Now, do you mean, to make him carry conviction to the crowd on all subjects, not by teaching them, but by persuading?

Certainly I do.

You were saying just now, you know, that even in the matter of health the orator will be more convincing than the doctor.

Yes, indeed, I was—meaning, to the crowd.

And “to the crowd” means “to the ignorant?” For surely, to those who know, he will not be more convincing than the doctor.

You are right.

And if he is to be more convincing than the doctor, he thus becomes more convincing than he who knows?

Certainly.

Though not himself a doctor, you agree?

Yes.

But he who is not a doctor is surely without knowledge of that whereof the doctor has knowledge.

Clearly.

So he who does not know will be more convincing to those who do not know than he who knows, supposing the orator to be more convincing than the doctor. Is that, or something else, the consequence?

In this case it does follow.

Then the case is the same in all the other arts for the orator and his rhetoric: there is no need to know 459c the truth of the actual matters, but one merely needs to have discovered some device of persuasion which will make one appear to those who do not know to know better than those who know.

Well, and is it not a great convenience, Socrates, to make oneself a match for the professionals by learning just this single art and omitting all the others?

Whether the orator is or is not a match for the rest of them by reason of that skill, is a question we shall look into presently, if our argument so requires: for the moment let us consider first whether the rhetorician is in the same relation to what is just and unjust, 459d base and noble, good and bad, as to what is healthful, and to the various objects of all the other arts; he does not know what is really good or bad, noble or base, just or unjust, but he has devised a persuasion to deal with these matters so as to appear to those who, like himself, do not know to know better than he who knows. Or is it necessary to know, 459e and must anyone who intends to learn rhetoric have a previous knowledge of these things when he comes to you? Or if not, are you, as the teacher of rhetoric, to teach the person who comes to you nothing about them—for it is not your business—but only to make him appear in the eyes of the multitude to know things of this sort when he does not know, and to appear to be good when he is not? Or will you be utterly unable to teach him rhetoric unless he previously knows the truth about these matters? Or what is the real state of the case, 460aGorgias? For Heaven’s sake, as you proposed just now, draw aside the veil and tell us what really is the function of rhetoric.

Why, I suppose, Socrates, if he happens not to know these things he will learn them too from me.

Stop there: I am glad of that statement. If you make a man a rhetorician he must needs know what is just and unjust either previously or by learning afterwards from you.

Quite so.

Well now, a man who has learnt building is a builder, is he not?

Yes.

And he who has learnt music, a musician?

Yes.

Then he who has learnt medicine is a medical man, and so on with the rest on the same principle; anyone who has learnt a certain art has the qualification acquired by his particular knowledge?

Certainly.

And so, on this principle, he who has learnt what is just is just?

Absolutely, I presume.

And the just man, I suppose, does what is just.

Yes.

Now the just man must wish to do what is just?

Apparently.

Hence the just man will never wish to act unjustly?

That must needs be so.

But it follows from our statements¹ that the rhetorician must be just.

Yes.

Hence the rhetorician will never wish to do wrong.

Apparently not.

Then do you remember saying a little while ago that 460d we ought not to complain against the trainers or expel them from our cities, if a boxer makes not merely use, but an unfair use, of his boxing? So in just the same way, if an orator uses his rhetoric unfairly, we should not complain against his teacher or banish him from our city, but the man who does the wrong and misuses his rhetoric. Was that said or not?

It was.

But now we find that this very person, the rhetorician, could never be guilty of wrongdoing, do we not?

We do.

And in our first statements, Gorgias, we said that rhetoric dealt with speech, not on even and odd, but on the just and unjust, did we not?

Yes.

Well then, I supposed at the time when you were saying this that rhetoric could never be an unjust thing, since the speeches it made were always about justice but when a little later you told us that the orator 461amight make even an unjust use of his rhetoric, that indeed surprised me, and thinking the two statements were not in accord I made those proposals,—that if, like myself, you counted it a gain to be refuted, it was worth while to have the discussion, but if not, we had better have done with it. And now that we have come to examine the matter, you see for yourself that we agree once more that it is impossible for the rhetorician to use his rhetoric unjustly or consent to do wrong. Now, to distinguish properly which way the truth of the matter lies will require, 461b by the Dog,² Gorgias, no short sitting.

How is this, Socrates? Is that really your opinion of rhetoric, as you now express it? Or, think you, because Gorgias was ashamed not to admit your point that the rhetorician knows what is just and noble and good, and will himself teach these to anyone who comes to him without knowing them; and then from this admission 461c I daresay there followed some inconsistency in the statements made—the result that you are so fond of—when it was yourself who led him into that set of questions!³ For who do you think will deny that he has a knowledge of what is just and can also teach it to others? I call it very bad taste to lead the discussion in such a direction.

Ah, sweet Polus, of course it is for this very purpose we possess ourselves of companions and sons, that when the advance of years begins to make us stumble, you younger ones may be at hand to set our lives upright again in words as well as deeds. So now if Gorgias and I 461d are stumbling in our words, you are to stand by and set us up again—it is only your duty; and for my part I am willing to revoke at your pleasure anything that you think has been wrongly admitted, if you will kindly observe one condition.

What do you mean by that?

That you keep a check on that lengthy way of speaking, Polus, which you tried to employ at first.

Why, shall I not be at liberty to say as much as I like?

It would indeed be a hard fate for you, my excellent friend, if having come to Athens, where there is more freedom of speech than anywhere in Greece, you should be the one person there who could not enjoy it.

But as a set-off to that, I ask you if it would not be just as hard on me, while you spoke at length and refused to answer my questions, 462anot to be free to go away and avoid listening to you. No, if you have any concern for the argument that we have carried on, and care to set it on its feet again, revoke whatever you please, as I suggested just now; take your turn in questioning and being questioned, like me and Gorgias; and thus either refute or be refuted. For you claim, I understand, that you yourself know all that Gorgias knows, do you not?

I do.

Then are you with him also in bidding us ask at each point any questions we like of you, as one who knows how to answer?

Certainly I am.

So now, take whichever course you like: either put questions, or answer them.

Well, I will do as you say. So answer me this, Socrates: since you think that Gorgias is at a loss about rhetoric, what is your own account of it?

Are you asking what art I call it?

Yes.

None at all, I consider, Polus, if you would have the honest truth.

But what do you consider rhetoric to be?

A thing which you say—in the treatise which I read of late—“made art.”

What thing do you mean?

I mean a certain habitude.

Then do you take rhetoric to be a habitude?

I do, if you have no other suggestion.

Habitude of what?

Of producing a kind of gratification and pleasure.

Then you take rhetoric to be something fine—an ability to gratify people?

How now, Polus? Have you as yet heard me tell you 462d what I say it is, that you ask what should follow that—whether I do not take it to be fine?

Why, did I not hear you call it a certain habitude?

Then please—since you value “gratification”—be so good as gratify me in a small matter.

I will.

Ask me now what art I take cookery to be.

Then I ask you, what art is cookery ?

None at all, Polus.

Well, what is it ? Tell me.

Then I reply, a certain habitude.

Of what? Tell me.

Then I reply, of production of gratification and pleasure, Polus.

So cookery and rhetoric are the same thing?

Not at all, only parts of the same practice.

What practice do you mean?