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In many of the Platonic dialogues we have the antithesis between Sokrates and the Sophists brought out, as to the different point of view from which the one and the other approached ethical questions. But in this portion of the Menon, we find exhibited the feature of analogy between them, in which both one and the other stood upon ground obnoxious to the merely practical politicians. Far from regarding hatred against the Sophists as a mark of virtue in Anytus, Sokrates deprecates it as unwarranted and as menacing to philosophy in all her manifestations. The last declaration ascribed to Anytus, coupled with the last speech of Sokrates in the dialogue, show us that Plato conceives the anti-Sophistic antipathy as being anti-Sokratic also, in its natural consequences. That Sokrates was in common parlance a Sophist, disliked by a large portion of the general public, and ridiculed by Aristophanes, on the same grounds as those whom Plato calls Sophists--is a point which I have noticed elsewhere.

PROTAGORAS.

The dialogue called Protagoras presents a larger assemblage of varied and celebrated characters, with more of dramatic winding, and more frequent breaks and resumptions in the conversation, than any dialogue of Plato--not excepting even Symposion and Republic. It exhibits Sokrates in controversy with the celebrated Sophist Protagoras, in the presence of a distinguished society, most of whom take occasional part in the dialogue. This controversy is preceded by a striking conversation between Sokrates and Hippokrates--a youth of distinguished family, eager to profit by the instructions of Protagoras. The two Sophists Prodikus and Hippias, together with Kallias, Kritias, Alkibiades, Eryximachus, Phaedrus, Pausanias, Agathon, the two sons of Perikl?s , Charmides, son of Glaukon, Antimoerus of Mende, a promising pupil of Protagoras, who is in training for the profession of a Sophist--these and others are all present at the meeting, which is held in the house of Kallias. Sokrates himself recounts the whole--both his conversation with Hippokrates and that with Protagoras--to a nameless friend.

This dialogue enters upon a larger and more comprehensive ethical theory than anything in the others hitherto noticed. But it contains also a great deal in which we hardly recognise, or at least cannot verify, any distinct purpose, either of search or exposition. Much of it seems to be composed with a literary or poetical view, to enhance the charm or interest of the composition. The personal characteristics of each speaker--the intellectual peculiarities of Prodikus and Hippias--the ardent partisanship of Alkibiades--are brought out as in a real drama. But the great and marked antithesis is that between the Sophist Protagoras and Sokrates--the Hektor and Ajax of the piece: who stand forward in single combat, exchange some serious blows, yet ultimately part as friends.

An introduction of some length impresses upon us forcibly the celebrity of the Great Sophist, and the earnest interest excited by his visit to Athens. Hippokrates, a young man of noble family and eager aspirations for improvement, having just learnt the arrival of Protagoras, comes to the house of Sokrates and awakens him before daylight, entreating that Sokrates will introduce him to the new-comer. He is ready to give all that he possesses in order that he may become wise like Protagoras. While they are awaiting a suitable hour for such introduction, Sokrates puts a series of questions to test the force of Hippokrates.

Sokrates and Hippokrates proceed to the house of Kallias, and find him walking about in the fore-court with Protagoras, and some of the other company; all of whom are described as treating the Sophist with almost ostentatious respect. Prodikus and Hippias have each their separate hearers, in or adjoining to the court. Sokrates addresses Protagoras.

On hearing this, Sokrates--under the suspicion that Protagoras wanted to show off in the presence of Prodikus and Hippias--proposes to convene all the dispersed guests, and to talk in their hearing. This is accordingly done, and the conversation recommences--Sokrates repeating the introductory request which he had preferred on behalf of Hippokrates.

There was once a time when Gods existed, but neither men nor animals had yet come into existence. At the epoch prescribed by Fate, the Gods fabricated men and animals in the interior of the earth, out of earth, fire, and other ingredients: directing the brothers Prometheus and Epimetheus to fit them out with suitable endowments. Epimetheus, having been allowed by his brother to undertake the task of distributing these endowments, did his work very improvidently, wasted all his gifts upon the inferior animals, and left nothing for man. When Prometheus came to inspect what had been done, he found that other animals were adequately equipped, but that man had no natural provision for clothing, shoeing, bedding, or defence. The only way whereby Prometheus could supply the defect was, by breaking into the common workshop of Ath?n? and Hephaestus, and stealing from thence their artistic skill, together with fire. Both of these he presented to man, who was thus enabled to construct for himself, by art, all that other animals received from nature and more besides.

