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Soc: 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 understood your meaning. You say that you can make any man, who will learn of you, a rhetorician?
Gor: Yes.
Soc: 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?
Gor: Quite so.
Soc: You were saying, in fact, that the rhetorician will have, greater powers of persuasion than the physician even in a matter of health?
Gor: Yes, with the multitude—that is.
Soc: You mean to say, with the ignorant; for with those who know he cannot be supposed to have greater powers of persuasion.
Gor: Very true.
Soc: But if he is to have more power of persuasion than the physician, he will have greater power than he who knows?
Gor: Certainly.
Soc: Although he is not a physician: —is he?
Gor: No.
Soc: And he who is not a physician must, obviously, be ignorant of what the physician knows.
Gor: Clearly.
Soc: 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?
Gor: In the case supposed: —Yes.
Soc: 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?
Gor: 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?
Soc: 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 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 someone 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.
Gor: 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.
Soc: 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.
Gor: Certainly.
Soc: Well, and is not he who has learned carpentering a carpenter?
Gor: Yes.
Soc: And he who has learned music a musician?
Gor: Yes.
Soc: 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.
Gor: Certainly.
Soc: And in the same way, he who has learned what is just is just?
Gor: To be sure.
Soc: And he who is just may be supposed to do what is just?
Gor: Yes.
Soc: And must not the just man always desire to do what is just?
Gor: That is clearly the inference.
Soc: Surely, then, the just man will never consent to do injustice?
Gor: Certainly not.
Soc: And according to the argument the rhetorician must be a just man?
Gor: Yes.
Soc: And will therefore never be willing to do injustice?
Gor: Clearly not.
Soc: 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 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?
Gor: Yes, it was.
Soc: But now we are affirming that the aforesaid rhetorician will never have done injustice at all?
Gor: True.
Soc: 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?
Gor: Yes.
Soc: 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.
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.
Soc: 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:
Pol: What condition?
Soc: That you contract, Polus, the prolixity of speech in which you indulged at first.
Pol: What! do you mean that I may not use as many words as I please?
Soc: 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?
Pol: Yes.
Soc: And you, like him, invite any one to ask you about anything which he pleases, and you will know how to answer him?
Pol: To be sure.
Soc: And now, which will you do, ask or answer?
Pol: I will ask; and do you answer me, Socrates, the same question which Gorgias, as you suppose, is unable to answer: What is rhetoric?
Soc: Do you mean what sort of an art?
Pol: Yes.
Soc: To say the truth, Polus, it is not an art at all, in my opinion.
Pol: Then what, in your opinion, is rhetoric?
Soc: A thing which, as I was lately reading in a book of yours, you say that you have made an art.
Pol: What thing?
Soc: I should say a sort of experience.
Pol: Does rhetoric seem to you to be an experience?
Soc: That is my view, but you may be of another mind.
Pol: An experience in what?
Soc: An experience in producing a sort of delight and gratification.
Pol: And if able to gratify others, must not rhetoric be a fine thing?
Soc: 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?
Pol: Did I not hear you say that rhetoric was a sort of experience?
Soc: Will you, who are so desirous to gratify others, afford a slight gratification to me?
Pol: I will.
Soc: Will you ask me, what sort of an art is cookery?
Pol: What sort of an art is cookery?
Soc: Not an art at all, Polus.
Pol: What then?
Soc: I should say an experience.
Pol: In what? I wish that you would explain to me.
Soc: An experience in producing a sort of delight and gratification, Polus.
Pol: Then are cookery and rhetoric the same?
Soc: No, they are only different parts of the same profession.
Pol: Of what profession?
Soc: 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 no 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.
Gor: A part of what, Socrates? Say what you mean, and never mind me.
Soc: 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?
Pol: I will ask and do you answer? What part of flattery is rhetoric?
Soc: Will you understand my answer? Rhetoric, according to my view, is the ghost or counterfeit of a part of politics.
Pol: And noble or ignoble?
Soc: 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.
Gor: Indeed, Socrates, I cannot say that I understand myself.
Soc: 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.
Gor: Never mind him, but explain to me what you mean by saying that rhetoric is the counterfeit of a part of politics.
Soc: 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?
Gor: Of course.
Soc: You would further admit that there is a good condition of either of them?
Gor: Yes.
Soc: 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.
Gor: True.
Soc: 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?
Gor: Yes, certainly.
Soc: 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.
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.
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).
astiring: gymnastic: cookery: medicine; or rather, astiring: gymnastic: sophistry: legislation; and as cookery: medicine: rhetoric: 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 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.
Pol: What do you mean? do you think that rhetoric is flattery?
Soc: 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?
Pol: And are the good rhetoricians meanly regarded in states, under the idea that they are flatterers?
Soc: Is that a question or the beginning of a speech?
Pol: I am asking a question.
Soc: Then my answer is, that they are not regarded at all.
