Part 99

“But what, my friends,” I continued, “do you say to this? All actions that tend to this, that we may live without pain and pleasantly, are they not beautiful? and is not a beautiful action good and profitable?”.

They agreed.

“If then,” I said, “the pleasant is good, no one who either knows or thinks that other things are better than what he is doing, and that they are possible, still continues to do the same, when it is in his power to do the better; nor is to be overcome by one’s-self any thing else than ignorance, nor to be master of one’s-self any thing else than wisdom.”

All agreed to this.

“What then? Do you say that ignorance is a thing of this kind, to have a false opinion, and to be deceived about matters of great importance?”

To this, likewise, all agreed.

“Is it not the case then,” I said, “that no one willingly sets about things evil, or things which he thinks are evil, nor is this, as it seems, in the nature of man willingly to engage in things which he thinks are evil, instead of such as are good; and when of two evils he is compelled to choose one, no one will choose the greater, when it is in his power to choose the less.”

119. All these things were assented to by us all.

“What then,” said I, “do you call dread and fear something? and the same that I do, (I address myself to you, Prodicus,) I mean by it a certain expectation of evil, whether you call it fear or dread.”

It appeared to Protagoras and Hippias that dread and fear were of this nature, but to Prodicus that dread was, but fear not.

“But,” said I, “it is of no consequence, Prodicus; but this is; if what we before said is true, will any man deliberately engage in things which he dreads, when it is in his power to engage in things which he does not dread? or is not this impossible from our former admissions? for it has been admitted that what he dreads he considers to be evil; and what he considers to be evil, no one either engages in or willingly receives.”

These things, likewise, were agreed to by all.

120. “These points, then, being established,” I said, “Prodicus and Hippias, let Protagoras here defend himself and shew us how his first answer is correct, no, not quite the first, for he then said, that there being five parts of virtue, no one of them was like any other, but that each had a peculiar function of its own. I do not however mean this, but what he said afterwards. For afterwards he said, that four of them very much resembled each other, but that one was altogether different from the rest, namely courage. And he said I should know it by the following proof. ‘You will find men, Socrates, who are most unholy, most unjust, most intemperate, and most ignorant, who are yet most courageous; by which you will know that courage differs much from the other parts of virtue.’ And I indeed, at the moment, was very much astonished at the answer, and I have been still more so since I have discussed these things with you. I therefore asked him if he meant that courageous men are bold? He said he did, and ready to rush headlong. 121. Do you remember, Protagoras,” said I, “that you gave this answer?”

He admitted it.

“Come then,” said I, “tell us on what you say the courageous are ready to rush headlong? Is it on the same things as cowards?”

He said not.

“On different things, therefore.”

“Yes,” he replied.

“But whether do cowards attempt things which they can venture on with confidence, but the courageous on such as are dreadful?”

“It is said so, Socrates, by the generality of men.”

“You say truly,” I replied. “I do not, however, ask this: but on what do you say courageous men are ready to rush headlong, on dreadful things, thinking that they are dreadful, or on such as are not dreadful?”

“But this,” he said, “in the arguments which you just now used, was shewn to be impossible.”

“And in this,” I replied, “you say truly. So that if this point was proved correctly, no one attempts things which he considers to be dreadful, since to be overcome by one’s-self was found to be ignorance.”

He admitted it.

“All men, however, attempt things in which they have confidence, both the cowardly and the courageous, and thus both the cowardly and the courageous attempt the same things.”

122. “But indeed, Socrates,” said he, “the things which the cowardly and the courageous attempt are quite contrary to each other; for instance, the latter are willing to engage in war, but the former are unwilling.”

“Whether,” said I, “is it honourable to engage in it, or base?”

“Honourable,” he replied.