, &c.

Still however, mankind did not possess the political or social art; which Zeus kept in his own custody, where Prometheus could not reach it. Accordingly, though mankind could provide for themselves as individuals, yet when they attempted to form themselves into communities, they wronged each other so much, from being destitute of the political or social art, that they were presently forced again into dispersion. The art of war, too, being a part of the political art, which mankind did not possess--they could not get up a common defence against hostile animals: so that the human race would have been presently destroyed, had not Zeus interposed to avert such a consummation. He sent Herm?s to mankind, bearing with him Justice and the sense of Shame , as the bonds and ornaments of civic society, coupling men in friendship. Herm?s asked Zeus--Upon what principle shall I distribute these gifts among mankind? Shall I distribute them in the same way as artistic skill is distributed, only to a small number--a few accomplished physicians, navigators, &c., being adequate to supply the wants of the entire community? Or are they to be apportioned in a certain dose to every man? Undoubtedly, to every man . All without exception must be partakers in them. If they are confined exclusively to a few, like artistic or professional skill, no community can exist. Ordain, by my authority, that every man, who cannot take a share of his own in justice and the sense of shame, shall be slain, as a nuisance to the community.

: yet still is the proper word to express Plato's meaning, as it denotes a distinct and positive regard to the feelings of others--a feeling of pain in each man's mind, when he discovers or believes that he is disapproved by his comrades. Hom. Il. O. 561-- Moreover, even though they know a man not to have these virtues in reality, they treat him as insane if he does not proclaim himself to have them, and make profession of virtue: whereas, in the case of the special arts, if a man makes proclamation of his own skill as a physician or musician, they censure or ridicule him.

I come now to your remaining argument, Sokrates. You urge that citizens of eminent civil virtue cannot communicate that virtue to their own sons, to whom nevertheless they secure all the accomplishments which masters can teach. Now I have already shown you that civil virtue is the one accomplishment needful, which every man without exception must possess, on pain of punishment or final expulsion, if he be without it. I have shown you, moreover that every one believes it to be communicable by teaching and attention. How can you believe then that these excellent fathers teach their sons other things, but do not teach them this, the want of which entails such terrible penalties?

I have thus proved to you, Sokrates--That virtue is teachable--That the Athenians account it to be teachable--That there is nothing wonderful in finding the sons of good men worthless, and the sons of worthless men good. Indeed this is true no less about the special professions, than about the common accomplishment, virtue. The sons of Polykl?tus the statuary, and of many other artists, are nothing as compared with their fathers.

Such is the discourse composed by Plato and attributed to the Platonic Protagoras--showing that virtue is teachable, and intended to remove the difficulties proposed by Sokrates. It is an exposition of some length: and because it is put into the mouth of a Sophist, many commentators presume, as a matter of course, that it must be a manifestation of some worthless quality: that it is either empty verbiage, or ostentatious self-praise, or low-minded immorality. I am unable to perceive in the discourse any of these demerits. I think it one of the best parts of the Platonic writings, as an exposition of the growth and propagation of common sense--the common, established, ethical and social sentiment, among a community: sentiment neither dictated in the beginning, by any scientific or artistic lawgiver, nor personified in any special guild of craftsmen apart from the remaining community--nor inculcated by any formal professional teachers--nor tested by analysis--nor verified by comparison with any objective standard: but self-sown and self-asserting, stamped, multiplied, and kept in circulation, by the unpremeditated conspiracy of the general public--the omnipresent agency of King Nomos and his numerous volunteers.

