Gorgias (452-456)

Soc.

I mean that, supposing the producers of those blessings which the maker of the catch commends—namely, the doctor, the trainer, and the money-getter—were to stand before you this moment, and the doctor first should say: Gorgias is deceiving you, Socrates for it is not his art, but mine, that deals with man’s greatest good. Then supposing I were to ask him: And who are you, to say so? He would probably reply: A doctor. Well, what do you mean? That the work of your art is the greatest good? What else, Socrates, I expect he would reply, is health? What greater good

is there for men than health? And supposing the trainer came next and said: I also should be surprised indeed, Socrates, if Gorgias could show you a greater good in his art than I can in mine. Again I should say to him in his turn: And who are you, sir? What is your work? A trainer, he would reply, and my work is making men’s bodies beautiful and strong. After the trainer would come the money-getter, saying— with, I fancy, a fine contempt for every one: Pray consider, Socrates, if you can find a good that is greater than wealth, either in Gorgias’ view or in that of anyone else at all. Why then, we should say to him, are you a producer of that? Yes, he would say. And who are you? A money-getter. Well then, we shall say to him, do you judge wealth to be the greatest good for men? Of course, he will reply. But look here, we should say; our friend Gorgias contends that his own art is a cause of greater good than yours. Then doubtless his next question would be: And what is that good? Let Gorgias answer. Now come, Gorgias; imagine yourself being questioned by those persons and by me, and tell us what is this thing that you say is the greatest good for men, and that you claim to produce.

Gorg.

A thing, Socrates, which in truth is the greatest good, and a cause not merely of freedom to mankind at large, but also of dominion to single persons in their several cities.

Soc.

Well, and what do you call it?

Gorg.

I call it the ability to persuade with speeches either judges in the law courts or statesmen in the council-chamber or the commons in the Assembly or an audience at any other meeting that may be held on public affairs. And I tell you that by virtue of this power you will have the doctor as your slave, and the trainer as your slave; your money-getter will turn out to be making money not for himself, but for another,—in fact for you, who are able to speak and persuade the multitude.

Soc.

I think now, Gorgias, you have come very near to showing us

the art of rhetoric as you conceive it, and if I at all take your meaning, you say that rhetoric is a producer of persuasion, and has therein its whole business and main consummation. Or can you tell us of any other function it can have beyond that of effecting persuasion in the minds of an audience?

Gorg.

None at all, Socrates; your definition seems to me satisfactory; that is the main substance of the art.

Soc.

Then listen, Gorgias: I, let me assure you,

for so I persuade myself—if ever there was a man who debated with another from a desire of knowing the truth of the subject discussed, I am such a man; and so, I trust, are you.

Gorg.

Well, what then, Socrates?

Soc.

I will now tell you. What the real nature of the persuasion is that you speak of as resulting from rhetoric, and what the matters are with which persuasion deals, I assure you I do not clearly understand; though I may have my suspicions as to what I suppose you to mean by it, and with what things you think it deals. But nevertheless I will ask you what you do mean by the persuasion that results from rhetoric,

and with what matters you think it deals. Now why is it that, having a suspicion of my own, I am going to ask you this, instead of stating it myself? It is not on your account, but with a view to the argument, and to such a progress in it as may best reveal to us the point we are discussing. Just see if you do not think it fair of me to press you with my question: suppose I happened to ask you what Zeuxis was among painters, and you said a figure painter, would it not be fair of me to ask you what sort of figures he painted, and where?

Gorg.

Certainly.

Soc.

Would this be the reason—that there are also other painters who depict a variety of other figures?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

But if no one besides Zeuxis were a painter, your answer would have been right?

Gorg.

Yes, of course.

Soc.

Come then, tell me now about rhetoric: do you think rhetoric alone effects persuasion, or can other arts do it as well? I mean, for example, when a man teaches anything, does he persuade in his teaching? Or do you think not?

Gorg.

No, to be sure, Socrates, I think he most certainly does persuade.

Soc.

Then let us repeat our question with reference to the same arts that we spoke of just now: does not numeration, or the person skilled in numeration, teach us all that pertains to number?

Gorg.

Certainly.

Soc.

And persuades also?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

So that numeration also is a producer of persuasion?

Gorg.

Apparently.

Soc.

Then if we are asked what kind of persuasion, and dealing with what, we shall reply, I suppose: The instructive kind, which deals with the amount of an odd or an even number;

and we shall be able to demonstrate that all the other arts which we mentioned just now are producers of persuasion, and what kind it is, and what it deals with, shall we not?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

Hence rhetoric is not the only producer of persuasion.

Gorg.

You are right.

Soc.

Since then it is not the only one that achieves this effect, but others can also, we should be justified in putting this further question to the speaker, as we did concerning the painter: Then of what kind of persuasion, and of persuasion dealing with what, is rhetoric the art?

Or do you not consider that such a further question would be justified?

Gorg.

Yes, I do.

Soc.

Then answer me, Gorgias, since you agree with me on that.

Gorg.

Well then, I mean that kind of persuasion, Socrates, which you find in the law-courts and in any public gatherings, as in fact I said just now; and it deals with what is just and unjust.

Soc.

