Undeterred by the warning, Hippocrates is still dying to meeting the sophist, and Socrates leads him to the house of the rich young patron Callias. They call at the door, but the doorkeeper refuses to let them in, as in a comic scene from a Greek play. Eventually they win their way inside by assuring the surly porter that they are not sophists.
Here in his dialogue the author Plato introduces us to a congress of leading sophists. “When we were inside,” Socrates recounts, “we came upon Protagoras, strolling in the courtyard, and walking with him in a long line were, on one side, Callias son of Hipponicus [the host]; his stepbrother Paralus, the son of Pericles; and Charmides son of Glaucon.”[6] In attendance are a distinguished group of Athenian gentlemen and followers from abroad. As Protagoras paces back and forth with his followers in procession, the listeners divide to let them pass.
Socrates continues, “After that I recognized, as Homer says, Hippias of Elis, sitting on a seat of honor in the opposite portico, and around him were seated on benches Eryximachus son of Acumenius, Phaedrus of Myrrhinus, and Andron, son of Androtion, with some fellow citizens of his and other foreigners. They appeared to be asking him question on natural science, especially astronomy, while he gave each his explanations ex cathedra and held forth on their problems.”[7] “And there too I spied Tantalus,” continues Socrates in an imitation of Homer’s tour of the great figures of the underworld. “For Prodicus of Ceos was also in town, and was occupying a closet which Hipponicus used to use for storage, but now . . . Callias had it cleared out and made it into a guest room. Prodicus was still in bed, wrapped up in rugs and blankets, and plenty of them . . . What they were talking about I couldn’t discover from outside, although I was very keen to hear Prodicus, whom I regard as a man of inspired genius. You see, he has such a deep voice that there was a kind of booming noise in the room which drowned out his words.”[8]
In this scene we meet the great sophists of the age. Hippias was the teacher who advertised himself as a polymath — mathematician, astronomer, historian, and craftsman extraordinaire who could make his own clothing and accessories. Prodicus was the great lexicographer and linguist who made subtle distinctions among words and meanings.
But Protagoras was the dean of sophists, the eldest and most renowned of them all. Socrates and Hippocrates have come to see him, and for all his self-deprecation, Socrates knows how to make an entrance.
Coming up to Protagoras through the crowd, Socrates says, “Protagoras, this is Hippocrates, and it is you that we have come here to see.” He introduces his friend as a promising young man from an illustrious family, one who is eager to make a name for himself. Yet it is for Protagoras to decide if he will speak to Hippocrates in private or before all the guests, Socrates points out with the insouciance of one who knows his competitor’s weakness.
Protagoras moves to center stage and raises his voice. “I appreciate your forethought on my behalf, Socrates,” he says solemnly. For a stranger to come into another city as an expert arouses jealousy, he points out. For this reason many ancient sophists claimed other professions, pretending to be poets, religious gurus, athletic trainers, or even musicians. Protagoras, for his part, does not wish to dissemble, but to be frank and open about his profession. He has always been open, and never come to any harm. “Indeed I am getting along in life now—so far as age goes I might be the father of any one of you—so if there is anything you want of me, I should much prefer to say my say in front of the whole company.”[9]
Socrates quickly suggests they invite Prodicus and Hippias and their audiences to join the group. Sensing a momentous occasion, the group gathers benches and couches in a circle, with Protagoras and Socrates in the middle. A wave of excitement sweeps through the courtyard as everyone gathers to hear a great display of eloquence and salesmanship.
Protagoras asks Socrates to repeat his request to him before the wide-eyed audience. Protagoras smiles pacifically as he prepares to advertise his abilities. Socrates opens his eyes wide as he dangles the bait. “Hippocrates has a feeling that he would like to become one of your followers. He says therefore that he would be glad to be told what effect it will have on him. That is all we have to say.”
Turning to Hippocrates, Protagoras replies, “Young man, if you come to me, your gain will be this. On the same day you join me, you will go home having improved yourself, and the same the next day. Each day you will make progress toward a better state.”[10]
That is a quite natural statement, Socrates observes, but it doesn’t really tell us what we need to know. Immediately he turns to the questions which he raised to Hippocrates. If we went to Zeuxippus of Heraclea and asked what he taught, he would reply, painting. If we went to Orthagoras of Thebes and asked what he taught, he would say, flute playing. What then would Hippocrates learn from Protagoras?
“You ask your question well, Socrates,” Protagoras answers, “and I enjoy answering good questioners. When he comes to me Hippocrates will not be put through the same trials that another sophist would inflict on him. The others treat their pupils badly; these young men, who have deliberately turned their backs on specialization, they plunge into special studies again, teaching them arithmetic, astronomy, geometry, and music,” glancing at Hippias, “but with me he will learn only that which he has come to learn. My course of instruction is in the proper care of his personal affairs, so that he may best manage his own household, and also of the state’s affairs, so as to become a real power in the city, both as speaker and man of action.”
“Do I follow you?” says Socrates. “I take you to be describing the art of politics, and promising to make men good citizens.”
“That, Socrates, is just what I profess to do.”[11]
Protagoras claims to teach the art of politics, the politikē technē. The term comes close to denoting the modern study of political science, and there is some overlap in the ancient and modern conceptions. Yet the very concept of technē suggests an applied science that leads to immediate and advantageous results. Thus for Protagoras and the sophists the emphasis is on the practical art, the how-to of leading communities and cities. Protagoras is professing the ability to make his students good citizens and successful politicians.
[6].Plato Protagoras 314e-315a.
[7].Plato Protagoras 315b-c.
[8].Plato Protagoras 315c-316a.
[9].Plato Protagoras 316c-317c.
[10].Plato Protagoras 318a.
[11].Plato Protagoras 318d-319a.