCRATES: Then pleasure is not the same as good fortune, and pain is not the same as bad fortune? So what is good is not the same as what is pleasant?

CALLICLES: I wish I knew, Socrates, what your quibbling means.

CALLICLES: I wish I knew, Socrates, what you mean by all this nitpicking.

SOCRATES: You know, Callicles, but you affect not to know.

SOCRATES: You know, Callicles, but you pretend not to.

CALLICLES: Well, get on, and don’t keep fooling: then you will know what a wiseacre you are in your admonition of me.

CALLICLES: Well, get on with it and stop fooling around. Then you’ll see what a know-it-all you are when you lecture me.

SOCRATES: Does not a man cease from his thirst and from his pleasure in drinking at the same time?

SOCRATES: Doesn't a man's thirst end at the same time as his pleasure in drinking?

CALLICLES: I do not understand what you are saying.

CALLICLES: I don’t understand what you’re saying.

GORGIAS: Nay, Callicles, answer, if only for our sakes;—we should like to hear the argument out.

GORGIAS: No, Callicles, answer, if only for our sake. We’d like to hear the rest of the argument.

CALLICLES: Yes, Gorgias, but I must complain of the habitual trifling of Socrates; he is always arguing about little and unworthy questions.

CALLICLES: Yes, Gorgias, but I must complain about Socrates’ habit of wasting time on trivial matters. He is always arguing about small, unimportant questions.

GORGIAS: What matter? Your reputation, Callicles, is not at stake. Let Socrates argue in his own fashion.

GORGIAS: What does it matter? Your reputation isn't at stake, Callicles. Let Socrates argue in his own way.

CALLICLES: Well, then, Socrates, you shall ask these little peddling questions, since Gorgias wishes to have them.

CALLICLES: Well then, Socrates, go ahead and ask your petty little questions, since Gorgias wants you to.

SOCRATES: I envy you, Callicles, for having been initiated into the great mysteries before you were initiated into the lesser. I thought that this was not allowable. But to return to our argument:—Does not a man cease from thirsting and from the pleasure of drinking at the same moment?

SOCRATES: I envy you, Callicles, for being initiated into the great mysteries before the lesser mysteries. I thought you weren't allowed to do that. But let's return to our argument: Doesn't a man's thirst end at the same moment as his pleasure in drinking?

CALLICLES: True.

SOCRATES: And if he is hungry, or has any other desire, does he not cease from the desire and the pleasure at the same moment?

SOCRATES: And if he is hungry or has any other desire, don’t his desire and pleasure end at the same moment?

CALLICLES: Very true.

SOCRATES: Then he ceases from pain and pleasure at the same moment?

SOCRATES: So he stops feeling pain and pleasure at the same moment?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: But he does not cease from good and evil at the same moment, as you have admitted: do you still adhere to what you said?

SOCRATES: But he does not stop experiencing good and evil at the same time, as you have admitted. Do you still stand by what you said?

CALLICLES: Yes, I do; but what is the inference?

CALLICLES: Yes, I do, but what follows from that?

SOCRATES: Why, my friend, the inference is that the good is not the same as the pleasant, or the evil the same as the painful; there is a cessation of pleasure and pain at the same moment; but not of good and evil, for they are different. How then can pleasure be the same as good, or pain as evil? And I would have you look at the matter in another light, which could hardly, I think, have been considered by you when you identified them: Are not the good good because they have good present with them, as the beautiful are those who have beauty present with them?

SOCRATES: Well, my friend, the conclusion is that good is not the same as pleasure, nor evil the same as pain. Pleasure and pain stop at the same moment. But good and evil do not, because they are different. How, then, can pleasure be the same as good, or pain the same as evil? And I want you to look at the matter another way. I think you can hardly have considered this perspective when you treated good and pleasure as the same. Aren’t good people good because goodness is present in them, just as beautiful people are beautiful because beauty is present in them?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And do you call the fools and cowards good men? For you were saying just now that the courageous and the wise are the good—would you not say so?

SOCRATES: And do you call fools and cowards good men? You were just saying that brave and wise men are good, weren't you?

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And did you never see a foolish child rejoicing?

SOCRATES: And have you never seen a foolish child feeling happy?

CALLICLES: Yes, I have.

SOCRATES: And a foolish man too?

CALLICLES: Yes, certainly; but what is your drift?

CALLICLES: Yes, certainly. But what are you getting at?

SOCRATES: Nothing particular, if you will only answer.

SOCRATES: Nothing in particular, if you'll just answer.

CALLICLES: Yes, I have.

SOCRATES: And did you ever see a sensible man rejoicing or sorrowing?

SOCRATES: And have you ever seen a sensible man feeling joy or sorrow?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: Which rejoice and sorrow most—the wise or the foolish?

SOCRATES: Who feels more joy and sorrow, wise people or foolish people?

CALLICLES: They are much upon a par, I think, in that respect.

CALLICLES: They are about equal in that respect, I think.

SOCRATES: Enough: And did you ever see a coward in battle?

SOCRATES: Enough. And have you ever seen a coward in battle?

CALLICLES: To be sure.

CALLICLES: Of course.

SOCRATES: And which rejoiced most at the departure of the enemy, the coward or the brave?

SOCRATES: And who was happier when the enemy left, the coward or the brave person?

CALLICLES: I should say “most” of both; or at any rate, they rejoiced about equally.

CALLICLES: I’d say “most” of both. Or at least, they were about equally pleased.

SOCRATES: No matter; then the cowards, and not only the brave, rejoice?

SOCRATES: Never mind. So cowards, not just brave people, feel joy?

CALLICLES: Greatly.

CALLICLES: Very much.

SOCRATES: And the foolish; so it would seem?

SOCRATES: And foolish too, it would seem?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And are only the cowards pained at the approach of their enemies, or are the brave also pained?

SOCRATES: And do only cowards feel distress when their enemies approach? Or do brave people feel distress too?

CALLICLES: Both are pained.

CALLICLES: Both feel pain.

SOCRATES: And are they equally pained?

SOCRATES: And do they feel the same amount of pain?

CALLICLES: I should imagine that the cowards are more pained.

CALLICLES: I would imagine the cowards feel more pain.

SOCRATES: And are they not better pleased at the enemy’s departure?

SOCRATES: And aren’t they happier when the enemy leaves?

CALLICLES: I dare say.

CALLICLES: I suppose so.

SOCRATES: Then are the foolish and the wise and the cowards and the brave all pleased and pained, as you were saying, in nearly equal degree; but are the cowards more pleased and pained than the brave?

SOCRATES: So, as you said, do the foolish, the wise, the cowardly, and the brave all feel nearly equal pleasure and pain? But do cowards feel more pleasure and pain than the brave?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: But surely the wise and brave are the good, and the foolish and the cowardly are the bad?

SOCRATES: But surely wise and brave people are good, and foolish and cowardly people are bad?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: Then the good and the bad are pleased and pained in a nearly equal degree?

SOCRATES: So good and bad people feel pleasure and pain to nearly the same degree?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: Then are the good and bad good and bad in a nearly equal degree, or have the bad the advantage both in good and evil? (i.e. in having more pleasure and more pain.)

SOCRATES: Then are good and bad people nearly equal in goodness and badness? Or do bad people have more of both good and evil? (That is, do bad people have more pleasure and more pain?)

CALLICLES: I really do not know what you mean.

CALLICLES: I really don't know what you mean.

SOCRATES: Why, do you not remember saying that the good were good because good was present with them, and the evil because evil; and that pleasures were goods and pains evils?

SOCRATES: Don’t you remember saying that good people were good because goodness was present in them? And that evil people were evil because evil was present in them? And that pleasures were good and pains were evil?

CALLICLES: Yes, I remember.

SOCRATES: And are not these pleasures or goods present to those who rejoice—if they do rejoice?

SOCRATES: And don't people who feel joy have these pleasures or goods, if they do feel joy?

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: Then those who rejoice are good when goods are present with them?

SOCRATES: So are people who feel joy good when they have good things?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And those who are in pain have evil or sorrow present with them?

SOCRATES: And do people in pain have evil or sorrow with them?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And would you still say that the evil are evil by reason of the presence of evil?

SOCRATES: And would you still say that evil people are evil because evil is present in them?

CALLICLES: I should.

CALLICLES: I would.

SOCRATES: Then those who rejoice are good, and those who are in pain evil?

SOCRATES: So are people who feel joy good, and people who feel pain evil?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: The degrees of good and evil vary with the degrees of pleasure and of pain?

SOCRATES: Do the amounts of good and evil vary with the amounts of pleasure and pain?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: Have the wise man and the fool, the brave and the coward, joy and pain in nearly equal degrees? or would you say that the coward has more?

SOCRATES: Do the wise man and the fool, the brave man and the coward, feel nearly equal joy and pain? Or would you say the coward feels more?

CALLICLES: I should say that he has.

CALLICLES: I'd say he has.

SOCRATES: Help me then to draw out the conclusion which follows from our admissions; for it is good to repeat and review what is good twice and thrice over, as they say. Both the wise man and the brave man we allow to be good?

SOCRATES: Then help me work out the conclusion that follows from what we have agreed. For, as the saying goes, good things are worth repeating and reviewing two or three times. We agree that both the wise man and the brave man are good, don't we?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And the foolish man and the coward to be evil?

SOCRATES: And do you consider the foolish man and the coward evil?

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And he who has joy is good?

SOCRATES: And is someone who feels joy good?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And he who is in pain is evil?

SOCRATES: And is someone who is in pain evil?

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: The good and evil both have joy and pain, but, perhaps, the evil has more of them?

SOCRATES: Good and evil people both feel joy and pain. But perhaps evil people feel more of both?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: Then must we not infer, that the bad man is as good and bad as the good, or, perhaps, even better?—is not this a further inference which follows equally with the preceding from the assertion that the good and the pleasant are the same:—can this be denied, Callicles?

SOCRATES: Then mustn't we conclude that the bad man is as good and as bad as the good man? Or perhaps even better? Doesn't this conclusion, like the previous one, follow from the claim that goodness and pleasure are the same? Can you deny this conclusion, Callicles?

CALLICLES: I have been listening and making admissions to you, Socrates; and I remark that if a person grants you anything in play, you, like a child, want to keep hold and will not give it back. But do you really suppose that I or any other human being denies that some pleasures are good and others bad?

CALLICLES: I’ve been listening and agreeing with you, Socrates. And I notice that if someone grants you a point in jest, you cling to it like a child. You won’t give it back. But do you really think I or anyone else denies that some pleasures are good and others bad?

SOCRATES: Alas, Callicles, how unfair you are! you certainly treat me as if I were a child, sometimes saying one thing, and then another, as if you were meaning to deceive me. And yet I thought at first that you were my friend, and would not have deceived me if you could have helped. But I see that I was mistaken; and now I suppose that I must make the best of a bad business, as they said of old, and take what I can get out of you.—Well, then, as I understand you to say, I may assume that some pleasures are good and others evil?

SOCRATES: Oh, Callicles, how unfair you are! You certainly treat me like a child. You say one thing, then another, as if you meant to deceive me. Yet at first I thought you were my friend and would not deceive me if you could help it. But I see I was wrong. Now I suppose I must make the best of a bad situation, as people used to say. I must get what I can out of you. Well then, if I understand you correctly, may I assume that some pleasures are good and others bad?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: The beneficial are good, and the hurtful are evil?

SOCRATES: Things that help are good, and things that harm are evil?

CALLICLES: To be sure.

CALLICLES: Of course.

SOCRATES: And the beneficial are those which do some good, and the hurtful are those which do some evil?

SOCRATES: And beneficial things do some good, while harmful things do some harm?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: Take, for example, the bodily pleasures of eating and drinking, which we were just now mentioning—you mean to say that those which promote health, or any other bodily excellence, are good, and their opposites evil?

SOCRATES: Take, for example, the physical pleasures of eating and drinking, which we just mentioned. Do you mean that pleasures promoting health or any other physical excellence are good, and their opposites are bad?

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And in the same way there are good pains and there are evil pains?

SOCRATES: And in the same way, are there good pains and bad pains?

CALLICLES: To be sure.

CALLICLES: Of course.

SOCRATES: And ought we not to choose and use the good pleasures and pains?

SOCRATES: And shouldn't we choose and use the pleasures and pains that are good?

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: But not the evil?

SOCRATES: But not what’s bad?

CALLICLES: Clearly.

SOCRATES: Because, if you remember, Polus and I have agreed that all our actions are to be done for the sake of the good;—and will you agree with us in saying, that the good is the end of all our actions, and that all our actions are to be done for the sake of the good, and not the good for the sake of them?—will you add a third vote to our two?

SOCRATES: Because, if you remember, Polus and I agreed that all our actions should be done for the good. Will you agree with us that the good is the goal of all our actions? And that all our actions should serve the good, rather than the good serving our actions? Will you add your vote to ours, making three?

CALLICLES: I will.

SOCRATES: Then pleasure, like everything else, is to be sought for the sake of that which is good, and not that which is good for the sake of pleasure?

SOCRATES: So should we seek pleasure, like everything else, for the sake of what is good? And not seek what is good for the sake of pleasure?

CALLICLES: To be sure.

CALLICLES: Of course.

SOCRATES: But can every man choose what pleasures are good and what are evil, or must he have art or knowledge of them in detail?

SOCRATES: But can every man judge which pleasures are good and which are evil? Or must he have expertise or detailed knowledge of these pleasures?

CALLICLES: He must have art.

CALLICLES: He must have skill.

SOCRATES: Let me now remind you of what I was saying to Gorgias and Polus; I was saying, as you will not have forgotten, that there were some processes which aim only at pleasure, and know nothing of a better and worse, and there are other processes which know good and evil. And I considered that cookery, which I do not call an art, but only an experience, was of the former class, which is concerned with pleasure, and that the art of medicine was of the class which is concerned with the good. And now, by the god of friendship, I must beg you, Callicles, not to jest, or to imagine that I am jesting with you; do not answer at random and contrary to your real opinion—for you will observe that we are arguing about the way of human life; and to a man who has any sense at all, what question can be more serious than this?—whether he should follow after that way of life to which you exhort me, and act what you call the manly part of speaking in the assembly, and cultivating rhetoric, and engaging in public affairs, according to the principles now in vogue; or whether he should pursue the life of philosophy;—and in what the latter way differs from the former. But perhaps we had better first try to distinguish them, as I did before, and when we have come to an agreement that they are distinct, we may proceed to consider in what they differ from one another, and which of them we should choose. Perhaps, however, you do not even now understand what I mean?