The account given by Mr. James Mill of the manner in which the established morality of a society is transmitted and perpetuated, coincides completely with the discourse of the Platonic Protagoras. The passage is too long to be cited: I give here only the concluding words, which describe the --

In many of the Platonic dialogues, Sokrates is made to dwell upon the fact that there are no recognised professional teachers of virtue; and to ground upon this fact a doubt, whether virtue be really teachable. But the present dialogue is the only one in which the fact is accounted for, and the doubt formally answered. There are neither special teachers, nor professed pupils, nor determinate periods of study, nor definite lessons or stadia, for the acquirement of virtue, as there are for a particular art or craft: the reason being, that in that department every man must of necessity be a practitioner, more or less perfectly: every man has an interest in communicating it to his neighbour: hence every man is constantly both teacher and learner. Herein consists one main and real distinction between virtue and the special arts; an answer to the view most frequently espoused by the Platonic Sokrates, assimilating virtue to a professional craft, which ought to have special teachers, and a special season of apprenticeship, if it is to be acquired at all.

The speech is censured by some critics as prolix. But to me it seems full of matter and argument, exceedingly free from superfluous rhetoric. The fable with which it opens presents of course the poetical ornament which belongs to that manner of handling. It is however fully equal, in point of perspicuity as well as charm--in my judgment, it is even superior to any other fable in Plato.

But though little progress has been made in determining the question mooted by Sokrates, enough has been done to discompose and mortify Protagoras. The general tenor of the dialogue is, to depict this man, so eloquent in popular and continuous exposition, as destitute of the analytical acumen requisite to meet cross-examination, and of promptitude for dealing with new aspects of the case, on the very subjects which form the theme of his eloquence. He finds himself brought round, by a series of short questions, to a conclusion which--whether conclusively proved or not--is proved in a manner binding upon him, since he has admitted all the antecedent premisses. He becomes dissatisfied with himself, answers with increasing reluctance, and is at last so provoked as to break out of the limits imposed upon a respondent.

, &c.

Here Sokrates rises to depart; but Kallias, the master of the house, detains him, and expresses an earnest wish that the debate may be continued. A promiscuous conversation ensues, in which most persons present take part. Alkibiades, as the champion of Sokrates, gives, what seems really to be the key of the dialogue, when he says--"Sokrates admits that he has no capacity for long speaking, and that he is no match therein for Protagoras. But as to dialectic debate, or administering and resisting cross-examination, I should be surprised if any one were a match for him. If Protagoras admits that on this point he is inferior, Sokrates requires no more: if he does not, let him continue the debate: but he must not lengthen his answers so that hearers lose the thread of the subject."

Kritias, Prodikus, and Hippias all speak deprecating marked partisanship on either side, exhorting both parties to moderation, and insisting that the conversation shall be continued. At length Sokrates consents to remain, yet on condition that Protagoras shall confine himself within the limits of the dialectic procedure. Protagoras shall first question me as long as he pleases: when he has finished, I will question him. The Sophist, though at first reluctant, is constrained, by the instance of those around, to accede to this proposition.

For the purpose of questioning, Protagoras selects a song of Simonides: prefacing it with a remark, that the most important accomplishment of a cultivated man consists in being thorough master of the works of the poets, so as to understand and appreciate them correctly, and answer all questions respecting them. Sokrates intimates that he knows and admires the song: upon which Protagoras proceeds to point out two passages in it which contradict each other, and asks how Sokrates can explain or justify such contradiction. The latter is at first embarrassed, and invokes the aid of Prodikus; who interferes to uphold the consistency of his fellow-citizen Simonides, but is made to speak in a stupid and ridiculous manner. After a desultory string of remarks, with disputed interpretation of particular phrases and passages of the song, but without promise of any result--Sokrates offers to give an exposition of the general purpose of the whole song, in order that the company may see how far he has advanced in that accomplishment which Protagoras had so emphatically extolled--complete mastery of the works of the poets.

He then proceeds to deliver a long harangue, the commencement of which appears to be a sort of counter-part and parody of the first speech delivered by Protagoras in this dialogue. That Sophist had represented that the sophistical art was ancient: and that the poets, from Homer downward, were Sophists, but dreaded the odium of the name, and professed a different avocation with another title. Sokrates here tells us that philosophy was more ancient still in Krete and Sparta, and that there were more Sophists , female as well as male, in those regions, than anywhere else: but that they concealed their name and profession, for fear that others should copy them and acquire the like eminence: that they pretended to devote themselves altogether to arms and gymnastic--a pretence whereby all the other Greeks were really deluded. The special characteristic of these philosophers or Sophists was, short and emphatic speech--epigram shot in at the seasonable moment, and thoroughly prostrating an opponent. The Seven Wise Men, among whom Pittakus was one, were philosophers on this type, of supreme excellence: which they showed by inscribing their memorable brief aphorisms at Delphi. So great was the celebrity which Pittakus acquired by his aphorism, that Simonides the poet became jealous, and composed this song altogether for the purpose of discrediting him. Having stated this general view, Sokrates illustrates it by going through the song, with exposition and criticism of several different passages. As soon as Sokrates has concluded, Hippias compliments him, and says that he too has a lecture ready prepared on the same song: which he would willingly deliver: but Alkibiades and the rest beg him to postpone it.

