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who, true to their own nature, act up to their convictions. Assume à virtue though you have it not,' is of all maxims the most fatal to virtue. Try all things,' is the only direction that can guide us to the wisdom whose ways are pleasantness, and all whose paths are peace. The boundaries of right and wrong are fixed by immutable decree; those boundaries are not always clear to our eyes; but when we err, the consequences of our errors make the truth that we have erred feelingly known to us. If it were not so, I should have no more faith in any thing: the earth would be to me a wandering ball without a guide, without a course, even its wretched inhabitants being left to be the sport of our wayward, glimmering, vagrant fancies. If the Prodigal Son had been allowed to work out his life with zestful delight, or could have felt content with his degradation in feeding swine, I should say,There is no God; but, on the contrary, there is a hand which stopt his useless career, and inflicted a pain that brought him to the resolution, I will arise and go to my father;' and how much nobler a being was that than the son whose soul had narrowed into the forms established by worldly wisdom! Let men try all things;' sooner or later they will conform voluntarily and intelligently to the laws of virtue established by Omniscience; for it is hard to kick against the pricks,' and pricks there always are in the path of the

sinner.

C.

NOTES ON SOME OF THE MORE POPULAR DIALOGUES OF PLATO. No. III.

THE GORGIAS.

THE dialogue on which we are now about to enter is among the most celebrated of Plato's works, and deserves peculiar attention, as one of those on which his fame as an ethical writer is principally founded. The perusal of it is well fitted to suggest many reflections on the nature of ethical writing in general, and on the principles by which our estimation of a moralist ought to be guided; for some of which reflections we may, perhaps, find room at the conclusion of this notice. We shall now, without further delay, introduce the reader to Plato himself; merely premising as to the tendencies of the dialogue, that its whole drift and scope is to discredit mere worldly-minded men, and the teachers of those arts, or rather pursuits, (for our author uniformly refuses to them the name of arts,) which conduce only to worldly success; and to enforce, by all manner of considerations, the superior dignity and eligi bility of a virtuous life, compared with the most successful achievements of a life of mere ambition, in which no moral obligations are recognized, or in which, if recognized, they are not regarded.

As this dialogue is one of the finest specimens both of Plato's dialectical powers, and of his extraordinary dramatic talent, our abstract of it shall be fuller than usual.

Gorgias, of Leontium, the celebrated rhetorician, and a younger teacher of the same art, named Polus, are sojourning at Athens, in the house of Callicles, a man not otherwise known to us, but who seems to have been what is called a politician, (TOλTIKOS,) a frequenter of, and speaker at, the public assemblies, the great object of whose life was the attainment of influence in public affairs. To this house Socrates, with his friend Chærephon, pays a visit, and finds that Gorgias has just terminated a long exposition, or lecture. Socrates, however, expressed a hope that Gorgias would still consent to expound to him; as he was desirous to hear from himself, what was the power of his art, and what it was he professed to teach the remainder of his exposition might be postponed to another time. Callicles replied, that there was nothing like asking the man himself; and that he had, in fact, undertaken to answer whatever questions any one thought fit to ask. Socrates therefore requested Chærephon, who was previously acquainted with Gorgias, to ask. Ask what?' said Charephon. Ask him what he is.' 'How?''So that, if he made shoes, he would answer that he is a shoemaker: do you understand me? Yes,' answered Chærephon, and addressed Gorgias thus:- Is it true, O Gorgias, as Callicles tells me, that you offer to answer any sort of questions?' 'It is. I said so just now; and no one, for many years past, has asked me any question which was new to me.' Then you must be very ready at answering.' 'You have it in your power to try me.' 'Yes,' (said Polus, interposing in the conversation,) and me likewise, if you like: for Gorgias seems to me to be tired, having just now spoken at great length.' 'Do you think,' said Chærephon, that you can answer better than Gorgias?' 'Of what consequence is that, if I can answer well enough for you?' Answer then. If Gorgias were skilled in the same art as his brother Herodicus, what ought we to call him? What his brother is; a physician: is it not so?' Certainly. If he were acquainted with the same art as Aristophon, what ought we to call him? A painter.' But now, since he is skilled in some art, what is the name that we ought to give him?' 'O Chærephon,' answered Polus, 'there are among men many arts, skilfully derived from skill. Skill makes our lives pass according to art; want of skill according to chance. Some partake of some of these arts, others of others: the best persons partake of the best arts; of whom Gorgias is one, and partakes of the noblest of arts."

