Gorgias

But still he does not cease to have the good and bad at the same time, as you agreed; and now, you do not agree?

I do; and what then?

Only that we get the result, my friend, that the good things are not the same as the pleasant, nor the bad as the painful. For with the one pair the cessation is of both at once, but with the other two it is not, since they are distinct. How then can pleasant things be the same as good, or painful things as bad? Or if you like, consider it another way—for I fancy that even after that you do not admit it. Just observe: do you not call good people good owing to the presence of good things, as you call beautiful those in whom beauty is present?

I do.

Well now, do you give the name of good men to fools and cowards? It was not they just now but brave and wise men whom you so described. Or is it not these that you call good?

To be sure it is.

And now, have you ever seen a silly child enjoying itself?

I have.

And have you never seen a silly man enjoying himself?

I should think I have; but what has that to do with it?

Nothing; only answer.

I have seen one.

And again, a man of sense in a state of pain or enjoyment?

Yes.

And which sort are more apt to feel enjoyment or pain, the wise or the foolish?

I should think there is not much difference.

Well, that will suffice. In war have you ever seen a coward?

Of course I have.

Well now, when the enemy withdrew, which seemed to you to enjoy it more, the cowards or the brave?

Both did, I thought; or if not that, about equally.

No matter. Anyhow, the cowards do enjoy it?

Very much.

And the fools, it would seem.

Yes.

And when the foe advances, do the cowards alone feel pain, or the brave as well?

Both.

Alike?

More, perhaps, the cowards.

And when the foe withdraws, do they not enjoy it more?

Perhaps.

So the foolish and the wise, and the cowardly and the brave, feel pain and enjoyment about equally, according to you, but the cowardly more than the brave?

I agree.

But further, are the wise and brave good, and the cowards and fools bad?

Yes.

Then the good and the bad feel enjoyment and pain about equally?

I agree.

Then are the good and the bad about equally good and bad? Or are the bad in some yet greater measure good and bad?

Why, upon my word, I cannot tell what you mean.

You are aware, are you not, that you hold that the good are good by the presence of good things, and that the bad are so by the presence of bad things? And that the pleasures are the good things, and the pains bad things?

Yes, I am.

Hence in those who have enjoyment the good things—the pleasures—are present, so long as they enjoy?

Of course.

Then, good things being present, those who enjoy are good?

Yes.

Well now, in those who feel pain are not bad things present, namely pains?

They are.

And it is by the presence of bad things, you say, that the bad are bad? Or do you no longer say so?

I do say so.

Then whoever enjoys is good, and whoever is pained, bad?

Certainly.

You mean, those more so who feel these things more, and those less who feel less, and those about equally who feel about equally?

Yes.

Now you say that the wise and the foolish, the cowardly and the brave, feel enjoyment and pain about equally, or the cowards even more?

I do.

Then just help me to reckon up the results we get from our admissions for you know they say: That which seemeth well, ’tis well twice and also thrice to tell, and to examine too. We say that the wise and brave man is good, do we not?

Yes.

And that the foolish and cowardly is bad?

Certainly.

And again, that he who enjoys is good?

Yes.

And that he who feels pain is bad?

Necessarily.

And that the good and the bad feel enjoyment and pain in a like manner, or perhaps the bad rather more?

Yes.

Then is the bad man made bad or good in a like manner to the good man, or even good in a greater measure? Does not this follow, along with those former statements, from the assumption that pleasant things and good things are the same? Must not this be so, Callicles?

Let me tell you, Socrates, all the time that I have been listening to you and yielding you agreement, I have been remarking the puerile delight with which you cling to any concession one may make to you, even in jest. So you suppose that I or anybody else in the world does not regard some pleasures as better, and others worse!

Oh ho, Callicles, what a rascal you are, treating me thus like a child—now asserting that the same things are one way, now another, to deceive me! And yet I started with the notion that I should not have to fear any intentional deception on your part, you being my friend; but now I find I was mistaken, and it seems I must, as the old saying goes, e’en make the best of what I have got, and accept just anything you offer. Well then, what you now state, it seems, is that there are certain pleasures, some good, and some bad; is not that so?

Yes.

Then are the beneficial ones good, and the harmful ones bad?

Certainly.

And are those beneficial which do some good, and those evil which do some evil?

I agree.

