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diff --git a/1497-h/1497-h.htm b/1497-h/1497-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6cf8812 --- /dev/null +++ b/1497-h/1497-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,33026 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Republic, by Plato</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Republic, by Plato</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Republic</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Plato</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: B. Jowett</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October, 1998 [eBook #1497]<br /> +[Most recently updated: September 11, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Sue Asscher and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REPUBLIC ***</div> + +<h1>THE REPUBLIC</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Plato</h2> + +<h3>Translated by Benjamin Jowett</h3> + +<p> +Note: See also “The Republic” by Plato, Jowett, eBook #150 +</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_INTR">INTRODUCTION AND ANALYSIS.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0002"><b>THE REPUBLIC.</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0003">PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0004">BOOK I.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0005">BOOK II.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0006">BOOK III.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0007">BOOK IV.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0008">BOOK V.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0009">BOOK VI.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0010">BOOK VII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0011">BOOK VIII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0012">BOOK IX.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0013">BOOK X.</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"></a> INTRODUCTION AND ANALYSIS. +</h2> + +<p> +The Republic of Plato is the longest of his works with the exception of the +Laws, and is certainly the greatest of them. There are nearer approaches to +modern metaphysics in the Philebus and in the Sophist; the Politicus or +Statesman is more ideal; the form and institutions of the State are more +clearly drawn out in the Laws; as works of art, the Symposium and the +Protagoras are of higher excellence. But no other Dialogue of Plato has the +same largeness of view and the same perfection of style; no other shows an +equal knowledge of the world, or contains more of those thoughts which are new +as well as old, and not of one age only but of all. Nowhere in Plato is there a +deeper irony or a greater wealth of humour or imagery, or more dramatic power. +Nor in any other of his writings is the attempt made to interweave life and +speculation, or to connect politics with philosophy. The Republic is the centre +around which the other Dialogues may be grouped; here philosophy reaches the +highest point (cp, especially in Books V, VI, VII) to which ancient thinkers +ever attained. Plato among the Greeks, like Bacon among the moderns, was the +first who conceived a method of knowledge, although neither of them always +distinguished the bare outline or form from the substance of truth; and both of +them had to be content with an abstraction of science which was not yet +realized. He was the greatest metaphysical genius whom the world has seen; and +in him, more than in any other ancient thinker, the germs of future knowledge +are contained. The sciences of logic and psychology, which have supplied so +many instruments of thought to after-ages, are based upon the analyses of +Socrates and Plato. The principles of definition, the law of contradiction, the +fallacy of arguing in a circle, the distinction between the essence and +accidents of a thing or notion, between means and ends, between causes and +conditions; also the division of the mind into the rational, concupiscent, and +irascible elements, or of pleasures and desires into necessary and +unnecessary—these and other great forms of thought are all of them to be +found in the Republic, and were probably first invented by Plato. The greatest +of all logical truths, and the one of which writers on philosophy are most apt +to lose sight, the difference between words and things, has been most +strenuously insisted on by him (cp. Rep.; Polit.; Cratyl. 435, 436 ff), +although he has not always avoided the confusion of them in his own writings +(e.g. Rep.). But he does not bind up truth in logical formulae,—logic is +still veiled in metaphysics; and the science which he imagines to +‘contemplate all truth and all existence’ is very unlike the +doctrine of the syllogism which Aristotle claims to have discovered (Soph. +Elenchi, 33. 18). +</p> + +<p> +Neither must we forget that the Republic is but the third part of a still +larger design which was to have included an ideal history of Athens, as well as +a political and physical philosophy. The fragment of the Critias has given +birth to a world-famous fiction, second only in importance to the tale of Troy +and the legend of Arthur; and is said as a fact to have inspired some of the +early navigators of the sixteenth century. This mythical tale, of which the +subject was a history of the wars of the Athenians against the Island of +Atlantis, is supposed to be founded upon an unfinished poem of Solon, to which +it would have stood in the same relation as the writings of the logographers to +the poems of Homer. It would have told of a struggle for Liberty (cp. Tim. 25 +C), intended to represent the conflict of Persia and Hellas. We may judge from +the noble commencement of the Timaeus, from the fragment of the Critias itself, +and from the third book of the Laws, in what manner Plato would have treated +this high argument. We can only guess why the great design was abandoned; +perhaps because Plato became sensible of some incongruity in a fictitious +history, or because he had lost his interest in it, or because advancing years +forbade the completion of it; and we may please ourselves with the fancy that +had this imaginary narrative ever been finished, we should have found Plato +himself sympathising with the struggle for Hellenic independence (cp. Laws, +iii. 698 ff.), singing a hymn of triumph over Marathon and Salamis, perhaps +making the reflection of Herodotus (v. 78) where he contemplates the growth of +the Athenian empire—‘How brave a thing is freedom of speech, which +has made the Athenians so far exceed every other state of Hellas in +greatness!’ or, more probably, attributing the victory to the ancient +good order of Athens and to the favor of Apollo and Athene (cp. Introd. to +Critias). +</p> + +<p> +Again, Plato may be regarded as the ‘captain’ +(‘arhchegoz’) or leader of a goodly band of followers; for in the +Republic is to be found the original of Cicero’s De Republica, of St. +Augustine’s City of God, of the Utopia of Sir Thomas More, and of the +numerous other imaginary States which are framed upon the same model. The +extent to which Aristotle or the Aristotelian school were indebted to him in +the Politics has been little recognised, and the recognition is the more +necessary because it is not made by Aristotle himself. The two philosophers had +more in common than they were conscious of; and probably some elements of Plato +remain still undetected in Aristotle. In English philosophy too, many +affinities may be traced, not only in the works of the Cambridge Platonists, +but in great original writers like Berkeley or Coleridge, to Plato and his +ideas. That there is a truth higher than experience, of which the mind bears +witness to herself, is a conviction which in our own generation has been +enthusiastically asserted, and is perhaps gaining ground. Of the Greek authors +who at the Renaissance brought a new life into the world Plato has had the +greatest influence. The Republic of Plato is also the first treatise upon +education, of which the writings of Milton and Locke, Rousseau, Jean Paul, and +Goethe are the legitimate descendants. Like Dante or Bunyan, he has a +revelation of another life; like Bacon, he is profoundly impressed with the +unity of knowledge; in the early Church he exercised a real influence on +theology, and at the Revival of Literature on politics. Even the fragments of +his words when ‘repeated at second-hand’ (Symp. 215 D) have in all +ages ravished the hearts of men, who have seen reflected in them their own +higher nature. He is the father of idealism in philosophy, in politics, in +literature. And many of the latest conceptions of modern thinkers and +statesmen, such as the unity of knowledge, the reign of law, and the equality +of the sexes, have been anticipated in a dream by him. +</p> + +<p> +The argument of the Republic is the search after Justice, the nature of which +is first hinted at by Cephalus, the just and blameless old man—then +discussed on the basis of proverbial morality by Socrates and +Polemarchus—then caricatured by Thrasymachus and partially explained by +Socrates—reduced to an abstraction by Glaucon and Adeimantus, and having +become invisible in the individual reappears at length in the ideal State which +is constructed by Socrates. The first care of the rulers is to be education, of +which an outline is drawn after the old Hellenic model, providing only for an +improved religion and morality, and more simplicity in music and gymnastic, a +manlier strain of poetry, and greater harmony of the individual and the State. +We are thus led on to the conception of a higher State, in which ‘no man +calls anything his own,’ and in which there is neither ‘marrying +nor giving in marriage,’ and ‘kings are philosophers’ and +‘philosophers are kings;’ and there is another and higher +education, intellectual as well as moral and religious, of science as well as +of art, and not of youth only but of the whole of life. Such a State is hardly +to be realized in this world and quickly degenerates. To the perfect ideal +succeeds the government of the soldier and the lover of honour, this again +declining into democracy, and democracy into tyranny, in an imaginary but +regular order having not much resemblance to the actual facts. When ‘the +wheel has come full circle’ we do not begin again with a new period of +human life; but we have passed from the best to the worst, and there we end. +The subject is then changed and the old quarrel of poetry and philosophy which +had been more lightly treated in the earlier books of the Republic is now +resumed and fought out to a conclusion. Poetry is discovered to be an imitation +thrice removed from the truth, and Homer, as well as the dramatic poets, having +been condemned as an imitator, is sent into banishment along with them. And the +idea of the State is supplemented by the revelation of a future life. +</p> + +<p> +The division into books, like all similar divisions (Cp. Sir G.C. Lewis in the +Classical Museum, vol. ii. p 1.), is probably later than the age of Plato. The +natural divisions are five in number;—(1) Book I and the first half of +Book II down to the paragraph beginning, ‘I had always admired the genius +of Glaucon and Adeimantus,’ which is introductory; the first book +containing a refutation of the popular and sophistical notions of justice, and +concluding, like some of the earlier Dialogues, without arriving at any +definite result. To this is appended a restatement of the nature of justice +according to common opinion, and an answer is demanded to the +question—What is justice, stripped of appearances? The second division +(2) includes the remainder of the second and the whole of the third and fourth +books, which are mainly occupied with the construction of the first State and +the first education. The third division (3) consists of the fifth, sixth, and +seventh books, in which philosophy rather than justice is the subject of +enquiry, and the second State is constructed on principles of communism and +ruled by philosophers, and the contemplation of the idea of good takes the +place of the social and political virtues. In the eighth and ninth books (4) +the perversions of States and of the individuals who correspond to them are +reviewed in succession; and the nature of pleasure and the principle of tyranny +are further analysed in the individual man. The tenth book (5) is the +conclusion of the whole, in which the relations of philosophy to poetry are +finally determined, and the happiness of the citizens in this life, which has +now been assured, is crowned by the vision of another. +</p> + +<p> +Or a more general division into two parts may be adopted; the first (Books I - +IV) containing the description of a State framed generally in accordance with +Hellenic notions of religion and morality, while in the second (Books V - X) +the Hellenic State is transformed into an ideal kingdom of philosophy, of which +all other governments are the perversions. These two points of view are really +opposed, and the opposition is only veiled by the genius of Plato. The +Republic, like the Phaedrus (see Introduction to Phaedrus), is an imperfect +whole; the higher light of philosophy breaks through the regularity of the +Hellenic temple, which at last fades away into the heavens. Whether this +imperfection of structure arises from an enlargement of the plan; or from the +imperfect reconcilement in the writer’s own mind of the struggling +elements of thought which are now first brought together by him; or, perhaps, +from the composition of the work at different times—are questions, like +the similar question about the Iliad and the Odyssey, which are worth asking, +but which cannot have a distinct answer. In the age of Plato there was no +regular mode of publication, and an author would have the less scruple in +altering or adding to a work which was known only to a few of his friends. +There is no absurdity in supposing that he may have laid his labours aside for +a time, or turned from one work to another; and such interruptions would be +more likely to occur in the case of a long than of a short writing. In all +attempts to determine the chronological order of the Platonic writings on +internal evidence, this uncertainty about any single Dialogue being composed at +one time is a disturbing element, which must be admitted to affect longer +works, such as the Republic and the Laws, more than shorter ones. But, on the +other hand, the seeming discrepancies of the Republic may only arise out of the +discordant elements which the philosopher has attempted to unite in a single +whole, perhaps without being himself able to recognise the inconsistency which +is obvious to us. For there is a judgment of after ages which few great writers +have ever been able to anticipate for themselves. They do not perceive the want +of connexion in their own writings, or the gaps in their systems which are +visible enough to those who come after them. In the beginnings of literature +and philosophy, amid the first efforts of thought and language, more +inconsistencies occur than now, when the paths of speculation are well worn and +the meaning of words precisely defined. For consistency, too, is the growth of +time; and some of the greatest creations of the human mind have been wanting in +unity. Tried by this test, several of the Platonic Dialogues, according to our +modern ideas, appear to be defective, but the deficiency is no proof that they +were composed at different times or by different hands. And the supposition +that the Republic was written uninterruptedly and by a continuous effort is in +some degree confirmed by the numerous references from one part of the work to +another. +</p> + +<p> +The second title, ‘Concerning Justice,’ is not the one by which the +Republic is quoted, either by Aristotle or generally in antiquity, and, like +the other second titles of the Platonic Dialogues, may therefore be assumed to +be of later date. Morgenstern and others have asked whether the definition of +justice, which is the professed aim, or the construction of the State is the +principal argument of the work. The answer is, that the two blend in one, and +are two faces of the same truth; for justice is the order of the State, and the +State is the visible embodiment of justice under the conditions of human +society. The one is the soul and the other is the body, and the Greek ideal of +the State, as of the individual, is a fair mind in a fair body. In Hegelian +phraseology the state is the reality of which justice is the idea. Or, +described in Christian language, the kingdom of God is within, and yet +developes into a Church or external kingdom; ‘the house not made with +hands, eternal in the heavens,’ is reduced to the proportions of an +earthly building. Or, to use a Platonic image, justice and the State are the +warp and the woof which run through the whole texture. And when the +constitution of the State is completed, the conception of justice is not +dismissed, but reappears under the same or different names throughout the work, +both as the inner law of the individual soul, and finally as the principle of +rewards and punishments in another life. The virtues are based on justice, of +which common honesty in buying and selling is the shadow, and justice is based +on the idea of good, which is the harmony of the world, and is reflected both +in the institutions of states and in motions of the heavenly bodies (cp. Tim. +47). The Timaeus, which takes up the political rather than the ethical side of +the Republic, and is chiefly occupied with hypotheses concerning the outward +world, yet contains many indications that the same law is supposed to reign +over the State, over nature, and over man. +</p> + +<p> +Too much, however, has been made of this question both in ancient and modern +times. There is a stage of criticism in which all works, whether of nature or +of art, are referred to design. Now in ancient writings, and indeed in +literature generally, there remains often a large element which was not +comprehended in the original design. For the plan grows under the +author’s hand; new thoughts occur to him in the act of writing; he has +not worked out the argument to the end before he begins. The reader who seeks +to find some one idea under which the whole may be conceived, must necessarily +seize on the vaguest and most general. Thus Stallbaum, who is dissatisfied with +the ordinary explanations of the argument of the Republic, imagines himself to +have found the true argument ‘in the representation of human life in a +State perfected by justice, and governed according to the idea of good.’ +There may be some use in such general descriptions, but they can hardly be said +to express the design of the writer. The truth is, that we may as well speak of +many designs as of one; nor need anything be excluded from the plan of a great +work to which the mind is naturally led by the association of ideas, and which +does not interfere with the general purpose. What kind or degree of unity is to +be sought after in a building, in the plastic arts, in poetry, in prose, is a +problem which has to be determined relatively to the subject-matter. To Plato +himself, the enquiry ‘what was the intention of the writer,’ or +‘what was the principal argument of the Republic’ would have been +hardly intelligible, and therefore had better be at once dismissed (cp. the +Introduction to the Phaedrus). +</p> + +<p> +Is not the Republic the vehicle of three or four great truths which, to +Plato’s own mind, are most naturally represented in the form of the +State? Just as in the Jewish prophets the reign of Messiah, or ‘the day +of the Lord,’ or the suffering Servant or people of God, or the +‘Sun of righteousness with healing in his wings’ only convey, to us +at least, their great spiritual ideals, so through the Greek State Plato +reveals to us his own thoughts about divine perfection, which is the idea of +good—like the sun in the visible world;—about human perfection, +which is justice—about education beginning in youth and continuing in +later years—about poets and sophists and tyrants who are the false +teachers and evil rulers of mankind—about ‘the world’ which +is the embodiment of them—about a kingdom which exists nowhere upon earth +but is laid up in heaven to be the pattern and rule of human life. No such +inspired creation is at unity with itself, any more than the clouds of heaven +when the sun pierces through them. Every shade of light and dark, of truth, and +of fiction which is the veil of truth, is allowable in a work of philosophical +imagination. It is not all on the same plane; it easily passes from ideas to +myths and fancies, from facts to figures of speech. It is not prose but poetry, +at least a great part of it, and ought not to be judged by the rules of logic +or the probabilities of history. The writer is not fashioning his ideas into an +artistic whole; they take possession of him and are too much for him. We have +no need therefore to discuss whether a State such as Plato has conceived is +practicable or not, or whether the outward form or the inward life came first +into the mind of the writer. For the practicability of his ideas has nothing to +do with their truth; and the highest thoughts to which he attains may be truly +said to bear the greatest ‘marks of design’—justice more than +the external frame-work of the State, the idea of good more than justice. The +great science of dialectic or the organisation of ideas has no real content; +but is only a type of the method or spirit in which the higher knowledge is to +be pursued by the spectator of all time and all existence. It is in the fifth, +sixth, and seventh books that Plato reaches the ‘summit of +speculation,’ and these, although they fail to satisfy the requirements +of a modern thinker, may therefore be regarded as the most important, as they +are also the most original, portions of the work. +</p> + +<p> +It is not necessary to discuss at length a minor question which has been raised +by Boeckh, respecting the imaginary date at which the conversation was held +(the year 411 B.C. which is proposed by him will do as well as any other); for +a writer of fiction, and especially a writer who, like Plato, is notoriously +careless of chronology (cp. Rep., Symp., 193 A, etc.), only aims at general +probability. Whether all the persons mentioned in the Republic could ever have +met at any one time is not a difficulty which would have occurred to an +Athenian reading the work forty years later, or to Plato himself at the time of +writing (any more than to Shakespeare respecting one of his own dramas); and +need not greatly trouble us now. Yet this may be a question having no answer +‘which is still worth asking,’ because the investigation shows that +we cannot argue historically from the dates in Plato; it would be useless +therefore to waste time in inventing far-fetched reconcilements of them in +order to avoid chronological difficulties, such, for example, as the conjecture +of C.F. Hermann, that Glaucon and Adeimantus are not the brothers but the +uncles of Plato (cp. Apol. 34 A), or the fancy of Stallbaum that Plato +intentionally left anachronisms indicating the dates at which some of his +Dialogues were written. +</p> + +<p> +The principal characters in the Republic are Cephalus, Polemarchus, +Thrasymachus, Socrates, Glaucon, and Adeimantus. Cephalus appears in the +introduction only, Polemarchus drops at the end of the first argument, and +Thrasymachus is reduced to silence at the close of the first book. The main +discussion is carried on by Socrates, Glaucon, and Adeimantus. Among the +company are Lysias (the orator) and Euthydemus, the sons of Cephalus and +brothers of Polemarchus, an unknown Charmantides—these are mute auditors; +also there is Cleitophon, who once interrupts, where, as in the Dialogue which +bears his name, he appears as the friend and ally of Thrasymachus. +</p> + +<p> +Cephalus, the patriarch of the house, has been appropriately engaged in +offering a sacrifice. He is the pattern of an old man who has almost done with +life, and is at peace with himself and with all mankind. He feels that he is +drawing nearer to the world below, and seems to linger around the memory of the +past. He is eager that Socrates should come to visit him, fond of the poetry of +the last generation, happy in the consciousness of a well-spent life, glad at +having escaped from the tyranny of youthful lusts. His love of conversation, +his affection, his indifference to riches, even his garrulity, are interesting +traits of character. He is not one of those who have nothing to say, because +their whole mind has been absorbed in making money. Yet he acknowledges that +riches have the advantage of placing men above the temptation to dishonesty or +falsehood. The respectful attention shown to him by Socrates, whose love of +conversation, no less than the mission imposed upon him by the Oracle, leads +him to ask questions of all men, young and old alike, should also be noted. Who +better suited to raise the question of justice than Cephalus, whose life might +seem to be the expression of it? The moderation with which old age is pictured +by Cephalus as a very tolerable portion of existence is characteristic, not +only of him, but of Greek feeling generally, and contrasts with the +exaggeration of Cicero in the De Senectute. The evening of life is described by +Plato in the most expressive manner, yet with the fewest possible touches. As +Cicero remarks (Ep. ad Attic. iv. 16), the aged Cephalus would have been out of +place in the discussion which follows, and which he could neither have +understood nor taken part in without a violation of dramatic propriety (cp. +Lysimachus in the Laches). +</p> + +<p> +His ‘son and heir’ Polemarchus has the frankness and impetuousness +of youth; he is for detaining Socrates by force in the opening scene, and will +not ‘let him off’ on the subject of women and children. Like +Cephalus, he is limited in his point of view, and represents the proverbial +stage of morality which has rules of life rather than principles; and he quotes +Simonides (cp. Aristoph. Clouds) as his father had quoted Pindar. But after +this he has no more to say; the answers which he makes are only elicited from +him by the dialectic of Socrates. He has not yet experienced the influence of +the Sophists like Glaucon and Adeimantus, nor is he sensible of the necessity +of refuting them; he belongs to the pre-Socratic or pre-dialectical age. He is +incapable of arguing, and is bewildered by Socrates to such a degree that he +does not know what he is saying. He is made to admit that justice is a thief, +and that the virtues follow the analogy of the arts. From his brother Lysias +(contra Eratosth.) we learn that he fell a victim to the Thirty Tyrants, but no +allusion is here made to his fate, nor to the circumstance that Cephalus and +his family were of Syracusan origin, and had migrated from Thurii to Athens. +</p> + +<p> +The ‘Chalcedonian giant,’ Thrasymachus, of whom we have already +heard in the Phaedrus, is the personification of the Sophists, according to +Plato’s conception of them, in some of their worst characteristics. He is +vain and blustering, refusing to discourse unless he is paid, fond of making an +oration, and hoping thereby to escape the inevitable Socrates; but a mere child +in argument, and unable to foresee that the next ‘move’ (to use a +Platonic expression) will ‘shut him up.’ He has reached the stage +of framing general notions, and in this respect is in advance of Cephalus and +Polemarchus. But he is incapable of defending them in a discussion, and vainly +tries to cover his confusion with banter and insolence. Whether such doctrines +as are attributed to him by Plato were really held either by him or by any +other Sophist is uncertain; in the infancy of philosophy serious errors about +morality might easily grow up—they are certainly put into the mouths of +speakers in Thucydides; but we are concerned at present with Plato’s +description of him, and not with the historical reality. The inequality of the +contest adds greatly to the humour of the scene. The pompous and empty Sophist +is utterly helpless in the hands of the great master of dialectic, who knows +how to touch all the springs of vanity and weakness in him. He is greatly +irritated by the irony of Socrates, but his noisy and imbecile rage only lays +him more and more open to the thrusts of his assailant. His determination to +cram down their throats, or put ‘bodily into their souls’ his own +words, elicits a cry of horror from Socrates. The state of his temper is quite +as worthy of remark as the process of the argument. Nothing is more amusing +than his complete submission when he has been once thoroughly beaten. At first +he seems to continue the discussion with reluctance, but soon with apparent +good-will, and he even testifies his interest at a later stage by one or two +occasional remarks. When attacked by Glaucon he is humorously protected by +Socrates ‘as one who has never been his enemy and is now his +friend.’ From Cicero and Quintilian and from Aristotle’s Rhetoric +we learn that the Sophist whom Plato has made so ridiculous was a man of note +whose writings were preserved in later ages. The play on his name which was +made by his contemporary Herodicus (Aris. Rhet.), ‘thou wast ever bold in +battle,’ seems to show that the description of him is not devoid of +verisimilitude. +</p> + +<p> +When Thrasymachus has been silenced, the two principal respondents, Glaucon and +Adeimantus, appear on the scene: here, as in Greek tragedy (cp. Introd. to +Phaedo), three actors are introduced. At first sight the two sons of Ariston +may seem to wear a family likeness, like the two friends Simmias and Cebes in +the Phaedo. But on a nearer examination of them the similarity vanishes, and +they are seen to be distinct characters. Glaucon is the impetuous youth who can +‘just never have enough of fechting’ (cp. the character of him in +Xen. Mem. iii. 6); the man of pleasure who is acquainted with the mysteries of +love; the ‘juvenis qui gaudet canibus,’ and who improves the breed +of animals; the lover of art and music who has all the experiences of youthful +life. He is full of quickness and penetration, piercing easily below the clumsy +platitudes of Thrasymachus to the real difficulty; he turns out to the light +the seamy side of human life, and yet does not lose faith in the just and true. +It is Glaucon who seizes what may be termed the ludicrous relation of the +philosopher to the world, to whom a state of simplicity is ‘a city of +pigs,’ who is always prepared with a jest when the argument offers him an +opportunity, and who is ever ready to second the humour of Socrates and to +appreciate the ridiculous, whether in the connoisseurs of music, or in the +lovers of theatricals, or in the fantastic behaviour of the citizens of +democracy. His weaknesses are several times alluded to by Socrates, who, +however, will not allow him to be attacked by his brother Adeimantus. He is a +soldier, and, like Adeimantus, has been distinguished at the battle of Megara +(anno 456?)...The character of Adeimantus is deeper and graver, and the +profounder objections are commonly put into his mouth. Glaucon is more +demonstrative, and generally opens the game. Adeimantus pursues the argument +further. Glaucon has more of the liveliness and quick sympathy of youth; +Adeimantus has the maturer judgment of a grown-up man of the world. In the +second book, when Glaucon insists that justice and injustice shall be +considered without regard to their consequences, Adeimantus remarks that they +are regarded by mankind in general only for the sake of their consequences; and +in a similar vein of reflection he urges at the beginning of the fourth book +that Socrates fails in making his citizens happy, and is answered that +happiness is not the first but the second thing, not the direct aim but the +indirect consequence of the good government of a State. In the discussion about +religion and mythology, Adeimantus is the respondent, but Glaucon breaks in +with a slight jest, and carries on the conversation in a lighter tone about +music and gymnastic to the end of the book. It is Adeimantus again who +volunteers the criticism of common sense on the Socratic method of argument, +and who refuses to let Socrates pass lightly over the question of women and +children. It is Adeimantus who is the respondent in the more argumentative, as +Glaucon in the lighter and more imaginative portions of the Dialogue. For +example, throughout the greater part of the sixth book, the causes of the +corruption of philosophy and the conception of the idea of good are discussed +with Adeimantus. Glaucon resumes his place of principal respondent; but he has +a difficulty in apprehending the higher education of Socrates, and makes some +false hits in the course of the discussion. Once more Adeimantus returns with +the allusion to his brother Glaucon whom he compares to the contentious State; +in the next book he is again superseded, and Glaucon continues to the end. +</p> + +<p> +Thus in a succession of characters Plato represents the successive stages of +morality, beginning with the Athenian gentleman of the olden time, who is +followed by the practical man of that day regulating his life by proverbs and +saws; to him succeeds the wild generalization of the Sophists, and lastly come +the young disciples of the great teacher, who know the sophistical arguments +but will not be convinced by them, and desire to go deeper into the nature of +things. These too, like Cephalus, Polemarchus, Thrasymachus, are clearly +distinguished from one another. Neither in the Republic, nor in any other +Dialogue of Plato, is a single character repeated. +</p> + +<p> +The delineation of Socrates in the Republic is not wholly consistent. In the +first book we have more of the real Socrates, such as he is depicted in the +Memorabilia of Xenophon, in the earliest Dialogues of Plato, and in the +Apology. He is ironical, provoking, questioning, the old enemy of the Sophists, +ready to put on the mask of Silenus as well as to argue seriously. But in the +sixth book his enmity towards the Sophists abates; he acknowledges that they +are the representatives rather than the corrupters of the world. He also +becomes more dogmatic and constructive, passing beyond the range either of the +political or the speculative ideas of the real Socrates. In one passage Plato +himself seems to intimate that the time had now come for Socrates, who had +passed his whole life in philosophy, to give his own opinion and not to be +always repeating the notions of other men. There is no evidence that either the +idea of good or the conception of a perfect state were comprehended in the +Socratic teaching, though he certainly dwelt on the nature of the universal and +of final causes (cp. Xen. Mem.; Phaedo); and a deep thinker like him, in his +thirty or forty years of public teaching, could hardly have failed to touch on +the nature of family relations, for which there is also some positive evidence +in the Memorabilia (Mem.) The Socratic method is nominally retained; and every +inference is either put into the mouth of the respondent or represented as the +common discovery of him and Socrates. But any one can see that this is a mere +form, of which the affectation grows wearisome as the work advances. The method +of enquiry has passed into a method of teaching in which by the help of +interlocutors the same thesis is looked at from various points of view. The +nature of the process is truly characterized by Glaucon, when he describes +himself as a companion who is not good for much in an investigation, but can +see what he is shown, and may, perhaps, give the answer to a question more +fluently than another. +</p> + +<p> +Neither can we be absolutely certain that Socrates himself taught the +immortality of the soul, which is unknown to his disciple Glaucon in the +Republic (cp. Apol.); nor is there any reason to suppose that he used myths or +revelations of another world as a vehicle of instruction, or that he would have +banished poetry or have denounced the Greek mythology. His favorite oath is +retained, and a slight mention is made of the daemonium, or internal sign, +which is alluded to by Socrates as a phenomenon peculiar to himself. A real +element of Socratic teaching, which is more prominent in the Republic than in +any of the other Dialogues of Plato, is the use of example and illustration +τὰ φορτικὰ +αὐτῷ +προσφέροντες, +‘Let us apply the test of common instances.’ ‘You,’ +says Adeimantus, ironically, in the sixth book, ‘are so unaccustomed to +speak in images.’ And this use of examples or images, though truly +Socratic in origin, is enlarged by the genius of Plato into the form of an +allegory or parable, which embodies in the concrete what has been already +described, or is about to be described, in the abstract. Thus the figure of the +cave in Book VII is a recapitulation of the divisions of knowledge in Book VI. +The composite animal in Book IX is an allegory of the parts of the soul. The +noble captain and the ship and the true pilot in Book VI are a figure of the +relation of the people to the philosophers in the State which has been +described. Other figures, such as the dog, or the marriage of the portionless +maiden, or the drones and wasps in the eighth and ninth books, also form links +of connexion in long passages, or are used to recall previous discussions. +</p> + +<p> +Plato is most true to the character of his master when he describes him as +‘not of this world.’ And with this representation of him the ideal +state and the other paradoxes of the Republic are quite in accordance, though +they cannot be shown to have been speculations of Socrates. To him, as to other +great teachers both philosophical and religious, when they looked upward, the +world seemed to be the embodiment of error and evil. The common sense of +mankind has revolted against this view, or has only partially admitted it. And +even in Socrates himself the sterner judgement of the multitude at times passes +into a sort of ironical pity or love. Men in general are incapable of +philosophy, and are therefore at enmity with the philosopher; but their +misunderstanding of him is unavoidable: for they have never seen him as he +truly is in his own image; they are only acquainted with artificial systems +possessing no native force of truth—words which admit of many +applications. Their leaders have nothing to measure with, and are therefore +ignorant of their own stature. But they are to be pitied or laughed at, not to +be quarrelled with; they mean well with their nostrums, if they could only +learn that they are cutting off a Hydra’s head. This moderation towards +those who are in error is one of the most characteristic features of Socrates +in the Republic. In all the different representations of Socrates, whether of +Xenophon or Plato, and amid the differences of the earlier or later Dialogues, +he always retains the character of the unwearied and disinterested seeker after +truth, without which he would have ceased to be Socrates. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving the characters we may now analyse the contents of the Republic, and +then proceed to consider (1) The general aspects of this Hellenic ideal of the +State, (2) The modern lights in which the thoughts of Plato may be read. +</p> + +<p> +BOOK I. The Republic opens with a truly Greek scene—a festival in honour +of the goddess Bendis which is held in the Piraeus; to this is added the +promise of an equestrian torch-race in the evening. The whole work is supposed +to be recited by Socrates on the day after the festival to a small party, +consisting of Critias, Timaeus, Hermocrates, and another; this we learn from +the first words of the Timaeus. +</p> + +<p> +When the rhetorical advantage of reciting the Dialogue has been gained, the +attention is not distracted by any reference to the audience; nor is the reader +further reminded of the extraordinary length of the narrative. Of the numerous +company, three only take any serious part in the discussion; nor are we +informed whether in the evening they went to the torch-race, or talked, as in +the Symposium, through the night. The manner in which the conversation has +arisen is described as follows:—Socrates and his companion Glaucon are +about to leave the festival when they are detained by a message from +Polemarchus, who speedily appears accompanied by Adeimantus, the brother of +Glaucon, and with playful violence compels them to remain, promising them not +only the torch-race, but the pleasure of conversation with the young, which to +Socrates is a far greater attraction. They return to the house of Cephalus, +Polemarchus’ father, now in extreme old age, who is found sitting upon a +cushioned seat crowned for a sacrifice. ‘You should come to me oftener, +Socrates, for I am too old to go to you; and at my time of life, having lost +other pleasures, I care the more for conversation.’ Socrates asks him +what he thinks of age, to which the old man replies, that the sorrows and +discontents of age are to be attributed to the tempers of men, and that age is +a time of peace in which the tyranny of the passions is no longer felt. Yes, +replies Socrates, but the world will say, Cephalus, that you are happy in old +age because you are rich. ‘And there is something in what they say, +Socrates, but not so much as they imagine—as Themistocles replied to the +Seriphian, “Neither you, if you had been an Athenian, nor I, if I had +been a Seriphian, would ever have been famous,” I might in like manner +reply to you, Neither a good poor man can be happy in age, nor yet a bad rich +man.’ Socrates remarks that Cephalus appears not to care about riches, a +quality which he ascribes to his having inherited, not acquired them, and would +like to know what he considers to be the chief advantage of them. Cephalus +answers that when you are old the belief in the world below grows upon you, and +then to have done justice and never to have been compelled to do injustice +through poverty, and never to have deceived anyone, are felt to be unspeakable +blessings. Socrates, who is evidently preparing for an argument, next asks, +What is the meaning of the word justice? To tell the truth and pay your debts? +No more than this? Or must we admit exceptions? Ought I, for example, to put +back into the hands of my friend, who has gone mad, the sword which I borrowed +of him when he was in his right mind? ‘There must be exceptions.’ +‘And yet,’ says Polemarchus, ‘the definition which has been +given has the authority of Simonides.’ Here Cephalus retires to look +after the sacrifices, and bequeaths, as Socrates facetiously remarks, the +possession of the argument to his heir, Polemarchus... +</p> + +<p> +The description of old age is finished, and Plato, as his manner is, has +touched the key-note of the whole work in asking for the definition of justice, +first suggesting the question which Glaucon afterwards pursues respecting +external goods, and preparing for the concluding mythus of the world below in +the slight allusion of Cephalus. The portrait of the just man is a natural +frontispiece or introduction to the long discourse which follows, and may +perhaps imply that in all our perplexity about the nature of justice, there is +no difficulty in discerning ‘who is a just man.’ The first +explanation has been supported by a saying of Simonides; and now Socrates has a +mind to show that the resolution of justice into two unconnected precepts, +which have no common principle, fails to satisfy the demands of dialectic. +</p> + +<p> +...He proceeds: What did Simonides mean by this saying of his? Did he mean that +I was to give back arms to a madman? ‘No, not in that case, not if the +parties are friends, and evil would result. He meant that you were to do what +was proper, good to friends and harm to enemies.’ Every act does +something to somebody; and following this analogy, Socrates asks, What is this +due and proper thing which justice does, and to whom? He is answered that +justice does good to friends and harm to enemies. But in what way good or harm? +‘In making alliances with the one, and going to war with the +other.’ Then in time of peace what is the good of justice? The answer is +that justice is of use in contracts, and contracts are money partnerships. Yes; +but how in such partnerships is the just man of more use than any other man? +‘When you want to have money safely kept and not used.’ Then +justice will be useful when money is useless. And there is another difficulty: +justice, like the art of war or any other art, must be of opposites, good at +attack as well as at defence, at stealing as well as at guarding. But then +justice is a thief, though a hero notwithstanding, like Autolycus, the Homeric +hero, who was ‘excellent above all men in theft and +perjury’—to such a pass have you and Homer and Simonides brought +us; though I do not forget that the thieving must be for the good of friends +and the harm of enemies. And still there arises another question: Are friends +to be interpreted as real or seeming; enemies as real or seeming? And are our +friends to be only the good, and our enemies to be the evil? The answer is, +that we must do good to our seeming and real good friends, and evil to our +seeming and real evil enemies—good to the good, evil to the evil. But +ought we to render evil for evil at all, when to do so will only make men more +evil? Can justice produce injustice any more than the art of horsemanship can +make bad horsemen, or heat produce cold? The final conclusion is, that no sage +or poet ever said that the just return evil for evil; this was a maxim of some +rich and mighty man, Periander, Perdiccas, or Ismenias the Theban (about B.C. +398-381)... +</p> + +<p> +Thus the first stage of aphoristic or unconscious morality is shown to be +inadequate to the wants of the age; the authority of the poets is set aside, +and through the winding mazes of dialectic we make an approach to the Christian +precept of forgiveness of injuries. Similar words are applied by the Persian +mystic poet to the Divine being when the questioning spirit is stirred within +him:—‘If because I do evil, Thou punishest me by evil, what is the +difference between Thee and me?’ In this both Plato and Kheyam rise above +the level of many Christian (?) theologians. The first definition of justice +easily passes into the second; for the simple words ‘to speak the truth +and pay your debts’ is substituted the more abstract ‘to do good to +your friends and harm to your enemies.’ Either of these explanations +gives a sufficient rule of life for plain men, but they both fall short of the +precision of philosophy. We may note in passing the antiquity of casuistry, +which not only arises out of the conflict of established principles in +particular cases, but also out of the effort to attain them, and is prior as +well as posterior to our fundamental notions of morality. The +‘interrogation’ of moral ideas; the appeal to the authority of +Homer; the conclusion that the maxim, ‘Do good to your friends and harm +to your enemies,’ being erroneous, could not have been the word of any +great man, are all of them very characteristic of the Platonic Socrates. +</p> + +<p> +...Here Thrasymachus, who has made several attempts to interrupt, but has +hitherto been kept in order by the company, takes advantage of a pause and +rushes into the arena, beginning, like a savage animal, with a roar. +‘Socrates,’ he says, ‘what folly is this?—Why do you +agree to be vanquished by one another in a pretended argument?’ He then +prohibits all the ordinary definitions of justice; to which Socrates replies +that he cannot tell how many twelve is, if he is forbidden to say 2 x 6, or 3 x +4, or 6 x 2, or 4 x 3. At first Thrasymachus is reluctant to argue; but at +length, with a promise of payment on the part of the company and of praise from +Socrates, he is induced to open the game. ‘Listen,’ he says, +‘my answer is that might is right, justice the interest of the stronger: +now praise me.’ Let me understand you first. Do you mean that because +Polydamas the wrestler, who is stronger than we are, finds the eating of beef +for his interest, the eating of beef is also for our interest, who are not so +strong? Thrasymachus is indignant at the illustration, and in pompous words, +apparently intended to restore dignity to the argument, he explains his meaning +to be that the rulers make laws for their own interests. But suppose, says +Socrates, that the ruler or stronger makes a mistake—then the interest of +the stronger is not his interest. Thrasymachus is saved from this speedy +downfall by his disciple Cleitophon, who introduces the word +‘thinks;’—not the actual interest of the ruler, but what he +thinks or what seems to be his interest, is justice. The contradiction is +escaped by the unmeaning evasion: for though his real and apparent interests +may differ, what the ruler thinks to be his interest will always remain what he +thinks to be his interest. +</p> + +<p> +Of course this was not the original assertion, nor is the new interpretation +accepted by Thrasymachus himself. But Socrates is not disposed to quarrel about +words, if, as he significantly insinuates, his adversary has changed his mind. +In what follows Thrasymachus does in fact withdraw his admission that the ruler +may make a mistake, for he affirms that the ruler as a ruler is infallible. +Socrates is quite ready to accept the new position, which he equally turns +against Thrasymachus by the help of the analogy of the arts. Every art or +science has an interest, but this interest is to be distinguished from the +accidental interest of the artist, and is only concerned with the good of the +things or persons which come under the art. And justice has an interest which +is the interest not of the ruler or judge, but of those who come under his +sway. +</p> + +<p> +Thrasymachus is on the brink of the inevitable conclusion, when he makes a bold +diversion. ‘Tell me, Socrates,’ he says, ‘have you a +nurse?’ What a question! Why do you ask? ‘Because, if you have, she +neglects you and lets you go about drivelling, and has not even taught you to +know the shepherd from the sheep. For you fancy that shepherds and rulers never +think of their own interest, but only of their sheep or subjects, whereas the +truth is that they fatten them for their use, sheep and subjects alike. And +experience proves that in every relation of life the just man is the loser and +the unjust the gainer, especially where injustice is on the grand scale, which +is quite another thing from the petty rogueries of swindlers and burglars and +robbers of temples. The language of men proves this—our +‘gracious’ and ‘blessed’ tyrant and the like—all +which tends to show (1) that justice is the interest of the stronger; and (2) +that injustice is more profitable and also stronger than justice.’ +</p> + +<p> +Thrasymachus, who is better at a speech than at a close argument, having +deluged the company with words, has a mind to escape. But the others will not +let him go, and Socrates adds a humble but earnest request that he will not +desert them at such a crisis of their fate. ‘And what can I do more for +you?’ he says; ‘would you have me put the words bodily into your +souls?’ God forbid! replies Socrates; but we want you to be consistent in +the use of terms, and not to employ ‘physician’ in an exact sense, +and then again ‘shepherd’ or ‘ruler’ in an +inexact,—if the words are strictly taken, the ruler and the shepherd look +only to the good of their people or flocks and not to their own: whereas you +insist that rulers are solely actuated by love of office. ‘No doubt about +it,’ replies Thrasymachus. Then why are they paid? Is not the reason, +that their interest is not comprehended in their art, and is therefore the +concern of another art, the art of pay, which is common to the arts in general, +and therefore not identical with any one of them? Nor would any man be a ruler +unless he were induced by the hope of reward or the fear of +punishment;—the reward is money or honour, the punishment is the +necessity of being ruled by a man worse than himself. And if a State (or +Church) were composed entirely of good men, they would be affected by the last +motive only; and there would be as much ‘nolo episcopari’ as there +is at present of the opposite... +</p> + +<p> +The satire on existing governments is heightened by the simple and apparently +incidental manner in which the last remark is introduced. There is a similar +irony in the argument that the governors of mankind do not like being in +office, and that therefore they demand pay. +</p> + +<p> +...Enough of this: the other assertion of Thrasymachus is far more +important—that the unjust life is more gainful than the just. Now, as you +and I, Glaucon, are not convinced by him, we must reply to him; but if we try +to compare their respective gains we shall want a judge to decide for us; we +had better therefore proceed by making mutual admissions of the truth to one +another. +</p> + +<p> +Thrasymachus had asserted that perfect injustice was more gainful than perfect +justice, and after a little hesitation he is induced by Socrates to admit the +still greater paradox that injustice is virtue and justice vice. Socrates +praises his frankness, and assumes the attitude of one whose only wish is to +understand the meaning of his opponents. At the same time he is weaving a net +in which Thrasymachus is finally enclosed. The admission is elicited from him +that the just man seeks to gain an advantage over the unjust only, but not over +the just, while the unjust would gain an advantage over either. Socrates, in +order to test this statement, employs once more the favourite analogy of the +arts. The musician, doctor, skilled artist of any sort, does not seek to gain +more than the skilled, but only more than the unskilled (that is to say, he +works up to a rule, standard, law, and does not exceed it), whereas the +unskilled makes random efforts at excess. Thus the skilled falls on the side of +the good, and the unskilled on the side of the evil, and the just is the +skilled, and the unjust is the unskilled. +</p> + +<p> +There was great difficulty in bringing Thrasymachus to the point; the day was +hot and he was streaming with perspiration, and for the first time in his life +he was seen to blush. But his other thesis that injustice was stronger than +justice has not yet been refuted, and Socrates now proceeds to the +consideration of this, which, with the assistance of Thrasymachus, he hopes to +clear up; the latter is at first churlish, but in the judicious hands of +Socrates is soon restored to good-humour: Is there not honour among thieves? Is +not the strength of injustice only a remnant of justice? Is not absolute +injustice absolute weakness also? A house that is divided against itself cannot +stand; two men who quarrel detract from one another’s strength, and he +who is at war with himself is the enemy of himself and the gods. Not wickedness +therefore, but semi-wickedness flourishes in states,—a remnant of good is +needed in order to make union in action possible,—there is no kingdom of +evil in this world. +</p> + +<p> +Another question has not been answered: Is the just or the unjust the happier? +To this we reply, that every art has an end and an excellence or virtue by +which the end is accomplished. And is not the end of the soul happiness, and +justice the excellence of the soul by which happiness is attained? Justice and +happiness being thus shown to be inseparable, the question whether the just or +the unjust is the happier has disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +Thrasymachus replies: ‘Let this be your entertainment, Socrates, at the +festival of Bendis.’ Yes; and a very good entertainment with which your +kindness has supplied me, now that you have left off scolding. And yet not a +good entertainment—but that was my own fault, for I tasted of too many +things. First of all the nature of justice was the subject of our enquiry, and +then whether justice is virtue and wisdom, or evil and folly; and then the +comparative advantages of just and unjust: and the sum of all is that I know +not what justice is; how then shall I know whether the just is happy or not?... +</p> + +<p> +Thus the sophistical fabric has been demolished, chiefly by appealing to the +analogy of the arts. ‘Justice is like the arts (1) in having no external +interest, and (2) in not aiming at excess, and (3) justice is to happiness what +the implement of the workman is to his work.’ At this the modern reader +is apt to stumble, because he forgets that Plato is writing in an age when the +arts and the virtues, like the moral and intellectual faculties, were still +undistinguished. Among early enquirers into the nature of human action the arts +helped to fill up the void of speculation; and at first the comparison of the +arts and the virtues was not perceived by them to be fallacious. They only saw +the points of agreement in them and not the points of difference. Virtue, like +art, must take means to an end; good manners are both an art and a virtue; +character is naturally described under the image of a statue; and there are +many other figures of speech which are readily transferred from art to morals. +The next generation cleared up these perplexities; or at least supplied after +ages with a further analysis of them. The contemporaries of Plato were in a +state of transition, and had not yet fully realized the common-sense +distinction of Aristotle, that ‘virtue is concerned with action, art with +production’ (Nic. Eth.), or that ‘virtue implies intention and +constancy of purpose,’ whereas ‘art requires knowledge only’. +And yet in the absurdities which follow from some uses of the analogy, there +seems to be an intimation conveyed that virtue is more than art. This is +implied in the reductio ad absurdum that ‘justice is a thief,’ and +in the dissatisfaction which Socrates expresses at the final result. +</p> + +<p> +The expression ‘an art of pay’ which is described as ‘common +to all the arts’ is not in accordance with the ordinary use of language. +Nor is it employed elsewhere either by Plato or by any other Greek writer. It +is suggested by the argument, and seems to extend the conception of art to +doing as well as making. Another flaw or inaccuracy of language may be noted in +the words ‘men who are injured are made more unjust.’ For those who +are injured are not necessarily made worse, but only harmed or ill-treated. +</p> + +<p> +The second of the three arguments, ‘that the just does not aim at +excess,’ has a real meaning, though wrapped up in an enigmatical form. +That the good is of the nature of the finite is a peculiarly Hellenic +sentiment, which may be compared with the language of those modern writers who +speak of virtue as fitness, and of freedom as obedience to law. The +mathematical or logical notion of limit easily passes into an ethical one, and +even finds a mythological expression in the conception of envy (Greek). Ideas +of measure, equality, order, unity, proportion, still linger in the writings of +moralists; and the true spirit of the fine arts is better conveyed by such +terms than by superlatives. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +‘When workmen strive to do better than well,<br/> +They do confound their skill in covetousness.’ (King John. Act. iv. Sc. +2.) +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +The harmony of the soul and body, and of the parts of the soul with one +another, a harmony ‘fairer than that of musical notes,’ is the true +Hellenic mode of conceiving the perfection of human nature. +</p> + +<p> +In what may be called the epilogue of the discussion with Thrasymachus, Plato +argues that evil is not a principle of strength, but of discord and +dissolution, just touching the question which has been often treated in modern +times by theologians and philosophers, of the negative nature of evil. In the +last argument we trace the germ of the Aristotelian doctrine of an end and a +virtue directed towards the end, which again is suggested by the arts. The +final reconcilement of justice and happiness and the identity of the individual +and the State are also intimated. Socrates reassumes the character of a +‘know-nothing;’ at the same time he appears to be not wholly +satisfied with the manner in which the argument has been conducted. Nothing is +concluded; but the tendency of the dialectical process, here as always, is to +enlarge our conception of ideas, and to widen their application to human life. +</p> + +<p> +BOOK II. Thrasymachus is pacified, but the intrepid Glaucon insists on +continuing the argument. He is not satisfied with the indirect manner in which, +at the end of the last book, Socrates had disposed of the question +‘Whether the just or the unjust is the happier.’ He begins by +dividing goods into three classes:—first, goods desirable in themselves; +secondly, goods desirable in themselves and for their results; thirdly, goods +desirable for their results only. He then asks Socrates in which of the three +classes he would place justice. In the second class, replies Socrates, among +goods desirable for themselves and also for their results. ‘Then the +world in general are of another mind, for they say that justice belongs to the +troublesome class of goods which are desirable for their results only. Socrates +answers that this is the doctrine of Thrasymachus which he rejects. Glaucon +thinks that Thrasymachus was too ready to listen to the voice of the charmer, +and proposes to consider the nature of justice and injustice in themselves and +apart from the results and rewards of them which the world is always dinning in +his ears. He will first of all speak of the nature and origin of justice; +secondly, of the manner in which men view justice as a necessity and not a +good; and thirdly, he will prove the reasonableness of this view. +</p> + +<p> +‘To do injustice is said to be a good; to suffer injustice an evil. As +the evil is discovered by experience to be greater than the good, the +sufferers, who cannot also be doers, make a compact that they will have +neither, and this compact or mean is called justice, but is really the +impossibility of doing injustice. No one would observe such a compact if he +were not obliged. Let us suppose that the just and unjust have two rings, like +that of Gyges in the well-known story, which make them invisible, and then no +difference will appear in them, for every one will do evil if he can. And he +who abstains will be regarded by the world as a fool for his pains. Men may +praise him in public out of fear for themselves, but they will laugh at him in +their hearts (Cp. Gorgias.) +</p> + +<p> +‘And now let us frame an ideal of the just and unjust. Imagine the unjust +man to be master of his craft, seldom making mistakes and easily correcting +them; having gifts of money, speech, strength—the greatest villain +bearing the highest character: and at his side let us place the just in his +nobleness and simplicity—being, not seeming—without name or +reward—clothed in his justice only—the best of men who is thought +to be the worst, and let him die as he has lived. I might add (but I would +rather put the rest into the mouth of the panegyrists of injustice—they +will tell you) that the just man will be scourged, racked, bound, will have his +eyes put out, and will at last be crucified (literally impaled)—and all +this because he ought to have preferred seeming to being. How different is the +case of the unjust who clings to appearance as the true reality! His high +character makes him a ruler; he can marry where he likes, trade where he likes, +help his friends and hurt his enemies; having got rich by dishonesty he can +worship the gods better, and will therefore be more loved by them than the +just.’ +</p> + +<p> +I was thinking what to answer, when Adeimantus joined in the already unequal +fray. He considered that the most important point of all had been +omitted:—‘Men are taught to be just for the sake of rewards; +parents and guardians make reputation the incentive to virtue. And other +advantages are promised by them of a more solid kind, such as wealthy marriages +and high offices. There are the pictures in Homer and Hesiod of fat sheep and +heavy fleeces, rich corn-fields and trees toppling with fruit, which the gods +provide in this life for the just. And the Orphic poets add a similar picture +of another. The heroes of Musaeus and Eumolpus lie on couches at a festival, +with garlands on their heads, enjoying as the meed of virtue a paradise of +immortal drunkenness. Some go further, and speak of a fair posterity in the +third and fourth generation. But the wicked they bury in a slough and make them +carry water in a sieve: and in this life they attribute to them the infamy +which Glaucon was assuming to be the lot of the just who are supposed to be +unjust. +</p> + +<p> +‘Take another kind of argument which is found both in poetry and +prose:—“Virtue,” as Hesiod says, “is honourable but +difficult, vice is easy and profitable.” You may often see the wicked in +great prosperity and the righteous afflicted by the will of heaven. And +mendicant prophets knock at rich men’s doors, promising to atone for the +sins of themselves or their fathers in an easy fashion with sacrifices and +festive games, or with charms and invocations to get rid of an enemy good or +bad by divine help and at a small charge;—they appeal to books professing +to be written by Musaeus and Orpheus, and carry away the minds of whole cities, +and promise to “get souls out of purgatory;” and if we refuse to +listen to them, no one knows what will happen to us. +</p> + +<p> +‘When a lively-minded ingenuous youth hears all this, what will be his +conclusion? “Will he,” in the language of Pindar, “make +justice his high tower, or fortify himself with crooked deceit?” Justice, +he reflects, without the appearance of justice, is misery and ruin; injustice +has the promise of a glorious life. Appearance is master of truth and lord of +happiness. To appearance then I will turn,—I will put on the show of +virtue and trail behind me the fox of Archilochus. I hear some one saying that +“wickedness is not easily concealed,” to which I reply that +“nothing great is easy.” Union and force and rhetoric will do much; +and if men say that they cannot prevail over the gods, still how do we know +that there are gods? Only from the poets, who acknowledge that they may be +appeased by sacrifices. Then why not sin and pay for indulgences out of your +sin? For if the righteous are only unpunished, still they have no further +reward, while the wicked may be unpunished and have the pleasure of sinning +too. But what of the world below? Nay, says the argument, there are atoning +powers who will set that matter right, as the poets, who are the sons of the +gods, tell us; and this is confirmed by the authority of the State. +</p> + +<p> +‘How can we resist such arguments in favour of injustice? Add good +manners, and, as the wise tell us, we shall make the best of both worlds. Who +that is not a miserable caitiff will refrain from smiling at the praises of +justice? Even if a man knows the better part he will not be angry with others; +for he knows also that more than human virtue is needed to save a man, and that +he only praises justice who is incapable of injustice. +</p> + +<p> +‘The origin of the evil is that all men from the beginning, heroes, +poets, instructors of youth, have always asserted “the temporal +dispensation,” the honours and profits of justice. Had we been taught in +early youth the power of justice and injustice inherent in the soul, and unseen +by any human or divine eye, we should not have needed others to be our +guardians, but every one would have been the guardian of himself. This is what +I want you to show, Socrates;—other men use arguments which rather tend +to strengthen the position of Thrasymachus that “might is right;” +but from you I expect better things. And please, as Glaucon said, to exclude +reputation; let the just be thought unjust and the unjust just, and do you +still prove to us the superiority of justice’... +</p> + +<p> +The thesis, which for the sake of argument has been maintained by Glaucon, is +the converse of that of Thrasymachus—not right is the interest of the +stronger, but right is the necessity of the weaker. Starting from the same +premises he carries the analysis of society a step further back;—might is +still right, but the might is the weakness of the many combined against the +strength of the few. +</p> + +<p> +There have been theories in modern as well as in ancient times which have a +family likeness to the speculations of Glaucon; e.g. that power is the +foundation of right; or that a monarch has a divine right to govern well or +ill; or that virtue is self-love or the love of power; or that war is the +natural state of man; or that private vices are public benefits. All such +theories have a kind of plausibility from their partial agreement with +experience. For human nature oscillates between good and evil, and the motives +of actions and the origin of institutions may be explained to a certain extent +on either hypothesis according to the character or point of view of a +particular thinker. The obligation of maintaining authority under all +circumstances and sometimes by rather questionable means is felt strongly and +has become a sort of instinct among civilized men. The divine right of kings, +or more generally of governments, is one of the forms under which this natural +feeling is expressed. Nor again is there any evil which has not some +accompaniment of good or pleasure; nor any good which is free from some alloy +of evil; nor any noble or generous thought which may not be attended by a +shadow or the ghost of a shadow of self-interest or of self-love. We know that +all human actions are imperfect; but we do not therefore attribute them to the +worse rather than to the better motive or principle. Such a philosophy is both +foolish and false, like that opinion of the clever rogue who assumes all other +men to be like himself. And theories of this sort do not represent the real +nature of the State, which is based on a vague sense of right gradually +corrected and enlarged by custom and law (although capable also of perversion), +any more than they describe the origin of society, which is to be sought in the +family and in the social and religious feelings of man. Nor do they represent +the average character of individuals, which cannot be explained simply on a +theory of evil, but has always a counteracting element of good. And as men +become better such theories appear more and more untruthful to them, because +they are more conscious of their own disinterestedness. A little experience may +make a man a cynic; a great deal will bring him back to a truer and kindlier +view of the mixed nature of himself and his fellow men. +</p> + +<p> +The two brothers ask Socrates to prove to them that the just is happy when they +have taken from him all that in which happiness is ordinarily supposed to +consist. Not that there is (1) any absurdity in the attempt to frame a notion +of justice apart from circumstances. For the ideal must always be a paradox +when compared with the ordinary conditions of human life. Neither the Stoical +ideal nor the Christian ideal is true as a fact, but they may serve as a basis +of education, and may exercise an ennobling influence. An ideal is none the +worse because ‘some one has made the discovery’ that no such ideal +was ever realized. And in a few exceptional individuals who are raised above +the ordinary level of humanity, the ideal of happiness may be realized in death +and misery. This may be the state which the reason deliberately approves, and +which the utilitarian as well as every other moralist may be bound in certain +cases to prefer. +</p> + +<p> +Nor again, (2) must we forget that Plato, though he agrees generally with the +view implied in the argument of the two brothers, is not expressing his own +final conclusion, but rather seeking to dramatize one of the aspects of ethical +truth. He is developing his idea gradually in a series of positions or +situations. He is exhibiting Socrates for the first time undergoing the +Socratic interrogation. Lastly, (3) the word ‘happiness’ involves +some degree of confusion because associated in the language of modern +philosophy with conscious pleasure or satisfaction, which was not equally +present to his mind. +</p> + +<p> +Glaucon has been drawing a picture of the misery of the just and the happiness +of the unjust, to which the misery of the tyrant in Book IX is the answer and +parallel. And still the unjust must appear just; that is ‘the homage +which vice pays to virtue.’ But now Adeimantus, taking up the hint which +had been already given by Glaucon, proceeds to show that in the opinion of +mankind justice is regarded only for the sake of rewards and reputation, and +points out the advantage which is given to such arguments as those of +Thrasymachus and Glaucon by the conventional morality of mankind. He seems to +feel the difficulty of ‘justifying the ways of God to man.’ Both +the brothers touch upon the question, whether the morality of actions is +determined by their consequences; and both of them go beyond the position of +Socrates, that justice belongs to the class of goods not desirable for +themselves only, but desirable for themselves and for their results, to which +he recalls them. In their attempt to view justice as an internal principle, and +in their condemnation of the poets, they anticipate him. The common life of +Greece is not enough for them; they must penetrate deeper into the nature of +things. +</p> + +<p> +It has been objected that justice is honesty in the sense of Glaucon and +Adeimantus, but is taken by Socrates to mean all virtue. May we not more truly +say that the old-fashioned notion of justice is enlarged by Socrates, and +becomes equivalent to universal order or well-being, first in the State, and +secondly in the individual? He has found a new answer to his old question +(Protag.), ‘whether the virtues are one or many,’ viz. that one is +the ordering principle of the three others. In seeking to establish the purely +internal nature of justice, he is met by the fact that man is a social being, +and he tries to harmonise the two opposite theses as well as he can. There is +no more inconsistency in this than was inevitable in his age and country; there +is no use in turning upon him the cross lights of modern philosophy, which, +from some other point of view, would appear equally inconsistent. Plato does +not give the final solution of philosophical questions for us; nor can he be +judged of by our standard. +</p> + +<p> +The remainder of the Republic is developed out of the question of the sons of +Ariston. Three points are deserving of remark in what immediately +follows:—First, that the answer of Socrates is altogether indirect. He +does not say that happiness consists in the contemplation of the idea of +justice, and still less will he be tempted to affirm the Stoical paradox that +the just man can be happy on the rack. But first he dwells on the difficulty of +the problem and insists on restoring man to his natural condition, before he +will answer the question at all. He too will frame an ideal, but his ideal +comprehends not only abstract justice, but the whole relations of man. Under +the fanciful illustration of the large letters he implies that he will only +look for justice in society, and that from the State he will proceed to the +individual. His answer in substance amounts to this,—that under +favourable conditions, i.e. in the perfect State, justice and happiness will +coincide, and that when justice has been once found, happiness may be left to +take care of itself. That he falls into some degree of inconsistency, when in +the tenth book he claims to have got rid of the rewards and honours of justice, +may be admitted; for he has left those which exist in the perfect State. And +the philosopher ‘who retires under the shelter of a wall’ can +hardly have been esteemed happy by him, at least not in this world. Still he +maintains the true attitude of moral action. Let a man do his duty first, +without asking whether he will be happy or not, and happiness will be the +inseparable accident which attends him. ‘Seek ye first the kingdom of God +and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.’ +</p> + +<p> +Secondly, it may be remarked that Plato preserves the genuine character of +Greek thought in beginning with the State and in going on to the individual. +First ethics, then politics—this is the order of ideas to us; the reverse +is the order of history. Only after many struggles of thought does the +individual assert his right as a moral being. In early ages he is not ONE, but +one of many, the citizen of a State which is prior to him; and he has no notion +of good or evil apart from the law of his country or the creed of his church. +And to this type he is constantly tending to revert, whenever the influence of +custom, or of party spirit, or the recollection of the past becomes too strong +for him. +</p> + +<p> +Thirdly, we may observe the confusion or identification of the individual and +the State, of ethics and politics, which pervades early Greek speculation, and +even in modern times retains a certain degree of influence. The subtle +difference between the collective and individual action of mankind seems to +have escaped early thinkers, and we too are sometimes in danger of forgetting +the conditions of united human action, whenever we either elevate politics into +ethics, or lower ethics to the standard of politics. The good man and the good +citizen only coincide in the perfect State; and this perfection cannot be +attained by legislation acting upon them from without, but, if at all, by +education fashioning them from within. +</p> + +<p> +...Socrates praises the sons of Ariston, ‘inspired offspring of the +renowned hero,’ as the elegiac poet terms them; but he does not +understand how they can argue so eloquently on behalf of injustice while their +character shows that they are uninfluenced by their own arguments. He knows not +how to answer them, although he is afraid of deserting justice in the hour of +need. He therefore makes a condition, that having weak eyes he shall be allowed +to read the large letters first and then go on to the smaller, that is, he must +look for justice in the State first, and will then proceed to the individual. +Accordingly he begins to construct the State. +</p> + +<p> +Society arises out of the wants of man. His first want is food; his second a +house; his third a coat. The sense of these needs and the possibility of +satisfying them by exchange, draw individuals together on the same spot; and +this is the beginning of a State, which we take the liberty to invent, although +necessity is the real inventor. There must be first a husbandman, secondly a +builder, thirdly a weaver, to which may be added a cobbler. Four or five +citizens at least are required to make a city. Now men have different natures, +and one man will do one thing better than many; and business waits for no man. +Hence there must be a division of labour into different employments; into +wholesale and retail trade; into workers, and makers of workmen’s tools; +into shepherds and husbandmen. A city which includes all this will have far +exceeded the limit of four or five, and yet not be very large. But then again +imports will be required, and imports necessitate exports, and this implies +variety of produce in order to attract the taste of purchasers; also merchants +and ships. In the city too we must have a market and money and retail trades; +otherwise buyers and sellers will never meet, and the valuable time of the +producers will be wasted in vain efforts at exchange. If we add hired servants +the State will be complete. And we may guess that somewhere in the intercourse +of the citizens with one another justice and injustice will appear. +</p> + +<p> +Here follows a rustic picture of their way of life. They spend their days in +houses which they have built for themselves; they make their own clothes and +produce their own corn and wine. Their principal food is meal and flour, and +they drink in moderation. They live on the best of terms with each other, and +take care not to have too many children. ‘But,’ said Glaucon, +interposing, ‘are they not to have a relish?’ Certainly; they will +have salt and olives and cheese, vegetables and fruits, and chestnuts to roast +at the fire. ‘’Tis a city of pigs, Socrates.’ Why, I replied, +what do you want more? ‘Only the comforts of life,—sofas and +tables, also sauces and sweets.’ I see; you want not only a State, but a +luxurious State; and possibly in the more complex frame we may sooner find +justice and injustice. Then the fine arts must go to work—every +conceivable instrument and ornament of luxury will be wanted. There will be +dancers, painters, sculptors, musicians, cooks, barbers, tire-women, nurses, +artists; swineherds and neatherds too for the animals, and physicians to cure +the disorders of which luxury is the source. To feed all these superfluous +mouths we shall need a part of our neighbour’s land, and they will want a +part of ours. And this is the origin of war, which may be traced to the same +causes as other political evils. Our city will now require the slight addition +of a camp, and the citizen will be converted into a soldier. But then again our +old doctrine of the division of labour must not be forgotten. The art of war +cannot be learned in a day, and there must be a natural aptitude for military +duties. There will be some warlike natures who have this aptitude—dogs +keen of scent, swift of foot to pursue, and strong of limb to fight. And as +spirit is the foundation of courage, such natures, whether of men or animals, +will be full of spirit. But these spirited natures are apt to bite and devour +one another; the union of gentleness to friends and fierceness against enemies +appears to be an impossibility, and the guardian of a State requires both +qualities. Who then can be a guardian? The image of the dog suggests an answer. +For dogs are gentle to friends and fierce to strangers. Your dog is a +philosopher who judges by the rule of knowing or not knowing; and philosophy, +whether in man or beast, is the parent of gentleness. The human watchdogs must +be philosophers or lovers of learning which will make them gentle. And how are +they to be learned without education? +</p> + +<p> +But what shall their education be? Is any better than the old-fashioned sort +which is comprehended under the name of music and gymnastic? Music includes +literature, and literature is of two kinds, true and false. ‘What do you +mean?’ he said. I mean that children hear stories before they learn +gymnastics, and that the stories are either untrue, or have at most one or two +grains of truth in a bushel of falsehood. Now early life is very impressible, +and children ought not to learn what they will have to unlearn when they grow +up; we must therefore have a censorship of nursery tales, banishing some and +keeping others. Some of them are very improper, as we may see in the great +instances of Homer and Hesiod, who not only tell lies but bad lies; stories +about Uranus and Saturn, which are immoral as well as false, and which should +never be spoken of to young persons, or indeed at all; or, if at all, then in a +mystery, after the sacrifice, not of an Eleusinian pig, but of some +unprocurable animal. Shall our youth be encouraged to beat their fathers by the +example of Zeus, or our citizens be incited to quarrel by hearing or seeing +representations of strife among the gods? Shall they listen to the narrative of +Hephaestus binding his mother, and of Zeus sending him flying for helping her +when she was beaten? Such tales may possibly have a mystical interpretation, +but the young are incapable of understanding allegory. If any one asks what +tales are to be allowed, we will answer that we are legislators and not +book-makers; we only lay down the principles according to which books are to be +written; to write them is the duty of others. +</p> + +<p> +And our first principle is, that God must be represented as he is; not as the +author of all things, but of good only. We will not suffer the poets to say +that he is the steward of good and evil, or that he has two casks full of +destinies;—or that Athene and Zeus incited Pandarus to break the treaty; +or that God caused the sufferings of Niobe, or of Pelops, or the Trojan war; or +that he makes men sin when he wishes to destroy them. Either these were not the +actions of the gods, or God was just, and men were the better for being +punished. But that the deed was evil, and God the author, is a wicked, suicidal +fiction which we will allow no one, old or young, to utter. This is our first +and great principle—God is the author of good only. +</p> + +<p> +And the second principle is like unto it:—With God is no variableness or +change of form. Reason teaches us this; for if we suppose a change in God, he +must be changed either by another or by himself. By another?—but the best +works of nature and art and the noblest qualities of mind are least liable to +be changed by any external force. By himself?—but he cannot change for +the better; he will hardly change for the worse. He remains for ever fairest +and best in his own image. Therefore we refuse to listen to the poets who tell +us of Here begging in the likeness of a priestess or of other deities who prowl +about at night in strange disguises; all that blasphemous nonsense with which +mothers fool the manhood out of their children must be suppressed. But some one +will say that God, who is himself unchangeable, may take a form in relation to +us. Why should he? For gods as well as men hate the lie in the soul, or +principle of falsehood; and as for any other form of lying which is used for a +purpose and is regarded as innocent in certain exceptional cases—what +need have the gods of this? For they are not ignorant of antiquity like the +poets, nor are they afraid of their enemies, nor is any madman a friend of +theirs. God then is true, he is absolutely true; he changes not, he deceives +not, by day or night, by word or sign. This is our second great +principle—God is true. Away with the lying dream of Agamemnon in Homer, +and the accusation of Thetis against Apollo in Aeschylus... +</p> + +<p> +In order to give clearness to his conception of the State, Plato proceeds to +trace the first principles of mutual need and of division of labour in an +imaginary community of four or five citizens. Gradually this community +increases; the division of labour extends to countries; imports necessitate +exports; a medium of exchange is required, and retailers sit in the +market-place to save the time of the producers. These are the steps by which +Plato constructs the first or primitive State, introducing the elements of +political economy by the way. As he is going to frame a second or civilized +State, the simple naturally comes before the complex. He indulges, like +Rousseau, in a picture of primitive life—an idea which has indeed often +had a powerful influence on the imagination of mankind, but he does not +seriously mean to say that one is better than the other (Politicus); nor can +any inference be drawn from the description of the first state taken apart from +the second, such as Aristotle appears to draw in the Politics. We should not +interpret a Platonic dialogue any more than a poem or a parable in too literal +or matter-of-fact a style. On the other hand, when we compare the lively fancy +of Plato with the dried-up abstractions of modern treatises on philosophy, we +are compelled to say with Protagoras, that the ‘mythus is more +interesting’ (Protag.) +</p> + +<p> +Several interesting remarks which in modern times would have a place in a +treatise on Political Economy are scattered up and down the writings of Plato: +especially Laws, Population; Free Trade; Adulteration; Wills and Bequests; +Begging; Eryxias, (though not Plato’s), Value and Demand; Republic, +Division of Labour. The last subject, and also the origin of Retail Trade, is +treated with admirable lucidity in the second book of the Republic. But Plato +never combined his economic ideas into a system, and never seems to have +recognized that Trade is one of the great motive powers of the State and of the +world. He would make retail traders only of the inferior sort of citizens +(Rep., Laws), though he remarks, quaintly enough (Laws), that ‘if only +the best men and the best women everywhere were compelled to keep taverns for a +time or to carry on retail trade, etc., then we should knew how pleasant and +agreeable all these things are.’ +</p> + +<p> +The disappointment of Glaucon at the ‘city of pigs,’ the ludicrous +description of the ministers of luxury in the more refined State, and the +afterthought of the necessity of doctors, the illustration of the nature of the +guardian taken from the dog, the desirableness of offering some almost +unprocurable victim when impure mysteries are to be celebrated, the behaviour +of Zeus to his father and of Hephaestus to his mother, are touches of humour +which have also a serious meaning. In speaking of education Plato rather +startles us by affirming that a child must be trained in falsehood first and in +truth afterwards. Yet this is not very different from saying that children must +be taught through the medium of imagination as well as reason; that their minds +can only develope gradually, and that there is much which they must learn +without understanding. This is also the substance of Plato’s view, though +he must be acknowledged to have drawn the line somewhat differently from modern +ethical writers, respecting truth and falsehood. To us, economies or +accommodations would not be allowable unless they were required by the human +faculties or necessary for the communication of knowledge to the simple and +ignorant. We should insist that the word was inseparable from the intention, +and that we must not be ‘falsely true,’ i.e. speak or act falsely +in support of what was right or true. But Plato would limit the use of fictions +only by requiring that they should have a good moral effect, and that such a +dangerous weapon as falsehood should be employed by the rulers alone and for +great objects. +</p> + +<p> +A Greek in the age of Plato attached no importance to the question whether his +religion was an historical fact. He was just beginning to be conscious that the +past had a history; but he could see nothing beyond Homer and Hesiod. Whether +their narratives were true or false did not seriously affect the political or +social life of Hellas. Men only began to suspect that they were fictions when +they recognised them to be immoral. And so in all religions: the consideration +of their morality comes first, afterwards the truth of the documents in which +they are recorded, or of the events natural or supernatural which are told of +them. But in modern times, and in Protestant countries perhaps more than in +Catholic, we have been too much inclined to identify the historical with the +moral; and some have refused to believe in religion at all, unless a superhuman +accuracy was discernible in every part of the record. The facts of an ancient +or religious history are amongst the most important of all facts; but they are +frequently uncertain, and we only learn the true lesson which is to be gathered +from them when we place ourselves above them. These reflections tend to show +that the difference between Plato and ourselves, though not unimportant, is not +so great as might at first sight appear. For we should agree with him in +placing the moral before the historical truth of religion; and, generally, in +disregarding those errors or misstatements of fact which necessarily occur in +the early stages of all religions. We know also that changes in the traditions +of a country cannot be made in a day; and are therefore tolerant of many things +which science and criticism would condemn. +</p> + +<p> +We note in passing that the allegorical interpretation of mythology, said to +have been first introduced as early as the sixth century before Christ by +Theagenes of Rhegium, was well established in the age of Plato, and here, as in +the Phaedrus, though for a different reason, was rejected by him. That +anachronisms whether of religion or law, when men have reached another stage of +civilization, should be got rid of by fictions is in accordance with universal +experience. Great is the art of interpretation; and by a natural process, which +when once discovered was always going on, what could not be altered was +explained away. And so without any palpable inconsistency there existed side by +side two forms of religion, the tradition inherited or invented by the poets +and the customary worship of the temple; on the other hand, there was the +religion of the philosopher, who was dwelling in the heaven of ideas, but did +not therefore refuse to offer a cock to Aesculapius, or to be seen saying his +prayers at the rising of the sun. At length the antagonism between the popular +and philosophical religion, never so great among the Greeks as in our own age, +disappeared, and was only felt like the difference between the religion of the +educated and uneducated among ourselves. The Zeus of Homer and Hesiod easily +passed into the ‘royal mind’ of Plato (Philebus); the giant +Heracles became the knight-errant and benefactor of mankind. These and still +more wonderful transformations were readily effected by the ingenuity of Stoics +and neo-Platonists in the two or three centuries before and after Christ. The +Greek and Roman religions were gradually permeated by the spirit of philosophy; +having lost their ancient meaning, they were resolved into poetry and morality; +and probably were never purer than at the time of their decay, when their +influence over the world was waning. +</p> + +<p> +A singular conception which occurs towards the end of the book is the lie in +the soul; this is connected with the Platonic and Socratic doctrine that +involuntary ignorance is worse than voluntary. The lie in the soul is a true +lie, the corruption of the highest truth, the deception of the highest part of +the soul, from which he who is deceived has no power of delivering himself. For +example, to represent God as false or immoral, or, according to Plato, as +deluding men with appearances or as the author of evil; or again, to affirm +with Protagoras that ‘knowledge is sensation,’ or that ‘being +is becoming,’ or with Thrasymachus ‘that might is right,’ +would have been regarded by Plato as a lie of this hateful sort. The greatest +unconsciousness of the greatest untruth, e.g. if, in the language of the +Gospels (John), ‘he who was blind’ were to say ‘I see,’ +is another aspect of the state of mind which Plato is describing. The lie in +the soul may be further compared with the sin against the Holy Ghost (Luke), +allowing for the difference between Greek and Christian modes of speaking. To +this is opposed the lie in words, which is only such a deception as may occur +in a play or poem, or allegory or figure of speech, or in any sort of +accommodation,—which though useless to the gods may be useful to men in +certain cases. Socrates is here answering the question which he had himself +raised about the propriety of deceiving a madman; and he is also contrasting +the nature of God and man. For God is Truth, but mankind can only be true by +appearing sometimes to be partial, or false. Reserving for another place the +greater questions of religion or education, we may note further, (1) the +approval of the old traditional education of Greece; (2) the preparation which +Plato is making for the attack on Homer and the poets; (3) the preparation +which he is also making for the use of economies in the State; (4) the +contemptuous and at the same time euphemistic manner in which here as below he +alludes to the ‘Chronique Scandaleuse’ of the gods. +</p> + +<p> +BOOK III. There is another motive in purifying religion, which is to banish +fear; for no man can be courageous who is afraid of death, or who believes the +tales which are repeated by the poets concerning the world below. They must be +gently requested not to abuse hell; they may be reminded that their stories are +both untrue and discouraging. Nor must they be angry if we expunge obnoxious +passages, such as the depressing words of Achilles—‘I would rather +be a serving-man than rule over all the dead;’ and the verses which tell +of the squalid mansions, the senseless shadows, the flitting soul mourning over +lost strength and youth, the soul with a gibber going beneath the earth like +smoke, or the souls of the suitors which flutter about like bats. The terrors +and horrors of Cocytus and Styx, ghosts and sapless shades, and the rest of +their Tartarean nomenclature, must vanish. Such tales may have their use; but +they are not the proper food for soldiers. As little can we admit the sorrows +and sympathies of the Homeric heroes:—Achilles, the son of Thetis, in +tears, throwing ashes on his head, or pacing up and down the sea-shore in +distraction; or Priam, the cousin of the gods, crying aloud, rolling in the +mire. A good man is not prostrated at the loss of children or fortune. Neither +is death terrible to him; and therefore lamentations over the dead should not +be practised by men of note; they should be the concern of inferior persons +only, whether women or men. Still worse is the attribution of such weakness to +the gods; as when the goddesses say, ‘Alas! my travail!’ and worst +of all, when the king of heaven himself laments his inability to save Hector, +or sorrows over the impending doom of his dear Sarpedon. Such a character of +God, if not ridiculed by our young men, is likely to be imitated by them. Nor +should our citizens be given to excess of laughter—‘Such violent +delights’ are followed by a violent re-action. The description in the +Iliad of the gods shaking their sides at the clumsiness of Hephaestus will not +be admitted by us. ‘Certainly not.’ +</p> + +<p> +Truth should have a high place among the virtues, for falsehood, as we were +saying, is useless to the gods, and only useful to men as a medicine. But this +employment of falsehood must remain a privilege of state; the common man must +not in return tell a lie to the ruler; any more than the patient would tell a +lie to his physician, or the sailor to his captain. +</p> + +<p> +In the next place our youth must be temperate, and temperance consists in +self-control and obedience to authority. That is a lesson which Homer teaches +in some places: ‘The Achaeans marched on breathing prowess, in silent awe +of their leaders;’—but a very different one in other places: +‘O heavy with wine, who hast the eyes of a dog, but the heart of a +stag.’ Language of the latter kind will not impress self-control on the +minds of youth. The same may be said about his praises of eating and drinking +and his dread of starvation; also about the verses in which he tells of the +rapturous loves of Zeus and Here, or of how Hephaestus once detained Ares and +Aphrodite in a net on a similar occasion. There is a nobler strain heard in the +words:—‘Endure, my soul, thou hast endured worse.’ Nor must +we allow our citizens to receive bribes, or to say, ‘Gifts persuade the +gods, gifts reverend kings;’ or to applaud the ignoble advice of Phoenix +to Achilles that he should get money out of the Greeks before he assisted them; +or the meanness of Achilles himself in taking gifts from Agamemnon; or his +requiring a ransom for the body of Hector; or his cursing of Apollo; or his +insolence to the river-god Scamander; or his dedication to the dead Patroclus +of his own hair which had been already dedicated to the other river-god +Spercheius; or his cruelty in dragging the body of Hector round the walls, and +slaying the captives at the pyre: such a combination of meanness and cruelty in +Cheiron’s pupil is inconceivable. The amatory exploits of Peirithous and +Theseus are equally unworthy. Either these so-called sons of gods were not the +sons of gods, or they were not such as the poets imagine them, any more than +the gods themselves are the authors of evil. The youth who believes that such +things are done by those who have the blood of heaven flowing in their veins +will be too ready to imitate their example. +</p> + +<p> +Enough of gods and heroes;—what shall we say about men? What the poets +and story-tellers say—that the wicked prosper and the righteous are +afflicted, or that justice is another’s gain? Such misrepresentations +cannot be allowed by us. But in this we are anticipating the definition of +justice, and had therefore better defer the enquiry. +</p> + +<p> +The subjects of poetry have been sufficiently treated; next follows style. Now +all poetry is a narrative of events past, present, or to come; and narrative is +of three kinds, the simple, the imitative, and a composition of the two. An +instance will make my meaning clear. The first scene in Homer is of the last or +mixed kind, being partly description and partly dialogue. But if you throw the +dialogue into the ‘oratio obliqua,’ the passage will run thus: The +priest came and prayed Apollo that the Achaeans might take Troy and have a safe +return if Agamemnon would only give him back his daughter; and the other Greeks +assented, but Agamemnon was wroth, and so on—The whole then becomes +descriptive, and the poet is the only speaker left; or, if you omit the +narrative, the whole becomes dialogue. These are the three styles—which +of them is to be admitted into our State? ‘Do you ask whether tragedy and +comedy are to be admitted?’ Yes, but also something more—Is it not +doubtful whether our guardians are to be imitators at all? Or rather, has not +the question been already answered, for we have decided that one man cannot in +his life play many parts, any more than he can act both tragedy and comedy, or +be rhapsodist and actor at once? Human nature is coined into very small pieces, +and as our guardians have their own business already, which is the care of +freedom, they will have enough to do without imitating. If they imitate they +should imitate, not any meanness or baseness, but the good only; for the mask +which the actor wears is apt to become his face. We cannot allow men to play +the parts of women, quarrelling, weeping, scolding, or boasting against the +gods,—least of all when making love or in labour. They must not represent +slaves, or bullies, or cowards, drunkards, or madmen, or blacksmiths, or +neighing horses, or bellowing bulls, or sounding rivers, or a raging sea. A +good or wise man will be willing to perform good and wise actions, but he will +be ashamed to play an inferior part which he has never practised; and he will +prefer to employ the descriptive style with as little imitation as possible. +The man who has no self-respect, on the contrary, will imitate anybody and +anything; sounds of nature and cries of animals alike; his whole performance +will be imitation of gesture and voice. Now in the descriptive style there are +few changes, but in the dramatic there are a great many. Poets and musicians +use either, or a compound of both, and this compound is very attractive to +youth and their teachers as well as to the vulgar. But our State in which one +man plays one part only is not adapted for complexity. And when one of these +polyphonous pantomimic gentlemen offers to exhibit himself and his poetry we +will show him every observance of respect, but at the same time tell him that +there is no room for his kind in our State; we prefer the rough, honest poet, +and will not depart from our original models (Laws). +</p> + +<p> +Next as to the music. A song or ode has three parts,—the subject, the +harmony, and the rhythm; of which the two last are dependent upon the first. As +we banished strains of lamentation, so we may now banish the mixed Lydian +harmonies, which are the harmonies of lamentation; and as our citizens are to +be temperate, we may also banish convivial harmonies, such as the Ionian and +pure Lydian. Two remain—the Dorian and Phrygian, the first for war, the +second for peace; the one expressive of courage, the other of obedience or +instruction or religious feeling. And as we reject varieties of harmony, we +shall also reject the many-stringed, variously-shaped instruments which give +utterance to them, and in particular the flute, which is more complex than any +of them. The lyre and the harp may be permitted in the town, and the +Pan’s-pipe in the fields. Thus we have made a purgation of music, and +will now make a purgation of metres. These should be like the harmonies, simple +and suitable to the occasion. There are four notes of the tetrachord, and there +are three ratios of metre, 3/2, 2/2, 2/1, which have all their characteristics, +and the feet have different characteristics as well as the rhythms. But about +this you and I must ask Damon, the great musician, who speaks, if I remember +rightly, of a martial measure as well as of dactylic, trochaic, and iambic +rhythms, which he arranges so as to equalize the syllables with one another, +assigning to each the proper quantity. We only venture to affirm the general +principle that the style is to conform to the subject and the metre to the +style; and that the simplicity and harmony of the soul should be reflected in +them all. This principle of simplicity has to be learnt by every one in the +days of his youth, and may be gathered anywhere, from the creative and +constructive arts, as well as from the forms of plants and animals. +</p> + +<p> +Other artists as well as poets should be warned against meanness or +unseemliness. Sculpture and painting equally with music must conform to the law +of simplicity. He who violates it cannot be allowed to work in our city, and to +corrupt the taste of our citizens. For our guardians must grow up, not amid +images of deformity which will gradually poison and corrupt their souls, but in +a land of health and beauty where they will drink in from every object sweet +and harmonious influences. And of all these influences the greatest is the +education given by music, which finds a way into the innermost soul and imparts +to it the sense of beauty and of deformity. At first the effect is unconscious; +but when reason arrives, then he who has been thus trained welcomes her as the +friend whom he always knew. As in learning to read, first we acquire the +elements or letters separately, and afterwards their combinations, and cannot +recognize reflections of them until we know the letters themselves;—in +like manner we must first attain the elements or essential forms of the +virtues, and then trace their combinations in life and experience. There is a +music of the soul which answers to the harmony of the world; and the fairest +object of a musical soul is the fair mind in the fair body. Some defect in the +latter may be excused, but not in the former. True love is the daughter of +temperance, and temperance is utterly opposed to the madness of bodily +pleasure. Enough has been said of music, which makes a fair ending with love. +</p> + +<p> +Next we pass on to gymnastics; about which I would remark, that the soul is +related to the body as a cause to an effect, and therefore if we educate the +mind we may leave the education of the body in her charge, and need only give a +general outline of the course to be pursued. In the first place the guardians +must abstain from strong drink, for they should be the last persons to lose +their wits. Whether the habits of the palaestra are suitable to them is more +doubtful, for the ordinary gymnastic is a sleepy sort of thing, and if left off +suddenly is apt to endanger health. But our warrior athletes must be wide-awake +dogs, and must also be inured to all changes of food and climate. Hence they +will require a simpler kind of gymnastic, akin to their simple music; and for +their diet a rule may be found in Homer, who feeds his heroes on roast meat +only, and gives them no fish although they are living at the sea-side, nor +boiled meats which involve an apparatus of pots and pans; and, if I am not +mistaken, he nowhere mentions sweet sauces. Sicilian cookery and Attic +confections and Corinthian courtezans, which are to gymnastic what Lydian and +Ionian melodies are to music, must be forbidden. Where gluttony and +intemperance prevail the town quickly fills with doctors and pleaders; and law +and medicine give themselves airs as soon as the freemen of a State take an +interest in them. But what can show a more disgraceful state of education than +to have to go abroad for justice because you have none of your own at home? And +yet there IS a worse stage of the same disease—when men have learned to +take a pleasure and pride in the twists and turns of the law; not considering +how much better it would be for them so to order their lives as to have no need +of a nodding justice. And there is a like disgrace in employing a physician, +not for the cure of wounds or epidemic disorders, but because a man has by +laziness and luxury contracted diseases which were unknown in the days of +Asclepius. How simple is the Homeric practice of medicine. Eurypylus after he +has been wounded drinks a posset of Pramnian wine, which is of a heating +nature; and yet the sons of Asclepius blame neither the damsel who gives him +the drink, nor Patroclus who is attending on him. The truth is that this modern +system of nursing diseases was introduced by Herodicus the trainer; who, being +of a sickly constitution, by a compound of training and medicine tortured first +himself and then a good many other people, and lived a great deal longer than +he had any right. But Asclepius would not practise this art, because he knew +that the citizens of a well-ordered State have no leisure to be ill, and +therefore he adopted the ‘kill or cure’ method, which artisans and +labourers employ. ‘They must be at their business,’ they say, +‘and have no time for coddling: if they recover, well; if they +don’t, there is an end of them.’ Whereas the rich man is supposed +to be a gentleman who can afford to be ill. Do you know a maxim of +Phocylides—that ‘when a man begins to be rich’ (or, perhaps, +a little sooner) ‘he should practise virtue’? But how can excessive +care of health be inconsistent with an ordinary occupation, and yet consistent +with that practice of virtue which Phocylides inculcates? When a student +imagines that philosophy gives him a headache, he never does anything; he is +always unwell. This was the reason why Asclepius and his sons practised no such +art. They were acting in the interest of the public, and did not wish to +preserve useless lives, or raise up a puny offspring to wretched sires. Honest +diseases they honestly cured; and if a man was wounded, they applied the proper +remedies, and then let him eat and drink what he liked. But they declined to +treat intemperate and worthless subjects, even though they might have made +large fortunes out of them. As to the story of Pindar, that Asclepius was slain +by a thunderbolt for restoring a rich man to life, that is a +lie—following our old rule we must say either that he did not take +bribes, or that he was not the son of a god. +</p> + +<p> +Glaucon then asks Socrates whether the best physicians and the best judges will +not be those who have had severally the greatest experience of diseases and of +crimes. Socrates draws a distinction between the two professions. The physician +should have had experience of disease in his own body, for he cures with his +mind and not with his body. But the judge controls mind by mind; and therefore +his mind should not be corrupted by crime. Where then is he to gain experience? +How is he to be wise and also innocent? When young a good man is apt to be +deceived by evil-doers, because he has no pattern of evil in himself; and +therefore the judge should be of a certain age; his youth should have been +innocent, and he should have acquired insight into evil not by the practice of +it, but by the observation of it in others. This is the ideal of a judge; the +criminal turned detective is wonderfully suspicious, but when in company with +good men who have experience, he is at fault, for he foolishly imagines that +every one is as bad as himself. Vice may be known of virtue, but cannot know +virtue. This is the sort of medicine and this the sort of law which will +prevail in our State; they will be healing arts to better natures; but the evil +body will be left to die by the one, and the evil soul will be put to death by +the other. And the need of either will be greatly diminished by good music +which will give harmony to the soul, and good gymnastic which will give health +to the body. Not that this division of music and gymnastic really corresponds +to soul and body; for they are both equally concerned with the soul, which is +tamed by the one and aroused and sustained by the other. The two together +supply our guardians with their twofold nature. The passionate disposition when +it has too much gymnastic is hardened and brutalized, the gentle or philosophic +temper which has too much music becomes enervated. While a man is allowing +music to pour like water through the funnel of his ears, the edge of his soul +gradually wears away, and the passionate or spirited element is melted out of +him. Too little spirit is easily exhausted; too much quickly passes into +nervous irritability. So, again, the athlete by feeding and training has his +courage doubled, but he soon grows stupid; he is like a wild beast, ready to do +everything by blows and nothing by counsel or policy. There are two principles +in man, reason and passion, and to these, not to the soul and body, the two +arts of music and gymnastic correspond. He who mingles them in harmonious +concord is the true musician,—he shall be the presiding genius of our +State. +</p> + +<p> +The next question is, Who are to be our rulers? First, the elder must rule the +younger; and the best of the elders will be the best guardians. Now they will +be the best who love their subjects most, and think that they have a common +interest with them in the welfare of the state. These we must select; but they +must be watched at every epoch of life to see whether they have retained the +same opinions and held out against force and enchantment. For time and +persuasion and the love of pleasure may enchant a man into a change of purpose, +and the force of grief and pain may compel him. And therefore our guardians +must be men who have been tried by many tests, like gold in the refiner’s +fire, and have been passed first through danger, then through pleasure, and at +every age have come out of such trials victorious and without stain, in full +command of themselves and their principles; having all their faculties in +harmonious exercise for their country’s good. These shall receive the +highest honours both in life and death. (It would perhaps be better to confine +the term ‘guardians’ to this select class: the younger men may be +called ‘auxiliaries.’) +</p> + +<p> +And now for one magnificent lie, in the belief of which, Oh that we could train +our rulers!—at any rate let us make the attempt with the rest of the +world. What I am going to tell is only another version of the legend of Cadmus; +but our unbelieving generation will be slow to accept such a story. The tale +must be imparted, first to the rulers, then to the soldiers, lastly to the +people. We will inform them that their youth was a dream, and that during the +time when they seemed to be undergoing their education they were really being +fashioned in the earth, who sent them up when they were ready; and that they +must protect and cherish her whose children they are, and regard each other as +brothers and sisters. ‘I do not wonder at your being ashamed to propound +such a fiction.’ There is more behind. These brothers and sisters have +different natures, and some of them God framed to rule, whom he fashioned of +gold; others he made of silver, to be auxiliaries; others again to be +husbandmen and craftsmen, and these were formed by him of brass and iron. But +as they are all sprung from a common stock, a golden parent may have a silver +son, or a silver parent a golden son, and then there must be a change of rank; +the son of the rich must descend, and the child of the artisan rise, in the +social scale; for an oracle says ‘that the State will come to an end if +governed by a man of brass or iron.’ Will our citizens ever believe all +this? ‘Not in the present generation, but in the next, perhaps, +Yes.’ +</p> + +<p> +Now let the earthborn men go forth under the command of their rulers, and look +about and pitch their camp in a high place, which will be safe against enemies +from without, and likewise against insurrections from within. There let them +sacrifice and set up their tents; for soldiers they are to be and not +shopkeepers, the watchdogs and guardians of the sheep; and luxury and avarice +will turn them into wolves and tyrants. Their habits and their dwellings should +correspond to their education. They should have no property; their pay should +only meet their expenses; and they should have common meals. Gold and silver we +will tell them that they have from God, and this divine gift in their souls +they must not alloy with that earthly dross which passes under the name of +gold. They only of the citizens may not touch it, or be under the same roof +with it, or drink from it; it is the accursed thing. Should they ever acquire +houses or lands or money of their own, they will become householders and +tradesmen instead of guardians, enemies and tyrants instead of helpers, and the +hour of ruin, both to themselves and the rest of the State, will be at hand. +</p> + +<p> +The religious and ethical aspect of Plato’s education will hereafter be +considered under a separate head. Some lesser points may be more conveniently +noticed in this place. +</p> + +<p> +1. The constant appeal to the authority of Homer, whom, with grave irony, +Plato, after the manner of his age, summons as a witness about ethics and +psychology, as well as about diet and medicine; attempting to distinguish the +better lesson from the worse, sometimes altering the text from design; more +than once quoting or alluding to Homer inaccurately, after the manner of the +early logographers turning the Iliad into prose, and delighting to draw +far-fetched inferences from his words, or to make ludicrous applications of +them. He does not, like Heracleitus, get into a rage with Homer and Archilochus +(Heracl.), but uses their words and expressions as vehicles of a higher truth; +not on a system like Theagenes of Rhegium or Metrodorus, or in later times the +Stoics, but as fancy may dictate. And the conclusions drawn from them are +sound, although the premises are fictitious. These fanciful appeals to Homer +add a charm to Plato’s style, and at the same time they have the effect +of a satire on the follies of Homeric interpretation. To us (and probably to +himself), although they take the form of arguments, they are really figures of +speech. They may be compared with modern citations from Scripture, which have +often a great rhetorical power even when the original meaning of the words is +entirely lost sight of. The real, like the Platonic Socrates, as we gather from +the Memorabilia of Xenophon, was fond of making similar adaptations. Great in +all ages and countries, in religion as well as in law and literature, has been +the art of interpretation. +</p> + +<p> +2. ‘The style is to conform to the subject and the metre to the +style.’ Notwithstanding the fascination which the word +‘classical’ exercises over us, we can hardly maintain that this +rule is observed in all the Greek poetry which has come down to us. We cannot +deny that the thought often exceeds the power of lucid expression in Aeschylus +and Pindar; or that rhetoric gets the better of the thought in the Sophist-poet +Euripides. Only perhaps in Sophocles is there a perfect harmony of the two; in +him alone do we find a grace of language like the beauty of a Greek statue, in +which there is nothing to add or to take away; at least this is true of single +plays or of large portions of them. The connection in the Tragic Choruses and +in the Greek lyric poets is not unfrequently a tangled thread which in an age +before logic the poet was unable to draw out. Many thoughts and feelings +mingled in his mind, and he had no power of disengaging or arranging them. For +there is a subtle influence of logic which requires to be transferred from +prose to poetry, just as the music and perfection of language are infused by +poetry into prose. In all ages the poet has been a bad judge of his own meaning +(Apol.); for he does not see that the word which is full of associations to his +own mind is difficult and unmeaning to that of another; or that the sequence +which is clear to himself is puzzling to others. There are many passages in +some of our greatest modern poets which are far too obscure; in which there is +no proportion between style and subject, in which any half-expressed figure, +any harsh construction, any distorted collocation of words, any remote sequence +of ideas is admitted; and there is no voice ‘coming sweetly from +nature,’ or music adding the expression of feeling to thought. As if +there could be poetry without beauty, or beauty without ease and clearness. The +obscurities of early Greek poets arose necessarily out of the state of language +and logic which existed in their age. They are not examples to be followed by +us; for the use of language ought in every generation to become clearer and +clearer. Like Shakespere, they were great in spite, not in consequence, of +their imperfections of expression. But there is no reason for returning to the +necessary obscurity which prevailed in the infancy of literature. The English +poets of the last century were certainly not obscure; and we have no excuse for +losing what they had gained, or for going back to the earlier or transitional +age which preceded them. The thought of our own times has not out-stripped +language; a want of Plato’s ‘art of measuring’ is the rule +cause of the disproportion between them. +</p> + +<p> +3. In the third book of the Republic a nearer approach is made to a theory of +art than anywhere else in Plato. His views may be summed up as +follows:—True art is not fanciful and imitative, but simple and +ideal,—the expression of the highest moral energy, whether in action or +repose. To live among works of plastic art which are of this noble and simple +character, or to listen to such strains, is the best of influences,—the +true Greek atmosphere, in which youth should be brought up. That is the way to +create in them a natural good taste, which will have a feeling of truth and +beauty in all things. For though the poets are to be expelled, still art is +recognized as another aspect of reason—like love in the Symposium, +extending over the same sphere, but confined to the preliminary education, and +acting through the power of habit; and this conception of art is not limited to +strains of music or the forms of plastic art, but pervades all nature and has a +wide kindred in the world. The Republic of Plato, like the Athens of Pericles, +has an artistic as well as a political side. +</p> + +<p> +There is hardly any mention in Plato of the creative arts; only in two or three +passages does he even allude to them (Rep.; Soph.). He is not lost in rapture +at the great works of Phidias, the Parthenon, the Propylea, the statues of Zeus +or Athene. He would probably have regarded any abstract truth of number or +figure as higher than the greatest of them. Yet it is hard to suppose that some +influence, such as he hopes to inspire in youth, did not pass into his own mind +from the works of art which he saw around him. We are living upon the fragments +of them, and find in a few broken stones the standard of truth and beauty. But +in Plato this feeling has no expression; he nowhere says that beauty is the +object of art; he seems to deny that wisdom can take an external form +(Phaedrus); he does not distinguish the fine from the mechanical arts. Whether +or no, like some writers, he felt more than he expressed, it is at any rate +remarkable that the greatest perfection of the fine arts should coincide with +an almost entire silence about them. In one very striking passage he tells us +that a work of art, like the State, is a whole; and this conception of a whole +and the love of the newly-born mathematical sciences may be regarded, if not as +the inspiring, at any rate as the regulating principles of Greek art (Xen. +Mem.; and Sophist). +</p> + +<p> +4. Plato makes the true and subtle remark that the physician had better not be +in robust health; and should have known what illness is in his own person. But +the judge ought to have had no similar experience of evil; he is to be a good +man who, having passed his youth in innocence, became acquainted late in life +with the vices of others. And therefore, according to Plato, a judge should not +be young, just as a young man according to Aristotle is not fit to be a hearer +of moral philosophy. The bad, on the other hand, have a knowledge of vice, but +no knowledge of virtue. It may be doubted, however, whether this train of +reflection is well founded. In a remarkable passage of the Laws it is +acknowledged that the evil may form a correct estimate of the good. The union +of gentleness and courage in Book ii. at first seemed to be a paradox, yet was +afterwards ascertained to be a truth. And Plato might also have found that the +intuition of evil may be consistent with the abhorrence of it. There is a +directness of aim in virtue which gives an insight into vice. And the knowledge +of character is in some degree a natural sense independent of any special +experience of good or evil. +</p> + +<p> +5. One of the most remarkable conceptions of Plato, because un-Greek and also +very different from anything which existed at all in his age of the world, is +the transposition of ranks. In the Spartan state there had been enfranchisement +of Helots and degradation of citizens under special circumstances. And in the +ancient Greek aristocracies, merit was certainly recognized as one of the +elements on which government was based. The founders of states were supposed to +be their benefactors, who were raised by their great actions above the ordinary +level of humanity; at a later period, the services of warriors and legislators +were held to entitle them and their descendants to the privileges of +citizenship and to the first rank in the state. And although the existence of +an ideal aristocracy is slenderly proven from the remains of early Greek +history, and we have a difficulty in ascribing such a character, however the +idea may be defined, to any actual Hellenic state—or indeed to any state +which has ever existed in the world—still the rule of the best was +certainly the aspiration of philosophers, who probably accommodated a good deal +their views of primitive history to their own notions of good government. Plato +further insists on applying to the guardians of his state a series of tests by +which all those who fell short of a fixed standard were either removed from the +governing body, or not admitted to it; and this ‘academic’ +discipline did to a certain extent prevail in Greek states, especially in +Sparta. He also indicates that the system of caste, which existed in a great +part of the ancient, and is by no means extinct in the modern European world, +should be set aside from time to time in favour of merit. He is aware how +deeply the greater part of mankind resent any interference with the order of +society, and therefore he proposes his novel idea in the form of what he +himself calls a ‘monstrous fiction.’ (Compare the ceremony of +preparation for the two ‘great waves’ in Book v.) Two principles +are indicated by him: first, that there is a distinction of ranks dependent on +circumstances prior to the individual: second, that this distinction is and +ought to be broken through by personal qualities. He adapts mythology like the +Homeric poems to the wants of the state, making ‘the Phoenician +tale’ the vehicle of his ideas. Every Greek state had a myth respecting +its own origin; the Platonic republic may also have a tale of earthborn men. +The gravity and verisimilitude with which the tale is told, and the analogy of +Greek tradition, are a sufficient verification of the ‘monstrous +falsehood.’ Ancient poetry had spoken of a gold and silver and brass and +iron age succeeding one another, but Plato supposes these differences in the +natures of men to exist together in a single state. Mythology supplies a figure +under which the lesson may be taught (as Protagoras says, ‘the myth is +more interesting’), and also enables Plato to touch lightly on new +principles without going into details. In this passage he shadows forth a +general truth, but he does not tell us by what steps the transposition of ranks +is to be effected. Indeed throughout the Republic he allows the lower ranks to +fade into the distance. We do not know whether they are to carry arms, and +whether in the fifth book they are or are not included in the communistic +regulations respecting property and marriage. Nor is there any use in arguing +strictly either from a few chance words, or from the silence of Plato, or in +drawing inferences which were beyond his vision. Aristotle, in his criticism on +the position of the lower classes, does not perceive that the poetical creation +is ‘like the air, invulnerable,’ and cannot be penetrated by the +shafts of his logic (Pol.). +</p> + +<p> +6. Two paradoxes which strike the modern reader as in the highest degree +fanciful and ideal, and which suggest to him many reflections, are to be found +in the third book of the Republic: first, the great power of music, so much +beyond any influence which is experienced by us in modern times, when the art +or science has been far more developed, and has found the secret of harmony, as +well as of melody; secondly, the indefinite and almost absolute control which +the soul is supposed to exercise over the body. +</p> + +<p> +In the first we suspect some degree of exaggeration, such as we may also +observe among certain masters of the art, not unknown to us, at the present +day. With this natural enthusiasm, which is felt by a few only, there seems to +mingle in Plato a sort of Pythagorean reverence for numbers and numerical +proportion to which Aristotle is a stranger. Intervals of sound and number are +to him sacred things which have a law of their own, not dependent on the +variations of sense. They rise above sense, and become a connecting link with +the world of ideas. But it is evident that Plato is describing what to him +appears to be also a fact. The power of a simple and characteristic melody on +the impressible mind of the Greek is more than we can easily appreciate. The +effect of national airs may bear some comparison with it. And, besides all +this, there is a confusion between the harmony of musical notes and the harmony +of soul and body, which is so potently inspired by them. +</p> + +<p> +The second paradox leads up to some curious and interesting questions—How +far can the mind control the body? Is the relation between them one of mutual +antagonism or of mutual harmony? Are they two or one, and is either of them the +cause of the other? May we not at times drop the opposition between them, and +the mode of describing them, which is so familiar to us, and yet hardly conveys +any precise meaning, and try to view this composite creature, man, in a more +simple manner? Must we not at any rate admit that there is in human nature a +higher and a lower principle, divided by no distinct line, which at times break +asunder and take up arms against one another? Or again, they are reconciled and +move together, either unconsciously in the ordinary work of life, or +consciously in the pursuit of some noble aim, to be attained not without an +effort, and for which every thought and nerve are strained. And then the body +becomes the good friend or ally, or servant or instrument of the mind. And the +mind has often a wonderful and almost superhuman power of banishing disease and +weakness and calling out a hidden strength. Reason and the desires, the +intellect and the senses are brought into harmony and obedience so as to form a +single human being. They are ever parting, ever meeting; and the identity or +diversity of their tendencies or operations is for the most part unnoticed by +us. When the mind touches the body through the appetites, we acknowledge the +responsibility of the one to the other. There is a tendency in us which says +‘Drink.’ There is another which says, ‘Do not drink; it is +not good for you.’ And we all of us know which is the rightful superior. +We are also responsible for our health, although into this sphere there enter +some elements of necessity which may be beyond our control. Still even in the +management of health, care and thought, continued over many years, may make us +almost free agents, if we do not exact too much of ourselves, and if we +acknowledge that all human freedom is limited by the laws of nature and of +mind. +</p> + +<p> +We are disappointed to find that Plato, in the general condemnation which he +passes on the practice of medicine prevailing in his own day, depreciates the +effects of diet. He would like to have diseases of a definite character and +capable of receiving a definite treatment. He is afraid of invalidism +interfering with the business of life. He does not recognize that time is the +great healer both of mental and bodily disorders; and that remedies which are +gradual and proceed little by little are safer than those which produce a +sudden catastrophe. Neither does he see that there is no way in which the mind +can more surely influence the body than by the control of eating and drinking; +or any other action or occasion of human life on which the higher freedom of +the will can be more simple or truly asserted. +</p> + +<p> +7. Lesser matters of style may be remarked. +</p> + +<p> +(1) The affected ignorance of music, which is Plato’s way of expressing +that he is passing lightly over the subject. +</p> + +<p> +(2) The tentative manner in which here, as in the second book, he proceeds with +the construction of the State. +</p> + +<p> +(3) The description of the State sometimes as a reality, and then again as a +work of imagination only; these are the arts by which he sustains the +reader’s interest. +</p> + +<p> +(4) Connecting links, or the preparation for the entire expulsion of the poets +in Book X. +</p> + +<p> +(5) The companion pictures of the lover of litigation and the valetudinarian, +the satirical jest about the maxim of Phocylides, the manner in which the image +of the gold and silver citizens is taken up into the subject, and the argument +from the practice of Asclepius, should not escape notice. +</p> + +<p> +BOOK IV. Adeimantus said: ‘Suppose a person to argue, Socrates, that you +make your citizens miserable, and this by their own free-will; they are the +lords of the city, and yet instead of having, like other men, lands and houses +and money of their own, they live as mercenaries and are always mounting +guard.’ You may add, I replied, that they receive no pay but only their +food, and have no money to spend on a journey or a mistress. ‘Well, and +what answer do you give?’ My answer is, that our guardians may or may not +be the happiest of men,—I should not be surprised to find in the long-run +that they were,—but this is not the aim of our constitution, which was +designed for the good of the whole and not of any one part. If I went to a +sculptor and blamed him for having painted the eye, which is the noblest +feature of the face, not purple but black, he would reply: ‘The eye must +be an eye, and you should look at the statue as a whole.’ ‘Now I +can well imagine a fool’s paradise, in which everybody is eating and +drinking, clothed in purple and fine linen, and potters lie on sofas and have +their wheel at hand, that they may work a little when they please; and cobblers +and all the other classes of a State lose their distinctive character. And a +State may get on without cobblers; but when the guardians degenerate into boon +companions, then the ruin is complete. Remember that we are not talking of +peasants keeping holiday, but of a State in which every man is expected to do +his own work. The happiness resides not in this or that class, but in the State +as a whole. I have another remark to make:—A middle condition is best for +artisans; they should have money enough to buy tools, and not enough to be +independent of business. And will not the same condition be best for our +citizens? If they are poor, they will be mean; if rich, luxurious and lazy; and +in neither case contented. ‘But then how will our poor city be able to go +to war against an enemy who has money?’ There may be a difficulty in +fighting against one enemy; against two there will be none. In the first place, +the contest will be carried on by trained warriors against well-to-do citizens: +and is not a regular athlete an easy match for two stout opponents at least? +Suppose also, that before engaging we send ambassadors to one of the two +cities, saying, ‘Silver and gold we have not; do you help us and take our +share of the spoil;’—who would fight against the lean, wiry dogs, +when they might join with them in preying upon the fatted sheep? ‘But if +many states join their resources, shall we not be in danger?’ I am amused +to hear you use the word ‘state’ of any but our own State. They are +‘states,’ but not ‘a state’—many in one. For in +every state there are two hostile nations, rich and poor, which you may set one +against the other. But our State, while she remains true to her principles, +will be in very deed the mightiest of Hellenic states. +</p> + +<p> +To the size of the state there is no limit but the necessity of unity; it must +be neither too large nor too small to be one. This is a matter of secondary +importance, like the principle of transposition which was intimated in the +parable of the earthborn men. The meaning there implied was that every man +should do that for which he was fitted, and be at one with himself, and then +the whole city would be united. But all these things are secondary, if +education, which is the great matter, be duly regarded. When the wheel has once +been set in motion, the speed is always increasing; and each generation +improves upon the preceding, both in physical and moral qualities. The care of +the governors should be directed to preserve music and gymnastic from +innovation; alter the songs of a country, Damon says, and you will soon end by +altering its laws. The change appears innocent at first, and begins in play; +but the evil soon becomes serious, working secretly upon the characters of +individuals, then upon social and commercial relations, and lastly upon the +institutions of a state; and there is ruin and confusion everywhere. But if +education remains in the established form, there will be no danger. A +restorative process will be always going on; the spirit of law and order will +raise up what has fallen down. Nor will any regulations be needed for the +lesser matters of life—rules of deportment or fashions of dress. Like +invites like for good or for evil. Education will correct deficiencies and +supply the power of self-government. Far be it from us to enter into the +particulars of legislation; let the guardians take care of education, and +education will take care of all other things. +</p> + +<p> +But without education they may patch and mend as they please; they will make no +progress, any more than a patient who thinks to cure himself by some favourite +remedy and will not give up his luxurious mode of living. If you tell such +persons that they must first alter their habits, then they grow angry; they are +charming people. ‘Charming,—nay, the very reverse.’ Evidently +these gentlemen are not in your good graces, nor the state which is like them. +And such states there are which first ordain under penalty of death that no one +shall alter the constitution, and then suffer themselves to be flattered into +and out of anything; and he who indulges them and fawns upon them, is their +leader and saviour. ‘Yes, the men are as bad as the states.’ But do +you not admire their cleverness? ‘Nay, some of them are stupid enough to +believe what the people tell them.’ And when all the world is telling a +man that he is six feet high, and he has no measure, how can he believe +anything else? But don’t get into a passion: to see our statesmen trying +their nostrums, and fancying that they can cut off at a blow the Hydra-like +rogueries of mankind, is as good as a play. Minute enactments are superfluous +in good states, and are useless in bad ones. +</p> + +<p> +And now what remains of the work of legislation? Nothing for us; but to Apollo +the god of Delphi we leave the ordering of the greatest of all +things—that is to say, religion. Only our ancestral deity sitting upon +the centre and navel of the earth will be trusted by us if we have any sense, +in an affair of such magnitude. No foreign god shall be supreme in our +realms... +</p> + +<p> +Here, as Socrates would say, let us ‘reflect on’ (Greek) what has +preceded: thus far we have spoken not of the happiness of the citizens, but +only of the well-being of the State. They may be the happiest of men, but our +principal aim in founding the State was not to make them happy. They were to be +guardians, not holiday-makers. In this pleasant manner is presented to us the +famous question both of ancient and modern philosophy, touching the relation of +duty to happiness, of right to utility. +</p> + +<p> +First duty, then happiness, is the natural order of our moral ideas. The +utilitarian principle is valuable as a corrective of error, and shows to us a +side of ethics which is apt to be neglected. It may be admitted further that +right and utility are co-extensive, and that he who makes the happiness of +mankind his object has one of the highest and noblest motives of human action. +But utility is not the historical basis of morality; nor the aspect in which +moral and religious ideas commonly occur to the mind. The greatest happiness of +all is, as we believe, the far-off result of the divine government of the +universe. The greatest happiness of the individual is certainly to be found in +a life of virtue and goodness. But we seem to be more assured of a law of right +than we can be of a divine purpose, that ‘all mankind should be +saved;’ and we infer the one from the other. And the greatest happiness +of the individual may be the reverse of the greatest happiness in the ordinary +sense of the term, and may be realised in a life of pain, or in a voluntary +death. Further, the word ‘happiness’ has several ambiguities; it +may mean either pleasure or an ideal life, happiness subjective or objective, +in this world or in another, of ourselves only or of our neighbours and of all +men everywhere. By the modern founder of Utilitarianism the self-regarding and +disinterested motives of action are included under the same term, although they +are commonly opposed by us as benevolence and self-love. The word happiness has +not the definiteness or the sacredness of ‘truth’ and +‘right’; it does not equally appeal to our higher nature, and has +not sunk into the conscience of mankind. It is associated too much with the +comforts and conveniences of life; too little with ‘the goods of the soul +which we desire for their own sake.’ In a great trial, or danger, or +temptation, or in any great and heroic action, it is scarcely thought of. For +these reasons ‘the greatest happiness’ principle is not the true +foundation of ethics. But though not the first principle, it is the second, +which is like unto it, and is often of easier application. For the larger part +of human actions are neither right nor wrong, except in so far as they tend to +the happiness of mankind (Introd. to Gorgias and Philebus). +</p> + +<p> +The same question reappears in politics, where the useful or expedient seems to +claim a larger sphere and to have a greater authority. For concerning political +measures, we chiefly ask: How will they affect the happiness of mankind? Yet +here too we may observe that what we term expediency is merely the law of right +limited by the conditions of human society. Right and truth are the highest +aims of government as well as of individuals; and we ought not to lose sight of +them because we cannot directly enforce them. They appeal to the better mind of +nations; and sometimes they are too much for merely temporal interests to +resist. They are the watchwords which all men use in matters of public policy, +as well as in their private dealings; the peace of Europe may be said to depend +upon them. In the most commercial and utilitarian states of society the power +of ideas remains. And all the higher class of statesmen have in them something +of that idealism which Pericles is said to have gathered from the teaching of +Anaxagoras. They recognise that the true leader of men must be above the +motives of ambition, and that national character is of greater value than +material comfort and prosperity. And this is the order of thought in Plato; +first, he expects his citizens to do their duty, and then under favourable +circumstances, that is to say, in a well-ordered State, their happiness is +assured. That he was far from excluding the modern principle of utility in +politics is sufficiently evident from other passages; in which ‘the most +beneficial is affirmed to be the most honourable’, and also ‘the +most sacred’. +</p> + +<p> +We may note +</p> + +<p> +(1) The manner in which the objection of Adeimantus here, is designed to draw +out and deepen the argument of Socrates. +</p> + +<p> +(2) The conception of a whole as lying at the foundation both of politics and +of art, in the latter supplying the only principle of criticism, which, under +the various names of harmony, symmetry, measure, proportion, unity, the Greek +seems to have applied to works of art. +</p> + +<p> +(3) The requirement that the State should be limited in size, after the +traditional model of a Greek state; as in the Politics of Aristotle, the fact +that the cities of Hellas were small is converted into a principle. +</p> + +<p> +(4) The humorous pictures of the lean dogs and the fatted sheep, of the light +active boxer upsetting two stout gentlemen at least, of the +‘charming’ patients who are always making themselves worse; or +again, the playful assumption that there is no State but our own; or the grave +irony with which the statesman is excused who believes that he is six feet high +because he is told so, and having nothing to measure with is to be pardoned for +his ignorance—he is too amusing for us to be seriously angry with him. +</p> + +<p> +(5) The light and superficial manner in which religion is passed over when +provision has been made for two great principles,—first, that religion +shall be based on the highest conception of the gods, secondly, that the true +national or Hellenic type shall be maintained... +</p> + +<p> +Socrates proceeds: But where amid all this is justice? Son of Ariston, tell me +where. Light a candle and search the city, and get your brother and the rest of +our friends to help in seeking for her. ‘That won’t do,’ +replied Glaucon, ‘you yourself promised to make the search and talked +about the impiety of deserting justice.’ Well, I said, I will lead the +way, but do you follow. My notion is, that our State being perfect will contain +all the four virtues—wisdom, courage, temperance, justice. If we +eliminate the three first, the unknown remainder will be justice. +</p> + +<p> +First then, of wisdom: the State which we have called into being will be wise +because politic. And policy is one among many kinds of skill,—not the +skill of the carpenter, or of the worker in metal, or of the husbandman, but +the skill of him who advises about the interests of the whole State. Of such a +kind is the skill of the guardians, who are a small class in number, far +smaller than the blacksmiths; but in them is concentrated the wisdom of the +State. And if this small ruling class have wisdom, then the whole State will be +wise. +</p> + +<p> +Our second virtue is courage, which we have no difficulty in finding in another +class—that of soldiers. Courage may be defined as a sort of +salvation—the never-failing salvation of the opinions which law and +education have prescribed concerning dangers. You know the way in which dyers +first prepare the white ground and then lay on the dye of purple or of any +other colour. Colours dyed in this way become fixed, and no soap or lye will +ever wash them out. Now the ground is education, and the laws are the colours; +and if the ground is properly laid, neither the soap of pleasure nor the lye of +pain or fear will ever wash them out. This power which preserves right opinion +about danger I would ask you to call ‘courage,’ adding the epithet +‘political’ or ‘civilized’ in order to distinguish it +from mere animal courage and from a higher courage which may hereafter be +discussed. +</p> + +<p> +Two virtues remain; temperance and justice. More than the preceding virtues +temperance suggests the idea of harmony. Some light is thrown upon the nature +of this virtue by the popular description of a man as ‘master of +himself’—which has an absurd sound, because the master is also the +servant. The expression really means that the better principle in a man masters +the worse. There are in cities whole classes—women, slaves and the +like—who correspond to the worse, and a few only to the better; and in +our State the former class are held under control by the latter. Now to which +of these classes does temperance belong? ‘To both of them.’ And our +State if any will be the abode of temperance; and we were right in describing +this virtue as a harmony which is diffused through the whole, making the +dwellers in the city to be of one mind, and attuning the upper and middle and +lower classes like the strings of an instrument, whether you suppose them to +differ in wisdom, strength or wealth. +</p> + +<p> +And now we are near the spot; let us draw in and surround the cover and watch +with all our eyes, lest justice should slip away and escape. Tell me, if you +see the thicket move first. ‘Nay, I would have you lead.’ Well +then, offer up a prayer and follow. The way is dark and difficult; but we must +push on. I begin to see a track. ‘Good news.’ Why, Glaucon, our +dulness of scent is quite ludicrous! While we are straining our eyes into the +distance, justice is tumbling out at our feet. We are as bad as people looking +for a thing which they have in their hands. Have you forgotten our old +principle of the division of labour, or of every man doing his own business, +concerning which we spoke at the foundation of the State—what but this +was justice? Is there any other virtue remaining which can compete with wisdom +and temperance and courage in the scale of political virtue? For ‘every +one having his own’ is the great object of government; and the great +object of trade is that every man should do his own business. Not that there is +much harm in a carpenter trying to be a cobbler, or a cobbler transforming +himself into a carpenter; but great evil may arise from the cobbler leaving his +last and turning into a guardian or legislator, or when a single individual is +trainer, warrior, legislator, all in one. And this evil is injustice, or every +man doing another’s business. I do not say that as yet we are in a +condition to arrive at a final conclusion. For the definition which we believe +to hold good in states has still to be tested by the individual. Having read +the large letters we will now come back to the small. From the two together a +brilliant light may be struck out... +</p> + +<p> +Socrates proceeds to discover the nature of justice by a method of residues. +Each of the first three virtues corresponds to one of the three parts of the +soul and one of the three classes in the State, although the third, temperance, +has more of the nature of a harmony than the first two. If there be a fourth +virtue, that can only be sought for in the relation of the three parts in the +soul or classes in the State to one another. It is obvious and simple, and for +that very reason has not been found out. The modern logician will be inclined +to object that ideas cannot be separated like chemical substances, but that +they run into one another and may be only different aspects or names of the +same thing, and such in this instance appears to be the case. For the +definition here given of justice is verbally the same as one of the definitions +of temperance given by Socrates in the Charmides, which however is only +provisional, and is afterwards rejected. And so far from justice remaining over +when the other virtues are eliminated, the justice and temperance of the +Republic can with difficulty be distinguished. Temperance appears to be the +virtue of a part only, and one of three, whereas justice is a universal virtue +of the whole soul. Yet on the other hand temperance is also described as a sort +of harmony, and in this respect is akin to justice. Justice seems to differ +from temperance in degree rather than in kind; whereas temperance is the +harmony of discordant elements, justice is the perfect order by which all +natures and classes do their own business, the right man in the right place, +the division and co-operation of all the citizens. Justice, again, is a more +abstract notion than the other virtues, and therefore, from Plato’s point +of view, the foundation of them, to which they are referred and which in idea +precedes them. The proposal to omit temperance is a mere trick of style +intended to avoid monotony. +</p> + +<p> +There is a famous question discussed in one of the earlier Dialogues of Plato +(Protagoras; Arist. Nic. Ethics), ‘Whether the virtues are one or +many?’ This receives an answer which is to the effect that there are four +cardinal virtues (now for the first time brought together in ethical +philosophy), and one supreme over the rest, which is not like Aristotle’s +conception of universal justice, virtue relative to others, but the whole of +virtue relative to the parts. To this universal conception of justice or order +in the first education and in the moral nature of man, the still more universal +conception of the good in the second education and in the sphere of speculative +knowledge seems to succeed. Both might be equally described by the terms +‘law,’ ‘order,’ ‘harmony;’ but while the +idea of good embraces ‘all time and all existence,’ the conception +of justice is not extended beyond man. +</p> + +<p> +...Socrates is now going to identify the individual and the State. But first he +must prove that there are three parts of the individual soul. His argument is +as follows:—Quantity makes no difference in quality. The word +‘just,’ whether applied to the individual or to the State, has the +same meaning. And the term ‘justice’ implied that the same three +principles in the State and in the individual were doing their own business. +But are they really three or one? The question is difficult, and one which can +hardly be solved by the methods which we are now using; but the truer and +longer way would take up too much of our time. ‘The shorter will satisfy +me.’ Well then, you would admit that the qualities of states mean the +qualities of the individuals who compose them? The Scythians and Thracians are +passionate, our own race intellectual, and the Egyptians and Phoenicians +covetous, because the individual members of each have such and such a +character; the difficulty is to determine whether the several principles are +one or three; whether, that is to say, we reason with one part of our nature, +desire with another, are angry with another, or whether the whole soul comes +into play in each sort of action. This enquiry, however, requires a very exact +definition of terms. The same thing in the same relation cannot be affected in +two opposite ways. But there is no impossibility in a man standing still, yet +moving his arms, or in a top which is fixed on one spot going round upon its +axis. There is no necessity to mention all the possible exceptions; let us +provisionally assume that opposites cannot do or be or suffer opposites in the +same relation. And to the class of opposites belong assent and dissent, desire +and avoidance. And one form of desire is thirst and hunger: and here arises a +new point—thirst is thirst of drink, hunger is hunger of food; not of +warm drink or of a particular kind of food, with the single exception of course +that the very fact of our desiring anything implies that it is good. When +relative terms have no attributes, their correlatives have no attributes; when +they have attributes, their correlatives also have them. For example, the term +‘greater’ is simply relative to ‘less,’ and knowledge +refers to a subject of knowledge. But on the other hand, a particular knowledge +is of a particular subject. Again, every science has a distinct character, +which is defined by an object; medicine, for example, is the science of health, +although not to be confounded with health. Having cleared our ideas thus far, +let us return to the original instance of thirst, which has a definite +object—drink. Now the thirsty soul may feel two distinct impulses; the +animal one saying ‘Drink;’ the rational one, which says ‘Do +not drink.’ The two impulses are contradictory; and therefore we may +assume that they spring from distinct principles in the soul. But is passion a +third principle, or akin to desire? There is a story of a certain Leontius +which throws some light on this question. He was coming up from the Piraeus +outside the north wall, and he passed a spot where there were dead bodies lying +by the executioner. He felt a longing desire to see them and also an abhorrence +of them; at first he turned away and shut his eyes, then, suddenly tearing them +open, he said,—‘Take your fill, ye wretches, of the fair +sight.’ Now is there not here a third principle which is often found to +come to the assistance of reason against desire, but never of desire against +reason? This is passion or spirit, of the separate existence of which we may +further convince ourselves by putting the following case:—When a man +suffers justly, if he be of a generous nature he is not indignant at the +hardships which he undergoes: but when he suffers unjustly, his indignation is +his great support; hunger and thirst cannot tame him; the spirit within him +must do or die, until the voice of the shepherd, that is, of reason, bidding +his dog bark no more, is heard within. This shows that passion is the ally of +reason. Is passion then the same with reason? No, for the former exists in +children and brutes; and Homer affords a proof of the distinction between them +when he says, ‘He smote his breast, and thus rebuked his soul.’ +</p> + +<p> +And now, at last, we have reached firm ground, and are able to infer that the +virtues of the State and of the individual are the same. For wisdom and courage +and justice in the State are severally the wisdom and courage and justice in +the individuals who form the State. Each of the three classes will do the work +of its own class in the State, and each part in the individual soul; reason, +the superior, and passion, the inferior, will be harmonized by the influence of +music and gymnastic. The counsellor and the warrior, the head and the arm, will +act together in the town of Mansoul, and keep the desires in proper subjection. +The courage of the warrior is that quality which preserves a right opinion +about dangers in spite of pleasures and pains. The wisdom of the counsellor is +that small part of the soul which has authority and reason. The virtue of +temperance is the friendship of the ruling and the subject principles, both in +the State and in the individual. Of justice we have already spoken; and the +notion already given of it may be confirmed by common instances. Will the just +state or the just individual steal, lie, commit adultery, or be guilty of +impiety to gods and men? ‘No.’ And is not the reason of this that +the several principles, whether in the state or in the individual, do their own +business? And justice is the quality which makes just men and just states. +Moreover, our old division of labour, which required that there should be one +man for one use, was a dream or anticipation of what was to follow; and that +dream has now been realized in justice, which begins by binding together the +three chords of the soul, and then acts harmoniously in every relation of life. +And injustice, which is the insubordination and disobedience of the inferior +elements in the soul, is the opposite of justice, and is inharmonious and +unnatural, being to the soul what disease is to the body; for in the soul as +well as in the body, good or bad actions produce good or bad habits. And virtue +is the health and beauty and well-being of the soul, and vice is the disease +and weakness and deformity of the soul. +</p> + +<p> +Again the old question returns upon us: Is justice or injustice the more +profitable? The question has become ridiculous. For injustice, like mortal +disease, makes life not worth having. Come up with me to the hill which +overhangs the city and look down upon the single form of virtue, and the +infinite forms of vice, among which are four special ones, characteristic both +of states and of individuals. And the state which corresponds to the single +form of virtue is that which we have been describing, wherein reason rules +under one of two names—monarchy and aristocracy. Thus there are five +forms in all, both of states and of souls... +</p> + +<p> +In attempting to prove that the soul has three separate faculties, Plato takes +occasion to discuss what makes difference of faculties. And the criterion which +he proposes is difference in the working of the faculties. The same faculty +cannot produce contradictory effects. But the path of early reasoners is beset +by thorny entanglements, and he will not proceed a step without first clearing +the ground. This leads him into a tiresome digression, which is intended to +explain the nature of contradiction. First, the contradiction must be at the +same time and in the same relation. Secondly, no extraneous word must be +introduced into either of the terms in which the contradictory proposition is +expressed: for example, thirst is of drink, not of warm drink. He implies, what +he does not say, that if, by the advice of reason, or by the impulse of anger, +a man is restrained from drinking, this proves that thirst, or desire under +which thirst is included, is distinct from anger and reason. But suppose that +we allow the term ‘thirst’ or ‘desire’ to be modified, +and say an ‘angry thirst,’ or a ‘revengeful desire,’ +then the two spheres of desire and anger overlap and become confused. This case +therefore has to be excluded. And still there remains an exception to the rule +in the use of the term ‘good,’ which is always implied in the +object of desire. These are the discussions of an age before logic; and any one +who is wearied by them should remember that they are necessary to the clearing +up of ideas in the first development of the human faculties. +</p> + +<p> +The psychology of Plato extends no further than the division of the soul into +the rational, irascible, and concupiscent elements, which, as far as we know, +was first made by him, and has been retained by Aristotle and succeeding +ethical writers. The chief difficulty in this early analysis of the mind is to +define exactly the place of the irascible faculty (Greek), which may be +variously described under the terms righteous indignation, spirit, passion. It +is the foundation of courage, which includes in Plato moral courage, the +courage of enduring pain, and of surmounting intellectual difficulties, as well +as of meeting dangers in war. Though irrational, it inclines to side with the +rational: it cannot be aroused by punishment when justly inflicted: it +sometimes takes the form of an enthusiasm which sustains a man in the +performance of great actions. It is the ‘lion heart’ with which the +reason makes a treaty. On the other hand it is negative rather than positive; +it is indignant at wrong or falsehood, but does not, like Love in the Symposium +and Phaedrus, aspire to the vision of Truth or Good. It is the peremptory +military spirit which prevails in the government of honour. It differs from +anger (Greek), this latter term having no accessory notion of righteous +indignation. Although Aristotle has retained the word, yet we may observe that +‘passion’ (Greek) has with him lost its affinity to the rational +and has become indistinguishable from ‘anger’ (Greek). And to this +vernacular use Plato himself in the Laws seems to revert, though not always. By +modern philosophy too, as well as in our ordinary conversation, the words anger +or passion are employed almost exclusively in a bad sense; there is no +connotation of a just or reasonable cause by which they are aroused. The +feeling of ‘righteous indignation’ is too partial and accidental to +admit of our regarding it as a separate virtue or habit. We are tempted also to +doubt whether Plato is right in supposing that an offender, however justly +condemned, could be expected to acknowledge the justice of his sentence; this +is the spirit of a philosopher or martyr rather than of a criminal. +</p> + +<p> +We may observe how nearly Plato approaches Aristotle’s famous thesis, +that ‘good actions produce good habits.’ The words ‘as +healthy practices (Greek) produce health, so do just practices produce +justice,’ have a sound very like the Nicomachean Ethics. But we note also +that an incidental remark in Plato has become a far-reaching principle in +Aristotle, and an inseparable part of a great Ethical system. +</p> + +<p> +There is a difficulty in understanding what Plato meant by ‘the longer +way’: he seems to intimate some metaphysic of the future which will not +be satisfied with arguing from the principle of contradiction. In the sixth and +seventh books (compare Sophist and Parmenides) he has given us a sketch of such +a metaphysic; but when Glaucon asks for the final revelation of the idea of +good, he is put off with the declaration that he has not yet studied the +preliminary sciences. How he would have filled up the sketch, or argued about +such questions from a higher point of view, we can only conjecture. Perhaps he +hoped to find some a priori method of developing the parts out of the whole; or +he might have asked which of the ideas contains the other ideas, and possibly +have stumbled on the Hegelian identity of the ‘ego’ and the +‘universal.’ Or he may have imagined that ideas might be +constructed in some manner analogous to the construction of figures and numbers +in the mathematical sciences. The most certain and necessary truth was to Plato +the universal; and to this he was always seeking to refer all knowledge or +opinion, just as in modern times we seek to rest them on the opposite pole of +induction and experience. The aspirations of metaphysicians have always tended +to pass beyond the limits of human thought and language: they seem to have +reached a height at which they are ‘moving about in worlds +unrealized,’ and their conceptions, although profoundly affecting their +own minds, become invisible or unintelligible to others. We are not therefore +surprized to find that Plato himself has nowhere clearly explained his doctrine +of ideas; or that his school in a later generation, like his contemporaries +Glaucon and Adeimantus, were unable to follow him in this region of +speculation. In the Sophist, where he is refuting the scepticism which +maintained either that there was no such thing as predication, or that all +might be predicated of all, he arrives at the conclusion that some ideas +combine with some, but not all with all. But he makes only one or two steps +forward on this path; he nowhere attains to any connected system of ideas, or +even to a knowledge of the most elementary relations of the sciences to one +another. +</p> + +<p> +BOOK V. I was going to enumerate the four forms of vice or decline in states, +when Polemarchus—he was sitting a little farther from me than +Adeimantus—taking him by the coat and leaning towards him, said something +in an undertone, of which I only caught the words, ‘Shall we let him +off?’ ‘Certainly not,’ said Adeimantus, raising his voice. +Whom, I said, are you not going to let off? ‘You,’ he said. Why? +‘Because we think that you are not dealing fairly with us in omitting +women and children, of whom you have slily disposed under the general formula +that friends have all things in common.’ And was I not right? +‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘but there are many sorts of communism or +community, and we want to know which of them is right. The company, as you have +just heard, are resolved to have a further explanation.’ Thrasymachus +said, ‘Do you think that we have come hither to dig for gold, or to hear +you discourse?’ Yes, I said; but the discourse should be of a reasonable +length. Glaucon added, ‘Yes, Socrates, and there is reason in spending +the whole of life in such discussions; but pray, without more ado, tell us how +this community is to be carried out, and how the interval between birth and +education is to be filled up.’ Well, I said, the subject has several +difficulties—What is possible? is the first question. What is desirable? +is the second. ‘Fear not,’ he replied, ‘for you are speaking +among friends.’ That, I replied, is a sorry consolation; I shall destroy +my friends as well as myself. Not that I mind a little innocent laughter; but +he who kills the truth is a murderer. ‘Then,’ said Glaucon, +laughing, ‘in case you should murder us we will acquit you beforehand, +and you shall be held free from the guilt of deceiving us.’ +</p> + +<p> +Socrates proceeds:—The guardians of our state are to be watch-dogs, as we +have already said. Now dogs are not divided into hes and shes—we do not +take the masculine gender out to hunt and leave the females at home to look +after their puppies. They have the same employments—the only difference +between them is that the one sex is stronger and the other weaker. But if women +are to have the same employments as men, they must have the same +education—they must be taught music and gymnastics, and the art of war. I +know that a great joke will be made of their riding on horseback and carrying +weapons; the sight of the naked old wrinkled women showing their agility in the +palaestra will certainly not be a vision of beauty, and may be expected to +become a famous jest. But we must not mind the wits; there was a time when they +might have laughed at our present gymnastics. All is habit: people have at last +found out that the exposure is better than the concealment of the person, and +now they laugh no more. Evil only should be the subject of ridicule. +</p> + +<p> +The first question is, whether women are able either wholly or partially to +share in the employments of men. And here we may be charged with inconsistency +in making the proposal at all. For we started originally with the division of +labour; and the diversity of employments was based on the difference of +natures. But is there no difference between men and women? Nay, are they not +wholly different? THERE was the difficulty, Glaucon, which made me unwilling to +speak of family relations. However, when a man is out of his depth, whether in +a pool or in an ocean, he can only swim for his life; and we must try to find a +way of escape, if we can. +</p> + +<p> +The argument is, that different natures have different uses, and the natures of +men and women are said to differ. But this is only a verbal opposition. We do +not consider that the difference may be purely nominal and accidental; for +example, a bald man and a hairy man are opposed in a single point of view, but +you cannot infer that because a bald man is a cobbler a hairy man ought not to +be a cobbler. Now why is such an inference erroneous? Simply because the +opposition between them is partial only, like the difference between a male +physician and a female physician, not running through the whole nature, like +the difference between a physician and a carpenter. And if the difference of +the sexes is only that the one beget and the other bear children, this does not +prove that they ought to have distinct educations. Admitting that women differ +from men in capacity, do not men equally differ from one another? Has not +nature scattered all the qualities which our citizens require indifferently up +and down among the two sexes? and even in their peculiar pursuits, are not +women often, though in some cases superior to men, ridiculously enough +surpassed by them? Women are the same in kind as men, and have the same +aptitude or want of aptitude for medicine or gymnastic or war, but in a less +degree. One woman will be a good guardian, another not; and the good must be +chosen to be the colleagues of our guardians. If however their natures are the +same, the inference is that their education must also be the same; there is no +longer anything unnatural or impossible in a woman learning music and +gymnastic. And the education which we give them will be the very best, far +superior to that of cobblers, and will train up the very best women, and +nothing can be more advantageous to the State than this. Therefore let them +strip, clothed in their chastity, and share in the toils of war and in the +defence of their country; he who laughs at them is a fool for his pains. +</p> + +<p> +The first wave is past, and the argument is compelled to admit that men and +women have common duties and pursuits. A second and greater wave is rolling +in—community of wives and children; is this either expedient or possible? +The expediency I do not doubt; I am not so sure of the possibility. ‘Nay, +I think that a considerable doubt will be entertained on both points.’ I +meant to have escaped the trouble of proving the first, but as you have +detected the little stratagem I must even submit. Only allow me to feed my +fancy like the solitary in his walks, with a dream of what might be, and then I +will return to the question of what can be. +</p> + +<p> +In the first place our rulers will enforce the laws and make new ones where +they are wanted, and their allies or ministers will obey. You, as legislator, +have already selected the men; and now you shall select the women. After the +selection has been made, they will dwell in common houses and have their meals +in common, and will be brought together by a necessity more certain than that +of mathematics. But they cannot be allowed to live in licentiousness; that is +an unholy thing, which the rulers are determined to prevent. For the avoidance +of this, holy marriage festivals will be instituted, and their holiness will be +in proportion to their usefulness. And here, Glaucon, I should like to ask (as +I know that you are a breeder of birds and animals), Do you not take the +greatest care in the mating? ‘Certainly.’ And there is no reason to +suppose that less care is required in the marriage of human beings. But then +our rulers must be skilful physicians of the State, for they will often need a +strong dose of falsehood in order to bring about desirable unions between their +subjects. The good must be paired with the good, and the bad with the bad, and +the offspring of the one must be reared, and of the other destroyed; in this +way the flock will be preserved in prime condition. Hymeneal festivals will be +celebrated at times fixed with an eye to population, and the brides and +bridegrooms will meet at them; and by an ingenious system of lots the rulers +will contrive that the brave and the fair come together, and that those of +inferior breed are paired with inferiors—the latter will ascribe to +chance what is really the invention of the rulers. And when children are born, +the offspring of the brave and fair will be carried to an enclosure in a +certain part of the city, and there attended by suitable nurses; the rest will +be hurried away to places unknown. The mothers will be brought to the fold and +will suckle the children; care however must be taken that none of them +recognise their own offspring; and if necessary other nurses may also be hired. +The trouble of watching and getting up at night will be transferred to +attendants. ‘Then the wives of our guardians will have a fine easy time +when they are having children.’ And quite right too, I said, that they +should. +</p> + +<p> +The parents ought to be in the prime of life, which for a man may be reckoned +at thirty years—from twenty-five, when he has ‘passed the point at +which the speed of life is greatest,’ to fifty-five; and at twenty years +for a woman—from twenty to forty. Any one above or below those ages who +partakes in the hymeneals shall be guilty of impiety; also every one who forms +a marriage connexion at other times without the consent of the rulers. This +latter regulation applies to those who are within the specified ages, after +which they may range at will, provided they avoid the prohibited degrees of +parents and children, or of brothers and sisters, which last, however, are not +absolutely prohibited, if a dispensation be procured. ‘But how shall we +know the degrees of affinity, when all things are common?’ The answer is, +that brothers and sisters are all such as are born seven or nine months after +the espousals, and their parents those who are then espoused, and every one +will have many children and every child many parents. +</p> + +<p> +Socrates proceeds: I have now to prove that this scheme is advantageous and +also consistent with our entire polity. The greatest good of a State is unity; +the greatest evil, discord and distraction. And there will be unity where there +are no private pleasures or pains or interests—where if one member +suffers all the members suffer, if one citizen is touched all are quickly +sensitive; and the least hurt to the little finger of the State runs through +the whole body and vibrates to the soul. For the true State, like an +individual, is injured as a whole when any part is affected. Every State has +subjects and rulers, who in a democracy are called rulers, and in other States +masters: but in our State they are called saviours and allies; and the subjects +who in other States are termed slaves, are by us termed nurturers and +paymasters, and those who are termed comrades and colleagues in other places, +are by us called fathers and brothers. And whereas in other States members of +the same government regard one of their colleagues as a friend and another as +an enemy, in our State no man is a stranger to another; for every citizen is +connected with every other by ties of blood, and these names and this way of +speaking will have a corresponding reality—brother, father, sister, +mother, repeated from infancy in the ears of children, will not be mere words. +Then again the citizens will have all things in common, in having common +property they will have common pleasures and pains. +</p> + +<p> +Can there be strife and contention among those who are of one mind; or lawsuits +about property when men have nothing but their bodies which they call their +own; or suits about violence when every one is bound to defend himself? The +permission to strike when insulted will be an ‘antidote’ to the +knife and will prevent disturbances in the State. But no younger man will +strike an elder; reverence will prevent him from laying hands on his kindred, +and he will fear that the rest of the family may retaliate. Moreover, our +citizens will be rid of the lesser evils of life; there will be no flattery of +the rich, no sordid household cares, no borrowing and not paying. Compared with +the citizens of other States, ours will be Olympic victors, and crowned with +blessings greater still—they and their children having a better +maintenance during life, and after death an honourable burial. Nor has the +happiness of the individual been sacrificed to the happiness of the State; our +Olympic victor has not been turned into a cobbler, but he has a happiness +beyond that of any cobbler. At the same time, if any conceited youth begins to +dream of appropriating the State to himself, he must be reminded that +‘half is better than the whole.’ ‘I should certainly advise +him to stay where he is when he has the promise of such a brave life.’ +</p> + +<p> +But is such a community possible?—as among the animals, so also among +men; and if possible, in what way possible? About war there is no difficulty; +the principle of communism is adapted to military service. Parents will take +their children to look on at a battle, just as potters’ boys are trained +to the business by looking on at the wheel. And to the parents themselves, as +to other animals, the sight of their young ones will prove a great incentive to +bravery. Young warriors must learn, but they must not run into danger, although +a certain degree of risk is worth incurring when the benefit is great. The +young creatures should be placed under the care of experienced veterans, and +they should have wings—that is to say, swift and tractable steeds on +which they may fly away and escape. One of the first things to be done is to +teach a youth to ride. +</p> + +<p> +Cowards and deserters shall be degraded to the class of husbandmen; gentlemen +who allow themselves to be taken prisoners, may be presented to the enemy. But +what shall be done to the hero? First of all he shall be crowned by all the +youths in the army; secondly, he shall receive the right hand of fellowship; +and thirdly, do you think that there is any harm in his being kissed? We have +already determined that he shall have more wives than others, in order that he +may have as many children as possible. And at a feast he shall have more to +eat; we have the authority of Homer for honouring brave men with ‘long +chines,’ which is an appropriate compliment, because meat is a very +strengthening thing. Fill the bowl then, and give the best seats and meats to +the brave—may they do them good! And he who dies in battle will be at +once declared to be of the golden race, and will, as we believe, become one of +Hesiod’s guardian angels. He shall be worshipped after death in the +manner prescribed by the oracle; and not only he, but all other benefactors of +the State who die in any other way, shall be admitted to the same honours. +</p> + +<p> +The next question is, How shall we treat our enemies? Shall Hellenes be +enslaved? No; for there is too great a risk of the whole race passing under the +yoke of the barbarians. Or shall the dead be despoiled? Certainly not; for that +sort of thing is an excuse for skulking, and has been the ruin of many an army. +There is meanness and feminine malice in making an enemy of the dead body, when +the soul which was the owner has fled—like a dog who cannot reach his +assailants, and quarrels with the stones which are thrown at him instead. +Again, the arms of Hellenes should not be offered up in the temples of the +Gods; they are a pollution, for they are taken from brethren. And on similar +grounds there should be a limit to the devastation of Hellenic +territory—the houses should not be burnt, nor more than the annual +produce carried off. For war is of two kinds, civil and foreign; the first of +which is properly termed ‘discord,’ and only the second +‘war;’ and war between Hellenes is in reality civil war—a +quarrel in a family, which is ever to be regarded as unpatriotic and unnatural, +and ought to be prosecuted with a view to reconciliation in a true +phil-Hellenic spirit, as of those who would chasten but not utterly enslave. +The war is not against a whole nation who are a friendly multitude of men, +women, and children, but only against a few guilty persons; when they are +punished peace will be restored. That is the way in which Hellenes should war +against one another—and against barbarians, as they war against one +another now. +</p> + +<p> +‘But, my dear Socrates, you are forgetting the main question: Is such a +State possible? I grant all and more than you say about the blessedness of +being one family—fathers, brothers, mothers, daughters, going out to war +together; but I want to ascertain the possibility of this ideal State.’ +You are too unmerciful. The first wave and the second wave I have hardly +escaped, and now you will certainly drown me with the third. When you see the +towering crest of the wave, I expect you to take pity. ‘Not a +whit.’ +</p> + +<p> +Well, then, we were led to form our ideal polity in the search after justice, +and the just man answered to the just State. Is this ideal at all the worse for +being impracticable? Would the picture of a perfectly beautiful man be any the +worse because no such man ever lived? Can any reality come up to the idea? +Nature will not allow words to be fully realized; but if I am to try and +realize the ideal of the State in a measure, I think that an approach may be +made to the perfection of which I dream by one or two, I do not say slight, but +possible changes in the present constitution of States. I would reduce them to +a single one—the great wave, as I call it. Until, then, kings are +philosophers, or philosophers are kings, cities will never cease from ill: no, +nor the human race; nor will our ideal polity ever come into being. I know that +this is a hard saying, which few will be able to receive. ‘Socrates, all +the world will take off his coat and rush upon you with sticks and stones, and +therefore I would advise you to prepare an answer.’ You got me into the +scrape, I said. ‘And I was right,’ he replied; ‘however, I +will stand by you as a sort of do-nothing, well-meaning ally.’ Having the +help of such a champion, I will do my best to maintain my position. And first, +I must explain of whom I speak and what sort of natures these are who are to be +philosophers and rulers. As you are a man of pleasure, you will not have +forgotten how indiscriminate lovers are in their attachments; they love all, +and turn blemishes into beauties. The snub-nosed youth is said to have a +winning grace; the beak of another has a royal look; the featureless are +faultless; the dark are manly, the fair angels; the sickly have a new term of +endearment invented expressly for them, which is ‘honey-pale.’ +Lovers of wine and lovers of ambition also desire the objects of their +affection in every form. Now here comes the point:—The philosopher too is +a lover of knowledge in every form; he has an insatiable curiosity. ‘But +will curiosity make a philosopher? Are the lovers of sights and sounds, who let +out their ears to every chorus at the Dionysiac festivals, to be called +philosophers?’ They are not true philosophers, but only an imitation. +‘Then how are we to describe the true?’ +</p> + +<p> +You would acknowledge the existence of abstract ideas, such as justice, beauty, +good, evil, which are severally one, yet in their various combinations appear +to be many. Those who recognize these realities are philosophers; whereas the +other class hear sounds and see colours, and understand their use in the arts, +but cannot attain to the true or waking vision of absolute justice or beauty or +truth; they have not the light of knowledge, but of opinion, and what they see +is a dream only. Perhaps he of whom we say the last will be angry with us; can +we pacify him without revealing the disorder of his mind? Suppose we say that, +if he has knowledge we rejoice to hear it, but knowledge must be of something +which is, as ignorance is of something which is not; and there is a third +thing, which both is and is not, and is matter of opinion only. Opinion and +knowledge, then, having distinct objects, must also be distinct faculties. And +by faculties I mean powers unseen and distinguishable only by the difference in +their objects, as opinion and knowledge differ, since the one is liable to err, +but the other is unerring and is the mightiest of all our faculties. If being +is the object of knowledge, and not-being of ignorance, and these are the +extremes, opinion must lie between them, and may be called darker than the one +and brighter than the other. This intermediate or contingent matter is and is +not at the same time, and partakes both of existence and of non-existence. Now +I would ask my good friend, who denies abstract beauty and justice, and affirms +a many beautiful and a many just, whether everything he sees is not in some +point of view different—the beautiful ugly, the pious impious, the just +unjust? Is not the double also the half, and are not heavy and light relative +terms which pass into one another? Everything is and is not, as in the old +riddle—‘A man and not a man shot and did not shoot a bird and not a +bird with a stone and not a stone.’ The mind cannot be fixed on either +alternative; and these ambiguous, intermediate, erring, half-lighted objects, +which have a disorderly movement in the region between being and not-being, are +the proper matter of opinion, as the immutable objects are the proper matter of +knowledge. And he who grovels in the world of sense, and has only this +uncertain perception of things, is not a philosopher, but a lover of opinion +only... +</p> + +<p> +The fifth book is the new beginning of the Republic, in which the community of +property and of family are first maintained, and the transition is made to the +kingdom of philosophers. For both of these Plato, after his manner, has been +preparing in some chance words of Book IV, which fall unperceived on the +reader’s mind, as they are supposed at first to have fallen on the ear of +Glaucon and Adeimantus. The ‘paradoxes,’ as Morgenstern terms them, +of this book of the Republic will be reserved for another place; a few remarks +on the style, and some explanations of difficulties, may be briefly added. +</p> + +<p> +First, there is the image of the waves, which serves for a sort of scheme or +plan of the book. The first wave, the second wave, the third and greatest wave +come rolling in, and we hear the roar of them. All that can be said of the +extravagance of Plato’s proposals is anticipated by himself. Nothing is +more admirable than the hesitation with which he proposes the solemn text, +‘Until kings are philosophers,’ etc.; or the reaction from the +sublime to the ridiculous, when Glaucon describes the manner in which the new +truth will be received by mankind. +</p> + +<p> +Some defects and difficulties may be noted in the execution of the communistic +plan. Nothing is told us of the application of communism to the lower classes; +nor is the table of prohibited degrees capable of being made out. It is quite +possible that a child born at one hymeneal festival may marry one of its own +brothers or sisters, or even one of its parents, at another. Plato is afraid of +incestuous unions, but at the same time he does not wish to bring before us the +fact that the city would be divided into families of those born seven and nine +months after each hymeneal festival. If it were worth while to argue seriously +about such fancies, we might remark that while all the old affinities are +abolished, the newly prohibited affinity rests not on any natural or rational +principle, but only upon the accident of children having been born in the same +month and year. Nor does he explain how the lots could be so manipulated by the +legislature as to bring together the fairest and best. The singular expression +which is employed to describe the age of five-and-twenty may perhaps be taken +from some poet. +</p> + +<p> +In the delineation of the philosopher, the illustrations of the nature of +philosophy derived from love are more suited to the apprehension of Glaucon, +the Athenian man of pleasure, than to modern tastes or feelings. They are +partly facetious, but also contain a germ of truth. That science is a whole, +remains a true principle of inductive as well as of metaphysical philosophy; +and the love of universal knowledge is still the characteristic of the +philosopher in modern as well as in ancient times. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of the fifth book Plato introduces the figment of contingent matter, +which has exercised so great an influence both on the Ethics and Theology of +the modern world, and which occurs here for the first time in the history of +philosophy. He did not remark that the degrees of knowledge in the subject have +nothing corresponding to them in the object. With him a word must answer to an +idea; and he could not conceive of an opinion which was an opinion about +nothing. The influence of analogy led him to invent ‘parallels and +conjugates’ and to overlook facts. To us some of his difficulties are +puzzling only from their simplicity: we do not perceive that the answer to them +‘is tumbling out at our feet.’ To the mind of early thinkers, the +conception of not-being was dark and mysterious; they did not see that this +terrible apparition which threatened destruction to all knowledge was only a +logical determination. The common term under which, through the accidental use +of language, two entirely different ideas were included was another source of +confusion. Thus through the ambiguity of (Greek) Plato, attempting to introduce +order into the first chaos of human thought, seems to have confused perception +and opinion, and to have failed to distinguish the contingent from the +relative. In the Theaetetus the first of these difficulties begins to clear up; +in the Sophist the second; and for this, as well as for other reasons, both +these dialogues are probably to be regarded as later than the Republic. +</p> + +<p> +BOOK VI. Having determined that the many have no knowledge of true being, and +have no clear patterns in their minds of justice, beauty, truth, and that +philosophers have such patterns, we have now to ask whether they or the many +shall be rulers in our State. But who can doubt that philosophers should be +chosen, if they have the other qualities which are required in a ruler? For +they are lovers of the knowledge of the eternal and of all truth; they are +haters of falsehood; their meaner desires are absorbed in the interests of +knowledge; they are spectators of all time and all existence; and in the +magnificence of their contemplation the life of man is as nothing to them, nor +is death fearful. Also they are of a social, gracious disposition, equally free +from cowardice and arrogance. They learn and remember easily; they have +harmonious, well-regulated minds; truth flows to them sweetly by nature. Can +the god of Jealousy himself find any fault with such an assemblage of good +qualities? +</p> + +<p> +Here Adeimantus interposes:—‘No man can answer you, Socrates; but +every man feels that this is owing to his own deficiency in argument. He is +driven from one position to another, until he has nothing more to say, just as +an unskilful player at draughts is reduced to his last move by a more skilled +opponent. And yet all the time he may be right. He may know, in this very +instance, that those who make philosophy the business of their lives, generally +turn out rogues if they are bad men, and fools if they are good. What do you +say?’ I should say that he is quite right. ‘Then how is such an +admission reconcileable with the doctrine that philosophers should be +kings?’ +</p> + +<p> +I shall answer you in a parable which will also let you see how poor a hand I +am at the invention of allegories. The relation of good men to their +governments is so peculiar, that in order to defend them I must take an +illustration from the world of fiction. Conceive the captain of a ship, taller +by a head and shoulders than any of the crew, yet a little deaf, a little +blind, and rather ignorant of the seaman’s art. The sailors want to +steer, although they know nothing of the art; and they have a theory that it +cannot be learned. If the helm is refused them, they drug the captain’s +posset, bind him hand and foot, and take possession of the ship. He who joins +in the mutiny is termed a good pilot and what not; they have no conception that +the true pilot must observe the winds and the stars, and must be their master, +whether they like it or not;—such an one would be called by them fool, +prater, star-gazer. This is my parable; which I will beg you to interpret for +me to those gentlemen who ask why the philosopher has such an evil name, and to +explain to them that not he, but those who will not use him, are to blame for +his uselessness. The philosopher should not beg of mankind to be put in +authority over them. The wise man should not seek the rich, as the proverb +bids, but every man, whether rich or poor, must knock at the door of the +physician when he has need of him. Now the pilot is the philosopher—he +whom in the parable they call star-gazer, and the mutinous sailors are the mob +of politicians by whom he is rendered useless. Not that these are the worst +enemies of philosophy, who is far more dishonoured by her own professing sons +when they are corrupted by the world. Need I recall the original image of the +philosopher? Did we not say of him just now, that he loved truth and hated +falsehood, and that he could not rest in the multiplicity of phenomena, but was +led by a sympathy in his own nature to the contemplation of the absolute? All +the virtues as well as truth, who is the leader of them, took up their abode in +his soul. But as you were observing, if we turn aside to view the reality, we +see that the persons who were thus described, with the exception of a small and +useless class, are utter rogues. +</p> + +<p> +The point which has to be considered, is the origin of this corruption in +nature. Every one will admit that the philosopher, in our description of him, +is a rare being. But what numberless causes tend to destroy these rare beings! +There is no good thing which may not be a cause of evil—health, wealth, +strength, rank, and the virtues themselves, when placed under unfavourable +circumstances. For as in the animal or vegetable world the strongest seeds most +need the accompaniment of good air and soil, so the best of human characters +turn out the worst when they fall upon an unsuitable soil; whereas weak natures +hardly ever do any considerable good or harm; they are not the stuff out of +which either great criminals or great heroes are made. The philosopher follows +the same analogy: he is either the best or the worst of all men. Some persons +say that the Sophists are the corrupters of youth; but is not public opinion +the real Sophist who is everywhere present—in those very persons, in the +assembly, in the courts, in the camp, in the applauses and hisses of the +theatre re-echoed by the surrounding hills? Will not a young man’s heart +leap amid these discordant sounds? and will any education save him from being +carried away by the torrent? Nor is this all. For if he will not yield to +opinion, there follows the gentle compulsion of exile or death. What principle +of rival Sophists or anybody else can overcome in such an unequal contest? +Characters there may be more than human, who are exceptions—God may save +a man, but not his own strength. Further, I would have you consider that the +hireling Sophist only gives back to the world their own opinions; he is the +keeper of the monster, who knows how to flatter or anger him, and observes the +meaning of his inarticulate grunts. Good is what pleases him, evil what he +dislikes; truth and beauty are determined only by the taste of the brute. Such +is the Sophist’s wisdom, and such is the condition of those who make +public opinion the test of truth, whether in art or in morals. The curse is +laid upon them of being and doing what it approves, and when they attempt first +principles the failure is ludicrous. Think of all this and ask yourself whether +the world is more likely to be a believer in the unity of the idea, or in the +multiplicity of phenomena. And the world if not a believer in the idea cannot +be a philosopher, and must therefore be a persecutor of philosophers. There is +another evil:—the world does not like to lose the gifted nature, and so +they flatter the young (Alcibiades) into a magnificent opinion of his own +capacity; the tall, proper youth begins to expand, and is dreaming of kingdoms +and empires. If at this instant a friend whispers to him, ‘Now the gods +lighten thee; thou art a great fool’ and must be educated—do you +think that he will listen? Or suppose a better sort of man who is attracted +towards philosophy, will they not make Herculean efforts to spoil and corrupt +him? Are we not right in saying that the love of knowledge, no less than +riches, may divert him? Men of this class (Critias) often become +politicians—they are the authors of great mischief in states, and +sometimes also of great good. And thus philosophy is deserted by her natural +protectors, and others enter in and dishonour her. Vulgar little minds see the +land open and rush from the prisons of the arts into her temple. A clever +mechanic having a soul coarse as his body, thinks that he will gain caste by +becoming her suitor. For philosophy, even in her fallen estate, has a dignity +of her own—and he, like a bald little blacksmith’s apprentice as he +is, having made some money and got out of durance, washes and dresses himself +as a bridegroom and marries his master’s daughter. What will be the issue +of such marriages? Will they not be vile and bastard, devoid of truth and +nature? ‘They will.’ Small, then, is the remnant of genuine +philosophers; there may be a few who are citizens of small states, in which +politics are not worth thinking of, or who have been detained by Theages’ +bridle of ill health; for my own case of the oracular sign is almost unique, +and too rare to be worth mentioning. And these few when they have tasted the +pleasures of philosophy, and have taken a look at that den of thieves and place +of wild beasts, which is human life, will stand aside from the storm under the +shelter of a wall, and try to preserve their own innocence and to depart in +peace. ‘A great work, too, will have been accomplished by them.’ +Great, yes, but not the greatest; for man is a social being, and can only +attain his highest development in the society which is best suited to him. +</p> + +<p> +Enough, then, of the causes why philosophy has such an evil name. Another +question is, Which of existing states is suited to her? Not one of them; at +present she is like some exotic seed which degenerates in a strange soil; only +in her proper state will she be shown to be of heavenly growth. ‘And is +her proper state ours or some other?’ Ours in all points but one, which +was left undetermined. You may remember our saying that some living mind or +witness of the legislator was needed in states. But we were afraid to enter +upon a subject of such difficulty, and now the question recurs and has not +grown easier:—How may philosophy be safely studied? Let us bring her into +the light of day, and make an end of the inquiry. +</p> + +<p> +In the first place, I say boldly that nothing can be worse than the present +mode of study. Persons usually pick up a little philosophy in early youth, and +in the intervals of business, but they never master the real difficulty, which +is dialectic. Later, perhaps, they occasionally go to a lecture on philosophy. +Years advance, and the sun of philosophy, unlike that of Heracleitus, sets +never to rise again. This order of education should be reversed; it should +begin with gymnastics in youth, and as the man strengthens, he should increase +the gymnastics of his soul. Then, when active life is over, let him finally +return to philosophy. ‘You are in earnest, Socrates, but the world will +be equally earnest in withstanding you—no more than Thrasymachus.’ +Do not make a quarrel between Thrasymachus and me, who were never enemies and +are now good friends enough. And I shall do my best to convince him and all +mankind of the truth of my words, or at any rate to prepare for the future +when, in another life, we may again take part in similar discussions. +‘That will be a long time hence.’ Not long in comparison with +eternity. The many will probably remain incredulous, for they have never seen +the natural unity of ideas, but only artificial juxtapositions; not free and +generous thoughts, but tricks of controversy and quips of law;—a perfect +man ruling in a perfect state, even a single one they have not known. And we +foresaw that there was no chance of perfection either in states or individuals +until a necessity was laid upon philosophers—not the rogues, but those +whom we called the useless class—of holding office; or until the sons of +kings were inspired with a true love of philosophy. Whether in the infinity of +past time there has been, or is in some distant land, or ever will be +hereafter, an ideal such as we have described, we stoutly maintain that there +has been, is, and will be such a state whenever the Muse of philosophy rules. +Will you say that the world is of another mind? O, my friend, do not revile the +world! They will soon change their opinion if they are gently entreated, and +are taught the true nature of the philosopher. Who can hate a man who loves +him? Or be jealous of one who has no jealousy? Consider, again, that the many +hate not the true but the false philosophers—the pretenders who force +their way in without invitation, and are always speaking of persons and not of +principles, which is unlike the spirit of philosophy. For the true philosopher +despises earthly strife; his eye is fixed on the eternal order in accordance +with which he moulds himself into the Divine image (and not himself only, but +other men), and is the creator of the virtues private as well as public. When +mankind see that the happiness of states is only to be found in that image, +will they be angry with us for attempting to delineate it? ‘Certainly +not. But what will be the process of delineation?’ The artist will do +nothing until he has made a tabula rasa; on this he will inscribe the +constitution of a state, glancing often at the divine truth of nature, and from +that deriving the godlike among men, mingling the two elements, rubbing out and +painting in, until there is a perfect harmony or fusion of the divine and +human. But perhaps the world will doubt the existence of such an artist. What +will they doubt? That the philosopher is a lover of truth, having a nature akin +to the best?—and if they admit this will they still quarrel with us for +making philosophers our kings? ‘They will be less disposed to +quarrel.’ Let us assume then that they are pacified. Still, a person may +hesitate about the probability of the son of a king being a philosopher. And we +do not deny that they are very liable to be corrupted; but yet surely in the +course of ages there might be one exception—and one is enough. If one son +of a king were a philosopher, and had obedient citizens, he might bring the +ideal polity into being. Hence we conclude that our laws are not only the best, +but that they are also possible, though not free from difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +I gained nothing by evading the troublesome questions which arose concerning +women and children. I will be wiser now and acknowledge that we must go to the +bottom of another question: What is to be the education of our guardians? It +was agreed that they were to be lovers of their country, and were to be tested +in the refiner’s fire of pleasures and pains, and those who came forth +pure and remained fixed in their principles were to have honours and rewards in +life and after death. But at this point, the argument put on her veil and +turned into another path. I hesitated to make the assertion which I now +hazard,—that our guardians must be philosophers. You remember all the +contradictory elements, which met in the philosopher—how difficult to +find them all in a single person! Intelligence and spirit are not often +combined with steadiness; the stolid, fearless, nature is averse to +intellectual toil. And yet these opposite elements are all necessary, and +therefore, as we were saying before, the aspirant must be tested in pleasures +and dangers; and also, as we must now further add, in the highest branches of +knowledge. You will remember, that when we spoke of the virtues mention was +made of a longer road, which you were satisfied to leave unexplored. +‘Enough seemed to have been said.’ Enough, my friend; but what is +enough while anything remains wanting? Of all men the guardian must not faint +in the search after truth; he must be prepared to take the longer road, or he +will never reach that higher region which is above the four virtues; and of the +virtues too he must not only get an outline, but a clear and distinct vision. +(Strange that we should be so precise about trifles, so careless about the +highest truths!) ‘And what are the highest?’ You to pretend +unconsciousness, when you have so often heard me speak of the idea of good, +about which we know so little, and without which though a man gain the world he +has no profit of it! Some people imagine that the good is wisdom; but this +involves a circle,—the good, they say, is wisdom, wisdom has to do with +the good. According to others the good is pleasure; but then comes the +absurdity that good is bad, for there are bad pleasures as well as good. Again, +the good must have reality; a man may desire the appearance of virtue, but he +will not desire the appearance of good. Ought our guardians then to be ignorant +of this supreme principle, of which every man has a presentiment, and without +which no man has any real knowledge of anything? ‘But, Socrates, what is +this supreme principle, knowledge or pleasure, or what? You may think me +troublesome, but I say that you have no business to be always repeating the +doctrines of others instead of giving us your own.’ Can I say what I do +not know? ‘You may offer an opinion.’ And will the blindness and +crookedness of opinion content you when you might have the light and certainty +of science? ‘I will only ask you to give such an explanation of the good +as you have given already of temperance and justice.’ I wish that I +could, but in my present mood I cannot reach to the height of the knowledge of +the good. To the parent or principal I cannot introduce you, but to the child +begotten in his image, which I may compare with the interest on the principal, +I will. (Audit the account, and do not let me give you a false statement of the +debt.) You remember our old distinction of the many beautiful and the one +beautiful, the particular and the universal, the objects of sight and the +objects of thought? Did you ever consider that the objects of sight imply a +faculty of sight which is the most complex and costly of our senses, requiring +not only objects of sense, but also a medium, which is light; without which the +sight will not distinguish between colours and all will be a blank? For light +is the noble bond between the perceiving faculty and the thing perceived, and +the god who gives us light is the sun, who is the eye of the day, but is not to +be confounded with the eye of man. This eye of the day or sun is what I call +the child of the good, standing in the same relation to the visible world as +the good to the intellectual. When the sun shines the eye sees, and in the +intellectual world where truth is, there is sight and light. Now that which is +the sun of intelligent natures, is the idea of good, the cause of knowledge and +truth, yet other and fairer than they are, and standing in the same relation to +them in which the sun stands to light. O inconceivable height of beauty, which +is above knowledge and above truth! (‘You cannot surely mean +pleasure,’ he said. Peace, I replied.) And this idea of good, like the +sun, is also the cause of growth, and the author not of knowledge only, but of +being, yet greater far than either in dignity and power. ‘That is a reach +of thought more than human; but, pray, go on with the image, for I suspect that +there is more behind.’ There is, I said; and bearing in mind our two suns +or principles, imagine further their corresponding worlds—one of the +visible, the other of the intelligible; you may assist your fancy by figuring +the distinction under the image of a line divided into two unequal parts, and +may again subdivide each part into two lesser segments representative of the +stages of knowledge in either sphere. The lower portion of the lower or visible +sphere will consist of shadows and reflections, and its upper and smaller +portion will contain real objects in the world of nature or of art. The sphere +of the intelligible will also have two divisions,—one of mathematics, in +which there is no ascent but all is descent; no inquiring into premises, but +only drawing of inferences. In this division the mind works with figures and +numbers, the images of which are taken not from the shadows, but from the +objects, although the truth of them is seen only with the mind’s eye; and +they are used as hypotheses without being analysed. Whereas in the other +division reason uses the hypotheses as stages or steps in the ascent to the +idea of good, to which she fastens them, and then again descends, walking +firmly in the region of ideas, and of ideas only, in her ascent as well as +descent, and finally resting in them. ‘I partly understand,’ he +replied; ‘you mean that the ideas of science are superior to the +hypothetical, metaphorical conceptions of geometry and the other arts or +sciences, whichever is to be the name of them; and the latter conceptions you +refuse to make subjects of pure intellect, because they have no first +principle, although when resting on a first principle, they pass into the +higher sphere.’ You understand me very well, I said. And now to those +four divisions of knowledge you may assign four corresponding +faculties—pure intelligence to the highest sphere; active intelligence to +the second; to the third, faith; to the fourth, the perception of +shadows—and the clearness of the several faculties will be in the same +ratio as the truth of the objects to which they are related... +</p> + +<p> +Like Socrates, we may recapitulate the virtues of the philosopher. In language +which seems to reach beyond the horizon of that age and country, he is +described as ‘the spectator of all time and all existence.’ He has +the noblest gifts of nature, and makes the highest use of them. All his desires +are absorbed in the love of wisdom, which is the love of truth. None of the +graces of a beautiful soul are wanting in him; neither can he fear death, or +think much of human life. The ideal of modern times hardly retains the +simplicity of the antique; there is not the same originality either in truth or +error which characterized the Greeks. The philosopher is no longer living in +the unseen, nor is he sent by an oracle to convince mankind of ignorance; nor +does he regard knowledge as a system of ideas leading upwards by regular stages +to the idea of good. The eagerness of the pursuit has abated; there is more +division of labour and less of comprehensive reflection upon nature and human +life as a whole; more of exact observation and less of anticipation and +inspiration. Still, in the altered conditions of knowledge, the parallel is not +wholly lost; and there may be a use in translating the conception of Plato into +the language of our own age. The philosopher in modern times is one who fixes +his mind on the laws of nature in their sequence and connexion, not on +fragments or pictures of nature; on history, not on controversy; on the truths +which are acknowledged by the few, not on the opinions of the many. He is aware +of the importance of ‘classifying according to nature,’ and will +try to ‘separate the limbs of science without breaking them’ +(Phaedr.). There is no part of truth, whether great or small, which he will +dishonour; and in the least things he will discern the greatest (Parmen.). Like +the ancient philosopher he sees the world pervaded by analogies, but he can +also tell ‘why in some cases a single instance is sufficient for an +induction’ (Mill’s Logic), while in other cases a thousand examples +would prove nothing. He inquires into a portion of knowledge only, because the +whole has grown too vast to be embraced by a single mind or life. He has a +clearer conception of the divisions of science and of their relation to the +mind of man than was possible to the ancients. Like Plato, he has a vision of +the unity of knowledge, not as the beginning of philosophy to be attained by a +study of elementary mathematics, but as the far-off result of the working of +many minds in many ages. He is aware that mathematical studies are preliminary +to almost every other; at the same time, he will not reduce all varieties of +knowledge to the type of mathematics. He too must have a nobility of character, +without which genius loses the better half of greatness. Regarding the world as +a point in immensity, and each individual as a link in a never-ending chain of +existence, he will not think much of his own life, or be greatly afraid of +death. +</p> + +<p> +Adeimantus objects first of all to the form of the Socratic reasoning, thus +showing that Plato is aware of the imperfection of his own method. He brings +the accusation against himself which might be brought against him by a modern +logician—that he extracts the answer because he knows how to put the +question. In a long argument words are apt to change their meaning slightly, or +premises may be assumed or conclusions inferred with rather too much certainty +or universality; the variation at each step may be unobserved, and yet at last +the divergence becomes considerable. Hence the failure of attempts to apply +arithmetical or algebraic formulae to logic. The imperfection, or rather the +higher and more elastic nature of language, does not allow words to have the +precision of numbers or of symbols. And this quality in language impairs the +force of an argument which has many steps. +</p> + +<p> +The objection, though fairly met by Socrates in this particular instance, may +be regarded as implying a reflection upon the Socratic mode of reasoning. And +here, as elsewhere, Plato seems to intimate that the time had come when the +negative and interrogative method of Socrates must be superseded by a positive +and constructive one, of which examples are given in some of the later +dialogues. Adeimantus further argues that the ideal is wholly at variance with +facts; for experience proves philosophers to be either useless or rogues. +Contrary to all expectation Socrates has no hesitation in admitting the truth +of this, and explains the anomaly in an allegory, first characteristically +depreciating his own inventive powers. In this allegory the people are +distinguished from the professional politicians, and, as elsewhere, are spoken +of in a tone of pity rather than of censure under the image of ‘the noble +captain who is not very quick in his perceptions.’ +</p> + +<p> +The uselessness of philosophers is explained by the circumstance that mankind +will not use them. The world in all ages has been divided between contempt and +fear of those who employ the power of ideas and know no other weapons. +Concerning the false philosopher, Socrates argues that the best is most liable +to corruption; and that the finer nature is more likely to suffer from alien +conditions. We too observe that there are some kinds of excellence which spring +from a peculiar delicacy of constitution; as is evidently true of the poetical +and imaginative temperament, which often seems to depend on impressions, and +hence can only breathe or live in a certain atmosphere. The man of genius has +greater pains and greater pleasures, greater powers and greater weaknesses, and +often a greater play of character than is to be found in ordinary men. He can +assume the disguise of virtue or disinterestedness without having them, or veil +personal enmity in the language of patriotism and philosophy,—he can say +the word which all men are thinking, he has an insight which is terrible into +the follies and weaknesses of his fellow-men. An Alcibiades, a Mirabeau, or a +Napoleon the First, are born either to be the authors of great evils in states, +or ‘of great good, when they are drawn in that direction.’ +</p> + +<p> +Yet the thesis, ‘corruptio optimi pessima,’ cannot be maintained +generally or without regard to the kind of excellence which is corrupted. The +alien conditions which are corrupting to one nature, may be the elements of +culture to another. In general a man can only receive his highest development +in a congenial state or family, among friends or fellow-workers. But also he +may sometimes be stirred by adverse circumstances to such a degree that he +rises up against them and reforms them. And while weaker or coarser characters +will extract good out of evil, say in a corrupt state of the church or of +society, and live on happily, allowing the evil to remain, the finer or +stronger natures may be crushed or spoiled by surrounding influences—may +become misanthrope and philanthrope by turns; or in a few instances, like the +founders of the monastic orders, or the Reformers, owing to some peculiarity in +themselves or in their age, may break away entirely from the world and from the +church, sometimes into great good, sometimes into great evil, sometimes into +both. And the same holds in the lesser sphere of a convent, a school, a family. +</p> + +<p> +Plato would have us consider how easily the best natures are overpowered by +public opinion, and what efforts the rest of mankind will make to get +possession of them. The world, the church, their own profession, any political +or party organization, are always carrying them off their legs and teaching +them to apply high and holy names to their own prejudices and interests. The +‘monster’ corporation to which they belong judges right and truth +to be the pleasure of the community. The individual becomes one with his order; +or, if he resists, the world is too much for him, and will sooner or later be +revenged on him. This is, perhaps, a one-sided but not wholly untrue picture of +the maxims and practice of mankind when they ‘sit down together at an +assembly,’ either in ancient or modern times. +</p> + +<p> +When the higher natures are corrupted by politics, the lower take possession of +the vacant place of philosophy. This is described in one of those continuous +images in which the argument, to use a Platonic expression, ‘veils +herself,’ and which is dropped and reappears at intervals. The question +is asked,—Why are the citizens of states so hostile to philosophy? The +answer is, that they do not know her. And yet there is also a better mind of +the many; they would believe if they were taught. But hitherto they have only +known a conventional imitation of philosophy, words without thoughts, systems +which have no life in them; a (divine) person uttering the words of beauty and +freedom, the friend of man holding communion with the Eternal, and seeking to +frame the state in that image, they have never known. The same double feeling +respecting the mass of mankind has always existed among men. The first thought +is that the people are the enemies of truth and right; the second, that this +only arises out of an accidental error and confusion, and that they do not +really hate those who love them, if they could be educated to know them. +</p> + +<p> +In the latter part of the sixth book, three questions have to be considered: +1st, the nature of the longer and more circuitous way, which is contrasted with +the shorter and more imperfect method of Book IV; 2nd, the heavenly pattern or +idea of the state; 3rd, the relation of the divisions of knowledge to one +another and to the corresponding faculties of the soul: +</p> + +<p> +1. Of the higher method of knowledge in Plato we have only a glimpse. Neither +here nor in the Phaedrus or Symposium, nor yet in the Philebus or Sophist, does +he give any clear explanation of his meaning. He would probably have described +his method as proceeding by regular steps to a system of universal knowledge, +which inferred the parts from the whole rather than the whole from the parts. +This ideal logic is not practised by him in the search after justice, or in the +analysis of the parts of the soul; there, like Aristotle in the Nicomachean +Ethics, he argues from experience and the common use of language. But at the +end of the sixth book he conceives another and more perfect method, in which +all ideas are only steps or grades or moments of thought, forming a connected +whole which is self-supporting, and in which consistency is the test of truth. +He does not explain to us in detail the nature of the process. Like many other +thinkers both in ancient and modern times his mind seems to be filled with a +vacant form which he is unable to realize. He supposes the sciences to have a +natural order and connexion in an age when they can hardly be said to exist. He +is hastening on to the ‘end of the intellectual world’ without even +making a beginning of them. +</p> + +<p> +In modern times we hardly need to be reminded that the process of acquiring +knowledge is here confused with the contemplation of absolute knowledge. In all +science a priori and a posteriori truths mingle in various proportions. The a +priori part is that which is derived from the most universal experience of men, +or is universally accepted by them; the a posteriori is that which grows up +around the more general principles and becomes imperceptibly one with them. But +Plato erroneously imagines that the synthesis is separable from the analysis, +and that the method of science can anticipate science. In entertaining such a +vision of a priori knowledge he is sufficiently justified, or at least his +meaning may be sufficiently explained by the similar attempts of Descartes, +Kant, Hegel, and even of Bacon himself, in modern philosophy. Anticipations or +divinations, or prophetic glimpses of truths whether concerning man or nature, +seem to stand in the same relation to ancient philosophy which hypotheses bear +to modern inductive science. These ‘guesses at truth’ were not made +at random; they arose from a superficial impression of uniformities and first +principles in nature which the genius of the Greek, contemplating the expanse +of heaven and earth, seemed to recognize in the distance. Nor can we deny that +in ancient times knowledge must have stood still, and the human mind been +deprived of the very instruments of thought, if philosophy had been strictly +confined to the results of experience. +</p> + +<p> +2. Plato supposes that when the tablet has been made blank the artist will fill +in the lineaments of the ideal state. Is this a pattern laid up in heaven, or +mere vacancy on which he is supposed to gaze with wondering eye? The answer is, +that such ideals are framed partly by the omission of particulars, partly by +imagination perfecting the form which experience supplies (Phaedo). Plato +represents these ideals in a figure as belonging to another world; and in +modern times the idea will sometimes seem to precede, at other times to +co-operate with the hand of the artist. As in science, so also in creative art, +there is a synthetical as well as an analytical method. One man will have the +whole in his mind before he begins; to another the processes of mind and hand +will be simultaneous. +</p> + +<p> +3. There is no difficulty in seeing that Plato’s divisions of knowledge +are based, first, on the fundamental antithesis of sensible and intellectual +which pervades the whole pre-Socratic philosophy; in which is implied also the +opposition of the permanent and transient, of the universal and particular. But +the age of philosophy in which he lived seemed to require a further +distinction;—numbers and figures were beginning to separate from ideas. +The world could no longer regard justice as a cube, and was learning to see, +though imperfectly, that the abstractions of sense were distinct from the +abstractions of mind. Between the Eleatic being or essence and the shadows of +phenomena, the Pythagorean principle of number found a place, and was, as +Aristotle remarks, a conducting medium from one to the other. Hence Plato is +led to introduce a third term which had not hitherto entered into the scheme of +his philosophy. He had observed the use of mathematics in education; they were +the best preparation for higher studies. The subjective relation between them +further suggested an objective one; although the passage from one to the other +is really imaginary (Metaph.). For metaphysical and moral philosophy has no +connexion with mathematics; number and figure are the abstractions of time and +space, not the expressions of purely intellectual conceptions. When divested of +metaphor, a straight line or a square has no more to do with right and justice +than a crooked line with vice. The figurative association was mistaken for a +real one; and thus the three latter divisions of the Platonic proportion were +constructed. +</p> + +<p> +There is more difficulty in comprehending how he arrived at the first term of +the series, which is nowhere else mentioned, and has no reference to any other +part of his system. Nor indeed does the relation of shadows to objects +correspond to the relation of numbers to ideas. Probably Plato has been led by +the love of analogy (Timaeus) to make four terms instead of three, although the +objects perceived in both divisions of the lower sphere are equally objects of +sense. He is also preparing the way, as his manner is, for the shadows of +images at the beginning of the seventh book, and the imitation of an imitation +in the tenth. The line may be regarded as reaching from unity to infinity, and +is divided into two unequal parts, and subdivided into two more; each lower +sphere is the multiplication of the preceding. Of the four faculties, faith in +the lower division has an intermediate position (cp. for the use of the word +faith or belief, (Greek), Timaeus), contrasting equally with the vagueness of +the perception of shadows (Greek) and the higher certainty of understanding +(Greek) and reason (Greek). +</p> + +<p> +The difference between understanding and mind or reason (Greek) is analogous to +the difference between acquiring knowledge in the parts and the contemplation +of the whole. True knowledge is a whole, and is at rest; consistency and +universality are the tests of truth. To this self-evidencing knowledge of the +whole the faculty of mind is supposed to correspond. But there is a knowledge +of the understanding which is incomplete and in motion always, because unable +to rest in the subordinate ideas. Those ideas are called both images and +hypotheses—images because they are clothed in sense, hypotheses because +they are assumptions only, until they are brought into connexion with the idea +of good. +</p> + +<p> +The general meaning of the passage, ‘Noble, then, is the bond which links +together sight...And of this kind I spoke as the intelligible...’ so far +as the thought contained in it admits of being translated into the terms of +modern philosophy, may be described or explained as follows:—There is a +truth, one and self-existent, to which by the help of a ladder let down from +above, the human intelligence may ascend. This unity is like the sun in the +heavens, the light by which all things are seen, the being by which they are +created and sustained. It is the IDEA of good. And the steps of the ladder +leading up to this highest or universal existence are the mathematical +sciences, which also contain in themselves an element of the universal. These, +too, we see in a new manner when we connect them with the idea of good. They +then cease to be hypotheses or pictures, and become essential parts of a higher +truth which is at once their first principle and their final cause. +</p> + +<p> +We cannot give any more precise meaning to this remarkable passage, but we may +trace in it several rudiments or vestiges of thought which are common to us and +to Plato: such as (1) the unity and correlation of the sciences, or rather of +science, for in Plato’s time they were not yet parted off or +distinguished; (2) the existence of a Divine Power, or life or idea or cause or +reason, not yet conceived or no longer conceived as in the Timaeus and +elsewhere under the form of a person; (3) the recognition of the hypothetical +and conditional character of the mathematical sciences, and in a measure of +every science when isolated from the rest; (4) the conviction of a truth which +is invisible, and of a law, though hardly a law of nature, which permeates the +intellectual rather than the visible world. +</p> + +<p> +The method of Socrates is hesitating and tentative, awaiting the fuller +explanation of the idea of good, and of the nature of dialectic in the seventh +book. The imperfect intelligence of Glaucon, and the reluctance of Socrates to +make a beginning, mark the difficulty of the subject. The allusion to +Theages’ bridle, and to the internal oracle, or demonic sign, of +Socrates, which here, as always in Plato, is only prohibitory; the remark that +the salvation of any remnant of good in the present evil state of the world is +due to God only; the reference to a future state of existence, which is unknown +to Glaucon in the tenth book, and in which the discussions of Socrates and his +disciples would be resumed; the surprise in the answers; the fanciful irony of +Socrates, where he pretends that he can only describe the strange position of +the philosopher in a figure of speech; the original observation that the +Sophists, after all, are only the representatives and not the leaders of public +opinion; the picture of the philosopher standing aside in the shower of sleet +under a wall; the figure of ‘the great beast’ followed by the +expression of good-will towards the common people who would not have rejected +the philosopher if they had known him; the ‘right noble thought’ +that the highest truths demand the greatest exactness; the hesitation of +Socrates in returning once more to his well-worn theme of the idea of good; the +ludicrous earnestness of Glaucon; the comparison of philosophy to a deserted +maiden who marries beneath her—are some of the most interesting +characteristics of the sixth book. +</p> + +<p> +Yet a few more words may be added, on the old theme, which was so oft discussed +in the Socratic circle, of which we, like Glaucon and Adeimantus, would fain, +if possible, have a clearer notion. Like them, we are dissatisfied when we are +told that the idea of good can only be revealed to a student of the +mathematical sciences, and we are inclined to think that neither we nor they +could have been led along that path to any satisfactory goal. For we have +learned that differences of quantity cannot pass into differences of quality, +and that the mathematical sciences can never rise above themselves into the +sphere of our higher thoughts, although they may sometimes furnish symbols and +expressions of them, and may train the mind in habits of abstraction and +self-concentration. The illusion which was natural to an ancient philosopher +has ceased to be an illusion to us. But if the process by which we are supposed +to arrive at the idea of good be really imaginary, may not the idea itself be +also a mere abstraction? We remark, first, that in all ages, and especially in +primitive philosophy, words such as being, essence, unity, good, have exerted +an extraordinary influence over the minds of men. The meagreness or +negativeness of their content has been in an inverse ratio to their power. They +have become the forms under which all things were comprehended. There was a +need or instinct in the human soul which they satisfied; they were not ideas, +but gods, and to this new mythology the men of a later generation began to +attach the powers and associations of the elder deities. +</p> + +<p> +The idea of good is one of those sacred words or forms of thought, which were +beginning to take the place of the old mythology. It meant unity, in which all +time and all existence were gathered up. It was the truth of all things, and +also the light in which they shone forth, and became evident to intelligences +human and divine. It was the cause of all things, the power by which they were +brought into being. It was the universal reason divested of a human +personality. It was the life as well as the light of the world, all knowledge +and all power were comprehended in it. The way to it was through the +mathematical sciences, and these too were dependent on it. To ask whether God +was the maker of it, or made by it, would be like asking whether God could be +conceived apart from goodness, or goodness apart from God. The God of the +Timaeus is not really at variance with the idea of good; they are aspects of +the same, differing only as the personal from the impersonal, or the masculine +from the neuter, the one being the expression or language of mythology, the +other of philosophy. +</p> + +<p> +This, or something like this, is the meaning of the idea of good as conceived +by Plato. Ideas of number, order, harmony, development may also be said to +enter into it. The paraphrase which has just been given of it goes beyond the +actual words of Plato. We have perhaps arrived at the stage of philosophy which +enables us to understand what he is aiming at, better than he did himself. We +are beginning to realize what he saw darkly and at a distance. But if he could +have been told that this, or some conception of the same kind, but higher than +this, was the truth at which he was aiming, and the need which he sought to +supply, he would gladly have recognized that more was contained in his own +thoughts than he himself knew. As his words are few and his manner reticent and +tentative, so must the style of his interpreter be. We should not approach his +meaning more nearly by attempting to define it further. In translating him into +the language of modern thought, we might insensibly lose the spirit of ancient +philosophy. It is remarkable that although Plato speaks of the idea of good as +the first principle of truth and being, it is nowhere mentioned in his writings +except in this passage. Nor did it retain any hold upon the minds of his +disciples in a later generation; it was probably unintelligible to them. Nor +does the mention of it in Aristotle appear to have any reference to this or any +other passage in his extant writings. +</p> + +<p> +BOOK VII. And now I will describe in a figure the enlightenment or +unenlightenment of our nature:—Imagine human beings living in an +underground den which is open towards the light; they have been there from +childhood, having their necks and legs chained, and can only see into the den. +At a distance there is a fire, and between the fire and the prisoners a raised +way, and a low wall is built along the way, like the screen over which +marionette players show their puppets. Behind the wall appear moving figures, +who hold in their hands various works of art, and among them images of men and +animals, wood and stone, and some of the passers-by are talking and others +silent. ‘A strange parable,’ he said, ‘and strange +captives.’ They are ourselves, I replied; and they see only the shadows +of the images which the fire throws on the wall of the den; to these they give +names, and if we add an echo which returns from the wall, the voices of the +passengers will seem to proceed from the shadows. Suppose now that you suddenly +turn them round and make them look with pain and grief to themselves at the +real images; will they believe them to be real? Will not their eyes be dazzled, +and will they not try to get away from the light to something which they are +able to behold without blinking? And suppose further, that they are dragged up +a steep and rugged ascent into the presence of the sun himself, will not their +sight be darkened with the excess of light? Some time will pass before they get +the habit of perceiving at all; and at first they will be able to perceive only +shadows and reflections in the water; then they will recognize the moon and the +stars, and will at length behold the sun in his own proper place as he is. Last +of all they will conclude:—This is he who gives us the year and the +seasons, and is the author of all that we see. How will they rejoice in passing +from darkness to light! How worthless to them will seem the honours and glories +of the den! But now imagine further, that they descend into their old +habitations;—in that underground dwelling they will not see as well as +their fellows, and will not be able to compete with them in the measurement of +the shadows on the wall; there will be many jokes about the man who went on a +visit to the sun and lost his eyes, and if they find anybody trying to set free +and enlighten one of their number, they will put him to death, if they can +catch him. Now the cave or den is the world of sight, the fire is the sun, the +way upwards is the way to knowledge, and in the world of knowledge the idea of +good is last seen and with difficulty, but when seen is inferred to be the +author of good and right—parent of the lord of light in this world, and +of truth and understanding in the other. He who attains to the beatific vision +is always going upwards; he is unwilling to descend into political assemblies +and courts of law; for his eyes are apt to blink at the images or shadows of +images which they behold in them—he cannot enter into the ideas of those +who have never in their lives understood the relation of the shadow to the +substance. But blindness is of two kinds, and may be caused either by passing +out of darkness into light or out of light into darkness, and a man of sense +will distinguish between them, and will not laugh equally at both of them, but +the blindness which arises from fulness of light he will deem blessed, and pity +the other; or if he laugh at the puzzled soul looking at the sun, he will have +more reason to laugh than the inhabitants of the den at those who descend from +above. There is a further lesson taught by this parable of ours. Some persons +fancy that instruction is like giving eyes to the blind, but we say that the +faculty of sight was always there, and that the soul only requires to be turned +round towards the light. And this is conversion; other virtues are almost like +bodily habits, and may be acquired in the same manner, but intelligence has a +diviner life, and is indestructible, turning either to good or evil according +to the direction given. Did you never observe how the mind of a clever rogue +peers out of his eyes, and the more clearly he sees, the more evil he does? Now +if you take such an one, and cut away from him those leaden weights of pleasure +and desire which bind his soul to earth, his intelligence will be turned round, +and he will behold the truth as clearly as he now discerns his meaner ends. And +have we not decided that our rulers must neither be so uneducated as to have no +fixed rule of life, nor so over-educated as to be unwilling to leave their +paradise for the business of the world? We must choose out therefore the +natures who are most likely to ascend to the light and knowledge of the good; +but we must not allow them to remain in the region of light; they must be +forced down again among the captives in the den to partake of their labours and +honours. ‘Will they not think this a hardship?’ You should remember +that our purpose in framing the State was not that our citizens should do what +they like, but that they should serve the State for the common good of all. May +we not fairly say to our philosopher,—Friend, we do you no wrong; for in +other States philosophy grows wild, and a wild plant owes nothing to the +gardener, but you have been trained by us to be the rulers and kings of our +hive, and therefore we must insist on your descending into the den. You must, +each of you, take your turn, and become able to use your eyes in the dark, and +with a little practice you will see far better than those who quarrel about the +shadows, whose knowledge is a dream only, whilst yours is a waking reality. It +may be that the saint or philosopher who is best fitted, may also be the least +inclined to rule, but necessity is laid upon him, and he must no longer live in +the heaven of ideas. And this will be the salvation of the State. For those who +rule must not be those who are desirous to rule; and, if you can offer to our +citizens a better life than that of rulers generally is, there will be a chance +that the rich, not only in this world’s goods, but in virtue and wisdom, +may bear rule. And the only life which is better than the life of political +ambition is that of philosophy, which is also the best preparation for the +government of a State. +</p> + +<p> +Then now comes the question,—How shall we create our rulers; what way is +there from darkness to light? The change is effected by philosophy; it is not +the turning over of an oyster-shell, but the conversion of a soul from night to +day, from becoming to being. And what training will draw the soul upwards? Our +former education had two branches, gymnastic, which was occupied with the body, +and music, the sister art, which infused a natural harmony into mind and +literature; but neither of these sciences gave any promise of doing what we +want. Nothing remains to us but that universal or primary science of which all +the arts and sciences are partakers, I mean number or calculation. ‘Very +true.’ Including the art of war? ‘Yes, certainly.’ Then there +is something ludicrous about Palamedes in the tragedy, coming in and saying +that he had invented number, and had counted the ranks and set them in order. +For if Agamemnon could not count his feet (and without number how could he?) he +must have been a pretty sort of general indeed. No man should be a soldier who +cannot count, and indeed he is hardly to be called a man. But I am not speaking +of these practical applications of arithmetic, for number, in my view, is +rather to be regarded as a conductor to thought and being. I will explain what +I mean by the last expression:—Things sensible are of two kinds; the one +class invite or stimulate the mind, while in the other the mind acquiesces. Now +the stimulating class are the things which suggest contrast and relation. For +example, suppose that I hold up to the eyes three fingers—a fore finger, +a middle finger, a little finger—the sight equally recognizes all three +fingers, but without number cannot further distinguish them. Or again, suppose +two objects to be relatively great and small, these ideas of greatness and +smallness are supplied not by the sense, but by the mind. And the perception of +their contrast or relation quickens and sets in motion the mind, which is +puzzled by the confused intimations of sense, and has recourse to number in +order to find out whether the things indicated are one or more than one. Number +replies that they are two and not one, and are to be distinguished from one +another. Again, the sight beholds great and small, but only in a confused +chaos, and not until they are distinguished does the question arise of their +respective natures; we are thus led on to the distinction between the visible +and intelligible. That was what I meant when I spoke of stimulants to the +intellect; I was thinking of the contradictions which arise in perception. The +idea of unity, for example, like that of a finger, does not arouse thought +unless involving some conception of plurality; but when the one is also the +opposite of one, the contradiction gives rise to reflection; an example of this +is afforded by any object of sight. All number has also an elevating effect; it +raises the mind out of the foam and flux of generation to the contemplation of +being, having lesser military and retail uses also. The retail use is not +required by us; but as our guardian is to be a soldier as well as a +philosopher, the military one may be retained. And to our higher purpose no +science can be better adapted; but it must be pursued in the spirit of a +philosopher, not of a shopkeeper. It is concerned, not with visible objects, +but with abstract truth; for numbers are pure abstractions—the true +arithmetician indignantly denies that his unit is capable of division. When you +divide, he insists that you are only multiplying; his ‘one’ is not +material or resolvable into fractions, but an unvarying and absolute equality; +and this proves the purely intellectual character of his study. Note also the +great power which arithmetic has of sharpening the wits; no other discipline is +equally severe, or an equal test of general ability, or equally improving to a +stupid person. +</p> + +<p> +Let our second branch of education be geometry. ‘I can easily see,’ +replied Glaucon, ‘that the skill of the general will be doubled by his +knowledge of geometry.’ That is a small matter; the use of geometry, to +which I refer, is the assistance given by it in the contemplation of the idea +of good, and the compelling the mind to look at true being, and not at +generation only. Yet the present mode of pursuing these studies, as any one who +is the least of a mathematician is aware, is mean and ridiculous; they are made +to look downwards to the arts, and not upwards to eternal existence. The +geometer is always talking of squaring, subtending, apposing, as if he had in +view action; whereas knowledge is the real object of the study. It should +elevate the soul, and create the mind of philosophy; it should raise up what +has fallen down, not to speak of lesser uses in war and military tactics, and +in the improvement of the faculties. +</p> + +<p> +Shall we propose, as a third branch of our education, astronomy? ‘Very +good,’ replied Glaucon; ‘the knowledge of the heavens is necessary +at once for husbandry, navigation, military tactics.’ I like your way of +giving useful reasons for everything in order to make friends of the world. And +there is a difficulty in proving to mankind that education is not only useful +information but a purification of the eye of the soul, which is better than the +bodily eye, for by this alone is truth seen. Now, will you appeal to mankind in +general or to the philosopher? or would you prefer to look to yourself only? +‘Every man is his own best friend.’ Then take a step backward, for +we are out of order, and insert the third dimension which is of solids, after +the second which is of planes, and then you may proceed to solids in motion. +But solid geometry is not popular and has not the patronage of the State, nor +is the use of it fully recognized; the difficulty is great, and the votaries of +the study are conceited and impatient. Still the charm of the pursuit wins upon +men, and, if government would lend a little assistance, there might be great +progress made. ‘Very true,’ replied Glaucon; ‘but do I +understand you now to begin with plane geometry, and to place next geometry of +solids, and thirdly, astronomy, or the motion of solids?’ Yes, I said; my +hastiness has only hindered us. +</p> + +<p> +‘Very good, and now let us proceed to astronomy, about which I am willing +to speak in your lofty strain. No one can fail to see that the contemplation of +the heavens draws the soul upwards.’ I am an exception, then; astronomy +as studied at present appears to me to draw the soul not upwards, but +downwards. Star-gazing is just looking up at the ceiling—no better; a man +may lie on his back on land or on water—he may look up or look down, but +there is no science in that. The vision of knowledge of which I speak is seen +not with the eyes, but with the mind. All the magnificence of the heavens is +but the embroidery of a copy which falls far short of the divine Original, and +teaches nothing about the absolute harmonies or motions of things. Their beauty +is like the beauty of figures drawn by the hand of Daedalus or any other great +artist, which may be used for illustration, but no mathematician would seek to +obtain from them true conceptions of equality or numerical relations. How +ridiculous then to look for these in the map of the heavens, in which the +imperfection of matter comes in everywhere as a disturbing element, marring the +symmetry of day and night, of months and years, of the sun and stars in their +courses. Only by problems can we place astronomy on a truly scientific basis. +Let the heavens alone, and exert the intellect. +</p> + +<p> +Still, mathematics admit of other applications, as the Pythagoreans say, and we +agree. There is a sister science of harmonical motion, adapted to the ear as +astronomy is to the eye, and there may be other applications also. Let us +inquire of the Pythagoreans about them, not forgetting that we have an aim +higher than theirs, which is the relation of these sciences to the idea of +good. The error which pervades astronomy also pervades harmonics. The musicians +put their ears in the place of their minds. ‘Yes,’ replied Glaucon, +‘I like to see them laying their ears alongside of their +neighbours’ faces—some saying, “That’s a new +note,” others declaring that the two notes are the same.’ Yes, I +said; but you mean the empirics who are always twisting and torturing the +strings of the lyre, and quarrelling about the tempers of the strings; I am +referring rather to the Pythagorean harmonists, who are almost equally in +error. For they investigate only the numbers of the consonances which are +heard, and ascend no higher,—of the true numerical harmony which is +unheard, and is only to be found in problems, they have not even a conception. +‘That last,’ he said, ‘must be a marvellous thing.’ A +thing, I replied, which is only useful if pursued with a view to the good. +</p> + +<p> +All these sciences are the prelude of the strain, and are profitable if they +are regarded in their natural relations to one another. ‘I dare say, +Socrates,’ said Glaucon; ‘but such a study will be an endless +business.’ What study do you mean—of the prelude, or what? For all +these things are only the prelude, and you surely do not suppose that a mere +mathematician is also a dialectician? ‘Certainly not. I have hardly ever +known a mathematician who could reason.’ And yet, Glaucon, is not true +reasoning that hymn of dialectic which is the music of the intellectual world, +and which was by us compared to the effort of sight, when from beholding the +shadows on the wall we arrived at last at the images which gave the shadows? +Even so the dialectical faculty withdrawing from sense arrives by the pure +intellect at the contemplation of the idea of good, and never rests but at the +very end of the intellectual world. And the royal road out of the cave into the +light, and the blinking of the eyes at the sun and turning to contemplate the +shadows of reality, not the shadows of an image only—this progress and +gradual acquisition of a new faculty of sight by the help of the mathematical +sciences, is the elevation of the soul to the contemplation of the highest +ideal of being. +</p> + +<p> +‘So far, I agree with you. But now, leaving the prelude, let us proceed +to the hymn. What, then, is the nature of dialectic, and what are the paths +which lead thither?’ Dear Glaucon, you cannot follow me here. There can +be no revelation of the absolute truth to one who has not been disciplined in +the previous sciences. But that there is a science of absolute truth, which is +attained in some way very different from those now practised, I am confident. +For all other arts or sciences are relative to human needs and opinions; and +the mathematical sciences are but a dream or hypothesis of true being, and +never analyse their own principles. Dialectic alone rises to the principle +which is above hypotheses, converting and gently leading the eye of the soul +out of the barbarous slough of ignorance into the light of the upper world, +with the help of the sciences which we have been describing—sciences, as +they are often termed, although they require some other name, implying greater +clearness than opinion and less clearness than science, and this in our +previous sketch was understanding. And so we get four names—two for +intellect, and two for opinion,—reason or mind, understanding, faith, +perception of shadows—which make a proportion— +being:becoming::intellect:opinion—and science:belief::understanding: +perception of shadows. Dialectic may be further described as that science which +defines and explains the essence or being of each nature, which distinguishes +and abstracts the good, and is ready to do battle against all opponents in the +cause of good. To him who is not a dialectician life is but a sleepy dream; and +many a man is in his grave before his is well waked up. And would you have the +future rulers of your ideal State intelligent beings, or stupid as posts? +‘Certainly not the latter.’ Then you must train them in dialectic, +which will teach them to ask and answer questions, and is the coping-stone of +the sciences. +</p> + +<p> +I dare say that you have not forgotten how our rulers were chosen; and the +process of selection may be carried a step further:—As before, they must +be constant and valiant, good-looking, and of noble manners, but now they must +also have natural ability which education will improve; that is to say, they +must be quick at learning, capable of mental toil, retentive, solid, diligent +natures, who combine intellectual with moral virtues; not lame and one-sided, +diligent in bodily exercise and indolent in mind, or conversely; not a maimed +soul, which hates falsehood and yet unintentionally is always wallowing in the +mire of ignorance; not a bastard or feeble person, but sound in wind and limb, +and in perfect condition for the great gymnastic trial of the mind. Justice +herself can find no fault with natures such as these; and they will be the +saviours of our State; disciples of another sort would only make philosophy +more ridiculous than she is at present. Forgive my enthusiasm; I am becoming +excited; but when I see her trampled underfoot, I am angry at the authors of +her disgrace. ‘I did not notice that you were more excited than you ought +to have been.’ But I felt that I was. Now do not let us forget another +point in the selection of our disciples—that they must be young and not +old. For Solon is mistaken in saying that an old man can be always learning; +youth is the time of study, and here we must remember that the mind is free and +dainty, and, unlike the body, must not be made to work against the grain. +Learning should be at first a sort of play, in which the natural bent is +detected. As in training them for war, the young dogs should at first only +taste blood; but when the necessary gymnastics are over which during two or +three years divide life between sleep and bodily exercise, then the education +of the soul will become a more serious matter. At twenty years of age, a +selection must be made of the more promising disciples, with whom a new epoch +of education will begin. The sciences which they have hitherto learned in +fragments will now be brought into relation with each other and with true +being; for the power of combining them is the test of speculative and +dialectical ability. And afterwards at thirty a further selection shall be made +of those who are able to withdraw from the world of sense into the abstraction +of ideas. But at this point, judging from present experience, there is a danger +that dialectic may be the source of many evils. The danger may be illustrated +by a parallel case:—Imagine a person who has been brought up in wealth +and luxury amid a crowd of flatterers, and who is suddenly informed that he is +a supposititious son. He has hitherto honoured his reputed parents and +disregarded the flatterers, and now he does the reverse. This is just what +happens with a man’s principles. There are certain doctrines which he +learnt at home and which exercised a parental authority over him. Presently he +finds that imputations are cast upon them; a troublesome querist comes and +asks, ‘What is the just and good?’ or proves that virtue is vice +and vice virtue, and his mind becomes unsettled, and he ceases to love, honour, +and obey them as he has hitherto done. He is seduced into the life of pleasure, +and becomes a lawless person and a rogue. The case of such speculators is very +pitiable, and, in order that our thirty years’ old pupils may not require +this pity, let us take every possible care that young persons do not study +philosophy too early. For a young man is a sort of puppy who only plays with an +argument; and is reasoned into and out of his opinions every day; he soon +begins to believe nothing, and brings himself and philosophy into discredit. A +man of thirty does not run on in this way; he will argue and not merely +contradict, and adds new honour to philosophy by the sobriety of his conduct. +What time shall we allow for this second gymnastic training of the +soul?—say, twice the time required for the gymnastics of the body; six, +or perhaps five years, to commence at thirty, and then for fifteen years let +the student go down into the den, and command armies, and gain experience of +life. At fifty let him return to the end of all things, and have his eyes +uplifted to the idea of good, and order his life after that pattern; if +necessary, taking his turn at the helm of State, and training up others to be +his successors. When his time comes he shall depart in peace to the islands of +the blest. He shall be honoured with sacrifices, and receive such worship as +the Pythian oracle approves. +</p> + +<p> +‘You are a statuary, Socrates, and have made a perfect image of our +governors.’ Yes, and of our governesses, for the women will share in all +things with the men. And you will admit that our State is not a mere +aspiration, but may really come into being when there shall arise +philosopher-kings, one or more, who will despise earthly vanities, and will be +the servants of justice only. ‘And how will they begin their work?’ +Their first act will be to send away into the country all those who are more +than ten years of age, and to proceed with those who are left... +</p> + +<p> +At the commencement of the sixth book, Plato anticipated his explanation of the +relation of the philosopher to the world in an allegory, in this, as in other +passages, following the order which he prescribes in education, and proceeding +from the concrete to the abstract. At the commencement of Book VII, under the +figure of a cave having an opening towards a fire and a way upwards to the true +light, he returns to view the divisions of knowledge, exhibiting familiarly, as +in a picture, the result which had been hardly won by a great effort of thought +in the previous discussion; at the same time casting a glance onward at the +dialectical process, which is represented by the way leading from darkness to +light. The shadows, the images, the reflection of the sun and stars in the +water, the stars and sun themselves, severally correspond,—the first, to +the realm of fancy and poetry,—the second, to the world of +sense,—the third, to the abstractions or universals of sense, of which +the mathematical sciences furnish the type,—the fourth and last to the +same abstractions, when seen in the unity of the idea, from which they derive a +new meaning and power. The true dialectical process begins with the +contemplation of the real stars, and not mere reflections of them, and ends +with the recognition of the sun, or idea of good, as the parent not only of +light but of warmth and growth. To the divisions of knowledge the stages of +education partly answer:—first, there is the early education of childhood +and youth in the fancies of the poets, and in the laws and customs of the +State;—then there is the training of the body to be a warrior athlete, +and a good servant of the mind;—and thirdly, after an interval follows +the education of later life, which begins with mathematics and proceeds to +philosophy in general. +</p> + +<p> +There seem to be two great aims in the philosophy of Plato,—first, to +realize abstractions; secondly, to connect them. According to him, the true +education is that which draws men from becoming to being, and to a +comprehensive survey of all being. He desires to develop in the human mind the +faculty of seeing the universal in all things; until at last the particulars of +sense drop away and the universal alone remains. He then seeks to combine the +universals which he has disengaged from sense, not perceiving that the +correlation of them has no other basis but the common use of language. He never +understands that abstractions, as Hegel says, are ‘mere +abstractions’—of use when employed in the arrangement of facts, but +adding nothing to the sum of knowledge when pursued apart from them, or with +reference to an imaginary idea of good. Still the exercise of the faculty of +abstraction apart from facts has enlarged the mind, and played a great part in +the education of the human race. Plato appreciated the value of this faculty, +and saw that it might be quickened by the study of number and relation. All +things in which there is opposition or proportion are suggestive of reflection. +The mere impression of sense evokes no power of thought or of mind, but when +sensible objects ask to be compared and distinguished, then philosophy begins. +The science of arithmetic first suggests such distinctions. The follow in order +the other sciences of plain and solid geometry, and of solids in motion, one +branch of which is astronomy or the harmony of the spheres,—to this is +appended the sister science of the harmony of sounds. Plato seems also to hint +at the possibility of other applications of arithmetical or mathematical +proportions, such as we employ in chemistry and natural philosophy, such as the +Pythagoreans and even Aristotle make use of in Ethics and Politics, e.g. his +distinction between arithmetical and geometrical proportion in the Ethics (Book +V), or between numerical and proportional equality in the Politics. +</p> + +<p> +The modern mathematician will readily sympathise with Plato’s delight in +the properties of pure mathematics. He will not be disinclined to say with +him:—Let alone the heavens, and study the beauties of number and figure +in themselves. He too will be apt to depreciate their application to the arts. +He will observe that Plato has a conception of geometry, in which figures are +to be dispensed with; thus in a distant and shadowy way seeming to anticipate +the possibility of working geometrical problems by a more general mode of +analysis. He will remark with interest on the backward state of solid geometry, +which, alas! was not encouraged by the aid of the State in the age of Plato; +and he will recognize the grasp of Plato’s mind in his ability to +conceive of one science of solids in motion including the earth as well as the +heavens,—not forgetting to notice the intimation to which allusion has +been already made, that besides astronomy and harmonics the science of solids +in motion may have other applications. Still more will he be struck with the +comprehensiveness of view which led Plato, at a time when these sciences hardly +existed, to say that they must be studied in relation to one another, and to +the idea of good, or common principle of truth and being. But he will also see +(and perhaps without surprise) that in that stage of physical and mathematical +knowledge, Plato has fallen into the error of supposing that he can construct +the heavens a priori by mathematical problems, and determine the principles of +harmony irrespective of the adaptation of sounds to the human ear. The illusion +was a natural one in that age and country. The simplicity and certainty of +astronomy and harmonics seemed to contrast with the variation and complexity of +the world of sense; hence the circumstance that there was some elementary basis +of fact, some measurement of distance or time or vibrations on which they must +ultimately rest, was overlooked by him. The modern predecessors of Newton fell +into errors equally great; and Plato can hardly be said to have been very far +wrong, or may even claim a sort of prophetic insight into the subject, when we +consider that the greater part of astronomy at the present day consists of +abstract dynamics, by the help of which most astronomical discoveries have been +made. +</p> + +<p> +The metaphysical philosopher from his point of view recognizes mathematics as +an instrument of education,—which strengthens the power of attention, +developes the sense of order and the faculty of construction, and enables the +mind to grasp under simple formulae the quantitative differences of physical +phenomena. But while acknowledging their value in education, he sees also that +they have no connexion with our higher moral and intellectual ideas. In the +attempt which Plato makes to connect them, we easily trace the influences of +ancient Pythagorean notions. There is no reason to suppose that he is speaking +of the ideal numbers; but he is describing numbers which are pure abstractions, +to which he assigns a real and separate existence, which, as ‘the +teachers of the art’ (meaning probably the Pythagoreans) would have +affirmed, repel all attempts at subdivision, and in which unity and every other +number are conceived of as absolute. The truth and certainty of numbers, when +thus disengaged from phenomena, gave them a kind of sacredness in the eyes of +an ancient philosopher. Nor is it easy to say how far ideas of order and +fixedness may have had a moral and elevating influence on the minds of men, +‘who,’ in the words of the Timaeus, ‘might learn to regulate +their erring lives according to them.’ It is worthy of remark that the +old Pythagorean ethical symbols still exist as figures of speech among +ourselves. And those who in modern times see the world pervaded by universal +law, may also see an anticipation of this last word of modern philosophy in the +Platonic idea of good, which is the source and measure of all things, and yet +only an abstraction (Philebus). +</p> + +<p> +Two passages seem to require more particular explanations. First, that which +relates to the analysis of vision. The difficulty in this passage may be +explained, like many others, from differences in the modes of conception +prevailing among ancient and modern thinkers. To us, the perceptions of sense +are inseparable from the act of the mind which accompanies them. The +consciousness of form, colour, distance, is indistinguishable from the simple +sensation, which is the medium of them. Whereas to Plato sense is the +Heraclitean flux of sense, not the vision of objects in the order in which they +actually present themselves to the experienced sight, but as they may be +imagined to appear confused and blurred to the half-awakened eye of the infant. +The first action of the mind is aroused by the attempt to set in order this +chaos, and the reason is required to frame distinct conceptions under which the +confused impressions of sense may be arranged. Hence arises the question, +‘What is great, what is small?’ and thus begins the distinction of +the visible and the intelligible. +</p> + +<p> +The second difficulty relates to Plato’s conception of harmonics. Three +classes of harmonists are distinguished by him:—first, the Pythagoreans, +whom he proposes to consult as in the previous discussion on music he was to +consult Damon—they are acknowledged to be masters in the art, but are +altogether deficient in the knowledge of its higher import and relation to the +good; secondly, the mere empirics, whom Glaucon appears to confuse with them, +and whom both he and Socrates ludicrously describe as experimenting by mere +auscultation on the intervals of sounds. Both of these fall short in different +degrees of the Platonic idea of harmony, which must be studied in a purely +abstract way, first by the method of problems, and secondly as a part of +universal knowledge in relation to the idea of good. +</p> + +<p> +The allegory has a political as well as a philosophical meaning. The den or +cave represents the narrow sphere of politics or law (compare the description +of the philosopher and lawyer in the Theaetetus), and the light of the eternal +ideas is supposed to exercise a disturbing influence on the minds of those who +return to this lower world. In other words, their principles are too wide for +practical application; they are looking far away into the past and future, when +their business is with the present. The ideal is not easily reduced to the +conditions of actual life, and may often be at variance with them. And at +first, those who return are unable to compete with the inhabitants of the den +in the measurement of the shadows, and are derided and persecuted by them; but +after a while they see the things below in far truer proportions than those who +have never ascended into the upper world. The difference between the politician +turned into a philosopher and the philosopher turned into a politician, is +symbolized by the two kinds of disordered eyesight, the one which is +experienced by the captive who is transferred from darkness to day, the other, +of the heavenly messenger who voluntarily for the good of his fellow-men +descends into the den. In what way the brighter light is to dawn on the +inhabitants of the lower world, or how the idea of good is to become the +guiding principle of politics, is left unexplained by Plato. Like the nature +and divisions of dialectic, of which Glaucon impatiently demands to be +informed, perhaps he would have said that the explanation could not be given +except to a disciple of the previous sciences. (Symposium.) +</p> + +<p> +Many illustrations of this part of the Republic may be found in modern Politics +and in daily life. For among ourselves, too, there have been two sorts of +Politicians or Statesmen, whose eyesight has become disordered in two different +ways. First, there have been great men who, in the language of Burke, +‘have been too much given to general maxims,’ who, like J.S. Mill +or Burke himself, have been theorists or philosophers before they were +politicians, or who, having been students of history, have allowed some great +historical parallel, such as the English Revolution of 1688, or possibly +Athenian democracy or Roman Imperialism, to be the medium through which they +viewed contemporary events. Or perhaps the long projecting shadow of some +existing institution may have darkened their vision. The Church of the future, +the Commonwealth of the future, the Society of the future, have so absorbed +their minds, that they are unable to see in their true proportions the Politics +of to-day. They have been intoxicated with great ideas, such as liberty, or +equality, or the greatest happiness of the greatest number, or the brotherhood +of humanity, and they no longer care to consider how these ideas must be +limited in practice or harmonized with the conditions of human life. They are +full of light, but the light to them has become only a sort of luminous mist or +blindness. Almost every one has known some enthusiastic half-educated person, +who sees everything at false distances, and in erroneous proportions. +</p> + +<p> +With this disorder of eyesight may be contrasted another—of those who see +not far into the distance, but what is near only; who have been engaged all +their lives in a trade or a profession; who are limited to a set or sect of +their own. Men of this kind have no universal except their own interests or the +interests of their class, no principle but the opinion of persons like +themselves, no knowledge of affairs beyond what they pick up in the streets or +at their club. Suppose them to be sent into a larger world, to undertake some +higher calling, from being tradesmen to turn generals or politicians, from +being schoolmasters to become philosophers:—or imagine them on a sudden +to receive an inward light which reveals to them for the first time in their +lives a higher idea of God and the existence of a spiritual world, by this +sudden conversion or change is not their daily life likely to be upset; and on +the other hand will not many of their old prejudices and narrownesses still +adhere to them long after they have begun to take a more comprehensive view of +human things? From familiar examples like these we may learn what Plato meant +by the eyesight which is liable to two kinds of disorders. +</p> + +<p> +Nor have we any difficulty in drawing a parallel between the young Athenian in +the fifth century before Christ who became unsettled by new ideas, and the +student of a modern University who has been the subject of a similar +‘aufklärung.’ We too observe that when young men begin to criticise +customary beliefs, or to analyse the constitution of human nature, they are apt +to lose hold of solid principle (ἅπαν τὸ +βέβαιον αὐτῶν +ἐξοίχεται). They are like trees +which have been frequently transplanted. The earth about them is loose, and +they have no roots reaching far into the soil. They ‘light upon every +flower,’ following their own wayward wills, or because the wind blows +them. They catch opinions, as diseases are caught—when they are in the +air. Borne hither and thither, ‘they speedily fall into beliefs’ +the opposite of those in which they were brought up. They hardly retain the +distinction of right and wrong; they seem to think one thing as good as +another. They suppose themselves to be searching after truth when they are +playing the game of ‘follow my leader.’ They fall in love ‘at +first sight’ with paradoxes respecting morality, some fancy about art, +some novelty or eccentricity in religion, and like lovers they are so absorbed +for a time in their new notion that they can think of nothing else. The +resolution of some philosophical or theological question seems to them more +interesting and important than any substantial knowledge of literature or +science or even than a good life. Like the youth in the Philebus, they are +ready to discourse to any one about a new philosophy. They are generally the +disciples of some eminent professor or sophist, whom they rather imitate than +understand. They may be counted happy if in later years they retain some of the +simple truths which they acquired in early education, and which they may, +perhaps, find to be worth all the rest. Such is the picture which Plato draws +and which we only reproduce, partly in his own words, of the dangers which +beset youth in times of transition, when old opinions are fading away and the +new are not yet firmly established. Their condition is ingeniously compared by +him to that of a supposititious son, who has made the discovery that his +reputed parents are not his real ones, and, in consequence, they have lost +their authority over him. +</p> + +<p> +The distinction between the mathematician and the dialectician is also +noticeable. Plato is very well aware that the faculty of the mathematician is +quite distinct from the higher philosophical sense which recognizes and +combines first principles. The contempt which he expresses for distinctions of +words, the danger of involuntary falsehood, the apology which Socrates makes +for his earnestness of speech, are highly characteristic of the Platonic style +and mode of thought. The quaint notion that if Palamedes was the inventor of +number Agamemnon could not have counted his feet; the art by which we are made +to believe that this State of ours is not a dream only; the gravity with which +the first step is taken in the actual creation of the State, namely, the +sending out of the city all who had arrived at ten years of age, in order to +expedite the business of education by a generation, are also truly Platonic. +(For the last, compare the passage at the end of the third book, in which he +expects the lie about the earthborn men to be believed in the second +generation.) +</p> + +<p> +BOOK VIII. And so we have arrived at the conclusion, that in the perfect State +wives and children are to be in common; and the education and pursuits of men +and women, both in war and peace, are to be common, and kings are to be +philosophers and warriors, and the soldiers of the State are to live together, +having all things in common; and they are to be warrior athletes, receiving no +pay but only their food, from the other citizens. Now let us return to the +point at which we digressed. ‘That is easily done,’ he replied: +‘You were speaking of the State which you had constructed, and of the +individual who answered to this, both of whom you affirmed to be good; and you +said that of inferior States there were four forms and four individuals +corresponding to them, which although deficient in various degrees, were all of +them worth inspecting with a view to determining the relative happiness or +misery of the best or worst man. Then Polemarchus and Adeimantus interrupted +you, and this led to another argument,—and so here we are.’ Suppose +that we put ourselves again in the same position, and do you repeat your +question. ‘I should like to know of what constitutions you were +speaking?’ Besides the perfect State there are only four of any note in +Hellas:—first, the famous Lacedaemonian or Cretan commonwealth; secondly, +oligarchy, a State full of evils; thirdly, democracy, which follows next in +order; fourthly, tyranny, which is the disease or death of all government. Now, +States are not made of ‘oak and rock,’ but of flesh and blood; and +therefore as there are five States there must be five human natures in +individuals, which correspond to them. And first, there is the ambitious +nature, which answers to the Lacedaemonian State; secondly, the oligarchical +nature; thirdly, the democratical; and fourthly, the tyrannical. This last will +have to be compared with the perfectly just, which is the fifth, that we may +know which is the happier, and then we shall be able to determine whether the +argument of Thrasymachus or our own is the more convincing. And as before we +began with the State and went on to the individual, so now, beginning with +timocracy, let us go on to the timocratical man, and then proceed to the other +forms of government, and the individuals who answer to them. +</p> + +<p> +But how did timocracy arise out of the perfect State? Plainly, like all changes +of government, from division in the rulers. But whence came division? +‘Sing, heavenly Muses,’ as Homer says;—let them condescend to +answer us, as if we were children, to whom they put on a solemn face in jest. +‘And what will they say?’ They will say that human things are fated +to decay, and even the perfect State will not escape from this law of destiny, +when ‘the wheel comes full circle’ in a period short or long. +Plants or animals have times of fertility and sterility, which the intelligence +of rulers because alloyed by sense will not enable them to ascertain, and +children will be born out of season. For whereas divine creations are in a +perfect cycle or number, the human creation is in a number which declines from +perfection, and has four terms and three intervals of numbers, increasing, +waning, assimilating, dissimilating, and yet perfectly commensurate with each +other. The base of the number with a fourth added (or which is 3:4), multiplied +by five and cubed, gives two harmonies:—the first a square number, which +is a hundred times the base (or a hundred times a hundred); the second, an +oblong, being a hundred squares of the rational diameter of a figure the side +of which is five, subtracting one from each square or two perfect squares from +all, and adding a hundred cubes of three. This entire number is geometrical and +contains the rule or law of generation. When this law is neglected marriages +will be unpropitious; the inferior offspring who are then born will in time +become the rulers; the State will decline, and education fall into decay; +gymnastic will be preferred to music, and the gold and silver and brass and +iron will form a chaotic mass—thus division will arise. Such is the +Muses’ answer to our question. ‘And a true answer, of +course:—but what more have they to say?’ They say that the two +races, the iron and brass, and the silver and gold, will draw the State +different ways;—the one will take to trade and moneymaking, and the +others, having the true riches and not caring for money, will resist them: the +contest will end in a compromise; they will agree to have private property, and +will enslave their fellow-citizens who were once their friends and nurturers. +But they will retain their warlike character, and will be chiefly occupied in +fighting and exercising rule. Thus arises timocracy, which is intermediate +between aristocracy and oligarchy. +</p> + +<p> +The new form of government resembles the ideal in obedience to rulers and +contempt for trade, and having common meals, and in devotion to warlike and +gymnastic exercises. But corruption has crept into philosophy, and simplicity +of character, which was once her note, is now looked for only in the military +class. Arts of war begin to prevail over arts of peace; the ruler is no longer +a philosopher; as in oligarchies, there springs up among them an extravagant +love of gain—get another man’s and save your own, is their +principle; and they have dark places in which they hoard their gold and silver, +for the use of their women and others; they take their pleasures by stealth, +like boys who are running away from their father—the law; and their +education is not inspired by the Muse, but imposed by the strong arm of power. +The leading characteristic of this State is party spirit and ambition. +</p> + +<p> +And what manner of man answers to such a State? ‘In love of +contention,’ replied Adeimantus, ‘he will be like our friend +Glaucon.’ In that respect, perhaps, but not in others. He is +self-asserting and ill-educated, yet fond of literature, although not himself a +speaker,—fierce with slaves, but obedient to rulers, a lover of power and +honour, which he hopes to gain by deeds of arms,—fond, too, of gymnastics +and of hunting. As he advances in years he grows avaricious, for he has lost +philosophy, which is the only saviour and guardian of men. His origin is as +follows:—His father is a good man dwelling in an ill-ordered State, who +has retired from politics in order that he may lead a quiet life. His mother is +angry at her loss of precedence among other women; she is disgusted at her +husband’s selfishness, and she expatiates to her son on the unmanliness +and indolence of his father. The old family servant takes up the tale, and says +to the youth:—‘When you grow up you must be more of a man than your +father.’ All the world are agreed that he who minds his own business is +an idiot, while a busybody is highly honoured and esteemed. The young man +compares this spirit with his father’s words and ways, and as he is +naturally well disposed, although he has suffered from evil influences, he +rests at a middle point and becomes ambitious and a lover of honour. +</p> + +<p> +And now let us set another city over against another man. The next form of +government is oligarchy, in which the rule is of the rich only; nor is it +difficult to see how such a State arises. The decline begins with the +possession of gold and silver; illegal modes of expenditure are invented; one +draws another on, and the multitude are infected; riches outweigh virtue; +lovers of money take the place of lovers of honour; misers of politicians; and, +in time, political privileges are confined by law to the rich, who do not +shrink from violence in order to effect their purposes. +</p> + +<p> +Thus much of the origin,—let us next consider the evils of oligarchy. +Would a man who wanted to be safe on a voyage take a bad pilot because he was +rich, or refuse a good one because he was poor? And does not the analogy apply +still more to the State? And there are yet greater evils: two nations are +struggling together in one—the rich and the poor; and the rich dare not +put arms into the hands of the poor, and are unwilling to pay for defenders out +of their own money. And have we not already condemned that State in which the +same persons are warriors as well as shopkeepers? The greatest evil of all is +that a man may sell his property and have no place in the State; while there is +one class which has enormous wealth, the other is entirely destitute. But +observe that these destitutes had not really any more of the governing nature +in them when they were rich than now that they are poor; they were miserable +spendthrifts always. They are the drones of the hive; only whereas the actual +drone is unprovided by nature with a sting, the two-legged things whom we call +drones are some of them without stings and some of them have dreadful stings; +in other words, there are paupers and there are rogues. These are never far +apart; and in oligarchical cities, where nearly everybody is a pauper who is +not a ruler, you will find abundance of both. And this evil state of society +originates in bad education and bad government. +</p> + +<p> +Like State, like man,—the change in the latter begins with the +representative of timocracy; he walks at first in the ways of his father, who +may have been a statesman, or general, perhaps; and presently he sees him +‘fallen from his high estate,’ the victim of informers, dying in +prison or exile, or by the hand of the executioner. The lesson which he thus +receives, makes him cautious; he leaves politics, represses his pride, and +saves pence. Avarice is enthroned as his bosom’s lord, and assumes the +style of the Great King; the rational and spirited elements sit humbly on the +ground at either side, the one immersed in calculation, the other absorbed in +the admiration of wealth. The love of honour turns to love of money; the +conversion is instantaneous. The man is mean, saving, toiling, the slave of one +passion which is the master of the rest: Is he not the very image of the State? +He has had no education, or he would never have allowed the blind god of riches +to lead the dance within him. And being uneducated he will have many slavish +desires, some beggarly, some knavish, breeding in his soul. If he is the +trustee of an orphan, and has the power to defraud, he will soon prove that he +is not without the will, and that his passions are only restrained by fear and +not by reason. Hence he leads a divided existence; in which the better desires +mostly prevail. But when he is contending for prizes and other distinctions, he +is afraid to incur a loss which is to be repaid only by barren honour; in time +of war he fights with a small part of his resources, and usually keeps his +money and loses the victory. +</p> + +<p> +Next comes democracy and the democratic man, out of oligarchy and the +oligarchical man. Insatiable avarice is the ruling passion of an oligarchy; and +they encourage expensive habits in order that they may gain by the ruin of +extravagant youth. Thus men of family often lose their property or rights of +citizenship; but they remain in the city, full of hatred against the new owners +of their estates and ripe for revolution. The usurer with stooping walk +pretends not to see them; he passes by, and leaves his sting—that is, his +money—in some other victim; and many a man has to pay the parent or +principal sum multiplied into a family of children, and is reduced into a state +of dronage by him. The only way of diminishing the evil is either to limit a +man in his use of his property, or to insist that he shall lend at his own +risk. But the ruling class do not want remedies; they care only for money, and +are as careless of virtue as the poorest of the citizens. Now there are +occasions on which the governors and the governed meet together,—at +festivals, on a journey, voyaging or fighting. The sturdy pauper finds that in +the hour of danger he is not despised; he sees the rich man puffing and +panting, and draws the conclusion which he privately imparts to his +companions,—‘that our people are not good for much;’ and as a +sickly frame is made ill by a mere touch from without, or sometimes without +external impulse is ready to fall to pieces of itself, so from the least cause, +or with none at all, the city falls ill and fights a battle for life or death. +And democracy comes into power when the poor are the victors, killing some and +exiling some, and giving equal shares in the government to all the rest. +</p> + +<p> +The manner of life in such a State is that of democrats; there is freedom and +plainness of speech, and every man does what is right in his own eyes, and has +his own way of life. Hence arise the most various developments of character; +the State is like a piece of embroidery of which the colours and figures are +the manners of men, and there are many who, like women and children, prefer +this variety to real beauty and excellence. The State is not one but many, like +a bazaar at which you can buy anything. The great charm is, that you may do as +you like; you may govern if you like, let it alone if you like; go to war and +make peace if you feel disposed, and all quite irrespective of anybody else. +When you condemn men to death they remain alive all the same; a gentleman is +desired to go into exile, and he stalks about the streets like a hero; and +nobody sees him or cares for him. Observe, too, how grandly Democracy sets her +foot upon all our fine theories of education,—how little she cares for +the training of her statesmen! The only qualification which she demands is the +profession of patriotism. Such is democracy;—a pleasing, lawless, various +sort of government, distributing equality to equals and unequals alike. +</p> + +<p> +Let us now inspect the individual democrat; and first, as in the case of the +State, we will trace his antecedents. He is the son of a miserly oligarch, and +has been taught by him to restrain the love of unnecessary pleasures. Perhaps I +ought to explain this latter term:—Necessary pleasures are those which +are good, and which we cannot do without; unnecessary pleasures are those which +do no good, and of which the desire might be eradicated by early training. For +example, the pleasures of eating and drinking are necessary and healthy, up to +a certain point; beyond that point they are alike hurtful to body and mind, and +the excess may be avoided. When in excess, they may be rightly called expensive +pleasures, in opposition to the useful ones. And the drone, as we called him, +is the slave of these unnecessary pleasures and desires, whereas the miserly +oligarch is subject only to the necessary. +</p> + +<p> +The oligarch changes into the democrat in the following manner:—The youth +who has had a miserly bringing up, gets a taste of the drone’s honey; he +meets with wild companions, who introduce him to every new pleasure. As in the +State, so in the individual, there are allies on both sides, temptations from +without and passions from within; there is reason also and external influences +of parents and friends in alliance with the oligarchical principle; and the two +factions are in violent conflict with one another. Sometimes the party of order +prevails, but then again new desires and new disorders arise, and the whole mob +of passions gets possession of the Acropolis, that is to say, the soul, which +they find void and unguarded by true words and works. Falsehoods and illusions +ascend to take their place; the prodigal goes back into the country of the +Lotophagi or drones, and openly dwells there. And if any offer of alliance or +parley of individual elders comes from home, the false spirits shut the gates +of the castle and permit no one to enter,—there is a battle, and they +gain the victory; and straightway making alliance with the desires, they banish +modesty, which they call folly, and send temperance over the border. When the +house has been swept and garnished, they dress up the exiled vices, and, +crowning them with garlands, bring them back under new names. Insolence they +call good breeding, anarchy freedom, waste magnificence, impudence courage. +Such is the process by which the youth passes from the necessary pleasures to +the unnecessary. After a while he divides his time impartially between them; +and perhaps, when he gets older and the violence of passion has abated, he +restores some of the exiles and lives in a sort of equilibrium, indulging first +one pleasure and then another; and if reason comes and tells him that some +pleasures are good and honourable, and others bad and vile, he shakes his head +and says that he can make no distinction between them. Thus he lives in the +fancy of the hour; sometimes he takes to drink, and then he turns abstainer; he +practises in the gymnasium or he does nothing at all; then again he would be a +philosopher or a politician; or again, he would be a warrior or a man of +business; he is +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +‘Every thing by starts and nothing long.’ +</p> + +<p> +There remains still the finest and fairest of all men and all +States—tyranny and the tyrant. Tyranny springs from democracy much as +democracy springs from oligarchy. Both arise from excess; the one from excess +of wealth, the other from excess of freedom. ‘The great natural good of +life,’ says the democrat, ‘is freedom.’ And this exclusive +love of freedom and regardlessness of everything else, is the cause of the +change from democracy to tyranny. The State demands the strong wine of freedom, +and unless her rulers give her a plentiful draught, punishes and insults them; +equality and fraternity of governors and governed is the approved principle. +Anarchy is the law, not of the State only, but of private houses, and extends +even to the animals. Father and son, citizen and foreigner, teacher and pupil, +old and young, are all on a level; fathers and teachers fear their sons and +pupils, and the wisdom of the young man is a match for the elder, and the old +imitate the jaunty manners of the young because they are afraid of being +thought morose. Slaves are on a level with their masters and mistresses, and +there is no difference between men and women. Nay, the very animals in a +democratic State have a freedom which is unknown in other places. The she-dogs +are as good as their she-mistresses, and horses and asses march along with +dignity and run their noses against anybody who comes in their way. ‘That +has often been my experience.’ At last the citizens become so sensitive +that they cannot endure the yoke of laws, written or unwritten; they would have +no man call himself their master. Such is the glorious beginning of things out +of which tyranny springs. ‘Glorious, indeed; but what is to +follow?’ The ruin of oligarchy is the ruin of democracy; for there is a +law of contraries; the excess of freedom passes into the excess of slavery, and +the greater the freedom the greater the slavery. You will remember that in the +oligarchy were found two classes—rogues and paupers, whom we compared to +drones with and without stings. These two classes are to the State what phlegm +and bile are to the human body; and the State-physician, or legislator, must +get rid of them, just as the bee-master keeps the drones out of the hive. Now +in a democracy, too, there are drones, but they are more numerous and more +dangerous than in the oligarchy; there they are inert and unpractised, here +they are full of life and animation; and the keener sort speak and act, while +the others buzz about the bema and prevent their opponents from being heard. +And there is another class in democratic States, of respectable, thriving +individuals, who can be squeezed when the drones have need of their +possessions; there is moreover a third class, who are the labourers and the +artisans, and they make up the mass of the people. When the people meet, they +are omnipotent, but they cannot be brought together unless they are attracted +by a little honey; and the rich are made to supply the honey, of which the +demagogues keep the greater part themselves, giving a taste only to the mob. +Their victims attempt to resist; they are driven mad by the stings of the +drones, and so become downright oligarchs in self-defence. Then follow +informations and convictions for treason. The people have some protector whom +they nurse into greatness, and from this root the tree of tyranny springs. The +nature of the change is indicated in the old fable of the temple of Zeus +Lycaeus, which tells how he who tastes human flesh mixed up with the flesh of +other victims will turn into a wolf. Even so the protector, who tastes human +blood, and slays some and exiles others with or without law, who hints at +abolition of debts and division of lands, must either perish or become a +wolf—that is, a tyrant. Perhaps he is driven out, but he soon comes back +from exile; and then if his enemies cannot get rid of him by lawful means, they +plot his assassination. Thereupon the friend of the people makes his well-known +request to them for a body-guard, which they readily grant, thinking only of +his danger and not of their own. Now let the rich man make to himself wings, +for he will never run away again if he does not do so then. And the Great +Protector, having crushed all his rivals, stands proudly erect in the chariot +of State, a full-blown tyrant: Let us enquire into the nature of his happiness. +</p> + +<p> +In the early days of his tyranny he smiles and beams upon everybody; he is not +a ‘dominus,’ no, not he: he has only come to put an end to debt and +the monopoly of land. Having got rid of foreign enemies, he makes himself +necessary to the State by always going to war. He is thus enabled to depress +the poor by heavy taxes, and so keep them at work; and he can get rid of bolder +spirits by handing them over to the enemy. Then comes unpopularity; some of his +old associates have the courage to oppose him. The consequence is, that he has +to make a purgation of the State; but, unlike the physician who purges away the +bad, he must get rid of the high-spirited, the wise and the wealthy; for he has +no choice between death and a life of shame and dishonour. And the more hated +he is, the more he will require trusty guards; but how will he obtain them? +‘They will come flocking like birds—for pay.’ Will he not +rather obtain them on the spot? He will take the slaves from their owners and +make them his body-guard; these are his trusted friends, who admire and look up +to him. Are not the tragic poets wise who magnify and exalt the tyrant, and say +that he is wise by association with the wise? And are not their praises of +tyranny alone a sufficient reason why we should exclude them from our State? +They may go to other cities, and gather the mob about them with fine words, and +change commonwealths into tyrannies and democracies, receiving honours and +rewards for their services; but the higher they and their friends ascend +constitution hill, the more their honour will fail and become ‘too +asthmatic to mount.’ To return to the tyrant—How will he support +that rare army of his? First, by robbing the temples of their treasures, which +will enable him to lighten the taxes; then he will take all his father’s +property, and spend it on his companions, male or female. Now his father is the +demus, and if the demus gets angry, and says that a great hulking son ought not +to be a burden on his parents, and bids him and his riotous crew begone, then +will the parent know what a monster he has been nurturing, and that the son +whom he would fain expel is too strong for him. ‘You do not mean to say +that he will beat his father?’ Yes, he will, after having taken away his +arms. ‘Then he is a parricide and a cruel, unnatural son.’ And the +people have jumped from the fear of slavery into slavery, out of the smoke into +the fire. Thus liberty, when out of all order and reason, passes into the worst +form of servitude... +</p> + +<p> +In the previous books Plato has described the ideal State; now he returns to +the perverted or declining forms, on which he had lightly touched at the end of +Book IV. These he describes in a succession of parallels between the +individuals and the States, tracing the origin of either in the State or +individual which has preceded them. He begins by asking the point at which he +digressed; and is thus led shortly to recapitulate the substance of the three +former books, which also contain a parallel of the philosopher and the State. +</p> + +<p> +Of the first decline he gives no intelligible account; he would not have liked +to admit the most probable causes of the fall of his ideal State, which to us +would appear to be the impracticability of communism or the natural antagonism +of the ruling and subject classes. He throws a veil of mystery over the origin +of the decline, which he attributes to ignorance of the law of population. Of +this law the famous geometrical figure or number is the expression. Like the +ancients in general, he had no idea of the gradual perfectibility of man or of +the education of the human race. His ideal was not to be attained in the course +of ages, but was to spring in full armour from the head of the legislator. When +good laws had been given, he thought only of the manner in which they were +likely to be corrupted, or of how they might be filled up in detail or restored +in accordance with their original spirit. He appears not to have reflected upon +the full meaning of his own words, ‘In the brief space of human life, +nothing great can be accomplished’; or again, as he afterwards says in +the Laws, ‘Infinite time is the maker of cities.’ The order of +constitutions which is adopted by him represents an order of thought rather +than a succession of time, and may be considered as the first attempt to frame +a philosophy of history. +</p> + +<p> +The first of these declining States is timocracy, or the government of soldiers +and lovers of honour, which answers to the Spartan State; this is a government +of force, in which education is not inspired by the Muses, but imposed by the +law, and in which all the finer elements of organization have disappeared. The +philosopher himself has lost the love of truth, and the soldier, who is of a +simpler and honester nature, rules in his stead. The individual who answers to +timocracy has some noticeable qualities. He is described as ill educated, but, +like the Spartan, a lover of literature; and although he is a harsh master to +his servants he has no natural superiority over them. His character is based +upon a reaction against the circumstances of his father, who in a troubled city +has retired from politics; and his mother, who is dissatisfied at her own +position, is always urging him towards the life of political ambition. Such a +character may have had this origin, and indeed Livy attributes the Licinian +laws to a feminine jealousy of a similar kind. But there is obviously no +connection between the manner in which the timocratic State springs out of the +ideal, and the mere accident by which the timocratic man is the son of a +retired statesman. +</p> + +<p> +The two next stages in the decline of constitutions have even less historical +foundation. For there is no trace in Greek history of a polity like the Spartan +or Cretan passing into an oligarchy of wealth, or of the oligarchy of wealth +passing into a democracy. The order of history appears to be different; first, +in the Homeric times there is the royal or patriarchal form of government, +which a century or two later was succeeded by an oligarchy of birth rather than +of wealth, and in which wealth was only the accident of the hereditary +possession of land and power. Sometimes this oligarchical government gave way +to a government based upon a qualification of property, which, according to +Aristotle’s mode of using words, would have been called a timocracy; and +this in some cities, as at Athens, became the conducting medium to democracy. +But such was not the necessary order of succession in States; nor, indeed, can +any order be discerned in the endless fluctuation of Greek history (like the +tides in the Euripus), except, perhaps, in the almost uniform tendency from +monarchy to aristocracy in the earliest times. At first sight there appears to +be a similar inversion in the last step of the Platonic succession; for +tyranny, instead of being the natural end of democracy, in early Greek history +appears rather as a stage leading to democracy; the reign of Peisistratus and +his sons is an episode which comes between the legislation of Solon and the +constitution of Cleisthenes; and some secret cause common to them all seems to +have led the greater part of Hellas at her first appearance in the dawn of +history, e.g. Athens, Argos, Corinth, Sicyon, and nearly every State with the +exception of Sparta, through a similar stage of tyranny which ended either in +oligarchy or democracy. But then we must remember that Plato is describing +rather the contemporary governments of the Sicilian States, which alternated +between democracy and tyranny, than the ancient history of Athens or Corinth. +</p> + +<p> +The portrait of the tyrant himself is just such as the later Greek delighted to +draw of Phalaris and Dionysius, in which, as in the lives of mediaeval saints +or mythic heroes, the conduct and actions of one were attributed to another in +order to fill up the outline. There was no enormity which the Greek was not +today to believe of them; the tyrant was the negation of government and law; +his assassination was glorious; there was no crime, however unnatural, which +might not with probability be attributed to him. In this, Plato was only +following the common thought of his countrymen, which he embellished and +exaggerated with all the power of his genius. There is no need to suppose that +he drew from life; or that his knowledge of tyrants is derived from a personal +acquaintance with Dionysius. The manner in which he speaks of them would rather +tend to render doubtful his ever having ‘consorted’ with them, or +entertained the schemes, which are attributed to him in the Epistles, of +regenerating Sicily by their help. +</p> + +<p> +Plato in a hyperbolical and serio-comic vein exaggerates the follies of +democracy which he also sees reflected in social life. To him democracy is a +state of individualism or dissolution; in which every one is doing what is +right in his own eyes. Of a people animated by a common spirit of liberty, +rising as one man to repel the Persian host, which is the leading idea of +democracy in Herodotus and Thucydides, he never seems to think. But if he is +not a believer in liberty, still less is he a lover of tyranny. His deeper and +more serious condemnation is reserved for the tyrant, who is the ideal of +wickedness and also of weakness, and who in his utter helplessness and +suspiciousness is leading an almost impossible existence, without that remnant +of good which, in Plato’s opinion, was required to give power to evil +(Book I). This ideal of wickedness living in helpless misery, is the reverse of +that other portrait of perfect injustice ruling in happiness and splendour, +which first of all Thrasymachus, and afterwards the sons of Ariston had drawn, +and is also the reverse of the king whose rule of life is the good of his +subjects. +</p> + +<p> +Each of these governments and individuals has a corresponding ethical +gradation: the ideal State is under the rule of reason, not extinguishing but +harmonizing the passions, and training them in virtue; in the timocracy and the +timocratic man the constitution, whether of the State or of the individual, is +based, first, upon courage, and secondly, upon the love of honour; this latter +virtue, which is hardly to be esteemed a virtue, has superseded all the rest. +In the second stage of decline the virtues have altogether disappeared, and the +love of gain has succeeded to them; in the third stage, or democracy, the +various passions are allowed to have free play, and the virtues and vices are +impartially cultivated. But this freedom, which leads to many curious +extravagances of character, is in reality only a state of weakness and +dissipation. At last, one monster passion takes possession of the whole nature +of man—this is tyranny. In all of them excess—the excess first of +wealth and then of freedom, is the element of decay. +</p> + +<p> +The eighth book of the Republic abounds in pictures of life and fanciful +allusions; the use of metaphorical language is carried to a greater extent than +anywhere else in Plato. We may remark, +</p> + +<p> +(1), the description of the two nations in one, which become more and more +divided in the Greek Republics, as in feudal times, and perhaps also in our +own; +</p> + +<p> +(2), the notion of democracy expressed in a sort of Pythagorean formula as +equality among unequals; +</p> + +<p> +(3), the free and easy ways of men and animals, which are characteristic of +liberty, as foreign mercenaries and universal mistrust are of the tyrant; +</p> + +<p> +(4), the proposal that mere debts should not be recoverable by law is a +speculation which has often been entertained by reformers of the law in modern +times, and is in harmony with the tendencies of modern legislation. Debt and +land were the two great difficulties of the ancient lawgiver: in modern times +we may be said to have almost, if not quite, solved the first of these +difficulties, but hardly the second. +</p> + +<p> +Still more remarkable are the corresponding portraits of individuals: there is +the family picture of the father and mother and the old servant of the +timocratical man, and the outward respectability and inherent meanness of the +oligarchical; the uncontrolled licence and freedom of the democrat, in which +the young Alcibiades seems to be depicted, doing right or wrong as he pleases, +and who at last, like the prodigal, goes into a far country (note here the play +of language by which the democratic man is himself represented under the image +of a State having a citadel and receiving embassies); and there is the +wild-beast nature, which breaks loose in his successor. The hit about the +tyrant being a parricide; the representation of the tyrant’s life as an +obscene dream; the rhetorical surprise of a more miserable than the most +miserable of men in Book IX; the hint to the poets that if they are the friends +of tyrants there is no place for them in a constitutional State, and that they +are too clever not to see the propriety of their own expulsion; the continuous +image of the drones who are of two kinds, swelling at last into the monster +drone having wings (Book IX),—are among Plato’s happiest touches. +</p> + +<p> +There remains to be considered the great difficulty of this book of the +Republic, the so-called number of the State. This is a puzzle almost as great +as the Number of the Beast in the Book of Revelation, and though apparently +known to Aristotle, is referred to by Cicero as a proverb of obscurity (Ep. ad +Att.). And some have imagined that there is no answer to the puzzle, and that +Plato has been practising upon his readers. But such a deception as this is +inconsistent with the manner in which Aristotle speaks of the number (Pol.), +and would have been ridiculous to any reader of the Republic who was acquainted +with Greek mathematics. As little reason is there for supposing that Plato +intentionally used obscure expressions; the obscurity arises from our want of +familiarity with the subject. On the other hand, Plato himself indicates that +he is not altogether serious, and in describing his number as a solemn jest of +the Muses, he appears to imply some degree of satire on the symbolical use of +number. (Compare Cratylus; Protag.) +</p> + +<p> +Our hope of understanding the passage depends principally on an accurate study +of the words themselves; on which a faint light is thrown by the parallel +passage in the ninth book. Another help is the allusion in Aristotle, who makes +the important remark that the latter part of the passage (Greek) describes a +solid figure. (Pol.—‘He only says that nothing is abiding, but that +all things change in a certain cycle; and that the origin of the change is a +base of numbers which are in the ratio of 4:3; and this when combined with a +figure of five gives two harmonies; he means when the number of this figure +becomes solid.’) Some further clue may be gathered from the appearance of +the Pythagorean triangle, which is denoted by the numbers 3, 4, 5, and in +which, as in every right-angled triangle, the squares of the two lesser sides +equal the square of the hypotenuse (9 + 16 = 25). +</p> + +<p> +Plato begins by speaking of a perfect or cyclical number (Tim.), i.e. a number +in which the sum of the divisors equals the whole; this is the divine or +perfect number in which all lesser cycles or revolutions are complete. He also +speaks of a human or imperfect number, having four terms and three intervals of +numbers which are related to one another in certain proportions; these he +converts into figures, and finds in them when they have been raised to the +third power certain elements of number, which give two ‘harmonies,’ +the one square, the other oblong; but he does not say that the square number +answers to the divine, or the oblong number to the human cycle; nor is any +intimation given that the first or divine number represents the period of the +world, the second the period of the state, or of the human race as Zeller +supposes; nor is the divine number afterwards mentioned (Arist.). The second is +the number of generations or births, and presides over them in the same +mysterious manner in which the stars preside over them, or in which, according +to the Pythagoreans, opportunity, justice, marriage, are represented by some +number or figure. This is probably the number 216. +</p> + +<p> +The explanation given in the text supposes the two harmonies to make up the +number 8000. This explanation derives a certain plausibility from the +circumstance that 8000 is the ancient number of the Spartan citizens (Herod.), +and would be what Plato might have called ‘a number which nearly concerns +the population of a city’; the mysterious disappearance of the Spartan +population may possibly have suggested to him the first cause of his decline of +States. The lesser or square ‘harmony,’ of 400, might be a symbol +of the guardians,—the larger or oblong ‘harmony,’ of the +people, and the numbers 3, 4, 5 might refer respectively to the three orders in +the State or parts of the soul, the four virtues, the five forms of government. +The harmony of the musical scale, which is elsewhere used as a symbol of the +harmony of the state, is also indicated. For the numbers 3, 4, 5, which +represent the sides of the Pythagorean triangle, also denote the intervals of +the scale. +</p> + +<p> +The terms used in the statement of the problem may be explained as follows. A +perfect number (Greek), as already stated, is one which is equal to the sum of +its divisors. Thus 6, which is the first perfect or cyclical number, = 1 + 2 + +3. The words (Greek), ‘terms’ or ‘notes,’ and (Greek), +‘intervals,’ are applicable to music as well as to number and +figure. (Greek) is the ‘base’ on which the whole calculation +depends, or the ‘lowest term’ from which it can be worked out. The +words (Greek) have been variously translated—‘squared and +cubed’ (Donaldson), ‘equalling and equalled in power’ +(Weber), ‘by involution and evolution,’ i.e. by raising the power +and extracting the root (as in the translation). Numbers are called ‘like +and unlike’ (Greek) when the factors or the sides of the planes and cubes +which they represent are or are not in the same ratio: e.g. 8 and 27 = 2 cubed +and 3 cubed; and conversely. ‘Waxing’ (Greek) numbers, called also +‘increasing’ (Greek), are those which are exceeded by the sum of +their divisors: e.g. 12 and 18 are less than 16 and 21. ‘Waning’ +(Greek) numbers, called also ‘decreasing’ (Greek) are those which +succeed the sum of their divisors: e.g. 8 and 27 exceed 7 and 13. The words +translated ‘commensurable and agreeable to one another’ (Greek) +seem to be different ways of describing the same relation, with more or less +precision. They are equivalent to ‘expressible in terms having the same +relation to one another,’ like the series 8, 12, 18, 27, each of which +numbers is in the relation of (1 and 1/2) to the preceding. The +‘base,’ or ‘fundamental number, which has 1/3 added to +it’ (1 and 1/3) = 4/3 or a musical fourth. (Greek) is a +‘proportion’ of numbers as of musical notes, applied either to the +parts or factors of a single number or to the relation of one number to +another. The first harmony is a ‘square’ number (Greek); the second +harmony is an ‘oblong’ number (Greek), i.e. a number representing a +figure of which the opposite sides only are equal. (Greek) = ‘numbers +squared from’ or ‘upon diameters’; (Greek) = +‘rational,’ i.e. omitting fractions, (Greek), +‘irrational,’ i.e. including fractions; e.g. 49 is a square of the +rational diameter of a figure the side of which = 5: 50, of an irrational +diameter of the same. For several of the explanations here given and for a good +deal besides I am indebted to an excellent article on the Platonic Number by +Dr. Donaldson (Proc. of the Philol. Society). +</p> + +<p> +The conclusions which he draws from these data are summed up by him as follows. +Having assumed that the number of the perfect or divine cycle is the number of +the world, and the number of the imperfect cycle the number of the state, he +proceeds: ‘The period of the world is defined by the perfect number 6, +that of the state by the cube of that number or 216, which is the product of +the last pair of terms in the Platonic Tetractys (a series of seven terms, 1, +2, 3, 4, 9, 8, 27); and if we take this as the basis of our computation, we +shall have two cube numbers (Greek), viz. 8 and 27; and the mean proportionals +between these, viz. 12 and 18, will furnish three intervals and four terms, and +these terms and intervals stand related to one another in the sesqui-altera +ratio, i.e. each term is to the preceding as 3/2. Now if we remember that the +number 216 = 8 x 27 = 3 cubed + 4 cubed + 5 cubed, and 3 squared + 4 squared = +5 squared, we must admit that this number implies the numbers 3, 4, 5, to which +musicians attach so much importance. And if we combine the ratio 4/3 with the +number 5, or multiply the ratios of the sides by the hypotenuse, we shall by +first squaring and then cubing obtain two expressions, which denote the ratio +of the two last pairs of terms in the Platonic Tetractys, the former multiplied +by the square, the latter by the cube of the number 10, the sum of the first +four digits which constitute the Platonic Tetractys.’ The two (Greek) he +elsewhere explains as follows: ‘The first (Greek) is (Greek), in other +words (4/3 x 5) all squared = 100 x 2 squared over 3 squared. The second +(Greek), a cube of the same root, is described as 100 multiplied (alpha) by the +rational diameter of 5 diminished by unity, i.e., as shown above, 48: (beta) by +two incommensurable diameters, i.e. the two first irrationals, or 2 and 3: and +(gamma) by the cube of 3, or 27. Thus we have (48 + 5 + 27) 100 = 1000 x 2 +cubed. This second harmony is to be the cube of the number of which the former +harmony is the square, and therefore must be divided by the cube of 3. In other +words, the whole expression will be: (1), for the first harmony, 400/9: (2), +for the second harmony, 8000/27.’ +</p> + +<p> +The reasons which have inclined me to agree with Dr. Donaldson and also with +Schleiermacher in supposing that 216 is the Platonic number of births are: (1) +that it coincides with the description of the number given in the first part of +the passage (Greek...): (2) that the number 216 with its permutations would +have been familiar to a Greek mathematician, though unfamiliar to us: (3) that +216 is the cube of 6, and also the sum of 3 cubed, 4 cubed, 5 cubed, the +numbers 3, 4, 5 representing the Pythagorean triangle, of which the sides when +squared equal the square of the hypotenuse (9 + 16 = 25): (4) that it is also +the period of the Pythagorean Metempsychosis: (5) the three ultimate terms or +bases (3, 4, 5) of which 216 is composed answer to the third, fourth, fifth in +the musical scale: (6) that the number 216 is the product of the cubes of 2 and +3, which are the two last terms in the Platonic Tetractys: (7) that the +Pythagorean triangle is said by Plutarch (de Is. et Osir.), Proclus (super +prima Eucl.), and Quintilian (de Musica) to be contained in this passage, so +that the tradition of the school seems to point in the same direction: (8) that +the Pythagorean triangle is called also the figure of marriage (Greek). +</p> + +<p> +But though agreeing with Dr. Donaldson thus far, I see no reason for supposing, +as he does, that the first or perfect number is the world, the human or +imperfect number the state; nor has he given any proof that the second harmony +is a cube. Nor do I think that (Greek) can mean ‘two +incommensurables,’ which he arbitrarily assumes to be 2 and 3, but +rather, as the preceding clause implies, (Greek), i.e. two square numbers based +upon irrational diameters of a figure the side of which is 5 = 50 x 2. +</p> + +<p> +The greatest objection to the translation is the sense given to the words +(Greek), ‘a base of three with a third added to it, multiplied by +5.’ In this somewhat forced manner Plato introduces once more the numbers +of the Pythagorean triangle. But the coincidences in the numbers which follow +are in favour of the explanation. The first harmony of 400, as has been already +remarked, probably represents the rulers; the second and oblong harmony of +7600, the people. +</p> + +<p> +And here we take leave of the difficulty. The discovery of the riddle would be +useless, and would throw no light on ancient mathematics. The point of interest +is that Plato should have used such a symbol, and that so much of the +Pythagorean spirit should have prevailed in him. His general meaning is that +divine creation is perfect, and is represented or presided over by a perfect or +cyclical number; human generation is imperfect, and represented or presided +over by an imperfect number or series of numbers. The number 5040, which is the +number of the citizens in the Laws, is expressly based by him on utilitarian +grounds, namely, the convenience of the number for division; it is also made up +of the first seven digits multiplied by one another. The contrast of the +perfect and imperfect number may have been easily suggested by the corrections +of the cycle, which were made first by Meton and secondly by Callippus; (the +latter is said to have been a pupil of Plato). Of the degree of importance or +of exactness to be attributed to the problem, the number of the tyrant in Book +IX (729 = 365 x 2), and the slight correction of the error in the number +5040/12 (Laws), may furnish a criterion. There is nothing surprising in the +circumstance that those who were seeking for order in nature and had found +order in number, should have imagined one to give law to the other. Plato +believes in a power of number far beyond what he could see realized in the +world around him, and he knows the great influence which ‘the little +matter of 1, 2, 3’ exercises upon education. He may even be thought to +have a prophetic anticipation of the discoveries of Quetelet and others, that +numbers depend upon numbers; e.g.—in population, the numbers of births +and the respective numbers of children born of either sex, on the respective +ages of parents, i.e. on other numbers. +</p> + +<p> +BOOK IX. Last of all comes the tyrannical man, about whom we have to enquire, +Whence is he, and how does he live—in happiness or in misery? There is, +however, a previous question of the nature and number of the appetites, which I +should like to consider first. Some of them are unlawful, and yet admit of +being chastened and weakened in various degrees by the power of reason and law. +‘What appetites do you mean?’ I mean those which are awake when the +reasoning powers are asleep, which get up and walk about naked without any +self-respect or shame; and there is no conceivable folly or crime, however +cruel or unnatural, of which, in imagination, they may not be guilty. +‘True,’ he said; ‘very true.’ But when a man’s +pulse beats temperately; and he has supped on a feast of reason and come to a +knowledge of himself before going to rest, and has satisfied his desires just +enough to prevent their perturbing his reason, which remains clear and +luminous, and when he is free from quarrel and heat,—the visions which he +has on his bed are least irregular and abnormal. Even in good men there is such +an irregular wild-beast nature, which peers out in sleep. +</p> + +<p> +To return:—You remember what was said of the democrat; that he was the +son of a miserly father, who encouraged the saving desires and repressed the +ornamental and expensive ones; presently the youth got into fine company, and +began to entertain a dislike to his father’s narrow ways; and being a +better man than the corrupters of his youth, he came to a mean, and led a life, +not of lawless or slavish passion, but of regular and successive indulgence. +Now imagine that the youth has become a father, and has a son who is exposed to +the same temptations, and has companions who lead him into every sort of +iniquity, and parents and friends who try to keep him right. The counsellors of +evil find that their only chance of retaining him is to implant in his soul a +monster drone, or love; while other desires buzz around him and mystify him +with sweet sounds and scents, this monster love takes possession of him, and +puts an end to every true or modest thought or wish. Love, like drunkenness and +madness, is a tyranny; and the tyrannical man, whether made by nature or habit, +is just a drinking, lusting, furious sort of animal. +</p> + +<p> +And how does such an one live? ‘Nay, that you must tell me.’ Well +then, I fancy that he will live amid revelries and harlotries, and love will be +the lord and master of the house. Many desires require much money, and so he +spends all that he has and borrows more; and when he has nothing the young +ravens are still in the nest in which they were hatched, crying for food. Love +urges them on; and they must be gratified by force or fraud, or if not, they +become painful and troublesome; and as the new pleasures succeed the old ones, +so will the son take possession of the goods of his parents; if they show signs +of refusing, he will defraud and deceive them; and if they openly resist, what +then? ‘I can only say, that I should not much like to be in their +place.’ But, O heavens, Adeimantus, to think that for some new-fangled +and unnecessary love he will give up his old father and mother, best and +dearest of friends, or enslave them to the fancies of the hour! Truly a +tyrannical son is a blessing to his father and mother! When there is no more to +be got out of them, he turns burglar or pickpocket, or robs a temple. Love +overmasters the thoughts of his youth, and he becomes in sober reality the +monster that he was sometimes in sleep. He waxes strong in all violence and +lawlessness; and is ready for any deed of daring that will supply the wants of +his rabble-rout. In a well-ordered State there are only a few such, and these +in time of war go out and become the mercenaries of a tyrant. But in time of +peace they stay at home and do mischief; they are the thieves, footpads, +cut-purses, man-stealers of the community; or if they are able to speak, they +turn false-witnesses and informers. ‘No small catalogue of crimes truly, +even if the perpetrators are few.’ Yes, I said; but small and great are +relative terms, and no crimes which are committed by them approach those of the +tyrant, whom this class, growing strong and numerous, create out of themselves. +If the people yield, well and good, but, if they resist, then, as before he +beat his father and mother, so now he beats his fatherland and motherland, and +places his mercenaries over them. Such men in their early days live with +flatterers, and they themselves flatter others, in order to gain their ends; +but they soon discard their followers when they have no longer any need of +them; they are always either masters or servants,—the joys of friendship +are unknown to them. And they are utterly treacherous and unjust, if the nature +of justice be at all understood by us. They realize our dream; and he who is +the most of a tyrant by nature, and leads the life of a tyrant for the longest +time, will be the worst of them, and being the worst of them, will also be the +most miserable. +</p> + +<p> +Like man, like State,—the tyrannical man will answer to tyranny, which is +the extreme opposite of the royal State; for one is the best and the other the +worst. But which is the happier? Great and terrible as the tyrant may appear +enthroned amid his satellites, let us not be afraid to go in and ask; and the +answer is, that the monarchical is the happiest, and the tyrannical the most +miserable of States. And may we not ask the same question about the men +themselves, requesting some one to look into them who is able to penetrate the +inner nature of man, and will not be panic-struck by the vain pomp of tyranny? +I will suppose that he is one who has lived with him, and has seen him in +family life, or perhaps in the hour of trouble and danger. +</p> + +<p> +Assuming that we ourselves are the impartial judge for whom we seek, let us +begin by comparing the individual and State, and ask first of all, whether the +State is likely to be free or enslaved—Will there not be a little freedom +and a great deal of slavery? And the freedom is of the bad, and the slavery of +the good; and this applies to the man as well as to the State; for his soul is +full of meanness and slavery, and the better part is enslaved to the worse. He +cannot do what he would, and his mind is full of confusion; he is the very +reverse of a freeman. The State will be poor and full of misery and sorrow; and +the man’s soul will also be poor and full of sorrows, and he will be the +most miserable of men. No, not the most miserable, for there is yet a more +miserable. ‘Who is that?’ The tyrannical man who has the misfortune +also to become a public tyrant. ‘There I suspect that you are +right.’ Say rather, ‘I am sure;’ conjecture is out of place +in an enquiry of this nature. He is like a wealthy owner of slaves, only he has +more of them than any private individual. You will say, ‘The owners of +slaves are not generally in any fear of them.’ But why? Because the whole +city is in a league which protects the individual. Suppose however that one of +these owners and his household is carried off by a god into a wilderness, where +there are no freemen to help him—will he not be in an agony of +terror?—will he not be compelled to flatter his slaves and to promise +them many things sore against his will? And suppose the same god who carried +him off were to surround him with neighbours who declare that no man ought to +have slaves, and that the owners of them should be punished with death. +‘Still worse and worse! He will be in the midst of his enemies.’ +And is not our tyrant such a captive soul, who is tormented by a swarm of +passions which he cannot indulge; living indoors always like a woman, and +jealous of those who can go out and see the world? +</p> + +<p> +Having so many evils, will not the most miserable of men be still more +miserable in a public station? Master of others when he is not master of +himself; like a sick man who is compelled to be an athlete; the meanest of +slaves and the most abject of flatterers; wanting all things, and never able to +satisfy his desires; always in fear and distraction, like the State of which he +is the representative. His jealous, hateful, faithless temper grows worse with +command; he is more and more faithless, envious, unrighteous,—the most +wretched of men, a misery to himself and to others. And so let us have a final +trial and proclamation; need we hire a herald, or shall I proclaim the result? +‘Made the proclamation yourself.’ The son of Ariston (the best) is +of opinion that the best and justest of men is also the happiest, and that this +is he who is the most royal master of himself; and that the unjust man is he +who is the greatest tyrant of himself and of his State. And I add +further—‘seen or unseen by gods or men.’ +</p> + +<p> +This is our first proof. The second is derived from the three kinds of +pleasure, which answer to the three elements of the soul—reason, passion, +desire; under which last is comprehended avarice as well as sensual appetite, +while passion includes ambition, party-feeling, love of reputation. Reason, +again, is solely directed to the attainment of truth, and careless of money and +reputation. In accordance with the difference of men’s natures, one of +these three principles is in the ascendant, and they have their several +pleasures corresponding to them. Interrogate now the three natures, and each +one will be found praising his own pleasures and depreciating those of others. +The money-maker will contrast the vanity of knowledge with the solid advantages +of wealth. The ambitious man will despise knowledge which brings no honour; +whereas the philosopher will regard only the fruition of truth, and will call +other pleasures necessary rather than good. Now, how shall we decide between +them? Is there any better criterion than experience and knowledge? And which of +the three has the truest knowledge and the widest experience? The experience of +youth makes the philosopher acquainted with the two kinds of desire, but the +avaricious and the ambitious man never taste the pleasures of truth and wisdom. +Honour he has equally with them; they are ‘judged of him,’ but he +is ‘not judged of them,’ for they never attain to the knowledge of +true being. And his instrument is reason, whereas their standard is only wealth +and honour; and if by reason we are to judge, his good will be the truest. And +so we arrive at the result that the pleasure of the rational part of the soul, +and a life passed in such pleasure is the pleasantest. He who has a right to +judge judges thus. Next comes the life of ambition, and, in the third place, +that of money-making. +</p> + +<p> +Twice has the just man overthrown the unjust—once more, as in an Olympian +contest, first offering up a prayer to the saviour Zeus, let him try a fall. A +wise man whispers to me that the pleasures of the wise are true and pure; all +others are a shadow only. Let us examine this: Is not pleasure opposed to pain, +and is there not a mean state which is neither? When a man is sick, nothing is +more pleasant to him than health. But this he never found out while he was +well. In pain he desires only to cease from pain; on the other hand, when he is +in an ecstasy of pleasure, rest is painful to him. Thus rest or cessation is +both pleasure and pain. But can that which is neither become both? Again, +pleasure and pain are motions, and the absence of them is rest; but if so, how +can the absence of either of them be the other? Thus we are led to infer that +the contradiction is an appearance only, and witchery of the senses. And these +are not the only pleasures, for there are others which have no preceding pains. +Pure pleasure then is not the absence of pain, nor pure pain the absence of +pleasure; although most of the pleasures which reach the mind through the body +are reliefs of pain, and have not only their reactions when they depart, but +their anticipations before they come. They can be best described in a simile. +There is in nature an upper, lower, and middle region, and he who passes from +the lower to the middle imagines that he is going up and is already in the +upper world; and if he were taken back again would think, and truly think, that +he was descending. All this arises out of his ignorance of the true upper, +middle, and lower regions. And a like confusion happens with pleasure and pain, +and with many other things. The man who compares grey with black, calls grey +white; and the man who compares absence of pain with pain, calls the absence of +pain pleasure. Again, hunger and thirst are inanitions of the body, ignorance +and folly of the soul; and food is the satisfaction of the one, knowledge of +the other. Now which is the purer satisfaction—that of eating and +drinking, or that of knowledge? Consider the matter thus: The satisfaction of +that which has more existence is truer than of that which has less. The +invariable and immortal has a more real existence than the variable and mortal, +and has a corresponding measure of knowledge and truth. The soul, again, has +more existence and truth and knowledge than the body, and is therefore more +really satisfied and has a more natural pleasure. Those who feast only on +earthly food, are always going at random up to the middle and down again; but +they never pass into the true upper world, or have a taste of true pleasure. +They are like fatted beasts, full of gluttony and sensuality, and ready to kill +one another by reason of their insatiable lust; for they are not filled with +true being, and their vessel is leaky (Gorgias). Their pleasures are mere +shadows of pleasure, mixed with pain, coloured and intensified by contrast, and +therefore intensely desired; and men go fighting about them, as Stesichorus +says that the Greeks fought about the shadow of Helen at Troy, because they +know not the truth. +</p> + +<p> +The same may be said of the passionate element:—the desires of the +ambitious soul, as well as of the covetous, have an inferior satisfaction. Only +when under the guidance of reason do either of the other principles do their +own business or attain the pleasure which is natural to them. When not +attaining, they compel the other parts of the soul to pursue a shadow of +pleasure which is not theirs. And the more distant they are from philosophy and +reason, the more distant they will be from law and order, and the more illusive +will be their pleasures. The desires of love and tyranny are the farthest from +law, and those of the king are nearest to it. There is one genuine pleasure, +and two spurious ones: the tyrant goes beyond even the latter; he has run away +altogether from law and reason. Nor can the measure of his inferiority be told, +except in a figure. The tyrant is the third removed from the oligarch, and has +therefore, not a shadow of his pleasure, but the shadow of a shadow only. The +oligarch, again, is thrice removed from the king, and thus we get the formula 3 +x 3, which is the number of a surface, representing the shadow which is the +tyrant’s pleasure, and if you like to cube this ‘number of the +beast,’ you will find that the measure of the difference amounts to 729; +the king is 729 times more happy than the tyrant. And this extraordinary number +is NEARLY equal to the number of days and nights in a year (365 x 2 = 730); and +is therefore concerned with human life. This is the interval between a good and +bad man in happiness only: what must be the difference between them in +comeliness of life and virtue! +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps you may remember some one saying at the beginning of our discussion +that the unjust man was profited if he had the reputation of justice. Now that +we know the nature of justice and injustice, let us make an image of the soul, +which will personify his words. First of all, fashion a multitudinous beast, +having a ring of heads of all manner of animals, tame and wild, and able to +produce and change them at pleasure. Suppose now another form of a lion, and +another of a man; the second smaller than the first, the third than the second; +join them together and cover them with a human skin, in which they are +completely concealed. When this has been done, let us tell the supporter of +injustice that he is feeding up the beasts and starving the man. The maintainer +of justice, on the other hand, is trying to strengthen the man; he is +nourishing the gentle principle within him, and making an alliance with the +lion heart, in order that he may be able to keep down the many-headed hydra, +and bring all into unity with each other and with themselves. Thus in every +point of view, whether in relation to pleasure, honour, or advantage, the just +man is right, and the unjust wrong. +</p> + +<p> +But now, let us reason with the unjust, who is not intentionally in error. Is +not the noble that which subjects the beast to the man, or rather to the God in +man; the ignoble, that which subjects the man to the beast? And if so, who +would receive gold on condition that he was to degrade the noblest part of +himself under the worst?—who would sell his son or daughter into the +hands of brutal and evil men, for any amount of money? And will he sell his own +fairer and diviner part without any compunction to the most godless and foul? +Would he not be worse than Eriphyle, who sold her husband’s life for a +necklace? And intemperance is the letting loose of the multiform monster, and +pride and sullenness are the growth and increase of the lion and serpent +element, while luxury and effeminacy are caused by a too great relaxation of +spirit. Flattery and meanness again arise when the spirited element is +subjected to avarice, and the lion is habituated to become a monkey. The real +disgrace of handicraft arts is, that those who are engaged in them have to +flatter, instead of mastering their desires; therefore we say that they should +be placed under the control of the better principle in another because they +have none in themselves; not, as Thrasymachus imagined, to the injury of the +subjects, but for their good. And our intention in educating the young, is to +give them self-control; the law desires to nurse up in them a higher principle, +and when they have acquired this, they may go their ways. +</p> + +<p> +‘What, then, shall a man profit, if he gain the whole world’ and +become more and more wicked? Or what shall he profit by escaping discovery, if +the concealment of evil prevents the cure? If he had been punished, the brute +within him would have been silenced, and the gentler element liberated; and he +would have united temperance, justice, and wisdom in his soul—a union +better far than any combination of bodily gifts. The man of understanding will +honour knowledge above all; in the next place he will keep under his body, not +only for the sake of health and strength, but in order to attain the most +perfect harmony of body and soul. In the acquisition of riches, too, he will +aim at order and harmony; he will not desire to heap up wealth without measure, +but he will fear that the increase of wealth will disturb the constitution of +his own soul. For the same reason he will only accept such honours as will make +him a better man; any others he will decline. ‘In that case,’ said +he, ‘he will never be a politician.’ Yes, but he will, in his own +city; though probably not in his native country, unless by some divine +accident. ‘You mean that he will be a citizen of the ideal city, which +has no place upon earth.’ But in heaven, I replied, there is a pattern of +such a city, and he who wishes may order his life after that image. Whether +such a state is or ever will be matters not; he will act according to that +pattern and no other... +</p> + +<p> +The most noticeable points in the 9th Book of the Republic are:—(1) the +account of pleasure; (2) the number of the interval which divides the king from +the tyrant; (3) the pattern which is in heaven. +</p> + +<p> +1. Plato’s account of pleasure is remarkable for moderation, and in this +respect contrasts with the later Platonists and the views which are attributed +to them by Aristotle. He is not, like the Cynics, opposed to all pleasure, but +rather desires that the several parts of the soul shall have their natural +satisfaction; he even agrees with the Epicureans in describing pleasure as +something more than the absence of pain. This is proved by the circumstance +that there are pleasures which have no antecedent pains (as he also remarks in +the Philebus), such as the pleasures of smell, and also the pleasures of hope +and anticipation. In the previous book he had made the distinction between +necessary and unnecessary pleasure, which is repeated by Aristotle, and he now +observes that there are a further class of ‘wild beast’ pleasures, +corresponding to Aristotle’s (Greek). He dwells upon the relative and +unreal character of sensual pleasures and the illusion which arises out of the +contrast of pleasure and pain, pointing out the superiority of the pleasures of +reason, which are at rest, over the fleeting pleasures of sense and emotion. +The pre-eminence of royal pleasure is shown by the fact that reason is able to +form a judgment of the lower pleasures, while the two lower parts of the soul +are incapable of judging the pleasures of reason. Thus, in his treatment of +pleasure, as in many other subjects, the philosophy of Plato is ‘sawn up +into quantities’ by Aristotle; the analysis which was originally made by +him became in the next generation the foundation of further technical +distinctions. Both in Plato and Aristotle we note the illusion under which the +ancients fell of regarding the transience of pleasure as a proof of its +unreality, and of confounding the permanence of the intellectual pleasures with +the unchangeableness of the knowledge from which they are derived. Neither do +we like to admit that the pleasures of knowledge, though more elevating, are +not more lasting than other pleasures, and are almost equally dependent on the +accidents of our bodily state (Introduction to Philebus). +</p> + +<p> +2. The number of the interval which separates the king from the tyrant, and +royal from tyrannical pleasures, is 729, the cube of 9. Which Plato +characteristically designates as a number concerned with human life, because +NEARLY equivalent to the number of days and nights in the year. He is desirous +of proclaiming that the interval between them is immeasurable, and invents a +formula to give expression to his idea. Those who spoke of justice as a cube, +of virtue as an art of measuring (Prot.), saw no inappropriateness in +conceiving the soul under the figure of a line, or the pleasure of the tyrant +as separated from the pleasure of the king by the numerical interval of 729. +And in modern times we sometimes use metaphorically what Plato employed as a +philosophical formula. ‘It is not easy to estimate the loss of the +tyrant, except perhaps in this way,’ says Plato. So we might say, that +although the life of a good man is not to be compared to that of a bad man, yet +you may measure the difference between them by valuing one minute of the one at +an hour of the other (‘One day in thy courts is better than a +thousand’), or you might say that ‘there is an infinite +difference.’ But this is not so much as saying, in homely phrase, +‘They are a thousand miles asunder.’ And accordingly Plato finds +the natural vehicle of his thoughts in a progression of numbers; this +arithmetical formula he draws out with the utmost seriousness, and both here +and in the number of generation seems to find an additional proof of the truth +of his speculation in forming the number into a geometrical figure; just as +persons in our own day are apt to fancy that a statement is verified when it +has been only thrown into an abstract form. In speaking of the number 729 as +proper to human life, he probably intended to intimate that one year of the +tyrannical = 12 hours of the royal life. +</p> + +<p> +The simple observation that the comparison of two similar solids is effected by +the comparison of the cubes of their sides, is the mathematical groundwork of +this fanciful expression. There is some difficulty in explaining the steps by +which the number 729 is obtained; the oligarch is removed in the third degree +from the royal and aristocratical, and the tyrant in the third degree from the +oligarchical; but we have to arrange the terms as the sides of a square and to +count the oligarch twice over, thus reckoning them not as = 5 but as = 9. The +square of 9 is passed lightly over as only a step towards the cube. +</p> + +<p> +3. Towards the close of the Republic, Plato seems to be more and more convinced +of the ideal character of his own speculations. At the end of the 9th Book the +pattern which is in heaven takes the place of the city of philosophers on +earth. The vision which has received form and substance at his hands, is now +discovered to be at a distance. And yet this distant kingdom is also the rule +of man’s life. (‘Say not lo! here, or lo! there, for the kingdom of +God is within you.’) Thus a note is struck which prepares for the +revelation of a future life in the following Book. But the future life is +present still; the ideal of politics is to be realized in the individual. +</p> + +<p> +BOOK X. Many things pleased me in the order of our State, but there was nothing +which I liked better than the regulation about poetry. The division of the soul +throws a new light on our exclusion of imitation. I do not mind telling you in +confidence that all poetry is an outrage on the understanding, unless the +hearers have that balm of knowledge which heals error. I have loved Homer ever +since I was a boy, and even now he appears to me to be the great master of +tragic poetry. But much as I love the man, I love truth more, and therefore I +must speak out: and first of all, will you explain what is imitation, for +really I do not understand? ‘How likely then that I should +understand!’ That might very well be, for the duller often sees better +than the keener eye. ‘True, but in your presence I can hardly venture to +say what I think.’ Then suppose that we begin in our old fashion, with +the doctrine of universals. Let us assume the existence of beds and tables. +There is one idea of a bed, or of a table, which the maker of each had in his +mind when making them; he did not make the ideas of beds and tables, but he +made beds and tables according to the ideas. And is there not a maker of the +works of all workmen, who makes not only vessels but plants and animals, +himself, the earth and heaven, and things in heaven and under the earth? He +makes the Gods also. ‘He must be a wizard indeed!’ But do you not +see that there is a sense in which you could do the same? You have only to take +a mirror, and catch the reflection of the sun, and the earth, or anything +else—there now you have made them. ‘Yes, but only in +appearance.’ Exactly so; and the painter is such a creator as you are +with the mirror, and he is even more unreal than the carpenter; although +neither the carpenter nor any other artist can be supposed to make the absolute +bed. ‘Not if philosophers may be believed.’ Nor need we wonder that +his bed has but an imperfect relation to the truth. Reflect:—Here are +three beds; one in nature, which is made by God; another, which is made by the +carpenter; and the third, by the painter. God only made one, nor could he have +made more than one; for if there had been two, there would always have been a +third—more absolute and abstract than either, under which they would have +been included. We may therefore conceive God to be the natural maker of the +bed, and in a lower sense the carpenter is also the maker; but the painter is +rather the imitator of what the other two make; he has to do with a creation +which is thrice removed from reality. And the tragic poet is an imitator, and, +like every other imitator, is thrice removed from the king and from the truth. +The painter imitates not the original bed, but the bed made by the carpenter. +And this, without being really different, appears to be different, and has many +points of view, of which only one is caught by the painter, who represents +everything because he represents a piece of everything, and that piece an +image. And he can paint any other artist, although he knows nothing of their +arts; and this with sufficient skill to deceive children or simple people. +Suppose now that somebody came to us and told us, how he had met a man who knew +all that everybody knows, and better than anybody:—should we not infer +him to be a simpleton who, having no discernment of truth and falsehood, had +met with a wizard or enchanter, whom he fancied to be all-wise? And when we +hear persons saying that Homer and the tragedians know all the arts and all the +virtues, must we not infer that they are under a similar delusion? they do not +see that the poets are imitators, and that their creations are only imitations. +‘Very true.’ But if a person could create as well as imitate, he +would rather leave some permanent work and not an imitation only; he would +rather be the receiver than the giver of praise? ‘Yes, for then he would +have more honour and advantage.’ +</p> + +<p> +Let us now interrogate Homer and the poets. Friend Homer, say I to him, I am +not going to ask you about medicine, or any art to which your poems +incidentally refer, but about their main subjects—war, military tactics, +politics. If you are only twice and not thrice removed from the truth—not +an imitator or an image-maker, please to inform us what good you have ever done +to mankind? Is there any city which professes to have received laws from you, +as Sicily and Italy have from Charondas, Sparta from Lycurgus, Athens from +Solon? Or was any war ever carried on by your counsels? or is any invention +attributed to you, as there is to Thales and Anacharsis? Or is there any +Homeric way of life, such as the Pythagorean was, in which you instructed men, +and which is called after you? ‘No, indeed; and Creophylus (Flesh-child) +was even more unfortunate in his breeding than he was in his name, if, as +tradition says, Homer in his lifetime was allowed by him and his other friends +to starve.’ Yes, but could this ever have happened if Homer had really +been the educator of Hellas? Would he not have had many devoted followers? If +Protagoras and Prodicus can persuade their contemporaries that no one can +manage house or State without them, is it likely that Homer and Hesiod would +have been allowed to go about as beggars—I mean if they had really been +able to do the world any good?—would not men have compelled them to stay +where they were, or have followed them about in order to get education? But +they did not; and therefore we may infer that Homer and all the poets are only +imitators, who do but imitate the appearances of things. For as a painter by a +knowledge of figure and colour can paint a cobbler without any practice in +cobbling, so the poet can delineate any art in the colours of language, and +give harmony and rhythm to the cobbler and also to the general; and you know +how mere narration, when deprived of the ornaments of metre, is like a face +which has lost the beauty of youth and never had any other. Once more, the +imitator has no knowledge of reality, but only of appearance. The painter +paints, and the artificer makes a bridle and reins, but neither understands the +use of them—the knowledge of this is confined to the horseman; and so of +other things. Thus we have three arts: one of use, another of invention, a +third of imitation; and the user furnishes the rule to the two others. The +flute-player will know the good and bad flute, and the maker will put faith in +him; but the imitator will neither know nor have faith—neither science +nor true opinion can be ascribed to him. Imitation, then, is devoid of +knowledge, being only a kind of play or sport, and the tragic and epic poets +are imitators in the highest degree. +</p> + +<p> +And now let us enquire, what is the faculty in man which answers to imitation. +Allow me to explain my meaning: Objects are differently seen when in the water +and when out of the water, when near and when at a distance; and the painter or +juggler makes use of this variation to impose upon us. And the art of measuring +and weighing and calculating comes in to save our bewildered minds from the +power of appearance; for, as we were saying, two contrary opinions of the same +about the same and at the same time, cannot both of them be true. But which of +them is true is determined by the art of calculation; and this is allied to the +better faculty in the soul, as the arts of imitation are to the worse. And the +same holds of the ear as well as of the eye, of poetry as well as painting. The +imitation is of actions voluntary or involuntary, in which there is an +expectation of a good or bad result, and present experience of pleasure and +pain. But is a man in harmony with himself when he is the subject of these +conflicting influences? Is there not rather a contradiction in him? Let me +further ask, whether he is more likely to control sorrow when he is alone or +when he is in company. ‘In the latter case.’ Feeling would lead him +to indulge his sorrow, but reason and law control him and enjoin patience; +since he cannot know whether his affliction is good or evil, and no human thing +is of any great consequence, while sorrow is certainly a hindrance to good +counsel. For when we stumble, we should not, like children, make an uproar; we +should take the measures which reason prescribes, not raising a lament, but +finding a cure. And the better part of us is ready to follow reason, while the +irrational principle is full of sorrow and distraction at the recollection of +our troubles. Unfortunately, however, this latter furnishes the chief materials +of the imitative arts. Whereas reason is ever in repose and cannot easily be +displayed, especially to a mixed multitude who have no experience of her. Thus +the poet is like the painter in two ways: first he paints an inferior degree of +truth, and secondly, he is concerned with an inferior part of the soul. He +indulges the feelings, while he enfeebles the reason; and we refuse to allow +him to have authority over the mind of man; for he has no measure of greater +and less, and is a maker of images and very far gone from truth. +</p> + +<p> +But we have not yet mentioned the heaviest count in the indictment—the +power which poetry has of injuriously exciting the feelings. When we hear some +passage in which a hero laments his sufferings at tedious length, you know that +we sympathize with him and praise the poet; and yet in our own sorrows such an +exhibition of feeling is regarded as effeminate and unmanly (Ion). Now, ought a +man to feel pleasure in seeing another do what he hates and abominates in +himself? Is he not giving way to a sentiment which in his own case he would +control?—he is off his guard because the sorrow is another’s; and +he thinks that he may indulge his feelings without disgrace, and will be the +gainer by the pleasure. But the inevitable consequence is that he who begins by +weeping at the sorrows of others, will end by weeping at his own. The same is +true of comedy,—you may often laugh at buffoonery which you would be +ashamed to utter, and the love of coarse merriment on the stage will at last +turn you into a buffoon at home. Poetry feeds and waters the passions and +desires; she lets them rule instead of ruling them. And therefore, when we hear +the encomiasts of Homer affirming that he is the educator of Hellas, and that +all life should be regulated by his precepts, we may allow the excellence of +their intentions, and agree with them in thinking Homer a great poet and +tragedian. But we shall continue to prohibit all poetry which goes beyond hymns +to the Gods and praises of famous men. Not pleasure and pain, but law and +reason shall rule in our State. +</p> + +<p> +These are our grounds for expelling poetry; but lest she should charge us with +discourtesy, let us also make an apology to her. We will remind her that there +is an ancient quarrel between poetry and philosophy, of which there are many +traces in the writings of the poets, such as the saying of ‘the she-dog, +yelping at her mistress,’ and ‘the philosophers who are ready to +circumvent Zeus,’ and ‘the philosophers who are paupers.’ +Nevertheless we bear her no ill-will, and will gladly allow her to return upon +condition that she makes a defence of herself in verse; and her supporters who +are not poets may speak in prose. We confess her charms; but if she cannot show +that she is useful as well as delightful, like rational lovers, we must +renounce our love, though endeared to us by early associations. Having come to +years of discretion, we know that poetry is not truth, and that a man should be +careful how he introduces her to that state or constitution which he himself +is; for there is a mighty issue at stake—no less than the good or evil of +a human soul. And it is not worth while to forsake justice and virtue for the +attractions of poetry, any more than for the sake of honour or wealth. ‘I +agree with you.’ +</p> + +<p> +And yet the rewards of virtue are greater far than I have described. ‘And +can we conceive things greater still?’ Not, perhaps, in this brief span +of life: but should an immortal being care about anything short of eternity? +‘I do not understand what you mean?’ Do you not know that the soul +is immortal? ‘Surely you are not prepared to prove that?’ Indeed I +am. ‘Then let me hear this argument, of which you make so light.’ +</p> + +<p> +You would admit that everything has an element of good and of evil. In all +things there is an inherent corruption; and if this cannot destroy them, +nothing else will. The soul too has her own corrupting principles, which are +injustice, intemperance, cowardice, and the like. But none of these destroy the +soul in the same sense that disease destroys the body. The soul may be full of +all iniquities, but is not, by reason of them, brought any nearer to death. +Nothing which was not destroyed from within ever perished by external affection +of evil. The body, which is one thing, cannot be destroyed by food, which is +another, unless the badness of the food is communicated to the body. Neither +can the soul, which is one thing, be corrupted by the body, which is another, +unless she herself is infected. And as no bodily evil can infect the soul, +neither can any bodily evil, whether disease or violence, or any other destroy +the soul, unless it can be shown to render her unholy and unjust. But no one +will ever prove that the souls of men become more unjust when they die. If a +person has the audacity to say the contrary, the answer is—Then why do +criminals require the hand of the executioner, and not die of themselves? +‘Truly,’ he said, ‘injustice would not be very terrible if it +brought a cessation of evil; but I rather believe that the injustice which +murders others may tend to quicken and stimulate the life of the unjust.’ +You are quite right. If sin which is her own natural and inherent evil cannot +destroy the soul, hardly will anything else destroy her. But the soul which +cannot be destroyed either by internal or external evil must be immortal and +everlasting. And if this be true, souls will always exist in the same number. +They cannot diminish, because they cannot be destroyed; nor yet increase, for +the increase of the immortal must come from something mortal, and so all would +end in immortality. Neither is the soul variable and diverse; for that which is +immortal must be of the fairest and simplest composition. If we would conceive +her truly, and so behold justice and injustice in their own nature, she must be +viewed by the light of reason pure as at birth, or as she is reflected in +philosophy when holding converse with the divine and immortal and eternal. In +her present condition we see her only like the sea-god Glaucus, bruised and +maimed in the sea which is the world, and covered with shells and stones which +are incrusted upon her from the entertainments of earth. +</p> + +<p> +Thus far, as the argument required, we have said nothing of the rewards and +honours which the poets attribute to justice; we have contented ourselves with +showing that justice in herself is best for the soul in herself, even if a man +should put on a Gyges’ ring and have the helmet of Hades too. And now you +shall repay me what you borrowed; and I will enumerate the rewards of justice +in life and after death. I granted, for the sake of argument, as you will +remember, that evil might perhaps escape the knowledge of Gods and men, +although this was really impossible. And since I have shown that justice has +reality, you must grant me also that she has the palm of appearance. In the +first place, the just man is known to the Gods, and he is therefore the friend +of the Gods, and he will receive at their hands every good, always excepting +such evil as is the necessary consequence of former sins. All things end in +good to him, either in life or after death, even what appears to be evil; for +the Gods have a care of him who desires to be in their likeness. And what shall +we say of men? Is not honesty the best policy? The clever rogue makes a great +start at first, but breaks down before he reaches the goal, and slinks away in +dishonour; whereas the true runner perseveres to the end, and receives the +prize. And you must allow me to repeat all the blessings which you attributed +to the fortunate unjust—they bear rule in the city, they marry and give +in marriage to whom they will; and the evils which you attributed to the +unfortunate just, do really fall in the end on the unjust, although, as you +implied, their sufferings are better veiled in silence. +</p> + +<p> +But all the blessings of this present life are as nothing when compared with +those which await good men after death. ‘I should like to hear about +them.’ Come, then, and I will tell you the story of Er, the son of +Armenius, a valiant man. He was supposed to have died in battle, but ten days +afterwards his body was found untouched by corruption and sent home for burial. +On the twelfth day he was placed on the funeral pyre and there he came to life +again, and told what he had seen in the world below. He said that his soul went +with a great company to a place, in which there were two chasms near together +in the earth beneath, and two corresponding chasms in the heaven above. And +there were judges sitting in the intermediate space, bidding the just ascend by +the heavenly way on the right hand, having the seal of their judgment set upon +them before, while the unjust, having the seal behind, were bidden to descend +by the way on the left hand. Him they told to look and listen, as he was to be +their messenger to men from the world below. And he beheld and saw the souls +departing after judgment at either chasm; some who came from earth, were worn +and travel-stained; others, who came from heaven, were clean and bright. They +seemed glad to meet and rest awhile in the meadow; here they discoursed with +one another of what they had seen in the other world. Those who came from earth +wept at the remembrance of their sorrows, but the spirits from above spoke of +glorious sights and heavenly bliss. He said that for every evil deed they were +punished tenfold—now the journey was of a thousand years’ duration, +because the life of man was reckoned as a hundred years—and the rewards +of virtue were in the same proportion. He added something hardly worth +repeating about infants dying almost as soon as they were born. Of parricides +and other murderers he had tortures still more terrible to narrate. He was +present when one of the spirits asked—Where is Ardiaeus the Great? (This +Ardiaeus was a cruel tyrant, who had murdered his father, and his elder +brother, a thousand years before.) Another spirit answered, ‘He comes not +hither, and will never come. And I myself,’ he added, ‘actually saw +this terrible sight. At the entrance of the chasm, as we were about to +reascend, Ardiaeus appeared, and some other sinners—most of whom had been +tyrants, but not all—and just as they fancied that they were returning to +life, the chasm gave a roar, and then wild, fiery-looking men who knew the +meaning of the sound, seized him and several others, and bound them hand and +foot and threw them down, and dragged them along at the side of the road, +lacerating them and carding them like wool, and explaining to the passers-by, +that they were going to be cast into hell.’ The greatest terror of the +pilgrims ascending was lest they should hear the voice, and when there was +silence one by one they passed up with joy. To these sufferings there were +corresponding delights. +</p> + +<p> +On the eighth day the souls of the pilgrims resumed their journey, and in four +days came to a spot whence they looked down upon a line of light, in colour +like a rainbow, only brighter and clearer. One day more brought them to the +place, and they saw that this was the column of light which binds together the +whole universe. The ends of the column were fastened to heaven, and from them +hung the distaff of Necessity, on which all the heavenly bodies +turned—the hook and spindle were of adamant, and the whorl of a mixed +substance. The whorl was in form like a number of boxes fitting into one +another with their edges turned upwards, making together a single whorl which +was pierced by the spindle. The outermost had the rim broadest, and the inner +whorls were smaller and smaller, and had their rims narrower. The largest (the +fixed stars) was spangled—the seventh (the sun) was brightest—the +eighth (the moon) shone by the light of the seventh—the second and fifth +(Saturn and Mercury) were most like one another and yellower than the +eighth—the third (Jupiter) had the whitest light—the fourth (Mars) +was red—the sixth (Venus) was in whiteness second. The whole had one +motion, but while this was revolving in one direction the seven inner circles +were moving in the opposite, with various degrees of swiftness and slowness. +The spindle turned on the knees of Necessity, and a Siren stood hymning upon +each circle, while Lachesis, Clotho, and Atropos, the daughters of Necessity, +sat on thrones at equal intervals, singing of past, present, and future, +responsive to the music of the Sirens; Clotho from time to time guiding the +outer circle with a touch of her right hand; Atropos with her left hand +touching and guiding the inner circles; Lachesis in turn putting forth her hand +from time to time to guide both of them. On their arrival the pilgrims went to +Lachesis, and there was an interpreter who arranged them, and taking from her +knees lots, and samples of lives, got up into a pulpit and said: ‘Mortal +souls, hear the words of Lachesis, the daughter of Necessity. A new period of +mortal life has begun, and you may choose what divinity you please; the +responsibility of choosing is with you—God is blameless.’ After +speaking thus, he cast the lots among them and each one took up the lot which +fell near him. He then placed on the ground before them the samples of lives, +many more than the souls present; and there were all sorts of lives, of men and +of animals. There were tyrannies ending in misery and exile, and lives of men +and women famous for their different qualities; and also mixed lives, made up +of wealth and poverty, sickness and health. Here, Glaucon, is the great risk of +human life, and therefore the whole of education should be directed to the +acquisition of such a knowledge as will teach a man to refuse the evil and +choose the good. He should know all the combinations which occur in +life—of beauty with poverty or with wealth,—of knowledge with +external goods,—and at last choose with reference to the nature of the +soul, regarding that only as the better life which makes men better, and +leaving the rest. And a man must take with him an iron sense of truth and right +into the world below, that there too he may remain undazzled by wealth or the +allurements of evil, and be determined to avoid the extremes and choose the +mean. For this, as the messenger reported the interpreter to have said, is the +true happiness of man; and any one, as he proclaimed, may, if he choose with +understanding, have a good lot, even though he come last. ‘Let not the +first be careless in his choice, nor the last despair.’ He spoke; and +when he had spoken, he who had drawn the first lot chose a tyranny: he did not +see that he was fated to devour his own children—and when he discovered +his mistake, he wept and beat his breast, blaming chance and the Gods and +anybody rather than himself. He was one of those who had come from heaven, and +in his previous life had been a citizen of a well-ordered State, but he had +only habit and no philosophy. Like many another, he made a bad choice, because +he had no experience of life; whereas those who came from earth and had seen +trouble were not in such a hurry to choose. But if a man had followed +philosophy while upon earth, and had been moderately fortunate in his lot, he +might not only be happy here, but his pilgrimage both from and to this world +would be smooth and heavenly. Nothing was more curious than the spectacle of +the choice, at once sad and laughable and wonderful; most of the souls only +seeking to avoid their own condition in a previous life. He saw the soul of +Orpheus changing into a swan because he would not be born of a woman; there was +Thamyras becoming a nightingale; musical birds, like the swan, choosing to be +men; the twentieth soul, which was that of Ajax, preferring the life of a lion +to that of a man, in remembrance of the injustice which was done to him in the +judgment of the arms; and Agamemnon, from a like enmity to human nature, +passing into an eagle. About the middle was the soul of Atalanta choosing the +honours of an athlete, and next to her Epeus taking the nature of a workwoman; +among the last was Thersites, who was changing himself into a monkey. Thither, +the last of all, came Odysseus, and sought the lot of a private man, which lay +neglected and despised, and when he found it he went away rejoicing, and said +that if he had been first instead of last, his choice would have been the same. +Men, too, were seen passing into animals, and wild and tame animals changing +into one another. +</p> + +<p> +When all the souls had chosen they went to Lachesis, who sent with each of them +their genius or attendant to fulfil their lot. He first of all brought them +under the hand of Clotho, and drew them within the revolution of the spindle +impelled by her hand; from her they were carried to Atropos, who made the +threads irreversible; whence, without turning round, they passed beneath the +throne of Necessity; and when they had all passed, they moved on in scorching +heat to the plain of Forgetfulness and rested at evening by the river +Unmindful, whose water could not be retained in any vessel; of this they had +all to drink a certain quantity—some of them drank more than was +required, and he who drank forgot all things. Er himself was prevented from +drinking. When they had gone to rest, about the middle of the night there were +thunderstorms and earthquakes, and suddenly they were all driven divers ways, +shooting like stars to their birth. Concerning his return to the body, he only +knew that awaking suddenly in the morning he found himself lying on the pyre. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, Glaucon, the tale has been saved, and will be our salvation, if we +believe that the soul is immortal, and hold fast to the heavenly way of Justice +and Knowledge. So shall we pass undefiled over the river of Forgetfulness, and +be dear to ourselves and to the Gods, and have a crown of reward and happiness +both in this world and also in the millennial pilgrimage of the other. +</p> + +<p> +The Tenth Book of the Republic of Plato falls into two divisions: first, +resuming an old thread which has been interrupted, Socrates assails the poets, +who, now that the nature of the soul has been analyzed, are seen to be very far +gone from the truth; and secondly, having shown the reality of the happiness of +the just, he demands that appearance shall be restored to him, and then +proceeds to prove the immortality of the soul. The argument, as in the Phaedo +and Gorgias, is supplemented by the vision of a future life. +</p> + +<p> +Why Plato, who was himself a poet, and whose dialogues are poems and dramas, +should have been hostile to the poets as a class, and especially to the +dramatic poets; why he should not have seen that truth may be embodied in verse +as well as in prose, and that there are some indefinable lights and shadows of +human life which can only be expressed in poetry—some elements of +imagination which always entwine with reason; why he should have supposed epic +verse to be inseparably associated with the impurities of the old Hellenic +mythology; why he should try Homer and Hesiod by the unfair and prosaic test of +utility,—are questions which have always been debated amongst students of +Plato. Though unable to give a complete answer to them, we may +show—first, that his views arose naturally out of the circumstances of +his age; and secondly, we may elicit the truth as well as the error which is +contained in them. +</p> + +<p> +He is the enemy of the poets because poetry was declining in his own lifetime, +and a theatrocracy, as he says in the Laws, had taken the place of an +intellectual aristocracy. Euripides exhibited the last phase of the tragic +drama, and in him Plato saw the friend and apologist of tyrants, and the +Sophist of tragedy. The old comedy was almost extinct; the new had not yet +arisen. Dramatic and lyric poetry, like every other branch of Greek literature, +was falling under the power of rhetoric. There was no ‘second or +third’ to Aeschylus and Sophocles in the generation which followed them. +Aristophanes, in one of his later comedies (Frogs), speaks of ‘thousands +of tragedy-making prattlers,’ whose attempts at poetry he compares to the +chirping of swallows; ‘their garrulity went far beyond +Euripides,’—‘they appeared once upon the stage, and there was +an end of them.’ To a man of genius who had a real appreciation of the +godlike Aeschylus and the noble and gentle Sophocles, though disagreeing with +some parts of their ‘theology’ (Rep.), these ‘minor +poets’ must have been contemptible and intolerable. There is no feeling +stronger in the dialogues of Plato than a sense of the decline and decay both +in literature and in politics which marked his own age. Nor can he have been +expected to look with favour on the licence of Aristophanes, now at the end of +his career, who had begun by satirizing Socrates in the Clouds, and in a +similar spirit forty years afterwards had satirized the founders of ideal +commonwealths in his Eccleziazusae, or Female Parliament (Laws). +</p> + +<p> +There were other reasons for the antagonism of Plato to poetry. The profession +of an actor was regarded by him as a degradation of human nature, for +‘one man in his life’ cannot ‘play many parts;’ the +characters which the actor performs seem to destroy his own character, and to +leave nothing which can be truly called himself. Neither can any man live his +life and act it. The actor is the slave of his art, not the master of it. +Taking this view Plato is more decided in his expulsion of the dramatic than of +the epic poets, though he must have known that the Greek tragedians afforded +noble lessons and examples of virtue and patriotism, to which nothing in Homer +can be compared. But great dramatic or even great rhetorical power is hardly +consistent with firmness or strength of mind, and dramatic talent is often +incidentally associated with a weak or dissolute character. +</p> + +<p> +In the Tenth Book Plato introduces a new series of objections. First, he says +that the poet or painter is an imitator, and in the third degree removed from +the truth. His creations are not tested by rule and measure; they are only +appearances. In modern times we should say that art is not merely imitation, +but rather the expression of the ideal in forms of sense. Even adopting the +humble image of Plato, from which his argument derives a colour, we should +maintain that the artist may ennoble the bed which he paints by the folds of +the drapery, or by the feeling of home which he introduces; and there have been +modern painters who have imparted such an ideal interest to a +blacksmith’s or a carpenter’s shop. The eye or mind which feels as +well as sees can give dignity and pathos to a ruined mill, or a straw-built +shed (Rembrandt), to the hull of a vessel ‘going to its last home’ +(Turner). Still more would this apply to the greatest works of art, which seem +to be the visible embodiment of the divine. Had Plato been asked whether the +Zeus or Athene of Pheidias was the imitation of an imitation only, would he not +have been compelled to admit that something more was to be found in them than +in the form of any mortal; and that the rule of proportion to which they +conformed was ‘higher far than any geometry or arithmetic could +express?’ (Statesman.) +</p> + +<p> +Again, Plato objects to the imitative arts that they express the emotional +rather than the rational part of human nature. He does not admit +Aristotle’s theory, that tragedy or other serious imitations are a +purgation of the passions by pity and fear; to him they appear only to afford +the opportunity of indulging them. Yet we must acknowledge that we may +sometimes cure disordered emotions by giving expression to them; and that they +often gain strength when pent up within our own breast. It is not every +indulgence of the feelings which is to be condemned. For there may be a +gratification of the higher as well as of the lower—thoughts which are +too deep or too sad to be expressed by ourselves, may find an utterance in the +words of poets. Every one would acknowledge that there have been times when +they were consoled and elevated by beautiful music or by the sublimity of +architecture or by the peacefulness of nature. Plato has himself admitted, in +the earlier part of the Republic, that the arts might have the effect of +harmonizing as well as of enervating the mind; but in the Tenth Book he regards +them through a Stoic or Puritan medium. He asks only ‘What good have they +done?’ and is not satisfied with the reply, that ‘They have given +innocent pleasure to mankind.’ +</p> + +<p> +He tells us that he rejoices in the banishment of the poets, since he has found +by the analysis of the soul that they are concerned with the inferior +faculties. He means to say that the higher faculties have to do with +universals, the lower with particulars of sense. The poets are on a level with +their own age, but not on a level with Socrates and Plato; and he was well +aware that Homer and Hesiod could not be made a rule of life by any process of +legitimate interpretation; his ironical use of them is in fact a denial of +their authority; he saw, too, that the poets were not critics—as he says +in the Apology, ‘Any one was a better interpreter of their writings than +they were themselves. He himself ceased to be a poet when he became a disciple +of Socrates; though, as he tells us of Solon, ‘he might have been one of +the greatest of them, if he had not been deterred by other pursuits’ +(Tim.) Thus from many points of view there is an antagonism between Plato and +the poets, which was foreshadowed to him in the old quarrel between philosophy +and poetry. The poets, as he says in the Protagoras, were the Sophists of their +day; and his dislike of the one class is reflected on the other. He regards +them both as the enemies of reasoning and abstraction, though in the case of +Euripides more with reference to his immoral sentiments about tyrants and the +like. For Plato is the prophet who ‘came into the world to convince +men’—first of the fallibility of sense and opinion, and secondly of +the reality of abstract ideas. Whatever strangeness there may be in modern +times in opposing philosophy to poetry, which to us seem to have so many +elements in common, the strangeness will disappear if we conceive of poetry as +allied to sense, and of philosophy as equivalent to thought and abstraction. +Unfortunately the very word ‘idea,’ which to Plato is expressive of +the most real of all things, is associated in our minds with an element of +subjectiveness and unreality. We may note also how he differs from Aristotle +who declares poetry to be truer than history, for the opposite reason, because +it is concerned with universals, not like history, with particulars (Poet). +</p> + +<p> +The things which are seen are opposed in Scripture to the things which are +unseen—they are equally opposed in Plato to universals and ideas. To him +all particulars appear to be floating about in a world of sense; they have a +taint of error or even of evil. There is no difficulty in seeing that this is +an illusion; for there is no more error or variation in an individual man, +horse, bed, etc., than in the class man, horse, bed, etc.; nor is the truth +which is displayed in individual instances less certain than that which is +conveyed through the medium of ideas. But Plato, who is deeply impressed with +the real importance of universals as instruments of thought, attributes to them +an essential truth which is imaginary and unreal; for universals may be often +false and particulars true. Had he attained to any clear conception of the +individual, which is the synthesis of the universal and the particular; or had +he been able to distinguish between opinion and sensation, which the ambiguity +of the words (Greek) and the like, tended to confuse, he would not have denied +truth to the particulars of sense. +</p> + +<p> +But the poets are also the representatives of falsehood and feigning in all +departments of life and knowledge, like the sophists and rhetoricians of the +Gorgias and Phaedrus; they are the false priests, false prophets, lying +spirits, enchanters of the world. There is another count put into the +indictment against them by Plato, that they are the friends of the tyrant, and +bask in the sunshine of his patronage. Despotism in all ages has had an +apparatus of false ideas and false teachers at its service—in the history +of Modern Europe as well as of Greece and Rome. For no government of men +depends solely upon force; without some corruption of literature and +morals—some appeal to the imagination of the masses—some pretence +to the favour of heaven—some element of good giving power to evil, +tyranny, even for a short time, cannot be maintained. The Greek tyrants were +not insensible to the importance of awakening in their cause a Pseudo-Hellenic +feeling; they were proud of successes at the Olympic games; they were not +devoid of the love of literature and art. Plato is thinking in the first +instance of Greek poets who had graced the courts of Dionysius or Archelaus: +and the old spirit of freedom is roused within him at their prostitution of the +Tragic Muse in the praises of tyranny. But his prophetic eye extends beyond +them to the false teachers of other ages who are the creatures of the +government under which they live. He compares the corruption of his +contemporaries with the idea of a perfect society, and gathers up into one mass +of evil the evils and errors of mankind; to him they are personified in the +rhetoricians, sophists, poets, rulers who deceive and govern the world. +</p> + +<p> +A further objection which Plato makes to poetry and the imitative arts is that +they excite the emotions. Here the modern reader will be disposed to introduce +a distinction which appears to have escaped him. For the emotions are neither +bad nor good in themselves, and are not most likely to be controlled by the +attempt to eradicate them, but by the moderate indulgence of them. And the +vocation of art is to present thought in the form of feeling, to enlist the +feelings on the side of reason, to inspire even for a moment courage or +resignation; perhaps to suggest a sense of infinity and eternity in a way which +mere language is incapable of attaining. True, the same power which in the +purer age of art embodies gods and heroes only, may be made to express the +voluptuous image of a Corinthian courtezan. But this only shows that art, like +other outward things, may be turned to good and also to evil, and is not more +closely connected with the higher than with the lower part of the soul. All +imitative art is subject to certain limitations, and therefore necessarily +partakes of the nature of a compromise. Something of ideal truth is sacrificed +for the sake of the representation, and something in the exactness of the +representation is sacrificed to the ideal. Still, works of art have a permanent +element; they idealize and detain the passing thought, and are the +intermediates between sense and ideas. +</p> + +<p> +In the present stage of the human mind, poetry and other forms of fiction may +certainly be regarded as a good. But we can also imagine the existence of an +age in which a severer conception of truth has either banished or transformed +them. At any rate we must admit that they hold a different place at different +periods of the world’s history. In the infancy of mankind, poetry, with +the exception of proverbs, is the whole of literature, and the only instrument +of intellectual culture; in modern times she is the shadow or echo of her +former self, and appears to have a precarious existence. Milton in his day +doubted whether an epic poem was any longer possible. At the same time we must +remember, that what Plato would have called the charms of poetry have been +partly transferred to prose; he himself (Statesman) admits rhetoric to be the +handmaiden of Politics, and proposes to find in the strain of law (Laws) a +substitute for the old poets. Among ourselves the creative power seems often to +be growing weaker, and scientific fact to be more engrossing and overpowering +to the mind than formerly. The illusion of the feelings commonly called love, +has hitherto been the inspiring influence of modern poetry and romance, and has +exercised a humanizing if not a strengthening influence on the world. But may +not the stimulus which love has given to fancy be some day exhausted? The +modern English novel which is the most popular of all forms of reading is not +more than a century or two old: will the tale of love a hundred years hence, +after so many thousand variations of the same theme, be still received with +unabated interest? +</p> + +<p> +Art cannot claim to be on a level with philosophy or religion, and may often +corrupt them. It is possible to conceive a mental state in which all artistic +representations are regarded as a false and imperfect expression, either of the +religious ideal or of the philosophical ideal. The fairest forms may be +revolting in certain moods of mind, as is proved by the fact that the +Mahometans, and many sects of Christians, have renounced the use of pictures +and images. The beginning of a great religion, whether Christian or Gentile, +has not been ‘wood or stone,’ but a spirit moving in the hearts of +men. The disciples have met in a large upper room or in ‘holes and caves +of the earth’; in the second or third generation, they have had mosques, +temples, churches, monasteries. And the revival or reform of religions, like +the first revelation of them, has come from within and has generally +disregarded external ceremonies and accompaniments. +</p> + +<p> +But poetry and art may also be the expression of the highest truth and the +purest sentiment. Plato himself seems to waver between two opposite +views—when, as in the third Book, he insists that youth should be brought +up amid wholesome imagery; and again in Book X, when he banishes the poets from +his Republic. Admitting that the arts, which some of us almost deify, have +fallen short of their higher aim, we must admit on the other hand that to +banish imagination wholly would be suicidal as well as impossible. For nature +too is a form of art; and a breath of the fresh air or a single glance at the +varying landscape would in an instant revive and reillumine the extinguished +spark of poetry in the human breast. In the lower stages of civilization +imagination more than reason distinguishes man from the animals; and to banish +art would be to banish thought, to banish language, to banish the expression of +all truth. No religion is wholly devoid of external forms; even the Mahometan +who renounces the use of pictures and images has a temple in which he worships +the Most High, as solemn and beautiful as any Greek or Christian building. +Feeling too and thought are not really opposed; for he who thinks must feel +before he can execute. And the highest thoughts, when they become familiarized +to us, are always tending to pass into the form of feeling. +</p> + +<p> +Plato does not seriously intend to expel poets from life and society. But he +feels strongly the unreality of their writings; he is protesting against the +degeneracy of poetry in his own day as we might protest against the want of +serious purpose in modern fiction, against the unseemliness or extravagance of +some of our poets or novelists, against the time-serving of preachers or public +writers, against the regardlessness of truth which to the eye of the +philosopher seems to characterize the greater part of the world. For we too +have reason to complain that our poets and novelists ‘paint inferior +truth’ and ‘are concerned with the inferior part of the +soul’; that the readers of them become what they read and are injuriously +affected by them. And we look in vain for that healthy atmosphere of which +Plato speaks,—‘the beauty which meets the sense like a breeze and +imperceptibly draws the soul, even in childhood, into harmony with the beauty +of reason.’ +</p> + +<p> +For there might be a poetry which would be the hymn of divine perfection, the +harmony of goodness and truth among men: a strain which should renew the youth +of the world, and bring back the ages in which the poet was man’s only +teacher and best friend,—which would find materials in the living present +as well as in the romance of the past, and might subdue to the fairest forms of +speech and verse the intractable materials of modern civilisation,—which +might elicit the simple principles, or, as Plato would have called them, the +essential forms, of truth and justice out of the variety of opinion and the +complexity of modern society,—which would preserve all the good of each +generation and leave the bad unsung,—which should be based not on vain +longings or faint imaginings, but on a clear insight into the nature of man. +Then the tale of love might begin again in poetry or prose, two in one, united +in the pursuit of knowledge, or the service of God and man; and feelings of +love might still be the incentive to great thoughts and heroic deeds as in the +days of Dante or Petrarch; and many types of manly and womanly beauty might +appear among us, rising above the ordinary level of humanity, and many lives +which were like poems (Laws), be not only written, but lived by us. A few such +strains have been heard among men in the tragedies of Aeschylus and Sophocles, +whom Plato quotes, not, as Homer is quoted by him, in irony, but with deep and +serious approval,—in the poetry of Milton and Wordsworth, and in passages +of other English poets,—first and above all in the Hebrew prophets and +psalmists. Shakespeare has taught us how great men should speak and act; he has +drawn characters of a wonderful purity and depth; he has ennobled the human +mind, but, like Homer (Rep.), he ‘has left no way of life.’ The +next greatest poet of modern times, Goethe, is concerned with ‘a lower +degree of truth’; he paints the world as a stage on which ‘all the +men and women are merely players’; he cultivates life as an art, but he +furnishes no ideals of truth and action. The poet may rebel against any attempt +to set limits to his fancy; and he may argue truly that moralizing in verse is +not poetry. Possibly, like Mephistopheles in Faust, he may retaliate on his +adversaries. But the philosopher will still be justified in asking, ‘How +may the heavenly gift of poesy be devoted to the good of mankind?’ +</p> + +<p> +Returning to Plato, we may observe that a similar mixture of truth and error +appears in other parts of the argument. He is aware of the absurdity of mankind +framing their whole lives according to Homer; just as in the Phaedrus he +intimates the absurdity of interpreting mythology upon rational principles; +both these were the modern tendencies of his own age, which he deservedly +ridicules. On the other hand, his argument that Homer, if he had been able to +teach mankind anything worth knowing, would not have been allowed by them to go +about begging as a rhapsodist, is both false and contrary to the spirit of +Plato (Rep.). It may be compared with those other paradoxes of the Gorgias, +that ‘No statesman was ever unjustly put to death by the city of which he +was the head’; and that ‘No Sophist was ever defrauded by his +pupils’ (Gorg.)... +</p> + +<p> +The argument for immortality seems to rest on the absolute dualism of soul and +body. Admitting the existence of the soul, we know of no force which is able to +put an end to her. Vice is her own proper evil; and if she cannot be destroyed +by that, she cannot be destroyed by any other. Yet Plato has acknowledged that +the soul may be so overgrown by the incrustations of earth as to lose her +original form; and in the Timaeus he recognizes more strongly than in the +Republic the influence which the body has over the mind, denying even the +voluntariness of human actions, on the ground that they proceed from physical +states (Tim.). In the Republic, as elsewhere, he wavers between the original +soul which has to be restored, and the character which is developed by training +and education... +</p> + +<p> +The vision of another world is ascribed to Er, the son of Armenius, who is said +by Clement of Alexandria to have been Zoroaster. The tale has certainly an +oriental character, and may be compared with the pilgrimages of the soul in the +Zend Avesta (Haug, Avesta). But no trace of acquaintance with Zoroaster is +found elsewhere in Plato’s writings, and there is no reason for giving +him the name of Er the Pamphylian. The philosophy of Heracleitus cannot be +shown to be borrowed from Zoroaster, and still less the myths of Plato. +</p> + +<p> +The local arrangement of the vision is less distinct than that of the Phaedrus +and Phaedo. Astronomy is mingled with symbolism and mythology; the great sphere +of heaven is represented under the symbol of a cylinder or box, containing the +seven orbits of the planets and the fixed stars; this is suspended from an axis +or spindle which turns on the knees of Necessity; the revolutions of the seven +orbits contained in the cylinder are guided by the fates, and their harmonious +motion produces the music of the spheres. Through the innermost or eighth of +these, which is the moon, is passed the spindle; but it is doubtful whether +this is the continuation of the column of light, from which the pilgrims +contemplate the heavens; the words of Plato imply that they are connected, but +not the same. The column itself is clearly not of adamant. The spindle (which +is of adamant) is fastened to the ends of the chains which extend to the middle +of the column of light—this column is said to hold together the heaven; +but whether it hangs from the spindle, or is at right angles to it, is not +explained. The cylinder containing the orbits of the stars is almost as much a +symbol as the figure of Necessity turning the spindle;—for the outermost +rim is the sphere of the fixed stars, and nothing is said about the intervals +of space which divide the paths of the stars in the heavens. The description is +both a picture and an orrery, and therefore is necessarily inconsistent with +itself. The column of light is not the Milky Way—which is neither +straight, nor like a rainbow—but the imaginary axis of the earth. This is +compared to the rainbow in respect not of form but of colour, and not to the +undergirders of a trireme, but to the straight rope running from prow to stern +in which the undergirders meet. +</p> + +<p> +The orrery or picture of the heavens given in the Republic differs in its mode +of representation from the circles of the same and of the other in the Timaeus. +In both the fixed stars are distinguished from the planets, and they move in +orbits without them, although in an opposite direction: in the Republic as in +the Timaeus they are all moving round the axis of the world. But we are not +certain that in the former they are moving round the earth. No distinct mention +is made in the Republic of the circles of the same and other; although both in +the Timaeus and in the Republic the motion of the fixed stars is supposed to +coincide with the motion of the whole. The relative thickness of the rims is +perhaps designed to express the relative distances of the planets. Plato +probably intended to represent the earth, from which Er and his companions are +viewing the heavens, as stationary in place; but whether or not herself +revolving, unless this is implied in the revolution of the axis, is uncertain +(Timaeus). The spectator may be supposed to look at the heavenly bodies, either +from above or below. The earth is a sort of earth and heaven in one, like the +heaven of the Phaedrus, on the back of which the spectator goes out to take a +peep at the stars and is borne round in the revolution. There is no distinction +between the equator and the ecliptic. But Plato is no doubt led to imagine that +the planets have an opposite motion to that of the fixed stars, in order to +account for their appearances in the heavens. In the description of the meadow, +and the retribution of the good and evil after death, there are traces of +Homer. +</p> + +<p> +The description of the axis as a spindle, and of the heavenly bodies as forming +a whole, partly arises out of the attempt to connect the motions of the +heavenly bodies with the mythological image of the web, or weaving of the +Fates. The giving of the lots, the weaving of them, and the making of them +irreversible, which are ascribed to the three Fates—Lachesis, Clotho, +Atropos, are obviously derived from their names. The element of chance in human +life is indicated by the order of the lots. But chance, however adverse, may be +overcome by the wisdom of man, if he knows how to choose aright; there is a +worse enemy to man than chance; this enemy is himself. He who was moderately +fortunate in the number of the lot—even the very last comer—might +have a good life if he chose with wisdom. And as Plato does not like to make an +assertion which is unproven, he more than confirms this statement a few +sentences afterwards by the example of Odysseus, who chose last. But the virtue +which is founded on habit is not sufficient to enable a man to choose; he must +add to virtue knowledge, if he is to act rightly when placed in new +circumstances. The routine of good actions and good habits is an inferior sort +of goodness; and, as Coleridge says, ‘Common sense is intolerable which +is not based on metaphysics,’ so Plato would have said, ‘Habit is +worthless which is not based upon philosophy.’ +</p> + +<p> +The freedom of the will to refuse the evil and to choose the good is distinctly +asserted. ‘Virtue is free, and as a man honours or dishonours her he will +have more or less of her.’ The life of man is ‘rounded’ by +necessity; there are circumstances prior to birth which affect him (Pol.). But +within the walls of necessity there is an open space in which he is his own +master, and can study for himself the effects which the variously compounded +gifts of nature or fortune have upon the soul, and act accordingly. All men +cannot have the first choice in everything. But the lot of all men is good +enough, if they choose wisely and will live diligently. +</p> + +<p> +The verisimilitude which is given to the pilgrimage of a thousand years, by the +intimation that Ardiaeus had lived a thousand years before; the coincidence of +Er coming to life on the twelfth day after he was supposed to have been dead +with the seven days which the pilgrims passed in the meadow, and the four days +during which they journeyed to the column of light; the precision with which +the soul is mentioned who chose the twentieth lot; the passing remarks that +there was no definite character among the souls, and that the souls which had +chosen ill blamed any one rather than themselves; or that some of the souls +drank more than was necessary of the waters of Forgetfulness, while Er himself +was hindered from drinking; the desire of Odysseus to rest at last, unlike the +conception of him in Dante and Tennyson; the feigned ignorance of how Er +returned to the body, when the other souls went shooting like stars to their +birth,—add greatly to the probability of the narrative. They are such +touches of nature as the art of Defoe might have introduced when he wished to +win credibility for marvels and apparitions. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +There still remain to be considered some points which have been intentionally +reserved to the end: (1) the Janus-like character of the Republic, which +presents two faces—one an Hellenic state, the other a kingdom of +philosophers. Connected with the latter of the two aspects are (2) the +paradoxes of the Republic, as they have been termed by Morgenstern: (a) the +community of property; (b) of families; (c) the rule of philosophers; (d) the +analogy of the individual and the State, which, like some other analogies in +the Republic, is carried too far. We may then proceed to consider (3) the +subject of education as conceived by Plato, bringing together in a general view +the education of youth and the education of after-life; (4) we may note further +some essential differences between ancient and modern politics which are +suggested by the Republic; (5) we may compare the Politicus and the Laws; (6) +we may observe the influence exercised by Plato on his imitators; and (7) take +occasion to consider the nature and value of political, and (8) of religious +ideals. +</p> + +<p> +1. Plato expressly says that he is intending to found an Hellenic State (Book +V). Many of his regulations are characteristically Spartan; such as the +prohibition of gold and silver, the common meals of the men, the military +training of the youth, the gymnastic exercises of the women. The life of Sparta +was the life of a camp (Laws), enforced even more rigidly in time of peace than +in war; the citizens of Sparta, like Plato’s, were forbidden to +trade—they were to be soldiers and not shopkeepers. Nowhere else in +Greece was the individual so completely subjected to the State; the time when +he was to marry, the education of his children, the clothes which he was to +wear, the food which he was to eat, were all prescribed by law. Some of the +best enactments in the Republic, such as the reverence to be paid to parents +and elders, and some of the worst, such as the exposure of deformed children, +are borrowed from the practice of Sparta. The encouragement of friendships +between men and youths, or of men with one another, as affording incentives to +bravery, is also Spartan; in Sparta too a nearer approach was made than in any +other Greek State to equality of the sexes, and to community of property; and +while there was probably less of licentiousness in the sense of immorality, the +tie of marriage was regarded more lightly than in the rest of Greece. The +‘suprema lex’ was the preservation of the family, and the interest +of the State. The coarse strength of a military government was not favourable +to purity and refinement; and the excessive strictness of some regulations +seems to have produced a reaction. Of all Hellenes the Spartans were most +accessible to bribery; several of the greatest of them might be described in +the words of Plato as having a ‘fierce secret longing after gold and +silver.’ Though not in the strict sense communists, the principle of +communism was maintained among them in their division of lands, in their common +meals, in their slaves, and in the free use of one another’s goods. +Marriage was a public institution: and the women were educated by the State, +and sang and danced in public with the men. +</p> + +<p> +Many traditions were preserved at Sparta of the severity with which the +magistrates had maintained the primitive rule of music and poetry; as in the +Republic of Plato, the new-fangled poet was to be expelled. Hymns to the Gods, +which are the only kind of music admitted into the ideal State, were the only +kind which was permitted at Sparta. The Spartans, though an unpoetical race, +were nevertheless lovers of poetry; they had been stirred by the Elegiac +strains of Tyrtaeus, they had crowded around Hippias to hear his recitals of +Homer; but in this they resembled the citizens of the timocratic rather than of +the ideal State. The council of elder men also corresponds to the Spartan +gerousia; and the freedom with which they are permitted to judge about matters +of detail agrees with what we are told of that institution. Once more, the +military rule of not spoiling the dead or offering arms at the temples; the +moderation in the pursuit of enemies; the importance attached to the physical +well-being of the citizens; the use of warfare for the sake of defence rather +than of aggression—are features probably suggested by the spirit and +practice of Sparta. +</p> + +<p> +To the Spartan type the ideal State reverts in the first decline; and the +character of the individual timocrat is borrowed from the Spartan citizen. The +love of Lacedaemon not only affected Plato and Xenophon, but was shared by many +undistinguished Athenians; there they seemed to find a principle which was +wanting in their own democracy. The (Greek) of the Spartans attracted them, +that is to say, not the goodness of their laws, but the spirit of order and +loyalty which prevailed. Fascinated by the idea, citizens of Athens would +imitate the Lacedaemonians in their dress and manners; they were known to the +contemporaries of Plato as ‘the persons who had their ears +bruised,’ like the Roundheads of the Commonwealth. The love of another +church or country when seen at a distance only, the longing for an imaginary +simplicity in civilized times, the fond desire of a past which never has been, +or of a future which never will be,—these are aspirations of the human +mind which are often felt among ourselves. Such feelings meet with a response +in the Republic of Plato. +</p> + +<p> +But there are other features of the Platonic Republic, as, for example, the +literary and philosophical education, and the grace and beauty of life, which +are the reverse of Spartan. Plato wishes to give his citizens a taste of +Athenian freedom as well as of Lacedaemonian discipline. His individual genius +is purely Athenian, although in theory he is a lover of Sparta; and he is +something more than either—he has also a true Hellenic feeling. He is +desirous of humanizing the wars of Hellenes against one another; he +acknowledges that the Delphian God is the grand hereditary interpreter of all +Hellas. The spirit of harmony and the Dorian mode are to prevail, and the whole +State is to have an external beauty which is the reflex of the harmony within. +But he has not yet found out the truth which he afterwards enunciated in the +Laws—that he was a better legislator who made men to be of one mind, than +he who trained them for war. The citizens, as in other Hellenic States, +democratic as well as aristocratic, are really an upper class; for, although no +mention is made of slaves, the lower classes are allowed to fade away into the +distance, and are represented in the individual by the passions. Plato has no +idea either of a social State in which all classes are harmonized, or of a +federation of Hellas or the world in which different nations or States have a +place. His city is equipped for war rather than for peace, and this would seem +to be justified by the ordinary condition of Hellenic States. The myth of the +earth-born men is an embodiment of the orthodox tradition of Hellas, and the +allusion to the four ages of the world is also sanctioned by the authority of +Hesiod and the poets. Thus we see that the Republic is partly founded on the +ideal of the old Greek polis, partly on the actual circumstances of Hellas in +that age. Plato, like the old painters, retains the traditional form, and like +them he has also a vision of a city in the clouds. +</p> + +<p> +There is yet another thread which is interwoven in the texture of the work; for +the Republic is not only a Dorian State, but a Pythagorean league. The +‘way of life’ which was connected with the name of Pythagoras, like +the Catholic monastic orders, showed the power which the mind of an individual +might exercise over his contemporaries, and may have naturally suggested to +Plato the possibility of reviving such ‘mediaeval institutions.’ +The Pythagoreans, like Plato, enforced a rule of life and a moral and +intellectual training. The influence ascribed to music, which to us seems +exaggerated, is also a Pythagorean feature; it is not to be regarded as +representing the real influence of music in the Greek world. More nearly than +any other government of Hellas, the Pythagorean league of three hundred was an +aristocracy of virtue. For once in the history of mankind the philosophy of +order or (Greek), expressing and consequently enlisting on its side the +combined endeavours of the better part of the people, obtained the management +of public affairs and held possession of it for a considerable time (until +about B.C. 500). Probably only in States prepared by Dorian institutions would +such a league have been possible. The rulers, like Plato’s (Greek), were +required to submit to a severe training in order to prepare the way for the +education of the other members of the community. Long after the dissolution of +the Order, eminent Pythagoreans, such as Archytas of Tarentum, retained their +political influence over the cities of Magna Graecia. There was much here that +was suggestive to the kindred spirit of Plato, who had doubtless meditated +deeply on the ‘way of life of Pythagoras’ (Rep.) and his followers. +Slight traces of Pythagoreanism are to be found in the mystical number of the +State, in the number which expresses the interval between the king and the +tyrant, in the doctrine of transmigration, in the music of the spheres, as well +as in the great though secondary importance ascribed to mathematics in +education. +</p> + +<p> +But as in his philosophy, so also in the form of his State, he goes far beyond +the old Pythagoreans. He attempts a task really impossible, which is to unite +the past of Greek history with the future of philosophy, analogous to that +other impossibility, which has often been the dream of Christendom, the attempt +to unite the past history of Europe with the kingdom of Christ. Nothing +actually existing in the world at all resembles Plato’s ideal State; nor +does he himself imagine that such a State is possible. This he repeats again +and again; e.g. in the Republic, or in the Laws where, casting a glance back on +the Republic, he admits that the perfect state of communism and philosophy was +impossible in his own age, though still to be retained as a pattern. The same +doubt is implied in the earnestness with which he argues in the Republic that +ideals are none the worse because they cannot be realized in fact, and in the +chorus of laughter, which like a breaking wave will, as he anticipates, greet +the mention of his proposals; though like other writers of fiction, he uses all +his art to give reality to his inventions. When asked how the ideal polity can +come into being, he answers ironically, ‘When one son of a king becomes a +philosopher’; he designates the fiction of the earth-born men as ‘a +noble lie’; and when the structure is finally complete, he fairly tells +you that his Republic is a vision only, which in some sense may have reality, +but not in the vulgar one of a reign of philosophers upon earth. It has been +said that Plato flies as well as walks, but this falls short of the truth; for +he flies and walks at the same time, and is in the air and on firm ground in +successive instants. +</p> + +<p> +Niebuhr has asked a trifling question, which may be briefly noticed in this +place—Was Plato a good citizen? If by this is meant, Was he loyal to +Athenian institutions?—he can hardly be said to be the friend of +democracy: but neither is he the friend of any other existing form of +government; all of them he regarded as ‘states of faction’ (Laws); +none attained to his ideal of a voluntary rule over voluntary subjects, which +seems indeed more nearly to describe democracy than any other; and the worst of +them is tyranny. The truth is, that the question has hardly any meaning when +applied to a great philosopher whose writings are not meant for a particular +age and country, but for all time and all mankind. The decline of Athenian +politics was probably the motive which led Plato to frame an ideal State, and +the Republic may be regarded as reflecting the departing glory of Hellas. As +well might we complain of St. Augustine, whose great work ‘The City of +God’ originated in a similar motive, for not being loyal to the Roman +Empire. Even a nearer parallel might be afforded by the first Christians, who +cannot fairly be charged with being bad citizens because, though ‘subject +to the higher powers,’ they were looking forward to a city which is in +heaven. +</p> + +<p> +2. The idea of the perfect State is full of paradox when judged of according to +the ordinary notions of mankind. The paradoxes of one age have been said to +become the commonplaces of the next; but the paradoxes of Plato are at least as +paradoxical to us as they were to his contemporaries. The modern world has +either sneered at them as absurd, or denounced them as unnatural and immoral; +men have been pleased to find in Aristotle’s criticisms of them the +anticipation of their own good sense. The wealthy and cultivated classes have +disliked and also dreaded them; they have pointed with satisfaction to the +failure of efforts to realize them in practice. Yet since they are the thoughts +of one of the greatest of human intelligences, and of one who had done most to +elevate morality and religion, they seem to deserve a better treatment at our +hands. We may have to address the public, as Plato does poetry, and assure them +that we mean no harm to existing institutions. There are serious errors which +have a side of truth and which therefore may fairly demand a careful +consideration: there are truths mixed with error of which we may indeed say, +‘The half is better than the whole.’ Yet ‘the half’ may +be an important contribution to the study of human nature. +</p> + +<p> +(a) The first paradox is the community of goods, which is mentioned slightly at +the end of the third Book, and seemingly, as Aristotle observes, is confined to +the guardians; at least no mention is made of the other classes. But the +omission is not of any real significance, and probably arises out of the plan +of the work, which prevents the writer from entering into details. +</p> + +<p> +Aristotle censures the community of property much in the spirit of modern +political economy, as tending to repress industry, and as doing away with the +spirit of benevolence. Modern writers almost refuse to consider the subject, +which is supposed to have been long ago settled by the common opinion of +mankind. But it must be remembered that the sacredness of property is a notion +far more fixed in modern than in ancient times. The world has grown older, and +is therefore more conservative. Primitive society offered many examples of land +held in common, either by a tribe or by a township, and such may probably have +been the original form of landed tenure. Ancient legislators had invented +various modes of dividing and preserving the divisions of land among the +citizens; according to Aristotle there were nations who held the land in common +and divided the produce, and there were others who divided the land and stored +the produce in common. The evils of debt and the inequality of property were +far greater in ancient than in modern times, and the accidents to which +property was subject from war, or revolution, or taxation, or other legislative +interference, were also greater. All these circumstances gave property a less +fixed and sacred character. The early Christians are believed to have held +their property in common, and the principle is sanctioned by the words of +Christ himself, and has been maintained as a counsel of perfection in almost +all ages of the Church. Nor have there been wanting instances of modern +enthusiasts who have made a religion of communism; in every age of religious +excitement notions like Wycliffe’s ‘inheritance of grace’ +have tended to prevail. A like spirit, but fiercer and more violent, has +appeared in politics. ‘The preparation of the Gospel of peace’ soon +becomes the red flag of Republicanism. +</p> + +<p> +We can hardly judge what effect Plato’s views would have upon his own +contemporaries; they would perhaps have seemed to them only an exaggeration of +the Spartan commonwealth. Even modern writers would acknowledge that the right +of private property is based on expediency, and may be interfered with in a +variety of ways for the public good. Any other mode of vesting property which +was found to be more advantageous, would in time acquire the same basis of +right; ‘the most useful,’ in Plato’s words, ‘would be +the most sacred.’ The lawyers and ecclesiastics of former ages would have +spoken of property as a sacred institution. But they only meant by such +language to oppose the greatest amount of resistance to any invasion of the +rights of individuals and of the Church. +</p> + +<p> +When we consider the question, without any fear of immediate application to +practice, in the spirit of Plato’s Republic, are we quite sure that the +received notions of property are the best? Is the distribution of wealth which +is customary in civilized countries the most favourable that can be conceived +for the education and development of the mass of mankind? Can ‘the +spectator of all time and all existence’ be quite convinced that one or +two thousand years hence, great changes will not have taken place in the rights +of property, or even that the very notion of property, beyond what is necessary +for personal maintenance, may not have disappeared? This was a distinction +familiar to Aristotle, though likely to be laughed at among ourselves. Such a +change would not be greater than some other changes through which the world has +passed in the transition from ancient to modern society, for example, the +emancipation of the serfs in Russia, or the abolition of slavery in America and +the West Indies; and not so great as the difference which separates the Eastern +village community from the Western world. To accomplish such a revolution in +the course of a few centuries, would imply a rate of progress not more rapid +than has actually taken place during the last fifty or sixty years. The kingdom +of Japan underwent more change in five or six years than Europe in five or six +hundred. Many opinions and beliefs which have been cherished among ourselves +quite as strongly as the sacredness of property have passed away; and the most +untenable propositions respecting the right of bequests or entail have been +maintained with as much fervour as the most moderate. Some one will be heard to +ask whether a state of society can be final in which the interests of thousands +are perilled on the life or character of a single person. And many will indulge +the hope that our present condition may, after all, be only transitional, and +may conduct to a higher, in which property, besides ministering to the +enjoyment of the few, may also furnish the means of the highest culture to all, +and will be a greater benefit to the public generally, and also more under the +control of public authority. There may come a time when the saying, ‘Have +I not a right to do what I will with my own?’ will appear to be a +barbarous relic of individualism;—when the possession of a part may be a +greater blessing to each and all than the possession of the whole is now to any +one. +</p> + +<p> +Such reflections appear visionary to the eye of the practical statesman, but +they are within the range of possibility to the philosopher. He can imagine +that in some distant age or clime, and through the influence of some +individual, the notion of common property may or might have sunk as deep into +the heart of a race, and have become as fixed to them, as private property is +to ourselves. He knows that this latter institution is not more than four or +five thousand years old: may not the end revert to the beginning? In our own +age even Utopias affect the spirit of legislation, and an abstract idea may +exercise a great influence on practical politics. +</p> + +<p> +The objections that would be generally urged against Plato’s community of +property, are the old ones of Aristotle, that motives for exertion would be +taken away, and that disputes would arise when each was dependent upon all. +Every man would produce as little and consume as much as he liked. The +experience of civilized nations has hitherto been adverse to Socialism. The +effort is too great for human nature; men try to live in common, but the +personal feeling is always breaking in. On the other hand it may be doubted +whether our present notions of property are not conventional, for they differ +in different countries and in different states of society. We boast of an +individualism which is not freedom, but rather an artificial result of the +industrial state of modern Europe. The individual is nominally free, but he is +also powerless in a world bound hand and foot in the chains of economic +necessity. Even if we cannot expect the mass of mankind to become +disinterested, at any rate we observe in them a power of organization which +fifty years ago would never have been suspected. The same forces which have +revolutionized the political system of Europe, may effect a similar change in +the social and industrial relations of mankind. And if we suppose the influence +of some good as well as neutral motives working in the community, there will be +no absurdity in expecting that the mass of mankind having power, and becoming +enlightened about the higher possibilities of human life, when they learn how +much more is attainable for all than is at present the possession of a favoured +few, may pursue the common interest with an intelligence and persistency which +mankind have hitherto never seen. +</p> + +<p> +Now that the world has once been set in motion, and is no longer held fast +under the tyranny of custom and ignorance; now that criticism has pierced the +veil of tradition and the past no longer overpowers the present,—the +progress of civilization may be expected to be far greater and swifter than +heretofore. Even at our present rate of speed the point at which we may arrive +in two or three generations is beyond the power of imagination to foresee. +There are forces in the world which work, not in an arithmetical, but in a +geometrical ratio of increase. Education, to use the expression of Plato, moves +like a wheel with an ever-multiplying rapidity. Nor can we say how great may be +its influence, when it becomes universal,—when it has been inherited by +many generations,—when it is freed from the trammels of superstition and +rightly adapted to the wants and capacities of different classes of men and +women. Neither do we know how much more the co-operation of minds or of hands +may be capable of accomplishing, whether in labour or in study. The resources +of the natural sciences are not half-developed as yet; the soil of the earth, +instead of growing more barren, may become many times more fertile than +hitherto; the uses of machinery far greater, and also more minute than at +present. New secrets of physiology may be revealed, deeply affecting human +nature in its innermost recesses. The standard of health may be raised and the +lives of men prolonged by sanitary and medical knowledge. There may be peace, +there may be leisure, there may be innocent refreshments of many kinds. The +ever-increasing power of locomotion may join the extremes of earth. There may +be mysterious workings of the human mind, such as occur only at great crises of +history. The East and the West may meet together, and all nations may +contribute their thoughts and their experience to the common stock of humanity. +Many other elements enter into a speculation of this kind. But it is better to +make an end of them. For such reflections appear to the majority far-fetched, +and to men of science, commonplace. +</p> + +<p> +(b) Neither to the mind of Plato nor of Aristotle did the doctrine of community +of property present at all the same difficulty, or appear to be the same +violation of the common Hellenic sentiment, as the community of wives and +children. This paradox he prefaces by another proposal, that the occupations of +men and women shall be the same, and that to this end they shall have a common +training and education. Male and female animals have the same +pursuits—why not also the two sexes of man? +</p> + +<p> +But have we not here fallen into a contradiction? for we were saying that +different natures should have different pursuits. How then can men and women +have the same? And is not the proposal inconsistent with our notion of the +division of labour?—These objections are no sooner raised than answered; +for, according to Plato, there is no organic difference between men and women, +but only the accidental one that men beget and women bear children. Following +the analogy of the other animals, he contends that all natural gifts are +scattered about indifferently among both sexes, though there may be a +superiority of degree on the part of the men. The objection on the score of +decency to their taking part in the same gymnastic exercises, is met by +Plato’s assertion that the existing feeling is a matter of habit. +</p> + +<p> +That Plato should have emancipated himself from the ideas of his own country +and from the example of the East, shows a wonderful independence of mind. He is +conscious that women are half the human race, in some respects the more +important half (Laws); and for the sake both of men and women he desires to +raise the woman to a higher level of existence. He brings, not sentiment, but +philosophy to bear upon a question which both in ancient and modern times has +been chiefly regarded in the light of custom or feeling. The Greeks had noble +conceptions of womanhood in the goddesses Athene and Artemis, and in the +heroines Antigone and Andromache. But these ideals had no counterpart in actual +life. The Athenian woman was in no way the equal of her husband; she was not +the entertainer of his guests or the mistress of his house, but only his +housekeeper and the mother of his children. She took no part in military or +political matters; nor is there any instance in the later ages of Greece of a +woman becoming famous in literature. ‘Hers is the greatest glory who has +the least renown among men,’ is the historian’s conception of +feminine excellence. A very different ideal of womanhood is held up by Plato to +the world; she is to be the companion of the man, and to share with him in the +toils of war and in the cares of government. She is to be similarly trained +both in bodily and mental exercises. She is to lose as far as possible the +incidents of maternity and the characteristics of the female sex. +</p> + +<p> +The modern antagonist of the equality of the sexes would argue that the +differences between men and women are not confined to the single point urged by +Plato; that sensibility, gentleness, grace, are the qualities of women, while +energy, strength, higher intelligence, are to be looked for in men. And the +criticism is just: the differences affect the whole nature, and are not, as +Plato supposes, confined to a single point. But neither can we say how far +these differences are due to education and the opinions of mankind, or +physically inherited from the habits and opinions of former generations. Women +have been always taught, not exactly that they are slaves, but that they are in +an inferior position, which is also supposed to have compensating advantages; +and to this position they have conformed. It is also true that the physical +form may easily change in the course of generations through the mode of life; +and the weakness or delicacy, which was once a matter of opinion, may become a +physical fact. The characteristics of sex vary greatly in different countries +and ranks of society, and at different ages in the same individuals. Plato may +have been right in denying that there was any ultimate difference in the sexes +of man other than that which exists in animals, because all other differences +may be conceived to disappear in other states of society, or under different +circumstances of life and training. +</p> + +<p> +The first wave having been passed, we proceed to the second—community of +wives and children. ‘Is it possible? Is it desirable?’ For as +Glaucon intimates, and as we far more strongly insist, ‘Great doubts may +be entertained about both these points.’ Any free discussion of the +question is impossible, and mankind are perhaps right in not allowing the +ultimate bases of social life to be examined. Few of us can safely enquire into +the things which nature hides, any more than we can dissect our own bodies. +Still, the manner in which Plato arrived at his conclusions should be +considered. For here, as Mr. Grote has remarked, is a wonderful thing, that one +of the wisest and best of men should have entertained ideas of morality which +are wholly at variance with our own. And if we would do Plato justice, we must +examine carefully the character of his proposals. First, we may observe that +the relations of the sexes supposed by him are the reverse of licentious: he +seems rather to aim at an impossible strictness. Secondly, he conceives the +family to be the natural enemy of the state; and he entertains the serious hope +that an universal brotherhood may take the place of private interests—an +aspiration which, although not justified by experience, has possessed many +noble minds. On the other hand, there is no sentiment or imagination in the +connections which men and women are supposed by him to form; human beings +return to the level of the animals, neither exalting to heaven, nor yet abusing +the natural instincts. All that world of poetry and fancy which the passion of +love has called forth in modern literature and romance would have been banished +by Plato. The arrangements of marriage in the Republic are directed to one +object—the improvement of the race. In successive generations a great +development both of bodily and mental qualities might be possible. The analogy +of animals tends to show that mankind can within certain limits receive a +change of nature. And as in animals we should commonly choose the best for +breeding, and destroy the others, so there must be a selection made of the +human beings whose lives are worthy to be preserved. +</p> + +<p> +We start back horrified from this Platonic ideal, in the belief, first, that +the higher feelings of humanity are far too strong to be crushed out; secondly, +that if the plan could be carried into execution we should be poorly +recompensed by improvements in the breed for the loss of the best things in +life. The greatest regard for the weakest and meanest of human beings—the +infant, the criminal, the insane, the idiot, truly seems to us one of the +noblest results of Christianity. We have learned, though as yet imperfectly, +that the individual man has an endless value in the sight of God, and that we +honour Him when we honour the darkened and disfigured image of Him (Laws). This +is the lesson which Christ taught in a parable when He said, ‘Their +angels do always behold the face of My Father which is in heaven.’ Such +lessons are only partially realized in any age; they were foreign to the age of +Plato, as they have very different degrees of strength in different countries +or ages of the Christian world. To the Greek the family was a religious and +customary institution binding the members together by a tie inferior in +strength to that of friendship, and having a less solemn and sacred sound than +that of country. The relationship which existed on the lower level of custom, +Plato imagined that he was raising to the higher level of nature and reason; +while from the modern and Christian point of view we regard him as sanctioning +murder and destroying the first principles of morality. +</p> + +<p> +The great error in these and similar speculations is that the difference +between man and the animals is forgotten in them. The human being is regarded +with the eye of a dog- or bird-fancier, or at best of a slave-owner; the higher +or human qualities are left out. The breeder of animals aims chiefly at size or +speed or strength; in a few cases at courage or temper; most often the fitness +of the animal for food is the great desideratum. But mankind are not bred to be +eaten, nor yet for their superiority in fighting or in running or in drawing +carts. Neither does the improvement of the human race consist merely in the +increase of the bones and flesh, but in the growth and enlightenment of the +mind. Hence there must be ‘a marriage of true minds’ as well as of +bodies, of imagination and reason as well as of lusts and instincts. Men and +women without feeling or imagination are justly called brutes; yet Plato takes +away these qualities and puts nothing in their place, not even the desire of a +noble offspring, since parents are not to know their own children. The most +important transaction of social life, he who is the idealist philosopher +converts into the most brutal. For the pair are to have no relation to one +another, except at the hymeneal festival; their children are not theirs, but +the state’s; nor is any tie of affection to unite them. Yet here the +analogy of the animals might have saved Plato from a gigantic error, if he had +‘not lost sight of his own illustration.’ For the ‘nobler +sort of birds and beasts’ nourish and protect their offspring and are +faithful to one another. +</p> + +<p> +An eminent physiologist thinks it worth while ‘to try and place life on a +physical basis.’ But should not life rest on the moral rather than upon +the physical? The higher comes first, then the lower, first the human and +rational, afterwards the animal. Yet they are not absolutely divided; and in +times of sickness or moments of self-indulgence they seem to be only different +aspects of a common human nature which includes them both. Neither is the moral +the limit of the physical, but the expansion and enlargement of it,—the +highest form which the physical is capable of receiving. As Plato would say, +the body does not take care of the body, and still less of the mind, but the +mind takes care of both. In all human action not that which is common to man +and the animals is the characteristic element, but that which distinguishes him +from them. Even if we admit the physical basis, and resolve all virtue into +health of body ‘la facon que notre sang circule,’ still on merely +physical grounds we must come back to ideas. Mind and reason and duty and +conscience, under these or other names, are always reappearing. There cannot be +health of body without health of mind; nor health of mind without the sense of +duty and the love of truth (Charm). +</p> + +<p> +That the greatest of ancient philosophers should in his regulations about +marriage have fallen into the error of separating body and mind, does indeed +appear surprising. Yet the wonder is not so much that Plato should have +entertained ideas of morality which to our own age are revolting, but that he +should have contradicted himself to an extent which is hardly credible, falling +in an instant from the heaven of idealism into the crudest animalism. Rejoicing +in the newly found gift of reflection, he appears to have thought out a subject +about which he had better have followed the enlightened feeling of his own age. +The general sentiment of Hellas was opposed to his monstrous fancy. The old +poets, and in later time the tragedians, showed no want of respect for the +family, on which much of their religion was based. But the example of Sparta, +and perhaps in some degree the tendency to defy public opinion, seems to have +misled him. He will make one family out of all the families of the state. He +will select the finest specimens of men and women and breed from these only. +</p> + +<p> +Yet because the illusion is always returning (for the animal part of human +nature will from time to time assert itself in the disguise of philosophy as +well as of poetry), and also because any departure from established morality, +even where this is not intended, is apt to be unsettling, it may be worth while +to draw out a little more at length the objections to the Platonic marriage. In +the first place, history shows that wherever polygamy has been largely allowed +the race has deteriorated. One man to one woman is the law of God and nature. +Nearly all the civilized peoples of the world at some period before the age of +written records, have become monogamists; and the step when once taken has +never been retraced. The exceptions occurring among Brahmins or Mahometans or +the ancient Persians, are of that sort which may be said to prove the rule. The +connexions formed between superior and inferior races hardly ever produce a +noble offspring, because they are licentious; and because the children in such +cases usually despise the mother and are neglected by the father who is ashamed +of them. Barbarous nations when they are introduced by Europeans to vice die +out; polygamist peoples either import and adopt children from other countries, +or dwindle in numbers, or both. Dynasties and aristocracies which have +disregarded the laws of nature have decreased in numbers and degenerated in +stature; ‘mariages de convenance’ leave their enfeebling stamp on +the offspring of them (King Lear). The marriage of near relations, or the +marrying in and in of the same family tends constantly to weakness or idiocy in +the children, sometimes assuming the form as they grow older of passionate +licentiousness. The common prostitute rarely has any offspring. By such +unmistakable evidence is the authority of morality asserted in the relations of +the sexes: and so many more elements enter into this ‘mystery’ than +are dreamed of by Plato and some other philosophers. +</p> + +<p> +Recent enquirers have indeed arrived at the conclusion that among primitive +tribes there existed a community of wives as of property, and that the captive +taken by the spear was the only wife or slave whom any man was permitted to +call his own. The partial existence of such customs among some of the lower +races of man, and the survival of peculiar ceremonies in the marriages of some +civilized nations, are thought to furnish a proof of similar institutions +having been once universal. There can be no question that the study of +anthropology has considerably changed our views respecting the first appearance +of man upon the earth. We know more about the aborigines of the world than +formerly, but our increasing knowledge shows above all things how little we +know. With all the helps which written monuments afford, we do but faintly +realize the condition of man two thousand or three thousand years ago. Of what +his condition was when removed to a distance 200,000 or 300,000 years, when the +majority of mankind were lower and nearer the animals than any tribe now +existing upon the earth, we cannot even entertain conjecture. Plato (Laws) and +Aristotle (Metaph.) may have been more right than we imagine in supposing that +some forms of civilisation were discovered and lost several times over. If we +cannot argue that all barbarism is a degraded civilization, neither can we set +any limits to the depth of degradation to which the human race may sink through +war, disease, or isolation. And if we are to draw inferences about the origin +of marriage from the practice of barbarous nations, we should also consider the +remoter analogy of the animals. Many birds and animals, especially the +carnivorous, have only one mate, and the love and care of offspring which seems +to be natural is inconsistent with the primitive theory of marriage. If we go +back to an imaginary state in which men were almost animals and the companions +of them, we have as much right to argue from what is animal to what is human as +from the barbarous to the civilized man. The record of animal life on the globe +is fragmentary,—the connecting links are wanting and cannot be supplied; +the record of social life is still more fragmentary and precarious. Even if we +admit that our first ancestors had no such institution as marriage, still the +stages by which men passed from outer barbarism to the comparative civilization +of China, Assyria, and Greece, or even of the ancient Germans, are wholly +unknown to us. +</p> + +<p> +Such speculations are apt to be unsettling, because they seem to show that an +institution which was thought to be a revelation from heaven, is only the +growth of history and experience. We ask what is the origin of marriage, and we +are told that like the right of property, after many wars and contests, it has +gradually arisen out of the selfishness of barbarians. We stand face to face +with human nature in its primitive nakedness. We are compelled to accept, not +the highest, but the lowest account of the origin of human society. But on the +other hand we may truly say that every step in human progress has been in the +same direction, and that in the course of ages the idea of marriage and of the +family has been more and more defined and consecrated. The civilized East is +immeasurably in advance of any savage tribes; the Greeks and Romans have +improved upon the East; the Christian nations have been stricter in their views +of the marriage relation than any of the ancients. In this as in so many other +things, instead of looking back with regret to the past, we should look forward +with hope to the future. We must consecrate that which we believe to be the +most holy, and that ‘which is the most holy will be the most +useful.’ There is more reason for maintaining the sacredness of the +marriage tie, when we see the benefit of it, than when we only felt a vague +religious horror about the violation of it. But in all times of transition, +when established beliefs are being undermined, there is a danger that in the +passage from the old to the new we may insensibly let go the moral principle, +finding an excuse for listening to the voice of passion in the uncertainty of +knowledge, or the fluctuations of opinion. And there are many persons in our +own day who, enlightened by the study of anthropology, and fascinated by what +is new and strange, some using the language of fear, others of hope, are +inclined to believe that a time will come when through the self-assertion of +women, or the rebellious spirit of children, by the analysis of human +relations, or by the force of outward circumstances, the ties of family life +may be broken or greatly relaxed. They point to societies in America and +elsewhere which tend to show that the destruction of the family need not +necessarily involve the overthrow of all morality. Wherever we may think of +such speculations, we can hardly deny that they have been more rife in this +generation than in any other; and whither they are tending, who can predict? +</p> + +<p> +To the doubts and queries raised by these ‘social reformers’ +respecting the relation of the sexes and the moral nature of man, there is a +sufficient answer, if any is needed. The difference about them and us is really +one of fact. They are speaking of man as they wish or fancy him to be, but we +are speaking of him as he is. They isolate the animal part of his nature; we +regard him as a creature having many sides, or aspects, moving between good and +evil, striving to rise above himself and to become ‘a little lower than +the angels.’ We also, to use a Platonic formula, are not ignorant of the +dissatisfactions and incompatibilities of family life, of the meannesses of +trade, of the flatteries of one class of society by another, of the impediments +which the family throws in the way of lofty aims and aspirations. But we are +conscious that there are evils and dangers in the background greater still, +which are not appreciated, because they are either concealed or suppressed. +What a condition of man would that be, in which human passions were controlled +by no authority, divine or human, in which there was no shame or decency, no +higher affection overcoming or sanctifying the natural instincts, but simply a +rule of health! Is it for this that we are asked to throw away the civilization +which is the growth of ages? +</p> + +<p> +For strength and health are not the only qualities to be desired; there are the +more important considerations of mind and character and soul. We know how human +nature may be degraded; we do not know how by artificial means any improvement +in the breed can be effected. The problem is a complex one, for if we go back +only four steps (and these at least enter into the composition of a child), +there are commonly thirty progenitors to be taken into account. Many curious +facts, rarely admitting of proof, are told us respecting the inheritance of +disease or character from a remote ancestor. We can trace the physical +resemblances of parents and children in the same family— +</p> + +<p> +‘Sic oculos, sic ille manus, sic ora ferebat’; +</p> + +<p> +but scarcely less often the differences which distinguish children both from +their parents and from one another. We are told of similar mental peculiarities +running in families, and again of a tendency, as in the animals, to revert to a +common or original stock. But we have a difficulty in distinguishing what is a +true inheritance of genius or other qualities, and what is mere imitation or +the result of similar circumstances. Great men and great women have rarely had +great fathers and mothers. Nothing that we know of in the circumstances of +their birth or lineage will explain their appearance. Of the English poets of +the last and two preceding centuries scarcely a descendant remains,—none +have ever been distinguished. So deeply has nature hidden her secret, and so +ridiculous is the fancy which has been entertained by some that we might in +time by suitable marriage arrangements or, as Plato would have said, ‘by +an ingenious system of lots,’ produce a Shakespeare or a Milton. Even +supposing that we could breed men having the tenacity of bulldogs, or, like the +Spartans, ‘lacking the wit to run away in battle,’ would the world +be any the better? Many of the noblest specimens of the human race have been +among the weakest physically. Tyrtaeus or Aesop, or our own Newton, would have +been exposed at Sparta; and some of the fairest and strongest men and women +have been among the wickedest and worst. Not by the Platonic device of uniting +the strong and fair with the strong and fair, regardless of sentiment and +morality, nor yet by his other device of combining dissimilar natures +(Statesman), have mankind gradually passed from the brutality and +licentiousness of primitive marriage to marriage Christian and civilized. +</p> + +<p> +Few persons would deny that we bring into the world an inheritance of mental +and physical qualities derived first from our parents, or through them from +some remoter ancestor, secondly from our race, thirdly from the general +condition of mankind into which we are born. Nothing is commoner than the +remark, that ‘So and so is like his father or his uncle’; and an +aged person may not unfrequently note a resemblance in a youth to a +long-forgotten ancestor, observing that ‘Nature sometimes skips a +generation.’ It may be true also, that if we knew more about our +ancestors, these similarities would be even more striking to us. Admitting the +facts which are thus described in a popular way, we may however remark that +there is no method of difference by which they can be defined or estimated, and +that they constitute only a small part of each individual. The doctrine of +heredity may seem to take out of our hands the conduct of our own lives, but it +is the idea, not the fact, which is really terrible to us. For what we have +received from our ancestors is only a fraction of what we are, or may become. +The knowledge that drunkenness or insanity has been prevalent in a family may +be the best safeguard against their recurrence in a future generation. The +parent will be most awake to the vices or diseases in his child of which he is +most sensible within himself. The whole of life may be directed to their +prevention or cure. The traces of consumption may become fainter, or be wholly +effaced: the inherent tendency to vice or crime may be eradicated. And so +heredity, from being a curse, may become a blessing. We acknowledge that in the +matter of our birth, as in our nature generally, there are previous +circumstances which affect us. But upon this platform of circumstances or +within this wall of necessity, we have still the power of creating a life for +ourselves by the informing energy of the human will. +</p> + +<p> +There is another aspect of the marriage question to which Plato is a stranger. +All the children born in his state are foundlings. It never occurred to him +that the greater part of them, according to universal experience, would have +perished. For children can only be brought up in families. There is a subtle +sympathy between the mother and the child which cannot be supplied by other +mothers, or by ‘strong nurses one or more’ (Laws). If Plato’s +‘pen’ was as fatal as the Creches of Paris, or the foundling +hospital of Dublin, more than nine-tenths of his children would have perished. +There would have been no need to expose or put out of the way the weaklier +children, for they would have died of themselves. So emphatically does nature +protest against the destruction of the family. +</p> + +<p> +What Plato had heard or seen of Sparta was applied by him in a mistaken way to +his ideal commonwealth. He probably observed that both the Spartan men and +women were superior in form and strength to the other Greeks; and this +superiority he was disposed to attribute to the laws and customs relating to +marriage. He did not consider that the desire of a noble offspring was a +passion among the Spartans, or that their physical superiority was to be +attributed chiefly, not to their marriage customs, but to their temperance and +training. He did not reflect that Sparta was great, not in consequence of the +relaxation of morality, but in spite of it, by virtue of a political principle +stronger far than existed in any other Grecian state. Least of all did he +observe that Sparta did not really produce the finest specimens of the Greek +race. The genius, the political inspiration of Athens, the love of +liberty—all that has made Greece famous with posterity, were wanting +among the Spartans. They had no Themistocles, or Pericles, or Aeschylus, or +Sophocles, or Socrates, or Plato. The individual was not allowed to appear +above the state; the laws were fixed, and he had no business to alter or reform +them. Yet whence has the progress of cities and nations arisen, if not from +remarkable individuals, coming into the world we know not how, and from causes +over which we have no control? Something too much may have been said in modern +times of the value of individuality. But we can hardly condemn too strongly a +system which, instead of fostering the scattered seeds or sparks of genius and +character, tends to smother and extinguish them. +</p> + +<p> +Still, while condemning Plato, we must acknowledge that neither Christianity, +nor any other form of religion and society, has hitherto been able to cope with +this most difficult of social problems, and that the side from which Plato +regarded it is that from which we turn away. Population is the most untameable +force in the political and social world. Do we not find, especially in large +cities, that the greatest hindrance to the amelioration of the poor is their +improvidence in marriage?—a small fault truly, if not involving endless +consequences. There are whole countries too, such as India, or, nearer home, +Ireland, in which a right solution of the marriage question seems to lie at the +foundation of the happiness of the community. There are too many people on a +given space, or they marry too early and bring into the world a sickly and +half-developed offspring; or owing to the very conditions of their existence, +they become emaciated and hand on a similar life to their descendants. But who +can oppose the voice of prudence to the ‘mightiest passions of +mankind’ (Laws), especially when they have been licensed by custom and +religion? In addition to the influences of education, we seem to require some +new principles of right and wrong in these matters, some force of opinion, +which may indeed be already heard whispering in private, but has never affected +the moral sentiments of mankind in general. We unavoidably lose sight of the +principle of utility, just in that action of our lives in which we have the +most need of it. The influences which we can bring to bear upon this question +are chiefly indirect. In a generation or two, education, emigration, +improvements in agriculture and manufactures, may have provided the solution. +The state physician hardly likes to probe the wound: it is beyond his art; a +matter which he cannot safely let alone, but which he dare not touch: +</p> + +<p> +‘We do but skin and film the ulcerous place.’ +</p> + +<p> +When again in private life we see a whole family one by one dropping into the +grave under the Ate of some inherited malady, and the parents perhaps surviving +them, do our minds ever go back silently to that day twenty-five or thirty +years before on which under the fairest auspices, amid the rejoicings of +friends and acquaintances, a bride and bridegroom joined hands with one +another? In making such a reflection we are not opposing physical +considerations to moral, but moral to physical; we are seeking to make the +voice of reason heard, which drives us back from the extravagance of +sentimentalism on common sense. The late Dr. Combe is said by his biographer to +have resisted the temptation to marriage, because he knew that he was subject +to hereditary consumption. One who deserved to be called a man of genius, a +friend of my youth, was in the habit of wearing a black ribbon on his wrist, in +order to remind him that, being liable to outbreaks of insanity, he must not +give way to the natural impulses of affection: he died unmarried in a lunatic +asylum. These two little facts suggest the reflection that a very few persons +have done from a sense of duty what the rest of mankind ought to have done +under like circumstances, if they had allowed themselves to think of all the +misery which they were about to bring into the world. If we could prevent such +marriages without any violation of feeling or propriety, we clearly ought; and +the prohibition in the course of time would be protected by a ‘horror +naturalis’ similar to that which, in all civilized ages and countries, +has prevented the marriage of near relations by blood. Mankind would have been +the happier, if some things which are now allowed had from the beginning been +denied to them; if the sanction of religion could have prohibited practices +inimical to health; if sanitary principles could in early ages have been +invested with a superstitious awe. But, living as we do far on in the +world’s history, we are no longer able to stamp at once with the impress +of religion a new prohibition. A free agent cannot have his fancies regulated +by law; and the execution of the law would be rendered impossible, owing to the +uncertainty of the cases in which marriage was to be forbidden. Who can weigh +virtue, or even fortune against health, or moral and mental qualities against +bodily? Who can measure probabilities against certainties? There has been some +good as well as evil in the discipline of suffering; and there are diseases, +such as consumption, which have exercised a refining and softening influence on +the character. Youth is too inexperienced to balance such nice considerations; +parents do not often think of them, or think of them too late. They are at a +distance and may probably be averted; change of place, a new state of life, the +interests of a home may be the cure of them. So persons vainly reason when +their minds are already made up and their fortunes irrevocably linked together. +Nor is there any ground for supposing that marriages are to any great extent +influenced by reflections of this sort, which seem unable to make any head +against the irresistible impulse of individual attachment. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, no one can have observed the first rising flood of the passions in +youth, the difficulty of regulating them, and the effects on the whole mind and +nature which follow from them, the stimulus which is given to them by the +imagination, without feeling that there is something unsatisfactory in our +method of treating them. That the most important influence on human life should +be wholly left to chance or shrouded in mystery, and instead of being +disciplined or understood, should be required to conform only to an external +standard of propriety—cannot be regarded by the philosopher as a safe or +satisfactory condition of human things. And still those who have the charge of +youth may find a way by watchfulness, by affection, by the manliness and +innocence of their own lives, by occasional hints, by general admonitions which +every one can apply for himself, to mitigate this terrible evil which eats out +the heart of individuals and corrupts the moral sentiments of nations. In no +duty towards others is there more need of reticence and self-restraint. So +great is the danger lest he who would be the counsellor of another should +reveal the secret prematurely, lest he should get another too much into his +power; or fix the passing impression of evil by demanding the confession of it. +</p> + +<p> +Nor is Plato wrong in asserting that family attachments may interfere with +higher aims. If there have been some who ‘to party gave up what was meant +for mankind,’ there have certainly been others who to family gave up what +was meant for mankind or for their country. The cares of children, the +necessity of procuring money for their support, the flatteries of the rich by +the poor, the exclusiveness of caste, the pride of birth or wealth, the +tendency of family life to divert men from the pursuit of the ideal or the +heroic, are as lowering in our own age as in that of Plato. And if we prefer to +look at the gentle influences of home, the development of the affections, the +amenities of society, the devotion of one member of a family for the good of +the others, which form one side of the picture, we must not quarrel with him, +or perhaps ought rather to be grateful to him, for having presented to us the +reverse. Without attempting to defend Plato on grounds of morality, we may +allow that there is an aspect of the world which has not unnaturally led him +into error. +</p> + +<p> +We hardly appreciate the power which the idea of the State, like all other +abstract ideas, exercised over the mind of Plato. To us the State seems to be +built up out of the family, or sometimes to be the framework in which family +and social life is contained. But to Plato in his present mood of mind the +family is only a disturbing influence which, instead of filling up, tends to +disarrange the higher unity of the State. No organization is needed except a +political, which, regarded from another point of view, is a military one. The +State is all-sufficing for the wants of man, and, like the idea of the Church +in later ages, absorbs all other desires and affections. In time of war the +thousand citizens are to stand like a rampart impregnable against the world or +the Persian host; in time of peace the preparation for war and their duties to +the State, which are also their duties to one another, take up their whole life +and time. The only other interest which is allowed to them besides that of war, +is the interest of philosophy. When they are too old to be soldiers they are to +retire from active life and to have a second novitiate of study and +contemplation. There is an element of monasticism even in Plato’s +communism. If he could have done without children, he might have converted his +Republic into a religious order. Neither in the Laws, when the daylight of +common sense breaks in upon him, does he retract his error. In the state of +which he would be the founder, there is no marrying or giving in marriage: but +because of the infirmity of mankind, he condescends to allow the law of nature +to prevail. +</p> + +<p> +(c) But Plato has an equal, or, in his own estimation, even greater paradox in +reserve, which is summed up in the famous text, ‘Until kings are +philosophers or philosophers are kings, cities will never cease from +ill.’ And by philosophers he explains himself to mean those who are +capable of apprehending ideas, especially the idea of good. To the attainment +of this higher knowledge the second education is directed. Through a process of +training which has already made them good citizens they are now to be made good +legislators. We find with some surprise (not unlike the feeling which Aristotle +in a well-known passage describes the hearers of Plato’s lectures as +experiencing, when they went to a discourse on the idea of good, expecting to +be instructed in moral truths, and received instead of them arithmetical and +mathematical formulae) that Plato does not propose for his future legislators +any study of finance or law or military tactics, but only of abstract +mathematics, as a preparation for the still more abstract conception of good. +We ask, with Aristotle, What is the use of a man knowing the idea of good, if +he does not know what is good for this individual, this state, this condition +of society? We cannot understand how Plato’s legislators or guardians are +to be fitted for their work of statesmen by the study of the five mathematical +sciences. We vainly search in Plato’s own writings for any explanation of +this seeming absurdity. +</p> + +<p> +The discovery of a great metaphysical conception seems to ravish the mind with +a prophetic consciousness which takes away the power of estimating its value. +No metaphysical enquirer has ever fairly criticised his own speculations; in +his own judgment they have been above criticism; nor has he understood that +what to him seemed to be absolute truth may reappear in the next generation as +a form of logic or an instrument of thought. And posterity have also sometimes +equally misapprehended the real value of his speculations. They appear to them +to have contributed nothing to the stock of human knowledge. The IDEA of good +is apt to be regarded by the modern thinker as an unmeaning abstraction; but he +forgets that this abstraction is waiting ready for use, and will hereafter be +filled up by the divisions of knowledge. When mankind do not as yet know that +the world is subject to law, the introduction of the mere conception of law or +design or final cause, and the far-off anticipation of the harmony of +knowledge, are great steps onward. Even the crude generalization of the unity +of all things leads men to view the world with different eyes, and may easily +affect their conception of human life and of politics, and also their own +conduct and character (Tim). We can imagine how a great mind like that of +Pericles might derive elevation from his intercourse with Anaxagoras (Phaedr.). +To be struggling towards a higher but unattainable conception is a more +favourable intellectual condition than to rest satisfied in a narrow portion of +ascertained fact. And the earlier, which have sometimes been the greater ideas +of science, are often lost sight of at a later period. How rarely can we say of +any modern enquirer in the magnificent language of Plato, that ‘He is the +spectator of all time and of all existence!’ +</p> + +<p> +Nor is there anything unnatural in the hasty application of these vast +metaphysical conceptions to practical and political life. In the first +enthusiasm of ideas men are apt to see them everywhere, and to apply them in +the most remote sphere. They do not understand that the experience of ages is +required to enable them to fill up ‘the intermediate axioms.’ Plato +himself seems to have imagined that the truths of psychology, like those of +astronomy and harmonics, would be arrived at by a process of deduction, and +that the method which he has pursued in the Fourth Book, of inferring them from +experience and the use of language, was imperfect and only provisional. But +when, after having arrived at the idea of good, which is the end of the science +of dialectic, he is asked, What is the nature, and what are the divisions of +the science? He refuses to answer, as if intending by the refusal to intimate +that the state of knowledge which then existed was not such as would allow the +philosopher to enter into his final rest. The previous sciences must first be +studied, and will, we may add, continue to be studied tell the end of time, +although in a sense different from any which Plato could have conceived. But we +may observe, that while he is aware of the vacancy of his own ideal, he is full +of enthusiasm in the contemplation of it. Looking into the orb of light, he +sees nothing, but he is warmed and elevated. The Hebrew prophet believed that +faith in God would enable him to govern the world; the Greek philosopher +imagined that contemplation of the good would make a legislator. There is as +much to be filled up in the one case as in the other, and the one mode of +conception is to the Israelite what the other is to the Greek. Both find a +repose in a divine perfection, which, whether in a more personal or impersonal +form, exists without them and independently of them, as well as within them. +</p> + +<p> +There is no mention of the idea of good in the Timaeus, nor of the divine +Creator of the world in the Republic; and we are naturally led to ask in what +relation they stand to one another. Is God above or below the idea of good? Or +is the Idea of Good another mode of conceiving God? The latter appears to be +the truer answer. To the Greek philosopher the perfection and unity of God was +a far higher conception than his personality, which he hardly found a word to +express, and which to him would have seemed to be borrowed from mythology. To +the Christian, on the other hand, or to the modern thinker in general, it is +difficult, if not impossible, to attach reality to what he terms mere +abstraction; while to Plato this very abstraction is the truest and most real +of all things. Hence, from a difference in forms of thought, Plato appears to +be resting on a creation of his own mind only. But if we may be allowed to +paraphrase the idea of good by the words ‘intelligent principle of law +and order in the universe, embracing equally man and nature,’ we begin to +find a meeting-point between him and ourselves. +</p> + +<p> +The question whether the ruler or statesman should be a philosopher is one that +has not lost interest in modern times. In most countries of Europe and Asia +there has been some one in the course of ages who has truly united the power of +command with the power of thought and reflection, as there have been also many +false combinations of these qualities. Some kind of speculative power is +necessary both in practical and political life; like the rhetorician in the +Phaedrus, men require to have a conception of the varieties of human character, +and to be raised on great occasions above the commonplaces of ordinary life. +Yet the idea of the philosopher-statesman has never been popular with the mass +of mankind; partly because he cannot take the world into his confidence or make +them understand the motives from which he acts; and also because they are +jealous of a power which they do not understand. The revolution which human +nature desires to effect step by step in many ages is likely to be precipitated +by him in a single year or life. They are afraid that in the pursuit of his +greater aims he may disregard the common feelings of humanity, he is too apt to +be looking into the distant future or back into the remote past, and unable to +see actions or events which, to use an expression of Plato’s ‘are +tumbling out at his feet.’ Besides, as Plato would say, there are other +corruptions of these philosophical statesmen. Either ‘the native hue of +resolution is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,’ and at +the moment when action above all things is required he is undecided, or general +principles are enunciated by him in order to cover some change of policy; or +his ignorance of the world has made him more easily fall a prey to the arts of +others; or in some cases he has been converted into a courtier, who enjoys the +luxury of holding liberal opinions, but was never known to perform a liberal +action. No wonder that mankind have been in the habit of calling statesmen of +this class pedants, sophisters, doctrinaires, visionaries. For, as we may be +allowed to say, a little parodying the words of Plato, ‘they have seen +bad imitations of the philosopher-statesman.’ But a man in whom the power +of thought and action are perfectly balanced, equal to the present, reaching +forward to the future, ‘such a one,’ ruling in a constitutional +state, ‘they have never seen.’ +</p> + +<p> +But as the philosopher is apt to fail in the routine of political life, so the +ordinary statesman is also apt to fail in extraordinary crises. When the face +of the world is beginning to alter, and thunder is heard in the distance, he is +still guided by his old maxims, and is the slave of his inveterate party +prejudices; he cannot perceive the signs of the times; instead of looking +forward he looks back; he learns nothing and forgets nothing; with ‘wise +saws and modern instances’ he would stem the rising tide of revolution. +He lives more and more within the circle of his own party, as the world without +him becomes stronger. This seems to be the reason why the old order of things +makes so poor a figure when confronted with the new, why churches can never +reform, why most political changes are made blindly and convulsively. The great +crises in the history of nations have often been met by an ecclesiastical +positiveness, and a more obstinate reassertion of principles which have lost +their hold upon a nation. The fixed ideas of a reactionary statesman may be +compared to madness; they grow upon him, and he becomes possessed by them; no +judgement of others is ever admitted by him to be weighed in the balance +against his own. +</p> + +<p> +(d) Plato, labouring under what, to modern readers, appears to have been a +confusion of ideas, assimilates the state to the individual, and fails to +distinguish Ethics from Politics. He thinks that to be most of a state which is +most like one man, and in which the citizens have the greatest uniformity of +character. He does not see that the analogy is partly fallacious, and that the +will or character of a state or nation is really the balance or rather the +surplus of individual wills, which are limited by the condition of having to +act in common. The movement of a body of men can never have the pliancy or +facility of a single man; the freedom of the individual, which is always +limited, becomes still more straitened when transferred to a nation. The powers +of action and feeling are necessarily weaker and more balanced when they are +diffused through a community; whence arises the often discussed question, +‘Can a nation, like an individual, have a conscience?’ We hesitate +to say that the characters of nations are nothing more than the sum of the +characters of the individuals who compose them; because there may be tendencies +in individuals which react upon one another. A whole nation may be wiser than +any one man in it; or may be animated by some common opinion or feeling which +could not equally have affected the mind of a single person, or may have been +inspired by a leader of genius to perform acts more than human. Plato does not +appear to have analysed the complications which arise out of the collective +action of mankind. Neither is he capable of seeing that analogies, though +specious as arguments, may often have no foundation in fact, or of +distinguishing between what is intelligible or vividly present to the mind, and +what is true. In this respect he is far below Aristotle, who is comparatively +seldom imposed upon by false analogies. He cannot disentangle the arts from the +virtues—at least he is always arguing from one to the other. His notion +of music is transferred from harmony of sounds to harmony of life: in this he +is assisted by the ambiguities of language as well as by the prevalence of +Pythagorean notions. And having once assimilated the state to the individual, +he imagines that he will find the succession of states paralleled in the lives +of individuals. +</p> + +<p> +Still, through this fallacious medium, a real enlargement of ideas is attained. +When the virtues as yet presented no distinct conception to the mind, a great +advance was made by the comparison of them with the arts; for virtue is partly +art, and has an outward form as well as an inward principle. The harmony of +music affords a lively image of the harmonies of the world and of human life, +and may be regarded as a splendid illustration which was naturally mistaken for +a real analogy. In the same way the identification of ethics with politics has +a tendency to give definiteness to ethics, and also to elevate and ennoble +men’s notions of the aims of government and of the duties of citizens; +for ethics from one point of view may be conceived as an idealized law and +politics; and politics, as ethics reduced to the conditions of human society. +There have been evils which have arisen out of the attempt to identify them, +and this has led to the separation or antagonism of them, which has been +introduced by modern political writers. But we may likewise feel that something +has been lost in their separation, and that the ancient philosophers who +estimated the moral and intellectual wellbeing of mankind first, and the wealth +of nations and individuals second, may have a salutary influence on the +speculations of modern times. Many political maxims originate in a reaction +against an opposite error; and when the errors against which they were directed +have passed away, they in turn become errors. +</p> + +<p> +3. Plato’s views of education are in several respects remarkable; like +the rest of the Republic they are partly Greek and partly ideal, beginning with +the ordinary curriculum of the Greek youth, and extending to after-life. Plato +is the first writer who distinctly says that education is to comprehend the +whole of life, and to be a preparation for another in which education begins +again. This is the continuous thread which runs through the Republic, and which +more than any other of his ideas admits of an application to modern life. +</p> + +<p> +He has long given up the notion that virtue cannot be taught; and he is +disposed to modify the thesis of the Protagoras, that the virtues are one and +not many. He is not unwilling to admit the sensible world into his scheme of +truth. Nor does he assert in the Republic the involuntariness of vice, which is +maintained by him in the Timaeus, Sophist, and Laws (Protag., Apol., Gorg.). +Nor do the so-called Platonic ideas recovered from a former state of existence +affect his theory of mental improvement. Still we observe in him the remains of +the old Socratic doctrine, that true knowledge must be elicited from within, +and is to be sought for in ideas, not in particulars of sense. Education, as he +says, will implant a principle of intelligence which is better than ten +thousand eyes. The paradox that the virtues are one, and the kindred notion +that all virtue is knowledge, are not entirely renounced; the first is seen in +the supremacy given to justice over the rest; the second in the tendency to +absorb the moral virtues in the intellectual, and to centre all goodness in the +contemplation of the idea of good. The world of sense is still depreciated and +identified with opinion, though admitted to be a shadow of the true. In the +Republic he is evidently impressed with the conviction that vice arises chiefly +from ignorance and may be cured by education; the multitude are hardly to be +deemed responsible for what they do. A faint allusion to the doctrine of +reminiscence occurs in the Tenth Book; but Plato’s views of education +have no more real connection with a previous state of existence than our own; +he only proposes to elicit from the mind that which is there already. Education +is represented by him, not as the filling of a vessel, but as the turning the +eye of the soul towards the light. +</p> + +<p> +He treats first of music or literature, which he divides into true and false, +and then goes on to gymnastics; of infancy in the Republic he takes no notice, +though in the Laws he gives sage counsels about the nursing of children and the +management of the mothers, and would have an education which is even prior to +birth. But in the Republic he begins with the age at which the child is capable +of receiving ideas, and boldly asserts, in language which sounds paradoxical to +modern ears, that he must be taught the false before he can learn the true. The +modern and ancient philosophical world are not agreed about truth and +falsehood; the one identifies truth almost exclusively with fact, the other +with ideas. This is the difference between ourselves and Plato, which is, +however, partly a difference of words. For we too should admit that a child +must receive many lessons which he imperfectly understands; he must be taught +some things in a figure only, some too which he can hardly be expected to +believe when he grows older; but we should limit the use of fiction by the +necessity of the case. Plato would draw the line differently; according to him +the aim of early education is not truth as a matter of fact, but truth as a +matter of principle; the child is to be taught first simple religious truths, +and then simple moral truths, and insensibly to learn the lesson of good +manners and good taste. He would make an entire reformation of the old +mythology; like Xenophanes and Heracleitus he is sensible of the deep chasm +which separates his own age from Homer and Hesiod, whom he quotes and invests +with an imaginary authority, but only for his own purposes. The lusts and +treacheries of the gods are to be banished; the terrors of the world below are +to be dispelled; the misbehaviour of the Homeric heroes is not to be a model +for youth. But there is another strain heard in Homer which may teach our youth +endurance; and something may be learnt in medicine from the simple practice of +the Homeric age. The principles on which religion is to be based are two only: +first, that God is true; secondly, that he is good. Modern and Christian +writers have often fallen short of these; they can hardly be said to have gone +beyond them. +</p> + +<p> +The young are to be brought up in happy surroundings, out of the way of sights +or sounds which may hurt the character or vitiate the taste. They are to live +in an atmosphere of health; the breeze is always to be wafting to them the +impressions of truth and goodness. Could such an education be realized, or if +our modern religious education could be bound up with truth and virtue and good +manners and good taste, that would be the best hope of human improvement. +Plato, like ourselves, is looking forward to changes in the moral and religious +world, and is preparing for them. He recognizes the danger of unsettling young +men’s minds by sudden changes of laws and principles, by destroying the +sacredness of one set of ideas when there is nothing else to take their place. +He is afraid too of the influence of the drama, on the ground that it +encourages false sentiment, and therefore he would not have his children taken +to the theatre; he thinks that the effect on the spectators is bad, and on the +actors still worse. His idea of education is that of harmonious growth, in +which are insensibly learnt the lessons of temperance and endurance, and the +body and mind develope in equal proportions. The first principle which runs +through all art and nature is simplicity; this also is to be the rule of human +life. +</p> + +<p> +The second stage of education is gymnastic, which answers to the period of +muscular growth and development. The simplicity which is enforced in music is +extended to gymnastic; Plato is aware that the training of the body may be +inconsistent with the training of the mind, and that bodily exercise may be +easily overdone. Excessive training of the body is apt to give men a headache +or to render them sleepy at a lecture on philosophy, and this they attribute +not to the true cause, but to the nature of the subject. Two points are +noticeable in Plato’s treatment of gymnastic:—First, that the time +of training is entirely separated from the time of literary education. He seems +to have thought that two things of an opposite and different nature could not +be learnt at the same time. Here we can hardly agree with him; and, if we may +judge by experience, the effect of spending three years between the ages of +fourteen and seventeen in mere bodily exercise would be far from improving to +the intellect. Secondly, he affirms that music and gymnastic are not, as common +opinion is apt to imagine, intended, the one for the cultivation of the mind +and the other of the body, but that they are both equally designed for the +improvement of the mind. The body, in his view, is the servant of the mind; the +subjection of the lower to the higher is for the advantage of both. And +doubtless the mind may exercise a very great and paramount influence over the +body, if exerted not at particular moments and by fits and starts, but +continuously, in making preparation for the whole of life. Other Greek writers +saw the mischievous tendency of Spartan discipline (Arist. Pol; Thuc.). But +only Plato recognized the fundamental error on which the practice was based. +</p> + +<p> +The subject of gymnastic leads Plato to the sister subject of medicine, which +he further illustrates by the parallel of law. The modern disbelief in medicine +has led in this, as in some other departments of knowledge, to a demand for +greater simplicity; physicians are becoming aware that they often make diseases +‘greater and more complicated’ by their treatment of them (Rep.). +In two thousand years their art has made but slender progress; what they have +gained in the analysis of the parts is in a great degree lost by their feebler +conception of the human frame as a whole. They have attended more to the cure +of diseases than to the conditions of health; and the improvements in medicine +have been more than counterbalanced by the disuse of regular training. Until +lately they have hardly thought of air and water, the importance of which was +well understood by the ancients; as Aristotle remarks, ‘Air and water, +being the elements which we most use, have the greatest effect upon +health’ (Polit.). For ages physicians have been under the dominion of +prejudices which have only recently given way; and now there are as many +opinions in medicine as in theology, and an equal degree of scepticism and some +want of toleration about both. Plato has several good notions about medicine; +according to him, ‘the eye cannot be cured without the rest of the body, +nor the body without the mind’ (Charm.). No man of sense, he says in the +Timaeus, would take physic; and we heartily sympathize with him in the Laws +when he declares that ‘the limbs of the rustic worn with toil will derive +more benefit from warm baths than from the prescriptions of a not over wise +doctor.’ But we can hardly praise him when, in obedience to the authority +of Homer, he depreciates diet, or approve of the inhuman spirit in which he +would get rid of invalid and useless lives by leaving them to die. He does not +seem to have considered that the ‘bridle of Theages’ might be +accompanied by qualities which were of far more value to the State than the +health or strength of the citizens; or that the duty of taking care of the +helpless might be an important element of education in a State. The physician +himself (this is a delicate and subtle observation) should not be a man in +robust health; he should have, in modern phraseology, a nervous temperament; he +should have experience of disease in his own person, in order that his powers +of observation may be quickened in the case of others. +</p> + +<p> +The perplexity of medicine is paralleled by the perplexity of law; in which, +again, Plato would have men follow the golden rule of simplicity. Greater +matters are to be determined by the legislator or by the oracle of Delphi, +lesser matters are to be left to the temporary regulation of the citizens +themselves. Plato is aware that laissez faire is an important element of +government. The diseases of a State are like the heads of a hydra; they +multiply when they are cut off. The true remedy for them is not extirpation but +prevention. And the way to prevent them is to take care of education, and +education will take care of all the rest. So in modern times men have often +felt that the only political measure worth having—the only one which +would produce any certain or lasting effect, was a measure of national +education. And in our own more than in any previous age the necessity has been +recognized of restoring the ever-increasing confusion of law to simplicity and +common sense. +</p> + +<p> +When the training in music and gymnastic is completed, there follows the first +stage of active and public life. But soon education is to begin again from a +new point of view. In the interval between the Fourth and Seventh Books we have +discussed the nature of knowledge, and have thence been led to form a higher +conception of what was required of us. For true knowledge, according to Plato, +is of abstractions, and has to do, not with particulars or individuals, but +with universals only; not with the beauties of poetry, but with the ideas of +philosophy. And the great aim of education is the cultivation of the habit of +abstraction. This is to be acquired through the study of the mathematical +sciences. They alone are capable of giving ideas of relation, and of arousing +the dormant energies of thought. +</p> + +<p> +Mathematics in the age of Plato comprehended a very small part of that which is +now included in them; but they bore a much larger proportion to the sum of +human knowledge. They were the only organon of thought which the human mind at +that time possessed, and the only measure by which the chaos of particulars +could be reduced to rule and order. The faculty which they trained was +naturally at war with the poetical or imaginative; and hence to Plato, who is +everywhere seeking for abstractions and trying to get rid of the illusions of +sense, nearly the whole of education is contained in them. They seemed to have +an inexhaustible application, partly because their true limits were not yet +understood. These Plato himself is beginning to investigate; though not aware +that number and figure are mere abstractions of sense, he recognizes that the +forms used by geometry are borrowed from the sensible world. He seeks to find +the ultimate ground of mathematical ideas in the idea of good, though he does +not satisfactorily explain the connexion between them; and in his conception of +the relation of ideas to numbers, he falls very far short of the definiteness +attributed to him by Aristotle (Met.). But if he fails to recognize the true +limits of mathematics, he also reaches a point beyond them; in his view, ideas +of number become secondary to a higher conception of knowledge. The +dialectician is as much above the mathematician as the mathematician is above +the ordinary man. The one, the self-proving, the good which is the higher +sphere of dialectic, is the perfect truth to which all things ascend, and in +which they finally repose. +</p> + +<p> +This self-proving unity or idea of good is a mere vision of which no distinct +explanation can be given, relative only to a particular stage in Greek +philosophy. It is an abstraction under which no individuals are comprehended, a +whole which has no parts (Arist., Nic. Eth.). The vacancy of such a form was +perceived by Aristotle, but not by Plato. Nor did he recognize that in the +dialectical process are included two or more methods of investigation which are +at variance with each other. He did not see that whether he took the longer or +the shorter road, no advance could be made in this way. And yet such visions +often have an immense effect; for although the method of science cannot +anticipate science, the idea of science, not as it is, but as it will be in the +future, is a great and inspiring principle. In the pursuit of knowledge we are +always pressing forward to something beyond us; and as a false conception of +knowledge, for example the scholastic philosophy, may lead men astray during +many ages, so the true ideal, though vacant, may draw all their thoughts in a +right direction. It makes a great difference whether the general expectation of +knowledge, as this indefinite feeling may be termed, is based upon a sound +judgment. For mankind may often entertain a true conception of what knowledge +ought to be when they have but a slender experience of facts. The correlation +of the sciences, the consciousness of the unity of nature, the idea of +classification, the sense of proportion, the unwillingness to stop short of +certainty or to confound probability with truth, are important principles of +the higher education. Although Plato could tell us nothing, and perhaps knew +that he could tell us nothing, of the absolute truth, he has exercised an +influence on the human mind which even at the present day is not exhausted; and +political and social questions may yet arise in which the thoughts of Plato may +be read anew and receive a fresh meaning. +</p> + +<p> +The Idea of good is so called only in the Republic, but there are traces of it +in other dialogues of Plato. It is a cause as well as an idea, and from this +point of view may be compared with the creator of the Timaeus, who out of his +goodness created all things. It corresponds to a certain extent with the modern +conception of a law of nature, or of a final cause, or of both in one, and in +this regard may be connected with the measure and symmetry of the Philebus. It +is represented in the Symposium under the aspect of beauty, and is supposed to +be attained there by stages of initiation, as here by regular gradations of +knowledge. Viewed subjectively, it is the process or science of dialectic. This +is the science which, according to the Phaedrus, is the true basis of rhetoric, +which alone is able to distinguish the natures and classes of men and things; +which divides a whole into the natural parts, and reunites the scattered parts +into a natural or organized whole; which defines the abstract essences or +universal ideas of all things, and connects them; which pierces the veil of +hypotheses and reaches the final cause or first principle of all; which regards +the sciences in relation to the idea of good. This ideal science is the highest +process of thought, and may be described as the soul conversing with herself or +holding communion with eternal truth and beauty, and in another form is the +everlasting question and answer—the ceaseless interrogative of Socrates. +The dialogues of Plato are themselves examples of the nature and method of +dialectic. Viewed objectively, the idea of good is a power or cause which makes +the world without us correspond with the world within. Yet this world without +us is still a world of ideas. With Plato the investigation of nature is another +department of knowledge, and in this he seeks to attain only probable +conclusions (Timaeus). +</p> + +<p> +If we ask whether this science of dialectic which Plato only half explains to +us is more akin to logic or to metaphysics, the answer is that in his mind the +two sciences are not as yet distinguished, any more than the subjective and +objective aspects of the world and of man, which German philosophy has revealed +to us. Nor has he determined whether his science of dialectic is at rest or in +motion, concerned with the contemplation of absolute being, or with a process +of development and evolution. Modern metaphysics may be described as the +science of abstractions, or as the science of the evolution of thought; modern +logic, when passing beyond the bounds of mere Aristotelian forms, may be +defined as the science of method. The germ of both of them is contained in the +Platonic dialectic; all metaphysicians have something in common with the ideas +of Plato; all logicians have derived something from the method of Plato. The +nearest approach in modern philosophy to the universal science of Plato, is to +be found in the Hegelian ‘succession of moments in the unity of the +idea.’ Plato and Hegel alike seem to have conceived the world as the +correlation of abstractions; and not impossibly they would have understood one +another better than any of their commentators understand them (Swift’s +Voyage to Laputa. ‘Having a desire to see those ancients who were most +renowned for wit and learning, I set apart one day on purpose. I proposed that +Homer and Aristotle might appear at the head of all their commentators; but +these were so numerous that some hundreds were forced to attend in the court +and outward rooms of the palace. I knew, and could distinguish these two +heroes, at first sight, not only from the crowd, but from each other. Homer was +the taller and comelier person of the two, walked very erect for one of his +age, and his eyes were the most quick and piercing I ever beheld. Aristotle +stooped much, and made use of a staff. His visage was meagre, his hair lank and +thin, and his voice hollow. I soon discovered that both of them were perfect +strangers to the rest of the company, and had never seen or heard of them +before. And I had a whisper from a ghost, who shall be nameless, “That +these commentators always kept in the most distant quarters from their +principals, in the lower world, through a consciousness of shame and guilt, +because they had so horribly misrepresented the meaning of these authors to +posterity.” I introduced Didymus and Eustathius to Homer, and prevailed +on him to treat them better than perhaps they deserved, for he soon found they +wanted a genius to enter into the spirit of a poet. But Aristotle was out of +all patience with the account I gave him of Scotus and Ramus, as I presented +them to him; and he asked them “whether the rest of the tribe were as +great dunces as themselves?”’). There is, however, a difference +between them: for whereas Hegel is thinking of all the minds of men as one +mind, which developes the stages of the idea in different countries or at +different times in the same country, with Plato these gradations are regarded +only as an order of thought or ideas; the history of the human mind had not yet +dawned upon him. +</p> + +<p> +Many criticisms may be made on Plato’s theory of education. While in some +respects he unavoidably falls short of modern thinkers, in others he is in +advance of them. He is opposed to the modes of education which prevailed in his +own time; but he can hardly be said to have discovered new ones. He does not +see that education is relative to the characters of individuals; he only +desires to impress the same form of the state on the minds of all. He has no +sufficient idea of the effect of literature on the formation of the mind, and +greatly exaggerates that of mathematics. His aim is above all things to train +the reasoning faculties; to implant in the mind the spirit and power of +abstraction; to explain and define general notions, and, if possible, to +connect them. No wonder that in the vacancy of actual knowledge his followers, +and at times even he himself, should have fallen away from the doctrine of +ideas, and have returned to that branch of knowledge in which alone the +relation of the one and many can be truly seen—the science of number. In +his views both of teaching and training he might be styled, in modern language, +a doctrinaire; after the Spartan fashion he would have his citizens cast in one +mould; he does not seem to consider that some degree of freedom, ‘a +little wholesome neglect,’ is necessary to strengthen and develope the +character and to give play to the individual nature. His citizens would not +have acquired that knowledge which in the vision of Er is supposed to be gained +by the pilgrims from their experience of evil. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, Plato is far in advance of modern philosophers and +theologians when he teaches that education is to be continued through life and +will begin again in another. He would never allow education of some kind to +cease; although he was aware that the proverbial saying of Solon, ‘I grow +old learning many things,’ cannot be applied literally. Himself ravished +with the contemplation of the idea of good, and delighting in solid geometry +(Rep.), he has no difficulty in imagining that a lifetime might be passed +happily in such pursuits. We who know how many more men of business there are +in the world than real students or thinkers, are not equally sanguine. The +education which he proposes for his citizens is really the ideal life of the +philosopher or man of genius, interrupted, but only for a time, by practical +duties,—a life not for the many, but for the few. +</p> + +<p> +Yet the thought of Plato may not be wholly incapable of application to our own +times. Even if regarded as an ideal which can never be realized, it may have a +great effect in elevating the characters of mankind, and raising them above the +routine of their ordinary occupation or profession. It is the best form under +which we can conceive the whole of life. Nevertheless the idea of Plato is not +easily put into practice. For the education of after life is necessarily the +education which each one gives himself. Men and women cannot be brought +together in schools or colleges at forty or fifty years of age; and if they +could the result would be disappointing. The destination of most men is what +Plato would call ‘the Den’ for the whole of life, and with that +they are content. Neither have they teachers or advisers with whom they can +take counsel in riper years. There is no ‘schoolmaster abroad’ who +will tell them of their faults, or inspire them with the higher sense of duty, +or with the ambition of a true success in life; no Socrates who will convict +them of ignorance; no Christ, or follower of Christ, who will reprove them of +sin. Hence they have a difficulty in receiving the first element of +improvement, which is self-knowledge. The hopes of youth no longer stir them; +they rather wish to rest than to pursue high objects. A few only who have come +across great men and women, or eminent teachers of religion and morality, have +received a second life from them, and have lighted a candle from the fire of +their genius. +</p> + +<p> +The want of energy is one of the main reasons why so few persons continue to +improve in later years. They have not the will, and do not know the way. They +‘never try an experiment,’ or look up a point of interest for +themselves; they make no sacrifices for the sake of knowledge; their minds, +like their bodies, at a certain age become fixed. Genius has been defined as +‘the power of taking pains’; but hardly any one keeps up his +interest in knowledge throughout a whole life. The troubles of a family, the +business of making money, the demands of a profession destroy the elasticity of +the mind. The waxen tablet of the memory which was once capable of receiving +‘true thoughts and clear impressions’ becomes hard and crowded; +there is not room for the accumulations of a long life (Theaet.). The student, +as years advance, rather makes an exchange of knowledge than adds to his +stores. There is no pressing necessity to learn; the stock of Classics or +History or Natural Science which was enough for a man at twenty-five is enough +for him at fifty. Neither is it easy to give a definite answer to any one who +asks how he is to improve. For self-education consists in a thousand things, +commonplace in themselves,—in adding to what we are by nature something +of what we are not; in learning to see ourselves as others see us; in judging, +not by opinion, but by the evidence of facts; in seeking out the society of +superior minds; in a study of lives and writings of great men; in observation +of the world and character; in receiving kindly the natural influence of +different times of life; in any act or thought which is raised above the +practice or opinions of mankind; in the pursuit of some new or original +enquiry; in any effort of mind which calls forth some latent power. +</p> + +<p> +If any one is desirous of carrying out in detail the Platonic education of +after-life, some such counsels as the following may be offered to +him:—That he shall choose the branch of knowledge to which his own mind +most distinctly inclines, and in which he takes the greatest delight, either +one which seems to connect with his own daily employment, or, perhaps, +furnishes the greatest contrast to it. He may study from the speculative side +the profession or business in which he is practically engaged. He may make +Homer, Dante, Shakespeare, Plato, Bacon the friends and companions of his life. +He may find opportunities of hearing the living voice of a great teacher. He +may select for enquiry some point of history or some unexplained phenomenon of +nature. An hour a day passed in such scientific or literary pursuits will +furnish as many facts as the memory can retain, and will give him ‘a +pleasure not to be repented of’ (Timaeus). Only let him beware of being +the slave of crotchets, or of running after a Will o’ the Wisp in his +ignorance, or in his vanity of attributing to himself the gifts of a poet or +assuming the air of a philosopher. He should know the limits of his own powers. +Better to build up the mind by slow additions, to creep on quietly from one +thing to another, to gain insensibly new powers and new interests in knowledge, +than to form vast schemes which are never destined to be realized. But perhaps, +as Plato would say, ‘This is part of another subject’ (Tim.); +though we may also defend our digression by his example (Theaet.). +</p> + +<p> +4. We remark with surprise that the progress of nations or the natural growth +of institutions which fill modern treatises on political philosophy seem hardly +ever to have attracted the attention of Plato and Aristotle. The ancients were +familiar with the mutability of human affairs; they could moralize over the +ruins of cities and the fall of empires (Plato, Statesman, and Sulpicius’ +Letter to Cicero); by them fate and chance were deemed to be real powers, +almost persons, and to have had a great share in political events. The wiser of +them like Thucydides believed that ‘what had been would be again,’ +and that a tolerable idea of the future could be gathered from the past. Also +they had dreams of a Golden Age which existed once upon a time and might still +exist in some unknown land, or might return again in the remote future. But the +regular growth of a state enlightened by experience, progressing in knowledge, +improving in the arts, of which the citizens were educated by the fulfilment of +political duties, appears never to have come within the range of their hopes +and aspirations. Such a state had never been seen, and therefore could not be +conceived by them. Their experience (Aristot. Metaph.; Plato, Laws) led them to +conclude that there had been cycles of civilization in which the arts had been +discovered and lost many times over, and cities had been overthrown and rebuilt +again and again, and deluges and volcanoes and other natural convulsions had +altered the face of the earth. Tradition told them of many destructions of +mankind and of the preservation of a remnant. The world began again after a +deluge and was reconstructed out of the fragments of itself. Also they were +acquainted with empires of unknown antiquity, like the Egyptian or Assyrian; +but they had never seen them grow, and could not imagine, any more than we can, +the state of man which preceded them. They were puzzled and awestricken by the +Egyptian monuments, of which the forms, as Plato says, not in a figure, but +literally, were ten thousand years old (Laws), and they contrasted the +antiquity of Egypt with their own short memories. +</p> + +<p> +The early legends of Hellas have no real connection with the later history: +they are at a distance, and the intermediate region is concealed from view; +there is no road or path which leads from one to the other. At the beginning of +Greek history, in the vestibule of the temple, is seen standing first of all +the figure of the legislator, himself the interpreter and servant of the God. +The fundamental laws which he gives are not supposed to change with time and +circumstances. The salvation of the state is held rather to depend on the +inviolable maintenance of them. They were sanctioned by the authority of +heaven, and it was deemed impiety to alter them. The desire to maintain them +unaltered seems to be the origin of what at first sight is very surprising to +us—the intolerant zeal of Plato against innovators in religion or +politics (Laws); although with a happy inconsistency he is also willing that +the laws of other countries should be studied and improvements in legislation +privately communicated to the Nocturnal Council (Laws). The additions which +were made to them in later ages in order to meet the increasing complexity of +affairs were still ascribed by a fiction to the original legislator; and the +words of such enactments at Athens were disputed over as if they had been the +words of Solon himself. Plato hopes to preserve in a later generation the mind +of the legislator; he would have his citizens remain within the lines which he +has laid down for them. He would not harass them with minute regulations, he +would have allowed some changes in the laws: but not changes which would affect +the fundamental institutions of the state, such for example as would convert an +aristocracy into a timocracy, or a timocracy into a popular form of government. +</p> + +<p> +Passing from speculations to facts, we observe that progress has been the +exception rather than the law of human history. And therefore we are not +surprised to find that the idea of progress is of modern rather than of ancient +date; and, like the idea of a philosophy of history, is not more than a century +or two old. It seems to have arisen out of the impression left on the human +mind by the growth of the Roman Empire and of the Christian Church, and to be +due to the political and social improvements which they introduced into the +world; and still more in our own century to the idealism of the first French +Revolution and the triumph of American Independence; and in a yet greater +degree to the vast material prosperity and growth of population in England and +her colonies and in America. It is also to be ascribed in a measure to the +greater study of the philosophy of history. The optimist temperament of some +great writers has assisted the creation of it, while the opposite character has +led a few to regard the future of the world as dark. The ‘spectator of +all time and of all existence’ sees more of ‘the increasing purpose +which through the ages ran’ than formerly: but to the inhabitant of a +small state of Hellas the vision was necessarily limited like the valley in +which he dwelt. There was no remote past on which his eye could rest, nor any +future from which the veil was partly lifted up by the analogy of history. The +narrowness of view, which to ourselves appears so singular, was to him natural, +if not unavoidable. +</p> + +<p> +5. For the relation of the Republic to the Statesman and the Laws, and the two +other works of Plato which directly treat of politics, see the Introductions to +the two latter; a few general points of comparison may be touched upon in this +place. +</p> + +<p> +And first of the Laws. +</p> + +<p> +(1) The Republic, though probably written at intervals, yet speaking generally +and judging by the indications of thought and style, may be reasonably ascribed +to the middle period of Plato’s life: the Laws are certainly the work of +his declining years, and some portions of them at any rate seem to have been +written in extreme old age. +</p> + +<p> +(2) The Republic is full of hope and aspiration: the Laws bear the stamp of +failure and disappointment. The one is a finished work which received the last +touches of the author: the other is imperfectly executed, and apparently +unfinished. The one has the grace and beauty of youth: the other has lost the +poetical form, but has more of the severity and knowledge of life which is +characteristic of old age. +</p> + +<p> +(3) The most conspicuous defect of the Laws is the failure of dramatic power, +whereas the Republic is full of striking contrasts of ideas and oppositions of +character. +</p> + +<p> +(4) The Laws may be said to have more the nature of a sermon, the Republic of a +poem; the one is more religious, the other more intellectual. +</p> + +<p> +(5) Many theories of Plato, such as the doctrine of ideas, the government of +the world by philosophers, are not found in the Laws; the immortality of the +soul is first mentioned in xii; the person of Socrates has altogether +disappeared. The community of women and children is renounced; the institution +of common or public meals for women (Laws) is for the first time introduced +(Ar. Pol.). +</p> + +<p> +(6) There remains in the Laws the old enmity to the poets, who are ironically +saluted in high-flown terms, and, at the same time, are peremptorily ordered +out of the city, if they are not willing to submit their poems to the +censorship of the magistrates (Rep.). +</p> + +<p> +(7) Though the work is in most respects inferior, there are a few passages in +the Laws, such as the honour due to the soul, the evils of licentious or +unnatural love, the whole of Book x. (religion), the dishonesty of retail +trade, and bequests, which come more home to us, and contain more of what may +be termed the modern element in Plato than almost anything in the Republic. +</p> + +<p> +The relation of the two works to one another is very well given: +</p> + +<p> +(1) by Aristotle in the Politics from the side of the Laws:— +</p> + +<p> +‘The same, or nearly the same, objections apply to Plato’s later +work, the Laws, and therefore we had better examine briefly the constitution +which is therein described. In the Republic, Socrates has definitely settled in +all a few questions only; such as the community of women and children, the +community of property, and the constitution of the state. The population is +divided into two classes—one of husbandmen, and the other of warriors; +from this latter is taken a third class of counsellors and rulers of the state. +But Socrates has not determined whether the husbandmen and artists are to have +a share in the government, and whether they too are to carry arms and share in +military service or not. He certainly thinks that the women ought to share in +the education of the guardians, and to fight by their side. The remainder of +the work is filled up with digressions foreign to the main subject, and with +discussions about the education of the guardians. In the Laws there is hardly +anything but laws; not much is said about the constitution. This, which he had +intended to make more of the ordinary type, he gradually brings round to the +other or ideal form. For with the exception of the community of women and +property, he supposes everything to be the same in both states; there is to be +the same education; the citizens of both are to live free from servile +occupations, and there are to be common meals in both. The only difference is +that in the Laws the common meals are extended to women, and the warriors +number about 5000, but in the Republic only 1000.’ +</p> + +<p> +(2) by Plato in the Laws (Book v.), from the side of the Republic:— +</p> + +<p> +‘The first and highest form of the state and of the government and of the +law is that in which there prevails most widely the ancient saying that +“Friends have all things in common.” Whether there is now, or ever +will be, this communion of women and children and of property, in which the +private and individual is altogether banished from life, and things which are +by nature private, such as eyes and ears and hands, have become common, and all +men express praise and blame, and feel joy and sorrow, on the same occasions, +and the laws unite the city to the utmost,—whether all this is possible +or not, I say that no man, acting upon any other principle, will ever +constitute a state more exalted in virtue, or truer or better than this. Such a +state, whether inhabited by Gods or sons of Gods, will make them blessed who +dwell therein; and therefore to this we are to look for the pattern of the +state, and to cling to this, and, as far as possible, to seek for one which is +like this. The state which we have now in hand, when created, will be nearest +to immortality and unity in the next degree; and after that, by the grace of +God, we will complete the third one. And we will begin by speaking of the +nature and origin of the second.’ +</p> + +<p> +The comparatively short work called the Statesman or Politicus in its style and +manner is more akin to the Laws, while in its idealism it rather resembles the +Republic. As far as we can judge by various indications of language and +thought, it must be later than the one and of course earlier than the other. In +both the Republic and Statesman a close connection is maintained between +Politics and Dialectic. In the Statesman, enquiries into the principles of +Method are interspersed with discussions about Politics. The comparative +advantages of the rule of law and of a person are considered, and the decision +given in favour of a person (Arist. Pol.). But much may be said on the other +side, nor is the opposition necessary; for a person may rule by law, and law +may be so applied as to be the living voice of the legislator. As in the +Republic, there is a myth, describing, however, not a future, but a former +existence of mankind. The question is asked, ‘Whether the state of +innocence which is described in the myth, or a state like our own which +possesses art and science and distinguishes good from evil, is the preferable +condition of man.’ To this question of the comparative happiness of +civilized and primitive life, which was so often discussed in the last century +and in our own, no answer is given. The Statesman, though less perfect in style +than the Republic and of far less range, may justly be regarded as one of the +greatest of Plato’s dialogues. +</p> + +<p> +6. Others as well as Plato have chosen an ideal Republic to be the vehicle of +thoughts which they could not definitely express, or which went beyond their +own age. The classical writing which approaches most nearly to the Republic of +Plato is the ‘De Republica’ of Cicero; but neither in this nor in +any other of his dialogues does he rival the art of Plato. The manners are +clumsy and inferior; the hand of the rhetorician is apparent at every turn. Yet +noble sentiments are constantly recurring: the true note of Roman +patriotism—‘We Romans are a great people’—resounds +through the whole work. Like Socrates, Cicero turns away from the phenomena of +the heavens to civil and political life. He would rather not discuss the +‘two Suns’ of which all Rome was talking, when he can converse +about ‘the two nations in one’ which had divided Rome ever since +the days of the Gracchi. Like Socrates again, speaking in the person of Scipio, +he is afraid lest he should assume too much the character of a teacher, rather +than of an equal who is discussing among friends the two sides of a question. +He would confine the terms King or State to the rule of reason and justice, and +he will not concede that title either to a democracy or to a monarchy. But +under the rule of reason and justice he is willing to include the natural +superior ruling over the natural inferior, which he compares to the soul ruling +over the body. He prefers a mixture of forms of government to any single one. +The two portraits of the just and the unjust, which occur in the second book of +the Republic, are transferred to the state—Philus, one of the +interlocutors, maintaining against his will the necessity of injustice as a +principle of government, while the other, Laelius, supports the opposite +thesis. His views of language and number are derived from Plato; like him he +denounces the drama. He also declares that if his life were to be twice as long +he would have no time to read the lyric poets. The picture of democracy is +translated by him word for word, though he had hardly shown himself able to +‘carry the jest’ of Plato. He converts into a stately sentence the +humorous fancy about the animals, who ‘are so imbued with the spirit of +democracy that they make the passers-by get out of their way.’ His +description of the tyrant is imitated from Plato, but is far inferior. The +second book is historical, and claims for the Roman constitution (which is to +him the ideal) a foundation of fact such as Plato probably intended to have +given to the Republic in the Critias. His most remarkable imitation of Plato is +the adaptation of the vision of Er, which is converted by Cicero into the +‘Somnium Scipionis’; he has ‘romanized’ the myth of the +Republic, adding an argument for the immortality of the soul taken from the +Phaedrus, and some other touches derived from the Phaedo and the Timaeus. +Though a beautiful tale and containing splendid passages, the ‘Somnium +Scipionis; is very inferior to the vision of Er; it is only a dream, and hardly +allows the reader to suppose that the writer believes in his own creation. +Whether his dialogues were framed on the model of the lost dialogues of +Aristotle, as he himself tells us, or of Plato, to which they bear many +superficial resemblances, he is still the Roman orator; he is not conversing, +but making speeches, and is never able to mould the intractable Latin to the +grace and ease of the Greek Platonic dialogue. But if he is defective in form, +much more is he inferior to the Greek in matter; he nowhere in his +philosophical writings leaves upon our minds the impression of an original +thinker. +</p> + +<p> +Plato’s Republic has been said to be a church and not a state; and such +an ideal of a city in the heavens has always hovered over the Christian world, +and is embodied in St. Augustine’s ‘De Civitate Dei,’ which +is suggested by the decay and fall of the Roman Empire, much in the same manner +in which we may imagine the Republic of Plato to have been influenced by the +decline of Greek politics in the writer’s own age. The difference is that +in the time of Plato the degeneracy, though certain, was gradual and +insensible: whereas the taking of Rome by the Goths stirred like an earthquake +the age of St. Augustine. Men were inclined to believe that the overthrow of +the city was to be ascribed to the anger felt by the old Roman deities at the +neglect of their worship. St. Augustine maintains the opposite thesis; he +argues that the destruction of the Roman Empire is due, not to the rise of +Christianity, but to the vices of Paganism. He wanders over Roman history, and +over Greek philosophy and mythology, and finds everywhere crime, impiety and +falsehood. He compares the worst parts of the Gentile religions with the best +elements of the faith of Christ. He shows nothing of the spirit which led +others of the early Christian Fathers to recognize in the writings of the Greek +philosophers the power of the divine truth. He traces the parallel of the +kingdom of God, that is, the history of the Jews, contained in their +scriptures, and of the kingdoms of the world, which are found in gentile +writers, and pursues them both into an ideal future. It need hardly be remarked +that his use both of Greek and of Roman historians and of the sacred writings +of the Jews is wholly uncritical. The heathen mythology, the Sybilline oracles, +the myths of Plato, the dreams of Neo-Platonists are equally regarded by him as +matter of fact. He must be acknowledged to be a strictly polemical or +controversial writer who makes the best of everything on one side and the worst +of everything on the other. He has no sympathy with the old Roman life as Plato +has with Greek life, nor has he any idea of the ecclesiastical kingdom which +was to arise out of the ruins of the Roman empire. He is not blind to the +defects of the Christian Church, and looks forward to a time when Christian and +Pagan shall be alike brought before the judgment-seat, and the true City of God +shall appear...The work of St. Augustine is a curious repertory of antiquarian +learning and quotations, deeply penetrated with Christian ethics, but showing +little power of reasoning, and a slender knowledge of the Greek literature and +language. He was a great genius, and a noble character, yet hardly capable of +feeling or understanding anything external to his own theology. Of all the +ancient philosophers he is most attracted by Plato, though he is very slightly +acquainted with his writings. He is inclined to believe that the idea of +creation in the Timaeus is derived from the narrative in Genesis; and he is +strangely taken with the coincidence (?) of Plato’s saying that +‘the philosopher is the lover of God,’ and the words of the Book of +Exodus in which God reveals himself to Moses (Exod.) He dwells at length on +miracles performed in his own day, of which the evidence is regarded by him as +irresistible. He speaks in a very interesting manner of the beauty and utility +of nature and of the human frame, which he conceives to afford a foretaste of +the heavenly state and of the resurrection of the body. The book is not really +what to most persons the title of it would imply, and belongs to an age which +has passed away. But it contains many fine passages and thoughts which are for +all time. +</p> + +<p> +The short treatise de Monarchia of Dante is by far the most remarkable of +mediaeval ideals, and bears the impress of the great genius in whom Italy and +the Middle Ages are so vividly reflected. It is the vision of an Universal +Empire, which is supposed to be the natural and necessary government of the +world, having a divine authority distinct from the Papacy, yet coextensive with +it. It is not ‘the ghost of the dead Roman Empire sitting crowned upon +the grave thereof,’ but the legitimate heir and successor of it, +justified by the ancient virtues of the Romans and the beneficence of their +rule. Their right to be the governors of the world is also confirmed by the +testimony of miracles, and acknowledged by St. Paul when he appealed to Caesar, +and even more emphatically by Christ Himself, Who could not have made atonement +for the sins of men if He had not been condemned by a divinely authorized +tribunal. The necessity for the establishment of an Universal Empire is proved +partly by a priori arguments such as the unity of God and the unity of the +family or nation; partly by perversions of Scripture and history, by false +analogies of nature, by misapplied quotations from the classics, and by odd +scraps and commonplaces of logic, showing a familiar but by no means exact +knowledge of Aristotle (of Plato there is none). But a more convincing argument +still is the miserable state of the world, which he touchingly describes. He +sees no hope of happiness or peace for mankind until all nations of the earth +are comprehended in a single empire. The whole treatise shows how deeply the +idea of the Roman Empire was fixed in the minds of his contemporaries. Not much +argument was needed to maintain the truth of a theory which to his own +contemporaries seemed so natural and congenial. He speaks, or rather preaches, +from the point of view, not of the ecclesiastic, but of the layman, although, +as a good Catholic, he is willing to acknowledge that in certain respects the +Empire must submit to the Church. The beginning and end of all his noble +reflections and of his arguments, good and bad, is the aspiration ‘that +in this little plot of earth belonging to mortal man life may pass in freedom +and peace.’ So inextricably is his vision of the future bound up with the +beliefs and circumstances of his own age. +</p> + +<p> +The ‘Utopia’ of Sir Thomas More is a surprising monument of his +genius, and shows a reach of thought far beyond his contemporaries. The book +was written by him at the age of about 34 or 35, and is full of the generous +sentiments of youth. He brings the light of Plato to bear upon the miserable +state of his own country. Living not long after the Wars of the Roses, and in +the dregs of the Catholic Church in England, he is indignant at the corruption +of the clergy, at the luxury of the nobility and gentry, at the sufferings of +the poor, at the calamities caused by war. To the eye of More the whole world +was in dissolution and decay; and side by side with the misery and oppression +which he has described in the First Book of the Utopia, he places in the Second +Book the ideal state which by the help of Plato he had constructed. The times +were full of stir and intellectual interest. The distant murmur of the +Reformation was beginning to be heard. To minds like More’s, Greek +literature was a revelation: there had arisen an art of interpretation, and the +New Testament was beginning to be understood as it had never been before, and +has not often been since, in its natural sense. The life there depicted +appeared to him wholly unlike that of Christian commonwealths, in which +‘he saw nothing but a certain conspiracy of rich men procuring their own +commodities under the name and title of the Commonwealth.’ He thought +that Christ, like Plato, ‘instituted all things common,’ for which +reason, he tells us, the citizens of Utopia were the more willing to receive +his doctrines (‘Howbeit, I think this was no small help and furtherance +in the matter, that they heard us say that Christ instituted among his, all +things common, and that the same community doth yet remain in the rightest +Christian communities’ (Utopia).). The community of property is a fixed +idea with him, though he is aware of the arguments which may be urged on the +other side (‘These things (I say), when I consider with myself, I hold +well with Plato, and do nothing marvel that he would make no laws for them that +refused those laws, whereby all men should have and enjoy equal portions of +riches and commodities. For the wise men did easily foresee this to be the one +and only way to the wealth of a community, if equality of all things should be +brought in and established’ (Utopia).). We wonder how in the reign of +Henry VIII, though veiled in another language and published in a foreign +country, such speculations could have been endured. +</p> + +<p> +He is gifted with far greater dramatic invention than any one who succeeded +him, with the exception of Swift. In the art of feigning he is a worthy +disciple of Plato. Like him, starting from a small portion of fact, he founds +his tale with admirable skill on a few lines in the Latin narrative of the +voyages of Amerigo Vespucci. He is very precise about dates and facts, and has +the power of making us believe that the narrator of the tale must have been an +eyewitness. We are fairly puzzled by his manner of mixing up real and imaginary +persons; his boy John Clement and Peter Giles, citizen of Antwerp, with whom he +disputes about the precise words which are supposed to have been used by the +(imaginary) Portuguese traveller, Raphael Hythloday. ‘I have the more +cause,’ says Hythloday, ‘to fear that my words shall not be +believed, for that I know how difficultly and hardly I myself would have +believed another man telling the same, if I had not myself seen it with mine +own eyes.’ Or again: ‘If you had been with me in Utopia, and had +presently seen their fashions and laws as I did which lived there five years +and more, and would never have come thence, but only to make the new land known +here,’ etc. More greatly regrets that he forgot to ask Hythloday in what +part of the world Utopia is situated; he ‘would have spent no small sum +of money rather than it should have escaped him,’ and he begs Peter Giles +to see Hythloday or write to him and obtain an answer to the question. After +this we are not surprised to hear that a Professor of Divinity (perhaps +‘a late famous vicar of Croydon in Surrey,’ as the translator +thinks) is desirous of being sent thither as a missionary by the High Bishop, +‘yea, and that he may himself be made Bishop of Utopia, nothing doubting +that he must obtain this Bishopric with suit; and he counteth that a godly suit +which proceedeth not of the desire of honour or lucre, but only of a godly +zeal.’ The design may have failed through the disappearance of Hythloday, +concerning whom we have ‘very uncertain news’ after his departure. +There is no doubt, however, that he had told More and Giles the exact situation +of the island, but unfortunately at the same moment More’s attention, as +he is reminded in a letter from Giles, was drawn off by a servant, and one of +the company from a cold caught on shipboard coughed so loud as to prevent Giles +from hearing. And ‘the secret has perished’ with him; to this day +the place of Utopia remains unknown. +</p> + +<p> +The words of Phaedrus, ‘O Socrates, you can easily invent Egyptians or +anything,’ are recalled to our mind as we read this lifelike fiction. Yet +the greater merit of the work is not the admirable art, but the originality of +thought. More is as free as Plato from the prejudices of his age, and far more +tolerant. The Utopians do not allow him who believes not in the immortality of +the soul to share in the administration of the state (Laws), ‘howbeit +they put him to no punishment, because they be persuaded that it is in no +man’s power to believe what he list’; and ‘no man is to be +blamed for reasoning in support of his own religion (‘One of our company +in my presence was sharply punished. He, as soon as he was baptised, began, +against our wills, with more earnest affection than wisdom, to reason of +Christ’s religion, and began to wax so hot in his matter, that he did not +only prefer our religion before all other, but also did despise and condemn all +other, calling them profane, and the followers of them wicked and devilish, and +the children of everlasting damnation. When he had thus long reasoned the +matter, they laid hold on him, accused him, and condemned him into exile, not +as a despiser of religion, but as a seditious person and a raiser up of +dissension among the people’).’ In the public services ‘no +prayers be used, but such as every man may boldly pronounce without giving +offence to any sect.’ He says significantly, ‘There be that give +worship to a man that was once of excellent virtue or of famous glory, not only +as God, but also the chiefest and highest God. But the most and the wisest +part, rejecting all these, believe that there is a certain godly power unknown, +far above the capacity and reach of man’s wit, dispersed throughout all +the world, not in bigness, but in virtue and power. Him they call the Father of +all. To Him alone they attribute the beginnings, the increasings, the +proceedings, the changes, and the ends of all things. Neither give they any +divine honours to any other than him.’ So far was More from sharing the +popular beliefs of his time. Yet at the end he reminds us that he does not in +all respects agree with the customs and opinions of the Utopians which he +describes. And we should let him have the benefit of this saving clause, and +not rudely withdraw the veil behind which he has been pleased to conceal +himself. +</p> + +<p> +Nor is he less in advance of popular opinion in his political and moral +speculations. He would like to bring military glory into contempt; he would set +all sorts of idle people to profitable occupation, including in the same class, +priests, women, noblemen, gentlemen, and ‘sturdy and valiant +beggars,’ that the labour of all may be reduced to six hours a day. His +dislike of capital punishment, and plans for the reformation of offenders; his +detestation of priests and lawyers (Compare his satirical observation: +‘They (the Utopians) have priests of exceeding holiness, and therefore +very few.); his remark that ‘although every one may hear of ravenous dogs +and wolves and cruel man-eaters, it is not easy to find states that are well +and wisely governed,’ are curiously at variance with the notions of his +age and indeed with his own life. There are many points in which he shows a +modern feeling and a prophetic insight like Plato. He is a sanitary reformer; +he maintains that civilized states have a right to the soil of waste countries; +he is inclined to the opinion which places happiness in virtuous pleasures, but +herein, as he thinks, not disagreeing from those other philosophers who define +virtue to be a life according to nature. He extends the idea of happiness so as +to include the happiness of others; and he argues ingeniously, ‘All men +agree that we ought to make others happy; but if others, how much more +ourselves!’ And still he thinks that there may be a more excellent way, +but to this no man’s reason can attain unless heaven should inspire him +with a higher truth. His ceremonies before marriage; his humane proposal that +war should be carried on by assassinating the leaders of the enemy, may be +compared to some of the paradoxes of Plato. He has a charming fancy, like the +affinities of Greeks and barbarians in the Timaeus, that the Utopians learnt +the language of the Greeks with the more readiness because they were originally +of the same race with them. He is penetrated with the spirit of Plato, and +quotes or adapts many thoughts both from the Republic and from the Timaeus. He +prefers public duties to private, and is somewhat impatient of the importunity +of relations. His citizens have no silver or gold of their own, but are ready +enough to pay them to their mercenaries. There is nothing of which he is more +contemptuous than the love of money. Gold is used for fetters of criminals, and +diamonds and pearls for children’s necklaces (When the ambassadors came +arrayed in gold and peacocks’ feathers ‘to the eyes of all the +Utopians except very few, which had been in other countries for some reasonable +cause, all that gorgeousness of apparel seemed shameful and reproachful. In so +much that they most reverently saluted the vilest and most abject of them for +lords—passing over the ambassadors themselves without any honour, judging +them by their wearing of golden chains to be bondmen. You should have seen +children also, that had cast away their pearls and precious stones, when they +saw the like sticking upon the ambassadors’ caps, dig and push their +mothers under the sides, saying thus to them—“Look, though he were +a little child still.” But the mother; yea and that also in good earnest: +“Peace, son,” saith she, “I think he be some of the +ambassadors’ fools.”’) +</p> + +<p> +Like Plato he is full of satirical reflections on governments and princes; on +the state of the world and of knowledge. The hero of his discourse (Hythloday) +is very unwilling to become a minister of state, considering that he would lose +his independence and his advice would never be heeded (Compare an exquisite +passage, of which the conclusion is as follows: ‘And verily it is +naturally given...suppressed and ended.’) He ridicules the new logic of +his time; the Utopians could never be made to understand the doctrine of Second +Intentions (‘For they have not devised one of all those rules of +restrictions, amplifications, and suppositions, very wittily invented in the +small Logicals, which here our children in every place do learn. Furthermore, +they were never yet able to find out the second intentions; insomuch that none +of them all could ever see man himself in common, as they call him, though he +be (as you know) bigger than was ever any giant, yea, and pointed to of us even +with our finger.’) He is very severe on the sports of the gentry; the +Utopians count ‘hunting the lowest, the vilest, and the most abject part +of butchery.’ He quotes the words of the Republic in which the +philosopher is described ‘standing out of the way under a wall until the +driving storm of sleet and rain be overpast,’ which admit of a singular +application to More’s own fate; although, writing twenty years before +(about the year 1514), he can hardly be supposed to have foreseen this. There +is no touch of satire which strikes deeper than his quiet remark that the +greater part of the precepts of Christ are more at variance with the lives of +ordinary Christians than the discourse of Utopia (‘And yet the most part +of them is more dissident from the manners of the world now a days, than my +communication was. But preachers, sly and wily men, following your counsel (as +I suppose) because they saw men evil-willing to frame their manners to +Christ’s rule, they have wrested and wried his doctrine, and, like a rule +of lead, have applied it to men’s manners, that by some means at the +least way, they might agree together.’) +</p> + +<p> +The ‘New Atlantis’ is only a fragment, and far inferior in merit to +the ‘Utopia.’ The work is full of ingenuity, but wanting in +creative fancy, and by no means impresses the reader with a sense of +credibility. In some places Lord Bacon is characteristically different from Sir +Thomas More, as, for example, in the external state which he attributes to the +governor of Solomon’s House, whose dress he minutely describes, while to +Sir Thomas More such trappings appear simple ridiculous. Yet, after this +programme of dress, Bacon adds the beautiful trait, ‘that he had a look +as though he pitied men.’ Several things are borrowed by him from the +Timaeus; but he has injured the unity of style by adding thoughts and passages +which are taken from the Hebrew Scriptures. +</p> + +<p> +The ‘City of the Sun’ written by Campanella (1568-1639), a +Dominican friar, several years after the ‘New Atlantis’ of Bacon, +has many resemblances to the Republic of Plato. The citizens have wives and +children in common; their marriages are of the same temporary sort, and are +arranged by the magistrates from time to time. They do not, however, adopt his +system of lots, but bring together the best natures, male and female, +‘according to philosophical rules.’ The infants until two years of +age are brought up by their mothers in public temples; and since individuals +for the most part educate their children badly, at the beginning of their third +year they are committed to the care of the State, and are taught at first, not +out of books, but from paintings of all kinds, which are emblazoned on the +walls of the city. The city has six interior circuits of walls, and an outer +wall which is the seventh. On this outer wall are painted the figures of +legislators and philosophers, and on each of the interior walls the symbols or +forms of some one of the sciences are delineated. The women are, for the most +part, trained, like the men, in warlike and other exercises; but they have two +special occupations of their own. After a battle, they and the boys soothe and +relieve the wounded warriors; also they encourage them with embraces and +pleasant words. Some elements of the Christian or Catholic religion are +preserved among them. The life of the Apostles is greatly admired by this +people because they had all things in common; and the short prayer which Jesus +Christ taught men is used in their worship. It is a duty of the chief +magistrates to pardon sins, and therefore the whole people make secret +confession of them to the magistrates, and they to their chief, who is a sort +of Rector Metaphysicus; and by this means he is well informed of all that is +going on in the minds of men. After confession, absolution is granted to the +citizens collectively, but no one is mentioned by name. There also exists among +them a practice of perpetual prayer, performed by a succession of priests, who +change every hour. Their religion is a worship of God in Trinity, that is of +Wisdom, Love and Power, but without any distinction of persons. They behold in +the sun the reflection of His glory; mere graven images they reject, refusing +to fall under the ‘tyranny’ of idolatry. +</p> + +<p> +Many details are given about their customs of eating and drinking, about their +mode of dressing, their employments, their wars. Campanella looks forward to a +new mode of education, which is to be a study of nature, and not of Aristotle. +He would not have his citizens waste their time in the consideration of what he +calls ‘the dead signs of things.’ He remarks that he who knows one +science only, does not really know that one any more than the rest, and insists +strongly on the necessity of a variety of knowledge. More scholars are turned +out in the City of the Sun in one year than by contemporary methods in ten or +fifteen. He evidently believes, like Bacon, that henceforward natural science +will play a great part in education, a hope which seems hardly to have been +realized, either in our own or in any former age; at any rate the fulfilment of +it has been long deferred. +</p> + +<p> +There is a good deal of ingenuity and even originality in this work, and a most +enlightened spirit pervades it. But it has little or no charm of style, and +falls very far short of the ‘New Atlantis’ of Bacon, and still more +of the ‘Utopia’ of Sir Thomas More. It is full of inconsistencies, +and though borrowed from Plato, shows but a superficial acquaintance with his +writings. It is a work such as one might expect to have been written by a +philosopher and man of genius who was also a friar, and who had spent +twenty-seven years of his life in a prison of the Inquisition. The most +interesting feature of the book, common to Plato and Sir Thomas More, is the +deep feeling which is shown by the writer, of the misery and ignorance +prevailing among the lower classes in his own time. Campanella takes note of +Aristotle’s answer to Plato’s community of property, that in a +society where all things are common, no individual would have any motive to +work (Arist. Pol.): he replies, that his citizens being happy and contented in +themselves (they are required to work only four hours a day), will have greater +regard for their fellows than exists among men at present. He thinks, like +Plato, that if he abolishes private feelings and interests, a great public +feeling will take their place. +</p> + +<p> +Other writings on ideal states, such as the ‘Oceana’ of Harrington, +in which the Lord Archon, meaning Cromwell, is described, not as he was, but as +he ought to have been; or the ‘Argenis’ of Barclay, which is an +historical allegory of his own time, are too unlike Plato to be worth +mentioning. More interesting than either of these, and far more Platonic in +style and thought, is Sir John Eliot’s ‘Monarchy of Man,’ in +which the prisoner of the Tower, no longer able ‘to be a politician in +the land of his birth,’ turns away from politics to view ‘that +other city which is within him,’ and finds on the very threshold of the +grave that the secret of human happiness is the mastery of self. The change of +government in the time of the English Commonwealth set men thinking about first +principles, and gave rise to many works of this class...The great original +genius of Swift owes nothing to Plato; nor is there any trace in the +conversation or in the works of Dr. Johnson of any acquaintance with his +writings. He probably would have refuted Plato without reading him, in the same +fashion in which he supposed himself to have refuted Bishop Berkeley’s +theory of the non-existence of matter. If we except the so-called English +Platonists, or rather Neo-Platonists, who never understood their master, and +the writings of Coleridge, who was to some extent a kindred spirit, Plato has +left no permanent impression on English literature. +</p> + +<p> +7. Human life and conduct are affected by ideals in the same way that they are +affected by the examples of eminent men. Neither the one nor the other are +immediately applicable to practice, but there is a virtue flowing from them +which tends to raise individuals above the common routine of society or trade, +and to elevate States above the mere interests of commerce or the necessities +of self-defence. Like the ideals of art they are partly framed by the omission +of particulars; they require to be viewed at a certain distance, and are apt to +fade away if we attempt to approach them. They gain an imaginary distinctness +when embodied in a State or in a system of philosophy, but they still remain +the visions of ‘a world unrealized.’ More striking and obvious to +the ordinary mind are the examples of great men, who have served their own +generation and are remembered in another. Even in our own family circle there +may have been some one, a woman, or even a child, in whose face has shone forth +a goodness more than human. The ideal then approaches nearer to us, and we +fondly cling to it. The ideal of the past, whether of our own past lives or of +former states of society, has a singular fascination for the minds of many. Too +late we learn that such ideals cannot be recalled, though the recollection of +them may have a humanizing influence on other times. But the abstractions of +philosophy are to most persons cold and vacant; they give light without warmth; +they are like the full moon in the heavens when there are no stars appearing. +Men cannot live by thought alone; the world of sense is always breaking in upon +them. They are for the most part confined to a corner of earth, and see but a +little way beyond their own home or place of abode; they ‘do not lift up +their eyes to the hills’; they are not awake when the dawn appears. But +in Plato we have reached a height from which a man may look into the distance +and behold the future of the world and of philosophy. The ideal of the State +and of the life of the philosopher; the ideal of an education continuing +through life and extending equally to both sexes; the ideal of the unity and +correlation of knowledge; the faith in good and immortality—are the +vacant forms of light on which Plato is seeking to fix the eye of mankind. +</p> + +<p> +8. Two other ideals, which never appeared above the horizon in Greek +Philosophy, float before the minds of men in our own day: one seen more clearly +than formerly, as though each year and each generation brought us nearer to +some great change; the other almost in the same degree retiring from view +behind the laws of nature, as if oppressed by them, but still remaining a +silent hope of we know not what hidden in the heart of man. The first ideal is +the future of the human race in this world; the second the future of the +individual in another. The first is the more perfect realization of our own +present life; the second, the abnegation of it: the one, limited by experience, +the other, transcending it. Both of them have been and are powerful motives of +action; there are a few in whom they have taken the place of all earthly +interests. The hope of a future for the human race at first sight seems to be +the more disinterested, the hope of individual existence the more egotistical, +of the two motives. But when men have learned to resolve their hope of a future +either for themselves or for the world into the will of God—‘not my +will but Thine,’ the difference between them falls away; and they may be +allowed to make either of them the basis of their lives, according to their own +individual character or temperament. There is as much faith in the willingness +to work for an unseen future in this world as in another. Neither is it +inconceivable that some rare nature may feel his duty to another generation, or +to another century, almost as strongly as to his own, or that living always in +the presence of God, he may realize another world as vividly as he does this. +</p> + +<p> +The greatest of all ideals may, or rather must be conceived by us under +similitudes derived from human qualities; although sometimes, like the Jewish +prophets, we may dash away these figures of speech and describe the nature of +God only in negatives. These again by degrees acquire a positive meaning. It +would be well, if when meditating on the higher truths either of philosophy or +religion, we sometimes substituted one form of expression for another, lest +through the necessities of language we should become the slaves of mere words. +</p> + +<p> +There is a third ideal, not the same, but akin to these, which has a place in +the home and heart of every believer in the religion of Christ, and in which +men seem to find a nearer and more familiar truth, the Divine man, the Son of +Man, the Saviour of mankind, Who is the first-born and head of the whole family +in heaven and earth, in Whom the Divine and human, that which is without and +that which is within the range of our earthly faculties, are indissolubly +united. Neither is this divine form of goodness wholly separable from the ideal +of the Christian Church, which is said in the New Testament to be ‘His +body,’ or at variance with those other images of good which Plato sets +before us. We see Him in a figure only, and of figures of speech we select but +a few, and those the simplest, to be the expression of Him. We behold Him in a +picture, but He is not there. We gather up the fragments of His discourses, but +neither do they represent Him as He truly was. His dwelling is neither in +heaven nor earth, but in the heart of man. This is that image which Plato saw +dimly in the distance, which, when existing among men, he called, in the +language of Homer, ‘the likeness of God,’ the likeness of a nature +which in all ages men have felt to be greater and better than themselves, and +which in endless forms, whether derived from Scripture or nature, from the +witness of history or from the human heart, regarded as a person or not as a +person, with or without parts or passions, existing in space or not in space, +is and will always continue to be to mankind the Idea of Good. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"></a> THE REPUBLIC.</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"></a> PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE. +</h2> + +<p> +Socrates, who is the narrator. +</p> + +<p> +Glaucon. +</p> + +<p> +Adeimantus. +</p> + +<p> +Polemarchus. +</p> + +<p> +Cephalus. +</p> + +<p> +Thrasymachus. +</p> + +<p> +Cleitophon. +</p> + +<p> +And others who are mute auditors. +</p> + +<p> +The scene is laid in the house of Cephalus at the Piraeus; and the whole +dialogue is narrated by Socrates the day after it actually took place to +Timaeus, Hermocrates, Critias, and a nameless person, who are introduced in the +Timaeus. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"></a> BOOK I.</h2> + +<p> +I went down yesterday to the Piraeus with Glaucon the son of Ariston, that I +might offer up my prayers to the goddess (Bendis, the Thracian Artemis.); and +also because I wanted to see in what manner they would celebrate the festival, +which was a new thing. I was delighted with the procession of the inhabitants; +but that of the Thracians was equally, if not more, beautiful. When we had +finished our prayers and viewed the spectacle, we turned in the direction of +the city; and at that instant Polemarchus the son of Cephalus chanced to catch +sight of us from a distance as we were starting on our way home, and told his +servant to run and bid us wait for him. The servant took hold of me by the +cloak behind, and said: Polemarchus desires you to wait. +</p> + +<p> +I turned round, and asked him where his master was. +</p> + +<p> +There he is, said the youth, coming after you, if you will only wait. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly we will, said Glaucon; and in a few minutes Polemarchus appeared, and +with him Adeimantus, Glaucon’s brother, Niceratus the son of Nicias, and +several others who had been at the procession. +</p> + +<p> +Polemarchus said to me: I perceive, Socrates, that you and your companion are +already on your way to the city. +</p> + +<p> +You are not far wrong, I said. +</p> + +<p> +But do you see, he rejoined, how many we are? +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +And are you stronger than all these? for if not, you will have to remain where +you are. +</p> + +<p> +May there not be the alternative, I said, that we may persuade you to let us +go? +</p> + +<p> +But can you persuade us, if we refuse to listen to you? he said. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not, replied Glaucon. +</p> + +<p> +Then we are not going to listen; of that you may be assured. +</p> + +<p> +Adeimantus added: Has no one told you of the torch-race on horseback in honour +of the goddess which will take place in the evening? +</p> + +<p> +With horses! I replied: That is a novelty. Will horsemen carry torches and pass +them one to another during the race? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, said Polemarchus, and not only so, but a festival will be celebrated at +night, which you certainly ought to see. Let us rise soon after supper and see +this festival; there will be a gathering of young men, and we will have a good +talk. Stay then, and do not be perverse. +</p> + +<p> +Glaucon said: I suppose, since you insist, that we must. +</p> + +<p> +Very good, I replied. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly we went with Polemarchus to his house; and there we found his +brothers Lysias and Euthydemus, and with them Thrasymachus the Chalcedonian, +Charmantides the Paeanian, and Cleitophon the son of Aristonymus. There too was +Cephalus the father of Polemarchus, whom I had not seen for a long time, and I +thought him very much aged. He was seated on a cushioned chair, and had a +garland on his head, for he had been sacrificing in the court; and there were +some other chairs in the room arranged in a semicircle, upon which we sat down +by him. He saluted me eagerly, and then he said:— +</p> + +<p> +You don’t come to see me, Socrates, as often as you ought: If I were +still able to go and see you I would not ask you to come to me. But at my age I +can hardly get to the city, and therefore you should come oftener to the +Piraeus. For let me tell you, that the more the pleasures of the body fade +away, the greater to me is the pleasure and charm of conversation. Do not then +deny my request, but make our house your resort and keep company with these +young men; we are old friends, and you will be quite at home with us. +</p> + +<p> +I replied: There is nothing which for my part I like better, Cephalus, than +conversing with aged men; for I regard them as travellers who have gone a +journey which I too may have to go, and of whom I ought to enquire, whether the +way is smooth and easy, or rugged and difficult. And this is a question which I +should like to ask of you who have arrived at that time which the poets call +the ‘threshold of old age’—Is life harder towards the end, or +what report do you give of it? +</p> + +<p> +I will tell you, Socrates, he said, what my own feeling is. Men of my age flock +together; we are birds of a feather, as the old proverb says; and at our +meetings the tale of my acquaintance commonly is—I cannot eat, I cannot +drink; the pleasures of youth and love are fled away: there was a good time +once, but now that is gone, and life is no longer life. Some complain of the +slights which are put upon them by relations, and they will tell you sadly of +how many evils their old age is the cause. But to me, Socrates, these +complainers seem to blame that which is not really in fault. For if old age +were the cause, I too being old, and every other old man, would have felt as +they do. But this is not my own experience, nor that of others whom I have +known. How well I remember the aged poet Sophocles, when in answer to the +question, How does love suit with age, Sophocles,—are you still the man +you were? Peace, he replied; most gladly have I escaped the thing of which you +speak; I feel as if I had escaped from a mad and furious master. His words have +often occurred to my mind since, and they seem as good to me now as at the time +when he uttered them. For certainly old age has a great sense of calm and +freedom; when the passions relax their hold, then, as Sophocles says, we are +freed from the grasp not of one mad master only, but of many. The truth is, +Socrates, that these regrets, and also the complaints about relations, are to +be attributed to the same cause, which is not old age, but men’s +characters and tempers; for he who is of a calm and happy nature will hardly +feel the pressure of age, but to him who is of an opposite disposition youth +and age are equally a burden. +</p> + +<p> +I listened in admiration, and wanting to draw him out, that he might go +on—Yes, Cephalus, I said: but I rather suspect that people in general are +not convinced by you when you speak thus; they think that old age sits lightly +upon you, not because of your happy disposition, but because you are rich, and +wealth is well known to be a great comforter. +</p> + +<p> +You are right, he replied; they are not convinced: and there is something in +what they say; not, however, so much as they imagine. I might answer them as +Themistocles answered the Seriphian who was abusing him and saying that he was +famous, not for his own merits but because he was an Athenian: ‘If you +had been a native of my country or I of yours, neither of us would have been +famous.’ And to those who are not rich and are impatient of old age, the +same reply may be made; for to the good poor man old age cannot be a light +burden, nor can a bad rich man ever have peace with himself. +</p> + +<p> +May I ask, Cephalus, whether your fortune was for the most part inherited or +acquired by you? +</p> + +<p> +Acquired! Socrates; do you want to know how much I acquired? In the art of +making money I have been midway between my father and grandfather: for my +grandfather, whose name I bear, doubled and trebled the value of his patrimony, +that which he inherited being much what I possess now; but my father Lysanias +reduced the property below what it is at present: and I shall be satisfied if I +leave to these my sons not less but a little more than I received. +</p> + +<p> +That was why I asked you the question, I replied, because I see that you are +indifferent about money, which is a characteristic rather of those who have +inherited their fortunes than of those who have acquired them; the makers of +fortunes have a second love of money as a creation of their own, resembling the +affection of authors for their own poems, or of parents for their children, +besides that natural love of it for the sake of use and profit which is common +to them and all men. And hence they are very bad company, for they can talk +about nothing but the praises of wealth. +</p> + +<p> +That is true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that is very true, but may I ask another question?—What do you +consider to be the greatest blessing which you have reaped from your wealth? +</p> + +<p> +One, he said, of which I could not expect easily to convince others. For let me +tell you, Socrates, that when a man thinks himself to be near death, fears and +cares enter into his mind which he never had before; the tales of a world below +and the punishment which is exacted there of deeds done here were once a +laughing matter to him, but now he is tormented with the thought that they may +be true: either from the weakness of age, or because he is now drawing nearer +to that other place, he has a clearer view of these things; suspicions and +alarms crowd thickly upon him, and he begins to reflect and consider what +wrongs he has done to others. And when he finds that the sum of his +transgressions is great he will many a time like a child start up in his sleep +for fear, and he is filled with dark forebodings. But to him who is conscious +of no sin, sweet hope, as Pindar charmingly says, is the kind nurse of his age: +</p> + +<p> +‘Hope,’ he says, ‘cherishes the soul of him who lives in +justice and holiness, and is the nurse of his age and the companion of his +journey;—hope which is mightiest to sway the restless soul of man.’ +</p> + +<p> +How admirable are his words! And the great blessing of riches, I do not say to +every man, but to a good man, is, that he has had no occasion to deceive or to +defraud others, either intentionally or unintentionally; and when he departs to +the world below he is not in any apprehension about offerings due to the gods +or debts which he owes to men. Now to this peace of mind the possession of +wealth greatly contributes; and therefore I say, that, setting one thing +against another, of the many advantages which wealth has to give, to a man of +sense this is in my opinion the greatest. +</p> + +<p> +Well said, Cephalus, I replied; but as concerning justice, what is it?