Socrates now interposes, and addressing Gorgias, observes, that Polus seems to be well provided with words, but that he has not performed what he promised to Chærephon. What is that? answered Gorgias. 'He does not answer the question which was put to him.' 'Suppose that you were to question him yourself.' If you will permit me, I would much rather question you: for it is clear to me, from what Polus said, that he has bestowed more attention upon what is called rhetoric, than upon the art of discussion,' (or dialectics). How so?' asked Polus. 'Because, when Chærephon asked you what was the art which Gorgias taught, you panegyrized the art, as if somebody had censured it, but what it was you did not tell.' Did I not say that it was the noblest of arts?' Very true: but nobody asked you what was the quality of Gorgias's art, but what was the nature of it, and what Gorgias ought to be called. As then Chærephon put his first questions well,

and you answered well and briefly, so now answer me what is the art of Gorgias, and what he is to be called or rather, Gorgias, do you yourself tell us what art it is which you practise.' Rhetoric,' answered Gorgias. You are, then, a rhetorician?' A good one, if, as Homer says, you call me that which I boast of being.' And you are capable of making others so?' I profess to be capable.'

Soc. Should you, Gorgias, be willing to continue questioning and answering as we have now begun, and to let alone, until another occasion, that length of discourse which Polus began with? If, however, you promise, do not fail to perform, but answer with brevity what is asked.' Gor. Some answers it is impossible to give, except at considerable length: but I will attempt to do it as briefly as possible: for this, too, is one of the things which I profess; that no one can say the same thing in fewer words than myself.' S. This is what there is ⚫ now occasion for: be pleased, therefore, to exemplify your brevity now, and your power of enlarging another time.

Since rhetoric is the thing you are skilled in, what is the subjectmatter which rhetoric relates to? Weaving relates to the making of clothing; does it not?' G. 'Yes.' S. And music is about the making of songs?' G. Yes.' S. What, then, is rhetoric about?' G.About discourse.'

G.

S. What sort of discourse? that which teaches the sick by what regimen they may get well?' G. 'No.' S. Rhetoric, then, does not relate to all sorts of discourse.' G. 'It does not.' S. But it makes men able to speak.' G. 'It does.' S. And on the matters on which it makes them able to speak, it makes them able likewise to think.' G. Certainly.' S. Now, does not the art of medicine enable people to speak and think concerning the sick?' G. Undoubtedly.' S. Then medicine likewise relates to discourse; viz., discourse on the subject of diseases.' G. 'It does.' S. And gymnastics relate to discourse; viz., discourse on the subject of good and bad habits of body.' 'Without doubt.' S. And the same thing may be said of all other arts each of them relates to discourse; viz., discourse respecting the subject with which that particular art is conversant.' G. It appears S. Why, then, do you not call the other arts rhetoric, being on the subject of discourse, if you call that which is on the subject of discourse by the name of rhetoric?' G. Because the other arts relate, in a manner, entirely to manual operations, and such like things: but rhetoric has nothing to do with manual operations; its whole agency and force are by means of discourse.'

S. Now I partly understand what you mean; but I hope to understand it still better. Are there not two kinds of arts? In the one kind, the greater part of the art lies in action, and these arts have occasion for but little discourse; some of them require none at all, and might be performed in silence, such as painting, sculpture, and so forth. This is the class to which you say that rhetoric does not belong do you not? G. You understand me rightly.' S. But there is another kind, which perform all by discourse, and require no action, or very

By the word Gymnastics,' as will be seen throughout this dialogue, the Greeks understood, not any particular sort of bodily exercises, the entire art of training the bodily frame of man for the ends of an active life.

No. 94.

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little, such as arithmetic and geometry, and many others, some of which have about an equal share of action and of discourse, but the greater part have scarcely anything except discourse, and effect all their purposes by means of it: and I understand you to say that rhetoric is one of these.' G. 'True.' S. But you do not call any of the arts which I have mentioned, rhetoric? although in words you said as much, saying that rhetoric is the art of which the whole power consists in discourse; and if any one wished to cavil, he might ask, Do you, then, call arithmetic rhetoric? But I do not believe that you call either arithmetic or geometry by that name.' G. You think rightly.' S. Then finish the answer to my question. Since rhetoric is one of the arts which chiefly employ discourse, and since there are others which do the same, explain to me on what subject it is that rhetoric employs discourse. Thus, if any one asked me, What is arithmetic? I might answer as you did, It is one of the arts whose force consists in discourse. And if he should further inquire, On what subject? I should reply, On the subject of numbers. Since, then, rhetoric is one of the arts which effect their end wholly by means of discourse, what is the subject of the discourse which rhetoric employs?' G. The greatest and best of the concerns of man.'

