Part 95

75. “Has not Simonides himself then,” said I, “in the first passage, declared his own opinion, that it is in truth difficult to become a good man?”

“You say truly,” replied Prodicus.

“But he blames Pittacus,” I continued, “not as Protagoras thinks, for saying the same thing that he had said, but something different. For Pittacus does not say that this is the difficulty, to become a good man, as Simonides does, but this, to be so; but Protagoras, as Prodicus here says, to be and to become are not the same; and if to be and to become are not the same, Simonides does not contradict himself. And perhaps Prodicus here, and many others, may say with Hesiod, ‘that it is difficult to become good; for that the gods have placed sweat before virtue; but when any one has reached its summit, it is then easy to acquire, though before it was difficult.’”

-----

Footnote 102:

Opp. et Dier. v. 287 &c.

-----

76. Prodicus, on hearing this, commended me; but Protagoras said, “Your defence, Socrates, is more erroneous than the passage which you defend.”

And I said, “Then I have done ill, as it seems, Protagoras, and I am an absurd physician; in attempting to cure, I make the disease worse.”

“So it is however,” he said.

“But how?” I asked.

“Great must have been the poet’s ignorance,” he replied, “if he asserts that virtue is so easy a thing to be acquired, whereas it is the most difficult of all, as all men think.”

77. And I said, “By Jupiter, Prodicus here is very opportunely present at our discussion. For the wisdom of Prodicus appears, O Protagoras, to have been of old divine, whether it began with Simonides, or is even still more ancient. But you, who are skilled in many other things, appear to be unskilled in this, and not skilled in it as I am, from being the disciple of this Prodicus. And now you appear to me not to be aware that Simonides probably did not understand this word ‘difficult,’ in the same sense as you understand it; but as with the word δεινὸς, (terrible and clever,) Prodicus here is continually taking me to task, when in praising you, or any one else, I say, that Protagoras is a wise and terrible man, he asks if I am not ashamed of calling good things terrible, for what is terrible, he says, is evil; hence no one ever speaks of terrible riches, or terrible peace, or terrible health, but every one says terrible disease, and terrible war, and terrible poverty, since whatever is terrible is evil. Perhaps, therefore, the Ceans and Simonides understand by the word difficult either that which is bad, or something else that you are not aware of. 78. Let us then ask Prodicus; for it is right to enquire of him the meaning of words used by Simonides; what, Prodicus, does Simonides mean by the word difficult?”

“Evil,” he replied.

“For this reason, then,” I continued, “Prodicus, he blames Pittacus for saying that it is difficult to be good, as if he had heard him say that it is evil to be good.”

“But what else but this, Socrates,” he asked, “do you think Simonides meant and found fault with in Pittacus, that he did not know how to distinguish terms rightly, as being a Lesbian, and educated in a barbarous dialect?”

“Do you hear Prodicus,” said I, “Protagoras? And have you any objection to make to this?”

Thereupon Protagoras said, 79. “This is far from being the case, Prodicus; for I am very sure that Simonides meant by the word difficult the same that we all do, not what is evil, but that which is not easy, but is accomplished by much toil.”

“And I too think, Protagoras,” I said, “that Simonides meant this, and that Prodicus here knows he did, but he is jesting, and is willing to try whether you are able to maintain your own assertion. For that Simonides does not by the word difficult mean evil, is strongly confirmed by the expression immediately after this; for he says, that ‘God alone possesses this privilege,’ not surely meaning that it is evil to be good; then he adds that God alone possesses this, and he attributes this privilege to God alone; for in that case Prodicus would call Simonides a profligate, and by no means a Cean. But I am willing to tell you what appears to me to have been the design of Simonides in this ode, if you think proper to make trial of my poetical skill, as you call it; or if you prefer it, I will listen to you.”

80. Protagoras, therefore, hearing me speak thus, said, “If you please, Socrates;” but Prodicus, Hippias, and the rest, urged me very much.