SOCRATES: Let me remind you of what I was saying to Gorgias and Polus. As you will remember, I said that some practices aim only at pleasure. They know nothing of what is better or worse. Other practices distinguish good from evil. I placed cooking in the first group, concerned with pleasure. I do not call cooking an art, but only a skill gained through experience. Medicine, however, is an art concerned with what is good. And now, by the god of friendship, I must beg you, Callicles, not to joke. Do not imagine that I am joking with you, either. Do not answer carelessly or against your true opinion. You can see that we are discussing how a person should live. For anyone with any sense at all, what question could be more serious? Should a person follow the way of life you urge me to adopt? Should he take what you call the manly role, speaking in the assembly, developing rhetorical skills, and entering public affairs? Should he do so according to the principles popular today? Or should he pursue a life of philosophy? And how does the philosophical life differ from the public life? But perhaps we should first try to distinguish these ways of life, as I did before. Once we agree that they are distinct, we may consider how they differ and which we should choose. Perhaps, though, you still do not understand what I mean?

CALLICLES: No, I do not.

CALLICLES: No, I don’t.

SOCRATES: Then I will explain myself more clearly: seeing that you and I have agreed that there is such a thing as good, and that there is such a thing as pleasure, and that pleasure is not the same as good, and that the pursuit and process of acquisition of the one, that is pleasure, is different from the pursuit and process of acquisition of the other, which is good—I wish that you would tell me whether you agree with me thus far or not—do you agree?

SOCRATES: Then let me explain myself more clearly. You and I have agreed that goodness exists and that pleasure exists. We have also agreed that pleasure is not the same as goodness. So pursuing and gaining pleasure is different from pursuing and gaining goodness. I would like you to tell me whether you agree with me so far. Do you agree?

CALLICLES: I do.

SOCRATES: Then I will proceed, and ask whether you also agree with me, and whether you think that I spoke the truth when I further said to Gorgias and Polus that cookery in my opinion is only an experience, and not an art at all; and that whereas medicine is an art, and attends to the nature and constitution of the patient, and has principles of action and reason in each case, cookery in attending upon pleasure never regards either the nature or reason of that pleasure to which she devotes herself, but goes straight to her end, nor ever considers or calculates anything, but works by experience and routine, and just preserves the recollection of what she has usually done when producing pleasure. And first, I would have you consider whether I have proved what I was saying, and then whether there are not other similar processes which have to do with the soul—some of them processes of art, making a provision for the soul’s highest interest—others despising the interest, and, as in the previous case, considering only the pleasure of the soul, and how this may be acquired, but not considering what pleasures are good or bad, and having no other aim but to afford gratification, whether good or bad. In my opinion, Callicles, there are such processes, and this is the sort of thing which I term flattery, whether concerned with the body or the soul, or whenever employed with a view to pleasure and without any consideration of good and evil. And now I wish that you would tell me whether you agree with us in this notion, or whether you differ.

SOCRATES: Then I will continue and ask whether you also agree with me. Do you think I spoke the truth in what I went on to tell Gorgias and Polus? I said that, in my opinion, cooking relies only on experience and is not an art at all. Medicine, by contrast, is an art. It considers the patient’s nature and physical condition, and has principles and reasons for its actions in each case. But cooking aims at pleasure without ever considering the nature of that pleasure or the reasons behind it. Cooking goes straight for its goal, without ever thinking anything through or making any calculations. It works through experience and routine, simply remembering what it has usually done to produce pleasure. First, I want you to consider whether I have proved my point. Then consider whether there are similar practices that deal with the soul. Some are arts that provide for the soul’s highest good. Others disregard that good and, like cooking, consider only the soul’s pleasure and how to produce it. They do not consider which pleasures are good or bad. Their only aim is to provide satisfaction, whether good or bad. In my opinion, Callicles, such practices exist. These are what I call flattery, whether they concern the body or the soul. The same applies whenever a practice aims at pleasure without considering good and evil. Now I would like you to tell me whether you agree with us on this point or disagree.

CALLICLES: I do not differ; on the contrary, I agree; for in that way I shall soonest bring the argument to an end, and shall oblige my friend Gorgias.

CALLICLES: I don’t disagree. On the contrary, I agree, because agreeing will bring the argument to an end as quickly as possible. It will also do my friend Gorgias a favor.

SOCRATES: And is this notion true of one soul, or of two or more?

SOCRATES: And does this idea hold true for one soul, or for two or more?

CALLICLES: Equally true of two or more.

CALLICLES: That's equally true of two or more.

SOCRATES: Then a man may delight a whole assembly, and yet have no regard for their true interests?

SOCRATES: So a man may please an entire assembly, yet not care about what is truly best for them?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: Can you tell me the pursuits which delight mankind—or rather, if you would prefer, let me ask, and do you answer, which of them belong to the pleasurable class, and which of them not? In the first place, what say you of flute-playing? Does not that appear to be an art which seeks only pleasure, Callicles, and thinks of nothing else?

SOCRATES: Can you tell me which activities give people pleasure? Or rather, if you prefer, let me ask, and you answer. Which activities belong in the category of pleasure, and which do not? First, what do you say about flute-playing? Doesn't flute-playing seem to be an art that seeks only pleasure, Callicles, and considers nothing else?

CALLICLES: I assent.

CALLICLES: I agree.

SOCRATES: And is not the same true of all similar arts, as, for example, the art of playing the lyre at festivals?

SOCRATES: And isn't the same true of all similar arts, like playing the lyre at festivals?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And what do you say of the choral art and of dithyrambic poetry?—are not they of the same nature? Do you imagine that Cinesias the son of Meles cares about what will tend to the moral improvement of his hearers, or about what will give pleasure to the multitude?

SOCRATES: And what do you say about choral art and dithyrambic poetry? Aren’t they the same in nature? Do you think Cinesias the son of Meles cares about helping his listeners become morally better? Or does he care about pleasing the crowd?

CALLICLES: There can be no mistake about Cinesias, Socrates.

CALLICLES: There's no doubt about Cinesias, Socrates.

SOCRATES: And what do you say of his father, Meles the harp-player? Did he perform with any view to the good of his hearers? Could he be said to regard even their pleasure? For his singing was an infliction to his audience. And of harp-playing and dithyrambic poetry in general, what would you say? Have they not been invented wholly for the sake of pleasure?

SOCRATES: And what do you say about his father, Meles the harp-player? Did he perform with any thought of benefiting his listeners? Could you say he even cared about their pleasure? For his singing was torture for his audience. And what would you say about harp-playing and dithyrambic poetry in general? Weren’t both invented entirely for pleasure?

CALLICLES: That is my notion of them.

CALLICLES: That’s how I see them.

SOCRATES: And as for the Muse of Tragedy, that solemn and august personage—what are her aspirations? Is all her aim and desire only to give pleasure to the spectators, or does she fight against them and refuse to speak of their pleasant vices, and willingly proclaim in word and song truths welcome and unwelcome?—which in your judgment is her character?

SOCRATES: And what about the Muse of Tragedy, that solemn and majestic figure? What does she strive for? Is her only aim and desire to please the audience? Or does she challenge them and refuse to speak of the vices they enjoy? Does she willingly proclaim truths in speech and song, whether welcome or unwelcome? Which of these, in your judgment, describes her character?

CALLICLES: There can be no doubt, Socrates, that Tragedy has her face turned towards pleasure and the gratification of the audience.

CALLICLES: There’s no doubt, Socrates, that Tragedy aims to give the audience pleasure and satisfaction.

SOCRATES: And is not that the sort of thing, Callicles, which we were just now describing as flattery?

SOCRATES: And isn't that, Callicles, the kind of thing we were just calling flattery?

CALLICLES: Quite true.

CALLICLES: Absolutely true.

SOCRATES: Well now, suppose that we strip all poetry of song and rhythm and metre, there will remain speech? (Compare Republic.)

SOCRATES: Now, suppose we strip all poetry of song, rhythm, and meter. Wouldn't speech remain? (Compare Republic.)

CALLICLES: To be sure.

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And this speech is addressed to a crowd of people?

SOCRATES: And is this speech given to a crowd of people?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: Then poetry is a sort of rhetoric?

SOCRATES: So poetry is a kind of rhetoric?

CALLICLES: True.

SOCRATES: And do not the poets in the theatres seem to you to be rhetoricians?

SOCRATES: And don’t the poets in the theaters seem to you to be rhetoricians?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: Then now we have discovered a sort of rhetoric which is addressed to a crowd of men, women, and children, freemen and slaves. And this is not much to our taste, for we have described it as having the nature of flattery.

SOCRATES: So now we have identified a kind of rhetoric aimed at crowds of men, women, and children, both free people and slaves. And we do not much like this kind of rhetoric, because we have described it as a form of flattery.

CALLICLES: Quite true.

CALLICLES: Absolutely true.

SOCRATES: Very good. And what do you say of that other rhetoric which addresses the Athenian assembly and the assemblies of freemen in other states? Do the rhetoricians appear to you always to aim at what is best, and do they seek to improve the citizens by their speeches, or are they too, like the rest of mankind, bent upon giving them pleasure, forgetting the public good in the thought of their own interest, playing with the people as with children, and trying to amuse them, but never considering whether they are better or worse for this?

SOCRATES: Very good. And what about the other kind of rhetoric, used to address the Athenian assembly and assemblies of free men elsewhere? Do you think these speakers always aim at what is best? Do they try to make citizens better through their speeches? Or are they too, like everyone else, intent on pleasing their audience? Do they forget the public good while thinking of their own interests? Do they play with the people as if they were children, trying to amuse them? And do they never consider whether their speeches make the people better or worse?

CALLICLES: I must distinguish. There are some who have a real care of the public in what they say, while others are such as you describe.

CALLICLES: I must make a distinction. Some genuinely care about the public in what they say, while others are as you describe.

SOCRATES: I am contented with the admission that rhetoric is of two sorts; one, which is mere flattery and disgraceful declamation; the other, which is noble and aims at the training and improvement of the souls of the citizens, and strives to say what is best, whether welcome or unwelcome, to the audience; but have you ever known such a rhetoric; or if you have, and can point out any rhetorician who is of this stamp, who is he?

SOCRATES: I am satisfied with the admission that there are two kinds of rhetoric. One is mere flattery and shameful speechmaking. The other is noble and aims to train and improve the souls of citizens. It strives to say what is best, whether the audience welcomes those words or not. But have you ever encountered such noble rhetoric? If you have, and can name a speaker who practices it, who is he?

CALLICLES: But, indeed, I am afraid that I cannot tell you of any such among the orators who are at present living.

CALLICLES: But honestly, I’m afraid I can’t name any such orators who are alive today.

SOCRATES: Well, then, can you mention any one of a former generation, who may be said to have improved the Athenians, who found them worse and made them better, from the day that he began to make speeches? for, indeed, I do not know of such a man.

SOCRATES: Well, then, can you name anyone from an earlier generation who could be said to have improved the Athenians? Did he find them worse and make them better from the day he began giving speeches? For I really do not know of such a man.

CALLICLES: What! did you never hear that Themistocles was a good man, and Cimon and Miltiades and Pericles, who is just lately dead, and whom you heard yourself?

CALLICLES: What! Have you never heard that Themistocles was a good man? And Cimon and Miltiades and Pericles too? Pericles died just recently, and you heard him speak yourself.

SOCRATES: Yes, Callicles, they were good men, if, as you said at first, true virtue consists only in the satisfaction of our own desires and those of others; but if not, and if, as we were afterwards compelled to acknowledge, the satisfaction of some desires makes us better, and of others, worse, and we ought to gratify the one and not the other, and there is an art in distinguishing them,—can you tell me of any of these statesmen who did distinguish them?

SOCRATES: Yes, Callicles, those statesmen were good men, if true virtue means only satisfying our own desires and other people's. That was your first claim. But what if that is not true? What if, as we were later forced to admit, satisfying some desires makes us better, while satisfying others makes us worse? If so, we should satisfy the desires that improve us, but not those that make us worse. And if telling those desires apart requires skill, can you name any of these statesmen who actually did so?

CALLICLES: No, indeed, I cannot.

CALLICLES: No, I really can't.

SOCRATES: Yet, surely, Callicles, if you look you will find such a one. Suppose that we just calmly consider whether any of these was such as I have described. Will not the good man, who says whatever he says with a view to the best, speak with a reference to some standard and not at random; just as all other artists, whether the painter, the builder, the shipwright, or any other look all of them to their own work, and do not select and apply at random what they apply, but strive to give a definite form to it? The artist disposes all things in order, and compels the one part to harmonize and accord with the other part, until he has constructed a regular and systematic whole; and this is true of all artists, and in the same way the trainers and physicians, of whom we spoke before, give order and regularity to the body: do you deny this?

SOCRATES: Yet surely, Callicles, if you look, you will find such a person. Let us calmly consider whether any of these men was the kind I described. Won’t a good man, whose every word aims at what is best, speak according to some standard, rather than randomly? All other artists work in the same way, whether painters, builders, shipwrights, or anyone else. They all focus on their own work. They do not choose and apply materials at random, but try to give their work a definite form. The artist arranges everything in order, making each part fit and harmonize with the others. He continues until he has created an orderly, organized whole. All artists work this way. Likewise, the trainers and doctors we discussed earlier give the body order and regularity. Do you deny this?

CALLICLES: No; I am ready to admit it.

CALLICLES: No, I'm ready to admit it.

SOCRATES: Then the house in which order and regularity prevail is good; that in which there is disorder, evil?

SOCRATES: So a house with order and regularity is good, and a house with disorder is bad?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And the same is true of a ship?

SOCRATES: And is the same true of a ship?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And the same may be said of the human body?

SOCRATES: And can the same be said of the human body?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And what would you say of the soul? Will the good soul be that in which disorder is prevalent, or that in which there is harmony and order?

SOCRATES: And what would you say about the soul? Is a good soul ruled by disorder, or does it have harmony and order?

CALLICLES: The latter follows from our previous admissions.