No remark is made by any one present, either upon the circumstance that Sokrates, after protesting against long speeches, has here delivered one longer by far than the first speech of Protagoras, and more than half as long as the second, which contains a large theory--nor upon the sort of interpretation that he bestows upon the Simonidean song. That interpretation is so strange and forced--so violent in distorting the meaning of the poet--so evidently predetermined by the resolution to find Platonic metaphysics in a lyric effusion addressed to a Thessalian prince--that if such an exposition had been found under the name of Protagoras, critics would have dwelt upon it as an additional proof of dishonest perversions by the Sophists. It appears as if Plato, intending in this dialogue to set out the contrast between long or continuous speech represented by Protagoras, and short, interrogatory speech represented by Sokrates--having moreover composed for Protagoras in the earlier part of the dialogue, an harangue claiming venerable antiquity for his own accomplishment--has thought it right to compose for Sokrates a pleading with like purpose, to put the two accomplishments on a par. And if that pleading includes both pointless irony and misplaced comparisons --we must remember that Sokrates has expressly renounced all competition with Protagoras in continuous speech, and that he is here handling the weapon in which he is confessedly inferior. Plato secures a decisive triumph to dialectic, and to Sokrates as representing it: but he seems content here to leave Sokrates on the lower ground as a rhetorician.

. Heyne remarks upon the strange interpretation given by Sokrates of the Simonidean song. Compare Plato in Lysis, p. 212 E, and in Alkib. ii. p. 147 D. In both these cases, Sokrates cites passages of poetry, assigning to them a sense which their authors plainly did not intend them to bear. Heindorf in his note on the Lysis observes--"Videlicet, ut exeat sententia, quam Solon ne somniavit quidem, versuum horum structuram, neglecto plan? sermonis usu, hanc statuit.--Cujusmodi interpretationis aliud est luculentum exemplum in Alcib. ii. p. 147 D."

See also Heindorf's notes on the Charmid?s, p. 163 B; Lach?s, p. 191 B; and Lysis, p. 214 D.

M. Boeckh observes respecting an allusion made by Pindar to Hesiod--

In spite of this appeal, Protagoras is still unwilling to resume, and is only forced to do so by a stinging taunt from Alkibiades, enforced by requests from Kallias and others. He is depicted as afraid of Sokrates, who, as soon as consent is given, recommences the discussion by saying--"Do not think, Protagoras, that I have any other purpose in debating, except to sift through and through, in conjunction with you, difficulties which puzzle my own mind. Two of us together can do more in this way than any one singly.

Such is the end of this long and interesting dialogue. We remark with some surprise that it closes without any mention of Hippokrates, and without a word addressed to him respecting his anxious request for admission to the society of Protagoras: though such request had been presented at the beginning, with much emphasis, as the sole motive for the intervention of Sokrates. Upon this point the dialogue is open to the same criticism as that which Plato bestows on the discourse of Lysias: requiring that every discourse shall be like a living organism, neither headless nor footless, but having extremities and a middle piece adapted to each other.

In our review of this dialogue, we have found first, towards the beginning, an expository discourse from Protagoras, describing the maintenance and propagation of virtue in an established community: next, towards the close, an expository string of interrogatories by Sokrates, destined to establish the identity of Good with Pleasurable, Evil with Painful; and the indispensable supremacy of the calculating or measuring science, as the tutelary guide of human life. Of the first, I speak as the discourse of Protagoras: of the second, as the theory of Sokrates. But I must again remind the reader, that both the one and the other are compositions of Plato; both alike are offspring of his ingenious and productive imagination. Protagoras is not the author of that which appears here under his name: and when we read the disparaging epithets which many critics affix to his discourse, we must recollect that these epithets, if they were well-founded, would have no real application to the historical Protagoras, but only to Plato himself. He has set forth two aspects, distinct and in part opposing, of ethics and politics: and he has provided a worthy champion for each. Philosophy, or "reasoned truth," if it be attainable at all, cannot most certainly be attained without such many-sided handling: still less can that which Plato calls knowledge be attained--or such command of philosophy as will enable a man to stand a Sokratic cross-examination in it.