“I will endeavour, then,” said I, “to explain to you what I think of this ode. Philosophy is most ancient and most prevalent in Crete and Lacedæmon of all Greece, and sophists are more numerous there than any where else. They deny it, however, and pretend to be ignorant, in order that they may not be discovered to surpass the rest of the Greeks in wisdom, like those sophists whom Protagoras mentioned, but that they may appear to excel in fighting and courage, thinking that, if it were known in what they excel, all men would engage in the same pursuit. But now, concealing this, they deceive those who affect Spartan manners in other cities, for some, in imitation of them, have their ears bruised, and bind their arms with the thongs of the cestus, and devote themselves to gymnastic exercises, and wear short garments, as if in these things the Lacedæmonians excelled the other Greeks. But the Lacedæmonians, now that they wish to converse without restraint with the sophists among them, and are wearied with conversing with them in secret, expelling these imitators of Spartan manners, and any other stranger that is living in their country, converse with the sophists unknown to all strangers; and they do not suffer any of their young men to go out to other cities, as neither do the Cretans, lest they should unlearn what they have taught them. 81. And in these cities there are not only men that pride themselves on their learning, but women also. And you may know, that in this I speak truly, and that the Lacedæmonians are admirably instructed in philosophy and the art of speaking, from the following circumstance: for if any one wishes to converse with the meanest of the Lacedæmonians, he will find him, for the most part, apparently an ordinary person in conversation, but afterwards, when a proper opportunity presents itself, he sends forth, like a skilful lancer, a notable saying, brief and pointed, so that he who converses with him will appear to be nothing better than a boy. Accordingly some persons, both of the present day and of former times, have observed this very thing, that to imitate Spartan manners consists much more in studying philosophy, than devoting one’s-self to gymnastic exercises, since they know that to be able to utter such sayings is a proof of a highly educated man. 82. Among these were Thales of Miletus, Pittacus of Mitylene, Bias of Priene, our own Solon, Cleobulus of Lindus, Myson of Chene, and the seventh among them was reckoned the Lacedæmonian Chilo. These all were emulators, lovers, and disciples of the Lacedæmonian education, and any one may discover that their wisdom was of this kind, brief and memorable sayings uttered by each of them. These men also, having met together, consecrated the first-fruits of their wisdom to Apollo in the temple at Delphi, inscribing those sentences which all men have in their mouths: ‘Know thyself,’ and ‘Nothing in extremes.’

“But why do I mention these things? To shew that this was the mode of philosophy among the ancients, a certain laconic brevity of diction. Amongst the rest this particular saying of Pittacus was noised abroad, being extolled by the wise men: ‘It is difficult to be good.’ Simonides, therefore, as being ambitious of a reputation for wisdom, knew that if he could overthrow this saying, as if it were a famous wrestler, and could master it, he himself would become famous amongst the men of his own time. In opposition to this sentence, therefore, and with this object, designing to put it down, he composed the whole of this ode, as it appears to me.