CALLICLES: The second option follows from what we agreed on earlier.

SOCRATES: What is the name which is given to the effect of harmony and order in the body?

SOCRATES: What do we call the effect of harmony and order in the body?

CALLICLES: I suppose that you mean health and strength?

CALLICLES: I suppose you mean health and strength?

SOCRATES: Yes, I do; and what is the name which you would give to the effect of harmony and order in the soul? Try and discover a name for this as well as for the other.

SOCRATES: Yes, I do. And what would you call the effect of harmony and order in the soul? Try to find a name for this effect too, as you did for the other.

CALLICLES: Why not give the name yourself, Socrates?

CALLICLES: Why don’t you give the name yourself, Socrates?

SOCRATES: Well, if you had rather that I should, I will; and you shall say whether you agree with me, and if not, you shall refute and answer me. “Healthy,” as I conceive, is the name which is given to the regular order of the body, whence comes health and every other bodily excellence: is that true or not?

SOCRATES: Well, if you would rather I spoke, I will. You must say whether you agree with me. If you disagree, you must refute me and give your answer. “Healthy,” as I understand it, describes the body's proper order. From this order come health and every other form of bodily excellence. Is that true or not?

CALLICLES: True.

SOCRATES: And “lawful” and “law” are the names which are given to the regular order and action of the soul, and these make men lawful and orderly:—and so we have temperance and justice: have we not?

SOCRATES: And “lawful” and “law” are the names given to the soul’s orderly state and actions. This order makes people lawful and orderly. And so we have self-control and justice, don’t we?

CALLICLES: Granted.

CALLICLES: I agree.

SOCRATES: And will not the true rhetorician who is honest and understands his art have his eye fixed upon these, in all the words which he addresses to the souls of men, and in all his actions, both in what he gives and in what he takes away? Will not his aim be to implant justice in the souls of his citizens and take away injustice, to implant temperance and take away intemperance, to implant every virtue and take away every vice? Do you not agree?

SOCRATES: And won't a true rhetorician, who is honest and understands his craft, keep these goals in mind? Won't he do so in all his words addressed to people's souls and in all his actions? Won't he do so both in what he gives and in what he takes away? Won't he aim to instill justice in his fellow citizens' souls and remove injustice? Won't he aim to instill self-control and remove lack of self-control? Won't he aim to instill every virtue and remove every vice? Don't you agree?

CALLICLES: I agree.

SOCRATES: For what use is there, Callicles, in giving to the body of a sick man who is in a bad state of health a quantity of the most delightful food or drink or any other pleasant thing, which may be really as bad for him as if you gave him nothing, or even worse if rightly estimated. Is not that true?

SOCRATES: Callicles, what good is giving a seriously ill man plenty of the most delicious food or drink? Or giving him anything else pleasant? Such things may actually be as bad for him as giving him nothing, or even worse, if judged correctly. Isn’t that true?

CALLICLES: I will not say No to it.

CALLICLES: I won't say no to it.

SOCRATES: For in my opinion there is no profit in a man’s life if his body is in an evil plight—in that case his life also is evil: am I not right?

SOCRATES: For I think a man gains nothing from life if his body is in bad shape. In that case, his life is bad too. Am I not right?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: When a man is in health the physicians will generally allow him to eat when he is hungry and drink when he is thirsty, and to satisfy his desires as he likes, but when he is sick they hardly suffer him to satisfy his desires at all: even you will admit that?

SOCRATES: When a man is healthy, doctors generally let him eat when he is hungry and drink when he is thirsty. They also let him satisfy his desires as he likes. But when he is sick, doctors hardly let him satisfy his desires at all. Even you will admit that, won't you?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And does not the same argument hold of the soul, my good sir? While she is in a bad state and is senseless and intemperate and unjust and unholy, her desires ought to be controlled, and she ought to be prevented from doing anything which does not tend to her own improvement.

SOCRATES: And doesn’t the same argument apply to the soul, my good sir? While the soul is unhealthy, foolish, uncontrolled, unjust, and unholy, its desires should be restrained. It should also be kept from doing anything that does not help it improve.

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: Such treatment will be better for the soul herself?

SOCRATES: Will such treatment be better for the soul itself?

CALLICLES: To be sure.

CALLICLES: Of course.

SOCRATES: And to restrain her from her appetites is to chastise her?

SOCRATES: And to keep her desires in check is to discipline her?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: Then restraint or chastisement is better for the soul than intemperance or the absence of control, which you were just now preferring?

SOCRATES: Then self-restraint or punishment is better for the soul than excess or lack of control, as you were just favoring?

CALLICLES: I do not understand you, Socrates, and I wish that you would ask some one who does.

CALLICLES: I don't understand you, Socrates. I wish you'd ask someone who does.

SOCRATES: Here is a gentleman who cannot endure to be improved or to subject himself to that very chastisement of which the argument speaks!

SOCRATES: Here is a gentleman who cannot bear to be improved or accept the very punishment our argument describes!

CALLICLES: I do not heed a word of what you are saying, and have only answered hitherto out of civility to Gorgias.

CALLICLES: I’m not paying attention to a word you’re saying. And I’ve only answered so far out of politeness to Gorgias.

SOCRATES: What are we to do, then? Shall we break off in the middle?

SOCRATES: What should we do, then? Should we stop in the middle?

CALLICLES: You shall judge for yourself.

CALLICLES: You can judge for yourself.

SOCRATES: Well, but people say that “a tale should have a head and not break off in the middle,” and I should not like to have the argument going about without a head (compare Laws); please then to go on a little longer, and put the head on.

SOCRATES: Well, but people say that “a story should have a head and not break off in the middle.” And I wouldn’t want the argument wandering around without a head (compare Laws). So please go on a little longer and give the argument a head.

CALLICLES: How tyrannical you are, Socrates! I wish that you and your argument would rest, or that you would get some one else to argue with you.

CALLICLES: You're such a tyrant, Socrates! I wish you and your argument would take a break, or you'd find someone else to argue with.

SOCRATES: But who else is willing?—I want to finish the argument.

SOCRATES: But who else is willing? I want to finish the argument.

CALLICLES: Cannot you finish without my help, either talking straight on, or questioning and answering yourself?

CALLICLES: Can't you finish without my help, either by talking on your own or by asking and answering your own questions?

SOCRATES: Must I then say with Epicharmus, “Two men spoke before, but now one shall be enough”? I suppose that there is absolutely no help. And if I am to carry on the enquiry by myself, I will first of all remark that not only I but all of us should have an ambition to know what is true and what is false in this matter, for the discovery of the truth is a common good. And now I will proceed to argue according to my own notion. But if any of you think that I arrive at conclusions which are untrue you must interpose and refute me, for I do not speak from any knowledge of what I am saying; I am an enquirer like yourselves, and therefore, if my opponent says anything which is of force, I shall be the first to agree with him. I am speaking on the supposition that the argument ought to be completed; but if you think otherwise let us leave off and go our ways.

SOCRATES: Must I then say with Epicharmus, “Two men spoke before, but now one will be enough”? I suppose there is absolutely no other choice. And if I must carry on the inquiry alone, I will begin by saying this: All of us, not just me, should want to know what is true and false in this matter. For discovering the truth benefits us all. And now I will continue the argument as I see it. But if any of you think I reach false conclusions, you must interrupt and prove me wrong. For I do not claim to know what I am talking about. I am seeking answers, just like you. So if my opponent makes a convincing point, I will be the first to agree with him. I am speaking on the assumption that we ought to finish the argument. But if you think otherwise, let us stop and go our separate ways.

GORGIAS: I think, Socrates, that we should not go our ways until you have completed the argument; and this appears to me to be the wish of the rest of the company; I myself should very much like to hear what more you have to say.

GORGIAS: Socrates, I think we should stay until you have finished your argument. And it seems to me that everyone else here wants to stay too. I myself would very much like to hear what more you have to say.

SOCRATES: I too, Gorgias, should have liked to continue the argument with Callicles, and then I might have given him an “Amphion” in return for his “Zethus”; but since you, Callicles, are unwilling to continue, I hope that you will listen, and interrupt me if I seem to you to be in error. And if you refute me, I shall not be angry with you as you are with me, but I shall inscribe you as the greatest of benefactors on the tablets of my soul.

SOCRATES: I too, Gorgias, would have liked to continue the argument with Callicles. Then I might have given him an “Amphion” in return for his “Zethus”. But since you, Callicles, are unwilling to continue, I hope you will listen. Please interrupt me if you think I am wrong. And if you prove me wrong, I will not be angry with you as you are with me. Instead, I will write your name on the tablets of my soul as the greatest of benefactors.

CALLICLES: My good fellow, never mind me, but get on.

CALLICLES: My friend, don't worry about me, but keep going.

SOCRATES: Listen to me, then, while I recapitulate the argument:—Is the pleasant the same as the good? Not the same. Callicles and I are agreed about that. And is the pleasant to be pursued for the sake of the good? or the good for the sake of the pleasant? The pleasant is to be pursued for the sake of the good. And that is pleasant at the presence of which we are pleased, and that is good at the presence of which we are good? To be sure. And we are good, and all good things whatever are good when some virtue is present in us or them? That, Callicles, is my conviction. But the virtue of each thing, whether body or soul, instrument or creature, when given to them in the best way comes to them not by chance but as the result of the order and truth and art which are imparted to them: Am I not right? I maintain that I am. And is not the virtue of each thing dependent on order or arrangement? Yes, I say. And that which makes a thing good is the proper order inhering in each thing? Such is my view. And is not the soul which has an order of her own better than that which has no order? Certainly. And the soul which has order is orderly? Of course. And that which is orderly is temperate? Assuredly. And the temperate soul is good? No other answer can I give, Callicles dear; have you any?

SOCRATES: Listen, then, while I sum up the argument. Is what is pleasant the same as what is good? No. Callicles and I agree on that. Should we pursue pleasure for the sake of goodness, or goodness for the sake of pleasure? We should pursue pleasure for the sake of goodness. And is something pleasant if its presence makes us feel pleasure, and good if its presence makes us good? Certainly. And are we good, and all good things good, because some virtue is present in us or them? That, Callicles, is what I believe. But consider the virtue of each thing, whether a body or soul, a tool or living creature. When virtue is given to any of these in the best way, it does not come by chance. It results from the order, truth, and skill brought to each thing. Am I not right? I maintain that I am. And does the virtue of each thing depend on order or arrangement? Yes, I say. And is the proper order within each thing what makes it good? That is my view. And isn't a soul with its own proper order better than a soul without order? Certainly. And is a soul with order orderly? Of course. And is an orderly soul self-controlled? Certainly. And is a self-controlled soul good? I can give no other answer, my dear Callicles. Do you have another?

CALLICLES: Go on, my good fellow.

CALLICLES: Go ahead, my friend.

SOCRATES: Then I shall proceed to add, that if the temperate soul is the good soul, the soul which is in the opposite condition, that is, the foolish and intemperate, is the bad soul. Very true.

SOCRATES: Then I will add that if a self-controlled soul is good, a soul in the opposite state is bad. Such a soul is foolish and lacks self-control. Very true.

And will not the temperate man do what is proper, both in relation to the gods and to men;—for he would not be temperate if he did not? Certainly he will do what is proper. In his relation to other men he will do what is just; and in his relation to the gods he will do what is holy; and he who does what is just and holy must be just and holy? Very true. And must he not be courageous? for the duty of a temperate man is not to follow or to avoid what he ought not, but what he ought, whether things or men or pleasures or pains, and patiently to endure when he ought; and therefore, Callicles, the temperate man, being, as we have described, also just and courageous and holy, cannot be other than a perfectly good man, nor can the good man do otherwise than well and perfectly whatever he does; and he who does well must of necessity be happy and blessed, and the evil man who does evil, miserable: now this latter is he whom you were applauding—the intemperate who is the opposite of the temperate. Such is my position, and these things I affirm to be true. And if they are true, then I further affirm that he who desires to be happy must pursue and practise temperance and run away from intemperance as fast as his legs will carry him: he had better order his life so as not to need punishment; but if either he or any of his friends, whether private individual or city, are in need of punishment, then justice must be done and he must suffer punishment, if he would be happy. This appears to me to be the aim which a man ought to have, and towards which he ought to direct all the energies both of himself and of the state, acting so that he may have temperance and justice present with him and be happy, not suffering his lusts to be unrestrained, and in the never-ending desire satisfy them leading a robber’s life. Such a one is the friend neither of God nor man, for he is incapable of communion, and he who is incapable of communion is also incapable of friendship. And philosophers tell us, Callicles, that communion and friendship and orderliness and temperance and justice bind together heaven and earth and gods and men, and that this universe is therefore called Cosmos or order, not disorder or misrule, my friend. But although you are a philosopher you seem to me never to have observed that geometrical equality is mighty, both among gods and men; you think that you ought to cultivate inequality or excess, and do not care about geometry.—Well, then, either the principle that the happy are made happy by the possession of justice and temperance, and the miserable miserable by the possession of vice, must be refuted, or, if it is granted, what will be the consequences? All the consequences which I drew before, Callicles, and about which you asked me whether I was in earnest when I said that a man ought to accuse himself and his son and his friend if he did anything wrong, and that to this end he should use his rhetoric—all those consequences are true. And that which you thought that Polus was led to admit out of modesty is true, viz., that, to do injustice, if more disgraceful than to suffer, is in that degree worse; and the other position, which, according to Polus, Gorgias admitted out of modesty, that he who would truly be a rhetorician ought to be just and have a knowledge of justice, has also turned out to be true.

