Protagoras 320d-328d
Protagoras gives his account of early man to Socrates:
Once upon a time there were gods only, and no mortal
creatures. But when the time came that these also should be
created, the gods fashioned them out of earth and fire and
various mixtures of both elements in the interior of the
earth; and when they were about to bring them into the
light of day, they ordered Prometheus and Epimetheus to
equip them, and to distribute to them severally their
proper qualities. Epimetheus said to Prometheus: 'Let me
distribute, and do you inspect.' This was agreed, and
Epimetheus made the distribution.
There were some to whom he gave strength without swiftness,
while he equipped the weaker with swiftness; some he armed,
and others he left unarmed; and devised for the latter some
other means of preservation, making some large, and having
their size as a protection, and others small, whose nature
was to fly in the air or burrow in the ground; this was to
be their way of escape. Thus did he compensate them with
the view of preventing any race from becoming extinct. And
when he had provided against their destruction by one
another, he contrived also a means of protecting them
against the seasons of heaven; clothing them with close
hair and thick skins sufficient to defend them against the
winter cold and able to resist the summer heat, so that
they might have a natural bed of their own when they wanted
to rest; also he furnished them with hoofs and hair and
hard and callous skins under their feet. Then he gave them
varieties of food,--herb of the soil to some, to others
fruits of trees, and to others roots, and to some again he
gave other animals as food. And some he made to have few
young ones, while those who were their prey were very
prolific; and in this manner the race was preserved. Thus
did Epimetheus, who, not being very wise, forgot that he
had distributed among the brute animals all the qualities
which he had to give,--and when he came to man, who was
still unprovided, he was terribly perplexed.
Now while he was in this perplexity, Prometheus came to
inspect the distribution, and he found that the other
animals were suitably furnished, but that man alone was
naked and shoeless, and had neither bed nor arms of
defence. The appointed hour was approaching when man in his
turn was to go forth into the light of day; and Prometheus,
not knowing how he could devise his salvation, stole the
mechanical arts of Hephaestus and Athene, and fire with
them (they could neither have been acquired nor used
without fire), and gave them to man. Thus man had the
wisdom necessary to the support of life, but political
wisdom he had not; for that was in the keeping of Zeus, and
the power of Prometheus did not extend to entering into the
citadel of heaven, where Zeus dwelt, who moreover had
terrible sentinels; but he did enter by stealth into the
common workshop of Athene and Hephaestus, in which they
used to practise their favourite arts, and carried off
Hephaestus' art of working by fire, and also the art of
Athene, and gave them to man. And in this way man was
supplied with the means of life. But Prometheus is said to
have been afterwards prosecuted for theft, owing to the
blunder of Epimetheus.
Now man, having a share of the divine attributes, was at
first the only one of the animals who had any gods, because
he alone was of their kindred; and he would raise altars
and images of them. He was not long in inventing articulate
speech and names; and he also constructed houses and
clothes and shoes and beds, and drew sustenance from the
earth. Thus provided, mankind at first lived dispersed, and
there were no cities. But the consequence was that they
were destroyed by the wild beasts, for they were utterly
weak in comparison of them, and their art was only
sufficient to provide them with the means of life, and did
not enable them to carry on war against the animals: food
they had, but not as yet the art of government, of which
the art of war is a part. After a while the desire of
self-preservation gathered them into cities; but when they
were gathered together, having no art of government, they
evil intreated one another, and were again in process of
dispersion and destruction.
Zeus feared that the entire race would be exterminated, and
so he sent Hermes to them, bearing reverence and justice to
be the ordering principles of cities and the bonds of
friendship and conciliation. Hermes asked Zeus how he
should impart justice and reverence among men:--Should he
distribute them as the arts are distributed; that is to
say, to a favoured few only, one skilled individual having
enough of medicine or of any other art for many unskilled
ones? 'Shall this be the manner in which I am to distribute
justice and reverence among men, or shall I give them to
all?' 'To all,' said Zeus; 'I should like them all to have
a share; for cities cannot exist, if a few only share in
the virtues, as in the arts. And further, make a law by my
order, that he who has no part in reverence and justice
shall be put to death, for he is a plague of the state.'
And this is the reason, Socrates, why the Athenians and
mankind in general, when the question relates to
carpentering or any other mechanical art, allow but a few
to share in their deliberations; and when any one else
interferes, then, as you say, they object, if he be not of
the favoured few; which, as I reply, is very natural. But
when they meet to deliberate about political virtue, which
proceeds only by way of justice and wisdom, they are
patient enough of any man who speaks of them, as is also
natural, because they think that every man ought to share
in this sort of virtue, and that states could not exist if
this were otherwise. I have explained to you, Socrates, the
reason of this phenomenon.