83. “Let all of us, however, examine it together, to see whether what I say is true. For the very commencement of the ode would appear to be insane, if, wishing to say that it is difficult to become a good man, he had afterwards inserted the particle ‘indeed.’ For this appears to have been inserted for no purpose whatever, unless we suppose that Simonides is speaking as if he were quarrelling with the saying of Pittacus; and that when Pittacus says, that ‘it is difficult to be good,’ he, disputing this, says, ‘Not so,’ but it is indeed difficult, Pittacus, to become good in very truth; not ‘truly good.’ For he does not use the word truly in this way, as if some men were truly good, and others good indeed, but not truly so, for this would have been silly, and not worthy of Simonides; but it is necessary to transpose the word ‘truly’ in the ode, understanding the saying of Pittacus somewhat as follows, as if we were to make Pittacus himself speak, and Simonides answer, saying, ‘O men, it is difficult to be good,’ but the latter answers, ‘Pittacus, your assertion is not true: for not to be, but to become indeed a good man, square as to one’s hands and feet, and mind, fashioned without blame, is truly difficult.’ Thus it appears that the particle ‘indeed’ is inserted with good reason, and that the word ‘truly’ is rightly placed at the end. And all that follows bears witness to this, that such is the meaning. 84. Many things might be said to prove with respect to each several passage in this ode, that it is well composed; for it is very elegant and elaborate; but it would be too long to go through the whole of it in this way. Let us then consider its whole outline and design, which is nothing else than a refutation of the saying of Pittacus throughout the ode. For he says shortly after this, proceeding as if he would say, to become a good man is truly difficult, it is possible however for a certain time: but having become to continue in this condition, and to be a good man, as you say, Pittacus, is impossible and more than human, but God alone possesses this privilege; ‘but it cannot be that a man should be otherwise than evil, whomsoever irresistible calamity prostrates.’ 85. Whom, then, does irresistible calamity prostrate in the command of a ship? Clearly not a private person, for the private person is always prostrate; as therefore no one can throw down a man who is lying on the ground, but sometimes one may throw down one who is standing upright, so as to make him lie on the ground, but not one already lying there, so an irresistible calamity may sometimes prostrate a skilful man, but never one who is always unskilful; and a violent storm bursting on a pilot may make his skill of no avail, and a bad season befalling a farmer may make his skill of no avail, and the same with a physician: for it befals a good man to become evil, as is also testified by another poet, who says, ‘A good man is sometimes evil, and sometimes good:’ but it does not befal the evil to become so, but he must needs always be so. So that when an irresistible calamity prostrates a skilful, wise, and good man, it is not possible for him not to be evil; but you say, Pittacus, that it is difficult to be good; but the difficulty is to become good, though it is possible, but impossible to be so. 86. ‘For every man who fares well is good, but evil if he fares ill.’ What then is faring well with respect to literature? and what makes a man good in literature? Clearly the being instructed in it. What faring well makes a good physician? Clearly the being instructed in the art of curing the sick. ‘And evil if he fares ill.’ Who then would become an evil physician? Clearly he to whom it happens first to be a physician, and then a good physician; for he may become an evil physician. But we who are ignorant of the medical art, can never by faring ill become either physicians, or builders, or any thing else of the kind; but whoever cannot become a physician by faring ill, clearly cannot become an evil physician. Thus also a good man may sometime or other become evil, either from length of time, or labour, or disease, or some other accident, for this alone is a faring ill, to be deprived of knowledge, but the evil man can never become evil, for he is always so; but if he is to become evil, it is necessary for him first to become good. So that this part of the ode tends to this, that it is not possible to be a good man, so as to continue good; but that it is possible to become good, and for the same person to become evil: ‘and they are for the longest time best whom the gods love.’