And won’t a self-controlled man do what is right toward both gods and men? For he would not be self-controlled otherwise. Certainly he will do what is right. In dealing with other men, he will act justly. In dealing with the gods, he will act with holiness. And anyone who acts justly and with holiness must be just and holy. Isn’t that so? Very true. And must he not also be courageous? For a self-controlled man must pursue and avoid only what he ought to pursue and avoid. This applies to things, people, pleasures, and pains. And he must endure patiently when he ought to. So, Callicles, the self-controlled man, as we have described him, is also just, courageous, and holy. He therefore cannot be anything but a completely good man. And a good man must do everything he does well and perfectly. Anyone who does well must necessarily be happy and blessed. An evil man who does evil must be miserable. This last man is the one you were praising: the uncontrolled man, the opposite of the self-controlled man. That is my position, and I maintain that these claims are true. And if they are true, I maintain something further. Anyone who wants to be happy must pursue and practice self-control. He must flee from a lack of self-control as fast as his legs can carry him. He would do better to arrange his life so that he needs no punishment. But suppose he or any of his friends, whether an individual or a city, needs punishment. Then justice must be done, and whoever needs punishment must undergo it to be happy. This seems to me the goal a man ought to pursue. He ought to direct all his own energies and those of the state toward that goal. He should act so that he possesses self-control and justice, and is happy. He must not let his desires run wild and live like a robber, endlessly trying to satisfy them. Such a man is a friend neither to God nor to other people, because he cannot share in community. And anyone incapable of sharing in community is also incapable of friendship. Philosophers tell us, Callicles, that community, friendship, order, self-control, and justice bind together heaven and earth, gods and men. That is why this universe is called Cosmos, or order, not disorder or lawlessness, my friend. But although you are a philosopher, you seem never to have noticed the power of geometrical equality among gods and men. You think you ought to cultivate inequality or excess, and you care nothing for geometry. Well then, we must either refute the following principle or accept its consequences. The principle is that justice and self-control make people happy, while vice makes people miserable. If we accept it, what follows? All the conclusions I drew earlier follow, Callicles. You asked whether I was serious about those conclusions. I said a man ought to bring accusations against himself, his son, and his friend if they did anything wrong. And I said he should use his rhetoric for that purpose. All those conclusions are true. You thought Polus admitted something only because he was embarrassed to deny it. But his admission is true: if doing injustice is more shameful than suffering it, it is worse to that extent. Another claim has also proved true. According to Polus, Gorgias admitted it only because he was embarrassed to deny it. Anyone who would truly practice rhetoric must be just and understand justice.

And now, these things being as we have said, let us proceed in the next place to consider whether you are right in throwing in my teeth that I am unable to help myself or any of my friends or kinsmen, or to save them in the extremity of danger, and that I am in the power of another like an outlaw to whom any one may do what he likes,—he may box my ears, which was a brave saying of yours; or take away my goods or banish me, or even do his worst and kill me; a condition which, as you say, is the height of disgrace. My answer to you is one which has been already often repeated, but may as well be repeated once more. I tell you, Callicles, that to be boxed on the ears wrongfully is not the worst evil which can befall a man, nor to have my purse or my body cut open, but that to smite and slay me and mine wrongfully is far more disgraceful and more evil; aye, and to despoil and enslave and pillage, or in any way at all to wrong me and mine, is far more disgraceful and evil to the doer of the wrong than to me who am the sufferer. These truths, which have been already set forth as I state them in the previous discussion, would seem now to have been fixed and riveted by us, if I may use an expression which is certainly bold, in words which are like bonds of iron and adamant; and unless you or some other still more enterprising hero shall break them, there is no possibility of denying what I say. For my position has always been, that I myself am ignorant how these things are, but that I have never met any one who could say otherwise, any more than you can, and not appear ridiculous. This is my position still, and if what I am saying is true, and injustice is the greatest of evils to the doer of injustice, and yet there is if possible a greater than this greatest of evils (compare Republic), in an unjust man not suffering retribution, what is that defence of which the want will make a man truly ridiculous? Must not the defence be one which will avert the greatest of human evils? And will not the worst of all defences be that with which a man is unable to defend himself or his family or his friends?—and next will come that which is unable to avert the next greatest evil; thirdly that which is unable to avert the third greatest evil; and so of other evils. As is the greatness of evil so is the honour of being able to avert them in their several degrees, and the disgrace of not being able to avert them. Am I not right Callicles?

Now that we have agreed on these points, let us consider whether you are right to accuse me as you do. You say I cannot help myself, my friends, or my relatives, or save them when they face the greatest danger. You say I am at another person’s mercy, like an outlaw whom anyone can treat however they please. Someone might slap my face, as you so bravely put it. Or they might take my property, exile me, or even go so far as to kill me. You call this situation the height of disgrace. I have already answered you many times, but I may as well answer once more. I tell you, Callicles, being slapped unjustly is not the worst evil that can happen to a person. Nor is having my purse slit open or my body cut open. But unjustly striking or killing me or those close to me is far more disgraceful and evil. Yes, the same holds for robbing, enslaving, or plundering us, or wronging us in any way at all. These acts are far more disgraceful and evil for the wrongdoer than for me, the victim. These truths have already been presented as I have stated them in our earlier discussion. They now seem firmly secured by our arguments, like bonds of iron and diamond, if I may speak so boldly. Unless you or some still more daring hero breaks those bonds, there is no way to deny what I say. For I have always maintained that I myself do not know the truth about these matters. But I have never met anyone who could argue otherwise without looking ridiculous, any more than you can. That remains my position. Suppose what I say is true, and injustice is the greatest evil for the person who commits it. Yet suppose an unjust person’s escape from punishment is, if possible, an even greater evil (compare Republic). What kind of defense must a person lack to be truly ridiculous? Must it not be a defense that prevents the greatest human evils? And must not the worst failure of defense leave someone unable to protect themselves, their family, or their friends from those evils? Next comes the failure to prevent the second greatest evil. Third comes the failure to prevent the third greatest evil, and so on. The greater each evil, the greater the honor of being able to prevent it, and the disgrace of being unable. Am I not right, Callicles?

CALLICLES: Yes, quite right.

CALLICLES: Yes, exactly right.

SOCRATES: Seeing then that there are these two evils, the doing injustice and the suffering injustice—and we affirm that to do injustice is a greater, and to suffer injustice a lesser evil—by what devices can a man succeed in obtaining the two advantages, the one of not doing and the other of not suffering injustice? must he have the power, or only the will to obtain them? I mean to ask whether a man will escape injustice if he has only the will to escape, or must he have provided himself with the power?

SOCRATES: So there are two evils: doing injustice and suffering injustice. We agree that doing injustice is the greater evil, and suffering injustice is the lesser. How can a man gain both advantages, neither doing nor suffering injustice? Must he have the power to achieve both, or is the desire enough? I mean, will a man escape injustice if he only wants to escape it? Or must he have equipped himself with the power to escape it?

CALLICLES: He must have provided himself with the power; that is clear.

CALLICLES: He must have gained the power himself. That much is clear.

SOCRATES: And what do you say of doing injustice? Is the will only sufficient, and will that prevent him from doing injustice, or must he have provided himself with power and art; and if he have not studied and practised, will he be unjust still? Surely you might say, Callicles, whether you think that Polus and I were right in admitting the conclusion that no one does wrong voluntarily, but that all do wrong against their will?

SOCRATES: And what do you say about doing wrong? Is wanting to avoid wrongdoing enough to prevent someone from doing wrong? Or must he have equipped himself with power and skill? And if he has not studied and practiced, will he still do wrong? Surely you can tell me, Callicles, whether you think Polus and I were right to accept our conclusion. We agreed that no one does wrong willingly, but that everyone who does wrong acts against their will.

CALLICLES: Granted, Socrates, if you will only have done.

CALLICLES: I agree, Socrates, if you'll just finish.

SOCRATES: Then, as would appear, power and art have to be provided in order that we may do no injustice?

SOCRATES: Then it seems we need power and skill so that we do no injustice?

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And what art will protect us from suffering injustice, if not wholly, yet as far as possible? I want to know whether you agree with me; for I think that such an art is the art of one who is either a ruler or even tyrant himself, or the equal and companion of the ruling power.

SOCRATES: What skill will protect us from suffering injustice, if not completely, then as much as possible? I want to know whether you agree with me. For I think such a skill belongs to someone who is a ruler or even a tyrant himself. Or it belongs to someone who is an equal and companion of those in power.

CALLICLES: Well said, Socrates; and please to observe how ready I am to praise you when you talk sense.

CALLICLES: Well said, Socrates. And please notice how ready I am to praise you when you talk sense.

SOCRATES: Think and tell me whether you would approve of another view of mine: To me every man appears to be most the friend of him who is most like to him—like to like, as ancient sages say: Would you not agree to this?

SOCRATES: Think about another view of mine and tell me whether you agree. It seems to me that every man is closest friends with whoever is most like him. Like seeks like, as the ancient sages say. Would you agree?

CALLICLES: I should.

CALLICLES: I would.

SOCRATES: But when the tyrant is rude and uneducated, he may be expected to fear any one who is his superior in virtue, and will never be able to be perfectly friendly with him.

SOCRATES: But when a tyrant is uncultured and uneducated, he can be expected to fear anyone more virtuous than himself. And he will never be able to be fully friendly with that person.

CALLICLES: That is true.

CALLICLES: That's true.

SOCRATES: Neither will he be the friend of any one who is greatly his inferior, for the tyrant will despise him, and will never seriously regard him as a friend.

SOCRATES: Nor will the tyrant be friends with anyone far beneath him. For the tyrant will despise that person and never seriously consider him a friend.

CALLICLES: That again is true.

CALLICLES: That’s true too.

SOCRATES: Then the only friend worth mentioning, whom the tyrant can have, will be one who is of the same character, and has the same likes and dislikes, and is at the same time willing to be subject and subservient to him; he is the man who will have power in the state, and no one will injure him with impunity:—is not that so?

SOCRATES: Then the only friend worth mentioning a tyrant can have is someone with the same character, likes, and dislikes. This friend must also be willing to submit to the tyrant and serve him. Such a man will have power in the state, and no one who harms him will go unpunished. Isn't that so?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And if a young man begins to ask how he may become great and formidable, this would seem to be the way—he will accustom himself, from his youth upward, to feel sorrow and joy on the same occasions as his master, and will contrive to be as like him as possible?

SOCRATES: And if a young man starts asking how to become powerful and feared, wouldn't the following seem the way? From his youth, he will train himself to feel sorrow and joy at the same things as his master. And he will try to be as much like his master as possible, won't he?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And in this way he will have accomplished, as you and your friends would say, the end of becoming a great man and not suffering injury?

SOCRATES: And will he have achieved his goal this way, as you and your friends would say? Will he have become a great man and avoided harm?

CALLICLES: Very true.

SOCRATES: But will he also escape from doing injury? Must not the very opposite be true,—if he is to be like the tyrant in his injustice, and to have influence with him? Will he not rather contrive to do as much wrong as possible, and not be punished?

SOCRATES: But will he also avoid doing harm? Mustn't the opposite be true if he is to match the tyrant's injustice and gain influence with him? Won't he instead find ways to do as much wrong as possible without being punished?

CALLICLES: True.

SOCRATES: And by the imitation of his master and by the power which he thus acquires will not his soul become bad and corrupted, and will not this be the greatest evil to him?

SOCRATES: Won't imitating his master and gaining power through that imitation make his soul bad and corrupt? And won't that corruption be the greatest evil for him?

CALLICLES: You always contrive somehow or other, Socrates, to invert everything: do you not know that he who imitates the tyrant will, if he has a mind, kill him who does not imitate him and take away his goods?

CALLICLES: Somehow, Socrates, you always manage to turn everything upside down. Don’t you know that someone who imitates the tyrant will, if he wants, kill someone who doesn’t? And take that person’s property?

SOCRATES: Excellent Callicles, I am not deaf, and I have heard that a great many times from you and from Polus and from nearly every man in the city, but I wish that you would hear me too. I dare say that he will kill him if he has a mind—the bad man will kill the good and true.

SOCRATES: My dear Callicles, I am not deaf. I have heard that many times from you, from Polus, and from nearly every man in the city. But I wish you would listen to me too. I suppose he will kill him if he wants to. The bad man will kill the good and honest man.

CALLICLES: And is not that just the provoking thing?

CALLICLES: And isn't that exactly what's so frustrating?

SOCRATES: Nay, not to a man of sense, as the argument shows: do you think that all our cares should be directed to prolonging life to the uttermost, and to the study of those arts which secure us from danger always; like that art of rhetoric which saves men in courts of law, and which you advise me to cultivate?

SOCRATES: No, not to a sensible man, as the argument shows. Do you think all our efforts should go toward living as long as possible? And toward learning the skills that always keep us safe from danger? For example, rhetoric saves men in courts of law, and you advise me to learn it.

CALLICLES: Yes, truly, and very good advice too.

CALLICLES: Yes, absolutely, and very good advice too.

SOCRATES: Well, my friend, but what do you think of swimming; is that an art of any great pretensions?

SOCRATES: Well, my friend, but what do you think of swimming? Is swimming a skill that claims any great importance?

CALLICLES: No, indeed.

CALLICLES: Definitely not.

SOCRATES: And yet surely swimming saves a man from death, and there are occasions on which he must know how to swim. And if you despise the swimmers, I will tell you of another and greater art, the art of the pilot, who not only saves the souls of men, but also their bodies and properties from the extremity of danger, just like rhetoric. Yet his art is modest and unpresuming: it has no airs or pretences of doing anything extraordinary, and, in return for the same salvation which is given by the pleader, demands only two obols, if he brings us from Aegina to Athens, or for the longer voyage from Pontus or Egypt, at the utmost two drachmae, when he has saved, as I was just now saying, the passenger and his wife and children and goods, and safely disembarked them at the Piraeus,—this is the payment which he asks in return for so great a boon; and he who is the master of the art, and has done all this, gets out and walks about on the sea-shore by his ship in an unassuming way. For he is able to reflect and is aware that he cannot tell which of his fellow-passengers he has benefited, and which of them he has injured in not allowing them to be drowned. He knows that they are just the same when he has disembarked them as when they embarked, and not a whit better either in their bodies or in their souls; and he considers that if a man who is afflicted by great and incurable bodily diseases is only to be pitied for having escaped, and is in no way benefited by him in having been saved from drowning, much less he who has great and incurable diseases, not of the body, but of the soul, which is the more valuable part of him; neither is life worth having nor of any profit to the bad man, whether he be delivered from the sea, or the law-courts, or any other devourer;—and so he reflects that such a one had better not live, for he cannot live well. (Compare Republic.)