And that you may not suppose yourself to be deceived in
thinking that all men regard every man as having a share of
justice or honesty and of every other political virtue, let
me give you a further proof, which is this. In other cases,
as you are aware, if a man says that he is a good
flute-player, or skillful in any other art in which he has
no skill, people either laugh at him or are angry with him,
and his relations think that he is mad and go and admonish
him; but when honesty is in question, or some other
political virtue, even if they know that he is dishonest,
yet, if the man comes publicly forward and tells the truth
about his dishonesty, then, what in the other case was held
by them to be good sense, they now deem to be madness. They
say that all men ought to profess honesty whether they are
honest or not, and that a man is out of his mind who says
anything else. Their notion is, that a man must have some
degree of honesty; and that if he has none at all he ought
not to be in the world. I have been showing that they are
right in admitting every man as a counsellor about this
sort of virtue, as they are of opinion that every man is a
partaker of it.
And I will now endeavour to show further that they do not
conceive this virtue to be given by nature, or to grow
spontaneously, but to be a thing which may be taught; and
which comes to a man by taking pains. No one would
instruct, no one would rebuke, or be angry with those whose
calamities they suppose to be due to nature or chance; they
do not try to punish or to prevent them from being what
they are; they do but pity them. Who is so foolish as to
chastise or instruct the ugly, or the diminutive, or the
feeble? And for this reason. Because he knows that good and
evil of this kind is the work of nature and of chance;
whereas if a man is wanting in those good qualities which
are attained by study and exercise and teaching, and has
only the contrary evil qualities, other men are angry with
him, and punish and reprove him--of these evil qualities
one is impiety, another injustice, and they may be
described generally as the very opposite of political
virtue. In such cases any man will be angry with another,
and reprimand him,--clearly because he thinks that by study
and learning, the virtue in which the other is deficient
may be acquired. If you will think, Socrates, of the nature
of punishment, you will see at once that in the opinion of
mankind virtue may be acquired; no one punishes the
evil-doer under the notion, or for the reason, that he has
done wrong,--only the unreasonable fury of a beast acts in
that manner. But he who desires to inflict rational
punishment does not retaliate for a past wrong which cannot
be undone; he has regard to the future, and is desirous
that the man who is punished, and he who sees him punished,
may be deterred from doing wrong again. He punishes for the
sake of prevention, thereby clearly implying that virtue is
capable of being taught. This is the notion of all who
retaliate upon others either privately or publicly. And the
Athenians, too, your own citizens, like other men, punish
and take vengeance on all whom they regard as evil doers;
and hence, we may infer them to be of the number of those
who think that virtue may be acquired and taught.
Thus far, Socrates, I have shown you clearly enough, if I
am not mistaken, that your countrymen are right in
admitting the tinker and the cobbler to advise about
politics, and also that they deem virtue to be capable of
being taught and acquired. There yet remains one difficulty
which has been raised by you about the sons of good men.
What is the reason why good men teach their sons the
knowledge which is gained from teachers, and make them wise
in that, but do nothing towards improving them in the
virtues which distinguish themselves? And here, Socrates, I
will leave the apologue and resume the argument. Please to
consider: Is there or is there not some one quality of
which all the citizens must be partakers, if there is to be
a city at all? In the answer to this question is contained
the only solution of your difficulty; there is no other.
For if there be any such quality, and this quality or unity
is not the art of the carpenter, or the smith, or the
potter, but justice and temperance and holiness and, in a
word, manly virtue--if this is the quality of which all men
must be partakers, and which is the very condition of their
learning or doing anything else, and if he who is wanting
in this, whether he be a child only or a grown-up man or
woman, must be taught and punished, until by punishment he
becomes better, and he who rebels against instruction and
punishment is either exiled or condemned to death under the
idea that he is incurable--if what I am saying be true,
good men have their sons taught other things and not this,
do consider how extraordinary their conduct would appear to
be. For we have shown that they think virtue capable of
being taught and cultivated both in private and public;
and, notwithstanding, they have their sons taught lesser
matters, ignorance of which does not involve the punishment
of death: but greater things, of which the ignorance may
cause death and exile to those who have no training or
knowledge of them--aye, and confiscation as well as death,
and, in a word, may be the ruin of families--those things,
I say, they are supposed not to teach them,--not to take
the utmost care that they should learn. How improbable is
this, Socrates!
Education and admonition commence in the first years of
childhood, and last to the very end of life. Mother and
nurse and father and tutor are vying with one another about
the improvement of the child as soon as ever he is able to
understand what is being said to him: he cannot say or do
anything without their setting forth to him that this is
just and that is unjust; this is honourable, that is
dishonourable; this is holy, that is unholy; do this and
abstain from that. And if he obeys, well and good; if not,
he is straightened by threats and blows, like a piece of
bent or warped wood. At a later stage they send him to
teachers, and enjoin them to see to his manners even more
than to his reading and music; and the teachers do as they
are desired. And when the boy has learned his letters and
is beginning to understand what is written, as before he
understood only what was spoken, they put into his hands
the works of great poets, which he reads sitting on a bench
at school; in these are contained many admonitions, and
many tales, and praises, and encomia of ancient famous men,
which he is required to learn by heart, in order that he
may imitate or emulate them and desire to become like them.