In the last speech of Sokrates in the dialogue, we find him proclaiming, that the first of all problems to be solved was, What virtue really is? upon which there prevails serious confusion of opinions. It was a second question--important, yet still second and presupposing the solution of the first--Whether virtue is teachable? We noticed the same judgment as to the order of the two questions delivered by Sokrates in the Menon.

Now the conception of ethical questions in this order--the reluctance to deal with the second until the first has been fully debated and settled--is one fundamental characteristic of Sokrates. The difference of method, between him and Protagoras, flows from this prior difference between them in fundamental conception. What virtue is, Protagoras neither defines nor analyses, nor submits to debate. He manifests no consciousness of the necessity of analysis: he accepts the ground already prepared for him by King Nomos: he thus proceeds as if the first step had been made sure, and takes his departure from hypotheses of which he renders no account--as the Platonic Sokrates complains of the geometers for doing. To Protagoras, social or political virtue is a known and familiar datum, about which no one can mistake: which must be possessed, in greater or less measure, by every man, as a condition of the existence of society: which every individual has an interest in promoting in all his neighbours: and which every one therefore teaches and enforces upon every one else. It is a matter of common sense or common sentiment, and thus stands in contrast with the special professional accomplishments; which are confined only to a few--and the possessors, teachers, and learners of which are each an assignable section of the society. The parts or branches of virtue are, in like manner, assumed by him as known, in their relations to each other and to the whole. This persuasion of knowledge, without preliminary investigation, he adopts from the general public, with whom he is in communion of sentiment. What they accept and enforce as virtue, he accepts and enforces also.

Again, the method pursued by Protagoras, is one suitable to a teacher who has jumped over this first step; who assumes virtue, as something fixed in the public sentiments--and addresses himself to those sentiments, ready-made as he finds them. He expands and illustrates them in continuous lectures of some length, which fill both the ears and minds of the listener--"Spartam nactus es, hanc exorna": he describes their growth, propagation, and working in the community: he gives interesting comments on the poets, eulogising the admired heroes who form the theme of their verses, and enlarging on their admonitions. Moreover, while resting altogether upon the authority of King Nomos, he points out the best jewel in the crown of that potentate; the great social fact of punishment prospective, rationally apportioned, and employed altogether for preventing and deterring--instead of being a mere retrospective impulse, vindictive or retributive for the past. He describes instructively the machinery operative in the community for ensuring obedience to what they think right: he teaches, in his eloquent expositions and interpretations, the same morality, public and private, that every one else teaches: while he can perform the work of teaching, somewhat more effectively than they. Lastly, his method is essentially showy and popular; intended for numerous assemblies, reproducing the established creeds and sentiments of those assemblies, to their satisfaction and admiration. He is prepared to be met and answered in his own way, by opposing speakers; and he conceives himself more than a match for such rivals. He professes also to possess the art of short conversation or discussion. But in the exercise of this art, he runs almost involuntarily into his more characteristic endowment of continuous speech: besides that the points which he raises for discussion assume all the fundamental principles, and turn only upon such applications of those principles as are admitted by most persons to be open questions, not foreclosed by a peremptory orthodoxy.