SOCRATES: And yet swimming surely saves a man from death, and sometimes he must know how to swim. And if you look down on swimmers, I will tell you about another, greater skill: a ship’s pilot’s skill. Like rhetoric, the pilot’s skill saves not only people’s souls but also their bodies and possessions from extreme danger. Yet his profession is modest and unassuming. He puts on no airs and makes no claims to do anything extraordinary. For the same rescue a courtroom advocate provides, he asks only two obols to bring us from Aegina to Athens. For the longer voyage from Pontus or Egypt, he asks at most two drachmae. As I was just saying, he has saved the passenger, his wife, his children, and his goods. He has brought them safely ashore at the Piraeus. Such is the payment he asks for so great a service. And the expert who has done all this steps ashore and walks modestly beside his ship. For he can reflect on his actions. He knows he cannot tell which passengers he has helped by preventing their drowning, and which he has harmed. He knows they are just the same when they leave his ship as when they boarded. They are not the slightest bit better in body or soul. He considers a man suffering from severe, incurable physical diseases. If that man deserves only pity for escaping death, then saving him from drowning has done him no good. How much less has he helped someone with severe, incurable diseases of the soul, the more valuable part of him. Life is neither worth having nor beneficial to a bad man. This holds whether he is saved from the sea, the law courts, or anything else that might destroy him. And so the pilot reflects that such a man would be better off dead, since he cannot live well. (Compare Republic.)

And this is the reason why the pilot, although he is our saviour, is not usually conceited, any more than the engineer, who is not at all behind either the general, or the pilot, or any one else, in his saving power, for he sometimes saves whole cities. Is there any comparison between him and the pleader? And if he were to talk, Callicles, in your grandiose style, he would bury you under a mountain of words, declaring and insisting that we ought all of us to be engine-makers, and that no other profession is worth thinking about; he would have plenty to say. Nevertheless you despise him and his art, and sneeringly call him an engine-maker, and you will not allow your daughters to marry his son, or marry your son to his daughters. And yet, on your principle, what justice or reason is there in your refusal? What right have you to despise the engine-maker, and the others whom I was just now mentioning? I know that you will say, “I am better, and better born.” But if the better is not what I say, and virtue consists only in a man saving himself and his, whatever may be his character, then your censure of the engine-maker, and of the physician, and of the other arts of salvation, is ridiculous. O my friend! I want you to see that the noble and the good may possibly be something different from saving and being saved:—May not he who is truly a man cease to care about living a certain time?—he knows, as women say, that no man can escape fate, and therefore he is not fond of life; he leaves all that with God, and considers in what way he can best spend his appointed term;—whether by assimilating himself to the constitution under which he lives, as you at this moment have to consider how you may become as like as possible to the Athenian people, if you mean to be in their good graces, and to have power in the state; whereas I want you to think and see whether this is for the interest of either of us;—I would not have us risk that which is dearest on the acquisition of this power, like the Thessalian enchantresses, who, as they say, bring down the moon from heaven at the risk of their own perdition. But if you suppose that any man will show you the art of becoming great in the city, and yet not conforming yourself to the ways of the city, whether for better or worse, then I can only say that you are mistaken, Callides; for he who would deserve to be the true natural friend of the Athenian Demus, aye, or of Pyrilampes’ darling who is called after them, must be by nature like them, and not an imitator only. He, then, who will make you most like them, will make you as you desire, a statesman and orator: for every man is pleased when he is spoken to in his own language and spirit, and dislikes any other. But perhaps you, sweet Callicles, may be of another mind. What do you say?

And this is why the ship’s pilot, although he saves our lives, is not usually full of himself. Nor is the engineer, whose power to save lives matches any general, pilot, or anyone else. Sometimes he saves whole cities. How does a courtroom speaker compare with him? And if the engineer spoke in your grand style, Callicles, he would bury you under a mountain of words. He would declare and insist that we should all build engines, and that no other profession deserves consideration. He would have plenty to say. Yet you despise him and his craft, and sneeringly call him an engine-maker. You will not let your daughters marry his son, or your son marry his daughters. Yet by your own principle, what justice or reason supports your refusal? What right have you to despise the engine-maker and the others I just mentioned? I know you will say, “I am better, and better born.” But suppose being better does not mean what I say it means. Suppose virtue means only saving yourself and your own people, whatever your character. Then your contempt for the engine-maker, the physician, and the other lifesaving professions is ridiculous. My friend! I want you to see that being noble and good may mean something different from saving lives and being saved. Might a true man stop worrying about how long he will live? He knows, as women say, that no one can escape fate, and so he does not cling to life. He leaves all that to God and considers how best to spend his allotted time. Should he make himself like the political system he lives under? You must now consider a similar question. How can you become as much like the Athenian people as possible, if you want their favor and political power? But I want you to consider whether becoming like them serves either of our interests. I would not have us risk what we hold dearest to gain this power. We would be like the Thessalian enchantresses. They are said to bring the moon down from heaven at the risk of their own destruction. But perhaps you suppose someone can teach you how to become powerful in the city without adopting its ways. If you think you can avoid conforming, for better or worse, I can only say you are mistaken, Callides. Anyone worthy of being a true, natural friend of the Athenian Demus must be like them by nature. The same goes for anyone seeking friendship with Pyrilampes’ darling, who is named after them. He must not merely imitate them. So whoever makes you most like them will make you what you want to be: a statesman and public speaker. For everyone enjoys being addressed in his own language and spirit, and dislikes any other. But perhaps you, sweet Callicles, think differently. What do you say?

CALLICLES: Somehow or other your words, Socrates, always appear to me to be good words; and yet, like the rest of the world, I am not quite convinced by them. (Compare Symp.: 1 Alcib.)

CALLICLES: Somehow, Socrates, your words always seem good to me. Yet, like everyone else, I’m not quite convinced by them. (Compare Symp.: 1 Alcib.)

SOCRATES: The reason is, Callicles, that the love of Demus which abides in your soul is an adversary to me; but I dare say that if we recur to these same matters, and consider them more thoroughly, you may be convinced for all that. Please, then, to remember that there are two processes of training all things, including body and soul; in the one, as we said, we treat them with a view to pleasure, and in the other with a view to the highest good, and then we do not indulge but resist them: was not that the distinction which we drew?

SOCRATES: The reason, Callicles, is that the love of Demus in your soul works against me. But I dare say you may still be convinced if we return to these matters and examine them more closely. Please remember, then, that there are two ways of training all things, including the body and soul. In one, as we said, we aim at pleasure. In the other, we aim at the highest good, and so we resist the body and soul rather than indulge them. Wasn't that the distinction we made?

CALLICLES: Very true.

CALLICLES: Absolutely true.

SOCRATES: And the one which had pleasure in view was just a vulgar flattery:—was not that another of our conclusions?

SOCRATES: And the one aimed at pleasure was just crude flattery. Wasn't that another of our conclusions?

CALLICLES: Be it so, if you will have it.

CALLICLES: Fine, if you insist.

SOCRATES: And the other had in view the greatest improvement of that which was ministered to, whether body or soul?

SOCRATES: And the other aimed to improve what it cared for as much as possible, whether body or soul?

CALLICLES: Quite true.

CALLICLES: Absolutely true.

SOCRATES: And must we not have the same end in view in the treatment of our city and citizens? Must we not try and make them as good as possible? For we have already discovered that there is no use in imparting to them any other good, unless the mind of those who are to have the good, whether money, or office, or any other sort of power, be gentle and good. Shall we say that?

SOCRATES: And must we not have the same goal when caring for our city and its citizens? Must we not try to make them as good as possible? For we have already found that giving them any other benefit is useless unless their minds are gentle and good. This holds whether the benefit is money, public office, or any other kind of power. Shall we agree on that?

CALLICLES: Yes, certainly, if you like.

CALLICLES: Yes, of course, if you like.

SOCRATES: Well, then, if you and I, Callicles, were intending to set about some public business, and were advising one another to undertake buildings, such as walls, docks or temples of the largest size, ought we not to examine ourselves, first, as to whether we know or do not know the art of building, and who taught us?—would not that be necessary, Callicles?

SOCRATES: Well then, Callicles, suppose you and I were planning to take on some public project. Suppose we were advising each other to build walls, docks, or temples on the largest scale. Shouldn't we first ask ourselves whether we know how to build, and who taught us? Wouldn't we need to do that, Callicles?

CALLICLES: True.

SOCRATES: In the second place, we should have to consider whether we had ever constructed any private house, either of our own or for our friends, and whether this building of ours was a success or not; and if upon consideration we found that we had had good and eminent masters, and had been successful in constructing many fine buildings, not only with their assistance, but without them, by our own unaided skill—in that case prudence would not dissuade us from proceeding to the construction of public works. But if we had no master to show, and only a number of worthless buildings or none at all, then, surely, it would be ridiculous in us to attempt public works, or to advise one another to undertake them. Is not this true?

SOCRATES: Second, we would have to consider whether we had ever built a private house for ourselves or our friends. We would also have to consider whether our building was successful. Suppose we found that we had learned from skilled, distinguished teachers and had successfully built many fine buildings. Suppose we had done so not only with their help, but also on our own, using only our own skill. In that case, caution would not hold us back from building public works. But suppose we could point to no teacher, and had built only worthless buildings or none at all. Then surely it would be ridiculous for us to attempt public works, or advise one another to undertake them. Isn't that true?

CALLICLES: Certainly.

SOCRATES: And does not the same hold in all other cases? If you and I were physicians, and were advising one another that we were competent to practise as state-physicians, should I not ask about you, and would you not ask about me, Well, but how about Socrates himself, has he good health? and was any one else ever known to be cured by him, whether slave or freeman? And I should make the same enquiries about you. And if we arrived at the conclusion that no one, whether citizen or stranger, man or woman, had ever been any the better for the medical skill of either of us, then, by Heaven, Callicles, what an absurdity to think that we or any human being should be so silly as to set up as state-physicians and advise others like ourselves to do the same, without having first practised in private, whether successfully or not, and acquired experience of the art! Is not this, as they say, to begin with the big jar when you are learning the potter’s art; which is a foolish thing?

SOCRATES: And doesn’t the same hold in all other cases? Suppose you and I were doctors, advising each other that we were qualified to serve as state doctors. Wouldn’t I ask about you, and wouldn’t you ask about me? Well, what about Socrates himself? Is he in good health? Has he ever been known to cure anyone, whether a slave or a free person? And I would ask the same questions about you. Suppose we concluded that neither of us had ever improved anyone’s health through our medical skill. Not a citizen or a foreigner, a man or a woman. Then, by Heaven, Callicles, how absurd it would be for us, or anyone, to act so foolishly! We would be setting ourselves up as state doctors and advising others like us to do the same. Yet we would never have practised privately, successfully or otherwise, and gained experience in medicine! Isn’t that, as people say, like starting with a big jar when you’re learning to make pottery? Isn’t that a foolish thing to do?

CALLICLES: True.

SOCRATES: And now, my friend, as you are already beginning to be a public character, and are admonishing and reproaching me for not being one, suppose that we ask a few questions of one another. Tell me, then, Callicles, how about making any of the citizens better? Was there ever a man who was once vicious, or unjust, or intemperate, or foolish, and became by the help of Callicles good and noble? Was there ever such a man, whether citizen or stranger, slave or freeman? Tell me, Callicles, if a person were to ask these questions of you, what would you answer? Whom would you say that you had improved by your conversation? There may have been good deeds of this sort which were done by you as a private person, before you came forward in public. Why will you not answer?

SOCRATES: Now, my friend, you are already beginning to enter public life. And you criticize and scold me for not doing the same. So suppose we ask each other a few questions. Tell me, Callicles, have you made any of the citizens better? Has anyone who was wicked, unjust, lacking self-control, or foolish ever become good and noble with your help? Has there ever been such a person, whether citizen or foreigner, slave or free? Tell me, Callicles, if someone asked you these questions, what would you answer? Who would you say you had improved through conversation? You may have done good deeds of this kind as a private person, before you entered public life. Why won't you answer?

CALLICLES: You are contentious, Socrates.

CALLICLES: You are argumentative, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Nay, I ask you, not from a love of contention, but because I really want to know in what way you think that affairs should be administered among us—whether, when you come to the administration of them, you have any other aim but the improvement of the citizens? Have we not already admitted many times over that such is the duty of a public man? Nay, we have surely said so; for if you will not answer for yourself I must answer for you. But if this is what the good man ought to effect for the benefit of his own state, allow me to recall to you the names of those whom you were just now mentioning, Pericles, and Cimon, and Miltiades, and Themistocles, and ask whether you still think that they were good citizens.

SOCRATES: No, I ask you not because I enjoy arguing, but because I really want to know your view. How do you think our public affairs should be managed? When you take charge, do you have any aim besides improving the citizens? Haven’t we already agreed many times that improving citizens is the duty of a public leader? Yes, we certainly have. If you won’t answer for yourself, I must answer for you. But if a good man should improve the citizens for his own state’s benefit, let me remind you of the men you just named. You mentioned Pericles, Cimon, Miltiades, and Themistocles. Do you still think these men were good citizens?

CALLICLES: I do.

SOCRATES: But if they were good, then clearly each of them must have made the citizens better instead of worse?

SOCRATES: But if they were good, then clearly each must have made the citizens better, not worse, right?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And, therefore, when Pericles first began to speak in the assembly, the Athenians were not so good as when he spoke last?

SOCRATES: So, were the Athenians less good when Pericles first spoke in the assembly than when he last spoke?

CALLICLES: Very likely.

SOCRATES: Nay, my friend, “likely” is not the word; for if he was a good citizen, the inference is certain.

SOCRATES: No, my friend, “likely” is not the right word. For if he was a good citizen, the conclusion is certain.

CALLICLES: And what difference does that make?

SOCRATES: None; only I should like further to know whether the Athenians are supposed to have been made better by Pericles, or, on the contrary, to have been corrupted by him; for I hear that he was the first who gave the people pay, and made them idle and cowardly, and encouraged them in the love of talk and money.

SOCRATES: None. I only want to know whether Pericles is thought to have made the Athenians better or, instead, corrupted them. For I hear he was the first to pay the people, making them lazy and cowardly. I also hear he encouraged their love of talk and money.

CALLICLES: You heard that, Socrates, from the laconising set who bruise their ears.

CALLICLES: You heard that, Socrates, from those Spartan admirers with their bruised ears.