But this answer,' observed Socrates, is disputable and ambiguous. I suppose you have heard at entertainments the old song, Health is the best of all things, beauty the second best, and the third is to be rich without guilt.' G. I have but to what purpose is this? S. Because the providers of the three things which are praised in the old song, viz. the physician, the teacher of gymnastics, and the man of business, might start up, and, first, the physician might say, Gorgias deceives you, Socrates: it is not his art, but mine, which relates to the greatest and best concerns of man. And if I asked, Who are you who speak in this manner, he would answer, A physician. And if I rejoined, How do you prove the object of your art to be the greatest good? How can it be otherwise? he would reply: What greater good is there to man than health? In like manner the gymnast, and the man of business, would each set up the claim of his art to be the art which is conversant with the greatest good. I should answer, But Gorgias contends that his art produces a greater good to man than yours. They would then reply, And what is this good? Let Gorgias answer. Consider yourself, then, to be interrogated both by them and by me, and answer, what is this which you consider the greatest good to man, and of which you profess to be the artist ?'

It is,' replied Gorgias, that which is really the greatest good, and which both enables men to be themselves free, and enables each, in his own state, to govern the rest.' S. And what is this?' G. The ability to persuade, by discourse, either judges in a tribunal, or senators in a council-house, or voters in a meeting of the people, and in every other political assembly. If you have this power, you will have the physician for your slave, the gymnast for your slave, and the man of business will transact business for the profit, not of himself, but of you who are able to speak and persuade the multitude.'

Now,' replied Socrates, you appear to me to come near to an explanation what art you consider rhetoric to be. If I understand you, rhetoric is that which works persuasion; and its whole agency is summed

up and terminates in that. Or can you point out anything which rhetoric can do, more than to produce persuasion in the minds of the hearers?' G. No: you seem to me to define it adequately.'

'Hear me, then,' said Socrates. I persuade myself, that if there is any person who converses with another wishing to arrive at a real knowledge of the thing which the discussion relates to, I am such a person: and I wish you to be so.' G. What then?' S. 'I will tell you. What, and on what topics this persuasion is, which you say results from rhetoric, I do not clearly know; and though I certainly suspect, I will nevertheless ask you. Now, why do I, suspecting it myself, question you, and not myself declare it? Not on your account, but for the sake of the discussion, that it may proceed in such a manner as to make that about which we are talking clearest to us. Consider then whether I interrogate you fairly. If I were to ask you, what painter is Zeuxis? and you were to answer, The man who paints animals; might I not fairly ask you, What animals, on what material? G. Certainly.' S. Because there are other painters who paint other animals.' G. Yes.' S. But if nobody had ever painted animals except Zeuxis, your answer would have been right.' G. Certainly. S. Now then, on the subject of rhetoric, tell me, whether rhetoric is the only art which produces persuasion? What I mean is this: when a man teaches any thing, does he persuade people of that which he teaches, or not?' G.' He persuades more than any body.' S. To return to our former examples-does not arithmetic, and does not the arithmetician, teach us the properties of numbers? G. 'Yes.' S. Then they persuade us.' G. 'Yes.' S. Then arithmetic also works persuasion.' G. So it seems.' S. Then if we are asked, What persuasion, and respecting what; we should answer, The persuasion, which instructs us respecting the properties of numbers. And in like manner we can show what persuasion, and on what matter, is wrought by each of the other arts which we mentioned.' G. 'Yes.' S. Then rhetoric is not the only worker of persuasion?' G. "True.' S. Then we may ask you, what persuasion, and on what matter, is wrought by rhetoric.' G. The persuasion of courts of justice and other assemblies, and on the subject of the just and the unjust.'

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S. I suspected that you meant this kind of persuasion, and on this subject. But that you may not be surprised if I should hereafter ask you something which, like this, appears obvious, I do so in order that the argument may be carried straight through: not on your account, but that we may not accustom ourselves to anticipate each other's meaning by guess; and that you may complete your exposition in your own manner.' G. You do very right.' S. Let us then consider this. There is such a thing as to learn? G. 'Yes.' S. And such a thing as to believe?' G. Yes.' S. To believe and to learn, are these the same thing, or different things?' G. Different things, I conceive.' S. You conceive rightly, as may be known from this: If you were asked whether there are true belief and false belief, you would say, Yes.' G. 'I should.' S.But are there true knowledge and false knowledge? G. No.' S. Then they are not the same thing?' G. They are not.' S.' But they who have learnt, and they who only believe, are both of them persuaded?' G. They are.' S. Shall we say, then, that there are two kinds of persuasion, the one affording belief without knowledge, the other affording knowledge?' G.'Yes.' S. Which sort of persuasion does