87. “All these things therefore are said against Pittacus, and the following parts of the ode shew this still more clearly. For he says, ‘Wherefore I shall never, searching for that which cannot be, throw away a portion of my life on an empty impracticable hope, searching for an all-blameless man among us who feed on the fruits of the wide earth. When I have found one, I will inform you;’ he adds. So vehemently, and through the whole of the ode, does he attack the saying of Pittacus. ‘But I praise and willingly love all who do nothing base; but with necessity not even gods contend.’ And this is spoken against that same saying. For Simonides was not so ill informed as to say that he praised those who did no evil willingly, as if there were some who did evil willingly. For I am pretty much of this opinion, that no wise man thinks that any man errs willingly, nor willingly commits base and evil actions, but they well know that all those who do base and evil things, do them unwillingly. 88. Moreover Simonides does not say, that he praises those who do not willingly do evil, but he uses this word ‘willingly’ of himself. For he thought that a good and upright man is frequently compelled to love and praise a certain person; for instance, it often happens to a man to have a perverse mother or father, or country, or something else of the kind. Now depraved men, when any such thing happens to them, are as it were glad to see it, and blaming make known and divulge the depravity of their parents or country, that when they neglect them, men may not accuse or reproach them for their neglect, so that they blame them still more than they deserve, and add voluntary to necessary enmity. But the good conceal the faults and compel themselves to praise, and if they are angry with their parents or country from having been injured by them, they pacify themselves and become reconciled, compelling themselves to love and praise their own connections. And I think Simonides also himself frequently considered it right to praise and extol a tyrant, or some one else of the kind, not willingly, but by compulsion. 89. This, too, he says to Pittacus; I, Pittacus, do not blame you on this account, because I am fond of blaming; for ‘it is enough for me if a man is not evil or too helpless, a sane man, acquainted with justice that benefits the state; I will not censure him, for I am not a lover of censure; for the race of fools is infinite;’ so that he who delights in blaming may satiate himself in censuring them. ‘All things are beautiful with which base things are not mingled.’ His meaning in this, is not as if he had said, all things are white with which black is not mingled, for this would be in many ways ridiculous, but that he himself admits of a mean, so as not to blame it. ‘And I do not seek,’ he adds, ‘an all-blameless man, among us who feed on the fruits of the wide earth; when I have found him, I will inform you.’ For this reason, therefore, I shall praise no one, but it is enough for me if a man be moderate, and does no evil, for I ‘love and praise all.’ Here too he uses the language of the Mitylenæans, as speaking to Pittacus, ‘I praise and love all willingly,’ (here it is necessary after ‘willingly’ to distinguish in the pronunciation,) ‘who do nothing base,’ but there are some whom I praise and love unwillingly. Thee therefore, Pittacus, if thou hadst spoken with moderate reason and truth, I should never have blamed, but now, since you lie excessively and in matters of the greatest moment, while you think you are speaking the truth, for this reason I blame you. 90. Such appears to me, Prodicus and Protagoras,” said I, “to have been the design of Simonides in the composition of this ode.”

Upon this Hippias said, “You seem to me, Socrates, to have given a good explanation of this ode, and I too,” he added, “have some pretty good remarks to make on it, which I will communicate to you, if you please.”

“Do so, Hippias,” said Alcibiades, “but at another time; but now it is right to carry out the agreement which Protagoras and Socrates made with each other, and, if Protagoras wishes to ask any more questions, for Socrates to answer, but if he wishes to answer Socrates, then for the latter to ask questions.”

91. Then I said, “I leave it to Protagoras to choose whichever is more agreeable to him; but if he is willing, let us have done with odes and poems, but I would gladly, Protagoras, examine with you and come to a conclusion on the subject about which I first questioned you. For a discussion about poetry appears to me very like the festivities of mean and uneducated men; for they, through not being able to converse with one another over their cups, with their own voices and their own words, in consequence of deficiency of education, enhance the pay of female flute-players, and hiring at a great price the foreign voices of flutes, converse with each other through their voices. But when worthy, good, and well-educated men meet together at a banquet you will see neither flute-playing women, nor dancing-girls, nor harpists, but you will find that they are able to converse with themselves, without these trifles and pastimes, by means of their own voices, both speaking and listening to each other in turn, in good order, even though they have drunk a great deal of wine. 92. In like manner, such meetings as the present, when they are composed of such men as most of us profess ourselves to be, have no need of foreign voices, or of poets, of whom it is not possible to ask the meaning of what they say, and most of those who introduce them in their arguments say that the poet means some one thing and some another, disputing about a matter which they can never determine. But they dismiss such topics of conversation as these, and converse with each other through their own resources, and in their discussions receive and give proof of each other’s capacity. It appears to me, that you and I ought rather to imitate such persons as these, and setting aside the poets should discourse with each other, from our own resources, and receive proof of the truth and of ourselves. And if you still wish to question me, I am ready to offer myself to answer you; but if you do not wish it, do you offer yourself to me, so that we may bring to a conclusion the subject that we broke off in the middle.”

93. On my saying these and other things of the same kind, Protagoras did not distinctly declare which of the two he would do. Alcibiades, therefore, looking to Callias, said, “Callias, does Protagoras appear to you to act rightly now, in not being willing to declare whether he will answer or not? For to me he does not. But let him either continue the conversation, or say that he is not willing to continue it, that we may know this from him, and that Socrates may converse with some one else, or whoever else wishes to do so with some other.”