SOCRATES: But what I am going to tell you now is not mere hearsay, but well known both to you and me: that at first, Pericles was glorious and his character unimpeached by any verdict of the Athenians—this was during the time when they were not so good—yet afterwards, when they had been made good and gentle by him, at the very end of his life they convicted him of theft, and almost put him to death, clearly under the notion that he was a malefactor.

SOCRATES: But what I am about to tell you is not just hearsay. Both you and I know it well. At first, Pericles was celebrated, and no verdict by the Athenians had called his character into question. That was when the Athenians were not so good. But later, after Pericles had made them good and gentle, they convicted him of theft near the end of his life. They almost put him to death, clearly believing he was a criminal.

CALLICLES: Well, but how does that prove Pericles’ badness?

CALLICLES: Well, but how does that prove Pericles was bad?

SOCRATES: Why, surely you would say that he was a bad manager of asses or horses or oxen, who had received them originally neither kicking nor butting nor biting him, and implanted in them all these savage tricks? Would he not be a bad manager of any animals who received them gentle, and made them fiercer than they were when he received them? What do you say?

SOCRATES: Surely you would call someone a bad handler of donkeys, horses, or oxen in the following case. The animals did not kick, butt, or bite him at first, but he taught them all these vicious habits. Wouldn't someone be a bad handler of any animals if he took them in gentle and made them fiercer? What do you say?

CALLICLES: I will do you the favour of saying “yes.”

CALLICLES: I’ll do you the favor of saying “yes.”

SOCRATES: And will you also do me the favour of saying whether man is an animal?

SOCRATES: And will you also do me the favor of saying whether a human being is an animal?

CALLICLES: Certainly he is.

CALLICLES: He certainly is.

SOCRATES: And was not Pericles a shepherd of men?

SOCRATES: And wasn't Pericles a shepherd of people?

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: And if he was a good political shepherd, ought not the animals who were his subjects, as we were just now acknowledging, to have become more just, and not more unjust?

SOCRATES: And if he was a good political shepherd, shouldn't the animals under his rule have become more just, not more unjust? That's what we just agreed.

CALLICLES: Quite true.

CALLICLES: Absolutely true.

SOCRATES: And are not just men gentle, as Homer says?—or are you of another mind?

SOCRATES: And aren't just men gentle, as Homer says? Or do you disagree?

CALLICLES: I agree.

SOCRATES: And yet he really did make them more savage than he received them, and their savageness was shown towards himself; which he must have been very far from desiring.

SOCRATES: And yet he really did make them more savage than they were when he took them on. And they turned their savagery against him, which must have been the last thing he wanted.

CALLICLES: Do you want me to agree with you?

SOCRATES: Yes, if I seem to you to speak the truth.

SOCRATES: Yes, if you think I’m telling the truth.

CALLICLES: Granted then.

CALLICLES: Agreed, then.

SOCRATES: And if they were more savage, must they not have been more unjust and inferior?

SOCRATES: And if they were more savage, mustn't they also have been more unjust and worse?

CALLICLES: Granted again.

CALLICLES: I agree again.

SOCRATES: Then upon this view, Pericles was not a good statesman?

SOCRATES: So, according to this view, Pericles wasn't a good statesman?

CALLICLES: That is, upon your view.

CALLICLES: That's how you see it.

SOCRATES: Nay, the view is yours, after what you have admitted. Take the case of Cimon again. Did not the very persons whom he was serving ostracize him, in order that they might not hear his voice for ten years? and they did just the same to Themistocles, adding the penalty of exile; and they voted that Miltiades, the hero of Marathon, should be thrown into the pit of death, and he was only saved by the Prytanis. And yet, if they had been really good men, as you say, these things would never have happened to them. For the good charioteers are not those who at first keep their place, and then, when they have broken-in their horses, and themselves become better charioteers, are thrown out—that is not the way either in charioteering or in any profession.—What do you think?

SOCRATES: No, that is your view, given what you have admitted. Take Cimon again. Didn’t the very people he served ostracize him so they would not hear his voice for ten years? And they did just the same to Themistocles, adding exile as a penalty. They also voted to throw Miltiades, the hero of Marathon, into the pit of death. Only the Prytanis saved him. Yet if these men had been truly good, as you say, these things would never have happened to them. Good charioteers are not those who stay in their chariots at first, only to be thrown out later. By then, they have trained their horses and become better charioteers themselves. That is not how things work in chariot racing or any other profession. What do you think?

CALLICLES: I should think not.

CALLICLES: I don't think so.

SOCRATES: Well, but if so, the truth is as I have said already, that in the Athenian State no one has ever shown himself to be a good statesman—you admitted that this was true of our present statesmen, but not true of former ones, and you preferred them to the others; yet they have turned out to be no better than our present ones; and therefore, if they were rhetoricians, they did not use the true art of rhetoric or of flattery, or they would not have fallen out of favour.

SOCRATES: Well, if so, the truth is as I have already said. No one in the Athenian State has ever proved to be a good statesman. You admitted this was true of our present statesmen, but not of earlier ones. You preferred the earlier statesmen to the present ones. Yet the earlier statesmen have turned out to be no better than our present ones. So, if they were rhetoricians, they did not practice the true art of rhetoric or of flattery. Otherwise, they would not have fallen out of favour.

CALLICLES: But surely, Socrates, no living man ever came near any one of them in his performances.

CALLICLES: But surely, Socrates, no man alive ever came close to matching what any of them accomplished.

SOCRATES: O, my dear friend, I say nothing against them regarded as the serving-men of the State; and I do think that they were certainly more serviceable than those who are living now, and better able to gratify the wishes of the State; but as to transforming those desires and not allowing them to have their way, and using the powers which they had, whether of persuasion or of force, in the improvement of their fellow citizens, which is the prime object of the truly good citizen, I do not see that in these respects they were a whit superior to our present statesmen, although I do admit that they were more clever at providing ships and walls and docks, and all that. You and I have a ridiculous way, for during the whole time that we are arguing, we are always going round and round to the same point, and constantly misunderstanding one another. If I am not mistaken, you have admitted and acknowledged more than once, that there are two kinds of operations which have to do with the body, and two which have to do with the soul: one of the two is ministerial, and if our bodies are hungry provides food for them, and if they are thirsty gives them drink, or if they are cold supplies them with garments, blankets, shoes, and all that they crave. I use the same images as before intentionally, in order that you may understand me the better. The purveyor of the articles may provide them either wholesale or retail, or he may be the maker of any of them,—the baker, or the cook, or the weaver, or the shoemaker, or the currier; and in so doing, being such as he is, he is naturally supposed by himself and every one to minister to the body. For none of them know that there is another art—an art of gymnastic and medicine which is the true minister of the body, and ought to be the mistress of all the rest, and to use their results according to the knowledge which she has and they have not, of the real good or bad effects of meats and drinks on the body. All other arts which have to do with the body are servile and menial and illiberal; and gymnastic and medicine are, as they ought to be, their mistresses. Now, when I say that all this is equally true of the soul, you seem at first to know and understand and assent to my words, and then a little while afterwards you come repeating, Has not the State had good and noble citizens? and when I ask you who they are, you reply, seemingly quite in earnest, as if I had asked, Who are or have been good trainers?—and you had replied, Thearion, the baker, Mithoecus, who wrote the Sicilian cookery-book, Sarambus, the vintner: these are ministers of the body, first-rate in their art; for the first makes admirable loaves, the second excellent dishes, and the third capital wine;—to me these appear to be the exact parallel of the statesmen whom you mention. Now you would not be altogether pleased if I said to you, My friend, you know nothing of gymnastics; those of whom you are speaking to me are only the ministers and purveyors of luxury, who have no good or noble notions of their art, and may very likely be filling and fattening men’s bodies and gaining their approval, although the result is that they lose their original flesh in the long run, and become thinner than they were before; and yet they, in their simplicity, will not attribute their diseases and loss of flesh to their entertainers; but when in after years the unhealthy surfeit brings the attendant penalty of disease, he who happens to be near them at the time, and offers them advice, is accused and blamed by them, and if they could they would do him some harm; while they proceed to eulogize the men who have been the real authors of the mischief. And that, Callicles, is just what you are now doing. You praise the men who feasted the citizens and satisfied their desires, and people say that they have made the city great, not seeing that the swollen and ulcerated condition of the State is to be attributed to these elder statesmen; for they have filled the city full of harbours and docks and walls and revenues and all that, and have left no room for justice and temperance. And when the crisis of the disorder comes, the people will blame the advisers of the hour, and applaud Themistocles and Cimon and Pericles, who are the real authors of their calamities; and if you are not careful they may assail you and my friend Alcibiades, when they are losing not only their new acquisitions, but also their original possessions; not that you are the authors of these misfortunes of theirs, although you may perhaps be accessories to them. A great piece of work is always being made, as I see and am told, now as of old; about our statesmen. When the State treats any of them as malefactors, I observe that there is a great uproar and indignation at the supposed wrong which is done to them; “after all their many services to the State, that they should unjustly perish,”—so the tale runs. But the cry is all a lie; for no statesman ever could be unjustly put to death by the city of which he is the head. The case of the professed statesman is, I believe, very much like that of the professed sophist; for the sophists, although they are wise men, are nevertheless guilty of a strange piece of folly; professing to be teachers of virtue, they will often accuse their disciples of wronging them, and defrauding them of their pay, and showing no gratitude for their services. Yet what can be more absurd than that men who have become just and good, and whose injustice has been taken away from them, and who have had justice implanted in them by their teachers, should act unjustly by reason of the injustice which is not in them? Can anything be more irrational, my friends, than this? You, Callicles, compel me to be a mob-orator, because you will not answer.

SOCRATES: My dear friend, I have nothing against those men as servants of the State. I certainly think they were more useful than today’s statesmen and better at satisfying the State’s wishes. But did they change those desires instead of letting them run free? Did they use their powers of persuasion or force to improve their fellow citizens? That is the chief aim of a truly good citizen. In these respects, I cannot see that they were any better than our present statesmen. Still, I admit they were more skilled at providing ships, walls, docks, and everything of that kind. You and I are behaving absurdly. Throughout our argument, we keep circling back to the same point and misunderstanding each other. Unless I am mistaken, you have admitted more than once that there are two kinds of care for the body. You have also acknowledged two kinds of care for the soul. One kind simply serves our needs. If our bodies are hungry, it provides food. If they are thirsty, it provides drink. If they are cold, it supplies clothes, blankets, shoes, and whatever else they want. I am deliberately using the same examples as before so that you can understand me better. The supplier may sell these goods wholesale or retail, or may make them himself. He may be a baker, cook, weaver, shoemaker, or leatherworker. Naturally, both he and everyone else think that his work serves the body. For none of these people know that another art exists: physical training and medicine. This art truly serves the body and should direct all the others. It should use their products according to its knowledge of how food and drink help or harm the body. The other arts lack that knowledge. All other arts concerned with the body are subordinate, menial, and unworthy of a free person. Physical training and medicine rule over them, as they should. Now, when I say the same applies to the soul, at first you seem to understand and agree. But a little later, you come back asking, Hasn’t the State had good and noble citizens? When I ask who these citizens are, you answer as though I had asked who the good trainers were. You seem quite serious, as if your answer had been this: Thearion, the baker. Mithoecus, who wrote the Sicilian cookbook. Sarambus, the wine merchant. These men serve the body and are first-rate at their work. The first makes wonderful bread, the second excellent dishes, and the third splendid wine. To me, these men seem exact counterparts of the statesmen you mention. Now, you would not be entirely pleased if I gave you this answer: My friend, you know nothing about physical training. The men you mention merely serve and supply luxury. They have no good or noble understanding of their work. They may well be stuffing people’s bodies and making them fat, while winning their approval. Yet, in the long run, those people lose the flesh they originally had and become thinner than before. Still, in their ignorance, they will not blame their diseases and weight loss on those who fed them. Years later, their unhealthy overeating brings its punishment in disease. Then they accuse and blame whoever happens to be nearby offering advice. If they could, they would harm that person. Meanwhile, they praise the men who actually caused the damage. And that, Callicles, is exactly what you are doing now. You praise the men who feasted the citizens and satisfied their desires. People say those men made the city great. They fail to see that those earlier statesmen caused the State’s swollen, diseased condition. For those men filled the city with harbours, docks, walls, revenues, and everything of that kind. They left no room for justice and self-control. When the disease reaches a crisis, the people will blame whoever is advising them then. They will applaud Themistocles, Cimon, and Pericles, who are the real causes of their disasters. And unless you are careful, they may attack you and my friend Alcibiades. This may happen when the people lose not only their new acquisitions but also their original possessions. You are not the causes of these misfortunes, though you may perhaps have helped bring them about. As I see and hear, people always make a great fuss about our statesmen, now as in the past. When the State treats one of them as a criminal, people raise an uproar. They express outrage at the supposed injustice. “After all their many services to the State, they should be unjustly put to death,” so the story goes. But that whole outcry is a lie. For no statesman could ever be unjustly put to death by the city he leads. I believe someone who claims to be a statesman is much like someone who claims to be a sophist. For the sophists, wise as they are, commit a strange piece of foolishness. They claim to teach virtue. Yet they often accuse their students of wronging them, cheating them of their pay, and showing no gratitude for their services. But what could be more absurd? These students have become just and good. Their teachers have removed their injustice and planted justice in them. Yet supposedly they act unjustly because of an injustice they no longer possess. My friends, could anything be more irrational? Callicles, you force me to make speeches to a crowd because you refuse to answer.

CALLICLES: And you are the man who cannot speak unless there is some one to answer?

CALLICLES: And you're the one who can't speak unless someone is there to answer?

SOCRATES: I suppose that I can; just now, at any rate, the speeches which I am making are long enough because you refuse to answer me. But I adjure you by the god of friendship, my good sir, do tell me whether there does not appear to you to be a great inconsistency in saying that you have made a man good, and then blaming him for being bad?

SOCRATES: I suppose I can. At least, right now my speeches are long enough because you refuse to answer me. But, my good friend, I beg you in the name of the god of friendship to tell me something. Doesn't it seem deeply inconsistent to claim you've made a man good, then blame him for being bad?

CALLICLES: Yes, it appears so to me.

CALLICLES: Yes, it seems that way to me.

SOCRATES: Do you never hear our professors of education speaking in this inconsistent manner?

SOCRATES: Don’t you ever hear our teachers of education contradicting themselves like this?