Pol: How not regarded? Have they not very great power in states?
Soc: Not if you mean to say that power is a good to the possessor.
Pol: And that is what I do mean to say.
Soc: Then, if so, I think that they have the least power of all the citizens.
Pol: What! Are they not like tyrants? They kill and despoil and exile any one whom they please.
Soc: 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.
Pol: I am asking a question of you.
Soc: Yes, my friend, but you ask two questions at once.
Pol: How two questions?
Soc: 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?
Pol: I did.
Soc: 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.
Pol: And is not that a great power?
Soc: Polus has already said the reverse.
Pol: Said the reverse! Nay, that is what I assert.
Soc: 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.
Pol: I do.
Soc: And would you maintain that if a fool does what he think best, this is a good, and would you call this great power?
Pol: I should not.
Soc: 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.
Pol: Yes; I admit that.
Soc: 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?
Pol: This fellow.
Soc: I say that they do not do as they will—now refute me.
Pol: Why, have you not already said that they do as they think best?
Soc: And I say so still.
Pol: Then surely they do as they will?
Soc: I deny it.
Pol: But they do what they think best?
Soc: Aye.
Pol: That, Socrates, is monstrous and absurd.
Soc: 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.
Pol: Very well, I am willing to answer that I may know what you mean.
Soc: 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?
Pol: Clearly, the health.
Soc: 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.
Pol: Certainly.
Soc: 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.
Pol: Yes.
Soc: And are not all things either good or evil, or intermediate and indifferent?
Pol: To be sure, Socrates.
Soc: Wisdom and health and wealth and the like you would call goods, and their opposites evils?
Pol: I should.
Soc: 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?
Pol: Exactly so.
Soc: Are these indifferent things done for the sake of the good, or the good for the sake of the indifferent?
Pol: Clearly, the indifferent for the sake of the good.
Soc: 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?
Pol: Yes.
Soc: 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?
Pol: Certainly.
Soc: Men who do any of these things do them for the sake of the good?
Pol: Yes.
Soc: 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?
Pol: Most true.
Soc: 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?
Pol: You are right.
Soc: 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?
Pol: Yes.
Soc: But does he do what he wills if he does what is evil? Why do you not answer?
Pol: Well, I suppose not.
Soc: Then if great power is a good as you allow, will such a one have great power in a state?
Pol: He will not.
Soc: 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?
Pol: 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!
Soc: Justly or unjustly, do you mean?
Pol: In either case is he not equally to be envied?
Soc: Forbear, Polus!
Pol: Why "forbear"?
Soc: Because you ought not to envy wretches who are not to be envied, but only to pity them.
Pol: And are those of whom spoke wretches?
Soc: Yes, certainly they are.
Pol: And so you think that he who slays any one whom he pleases, and justly slays him, is pitiable and wretched?
Soc: No, I do not say that of him: but neither do I think that he is to be envied.
Pol: Were you not saying just now that he is wretched?
Soc: 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.
Pol: At any rate you will allow that he who is unjustly put to death is wretched, and to be pitied?
Soc: Not so much, Polus, as he who kills him, and not so much as he who is justly killed.
Pol: How can that be, Socrates?
Soc: That may very well be, inasmuch as doing injustice is the greatest of evils.
Pol: But is it the greatest? Is not suffering injustice a greater evil?
Soc: Certainly not.
Pol: Then would you rather suffer than do injustice?
Soc: I should not like either, but if I must choose between them, I would rather suffer than do.
Pol: Then you would not wish to be a tyrant?
Soc: Not if you mean by tyranny what I mean.
Pol: 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.
Soc: 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?
Pol: Certainly not such doing as this.
Soc: But can you tell me why you disapprove of such a power?
Pol: I can.
Soc: Why then?
Pol: Why, because he who did as you say would be certain to be punished.
Soc: And punishment is an evil?
Pol: Certainly.
Soc: 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?
Pol: Certainly.
Soc: About that you and I may be supposed to agree?
Pol: Yes.
Soc: Tell me, then, when do you say that they are good and when that they are evil—what principle do you lay down?
Pol: I would rather, Socrates, that you should answer as well as ask that question.
Soc: 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.
Pol: You are hard of refutation, Socrates, but might not a child refute that statement?
Soc: 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.
Pol: 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.
Soc: What events?
Pol: You see, I presume, that Archelaus the son of Perdiccas is now the ruler of Macedonia?
Soc: At any rate I hear that he is.
Pol: And do you think that he is happy or miserable?
Soc: I cannot say, Polus, for I have never had any acquaintance with him.
Pol: And cannot you tell at once, and without having an acquaintance with him, whether a man is happy?
Soc: Most certainly not.
Pol: Then clearly, Socrates, you would say that you did not even know whether the great king was a happy man?
Soc: And I should speak the truth; for I do not know how he stands in the matter of education and justice.