Upon all these points, Sokrates is the formal antithesis of Protagoras. He disclaims altogether the capacities to which that Sophist lays claim. Not only he cannot teach virtue, but he professes not to know what it is, nor whether it be teachable at all, He starts from a different point of view: not considering virtue as a known datum, or as an universal postulate, but assimilating it to a special craft or accomplishment, in which a few practitioners suffice for the entire public: requiring that in this capacity it shall be defined, and its practitioners and teachers pointed out. He has no common ground with Protagoras; for the difficulties which he moots are just such as the common consciousness overleaps or supposes to be settled. His first requirement, advanced under the modest guise of a small doubt which Protagoras must certainly be competent to remove, is, to know--What virtue is? What are the separate parts of virtue--justice, moderation, holiness, &c.? What is the relation which they bear to each other and to the whole--virtue? Are they homogeneous, differing only in quantity or has each of them its own specific essence and peculiarity? Respecting virtue as a whole, we must recollect, Protagoras had discoursed eloquently and confidently, as of a matter perfectly known. He is now called back as it were to meet an attack in the rear: to answer questions which he had never considered, and which had never even presented themselves to him as questions. At first he replies as if the questions offered no difficulty; sometimes he does not feel their importance, so that it seems to him a matter of indifference whether he replies in the affirmative or negative. But he finds himself brought round, by a series of questions, to assent to conclusions which he nevertheless thinks untrue, and which are certainly unwelcome. Accordingly, he becomes more and more disgusted with the process of analytical interrogation: and at length answers with such impatience and prolixity, that the interrogation can no longer be prosecuted. Here comes in the break--the remonstrance of Sokrates--and the mediation of the by-standers.

It is this antithesis between the eloquent popular lecturer, and the analytical enquirer and cross-examiner, which the dialogue seems mainly intended to set forth. Protagoras professes to know that which he neither knows, nor has ever tried to probe to the bottom. Upon this false persuasion of knowledge, the Sokratic Elenchus is brought to bear. We are made to see how strange, repugnant, and perplexing, is the process of analysis to this eloquent expositor: how incompetent he is to go through it without confusion: how little he can define his own terms, or determine the limits of those notions on which he is perpetually descanting.

It is not that Protagoras is proved to be wrong in the substantive ground which he takes. I do not at all believe that Plato intended all which he in the composed under the name of Protagoras to be vile perversion of truth, with nothing but empty words and exorbitant pretensions. I do not even believe that Plato intended all those observations, to which the name of Protagoras is prefixed, to be accounted silly--while all that is assigned to Sokrates, is admirable sense and acuteness. It is by no means certain that Plato intended to be understood as himself endorsing the opinions which he ascribes everywhere to Sokrates: and it is quite certain that he does not always make the Sokrates of one dialogue consistent with the Sokrates of another. For the purpose of showing the incapacity of the respondent to satisfy the exigencies of analysis, we need not necessarily suppose that the conclusion to which the questions conduct should be a true one. If the respondent be brought, through his own admissions, to a contradiction, this is enough to prove that he did not know the subject deeply enough to make the proper answers and distinctions.

But whatever may have been the intention of Plato, if we look at the fact, we shall find that what he has assigned to Sokrates is not always true, nor what he has given to Protagoras, always false. The positions laid down by the latter--That many men are courageous, but unjust: that various persons are just, without being wise and intelligent: that he who possesses one virtue, does not of necessity possess all:--are not only in conformity with the common opinion, but are quite true, though Sokrates is made to dispute them. Moreover, the arguments employed by Sokrates are certainly noway conclusive. Though Protagoras, becoming entangled in difficulties, and incapable of maintaining his consistency against an embarrassing cross-examination, is of course exhibited as ignorant of that which he professes to know--the doctrine which he maintains is neither untrue in itself, nor even shown to be apparently untrue.

The aversion of Protagoras for dialectic discussion--after causing an interruption of the ethical argument, and an interlude of comment on the poet Simonides--is at length with difficulty overcome, and the argument is then resumed. The question still continues, What is virtue? What are the five different parts of virtue? Yet it is so far altered that Protagoras now admits that the four parts of virtue which Sokrates professed to have shown to be nearly identical, really are tolerably alike: but he nevertheless contends that courage is very different from all of them, repeating his declaration that many men are courageous, but unjust and stupid at the same time. This position Sokrates undertakes to refute. In doing so, he lays out one of the largest, most distinct, and most positive theories of virtue, which can be found in the Platonic writings.