CALLICLES: Yes, but why talk of men who are good for nothing?

CALLICLES: Yes, but why talk about men who are good for nothing?

SOCRATES: I would rather say, why talk of men who profess to be rulers, and declare that they are devoted to the improvement of the city, and nevertheless upon occasion declaim against the utter vileness of the city:—do you think that there is any difference between one and the other? My good friend, the sophist and the rhetorician, as I was saying to Polus, are the same, or nearly the same; but you ignorantly fancy that rhetoric is a perfect thing, and sophistry a thing to be despised; whereas the truth is, that sophistry is as much superior to rhetoric as legislation is to the practice of law, or gymnastic to medicine. The orators and sophists, as I am inclined to think, are the only class who cannot complain of the mischief ensuing to themselves from that which they teach others, without in the same breath accusing themselves of having done no good to those whom they profess to benefit. Is not this a fact?

SOCRATES: I would put it this way instead. Why talk about men who claim to be rulers and say they are devoted to improving the city? Yet sometimes these same men denounce the city as utterly wicked. Do you think there is any difference between the two cases? My good friend, as I was saying to Polus, the sophist and the rhetorician are the same, or nearly so. But in your ignorance, you imagine that rhetoric is perfect and sophistry deserves contempt. In fact, sophistry is superior to rhetoric just as legislation is superior to practicing law, or physical training to medicine. I am inclined to think that orators and sophists are unique in one respect. They cannot complain about harm they suffer from what they teach others without also accusing themselves. Such complaints admit that they have done no good to the people they claim to benefit. Isn't that a fact?

CALLICLES: Certainly it is.

CALLICLES: Yes, it certainly is.

SOCRATES: If they were right in saying that they make men better, then they are the only class who can afford to leave their remuneration to those who have been benefited by them. Whereas if a man has been benefited in any other way, if, for example, he has been taught to run by a trainer, he might possibly defraud him of his pay, if the trainer left the matter to him, and made no agreement with him that he should receive money as soon as he had given him the utmost speed; for not because of any deficiency of speed do men act unjustly, but by reason of injustice.

SOCRATES: If they were right to say they make men better, they alone can safely leave payment to those they benefit. But a man who benefits in some other way might cheat the person who helped him out of payment. For example, a man taught to run by a trainer might refuse to pay if the trainer left payment up to him. This could happen if the trainer made no agreement requiring payment as soon as the man reached his greatest speed. For men act unjustly not because they lack speed, but because they are unjust.

CALLICLES: Very true.

SOCRATES: And he who removes injustice can be in no danger of being treated unjustly: he alone can safely leave the honorarium to his pupils, if he be really able to make them good—am I not right? (Compare Protag.)

SOCRATES: And someone who removes injustice faces no risk of being treated unjustly. He alone can safely let his pupils decide his fee, if he really can make them good. Am I not right? (Compare Protag.)

CALLICLES: Yes.

SOCRATES: Then we have found the reason why there is no dishonour in a man receiving pay who is called in to advise about building or any other art?

SOCRATES: So have we found why there is no shame in a man accepting payment for advice on building or any other craft?

CALLICLES: Yes, we have found the reason.

CALLICLES: Yes, we’ve found the reason.

SOCRATES: But when the point is, how a man may become best himself, and best govern his family and state, then to say that you will give no advice gratis is held to be dishonourable?

SOCRATES: But when the question is how a man can become his best and best govern his family and state, is saying you won't give advice for free considered dishonorable?

CALLICLES: True.

SOCRATES: And why? Because only such benefits call forth a desire to requite them, and there is evidence that a benefit has been conferred when the benefactor receives a return; otherwise not. Is this true?

SOCRATES: And why? Because only benefits like these make people want to repay them. And when someone receives something in return, there is evidence that they have provided a benefit. Otherwise, there is no such evidence. Is that true?

CALLICLES: It is.

SOCRATES: Then to which service of the State do you invite me? determine for me. Am I to be the physician of the State who will strive and struggle to make the Athenians as good as possible; or am I to be the servant and flatterer of the State? Speak out, my good friend, freely and fairly as you did at first and ought to do again, and tell me your entire mind.

SOCRATES: Then how are you asking me to serve the State? Tell me clearly. Should I be the State’s doctor, striving and struggling to make the Athenians as good as possible? Or should I be the State’s servant and flatterer? Speak openly, my good friend, as freely and honestly as you did at first and should do again. Tell me everything you think.

CALLICLES: I say then that you should be the servant of the State.

CALLICLES: Then I say you should serve the State.

SOCRATES: The flatterer? well, sir, that is a noble invitation.

SOCRATES: The flatterer? Well, sir, what a fine invitation.

CALLICLES: The Mysian, Socrates, or what you please. For if you refuse, the consequences will be—

CALLICLES: The Mysian, Socrates, or whatever you like. Because if you refuse, the consequences will be...

SOCRATES: Do not repeat the old story—that he who likes will kill me and get my money; for then I shall have to repeat the old answer, that he will be a bad man and will kill the good, and that the money will be of no use to him, but that he will wrongly use that which he wrongly took, and if wrongly, basely, and if basely, hurtfully.

SOCRATES: Do not repeat the old story that anyone who wants to will kill me and take my money. For then I will have to repeat the old answer. He will be a bad man who kills a good man, and the money will do him no good. Instead, he will misuse the money he took unjustly. And if he uses the money unjustly, he uses it shamefully. And if he uses it shamefully, he uses it harmfully.

CALLICLES: How confident you are, Socrates, that you will never come to harm! you seem to think that you are living in another country, and can never be brought into a court of justice, as you very likely may be brought by some miserable and mean person.

CALLICLES: You're so sure you'll never come to harm, Socrates! You seem to think you're living in another country and can never be dragged into court. Yet some vile, petty person may very well drag you there.

SOCRATES: Then I must indeed be a fool, Callicles, if I do not know that in the Athenian State any man may suffer anything. And if I am brought to trial and incur the dangers of which you speak, he will be a villain who brings me to trial—of that I am very sure, for no good man would accuse the innocent. Nor shall I be surprised if I am put to death. Shall I tell you why I anticipate this?

SOCRATES: Then I must really be a fool, Callicles, if I do not know how things stand in Athens. Anything can happen to anyone here. If I am brought to trial and face the dangers you mention, my accuser will be a villain. I am very sure of that, because no good man would accuse an innocent person. Nor will I be surprised if I am put to death. Shall I tell you why I expect this?

CALLICLES: By all means.

CALLICLES: Of course.

SOCRATES: I think that I am the only or almost the only Athenian living who practises the true art of politics; I am the only politician of my time. Now, seeing that when I speak my words are not uttered with any view of gaining favour, and that I look to what is best and not to what is most pleasant, having no mind to use those arts and graces which you recommend, I shall have nothing to say in the justice court. And you might argue with me, as I was arguing with Polus:—I shall be tried just as a physician would be tried in a court of little boys at the indictment of the cook. What would he reply under such circumstances, if some one were to accuse him, saying, “O my boys, many evil things has this man done to you: he is the death of you, especially of the younger ones among you, cutting and burning and starving and suffocating you, until you know not what to do; he gives you the bitterest potions, and compels you to hunger and thirst. How unlike the variety of meats and sweets on which I feasted you!” What do you suppose that the physician would be able to reply when he found himself in such a predicament? If he told the truth he could only say, “All these evil things, my boys, I did for your health,” and then would there not just be a clamour among a jury like that? How they would cry out!

SOCRATES: I think I am the only, or almost the only, living Athenian who practices the true art of politics. I am the only politician of my time. When I speak, I do not aim to win approval. I aim at what is best, not what is most pleasant. I have no intention of using the tricks and charm you recommend. So I will have nothing to say in court. And you might argue with me just as I argued with Polus: I will be like a doctor accused by a cook before a court of little boys. What could the doctor say in those circumstances if someone accused him like this? “Boys, this man has done you many terrible things. He is killing you, especially the younger ones among you. He cuts you, burns you, starves you, and chokes you until you do not know what to do. He gives you the bitterest medicines and forces you to go hungry and thirsty. How different from all the meats and sweets I served you!” What do you suppose the doctor could say in such a predicament? If he told the truth, he could only say, “Boys, I did all these terrible things for your health.” And wouldn't a jury like that raise an uproar? How they would shout!

CALLICLES: I dare say.

CALLICLES: I suppose so.

SOCRATES: Would he not be utterly at a loss for a reply?

SOCRATES: Wouldn't he have absolutely no idea how to reply?

CALLICLES: He certainly would.

CALLICLES: He definitely would.

SOCRATES: And I too shall be treated in the same way, as I well know, if I am brought before the court. For I shall not be able to rehearse to the people the pleasures which I have procured for them, and which, although I am not disposed to envy either the procurers or enjoyers of them, are deemed by them to be benefits and advantages. And if any one says that I corrupt young men, and perplex their minds, or that I speak evil of old men, and use bitter words towards them, whether in private or public, it is useless for me to reply, as I truly might:—“All this I do for the sake of justice, and with a view to your interest, my judges, and to nothing else.” And therefore there is no saying what may happen to me.

SOCRATES: And I know very well that I too will be treated the same way if I am brought to court. For I will not be able to list the pleasures I have provided for the people. They consider these pleasures benefits and advantages, though I do not envy either those who provide them or those who enjoy them. Someone may accuse me of corrupting young men and confusing their minds. Or they may accuse me of speaking badly of old men and addressing them harshly, in private or in public. It would be useless for me to give this truthful reply: “I do all this for the sake of justice and for your benefit, my judges, and for nothing else.” So there is no telling what may happen to me.

CALLICLES: And do you think, Socrates, that a man who is thus defenceless is in a good position?

CALLICLES: And do you think, Socrates, that a man who is defenseless like that is in a good position?

SOCRATES: Yes, Callicles, if he have that defence, which as you have often acknowledged he should have—if he be his own defence, and have never said or done anything wrong, either in respect of gods or men; and this has been repeatedly acknowledged by us to be the best sort of defence. And if any one could convict me of inability to defend myself or others after this sort, I should blush for shame, whether I was convicted before many, or before a few, or by myself alone; and if I died from want of ability to do so, that would indeed grieve me. But if I died because I have no powers of flattery or rhetoric, I am very sure that you would not find me repining at death. For no man who is not an utter fool and coward is afraid of death itself, but he is afraid of doing wrong. For to go to the world below having one’s soul full of injustice is the last and worst of all evils. And in proof of what I say, if you have no objection, I should like to tell you a story.

SOCRATES: Yes, Callicles, if he has the defence you have often agreed he should have. He must be his own defence, having never said or done anything wrong toward gods or people. We have repeatedly agreed that this is the best kind of defence. If anyone could show that I cannot defend myself or others in this way, I would blush with shame. I would feel ashamed whether I was exposed before many people, before a few, or alone with myself. And if I died because I could not defend myself in this way, I would truly be distressed. But if I died because I lacked skill in flattery or rhetoric, I am sure you would not find me complaining about death. For no one who is not a complete fool and coward fears death itself. Instead, he fears doing wrong. For going to the world below with your soul full of injustice is the greatest and worst of all evils. And to support what I am saying, I would like to tell you a story, if you have no objection.

CALLICLES: Very well, proceed; and then we shall have done.

CALLICLES: All right, go on, and then we'll be done.

SOCRATES: Listen, then, as story-tellers say, to a very pretty tale, which I dare say that you may be disposed to regard as a fable only, but which, as I believe, is a true tale, for I mean to speak the truth. Homer tells us (Il.), how Zeus and Poseidon and Pluto divided the empire which they inherited from their father. Now in the days of Cronos there existed a law respecting the destiny of man, which has always been, and still continues to be in Heaven,—that he who has lived all his life in justice and holiness shall go, when he is dead, to the Islands of the Blessed, and dwell there in perfect happiness out of the reach of evil; but that he who has lived unjustly and impiously shall go to the house of vengeance and punishment, which is called Tartarus. And in the time of Cronos, and even quite lately in the reign of Zeus, the judgment was given on the very day on which the men were to die; the judges were alive, and the men were alive; and the consequence was that the judgments were not well given. Then Pluto and the authorities from the Islands of the Blessed came to Zeus, and said that the souls found their way to the wrong places. Zeus said: “I shall put a stop to this; the judgments are not well given, because the persons who are judged have their clothes on, for they are alive; and there are many who, having evil souls, are apparelled in fair bodies, or encased in wealth or rank, and, when the day of judgment arrives, numerous witnesses come forward and testify on their behalf that they have lived righteously. The judges are awed by them, and they themselves too have their clothes on when judging; their eyes and ears and their whole bodies are interposed as a veil before their own souls. All this is a hindrance to them; there are the clothes of the judges and the clothes of the judged.—What is to be done? I will tell you:—In the first place, I will deprive men of the foreknowledge of death, which they possess at present: this power which they have Prometheus has already received my orders to take from them: in the second place, they shall be entirely stripped before they are judged, for they shall be judged when they are dead; and the judge too shall be naked, that is to say, dead—he with his naked soul shall pierce into the other naked souls; and they shall die suddenly and be deprived of all their kindred, and leave their brave attire strewn upon the earth—conducted in this manner, the judgment will be just. I knew all about the matter before any of you, and therefore I have made my sons judges; two from Asia, Minos and Rhadamanthus, and one from Europe, Aeacus. And these, when they are dead, shall give judgment in the meadow at the parting of the ways, whence the two roads lead, one to the Islands of the Blessed, and the other to Tartarus. Rhadamanthus shall judge those who come from Asia, and Aeacus those who come from Europe. And to Minos I shall give the primacy, and he shall hold a court of appeal, in case either of the two others are in any doubt:—then the judgment respecting the last journey of men will be as just as possible.”