Now are these the sort you mean—for instance, in the body, the pleasures of eating and drinking that we mentioned a moment ago? Then the pleasures of this sort which produce health in the body, or strength, or any other bodily excellence,—are these good, and those which have the opposite effects, bad?

Certainly.

And similarly in the case of pains, are some worthy and some base?

Of course.

So it is the worthy pleasures and pains that we ought to choose in all our doings?

Certainly.

And the base ones not?

Clearly so.

Because, you know, Polus and I, if you recollect, decided. that everything we do should be for the sake of what is good. Do you agree with us in this view—that the good is the end of all our actions, and it is for its sake that all other things should be done, and not it for theirs? Do you add your vote to ours, and make a third?

I do.

Then it is for the sake of what is good that we should do everything, including what is pleasant, not the good for the sake of the pleasant.

Certainly.

Now is it in every man’s power to pick out which sort of pleasant things are good and which bad, or is professional skill required in each case?

Professional skill.

Then let us recall those former points I was putting to Polus and Gorgias. I said, if you remember, that there were certain industries, some of which extend only to pleasure, procuring that and no more, and ignorant of better and worse; while others know what is good and what bad. And I placed among those that are concerned with pleasure the habitude, not art, of cookery, and among those concerned with good the art of medicine. Now by the sanctity of friendship, Callicles, do not on your part indulge in jesting with me, or give me random answers against your conviction, or again, take what I say as though I were jesting. For you see that our debate is upon a question which has the highest conceivable claims to the serious interest even of a person who has but little intelligence—namely, what course of life is best; whether it should be that to which you invite me, with all those manly pursuits of speaking in Assembly and practicing rhetoric and going in for politics after the fashion of you modern politicians, or this life of philosophy; and what makes the difference between these two. Well, perhaps it is best to do what I attempted a while ago, and distinguish them; and then, when we have distinguished them and come to an agreement with each other as to these lives being really two, we must consider what is the difference between them and which of them is the one we ought to live. Now I daresay you do not yet grasp my meaning.

No, I do not.

Well, I will put it to you more plainly. Seeing that we have agreed, you and I, that there is such a thing as good, and such a thing as pleasant, and that the pleasant is other than the good, and that for the acquisition of either there is a certain practice or preparation—the quest of the pleasant in the one case, and that of the good in the other—but first you must either assent or object to this statement of mine: do you assent?

I am with you entirely.

Then try and come to a definite agreement with me on what I was saying to our friends here, and see if you now find that what I then said was true. I was saying, I think, that cookery seems to me not an art but a habitude, unlike medicine, which, I argued, has investigated the nature of the person whom she treats and the cause of her proceedings, and has some account to give of each of these things; so much for medicine: whereas the other, in respect of the pleasure to which her whole ministration is given, goes to work there in an utterly inartistic manner, without having investigated at all either the nature or the cause of pleasure, and altogether irrationally—with no thought, one may say, of differentiation, relying on routine and habitude for merely preserving a memory of what is wont to result; and that is how she is enabled to provide her pleasures. Now consider first whether you think that this account is satisfactory, and that there are certain other such occupations likewise, having to do with the soul; some artistic, with forethought for what is to the soul’s best advantage, and others making light of this, but again, as in the former case, considering merely the soul’s pleasure and how it may be contrived for her, neither inquiring which of the pleasures is a better or a worse one, nor caring for aught but mere gratification, whether for better or worse. For I, Callicles, hold that there are such, and for my part I call this sort of thing flattery, whether in relation to the body or to the soul or to anything else, whenever anyone ministers to its pleasure without regard for the better and the worse; and you now, do you support us with the same opinion on this matter, or do you gainsay us?

Not I; I agree with you, in order that your argument may reach a conclusion, and that I may gratify Gorgias here.

And is this the case with only one soul, and not with two or many?

No, it is also the case with two or many.

Then is it possible also to gratify them all at once, collectively, with no consideration of what is best?

I should think it is.

Then can you say what are the pursuits which effect this? Or rather, if you like, when I ask you, and one of them seems to you to be of this class, say yes, and when one does not, say no. And first let us consider flute-playing. Does it not seem to you one of this sort, Callicles, aiming only at our pleasure, and caring for naught else ?

It does seem so to me.

And so too with all similar pursuits, such as harp-playing in the contests?

Yes.