Virtue, according to this theory, consists in a right measurement and choice of pleasures and pains: in deciding correctly, wherever we have an alternative, on which side lies the largest pleasure or the least pain--and choosing the side which presents this balance. To live pleasurably, is pronounced to be good: to live without pleasure or in pain, is evil. Moreover, nothing but pleasure, or comparative mitigation of pain, is good: nothing but pain is evil. Good, is identical with the greatest pleasure or least pain: evil, with greatest pain: meaning thereby each pleasure and each pain when looked at along with its consequences and concomitants. The grand determining cause and condition of virtue is knowledge: the knowledge, science, or art, of correctly measuring the comparative value of different pleasures and pains. Such knowledge , wherever it is possessed, will be sure to command the whole man, to dictate all his conduct, and to prevail over every temptation of special appetite or aversion. To say that a man who knows on which side the greatest pleasure or the least pain lies, will act against his knowledge--is a mistake. If he acts in this way, it is plain that he does not possess the knowledge, and that he sins through ignorance.

Locke says, 'Essay on Human Understanding,' Book ii. ch. 28, "Good or Evil is nothing but pleasure or pain to us--or that which procures pleasure or pain to us. Moral good or evil then is only the conformity or disagreement of our voluntary actions to some law, whereby good or evil is drawn on us by the will and power of the law-maker; which good or evil, pleasure or pain, attending our observance or breach of the law, is that we call reward or punishment."

The formal distinction here taken by Locke between pleasure and that which procures pleasure--both the one and the other being called Good-- is not distinctly stated by Sokrates in the Protagoras, though he says nothing inconsistent with it: but it is distinctly stated in the Republic, ii. p. 357, where Good is distributed under three heads. 1. That which we desire immediately and for itself--such as Enjoyment, Innocuous pleasure. 2. That which we desire both for itself and for its consequences--health, intelligence, good sight or hearing, &c. 3. That which we do not desire for itself, but which we accept by reason of its consequences in averting greater pains or procuring greater pleasures.

Protagoras agrees with Sokrates in the encomiums bestowed on the paramount importance and ascendancy of knowledge: but does not at first agree with him in identifying good with pleasure, and evil with pain. Upon this point, too, he is represented as agreeing in opinion with the Many. He does not admit that to live pleasurably is good, unless where a man takes his pleasure in honourable things. He thinks it safer, and more consistent with his own whole life, to maintain--That pleasurable things, or painful things, may be either good, or evil, or indifferent, according to the particular case.

Sokrates proceeds to apply this general principle in correcting the explanation of courage given by Protagoras. He shows, or tries to show, that courage, like all the other branches of virtue, consists in acting on a just estimate of comparative pleasures and pains. No man affronts evil, or the alternative of greater pain, knowing it to be such: no man therefore adventures himself in any terrible enterprise, knowing it to be so: neither the brave nor the timid do this. Both the brave and the timid affront that which they think not terrible, or the least terrible of two alternatives: but they estimate differently what is such. The former go readily to war when required, the latter evade it. Now to go into war when required, is honourable: being honourable, it is good: being honourable and good, it is pleasurable. The brave know this, and enter upon it willingly: the timid not only do not know it, but entertain the contrary opinion, looking upon war as painful and terrible, and therefore keeping aloof. The brave men fear what it is honourable to fear, the cowards what it is dishonourable to fear: the former act upon the knowledge of what is really terrible, the latter are misled by their ignorance of it. Courage is thus, like the other virtues, a case of accurate knowledge of comparative pleasures and pains, or of good and evil.

--which Dr. Arnold thus translates in his note: "For more grievous to a man of noble mind is the misery which comes together with cowardice, than the unfelt death which befalls him in the midst of his strength and hopes for the common welfare."

So again in the Phaedon Sokrates describes the courage of the ordinary unphilosophical citizen to consist in braving death from fear of greater evils , while the philosopher is courageous on a different principle; aspiring only to reason and intelligence, with the pleasures attending it, he welcomes death as releasing his mind from the obstructive companionship of the body.

The fear of disgrace and dishonour, in his own eyes and in those of others, is more intolerable to the brave man than the fear of wounds and death in the service of his country. See Plato, Leg. i. pp. 646-647. He is , p. 647 E. Such is the way in which both Plato and Thucydides conceive the character of the brave citizen as compared with the coward.