SOCRATES: Listen, then, as storytellers say, to a very lovely tale. I dare say you may consider it only a fable. But I believe it is true, for I mean to tell the truth. Homer tells us (Il.) how Zeus, Poseidon, and Pluto divided the kingdom they inherited from their father. In the days of Cronos, there was a law about human destiny. This law has always existed in Heaven and still does. Anyone who has lived their whole life justly and in holiness shall go, after death, to the Islands of the Blessed. There they shall live in perfect happiness, beyond the reach of evil. But anyone who has lived unjustly and without reverence for the gods shall go to the place of vengeance and punishment. This place is called Tartarus. In the time of Cronos, and even until quite recently under Zeus, people were judged on the day they would die. Both the judges and those being judged were alive. As a result, the judgments were not sound. Then Pluto and the authorities from the Islands of the Blessed came to Zeus. They said that souls were ending up in the wrong places. Zeus said: “I shall put a stop to this. The judgments are unsound because those being judged are still clothed, since they are alive. Many people with evil souls are clothed in beautiful bodies or surrounded by wealth or high rank. When judgment day comes, many witnesses appear on their behalf and testify that they have lived justly. The judges are overawed by them. And the judges themselves are also clothed while judging. Their eyes, ears, and whole bodies stand like a veil in front of their souls. All these things get in their way, both the judges’ clothing and the clothing of those being judged. What should be done? I will tell you. First, I will take away people's ability to know beforehand when they will die, which they now possess. I have already ordered Prometheus to take this power from them. Second, people must be stripped completely before judgment, for they will be judged after death. The judge must also be naked, that is, dead. With his own soul laid bare, he shall look deep into the other souls laid bare before him. Those being judged shall die suddenly and be separated from all their relatives. They shall leave their fine clothing scattered on the earth. If judgment is carried out this way, it will be just. I understood this matter before any of you did, and so I have appointed my sons as judges. Two are from Asia, Minos and Rhadamanthus, and one is from Europe, Aeacus. After their deaths, they shall judge in the meadow at the fork in the road. One road leads to the Islands of the Blessed, the other to Tartarus. Rhadamanthus shall judge those who come from Asia, and Aeacus those who come from Europe. I shall give Minos the highest authority. He shall hear appeals if either of the other two judges is in any doubt. Then the judgment about each person's final journey will be as just as possible.”

From this tale, Callicles, which I have heard and believe, I draw the following inferences:—Death, if I am right, is in the first place the separation from one another of two things, soul and body; nothing else. And after they are separated they retain their several natures, as in life; the body keeps the same habit, and the results of treatment or accident are distinctly visible in it: for example, he who by nature or training or both, was a tall man while he was alive, will remain as he was, after he is dead; and the fat man will remain fat; and so on; and the dead man, who in life had a fancy to have flowing hair, will have flowing hair. And if he was marked with the whip and had the prints of the scourge, or of wounds in him when he was alive, you might see the same in the dead body; and if his limbs were broken or misshapen when he was alive, the same appearance would be visible in the dead. And in a word, whatever was the habit of the body during life would be distinguishable after death, either perfectly, or in a great measure and for a certain time. And I should imagine that this is equally true of the soul, Callicles; when a man is stripped of the body, all the natural or acquired affections of the soul are laid open to view.—And when they come to the judge, as those from Asia come to Rhadamanthus, he places them near him and inspects them quite impartially, not knowing whose the soul is: perhaps he may lay hands on the soul of the great king, or of some other king or potentate, who has no soundness in him, but his soul is marked with the whip, and is full of the prints and scars of perjuries and crimes with which each action has stained him, and he is all crooked with falsehood and imposture, and has no straightness, because he has lived without truth. Him Rhadamanthus beholds, full of all deformity and disproportion, which is caused by licence and luxury and insolence and incontinence, and despatches him ignominiously to his prison, and there he undergoes the punishment which he deserves.

Callicles, I have heard this tale and believe it. From it, I draw the following conclusions. First, if I am right, death is nothing more than the separation of soul and body. After separation, each keeps the nature it had in life. The body keeps its physical condition, and the effects of treatment or injury remain clearly visible. For example, a man who was tall through nature, training, or both will remain tall after death. A fat man will remain fat, and so on. A dead man who liked to wear his hair long will still have long hair. If he bore whip marks, scars from flogging, or wounds while alive, you might see the same marks after death. If his limbs were broken or misshapen in life, they would look the same after death. In short, whatever condition the body had in life would remain recognizable after death. That condition would remain wholly or largely recognizable, at least for a time. I would imagine the same is true of the soul, Callicles. When a man is stripped of his body, all his soul's natural and acquired traits become visible. And when souls come before their judge, as those from Asia come before Rhadamanthus, he brings them close. He examines them with complete impartiality, not knowing whose soul he is examining. Perhaps he may take hold of the soul of the great king, or some other king or ruler. There is nothing sound in such a man. His soul bears whip marks and is covered with the marks and scars of perjury and crime. Each action has left its stain. Falsehood and deceit have twisted him completely, leaving nothing straight, because he has lived without truth. Rhadamanthus sees him full of every deformity and distortion, caused by lawlessness, luxury, arrogance, and lack of self-control. He sends him in disgrace to his prison, where he suffers the punishment he deserves.

Now the proper office of punishment is twofold: he who is rightly punished ought either to become better and profit by it, or he ought to be made an example to his fellows, that they may see what he suffers, and fear and become better. Those who are improved when they are punished by gods and men, are those whose sins are curable; and they are improved, as in this world so also in another, by pain and suffering; for there is no other way in which they can be delivered from their evil. But they who have been guilty of the worst crimes, and are incurable by reason of their crimes, are made examples; for, as they are incurable, the time has passed at which they can receive any benefit. They get no good themselves, but others get good when they behold them enduring for ever the most terrible and painful and fearful sufferings as the penalty of their sins—there they are, hanging up as examples, in the prison-house of the world below, a spectacle and a warning to all unrighteous men who come thither. And among them, as I confidently affirm, will be found Archelaus, if Polus truly reports of him, and any other tyrant who is like him. Of these fearful examples, most, as I believe, are taken from the class of tyrants and kings and potentates and public men, for they are the authors of the greatest and most impious crimes, because they have the power. And Homer witnesses to the truth of this; for they are always kings and potentates whom he has described as suffering everlasting punishment in the world below: such were Tantalus and Sisyphus and Tityus. But no one ever described Thersites, or any private person who was a villain, as suffering everlasting punishment, or as incurable. For to commit the worst crimes, as I am inclined to think, was not in his power, and he was happier than those who had the power. No, Callicles, the very bad men come from the class of those who have power (compare Republic). And yet in that very class there may arise good men, and worthy of all admiration they are, for where there is great power to do wrong, to live and to die justly is a hard thing, and greatly to be praised, and few there are who attain to this. Such good and true men, however, there have been, and will be again, at Athens and in other states, who have fulfilled their trust righteously; and there is one who is quite famous all over Hellas, Aristeides, the son of Lysimachus. But, in general, great men are also bad, my friend.

Punishment has two proper purposes. Someone rightly punished should either become better and benefit from the punishment, or serve as an example to others. Others should see the suffering, feel afraid, and become better. Those who improve through punishment by gods and humans are those whose wrongdoing can be cured. They improve through pain and suffering, both in this world and in the next. For there is no other way to free them from their evil. But those who have committed the worst crimes, and cannot be cured because of those crimes, become examples. Because they cannot be cured, the time when punishment could benefit them has passed. They gain nothing themselves. But others benefit from seeing them suffer forever in the most terrible, painful, and frightening ways for their wrongdoing. There they hang as examples in the prison of the underworld. They are a spectacle and a warning to all unjust people who arrive there. And among them, I confidently say, will be Archelaus, if Polus reports truthfully about him, and any similar tyrant. Most of these terrifying examples, I believe, come from among tyrants, kings, powerful rulers, and public figures. For these people commit the greatest and most unholy crimes because they have the power. Homer, too, bears witness to this truth. Those he describes as suffering eternal punishment in the underworld are always kings and powerful rulers. Tantalus, Sisyphus, and Tityus were such men. But no one ever described Thersites, or any villain without public power, as suffering eternal punishment or being beyond cure. For, I am inclined to think, committing the worst crimes was beyond his power. And he was more fortunate than those who had such power. No, Callicles, the very worst men come from among those with power (compare Republic). And yet good men may arise even among the powerful, and they deserve every admiration. For when someone has great power to do wrong, living and dying justly is difficult and deserves great praise. Few achieve this. Yet there have been, and will again be, good and honest men in Athens and other states. These men have justly fulfilled the responsibilities entrusted to them. One is famous throughout Hellas: Aristeides, the son of Lysimachus. But in general, my friend, powerful men are also bad.

As I was saying, Rhadamanthus, when he gets a soul of the bad kind, knows nothing about him, neither who he is, nor who his parents are; he knows only that he has got hold of a villain; and seeing this, he stamps him as curable or incurable, and sends him away to Tartarus, whither he goes and receives his proper recompense. Or, again, he looks with admiration on the soul of some just one who has lived in holiness and truth; he may have been a private man or not; and I should say, Callicles, that he is most likely to have been a philosopher who has done his own work, and not troubled himself with the doings of other men in his lifetime; him Rhadamanthus sends to the Islands of the Blessed. Aeacus does the same; and they both have sceptres, and judge; but Minos alone has a golden sceptre and is seated looking on, as Odysseus in Homer declares that he saw him:

As I was saying, when Rhadamanthus receives a bad soul, he knows nothing about the person. He knows neither who the person is nor who his parents are. He knows only that he has a villain before him. Seeing this, he marks the soul as curable or incurable and sends him to Tartarus. There the soul receives the punishment he deserves. Or Rhadamanthus looks with admiration at the soul of a just person who lived in holiness and truth. The person may or may not have held public office. I would say, Callicles, that he was most likely a philosopher who attended to his own work. During his life, he did not concern himself with other people's affairs. Rhadamanthus sends this soul to the Islands of the Blessed. Aeacus does the same. Both hold sceptres and pass judgment. But Minos alone holds a golden sceptre and sits watching, as Odysseus in Homer says he saw him:

“Holding a sceptre of gold, and giving laws to the dead.”

“Holding a golden scepter and giving laws to the dead.”

Now I, Callicles, am persuaded of the truth of these things, and I consider how I shall present my soul whole and undefiled before the judge in that day. Renouncing the honours at which the world aims, I desire only to know the truth, and to live as well as I can, and, when I die, to die as well as I can. And, to the utmost of my power, I exhort all other men to do the same. And, in return for your exhortation of me, I exhort you also to take part in the great combat, which is the combat of life, and greater than every other earthly conflict. And I retort your reproach of me, and say, that you will not be able to help yourself when the day of trial and judgment, of which I was speaking, comes upon you; you will go before the judge, the son of Aegina, and, when he has got you in his grip and is carrying you off, you will gape and your head will swim round, just as mine would in the courts of this world, and very likely some one will shamefully box you on the ears, and put upon you any sort of insult.

Now, Callicles, I am convinced these things are true. I think about how to bring my soul before the judge whole and untainted on that day. I reject the honors the world pursues. I want only to know the truth and live as well as I can. And when I die, I want to die as well as I can. I urge all others, with all the strength I have, to do the same. And in return for your advice to me, I urge you to join the great struggle of life. This struggle is greater than any other earthly conflict. And I turn your criticism of me back on you. You will be unable to help yourself when the day of trial and judgment I described comes upon you. You will stand before the judge, the son of Aegina. When he has you in his grip and carries you off, your mouth will hang open and your head will spin. You will be just as helpless as I would be in the courts of this world. And very likely someone will slap you shamefully around the ears and subject you to every kind of insult.

Perhaps this may appear to you to be only an old wife’s tale, which you will contemn. And there might be reason in your contemning such tales, if by searching we could find out anything better or truer: but now you see that you and Polus and Gorgias, who are the three wisest of the Greeks of our day, are not able to show that we ought to live any life which does not profit in another world as well as in this. And of all that has been said, nothing remains unshaken but the saying, that to do injustice is more to be avoided than to suffer injustice, and that the reality and not the appearance of virtue is to be followed above all things, as well in public as in private life; and that when any one has been wrong in anything, he is to be chastised, and that the next best thing to a man being just is that he should become just, and be chastised and punished; also that he should avoid all flattery of himself as well as of others, of the few or of the many: and rhetoric and any other art should be used by him, and all his actions should be done always, with a view to justice.

Perhaps you will see this as nothing more than an old wives’ tale and dismiss it with contempt. And you might have reason to dismiss such tales if our search could uncover anything better or truer. But now you see that you and Polus and Gorgias cannot show us a better way to live. You are the three wisest Greeks of our day. Yet you cannot show that we should live any life that does not benefit us in both worlds. Of all we have said, only the following conclusions remain unshaken. We must avoid doing injustice even more than suffering injustice. Above all, we must pursue real virtue, not merely its appearance, in both public and private life. Anyone who has done wrong in any matter must be punished. The next best thing to being just is to become just through correction and punishment. We must also avoid all flattery, whether of ourselves or others, whether of the few or the many. We must use rhetoric and every other art, and always do everything, with justice as our aim.

Follow me then, and I will lead you where you will be happy in life and after death, as the argument shows. And never mind if some one despises you as a fool, and insults you, if he has a mind; let him strike you, by Zeus, and do you be of good cheer, and do not mind the insulting blow, for you will never come to any harm in the practice of virtue, if you are a really good and true man. When we have practised virtue together, we will apply ourselves to politics, if that seems desirable, or we will advise about whatever else may seem good to us, for we shall be better able to judge then. In our present condition we ought not to give ourselves airs, for even on the most important subjects we are always changing our minds; so utterly stupid are we! Let us, then, take the argument as our guide, which has revealed to us that the best way of life is to practise justice and every virtue in life and death. This way let us go; and in this exhort all men to follow, not in the way to which you trust and in which you exhort me to follow you; for that way, Callicles, is nothing worth.

Follow me, then, and I will lead you toward happiness in life and after death, as our reasoning shows. Do not worry if someone looks down on you as a fool and insults you, if he wants to. By Zeus, let him even strike you. Stay cheerful, and do not worry about the insulting blow. For practicing virtue will never bring you harm, if you are a truly good and honest man. Once we have practiced virtue together, we will turn to politics, if that seems desirable. Or we will offer advice on whatever else seems good to us, because we will be better judges then. As we are now, we should not act as though we know better than others. We keep changing our minds even about the most important subjects. That is how utterly stupid we are! So let us follow our reasoning as our guide. Our reasoning has shown us that the best way to live is to practice justice and every virtue, in life and death. Let us follow this path and urge everyone to follow it too. Let us not take the path you trust and urge me to follow. For that path, Callicles, is worth nothing.

The end