Then, again, the teachers of the lyre take similar care
that their young disciple is temperate and gets into no
mischief; and when they have taught him the use of the
lyre, they introduce him to the poems of other excellent
poets, who are the lyric poets; and these they set to
music, and make their harmonies and rhythms quite familiar
to the children's souls, in order that they may learn to be
more gentle, and harmonious, and rhythmical, and so more
fitted for speech and action; for the life of man in every
part has need of harmony and rhythm. Then they send them to
the master of gymnastic, in order that their bodies may
better minister to the virtuous mind, and that they may not
be compelled through bodily weakness to play the coward in
war or on any other occasion. This is what is done by those
who have the means, and those who have the means are the
rich; their children begin to go to school soonest and
leave off latest. When they have done with masters, the
state again compels them to learn the laws, and live after
the pattern which they furnish, and not after their own
fancies; and just as in learning to write, the
writing-master first draws lines with a style for the use
of the young beginner, and gives him the tablet and makes
him follow the lines, so the city draws the laws, which
were the invention of good lawgivers living in the olden
time; these are given to the young man, in order to guide
him in his conduct whether he is commanding or obeying; and
he who transgresses them is to be corrected, or, in other
words, called to account, which is a term used not only in
your country, but also in many others, seeing that justice
calls men to account. Now when there is all this care about
virtue private and public, why, Socrates, do you still
wonder and doubt whether virtue can be taught? Cease to
wonder, for the opposite would be far more surprising.
But why then do the sons of good fathers often turn out
ill? There is nothing very wonderful in this; for, as I
have been saying, the existence of a state implies that
virtue is not any man's private possession. If so--and
nothing can be truer--then I will further ask you to
imagine, as an illustration, some other pursuit or branch
of knowledge which may be assumed equally to be the
condition of the existence of a state. Suppose that there
could be no state unless we were all flute-players, as far
as each had the capacity, and everybody was freely teaching
everybody the art, both in private and public, and
reproving the bad player as freely and openly as every man
now teaches justice and the laws, not concealing them as he
would conceal the other arts, but imparting them--for all
of us have a mutual interest in the justice and virtue of
one another, and this is the reason why every one is so
ready to teach justice and the laws;--suppose, I say, that
there were the same readiness and liberality among us in
teaching one another flute-playing, do you imagine,
Socrates, that the sons of good flute-players would be more
likely to be good than the sons of bad ones? I think not.
Would not their sons grow up to be distinguished or
undistinguished according to their own natural capacities
as flute-players, and the son of a good player would often
turn out to be a bad one, and the son of a bad player to be
a good one, all flute-players would be good enough in
comparison of those who were ignorant and unacquainted with
the art of flute-playing? In like manner I would have you
consider that he who appears to you to be the worst of
those who have been brought up in laws and humanities,
would appear to be a just man and a master of justice if he
were to be compared with men who had no education, or
courts of justice, or laws, or any restraints upon them
which compelled them to practise virtue--with the savages,
for example, whom the poet Pherecrates exhibited on the
stage at the last year's Lenaean festival. If you were
living among men such as the man-haters in his Chorus, you
would be only too glad to meet with Eurybates and
Phrynondas, and you would sorrowfully long to revisit the
rascality of this part of the world. You, Socrates, are
discontented, and why? Because all men are teachers of
virtue, each one according to his ability; and you say
Where are the teachers? You might as well ask, Who teaches
Greek? For of that too there will not be any teachers
found. Or you might ask, Who is to teach the sons of our
artisans this same art which they have learned of their
fathers? He and his fellow-workmen have taught them to the
best of their ability,--but who will carry them further in
their arts? And you would certainly have a difficulty,
Socrates, in finding a teacher of them; but there would be
no difficulty in finding a teacher of those who are wholly
ignorant. And this is true of virtue or of anything else;
if a man is better able than we are to promote virtue ever
so little, we must be content with the result. A teacher of
this sort I believe myself to be, and above all other men
to have the knowledge which makes a man noble and good; and
I give my pupils their money's-worth, and even more, as
they themselves confess. And therefore I have introduced
the following mode of payment:--When a man has been my
pupil, if he likes he pays my price, but there is no
compulsion; and if he does not like, he has only to go into
a temple and take an oath of the value of the instructions,
and he pays no more than he declares to be their value.
Such is my mythic story, Socrates, and such is the argument
by which I endeavour to show that virtue may be taught, and
that this is the opinion of the Athenians. And I have also
attempted to show that you are not to wonder at good
fathers having bad sons, or at good sons having bad
fathers, of which the sons of Polycleitus afford an
example, who are the companions of our friends here,
Paralus and Xanthippus, but are nothing in comparison with
their father; and this is true of the sons of many other
artists. As yet I ought not to say the same of Paralus and
Xanthippus themselves, for they are young and there is
still hope of them.