I, too, I may tell you, had a suspicion that it was this persuasion that you meant, and as dealing with those things, Gorgias; but you must not be surprised if I ask you by-and-by some such question as may seem to be obvious, though I persist in it;

for, as I say, I ask my questions with a view to an orderly completion of our argument—I am not aiming at you, but only anxious that we do not fall into a habit of snatching at each other’s words with a hasty guess, and that you may complete your own statement in your own way, as the premises may allow.

Gorg.

And I think you are quite right in doing so, Socrates.

Soc.

Come then, let us consider another point. Is there something that you call having learnt.

Gorg.

There is.

Soc.

And again, having believed?

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

Then do you think that having learnt and having believed, or learning and belief, are the same thing, or different?

Gorg.

In my opinion, Socrates, they are different.

Soc.

And your opinion is right, as you can prove in this way: if some one asked you—Is there, Gorgias, a false and a true belief?—you would say, Yes, I imagine.

Gorg.

I should.

Soc.

But now, is there a false and a true knowledge?

Gorg.

Surely not.

Soc.

So it is evident again that they[*] are not the same.

Gorg.

You are right.

Soc.

But yet those who have learnt have been persuaded, as well as those who have believed.

Gorg.

That is so.

Soc.

Then would you have us assume two forms of persuasion—one providing belief without knowledge, and the other sure knowledge?

Gorg.

Certainly.

Soc.

Now which kind of persuasion is it that rhetoric creates in law courts or any public meeting on matters of right and wrong? The kind from which we get belief without knowledge, or that from which we get knowledge?

Gorg.

Obviously, I presume, Socrates, that from which we get belief.

Soc.

Thus rhetoric, it seems, is a producer of persuasion for belief, not for instruction in the matter of right and wrong.

Gorg.

Yes.

Soc.

And so the rhetorician’s business is not to instruct a law court or a public meeting in matters of right and wrong, but only to make them believe; since, I take it, he could not in a short while instruct such a mass of people in matters so important.

Gorg.

No, to be sure.

Soc.

Come then, let us see what actually is our account of rhetoric:

for I confess I am not yet able to distinguish what my own account of it is. When the city holds a meeting to appoint doctors or shipbuilders or any other set of craftsmen, there is no question then, is there, of the rhetorician giving advice? And clearly this is because in each appointment we have to elect the most skilful person. Again, in a case of building walls or constructing harbors or arsenals, our only advisers are the master-builders; or in consulting on the appointment of generals, or on a manoeuvre against the enemy, or on a military occupation, it is the general staff who will then advise us, and not the rhetoricians. Or what do you say, Gorgias, to these instances? For as you claim to be an orator yourself and to make orators of others, it is proper to inquire of you concerning your own craft. And here you must regard me as furthering your own interest: for it is quite likely that some one within these walls has a wish to become your pupil—indeed I fancy I perceive more than one, yes, a number of them, who, perhaps, would be ashamed to press you with questions. So, when you are being pressed with mine, consider that you are being questioned by them as well: What shall we get, Gorgias, by coming to hear you? On what matters shall we be enabled to give advice to the state? Will it be only on right and wrong, or on those things besides which Socrates was mentioning just now? So try to give them an answer.

Gorg.

Well, I will try, Socrates, to reveal to you clearly the whole power of rhetoric: and in fact you have correctly shown the way to it yourself. You know, I suppose,

that these great arsenals and walls of Athens, and the construction of your harbors, are due to the advice of Themistocles, and in part to that of Pericles, not to your craftsmen.

Soc.

So we are told, Gorgias, of Themistocles; and as to Pericles, I heard him myself when he was advising us about the middle wall.[*]

Gorg.

So whenever there is an election of such persons as you were referring to, Socrates, you see it is the orators who give the advice and get resolutions carried in these matters.

Soc.

That is just what surprises me, Gorgias, and has made me ask you all this time what in the world the power of rhetoric can be. For, viewed in this light, its greatness comes over me as something supernatural.

Gorg.

Ah yes, if you knew all, Socrates,—how it comprises in itself practically all powers at once!

And I will tell you a striking proof of this: many and many a time have I gone with my brother or other doctors to visit one of their patients, and found him unwilling either to take medicine or submit to the surgeon’s knife or cautery; and when the doctor failed to persuade him I succeeded, by no other art than that of rhetoric. And I further declare that, if a rhetorician and a doctor were to enter any city you please, and there had to contend in speech before the Assembly or some other meeting as to which of the two should be appointed physician, you would find the physician was nowhere, while the master of speech would be appointed if he wished. And if he had to contend with a member of any other profession whatsoever, the rhetorician would persuade the meeting to appoint him before anyone else in the place: for there is no subject on which the rhetorician could not speak more persuasively than a member of any other profession whatsoever, before a multitude. So great, so strange, is the power of this art. At the same time, Socrates, our use of rhetoric should be like our use of any other sort of exercise. For other exercises are not to be used against all and sundry, just because one has learnt boxing or wrestling or fighting in armour so well as to vanquish friend and foe alike: this gives one no right to strike one’s friends, or stab them to death. Nor, in all conscience, if a man took lessons at a wrestling-school, and having got himself into good condition and learnt boxing he proceeded to strike his father and mother, or some other of his relations or friends, should that be a reason for hating athletic trainers and teachers of fighting in armour, and expelling them from our cities. For they imparted their skill with a view to its rightful use against enemies and wrongdoers, in self-defence, not provocation; whereas the others have perverted their strength and art to an improper use.