Such is the ethical theory which the Platonic Sokrates enunciates in this dialogue, and which Protagoras and others accept. It is positive and distinct, to a degree very unusual with Plato. We shall find that he theorises differently in other dialogues; whether for the better or the worse, will be hereafter seen. He declares here explicitly that pleasure, or happiness, is the end to be pursued; and pain, or misery, the end to be avoided: and that there is no other end, in reference to which things can be called good or evil, except as they tend to promote pleasure or mitigate suffering, on the one side--to entail pain or suffering on the other. He challenges objectors to assign any other end. And thus much is certain--that in those other dialogues where he himself departs from the present doctrine, he has not complied with his own challenge. Nowhere has he specified a different end. In other dialogues, as well as in the Protagoras, Plato has insisted on the necessity of a science or art of calculation: but in no other dialogue has he told us distinctly what are the items to be calculated.

I perfectly agree with the doctrine laid down by Sokrates in the Protagoras, that pain or suffering is the End to be avoided or lessened as far as possible--and pleasure or happiness the End to be pursued as far as attainable--by intelligent forethought and comparison: that there is no other intelligible standard of reference, for application of the terms Good and Evil, except the tendency to produce happiness or misery: and that if this standard be rejected, ethical debate loses all standard for rational discussion, and becomes only an enunciation of the different sentiments, authoritative and self-justifying, prevalent in each community. But the End just mentioned is highly complex, and care must be taken to conceive it in its full comprehension. Herein I conceive the argument of Sokrates to be incomplete. It carries attention only to a part of the truth, keeping out of sight, though not excluding, the remainder. It considers each man as an individual, determining good or evil for himself by calculating his own pleasures and pains: as a prudent, temperate, and courageous agent, but neither as just nor beneficent. It omits to take account of him as a member of a society, composed of many others akin or co-ordinate with himself. Now it is the purpose of an ethical or political reasoner to study the means of happiness, not simply for the agent himself, but for that agent together with others around him--for the members of the community generally. The Platonic Sokrates says this himself in the Republic: and accordingly, he there treats of other points which are not touched upon by Sokrates in the Protagoras. He proclaims that the happiness of each citizen must be sought only by means consistent with the security, and to a certain extent with the happiness, of others: he provides as far as practicable that all shall derive their pleasures and pains from the same causes: common pleasures, and common pains, to all. The doctrine of Sokrates in the Protagoras requires to be enlarged so as to comprehend these other important elements. Since the conduct of every agent affects the happiness of others, he must be called upon to take account of its consequences under both aspects, especially where it goes to inflict hurt or privation upon others. Good and evil depend upon that scientific computation and comparison of pleasures and pains which Sokrates in the Protagoras prescribes: but the computation must include, to a certain extent, the pleasures and pains of others besides the agent himself, implicated in the consequences of his acts.

used as the equivalent of

If we thus compare the Ethical End, as implied, though not explicitly laid down, by Protagoras in the earlier part of the dialogue,--and as laid down by Sokrates in the later part--we shall see that while Sokrates restricts it to a true comparative estimate of the pains and pleasures of the agent himself, Protagoras enlarges it so as to include a direct reference to those of others also, coupled with an expectation of the like reference on the part of others. Sokrates is satisfied with requiring from each person calculating prudence for his own pleasures and pains: while Protagoras proclaims that after this attribute had been obtained by man, and individual wants supplied, still there was a farther element necessary in the calculation--the social sentiment or reciprocity of regard implanted in every one's bosom: without this the human race would have perished. Prudence and skill will suffice for an isolated existence; but if men are to live and act in social communion, the services as well as the requirements of each man must be shaped, in a certain measure, with a direct view to the security of others as well as to his own.

In my judgment, the Ethical End, exclusively self-regarding, here laid down by Sokrates, is too narrow. And if we turn to other Platonic dialogues, we shall find Sokrates still represented as proclaiming a self-regarding Ethical End, though not the same as what we read in the Protagoras. In the Gorgias, Republic, Phaedon, &c., we shall find him discountenancing the calculation of pleasures and pains against each other, as greater, more certain, durable, &c., and insisting that all shall be estimated according as they bear on the general condition or health of the mind, which he assimilates to the general condition or health of the body. The health of the body, considered as an End to be pursued, is essentially self-regarding: so also is the health of the mind. I shall touch upon this farther when I consider the above-mentioned dialogues: at present, I only remark that they agree with the Sokrates of the Protagoras in assuming a self-regarding Ethical End, though they do not agree with him in describing what that End should be.

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