—to +speak the truth and to pay your debts—no more than this? And even to this +are there not exceptions? Suppose that a friend when in his right mind has +deposited arms with me and he asks for them when he is not in his right mind, +ought I to give them back to him? No one would say that I ought or that I +should be right in doing so, any more than they would say that I ought always +to speak the truth to one who is in his condition. +</p> + +<p> +You are quite right, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +But then, I said, speaking the truth and paying your debts is not a correct +definition of justice. +</p> + +<p> +Quite correct, Socrates, if Simonides is to be believed, said Polemarchus +interposing. +</p> + +<p> +I fear, said Cephalus, that I must go now, for I have to look after the +sacrifices, and I hand over the argument to Polemarchus and the company. +</p> + +<p> +Is not Polemarchus your heir? I said. +</p> + +<p> +To be sure, he answered, and went away laughing to the sacrifices. +</p> + +<p> +Tell me then, O thou heir of the argument, what did Simonides say, and +according to you truly say, about justice? +</p> + +<p> +He said that the repayment of a debt is just, and in saying so he appears to me +to be right. +</p> + +<p> +I should be sorry to doubt the word of such a wise and inspired man, but his +meaning, though probably clear to you, is the reverse of clear to me. For he +certainly does not mean, as we were just now saying, that I ought to return a +deposit of arms or of anything else to one who asks for it when he is not in +his right senses; and yet a deposit cannot be denied to be a debt. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Then when the person who asks me is not in his right mind I am by no means to +make the return? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +When Simonides said that the repayment of a debt was justice, he did not mean +to include that case? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not; for he thinks that a friend ought always to do good to a friend +and never evil. +</p> + +<p> +You mean that the return of a deposit of gold which is to the injury of the +receiver, if the two parties are friends, is not the repayment of a +debt,—that is what you would imagine him to say? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And are enemies also to receive what we owe to them? +</p> + +<p> +To be sure, he said, they are to receive what we owe them, and an enemy, as I +take it, owes to an enemy that which is due or proper to him—that is to +say, evil. +</p> + +<p> +Simonides, then, after the manner of poets, would seem to have spoken darkly of +the nature of justice; for he really meant to say that justice is the giving to +each man what is proper to him, and this he termed a debt. +</p> + +<p> +That must have been his meaning, he said. +</p> + +<p> +By heaven! I replied; and if we asked him what due or proper thing is given by +medicine, and to whom, what answer do you think that he would make to us? +</p> + +<p> +He would surely reply that medicine gives drugs and meat and drink to human +bodies. +</p> + +<p> +And what due or proper thing is given by cookery, and to what? +</p> + +<p> +Seasoning to food. +</p> + +<p> +And what is that which justice gives, and to whom? +</p> + +<p> +If, Socrates, we are to be guided at all by the analogy of the preceding +instances, then justice is the art which gives good to friends and evil to +enemies. +</p> + +<p> +That is his meaning then? +</p> + +<p> +I think so. +</p> + +<p> +And who is best able to do good to his friends and evil to his enemies in time +of sickness? +</p> + +<p> +The physician. +</p> + +<p> +Or when they are on a voyage, amid the perils of the sea? +</p> + +<p> +The pilot. +</p> + +<p> +And in what sort of actions or with a view to what result is the just man most +able to do harm to his enemy and good to his friend? +</p> + +<p> +In going to war against the one and in making alliances with the other. +</p> + +<p> +But when a man is well, my dear Polemarchus, there is no need of a physician? +</p> + +<p> +No. +</p> + +<p> +And he who is not on a voyage has no need of a pilot? +</p> + +<p> +No. +</p> + +<p> +Then in time of peace justice will be of no use? +</p> + +<p> +I am very far from thinking so. +</p> + +<p> +You think that justice may be of use in peace as well as in war? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Like husbandry for the acquisition of corn? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Or like shoemaking for the acquisition of shoes,—that is what you mean? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And what similar use or power of acquisition has justice in time of peace? +</p> + +<p> +In contracts, Socrates, justice is of use. +</p> + +<p> +And by contracts you mean partnerships? +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +But is the just man or the skilful player a more useful and better partner at a +game of draughts? +</p> + +<p> +The skilful player. +</p> + +<p> +And in the laying of bricks and stones is the just man a more useful or better +partner than the builder? +</p> + +<p> +Quite the reverse. +</p> + +<p> +Then in what sort of partnership is the just man a better partner than the +harp-player, as in playing the harp the harp-player is certainly a better +partner than the just man? +</p> + +<p> +In a money partnership. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Polemarchus, but surely not in the use of money; for you do not want a +just man to be your counsellor in the purchase or sale of a horse; a man who is +knowing about horses would be better for that, would he not? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And when you want to buy a ship, the shipwright or the pilot would be better? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Then what is that joint use of silver or gold in which the just man is to be +preferred? +</p> + +<p> +When you want a deposit to be kept safely. +</p> + +<p> +You mean when money is not wanted, but allowed to lie? +</p> + +<p> +Precisely. +</p> + +<p> +That is to say, justice is useful when money is useless? +</p> + +<p> +That is the inference. +</p> + +<p> +And when you want to keep a pruning-hook safe, then justice is useful to the +individual and to the state; but when you want to use it, then the art of the +vine-dresser? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +And when you want to keep a shield or a lyre, and not to use them, you would +say that justice is useful; but when you want to use them, then the art of the +soldier or of the musician? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And so of all other things;—justice is useful when they are useless, and +useless when they are useful? +</p> + +<p> +That is the inference. +</p> + +<p> +Then justice is not good for much. But let us consider this further point: Is +not he who can best strike a blow in a boxing match or in any kind of fighting +best able to ward off a blow? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And he who is most skilful in preventing or escaping from a disease is best +able to create one? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And he is the best guard of a camp who is best able to steal a march upon the +enemy? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Then he who is a good keeper of anything is also a good thief? +</p> + +<p> +That, I suppose, is to be inferred. +</p> + +<p> +Then if the just man is good at keeping money, he is good at stealing it. +</p> + +<p> +That is implied in the argument. +</p> + +<p> +Then after all the just man has turned out to be a thief. And this is a lesson +which I suspect you must have learnt out of Homer; for he, speaking of +Autolycus, the maternal grandfather of Odysseus, who is a favourite of his, +affirms that +</p> + +<p> +‘He was excellent above all men in theft and perjury.’ +</p> + +<p> +And so, you and Homer and Simonides are agreed that justice is an art of theft; +to be practised however ‘for the good of friends and for the harm of +enemies,’—that was what you were saying? +</p> + +<p> +No, certainly not that, though I do not now know what I did say; but I still +stand by the latter words. +</p> + +<p> +Well, there is another question: By friends and enemies do we mean those who +are so really, or only in seeming? +</p> + +<p> +Surely, he said, a man may be expected to love those whom he thinks good, and +to hate those whom he thinks evil. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, but do not persons often err about good and evil: many who are not good +seem to be so, and conversely? +</p> + +<p> +That is true. +</p> + +<p> +Then to them the good will be enemies and the evil will be their friends? True. +</p> + +<p> +And in that case they will be right in doing good to the evil and evil to the +good? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +But the good are just and would not do an injustice? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Then according to your argument it is just to injure those who do no wrong? +</p> + +<p> +Nay, Socrates; the doctrine is immoral. +</p> + +<p> +Then I suppose that we ought to do good to the just and harm to the unjust? +</p> + +<p> +I like that better. +</p> + +<p> +But see the consequence:—Many a man who is ignorant of human nature has +friends who are bad friends, and in that case he ought to do harm to them; and +he has good enemies whom he ought to benefit; but, if so, we shall be saying +the very opposite of that which we affirmed to be the meaning of Simonides. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said: and I think that we had better correct an error into which +we seem to have fallen in the use of the words ‘friend’ and +‘enemy.’ +</p> + +<p> +What was the error, Polemarchus? I asked. +</p> + +<p> +We assumed that he is a friend who seems to be or who is thought good. +</p> + +<p> +And how is the error to be corrected? +</p> + +<p> +We should rather say that he is a friend who is, as well as seems, good; and +that he who seems only, and is not good, only seems to be and is not a friend; +and of an enemy the same may be said. +</p> + +<p> +You would argue that the good are our friends and the bad our enemies? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And instead of saying simply as we did at first, that it is just to do good to +our friends and harm to our enemies, we should further say: It is just to do +good to our friends when they are good and harm to our enemies when they are +evil? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that appears to me to be the truth. +</p> + +<p> +But ought the just to injure any one at all? +</p> + +<p> +Undoubtedly he ought to injure those who are both wicked and his enemies. +</p> + +<p> +When horses are injured, are they improved or deteriorated? +</p> + +<p> +The latter. +</p> + +<p> +Deteriorated, that is to say, in the good qualities of horses, not of dogs? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, of horses. +</p> + +<p> +And dogs are deteriorated in the good qualities of dogs, and not of horses? +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +And will not men who are injured be deteriorated in that which is the proper +virtue of man? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And that human virtue is justice? +</p> + +<p> +To be sure. +</p> + +<p> +Then men who are injured are of necessity made unjust? +</p> + +<p> +That is the result. +</p> + +<p> +But can the musician by his art make men unmusical? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Or the horseman by his art make them bad horsemen? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +And can the just by justice make men unjust, or speaking generally, can the +good by virtue make them bad? +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly not. +</p> + +<p> +Any more than heat can produce cold? +</p> + +<p> +It cannot. +</p> + +<p> +Or drought moisture? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly not. +</p> + +<p> +Nor can the good harm any one? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +And the just is the good? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Then to injure a friend or any one else is not the act of a just man, but of +the opposite, who is the unjust? +</p> + +<p> +I think that what you say is quite true, Socrates. +</p> + +<p> +Then if a man says that justice consists in the repayment of debts, and that +good is the debt which a just man owes to his friends, and evil the debt which +he owes to his enemies,—to say this is not wise; for it is not true, if, +as has been clearly shown, the injuring of another can be in no case just. +</p> + +<p> +I agree with you, said Polemarchus. +</p> + +<p> +Then you and I are prepared to take up arms against any one who attributes such +a saying to Simonides or Bias or Pittacus, or any other wise man or seer? +</p> + +<p> +I am quite ready to do battle at your side, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Shall I tell you whose I believe the saying to be? +</p> + +<p> +Whose? +</p> + +<p> +I believe that Periander or Perdiccas or Xerxes or Ismenias the Theban, or some +other rich and mighty man, who had a great opinion of his own power, was the +first to say that justice is ‘doing good to your friends and harm to your +enemies.’ +</p> + +<p> +Most true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; but if this definition of justice also breaks down, what other can +be offered? +</p> + +<p> +Several times in the course of the discussion Thrasymachus had made an attempt +to get the argument into his own hands, and had been put down by the rest of +the company, who wanted to hear the end. But when Polemarchus and I had done +speaking and there was a pause, he could no longer hold his peace; and, +gathering himself up, he came at us like a wild beast, seeking to devour us. We +were quite panic-stricken at the sight of him. +</p> + +<p> +He roared out to the whole company: What folly, Socrates, has taken possession +of you all? And why, sillybillies, do you knock under to one another? I say +that if you want really to know what justice is, you should not only ask but +answer, and you should not seek honour to yourself from the refutation of an +opponent, but have your own answer; for there is many a one who can ask and +cannot answer. And now I will not have you say that justice is duty or +advantage or profit or gain or interest, for this sort of nonsense will not do +for me; I must have clearness and accuracy. +</p> + +<p> +I was panic-stricken at his words, and could not look at him without trembling. +Indeed I believe that if I had not fixed my eye upon him, I should have been +struck dumb: but when I saw his fury rising, I looked at him first, and was +therefore able to reply to him. +</p> + +<p> +Thrasymachus, I said, with a quiver, don’t be hard upon us. Polemarchus +and I may have been guilty of a little mistake in the argument, but I can +assure you that the error was not intentional. If we were seeking for a piece +of gold, you would not imagine that we were ‘knocking under to one +another,’ and so losing our chance of finding it. And why, when we are +seeking for justice, a thing more precious than many pieces of gold, do you say +that we are weakly yielding to one another and not doing our utmost to get at +the truth? Nay, my good friend, we are most willing and anxious to do so, but +the fact is that we cannot. And if so, you people who know all things should +pity us and not be angry with us. +</p> + +<p> +How characteristic of Socrates! he replied, with a bitter +laugh;—that’s your ironical style! Did I not foresee—have I +not already told you, that whatever he was asked he would refuse to answer, and +try irony or any other shuffle, in order that he might avoid answering? +</p> + +<p> +You are a philosopher, Thrasymachus, I replied, and well know that if you ask a +person what numbers make up twelve, taking care to prohibit him whom you ask +from answering twice six, or three times four, or six times two, or four times +three, ‘for this sort of nonsense will not do for me,’—then +obviously, if that is your way of putting the question, no one can answer you. +But suppose that he were to retort, ‘Thrasymachus, what do you mean? If +one of these numbers which you interdict be the true answer to the question, am +I falsely to say some other number which is not the right one?—is that +your meaning?’—How would you answer him? +</p> + +<p> +Just as if the two cases were at all alike! he said. +</p> + +<p> +Why should they not be? I replied; and even if they are not, but only appear to +be so to the person who is asked, ought he not to say what he thinks, whether +you and I forbid him or not? +</p> + +<p> +I presume then that you are going to make one of the interdicted answers? +</p> + +<p> +I dare say that I may, notwithstanding the danger, if upon reflection I approve +of any of them. +</p> + +<p> +But what if I give you an answer about justice other and better, he said, than +any of these? What do you deserve to have done to you? +</p> + +<p> +Done to me!—as becomes the ignorant, I must learn from the +wise—that is what I deserve to have done to me. +</p> + +<p> +What, and no payment! a pleasant notion! +</p> + +<p> +I will pay when I have the money, I replied. +</p> + +<p> +But you have, Socrates, said Glaucon: and you, Thrasymachus, need be under no +anxiety about money, for we will all make a contribution for Socrates. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he replied, and then Socrates will do as he always does—refuse to +answer himself, but take and pull to pieces the answer of some one else. +</p> + +<p> +Why, my good friend, I said, how can any one answer who knows, and says that he +knows, just nothing; and who, even if he has some faint notions of his own, is +told by a man of authority not to utter them? The natural thing is, that the +speaker should be some one like yourself who professes to know and can tell +what he knows. Will you then kindly answer, for the edification of the company +and of myself? +</p> + +<p> +Glaucon and the rest of the company joined in my request, and Thrasymachus, as +any one might see, was in reality eager to speak; for he thought that he had an +excellent answer, and would distinguish himself. But at first he affected to +insist on my answering; at length he consented to begin. Behold, he said, the +wisdom of Socrates; he refuses to teach himself, and goes about learning of +others, to whom he never even says Thank you. +</p> + +<p> +That I learn of others, I replied, is quite true; but that I am ungrateful I +wholly deny. Money I have none, and therefore I pay in praise, which is all I +have; and how ready I am to praise any one who appears to me to speak well you +will very soon find out when you answer; for I expect that you will answer +well. +</p> + +<p> +Listen, then, he said; I proclaim that justice is nothing else than the +interest of the stronger. And now why do you not praise me? But of course you +won’t. +</p> + +<p> +Let me first understand you, I replied. Justice, as you say, is the interest of +the stronger. What, Thrasymachus, is the meaning of this? You cannot mean to +say that because Polydamas, the pancratiast, is stronger than we are, and finds +the eating of beef conducive to his bodily strength, that to eat beef is +therefore equally for our good who are weaker than he is, and right and just +for us? +</p> + +<p> +That’s abominable of you, Socrates; you take the words in the sense which +is most damaging to the argument. +</p> + +<p> +Not at all, my good sir, I said; I am trying to understand them; and I wish +that you would be a little clearer. +</p> + +<p> +Well, he said, have you never heard that forms of government differ; there are +tyrannies, and there are democracies, and there are aristocracies? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I know. +</p> + +<p> +And the government is the ruling power in each state? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And the different forms of government make laws democratical, aristocratical, +tyrannical, with a view to their several interests; and these laws, which are +made by them for their own interests, are the justice which they deliver to +their subjects, and him who transgresses them they punish as a breaker of the +law, and unjust. And that is what I mean when I say that in all states there is +the same principle of justice, which is the interest of the government; and as +the government must be supposed to have power, the only reasonable conclusion +is, that everywhere there is one principle of justice, which is the interest of +the stronger. +</p> + +<p> +Now I understand you, I said; and whether you are right or not I will try to +discover. But let me remark, that in defining justice you have yourself used +the word ‘interest’ which you forbade me to use. It is true, +however, that in your definition the words ‘of the stronger’ are +added. +</p> + +<p> +A small addition, you must allow, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Great or small, never mind about that: we must first enquire whether what you +are saying is the truth. Now we are both agreed that justice is interest of +some sort, but you go on to say ‘of the stronger’; about this +addition I am not so sure, and must therefore consider further. +</p> + +<p> +Proceed. +</p> + +<p> +I will; and first tell me, Do you admit that it is just for subjects to obey +their rulers? +</p> + +<p> +I do. +</p> + +<p> +But are the rulers of states absolutely infallible, or are they sometimes +liable to err? +</p> + +<p> +To be sure, he replied, they are liable to err. +</p> + +<p> +Then in making their laws they may sometimes make them rightly, and sometimes +not? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +When they make them rightly, they make them agreeably to their interest; when +they are mistaken, contrary to their interest; you admit that? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the laws which they make must be obeyed by their subjects,—and that +is what you call justice? +</p> + +<p> +Doubtless. +</p> + +<p> +Then justice, according to your argument, is not only obedience to the interest +of the stronger but the reverse? +</p> + +<p> +What is that you are saying? he asked. +</p> + +<p> +I am only repeating what you are saying, I believe. But let us consider: Have +we not admitted that the rulers may be mistaken about their own interest in +what they command, and also that to obey them is justice? Has not that been +admitted? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then you must also have acknowledged justice not to be for the interest of the +stronger, when the rulers unintentionally command things to be done which are +to their own injury. For if, as you say, justice is the obedience which the +subject renders to their commands, in that case, O wisest of men, is there any +escape from the conclusion that the weaker are commanded to do, not what is for +the interest, but what is for the injury of the stronger? +</p> + +<p> +Nothing can be clearer, Socrates, said Polemarchus. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, said Cleitophon, interposing, if you are allowed to be his witness. +</p> + +<p> +But there is no need of any witness, said Polemarchus, for Thrasymachus himself +acknowledges that rulers may sometimes command what is not for their own +interest, and that for subjects to obey them is justice. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Polemarchus,—Thrasymachus said that for subjects to do what was +commanded by their rulers is just. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Cleitophon, but he also said that justice is the interest of the stronger, +and, while admitting both these propositions, he further acknowledged that the +stronger may command the weaker who are his subjects to do what is not for his +own interest; whence follows that justice is the injury quite as much as the +interest of the stronger. +</p> + +<p> +But, said Cleitophon, he meant by the interest of the stronger what the +stronger thought to be his interest,—this was what the weaker had to do; +and this was affirmed by him to be justice. +</p> + +<p> +Those were not his words, rejoined Polemarchus. +</p> + +<p> +Never mind, I replied, if he now says that they are, let us accept his +statement. Tell me, Thrasymachus, I said, did you mean by justice what the +stronger thought to be his interest, whether really so or not? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not, he said. Do you suppose that I call him who is mistaken the +stronger at the time when he is mistaken? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, my impression was that you did so, when you admitted that the +ruler was not infallible but might be sometimes mistaken. +</p> + +<p> +You argue like an informer, Socrates. Do you mean, for example, that he who is +mistaken about the sick is a physician in that he is mistaken? or that he who +errs in arithmetic or grammar is an arithmetician or grammarian at the time +when he is making the mistake, in respect of the mistake? True, we say that the +physician or arithmetician or grammarian has made a mistake, but this is only a +way of speaking; for the fact is that neither the grammarian nor any other +person of skill ever makes a mistake in so far as he is what his name implies; +they none of them err unless their skill fails them, and then they cease to be +skilled artists. No artist or sage or ruler errs at the time when he is what +his name implies; though he is commonly said to err, and I adopted the common +mode of speaking. But to be perfectly accurate, since you are such a lover of +accuracy, we should say that the ruler, in so far as he is a ruler, is +unerring, and, being unerring, always commands that which is for his own +interest; and the subject is required to execute his commands; and therefore, +as I said at first and now repeat, justice is the interest of the stronger. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, Thrasymachus, and do I really appear to you to argue like an informer? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And do you suppose that I ask these questions with any design of injuring you +in the argument? +</p> + +<p> +Nay, he replied, ‘suppose’ is not the word—I know it; but you +will be found out, and by sheer force of argument you will never prevail. +</p> + +<p> +I shall not make the attempt, my dear man; but to avoid any misunderstanding +occurring between us in future, let me ask, in what sense do you speak of a +ruler or stronger whose interest, as you were saying, he being the superior, it +is just that the inferior should execute—is he a ruler in the popular or +in the strict sense of the term? +</p> + +<p> +In the strictest of all senses, he said. And now cheat and play the informer if +you can; I ask no quarter at your hands. But you never will be able, never. +</p> + +<p> +And do you imagine, I said, that I am such a madman as to try and cheat, +Thrasymachus? I might as well shave a lion. +</p> + +<p> +Why, he said, you made the attempt a minute ago, and you failed. +</p> + +<p> +Enough, I said, of these civilities. It will be better that I should ask you a +question: Is the physician, taken in that strict sense of which you are +speaking, a healer of the sick or a maker of money? And remember that I am now +speaking of the true physician. +</p> + +<p> +A healer of the sick, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And the pilot—that is to say, the true pilot—is he a captain of +sailors or a mere sailor? +</p> + +<p> +A captain of sailors. +</p> + +<p> +The circumstance that he sails in the ship is not to be taken into account; +neither is he to be called a sailor; the name pilot by which he is +distinguished has nothing to do with sailing, but is significant of his skill +and of his authority over the sailors. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Now, I said, every art has an interest? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +For which the art has to consider and provide? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that is the aim of art. +</p> + +<p> +And the interest of any art is the perfection of it—this and nothing +else? +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +I mean what I may illustrate negatively by the example of the body. Suppose you +were to ask me whether the body is self-sufficing or has wants, I should reply: +Certainly the body has wants; for the body may be ill and require to be cured, +and has therefore interests to which the art of medicine ministers; and this is +the origin and intention of medicine, as you will acknowledge. Am I not right? +</p> + +<p> +Quite right, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +But is the art of medicine or any other art faulty or deficient in any quality +in the same way that the eye may be deficient in sight or the ear fail of +hearing, and therefore requires another art to provide for the interests of +seeing and hearing—has art in itself, I say, any similar liability to +fault or defect, and does every art require another supplementary art to +provide for its interests, and that another and another without end? Or have +the arts to look only after their own interests? Or have they no need either of +themselves or of another?—having no faults or defects, they have no need +to correct them, either by the exercise of their own art or of any other; they +have only to consider the interest of their subject-matter. For every art +remains pure and faultless while remaining true—that is to say, while +perfect and unimpaired. Take the words in your precise sense, and tell me +whether I am not right. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, clearly. +</p> + +<p> +Then medicine does not consider the interest of medicine, but the interest of +the body? +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Nor does the art of horsemanship consider the interests of the art of +horsemanship, but the interests of the horse; neither do any other arts care +for themselves, for they have no needs; they care only for that which is the +subject of their art? +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But surely, Thrasymachus, the arts are the superiors and rulers of their own +subjects? +</p> + +<p> +To this he assented with a good deal of reluctance. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I said, no science or art considers or enjoins the interest of the +stronger or superior, but only the interest of the subject and weaker? +</p> + +<p> +He made an attempt to contest this proposition also, but finally acquiesced. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I continued, no physician, in so far as he is a physician, considers his +own good in what he prescribes, but the good of his patient; for the true +physician is also a ruler having the human body as a subject, and is not a mere +money-maker; that has been admitted? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the pilot likewise, in the strict sense of the term, is a ruler of sailors +and not a mere sailor? +</p> + +<p> +That has been admitted. +</p> + +<p> +And such a pilot and ruler will provide and prescribe for the interest of the +sailor who is under him, and not for his own or the ruler’s interest? +</p> + +<p> +He gave a reluctant ‘Yes.’ +</p> + +<p> +Then, I said, Thrasymachus, there is no one in any rule who, in so far as he is +a ruler, considers or enjoins what is for his own interest, but always what is +for the interest of his subject or suitable to his art; to that he looks, and +that alone he considers in everything which he says and does. +</p> + +<p> +When we had got to this point in the argument, and every one saw that the +definition of justice had been completely upset, Thrasymachus, instead of +replying to me, said: Tell me, Socrates, have you got a nurse? +</p> + +<p> +Why do you ask such a question, I said, when you ought rather to be answering? +</p> + +<p> +Because she leaves you to snivel, and never wipes your nose: she has not even +taught you to know the shepherd from the sheep. +</p> + +<p> +What makes you say that? I replied. +</p> + +<p> +Because you fancy that the shepherd or neatherd fattens or tends the sheep or +oxen with a view to their own good and not to the good of himself or his +master; and you further imagine that the rulers of states, if they are true +rulers, never think of their subjects as sheep, and that they are not studying +their own advantage day and night. Oh, no; and so entirely astray are you in +your ideas about the just and unjust as not even to know that justice and the +just are in reality another’s good; that is to say, the interest of the +ruler and stronger, and the loss of the subject and servant; and injustice the +opposite; for the unjust is lord over the truly simple and just: he is the +stronger, and his subjects do what is for his interest, and minister to his +happiness, which is very far from being their own. Consider further, most +foolish Socrates, that the just is always a loser in comparison with the +unjust. First of all, in private contracts: wherever the unjust is the partner +of the just you will find that, when the partnership is dissolved, the unjust +man has always more and the just less. Secondly, in their dealings with the +State: when there is an income-tax, the just man will pay more and the unjust +less on the same amount of income; and when there is anything to be received +the one gains nothing and the other much. Observe also what happens when they +take an office; there is the just man neglecting his affairs and perhaps +suffering other losses, and getting nothing out of the public, because he is +just; moreover he is hated by his friends and acquaintance for refusing to +serve them in unlawful ways. But all this is reversed in the case of the unjust +man. I am speaking, as before, of injustice on a large scale in which the +advantage of the unjust is most apparent; and my meaning will be most clearly +seen if we turn to that highest form of injustice in which the criminal is the +happiest of men, and the sufferers or those who refuse to do injustice are the +most miserable—that is to say tyranny, which by fraud and force takes +away the property of others, not little by little but wholesale; comprehending +in one, things sacred as well as profane, private and public; for which acts of +wrong, if he were detected perpetrating any one of them singly, he would be +punished and incur great disgrace—they who do such wrong in particular +cases are called robbers of temples, and man-stealers and burglars and +swindlers and thieves. But when a man besides taking away the money of the +citizens has made slaves of them, then, instead of these names of reproach, he +is termed happy and blessed, not only by the citizens but by all who hear of +his having achieved the consummation of injustice. For mankind censure +injustice, fearing that they may be the victims of it and not because they +shrink from committing it. And thus, as I have shown, Socrates, injustice, when +on a sufficient scale, has more strength and freedom and mastery than justice; +and, as I said at first, justice is the interest of the stronger, whereas +injustice is a man’s own profit and interest. +</p> + +<p> +Thrasymachus, when he had thus spoken, having, like a bath-man, deluged our +ears with his words, had a mind to go away. But the company would not let him; +they insisted that he should remain and defend his position; and I myself added +my own humble request that he would not leave us. Thrasymachus, I said to him, +excellent man, how suggestive are your remarks! And are you going to run away +before you have fairly taught or learned whether they are true or not? Is the +attempt to determine the way of man’s life so small a matter in your +eyes—to determine how life may be passed by each one of us to the +greatest advantage? +</p> + +<p> +And do I differ from you, he said, as to the importance of the enquiry? +</p> + +<p> +You appear rather, I replied, to have no care or thought about us, +Thrasymachus—whether we live better or worse from not knowing what you +say you know, is to you a matter of indifference. Prithee, friend, do not keep +your knowledge to yourself; we are a large party; and any benefit which you +confer upon us will be amply rewarded. For my own part I openly declare that I +am not convinced, and that I do not believe injustice to be more gainful than +justice, even if uncontrolled and allowed to have free play. For, granting that +there may be an unjust man who is able to commit injustice either by fraud or +force, still this does not convince me of the superior advantage of injustice, +and there may be others who are in the same predicament with myself. Perhaps we +may be wrong; if so, you in your wisdom should convince us that we are mistaken +in preferring justice to injustice. +</p> + +<p> +And how am I to convince you, he said, if you are not already convinced by what +I have just said; what more can I do for you? Would you have me put the proof +bodily into your souls? +</p> + +<p> +Heaven forbid! I said; I would only ask you to be consistent; or, if you +change, change openly and let there be no deception. For I must remark, +Thrasymachus, if you will recall what was previously said, that although you +began by defining the true physician in an exact sense, you did not observe a +like exactness when speaking of the shepherd; you thought that the shepherd as +a shepherd tends the sheep not with a view to their own good, but like a mere +diner or banquetter with a view to the pleasures of the table; or, again, as a +trader for sale in the market, and not as a shepherd. Yet surely the art of the +shepherd is concerned only with the good of his subjects; he has only to +provide the best for them, since the perfection of the art is already ensured +whenever all the requirements of it are satisfied. And that was what I was +saying just now about the ruler. I conceived that the art of the ruler, +considered as ruler, whether in a state or in private life, could only regard +the good of his flock or subjects; whereas you seem to think that the rulers in +states, that is to say, the true rulers, like being in authority. +</p> + +<p> +Think! Nay, I am sure of it. +</p> + +<p> +Then why in the case of lesser offices do men never take them willingly without +payment, unless under the idea that they govern for the advantage not of +themselves but of others? Let me ask you a question: Are not the several arts +different, by reason of their each having a separate function? And, my dear +illustrious friend, do say what you think, that we may make a little progress. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that is the difference, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And each art gives us a particular good and not merely a general +one—medicine, for example, gives us health; navigation, safety at sea, +and so on? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And the art of payment has the special function of giving pay: but we do not +confuse this with other arts, any more than the art of the pilot is to be +confused with the art of medicine, because the health of the pilot may be +improved by a sea voyage. You would not be inclined to say, would you, that +navigation is the art of medicine, at least if we are to adopt your exact use +of language? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Or because a man is in good health when he receives pay you would not say that +the art of payment is medicine? +</p> + +<p> +I should not. +</p> + +<p> +Nor would you say that medicine is the art of receiving pay because a man takes +fees when he is engaged in healing? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +And we have admitted, I said, that the good of each art is specially confined +to the art? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then, if there be any good which all artists have in common, that is to be +attributed to something of which they all have the common use? +</p> + +<p> +True, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And when the artist is benefited by receiving pay the advantage is gained by an +additional use of the art of pay, which is not the art professed by him? +</p> + +<p> +He gave a reluctant assent to this. +</p> + +<p> +Then the pay is not derived by the several artists from their respective arts. +But the truth is, that while the art of medicine gives health, and the art of +the builder builds a house, another art attends them which is the art of pay. +The various arts may be doing their own business and benefiting that over which +they preside, but would the artist receive any benefit from his art unless he +were paid as well? +</p> + +<p> +I suppose not. +</p> + +<p> +But does he therefore confer no benefit when he works for nothing? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he confers a benefit. +</p> + +<p> +Then now, Thrasymachus, there is no longer any doubt that neither arts nor +governments provide for their own interests; but, as we were before saying, +they rule and provide for the interests of their subjects who are the weaker +and not the stronger—to their good they attend and not to the good of the +superior. And this is the reason, my dear Thrasymachus, why, as I was just now +saying, no one is willing to govern; because no one likes to take in hand the +reformation of evils which are not his concern without remuneration. For, in +the execution of his work, and in giving his orders to another, the true artist +does not regard his own interest, but always that of his subjects; and +therefore in order that rulers may be willing to rule, they must be paid in one +of three modes of payment, money, or honour, or a penalty for refusing. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean, Socrates? said Glaucon. The first two modes of payment are +intelligible enough, but what the penalty is I do not understand, or how a +penalty can be a payment. +</p> + +<p> +You mean that you do not understand the nature of this payment which to the +best men is the great inducement to rule? Of course you know that ambition and +avarice are held to be, as indeed they are, a disgrace? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And for this reason, I said, money and honour have no attraction for them; good +men do not wish to be openly demanding payment for governing and so to get the +name of hirelings, nor by secretly helping themselves out of the public +revenues to get the name of thieves. And not being ambitious they do not care +about honour. Wherefore necessity must be laid upon them, and they must be +induced to serve from the fear of punishment. And this, as I imagine, is the +reason why the forwardness to take office, instead of waiting to be compelled, +has been deemed dishonourable. Now the worst part of the punishment is that he +who refuses to rule is liable to be ruled by one who is worse than himself. And +the fear of this, as I conceive, induces the good to take office, not because +they would, but because they cannot help—not under the idea that they are +going to have any benefit or enjoyment themselves, but as a necessity, and +because they are not able to commit the task of ruling to any one who is better +than themselves, or indeed as good. For there is reason to think that if a city +were composed entirely of good men, then to avoid office would be as much an +object of contention as to obtain office is at present; then we should have +plain proof that the true ruler is not meant by nature to regard his own +interest, but that of his subjects; and every one who knew this would choose +rather to receive a benefit from another than to have the trouble of conferring +one. So far am I from agreeing with Thrasymachus that justice is the interest +of the stronger. This latter question need not be further discussed at present; +but when Thrasymachus says that the life of the unjust is more advantageous +than that of the just, his new statement appears to me to be of a far more +serious character. Which of us has spoken truly? And which sort of life, +Glaucon, do you prefer? +</p> + +<p> +I for my part deem the life of the just to be the more advantageous, he +answered. +</p> + +<p> +Did you hear all the advantages of the unjust which Thrasymachus was +rehearsing? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I heard him, he replied, but he has not convinced me. +</p> + +<p> +Then shall we try to find some way of convincing him, if we can, that he is +saying what is not true? +</p> + +<p> +Most certainly, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +If, I said, he makes a set speech and we make another recounting all the +advantages of being just, and he answers and we rejoin, there must be a +numbering and measuring of the goods which are claimed on either side, and in +the end we shall want judges to decide; but if we proceed in our enquiry as we +lately did, by making admissions to one another, we shall unite the offices of +judge and advocate in our own persons. +</p> + +<p> +Very good, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And which method do I understand you to prefer? I said. +</p> + +<p> +That which you propose. +</p> + +<p> +Well, then, Thrasymachus, I said, suppose you begin at the beginning and answer +me. You say that perfect injustice is more gainful than perfect justice? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that is what I say, and I have given you my reasons. +</p> + +<p> +And what is your view about them? Would you call one of them virtue and the +other vice? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +I suppose that you would call justice virtue and injustice vice? +</p> + +<p> +What a charming notion! So likely too, seeing that I affirm injustice to be +profitable and justice not. +</p> + +<p> +What else then would you say? +</p> + +<p> +The opposite, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And would you call justice vice? +</p> + +<p> +No, I would rather say sublime simplicity. +</p> + +<p> +Then would you call injustice malignity? +</p> + +<p> +No; I would rather say discretion. +</p> + +<p> +And do the unjust appear to you to be wise and good? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; at any rate those of them who are able to be perfectly unjust, +and who have the power of subduing states and nations; but perhaps you imagine +me to be talking of cutpurses. Even this profession if undetected has +advantages, though they are not to be compared with those of which I was just +now speaking. +</p> + +<p> +I do not think that I misapprehend your meaning, Thrasymachus, I replied; but +still I cannot hear without amazement that you class injustice with wisdom and +virtue, and justice with the opposite. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly I do so class them. +</p> + +<p> +Now, I said, you are on more substantial and almost unanswerable ground; for if +the injustice which you were maintaining to be profitable had been admitted by +you as by others to be vice and deformity, an answer might have been given to +you on received principles; but now I perceive that you will call injustice +honourable and strong, and to the unjust you will attribute all the qualities +which were attributed by us before to the just, seeing that you do not hesitate +to rank injustice with wisdom and virtue. +</p> + +<p> +You have guessed most infallibly, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then I certainly ought not to shrink from going through with the argument so +long as I have reason to think that you, Thrasymachus, are speaking your real +mind; for I do believe that you are now in earnest and are not amusing yourself +at our expense. +</p> + +<p> +I may be in earnest or not, but what is that to you?—to refute the +argument is your business. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, I said; that is what I have to do: But will you be so good as answer +yet one more question? Does the just man try to gain any advantage over the +just? +</p> + +<p> +Far otherwise; if he did he would not be the simple amusing creature which he +is. +</p> + +<p> +And would he try to go beyond just action? +</p> + +<p> +He would not. +</p> + +<p> +And how would he regard the attempt to gain an advantage over the unjust; would +that be considered by him as just or unjust? +</p> + +<p> +He would think it just, and would try to gain the advantage; but he would not +be able. +</p> + +<p> +Whether he would or would not be able, I said, is not to the point. My question +is only whether the just man, while refusing to have more than another just +man, would wish and claim to have more than the unjust? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he would. +</p> + +<p> +And what of the unjust—does he claim to have more than the just man and +to do more than is just? +</p> + +<p> +Of course, he said, for he claims to have more than all men. +</p> + +<p> +And the unjust man will strive and struggle to obtain more than the unjust man +or action, in order that he may have more than all? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +We may put the matter thus, I said—the just does not desire more than his +like but more than his unlike, whereas the unjust desires more than both his +like and his unlike? +</p> + +<p> +Nothing, he said, can be better than that statement. +</p> + +<p> +And the unjust is good and wise, and the just is neither? +</p> + +<p> +Good again, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And is not the unjust like the wise and good and the just unlike them? +</p> + +<p> +Of course, he said, he who is of a certain nature, is like those who are of a +certain nature; he who is not, not. +</p> + +<p> +Each of them, I said, is such as his like is? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Very good, Thrasymachus, I said; and now to take the case of the arts: you +would admit that one man is a musician and another not a musician? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And which is wise and which is foolish? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly the musician is wise, and he who is not a musician is foolish. +</p> + +<p> +And he is good in as far as he is wise, and bad in as far as he is foolish? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And you would say the same sort of thing of the physician? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And do you think, my excellent friend, that a musician when he adjusts the lyre +would desire or claim to exceed or go beyond a musician in the tightening and +loosening the strings? +</p> + +<p> +I do not think that he would. +</p> + +<p> +But he would claim to exceed the non-musician? +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +And what would you say of the physician? In prescribing meats and drinks would +he wish to go beyond another physician or beyond the practice of medicine? +</p> + +<p> +He would not. +</p> + +<p> +But he would wish to go beyond the non-physician? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And about knowledge and ignorance in general; see whether you think that any +man who has knowledge ever would wish to have the choice of saying or doing +more than another man who has knowledge. Would he not rather say or do the same +as his like in the same case? +</p> + +<p> +That, I suppose, can hardly be denied. +</p> + +<p> +And what of the ignorant? would he not desire to have more than either the +knowing or the ignorant? +</p> + +<p> +I dare say. +</p> + +<p> +And the knowing is wise? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the wise is good? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Then the wise and good will not desire to gain more than his like, but more +than his unlike and opposite? +</p> + +<p> +I suppose so. +</p> + +<p> +Whereas the bad and ignorant will desire to gain more than both? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +But did we not say, Thrasymachus, that the unjust goes beyond both his like and +unlike? Were not these your words? +</p> + +<p> +They were. +</p> + +<p> +And you also said that the just will not go beyond his like but his unlike? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then the just is like the wise and good, and the unjust like the evil and +ignorant? +</p> + +<p> +That is the inference. +</p> + +<p> +And each of them is such as his like is? +</p> + +<p> +That was admitted. +</p> + +<p> +Then the just has turned out to be wise and good and the unjust evil and +ignorant. +</p> + +<p> +Thrasymachus made all these admissions, not fluently, as I repeat them, but +with extreme reluctance; it was a hot summer’s day, and the perspiration +poured from him in torrents; and then I saw what I had never seen before, +Thrasymachus blushing. As we were now agreed that justice was virtue and +wisdom, and injustice vice and ignorance, I proceeded to another point: +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, Thrasymachus, that matter is now settled; but were we not also +saying that injustice had strength; do you remember? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I remember, he said, but do not suppose that I approve of what you are +saying or have no answer; if however I were to answer, you would be quite +certain to accuse me of haranguing; therefore either permit me to have my say +out, or if you would rather ask, do so, and I will answer ‘Very +good,’ as they say to story-telling old women, and will nod +‘Yes’ and ‘No.’ +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not, I said, if contrary to your real opinion. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, I will, to please you, since you will not let me speak. What else +would you have? +</p> + +<p> +Nothing in the world, I said; and if you are so disposed I will ask and you +shall answer. +</p> + +<p> +Proceed. +</p> + +<p> +Then I will repeat the question which I asked before, in order that our +examination of the relative nature of justice and injustice may be carried on +regularly. A statement was made that injustice is stronger and more powerful +than justice, but now justice, having been identified with wisdom and virtue, +is easily shown to be stronger than injustice, if injustice is ignorance; this +can no longer be questioned by any one. But I want to view the matter, +Thrasymachus, in a different way: You would not deny that a state may be unjust +and may be unjustly attempting to enslave other states, or may have already +enslaved them, and may be holding many of them in subjection? +</p> + +<p> +True, he replied; and I will add that the best and most perfectly unjust state +will be most likely to do so. +</p> + +<p> +I know, I said, that such was your position; but what I would further consider +is, whether this power which is possessed by the superior state can exist or be +exercised without justice or only with justice. +</p> + +<p> +If you are right in your view, and justice is wisdom, then only with justice; +but if I am right, then without justice. +</p> + +<p> +I am delighted, Thrasymachus, to see you not only nodding assent and dissent, +but making answers which are quite excellent. +</p> + +<p> +That is out of civility to you, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +You are very kind, I said; and would you have the goodness also to inform me, +whether you think that a state, or an army, or a band of robbers and thieves, +or any other gang of evil-doers could act at all if they injured one another? +</p> + +<p> +No indeed, he said, they could not. +</p> + +<p> +But if they abstained from injuring one another, then they might act together +better? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And this is because injustice creates divisions and hatreds and fighting, and +justice imparts harmony and friendship; is not that true, Thrasymachus? +</p> + +<p> +I agree, he said, because I do not wish to quarrel with you. +</p> + +<p> +How good of you, I said; but I should like to know also whether injustice, +having this tendency to arouse hatred, wherever existing, among slaves or among +freemen, will not make them hate one another and set them at variance and +render them incapable of common action? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And even if injustice be found in two only, will they not quarrel and fight, +and become enemies to one another and to the just? +</p> + +<p> +They will. +</p> + +<p> +And suppose injustice abiding in a single person, would your wisdom say that +she loses or that she retains her natural power? +</p> + +<p> +Let us assume that she retains her power. +</p> + +<p> +Yet is not the power which injustice exercises of such a nature that wherever +she takes up her abode, whether in a city, in an army, in a family, or in any +other body, that body is, to begin with, rendered incapable of united action by +reason of sedition and distraction; and does it not become its own enemy and at +variance with all that opposes it, and with the just? Is not this the case? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And is not injustice equally fatal when existing in a single person; in the +first place rendering him incapable of action because he is not at unity with +himself, and in the second place making him an enemy to himself and the just? +Is not that true, Thrasymachus? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And O my friend, I said, surely the gods are just? +</p> + +<p> +Granted that they are. +</p> + +<p> +But if so, the unjust will be the enemy of the gods, and the just will be their +friend? +</p> + +<p> +Feast away in triumph, and take your fill of the argument; I will not oppose +you, lest I should displease the company. +</p> + +<p> +Well then, proceed with your answers, and let me have the remainder of my +repast. For we have already shown that the just are clearly wiser and better +and abler than the unjust, and that the unjust are incapable of common action; +nay more, that to speak as we did of men who are evil acting at any time +vigorously together, is not strictly true, for if they had been perfectly evil, +they would have laid hands upon one another; but it is evident that there must +have been some remnant of justice in them, which enabled them to combine; if +there had not been they would have injured one another as well as their +victims; they were but half-villains in their enterprises; for had they been +whole villains, and utterly unjust, they would have been utterly incapable of +action. That, as I believe, is the truth of the matter, and not what you said +at first. But whether the just have a better and happier life than the unjust +is a further question which we also proposed to consider. I think that they +have, and for the reasons which I have given; but still I should like to +examine further, for no light matter is at stake, nothing less than the rule of +human life. +</p> + +<p> +Proceed. +</p> + +<p> +I will proceed by asking a question: Would you not say that a horse has some +end? +</p> + +<p> +I should. +</p> + +<p> +And the end or use of a horse or of anything would be that which could not be +accomplished, or not so well accomplished, by any other thing? +</p> + +<p> +I do not understand, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Let me explain: Can you see, except with the eye? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Or hear, except with the ear? +</p> + +<p> +No. +</p> + +<p> +These then may be truly said to be the ends of these organs? +</p> + +<p> +They may. +</p> + +<p> +But you can cut off a vine-branch with a dagger or with a chisel, and in many +other ways? +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +And yet not so well as with a pruning-hook made for the purpose? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +May we not say that this is the end of a pruning-hook? +</p> + +<p> +We may. +</p> + +<p> +Then now I think you will have no difficulty in understanding my meaning when I +asked the question whether the end of anything would be that which could not be +accomplished, or not so well accomplished, by any other thing? +</p> + +<p> +I understand your meaning, he said, and assent. +</p> + +<p> +And that to which an end is appointed has also an excellence? Need I ask again +whether the eye has an end? +</p> + +<p> +It has. +</p> + +<p> +And has not the eye an excellence? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the ear has an end and an excellence also? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And the same is true of all other things; they have each of them an end and a +special excellence? +</p> + +<p> +That is so. +</p> + +<p> +Well, and can the eyes fulfil their end if they are wanting in their own proper +excellence and have a defect instead? +</p> + +<p> +How can they, he said, if they are blind and cannot see? +</p> + +<p> +You mean to say, if they have lost their proper excellence, which is sight; but +I have not arrived at that point yet. I would rather ask the question more +generally, and only enquire whether the things which fulfil their ends fulfil +them by their own proper excellence, and fail of fulfilling them by their own +defect? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +I might say the same of the ears; when deprived of their own proper excellence +they cannot fulfil their end? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And the same observation will apply to all other things? +</p> + +<p> +I agree. +</p> + +<p> +Well; and has not the soul an end which nothing else can fulfil? for example, +to superintend and command and deliberate and the like. Are not these functions +proper to the soul, and can they rightly be assigned to any other? +</p> + +<p> +To no other. +</p> + +<p> +And is not life to be reckoned among the ends of the soul? +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And has not the soul an excellence also? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And can she or can she not fulfil her own ends when deprived of that +excellence? +</p> + +<p> +She cannot. +</p> + +<p> +Then an evil soul must necessarily be an evil ruler and superintendent, and the +good soul a good ruler? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, necessarily. +</p> + +<p> +And we have admitted that justice is the excellence of the soul, and injustice +the defect of the soul? +</p> + +<p> +That has been admitted. +</p> + +<p> +Then the just soul and the just man will live well, and the unjust man will +live ill? +</p> + +<p> +That is what your argument proves. +</p> + +<p> +And he who lives well is blessed and happy, and he who lives ill the reverse of +happy? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Then the just is happy, and the unjust miserable? +</p> + +<p> +So be it. +</p> + +<p> +But happiness and not misery is profitable. +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +Then, my blessed Thrasymachus, injustice can never be more profitable than +justice. +</p> + +<p> +Let this, Socrates, he said, be your entertainment at the Bendidea. +</p> + +<p> +For which I am indebted to you, I said, now that you have grown gentle towards +me and have left off scolding. Nevertheless, I have not been well entertained; +but that was my own fault and not yours. As an epicure snatches a taste of +every dish which is successively brought to table, he not having allowed +himself time to enjoy the one before, so have I gone from one subject to +another without having discovered what I sought at first, the nature of +justice. I left that enquiry and turned away to consider whether justice is +virtue and wisdom or evil and folly; and when there arose a further question +about the comparative advantages of justice and injustice, I could not refrain +from passing on to that. And the result of the whole discussion has been that I +know nothing at all. For I know not what justice is, and therefore I am not +likely to know whether it is or is not a virtue, nor can I say whether the just +man is happy or unhappy. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"></a> BOOK II.</h2> + +<p> +With these words I was thinking that I had made an end of the discussion; but +the end, in truth, proved to be only a beginning. For Glaucon, who is always +the most pugnacious of men, was dissatisfied at Thrasymachus’ retirement; +he wanted to have the battle out. So he said to me: Socrates, do you wish +really to persuade us, or only to seem to have persuaded us, that to be just is +always better than to be unjust? +</p> + +<p> +I should wish really to persuade you, I replied, if I could. +</p> + +<p> +Then you certainly have not succeeded. Let me ask you now:—How would you +arrange goods—are there not some which we welcome for their own sakes, +and independently of their consequences, as, for example, harmless pleasures +and enjoyments, which delight us at the time, although nothing follows from +them? +</p> + +<p> +I agree in thinking that there is such a class, I replied. +</p> + +<p> +Is there not also a second class of goods, such as knowledge, sight, health, +which are desirable not only in themselves, but also for their results? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, I said. +</p> + +<p> +And would you not recognize a third class, such as gymnastic, and the care of +the sick, and the physician’s art; also the various ways of +money-making—these do us good but we regard them as disagreeable; and no +one would choose them for their own sakes, but only for the sake of some reward +or result which flows from them? +</p> + +<p> +There is, I said, this third class also. But why do you ask? +</p> + +<p> +Because I want to know in which of the three classes you would place justice? +</p> + +<p> +In the highest class, I replied,—among those goods which he who would be +happy desires both for their own sake and for the sake of their results. +</p> + +<p> +Then the many are of another mind; they think that justice is to be reckoned in +the troublesome class, among goods which are to be pursued for the sake of +rewards and of reputation, but in themselves are disagreeable and rather to be +avoided. +</p> + +<p> +I know, I said, that this is their manner of thinking, and that this was the +thesis which Thrasymachus was maintaining just now, when he censured justice +and praised injustice. But I am too stupid to be convinced by him. +</p> + +<p> +I wish, he said, that you would hear me as well as him, and then I shall see +whether you and I agree. For Thrasymachus seems to me, like a snake, to have +been charmed by your voice sooner than he ought to have been; but to my mind +the nature of justice and injustice have not yet been made clear. Setting aside +their rewards and results, I want to know what they are in themselves, and how +they inwardly work in the soul. If you, please, then, I will revive the +argument of Thrasymachus. And first I will speak of the nature and origin of +justice according to the common view of them. Secondly, I will show that all +men who practise justice do so against their will, of necessity, but not as a +good. And thirdly, I will argue that there is reason in this view, for the life +of the unjust is after all better far than the life of the just—if what +they say is true, Socrates, since I myself am not of their opinion. But still I +acknowledge that I am perplexed when I hear the voices of Thrasymachus and +myriads of others dinning in my ears; and, on the other hand, I have never yet +heard the superiority of justice to injustice maintained by any one in a +satisfactory way. I want to hear justice praised in respect of itself; then I +shall be satisfied, and you are the person from whom I think that I am most +likely to hear this; and therefore I will praise the unjust life to the utmost +of my power, and my manner of speaking will indicate the manner in which I +desire to hear you too praising justice and censuring injustice. Will you say +whether you approve of my proposal? +</p> + +<p> +Indeed I do; nor can I imagine any theme about which a man of sense would +oftener wish to converse. +</p> + +<p> +I am delighted, he replied, to hear you say so, and shall begin by speaking, as +I proposed, of the nature and origin of justice. +</p> + +<p> +They say that to do injustice is, by nature, good; to suffer injustice, evil; +but that the evil is greater than the good. And so when men have both done and +suffered injustice and have had experience of both, not being able to avoid the +one and obtain the other, they think that they had better agree among +themselves to have neither; hence there arise laws and mutual covenants; and +that which is ordained by law is termed by them lawful and just. This they +affirm to be the origin and nature of justice;—it is a mean or +compromise, between the best of all, which is to do injustice and not be +punished, and the worst of all, which is to suffer injustice without the power +of retaliation; and justice, being at a middle point between the two, is +tolerated not as a good, but as the lesser evil, and honoured by reason of the +inability of men to do injustice. For no man who is worthy to be called a man +would ever submit to such an agreement if he were able to resist; he would be +mad if he did. Such is the received account, Socrates, of the nature and origin +of justice. +</p> + +<p> +Now that those who practise justice do so involuntarily and because they have +not the power to be unjust will best appear if we imagine something of this +kind: having given both to the just and the unjust power to do what they will, +let us watch and see whither desire will lead them; then we shall discover in +the very act the just and unjust man to be proceeding along the same road, +following their interest, which all natures deem to be their good, and are only +diverted into the path of justice by the force of law. The liberty which we are +supposing may be most completely given to them in the form of such a power as +is said to have been possessed by Gyges, the ancestor of Croesus the Lydian. +According to the tradition, Gyges was a shepherd in the service of the king of +Lydia; there was a great storm, and an earthquake made an opening in the earth +at the place where he was feeding his flock. Amazed at the sight, he descended +into the opening, where, among other marvels, he beheld a hollow brazen horse, +having doors, at which he stooping and looking in saw a dead body of stature, +as appeared to him, more than human, and having nothing on but a gold ring; +this he took from the finger of the dead and reascended. Now the shepherds met +together, according to custom, that they might send their monthly report about +the flocks to the king; into their assembly he came having the ring on his +finger, and as he was sitting among them he chanced to turn the collet of the +ring inside his hand, when instantly he became invisible to the rest of the +company and they began to speak of him as if he were no longer present. He was +astonished at this, and again touching the ring he turned the collet outwards +and reappeared; he made several trials of the ring, and always with the same +result—when he turned the collet inwards he became invisible, when +outwards he reappeared. Whereupon he contrived to be chosen one of the +messengers who were sent to the court; whereas soon as he arrived he seduced +the queen, and with her help conspired against the king and slew him, and took +the kingdom. Suppose now that there were two such magic rings, and the just put +on one of them and the unjust the other; no man can be imagined to be of such +an iron nature that he would stand fast in justice. No man would keep his hands +off what was not his own when he could safely take what he liked out of the +market, or go into houses and lie with any one at his pleasure, or kill or +release from prison whom he would, and in all respects be like a God among men. +Then the actions of the just would be as the actions of the unjust; they would +both come at last to the same point. And this we may truly affirm to be a great +proof that a man is just, not willingly or because he thinks that justice is +any good to him individually, but of necessity, for wherever any one thinks +that he can safely be unjust, there he is unjust. For all men believe in their +hearts that injustice is far more profitable to the individual than justice, +and he who argues as I have been supposing, will say that they are right. If +you could imagine any one obtaining this power of becoming invisible, and never +doing any wrong or touching what was another’s, he would be thought by +the lookers-on to be a most wretched idiot, although they would praise him to +one another’s faces, and keep up appearances with one another from a fear +that they too might suffer injustice. Enough of this. +</p> + +<p> +Now, if we are to form a real judgment of the life of the just and unjust, we +must isolate them; there is no other way; and how is the isolation to be +effected? I answer: Let the unjust man be entirely unjust, and the just man +entirely just; nothing is to be taken away from either of them, and both are to +be perfectly furnished for the work of their respective lives. First, let the +unjust be like other distinguished masters of craft; like the skilful pilot or +physician, who knows intuitively his own powers and keeps within their limits, +and who, if he fails at any point, is able to recover himself. So let the +unjust make his unjust attempts in the right way, and lie hidden if he means to +be great in his injustice: (he who is found out is nobody:) for the highest +reach of injustice is, to be deemed just when you are not. Therefore I say that +in the perfectly unjust man we must assume the most perfect injustice; there is +to be no deduction, but we must allow him, while doing the most unjust acts, to +have acquired the greatest reputation for justice. If he have taken a false +step he must be able to recover himself; he must be one who can speak with +effect, if any of his deeds come to light, and who can force his way where +force is required by his courage and strength, and command of money and +friends. And at his side let us place the just man in his nobleness and +simplicity, wishing, as Aeschylus says, to be and not to seem good. There must +be no seeming, for if he seem to be just he will be honoured and rewarded, and +then we shall not know whether he is just for the sake of justice or for the +sake of honours and rewards; therefore, let him be clothed in justice only, and +have no other covering; and he must be imagined in a state of life the opposite +of the former. Let him be the best of men, and let him be thought the worst; +then he will have been put to the proof; and we shall see whether he will be +affected by the fear of infamy and its consequences. And let him continue thus +to the hour of death; being just and seeming to be unjust. When both have +reached the uttermost extreme, the one of justice and the other of injustice, +let judgment be given which of them is the happier of the two. +</p> + +<p> +Heavens! my dear Glaucon, I said, how energetically you polish them up for the +decision, first one and then the other, as if they were two statues. +</p> + +<p> +I do my best, he said. And now that we know what they are like there is no +difficulty in tracing out the sort of life which awaits either of them. This I +will proceed to describe; but as you may think the description a little too +coarse, I ask you to suppose, Socrates, that the words which follow are not +mine.—Let me put them into the mouths of the eulogists of injustice: They +will tell you that the just man who is thought unjust will be scourged, racked, +bound—will have his eyes burnt out; and, at last, after suffering every +kind of evil, he will be impaled: Then he will understand that he ought to seem +only, and not to be, just; the words of Aeschylus may be more truly spoken of +the unjust than of the just. For the unjust is pursuing a reality; he does not +live with a view to appearances—he wants to be really unjust and not to +seem only:— +</p> + +<p> +‘His mind has a soil deep and fertile, Out of which spring his prudent +counsels.’ +</p> + +<p> +In the first place, he is thought just, and therefore bears rule in the city; +he can marry whom he will, and give in marriage to whom he will; also he can +trade and deal where he likes, and always to his own advantage, because he has +no misgivings about injustice; and at every contest, whether in public or +private, he gets the better of his antagonists, and gains at their expense, and +is rich, and out of his gains he can benefit his friends, and harm his enemies; +moreover, he can offer sacrifices, and dedicate gifts to the gods abundantly +and magnificently, and can honour the gods or any man whom he wants to honour +in a far better style than the just, and therefore he is likely to be dearer +than they are to the gods. And thus, Socrates, gods and men are said to unite +in making the life of the unjust better than the life of the just. +</p> + +<p> +I was going to say something in answer to Glaucon, when Adeimantus, his +brother, interposed: Socrates, he said, you do not suppose that there is +nothing more to be urged? +</p> + +<p> +Why, what else is there? I answered. +</p> + +<p> +The strongest point of all has not been even mentioned, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Well, then, according to the proverb, ‘Let brother help +brother’—if he fails in any part do you assist him; although I must +confess that Glaucon has already said quite enough to lay me in the dust, and +take from me the power of helping justice. +</p> + +<p> +Nonsense, he replied. But let me add something more: There is another side to +Glaucon’s argument about the praise and censure of justice and injustice, +which is equally required in order to bring out what I believe to be his +meaning. Parents and tutors are always telling their sons and their wards that +they are to be just; but why? not for the sake of justice, but for the sake of +character and reputation; in the hope of obtaining for him who is reputed just +some of those offices, marriages, and the like which Glaucon has enumerated +among the advantages accruing to the unjust from the reputation of justice. +More, however, is made of appearances by this class of persons than by the +others; for they throw in the good opinion of the gods, and will tell you of a +shower of benefits which the heavens, as they say, rain upon the pious; and +this accords with the testimony of the noble Hesiod and Homer, the first of +whom says, that the gods make the oaks of the just— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> ‘To bear acorns at their summit, and bees in the +middle;<br/> +And the sheep are bowed down with the weight of their fleeces,’ +</p> + +<p> +and many other blessings of a like kind are provided for them. And Homer has a +very similar strain; for he speaks of one whose fame is— +</p> + +<p> +‘As the fame of some blameless king who, like a god, Maintains justice; +to whom the black earth brings forth Wheat and barley, whose trees are bowed +with fruit, And his sheep never fail to bear, and the sea gives him +fish.’ +</p> + +<p> +Still grander are the gifts of heaven which Musaeus and his son vouchsafe to +the just; they take them down into the world below, where they have the saints +lying on couches at a feast, everlastingly drunk, crowned with garlands; their +idea seems to be that an immortality of drunkenness is the highest meed of +virtue. Some extend their rewards yet further; the posterity, as they say, of +the faithful and just shall survive to the third and fourth generation. This is +the style in which they praise justice. But about the wicked there is another +strain; they bury them in a slough in Hades, and make them carry water in a +sieve; also while they are yet living they bring them to infamy, and inflict +upon them the punishments which Glaucon described as the portion of the just +who are reputed to be unjust; nothing else does their invention supply. Such is +their manner of praising the one and censuring the other. +</p> + +<p> +Once more, Socrates, I will ask you to consider another way of speaking about +justice and injustice, which is not confined to the poets, but is found in +prose writers. The universal voice of mankind is always declaring that justice +and virtue are honourable, but grievous and toilsome; and that the pleasures of +vice and injustice are easy of attainment, and are only censured by law and +opinion. They say also that honesty is for the most part less profitable than +dishonesty; and they are quite ready to call wicked men happy, and to honour +them both in public and private when they are rich or in any other way +influential, while they despise and overlook those who may be weak and poor, +even though acknowledging them to be better than the others. But most +extraordinary of all is their mode of speaking about virtue and the gods: they +say that the gods apportion calamity and misery to many good men, and good and +happiness to the wicked. And mendicant prophets go to rich men’s doors +and persuade them that they have a power committed to them by the gods of +making an atonement for a man’s own or his ancestor’s sins by +sacrifices or charms, with rejoicings and feasts; and they promise to harm an +enemy, whether just or unjust, at a small cost; with magic arts and +incantations binding heaven, as they say, to execute their will. And the poets +are the authorities to whom they appeal, now smoothing the path of vice with +the words of Hesiod;— +</p> + +<p> +‘Vice may be had in abundance without trouble; the way is smooth and her +dwelling-place is near. But before virtue the gods have set toil,’ +</p> + +<p> +and a tedious and uphill road: then citing Homer as a witness that the gods may +be influenced by men; for he also says:— +</p> + +<p> +‘The gods, too, may be turned from their purpose; and men pray to them +and avert their wrath by sacrifices and soothing entreaties, and by libations +and the odour of fat, when they have sinned and transgressed.’ +</p> + +<p> +And they produce a host of books written by Musaeus and Orpheus, who were +children of the Moon and the Muses—that is what they say—according +to which they perform their ritual, and persuade not only individuals, but +whole cities, that expiations and atonements for sin may be made by sacrifices +and amusements which fill a vacant hour, and are equally at the service of the +living and the dead; the latter sort they call mysteries, and they redeem us +from the pains of hell, but if we neglect them no one knows what awaits us. +</p> + +<p> +He proceeded: And now when the young hear all this said about virtue and vice, +and the way in which gods and men regard them, how are their minds likely to be +affected, my dear Socrates,—those of them, I mean, who are quickwitted, +and, like bees on the wing, light on every flower, and from all that they hear +are prone to draw conclusions as to what manner of persons they should be and +in what way they should walk if they would make the best of life? Probably the +youth will say to himself in the words of Pindar— +</p> + +<p> +‘Can I by justice or by crooked ways of deceit ascend a loftier tower +which may be a fortress to me all my days?’ +</p> + +<p> +For what men say is that, if I am really just and am not also thought just +profit there is none, but the pain and loss on the other hand are +unmistakeable. But if, though unjust, I acquire the reputation of justice, a +heavenly life is promised to me. Since then, as philosophers prove, appearance +tyrannizes over truth and is lord of happiness, to appearance I must devote +myself. I will describe around me a picture and shadow of virtue to be the +vestibule and exterior of my house; behind I will trail the subtle and crafty +fox, as Archilochus, greatest of sages, recommends. But I hear some one +exclaiming that the concealment of wickedness is often difficult; to which I +answer, Nothing great is easy. Nevertheless, the argument indicates this, if we +would be happy, to be the path along which we should proceed. With a view to +concealment we will establish secret brotherhoods and political clubs. And +there are professors of rhetoric who teach the art of persuading courts and +assemblies; and so, partly by persuasion and partly by force, I shall make +unlawful gains and not be punished. Still I hear a voice saying that the gods +cannot be deceived, neither can they be compelled. But what if there are no +gods? or, suppose them to have no care of human things—why in either case +should we mind about concealment? And even if there are gods, and they do care +about us, yet we know of them only from tradition and the genealogies of the +poets; and these are the very persons who say that they may be influenced and +turned by ‘sacrifices and soothing entreaties and by offerings.’ +Let us be consistent then, and believe both or neither. If the poets speak +truly, why then we had better be unjust, and offer of the fruits of injustice; +for if we are just, although we may escape the vengeance of heaven, we shall +lose the gains of injustice; but, if we are unjust, we shall keep the gains, +and by our sinning and praying, and praying and sinning, the gods will be +propitiated, and we shall not be punished. ‘But there is a world below in +which either we or our posterity will suffer for our unjust deeds.’ Yes, +my friend, will be the reflection, but there are mysteries and atoning deities, +and these have great power. That is what mighty cities declare; and the +children of the gods, who were their poets and prophets, bear a like testimony. +</p> + +<p> +On what principle, then, shall we any longer choose justice rather than the +worst injustice? when, if we only unite the latter with a deceitful regard to +appearances, we shall fare to our mind both with gods and men, in life and +after death, as the most numerous and the highest authorities tell us. Knowing +all this, Socrates, how can a man who has any superiority of mind or person or +rank or wealth, be willing to honour justice; or indeed to refrain from +laughing when he hears justice praised? And even if there should be some one +who is able to disprove the truth of my words, and who is satisfied that +justice is best, still he is not angry with the unjust, but is very ready to +forgive them, because he also knows that men are not just of their own free +will; unless, peradventure, there be some one whom the divinity within him may +have inspired with a hatred of injustice, or who has attained knowledge of the +truth—but no other man. He only blames injustice who, owing to cowardice +or age or some weakness, has not the power of being unjust. And this is proved +by the fact that when he obtains the power, he immediately becomes unjust as +far as he can be. +</p> + +<p> +The cause of all this, Socrates, was indicated by us at the beginning of the +argument, when my brother and I told you how astonished we were to find that of +all the professing panegyrists of justice—beginning with the ancient +heroes of whom any memorial has been preserved to us, and ending with the men +of our own time—no one has ever blamed injustice or praised justice +except with a view to the glories, honours, and benefits which flow from them. +No one has ever adequately described either in verse or prose the true +essential nature of either of them abiding in the soul, and invisible to any +human or divine eye; or shown that of all the things of a man’s soul +which he has within him, justice is the greatest good, and injustice the +greatest evil. Had this been the universal strain, had you sought to persuade +us of this from our youth upwards, we should not have been on the watch to keep +one another from doing wrong, but every one would have been his own watchman, +because afraid, if he did wrong, of harbouring in himself the greatest of +evils. I dare say that Thrasymachus and others would seriously hold the +language which I have been merely repeating, and words even stronger than these +about justice and injustice, grossly, as I conceive, perverting their true +nature. But I speak in this vehement manner, as I must frankly confess to you, +because I want to hear from you the opposite side; and I would ask you to show +not only the superiority which justice has over injustice, but what effect they +have on the possessor of them which makes the one to be a good and the other an +evil to him. And please, as Glaucon requested of you, to exclude reputations; +for unless you take away from each of them his true reputation and add on the +false, we shall say that you do not praise justice, but the appearance of it; +we shall think that you are only exhorting us to keep injustice dark, and that +you really agree with Thrasymachus in thinking that justice is another’s +good and the interest of the stronger, and that injustice is a man’s own +profit and interest, though injurious to the weaker. Now as you have admitted +that justice is one of that highest class of goods which are desired indeed for +their results, but in a far greater degree for their own sakes—like sight +or hearing or knowledge or health, or any other real and natural and not merely +conventional good—I would ask you in your praise of justice to regard one +point only: I mean the essential good and evil which justice and injustice work +in the possessors of them. Let others praise justice and censure injustice, +magnifying the rewards and honours of the one and abusing the other; that is a +manner of arguing which, coming from them, I am ready to tolerate, but from you +who have spent your whole life in the consideration of this question, unless I +hear the contrary from your own lips, I expect something better. And therefore, +I say, not only prove to us that justice is better than injustice, but show +what they either of them do to the possessor of them, which makes the one to be +a good and the other an evil, whether seen or unseen by gods and men. +</p> + +<p> +I had always admired the genius of Glaucon and Adeimantus, but on hearing these +words I was quite delighted, and said: Sons of an illustrious father, that was +not a bad beginning of the Elegiac verses which the admirer of Glaucon made in +honour of you after you had distinguished yourselves at the battle of +Megara:— +</p> + +<p> +‘Sons of Ariston,’ he sang, ‘divine offspring of an +illustrious hero.’ +</p> + +<p> +The epithet is very appropriate, for there is something truly divine in being +able to argue as you have done for the superiority of injustice, and remaining +unconvinced by your own arguments. And I do believe that you are not +convinced—this I infer from your general character, for had I judged only +from your speeches I should have mistrusted you. But now, the greater my +confidence in you, the greater is my difficulty in knowing what to say. For I +am in a strait between two; on the one hand I feel that I am unequal to the +task; and my inability is brought home to me by the fact that you were not +satisfied with the answer which I made to Thrasymachus, proving, as I thought, +the superiority which justice has over injustice. And yet I cannot refuse to +help, while breath and speech remain to me; I am afraid that there would be an +impiety in being present when justice is evil spoken of and not lifting up a +hand in her defence. And therefore I had best give such help as I can. +</p> + +<p> +Glaucon and the rest entreated me by all means not to let the question drop, +but to proceed in the investigation. They wanted to arrive at the truth, first, +about the nature of justice and injustice, and secondly, about their relative +advantages. I told them, what I really thought, that the enquiry would be of a +serious nature, and would require very good eyes. Seeing then, I said, that we +are no great wits, I think that we had better adopt a method which I may +illustrate thus; suppose that a short-sighted person had been asked by some one +to read small letters from a distance; and it occurred to some one else that +they might be found in another place which was larger and in which the letters +were larger—if they were the same and he could read the larger letters +first, and then proceed to the lesser—this would have been thought a rare +piece of good fortune. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, said Adeimantus; but how does the illustration apply to our enquiry? +</p> + +<p> +I will tell you, I replied; justice, which is the subject of our enquiry, is, +as you know, sometimes spoken of as the virtue of an individual, and sometimes +as the virtue of a State. +</p> + +<p> +True, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And is not a State larger than an individual? +</p> + +<p> +It is. +</p> + +<p> +Then in the larger the quantity of justice is likely to be larger and more +easily discernible. I propose therefore that we enquire into the nature of +justice and injustice, first as they appear in the State, and secondly in the +individual, proceeding from the greater to the lesser and comparing them. +</p> + +<p> +That, he said, is an excellent proposal. +</p> + +<p> +And if we imagine the State in process of creation, we shall see the justice +and injustice of the State in process of creation also. +</p> + +<p> +I dare say. +</p> + +<p> +When the State is completed there may be a hope that the object of our search +will be more easily discovered. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, far more easily. +</p> + +<p> +But ought we to attempt to construct one? I said; for to do so, as I am +inclined to think, will be a very serious task. Reflect therefore. +</p> + +<p> +I have reflected, said Adeimantus, and am anxious that you should proceed. +</p> + +<p> +A State, I said, arises, as I conceive, out of the needs of mankind; no one is +self-sufficing, but all of us have many wants. Can any other origin of a State +be imagined? +</p> + +<p> +There can be no other. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as we have many wants, and many persons are needed to supply them, one +takes a helper for one purpose and another for another; and when these partners +and helpers are gathered together in one habitation the body of inhabitants is +termed a State. +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And they exchange with one another, and one gives, and another receives, under +the idea that the exchange will be for their good. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I said, let us begin and create in idea a State; and yet the true creator +is necessity, who is the mother of our invention. +</p> + +<p> +Of course, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Now the first and greatest of necessities is food, which is the condition of +life and existence. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +The second is a dwelling, and the third clothing and the like. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And now let us see how our city will be able to supply this great demand: We +may suppose that one man is a husbandman, another a builder, some one else a +weaver—shall we add to them a shoemaker, or perhaps some other purveyor +to our bodily wants? +</p> + +<p> +Quite right. +</p> + +<p> +The barest notion of a State must include four or five men. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +And how will they proceed? Will each bring the result of his labours into a +common stock?—the individual husbandman, for example, producing for four, +and labouring four times as long and as much as he need in the provision of +food with which he supplies others as well as himself; or will he have nothing +to do with others and not be at the trouble of producing for them, but provide +for himself alone a fourth of the food in a fourth of the time, and in the +remaining three fourths of his time be employed in making a house or a coat or +a pair of shoes, having no partnership with others, but supplying himself all +his own wants? +</p> + +<p> +Adeimantus thought that he should aim at producing food only and not at +producing everything. +</p> + +<p> +Probably, I replied, that would be the better way; and when I hear you say +this, I am myself reminded that we are not all alike; there are diversities of +natures among us which are adapted to different occupations. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And will you have a work better done when the workman has many occupations, or +when he has only one? +</p> + +<p> +When he has only one. +</p> + +<p> +Further, there can be no doubt that a work is spoilt when not done at the right +time? +</p> + +<p> +No doubt. +</p> + +<p> +For business is not disposed to wait until the doer of the business is at +leisure; but the doer must follow up what he is doing, and make the business +his first object. +</p> + +<p> +He must. +</p> + +<p> +And if so, we must infer that all things are produced more plentifully and +easily and of a better quality when one man does one thing which is natural to +him and does it at the right time, and leaves other things. +</p> + +<p> +Undoubtedly. +</p> + +<p> +Then more than four citizens will be required; for the husbandman will not make +his own plough or mattock, or other implements of agriculture, if they are to +be good for anything. Neither will the builder make his tools—and he too +needs many; and in like manner the weaver and shoemaker. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Then carpenters, and smiths, and many other artisans, will be sharers in our +little State, which is already beginning to grow? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Yet even if we add neatherds, shepherds, and other herdsmen, in order that our +husbandmen may have oxen to plough with, and builders as well as husbandmen may +have draught cattle, and curriers and weavers fleeces and hides,—still +our State will not be very large. +</p> + +<p> +That is true; yet neither will it be a very small State which contains all +these. +</p> + +<p> +Then, again, there is the situation of the city—to find a place where +nothing need be imported is wellnigh impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Then there must be another class of citizens who will bring the required supply +from another city? +</p> + +<p> +There must. +</p> + +<p> +But if the trader goes empty-handed, having nothing which they require who +would supply his need, he will come back empty-handed. +</p> + +<p> +That is certain. +</p> + +<p> +And therefore what they produce at home must be not only enough for themselves, +but such both in quantity and quality as to accommodate those from whom their +wants are supplied. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Then more husbandmen and more artisans will be required? +</p> + +<p> +They will. +</p> + +<p> +Not to mention the importers and exporters, who are called merchants? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then we shall want merchants? +</p> + +<p> +We shall. +</p> + +<p> +And if merchandise is to be carried over the sea, skilful sailors will also be +needed, and in considerable numbers? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, in considerable numbers. +</p> + +<p> +Then, again, within the city, how will they exchange their productions? To +secure such an exchange was, as you will remember, one of our principal objects +when we formed them into a society and constituted a State. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly they will buy and sell. +</p> + +<p> +Then they will need a market-place, and a money-token for purposes of exchange. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Suppose now that a husbandman, or an artisan, brings some production to market, +and he comes at a time when there is no one to exchange with him,—is he +to leave his calling and sit idle in the market-place? +</p> + +<p> +Not at all; he will find people there who, seeing the want, undertake the +office of salesmen. In well-ordered states they are commonly those who are the +weakest in bodily strength, and therefore of little use for any other purpose; +their duty is to be in the market, and to give money in exchange for goods to +those who desire to sell and to take money from those who desire to buy. +</p> + +<p> +This want, then, creates a class of retail-traders in our State. Is not +‘retailer’ the term which is applied to those who sit in the +market-place engaged in buying and selling, while those who wander from one +city to another are called merchants? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And there is another class of servants, who are intellectually hardly on the +level of companionship; still they have plenty of bodily strength for labour, +which accordingly they sell, and are called, if I do not mistake, hirelings, +hire being the name which is given to the price of their labour. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Then hirelings will help to make up our population? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And now, Adeimantus, is our State matured and perfected? +</p> + +<p> +I think so. +</p> + +<p> +Where, then, is justice, and where is injustice, and in what part of the State +did they spring up? +</p> + +<p> +Probably in the dealings of these citizens with one another. I cannot imagine +that they are more likely to be found any where else. +</p> + +<p> +I dare say that you are right in your suggestion, I said; we had better think +the matter out, and not shrink from the enquiry. +</p> + +<p> +Let us then consider, first of all, what will be their way of life, now that we +have thus established them. Will they not produce corn, and wine, and clothes, +and shoes, and build houses for themselves? And when they are housed, they will +work, in summer, commonly, stripped and barefoot, but in winter substantially +clothed and shod. They will feed on barley-meal and flour of wheat, baking and +kneading them, making noble cakes and loaves; these they will serve up on a mat +of reeds or on clean leaves, themselves reclining the while upon beds strewn +with yew or myrtle. And they and their children will feast, drinking of the +wine which they have made, wearing garlands on their heads, and hymning the +praises of the gods, in happy converse with one another. And they will take +care that their families do not exceed their means; having an eye to poverty or +war. +</p> + +<p> +But, said Glaucon, interposing, you have not given them a relish to their meal. +</p> + +<p> +True, I replied, I had forgotten; of course they must have a relish—salt, +and olives, and cheese, and they will boil roots and herbs such as country +people prepare; for a dessert we shall give them figs, and peas, and beans; and +they will roast myrtle-berries and acorns at the fire, drinking in moderation. +And with such a diet they may be expected to live in peace and health to a good +old age, and bequeath a similar life to their children after them. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Socrates, he said, and if you were providing for a city of pigs, how else +would you feed the beasts? +</p> + +<p> +But what would you have, Glaucon? I replied. +</p> + +<p> +Why, he said, you should give them the ordinary conveniences of life. People +who are to be comfortable are accustomed to lie on sofas, and dine off tables, +and they should have sauces and sweets in the modern style. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, now I understand: the question which you would have me consider +is, not only how a State, but how a luxurious State is created; and possibly +there is no harm in this, for in such a State we shall be more likely to see +how justice and injustice originate. In my opinion the true and healthy +constitution of the State is the one which I have described. But if you wish +also to see a State at fever-heat, I have no objection. For I suspect that many +will not be satisfied with the simpler way of life. They will be for adding +sofas, and tables, and other furniture; also dainties, and perfumes, and +incense, and courtesans, and cakes, all these not of one sort only, but in +every variety; we must go beyond the necessaries of which I was at first +speaking, such as houses, and clothes, and shoes: the arts of the painter and +the embroiderer will have to be set in motion, and gold and ivory and all sorts +of materials must be procured. +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then we must enlarge our borders; for the original healthy State is no longer +sufficient. Now will the city have to fill and swell with a multitude of +callings which are not required by any natural want; such as the whole tribe of +hunters and actors, of whom one large class have to do with forms and colours; +another will be the votaries of music—poets and their attendant train of +rhapsodists, players, dancers, contractors; also makers of divers kinds of +articles, including women’s dresses. And we shall want more servants. +Will not tutors be also in request, and nurses wet and dry, tirewomen and +barbers, as well as confectioners and cooks; and swineherds, too, who were not +needed and therefore had no place in the former edition of our State, but are +needed now? They must not be forgotten: and there will be animals of many other +kinds, if people eat them. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And living in this way we shall have much greater need of physicians than +before? +</p> + +<p> +Much greater. +</p> + +<p> +And the country which was enough to support the original inhabitants will be +too small now, and not enough? +</p> + +<p> +Quite true. +</p> + +<p> +Then a slice of our neighbours’ land will be wanted by us for pasture and +tillage, and they will want a slice of ours, if, like ourselves, they exceed +the limit of necessity, and give themselves up to the unlimited accumulation of +wealth? +</p> + +<p> +That, Socrates, will be inevitable. +</p> + +<p> +And so we shall go to war, Glaucon. Shall we not? +</p> + +<p> +Most certainly, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then without determining as yet whether war does good or harm, thus much we may +affirm, that now we have discovered war to be derived from causes which are +also the causes of almost all the evils in States, private as well as public. +</p> + +<p> +Undoubtedly. +</p> + +<p> +And our State must once more enlarge; and this time the enlargement will be +nothing short of a whole army, which will have to go out and fight with the +invaders for all that we have, as well as for the things and persons whom we +were describing above. +</p> + +<p> +Why? he said; are they not capable of defending themselves? +</p> + +<p> +No, I said; not if we were right in the principle which was acknowledged by all +of us when we were framing the State: the principle, as you will remember, was +that one man cannot practise many arts with success. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But is not war an art? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And an art requiring as much attention as shoemaking? +</p> + +<p> +Quite true. +</p> + +<p> +And the shoemaker was not allowed by us to be a husbandman, or a weaver, or a +builder—in order that we might have our shoes well made; but to him and +to every other worker was assigned one work for which he was by nature fitted, +and at that he was to continue working all his life long and at no other; he +was not to let opportunities slip, and then he would become a good workman. Now +nothing can be more important than that the work of a soldier should be well +done. But is war an art so easily acquired that a man may be a warrior who is +also a husbandman, or shoemaker, or other artisan; although no one in the world +would be a good dice or draught player who merely took up the game as a +recreation, and had not from his earliest years devoted himself to this and +nothing else? No tools will make a man a skilled workman, or master of defence, +nor be of any use to him who has not learned how to handle them, and has never +bestowed any attention upon them. How then will he who takes up a shield or +other implement of war become a good fighter all in a day, whether with +heavy-armed or any other kind of troops? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, the tools which would teach men their own use would be beyond +price. +</p> + +<p> +And the higher the duties of the guardian, I said, the more time, and skill, +and art, and application will be needed by him? +</p> + +<p> +No doubt, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Will he not also require natural aptitude for his calling? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Then it will be our duty to select, if we can, natures which are fitted for the +task of guarding the city? +</p> + +<p> +It will. +</p> + +<p> +And the selection will be no easy matter, I said; but we must be brave and do +our best. +</p> + +<p> +We must. +</p> + +<p> +Is not the noble youth very like a well-bred dog in respect of guarding and +watching? +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +I mean that both of them ought to be quick to see, and swift to overtake the +enemy when they see him; and strong too if, when they have caught him, they +have to fight with him. +</p> + +<p> +All these qualities, he replied, will certainly be required by them. +</p> + +<p> +Well, and your guardian must be brave if he is to fight well? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And is he likely to be brave who has no spirit, whether horse or dog or any +other animal? Have you never observed how invincible and unconquerable is +spirit and how the presence of it makes the soul of any creature to be +absolutely fearless and indomitable? +</p> + +<p> +I have. +</p> + +<p> +Then now we have a clear notion of the bodily qualities which are required in +the guardian. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And also of the mental ones; his soul is to be full of spirit? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +But are not these spirited natures apt to be savage with one another, and with +everybody else? +</p> + +<p> +A difficulty by no means easy to overcome, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Whereas, I said, they ought to be dangerous to their enemies, and gentle to +their friends; if not, they will destroy themselves without waiting for their +enemies to destroy them. +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +What is to be done then? I said; how shall we find a gentle nature which has +also a great spirit, for the one is the contradiction of the other? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +He will not be a good guardian who is wanting in either of these two qualities; +and yet the combination of them appears to be impossible; and hence we must +infer that to be a good guardian is impossible. +</p> + +<p> +I am afraid that what you say is true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Here feeling perplexed I began to think over what had preceded.—My +friend, I said, no wonder that we are in a perplexity; for we have lost sight +of the image which we had before us. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? he said. +</p> + +<p> +I mean to say that there do exist natures gifted with those opposite qualities. +</p> + +<p> +And where do you find them? +</p> + +<p> +Many animals, I replied, furnish examples of them; our friend the dog is a very +good one: you know that well-bred dogs are perfectly gentle to their familiars +and acquaintances, and the reverse to strangers. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I know. +</p> + +<p> +Then there is nothing impossible or out of the order of nature in our finding a +guardian who has a similar combination of qualities? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Would not he who is fitted to be a guardian, besides the spirited nature, need +to have the qualities of a philosopher? +</p> + +<p> +I do not apprehend your meaning. +</p> + +<p> +The trait of which I am speaking, I replied, may be also seen in the dog, and +is remarkable in the animal. +</p> + +<p> +What trait? +</p> + +<p> +Why, a dog, whenever he sees a stranger, is angry; when an acquaintance, he +welcomes him, although the one has never done him any harm, nor the other any +good. Did this never strike you as curious? +</p> + +<p> +The matter never struck me before; but I quite recognise the truth of your +remark. +</p> + +<p> +And surely this instinct of the dog is very charming;—your dog is a true +philosopher. +</p> + +<p> +Why? +</p> + +<p> +Why, because he distinguishes the face of a friend and of an enemy only by the +criterion of knowing and not knowing. And must not an animal be a lover of +learning who determines what he likes and dislikes by the test of knowledge and +ignorance? +</p> + +<p> +Most assuredly. +</p> + +<p> +And is not the love of learning the love of wisdom, which is philosophy? +</p> + +<p> +They are the same, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And may we not say confidently of man also, that he who is likely to be gentle +to his friends and acquaintances, must by nature be a lover of wisdom and +knowledge? +</p> + +<p> +That we may safely affirm. +</p> + +<p> +Then he who is to be a really good and noble guardian of the State will require +to unite in himself philosophy and spirit and swiftness and strength? +</p> + +<p> +Undoubtedly. +</p> + +<p> +Then we have found the desired natures; and now that we have found them, how +are they to be reared and educated? Is not this an enquiry which may be +expected to throw light on the greater enquiry which is our final end—How +do justice and injustice grow up in States? for we do not want either to omit +what is to the point or to draw out the argument to an inconvenient length. +</p> + +<p> +Adeimantus thought that the enquiry would be of great service to us. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I said, my dear friend, the task must not be given up, even if somewhat +long. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Come then, and let us pass a leisure hour in story-telling, and our story shall +be the education of our heroes. +</p> + +<p> +By all means. +</p> + +<p> +And what shall be their education? Can we find a better than the traditional +sort?—and this has two divisions, gymnastic for the body, and music for +the soul. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Shall we begin education with music, and go on to gymnastic afterwards? +</p> + +<p> +By all means. +</p> + +<p> +And when you speak of music, do you include literature or not? +</p> + +<p> +I do. +</p> + +<p> +And literature may be either true or false? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the young should be trained in both kinds, and we begin with the false? +</p> + +<p> +I do not understand your meaning, he said. +</p> + +<p> +You know, I said, that we begin by telling children stories which, though not +wholly destitute of truth, are in the main fictitious; and these stories are +told them when they are not of an age to learn gymnastics. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +That was my meaning when I said that we must teach music before gymnastics. +</p> + +<p> +Quite right, he said. +</p> + +<p> +You know also that the beginning is the most important part of any work, +especially in the case of a young and tender thing; for that is the time at +which the character is being formed and the desired impression is more readily +taken. +</p> + +<p> +Quite true. +</p> + +<p> +And shall we just carelessly allow children to hear any casual tales which may +be devised by casual persons, and to receive into their minds ideas for the +most part the very opposite of those which we should wish them to have when +they are grown up? +</p> + +<p> +We cannot. +</p> + +<p> +Then the first thing will be to establish a censorship of the writers of +fiction, and let the censors receive any tale of fiction which is good, and +reject the bad; and we will desire mothers and nurses to tell their children +the authorised ones only. Let them fashion the mind with such tales, even more +fondly than they mould the body with their hands; but most of those which are +now in use must be discarded. +</p> + +<p> +Of what tales are you speaking? he said. +</p> + +<p> +You may find a model of the lesser in the greater, I said; for they are +necessarily of the same type, and there is the same spirit in both of them. +</p> + +<p> +Very likely, he replied; but I do not as yet know what you would term the +greater. +</p> + +<p> +Those, I said, which are narrated by Homer and Hesiod, and the rest of the +poets, who have ever been the great story-tellers of mankind. +</p> + +<p> +But which stories do you mean, he said; and what fault do you find with them? +</p> + +<p> +A fault which is most serious, I said; the fault of telling a lie, and, what is +more, a bad lie. +</p> + +<p> +But when is this fault committed? +</p> + +<p> +Whenever an erroneous representation is made of the nature of gods and +heroes,—as when a painter paints a portrait not having the shadow of a +likeness to the original. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that sort of thing is certainly very blameable; but what are the +stories which you mean? +</p> + +<p> +First of all, I said, there was that greatest of all lies in high places, which +the poet told about Uranus, and which was a bad lie too,—I mean what +Hesiod says that Uranus did, and how Cronus retaliated on him. The doings of +Cronus, and the sufferings which in turn his son inflicted upon him, even if +they were true, ought certainly not to be lightly told to young and thoughtless +persons; if possible, they had better be buried in silence. But if there is an +absolute necessity for their mention, a chosen few might hear them in a +mystery, and they should sacrifice not a common (Eleusinian) pig, but some huge +and unprocurable victim; and then the number of the hearers will be very few +indeed. +</p> + +<p> +Why, yes, said he, those stories are extremely objectionable. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Adeimantus, they are stories not to be repeated in our State; the young +man should not be told that in committing the worst of crimes he is far from +doing anything outrageous; and that even if he chastises his father when he +does wrong, in whatever manner, he will only be following the example of the +first and greatest among the gods. +</p> + +<p> +I entirely agree with you, he said; in my opinion those stories are quite unfit +to be repeated. +</p> + +<p> +Neither, if we mean our future guardians to regard the habit of quarrelling +among themselves as of all things the basest, should any word be said to them +of the wars in heaven, and of the plots and fightings of the gods against one +another, for they are not true. No, we shall never mention the battles of the +giants, or let them be embroidered on garments; and we shall be silent about +the innumerable other quarrels of gods and heroes with their friends and +relatives. If they would only believe us we would tell them that quarrelling is +unholy, and that never up to this time has there been any quarrel between +citizens; this is what old men and old women should begin by telling children; +and when they grow up, the poets also should be told to compose for them in a +similar spirit. But the narrative of Hephaestus binding Here his mother, or how +on another occasion Zeus sent him flying for taking her part when she was being +beaten, and all the battles of the gods in Homer—these tales must not be +admitted into our State, whether they are supposed to have an allegorical +meaning or not. For a young person cannot judge what is allegorical and what is +literal; anything that he receives into his mind at that age is likely to +become indelible and unalterable; and therefore it is most important that the +tales which the young first hear should be models of virtuous thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +There you are right, he replied; but if any one asks where are such models to +be found and of what tales are you speaking—how shall we answer him? +</p> + +<p> +I said to him, You and I, Adeimantus, at this moment are not poets, but +founders of a State: now the founders of a State ought to know the general +forms in which poets should cast their tales, and the limits which must be +observed by them, but to make the tales is not their business. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said; but what are these forms of theology which you mean? +</p> + +<p> +Something of this kind, I replied:—God is always to be represented as he +truly is, whatever be the sort of poetry, epic, lyric or tragic, in which the +representation is given. +</p> + +<p> +Right. +</p> + +<p> +And is he not truly good? and must he not be represented as such? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And no good thing is hurtful? +</p> + +<p> +No, indeed. +</p> + +<p> +And that which is not hurtful hurts not? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +And that which hurts not does no evil? +</p> + +<p> +No. +</p> + +<p> +And can that which does no evil be a cause of evil? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +And the good is advantageous? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And therefore the cause of well-being? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +It follows therefore that the good is not the cause of all things, but of the +good only? +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly. +</p> + +<p> +Then God, if he be good, is not the author of all things, as the many assert, +but he is the cause of a few things only, and not of most things that occur to +men. For few are the goods of human life, and many are the evils, and the good +is to be attributed to God alone; of the evils the causes are to be sought +elsewhere, and not in him. +</p> + +<p> +That appears to me to be most true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then we must not listen to Homer or to any other poet who is guilty of the +folly of saying that two casks +</p> + +<p> +‘Lie at the threshold of Zeus, full of lots, one of good, the other of +evil lots,’ +</p> + +<p> +and that he to whom Zeus gives a mixture of the two +</p> + +<p> +‘Sometimes meets with evil fortune, at other times with good;’ +</p> + +<p> +but that he to whom is given the cup of unmingled ill, +</p> + +<p> +‘Him wild hunger drives o’er the beauteous earth.’ +</p> + +<p> +And again— +</p> + +<p> +‘Zeus, who is the dispenser of good and evil to us.’ +</p> + +<p> +And if any one asserts that the violation of oaths and treaties, which was +really the work of Pandarus, was brought about by Athene and Zeus, or that the +strife and contention of the gods was instigated by Themis and Zeus, he shall +not have our approval; neither will we allow our young men to hear the words of +Aeschylus, that +</p> + +<p> +‘God plants guilt among men when he desires utterly to destroy a +house.’ +</p> + +<p> +And if a poet writes of the sufferings of Niobe—the subject of the +tragedy in which these iambic verses occur—or of the house of Pelops, or +of the Trojan war or on any similar theme, either we must not permit him to say +that these are the works of God, or if they are of God, he must devise some +explanation of them such as we are seeking; he must say that God did what was +just and right, and they were the better for being punished; but that those who +are punished are miserable, and that God is the author of their +misery—the poet is not to be permitted to say; though he may say that the +wicked are miserable because they require to be punished, and are benefited by +receiving punishment from God; but that God being good is the author of evil to +any one is to be strenuously denied, and not to be said or sung or heard in +verse or prose by any one whether old or young in any well-ordered +commonwealth. Such a fiction is suicidal, ruinous, impious. +</p> + +<p> +I agree with you, he replied, and am ready to give my assent to the law. +</p> + +<p> +Let this then be one of our rules and principles concerning the gods, to which +our poets and reciters will be expected to conform,—that God is not the +author of all things, but of good only. +</p> + +<p> +That will do, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And what do you think of a second principle? Shall I ask you whether God is a +magician, and of a nature to appear insidiously now in one shape, and now in +another—sometimes himself changing and passing into many forms, sometimes +deceiving us with the semblance of such transformations; or is he one and the +same immutably fixed in his own proper image? +</p> + +<p> +I cannot answer you, he said, without more thought. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said; but if we suppose a change in anything, that change must be +effected either by the thing itself, or by some other thing? +</p> + +<p> +Most certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And things which are at their best are also least liable to be altered or +discomposed; for example, when healthiest and strongest, the human frame is +least liable to be affected by meats and drinks, and the plant which is in the +fullest vigour also suffers least from winds or the heat of the sun or any +similar causes. +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +And will not the bravest and wisest soul be least confused or deranged by any +external influence? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And the same principle, as I should suppose, applies to all composite +things—furniture, houses, garments: when good and well made, they are +least altered by time and circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Then everything which is good, whether made by art or nature, or both, is least +liable to suffer change from without? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +But surely God and the things of God are in every way perfect? +</p> + +<p> +Of course they are. +</p> + +<p> +Then he can hardly be compelled by external influence to take many shapes? +</p> + +<p> +He cannot. +</p> + +<p> +But may he not change and transform himself? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly, he said, that must be the case if he is changed at all. +</p> + +<p> +And will he then change himself for the better and fairer, or for the worse and +more unsightly? +</p> + +<p> +If he change at all he can only change for the worse, for we cannot suppose him +to be deficient either in virtue or beauty. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, Adeimantus; but then, would any one, whether God or man, desire to +make himself worse? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Then it is impossible that God should ever be willing to change; being, as is +supposed, the fairest and best that is conceivable, every God remains +absolutely and for ever in his own form. +</p> + +<p> +That necessarily follows, he said, in my judgment. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I said, my dear friend, let none of the poets tell us that +</p> + +<p> +‘The gods, taking the disguise of strangers from other lands, walk up and +down cities in all sorts of forms;’ +</p> + +<p> +and let no one slander Proteus and Thetis, neither let any one, either in +tragedy or in any other kind of poetry, introduce Here disguised in the +likeness of a priestess asking an alms +</p> + +<p> +‘For the life-giving daughters of Inachus the river of Argos;’ +</p> + +<p> +—let us have no more lies of that sort. Neither must we have mothers +under the influence of the poets scaring their children with a bad version of +these myths—telling how certain gods, as they say, ‘Go about by +night in the likeness of so many strangers and in divers forms;’ but let +them take heed lest they make cowards of their children, and at the same time +speak blasphemy against the gods. +</p> + +<p> +Heaven forbid, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But although the gods are themselves unchangeable, still by witchcraft and +deception they may make us think that they appear in various forms? +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Well, but can you imagine that God will be willing to lie, whether in word or +deed, or to put forth a phantom of himself? +</p> + +<p> +I cannot say, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Do you not know, I said, that the true lie, if such an expression may be +allowed, is hated of gods and men? +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? he said. +</p> + +<p> +I mean that no one is willingly deceived in that which is the truest and +highest part of himself, or about the truest and highest matters; there, above +all, he is most afraid of a lie having possession of him. +</p> + +<p> +Still, he said, I do not comprehend you. +</p> + +<p> +The reason is, I replied, that you attribute some profound meaning to my words; +but I am only saying that deception, or being deceived or uninformed about the +highest realities in the highest part of themselves, which is the soul, and in +that part of them to have and to hold the lie, is what mankind least +like;—that, I say, is what they utterly detest. +</p> + +<p> +There is nothing more hateful to them. +</p> + +<p> +And, as I was just now remarking, this ignorance in the soul of him who is +deceived may be called the true lie; for the lie in words is only a kind of +imitation and shadowy image of a previous affection of the soul, not pure +unadulterated falsehood. Am I not right? +</p> + +<p> +Perfectly right. +</p> + +<p> +The true lie is hated not only by the gods, but also by men? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Whereas the lie in words is in certain cases useful and not hateful; in dealing +with enemies—that would be an instance; or again, when those whom we call +our friends in a fit of madness or illusion are going to do some harm, then it +is useful and is a sort of medicine or preventive; also in the tales of +mythology, of which we were just now speaking—because we do not know the +truth about ancient times, we make falsehood as much like truth as we can, and +so turn it to account. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But can any of these reasons apply to God? Can we suppose that he is ignorant +of antiquity, and therefore has recourse to invention? +</p> + +<p> +That would be ridiculous, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then the lying poet has no place in our idea of God? +</p> + +<p> +I should say not. +</p> + +<p> +Or perhaps he may tell a lie because he is afraid of enemies? +</p> + +<p> +That is inconceivable. +</p> + +<p> +But he may have friends who are senseless or mad? +</p> + +<p> +But no mad or senseless person can be a friend of God. +</p> + +<p> +Then no motive can be imagined why God should lie? +</p> + +<p> +None whatever. +</p> + +<p> +Then the superhuman and divine is absolutely incapable of falsehood? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then is God perfectly simple and true both in word and deed; he changes not; he +deceives not, either by sign or word, by dream or waking vision. +</p> + +<p> +Your thoughts, he said, are the reflection of my own. +</p> + +<p> +You agree with me then, I said, that this is the second type or form in which +we should write and speak about divine things. The gods are not magicians who +transform themselves, neither do they deceive mankind in any way. +</p> + +<p> +I grant that. +</p> + +<p> +Then, although we are admirers of Homer, we do not admire the lying dream which +Zeus sends to Agamemnon; neither will we praise the verses of Aeschylus in +which Thetis says that Apollo at her nuptials +</p> + +<p> +‘Was celebrating in song her fair progeny whose days were to be long, and +to know no sickness. And when he had spoken of my lot as in all things blessed +of heaven he raised a note of triumph and cheered my soul. And I thought that +the word of Phoebus, being divine and full of prophecy, would not fail. And now +he himself who uttered the strain, he who was present at the banquet, and who +said this—he it is who has slain my son.’ +</p> + +<p> +These are the kind of sentiments about the gods which will arouse our anger; +and he who utters them shall be refused a chorus; neither shall we allow +teachers to make use of them in the instruction of the young, meaning, as we +do, that our guardians, as far as men can be, should be true worshippers of the +gods and like them. +</p> + +<p> +I entirely agree, he said, in these principles, and promise to make them my +laws. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"></a> BOOK III.</h2> + +<p> +Such then, I said, are our principles of theology—some tales are to be +told, and others are not to be told to our disciples from their youth upwards, +if we mean them to honour the gods and their parents, and to value friendship +with one another. +</p> + +<p> +Yes; and I think that our principles are right, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But if they are to be courageous, must they not learn other lessons besides +these, and lessons of such a kind as will take away the fear of death? Can any +man be courageous who has the fear of death in him? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And can he be fearless of death, or will he choose death in battle rather than +defeat and slavery, who believes the world below to be real and terrible? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Then we must assume a control over the narrators of this class of tales as well +as over the others, and beg them not simply to revile but rather to commend the +world below, intimating to them that their descriptions are untrue, and will do +harm to our future warriors. +</p> + +<p> +That will be our duty, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I said, we shall have to obliterate many obnoxious passages, beginning +with the verses, +</p> + +<p> +‘I would rather be a serf on the land of a poor and portionless man than +rule over all the dead who have come to nought.’ +</p> + +<p> +We must also expunge the verse, which tells us how Pluto feared, +</p> + +<p> +‘Lest the mansions grim and squalid which the gods abhor should be seen +both of mortals and immortals.’ +</p> + +<p> +And again:— +</p> + +<p> +‘O heavens! verily in the house of Hades there is soul and ghostly form +but no mind at all!’ +</p> + +<p> +Again of Tiresias:— +</p> + +<p> +‘(To him even after death did Persephone grant mind,) that he alone +should be wise; but the other souls are flitting shades.’ +</p> + +<p> +Again:— +</p> + +<p> +‘The soul flying from the limbs had gone to Hades, lamenting her fate, +leaving manhood and youth.’ +</p> + +<p> +Again:— +</p> + +<p> +‘And the soul, with shrilling cry, passed like smoke beneath the +earth.’ +</p> + +<p> +And,— +</p> + +<p> +‘As bats in hollow of mystic cavern, whenever any of them has dropped out +of the string and falls from the rock, fly shrilling and cling to one another, +so did they with shrilling cry hold together as they moved.’ +</p> + +<p> +And we must beg Homer and the other poets not to be angry if we strike out +these and similar passages, not because they are unpoetical, or unattractive to +the popular ear, but because the greater the poetical charm of them, the less +are they meet for the ears of boys and men who are meant to be free, and who +should fear slavery more than death. +</p> + +<p> +Undoubtedly. +</p> + +<p> +Also we shall have to reject all the terrible and appalling names which +describe the world below—Cocytus and Styx, ghosts under the earth, and +sapless shades, and any similar words of which the very mention causes a +shudder to pass through the inmost soul of him who hears them. I do not say +that these horrible stories may not have a use of some kind; but there is a +danger that the nerves of our guardians may be rendered too excitable and +effeminate by them. +</p> + +<p> +There is a real danger, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then we must have no more of them. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Another and a nobler strain must be composed and sung by us. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +And shall we proceed to get rid of the weepings and wailings of famous men? +</p> + +<p> +They will go with the rest. +</p> + +<p> +But shall we be right in getting rid of them? Reflect: our principle is that +the good man will not consider death terrible to any other good man who is his +comrade. +</p> + +<p> +Yes; that is our principle. +</p> + +<p> +And therefore he will not sorrow for his departed friend as though he had +suffered anything terrible? +</p> + +<p> +He will not. +</p> + +<p> +Such an one, as we further maintain, is sufficient for himself and his own +happiness, and therefore is least in need of other men. +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And for this reason the loss of a son or brother, or the deprivation of +fortune, is to him of all men least terrible. +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly. +</p> + +<p> +And therefore he will be least likely to lament, and will bear with the +greatest equanimity any misfortune of this sort which may befall him. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he will feel such a misfortune far less than another. +</p> + +<p> +Then we shall be right in getting rid of the lamentations of famous men, and +making them over to women (and not even to women who are good for anything), or +to men of a baser sort, that those who are being educated by us to be the +defenders of their country may scorn to do the like. +</p> + +<p> +That will be very right. +</p> + +<p> +Then we will once more entreat Homer and the other poets not to depict +Achilles, who is the son of a goddess, first lying on his side, then on his +back, and then on his face; then starting up and sailing in a frenzy along the +shores of the barren sea; now taking the sooty ashes in both his hands and +pouring them over his head, or weeping and wailing in the various modes which +Homer has delineated. Nor should he describe Priam the kinsman of the gods as +praying and beseeching, +</p> + +<p> +‘Rolling in the dirt, calling each man loudly by his name.’ +</p> + +<p> +Still more earnestly will we beg of him at all events not to introduce the gods +lamenting and saying, +</p> + +<p> +‘Alas! my misery! Alas! that I bore the bravest to my sorrow.’ +</p> + +<p> +But if he must introduce the gods, at any rate let him not dare so completely +to misrepresent the greatest of the gods, as to make him say— +</p> + +<p> +‘O heavens! with my eyes verily I behold a dear friend of mine chased +round and round the city, and my heart is sorrowful.’ +</p> + +<p> +Or again:— +</p> + +<p> +Woe is me that I am fated to have Sarpedon, dearest of men to me, subdued at +the hands of Patroclus the son of Menoetius.’ +</p> + +<p> +For if, my sweet Adeimantus, our youth seriously listen to such unworthy +representations of the gods, instead of laughing at them as they ought, hardly +will any of them deem that he himself, being but a man, can be dishonoured by +similar actions; neither will he rebuke any inclination which may arise in his +mind to say and do the like. And instead of having any shame or self-control, +he will be always whining and lamenting on slight occasions. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that is most true. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I replied; but that surely is what ought not to be, as the argument has +just proved to us; and by that proof we must abide until it is disproved by a +better. +</p> + +<p> +It ought not to be. +</p> + +<p> +Neither ought our guardians to be given to laughter. For a fit of laughter +which has been indulged to excess almost always produces a violent reaction. +</p> + +<p> +So I believe. +</p> + +<p> +Then persons of worth, even if only mortal men, must not be represented as +overcome by laughter, and still less must such a representation of the gods be +allowed. +</p> + +<p> +Still less of the gods, as you say, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then we shall not suffer such an expression to be used about the gods as that +of Homer when he describes how +</p> + +<p> +‘Inextinguishable laughter arose among the blessed gods, when they saw +Hephaestus bustling about the mansion.’ +</p> + +<p> +On your views, we must not admit them. +</p> + +<p> +On my views, if you like to father them on me; that we must not admit them is +certain. +</p> + +<p> +Again, truth should be highly valued; if, as we were saying, a lie is useless +to the gods, and useful only as a medicine to men, then the use of such +medicines should be restricted to physicians; private individuals have no +business with them. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly not, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then if any one at all is to have the privilege of lying, the rulers of the +State should be the persons; and they, in their dealings either with enemies or +with their own citizens, may be allowed to lie for the public good. But nobody +else should meddle with anything of the kind; and although the rulers have this +privilege, for a private man to lie to them in return is to be deemed a more +heinous fault than for the patient or the pupil of a gymnasium not to speak the +truth about his own bodily illnesses to the physician or to the trainer, or for +a sailor not to tell the captain what is happening about the ship and the rest +of the crew, and how things are going with himself or his fellow sailors. +</p> + +<p> +Most true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +If, then, the ruler catches anybody beside himself lying in the State, +</p> + +<p> +‘Any of the craftsmen, whether he be priest or physician or +carpenter,’ +</p> + +<p> +he will punish him for introducing a practice which is equally subversive and +destructive of ship or State. +</p> + +<p> +Most certainly, he said, if our idea of the State is ever carried out. +</p> + +<p> +In the next place our youth must be temperate? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Are not the chief elements of temperance, speaking generally, obedience to +commanders and self-control in sensual pleasures? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Then we shall approve such language as that of Diomede in Homer, +</p> + +<p> +‘Friend, sit still and obey my word,’ +</p> + +<p> +and the verses which follow, +</p> + +<p> +‘The Greeks marched breathing prowess, ...in silent awe of their +leaders,’ +</p> + +<p> +and other sentiments of the same kind. +</p> + +<p> +We shall. +</p> + +<p> +What of this line, +</p> + +<p> +‘O heavy with wine, who hast the eyes of a dog and the heart of a +stag,’ +</p> + +<p> +and of the words which follow? Would you say that these, or any similar +impertinences which private individuals are supposed to address to their +rulers, whether in verse or prose, are well or ill spoken? +</p> + +<p> +They are ill spoken. +</p> + +<p> +They may very possibly afford some amusement, but they do not conduce to +temperance. And therefore they are likely to do harm to our young men—you +would agree with me there? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And then, again, to make the wisest of men say that nothing in his opinion is +more glorious than +</p> + +<p> +‘When the tables are full of bread and meat, and the cup-bearer carries +round wine which he draws from the bowl and pours into the cups,’ +</p> + +<p> +is it fit or conducive to temperance for a young man to hear such words? Or the +verse +</p> + +<p> +‘The saddest of fates is to die and meet destiny from hunger?’ +</p> + +<p> +What would you say again to the tale of Zeus, who, while other gods and men +were asleep and he the only person awake, lay devising plans, but forgot them +all in a moment through his lust, and was so completely overcome at the sight +of Here that he would not even go into the hut, but wanted to lie with her on +the ground, declaring that he had never been in such a state of rapture before, +even when they first met one another +</p> + +<p> +‘Without the knowledge of their parents;’ +</p> + +<p> +or that other tale of how Hephaestus, because of similar goings on, cast a +chain around Ares and Aphrodite? +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, he said, I am strongly of opinion that they ought not to hear that sort +of thing. +</p> + +<p> +But any deeds of endurance which are done or told by famous men, these they +ought to see and hear; as, for example, what is said in the verses, +</p> + +<p> +‘He smote his breast, and thus reproached his heart, Endure, my heart; +far worse hast thou endured!’ +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +In the next place, we must not let them be receivers of gifts or lovers of +money. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Neither must we sing to them of +</p> + +<p> +‘Gifts persuading gods, and persuading reverend kings.’ +</p> + +<p> +Neither is Phoenix, the tutor of Achilles, to be approved or deemed to have +given his pupil good counsel when he told him that he should take the gifts of +the Greeks and assist them; but that without a gift he should not lay aside his +anger. Neither will we believe or acknowledge Achilles himself to have been +such a lover of money that he took Agamemnon’s gifts, or that when he had +received payment he restored the dead body of Hector, but that without payment +he was unwilling to do so. +</p> + +<p> +Undoubtedly, he said, these are not sentiments which can be approved. +</p> + +<p> +Loving Homer as I do, I hardly like to say that in attributing these feelings +to Achilles, or in believing that they are truly attributed to him, he is +guilty of downright impiety. As little can I believe the narrative of his +insolence to Apollo, where he says, +</p> + +<p> +‘Thou hast wronged me, O far-darter, most abominable of deities. Verily I +would be even with thee, if I had only the power;’ +</p> + +<p> +or his insubordination to the river-god, on whose divinity he is ready to lay +hands; or his offering to the dead Patroclus of his own hair, which had been +previously dedicated to the other river-god Spercheius, and that he actually +performed this vow; or that he dragged Hector round the tomb of Patroclus, and +slaughtered the captives at the pyre; of all this I cannot believe that he was +guilty, any more than I can allow our citizens to believe that he, the wise +Cheiron’s pupil, the son of a goddess and of Peleus who was the gentlest +of men and third in descent from Zeus, was so disordered in his wits as to be +at one time the slave of two seemingly inconsistent passions, meanness, not +untainted by avarice, combined with overweening contempt of gods and men. +</p> + +<p> +You are quite right, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And let us equally refuse to believe, or allow to be repeated, the tale of +Theseus son of Poseidon, or of Peirithous son of Zeus, going forth as they did +to perpetrate a horrid rape; or of any other hero or son of a god daring to do +such impious and dreadful things as they falsely ascribe to them in our day: +and let us further compel the poets to declare either that these acts were not +done by them, or that they were not the sons of gods;—both in the same +breath they shall not be permitted to affirm. We will not have them trying to +persuade our youth that the gods are the authors of evil, and that heroes are +no better than men—sentiments which, as we were saying, are neither pious +nor true, for we have already proved that evil cannot come from the gods. +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly not. +</p> + +<p> +And further they are likely to have a bad effect on those who hear them; for +everybody will begin to excuse his own vices when he is convinced that similar +wickednesses are always being perpetrated by— +</p> + +<p> +‘The kindred of the gods, the relatives of Zeus, whose ancestral altar, +the altar of Zeus, is aloft in air on the peak of Ida,’ +</p> + +<p> +and who have +</p> + +<p> +‘the blood of deities yet flowing in their veins.’ +</p> + +<p> +And therefore let us put an end to such tales, lest they engender laxity of +morals among the young. +</p> + +<p> +By all means, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +But now that we are determining what classes of subjects are or are not to be +spoken of, let us see whether any have been omitted by us. The manner in which +gods and demigods and heroes and the world below should be treated has been +already laid down. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And what shall we say about men? That is clearly the remaining portion of our +subject. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly so. +</p> + +<p> +But we are not in a condition to answer this question at present, my friend. +</p> + +<p> +Why not? +</p> + +<p> +Because, if I am not mistaken, we shall have to say that about men poets and +story-tellers are guilty of making the gravest misstatements when they tell us +that wicked men are often happy, and the good miserable; and that injustice is +profitable when undetected, but that justice is a man’s own loss and +another’s gain—these things we shall forbid them to utter, and +command them to sing and say the opposite. +</p> + +<p> +To be sure we shall, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +But if you admit that I am right in this, then I shall maintain that you have +implied the principle for which we have been all along contending. +</p> + +<p> +I grant the truth of your inference. +</p> + +<p> +That such things are or are not to be said about men is a question which we +cannot determine until we have discovered what justice is, and how naturally +advantageous to the possessor, whether he seem to be just or not. +</p> + +<p> +Most true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Enough of the subjects of poetry: let us now speak of the style; and when this +has been considered, both matter and manner will have been completely treated. +</p> + +<p> +I do not understand what you mean, said Adeimantus. +</p> + +<p> +Then I must make you understand; and perhaps I may be more intelligible if I +put the matter in this way. You are aware, I suppose, that all mythology and +poetry is a narration of events, either past, present, or to come? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And narration may be either simple narration, or imitation, or a union of the +two? +</p> + +<p> +That again, he said, I do not quite understand. +</p> + +<p> +I fear that I must be a ridiculous teacher when I have so much difficulty in +making myself apprehended. Like a bad speaker, therefore, I will not take the +whole of the subject, but will break a piece off in illustration of my meaning. +You know the first lines of the Iliad, in which the poet says that Chryses +prayed Agamemnon to release his daughter, and that Agamemnon flew into a +passion with him; whereupon Chryses, failing of his object, invoked the anger +of the God against the Achaeans. Now as far as these lines, +</p> + +<p> +‘And he prayed all the Greeks, but especially the two sons of Atreus, the +chiefs of the people,’ +</p> + +<p> +the poet is speaking in his own person; he never leads us to suppose that he is +any one else. But in what follows he takes the person of Chryses, and then he +does all that he can to make us believe that the speaker is not Homer, but the +aged priest himself. And in this double form he has cast the entire narrative +of the events which occurred at Troy and in Ithaca and throughout the Odyssey. +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And a narrative it remains both in the speeches which the poet recites from +time to time and in the intermediate passages? +</p> + +<p> +Quite true. +</p> + +<p> +But when the poet speaks in the person of another, may we not say that he +assimilates his style to that of the person who, as he informs you, is going to +speak? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And this assimilation of himself to another, either by the use of voice or +gesture, is the imitation of the person whose character he assumes? +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +Then in this case the narrative of the poet may be said to proceed by way of +imitation? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Or, if the poet everywhere appears and never conceals himself, then again the +imitation is dropped, and his poetry becomes simple narration. However, in +order that I may make my meaning quite clear, and that you may no more say, +‘I don’t understand,’ I will show how the change might be +effected. If Homer had said, ‘The priest came, having his +daughter’s ransom in his hands, supplicating the Achaeans, and above all +the kings;’ and then if, instead of speaking in the person of Chryses, he +had continued in his own person, the words would have been, not imitation, but +simple narration. The passage would have run as follows (I am no poet, and +therefore I drop the metre), ‘The priest came and prayed the gods on +behalf of the Greeks that they might capture Troy and return safely home, but +begged that they would give him back his daughter, and take the ransom which he +brought, and respect the God. Thus he spoke, and the other Greeks revered the +priest and assented. But Agamemnon was wroth, and bade him depart and not come +again, lest the staff and chaplets of the God should be of no avail to +him—the daughter of Chryses should not be released, he said—she +should grow old with him in Argos. And then he told him to go away and not to +provoke him, if he intended to get home unscathed. And the old man went away in +fear and silence, and, when he had left the camp, he called upon Apollo by his +many names, reminding him of everything which he had done pleasing to him, +whether in building his temples, or in offering sacrifice, and praying that his +good deeds might be returned to him, and that the Achaeans might expiate his +tears by the arrows of the god,’—and so on. In this way the whole +becomes simple narrative. +</p> + +<p> +I understand, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Or you may suppose the opposite case—that the intermediate passages are +omitted, and the dialogue only left. +</p> + +<p> +That also, he said, I understand; you mean, for example, as in tragedy. +</p> + +<p> +You have conceived my meaning perfectly; and if I mistake not, what you failed +to apprehend before is now made clear to you, that poetry and mythology are, in +some cases, wholly imitative—instances of this are supplied by tragedy +and comedy; there is likewise the opposite style, in which the poet is the only +speaker—of this the dithyramb affords the best example; and the +combination of both is found in epic, and in several other styles of poetry. Do +I take you with me? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; I see now what you meant. +</p> + +<p> +I will ask you to remember also what I began by saying, that we had done with +the subject and might proceed to the style. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I remember. +</p> + +<p> +In saying this, I intended to imply that we must come to an understanding about +the mimetic art,—whether the poets, in narrating their stories, are to be +allowed by us to imitate, and if so, whether in whole or in part, and if the +latter, in what parts; or should all imitation be prohibited? +</p> + +<p> +You mean, I suspect, to ask whether tragedy and comedy shall be admitted into +our State? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; but there may be more than this in question: I really do not know +as yet, but whither the argument may blow, thither we go. +</p> + +<p> +And go we will, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then, Adeimantus, let me ask you whether our guardians ought to be imitators; +or rather, has not this question been decided by the rule already laid down +that one man can only do one thing well, and not many; and that if he attempt +many, he will altogether fail of gaining much reputation in any? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And this is equally true of imitation; no one man can imitate many things as +well as he would imitate a single one? +</p> + +<p> +He cannot. +</p> + +<p> +Then the same person will hardly be able to play a serious part in life, and at +the same time to be an imitator and imitate many other parts as well; for even +when two species of imitation are nearly allied, the same persons cannot +succeed in both, as, for example, the writers of tragedy and comedy—did +you not just now call them imitations? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I did; and you are right in thinking that the same persons cannot succeed +in both. +</p> + +<p> +Any more than they can be rhapsodists and actors at once? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Neither are comic and tragic actors the same; yet all these things are but +imitations. +</p> + +<p> +They are so. +</p> + +<p> +And human nature, Adeimantus, appears to have been coined into yet smaller +pieces, and to be as incapable of imitating many things well, as of performing +well the actions of which the imitations are copies. +</p> + +<p> +Quite true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +If then we adhere to our original notion and bear in mind that our guardians, +setting aside every other business, are to dedicate themselves wholly to the +maintenance of freedom in the State, making this their craft, and engaging in +no work which does not bear on this end, they ought not to practise or imitate +anything else; if they imitate at all, they should imitate from youth upward +only those characters which are suitable to their profession—the +courageous, temperate, holy, free, and the like; but they should not depict or +be skilful at imitating any kind of illiberality or baseness, lest from +imitation they should come to be what they imitate. Did you never observe how +imitations, beginning in early youth and continuing far into life, at length +grow into habits and become a second nature, affecting body, voice, and mind? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, certainly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I said, we will not allow those for whom we profess a care and of whom we +say that they ought to be good men, to imitate a woman, whether young or old, +quarrelling with her husband, or striving and vaunting against the gods in +conceit of her happiness, or when she is in affliction, or sorrow, or weeping; +and certainly not one who is in sickness, love, or labour. +</p> + +<p> +Very right, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Neither must they represent slaves, male or female, performing the offices of +slaves? +</p> + +<p> +They must not. +</p> + +<p> +And surely not bad men, whether cowards or any others, who do the reverse of +what we have just been prescribing, who scold or mock or revile one another in +drink or out of drink, or who in any other manner sin against themselves and +their neighbours in word or deed, as the manner of such is. Neither should they +be trained to imitate the action or speech of men or women who are mad or bad; +for madness, like vice, is to be known but not to be practised or imitated. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Neither may they imitate smiths or other artificers, or oarsmen, or boatswains, +or the like? +</p> + +<p> +How can they, he said, when they are not allowed to apply their minds to the +callings of any of these? +</p> + +<p> +Nor may they imitate the neighing of horses, the bellowing of bulls, the murmur +of rivers and roll of the ocean, thunder, and all that sort of thing? +</p> + +<p> +Nay, he said, if madness be forbidden, neither may they copy the behaviour of +madmen. +</p> + +<p> +You mean, I said, if I understand you aright, that there is one sort of +narrative style which may be employed by a truly good man when he has anything +to say, and that another sort will be used by a man of an opposite character +and education. +</p> + +<p> +And which are these two sorts? he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Suppose, I answered, that a just and good man in the course of a narration +comes on some saying or action of another good man,—I should imagine that +he will like to personate him, and will not be ashamed of this sort of +imitation: he will be most ready to play the part of the good man when he is +acting firmly and wisely; in a less degree when he is overtaken by illness or +love or drink, or has met with any other disaster. But when he comes to a +character which is unworthy of him, he will not make a study of that; he will +disdain such a person, and will assume his likeness, if at all, for a moment +only when he is performing some good action; at other times he will be ashamed +to play a part which he has never practised, nor will he like to fashion and +frame himself after the baser models; he feels the employment of such an art, +unless in jest, to be beneath him, and his mind revolts at it. +</p> + +<p> +So I should expect, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then he will adopt a mode of narration such as we have illustrated out of +Homer, that is to say, his style will be both imitative and narrative; but +there will be very little of the former, and a great deal of the latter. Do you +agree? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said; that is the model which such a speaker must necessarily +take. +</p> + +<p> +But there is another sort of character who will narrate anything, and, the +worse he is, the more unscrupulous he will be; nothing will be too bad for him: +and he will be ready to imitate anything, not as a joke, but in right good +earnest, and before a large company. As I was just now saying, he will attempt +to represent the roll of thunder, the noise of wind and hail, or the creaking +of wheels, and pulleys, and the various sounds of flutes, pipes, trumpets, and +all sorts of instruments: he will bark like a dog, bleat like a sheep, or crow +like a cock; his entire art will consist in imitation of voice and gesture, and +there will be very little narration. +</p> + +<p> +That, he said, will be his mode of speaking. +</p> + +<p> +These, then, are the two kinds of style? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And you would agree with me in saying that one of them is simple and has but +slight changes; and if the harmony and rhythm are also chosen for their +simplicity, the result is that the speaker, if he speaks correctly, is always +pretty much the same in style, and he will keep within the limits of a single +harmony (for the changes are not great), and in like manner he will make use of +nearly the same rhythm? +</p> + +<p> +That is quite true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Whereas the other requires all sorts of harmonies and all sorts of rhythms, if +the music and the style are to correspond, because the style has all sorts of +changes. +</p> + +<p> +That is also perfectly true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And do not the two styles, or the mixture of the two, comprehend all poetry, +and every form of expression in words? No one can say anything except in one or +other of them or in both together. +</p> + +<p> +They include all, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And shall we receive into our State all the three styles, or one only of the +two unmixed styles? or would you include the mixed? +</p> + +<p> +I should prefer only to admit the pure imitator of virtue. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, Adeimantus, but the mixed style is also very charming: and indeed +the pantomimic, which is the opposite of the one chosen by you, is the most +popular style with children and their attendants, and with the world in +general. +</p> + +<p> +I do not deny it. +</p> + +<p> +But I suppose you would argue that such a style is unsuitable to our State, in +which human nature is not twofold or manifold, for one man plays one part only? +</p> + +<p> +Yes; quite unsuitable. +</p> + +<p> +And this is the reason why in our State, and in our State only, we shall find a +shoemaker to be a shoemaker and not a pilot also, and a husbandman to be a +husbandman and not a dicast also, and a soldier a soldier and not a trader +also, and the same throughout? +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And therefore when any one of these pantomimic gentlemen, who are so clever +that they can imitate anything, comes to us, and makes a proposal to exhibit +himself and his poetry, we will fall down and worship him as a sweet and holy +and wonderful being; but we must also inform him that in our State such as he +are not permitted to exist; the law will not allow them. And so when we have +anointed him with myrrh, and set a garland of wool upon his head, we shall send +him away to another city. For we mean to employ for our souls’ health the +rougher and severer poet or story-teller, who will imitate the style of the +virtuous only, and will follow those models which we prescribed at first when +we began the education of our soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +We certainly will, he said, if we have the power. +</p> + +<p> +Then now, my friend, I said, that part of music or literary education which +relates to the story or myth may be considered to be finished; for the matter +and manner have both been discussed. +</p> + +<p> +I think so too, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Next in order will follow melody and song. +</p> + +<p> +That is obvious. +</p> + +<p> +Every one can see already what we ought to say about them, if we are to be +consistent with ourselves. +</p> + +<p> +I fear, said Glaucon, laughing, that the word ‘every one’ hardly +includes me, for I cannot at the moment say what they should be; though I may +guess. +</p> + +<p> +At any rate you can tell that a song or ode has three parts—the words, +the melody, and the rhythm; that degree of knowledge I may presuppose? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; so much as that you may. +</p> + +<p> +And as for the words, there will surely be no difference between words which +are and which are not set to music; both will conform to the same laws, and +these have been already determined by us? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the melody and rhythm will depend upon the words? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +We were saying, when we spoke of the subject-matter, that we had no need of +lamentation and strains of sorrow? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And which are the harmonies expressive of sorrow? You are musical, and can tell +me. +</p> + +<p> +The harmonies which you mean are the mixed or tenor Lydian, and the full-toned +or bass Lydian, and such like. +</p> + +<p> +These then, I said, must be banished; even to women who have a character to +maintain they are of no use, and much less to men. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +In the next place, drunkenness and softness and indolence are utterly +unbecoming the character of our guardians. +</p> + +<p> +Utterly unbecoming. +</p> + +<p> +And which are the soft or drinking harmonies? +</p> + +<p> +The Ionian, he replied, and the Lydian; they are termed ‘relaxed.’ +</p> + +<p> +Well, and are these of any military use? +</p> + +<p> +Quite the reverse, he replied; and if so the Dorian and the Phrygian are the +only ones which you have left. +</p> + +<p> +I answered: Of the harmonies I know nothing, but I want to have one warlike, to +sound the note or accent which a brave man utters in the hour of danger and +stern resolve, or when his cause is failing, and he is going to wounds or death +or is overtaken by some other evil, and at every such crisis meets the blows of +fortune with firm step and a determination to endure; and another to be used by +him in times of peace and freedom of action, when there is no pressure of +necessity, and he is seeking to persuade God by prayer, or man by instruction +and admonition, or on the other hand, when he is expressing his willingness to +yield to persuasion or entreaty or admonition, and which represents him when by +prudent conduct he has attained his end, not carried away by his success, but +acting moderately and wisely under the circumstances, and acquiescing in the +event. These two harmonies I ask you to leave; the strain of necessity and the +strain of freedom, the strain of the unfortunate and the strain of the +fortunate, the strain of courage, and the strain of temperance; these, I say, +leave. +</p> + +<p> +And these, he replied, are the Dorian and Phrygian harmonies of which I was +just now speaking. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I said, if these and these only are to be used in our songs and melodies, +we shall not want multiplicity of notes or a panharmonic scale? +</p> + +<p> +I suppose not. +</p> + +<p> +Then we shall not maintain the artificers of lyres with three corners and +complex scales, or the makers of any other many-stringed curiously-harmonised +instruments? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +But what do you say to flute-makers and flute-players? Would you admit them +into our State when you reflect that in this composite use of harmony the flute +is worse than all the stringed instruments put together; even the panharmonic +music is only an imitation of the flute? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly not. +</p> + +<p> +There remain then only the lyre and the harp for use in the city, and the +shepherds may have a pipe in the country. +</p> + +<p> +That is surely the conclusion to be drawn from the argument. +</p> + +<p> +The preferring of Apollo and his instruments to Marsyas and his instruments is +not at all strange, I said. +</p> + +<p> +Not at all, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And so, by the dog of Egypt, we have been unconsciously purging the State, +which not long ago we termed luxurious. +</p> + +<p> +And we have done wisely, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then let us now finish the purgation, I said. Next in order to harmonies, +rhythms will naturally follow, and they should be subject to the same rules, +for we ought not to seek out complex systems of metre, or metres of every kind, +but rather to discover what rhythms are the expressions of a courageous and +harmonious life; and when we have found them, we shall adapt the foot and the +melody to words having a like spirit, not the words to the foot and melody. To +say what these rhythms are will be your duty—you must teach me them, as +you have already taught me the harmonies. +</p> + +<p> +But, indeed, he replied, I cannot tell you. I only know that there are some +three principles of rhythm out of which metrical systems are framed, just as in +sounds there are four notes (i.e. the four notes of the tetrachord.) out of +which all the harmonies are composed; that is an observation which I have made. +But of what sort of lives they are severally the imitations I am unable to say. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I said, we must take Damon into our counsels; and he will tell us what +rhythms are expressive of meanness, or insolence, or fury, or other +unworthiness, and what are to be reserved for the expression of opposite +feelings. And I think that I have an indistinct recollection of his mentioning +a complex Cretic rhythm; also a dactylic or heroic, and he arranged them in +some manner which I do not quite understand, making the rhythms equal in the +rise and fall of the foot, long and short alternating; and, unless I am +mistaken, he spoke of an iambic as well as of a trochaic rhythm, and assigned +to them short and long quantities. Also in some cases he appeared to praise or +censure the movement of the foot quite as much as the rhythm; or perhaps a +combination of the two; for I am not certain what he meant. These matters, +however, as I was saying, had better be referred to Damon himself, for the +analysis of the subject would be difficult, you know? (Socrates expresses +himself carelessly in accordance with his assumed ignorance of the details of +the subject. In the first part of the sentence he appears to be speaking of +paeonic rhythms which are in the ratio of 3/2; in the second part, of dactylic +and anapaestic rhythms, which are in the ratio of 1/1; in the last clause, of +iambic and trochaic rhythms, which are in the ratio of 1/2 or 2/1.) +</p> + +<p> +Rather so, I should say. +</p> + +<p> +But there is no difficulty in seeing that grace or the absence of grace is an +effect of good or bad rhythm. +</p> + +<p> +None at all. +</p> + +<p> +And also that good and bad rhythm naturally assimilate to a good and bad style; +and that harmony and discord in like manner follow style; for our principle is +that rhythm and harmony are regulated by the words, and not the words by them. +</p> + +<p> +Just so, he said, they should follow the words. +</p> + +<p> +And will not the words and the character of the style depend on the temper of +the soul? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And everything else on the style? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then beauty of style and harmony and grace and good rhythm depend on +simplicity,—I mean the true simplicity of a rightly and nobly ordered +mind and character, not that other simplicity which is only an euphemism for +folly? +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And if our youth are to do their work in life, must they not make these graces +and harmonies their perpetual aim? +</p> + +<p> +They must. +</p> + +<p> +And surely the art of the painter and every other creative and constructive art +are full of them,—weaving, embroidery, architecture, and every kind of +manufacture; also nature, animal and vegetable,—in all of them there is +grace or the absence of grace. And ugliness and discord and inharmonious motion +are nearly allied to ill words and ill nature, as grace and harmony are the +twin sisters of goodness and virtue and bear their likeness. +</p> + +<p> +That is quite true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But shall our superintendence go no further, and are the poets only to be +required by us to express the image of the good in their works, on pain, if +they do anything else, of expulsion from our State? Or is the same control to +be extended to other artists, and are they also to be prohibited from +exhibiting the opposite forms of vice and intemperance and meanness and +indecency in sculpture and building and the other creative arts; and is he who +cannot conform to this rule of ours to be prevented from practising his art in +our State, lest the taste of our citizens be corrupted by him? We would not +have our guardians grow up amid images of moral deformity, as in some noxious +pasture, and there browse and feed upon many a baneful herb and flower day by +day, little by little, until they silently gather a festering mass of +corruption in their own soul. Let our artists rather be those who are gifted to +discern the true nature of the beautiful and graceful; then will our youth +dwell in a land of health, amid fair sights and sounds, and receive the good in +everything; and beauty, the effluence of fair works, shall flow into the eye +and ear, like a health-giving breeze from a purer region, and insensibly draw +the soul from earliest years into likeness and sympathy with the beauty of +reason. +</p> + +<p> +There can be no nobler training than that, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And therefore, I said, Glaucon, musical training is a more potent instrument +than any other, because rhythm and harmony find their way into the inward +places of the soul, on which they mightily fasten, imparting grace, and making +the soul of him who is rightly educated graceful, or of him who is ill-educated +ungraceful; and also because he who has received this true education of the +inner being will most shrewdly perceive omissions or faults in art and nature, +and with a true taste, while he praises and rejoices over and receives into his +soul the good, and becomes noble and good, he will justly blame and hate the +bad, now in the days of his youth, even before he is able to know the reason +why; and when reason comes he will recognise and salute the friend with whom +his education has made him long familiar. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, I quite agree with you in thinking that our youth should be +trained in music and on the grounds which you mention. +</p> + +<p> +Just as in learning to read, I said, we were satisfied when we knew the letters +of the alphabet, which are very few, in all their recurring sizes and +combinations; not slighting them as unimportant whether they occupy a space +large or small, but everywhere eager to make them out; and not thinking +ourselves perfect in the art of reading until we recognise them wherever they +are found: +</p> + +<p> +True— +</p> + +<p> +Or, as we recognise the reflection of letters in the water, or in a mirror, +only when we know the letters themselves; the same art and study giving us the +knowledge of both: +</p> + +<p> +Exactly— +</p> + +<p> +Even so, as I maintain, neither we nor our guardians, whom we have to educate, +can ever become musical until we and they know the essential forms of +temperance, courage, liberality, magnificence, and their kindred, as well as +the contrary forms, in all their combinations, and can recognise them and their +images wherever they are found, not slighting them either in small things or +great, but believing them all to be within the sphere of one art and study. +</p> + +<p> +Most assuredly. +</p> + +<p> +And when a beautiful soul harmonizes with a beautiful form, and the two are +cast in one mould, that will be the fairest of sights to him who has an eye to +see it? +</p> + +<p> +The fairest indeed. +</p> + +<p> +And the fairest is also the loveliest? +</p> + +<p> +That may be assumed. +</p> + +<p> +And the man who has the spirit of harmony will be most in love with the +loveliest; but he will not love him who is of an inharmonious soul? +</p> + +<p> +That is true, he replied, if the deficiency be in his soul; but if there be any +merely bodily defect in another he will be patient of it, and will love all the +same. +</p> + +<p> +I perceive, I said, that you have or have had experiences of this sort, and I +agree. But let me ask you another question: Has excess of pleasure any affinity +to temperance? +</p> + +<p> +How can that be? he replied; pleasure deprives a man of the use of his +faculties quite as much as pain. +</p> + +<p> +Or any affinity to virtue in general? +</p> + +<p> +None whatever. +</p> + +<p> +Any affinity to wantonness and intemperance? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, the greatest. +</p> + +<p> +And is there any greater or keener pleasure than that of sensual love? +</p> + +<p> +No, nor a madder. +</p> + +<p> +Whereas true love is a love of beauty and order—temperate and harmonious? +</p> + +<p> +Quite true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then no intemperance or madness should be allowed to approach true love? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Then mad or intemperate pleasure must never be allowed to come near the lover +and his beloved; neither of them can have any part in it if their love is of +the right sort? +</p> + +<p> +No, indeed, Socrates, it must never come near them. +</p> + +<p> +Then I suppose that in the city which we are founding you would make a law to +the effect that a friend should use no other familiarity to his love than a +father would use to his son, and then only for a noble purpose, and he must +first have the other’s consent; and this rule is to limit him in all his +intercourse, and he is never to be seen going further, or, if he exceeds, he is +to be deemed guilty of coarseness and bad taste. +</p> + +<p> +I quite agree, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Thus much of music, which makes a fair ending; for what should be the end of +music if not the love of beauty? +</p> + +<p> +I agree, he said. +</p> + +<p> +After music comes gymnastic, in which our youth are next to be trained. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Gymnastic as well as music should begin in early years; the training in it +should be careful and should continue through life. Now my belief is,—and +this is a matter upon which I should like to have your opinion in confirmation +of my own, but my own belief is,—not that the good body by any bodily +excellence improves the soul, but, on the contrary, that the good soul, by her +own excellence, improves the body as far as this may be possible. What do you +say? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I agree. +</p> + +<p> +Then, to the mind when adequately trained, we shall be right in handing over +the more particular care of the body; and in order to avoid prolixity we will +now only give the general outlines of the subject. +</p> + +<p> +Very good. +</p> + +<p> +That they must abstain from intoxication has been already remarked by us; for +of all persons a guardian should be the last to get drunk and not know where in +the world he is. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; that a guardian should require another guardian to take care of +him is ridiculous indeed. +</p> + +<p> +But next, what shall we say of their food; for the men are in training for the +great contest of all—are they not? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And will the habit of body of our ordinary athletes be suited to them? +</p> + +<p> +Why not? +</p> + +<p> +I am afraid, I said, that a habit of body such as they have is but a sleepy +sort of thing, and rather perilous to health. Do you not observe that these +athletes sleep away their lives, and are liable to most dangerous illnesses if +they depart, in ever so slight a degree, from their customary regimen? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I do. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I said, a finer sort of training will be required for our warrior +athletes, who are to be like wakeful dogs, and to see and hear with the utmost +keenness; amid the many changes of water and also of food, of summer heat and +winter cold, which they will have to endure when on a campaign, they must not +be liable to break down in health. +</p> + +<p> +That is my view. +</p> + +<p> +The really excellent gymnastic is twin sister of that simple music which we +were just now describing. +</p> + +<p> +How so? +</p> + +<p> +Why, I conceive that there is a gymnastic which, like our music, is simple and +good; and especially the military gymnastic. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +My meaning may be learned from Homer; he, you know, feeds his heroes at their +feasts, when they are campaigning, on soldiers’ fare; they have no fish, +although they are on the shores of the Hellespont, and they are not allowed +boiled meats but only roast, which is the food most convenient for soldiers, +requiring only that they should light a fire, and not involving the trouble of +carrying about pots and pans. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And I can hardly be mistaken in saying that sweet sauces are nowhere mentioned +in Homer. In proscribing them, however, he is not singular; all professional +athletes are well aware that a man who is to be in good condition should take +nothing of the kind. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; and knowing this, they are quite right in not taking them. +</p> + +<p> +Then you would not approve of Syracusan dinners, and the refinements of +Sicilian cookery? +</p> + +<p> +I think not. +</p> + +<p> +Nor, if a man is to be in condition, would you allow him to have a Corinthian +girl as his fair friend? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Neither would you approve of the delicacies, as they are thought, of Athenian +confectionary? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +All such feeding and living may be rightly compared by us to melody and song +composed in the panharmonic style, and in all the rhythms. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +There complexity engendered licence, and here disease; whereas simplicity in +music was the parent of temperance in the soul; and simplicity in gymnastic of +health in the body. +</p> + +<p> +Most true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But when intemperance and diseases multiply in a State, halls of justice and +medicine are always being opened; and the arts of the doctor and the lawyer +give themselves airs, finding how keen is the interest which not only the +slaves but the freemen of a city take about them. +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +And yet what greater proof can there be of a bad and disgraceful state of +education than this, that not only artisans and the meaner sort of people need +the skill of first-rate physicians and judges, but also those who would profess +to have had a liberal education? Is it not disgraceful, and a great sign of +want of good-breeding, that a man should have to go abroad for his law and +physic because he has none of his own at home, and must therefore surrender +himself into the hands of other men whom he makes lords and judges over him? +</p> + +<p> +Of all things, he said, the most disgraceful. +</p> + +<p> +Would you say ‘most,’ I replied, when you consider that there is a +further stage of the evil in which a man is not only a life-long litigant, +passing all his days in the courts, either as plaintiff or defendant, but is +actually led by his bad taste to pride himself on his litigiousness; he +imagines that he is a master in dishonesty; able to take every crooked turn, +and wriggle into and out of every hole, bending like a withy and getting out of +the way of justice: and all for what?—in order to gain small points not +worth mentioning, he not knowing that so to order his life as to be able to do +without a napping judge is a far higher and nobler sort of thing. Is not that +still more disgraceful? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that is still more disgraceful. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, and to require the help of medicine, not when a wound has to be +cured, or on occasion of an epidemic, but just because, by indolence and a +habit of life such as we have been describing, men fill themselves with waters +and winds, as if their bodies were a marsh, compelling the ingenious sons of +Asclepius to find more names for diseases, such as flatulence and catarrh; is +not this, too, a disgrace? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, they do certainly give very strange and newfangled names to +diseases. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, and I do not believe that there were any such diseases in the days +of Asclepius; and this I infer from the circumstance that the hero Eurypylus, +after he has been wounded in Homer, drinks a posset of Pramnian wine well +besprinkled with barley-meal and grated cheese, which are certainly +inflammatory, and yet the sons of Asclepius who were at the Trojan war do not +blame the damsel who gives him the drink, or rebuke Patroclus, who is treating +his case. +</p> + +<p> +Well, he said, that was surely an extraordinary drink to be given to a person +in his condition. +</p> + +<p> +Not so extraordinary, I replied, if you bear in mind that in former days, as is +commonly said, before the time of Herodicus, the guild of Asclepius did not +practise our present system of medicine, which may be said to educate diseases. +But Herodicus, being a trainer, and himself of a sickly constitution, by a +combination of training and doctoring found out a way of torturing first and +chiefly himself, and secondly the rest of the world. +</p> + +<p> +How was that? he said. +</p> + +<p> +By the invention of lingering death; for he had a mortal disease which he +perpetually tended, and as recovery was out of the question, he passed his +entire life as a valetudinarian; he could do nothing but attend upon himself, +and he was in constant torment whenever he departed in anything from his usual +regimen, and so dying hard, by the help of science he struggled on to old age. +</p> + +<p> +A rare reward of his skill! +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; a reward which a man might fairly expect who never understood +that, if Asclepius did not instruct his descendants in valetudinarian arts, the +omission arose, not from ignorance or inexperience of such a branch of +medicine, but because he knew that in all well-ordered states every individual +has an occupation to which he must attend, and has therefore no leisure to +spend in continually being ill. This we remark in the case of the artisan, but, +ludicrously enough, do not apply the same rule to people of the richer sort. +</p> + +<p> +How do you mean? he said. +</p> + +<p> +I mean this: When a carpenter is ill he asks the physician for a rough and +ready cure; an emetic or a purge or a cautery or the knife,—these are his +remedies. And if some one prescribes for him a course of dietetics, and tells +him that he must swathe and swaddle his head, and all that sort of thing, he +replies at once that he has no time to be ill, and that he sees no good in a +life which is spent in nursing his disease to the neglect of his customary +employment; and therefore bidding good-bye to this sort of physician, he +resumes his ordinary habits, and either gets well and lives and does his +business, or, if his constitution fails, he dies and has no more trouble. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, and a man in his condition of life ought to use the art of +medicine thus far only. +</p> + +<p> +Has he not, I said, an occupation; and what profit would there be in his life +if he were deprived of his occupation? +</p> + +<p> +Quite true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But with the rich man this is otherwise; of him we do not say that he has any +specially appointed work which he must perform, if he would live. +</p> + +<p> +He is generally supposed to have nothing to do. +</p> + +<p> +Then you never heard of the saying of Phocylides, that as soon as a man has a +livelihood he should practise virtue? +</p> + +<p> +Nay, he said, I think that he had better begin somewhat sooner. +</p> + +<p> +Let us not have a dispute with him about this, I said; but rather ask +ourselves: Is the practice of virtue obligatory on the rich man, or can he live +without it? And if obligatory on him, then let us raise a further question, +whether this dieting of disorders, which is an impediment to the application of +the mind in carpentering and the mechanical arts, does not equally stand in the +way of the sentiment of Phocylides? +</p> + +<p> +Of that, he replied, there can be no doubt; such excessive care of the body, +when carried beyond the rules of gymnastic, is most inimical to the practice of +virtue. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, indeed, I replied, and equally incompatible with the management of a +house, an army, or an office of state; and, what is most important of all, +irreconcileable with any kind of study or thought or +self-reflection—there is a constant suspicion that headache and giddiness +are to be ascribed to philosophy, and hence all practising or making trial of +virtue in the higher sense is absolutely stopped; for a man is always fancying +that he is being made ill, and is in constant anxiety about the state of his +body. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, likely enough. +</p> + +<p> +And therefore our politic Asclepius may be supposed to have exhibited the power +of his art only to persons who, being generally of healthy constitution and +habits of life, had a definite ailment; such as these he cured by purges and +operations, and bade them live as usual, herein consulting the interests of the +State; but bodies which disease had penetrated through and through he would not +have attempted to cure by gradual processes of evacuation and infusion: he did +not want to lengthen out good-for-nothing lives, or to have weak fathers +begetting weaker sons;—if a man was not able to live in the ordinary way +he had no business to cure him; for such a cure would have been of no use +either to himself, or to the State. +</p> + +<p> +Then, he said, you regard Asclepius as a statesman. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly; and his character is further illustrated by his sons. Note that they +were heroes in the days of old and practised the medicines of which I am +speaking at the siege of Troy: You will remember how, when Pandarus wounded +Menelaus, they +</p> + +<p> +‘Sucked the blood out of the wound, and sprinkled soothing +remedies,’ +</p> + +<p> +but they never prescribed what the patient was afterwards to eat or drink in +the case of Menelaus, any more than in the case of Eurypylus; the remedies, as +they conceived, were enough to heal any man who before he was wounded was +healthy and regular in his habits; and even though he did happen to drink a +posset of Pramnian wine, he might get well all the same. But they would have +nothing to do with unhealthy and intemperate subjects, whose lives were of no +use either to themselves or others; the art of medicine was not designed for +their good, and though they were as rich as Midas, the sons of Asclepius would +have declined to attend them. +</p> + +<p> +They were very acute persons, those sons of Asclepius. +</p> + +<p> +Naturally so, I replied. Nevertheless, the tragedians and Pindar disobeying our +behests, although they acknowledge that Asclepius was the son of Apollo, say +also that he was bribed into healing a rich man who was at the point of death, +and for this reason he was struck by lightning. But we, in accordance with the +principle already affirmed by us, will not believe them when they tell us +both;—if he was the son of a god, we maintain that he was not avaricious; +or, if he was avaricious, he was not the son of a god. +</p> + +<p> +All that, Socrates, is excellent; but I should like to put a question to you: +Ought there not to be good physicians in a State, and are not the best those +who have treated the greatest number of constitutions good and bad? and are not +the best judges in like manner those who are acquainted with all sorts of moral +natures? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, I too would have good judges and good physicians. But do you know +whom I think good? +</p> + +<p> +Will you tell me? +</p> + +<p> +I will, if I can. Let me however note that in the same question you join two +things which are not the same. +</p> + +<p> +How so? he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Why, I said, you join physicians and judges. Now the most skilful physicians +are those who, from their youth upwards, have combined with the knowledge of +their art the greatest experience of disease; they had better not be robust in +health, and should have had all manner of diseases in their own persons. For +the body, as I conceive, is not the instrument with which they cure the body; +in that case we could not allow them ever to be or to have been sickly; but +they cure the body with the mind, and the mind which has become and is sick can +cure nothing. +</p> + +<p> +That is very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But with the judge it is otherwise; since he governs mind by mind; he ought not +therefore to have been trained among vicious minds, and to have associated with +them from youth upwards, and to have gone through the whole calendar of crime, +only in order that he may quickly infer the crimes of others as he might their +bodily diseases from his own self-consciousness; the honourable mind which is +to form a healthy judgment should have had no experience or contamination of +evil habits when young. And this is the reason why in youth good men often +appear to be simple, and are easily practised upon by the dishonest, because +they have no examples of what evil is in their own souls. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, they are far too apt to be deceived. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, I said, the judge should not be young; he should have learned to +know evil, not from his own soul, but from late and long observation of the +nature of evil in others: knowledge should be his guide, not personal +experience. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that is the ideal of a judge. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I replied, and he will be a good man (which is my answer to your +question); for he is good who has a good soul. But the cunning and suspicious +nature of which we spoke,—he who has committed many crimes, and fancies +himself to be a master in wickedness, when he is amongst his fellows, is +wonderful in the precautions which he takes, because he judges of them by +himself: but when he gets into the company of men of virtue, who have the +experience of age, he appears to be a fool again, owing to his unseasonable +suspicions; he cannot recognise an honest man, because he has no pattern of +honesty in himself; at the same time, as the bad are more numerous than the +good, and he meets with them oftener, he thinks himself, and is by others +thought to be, rather wise than foolish. +</p> + +<p> +Most true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then the good and wise judge whom we are seeking is not this man, but the +other; for vice cannot know virtue too, but a virtuous nature, educated by +time, will acquire a knowledge both of virtue and vice: the virtuous, and not +the vicious, man has wisdom—in my opinion. +</p> + +<p> +And in mine also. +</p> + +<p> +This is the sort of medicine, and this is the sort of law, which you will +sanction in your state. They will minister to better natures, giving health +both of soul and of body; but those who are diseased in their bodies they will +leave to die, and the corrupt and incurable souls they will put an end to +themselves. +</p> + +<p> +That is clearly the best thing both for the patients and for the State. +</p> + +<p> +And thus our youth, having been educated only in that simple music which, as we +said, inspires temperance, will be reluctant to go to law. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +And the musician, who, keeping to the same track, is content to practise the +simple gymnastic, will have nothing to do with medicine unless in some extreme +case. +</p> + +<p> +That I quite believe. +</p> + +<p> +The very exercises and tolls which he undergoes are intended to stimulate the +spirited element of his nature, and not to increase his strength; he will not, +like common athletes, use exercise and regimen to develope his muscles. +</p> + +<p> +Very right, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Neither are the two arts of music and gymnastic really designed, as is often +supposed, the one for the training of the soul, the other for the training of +the body. +</p> + +<p> +What then is the real object of them? +</p> + +<p> +I believe, I said, that the teachers of both have in view chiefly the +improvement of the soul. +</p> + +<p> +How can that be? he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Did you never observe, I said, the effect on the mind itself of exclusive +devotion to gymnastic, or the opposite effect of an exclusive devotion to +music? +</p> + +<p> +In what way shown? he said. +</p> + +<p> +The one producing a temper of hardness and ferocity, the other of softness and +effeminacy, I replied. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, I am quite aware that the mere athlete becomes too much of a +savage, and that the mere musician is melted and softened beyond what is good +for him. +</p> + +<p> +Yet surely, I said, this ferocity only comes from spirit, which, if rightly +educated, would give courage, but, if too much intensified, is liable to become +hard and brutal. +</p> + +<p> +That I quite think. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand the philosopher will have the quality of gentleness. And this +also, when too much indulged, will turn to softness, but, if educated rightly, +will be gentle and moderate. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And in our opinion the guardians ought to have both these qualities? +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly. +</p> + +<p> +And both should be in harmony? +</p> + +<p> +Beyond question. +</p> + +<p> +And the harmonious soul is both temperate and courageous? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the inharmonious is cowardly and boorish? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And, when a man allows music to play upon him and to pour into his soul through +the funnel of his ears those sweet and soft and melancholy airs of which we +were just now speaking, and his whole life is passed in warbling and the +delights of song; in the first stage of the process the passion or spirit which +is in him is tempered like iron, and made useful, instead of brittle and +useless. But, if he carries on the softening and soothing process, in the next +stage he begins to melt and waste, until he has wasted away his spirit and cut +out the sinews of his soul; and he becomes a feeble warrior. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +If the element of spirit is naturally weak in him the change is speedily +accomplished, but if he have a good deal, then the power of music weakening the +spirit renders him excitable;—on the least provocation he flames up at +once, and is speedily extinguished; instead of having spirit he grows irritable +and passionate and is quite impracticable. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +And so in gymnastics, if a man takes violent exercise and is a great feeder, +and the reverse of a great student of music and philosophy, at first the high +condition of his body fills him with pride and spirit, and he becomes twice the +man that he was. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And what happens? if he do nothing else, and holds no converse with the Muses, +does not even that intelligence which there may be in him, having no taste of +any sort of learning or enquiry or thought or culture, grow feeble and dull and +blind, his mind never waking up or receiving nourishment, and his senses not +being purged of their mists? +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And he ends by becoming a hater of philosophy, uncivilized, never using the +weapon of persuasion,—he is like a wild beast, all violence and +fierceness, and knows no other way of dealing; and he lives in all ignorance +and evil conditions, and has no sense of propriety and grace. +</p> + +<p> +That is quite true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And as there are two principles of human nature, one the spirited and the other +the philosophical, some God, as I should say, has given mankind two arts +answering to them (and only indirectly to the soul and body), in order that +these two principles (like the strings of an instrument) may be relaxed or +drawn tighter until they are duly harmonized. +</p> + +<p> +That appears to be the intention. +</p> + +<p> +And he who mingles music with gymnastic in the fairest proportions, and best +attempers them to the soul, may be rightly called the true musician and +harmonist in a far higher sense than the tuner of the strings. +</p> + +<p> +You are quite right, Socrates. +</p> + +<p> +And such a presiding genius will be always required in our State if the +government is to last. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he will be absolutely necessary. +</p> + +<p> +Such, then, are our principles of nurture and education: Where would be the use +of going into further details about the dances of our citizens, or about their +hunting and coursing, their gymnastic and equestrian contests? For these all +follow the general principle, and having found that, we shall have no +difficulty in discovering them. +</p> + +<p> +I dare say that there will be no difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +Very good, I said; then what is the next question? Must we not ask who are to +be rulers and who subjects? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +There can be no doubt that the elder must rule the younger. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +And that the best of these must rule. +</p> + +<p> +That is also clear. +</p> + +<p> +Now, are not the best husbandmen those who are most devoted to husbandry? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And as we are to have the best of guardians for our city, must they not be +those who have most the character of guardians? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And to this end they ought to be wise and efficient, and to have a special care +of the State? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And a man will be most likely to care about that which he loves? +</p> + +<p> +To be sure. +</p> + +<p> +And he will be most likely to love that which he regards as having the same +interests with himself, and that of which the good or evil fortune is supposed +by him at any time most to affect his own? +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then there must be a selection. Let us note among the guardians those who in +their whole life show the greatest eagerness to do what is for the good of +their country, and the greatest repugnance to do what is against her interests. +</p> + +<p> +Those are the right men. +</p> + +<p> +And they will have to be watched at every age, in order that we may see whether +they preserve their resolution, and never, under the influence either of force +or enchantment, forget or cast off their sense of duty to the State. +</p> + +<p> +How cast off? he said. +</p> + +<p> +I will explain to you, I replied. A resolution may go out of a man’s mind +either with his will or against his will; with his will when he gets rid of a +falsehood and learns better, against his will whenever he is deprived of a +truth. +</p> + +<p> +I understand, he said, the willing loss of a resolution; the meaning of the +unwilling I have yet to learn. +</p> + +<p> +Why, I said, do you not see that men are unwillingly deprived of good, and +willingly of evil? Is not to have lost the truth an evil, and to possess the +truth a good? and you would agree that to conceive things as they are is to +possess the truth? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he replied; I agree with you in thinking that mankind are deprived of +truth against their will. +</p> + +<p> +And is not this involuntary deprivation caused either by theft, or force, or +enchantment? +</p> + +<p> +Still, he replied, I do not understand you. +</p> + +<p> +I fear that I must have been talking darkly, like the tragedians. I only mean +that some men are changed by persuasion and that others forget; argument steals +away the hearts of one class, and time of the other; and this I call theft. Now +you understand me? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Those again who are forced, are those whom the violence of some pain or grief +compels to change their opinion. +</p> + +<p> +I understand, he said, and you are quite right. +</p> + +<p> +And you would also acknowledge that the enchanted are those who change their +minds either under the softer influence of pleasure, or the sterner influence +of fear? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; everything that deceives may be said to enchant. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, as I was just now saying, we must enquire who are the best guardians +of their own conviction that what they think the interest of the State is to be +the rule of their lives. We must watch them from their youth upwards, and make +them perform actions in which they are most likely to forget or to be deceived, +and he who remembers and is not deceived is to be selected, and he who fails in +the trial is to be rejected. That will be the way? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And there should also be toils and pains and conflicts prescribed for them, in +which they will be made to give further proof of the same qualities. +</p> + +<p> +Very right, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And then, I said, we must try them with enchantments—that is the third +sort of test—and see what will be their behaviour: like those who take +colts amid noise and tumult to see if they are of a timid nature, so must we +take our youth amid terrors of some kind, and again pass them into pleasures, +and prove them more thoroughly than gold is proved in the furnace, that we may +discover whether they are armed against all enchantments, and of a noble +bearing always, good guardians of themselves and of the music which they have +learned, and retaining under all circumstances a rhythmical and harmonious +nature, such as will be most serviceable to the individual and to the State. +And he who at every age, as boy and youth and in mature life, has come out of +the trial victorious and pure, shall be appointed a ruler and guardian of the +State; he shall be honoured in life and death, and shall receive sepulture and +other memorials of honour, the greatest that we have to give. But him who +fails, we must reject. I am inclined to think that this is the sort of way in +which our rulers and guardians should be chosen and appointed. I speak +generally, and not with any pretension to exactness. +</p> + +<p> +And, speaking generally, I agree with you, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And perhaps the word ‘guardian’ in the fullest sense ought to be +applied to this higher class only who preserve us against foreign enemies and +maintain peace among our citizens at home, that the one may not have the will, +or the others the power, to harm us. The young men whom we before called +guardians may be more properly designated auxiliaries and supporters of the +principles of the rulers. +</p> + +<p> +I agree with you, he said. +</p> + +<p> +How then may we devise one of those needful falsehoods of which we lately +spoke—just one royal lie which may deceive the rulers, if that be +possible, and at any rate the rest of the city? +</p> + +<p> +What sort of lie? he said. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing new, I replied; only an old Phoenician tale (Laws) of what has often +occurred before now in other places, (as the poets say, and have made the world +believe,) though not in our time, and I do not know whether such an event could +ever happen again, or could now even be made probable, if it did. +</p> + +<p> +How your words seem to hesitate on your lips! +</p> + +<p> +You will not wonder, I replied, at my hesitation when you have heard. +</p> + +<p> +Speak, he said, and fear not. +</p> + +<p> +Well then, I will speak, although I really know not how to look you in the +face, or in what words to utter the audacious fiction, which I propose to +communicate gradually, first to the rulers, then to the soldiers, and lastly to +the people. They are to be told that their youth was a dream, and the education +and training which they received from us, an appearance only; in reality during +all that time they were being formed and fed in the womb of the earth, where +they themselves and their arms and appurtenances were manufactured; when they +were completed, the earth, their mother, sent them up; and so, their country +being their mother and also their nurse, they are bound to advise for her good, +and to defend her against attacks, and her citizens they are to regard as +children of the earth and their own brothers. +</p> + +<p> +You had good reason, he said, to be ashamed of the lie which you were going to +tell. +</p> + +<p> +True, I replied, but there is more coming; I have only told you half. Citizens, +we shall say to them in our tale, you are brothers, yet God has framed you +differently. Some of you have the power of command, and in the composition of +these he has mingled gold, wherefore also they have the greatest honour; others +he has made of silver, to be auxiliaries; others again who are to be husbandmen +and craftsmen he has composed of brass and iron; and the species will generally +be preserved in the children. But as all are of the same original stock, a +golden parent will sometimes have a silver son, or a silver parent a golden +son. And God proclaims as a first principle to the rulers, and above all else, +that there is nothing which they should so anxiously guard, or of which they +are to be such good guardians, as of the purity of the race. They should +observe what elements mingle in their offspring; for if the son of a golden or +silver parent has an admixture of brass and iron, then nature orders a +transposition of ranks, and the eye of the ruler must not be pitiful towards +the child because he has to descend in the scale and become a husbandman or +artisan, just as there may be sons of artisans who having an admixture of gold +or silver in them are raised to honour, and become guardians or auxiliaries. +For an oracle says that when a man of brass or iron guards the State, it will +be destroyed. Such is the tale; is there any possibility of making our citizens +believe in it? +</p> + +<p> +Not in the present generation, he replied; there is no way of accomplishing +this; but their sons may be made to believe in the tale, and their sons’ +sons, and posterity after them. +</p> + +<p> +I see the difficulty, I replied; yet the fostering of such a belief will make +them care more for the city and for one another. Enough, however, of the +fiction, which may now fly abroad upon the wings of rumour, while we arm our +earth-born heroes, and lead them forth under the command of their rulers. Let +them look round and select a spot whence they can best suppress insurrection, +if any prove refractory within, and also defend themselves against enemies, who +like wolves may come down on the fold from without; there let them encamp, and +when they have encamped, let them sacrifice to the proper Gods and prepare +their dwellings. +</p> + +<p> +Just so, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And their dwellings must be such as will shield them against the cold of winter +and the heat of summer. +</p> + +<p> +I suppose that you mean houses, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; but they must be the houses of soldiers, and not of shop-keepers. +</p> + +<p> +What is the difference? he said. +</p> + +<p> +That I will endeavour to explain, I replied. To keep watch-dogs, who, from want +of discipline or hunger, or some evil habit or other, would turn upon the sheep +and worry them, and behave not like dogs but wolves, would be a foul and +monstrous thing in a shepherd? +</p> + +<p> +Truly monstrous, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And therefore every care must be taken that our auxiliaries, being stronger +than our citizens, may not grow to be too much for them and become savage +tyrants instead of friends and allies? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, great care should be taken. +</p> + +<p> +And would not a really good education furnish the best safeguard? +</p> + +<p> +But they are well-educated already, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot be so confident, my dear Glaucon, I said; I am much more certain that +they ought to be, and that true education, whatever that may be, will have the +greatest tendency to civilize and humanize them in their relations to one +another, and to those who are under their protection. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And not only their education, but their habitations, and all that belongs to +them, should be such as will neither impair their virtue as guardians, nor +tempt them to prey upon the other citizens. Any man of sense must acknowledge +that. +</p> + +<p> +He must. +</p> + +<p> +Then now let us consider what will be their way of life, if they are to realize +our idea of them. In the first place, none of them should have any property of +his own beyond what is absolutely necessary; neither should they have a private +house or store closed against any one who has a mind to enter; their provisions +should be only such as are required by trained warriors, who are men of +temperance and courage; they should agree to receive from the citizens a fixed +rate of pay, enough to meet the expenses of the year and no more; and they will +go to mess and live together like soldiers in a camp. Gold and silver we will +tell them that they have from God; the diviner metal is within them, and they +have therefore no need of the dross which is current among men, and ought not +to pollute the divine by any such earthly admixture; for that commoner metal +has been the source of many unholy deeds, but their own is undefiled. And they +alone of all the citizens may not touch or handle silver or gold, or be under +the same roof with them, or wear them, or drink from them. And this will be +their salvation, and they will be the saviours of the State. But should they +ever acquire homes or lands or moneys of their own, they will become +housekeepers and husbandmen instead of guardians, enemies and tyrants instead +of allies of the other citizens; hating and being hated, plotting and being +plotted against, they will pass their whole life in much greater terror of +internal than of external enemies, and the hour of ruin, both to themselves and +to the rest of the State, will be at hand. For all which reasons may we not say +that thus shall our State be ordered, and that these shall be the regulations +appointed by us for guardians concerning their houses and all other matters? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, said Glaucon. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"></a> BOOK IV.</h2> + +<p> +Here Adeimantus interposed a question: How would you answer, Socrates, said he, +if a person were to say that you are making these people miserable, and that +they are the cause of their own unhappiness; the city in fact belongs to them, +but they are none the better for it; whereas other men acquire lands, and build +large and handsome houses, and have everything handsome about them, offering +sacrifices to the gods on their own account, and practising hospitality; +moreover, as you were saying just now, they have gold and silver, and all that +is usual among the favourites of fortune; but our poor citizens are no better +than mercenaries who are quartered in the city and are always mounting guard? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; and you may add that they are only fed, and not paid in addition +to their food, like other men; and therefore they cannot, if they would, take a +journey of pleasure; they have no money to spend on a mistress or any other +luxurious fancy, which, as the world goes, is thought to be happiness; and many +other accusations of the same nature might be added. +</p> + +<p> +But, said he, let us suppose all this to be included in the charge. +</p> + +<p> +You mean to ask, I said, what will be our answer? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +If we proceed along the old path, my belief, I said, is that we shall find the +answer. And our answer will be that, even as they are, our guardians may very +likely be the happiest of men; but that our aim in founding the State was not +the disproportionate happiness of any one class, but the greatest happiness of +the whole; we thought that in a State which is ordered with a view to the good +of the whole we should be most likely to find justice, and in the ill-ordered +State injustice: and, having found them, we might then decide which of the two +is the happier. At present, I take it, we are fashioning the happy State, not +piecemeal, or with a view of making a few happy citizens, but as a whole; and +by-and-by we will proceed to view the opposite kind of State. Suppose that we +were painting a statue, and some one came up to us and said, Why do you not put +the most beautiful colours on the most beautiful parts of the body—the +eyes ought to be purple, but you have made them black—to him we might +fairly answer, Sir, you would not surely have us beautify the eyes to such a +degree that they are no longer eyes; consider rather whether, by giving this +and the other features their due proportion, we make the whole beautiful. And +so I say to you, do not compel us to assign to the guardians a sort of +happiness which will make them anything but guardians; for we too can clothe +our husbandmen in royal apparel, and set crowns of gold on their heads, and bid +them till the ground as much as they like, and no more. Our potters also might +be allowed to repose on couches, and feast by the fireside, passing round the +winecup, while their wheel is conveniently at hand, and working at pottery only +as much as they like; in this way we might make every class happy—and +then, as you imagine, the whole State would be happy. But do not put this idea +into our heads; for, if we listen to you, the husbandman will be no longer a +husbandman, the potter will cease to be a potter, and no one will have the +character of any distinct class in the State. Now this is not of much +consequence where the corruption of society, and pretension to be what you are +not, is confined to cobblers; but when the guardians of the laws and of the +government are only seeming and not real guardians, then see how they turn the +State upside down; and on the other hand they alone have the power of giving +order and happiness to the State. We mean our guardians to be true saviours and +not the destroyers of the State, whereas our opponent is thinking of peasants +at a festival, who are enjoying a life of revelry, not of citizens who are +doing their duty to the State. But, if so, we mean different things, and he is +speaking of something which is not a State. And therefore we must consider +whether in appointing our guardians we would look to their greatest happiness +individually, or whether this principle of happiness does not rather reside in +the State as a whole. But if the latter be the truth, then the guardians and +auxiliaries, and all others equally with them, must be compelled or induced to +do their own work in the best way. And thus the whole State will grow up in a +noble order, and the several classes will receive the proportion of happiness +which nature assigns to them. +</p> + +<p> +I think that you are quite right. +</p> + +<p> +I wonder whether you will agree with another remark which occurs to me. +</p> + +<p> +What may that be? +</p> + +<p> +There seem to be two causes of the deterioration of the arts. +</p> + +<p> +What are they? +</p> + +<p> +Wealth, I said, and poverty. +</p> + +<p> +How do they act? +</p> + +<p> +The process is as follows: When a potter becomes rich, will he, think you, any +longer take the same pains with his art? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +He will grow more and more indolent and careless? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And the result will be that he becomes a worse potter? +</p> + +<p> +Yes; he greatly deteriorates. +</p> + +<p> +But, on the other hand, if he has no money, and cannot provide himself with +tools or instruments, he will not work equally well himself, nor will he teach +his sons or apprentices to work equally well. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Then, under the influence either of poverty or of wealth, workmen and their +work are equally liable to degenerate? +</p> + +<p> +That is evident. +</p> + +<p> +Here, then, is a discovery of new evils, I said, against which the guardians +will have to watch, or they will creep into the city unobserved. +</p> + +<p> +What evils? +</p> + +<p> +Wealth, I said, and poverty; the one is the parent of luxury and indolence, and +the other of meanness and viciousness, and both of discontent. +</p> + +<p> +That is very true, he replied; but still I should like to know, Socrates, how +our city will be able to go to war, especially against an enemy who is rich and +powerful, if deprived of the sinews of war. +</p> + +<p> +There would certainly be a difficulty, I replied, in going to war with one such +enemy; but there is no difficulty where there are two of them. +</p> + +<p> +How so? he asked. +</p> + +<p> +In the first place, I said, if we have to fight, our side will be trained +warriors fighting against an army of rich men. +</p> + +<p> +That is true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And do you not suppose, Adeimantus, that a single boxer who was perfect in his +art would easily be a match for two stout and well-to-do gentlemen who were not +boxers? +</p> + +<p> +Hardly, if they came upon him at once. +</p> + +<p> +What, now, I said, if he were able to run away and then turn and strike at the +one who first came up? And supposing he were to do this several times under the +heat of a scorching sun, might he not, being an expert, overturn more than one +stout personage? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said, there would be nothing wonderful in that. +</p> + +<p> +And yet rich men probably have a greater superiority in the science and +practise of boxing than they have in military qualities. +</p> + +<p> +Likely enough. +</p> + +<p> +Then we may assume that our athletes will be able to fight with two or three +times their own number? +</p> + +<p> +I agree with you, for I think you right. +</p> + +<p> +And suppose that, before engaging, our citizens send an embassy to one of the +two cities, telling them what is the truth: Silver and gold we neither have nor +are permitted to have, but you may; do you therefore come and help us in war, +and take the spoils of the other city: Who, on hearing these words, would +choose to fight against lean wiry dogs, rather than, with the dogs on their +side, against fat and tender sheep? +</p> + +<p> +That is not likely; and yet there might be a danger to the poor State if the +wealth of many States were to be gathered into one. +</p> + +<p> +But how simple of you to use the term State at all of any but our own! +</p> + +<p> +Why so? +</p> + +<p> +You ought to speak of other States in the plural number; not one of them is a +city, but many cities, as they say in the game. For indeed any city, however +small, is in fact divided into two, one the city of the poor, the other of the +rich; these are at war with one another; and in either there are many smaller +divisions, and you would be altogether beside the mark if you treated them all +as a single State. But if you deal with them as many, and give the wealth or +power or persons of the one to the others, you will always have a great many +friends and not many enemies. And your State, while the wise order which has +now been prescribed continues to prevail in her, will be the greatest of +States, I do not mean to say in reputation or appearance, but in deed and +truth, though she number not more than a thousand defenders. A single State +which is her equal you will hardly find, either among Hellenes or barbarians, +though many that appear to be as great and many times greater. +</p> + +<p> +That is most true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And what, I said, will be the best limit for our rulers to fix when they are +considering the size of the State and the amount of territory which they are to +include, and beyond which they will not go? +</p> + +<p> +What limit would you propose? +</p> + +<p> +I would allow the State to increase so far as is consistent with unity; that, I +think, is the proper limit. +</p> + +<p> +Very good, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Here then, I said, is another order which will have to be conveyed to our +guardians: Let our city be accounted neither large nor small, but one and +self-sufficing. +</p> + +<p> +And surely, said he, this is not a very severe order which we impose upon them. +</p> + +<p> +And the other, said I, of which we were speaking before is lighter +still,—I mean the duty of degrading the offspring of the guardians when +inferior, and of elevating into the rank of guardians the offspring of the +lower classes, when naturally superior. The intention was, that, in the case of +the citizens generally, each individual should be put to the use for which +nature intended him, one to one work, and then every man would do his own +business, and be one and not many; and so the whole city would be one and not +many. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; that is not so difficult. +</p> + +<p> +The regulations which we are prescribing, my good Adeimantus, are not, as might +be supposed, a number of great principles, but trifles all, if care be taken, +as the saying is, of the one great thing,—a thing, however, which I would +rather call, not great, but sufficient for our purpose. +</p> + +<p> +What may that be? he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Education, I said, and nurture: If our citizens are well educated, and grow +into sensible men, they will easily see their way through all these, as well as +other matters which I omit; such, for example, as marriage, the possession of +women and the procreation of children, which will all follow the general +principle that friends have all things in common, as the proverb says. +</p> + +<p> +That will be the best way of settling them. +</p> + +<p> +Also, I said, the State, if once started well, moves with accumulating force +like a wheel. For good nurture and education implant good constitutions, and +these good constitutions taking root in a good education improve more and more, +and this improvement affects the breed in man as in other animals. +</p> + +<p> +Very possibly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then to sum up: This is the point to which, above all, the attention of our +rulers should be directed,—that music and gymnastic be preserved in their +original form, and no innovation made. They must do their utmost to maintain +them intact. And when any one says that mankind most regard +</p> + +<p> +‘The newest song which the singers have,’ +</p> + +<p> +they will be afraid that he may be praising, not new songs, but a new kind of +song; and this ought not to be praised, or conceived to be the meaning of the +poet; for any musical innovation is full of danger to the whole State, and +ought to be prohibited. So Damon tells me, and I can quite believe +him;—he says that when modes of music change, the fundamental laws of the +State always change with them. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, said Adeimantus; and you may add my suffrage to Damon’s and your +own. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I said, our guardians must lay the foundations of their fortress in +music? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; the lawlessness of which you speak too easily steals in. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I replied, in the form of amusement; and at first sight it appears +harmless. +</p> + +<p> +Why, yes, he said, and there is no harm; were it not that little by little this +spirit of licence, finding a home, imperceptibly penetrates into manners and +customs; whence, issuing with greater force, it invades contracts between man +and man, and from contracts goes on to laws and constitutions, in utter +recklessness, ending at last, Socrates, by an overthrow of all rights, private +as well as public. +</p> + +<p> +Is that true? I said. +</p> + +<p> +That is my belief, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as I was saying, our youth should be trained from the first in a stricter +system, for if amusements become lawless, and the youths themselves become +lawless, they can never grow up into well-conducted and virtuous citizens. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And when they have made a good beginning in play, and by the help of music have +gained the habit of good order, then this habit of order, in a manner how +unlike the lawless play of the others! will accompany them in all their actions +and be a principle of growth to them, and if there be any fallen places in the +State will raise them up again. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Thus educated, they will invent for themselves any lesser rules which their +predecessors have altogether neglected. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +I mean such things as these:—when the young are to be silent before their +elders; how they are to show respect to them by standing and making them sit; +what honour is due to parents; what garments or shoes are to be worn; the mode +of dressing the hair; deportment and manners in general. You would agree with +me? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +But there is, I think, small wisdom in legislating about such matters,—I +doubt if it is ever done; nor are any precise written enactments about them +likely to be lasting. +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +It would seem, Adeimantus, that the direction in which education starts a man, +will determine his future life. Does not like always attract like? +</p> + +<p> +To be sure. +</p> + +<p> +Until some one rare and grand result is reached which may be good, and may be +the reverse of good? +</p> + +<p> +That is not to be denied. +</p> + +<p> +And for this reason, I said, I shall not attempt to legislate further about +them. +</p> + +<p> +Naturally enough, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Well, and about the business of the agora, and the ordinary dealings between +man and man, or again about agreements with artisans; about insult and injury, +or the commencement of actions, and the appointment of juries, what would you +say? there may also arise questions about any impositions and exactions of +market and harbour dues which may be required, and in general about the +regulations of markets, police, harbours, and the like. But, oh heavens! shall +we condescend to legislate on any of these particulars? +</p> + +<p> +I think, he said, that there is no need to impose laws about them on good men; +what regulations are necessary they will find out soon enough for themselves. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, my friend, if God will only preserve to them the laws which we +have given them. +</p> + +<p> +And without divine help, said Adeimantus, they will go on for ever making and +mending their laws and their lives in the hope of attaining perfection. +</p> + +<p> +You would compare them, I said, to those invalids who, having no +self-restraint, will not leave off their habits of intemperance? +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; and what a delightful life they lead! they are always doctoring +and increasing and complicating their disorders, and always fancying that they +will be cured by any nostrum which anybody advises them to try. +</p> + +<p> +Such cases are very common, he said, with invalids of this sort. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I replied; and the charming thing is that they deem him their worst enemy +who tells them the truth, which is simply that, unless they give up eating and +drinking and wenching and idling, neither drug nor cautery nor spell nor amulet +nor any other remedy will avail. +</p> + +<p> +Charming! he replied. I see nothing charming in going into a passion with a man +who tells you what is right. +</p> + +<p> +These gentlemen, I said, do not seem to be in your good graces. +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly not. +</p> + +<p> +Nor would you praise the behaviour of States which act like the men whom I was +just now describing. For are there not ill-ordered States in which the citizens +are forbidden under pain of death to alter the constitution; and yet he who +most sweetly courts those who live under this regime and indulges them and +fawns upon them and is skilful in anticipating and gratifying their humours is +held to be a great and good statesman—do not these States resemble the +persons whom I was describing? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; the States are as bad as the men; and I am very far from praising +them. +</p> + +<p> +But do you not admire, I said, the coolness and dexterity of these ready +ministers of political corruption? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, I do; but not of all of them, for there are some whom the +applause of the multitude has deluded into the belief that they are really +statesmen, and these are not much to be admired. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? I said; you should have more feeling for them. When a man +cannot measure, and a great many others who cannot measure declare that he is +four cubits high, can he help believing what they say? +</p> + +<p> +Nay, he said, certainly not in that case. +</p> + +<p> +Well, then, do not be angry with them; for are they not as good as a play, +trying their hand at paltry reforms such as I was describing; they are always +fancying that by legislation they will make an end of frauds in contracts, and +the other rascalities which I was mentioning, not knowing that they are in +reality cutting off the heads of a hydra? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; that is just what they are doing. +</p> + +<p> +I conceive, I said, that the true legislator will not trouble himself with this +class of enactments whether concerning laws or the constitution either in an +ill-ordered or in a well-ordered State; for in the former they are quite +useless, and in the latter there will be no difficulty in devising them; and +many of them will naturally flow out of our previous regulations. +</p> + +<p> +What, then, he said, is still remaining to us of the work of legislation? +</p> + +<p> +Nothing to us, I replied; but to Apollo, the God of Delphi, there remains the +ordering of the greatest and noblest and chiefest things of all. +</p> + +<p> +Which are they? he said. +</p> + +<p> +The institution of temples and sacrifices, and the entire service of gods, +demigods, and heroes; also the ordering of the repositories of the dead, and +the rites which have to be observed by him who would propitiate the inhabitants +of the world below. These are matters of which we are ignorant ourselves, and +as founders of a city we should be unwise in trusting them to any interpreter +but our ancestral deity. He is the god who sits in the centre, on the navel of +the earth, and he is the interpreter of religion to all mankind. +</p> + +<p> +You are right, and we will do as you propose. +</p> + +<p> +But where, amid all this, is justice? son of Ariston, tell me where. Now that +our city has been made habitable, light a candle and search, and get your +brother and Polemarchus and the rest of our friends to help, and let us see +where in it we can discover justice and where injustice, and in what they +differ from one another, and which of them the man who would be happy should +have for his portion, whether seen or unseen by gods and men. +</p> + +<p> +Nonsense, said Glaucon: did you not promise to search yourself, saying that for +you not to help justice in her need would be an impiety? +</p> + +<p> +I do not deny that I said so, and as you remind me, I will be as good as my +word; but you must join. +</p> + +<p> +We will, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Well, then, I hope to make the discovery in this way: I mean to begin with the +assumption that our State, if rightly ordered, is perfect. +</p> + +<p> +That is most certain. +</p> + +<p> +And being perfect, is therefore wise and valiant and temperate and just. +</p> + +<p> +That is likewise clear. +</p> + +<p> +And whichever of these qualities we find in the State, the one which is not +found will be the residue? +</p> + +<p> +Very good. +</p> + +<p> +If there were four things, and we were searching for one of them, wherever it +might be, the one sought for might be known to us from the first, and there +would be no further trouble; or we might know the other three first, and then +the fourth would clearly be the one left. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And is not a similar method to be pursued about the virtues, which are also +four in number? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +First among the virtues found in the State, wisdom comes into view, and in this +I detect a certain peculiarity. +</p> + +<p> +What is that? +</p> + +<p> +The State which we have been describing is said to be wise as being good in +counsel? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And good counsel is clearly a kind of knowledge, for not by ignorance, but by +knowledge, do men counsel well? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +And the kinds of knowledge in a State are many and diverse? +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +There is the knowledge of the carpenter; but is that the sort of knowledge +which gives a city the title of wise and good in counsel? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not; that would only give a city the reputation of skill in +carpentering. +</p> + +<p> +Then a city is not to be called wise because possessing a knowledge which +counsels for the best about wooden implements? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Nor by reason of a knowledge which advises about brazen pots, I said, nor as +possessing any other similar knowledge? +</p> + +<p> +Not by reason of any of them, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Nor yet by reason of a knowledge which cultivates the earth; that would give +the city the name of agricultural? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, and is there any knowledge in our recently-founded State among +any of the citizens which advises, not about any particular thing in the State, +but about the whole, and considers how a State can best deal with itself and +with other States? +</p> + +<p> +There certainly is. +</p> + +<p> +And what is this knowledge, and among whom is it found? I asked. +</p> + +<p> +It is the knowledge of the guardians, he replied, and is found among those whom +we were just now describing as perfect guardians. +</p> + +<p> +And what is the name which the city derives from the possession of this sort of +knowledge? +</p> + +<p> +The name of good in counsel and truly wise. +</p> + +<p> +And will there be in our city more of these true guardians or more smiths? +</p> + +<p> +The smiths, he replied, will be far more numerous. +</p> + +<p> +Will not the guardians be the smallest of all the classes who receive a name +from the profession of some kind of knowledge? +</p> + +<p> +Much the smallest. +</p> + +<p> +And so by reason of the smallest part or class, and of the knowledge which +resides in this presiding and ruling part of itself, the whole State, being +thus constituted according to nature, will be wise; and this, which has the +only knowledge worthy to be called wisdom, has been ordained by nature to be of +all classes the least. +</p> + +<p> +Most true. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, then, I said, the nature and place in the State of one of the four +virtues has somehow or other been discovered. +</p> + +<p> +And, in my humble opinion, very satisfactorily discovered, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Again, I said, there is no difficulty in seeing the nature of courage, and in +what part that quality resides which gives the name of courageous to the State. +</p> + +<p> +How do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +Why, I said, every one who calls any State courageous or cowardly, will be +thinking of the part which fights and goes out to war on the State’s +behalf. +</p> + +<p> +No one, he replied, would ever think of any other. +</p> + +<p> +The rest of the citizens may be courageous or may be cowardly, but their +courage or cowardice will not, as I conceive, have the effect of making the +city either the one or the other. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +The city will be courageous in virtue of a portion of herself which preserves +under all circumstances that opinion about the nature of things to be feared +and not to be feared in which our legislator educated them; and this is what +you term courage. +</p> + +<p> +I should like to hear what you are saying once more, for I do not think that I +perfectly understand you. +</p> + +<p> +I mean that courage is a kind of salvation. +</p> + +<p> +Salvation of what? +</p> + +<p> +Of the opinion respecting things to be feared, what they are and of what +nature, which the law implants through education; and I mean by the words +‘under all circumstances’ to intimate that in pleasure or in pain, +or under the influence of desire or fear, a man preserves, and does not lose +this opinion. Shall I give you an illustration? +</p> + +<p> +If you please. +</p> + +<p> +You know, I said, that dyers, when they want to dye wool for making the true +sea-purple, begin by selecting their white colour first; this they prepare and +dress with much care and pains, in order that the white ground may take the +purple hue in full perfection. The dyeing then proceeds; and whatever is dyed +in this manner becomes a fast colour, and no washing either with lyes or +without them can take away the bloom. But, when the ground has not been duly +prepared, you will have noticed how poor is the look either of purple or of any +other colour. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; I know that they have a washed-out and ridiculous appearance. +</p> + +<p> +Then now, I said, you will understand what our object was in selecting our +soldiers, and educating them in music and gymnastic; we were contriving +influences which would prepare them to take the dye of the laws in perfection, +and the colour of their opinion about dangers and of every other opinion was to +be indelibly fixed by their nurture and training, not to be washed away by such +potent lyes as pleasure—mightier agent far in washing the soul than any +soda or lye; or by sorrow, fear, and desire, the mightiest of all other +solvents. And this sort of universal saving power of true opinion in conformity +with law about real and false dangers I call and maintain to be courage, unless +you disagree. +</p> + +<p> +But I agree, he replied; for I suppose that you mean to exclude mere +uninstructed courage, such as that of a wild beast or of a slave—this, in +your opinion, is not the courage which the law ordains, and ought to have +another name. +</p> + +<p> +Most certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Then I may infer courage to be such as you describe? +</p> + +<p> +Why, yes, said I, you may, and if you add the words ‘of a citizen,’ +you will not be far wrong;—hereafter, if you like, we will carry the +examination further, but at present we are seeking not for courage but justice; +and for the purpose of our enquiry we have said enough. +</p> + +<p> +You are right, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Two virtues remain to be discovered in the State—first, temperance, and +then justice which is the end of our search. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Now, can we find justice without troubling ourselves about temperance? +</p> + +<p> +I do not know how that can be accomplished, he said, nor do I desire that +justice should be brought to light and temperance lost sight of; and therefore +I wish that you would do me the favour of considering temperance first. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, I replied, I should not be justified in refusing your request. +</p> + +<p> +Then consider, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I replied; I will; and as far as I can at present see, the virtue of +temperance has more of the nature of harmony and symphony than the preceding. +</p> + +<p> +How so? he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Temperance, I replied, is the ordering or controlling of certain pleasures and +desires; this is curiously enough implied in the saying of ‘a man being +his own master;’ and other traces of the same notion may be found in +language. +</p> + +<p> +No doubt, he said. +</p> + +<p> +There is something ridiculous in the expression ‘master of +himself;’ for the master is also the servant and the servant the master; +and in all these modes of speaking the same person is denoted. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +The meaning is, I believe, that in the human soul there is a better and also a +worse principle; and when the better has the worse under control, then a man is +said to be master of himself; and this is a term of praise: but when, owing to +evil education or association, the better principle, which is also the smaller, +is overwhelmed by the greater mass of the worse—in this case he is blamed +and is called the slave of self and unprincipled. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, there is reason in that. +</p> + +<p> +And now, I said, look at our newly-created State, and there you will find one +of these two conditions realized; for the State, as you will acknowledge, may +be justly called master of itself, if the words ‘temperance’ and +‘self-mastery’ truly express the rule of the better part over the +worse. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, I see that what you say is true. +</p> + +<p> +Let me further note that the manifold and complex pleasures and desires and +pains are generally found in children and women and servants, and in the +freemen so called who are of the lowest and more numerous class. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Whereas the simple and moderate desires which follow reason, and are under the +guidance of mind and true opinion, are to be found only in a few, and those the +best born and best educated. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +These two, as you may perceive, have a place in our State; and the meaner +desires of the many are held down by the virtuous desires and wisdom of the +few. +</p> + +<p> +That I perceive, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then if there be any city which may be described as master of its own pleasures +and desires, and master of itself, ours may claim such a designation? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +It may also be called temperate, and for the same reasons? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And if there be any State in which rulers and subjects will be agreed as to the +question who are to rule, that again will be our State? +</p> + +<p> +Undoubtedly. +</p> + +<p> +And the citizens being thus agreed among themselves, in which class will +temperance be found—in the rulers or in the subjects? +</p> + +<p> +In both, as I should imagine, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Do you observe that we were not far wrong in our guess that temperance was a +sort of harmony? +</p> + +<p> +Why so? +</p> + +<p> +Why, because temperance is unlike courage and wisdom, each of which resides in +a part only, the one making the State wise and the other valiant; not so +temperance, which extends to the whole, and runs through all the notes of the +scale, and produces a harmony of the weaker and the stronger and the middle +class, whether you suppose them to be stronger or weaker in wisdom or power or +numbers or wealth, or anything else. Most truly then may we deem temperance to +be the agreement of the naturally superior and inferior, as to the right to +rule of either, both in states and individuals. +</p> + +<p> +I entirely agree with you. +</p> + +<p> +And so, I said, we may consider three out of the four virtues to have been +discovered in our State. The last of those qualities which make a state +virtuous must be justice, if we only knew what that was. +</p> + +<p> +The inference is obvious. +</p> + +<p> +The time then has arrived, Glaucon, when, like huntsmen, we should surround the +cover, and look sharp that justice does not steal away, and pass out of sight +and escape us; for beyond a doubt she is somewhere in this country: watch +therefore and strive to catch a sight of her, and if you see her first, let me +know. +</p> + +<p> +Would that I could! but you should regard me rather as a follower who has just +eyes enough to see what you show him—that is about as much as I am good +for. +</p> + +<p> +Offer up a prayer with me and follow. +</p> + +<p> +I will, but you must show me the way. +</p> + +<p> +Here is no path, I said, and the wood is dark and perplexing; still we must +push on. +</p> + +<p> +Let us push on. +</p> + +<p> +Here I saw something: Halloo! I said, I begin to perceive a track, and I +believe that the quarry will not escape. +</p> + +<p> +Good news, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Truly, I said, we are stupid fellows. +</p> + +<p> +Why so? +</p> + +<p> +Why, my good sir, at the beginning of our enquiry, ages ago, there was justice +tumbling out at our feet, and we never saw her; nothing could be more +ridiculous. Like people who go about looking for what they have in their +hands—that was the way with us—we looked not at what we were +seeking, but at what was far off in the distance; and therefore, I suppose, we +missed her. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +I mean to say that in reality for a long time past we have been talking of +justice, and have failed to recognise her. +</p> + +<p> +I grow impatient at the length of your exordium. +</p> + +<p> +Well then, tell me, I said, whether I am right or not: You remember the +original principle which we were always laying down at the foundation of the +State, that one man should practise one thing only, the thing to which his +nature was best adapted;—now justice is this principle or a part of it. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, we often said that one man should do one thing only. +</p> + +<p> +Further, we affirmed that justice was doing one’s own business, and not +being a busybody; we said so again and again, and many others have said the +same to us. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, we said so. +</p> + +<p> +Then to do one’s own business in a certain way may be assumed to be +justice. Can you tell me whence I derive this inference? +</p> + +<p> +I cannot, but I should like to be told. +</p> + +<p> +Because I think that this is the only virtue which remains in the State when +the other virtues of temperance and courage and wisdom are abstracted; and, +that this is the ultimate cause and condition of the existence of all of them, +and while remaining in them is also their preservative; and we were saying that +if the three were discovered by us, justice would be the fourth or remaining +one. +</p> + +<p> +That follows of necessity. +</p> + +<p> +If we are asked to determine which of these four qualities by its presence +contributes most to the excellence of the State, whether the agreement of +rulers and subjects, or the preservation in the soldiers of the opinion which +the law ordains about the true nature of dangers, or wisdom and watchfulness in +the rulers, or whether this other which I am mentioning, and which is found in +children and women, slave and freeman, artisan, ruler, subject,—the +quality, I mean, of every one doing his own work, and not being a busybody, +would claim the palm—the question is not so easily answered. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he replied, there would be a difficulty in saying which. +</p> + +<p> +Then the power of each individual in the State to do his own work appears to +compete with the other political virtues, wisdom, temperance, courage. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And the virtue which enters into this competition is justice? +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +Let us look at the question from another point of view: Are not the rulers in a +State those to whom you would entrust the office of determining suits at law? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And are suits decided on any other ground but that a man may neither take what +is another’s, nor be deprived of what is his own? +</p> + +<p> +Yes; that is their principle. +</p> + +<p> +Which is a just principle? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then on this view also justice will be admitted to be the having and doing what +is a man’s own, and belongs to him? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Think, now, and say whether you agree with me or not. Suppose a carpenter to be +doing the business of a cobbler, or a cobbler of a carpenter; and suppose them +to exchange their implements or their duties, or the same person to be doing +the work of both, or whatever be the change; do you think that any great harm +would result to the State? +</p> + +<p> +Not much. +</p> + +<p> +But when the cobbler or any other man whom nature designed to be a trader, +having his heart lifted up by wealth or strength or the number of his +followers, or any like advantage, attempts to force his way into the class of +warriors, or a warrior into that of legislators and guardians, for which he is +unfitted, and either to take the implements or the duties of the other; or when +one man is trader, legislator, and warrior all in one, then I think you will +agree with me in saying that this interchange and this meddling of one with +another is the ruin of the State. +</p> + +<p> +Most true. +</p> + +<p> +Seeing then, I said, that there are three distinct classes, any meddling of one +with another, or the change of one into another, is the greatest harm to the +State, and may be most justly termed evil-doing? +</p> + +<p> +Precisely. +</p> + +<p> +And the greatest degree of evil-doing to one’s own city would be termed +by you injustice? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +This then is injustice; and on the other hand when the trader, the auxiliary, +and the guardian each do their own business, that is justice, and will make the +city just. +</p> + +<p> +I agree with you. +</p> + +<p> +We will not, I said, be over-positive as yet; but if, on trial, this conception +of justice be verified in the individual as well as in the State, there will be +no longer any room for doubt; if it be not verified, we must have a fresh +enquiry. First let us complete the old investigation, which we began, as you +remember, under the impression that, if we could previously examine justice on +the larger scale, there would be less difficulty in discerning her in the +individual. That larger example appeared to be the State, and accordingly we +constructed as good a one as we could, knowing well that in the good State +justice would be found. Let the discovery which we made be now applied to the +individual—if they agree, we shall be satisfied; or, if there be a +difference in the individual, we will come back to the State and have another +trial of the theory. The friction of the two when rubbed together may possibly +strike a light in which justice will shine forth, and the vision which is then +revealed we will fix in our souls. +</p> + +<p> +That will be in regular course; let us do as you say. +</p> + +<p> +I proceeded to ask: When two things, a greater and less, are called by the same +name, are they like or unlike in so far as they are called the same? +</p> + +<p> +Like, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +The just man then, if we regard the idea of justice only, will be like the just +State? +</p> + +<p> +He will. +</p> + +<p> +And a State was thought by us to be just when the three classes in the State +severally did their own business; and also thought to be temperate and valiant +and wise by reason of certain other affections and qualities of these same +classes? +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And so of the individual; we may assume that he has the same three principles +in his own soul which are found in the State; and he may be rightly described +in the same terms, because he is affected in the same manner? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Once more then, O my friend, we have alighted upon an easy +question—whether the soul has these three principles or not? +</p> + +<p> +An easy question! Nay, rather, Socrates, the proverb holds that hard is the +good. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, I said; and I do not think that the method which we are employing is +at all adequate to the accurate solution of this question; the true method is +another and a longer one. Still we may arrive at a solution not below the level +of the previous enquiry. +</p> + +<p> +May we not be satisfied with that? he said;—under the circumstances, I am +quite content. +</p> + +<p> +I too, I replied, shall be extremely well satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +Then faint not in pursuing the speculation, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Must we not acknowledge, I said, that in each of us there are the same +principles and habits which there are in the State; and that from the +individual they pass into the State?—how else can they come there? Take +the quality of passion or spirit;—it would be ridiculous to imagine that +this quality, when found in States, is not derived from the individuals who are +supposed to possess it, e.g. the Thracians, Scythians, and in general the +northern nations; and the same may be said of the love of knowledge, which is +the special characteristic of our part of the world, or of the love of money, +which may, with equal truth, be attributed to the Phoenicians and Egyptians. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly so, he said. +</p> + +<p> +There is no difficulty in understanding this. +</p> + +<p> +None whatever. +</p> + +<p> +But the question is not quite so easy when we proceed to ask whether these +principles are three or one; whether, that is to say, we learn with one part of +our nature, are angry with another, and with a third part desire the +satisfaction of our natural appetites; or whether the whole soul comes into +play in each sort of action—to determine that is the difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; there lies the difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +Then let us now try and determine whether they are the same or different. +</p> + +<p> +How can we? he asked. +</p> + +<p> +I replied as follows: The same thing clearly cannot act or be acted upon in the +same part or in relation to the same thing at the same time, in contrary ways; +and therefore whenever this contradiction occurs in things apparently the same, +we know that they are really not the same, but different. +</p> + +<p> +Good. +</p> + +<p> +For example, I said, can the same thing be at rest and in motion at the same +time in the same part? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Still, I said, let us have a more precise statement of terms, lest we should +hereafter fall out by the way. Imagine the case of a man who is standing and +also moving his hands and his head, and suppose a person to say that one and +the same person is in motion and at rest at the same moment—to such a +mode of speech we should object, and should rather say that one part of him is +in motion while another is at rest. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And suppose the objector to refine still further, and to draw the nice +distinction that not only parts of tops, but whole tops, when they spin round +with their pegs fixed on the spot, are at rest and in motion at the same time +(and he may say the same of anything which revolves in the same spot), his +objection would not be admitted by us, because in such cases things are not at +rest and in motion in the same parts of themselves; we should rather say that +they have both an axis and a circumference, and that the axis stands still, for +there is no deviation from the perpendicular; and that the circumference goes +round. But if, while revolving, the axis inclines either to the right or left, +forwards or backwards, then in no point of view can they be at rest. +</p> + +<p> +That is the correct mode of describing them, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then none of these objections will confuse us, or incline us to believe that +the same thing at the same time, in the same part or in relation to the same +thing, can act or be acted upon in contrary ways. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not, according to my way of thinking. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, I said, that we may not be compelled to examine all such objections, and +prove at length that they are untrue, let us assume their absurdity, and go +forward on the understanding that hereafter, if this assumption turn out to be +untrue, all the consequences which follow shall be withdrawn. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that will be the best way. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, would you not allow that assent and dissent, desire and aversion, +attraction and repulsion, are all of them opposites, whether they are regarded +as active or passive (for that makes no difference in the fact of their +opposition)? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, they are opposites. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, and hunger and thirst, and the desires in general, and again +willing and wishing,—all these you would refer to the classes already +mentioned. You would say—would you not?—that the soul of him who +desires is seeking after the object of his desire; or that he is drawing to +himself the thing which he wishes to possess: or again, when a person wants +anything to be given him, his mind, longing for the realization of his desire, +intimates his wish to have it by a nod of assent, as if he had been asked a +question? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And what would you say of unwillingness and dislike and the absence of desire; +should not these be referred to the opposite class of repulsion and rejection? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Admitting this to be true of desire generally, let us suppose a particular +class of desires, and out of these we will select hunger and thirst, as they +are termed, which are the most obvious of them? +</p> + +<p> +Let us take that class, he said. +</p> + +<p> +The object of one is food, and of the other drink? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And here comes the point: is not thirst the desire which the soul has of drink, +and of drink only; not of drink qualified by anything else; for example, warm +or cold, or much or little, or, in a word, drink of any particular sort: but if +the thirst be accompanied by heat, then the desire is of cold drink; or, if +accompanied by cold, then of warm drink; or, if the thirst be excessive, then +the drink which is desired will be excessive; or, if not great, the quantity of +drink will also be small: but thirst pure and simple will desire drink pure and +simple, which is the natural satisfaction of thirst, as food is of hunger? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; the simple desire is, as you say, in every case of the simple +object, and the qualified desire of the qualified object. +</p> + +<p> +But here a confusion may arise; and I should wish to guard against an opponent +starting up and saying that no man desires drink only, but good drink, or food +only, but good food; for good is the universal object of desire, and thirst +being a desire, will necessarily be thirst after good drink; and the same is +true of every other desire. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he replied, the opponent might have something to say. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless I should still maintain, that of relatives some have a quality +attached to either term of the relation; others are simple and have their +correlatives simple. +</p> + +<p> +I do not know what you mean. +</p> + +<p> +Well, you know of course that the greater is relative to the less? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And the much greater to the much less? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the sometime greater to the sometime less, and the greater that is to be to +the less that is to be? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And so of more and less, and of other correlative terms, such as the double and +the half, or again, the heavier and the lighter, the swifter and the slower; +and of hot and cold, and of any other relatives;—is not this true of all +of them? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And does not the same principle hold in the sciences? The object of science is +knowledge (assuming that to be the true definition), but the object of a +particular science is a particular kind of knowledge; I mean, for example, that +the science of house-building is a kind of knowledge which is defined and +distinguished from other kinds and is therefore termed architecture. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Because it has a particular quality which no other has? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And it has this particular quality because it has an object of a particular +kind; and this is true of the other arts and sciences? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Now, then, if I have made myself clear, you will understand my original meaning +in what I said about relatives. My meaning was, that if one term of a relation +is taken alone, the other is taken alone; if one term is qualified, the other +is also qualified. I do not mean to say that relatives may not be disparate, or +that the science of health is healthy, or of disease necessarily diseased, or +that the sciences of good and evil are therefore good and evil; but only that, +when the term science is no longer used absolutely, but has a qualified object +which in this case is the nature of health and disease, it becomes defined, and +is hence called not merely science, but the science of medicine. +</p> + +<p> +I quite understand, and I think as you do. +</p> + +<p> +Would you not say that thirst is one of these essentially relative terms, +having clearly a relation— +</p> + +<p> +Yes, thirst is relative to drink. +</p> + +<p> +And a certain kind of thirst is relative to a certain kind of drink; but thirst +taken alone is neither of much nor little, nor of good nor bad, nor of any +particular kind of drink, but of drink only? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Then the soul of the thirsty one, in so far as he is thirsty, desires only +drink; for this he yearns and tries to obtain it? +</p> + +<p> +That is plain. +</p> + +<p> +And if you suppose something which pulls a thirsty soul away from drink, that +must be different from the thirsty principle which draws him like a beast to +drink; for, as we were saying, the same thing cannot at the same time with the +same part of itself act in contrary ways about the same. +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +No more than you can say that the hands of the archer push and pull the bow at +the same time, but what you say is that one hand pushes and the other pulls. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly so, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And might a man be thirsty, and yet unwilling to drink? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, it constantly happens. +</p> + +<p> +And in such a case what is one to say? Would you not say that there was +something in the soul bidding a man to drink, and something else forbidding +him, which is other and stronger than the principle which bids him? +</p> + +<p> +I should say so. +</p> + +<p> +And the forbidding principle is derived from reason, and that which bids and +attracts proceeds from passion and disease? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +Then we may fairly assume that they are two, and that they differ from one +another; the one with which a man reasons, we may call the rational principle +of the soul, the other, with which he loves and hungers and thirsts and feels +the flutterings of any other desire, may be termed the irrational or +appetitive, the ally of sundry pleasures and satisfactions? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, we may fairly assume them to be different. +</p> + +<p> +Then let us finally determine that there are two principles existing in the +soul. And what of passion, or spirit? Is it a third, or akin to one of the +preceding? +</p> + +<p> +I should be inclined to say—akin to desire. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, there is a story which I remember to have heard, and in which I +put faith. The story is, that Leontius, the son of Aglaion, coming up one day +from the Piraeus, under the north wall on the outside, observed some dead +bodies lying on the ground at the place of execution. He felt a desire to see +them, and also a dread and abhorrence of them; for a time he struggled and +covered his eyes, but at length the desire got the better of him; and forcing +them open, he ran up to the dead bodies, saying, Look, ye wretches, take your +fill of the fair sight. +</p> + +<p> +I have heard the story myself, he said. +</p> + +<p> +The moral of the tale is, that anger at times goes to war with desire, as +though they were two distinct things. +</p> + +<p> +Yes; that is the meaning, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And are there not many other cases in which we observe that when a man’s +desires violently prevail over his reason, he reviles himself, and is angry at +the violence within him, and that in this struggle, which is like the struggle +of factions in a State, his spirit is on the side of his reason;—but for +the passionate or spirited element to take part with the desires when reason +decides that she should not be opposed, is a sort of thing which I believe that +you never observed occurring in yourself, nor, as I should imagine, in any one +else? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Suppose that a man thinks he has done a wrong to another, the nobler he is the +less able is he to feel indignant at any suffering, such as hunger, or cold, or +any other pain which the injured person may inflict upon him—these he +deems to be just, and, as I say, his anger refuses to be excited by them. +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But when he thinks that he is the sufferer of the wrong, then he boils and +chafes, and is on the side of what he believes to be justice; and because he +suffers hunger or cold or other pain he is only the more determined to +persevere and conquer. His noble spirit will not be quelled until he either +slays or is slain; or until he hears the voice of the shepherd, that is, +reason, bidding his dog bark no more. +</p> + +<p> +The illustration is perfect, he replied; and in our State, as we were saying, +the auxiliaries were to be dogs, and to hear the voice of the rulers, who are +their shepherds. +</p> + +<p> +I perceive, I said, that you quite understand me; there is, however, a further +point which I wish you to consider. +</p> + +<p> +What point? +</p> + +<p> +You remember that passion or spirit appeared at first sight to be a kind of +desire, but now we should say quite the contrary; for in the conflict of the +soul spirit is arrayed on the side of the rational principle. +</p> + +<p> +Most assuredly. +</p> + +<p> +But a further question arises: Is passion different from reason also, or only a +kind of reason; in which latter case, instead of three principles in the soul, +there will only be two, the rational and the concupiscent; or rather, as the +State was composed of three classes, traders, auxiliaries, counsellors, so may +there not be in the individual soul a third element which is passion or spirit, +and when not corrupted by bad education is the natural auxiliary of reason? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, there must be a third. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I replied, if passion, which has already been shown to be different from +desire, turn out also to be different from reason. +</p> + +<p> +But that is easily proved:—We may observe even in young children that +they are full of spirit almost as soon as they are born, whereas some of them +never seem to attain to the use of reason, and most of them late enough. +</p> + +<p> +Excellent, I said, and you may see passion equally in brute animals, which is a +further proof of the truth of what you are saying. And we may once more appeal +to the words of Homer, which have been already quoted by us, +</p> + +<p> +‘He smote his breast, and thus rebuked his soul,’ +</p> + +<p> +for in this verse Homer has clearly supposed the power which reasons about the +better and worse to be different from the unreasoning anger which is rebuked by +it. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And so, after much tossing, we have reached land, and are fairly agreed that +the same principles which exist in the State exist also in the individual, and +that they are three in number. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +Must we not then infer that the individual is wise in the same way, and in +virtue of the same quality which makes the State wise? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Also that the same quality which constitutes courage in the State constitutes +courage in the individual, and that both the State and the individual bear the +same relation to all the other virtues? +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly. +</p> + +<p> +And the individual will be acknowledged by us to be just in the same way in +which the State is just? +</p> + +<p> +That follows, of course. +</p> + +<p> +We cannot but remember that the justice of the State consisted in each of the +three classes doing the work of its own class? +</p> + +<p> +We are not very likely to have forgotten, he said. +</p> + +<p> +We must recollect that the individual in whom the several qualities of his +nature do their own work will be just, and will do his own work? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, we must remember that too. +</p> + +<p> +And ought not the rational principle, which is wise, and has the care of the +whole soul, to rule, and the passionate or spirited principle to be the subject +and ally? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And, as we were saying, the united influence of music and gymnastic will bring +them into accord, nerving and sustaining the reason with noble words and +lessons, and moderating and soothing and civilizing the wildness of passion by +harmony and rhythm? +</p> + +<p> +Quite true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And these two, thus nurtured and educated, and having learned truly to know +their own functions, will rule over the concupiscent, which in each of us is +the largest part of the soul and by nature most insatiable of gain; over this +they will keep guard, lest, waxing great and strong with the fulness of bodily +pleasures, as they are termed, the concupiscent soul, no longer confined to her +own sphere, should attempt to enslave and rule those who are not her +natural-born subjects, and overturn the whole life of man? +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Both together will they not be the best defenders of the whole soul and the +whole body against attacks from without; the one counselling, and the other +fighting under his leader, and courageously executing his commands and +counsels? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And he is to be deemed courageous whose spirit retains in pleasure and in pain +the commands of reason about what he ought or ought not to fear? +</p> + +<p> +Right, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And him we call wise who has in him that little part which rules, and which +proclaims these commands; that part too being supposed to have a knowledge of +what is for the interest of each of the three parts and of the whole? +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly. +</p> + +<p> +And would you not say that he is temperate who has these same elements in +friendly harmony, in whom the one ruling principle of reason, and the two +subject ones of spirit and desire are equally agreed that reason ought to rule, +and do not rebel? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said, that is the true account of temperance whether in the State +or individual. +</p> + +<p> +And surely, I said, we have explained again and again how and by virtue of what +quality a man will be just. +</p> + +<p> +That is very certain. +</p> + +<p> +And is justice dimmer in the individual, and is her form different, or is she +the same which we found her to be in the State? +</p> + +<p> +There is no difference in my opinion, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Because, if any doubt is still lingering in our minds, a few commonplace +instances will satisfy us of the truth of what I am saying. +</p> + +<p> +What sort of instances do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +If the case is put to us, must we not admit that the just State, or the man who +is trained in the principles of such a State, will be less likely than the +unjust to make away with a deposit of gold or silver? Would any one deny this? +</p> + +<p> +No one, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Will the just man or citizen ever be guilty of sacrilege or theft, or treachery +either to his friends or to his country? +</p> + +<p> +Never. +</p> + +<p> +Neither will he ever break faith where there have been oaths or agreements? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +No one will be less likely to commit adultery, or to dishonour his father and +mother, or to fail in his religious duties? +</p> + +<p> +No one. +</p> + +<p> +And the reason is that each part of him is doing its own business, whether in +ruling or being ruled? +</p> + +<p> +Exactly so. +</p> + +<p> +Are you satisfied then that the quality which makes such men and such states is +justice, or do you hope to discover some other? +</p> + +<p> +Not I, indeed. +</p> + +<p> +Then our dream has been realized; and the suspicion which we entertained at the +beginning of our work of construction, that some divine power must have +conducted us to a primary form of justice, has now been verified? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And the division of labour which required the carpenter and the shoemaker and +the rest of the citizens to be doing each his own business, and not +another’s, was a shadow of justice, and for that reason it was of use? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +But in reality justice was such as we were describing, being concerned however, +not with the outward man, but with the inward, which is the true self and +concernment of man: for the just man does not permit the several elements +within him to interfere with one another, or any of them to do the work of +others,—he sets in order his own inner life, and is his own master and +his own law, and at peace with himself; and when he has bound together the +three principles within him, which may be compared to the higher, lower, and +middle notes of the scale, and the intermediate intervals—when he has +bound all these together, and is no longer many, but has become one entirely +temperate and perfectly adjusted nature, then he proceeds to act, if he has to +act, whether in a matter of property, or in the treatment of the body, or in +some affair of politics or private business; always thinking and calling that +which preserves and co-operates with this harmonious condition, just and good +action, and the knowledge which presides over it, wisdom, and that which at any +time impairs this condition, he will call unjust action, and the opinion which +presides over it ignorance. +</p> + +<p> +You have said the exact truth, Socrates. +</p> + +<p> +Very good; and if we were to affirm that we had discovered the just man and the +just State, and the nature of justice in each of them, we should not be telling +a falsehood? +</p> + +<p> +Most certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +May we say so, then? +</p> + +<p> +Let us say so. +</p> + +<p> +And now, I said, injustice has to be considered. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +Must not injustice be a strife which arises among the three principles—a +meddlesomeness, and interference, and rising up of a part of the soul against +the whole, an assertion of unlawful authority, which is made by a rebellious +subject against a true prince, of whom he is the natural vassal,—what is +all this confusion and delusion but injustice, and intemperance and cowardice +and ignorance, and every form of vice? +</p> + +<p> +Exactly so. +</p> + +<p> +And if the nature of justice and injustice be known, then the meaning of acting +unjustly and being unjust, or, again, of acting justly, will also be perfectly +clear? +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? he said. +</p> + +<p> +Why, I said, they are like disease and health; being in the soul just what +disease and health are in the body. +</p> + +<p> +How so? he said. +</p> + +<p> +Why, I said, that which is healthy causes health, and that which is unhealthy +causes disease. +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And just actions cause justice, and unjust actions cause injustice? +</p> + +<p> +That is certain. +</p> + +<p> +And the creation of health is the institution of a natural order and government +of one by another in the parts of the body; and the creation of disease is the +production of a state of things at variance with this natural order? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And is not the creation of justice the institution of a natural order and +government of one by another in the parts of the soul, and the creation of +injustice the production of a state of things at variance with the natural +order? +</p> + +<p> +Exactly so, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then virtue is the health and beauty and well-being of the soul, and vice the +disease and weakness and deformity of the same? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And do not good practices lead to virtue, and evil practices to vice? +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly. +</p> + +<p> +Still our old question of the comparative advantage of justice and injustice +has not been answered: Which is the more profitable, to be just and act justly +and practise virtue, whether seen or unseen of gods and men, or to be unjust +and act unjustly, if only unpunished and unreformed? +</p> + +<p> +In my judgment, Socrates, the question has now become ridiculous. We know that, +when the bodily constitution is gone, life is no longer endurable, though +pampered with all kinds of meats and drinks, and having all wealth and all +power; and shall we be told that when the very essence of the vital principle +is undermined and corrupted, life is still worth having to a man, if only he be +allowed to do whatever he likes with the single exception that he is not to +acquire justice and virtue, or to escape from injustice and vice; assuming them +both to be such as we have described? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, the question is, as you say, ridiculous. Still, as we are near the +spot at which we may see the truth in the clearest manner with our own eyes, +let us not faint by the way. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Come up hither, I said, and behold the various forms of vice, those of them, I +mean, which are worth looking at. +</p> + +<p> +I am following you, he replied: proceed. +</p> + +<p> +I said, The argument seems to have reached a height from which, as from some +tower of speculation, a man may look down and see that virtue is one, but that +the forms of vice are innumerable; there being four special ones which are +deserving of note. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? he said. +</p> + +<p> +I mean, I replied, that there appear to be as many forms of the soul as there +are distinct forms of the State. +</p> + +<p> +How many? +</p> + +<p> +There are five of the State, and five of the soul, I said. +</p> + +<p> +What are they? +</p> + +<p> +The first, I said, is that which we have been describing, and which may be said +to have two names, monarchy and aristocracy, accordingly as rule is exercised +by one distinguished man or by many. +</p> + +<p> +True, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +But I regard the two names as describing one form only; for whether the +government is in the hands of one or many, if the governors have been trained +in the manner which we have supposed, the fundamental laws of the State will be +maintained. +</p> + +<p> +That is true, he replied. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"></a> BOOK V.</h2> + +<p> +Such is the good and true City or State, and the good and true man is of the +same pattern; and if this is right every other is wrong; and the evil is one +which affects not only the ordering of the State, but also the regulation of +the individual soul, and is exhibited in four forms. +</p> + +<p> +What are they? he said. +</p> + +<p> +I was proceeding to tell the order in which the four evil forms appeared to me +to succeed one another, when Polemarchus, who was sitting a little way off, +just beyond Adeimantus, began to whisper to him: stretching forth his hand, he +took hold of the upper part of his coat by the shoulder, and drew him towards +him, leaning forward himself so as to be quite close and saying something in +his ear, of which I only caught the words, ‘Shall we let him off, or what +shall we do?’ +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not, said Adeimantus, raising his voice. +</p> + +<p> +Who is it, I said, whom you are refusing to let off? +</p> + +<p> +You, he said. +</p> + +<p> +I repeated, Why am I especially not to be let off? +</p> + +<p> +Why, he said, we think that you are lazy, and mean to cheat us out of a whole +chapter which is a very important part of the story; and you fancy that we +shall not notice your airy way of proceeding; as if it were self-evident to +everybody, that in the matter of women and children ‘friends have all +things in common.’ +</p> + +<p> +And was I not right, Adeimantus? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; but what is right in this particular case, like everything else, +requires to be explained; for community may be of many kinds. Please, +therefore, to say what sort of community you mean. We have been long expecting +that you would tell us something about the family life of your +citizens—how they will bring children into the world, and rear them when +they have arrived, and, in general, what is the nature of this community of +women and children—for we are of opinion that the right or wrong +management of such matters will have a great and paramount influence on the +State for good or for evil. And now, since the question is still undetermined, +and you are taking in hand another State, we have resolved, as you heard, not +to let you go until you give an account of all this. +</p> + +<p> +To that resolution, said Glaucon, you may regard me as saying Agreed. +</p> + +<p> +And without more ado, said Thrasymachus, you may consider us all to be equally +agreed. +</p> + +<p> +I said, You know not what you are doing in thus assailing me: What an argument +are you raising about the State! Just as I thought that I had finished, and was +only too glad that I had laid this question to sleep, and was reflecting how +fortunate I was in your acceptance of what I then said, you ask me to begin +again at the very foundation, ignorant of what a hornet’s nest of words +you are stirring. Now I foresaw this gathering trouble, and avoided it. +</p> + +<p> +For what purpose do you conceive that we have come here, said +Thrasymachus,—to look for gold, or to hear discourse? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, but discourse should have a limit. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Socrates, said Glaucon, and the whole of life is the only limit which wise +men assign to the hearing of such discourses. But never mind about us; take +heart yourself and answer the question in your own way: What sort of community +of women and children is this which is to prevail among our guardians? and how +shall we manage the period between birth and education, which seems to require +the greatest care? Tell us how these things will be. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, my simple friend, but the answer is the reverse of easy; many more doubts +arise about this than about our previous conclusions. For the practicability of +what is said may be doubted; and looked at in another point of view, whether +the scheme, if ever so practicable, would be for the best, is also doubtful. +Hence I feel a reluctance to approach the subject, lest our aspiration, my dear +friend, should turn out to be a dream only. +</p> + +<p> +Fear not, he replied, for your audience will not be hard upon you; they are not +sceptical or hostile. +</p> + +<p> +I said: My good friend, I suppose that you mean to encourage me by these words. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then let me tell you that you are doing just the reverse; the encouragement +which you offer would have been all very well had I myself believed that I knew +what I was talking about: to declare the truth about matters of high interest +which a man honours and loves among wise men who love him need occasion no fear +or faltering in his mind; but to carry on an argument when you are yourself +only a hesitating enquirer, which is my condition, is a dangerous and slippery +thing; and the danger is not that I shall be laughed at (of which the fear +would be childish), but that I shall miss the truth where I have most need to +be sure of my footing, and drag my friends after me in my fall. And I pray +Nemesis not to visit upon me the words which I am going to utter. For I do +indeed believe that to be an involuntary homicide is a less crime than to be a +deceiver about beauty or goodness or justice in the matter of laws. And that is +a risk which I would rather run among enemies than among friends, and therefore +you do well to encourage me. +</p> + +<p> +Glaucon laughed and said: Well then, Socrates, in case you and your argument do +us any serious injury you shall be acquitted beforehand of the homicide, and +shall not be held to be a deceiver; take courage then and speak. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, the law says that when a man is acquitted he is free from guilt, +and what holds at law may hold in argument. +</p> + +<p> +Then why should you mind? +</p> + +<p> +Well, I replied, I suppose that I must retrace my steps and say what I perhaps +ought to have said before in the proper place. The part of the men has been +played out, and now properly enough comes the turn of the women. Of them I will +proceed to speak, and the more readily since I am invited by you. +</p> + +<p> +For men born and educated like our citizens, the only way, in my opinion, of +arriving at a right conclusion about the possession and use of women and +children is to follow the path on which we originally started, when we said +that the men were to be the guardians and watchdogs of the herd. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Let us further suppose the birth and education of our women to be subject to +similar or nearly similar regulations; then we shall see whether the result +accords with our design. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +What I mean may be put into the form of a question, I said: Are dogs divided +into hes and shes, or do they both share equally in hunting and in keeping +watch and in the other duties of dogs? or do we entrust to the males the entire +and exclusive care of the flocks, while we leave the females at home, under the +idea that the bearing and suckling their puppies is labour enough for them? +</p> + +<p> +No, he said, they share alike; the only difference between them is that the +males are stronger and the females weaker. +</p> + +<p> +But can you use different animals for the same purpose, unless they are bred +and fed in the same way? +</p> + +<p> +You cannot. +</p> + +<p> +Then, if women are to have the same duties as men, they must have the same +nurture and education? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +The education which was assigned to the men was music and gymnastic. +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then women must be taught music and gymnastic and also the art of war, which +they must practise like the men? +</p> + +<p> +That is the inference, I suppose. +</p> + +<p> +I should rather expect, I said, that several of our proposals, if they are +carried out, being unusual, may appear ridiculous. +</p> + +<p> +No doubt of it. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, and the most ridiculous thing of all will be the sight of women naked in +the palaestra, exercising with the men, especially when they are no longer +young; they certainly will not be a vision of beauty, any more than the +enthusiastic old men who in spite of wrinkles and ugliness continue to frequent +the gymnasia. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, indeed, he said: according to present notions the proposal would be +thought ridiculous. +</p> + +<p> +But then, I said, as we have determined to speak our minds, we must not fear +the jests of the wits which will be directed against this sort of innovation; +how they will talk of women’s attainments both in music and gymnastic, +and above all about their wearing armour and riding upon horseback! +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Yet having begun we must go forward to the rough places of the law; at the same +time begging of these gentlemen for once in their life to be serious. Not long +ago, as we shall remind them, the Hellenes were of the opinion, which is still +generally received among the barbarians, that the sight of a naked man was +ridiculous and improper; and when first the Cretans and then the Lacedaemonians +introduced the custom, the wits of that day might equally have ridiculed the +innovation. +</p> + +<p> +No doubt. +</p> + +<p> +But when experience showed that to let all things be uncovered was far better +than to cover them up, and the ludicrous effect to the outward eye vanished +before the better principle which reason asserted, then the man was perceived +to be a fool who directs the shafts of his ridicule at any other sight but that +of folly and vice, or seriously inclines to weigh the beautiful by any other +standard but that of the good. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +First, then, whether the question is to be put in jest or in earnest, let us +come to an understanding about the nature of woman: Is she capable of sharing +either wholly or partially in the actions of men, or not at all? And is the art +of war one of those arts in which she can or can not share? That will be the +best way of commencing the enquiry, and will probably lead to the fairest +conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +That will be much the best way. +</p> + +<p> +Shall we take the other side first and begin by arguing against ourselves; in +this manner the adversary’s position will not be undefended. +</p> + +<p> +Why not? he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then let us put a speech into the mouths of our opponents. They will say: +‘Socrates and Glaucon, no adversary need convict you, for you yourselves, +at the first foundation of the State, admitted the principle that everybody was +to do the one work suited to his own nature.’ And certainly, if I am not +mistaken, such an admission was made by us. ‘And do not the natures of +men and women differ very much indeed?’ And we shall reply: Of course +they do. Then we shall be asked, ‘Whether the tasks assigned to men and +to women should not be different, and such as are agreeable to their different +natures?’ Certainly they should. ‘But if so, have you not fallen +into a serious inconsistency in saying that men and women, whose natures are so +entirely different, ought to perform the same actions?’—What +defence will you make for us, my good Sir, against any one who offers these +objections? +</p> + +<p> +That is not an easy question to answer when asked suddenly; and I shall and I +do beg of you to draw out the case on our side. +</p> + +<p> +These are the objections, Glaucon, and there are many others of a like kind, +which I foresaw long ago; they made me afraid and reluctant to take in hand any +law about the possession and nurture of women and children. +</p> + +<p> +By Zeus, he said, the problem to be solved is anything but easy. +</p> + +<p> +Why yes, I said, but the fact is that when a man is out of his depth, whether +he has fallen into a little swimming bath or into mid ocean, he has to swim all +the same. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And must not we swim and try to reach the shore: we will hope that +Arion’s dolphin or some other miraculous help may save us? +</p> + +<p> +I suppose so, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Well then, let us see if any way of escape can be found. We +acknowledged—did we not? that different natures ought to have different +pursuits, and that men’s and women’s natures are different. And now +what are we saying?—that different natures ought to have the same +pursuits,—this is the inconsistency which is charged upon us. +</p> + +<p> +Precisely. +</p> + +<p> +Verily, Glaucon, I said, glorious is the power of the art of contradiction! +</p> + +<p> +Why do you say so? +</p> + +<p> +Because I think that many a man falls into the practice against his will. When +he thinks that he is reasoning he is really disputing, just because he cannot +define and divide, and so know that of which he is speaking; and he will pursue +a merely verbal opposition in the spirit of contention and not of fair +discussion. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he replied, such is very often the case; but what has that to do with us +and our argument? +</p> + +<p> +A great deal; for there is certainly a danger of our getting unintentionally +into a verbal opposition. +</p> + +<p> +In what way? +</p> + +<p> +Why we valiantly and pugnaciously insist upon the verbal truth, that different +natures ought to have different pursuits, but we never considered at all what +was the meaning of sameness or difference of nature, or why we distinguished +them when we assigned different pursuits to different natures and the same to +the same natures. +</p> + +<p> +Why, no, he said, that was never considered by us. +</p> + +<p> +I said: Suppose that by way of illustration we were to ask the question whether +there is not an opposition in nature between bald men and hairy men; and if +this is admitted by us, then, if bald men are cobblers, we should forbid the +hairy men to be cobblers, and conversely? +</p> + +<p> +That would be a jest, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, a jest; and why? because we never meant when we constructed the +State, that the opposition of natures should extend to every difference, but +only to those differences which affected the pursuit in which the individual is +engaged; we should have argued, for example, that a physician and one who is in +mind a physician may be said to have the same nature. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Whereas the physician and the carpenter have different natures? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And if, I said, the male and female sex appear to differ in their fitness for +any art or pursuit, we should say that such pursuit or art ought to be assigned +to one or the other of them; but if the difference consists only in women +bearing and men begetting children, this does not amount to a proof that a +woman differs from a man in respect of the sort of education she should +receive; and we shall therefore continue to maintain that our guardians and +their wives ought to have the same pursuits. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Next, we shall ask our opponent how, in reference to any of the pursuits or +arts of civic life, the nature of a woman differs from that of a man? +</p> + +<p> +That will be quite fair. +</p> + +<p> +And perhaps he, like yourself, will reply that to give a sufficient answer on +the instant is not easy; but after a little reflection there is no difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, perhaps. +</p> + +<p> +Suppose then that we invite him to accompany us in the argument, and then we +may hope to show him that there is nothing peculiar in the constitution of +women which would affect them in the administration of the State. +</p> + +<p> +By all means. +</p> + +<p> +Let us say to him: Come now, and we will ask you a question:—when you +spoke of a nature gifted or not gifted in any respect, did you mean to say that +one man will acquire a thing easily, another with difficulty; a little learning +will lead the one to discover a great deal; whereas the other, after much study +and application, no sooner learns than he forgets; or again, did you mean, that +the one has a body which is a good servant to his mind, while the body of the +other is a hindrance to him?—would not these be the sort of differences +which distinguish the man gifted by nature from the one who is ungifted? +</p> + +<p> +No one will deny that. +</p> + +<p> +And can you mention any pursuit of mankind in which the male sex has not all +these gifts and qualities in a higher degree than the female? Need I waste time +in speaking of the art of weaving, and the management of pancakes and +preserves, in which womankind does really appear to be great, and in which for +her to be beaten by a man is of all things the most absurd? +</p> + +<p> +You are quite right, he replied, in maintaining the general inferiority of the +female sex: although many women are in many things superior to many men, yet on +the whole what you say is true. +</p> + +<p> +And if so, my friend, I said, there is no special faculty of administration in +a state which a woman has because she is a woman, or which a man has by virtue +of his sex, but the gifts of nature are alike diffused in both; all the +pursuits of men are the pursuits of women also, but in all of them a woman is +inferior to a man. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Then are we to impose all our enactments on men and none of them on women? +</p> + +<p> +That will never do. +</p> + +<p> +One woman has a gift of healing, another not; one is a musician, and another +has no music in her nature? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And one woman has a turn for gymnastic and military exercises, and another is +unwarlike and hates gymnastics? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And one woman is a philosopher, and another is an enemy of philosophy; one has +spirit, and another is without spirit? +</p> + +<p> +That is also true. +</p> + +<p> +Then one woman will have the temper of a guardian, and another not. Was not the +selection of the male guardians determined by differences of this sort? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Men and women alike possess the qualities which make a guardian; they differ +only in their comparative strength or weakness. +</p> + +<p> +Obviously. +</p> + +<p> +And those women who have such qualities are to be selected as the companions +and colleagues of men who have similar qualities and whom they resemble in +capacity and in character? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And ought not the same natures to have the same pursuits? +</p> + +<p> +They ought. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as we were saying before, there is nothing unnatural in assigning music +and gymnastic to the wives of the guardians—to that point we come round +again. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +The law which we then enacted was agreeable to nature, and therefore not an +impossibility or mere aspiration; and the contrary practice, which prevails at +present, is in reality a violation of nature. +</p> + +<p> +That appears to be true. +</p> + +<p> +We had to consider, first, whether our proposals were possible, and secondly +whether they were the most beneficial? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the possibility has been acknowledged? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +The very great benefit has next to be established? +</p> + +<p> +Quite so. +</p> + +<p> +You will admit that the same education which makes a man a good guardian will +make a woman a good guardian; for their original nature is the same? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +I should like to ask you a question. +</p> + +<p> +What is it? +</p> + +<p> +Would you say that all men are equal in excellence, or is one man better than +another? +</p> + +<p> +The latter. +</p> + +<p> +And in the commonwealth which we were founding do you conceive the guardians +who have been brought up on our model system to be more perfect men, or the +cobblers whose education has been cobbling? +</p> + +<p> +What a ridiculous question! +</p> + +<p> +You have answered me, I replied: Well, and may we not further say that our +guardians are the best of our citizens? +</p> + +<p> +By far the best. +</p> + +<p> +And will not their wives be the best women? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, by far the best. +</p> + +<p> +And can there be anything better for the interests of the State than that the +men and women of a State should be as good as possible? +</p> + +<p> +There can be nothing better. +</p> + +<p> +And this is what the arts of music and gymnastic, when present in such manner +as we have described, will accomplish? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Then we have made an enactment not only possible but in the highest degree +beneficial to the State? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Then let the wives of our guardians strip, for their virtue will be their robe, +and let them share in the toils of war and the defence of their country; only +in the distribution of labours the lighter are to be assigned to the women, who +are the weaker natures, but in other respects their duties are to be the same. +And as for the man who laughs at naked women exercising their bodies from the +best of motives, in his laughter he is plucking +</p> + +<p> +‘A fruit of unripe wisdom,’ +</p> + +<p> +and he himself is ignorant of what he is laughing at, or what he is +about;—for that is, and ever will be, the best of sayings, That the +useful is the noble and the hurtful is the base. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Here, then, is one difficulty in our law about women, which we may say that we +have now escaped; the wave has not swallowed us up alive for enacting that the +guardians of either sex should have all their pursuits in common; to the +utility and also to the possibility of this arrangement the consistency of the +argument with itself bears witness. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that was a mighty wave which you have escaped. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, but a greater is coming; you will not think much of this when you +see the next. +</p> + +<p> +Go on; let me see. +</p> + +<p> +The law, I said, which is the sequel of this and of all that has preceded, is +to the following effect,—‘that the wives of our guardians are to be +common, and their children are to be common, and no parent is to know his own +child, nor any child his parent.’ +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that is a much greater wave than the other; and the possibility +as well as the utility of such a law are far more questionable. +</p> + +<p> +I do not think, I said, that there can be any dispute about the very great +utility of having wives and children in common; the possibility is quite +another matter, and will be very much disputed. +</p> + +<p> +I think that a good many doubts may be raised about both. +</p> + +<p> +You imply that the two questions must be combined, I replied. Now I meant that +you should admit the utility; and in this way, as I thought, I should escape +from one of them, and then there would remain only the possibility. +</p> + +<p> +But that little attempt is detected, and therefore you will please to give a +defence of both. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, I submit to my fate. Yet grant me a little favour: let me feast +my mind with the dream as day dreamers are in the habit of feasting themselves +when they are walking alone; for before they have discovered any means of +effecting their wishes—that is a matter which never troubles +them—they would rather not tire themselves by thinking about +possibilities; but assuming that what they desire is already granted to them, +they proceed with their plan, and delight in detailing what they mean to do +when their wish has come true—that is a way which they have of not doing +much good to a capacity which was never good for much. Now I myself am +beginning to lose heart, and I should like, with your permission, to pass over +the question of possibility at present. Assuming therefore the possibility of +the proposal, I shall now proceed to enquire how the rulers will carry out +these arrangements, and I shall demonstrate that our plan, if executed, will be +of the greatest benefit to the State and to the guardians. First of all, then, +if you have no objection, I will endeavour with your help to consider the +advantages of the measure; and hereafter the question of possibility. +</p> + +<p> +I have no objection; proceed. +</p> + +<p> +First, I think that if our rulers and their auxiliaries are to be worthy of the +name which they bear, there must be willingness to obey in the one and the +power of command in the other; the guardians must themselves obey the laws, and +they must also imitate the spirit of them in any details which are entrusted to +their care. +</p> + +<p> +That is right, he said. +</p> + +<p> +You, I said, who are their legislator, having selected the men, will now select +the women and give them to them;—they must be as far as possible of like +natures with them; and they must live in common houses and meet at common +meals. None of them will have anything specially his or her own; they will be +together, and will be brought up together, and will associate at gymnastic +exercises. And so they will be drawn by a necessity of their natures to have +intercourse with each other—necessity is not too strong a word, I think? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said;—necessity, not geometrical, but another sort of necessity +which lovers know, and which is far more convincing and constraining to the +mass of mankind. +</p> + +<p> +True, I said; and this, Glaucon, like all the rest, must proceed after an +orderly fashion; in a city of the blessed, licentiousness is an unholy thing +which the rulers will forbid. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, and it ought not to be permitted. +</p> + +<p> +Then clearly the next thing will be to make matrimony sacred in the highest +degree, and what is most beneficial will be deemed sacred? +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +And how can marriages be made most beneficial?—that is a question which I +put to you, because I see in your house dogs for hunting, and of the nobler +sort of birds not a few. Now, I beseech you, do tell me, have you ever attended +to their pairing and breeding? +</p> + +<p> +In what particulars? +</p> + +<p> +Why, in the first place, although they are all of a good sort, are not some +better than others? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And do you breed from them all indifferently, or do you take care to breed from +the best only? +</p> + +<p> +From the best. +</p> + +<p> +And do you take the oldest or the youngest, or only those of ripe age? +</p> + +<p> +I choose only those of ripe age. +</p> + +<p> +And if care was not taken in the breeding, your dogs and birds would greatly +deteriorate? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And the same of horses and animals in general? +</p> + +<p> +Undoubtedly. +</p> + +<p> +Good heavens! my dear friend, I said, what consummate skill will our rulers +need if the same principle holds of the human species! +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, the same principle holds; but why does this involve any particular +skill? +</p> + +<p> +Because, I said, our rulers will often have to practise upon the body corporate +with medicines. Now you know that when patients do not require medicines, but +have only to be put under a regimen, the inferior sort of practitioner is +deemed to be good enough; but when medicine has to be given, then the doctor +should be more of a man. +</p> + +<p> +That is quite true, he said; but to what are you alluding? +</p> + +<p> +I mean, I replied, that our rulers will find a considerable dose of falsehood +and deceit necessary for the good of their subjects: we were saying that the +use of all these things regarded as medicines might be of advantage. +</p> + +<p> +And we were very right. +</p> + +<p> +And this lawful use of them seems likely to be often needed in the regulations +of marriages and births. +</p> + +<p> +How so? +</p> + +<p> +Why, I said, the principle has been already laid down that the best of either +sex should be united with the best as often, and the inferior with the +inferior, as seldom as possible; and that they should rear the offspring of the +one sort of union, but not of the other, if the flock is to be maintained in +first-rate condition. Now these goings on must be a secret which the rulers +only know, or there will be a further danger of our herd, as the guardians may +be termed, breaking out into rebellion. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Had we not better appoint certain festivals at which we will bring together the +brides and bridegrooms, and sacrifices will be offered and suitable hymeneal +songs composed by our poets: the number of weddings is a matter which must be +left to the discretion of the rulers, whose aim will be to preserve the average +of population? There are many other things which they will have to consider, +such as the effects of wars and diseases and any similar agencies, in order as +far as this is possible to prevent the State from becoming either too large or +too small. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +We shall have to invent some ingenious kind of lots which the less worthy may +draw on each occasion of our bringing them together, and then they will accuse +their own ill-luck and not the rulers. +</p> + +<p> +To be sure, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And I think that our braver and better youth, besides their other honours and +rewards, might have greater facilities of intercourse with women given them; +their bravery will be a reason, and such fathers ought to have as many sons as +possible. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And the proper officers, whether male or female or both, for offices are to be +held by women as well as by men— +</p> + +<p> +Yes— +</p> + +<p> +The proper officers will take the offspring of the good parents to the pen or +fold, and there they will deposit them with certain nurses who dwell in a +separate quarter; but the offspring of the inferior, or of the better when they +chance to be deformed, will be put away in some mysterious, unknown place, as +they should be. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that must be done if the breed of the guardians is to be kept +pure. +</p> + +<p> +They will provide for their nurture, and will bring the mothers to the fold +when they are full of milk, taking the greatest possible care that no mother +recognises her own child; and other wet-nurses may be engaged if more are +required. Care will also be taken that the process of suckling shall not be +protracted too long; and the mothers will have no getting up at night or other +trouble, but will hand over all this sort of thing to the nurses and +attendants. +</p> + +<p> +You suppose the wives of our guardians to have a fine easy time of it when they +are having children. +</p> + +<p> +Why, said I, and so they ought. Let us, however, proceed with our scheme. We +were saying that the parents should be in the prime of life? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And what is the prime of life? May it not be defined as a period of about +twenty years in a woman’s life, and thirty in a man’s? +</p> + +<p> +Which years do you mean to include? +</p> + +<p> +A woman, I said, at twenty years of age may begin to bear children to the +State, and continue to bear them until forty; a man may begin at +five-and-twenty, when he has passed the point at which the pulse of life beats +quickest, and continue to beget children until he be fifty-five. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said, both in men and women those years are the prime of physical +as well as of intellectual vigour. +</p> + +<p> +Any one above or below the prescribed ages who takes part in the public +hymeneals shall be said to have done an unholy and unrighteous thing; the child +of which he is the father, if it steals into life, will have been conceived +under auspices very unlike the sacrifices and prayers, which at each hymeneal +priestesses and priest and the whole city will offer, that the new generation +may be better and more useful than their good and useful parents, whereas his +child will be the offspring of darkness and strange lust. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And the same law will apply to any one of those within the prescribed age who +forms a connection with any woman in the prime of life without the sanction of +the rulers; for we shall say that he is raising up a bastard to the State, +uncertified and unconsecrated. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +This applies, however, only to those who are within the specified age: after +that we allow them to range at will, except that a man may not marry his +daughter or his daughter’s daughter, or his mother or his mother’s +mother; and women, on the other hand, are prohibited from marrying their sons +or fathers, or son’s son or father’s father, and so on in either +direction. And we grant all this, accompanying the permission with strict +orders to prevent any embryo which may come into being from seeing the light; +and if any force a way to the birth, the parents must understand that the +offspring of such an union cannot be maintained, and arrange accordingly. +</p> + +<p> +That also, he said, is a reasonable proposition. But how will they know who are +fathers and daughters, and so on? +</p> + +<p> +They will never know. The way will be this:—dating from the day of the +hymeneal, the bridegroom who was then married will call all the male children +who are born in the seventh and tenth month afterwards his sons, and the female +children his daughters, and they will call him father, and he will call their +children his grandchildren, and they will call the elder generation +grandfathers and grandmothers. All who were begotten at the time when their +fathers and mothers came together will be called their brothers and sisters, +and these, as I was saying, will be forbidden to inter-marry. This, however, is +not to be understood as an absolute prohibition of the marriage of brothers and +sisters; if the lot favours them, and they receive the sanction of the Pythian +oracle, the law will allow them. +</p> + +<p> +Quite right, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Such is the scheme, Glaucon, according to which the guardians of our State are +to have their wives and families in common. And now you would have the argument +show that this community is consistent with the rest of our polity, and also +that nothing can be better—would you not? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Shall we try to find a common basis by asking of ourselves what ought to be the +chief aim of the legislator in making laws and in the organization of a +State,—what is the greatest good, and what is the greatest evil, and then +consider whether our previous description has the stamp of the good or of the +evil? +</p> + +<p> +By all means. +</p> + +<p> +Can there be any greater evil than discord and distraction and plurality where +unity ought to reign? or any greater good than the bond of unity? +</p> + +<p> +There cannot. +</p> + +<p> +And there is unity where there is community of pleasures and pains—where +all the citizens are glad or grieved on the same occasions of joy and sorrow? +</p> + +<p> +No doubt. +</p> + +<p> +Yes; and where there is no common but only private feeling a State is +disorganized—when you have one half of the world triumphing and the other +plunged in grief at the same events happening to the city or the citizens? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Such differences commonly originate in a disagreement about the use of the +terms ‘mine’ and ‘not mine,’ ‘his’ and +‘not his.’ +</p> + +<p> +Exactly so. +</p> + +<p> +And is not that the best-ordered State in which the greatest number of persons +apply the terms ‘mine’ and ‘not mine’ in the same way +to the same thing? +</p> + +<p> +Quite true. +</p> + +<p> +Or that again which most nearly approaches to the condition of the +individual—as in the body, when but a finger of one of us is hurt, the +whole frame, drawn towards the soul as a centre and forming one kingdom under +the ruling power therein, feels the hurt and sympathizes all together with the +part affected, and we say that the man has a pain in his finger; and the same +expression is used about any other part of the body, which has a sensation of +pain at suffering or of pleasure at the alleviation of suffering. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he replied; and I agree with you that in the best-ordered State +there is the nearest approach to this common feeling which you describe. +</p> + +<p> +Then when any one of the citizens experiences any good or evil, the whole State +will make his case their own, and will either rejoice or sorrow with him? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that is what will happen in a well-ordered State. +</p> + +<p> +It will now be time, I said, for us to return to our State and see whether this +or some other form is most in accordance with these fundamental principles. +</p> + +<p> +Very good. +</p> + +<p> +Our State like every other has rulers and subjects? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +All of whom will call one another citizens? +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +But is there not another name which people give to their rulers in other +States? +</p> + +<p> +Generally they call them masters, but in democratic States they simply call +them rulers. +</p> + +<p> +And in our State what other name besides that of citizens do the people give +the rulers? +</p> + +<p> +They are called saviours and helpers, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And what do the rulers call the people? +</p> + +<p> +Their maintainers and foster-fathers. +</p> + +<p> +And what do they call them in other States? +</p> + +<p> +Slaves. +</p> + +<p> +And what do the rulers call one another in other States? +</p> + +<p> +Fellow-rulers. +</p> + +<p> +And what in ours? +</p> + +<p> +Fellow-guardians. +</p> + +<p> +Did you ever know an example in any other State of a ruler who would speak of +one of his colleagues as his friend and of another as not being his friend? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, very often. +</p> + +<p> +And the friend he regards and describes as one in whom he has an interest, and +the other as a stranger in whom he has no interest? +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +But would any of your guardians think or speak of any other guardian as a +stranger? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly he would not; for every one whom they meet will be regarded by them +either as a brother or sister, or father or mother, or son or daughter, or as +the child or parent of those who are thus connected with him. +</p> + +<p> +Capital, I said; but let me ask you once more: Shall they be a family in name +only; or shall they in all their actions be true to the name? For example, in +the use of the word ‘father,’ would the care of a father be implied +and the filial reverence and duty and obedience to him which the law commands; +and is the violator of these duties to be regarded as an impious and +unrighteous person who is not likely to receive much good either at the hands +of God or of man? Are these to be or not to be the strains which the children +will hear repeated in their ears by all the citizens about those who are +intimated to them to be their parents and the rest of their kinsfolk? +</p> + +<p> +These, he said, and none other; for what can be more ridiculous than for them +to utter the names of family ties with the lips only and not to act in the +spirit of them? +</p> + +<p> +Then in our city the language of harmony and concord will be more often heard +than in any other. As I was describing before, when any one is well or ill, the +universal word will be ‘with me it is well’ or ‘it is +ill.’ +</p> + +<p> +Most true. +</p> + +<p> +And agreeably to this mode of thinking and speaking, were we not saying that +they will have their pleasures and pains in common? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, and so they will. +</p> + +<p> +And they will have a common interest in the same thing which they will alike +call ‘my own,’ and having this common interest they will have a +common feeling of pleasure and pain? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, far more so than in other States. +</p> + +<p> +And the reason of this, over and above the general constitution of the State, +will be that the guardians will have a community of women and children? +</p> + +<p> +That will be the chief reason. +</p> + +<p> +And this unity of feeling we admitted to be the greatest good, as was implied +in our own comparison of a well-ordered State to the relation of the body and +the members, when affected by pleasure or pain? +</p> + +<p> +That we acknowledged, and very rightly. +</p> + +<p> +Then the community of wives and children among our citizens is clearly the +source of the greatest good to the State? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And this agrees with the other principle which we were affirming,—that +the guardians were not to have houses or lands or any other property; their pay +was to be their food, which they were to receive from the other citizens, and +they were to have no private expenses; for we intended them to preserve their +true character of guardians. +</p> + +<p> +Right, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Both the community of property and the community of families, as I am saying, +tend to make them more truly guardians; they will not tear the city in pieces +by differing about ‘mine’ and ‘not mine;’ each man +dragging any acquisition which he has made into a separate house of his own, +where he has a separate wife and children and private pleasures and pains; but +all will be affected as far as may be by the same pleasures and pains because +they are all of one opinion about what is near and dear to them, and therefore +they all tend towards a common end. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And as they have nothing but their persons which they can call their own, suits +and complaints will have no existence among them; they will be delivered from +all those quarrels of which money or children or relations are the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +Of course they will. +</p> + +<p> +Neither will trials for assault or insult ever be likely to occur among them. +For that equals should defend themselves against equals we shall maintain to be +honourable and right; we shall make the protection of the person a matter of +necessity. +</p> + +<p> +That is good, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Yes; and there is a further good in the law; viz. that if a man has a quarrel +with another he will satisfy his resentment then and there, and not proceed to +more dangerous lengths. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +To the elder shall be assigned the duty of ruling and chastising the younger. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +Nor can there be a doubt that the younger will not strike or do any other +violence to an elder, unless the magistrates command him; nor will he slight +him in any way. For there are two guardians, shame and fear, mighty to prevent +him: shame, which makes men refrain from laying hands on those who are to them +in the relation of parents; fear, that the injured one will be succoured by the +others who are his brothers, sons, fathers. +</p> + +<p> +That is true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then in every way the laws will help the citizens to keep the peace with one +another? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, there will be no want of peace. +</p> + +<p> +And as the guardians will never quarrel among themselves there will be no +danger of the rest of the city being divided either against them or against one +another. +</p> + +<p> +None whatever. +</p> + +<p> +I hardly like even to mention the little meannesses of which they will be rid, +for they are beneath notice: such, for example, as the flattery of the rich by +the poor, and all the pains and pangs which men experience in bringing up a +family, and in finding money to buy necessaries for their household, borrowing +and then repudiating, getting how they can, and giving the money into the hands +of women and slaves to keep—the many evils of so many kinds which people +suffer in this way are mean enough and obvious enough, and not worth speaking +of. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, a man has no need of eyes in order to perceive that. +</p> + +<p> +And from all these evils they will be delivered, and their life will be blessed +as the life of Olympic victors and yet more blessed. +</p> + +<p> +How so? +</p> + +<p> +The Olympic victor, I said, is deemed happy in receiving a part only of the +blessedness which is secured to our citizens, who have won a more glorious +victory and have a more complete maintenance at the public cost. For the +victory which they have won is the salvation of the whole State; and the crown +with which they and their children are crowned is the fulness of all that life +needs; they receive rewards from the hands of their country while living, and +after death have an honourable burial. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, and glorious rewards they are. +</p> + +<p> +Do you remember, I said, how in the course of the previous discussion some one +who shall be nameless accused us of making our guardians unhappy—they had +nothing and might have possessed all things—to whom we replied that, if +an occasion offered, we might perhaps hereafter consider this question, but +that, as at present advised, we would make our guardians truly guardians, and +that we were fashioning the State with a view to the greatest happiness, not of +any particular class, but of the whole? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I remember. +</p> + +<p> +And what do you say, now that the life of our protectors is made out to be far +better and nobler than that of Olympic victors—is the life of shoemakers, +or any other artisans, or of husbandmen, to be compared with it? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time I ought here to repeat what I have said elsewhere, that if any +of our guardians shall try to be happy in such a manner that he will cease to +be a guardian, and is not content with this safe and harmonious life, which, in +our judgment, is of all lives the best, but infatuated by some youthful conceit +of happiness which gets up into his head shall seek to appropriate the whole +state to himself, then he will have to learn how wisely Hesiod spoke, when he +said, ‘half is more than the whole.’ +</p> + +<p> +If he were to consult me, I should say to him: Stay where you are, when you +have the offer of such a life. +</p> + +<p> +You agree then, I said, that men and women are to have a common way of life +such as we have described—common education, common children; and they are +to watch over the citizens in common whether abiding in the city or going out +to war; they are to keep watch together, and to hunt together like dogs; and +always and in all things, as far as they are able, women are to share with the +men? And in so doing they will do what is best, and will not violate, but +preserve the natural relation of the sexes. +</p> + +<p> +I agree with you, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +The enquiry, I said, has yet to be made, whether such a community be found +possible—as among other animals, so also among men—and if possible, +in what way possible? +</p> + +<p> +You have anticipated the question which I was about to suggest. +</p> + +<p> +There is no difficulty, I said, in seeing how war will be carried on by them. +</p> + +<p> +How? +</p> + +<p> +Why, of course they will go on expeditions together; and will take with them +any of their children who are strong enough, that, after the manner of the +artisan’s child, they may look on at the work which they will have to do +when they are grown up; and besides looking on they will have to help and be of +use in war, and to wait upon their fathers and mothers. Did you never observe +in the arts how the potters’ boys look on and help, long before they +touch the wheel? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I have. +</p> + +<p> +And shall potters be more careful in educating their children and in giving +them the opportunity of seeing and practising their duties than our guardians +will be? +</p> + +<p> +The idea is ridiculous, he said. +</p> + +<p> +There is also the effect on the parents, with whom, as with other animals, the +presence of their young ones will be the greatest incentive to valour. +</p> + +<p> +That is quite true, Socrates; and yet if they are defeated, which may often +happen in war, how great the danger is! the children will be lost as well as +their parents, and the State will never recover. +</p> + +<p> +True, I said; but would you never allow them to run any risk? +</p> + +<p> +I am far from saying that. +</p> + +<p> +Well, but if they are ever to run a risk should they not do so on some occasion +when, if they escape disaster, they will be the better for it? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +Whether the future soldiers do or do not see war in the days of their youth is +a very important matter, for the sake of which some risk may fairly be +incurred. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, very important. +</p> + +<p> +This then must be our first step,—to make our children spectators of war; +but we must also contrive that they shall be secured against danger; then all +will be well. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Their parents may be supposed not to be blind to the risks of war, but to know, +as far as human foresight can, what expeditions are safe and what dangerous? +</p> + +<p> +That may be assumed. +</p> + +<p> +And they will take them on the safe expeditions and be cautious about the +dangerous ones? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And they will place them under the command of experienced veterans who will be +their leaders and teachers? +</p> + +<p> +Very properly. +</p> + +<p> +Still, the dangers of war cannot be always foreseen; there is a good deal of +chance about them? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Then against such chances the children must be at once furnished with wings, in +order that in the hour of need they may fly away and escape. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? he said. +</p> + +<p> +I mean that we must mount them on horses in their earliest youth, and when they +have learnt to ride, take them on horseback to see war: the horses must not be +spirited and warlike, but the most tractable and yet the swiftest that can be +had. In this way they will get an excellent view of what is hereafter to be +their own business; and if there is danger they have only to follow their elder +leaders and escape. +</p> + +<p> +I believe that you are right, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Next, as to war; what are to be the relations of your soldiers to one another +and to their enemies? I should be inclined to propose that the soldier who +leaves his rank or throws away his arms, or is guilty of any other act of +cowardice, should be degraded into the rank of a husbandman or artisan. What do +you think? +</p> + +<p> +By all means, I should say. +</p> + +<p> +And he who allows himself to be taken prisoner may as well be made a present of +to his enemies; he is their lawful prey, and let them do what they like with +him. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +But the hero who has distinguished himself, what shall be done to him? In the +first place, he shall receive honour in the army from his youthful comrades; +every one of them in succession shall crown him. What do you say? +</p> + +<p> +I approve. +</p> + +<p> +And what do you say to his receiving the right hand of fellowship? +</p> + +<p> +To that too, I agree. +</p> + +<p> +But you will hardly agree to my next proposal. +</p> + +<p> +What is your proposal? +</p> + +<p> +That he should kiss and be kissed by them. +</p> + +<p> +Most certainly, and I should be disposed to go further, and say: Let no one +whom he has a mind to kiss refuse to be kissed by him while the expedition +lasts. So that if there be a lover in the army, whether his love be youth or +maiden, he may be more eager to win the prize of valour. +</p> + +<p> +Capital, I said. That the brave man is to have more wives than others has been +already determined: and he is to have first choices in such matters more than +others, in order that he may have as many children as possible? +</p> + +<p> +Agreed. +</p> + +<p> +Again, there is another manner in which, according to Homer, brave youths +should be honoured; for he tells how Ajax, after he had distinguished himself +in battle, was rewarded with long chines, which seems to be a compliment +appropriate to a hero in the flower of his age, being not only a tribute of +honour but also a very strengthening thing. +</p> + +<p> +Most true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then in this, I said, Homer shall be our teacher; and we too, at sacrifices and +on the like occasions, will honour the brave according to the measure of their +valour, whether men or women, with hymns and those other distinctions which we +were mentioning; also with +</p> + +<p> +‘seats of precedence, and meats and full cups;’ +</p> + +<p> +and in honouring them, we shall be at the same time training them. +</p> + +<p> +That, he replied, is excellent. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; and when a man dies gloriously in war shall we not say, in the +first place, that he is of the golden race? +</p> + +<p> +To be sure. +</p> + +<p> +Nay, have we not the authority of Hesiod for affirming that when they are dead +</p> + +<p> +‘They are holy angels upon the earth, authors of good, averters of evil, +the guardians of speech-gifted men’? +</p> + +<p> +Yes; and we accept his authority. +</p> + +<p> +We must learn of the god how we are to order the sepulture of divine and heroic +personages, and what is to be their special distinction; and we must do as he +bids? +</p> + +<p> +By all means. +</p> + +<p> +And in ages to come we will reverence them and kneel before their sepulchres as +at the graves of heroes. And not only they but any who are deemed pre-eminently +good, whether they die from age, or in any other way, shall be admitted to the +same honours. +</p> + +<p> +That is very right, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Next, how shall our soldiers treat their enemies? What about this? +</p> + +<p> +In what respect do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +First of all, in regard to slavery? Do you think it right that Hellenes should +enslave Hellenic States, or allow others to enslave them, if they can help? +Should not their custom be to spare them, considering the danger which there is +that the whole race may one day fall under the yoke of the barbarians? +</p> + +<p> +To spare them is infinitely better. +</p> + +<p> +Then no Hellene should be owned by them as a slave; that is a rule which they +will observe and advise the other Hellenes to observe. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said; they will in this way be united against the barbarians and +will keep their hands off one another. +</p> + +<p> +Next as to the slain; ought the conquerors, I said, to take anything but their +armour? Does not the practice of despoiling an enemy afford an excuse for not +facing the battle? Cowards skulk about the dead, pretending that they are +fulfilling a duty, and many an army before now has been lost from this love of +plunder. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And is there not illiberality and avarice in robbing a corpse, and also a +degree of meanness and womanishness in making an enemy of the dead body when +the real enemy has flown away and left only his fighting gear behind +him,—is not this rather like a dog who cannot get at his assailant, +quarrelling with the stones which strike him instead? +</p> + +<p> +Very like a dog, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then we must abstain from spoiling the dead or hindering their burial? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he replied, we most certainly must. +</p> + +<p> +Neither shall we offer up arms at the temples of the gods, least of all the +arms of Hellenes, if we care to maintain good feeling with other Hellenes; and, +indeed, we have reason to fear that the offering of spoils taken from kinsmen +may be a pollution unless commanded by the god himself? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Again, as to the devastation of Hellenic territory or the burning of houses, +what is to be the practice? +</p> + +<p> +May I have the pleasure, he said, of hearing your opinion? +</p> + +<p> +Both should be forbidden, in my judgment; I would take the annual produce and +no more. Shall I tell you why? +</p> + +<p> +Pray do. +</p> + +<p> +Why, you see, there is a difference in the names ‘discord’ and +‘war,’ and I imagine that there is also a difference in their +natures; the one is expressive of what is internal and domestic, the other of +what is external and foreign; and the first of the two is termed discord, and +only the second, war. +</p> + +<p> +That is a very proper distinction, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And may I not observe with equal propriety that the Hellenic race is all united +together by ties of blood and friendship, and alien and strange to the +barbarians? +</p> + +<p> +Very good, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And therefore when Hellenes fight with barbarians and barbarians with Hellenes, +they will be described by us as being at war when they fight, and by nature +enemies, and this kind of antagonism should be called war; but when Hellenes +fight with one another we shall say that Hellas is then in a state of disorder +and discord, they being by nature friends; and such enmity is to be called +discord. +</p> + +<p> +I agree. +</p> + +<p> +Consider then, I said, when that which we have acknowledged to be discord +occurs, and a city is divided, if both parties destroy the lands and burn the +houses of one another, how wicked does the strife appear! No true lover of his +country would bring himself to tear in pieces his own nurse and mother: There +might be reason in the conqueror depriving the conquered of their harvest, but +still they would have the idea of peace in their hearts and would not mean to +go on fighting for ever. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that is a better temper than the other. +</p> + +<p> +And will not the city, which you are founding, be an Hellenic city? +</p> + +<p> +It ought to be, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then will not the citizens be good and civilized? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, very civilized. +</p> + +<p> +And will they not be lovers of Hellas, and think of Hellas as their own land, +and share in the common temples? +</p> + +<p> +Most certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And any difference which arises among them will be regarded by them as discord +only—a quarrel among friends, which is not to be called a war? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Then they will quarrel as those who intend some day to be reconciled? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +They will use friendly correction, but will not enslave or destroy their +opponents; they will be correctors, not enemies? +</p> + +<p> +Just so. +</p> + +<p> +And as they are Hellenes themselves they will not devastate Hellas, nor will +they burn houses, nor ever suppose that the whole population of a +city—men, women, and children—are equally their enemies, for they +know that the guilt of war is always confined to a few persons and that the +many are their friends. And for all these reasons they will be unwilling to +waste their lands and rase their houses; their enmity to them will only last +until the many innocent sufferers have compelled the guilty few to give +satisfaction? +</p> + +<p> +I agree, he said, that our citizens should thus deal with their Hellenic +enemies; and with barbarians as the Hellenes now deal with one another. +</p> + +<p> +Then let us enact this law also for our guardians:—that they are neither +to devastate the lands of Hellenes nor to burn their houses. +</p> + +<p> +Agreed; and we may agree also in thinking that these, like all our previous +enactments, are very good. +</p> + +<p> +But still I must say, Socrates, that if you are allowed to go on in this way +you will entirely forget the other question which at the commencement of this +discussion you thrust aside:—Is such an order of things possible, and +how, if at all? For I am quite ready to acknowledge that the plan which you +propose, if only feasible, would do all sorts of good to the State. I will add, +what you have omitted, that your citizens will be the bravest of warriors, and +will never leave their ranks, for they will all know one another, and each will +call the other father, brother, son; and if you suppose the women to join their +armies, whether in the same rank or in the rear, either as a terror to the +enemy, or as auxiliaries in case of need, I know that they will then be +absolutely invincible; and there are many domestic advantages which might also +be mentioned and which I also fully acknowledge: but, as I admit all these +advantages and as many more as you please, if only this State of yours were to +come into existence, we need say no more about them; assuming then the +existence of the State, let us now turn to the question of possibility and ways +and means—the rest may be left. +</p> + +<p> +If I loiter for a moment, you instantly make a raid upon me, I said, and have +no mercy; I have hardly escaped the first and second waves, and you seem not to +be aware that you are now bringing upon me the third, which is the greatest and +heaviest. When you have seen and heard the third wave, I think you will be more +considerate and will acknowledge that some fear and hesitation was natural +respecting a proposal so extraordinary as that which I have now to state and +investigate. +</p> + +<p> +The more appeals of this sort which you make, he said, the more determined are +we that you shall tell us how such a State is possible: speak out and at once. +</p> + +<p> +Let me begin by reminding you that we found our way hither in the search after +justice and injustice. +</p> + +<p> +True, he replied; but what of that? +</p> + +<p> +I was only going to ask whether, if we have discovered them, we are to require +that the just man should in nothing fail of absolute justice; or may we be +satisfied with an approximation, and the attainment in him of a higher degree +of justice than is to be found in other men? +</p> + +<p> +The approximation will be enough. +</p> + +<p> +We were enquiring into the nature of absolute justice and into the character of +the perfectly just, and into injustice and the perfectly unjust, that we might +have an ideal. We were to look at these in order that we might judge of our own +happiness and unhappiness according to the standard which they exhibited and +the degree in which we resembled them, but not with any view of showing that +they could exist in fact. +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Would a painter be any the worse because, after having delineated with +consummate art an ideal of a perfectly beautiful man, he was unable to show +that any such man could ever have existed? +</p> + +<p> +He would be none the worse. +</p> + +<p> +Well, and were we not creating an ideal of a perfect State? +</p> + +<p> +To be sure. +</p> + +<p> +And is our theory a worse theory because we are unable to prove the possibility +of a city being ordered in the manner described? +</p> + +<p> +Surely not, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +That is the truth, I said. But if, at your request, I am to try and show how +and under what conditions the possibility is highest, I must ask you, having +this in view, to repeat your former admissions. +</p> + +<p> +What admissions? +</p> + +<p> +I want to know whether ideals are ever fully realized in language? Does not the +word express more than the fact, and must not the actual, whatever a man may +think, always, in the nature of things, fall short of the truth? What do you +say? +</p> + +<p> +I agree. +</p> + +<p> +Then you must not insist on my proving that the actual State will in every +respect coincide with the ideal: if we are only able to discover how a city may +be governed nearly as we proposed, you will admit that we have discovered the +possibility which you demand; and will be contented. I am sure that I should be +contented—will not you? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I will. +</p> + +<p> +Let me next endeavour to show what is that fault in States which is the cause +of their present maladministration, and what is the least change which will +enable a State to pass into the truer form; and let the change, if possible, be +of one thing only, or, if not, of two; at any rate, let the changes be as few +and slight as possible. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +I think, I said, that there might be a reform of the State if only one change +were made, which is not a slight or easy though still a possible one. +</p> + +<p> +What is it? he said. +</p> + +<p> +Now then, I said, I go to meet that which I liken to the greatest of the waves; +yet shall the word be spoken, even though the wave break and drown me in +laughter and dishonour; and do you mark my words. +</p> + +<p> +Proceed. +</p> + +<p> +I said: ‘Until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of this +world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and political greatness and +wisdom meet in one, and those commoner natures who pursue either to the +exclusion of the other are compelled to stand aside, cities will never have +rest from their evils,—nor the human race, as I believe,—and then +only will this our State have a possibility of life and behold the light of +day.’ Such was the thought, my dear Glaucon, which I would fain have +uttered if it had not seemed too extravagant; for to be convinced that in no +other State can there be happiness private or public is indeed a hard thing. +</p> + +<p> +Socrates, what do you mean? I would have you consider that the word which you +have uttered is one at which numerous persons, and very respectable persons +too, in a figure pulling off their coats all in a moment, and seizing any +weapon that comes to hand, will run at you might and main, before you know +where you are, intending to do heaven knows what; and if you don’t +prepare an answer, and put yourself in motion, you will be ‘pared by +their fine wits,’ and no mistake. +</p> + +<p> +You got me into the scrape, I said. +</p> + +<p> +And I was quite right; however, I will do all I can to get you out of it; but I +can only give you good-will and good advice, and, perhaps, I may be able to fit +answers to your questions better than another—that is all. And now, +having such an auxiliary, you must do your best to show the unbelievers that +you are right. +</p> + +<p> +I ought to try, I said, since you offer me such invaluable assistance. And I +think that, if there is to be a chance of our escaping, we must explain to them +whom we mean when we say that philosophers are to rule in the State; then we +shall be able to defend ourselves: There will be discovered to be some natures +who ought to study philosophy and to be leaders in the State; and others who +are not born to be philosophers, and are meant to be followers rather than +leaders. +</p> + +<p> +Then now for a definition, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Follow me, I said, and I hope that I may in some way or other be able to give +you a satisfactory explanation. +</p> + +<p> +Proceed. +</p> + +<p> +I dare say that you remember, and therefore I need not remind you, that a +lover, if he is worthy of the name, ought to show his love, not to some one +part of that which he loves, but to the whole. +</p> + +<p> +I really do not understand, and therefore beg of you to assist my memory. +</p> + +<p> +Another person, I said, might fairly reply as you do; but a man of pleasure +like yourself ought to know that all who are in the flower of youth do somehow +or other raise a pang or emotion in a lover’s breast, and are thought by +him to be worthy of his affectionate regards. Is not this a way which you have +with the fair: one has a snub nose, and you praise his charming face; the +hook-nose of another has, you say, a royal look; while he who is neither snub +nor hooked has the grace of regularity: the dark visage is manly, the fair are +children of the gods; and as to the sweet ‘honey pale,’ as they are +called, what is the very name but the invention of a lover who talks in +diminutives, and is not averse to paleness if appearing on the cheek of youth? +In a word, there is no excuse which you will not make, and nothing which you +will not say, in order not to lose a single flower that blooms in the +spring-time of youth. +</p> + +<p> +If you make me an authority in matters of love, for the sake of the argument, I +assent. +</p> + +<p> +And what do you say of lovers of wine? Do you not see them doing the same? They +are glad of any pretext of drinking any wine. +</p> + +<p> +Very good. +</p> + +<p> +And the same is true of ambitious men; if they cannot command an army, they are +willing to command a file; and if they cannot be honoured by really great and +important persons, they are glad to be honoured by lesser and meaner +people,—but honour of some kind they must have. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +Once more let me ask: Does he who desires any class of goods, desire the whole +class or a part only? +</p> + +<p> +The whole. +</p> + +<p> +And may we not say of the philosopher that he is a lover, not of a part of +wisdom only, but of the whole? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, of the whole. +</p> + +<p> +And he who dislikes learning, especially in youth, when he has no power of +judging what is good and what is not, such an one we maintain not to be a +philosopher or a lover of knowledge, just as he who refuses his food is not +hungry, and may be said to have a bad appetite and not a good one? +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Whereas he who has a taste for every sort of knowledge and who is curious to +learn and is never satisfied, may be justly termed a philosopher? Am I not +right? +</p> + +<p> +Glaucon said: If curiosity makes a philosopher, you will find many a strange +being will have a title to the name. All the lovers of sights have a delight in +learning, and must therefore be included. Musical amateurs, too, are a folk +strangely out of place among philosophers, for they are the last persons in the +world who would come to anything like a philosophical discussion, if they could +help, while they run about at the Dionysiac festivals as if they had let out +their ears to hear every chorus; whether the performance is in town or +country—that makes no difference—they are there. Now are we to +maintain that all these and any who have similar tastes, as well as the +professors of quite minor arts, are philosophers? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not, I replied; they are only an imitation. +</p> + +<p> +He said: Who then are the true philosophers? +</p> + +<p> +Those, I said, who are lovers of the vision of truth. +</p> + +<p> +That is also good, he said; but I should like to know what you mean? +</p> + +<p> +To another, I replied, I might have a difficulty in explaining; but I am sure +that you will admit a proposition which I am about to make. +</p> + +<p> +What is the proposition? +</p> + +<p> +That since beauty is the opposite of ugliness, they are two? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And inasmuch as they are two, each of them is one? +</p> + +<p> +True again. +</p> + +<p> +And of just and unjust, good and evil, and of every other class, the same +remark holds: taken singly, each of them is one; but from the various +combinations of them with actions and things and with one another, they are +seen in all sorts of lights and appear many? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And this is the distinction which I draw between the sight-loving, art-loving, +practical class and those of whom I am speaking, and who are alone worthy of +the name of philosophers. +</p> + +<p> +How do you distinguish them? he said. +</p> + +<p> +The lovers of sounds and sights, I replied, are, as I conceive, fond of fine +tones and colours and forms and all the artificial products that are made out +of them, but their mind is incapable of seeing or loving absolute beauty. +</p> + +<p> +True, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Few are they who are able to attain to the sight of this. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And he who, having a sense of beautiful things has no sense of absolute beauty, +or who, if another lead him to a knowledge of that beauty is unable to +follow—of such an one I ask, Is he awake or in a dream only? Reflect: is +not the dreamer, sleeping or waking, one who likens dissimilar things, who puts +the copy in the place of the real object? +</p> + +<p> +I should certainly say that such an one was dreaming. +</p> + +<p> +But take the case of the other, who recognises the existence of absolute beauty +and is able to distinguish the idea from the objects which participate in the +idea, neither putting the objects in the place of the idea nor the idea in the +place of the objects—is he a dreamer, or is he awake? +</p> + +<p> +He is wide awake. +</p> + +<p> +And may we not say that the mind of the one who knows has knowledge, and that +the mind of the other, who opines only, has opinion? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +But suppose that the latter should quarrel with us and dispute our statement, +can we administer any soothing cordial or advice to him, without revealing to +him that there is sad disorder in his wits? +</p> + +<p> +We must certainly offer him some good advice, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Come, then, and let us think of something to say to him. Shall we begin by +assuring him that he is welcome to any knowledge which he may have, and that we +are rejoiced at his having it? But we should like to ask him a question: Does +he who has knowledge know something or nothing? (You must answer for him.) +</p> + +<p> +I answer that he knows something. +</p> + +<p> +Something that is or is not? +</p> + +<p> +Something that is; for how can that which is not ever be known? +</p> + +<p> +And are we assured, after looking at the matter from many points of view, that +absolute being is or may be absolutely known, but that the utterly non-existent +is utterly unknown? +</p> + +<p> +Nothing can be more certain. +</p> + +<p> +Good. But if there be anything which is of such a nature as to be and not to +be, that will have a place intermediate between pure being and the absolute +negation of being? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, between them. +</p> + +<p> +And, as knowledge corresponded to being and ignorance of necessity to +not-being, for that intermediate between being and not-being there has to be +discovered a corresponding intermediate between ignorance and knowledge, if +there be such? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Do we admit the existence of opinion? +</p> + +<p> +Undoubtedly. +</p> + +<p> +As being the same with knowledge, or another faculty? +</p> + +<p> +Another faculty. +</p> + +<p> +Then opinion and knowledge have to do with different kinds of matter +corresponding to this difference of faculties? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And knowledge is relative to being and knows being. But before I proceed +further I will make a division. +</p> + +<p> +What division? +</p> + +<p> +I will begin by placing faculties in a class by themselves: they are powers in +us, and in all other things, by which we do as we do. Sight and hearing, for +example, I should call faculties. Have I clearly explained the class which I +mean? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I quite understand. +</p> + +<p> +Then let me tell you my view about them. I do not see them, and therefore the +distinctions of figure, colour, and the like, which enable me to discern the +differences of some things, do not apply to them. In speaking of a faculty I +think only of its sphere and its result; and that which has the same sphere and +the same result I call the same faculty, but that which has another sphere and +another result I call different. Would that be your way of speaking? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And will you be so very good as to answer one more question? Would you say that +knowledge is a faculty, or in what class would you place it? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly knowledge is a faculty, and the mightiest of all faculties. +</p> + +<p> +And is opinion also a faculty? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said; for opinion is that with which we are able to form an +opinion. +</p> + +<p> +And yet you were acknowledging a little while ago that knowledge is not the +same as opinion? +</p> + +<p> +Why, yes, he said: how can any reasonable being ever identify that which is +infallible with that which errs? +</p> + +<p> +An excellent answer, proving, I said, that we are quite conscious of a +distinction between them. +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then knowledge and opinion having distinct powers have also distinct spheres or +subject-matters? +</p> + +<p> +That is certain. +</p> + +<p> +Being is the sphere or subject-matter of knowledge, and knowledge is to know +the nature of being? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And opinion is to have an opinion? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And do we know what we opine? or is the subject-matter of opinion the same as +the subject-matter of knowledge? +</p> + +<p> +Nay, he replied, that has been already disproven; if difference in faculty +implies difference in the sphere or subject-matter, and if, as we were saying, +opinion and knowledge are distinct faculties, then the sphere of knowledge and +of opinion cannot be the same. +</p> + +<p> +Then if being is the subject-matter of knowledge, something else must be the +subject-matter of opinion? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, something else. +</p> + +<p> +Well then, is not-being the subject-matter of opinion? or, rather, how can +there be an opinion at all about not-being? Reflect: when a man has an opinion, +has he not an opinion about something? Can he have an opinion which is an +opinion about nothing? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +He who has an opinion has an opinion about some one thing? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And not-being is not one thing but, properly speaking, nothing? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Of not-being, ignorance was assumed to be the necessary correlative; of being, +knowledge? +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then opinion is not concerned either with being or with not-being? +</p> + +<p> +Not with either. +</p> + +<p> +And can therefore neither be ignorance nor knowledge? +</p> + +<p> +That seems to be true. +</p> + +<p> +But is opinion to be sought without and beyond either of them, in a greater +clearness than knowledge, or in a greater darkness than ignorance? +</p> + +<p> +In neither. +</p> + +<p> +Then I suppose that opinion appears to you to be darker than knowledge, but +lighter than ignorance? +</p> + +<p> +Both; and in no small degree. +</p> + +<p> +And also to be within and between them? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then you would infer that opinion is intermediate? +</p> + +<p> +No question. +</p> + +<p> +But were we not saying before, that if anything appeared to be of a sort which +is and is not at the same time, that sort of thing would appear also to lie in +the interval between pure being and absolute not-being; and that the +corresponding faculty is neither knowledge nor ignorance, but will be found in +the interval between them? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And in that interval there has now been discovered something which we call +opinion? +</p> + +<p> +There has. +</p> + +<p> +Then what remains to be discovered is the object which partakes equally of the +nature of being and not-being, and cannot rightly be termed either, pure and +simple; this unknown term, when discovered, we may truly call the subject of +opinion, and assign each to their proper faculty,—the extremes to the +faculties of the extremes and the mean to the faculty of the mean. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +This being premised, I would ask the gentleman who is of opinion that there is +no absolute or unchangeable idea of beauty—in whose opinion the beautiful +is the manifold—he, I say, your lover of beautiful sights, who cannot +bear to be told that the beautiful is one, and the just is one, or that +anything is one—to him I would appeal, saying, Will you be so very kind, +sir, as to tell us whether, of all these beautiful things, there is one which +will not be found ugly; or of the just, which will not be found unjust; or of +the holy, which will not also be unholy? +</p> + +<p> +No, he replied; the beautiful will in some point of view be found ugly; and the +same is true of the rest. +</p> + +<p> +And may not the many which are doubles be also halves?—doubles, that is, +of one thing, and halves of another? +</p> + +<p> +Quite true. +</p> + +<p> +And things great and small, heavy and light, as they are termed, will not be +denoted by these any more than by the opposite names? +</p> + +<p> +True; both these and the opposite names will always attach to all of them. +</p> + +<p> +And can any one of those many things which are called by particular names be +said to be this rather than not to be this? +</p> + +<p> +He replied: They are like the punning riddles which are asked at feasts or the +children’s puzzle about the eunuch aiming at the bat, with what he hit +him, as they say in the puzzle, and upon what the bat was sitting. The +individual objects of which I am speaking are also a riddle, and have a double +sense: nor can you fix them in your mind, either as being or not-being, or +both, or neither. +</p> + +<p> +Then what will you do with them? I said. Can they have a better place than +between being and not-being? For they are clearly not in greater darkness or +negation than not-being, or more full of light and existence than being. +</p> + +<p> +That is quite true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Thus then we seem to have discovered that the many ideas which the multitude +entertain about the beautiful and about all other things are tossing about in +some region which is half-way between pure being and pure not-being? +</p> + +<p> +We have. +</p> + +<p> +Yes; and we had before agreed that anything of this kind which we might find +was to be described as matter of opinion, and not as matter of knowledge; being +the intermediate flux which is caught and detained by the intermediate faculty. +</p> + +<p> +Quite true. +</p> + +<p> +Then those who see the many beautiful, and who yet neither see absolute beauty, +nor can follow any guide who points the way thither; who see the many just, and +not absolute justice, and the like,—such persons may be said to have +opinion but not knowledge? +</p> + +<p> +That is certain. +</p> + +<p> +But those who see the absolute and eternal and immutable may be said to know, +and not to have opinion only? +</p> + +<p> +Neither can that be denied. +</p> + +<p> +The one love and embrace the subjects of knowledge, the other those of opinion? +The latter are the same, as I dare say you will remember, who listened to sweet +sounds and gazed upon fair colours, but would not tolerate the existence of +absolute beauty. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I remember. +</p> + +<p> +Shall we then be guilty of any impropriety in calling them lovers of opinion +rather than lovers of wisdom, and will they be very angry with us for thus +describing them? +</p> + +<p> +I shall tell them not to be angry; no man should be angry at what is true. +</p> + +<p> +But those who love the truth in each thing are to be called lovers of wisdom +and not lovers of opinion. +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"></a> BOOK VI.</h2> + +<p> +And thus, Glaucon, after the argument has gone a weary way, the true and the +false philosophers have at length appeared in view. +</p> + +<p> +I do not think, he said, that the way could have been shortened. +</p> + +<p> +I suppose not, I said; and yet I believe that we might have had a better view +of both of them if the discussion could have been confined to this one subject +and if there were not many other questions awaiting us, which he who desires to +see in what respect the life of the just differs from that of the unjust must +consider. +</p> + +<p> +And what is the next question? he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Surely, I said, the one which follows next in order. Inasmuch as philosophers +only are able to grasp the eternal and unchangeable, and those who wander in +the region of the many and variable are not philosophers, I must ask you which +of the two classes should be the rulers of our State? +</p> + +<p> +And how can we rightly answer that question? +</p> + +<p> +Whichever of the two are best able to guard the laws and institutions of our +State—let them be our guardians. +</p> + +<p> +Very good. +</p> + +<p> +Neither, I said, can there be any question that the guardian who is to keep +anything should have eyes rather than no eyes? +</p> + +<p> +There can be no question of that. +</p> + +<p> +And are not those who are verily and indeed wanting in the knowledge of the +true being of each thing, and who have in their souls no clear pattern, and are +unable as with a painter’s eye to look at the absolute truth and to that +original to repair, and having perfect vision of the other world to order the +laws about beauty, goodness, justice in this, if not already ordered, and to +guard and preserve the order of them—are not such persons, I ask, simply +blind? +</p> + +<p> +Truly, he replied, they are much in that condition. +</p> + +<p> +And shall they be our guardians when there are others who, besides being their +equals in experience and falling short of them in no particular of virtue, also +know the very truth of each thing? +</p> + +<p> +There can be no reason, he said, for rejecting those who have this greatest of +all great qualities; they must always have the first place unless they fail in +some other respect. +</p> + +<p> +Suppose then, I said, that we determine how far they can unite this and the +other excellences. +</p> + +<p> +By all means. +</p> + +<p> +In the first place, as we began by observing, the nature of the philosopher has +to be ascertained. We must come to an understanding about him, and, when we +have done so, then, if I am not mistaken, we shall also acknowledge that such +an union of qualities is possible, and that those in whom they are united, and +those only, should be rulers in the State. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +Let us suppose that philosophical minds always love knowledge of a sort which +shows them the eternal nature not varying from generation and corruption. +</p> + +<p> +Agreed. +</p> + +<p> +And further, I said, let us agree that they are lovers of all true being; there +is no part whether greater or less, or more or less honourable, which they are +willing to renounce; as we said before of the lover and the man of ambition. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And if they are to be what we were describing, is there not another quality +which they should also possess? +</p> + +<p> +What quality? +</p> + +<p> +Truthfulness: they will never intentionally receive into their mind falsehood, +which is their detestation, and they will love the truth. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that may be safely affirmed of them. +</p> + +<p> +‘May be,’ my friend, I replied, is not the word; say rather +‘must be affirmed:’ for he whose nature is amorous of anything +cannot help loving all that belongs or is akin to the object of his affections. +</p> + +<p> +Right, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And is there anything more akin to wisdom than truth? +</p> + +<p> +How can there be? +</p> + +<p> +Can the same nature be a lover of wisdom and a lover of falsehood? +</p> + +<p> +Never. +</p> + +<p> +The true lover of learning then must from his earliest youth, as far as in him +lies, desire all truth? +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly. +</p> + +<p> +But then again, as we know by experience, he whose desires are strong in one +direction will have them weaker in others; they will be like a stream which has +been drawn off into another channel. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +He whose desires are drawn towards knowledge in every form will be absorbed in +the pleasures of the soul, and will hardly feel bodily pleasure—I mean, +if he be a true philosopher and not a sham one. +</p> + +<p> +That is most certain. +</p> + +<p> +Such an one is sure to be temperate and the reverse of covetous; for the +motives which make another man desirous of having and spending, have no place +in his character. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Another criterion of the philosophical nature has also to be considered. +</p> + +<p> +What is that? +</p> + +<p> +There should be no secret corner of illiberality; nothing can be more +antagonistic than meanness to a soul which is ever longing after the whole of +things both divine and human. +</p> + +<p> +Most true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then how can he who has magnificence of mind and is the spectator of all time +and all existence, think much of human life? +</p> + +<p> +He cannot. +</p> + +<p> +Or can such an one account death fearful? +</p> + +<p> +No indeed. +</p> + +<p> +Then the cowardly and mean nature has no part in true philosophy? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Or again: can he who is harmoniously constituted, who is not covetous or mean, +or a boaster, or a coward—can he, I say, ever be unjust or hard in his +dealings? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Then you will soon observe whether a man is just and gentle, or rude and +unsociable; these are the signs which distinguish even in youth the +philosophical nature from the unphilosophical. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +There is another point which should be remarked. +</p> + +<p> +What point? +</p> + +<p> +Whether he has or has not a pleasure in learning; for no one will love that +which gives him pain, and in which after much toil he makes little progress. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +And again, if he is forgetful and retains nothing of what he learns, will he +not be an empty vessel? +</p> + +<p> +That is certain. +</p> + +<p> +Labouring in vain, he must end in hating himself and his fruitless occupation? +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then a soul which forgets cannot be ranked among genuine philosophic natures; +we must insist that the philosopher should have a good memory? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And once more, the inharmonious and unseemly nature can only tend to +disproportion? +</p> + +<p> +Undoubtedly. +</p> + +<p> +And do you consider truth to be akin to proportion or to disproportion? +</p> + +<p> +To proportion. +</p> + +<p> +Then, besides other qualities, we must try to find a naturally +well-proportioned and gracious mind, which will move spontaneously towards the +true being of everything. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Well, and do not all these qualities, which we have been enumerating, go +together, and are they not, in a manner, necessary to a soul, which is to have +a full and perfect participation of being? +</p> + +<p> +They are absolutely necessary, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And must not that be a blameless study which he only can pursue who has the +gift of a good memory, and is quick to learn,—noble, gracious, the friend +of truth, justice, courage, temperance, who are his kindred? +</p> + +<p> +The god of jealousy himself, he said, could find no fault with such a study. +</p> + +<p> +And to men like him, I said, when perfected by years and education, and to +these only you will entrust the State. +</p> + +<p> +Here Adeimantus interposed and said: To these statements, Socrates, no one can +offer a reply; but when you talk in this way, a strange feeling passes over the +minds of your hearers: They fancy that they are led astray a little at each +step in the argument, owing to their own want of skill in asking and answering +questions; these littles accumulate, and at the end of the discussion they are +found to have sustained a mighty overthrow and all their former notions appear +to be turned upside down. And as unskilful players of draughts are at last shut +up by their more skilful adversaries and have no piece to move, so they too +find themselves shut up at last; for they have nothing to say in this new game +of which words are the counters; and yet all the time they are in the right. +The observation is suggested to me by what is now occurring. For any one of us +might say, that although in words he is not able to meet you at each step of +the argument, he sees as a fact that the votaries of philosophy, when they +carry on the study, not only in youth as a part of education, but as the +pursuit of their maturer years, most of them become strange monsters, not to +say utter rogues, and that those who may be considered the best of them are +made useless to the world by the very study which you extol. +</p> + +<p> +Well, and do you think that those who say so are wrong? +</p> + +<p> +I cannot tell, he replied; but I should like to know what is your opinion. +</p> + +<p> +Hear my answer; I am of opinion that they are quite right. +</p> + +<p> +Then how can you be justified in saying that cities will not cease from evil +until philosophers rule in them, when philosophers are acknowledged by us to be +of no use to them? +</p> + +<p> +You ask a question, I said, to which a reply can only be given in a parable. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Socrates; and that is a way of speaking to which you are not at all +accustomed, I suppose. +</p> + +<p> +I perceive, I said, that you are vastly amused at having plunged me into such a +hopeless discussion; but now hear the parable, and then you will be still more +amused at the meagreness of my imagination: for the manner in which the best +men are treated in their own States is so grievous that no single thing on +earth is comparable to it; and therefore, if I am to plead their cause, I must +have recourse to fiction, and put together a figure made up of many things, +like the fabulous unions of goats and stags which are found in pictures. +Imagine then a fleet or a ship in which there is a captain who is taller and +stronger than any of the crew, but he is a little deaf and has a similar +infirmity in sight, and his knowledge of navigation is not much better. The +sailors are quarrelling with one another about the steering—every one is +of opinion that he has a right to steer, though he has never learned the art of +navigation and cannot tell who taught him or when he learned, and will further +assert that it cannot be taught, and they are ready to cut in pieces any one +who says the contrary. They throng about the captain, begging and praying him +to commit the helm to them; and if at any time they do not prevail, but others +are preferred to them, they kill the others or throw them overboard, and having +first chained up the noble captain’s senses with drink or some narcotic +drug, they mutiny and take possession of the ship and make free with the +stores; thus, eating and drinking, they proceed on their voyage in such manner +as might be expected of them. Him who is their partisan and cleverly aids them +in their plot for getting the ship out of the captain’s hands into their +own whether by force or persuasion, they compliment with the name of sailor, +pilot, able seaman, and abuse the other sort of man, whom they call a +good-for-nothing; but that the true pilot must pay attention to the year and +seasons and sky and stars and winds, and whatever else belongs to his art, if +he intends to be really qualified for the command of a ship, and that he must +and will be the steerer, whether other people like or not—the possibility +of this union of authority with the steerer’s art has never seriously +entered into their thoughts or been made part of their calling. Now in vessels +which are in a state of mutiny and by sailors who are mutineers, how will the +true pilot be regarded? Will he not be called by them a prater, a star-gazer, a +good-for-nothing? +</p> + +<p> +Of course, said Adeimantus. +</p> + +<p> +Then you will hardly need, I said, to hear the interpretation of the figure, +which describes the true philosopher in his relation to the State; for you +understand already. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Then suppose you now take this parable to the gentleman who is surprised at +finding that philosophers have no honour in their cities; explain it to him and +try to convince him that their having honour would be far more extraordinary. +</p> + +<p> +I will. +</p> + +<p> +Say to him, that, in deeming the best votaries of philosophy to be useless to +the rest of the world, he is right; but also tell him to attribute their +uselessness to the fault of those who will not use them, and not to themselves. +The pilot should not humbly beg the sailors to be commanded by him—that +is not the order of nature; neither are ‘the wise to go to the doors of +the rich’—the ingenious author of this saying told a lie—but +the truth is, that, when a man is ill, whether he be rich or poor, to the +physician he must go, and he who wants to be governed, to him who is able to +govern. The ruler who is good for anything ought not to beg his subjects to be +ruled by him; although the present governors of mankind are of a different +stamp; they may be justly compared to the mutinous sailors, and the true +helmsmen to those who are called by them good-for-nothings and star-gazers. +</p> + +<p> +Precisely so, he said. +</p> + +<p> +For these reasons, and among men like these, philosophy, the noblest pursuit of +all, is not likely to be much esteemed by those of the opposite faction; not +that the greatest and most lasting injury is done to her by her opponents, but +by her own professing followers, the same of whom you suppose the accuser to +say, that the greater number of them are arrant rogues, and the best are +useless; in which opinion I agreed. +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the reason why the good are useless has now been explained? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Then shall we proceed to show that the corruption of the majority is also +unavoidable, and that this is not to be laid to the charge of philosophy any +more than the other? +</p> + +<p> +By all means. +</p> + +<p> +And let us ask and answer in turn, first going back to the description of the +gentle and noble nature. Truth, as you will remember, was his leader, whom he +followed always and in all things; failing in this, he was an impostor, and had +no part or lot in true philosophy. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that was said. +</p> + +<p> +Well, and is not this one quality, to mention no others, greatly at variance +with present notions of him? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And have we not a right to say in his defence, that the true lover of knowledge +is always striving after being—that is his nature; he will not rest in +the multiplicity of individuals which is an appearance only, but will go +on—the keen edge will not be blunted, nor the force of his desire abate +until he have attained the knowledge of the true nature of every essence by a +sympathetic and kindred power in the soul, and by that power drawing near and +mingling and becoming incorporate with very being, having begotten mind and +truth, he will have knowledge and will live and grow truly, and then, and not +till then, will he cease from his travail. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing, he said, can be more just than such a description of him. +</p> + +<p> +And will the love of a lie be any part of a philosopher’s nature? Will he +not utterly hate a lie? +</p> + +<p> +He will. +</p> + +<p> +And when truth is the captain, we cannot suspect any evil of the band which he +leads? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Justice and health of mind will be of the company, and temperance will follow +after? +</p> + +<p> +True, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Neither is there any reason why I should again set in array the +philosopher’s virtues, as you will doubtless remember that courage, +magnificence, apprehension, memory, were his natural gifts. And you objected +that, although no one could deny what I then said, still, if you leave words +and look at facts, the persons who are thus described are some of them +manifestly useless, and the greater number utterly depraved; we were then led +to enquire into the grounds of these accusations, and have now arrived at the +point of asking why are the majority bad, which question of necessity brought +us back to the examination and definition of the true philosopher. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +And we have next to consider the corruptions of the philosophic nature, why so +many are spoiled and so few escape spoiling—I am speaking of those who +were said to be useless but not wicked—and, when we have done with them, +we will speak of the imitators of philosophy, what manner of men are they who +aspire after a profession which is above them and of which they are unworthy, +and then, by their manifold inconsistencies, bring upon philosophy, and upon +all philosophers, that universal reprobation of which we speak. +</p> + +<p> +What are these corruptions? he said. +</p> + +<p> +I will see if I can explain them to you. Every one will admit that a nature +having in perfection all the qualities which we required in a philosopher, is a +rare plant which is seldom seen among men. +</p> + +<p> +Rare indeed. +</p> + +<p> +And what numberless and powerful causes tend to destroy these rare natures! +</p> + +<p> +What causes? +</p> + +<p> +In the first place there are their own virtues, their courage, temperance, and +the rest of them, every one of which praiseworthy qualities (and this is a most +singular circumstance) destroys and distracts from philosophy the soul which is +the possessor of them. +</p> + +<p> +That is very singular, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then there are all the ordinary goods of life—beauty, wealth, strength, +rank, and great connections in the State—you understand the sort of +things—these also have a corrupting and distracting effect. +</p> + +<p> +I understand; but I should like to know more precisely what you mean about +them. +</p> + +<p> +Grasp the truth as a whole, I said, and in the right way; you will then have no +difficulty in apprehending the preceding remarks, and they will no longer +appear strange to you. +</p> + +<p> +And how am I to do so? he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Why, I said, we know that all germs or seeds, whether vegetable or animal, when +they fail to meet with proper nutriment or climate or soil, in proportion to +their vigour, are all the more sensitive to the want of a suitable environment, +for evil is a greater enemy to what is good than to what is not. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +There is reason in supposing that the finest natures, when under alien +conditions, receive more injury than the inferior, because the contrast is +greater. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And may we not say, Adeimantus, that the most gifted minds, when they are +ill-educated, become pre-eminently bad? Do not great crimes and the spirit of +pure evil spring out of a fulness of nature ruined by education rather than +from any inferiority, whereas weak natures are scarcely capable of any very +great good or very great evil? +</p> + +<p> +There I think that you are right. +</p> + +<p> +And our philosopher follows the same analogy—he is like a plant which, +having proper nurture, must necessarily grow and mature into all virtue, but, +if sown and planted in an alien soil, becomes the most noxious of all weeds, +unless he be preserved by some divine power. Do you really think, as people so +often say, that our youth are corrupted by Sophists, or that private teachers +of the art corrupt them in any degree worth speaking of? Are not the public who +say these things the greatest of all Sophists? And do they not educate to +perfection young and old, men and women alike, and fashion them after their own +hearts? +</p> + +<p> +When is this accomplished? he said. +</p> + +<p> +When they meet together, and the world sits down at an assembly, or in a court +of law, or a theatre, or a camp, or in any other popular resort, and there is a +great uproar, and they praise some things which are being said or done, and +blame other things, equally exaggerating both, shouting and clapping their +hands, and the echo of the rocks and the place in which they are assembled +redoubles the sound of the praise or blame—at such a time will not a +young man’s heart, as they say, leap within him? Will any private +training enable him to stand firm against the overwhelming flood of popular +opinion? or will he be carried away by the stream? Will he not have the notions +of good and evil which the public in general have—he will do as they do, +and as they are, such will he be? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Socrates; necessity will compel him. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, I said, there is a still greater necessity, which has not been +mentioned. +</p> + +<p> +What is that? +</p> + +<p> +The gentle force of attainder or confiscation or death, which, as you are +aware, these new Sophists and educators, who are the public, apply when their +words are powerless. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed they do; and in right good earnest. +</p> + +<p> +Now what opinion of any other Sophist, or of any private person, can be +expected to overcome in such an unequal contest? +</p> + +<p> +None, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +No, indeed, I said, even to make the attempt is a great piece of folly; there +neither is, nor has been, nor is ever likely to be, any different type of +character which has had no other training in virtue but that which is supplied +by public opinion—I speak, my friend, of human virtue only; what is more +than human, as the proverb says, is not included: for I would not have you +ignorant that, in the present evil state of governments, whatever is saved and +comes to good is saved by the power of God, as we may truly say. +</p> + +<p> +I quite assent, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then let me crave your assent also to a further observation. +</p> + +<p> +What are you going to say? +</p> + +<p> +Why, that all those mercenary individuals, whom the many call Sophists and whom +they deem to be their adversaries, do, in fact, teach nothing but the opinion +of the many, that is to say, the opinions of their assemblies; and this is +their wisdom. I might compare them to a man who should study the tempers and +desires of a mighty strong beast who is fed by him—he would learn how to +approach and handle him, also at what times and from what causes he is +dangerous or the reverse, and what is the meaning of his several cries, and by +what sounds, when another utters them, he is soothed or infuriated; and you may +suppose further, that when, by continually attending upon him, he has become +perfect in all this, he calls his knowledge wisdom, and makes of it a system or +art, which he proceeds to teach, although he has no real notion of what he +means by the principles or passions of which he is speaking, but calls this +honourable and that dishonourable, or good or evil, or just or unjust, all in +accordance with the tastes and tempers of the great brute. Good he pronounces +to be that in which the beast delights and evil to be that which he dislikes; +and he can give no other account of them except that the just and noble are the +necessary, having never himself seen, and having no power of explaining to +others the nature of either, or the difference between them, which is immense. +By heaven, would not such an one be a rare educator? +</p> + +<p> +Indeed he would. +</p> + +<p> +And in what way does he who thinks that wisdom is the discernment of the +tempers and tastes of the motley multitude, whether in painting or music, or, +finally, in politics, differ from him whom I have been describing? For when a +man consorts with the many, and exhibits to them his poem or other work of art +or the service which he has done the State, making them his judges when he is +not obliged, the so-called necessity of Diomede will oblige him to produce +whatever they praise. And yet the reasons are utterly ludicrous which they give +in confirmation of their own notions about the honourable and good. Did you +ever hear any of them which were not? +</p> + +<p> +No, nor am I likely to hear. +</p> + +<p> +You recognise the truth of what I have been saying? Then let me ask you to +consider further whether the world will ever be induced to believe in the +existence of absolute beauty rather than of the many beautiful, or of the +absolute in each kind rather than of the many in each kind? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Then the world cannot possibly be a philosopher? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +And therefore philosophers must inevitably fall under the censure of the world? +</p> + +<p> +They must. +</p> + +<p> +And of individuals who consort with the mob and seek to please them? +</p> + +<p> +That is evident. +</p> + +<p> +Then, do you see any way in which the philosopher can be preserved in his +calling to the end? and remember what we were saying of him, that he was to +have quickness and memory and courage and magnificence—these were +admitted by us to be the true philosopher’s gifts. +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Will not such an one from his early childhood be in all things first among all, +especially if his bodily endowments are like his mental ones? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And his friends and fellow-citizens will want to use him as he gets older for +their own purposes? +</p> + +<p> +No question. +</p> + +<p> +Falling at his feet, they will make requests to him and do him honour and +flatter him, because they want to get into their hands now, the power which he +will one day possess. +</p> + +<p> +That often happens, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And what will a man such as he is be likely to do under such circumstances, +especially if he be a citizen of a great city, rich and noble, and a tall +proper youth? Will he not be full of boundless aspirations, and fancy himself +able to manage the affairs of Hellenes and of barbarians, and having got such +notions into his head will he not dilate and elevate himself in the fulness of +vain pomp and senseless pride? +</p> + +<p> +To be sure he will. +</p> + +<p> +Now, when he is in this state of mind, if some one gently comes to him and +tells him that he is a fool and must get understanding, which can only be got +by slaving for it, do you think that, under such adverse circumstances, he will +be easily induced to listen? +</p> + +<p> +Far otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +And even if there be some one who through inherent goodness or natural +reasonableness has had his eyes opened a little and is humbled and taken +captive by philosophy, how will his friends behave when they think that they +are likely to lose the advantage which they were hoping to reap from his +companionship? Will they not do and say anything to prevent him from yielding +to his better nature and to render his teacher powerless, using to this end +private intrigues as well as public prosecutions? +</p> + +<p> +There can be no doubt of it. +</p> + +<p> +And how can one who is thus circumstanced ever become a philosopher? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Then were we not right in saying that even the very qualities which make a man +a philosopher may, if he be ill-educated, divert him from philosophy, no less +than riches and their accompaniments and the other so-called goods of life? +</p> + +<p> +We were quite right. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, my excellent friend, is brought about all that ruin and failure which I +have been describing of the natures best adapted to the best of all pursuits; +they are natures which we maintain to be rare at any time; this being the class +out of which come the men who are the authors of the greatest evil to States +and individuals; and also of the greatest good when the tide carries them in +that direction; but a small man never was the doer of any great thing either to +individuals or to States. +</p> + +<p> +That is most true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And so philosophy is left desolate, with her marriage rite incomplete: for her +own have fallen away and forsaken her, and while they are leading a false and +unbecoming life, other unworthy persons, seeing that she has no kinsmen to be +her protectors, enter in and dishonour her; and fasten upon her the reproaches +which, as you say, her reprovers utter, who affirm of her votaries that some +are good for nothing, and that the greater number deserve the severest +punishment. +</p> + +<p> +That is certainly what people say. +</p> + +<p> +Yes; and what else would you expect, I said, when you think of the puny +creatures who, seeing this land open to them—a land well stocked with +fair names and showy titles—like prisoners running out of prison into a +sanctuary, take a leap out of their trades into philosophy; those who do so +being probably the cleverest hands at their own miserable crafts? For, although +philosophy be in this evil case, still there remains a dignity about her which +is not to be found in the arts. And many are thus attracted by her whose +natures are imperfect and whose souls are maimed and disfigured by their +meannesses, as their bodies are by their trades and crafts. Is not this +unavoidable? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Are they not exactly like a bald little tinker who has just got out of durance +and come into a fortune; he takes a bath and puts on a new coat, and is decked +out as a bridegroom going to marry his master’s daughter, who is left +poor and desolate? +</p> + +<p> +A most exact parallel. +</p> + +<p> +What will be the issue of such marriages? Will they not be vile and bastard? +</p> + +<p> +There can be no question of it. +</p> + +<p> +And when persons who are unworthy of education approach philosophy and make an +alliance with her who is in a rank above them what sort of ideas and opinions +are likely to be generated? Will they not be sophisms captivating to the ear, +having nothing in them genuine, or worthy of or akin to true wisdom? +</p> + +<p> +No doubt, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then, Adeimantus, I said, the worthy disciples of philosophy will be but a +small remnant: perchance some noble and well-educated person, detained by exile +in her service, who in the absence of corrupting influences remains devoted to +her; or some lofty soul born in a mean city, the politics of which he contemns +and neglects; and there may be a gifted few who leave the arts, which they +justly despise, and come to her;—or peradventure there are some who are +restrained by our friend Theages’ bridle; for everything in the life of +Theages conspired to divert him from philosophy; but ill-health kept him away +from politics. My own case of the internal sign is hardly worth mentioning, for +rarely, if ever, has such a monitor been given to any other man. Those who +belong to this small class have tasted how sweet and blessed a possession +philosophy is, and have also seen enough of the madness of the multitude; and +they know that no politician is honest, nor is there any champion of justice at +whose side they may fight and be saved. Such an one may be compared to a man +who has fallen among wild beasts—he will not join in the wickedness of +his fellows, but neither is he able singly to resist all their fierce natures, +and therefore seeing that he would be of no use to the State or to his friends, +and reflecting that he would have to throw away his life without doing any good +either to himself or others, he holds his peace, and goes his own way. He is +like one who, in the storm of dust and sleet which the driving wind hurries +along, retires under the shelter of a wall; and seeing the rest of mankind full +of wickedness, he is content, if only he can live his own life and be pure from +evil or unrighteousness, and depart in peace and good-will, with bright hopes. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, and he will have done a great work before he departs. +</p> + +<p> +A great work—yes; but not the greatest, unless he find a State suitable +to him; for in a State which is suitable to him, he will have a larger growth +and be the saviour of his country, as well as of himself. +</p> + +<p> +The causes why philosophy is in such an evil name have now been sufficiently +explained: the injustice of the charges against her has been shown—is +there anything more which you wish to say? +</p> + +<p> +Nothing more on that subject, he replied; but I should like to know which of +the governments now existing is in your opinion the one adapted to her. +</p> + +<p> +Not any of them, I said; and that is precisely the accusation which I bring +against them—not one of them is worthy of the philosophic nature, and +hence that nature is warped and estranged;—as the exotic seed which is +sown in a foreign land becomes denaturalized, and is wont to be overpowered and +to lose itself in the new soil, even so this growth of philosophy, instead of +persisting, degenerates and receives another character. But if philosophy ever +finds in the State that perfection which she herself is, then will be seen that +she is in truth divine, and that all other things, whether natures of men or +institutions, are but human;—and now, I know, that you are going to ask, +What that State is: +</p> + +<p> +No, he said; there you are wrong, for I was going to ask another +question—whether it is the State of which we are the founders and +inventors, or some other? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I replied, ours in most respects; but you may remember my saying before, +that some living authority would always be required in the State having the +same idea of the constitution which guided you when as legislator you were +laying down the laws. +</p> + +<p> +That was said, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, but not in a satisfactory manner; you frightened us by interposing +objections, which certainly showed that the discussion would be long and +difficult; and what still remains is the reverse of easy. +</p> + +<p> +What is there remaining? +</p> + +<p> +The question how the study of philosophy may be so ordered as not to be the +ruin of the State: All great attempts are attended with risk; ‘hard is +the good,’ as men say. +</p> + +<p> +Still, he said, let the point be cleared up, and the enquiry will then be +complete. +</p> + +<p> +I shall not be hindered, I said, by any want of will, but, if at all, by a want +of power: my zeal you may see for yourselves; and please to remark in what I am +about to say how boldly and unhesitatingly I declare that States should pursue +philosophy, not as they do now, but in a different spirit. +</p> + +<p> +In what manner? +</p> + +<p> +At present, I said, the students of philosophy are quite young; beginning when +they are hardly past childhood, they devote only the time saved from +moneymaking and housekeeping to such pursuits; and even those of them who are +reputed to have most of the philosophic spirit, when they come within sight of +the great difficulty of the subject, I mean dialectic, take themselves off. In +after life when invited by some one else, they may, perhaps, go and hear a +lecture, and about this they make much ado, for philosophy is not considered by +them to be their proper business: at last, when they grow old, in most cases +they are extinguished more truly than Heracleitus’ sun, inasmuch as they +never light up again. (Heraclitus said that the sun was extinguished every +evening and relighted every morning.) +</p> + +<p> +But what ought to be their course? +</p> + +<p> +Just the opposite. In childhood and youth their study, and what philosophy they +learn, should be suited to their tender years: during this period while they +are growing up towards manhood, the chief and special care should be given to +their bodies that they may have them to use in the service of philosophy; as +life advances and the intellect begins to mature, let them increase the +gymnastics of the soul; but when the strength of our citizens fails and is past +civil and military duties, then let them range at will and engage in no serious +labour, as we intend them to live happily here, and to crown this life with a +similar happiness in another. +</p> + +<p> +How truly in earnest you are, Socrates! he said; I am sure of that; and yet +most of your hearers, if I am not mistaken, are likely to be still more earnest +in their opposition to you, and will never be convinced; Thrasymachus least of +all. +</p> + +<p> +Do not make a quarrel, I said, between Thrasymachus and me, who have recently +become friends, although, indeed, we were never enemies; for I shall go on +striving to the utmost until I either convert him and other men, or do +something which may profit them against the day when they live again, and hold +the like discourse in another state of existence. +</p> + +<p> +You are speaking of a time which is not very near. +</p> + +<p> +Rather, I replied, of a time which is as nothing in comparison with eternity. +Nevertheless, I do not wonder that the many refuse to believe; for they have +never seen that of which we are now speaking realized; they have seen only a +conventional imitation of philosophy, consisting of words artificially brought +together, not like these of ours having a natural unity. But a human being who +in word and work is perfectly moulded, as far as he can be, into the proportion +and likeness of virtue—such a man ruling in a city which bears the same +image, they have never yet seen, neither one nor many of them—do you +think that they ever did? +</p> + +<p> +No indeed. +</p> + +<p> +No, my friend, and they have seldom, if ever, heard free and noble sentiments; +such as men utter when they are earnestly and by every means in their power +seeking after truth for the sake of knowledge, while they look coldly on the +subtleties of controversy, of which the end is opinion and strife, whether they +meet with them in the courts of law or in society. +</p> + +<p> +They are strangers, he said, to the words of which you speak. +</p> + +<p> +And this was what we foresaw, and this was the reason why truth forced us to +admit, not without fear and hesitation, that neither cities nor States nor +individuals will ever attain perfection until the small class of philosophers +whom we termed useless but not corrupt are providentially compelled, whether +they will or not, to take care of the State, and until a like necessity be laid +on the State to obey them; or until kings, or if not kings, the sons of kings +or princes, are divinely inspired with a true love of true philosophy. That +either or both of these alternatives are impossible, I see no reason to affirm: +if they were so, we might indeed be justly ridiculed as dreamers and +visionaries. Am I not right? +</p> + +<p> +Quite right. +</p> + +<p> +If then, in the countless ages of the past, or at the present hour in some +foreign clime which is far away and beyond our ken, the perfected philosopher +is or has been or hereafter shall be compelled by a superior power to have the +charge of the State, we are ready to assert to the death, that this our +constitution has been, and is—yea, and will be whenever the Muse of +Philosophy is queen. There is no impossibility in all this; that there is a +difficulty, we acknowledge ourselves. +</p> + +<p> +My opinion agrees with yours, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But do you mean to say that this is not the opinion of the multitude? +</p> + +<p> +I should imagine not, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +O my friend, I said, do not attack the multitude: they will change their minds, +if, not in an aggressive spirit, but gently and with the view of soothing them +and removing their dislike of over-education, you show them your philosophers +as they really are and describe as you were just now doing their character and +profession, and then mankind will see that he of whom you are speaking is not +such as they supposed—if they view him in this new light, they will +surely change their notion of him, and answer in another strain. Who can be at +enmity with one who loves them, who that is himself gentle and free from envy +will be jealous of one in whom there is no jealousy? Nay, let me answer for +you, that in a few this harsh temper may be found but not in the majority of +mankind. +</p> + +<p> +I quite agree with you, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And do you not also think, as I do, that the harsh feeling which the many +entertain towards philosophy originates in the pretenders, who rush in +uninvited, and are always abusing them, and finding fault with them, who make +persons instead of things the theme of their conversation? and nothing can be +more unbecoming in philosophers than this. +</p> + +<p> +It is most unbecoming. +</p> + +<p> +For he, Adeimantus, whose mind is fixed upon true being, has surely no time to +look down upon the affairs of earth, or to be filled with malice and envy, +contending against men; his eye is ever directed towards things fixed and +immutable, which he sees neither injuring nor injured by one another, but all +in order moving according to reason; these he imitates, and to these he will, +as far as he can, conform himself. Can a man help imitating that with which he +holds reverential converse? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +And the philosopher holding converse with the divine order, becomes orderly and +divine, as far as the nature of man allows; but like every one else, he will +suffer from detraction. +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +And if a necessity be laid upon him of fashioning, not only himself, but human +nature generally, whether in States or individuals, into that which he beholds +elsewhere, will he, think you, be an unskilful artificer of justice, +temperance, and every civil virtue? +</p> + +<p> +Anything but unskilful. +</p> + +<p> +And if the world perceives that what we are saying about him is the truth, will +they be angry with philosophy? Will they disbelieve us, when we tell them that +no State can be happy which is not designed by artists who imitate the heavenly +pattern? +</p> + +<p> +They will not be angry if they understand, he said. But how will they draw out +the plan of which you are speaking? +</p> + +<p> +They will begin by taking the State and the manners of men, from which, as from +a tablet, they will rub out the picture, and leave a clean surface. This is no +easy task. But whether easy or not, herein will lie the difference between them +and every other legislator,—they will have nothing to do either with +individual or State, and will inscribe no laws, until they have either found, +or themselves made, a clean surface. +</p> + +<p> +They will be very right, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Having effected this, they will proceed to trace an outline of the +constitution? +</p> + +<p> +No doubt. +</p> + +<p> +And when they are filling in the work, as I conceive, they will often turn +their eyes upwards and downwards: I mean that they will first look at absolute +justice and beauty and temperance, and again at the human copy; and will mingle +and temper the various elements of life into the image of a man; and this they +will conceive according to that other image, which, when existing among men, +Homer calls the form and likeness of God. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And one feature they will erase, and another they will put in, until they have +made the ways of men, as far as possible, agreeable to the ways of God? +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, he said, in no way could they make a fairer picture. +</p> + +<p> +And now, I said, are we beginning to persuade those whom you described as +rushing at us with might and main, that the painter of constitutions is such an +one as we are praising; at whom they were so very indignant because to his +hands we committed the State; and are they growing a little calmer at what they +have just heard? +</p> + +<p> +Much calmer, if there is any sense in them. +</p> + +<p> +Why, where can they still find any ground for objection? Will they doubt that +the philosopher is a lover of truth and being? +</p> + +<p> +They would not be so unreasonable. +</p> + +<p> +Or that his nature, being such as we have delineated, is akin to the highest +good? +</p> + +<p> +Neither can they doubt this. +</p> + +<p> +But again, will they tell us that such a nature, placed under favourable +circumstances, will not be perfectly good and wise if any ever was? Or will +they prefer those whom we have rejected? +</p> + +<p> +Surely not. +</p> + +<p> +Then will they still be angry at our saying, that, until philosophers bear +rule, States and individuals will have no rest from evil, nor will this our +imaginary State ever be realized? +</p> + +<p> +I think that they will be less angry. +</p> + +<p> +Shall we assume that they are not only less angry but quite gentle, and that +they have been converted and for very shame, if for no other reason, cannot +refuse to come to terms? +</p> + +<p> +By all means, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then let us suppose that the reconciliation has been effected. Will any one +deny the other point, that there may be sons of kings or princes who are by +nature philosophers? +</p> + +<p> +Surely no man, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And when they have come into being will any one say that they must of necessity +be destroyed; that they can hardly be saved is not denied even by us; but that +in the whole course of ages no single one of them can escape—who will +venture to affirm this? +</p> + +<p> +Who indeed! +</p> + +<p> +But, said I, one is enough; let there be one man who has a city obedient to his +will, and he might bring into existence the ideal polity about which the world +is so incredulous. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, one is enough. +</p> + +<p> +The ruler may impose the laws and institutions which we have been describing, +and the citizens may possibly be willing to obey them? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And that others should approve, of what we approve, is no miracle or +impossibility? +</p> + +<p> +I think not. +</p> + +<p> +But we have sufficiently shown, in what has preceded, that all this, if only +possible, is assuredly for the best. +</p> + +<p> +We have. +</p> + +<p> +And now we say not only that our laws, if they could be enacted, would be for +the best, but also that the enactment of them, though difficult, is not +impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Very good. +</p> + +<p> +And so with pain and toil we have reached the end of one subject, but more +remains to be discussed;—how and by what studies and pursuits will the +saviours of the constitution be created, and at what ages are they to apply +themselves to their several studies? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +I omitted the troublesome business of the possession of women, and the +procreation of children, and the appointment of the rulers, because I knew that +the perfect State would be eyed with jealousy and was difficult of attainment; +but that piece of cleverness was not of much service to me, for I had to +discuss them all the same. The women and children are now disposed of, but the +other question of the rulers must be investigated from the very beginning. We +were saying, as you will remember, that they were to be lovers of their +country, tried by the test of pleasures and pains, and neither in hardships, +nor in dangers, nor at any other critical moment were to lose their +patriotism—he was to be rejected who failed, but he who always came forth +pure, like gold tried in the refiner’s fire, was to be made a ruler, and +to receive honours and rewards in life and after death. This was the sort of +thing which was being said, and then the argument turned aside and veiled her +face; not liking to stir the question which has now arisen. +</p> + +<p> +I perfectly remember, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, my friend, I said, and I then shrank from hazarding the bold word; but now +let me dare to say—that the perfect guardian must be a philosopher. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, let that be affirmed. +</p> + +<p> +And do not suppose that there will be many of them; for the gifts which were +deemed by us to be essential rarely grow together; they are mostly found in +shreds and patches. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? he said. +</p> + +<p> +You are aware, I replied, that quick intelligence, memory, sagacity, +cleverness, and similar qualities, do not often grow together, and that persons +who possess them and are at the same time high-spirited and magnanimous are not +so constituted by nature as to live orderly and in a peaceful and settled +manner; they are driven any way by their impulses, and all solid principle goes +out of them. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, those steadfast natures which can better be depended upon, +which in a battle are impregnable to fear and immovable, are equally immovable +when there is anything to be learned; they are always in a torpid state, and +are apt to yawn and go to sleep over any intellectual toil. +</p> + +<p> +Quite true. +</p> + +<p> +And yet we were saying that both qualities were necessary in those to whom the +higher education is to be imparted, and who are to share in any office or +command. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And will they be a class which is rarely found? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, indeed. +</p> + +<p> +Then the aspirant must not only be tested in those labours and dangers and +pleasures which we mentioned before, but there is another kind of probation +which we did not mention—he must be exercised also in many kinds of +knowledge, to see whether the soul will be able to endure the highest of all, +or will faint under them, as in any other studies and exercises. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, you are quite right in testing him. But what do you mean by the +highest of all knowledge? +</p> + +<p> +You may remember, I said, that we divided the soul into three parts; and +distinguished the several natures of justice, temperance, courage, and wisdom? +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, he said, if I had forgotten, I should not deserve to hear more. +</p> + +<p> +And do you remember the word of caution which preceded the discussion of them? +</p> + +<p> +To what do you refer? +</p> + +<p> +We were saying, if I am not mistaken, that he who wanted to see them in their +perfect beauty must take a longer and more circuitous way, at the end of which +they would appear; but that we could add on a popular exposition of them on a +level with the discussion which had preceded. And you replied that such an +exposition would be enough for you, and so the enquiry was continued in what to +me seemed to be a very inaccurate manner; whether you were satisfied or not, it +is for you to say. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, I thought and the others thought that you gave us a fair measure +of truth. +</p> + +<p> +But, my friend, I said, a measure of such things which in any degree falls +short of the whole truth is not fair measure; for nothing imperfect is the +measure of anything, although persons are too apt to be contented and think +that they need search no further. +</p> + +<p> +Not an uncommon case when people are indolent. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; and there cannot be any worse fault in a guardian of the State and +of the laws. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +The guardian then, I said, must be required to take the longer circuit, and +toil at learning as well as at gymnastics, or he will never reach the highest +knowledge of all which, as we were just now saying, is his proper calling. +</p> + +<p> +What, he said, is there a knowledge still higher than this—higher than +justice and the other virtues? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, there is. And of the virtues too we must behold not the outline +merely, as at present—nothing short of the most finished picture should +satisfy us. When little things are elaborated with an infinity of pains, in +order that they may appear in their full beauty and utmost clearness, how +ridiculous that we should not think the highest truths worthy of attaining the +highest accuracy! +</p> + +<p> +A right noble thought; but do you suppose that we shall refrain from asking you +what is this highest knowledge? +</p> + +<p> +Nay, I said, ask if you will; but I am certain that you have heard the answer +many times, and now you either do not understand me or, as I rather think, you +are disposed to be troublesome; for you have often been told that the idea of +good is the highest knowledge, and that all other things become useful and +advantageous only by their use of this. You can hardly be ignorant that of this +I was about to speak, concerning which, as you have often heard me say, we know +so little; and, without which, any other knowledge or possession of any kind +will profit us nothing. Do you think that the possession of all other things is +of any value if we do not possess the good? or the knowledge of all other +things if we have no knowledge of beauty and goodness? +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly not. +</p> + +<p> +You are further aware that most people affirm pleasure to be the good, but the +finer sort of wits say it is knowledge? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And you are aware too that the latter cannot explain what they mean by +knowledge, but are obliged after all to say knowledge of the good? +</p> + +<p> +How ridiculous! +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, that they should begin by reproaching us with our ignorance of the +good, and then presume our knowledge of it—for the good they define to be +knowledge of the good, just as if we understood them when they use the term +‘good’—this is of course ridiculous. +</p> + +<p> +Most true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And those who make pleasure their good are in equal perplexity; for they are +compelled to admit that there are bad pleasures as well as good. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And therefore to acknowledge that bad and good are the same? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +There can be no doubt about the numerous difficulties in which this question is +involved. +</p> + +<p> +There can be none. +</p> + +<p> +Further, do we not see that many are willing to do or to have or to seem to be +what is just and honourable without the reality; but no one is satisfied with +the appearance of good—the reality is what they seek; in the case of the +good, appearance is despised by every one. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Of this then, which every soul of man pursues and makes the end of all his +actions, having a presentiment that there is such an end, and yet hesitating +because neither knowing the nature nor having the same assurance of this as of +other things, and therefore losing whatever good there is in other +things,—of a principle such and so great as this ought the best men in +our State, to whom everything is entrusted, to be in the darkness of ignorance? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not, he said. +</p> + +<p> +I am sure, I said, that he who does not know how the beautiful and the just are +likewise good will be but a sorry guardian of them; and I suspect that no one +who is ignorant of the good will have a true knowledge of them. +</p> + +<p> +That, he said, is a shrewd suspicion of yours. +</p> + +<p> +And if we only have a guardian who has this knowledge our State will be +perfectly ordered? +</p> + +<p> +Of course, he replied; but I wish that you would tell me whether you conceive +this supreme principle of the good to be knowledge or pleasure, or different +from either? +</p> + +<p> +Aye, I said, I knew all along that a fastidious gentleman like you would not be +contented with the thoughts of other people about these matters. +</p> + +<p> +True, Socrates; but I must say that one who like you has passed a lifetime in +the study of philosophy should not be always repeating the opinions of others, +and never telling his own. +</p> + +<p> +Well, but has any one a right to say positively what he does not know? +</p> + +<p> +Not, he said, with the assurance of positive certainty; he has no right to do +that: but he may say what he thinks, as a matter of opinion. +</p> + +<p> +And do you not know, I said, that all mere opinions are bad, and the best of +them blind? You would not deny that those who have any true notion without +intelligence are only like blind men who feel their way along the road? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And do you wish to behold what is blind and crooked and base, when others will +tell you of brightness and beauty? +</p> + +<p> +Still, I must implore you, Socrates, said Glaucon, not to turn away just as you +are reaching the goal; if you will only give such an explanation of the good as +you have already given of justice and temperance and the other virtues, we +shall be satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, my friend, and I shall be at least equally satisfied, but I cannot help +fearing that I shall fail, and that my indiscreet zeal will bring ridicule upon +me. No, sweet sirs, let us not at present ask what is the actual nature of the +good, for to reach what is now in my thoughts would be an effort too great for +me. But of the child of the good who is likest him, I would fain speak, if I +could be sure that you wished to hear—otherwise, not. +</p> + +<p> +By all means, he said, tell us about the child, and you shall remain in our +debt for the account of the parent. +</p> + +<p> +I do indeed wish, I replied, that I could pay, and you receive, the account of +the parent, and not, as now, of the offspring only; take, however, this latter +by way of interest, and at the same time have a care that I do not render a +false account, although I have no intention of deceiving you. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, we will take all the care that we can: proceed. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, but I must first come to an understanding with you, and remind you +of what I have mentioned in the course of this discussion, and at many other +times. +</p> + +<p> +What? +</p> + +<p> +The old story, that there is a many beautiful and a many good, and so of other +things which we describe and define; to all of them the term ‘many’ +is applied. +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And there is an absolute beauty and an absolute good, and of other things to +which the term ‘many’ is applied there is an absolute; for they may +be brought under a single idea, which is called the essence of each. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +The many, as we say, are seen but not known, and the ideas are known but not +seen. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +And what is the organ with which we see the visible things? +</p> + +<p> +The sight, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And with the hearing, I said, we hear, and with the other senses perceive the +other objects of sense? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +But have you remarked that sight is by far the most costly and complex piece of +workmanship which the artificer of the senses ever contrived? +</p> + +<p> +No, I never have, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then reflect; has the ear or voice need of any third or additional nature in +order that the one may be able to hear and the other to be heard? +</p> + +<p> +Nothing of the sort. +</p> + +<p> +No, indeed, I replied; and the same is true of most, if not all, the other +senses—you would not say that any of them requires such an addition? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +But you see that without the addition of some other nature there is no seeing +or being seen? +</p> + +<p> +How do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +Sight being, as I conceive, in the eyes, and he who has eyes wanting to see; +colour being also present in them, still unless there be a third nature +specially adapted to the purpose, the owner of the eyes will see nothing and +the colours will be invisible. +</p> + +<p> +Of what nature are you speaking? +</p> + +<p> +Of that which you term light, I replied. +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Noble, then, is the bond which links together sight and visibility, and great +beyond other bonds by no small difference of nature; for light is their bond, +and light is no ignoble thing? +</p> + +<p> +Nay, he said, the reverse of ignoble. +</p> + +<p> +And which, I said, of the gods in heaven would you say was the lord of this +element? Whose is that light which makes the eye to see perfectly and the +visible to appear? +</p> + +<p> +You mean the sun, as you and all mankind say. +</p> + +<p> +May not the relation of sight to this deity be described as follows? +</p> + +<p> +How? +</p> + +<p> +Neither sight nor the eye in which sight resides is the sun? +</p> + +<p> +No. +</p> + +<p> +Yet of all the organs of sense the eye is the most like the sun? +</p> + +<p> +By far the most like. +</p> + +<p> +And the power which the eye possesses is a sort of effluence which is dispensed +from the sun? +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +Then the sun is not sight, but the author of sight who is recognised by sight? +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And this is he whom I call the child of the good, whom the good begat in his +own likeness, to be in the visible world, in relation to sight and the things +of sight, what the good is in the intellectual world in relation to mind and +the things of mind: +</p> + +<p> +Will you be a little more explicit? he said. +</p> + +<p> +Why, you know, I said, that the eyes, when a person directs them towards +objects on which the light of day is no longer shining, but the moon and stars +only, see dimly, and are nearly blind; they seem to have no clearness of vision +in them? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +But when they are directed towards objects on which the sun shines, they see +clearly and there is sight in them? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And the soul is like the eye: when resting upon that on which truth and being +shine, the soul perceives and understands, and is radiant with intelligence; +but when turned towards the twilight of becoming and perishing, then she has +opinion only, and goes blinking about, and is first of one opinion and then of +another, and seems to have no intelligence? +</p> + +<p> +Just so. +</p> + +<p> +Now, that which imparts truth to the known and the power of knowing to the +knower is what I would have you term the idea of good, and this you will deem +to be the cause of science, and of truth in so far as the latter becomes the +subject of knowledge; beautiful too, as are both truth and knowledge, you will +be right in esteeming this other nature as more beautiful than either; and, as +in the previous instance, light and sight may be truly said to be like the sun, +and yet not to be the sun, so in this other sphere, science and truth may be +deemed to be like the good, but not the good; the good has a place of honour +yet higher. +</p> + +<p> +What a wonder of beauty that must be, he said, which is the author of science +and truth, and yet surpasses them in beauty; for you surely cannot mean to say +that pleasure is the good? +</p> + +<p> +God forbid, I replied; but may I ask you to consider the image in another point +of view? +</p> + +<p> +In what point of view? +</p> + +<p> +You would say, would you not, that the sun is not only the author of visibility +in all visible things, but of generation and nourishment and growth, though he +himself is not generation? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +In like manner the good may be said to be not only the author of knowledge to +all things known, but of their being and essence, and yet the good is not +essence, but far exceeds essence in dignity and power. +</p> + +<p> +Glaucon said, with a ludicrous earnestness: By the light of heaven, how +amazing! +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, and the exaggeration may be set down to you; for you made me utter +my fancies. +</p> + +<p> +And pray continue to utter them; at any rate let us hear if there is anything +more to be said about the similitude of the sun. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, there is a great deal more. +</p> + +<p> +Then omit nothing, however slight. +</p> + +<p> +I will do my best, I said; but I should think that a great deal will have to be +omitted. +</p> + +<p> +I hope not, he said. +</p> + +<p> +You have to imagine, then, that there are two ruling powers, and that one of +them is set over the intellectual world, the other over the visible. I do not +say heaven, lest you should fancy that I am playing upon the name +(‘ourhanoz, orhatoz’). May I suppose that you have this distinction +of the visible and intelligible fixed in your mind? +</p> + +<p> +I have. +</p> + +<p> +Now take a line which has been cut into two unequal parts, and divide each of +them again in the same proportion, and suppose the two main divisions to +answer, one to the visible and the other to the intelligible, and then compare +the subdivisions in respect of their clearness and want of clearness, and you +will find that the first section in the sphere of the visible consists of +images. And by images I mean, in the first place, shadows, and in the second +place, reflections in water and in solid, smooth and polished bodies and the +like: Do you understand? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I understand. +</p> + +<p> +Imagine, now, the other section, of which this is only the resemblance, to +include the animals which we see, and everything that grows or is made. +</p> + +<p> +Very good. +</p> + +<p> +Would you not admit that both the sections of this division have different +degrees of truth, and that the copy is to the original as the sphere of opinion +is to the sphere of knowledge? +</p> + +<p> +Most undoubtedly. +</p> + +<p> +Next proceed to consider the manner in which the sphere of the intellectual is +to be divided. +</p> + +<p> +In what manner? +</p> + +<p> +Thus:—There are two subdivisions, in the lower of which the soul uses the +figures given by the former division as images; the enquiry can only be +hypothetical, and instead of going upwards to a principle descends to the other +end; in the higher of the two, the soul passes out of hypotheses, and goes up +to a principle which is above hypotheses, making no use of images as in the +former case, but proceeding only in and through the ideas themselves. +</p> + +<p> +I do not quite understand your meaning, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then I will try again; you will understand me better when I have made some +preliminary remarks. You are aware that students of geometry, arithmetic, and +the kindred sciences assume the odd and the even and the figures and three +kinds of angles and the like in their several branches of science; these are +their hypotheses, which they and every body are supposed to know, and therefore +they do not deign to give any account of them either to themselves or others; +but they begin with them, and go on until they arrive at last, and in a +consistent manner, at their conclusion? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, I know. +</p> + +<p> +And do you not know also that although they make use of the visible forms and +reason about them, they are thinking not of these, but of the ideals which they +resemble; not of the figures which they draw, but of the absolute square and +the absolute diameter, and so on—the forms which they draw or make, and +which have shadows and reflections in water of their own, are converted by them +into images, but they are really seeking to behold the things themselves, which +can only be seen with the eye of the mind? +</p> + +<p> +That is true. +</p> + +<p> +And of this kind I spoke as the intelligible, although in the search after it +the soul is compelled to use hypotheses; not ascending to a first principle, +because she is unable to rise above the region of hypothesis, but employing the +objects of which the shadows below are resemblances in their turn as images, +they having in relation to the shadows and reflections of them a greater +distinctness, and therefore a higher value. +</p> + +<p> +I understand, he said, that you are speaking of the province of geometry and +the sister arts. +</p> + +<p> +And when I speak of the other division of the intelligible, you will understand +me to speak of that other sort of knowledge which reason herself attains by the +power of dialectic, using the hypotheses not as first principles, but only as +hypotheses—that is to say, as steps and points of departure into a world +which is above hypotheses, in order that she may soar beyond them to the first +principle of the whole; and clinging to this and then to that which depends on +this, by successive steps she descends again without the aid of any sensible +object, from ideas, through ideas, and in ideas she ends. +</p> + +<p> +I understand you, he replied; not perfectly, for you seem to me to be +describing a task which is really tremendous; but, at any rate, I understand +you to say that knowledge and being, which the science of dialectic +contemplates, are clearer than the notions of the arts, as they are termed, +which proceed from hypotheses only: these are also contemplated by the +understanding, and not by the senses: yet, because they start from hypotheses +and do not ascend to a principle, those who contemplate them appear to you not +to exercise the higher reason upon them, although when a first principle is +added to them they are cognizable by the higher reason. And the habit which is +concerned with geometry and the cognate sciences I suppose that you would term +understanding and not reason, as being intermediate between opinion and reason. +</p> + +<p> +You have quite conceived my meaning, I said; and now, corresponding to these +four divisions, let there be four faculties in the soul—reason answering +to the highest, understanding to the second, faith (or conviction) to the +third, and perception of shadows to the last—and let there be a scale of +them, and let us suppose that the several faculties have clearness in the same +degree that their objects have truth. +</p> + +<p> +I understand, he replied, and give my assent, and accept your arrangement. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"></a> BOOK VII.</h2> + +<p> +And now, I said, let me show in a figure how far our nature is enlightened or +unenlightened:—Behold! human beings living in a underground den, which +has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all along the den; here they +have been from their childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that +they cannot move, and can only see before them, being prevented by the chains +from turning round their heads. Above and behind them a fire is blazing at a +distance, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you +will see, if you look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen which +marionette players have in front of them, over which they show the puppets. +</p> + +<p> +I see. +</p> + +<p> +And do you see, I said, men passing along the wall carrying all sorts of +vessels, and statues and figures of animals made of wood and stone and various +materials, which appear over the wall? Some of them are talking, others silent. +</p> + +<p> +You have shown me a strange image, and they are strange prisoners. +</p> + +<p> +Like ourselves, I replied; and they see only their own shadows, or the shadows +of one another, which the fire throws on the opposite wall of the cave? +</p> + +<p> +True, he said; how could they see anything but the shadows if they were never +allowed to move their heads? +</p> + +<p> +And of the objects which are being carried in like manner they would only see +the shadows? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And if they were able to converse with one another, would they not suppose that +they were naming what was actually before them? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And suppose further that the prison had an echo which came from the other side, +would they not be sure to fancy when one of the passers-by spoke that the voice +which they heard came from the passing shadow? +</p> + +<p> +No question, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +To them, I said, the truth would be literally nothing but the shadows of the +images. +</p> + +<p> +That is certain. +</p> + +<p> +And now look again, and see what will naturally follow if the prisoners are +released and disabused of their error. At first, when any of them is liberated +and compelled suddenly to stand up and turn his neck round and walk and look +towards the light, he will suffer sharp pains; the glare will distress him, and +he will be unable to see the realities of which in his former state he had seen +the shadows; and then conceive some one saying to him, that what he saw before +was an illusion, but that now, when he is approaching nearer to being and his +eye is turned towards more real existence, he has a clearer vision,—what +will be his reply? And you may further imagine that his instructor is pointing +to the objects as they pass and requiring him to name them,—will he not +be perplexed? Will he not fancy that the shadows which he formerly saw are +truer than the objects which are now shown to him? +</p> + +<p> +Far truer. +</p> + +<p> +And if he is compelled to look straight at the light, will he not have a pain +in his eyes which will make him turn away to take refuge in the objects of +vision which he can see, and which he will conceive to be in reality clearer +than the things which are now being shown to him? +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And suppose once more, that he is reluctantly dragged up a steep and rugged +ascent, and held fast until he is forced into the presence of the sun himself, +is he not likely to be pained and irritated? When he approaches the light his +eyes will be dazzled, and he will not be able to see anything at all of what +are now called realities. +</p> + +<p> +Not all in a moment, he said. +</p> + +<p> +He will require to grow accustomed to the sight of the upper world. And first +he will see the shadows best, next the reflections of men and other objects in +the water, and then the objects themselves; then he will gaze upon the light of +the moon and the stars and the spangled heaven; and he will see the sky and the +stars by night better than the sun or the light of the sun by day? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Last of all he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of him in +the water, but he will see him in his own proper place, and not in another; and +he will contemplate him as he is. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +He will then proceed to argue that this is he who gives the season and the +years, and is the guardian of all that is in the visible world, and in a +certain way the cause of all things which he and his fellows have been +accustomed to behold? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly, he said, he would first see the sun and then reason about him. +</p> + +<p> +And when he remembered his old habitation, and the wisdom of the den and his +fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would felicitate himself on the +change, and pity them? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he would. +</p> + +<p> +And if they were in the habit of conferring honours among themselves on those +who were quickest to observe the passing shadows and to remark which of them +went before, and which followed after, and which were together; and who were +therefore best able to draw conclusions as to the future, do you think that he +would care for such honours and glories, or envy the possessors of them? Would +he not say with Homer, +</p> + +<p> +‘Better to be the poor servant of a poor master,’ +</p> + +<p> +and to endure anything, rather than think as they do and live after their +manner? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, I think that he would rather suffer anything than entertain these +false notions and live in this miserable manner. +</p> + +<p> +Imagine once more, I said, such an one coming suddenly out of the sun to be +replaced in his old situation; would he not be certain to have his eyes full of +darkness? +</p> + +<p> +To be sure, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And if there were a contest, and he had to compete in measuring the shadows +with the prisoners who had never moved out of the den, while his sight was +still weak, and before his eyes had become steady (and the time which would be +needed to acquire this new habit of sight might be very considerable), would he +not be ridiculous? Men would say of him that up he went and down he came +without his eyes; and that it was better not even to think of ascending; and if +any one tried to loose another and lead him up to the light, let them only +catch the offender, and they would put him to death. +</p> + +<p> +No question, he said. +</p> + +<p> +This entire allegory, I said, you may now append, dear Glaucon, to the previous +argument; the prison-house is the world of sight, the light of the fire is the +sun, and you will not misapprehend me if you interpret the journey upwards to +be the ascent of the soul into the intellectual world according to my poor +belief, which, at your desire, I have expressed—whether rightly or +wrongly God knows. But, whether true or false, my opinion is that in the world +of knowledge the idea of good appears last of all, and is seen only with an +effort; and, when seen, is also inferred to be the universal author of all +things beautiful and right, parent of light and of the lord of light in this +visible world, and the immediate source of reason and truth in the +intellectual; and that this is the power upon which he who would act rationally +either in public or private life must have his eye fixed. +</p> + +<p> +I agree, he said, as far as I am able to understand you. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, I said, you must not wonder that those who attain to this beatific +vision are unwilling to descend to human affairs; for their souls are ever +hastening into the upper world where they desire to dwell; which desire of +theirs is very natural, if our allegory may be trusted. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, very natural. +</p> + +<p> +And is there anything surprising in one who passes from divine contemplations +to the evil state of man, misbehaving himself in a ridiculous manner; if, while +his eyes are blinking and before he has become accustomed to the surrounding +darkness, he is compelled to fight in courts of law, or in other places, about +the images or the shadows of images of justice, and is endeavouring to meet the +conceptions of those who have never yet seen absolute justice? +</p> + +<p> +Anything but surprising, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Any one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eyes +are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from coming out of the +light or from going into the light, which is true of the mind’s eye, +quite as much as of the bodily eye; and he who remembers this when he sees any +one whose vision is perplexed and weak, will not be too ready to laugh; he will +first ask whether that soul of man has come out of the brighter life, and is +unable to see because unaccustomed to the dark, or having turned from darkness +to the day is dazzled by excess of light. And he will count the one happy in +his condition and state of being, and he will pity the other; or, if he have a +mind to laugh at the soul which comes from below into the light, there will be +more reason in this than in the laugh which greets him who returns from above +out of the light into the den. +</p> + +<p> +That, he said, is a very just distinction. +</p> + +<p> +But then, if I am right, certain professors of education must be wrong when +they say that they can put a knowledge into the soul which was not there +before, like sight into blind eyes. +</p> + +<p> +They undoubtedly say this, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Whereas, our argument shows that the power and capacity of learning exists in +the soul already; and that just as the eye was unable to turn from darkness to +light without the whole body, so too the instrument of knowledge can only by +the movement of the whole soul be turned from the world of becoming into that +of being, and learn by degrees to endure the sight of being, and of the +brightest and best of being, or in other words, of the good. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And must there not be some art which will effect conversion in the easiest and +quickest manner; not implanting the faculty of sight, for that exists already, +but has been turned in the wrong direction, and is looking away from the truth? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, such an art may be presumed. +</p> + +<p> +And whereas the other so-called virtues of the soul seem to be akin to bodily +qualities, for even when they are not originally innate they can be implanted +later by habit and exercise, the virtue of wisdom more than anything else +contains a divine element which always remains, and by this conversion is +rendered useful and profitable; or, on the other hand, hurtful and useless. Did +you never observe the narrow intelligence flashing from the keen eye of a +clever rogue—how eager he is, how clearly his paltry soul sees the way to +his end; he is the reverse of blind, but his keen eye-sight is forced into the +service of evil, and he is mischievous in proportion to his cleverness? +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But what if there had been a circumcision of such natures in the days of their +youth; and they had been severed from those sensual pleasures, such as eating +and drinking, which, like leaden weights, were attached to them at their birth, +and which drag them down and turn the vision of their souls upon the things +that are below—if, I say, they had been released from these impediments +and turned in the opposite direction, the very same faculty in them would have +seen the truth as keenly as they see what their eyes are turned to now. +</p> + +<p> +Very likely. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; and there is another thing which is likely, or rather a necessary +inference from what has preceded, that neither the uneducated and uninformed of +the truth, nor yet those who never make an end of their education, will be able +ministers of State; not the former, because they have no single aim of duty +which is the rule of all their actions, private as well as public; nor the +latter, because they will not act at all except upon compulsion, fancying that +they are already dwelling apart in the islands of the blest. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I said, the business of us who are the founders of the State will be to +compel the best minds to attain that knowledge which we have already shown to +be the greatest of all—they must continue to ascend until they arrive at +the good; but when they have ascended and seen enough we must not allow them to +do as they do now. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +I mean that they remain in the upper world: but this must not be allowed; they +must be made to descend again among the prisoners in the den, and partake of +their labours and honours, whether they are worth having or not. +</p> + +<p> +But is not this unjust? he said; ought we to give them a worse life, when they +might have a better? +</p> + +<p> +You have again forgotten, my friend, I said, the intention of the legislator, +who did not aim at making any one class in the State happy above the rest; the +happiness was to be in the whole State, and he held the citizens together by +persuasion and necessity, making them benefactors of the State, and therefore +benefactors of one another; to this end he created them, not to please +themselves, but to be his instruments in binding up the State. +</p> + +<p> +True, he said, I had forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +Observe, Glaucon, that there will be no injustice in compelling our +philosophers to have a care and providence of others; we shall explain to them +that in other States, men of their class are not obliged to share in the toils +of politics: and this is reasonable, for they grow up at their own sweet will, +and the government would rather not have them. Being self-taught, they cannot +be expected to show any gratitude for a culture which they have never received. +But we have brought you into the world to be rulers of the hive, kings of +yourselves and of the other citizens, and have educated you far better and more +perfectly than they have been educated, and you are better able to share in the +double duty. Wherefore each of you, when his turn comes, must go down to the +general underground abode, and get the habit of seeing in the dark. When you +have acquired the habit, you will see ten thousand times better than the +inhabitants of the den, and you will know what the several images are, and what +they represent, because you have seen the beautiful and just and good in their +truth. And thus our State, which is also yours, will be a reality, and not a +dream only, and will be administered in a spirit unlike that of other States, +in which men fight with one another about shadows only and are distracted in +the struggle for power, which in their eyes is a great good. Whereas the truth +is that the State in which the rulers are most reluctant to govern is always +the best and most quietly governed, and the State in which they are most eager, +the worst. +</p> + +<p> +Quite true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And will our pupils, when they hear this, refuse to take their turn at the +toils of State, when they are allowed to spend the greater part of their time +with one another in the heavenly light? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible, he answered; for they are just men, and the commands which we +impose upon them are just; there can be no doubt that every one of them will +take office as a stern necessity, and not after the fashion of our present +rulers of State. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, my friend, I said; and there lies the point. You must contrive for your +future rulers another and a better life than that of a ruler, and then you may +have a well-ordered State; for only in the State which offers this, will they +rule who are truly rich, not in silver and gold, but in virtue and wisdom, +which are the true blessings of life. Whereas if they go to the administration +of public affairs, poor and hungering after their own private advantage, +thinking that hence they are to snatch the chief good, order there can never +be; for they will be fighting about office, and the civil and domestic broils +which thus arise will be the ruin of the rulers themselves and of the whole +State. +</p> + +<p> +Most true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And the only life which looks down upon the life of political ambition is that +of true philosophy. Do you know of any other? +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, I do not, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And those who govern ought not to be lovers of the task? For, if they are, +there will be rival lovers, and they will fight. +</p> + +<p> +No question. +</p> + +<p> +Who then are those whom we shall compel to be guardians? Surely they will be +the men who are wisest about affairs of State, and by whom the State is best +administered, and who at the same time have other honours and another and a +better life than that of politics? +</p> + +<p> +They are the men, and I will choose them, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And now shall we consider in what way such guardians will be produced, and how +they are to be brought from darkness to light,—as some are said to have +ascended from the world below to the gods? +</p> + +<p> +By all means, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +The process, I said, is not the turning over of an oyster-shell (In allusion to +a game in which two parties fled or pursued according as an oyster-shell which +was thrown into the air fell with the dark or light side uppermost.), but the +turning round of a soul passing from a day which is little better than night to +the true day of being, that is, the ascent from below, which we affirm to be +true philosophy? +</p> + +<p> +Quite so. +</p> + +<p> +And should we not enquire what sort of knowledge has the power of effecting +such a change? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +What sort of knowledge is there which would draw the soul from becoming to +being? And another consideration has just occurred to me: You will remember +that our young men are to be warrior athletes? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that was said. +</p> + +<p> +Then this new kind of knowledge must have an additional quality? +</p> + +<p> +What quality? +</p> + +<p> +Usefulness in war. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, if possible. +</p> + +<p> +There were two parts in our former scheme of education, were there not? +</p> + +<p> +Just so. +</p> + +<p> +There was gymnastic which presided over the growth and decay of the body, and +may therefore be regarded as having to do with generation and corruption? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Then that is not the knowledge which we are seeking to discover? +</p> + +<p> +No. +</p> + +<p> +But what do you say of music, which also entered to a certain extent into our +former scheme? +</p> + +<p> +Music, he said, as you will remember, was the counterpart of gymnastic, and +trained the guardians by the influences of habit, by harmony making them +harmonious, by rhythm rhythmical, but not giving them science; and the words, +whether fabulous or possibly true, had kindred elements of rhythm and harmony +in them. But in music there was nothing which tended to that good which you are +now seeking. +</p> + +<p> +You are most accurate, I said, in your recollection; in music there certainly +was nothing of the kind. But what branch of knowledge is there, my dear +Glaucon, which is of the desired nature; since all the useful arts were +reckoned mean by us? +</p> + +<p> +Undoubtedly; and yet if music and gymnastic are excluded, and the arts are also +excluded, what remains? +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, there may be nothing left of our special subjects; and then we +shall have to take something which is not special, but of universal +application. +</p> + +<p> +What may that be? +</p> + +<p> +A something which all arts and sciences and intelligences use in common, and +which every one first has to learn among the elements of education. +</p> + +<p> +What is that? +</p> + +<p> +The little matter of distinguishing one, two, and three—in a word, number +and calculation:—do not all arts and sciences necessarily partake of +them? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then the art of war partakes of them? +</p> + +<p> +To be sure. +</p> + +<p> +Then Palamedes, whenever he appears in tragedy, proves Agamemnon ridiculously +unfit to be a general. Did you never remark how he declares that he had +invented number, and had numbered the ships and set in array the ranks of the +army at Troy; which implies that they had never been numbered before, and +Agamemnon must be supposed literally to have been incapable of counting his own +feet—how could he if he was ignorant of number? And if that is true, what +sort of general must he have been? +</p> + +<p> +I should say a very strange one, if this was as you say. +</p> + +<p> +Can we deny that a warrior should have a knowledge of arithmetic? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly he should, if he is to have the smallest understanding of military +tactics, or indeed, I should rather say, if he is to be a man at all. +</p> + +<p> +I should like to know whether you have the same notion which I have of this +study? +</p> + +<p> +What is your notion? +</p> + +<p> +It appears to me to be a study of the kind which we are seeking, and which +leads naturally to reflection, but never to have been rightly used; for the +true use of it is simply to draw the soul towards being. +</p> + +<p> +Will you explain your meaning? he said. +</p> + +<p> +I will try, I said; and I wish you would share the enquiry with me, and say +‘yes’ or ‘no’ when I attempt to distinguish in my own +mind what branches of knowledge have this attracting power, in order that we +may have clearer proof that arithmetic is, as I suspect, one of them. +</p> + +<p> +Explain, he said. +</p> + +<p> +I mean to say that objects of sense are of two kinds; some of them do not +invite thought because the sense is an adequate judge of them; while in the +case of other objects sense is so untrustworthy that further enquiry is +imperatively demanded. +</p> + +<p> +You are clearly referring, he said, to the manner in which the senses are +imposed upon by distance, and by painting in light and shade. +</p> + +<p> +No, I said, that is not at all my meaning. +</p> + +<p> +Then what is your meaning? +</p> + +<p> +When speaking of uninviting objects, I mean those which do not pass from one +sensation to the opposite; inviting objects are those which do; in this latter +case the sense coming upon the object, whether at a distance or near, gives no +more vivid idea of anything in particular than of its opposite. An illustration +will make my meaning clearer:—here are three fingers—a little +finger, a second finger, and a middle finger. +</p> + +<p> +Very good. +</p> + +<p> +You may suppose that they are seen quite close: And here comes the point. +</p> + +<p> +What is it? +</p> + +<p> +Each of them equally appears a finger, whether seen in the middle or at the +extremity, whether white or black, or thick or thin—it makes no +difference; a finger is a finger all the same. In these cases a man is not +compelled to ask of thought the question what is a finger? for the sight never +intimates to the mind that a finger is other than a finger. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And therefore, I said, as we might expect, there is nothing here which invites +or excites intelligence. +</p> + +<p> +There is not, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But is this equally true of the greatness and smallness of the fingers? Can +sight adequately perceive them? and is no difference made by the circumstance +that one of the fingers is in the middle and another at the extremity? And in +like manner does the touch adequately perceive the qualities of thickness or +thinness, of softness or hardness? And so of the other senses; do they give +perfect intimations of such matters? Is not their mode of operation on this +wise—the sense which is concerned with the quality of hardness is +necessarily concerned also with the quality of softness, and only intimates to +the soul that the same thing is felt to be both hard and soft? +</p> + +<p> +You are quite right, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And must not the soul be perplexed at this intimation which the sense gives of +a hard which is also soft? What, again, is the meaning of light and heavy, if +that which is light is also heavy, and that which is heavy, light? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, these intimations which the soul receives are very curious and +require to be explained. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, and in these perplexities the soul naturally summons to her aid +calculation and intelligence, that she may see whether the several objects +announced to her are one or two. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And if they turn out to be two, is not each of them one and different? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And if each is one, and both are two, she will conceive the two as in a state +of division, for if there were undivided they could only be conceived of as +one? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +The eye certainly did see both small and great, but only in a confused manner; +they were not distinguished. +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Whereas the thinking mind, intending to light up the chaos, was compelled to +reverse the process, and look at small and great as separate and not confused. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Was not this the beginning of the enquiry ‘What is great?’ and +‘What is small?’ +</p> + +<p> +Exactly so. +</p> + +<p> +And thus arose the distinction of the visible and the intelligible. +</p> + +<p> +Most true. +</p> + +<p> +This was what I meant when I spoke of impressions which invited the intellect, +or the reverse—those which are simultaneous with opposite impressions, +invite thought; those which are not simultaneous do not. +</p> + +<p> +I understand, he said, and agree with you. +</p> + +<p> +And to which class do unity and number belong? +</p> + +<p> +I do not know, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Think a little and you will see that what has preceded will supply the answer; +for if simple unity could be adequately perceived by the sight or by any other +sense, then, as we were saying in the case of the finger, there would be +nothing to attract towards being; but when there is some contradiction always +present, and one is the reverse of one and involves the conception of +plurality, then thought begins to be aroused within us, and the soul perplexed +and wanting to arrive at a decision asks ‘What is absolute unity?’ +This is the way in which the study of the one has a power of drawing and +converting the mind to the contemplation of true being. +</p> + +<p> +And surely, he said, this occurs notably in the case of one; for we see the +same thing to be both one and infinite in multitude? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; and this being true of one must be equally true of all number? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And all arithmetic and calculation have to do with number? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And they appear to lead the mind towards truth? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, in a very remarkable manner. +</p> + +<p> +Then this is knowledge of the kind for which we are seeking, having a double +use, military and philosophical; for the man of war must learn the art of +number or he will not know how to array his troops, and the philosopher also, +because he has to rise out of the sea of change and lay hold of true being, and +therefore he must be an arithmetician. +</p> + +<p> +That is true. +</p> + +<p> +And our guardian is both warrior and philosopher? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Then this is a kind of knowledge which legislation may fitly prescribe; and we +must endeavour to persuade those who are to be the principal men of our State +to go and learn arithmetic, not as amateurs, but they must carry on the study +until they see the nature of numbers with the mind only; nor again, like +merchants or retail-traders, with a view to buying or selling, but for the sake +of their military use, and of the soul herself; and because this will be the +easiest way for her to pass from becoming to truth and being. +</p> + +<p> +That is excellent, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, and now having spoken of it, I must add how charming the science +is! and in how many ways it conduces to our desired end, if pursued in the +spirit of a philosopher, and not of a shopkeeper! +</p> + +<p> +How do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +I mean, as I was saying, that arithmetic has a very great and elevating effect, +compelling the soul to reason about abstract number, and rebelling against the +introduction of visible or tangible objects into the argument. You know how +steadily the masters of the art repel and ridicule any one who attempts to +divide absolute unity when he is calculating, and if you divide, they multiply +(Meaning either (1) that they integrate the number because they deny the +possibility of fractions; or (2) that division is regarded by them as a process +of multiplication, for the fractions of one continue to be units.), taking care +that one shall continue one and not become lost in fractions. +</p> + +<p> +That is very true. +</p> + +<p> +Now, suppose a person were to say to them: O my friends, what are these +wonderful numbers about which you are reasoning, in which, as you say, there is +a unity such as you demand, and each unit is equal, invariable, +indivisible,—what would they answer? +</p> + +<p> +They would answer, as I should conceive, that they were speaking of those +numbers which can only be realized in thought. +</p> + +<p> +Then you see that this knowledge may be truly called necessary, necessitating +as it clearly does the use of the pure intelligence in the attainment of pure +truth? +</p> + +<p> +Yes; that is a marked characteristic of it. +</p> + +<p> +And have you further observed, that those who have a natural talent for +calculation are generally quick at every other kind of knowledge; and even the +dull, if they have had an arithmetical training, although they may derive no +other advantage from it, always become much quicker than they would otherwise +have been. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And indeed, you will not easily find a more difficult study, and not many as +difficult. +</p> + +<p> +You will not. +</p> + +<p> +And, for all these reasons, arithmetic is a kind of knowledge in which the best +natures should be trained, and which must not be given up. +</p> + +<p> +I agree. +</p> + +<p> +Let this then be made one of our subjects of education. And next, shall we +enquire whether the kindred science also concerns us? +</p> + +<p> +You mean geometry? +</p> + +<p> +Exactly so. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly, he said, we are concerned with that part of geometry which relates to +war; for in pitching a camp, or taking up a position, or closing or extending +the lines of an army, or any other military manoeuvre, whether in actual battle +or on a march, it will make all the difference whether a general is or is not a +geometrician. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, but for that purpose a very little of either geometry or +calculation will be enough; the question relates rather to the greater and more +advanced part of geometry—whether that tends in any degree to make more +easy the vision of the idea of good; and thither, as I was saying, all things +tend which compel the soul to turn her gaze towards that place, where is the +full perfection of being, which she ought, by all means, to behold. +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then if geometry compels us to view being, it concerns us; if becoming only, it +does not concern us? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that is what we assert. +</p> + +<p> +Yet anybody who has the least acquaintance with geometry will not deny that +such a conception of the science is in flat contradiction to the ordinary +language of geometricians. +</p> + +<p> +How so? +</p> + +<p> +They have in view practice only, and are always speaking, in a narrow and +ridiculous manner, of squaring and extending and applying and the +like—they confuse the necessities of geometry with those of daily life; +whereas knowledge is the real object of the whole science. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then must not a further admission be made? +</p> + +<p> +What admission? +</p> + +<p> +That the knowledge at which geometry aims is knowledge of the eternal, and not +of aught perishing and transient. +</p> + +<p> +That, he replied, may be readily allowed, and is true. +</p> + +<p> +Then, my noble friend, geometry will draw the soul towards truth, and create +the spirit of philosophy, and raise up that which is now unhappily allowed to +fall down. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing will be more likely to have such an effect. +</p> + +<p> +Then nothing should be more sternly laid down than that the inhabitants of your +fair city should by all means learn geometry. Moreover the science has indirect +effects, which are not small. +</p> + +<p> +Of what kind? he said. +</p> + +<p> +There are the military advantages of which you spoke, I said; and in all +departments of knowledge, as experience proves, any one who has studied +geometry is infinitely quicker of apprehension than one who has not. +</p> + +<p> +Yes indeed, he said, there is an infinite difference between them. +</p> + +<p> +Then shall we propose this as a second branch of knowledge which our youth will +study? +</p> + +<p> +Let us do so, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And suppose we make astronomy the third—what do you say? +</p> + +<p> +I am strongly inclined to it, he said; the observation of the seasons and of +months and years is as essential to the general as it is to the farmer or +sailor. +</p> + +<p> +I am amused, I said, at your fear of the world, which makes you guard against +the appearance of insisting upon useless studies; and I quite admit the +difficulty of believing that in every man there is an eye of the soul which, +when by other pursuits lost and dimmed, is by these purified and re-illumined; +and is more precious far than ten thousand bodily eyes, for by it alone is +truth seen. Now there are two classes of persons: one class of those who will +agree with you and will take your words as a revelation; another class to whom +they will be utterly unmeaning, and who will naturally deem them to be idle +tales, for they see no sort of profit which is to be obtained from them. And +therefore you had better decide at once with which of the two you are proposing +to argue. You will very likely say with neither, and that your chief aim in +carrying on the argument is your own improvement; at the same time you do not +grudge to others any benefit which they may receive. +</p> + +<p> +I think that I should prefer to carry on the argument mainly on my own behalf. +</p> + +<p> +Then take a step backward, for we have gone wrong in the order of the sciences. +</p> + +<p> +What was the mistake? he said. +</p> + +<p> +After plane geometry, I said, we proceeded at once to solids in revolution, +instead of taking solids in themselves; whereas after the second dimension the +third, which is concerned with cubes and dimensions of depth, ought to have +followed. +</p> + +<p> +That is true, Socrates; but so little seems to be known as yet about these +subjects. +</p> + +<p> +Why, yes, I said, and for two reasons:—in the first place, no government +patronises them; this leads to a want of energy in the pursuit of them, and +they are difficult; in the second place, students cannot learn them unless they +have a director. But then a director can hardly be found, and even if he could, +as matters now stand, the students, who are very conceited, would not attend to +him. That, however, would be otherwise if the whole State became the director +of these studies and gave honour to them; then disciples would want to come, +and there would be continuous and earnest search, and discoveries would be +made; since even now, disregarded as they are by the world, and maimed of their +fair proportions, and although none of their votaries can tell the use of them, +still these studies force their way by their natural charm, and very likely, if +they had the help of the State, they would some day emerge into light. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, there is a remarkable charm in them. But I do not clearly +understand the change in the order. First you began with a geometry of plane +surfaces? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said. +</p> + +<p> +And you placed astronomy next, and then you made a step backward? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, and I have delayed you by my hurry; the ludicrous state of solid geometry, +which, in natural order, should have followed, made me pass over this branch +and go on to astronomy, or motion of solids. +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then assuming that the science now omitted would come into existence if +encouraged by the State, let us go on to astronomy, which will be fourth. +</p> + +<p> +The right order, he replied. And now, Socrates, as you rebuked the vulgar +manner in which I praised astronomy before, my praise shall be given in your +own spirit. For every one, as I think, must see that astronomy compels the soul +to look upwards and leads us from this world to another. +</p> + +<p> +Every one but myself, I said; to every one else this may be clear, but not to +me. +</p> + +<p> +And what then would you say? +</p> + +<p> +I should rather say that those who elevate astronomy into philosophy appear to +me to make us look downwards and not upwards. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? he asked. +</p> + +<p> +You, I replied, have in your mind a truly sublime conception of our knowledge +of the things above. And I dare say that if a person were to throw his head +back and study the fretted ceiling, you would still think that his mind was the +percipient, and not his eyes. And you are very likely right, and I may be a +simpleton: but, in my opinion, that knowledge only which is of being and of the +unseen can make the soul look upwards, and whether a man gapes at the heavens +or blinks on the ground, seeking to learn some particular of sense, I would +deny that he can learn, for nothing of that sort is matter of science; his soul +is looking downwards, not upwards, whether his way to knowledge is by water or +by land, whether he floats, or only lies on his back. +</p> + +<p> +I acknowledge, he said, the justice of your rebuke. Still, I should like to +ascertain how astronomy can be learned in any manner more conducive to that +knowledge of which we are speaking? +</p> + +<p> +I will tell you, I said: The starry heaven which we behold is wrought upon a +visible ground, and therefore, although the fairest and most perfect of visible +things, must necessarily be deemed inferior far to the true motions of absolute +swiftness and absolute slowness, which are relative to each other, and carry +with them that which is contained in them, in the true number and in every true +figure. Now, these are to be apprehended by reason and intelligence, but not by +sight. +</p> + +<p> +True, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +The spangled heavens should be used as a pattern and with a view to that higher +knowledge; their beauty is like the beauty of figures or pictures excellently +wrought by the hand of Daedalus, or some other great artist, which we may +chance to behold; any geometrician who saw them would appreciate the +exquisiteness of their workmanship, but he would never dream of thinking that +in them he could find the true equal or the true double, or the truth of any +other proportion. +</p> + +<p> +No, he replied, such an idea would be ridiculous. +</p> + +<p> +And will not a true astronomer have the same feeling when he looks at the +movements of the stars? Will he not think that heaven and the things in heaven +are framed by the Creator of them in the most perfect manner? But he will never +imagine that the proportions of night and day, or of both to the month, or of +the month to the year, or of the stars to these and to one another, and any +other things that are material and visible can also be eternal and subject to +no deviation—that would be absurd; and it is equally absurd to take so +much pains in investigating their exact truth. +</p> + +<p> +I quite agree, though I never thought of this before. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I said, in astronomy, as in geometry, we should employ problems, and let +the heavens alone if we would approach the subject in the right way and so make +the natural gift of reason to be of any real use. +</p> + +<p> +That, he said, is a work infinitely beyond our present astronomers. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; and there are many other things which must also have a similar +extension given to them, if our legislation is to be of any value. But can you +tell me of any other suitable study? +</p> + +<p> +No, he said, not without thinking. +</p> + +<p> +Motion, I said, has many forms, and not one only; two of them are obvious +enough even to wits no better than ours; and there are others, as I imagine, +which may be left to wiser persons. +</p> + +<p> +But where are the two? +</p> + +<p> +There is a second, I said, which is the counterpart of the one already named. +</p> + +<p> +And what may that be? +</p> + +<p> +The second, I said, would seem relatively to the ears to be what the first is +to the eyes; for I conceive that as the eyes are designed to look up at the +stars, so are the ears to hear harmonious motions; and these are sister +sciences—as the Pythagoreans say, and we, Glaucon, agree with them? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +But this, I said, is a laborious study, and therefore we had better go and +learn of them; and they will tell us whether there are any other applications +of these sciences. At the same time, we must not lose sight of our own higher +object. +</p> + +<p> +What is that? +</p> + +<p> +There is a perfection which all knowledge ought to reach, and which our pupils +ought also to attain, and not to fall short of, as I was saying that they did +in astronomy. For in the science of harmony, as you probably know, the same +thing happens. The teachers of harmony compare the sounds and consonances which +are heard only, and their labour, like that of the astronomers, is in vain. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, by heaven! he said; and ’tis as good as a play to hear them talking +about their condensed notes, as they call them; they put their ears close +alongside of the strings like persons catching a sound from their +neighbour’s wall—one set of them declaring that they distinguish an +intermediate note and have found the least interval which should be the unit of +measurement; the others insisting that the two sounds have passed into the +same—either party setting their ears before their understanding. +</p> + +<p> +You mean, I said, those gentlemen who tease and torture the strings and rack +them on the pegs of the instrument: I might carry on the metaphor and speak +after their manner of the blows which the plectrum gives, and make accusations +against the strings, both of backwardness and forwardness to sound; but this +would be tedious, and therefore I will only say that these are not the men, and +that I am referring to the Pythagoreans, of whom I was just now proposing to +enquire about harmony. For they too are in error, like the astronomers; they +investigate the numbers of the harmonies which are heard, but they never attain +to problems—that is to say, they never reach the natural harmonies of +number, or reflect why some numbers are harmonious and others not. +</p> + +<p> +That, he said, is a thing of more than mortal knowledge. +</p> + +<p> +A thing, I replied, which I would rather call useful; that is, if sought after +with a view to the beautiful and good; but if pursued in any other spirit, +useless. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Now, when all these studies reach the point of inter-communion and connection +with one another, and come to be considered in their mutual affinities, then, I +think, but not till then, will the pursuit of them have a value for our +objects; otherwise there is no profit in them. +</p> + +<p> +I suspect so; but you are speaking, Socrates, of a vast work. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? I said; the prelude or what? Do you not know that all this is +but the prelude to the actual strain which we have to learn? For you surely +would not regard the skilled mathematician as a dialectician? +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly not, he said; I have hardly ever known a mathematician who was +capable of reasoning. +</p> + +<p> +But do you imagine that men who are unable to give and take a reason will have +the knowledge which we require of them? +</p> + +<p> +Neither can this be supposed. +</p> + +<p> +And so, Glaucon, I said, we have at last arrived at the hymn of dialectic. This +is that strain which is of the intellect only, but which the faculty of sight +will nevertheless be found to imitate; for sight, as you may remember, was +imagined by us after a while to behold the real animals and stars, and last of +all the sun himself. And so with dialectic; when a person starts on the +discovery of the absolute by the light of reason only, and without any +assistance of sense, and perseveres until by pure intelligence he arrives at +the perception of the absolute good, he at last finds himself at the end of the +intellectual world, as in the case of sight at the end of the visible. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then this is the progress which you call dialectic? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +But the release of the prisoners from chains, and their translation from the +shadows to the images and to the light, and the ascent from the underground den +to the sun, while in his presence they are vainly trying to look on animals and +plants and the light of the sun, but are able to perceive even with their weak +eyes the images in the water (which are divine), and are the shadows of true +existence (not shadows of images cast by a light of fire, which compared with +the sun is only an image)—this power of elevating the highest principle +in the soul to the contemplation of that which is best in existence, with which +we may compare the raising of that faculty which is the very light of the body +to the sight of that which is brightest in the material and visible +world—this power is given, as I was saying, by all that study and pursuit +of the arts which has been described. +</p> + +<p> +I agree in what you are saying, he replied, which may be hard to believe, yet, +from another point of view, is harder still to deny. This, however, is not a +theme to be treated of in passing only, but will have to be discussed again and +again. And so, whether our conclusion be true or false, let us assume all this, +and proceed at once from the prelude or preamble to the chief strain (A play +upon the Greek word, which means both ‘law’ and +‘strain.’), and describe that in like manner. Say, then, what is +the nature and what are the divisions of dialectic, and what are the paths +which lead thither; for these paths will also lead to our final rest. +</p> + +<p> +Dear Glaucon, I said, you will not be able to follow me here, though I would do +my best, and you should behold not an image only but the absolute truth, +according to my notion. Whether what I told you would or would not have been a +reality I cannot venture to say; but you would have seen something like +reality; of that I am confident. +</p> + +<p> +Doubtless, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +But I must also remind you, that the power of dialectic alone can reveal this, +and only to one who is a disciple of the previous sciences. +</p> + +<p> +Of that assertion you may be as confident as of the last. +</p> + +<p> +And assuredly no one will argue that there is any other method of comprehending +by any regular process all true existence or of ascertaining what each thing is +in its own nature; for the arts in general are concerned with the desires or +opinions of men, or are cultivated with a view to production and construction, +or for the preservation of such productions and constructions; and as to the +mathematical sciences which, as we were saying, have some apprehension of true +being—geometry and the like—they only dream about being, but never +can they behold the waking reality so long as they leave the hypotheses which +they use unexamined, and are unable to give an account of them. For when a man +knows not his own first principle, and when the conclusion and intermediate +steps are also constructed out of he knows not what, how can he imagine that +such a fabric of convention can ever become science? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then dialectic, and dialectic alone, goes directly to the first principle and +is the only science which does away with hypotheses in order to make her ground +secure; the eye of the soul, which is literally buried in an outlandish slough, +is by her gentle aid lifted upwards; and she uses as handmaids and helpers in +the work of conversion, the sciences which we have been discussing. Custom +terms them sciences, but they ought to have some other name, implying greater +clearness than opinion and less clearness than science: and this, in our +previous sketch, was called understanding. But why should we dispute about +names when we have realities of such importance to consider? +</p> + +<p> +Why indeed, he said, when any name will do which expresses the thought of the +mind with clearness? +</p> + +<p> +At any rate, we are satisfied, as before, to have four divisions; two for +intellect and two for opinion, and to call the first division science, the +second understanding, the third belief, and the fourth perception of shadows, +opinion being concerned with becoming, and intellect with being; and so to make +a proportion:— +</p> + +<p> +As being is to becoming, so is pure intellect to opinion. And as intellect is +to opinion, so is science to belief, and understanding to the perception of +shadows. +</p> + +<p> +But let us defer the further correlation and subdivision of the subjects of +opinion and of intellect, for it will be a long enquiry, many times longer than +this has been. +</p> + +<p> +As far as I understand, he said, I agree. +</p> + +<p> +And do you also agree, I said, in describing the dialectician as one who +attains a conception of the essence of each thing? And he who does not possess +and is therefore unable to impart this conception, in whatever degree he fails, +may in that degree also be said to fail in intelligence? Will you admit so +much? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; how can I deny it? +</p> + +<p> +And you would say the same of the conception of the good? Until the person is +able to abstract and define rationally the idea of good, and unless he can run +the gauntlet of all objections, and is ready to disprove them, not by appeals +to opinion, but to absolute truth, never faltering at any step of the +argument—unless he can do all this, you would say that he knows neither +the idea of good nor any other good; he apprehends only a shadow, if anything +at all, which is given by opinion and not by science;—dreaming and +slumbering in this life, before he is well awake here, he arrives at the world +below, and has his final quietus. +</p> + +<p> +In all that I should most certainly agree with you. +</p> + +<p> +And surely you would not have the children of your ideal State, whom you are +nurturing and educating—if the ideal ever becomes a reality—you +would not allow the future rulers to be like posts (Literally +‘lines,’ probably the starting-point of a race-course.), having no +reason in them, and yet to be set in authority over the highest matters? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Then you will make a law that they shall have such an education as will enable +them to attain the greatest skill in asking and answering questions? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, you and I together will make it. +</p> + +<p> +Dialectic, then, as you will agree, is the coping-stone of the sciences, and is +set over them; no other science can be placed higher—the nature of +knowledge can no further go? +</p> + +<p> +I agree, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But to whom we are to assign these studies, and in what way they are to be +assigned, are questions which remain to be considered. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, clearly. +</p> + +<p> +You remember, I said, how the rulers were chosen before? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +The same natures must still be chosen, and the preference again given to the +surest and the bravest, and, if possible, to the fairest; and, having noble and +generous tempers, they should also have the natural gifts which will facilitate +their education. +</p> + +<p> +And what are these? +</p> + +<p> +Such gifts as keenness and ready powers of acquisition; for the mind more often +faints from the severity of study than from the severity of gymnastics: the +toil is more entirely the mind’s own, and is not shared with the body. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Further, he of whom we are in search should have a good memory, and be an +unwearied solid man who is a lover of labour in any line; or he will never be +able to endure the great amount of bodily exercise and to go through all the +intellectual discipline and study which we require of him. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said; he must have natural gifts. +</p> + +<p> +The mistake at present is, that those who study philosophy have no vocation, +and this, as I was before saying, is the reason why she has fallen into +disrepute: her true sons should take her by the hand and not bastards. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +In the first place, her votary should not have a lame or halting +industry—I mean, that he should not be half industrious and half idle: +as, for example, when a man is a lover of gymnastic and hunting, and all other +bodily exercises, but a hater rather than a lover of the labour of learning or +listening or enquiring. Or the occupation to which he devotes himself may be of +an opposite kind, and he may have the other sort of lameness. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And as to truth, I said, is not a soul equally to be deemed halt and lame which +hates voluntary falsehood and is extremely indignant at herself and others when +they tell lies, but is patient of involuntary falsehood, and does not mind +wallowing like a swinish beast in the mire of ignorance, and has no shame at +being detected? +</p> + +<p> +To be sure. +</p> + +<p> +And, again, in respect of temperance, courage, magnificence, and every other +virtue, should we not carefully distinguish between the true son and the +bastard? for where there is no discernment of such qualities states and +individuals unconsciously err; and the state makes a ruler, and the individual +a friend, of one who, being defective in some part of virtue, is in a figure +lame or a bastard. +</p> + +<p> +That is very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +All these things, then, will have to be carefully considered by us; and if only +those whom we introduce to this vast system of education and training are sound +in body and mind, justice herself will have nothing to say against us, and we +shall be the saviours of the constitution and of the State; but, if our pupils +are men of another stamp, the reverse will happen, and we shall pour a still +greater flood of ridicule on philosophy than she has to endure at present. +</p> + +<p> +That would not be creditable. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not, I said; and yet perhaps, in thus turning jest into earnest I am +equally ridiculous. +</p> + +<p> +In what respect? +</p> + +<p> +I had forgotten, I said, that we were not serious, and spoke with too much +excitement. For when I saw philosophy so undeservedly trampled under foot of +men I could not help feeling a sort of indignation at the authors of her +disgrace: and my anger made me too vehement. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed! I was listening, and did not think so. +</p> + +<p> +But I, who am the speaker, felt that I was. And now let me remind you that, +although in our former selection we chose old men, we must not do so in this. +Solon was under a delusion when he said that a man when he grows old may learn +many things—for he can no more learn much than he can run much; youth is +the time for any extraordinary toil. +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +And, therefore, calculation and geometry and all the other elements of +instruction, which are a preparation for dialectic, should be presented to the +mind in childhood; not, however, under any notion of forcing our system of +education. +</p> + +<p> +Why not? +</p> + +<p> +Because a freeman ought not to be a slave in the acquisition of knowledge of +any kind. Bodily exercise, when compulsory, does no harm to the body; but +knowledge which is acquired under compulsion obtains no hold on the mind. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Then, my good friend, I said, do not use compulsion, but let early education be +a sort of amusement; you will then be better able to find out the natural bent. +</p> + +<p> +That is a very rational notion, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Do you remember that the children, too, were to be taken to see the battle on +horseback; and that if there were no danger they were to be brought close up +and, like young hounds, have a taste of blood given them? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I remember. +</p> + +<p> +The same practice may be followed, I said, in all these things—labours, +lessons, dangers—and he who is most at home in all of them ought to be +enrolled in a select number. +</p> + +<p> +At what age? +</p> + +<p> +At the age when the necessary gymnastics are over: the period whether of two or +three years which passes in this sort of training is useless for any other +purpose; for sleep and exercise are unpropitious to learning; and the trial of +who is first in gymnastic exercises is one of the most important tests to which +our youth are subjected. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +After that time those who are selected from the class of twenty years old will +be promoted to higher honour, and the sciences which they learned without any +order in their early education will now be brought together, and they will be +able to see the natural relationship of them to one another and to true being. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that is the only kind of knowledge which takes lasting root. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; and the capacity for such knowledge is the great criterion of +dialectical talent: the comprehensive mind is always the dialectical. +</p> + +<p> +I agree with you, he said. +</p> + +<p> +These, I said, are the points which you must consider; and those who have most +of this comprehension, and who are most steadfast in their learning, and in +their military and other appointed duties, when they have arrived at the age of +thirty have to be chosen by you out of the select class, and elevated to higher +honour; and you will have to prove them by the help of dialectic, in order to +learn which of them is able to give up the use of sight and the other senses, +and in company with truth to attain absolute being: And here, my friend, great +caution is required. +</p> + +<p> +Why great caution? +</p> + +<p> +Do you not remark, I said, how great is the evil which dialectic has +introduced? +</p> + +<p> +What evil? he said. +</p> + +<p> +The students of the art are filled with lawlessness. +</p> + +<p> +Quite true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Do you think that there is anything so very unnatural or inexcusable in their +case? or will you make allowance for them? +</p> + +<p> +In what way make allowance? +</p> + +<p> +I want you, I said, by way of parallel, to imagine a supposititious son who is +brought up in great wealth; he is one of a great and numerous family, and has +many flatterers. When he grows up to manhood, he learns that his alleged are +not his real parents; but who the real are he is unable to discover. Can you +guess how he will be likely to behave towards his flatterers and his supposed +parents, first of all during the period when he is ignorant of the false +relation, and then again when he knows? Or shall I guess for you? +</p> + +<p> +If you please. +</p> + +<p> +Then I should say, that while he is ignorant of the truth he will be likely to +honour his father and his mother and his supposed relations more than the +flatterers; he will be less inclined to neglect them when in need, or to do or +say anything against them; and he will be less willing to disobey them in any +important matter. +</p> + +<p> +He will. +</p> + +<p> +But when he has made the discovery, I should imagine that he would diminish his +honour and regard for them, and would become more devoted to the flatterers; +their influence over him would greatly increase; he would now live after their +ways, and openly associate with them, and, unless he were of an unusually good +disposition, he would trouble himself no more about his supposed parents or +other relations. +</p> + +<p> +Well, all that is very probable. But how is the image applicable to the +disciples of philosophy? +</p> + +<p> +In this way: you know that there are certain principles about justice and +honour, which were taught us in childhood, and under their parental authority +we have been brought up, obeying and honouring them. +</p> + +<p> +That is true. +</p> + +<p> +There are also opposite maxims and habits of pleasure which flatter and attract +the soul, but do not influence those of us who have any sense of right, and +they continue to obey and honour the maxims of their fathers. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Now, when a man is in this state, and the questioning spirit asks what is fair +or honourable, and he answers as the legislator has taught him, and then +arguments many and diverse refute his words, until he is driven into believing +that nothing is honourable any more than dishonourable, or just and good any +more than the reverse, and so of all the notions which he most valued, do you +think that he will still honour and obey them as before? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +And when he ceases to think them honourable and natural as heretofore, and he +fails to discover the true, can he be expected to pursue any life other than +that which flatters his desires? +</p> + +<p> +He cannot. +</p> + +<p> +And from being a keeper of the law he is converted into a breaker of it? +</p> + +<p> +Unquestionably. +</p> + +<p> +Now all this is very natural in students of philosophy such as I have +described, and also, as I was just now saying, most excusable. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; and, I may add, pitiable. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, that your feelings may not be moved to pity about our citizens who +are now thirty years of age, every care must be taken in introducing them to +dialectic. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +There is a danger lest they should taste the dear delight too early; for +youngsters, as you may have observed, when they first get the taste in their +mouths, argue for amusement, and are always contradicting and refuting others +in imitation of those who refute them; like puppy-dogs, they rejoice in pulling +and tearing at all who come near them. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, there is nothing which they like better. +</p> + +<p> +And when they have made many conquests and received defeats at the hands of +many, they violently and speedily get into a way of not believing anything +which they believed before, and hence, not only they, but philosophy and all +that relates to it is apt to have a bad name with the rest of the world. +</p> + +<p> +Too true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But when a man begins to get older, he will no longer be guilty of such +insanity; he will imitate the dialectician who is seeking for truth, and not +the eristic, who is contradicting for the sake of amusement; and the greater +moderation of his character will increase instead of diminishing the honour of +the pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And did we not make special provision for this, when we said that the disciples +of philosophy were to be orderly and steadfast, not, as now, any chance +aspirant or intruder? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Suppose, I said, the study of philosophy to take the place of gymnastics and to +be continued diligently and earnestly and exclusively for twice the number of +years which were passed in bodily exercise—will that be enough? +</p> + +<p> +Would you say six or four years? he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Say five years, I replied; at the end of the time they must be sent down again +into the den and compelled to hold any military or other office which young men +are qualified to hold: in this way they will get their experience of life, and +there will be an opportunity of trying whether, when they are drawn all manner +of ways by temptation, they will stand firm or flinch. +</p> + +<p> +And how long is this stage of their lives to last? +</p> + +<p> +Fifteen years, I answered; and when they have reached fifty years of age, then +let those who still survive and have distinguished themselves in every action +of their lives and in every branch of knowledge come at last to their +consummation: the time has now arrived at which they must raise the eye of the +soul to the universal light which lightens all things, and behold the absolute +good; for that is the pattern according to which they are to order the State +and the lives of individuals, and the remainder of their own lives also; making +philosophy their chief pursuit, but, when their turn comes, toiling also at +politics and ruling for the public good, not as though they were performing +some heroic action, but simply as a matter of duty; and when they have brought +up in each generation others like themselves and left them in their place to be +governors of the State, then they will depart to the Islands of the Blest and +dwell there; and the city will give them public memorials and sacrifices and +honour them, if the Pythian oracle consent, as demigods, but if not, as in any +case blessed and divine. +</p> + +<p> +You are a sculptor, Socrates, and have made statues of our governors faultless +in beauty. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, Glaucon, and of our governesses too; for you must not suppose that +what I have been saying applies to men only and not to women as far as their +natures can go. +</p> + +<p> +There you are right, he said, since we have made them to share in all things +like the men. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, and you would agree (would you not?) that what has been said +about the State and the government is not a mere dream, and although difficult +not impossible, but only possible in the way which has been supposed; that is +to say, when the true philosopher kings are born in a State, one or more of +them, despising the honours of this present world which they deem mean and +worthless, esteeming above all things right and the honour that springs from +right, and regarding justice as the greatest and most necessary of all things, +whose ministers they are, and whose principles will be exalted by them when +they set in order their own city? +</p> + +<p> +How will they proceed? +</p> + +<p> +They will begin by sending out into the country all the inhabitants of the city +who are more than ten years old, and will take possession of their children, +who will be unaffected by the habits of their parents; these they will train in +their own habits and laws, I mean in the laws which we have given them: and in +this way the State and constitution of which we were speaking will soonest and +most easily attain happiness, and the nation which has such a constitution will +gain most. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that will be the best way. And I think, Socrates, that you have very well +described how, if ever, such a constitution might come into being. +</p> + +<p> +Enough then of the perfect State, and of the man who bears its +image—there is no difficulty in seeing how we shall describe him. +</p> + +<p> +There is no difficulty, he replied; and I agree with you in thinking that +nothing more need be said. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"></a> BOOK VIII.</h2> + +<p> +And so, Glaucon, we have arrived at the conclusion that in the perfect State +wives and children are to be in common; and that all education and the pursuits +of war and peace are also to be common, and the best philosophers and the +bravest warriors are to be their kings? +</p> + +<p> +That, replied Glaucon, has been acknowledged. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; and we have further acknowledged that the governors, when +appointed themselves, will take their soldiers and place them in houses such as +we were describing, which are common to all, and contain nothing private, or +individual; and about their property, you remember what we agreed? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I remember that no one was to have any of the ordinary possessions of +mankind; they were to be warrior athletes and guardians, receiving from the +other citizens, in lieu of annual payment, only their maintenance, and they +were to take care of themselves and of the whole State. +</p> + +<p> +True, I said; and now that this division of our task is concluded, let us find +the point at which we digressed, that we may return into the old path. +</p> + +<p> +There is no difficulty in returning; you implied, then as now, that you had +finished the description of the State: you said that such a State was good, and +that the man was good who answered to it, although, as now appears, you had +more excellent things to relate both of State and man. And you said further, +that if this was the true form, then the others were false; and of the false +forms, you said, as I remember, that there were four principal ones, and that +their defects, and the defects of the individuals corresponding to them, were +worth examining. When we had seen all the individuals, and finally agreed as to +who was the best and who was the worst of them, we were to consider whether the +best was not also the happiest, and the worst the most miserable. I asked you +what were the four forms of government of which you spoke, and then Polemarchus +and Adeimantus put in their word; and you began again, and have found your way +to the point at which we have now arrived. +</p> + +<p> +Your recollection, I said, is most exact. +</p> + +<p> +Then, like a wrestler, he replied, you must put yourself again in the same +position; and let me ask the same questions, and do you give me the same answer +which you were about to give me then. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, if I can, I will, I said. +</p> + +<p> +I shall particularly wish to hear what were the four constitutions of which you +were speaking. +</p> + +<p> +That question, I said, is easily answered: the four governments of which I +spoke, so far as they have distinct names, are, first, those of Crete and +Sparta, which are generally applauded; what is termed oligarchy comes next; +this is not equally approved, and is a form of government which teems with +evils: thirdly, democracy, which naturally follows oligarchy, although very +different: and lastly comes tyranny, great and famous, which differs from them +all, and is the fourth and worst disorder of a State. I do not know, do you? of +any other constitution which can be said to have a distinct character. There +are lordships and principalities which are bought and sold, and some other +intermediate forms of government. But these are nondescripts and may be found +equally among Hellenes and among barbarians. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he replied, we certainly hear of many curious forms of government which +exist among them. +</p> + +<p> +Do you know, I said, that governments vary as the dispositions of men vary, and +that there must be as many of the one as there are of the other? For we cannot +suppose that States are made of ‘oak and rock,’ and not out of the +human natures which are in them, and which in a figure turn the scale and draw +other things after them? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, the States are as the men are; they grow out of human characters. +</p> + +<p> +Then if the constitutions of States are five, the dispositions of individual +minds will also be five? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Him who answers to aristocracy, and whom we rightly call just and good, we have +already described. +</p> + +<p> +We have. +</p> + +<p> +Then let us now proceed to describe the inferior sort of natures, being the +contentious and ambitious, who answer to the Spartan polity; also the +oligarchical, democratical, and tyrannical. Let us place the most just by the +side of the most unjust, and when we see them we shall be able to compare the +relative happiness or unhappiness of him who leads a life of pure justice or +pure injustice. The enquiry will then be completed. And we shall know whether +we ought to pursue injustice, as Thrasymachus advises, or in accordance with +the conclusions of the argument to prefer justice. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he replied, we must do as you say. +</p> + +<p> +Shall we follow our old plan, which we adopted with a view to clearness, of +taking the State first and then proceeding to the individual, and begin with +the government of honour?—I know of no name for such a government other +than timocracy, or perhaps timarchy. We will compare with this the like +character in the individual; and, after that, consider oligarchy and the +oligarchical man; and then again we will turn our attention to democracy and +the democratical man; and lastly, we will go and view the city of tyranny, and +once more take a look into the tyrant’s soul, and try to arrive at a +satisfactory decision. +</p> + +<p> +That way of viewing and judging of the matter will be very suitable. +</p> + +<p> +First, then, I said, let us enquire how timocracy (the government of honour) +arises out of aristocracy (the government of the best). Clearly, all political +changes originate in divisions of the actual governing power; a government +which is united, however small, cannot be moved. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +In what way, then, will our city be moved, and in what manner will the two +classes of auxiliaries and rulers disagree among themselves or with one +another? Shall we, after the manner of Homer, pray the Muses to tell us +‘how discord first arose’? Shall we imagine them in solemn mockery, +to play and jest with us as if we were children, and to address us in a lofty +tragic vein, making believe to be in earnest? +</p> + +<p> +How would they address us? +</p> + +<p> +After this manner:—A city which is thus constituted can hardly be shaken; +but, seeing that everything which has a beginning has also an end, even a +constitution such as yours will not last for ever, but will in time be +dissolved. And this is the dissolution:—In plants that grow in the earth, +as well as in animals that move on the earth’s surface, fertility and +sterility of soul and body occur when the circumferences of the circles of each +are completed, which in short-lived existences pass over a short space, and in +long-lived ones over a long space. But to the knowledge of human fecundity and +sterility all the wisdom and education of your rulers will not attain; the laws +which regulate them will not be discovered by an intelligence which is alloyed +with sense, but will escape them, and they will bring children into the world +when they ought not. Now that which is of divine birth has a period which is +contained in a perfect number (i.e. a cyclical number, such as 6, which is +equal to the sum of its divisors 1, 2, 3, so that when the circle or time +represented by 6 is completed, the lesser times or rotations represented by 1, +2, 3 are also completed.), but the period of human birth is comprehended in a +number in which first increments by involution and evolution (or squared and +cubed) obtaining three intervals and four terms of like and unlike, waxing and +waning numbers, make all the terms commensurable and agreeable to one another. +(Probably the numbers 3, 4, 5, 6 of which the three first = the sides of the +Pythagorean triangle. The terms will then be 3 cubed, 4 cubed, 5 cubed, which +together = 6 cubed = 216.) The base of these (3) with a third added (4) when +combined with five (20) and raised to the third power furnishes two harmonies; +the first a square which is a hundred times as great (400 = 4 x 100) (Or the +first a square which is 100 x 100 = 10,000. The whole number will then be +17,500 = a square of 100, and an oblong of 100 by 75.), and the other a figure +having one side equal to the former, but oblong, consisting of a hundred +numbers squared upon rational diameters of a square (i.e. omitting fractions), +the side of which is five (7 x 7 = 49 x 100 = 4900), each of them being less by +one (than the perfect square which includes the fractions, sc. 50) or less by +(Or, ‘consisting of two numbers squared upon irrational diameters,’ +etc. = 100. For other explanations of the passage see Introduction.) two +perfect squares of irrational diameters (of a square the side of which is five += 50 + 50 = 100); and a hundred cubes of three (27 x 100 = 2700 + 4900 + 400 = +8000). Now this number represents a geometrical figure which has control over +the good and evil of births. For when your guardians are ignorant of the law of +births, and unite bride and bridegroom out of season, the children will not be +goodly or fortunate. And though only the best of them will be appointed by +their predecessors, still they will be unworthy to hold their fathers’ +places, and when they come into power as guardians, they will soon be found to +fail in taking care of us, the Muses, first by under-valuing music; which +neglect will soon extend to gymnastic; and hence the young men of your State +will be less cultivated. In the succeeding generation rulers will be appointed +who have lost the guardian power of testing the metal of your different races, +which, like Hesiod’s, are of gold and silver and brass and iron. And so +iron will be mingled with silver, and brass with gold, and hence there will +arise dissimilarity and inequality and irregularity, which always and in all +places are causes of hatred and war. This the Muses affirm to be the stock from +which discord has sprung, wherever arising; and this is their answer to us. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, and we may assume that they answer truly. +</p> + +<p> +Why, yes, I said, of course they answer truly; how can the Muses speak falsely? +</p> + +<p> +And what do the Muses say next? +</p> + +<p> +When discord arose, then the two races were drawn different ways: the iron and +brass fell to acquiring money and land and houses and gold and silver; but the +gold and silver races, not wanting money but having the true riches in their +own nature, inclined towards virtue and the ancient order of things. There was +a battle between them, and at last they agreed to distribute their land and +houses among individual owners; and they enslaved their friends and +maintainers, whom they had formerly protected in the condition of freemen, and +made of them subjects and servants; and they themselves were engaged in war and +in keeping a watch against them. +</p> + +<p> +I believe that you have rightly conceived the origin of the change. +</p> + +<p> +And the new government which thus arises will be of a form intermediate between +oligarchy and aristocracy? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Such will be the change, and after the change has been made, how will they +proceed? Clearly, the new State, being in a mean between oligarchy and the +perfect State, will partly follow one and partly the other, and will also have +some peculiarities. +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +In the honour given to rulers, in the abstinence of the warrior class from +agriculture, handicrafts, and trade in general, in the institution of common +meals, and in the attention paid to gymnastics and military training—in +all these respects this State will resemble the former. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +But in the fear of admitting philosophers to power, because they are no longer +to be had simple and earnest, but are made up of mixed elements; and in turning +from them to passionate and less complex characters, who are by nature fitted +for war rather than peace; and in the value set by them upon military +stratagems and contrivances, and in the waging of everlasting wars—this +State will be for the most part peculiar. +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; and men of this stamp will be covetous of money, like those who +live in oligarchies; they will have, a fierce secret longing after gold and +silver, which they will hoard in dark places, having magazines and treasuries +of their own for the deposit and concealment of them; also castles which are +just nests for their eggs, and in which they will spend large sums on their +wives, or on any others whom they please. +</p> + +<p> +That is most true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And they are miserly because they have no means of openly acquiring the money +which they prize; they will spend that which is another man’s on the +gratification of their desires, stealing their pleasures and running away like +children from the law, their father: they have been schooled not by gentle +influences but by force, for they have neglected her who is the true Muse, the +companion of reason and philosophy, and have honoured gymnastic more than +music. +</p> + +<p> +Undoubtedly, he said, the form of government which you describe is a mixture of +good and evil. +</p> + +<p> +Why, there is a mixture, I said; but one thing, and one thing only, is +predominantly seen,—the spirit of contention and ambition; and these are +due to the prevalence of the passionate or spirited element. +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Such is the origin and such the character of this State, which has been +described in outline only; the more perfect execution was not required, for a +sketch is enough to show the type of the most perfectly just and most perfectly +unjust; and to go through all the States and all the characters of men, +omitting none of them, would be an interminable labour. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Now what man answers to this form of government-how did he come into being, and +what is he like? +</p> + +<p> +I think, said Adeimantus, that in the spirit of contention which characterises +him, he is not unlike our friend Glaucon. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps, I said, he may be like him in that one point; but there are other +respects in which he is very different. +</p> + +<p> +In what respects? +</p> + +<p> +He should have more of self-assertion and be less cultivated, and yet a friend +of culture; and he should be a good listener, but no speaker. Such a person is +apt to be rough with slaves, unlike the educated man, who is too proud for +that; and he will also be courteous to freemen, and remarkably obedient to +authority; he is a lover of power and a lover of honour; claiming to be a +ruler, not because he is eloquent, or on any ground of that sort, but because +he is a soldier and has performed feats of arms; he is also a lover of +gymnastic exercises and of the chase. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that is the type of character which answers to timocracy. +</p> + +<p> +Such an one will despise riches only when he is young; but as he gets older he +will be more and more attracted to them, because he has a piece of the +avaricious nature in him, and is not single-minded towards virtue, having lost +his best guardian. +</p> + +<p> +Who was that? said Adeimantus. +</p> + +<p> +Philosophy, I said, tempered with music, who comes and takes up her abode in a +man, and is the only saviour of his virtue throughout life. +</p> + +<p> +Good, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Such, I said, is the timocratical youth, and he is like the timocratical State. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +His origin is as follows:—He is often the young son of a brave father, +who dwells in an ill-governed city, of which he declines the honours and +offices, and will not go to law, or exert himself in any way, but is ready to +waive his rights in order that he may escape trouble. +</p> + +<p> +And how does the son come into being? +</p> + +<p> +The character of the son begins to develope when he hears his mother +complaining that her husband has no place in the government, of which the +consequence is that she has no precedence among other women. Further, when she +sees her husband not very eager about money, and instead of battling and +railing in the law courts or assembly, taking whatever happens to him quietly; +and when she observes that his thoughts always centre in himself, while he +treats her with very considerable indifference, she is annoyed, and says to her +son that his father is only half a man and far too easy-going: adding all the +other complaints about her own ill-treatment which women are so fond of +rehearsing. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, said Adeimantus, they give us plenty of them, and their complaints are so +like themselves. +</p> + +<p> +And you know, I said, that the old servants also, who are supposed to be +attached to the family, from time to time talk privately in the same strain to +the son; and if they see any one who owes money to his father, or is wronging +him in any way, and he fails to prosecute them, they tell the youth that when +he grows up he must retaliate upon people of this sort, and be more of a man +than his father. He has only to walk abroad and he hears and sees the same sort +of thing: those who do their own business in the city are called simpletons, +and held in no esteem, while the busy-bodies are honoured and applauded. The +result is that the young man, hearing and seeing all these +things—hearing, too, the words of his father, and having a nearer view of +his way of life, and making comparisons of him and others—is drawn +opposite ways: while his father is watering and nourishing the rational +principle in his soul, the others are encouraging the passionate and +appetitive; and he being not originally of a bad nature, but having kept bad +company, is at last brought by their joint influence to a middle point, and +gives up the kingdom which is within him to the middle principle of +contentiousness and passion, and becomes arrogant and ambitious. +</p> + +<p> +You seem to me to have described his origin perfectly. +</p> + +<p> +Then we have now, I said, the second form of government and the second type of +character? +</p> + +<p> +We have. +</p> + +<p> +Next, let us look at another man who, as Aeschylus says, +</p> + +<p> +‘Is set over against another State;’ +</p> + +<p> +or rather, as our plan requires, begin with the State. +</p> + +<p> +By all means. +</p> + +<p> +I believe that oligarchy follows next in order. +</p> + +<p> +And what manner of government do you term oligarchy? +</p> + +<p> +A government resting on a valuation of property, in which the rich have power +and the poor man is deprived of it. +</p> + +<p> +I understand, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Ought I not to begin by describing how the change from timocracy to oligarchy +arises? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, no eyes are required in order to see how the one passes into the +other. +</p> + +<p> +How? +</p> + +<p> +The accumulation of gold in the treasury of private individuals is the ruin of +timocracy; they invent illegal modes of expenditure; for what do they or their +wives care about the law? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, indeed. +</p> + +<p> +And then one, seeing another grow rich, seeks to rival him, and thus the great +mass of the citizens become lovers of money. +</p> + +<p> +Likely enough. +</p> + +<p> +And so they grow richer and richer, and the more they think of making a fortune +the less they think of virtue; for when riches and virtue are placed together +in the scales of the balance, the one always rises as the other falls. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And in proportion as riches and rich men are honoured in the State, virtue and +the virtuous are dishonoured. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +And what is honoured is cultivated, and that which has no honour is neglected. +</p> + +<p> +That is obvious. +</p> + +<p> +And so at last, instead of loving contention and glory, men become lovers of +trade and money; they honour and look up to the rich man, and make a ruler of +him, and dishonour the poor man. +</p> + +<p> +They do so. +</p> + +<p> +They next proceed to make a law which fixes a sum of money as the qualification +of citizenship; the sum is higher in one place and lower in another, as the +oligarchy is more or less exclusive; and they allow no one whose property falls +below the amount fixed to have any share in the government. These changes in +the constitution they effect by force of arms, if intimidation has not already +done their work. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And this, speaking generally, is the way in which oligarchy is established. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; but what are the characteristics of this form of government, and +what are the defects of which we were speaking? +</p> + +<p> +First of all, I said, consider the nature of the qualification. Just think what +would happen if pilots were to be chosen according to their property, and a +poor man were refused permission to steer, even though he were a better pilot? +</p> + +<p> +You mean that they would shipwreck? +</p> + +<p> +Yes; and is not this true of the government of anything? +</p> + +<p> +I should imagine so. +</p> + +<p> +Except a city?—or would you include a city? +</p> + +<p> +Nay, he said, the case of a city is the strongest of all, inasmuch as the rule +of a city is the greatest and most difficult of all. +</p> + +<p> +This, then, will be the first great defect of oligarchy? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +And here is another defect which is quite as bad. +</p> + +<p> +What defect? +</p> + +<p> +The inevitable division: such a State is not one, but two States, the one of +poor, the other of rich men; and they are living on the same spot and always +conspiring against one another. +</p> + +<p> +That, surely, is at least as bad. +</p> + +<p> +Another discreditable feature is, that, for a like reason, they are incapable +of carrying on any war. Either they arm the multitude, and then they are more +afraid of them than of the enemy; or, if they do not call them out in the hour +of battle, they are oligarchs indeed, few to fight as they are few to rule. And +at the same time their fondness for money makes them unwilling to pay taxes. +</p> + +<p> +How discreditable! +</p> + +<p> +And, as we said before, under such a constitution the same persons have too +many callings—they are husbandmen, tradesmen, warriors, all in one. Does +that look well? +</p> + +<p> +Anything but well. +</p> + +<p> +There is another evil which is, perhaps, the greatest of all, and to which this +State first begins to be liable. +</p> + +<p> +What evil? +</p> + +<p> +A man may sell all that he has, and another may acquire his property; yet after +the sale he may dwell in the city of which he is no longer a part, being +neither trader, nor artisan, nor horseman, nor hoplite, but only a poor, +helpless creature. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that is an evil which also first begins in this State. +</p> + +<p> +The evil is certainly not prevented there; for oligarchies have both the +extremes of great wealth and utter poverty. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +But think again: In his wealthy days, while he was spending his money, was a +man of this sort a whit more good to the State for the purposes of citizenship? +Or did he only seem to be a member of the ruling body, although in truth he was +neither ruler nor subject, but just a spendthrift? +</p> + +<p> +As you say, he seemed to be a ruler, but was only a spendthrift. +</p> + +<p> +May we not say that this is the drone in the house who is like the drone in the +honeycomb, and that the one is the plague of the city as the other is of the +hive? +</p> + +<p> +Just so, Socrates. +</p> + +<p> +And God has made the flying drones, Adeimantus, all without stings, whereas of +the walking drones he has made some without stings but others have dreadful +stings; of the stingless class are those who in their old age end as paupers; +of the stingers come all the criminal class, as they are termed. +</p> + +<p> +Most true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly then, whenever you see paupers in a State, somewhere in that +neighborhood there are hidden away thieves, and cut-purses and robbers of +temples, and all sorts of malefactors. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, and in oligarchical States do you not find paupers? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; nearly everybody is a pauper who is not a ruler. +</p> + +<p> +And may we be so bold as to affirm that there are also many criminals to be +found in them, rogues who have stings, and whom the authorities are careful to +restrain by force? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, we may be so bold. +</p> + +<p> +The existence of such persons is to be attributed to want of education, +ill-training, and an evil constitution of the State? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Such, then, is the form and such are the evils of oligarchy; and there may be +many other evils. +</p> + +<p> +Very likely. +</p> + +<p> +Then oligarchy, or the form of government in which the rulers are elected for +their wealth, may now be dismissed. Let us next proceed to consider the nature +and origin of the individual who answers to this State. +</p> + +<p> +By all means. +</p> + +<p> +Does not the timocratical man change into the oligarchical on this wise? +</p> + +<p> +How? +</p> + +<p> +A time arrives when the representative of timocracy has a son: at first he +begins by emulating his father and walking in his footsteps, but presently he +sees him of a sudden foundering against the State as upon a sunken reef, and he +and all that he has is lost; he may have been a general or some other high +officer who is brought to trial under a prejudice raised by informers, and +either put to death, or exiled, or deprived of the privileges of a citizen, and +all his property taken from him. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing more likely. +</p> + +<p> +And the son has seen and known all this—he is a ruined man, and his fear +has taught him to knock ambition and passion headforemost from his +bosom’s throne; humbled by poverty he takes to money-making and by mean +and miserly savings and hard work gets a fortune together. Is not such an one +likely to seat the concupiscent and covetous element on the vacant throne and +to suffer it to play the great king within him, girt with tiara and chain and +scimitar? +</p> + +<p> +Most true, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And when he has made reason and spirit sit down on the ground obediently on +either side of their sovereign, and taught them to know their place, he compels +the one to think only of how lesser sums may be turned into larger ones, and +will not allow the other to worship and admire anything but riches and rich +men, or to be ambitious of anything so much as the acquisition of wealth and +the means of acquiring it. +</p> + +<p> +Of all changes, he said, there is none so speedy or so sure as the conversion +of the ambitious youth into the avaricious one. +</p> + +<p> +And the avaricious, I said, is the oligarchical youth? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; at any rate the individual out of whom he came is like the State +out of which oligarchy came. +</p> + +<p> +Let us then consider whether there is any likeness between them. +</p> + +<p> +Very good. +</p> + +<p> +First, then, they resemble one another in the value which they set upon wealth? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Also in their penurious, laborious character; the individual only satisfies his +necessary appetites, and confines his expenditure to them; his other desires he +subdues, under the idea that they are unprofitable. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +He is a shabby fellow, who saves something out of everything and makes a purse +for himself; and this is the sort of man whom the vulgar applaud. Is he not a +true image of the State which he represents? +</p> + +<p> +He appears to me to be so; at any rate money is highly valued by him as well as +by the State. +</p> + +<p> +You see that he is not a man of cultivation, I said. +</p> + +<p> +I imagine not, he said; had he been educated he would never have made a blind +god director of his chorus, or given him chief honour. +</p> + +<p> +Excellent! I said. Yet consider: Must we not further admit that owing to this +want of cultivation there will be found in him dronelike desires as of pauper +and rogue, which are forcibly kept down by his general habit of life? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Do you know where you will have to look if you want to discover his rogueries? +</p> + +<p> +Where must I look? +</p> + +<p> +You should see him where he has some great opportunity of acting dishonestly, +as in the guardianship of an orphan. +</p> + +<p> +Aye. +</p> + +<p> +It will be clear enough then that in his ordinary dealings which give him a +reputation for honesty he coerces his bad passions by an enforced virtue; not +making them see that they are wrong, or taming them by reason, but by necessity +and fear constraining them, and because he trembles for his possessions. +</p> + +<p> +To be sure. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, indeed, my dear friend, but you will find that the natural desires of the +drone commonly exist in him all the same whenever he has to spend what is not +his own. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, and they will be strong in him too. +</p> + +<p> +The man, then, will be at war with himself; he will be two men, and not one; +but, in general, his better desires will be found to prevail over his inferior +ones. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +For these reasons such an one will be more respectable than most people; yet +the true virtue of a unanimous and harmonious soul will flee far away and never +come near him. +</p> + +<p> +I should expect so. +</p> + +<p> +And surely, the miser individually will be an ignoble competitor in a State for +any prize of victory, or other object of honourable ambition; he will not spend +his money in the contest for glory; so afraid is he of awakening his expensive +appetites and inviting them to help and join in the struggle; in true +oligarchical fashion he fights with a small part only of his resources, and the +result commonly is that he loses the prize and saves his money. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Can we any longer doubt, then, that the miser and money-maker answers to the +oligarchical State? +</p> + +<p> +There can be no doubt. +</p> + +<p> +Next comes democracy; of this the origin and nature have still to be considered +by us; and then we will enquire into the ways of the democratic man, and bring +him up for judgment. +</p> + +<p> +That, he said, is our method. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, and how does the change from oligarchy into democracy arise? Is +it not on this wise?—The good at which such a State aims is to become as +rich as possible, a desire which is insatiable? +</p> + +<p> +What then? +</p> + +<p> +The rulers, being aware that their power rests upon their wealth, refuse to +curtail by law the extravagance of the spendthrift youth because they gain by +their ruin; they take interest from them and buy up their estates and thus +increase their own wealth and importance? +</p> + +<p> +To be sure. +</p> + +<p> +There can be no doubt that the love of wealth and the spirit of moderation +cannot exist together in citizens of the same state to any considerable extent; +one or the other will be disregarded. +</p> + +<p> +That is tolerably clear. +</p> + +<p> +And in oligarchical States, from the general spread of carelessness and +extravagance, men of good family have often been reduced to beggary? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, often. +</p> + +<p> +And still they remain in the city; there they are, ready to sting and fully +armed, and some of them owe money, some have forfeited their citizenship; a +third class are in both predicaments; and they hate and conspire against those +who have got their property, and against everybody else, and are eager for +revolution. +</p> + +<p> +That is true. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, the men of business, stooping as they walk, and pretending +not even to see those whom they have already ruined, insert their +sting—that is, their money—into some one else who is not on his +guard against them, and recover the parent sum many times over multiplied into +a family of children: and so they make drone and pauper to abound in the State. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, there are plenty of them—that is certain. +</p> + +<p> +The evil blazes up like a fire; and they will not extinguish it, either by +restricting a man’s use of his own property, or by another remedy: +</p> + +<p> +What other? +</p> + +<p> +One which is the next best, and has the advantage of compelling the citizens to +look to their characters:—Let there be a general rule that every one +shall enter into voluntary contracts at his own risk, and there will be less of +this scandalous money-making, and the evils of which we were speaking will be +greatly lessened in the State. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, they will be greatly lessened. +</p> + +<p> +At present the governors, induced by the motives which I have named, treat +their subjects badly; while they and their adherents, especially the young men +of the governing class, are habituated to lead a life of luxury and idleness +both of body and mind; they do nothing, and are incapable of resisting either +pleasure or pain. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +They themselves care only for making money, and are as indifferent as the +pauper to the cultivation of virtue. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, quite as indifferent. +</p> + +<p> +Such is the state of affairs which prevails among them. And often rulers and +their subjects may come in one another’s way, whether on a journey or on +some other occasion of meeting, on a pilgrimage or a march, as fellow-soldiers +or fellow-sailors; aye and they may observe the behaviour of each other in the +very moment of danger—for where danger is, there is no fear that the poor +will be despised by the rich—and very likely the wiry sunburnt poor man +may be placed in battle at the side of a wealthy one who has never spoilt his +complexion and has plenty of superfluous flesh—when he sees such an one +puffing and at his wits’-end, how can he avoid drawing the conclusion +that men like him are only rich because no one has the courage to despoil them? +And when they meet in private will not people be saying to one another +‘Our warriors are not good for much’? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, I am quite aware that this is their way of talking. +</p> + +<p> +And, as in a body which is diseased the addition of a touch from without may +bring on illness, and sometimes even when there is no external provocation a +commotion may arise within—in the same way wherever there is weakness in +the State there is also likely to be illness, of which the occasion may be very +slight, the one party introducing from without their oligarchical, the other +their democratical allies, and then the State falls sick, and is at war with +herself; and may be at times distracted, even when there is no external cause. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, surely. +</p> + +<p> +And then democracy comes into being after the poor have conquered their +opponents, slaughtering some and banishing some, while to the remainder they +give an equal share of freedom and power; and this is the form of government in +which the magistrates are commonly elected by lot. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that is the nature of democracy, whether the revolution has been +effected by arms, or whether fear has caused the opposite party to withdraw. +</p> + +<p> +And now what is their manner of life, and what sort of a government have they? +for as the government is, such will be the man. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +In the first place, are they not free; and is not the city full of freedom and +frankness—a man may say and do what he likes? +</p> + +<p> +’Tis said so, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And where freedom is, the individual is clearly able to order for himself his +own life as he pleases? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +Then in this kind of State there will be the greatest variety of human natures? +</p> + +<p> +There will. +</p> + +<p> +This, then, seems likely to be the fairest of States, being like an embroidered +robe which is spangled with every sort of flower. And just as women and +children think a variety of colours to be of all things most charming, so there +are many men to whom this State, which is spangled with the manners and +characters of mankind, will appear to be the fairest of States. +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, my good Sir, and there will be no better in which to look for a +government. +</p> + +<p> +Why? +</p> + +<p> +Because of the liberty which reigns there—they have a complete assortment +of constitutions; and he who has a mind to establish a State, as we have been +doing, must go to a democracy as he would to a bazaar at which they sell them, +and pick out the one that suits him; then, when he has made his choice, he may +found his State. +</p> + +<p> +He will be sure to have patterns enough. +</p> + +<p> +And there being no necessity, I said, for you to govern in this State, even if +you have the capacity, or to be governed, unless you like, or go to war when +the rest go to war, or to be at peace when others are at peace, unless you are +so disposed—there being no necessity also, because some law forbids you +to hold office or be a dicast, that you should not hold office or be a dicast, +if you have a fancy—is not this a way of life which for the moment is +supremely delightful? +</p> + +<p> +For the moment, yes. +</p> + +<p> +And is not their humanity to the condemned in some cases quite charming? Have +you not observed how, in a democracy, many persons, although they have been +sentenced to death or exile, just stay where they are and walk about the +world—the gentleman parades like a hero, and nobody sees or cares? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he replied, many and many a one. +</p> + +<p> +See too, I said, the forgiving spirit of democracy, and the ‘don’t +care’ about trifles, and the disregard which she shows of all the fine +principles which we solemnly laid down at the foundation of the city—as +when we said that, except in the case of some rarely gifted nature, there never +will be a good man who has not from his childhood been used to play amid things +of beauty and make of them a joy and a study—how grandly does she trample +all these fine notions of ours under her feet, never giving a thought to the +pursuits which make a statesman, and promoting to honour any one who professes +to be the people’s friend. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, she is of a noble spirit. +</p> + +<p> +These and other kindred characteristics are proper to democracy, which is a +charming form of government, full of variety and disorder, and dispensing a +sort of equality to equals and unequals alike. +</p> + +<p> +We know her well. +</p> + +<p> +Consider now, I said, what manner of man the individual is, or rather consider, +as in the case of the State, how he comes into being. +</p> + +<p> +Very good, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Is not this the way—he is the son of the miserly and oligarchical father +who has trained him in his own habits? +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +And, like his father, he keeps under by force the pleasures which are of the +spending and not of the getting sort, being those which are called unnecessary? +</p> + +<p> +Obviously. +</p> + +<p> +Would you like, for the sake of clearness, to distinguish which are the +necessary and which are the unnecessary pleasures? +</p> + +<p> +I should. +</p> + +<p> +Are not necessary pleasures those of which we cannot get rid, and of which the +satisfaction is a benefit to us? And they are rightly called so, because we are +framed by nature to desire both what is beneficial and what is necessary, and +cannot help it. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +We are not wrong therefore in calling them necessary? +</p> + +<p> +We are not. +</p> + +<p> +And the desires of which a man may get rid, if he takes pains from his youth +upwards—of which the presence, moreover, does no good, and in some cases +the reverse of good—shall we not be right in saying that all these are +unnecessary? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Suppose we select an example of either kind, in order that we may have a +general notion of them? +</p> + +<p> +Very good. +</p> + +<p> +Will not the desire of eating, that is, of simple food and condiments, in so +far as they are required for health and strength, be of the necessary class? +</p> + +<p> +That is what I should suppose. +</p> + +<p> +The pleasure of eating is necessary in two ways; it does us good and it is +essential to the continuance of life? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +But the condiments are only necessary in so far as they are good for health? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And the desire which goes beyond this, of more delicate food, or other +luxuries, which might generally be got rid of, if controlled and trained in +youth, and is hurtful to the body, and hurtful to the soul in the pursuit of +wisdom and virtue, may be rightly called unnecessary? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +May we not say that these desires spend, and that the others make money because +they conduce to production? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And of the pleasures of love, and all other pleasures, the same holds good? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And the drone of whom we spoke was he who was surfeited in pleasures and +desires of this sort, and was the slave of the unnecessary desires, whereas he +who was subject to the necessary only was miserly and oligarchical? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Again, let us see how the democratical man grows out of the oligarchical: the +following, as I suspect, is commonly the process. +</p> + +<p> +What is the process? +</p> + +<p> +When a young man who has been brought up as we were just now describing, in a +vulgar and miserly way, has tasted drones’ honey and has come to +associate with fierce and crafty natures who are able to provide for him all +sorts of refinements and varieties of pleasure—then, as you may imagine, +the change will begin of the oligarchical principle within him into the +democratical? +</p> + +<p> +Inevitably. +</p> + +<p> +And as in the city like was helping like, and the change was effected by an +alliance from without assisting one division of the citizens, so too the young +man is changed by a class of desires coming from without to assist the desires +within him, that which is akin and alike again helping that which is akin and +alike? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And if there be any ally which aids the oligarchical principle within him, +whether the influence of a father or of kindred, advising or rebuking him, then +there arises in his soul a faction and an opposite faction, and he goes to war +with himself. +</p> + +<p> +It must be so. +</p> + +<p> +And there are times when the democratical principle gives way to the +oligarchical, and some of his desires die, and others are banished; a spirit of +reverence enters into the young man’s soul and order is restored. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that sometimes happens. +</p> + +<p> +And then, again, after the old desires have been driven out, fresh ones spring +up, which are akin to them, and because he their father does not know how to +educate them, wax fierce and numerous. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that is apt to be the way. +</p> + +<p> +They draw him to his old associates, and holding secret intercourse with them, +breed and multiply in him. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +At length they seize upon the citadel of the young man’s soul, which they +perceive to be void of all accomplishments and fair pursuits and true words, +which make their abode in the minds of men who are dear to the gods, and are +their best guardians and sentinels. +</p> + +<p> +None better. +</p> + +<p> +False and boastful conceits and phrases mount upwards and take their place. +</p> + +<p> +They are certain to do so. +</p> + +<p> +And so the young man returns into the country of the lotus-eaters, and takes up +his dwelling there in the face of all men; and if any help be sent by his +friends to the oligarchical part of him, the aforesaid vain conceits shut the +gate of the king’s fastness; and they will neither allow the embassy +itself to enter, nor if private advisers offer the fatherly counsel of the aged +will they listen to them or receive them. There is a battle and they gain the +day, and then modesty, which they call silliness, is ignominiously thrust into +exile by them, and temperance, which they nickname unmanliness, is trampled in +the mire and cast forth; they persuade men that moderation and orderly +expenditure are vulgarity and meanness, and so, by the help of a rabble of evil +appetites, they drive them beyond the border. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, with a will. +</p> + +<p> +And when they have emptied and swept clean the soul of him who is now in their +power and who is being initiated by them in great mysteries, the next thing is +to bring back to their house insolence and anarchy and waste and impudence in +bright array having garlands on their heads, and a great company with them, +hymning their praises and calling them by sweet names; insolence they term +breeding, and anarchy liberty, and waste magnificence, and impudence courage. +And so the young man passes out of his original nature, which was trained in +the school of necessity, into the freedom and libertinism of useless and +unnecessary pleasures. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, the change in him is visible enough. +</p> + +<p> +After this he lives on, spending his money and labour and time on unnecessary +pleasures quite as much as on necessary ones; but if he be fortunate, and is +not too much disordered in his wits, when years have elapsed, and the heyday of +passion is over—supposing that he then re-admits into the city some part +of the exiled virtues, and does not wholly give himself up to their +successors—in that case he balances his pleasures and lives in a sort of +equilibrium, putting the government of himself into the hands of the one which +comes first and wins the turn; and when he has had enough of that, then into +the hands of another; he despises none of them but encourages them all equally. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Neither does he receive or let pass into the fortress any true word of advice; +if any one says to him that some pleasures are the satisfactions of good and +noble desires, and others of evil desires, and that he ought to use and honour +some and chastise and master the others—whenever this is repeated to him +he shakes his head and says that they are all alike, and that one is as good as +another. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; that is the way with him. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, he lives from day to day indulging the appetite of the hour; and +sometimes he is lapped in drink and strains of the flute; then he becomes a +water-drinker, and tries to get thin; then he takes a turn at gymnastics; +sometimes idling and neglecting everything, then once more living the life of a +philosopher; often he is busy with politics, and starts to his feet and says +and does whatever comes into his head; and, if he is emulous of any one who is +a warrior, off he is in that direction, or of men of business, once more in +that. His life has neither law nor order; and this distracted existence he +terms joy and bliss and freedom; and so he goes on. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he replied, he is all liberty and equality. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; his life is motley and manifold and an epitome of the lives of +many;—he answers to the State which we described as fair and spangled. +And many a man and many a woman will take him for their pattern, and many a +constitution and many an example of manners is contained in him. +</p> + +<p> +Just so. +</p> + +<p> +Let him then be set over against democracy; he may truly be called the +democratic man. +</p> + +<p> +Let that be his place, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Last of all comes the most beautiful of all, man and State alike, tyranny and +the tyrant; these we have now to consider. +</p> + +<p> +Quite true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Say then, my friend, In what manner does tyranny arise?—that it has a +democratic origin is evident. +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +And does not tyranny spring from democracy in the same manner as democracy from +oligarchy—I mean, after a sort? +</p> + +<p> +How? +</p> + +<p> +The good which oligarchy proposed to itself and the means by which it was +maintained was excess of wealth—am I not right? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the insatiable desire of wealth and the neglect of all other things for the +sake of money-getting was also the ruin of oligarchy? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And democracy has her own good, of which the insatiable desire brings her to +dissolution? +</p> + +<p> +What good? +</p> + +<p> +Freedom, I replied; which, as they tell you in a democracy, is the glory of the +State—and that therefore in a democracy alone will the freeman of nature +deign to dwell. +</p> + +<p> +Yes; the saying is in every body’s mouth. +</p> + +<p> +I was going to observe, that the insatiable desire of this and the neglect of +other things introduces the change in democracy, which occasions a demand for +tyranny. +</p> + +<p> +How so? +</p> + +<p> +When a democracy which is thirsting for freedom has evil cup-bearers presiding +over the feast, and has drunk too deeply of the strong wine of freedom, then, +unless her rulers are very amenable and give a plentiful draught, she calls +them to account and punishes them, and says that they are cursed oligarchs. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he replied, a very common occurrence. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; and loyal citizens are insultingly termed by her slaves who hug +their chains and men of naught; she would have subjects who are like rulers, +and rulers who are like subjects: these are men after her own heart, whom she +praises and honours both in private and public. Now, in such a State, can +liberty have any limit? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +By degrees the anarchy finds a way into private houses, and ends by getting +among the animals and infecting them. +</p> + +<p> +How do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +I mean that the father grows accustomed to descend to the level of his sons and +to fear them, and the son is on a level with his father, he having no respect +or reverence for either of his parents; and this is his freedom, and the metic +is equal with the citizen and the citizen with the metic, and the stranger is +quite as good as either. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that is the way. +</p> + +<p> +And these are not the only evils, I said—there are several lesser ones: +In such a state of society the master fears and flatters his scholars, and the +scholars despise their masters and tutors; young and old are all alike; and the +young man is on a level with the old, and is ready to compete with him in word +or deed; and old men condescend to the young and are full of pleasantry and +gaiety; they are loth to be thought morose and authoritative, and therefore +they adopt the manners of the young. +</p> + +<p> +Quite true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +The last extreme of popular liberty is when the slave bought with money, +whether male or female, is just as free as his or her purchaser; nor must I +forget to tell of the liberty and equality of the two sexes in relation to each +other. +</p> + +<p> +Why not, as Aeschylus says, utter the word which rises to our lips? +</p> + +<p> +That is what I am doing, I replied; and I must add that no one who does not +know would believe, how much greater is the liberty which the animals who are +under the dominion of man have in a democracy than in any other State: for +truly, the she-dogs, as the proverb says, are as good as their she-mistresses, +and the horses and asses have a way of marching along with all the rights and +dignities of freemen; and they will run at any body who comes in their way if +he does not leave the road clear for them: and all things are just ready to +burst with liberty. +</p> + +<p> +When I take a country walk, he said, I often experience what you describe. You +and I have dreamed the same thing. +</p> + +<p> +And above all, I said, and as the result of all, see how sensitive the citizens +become; they chafe impatiently at the least touch of authority, and at length, +as you know, they cease to care even for the laws, written or unwritten; they +will have no one over them. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, I know it too well. +</p> + +<p> +Such, my friend, I said, is the fair and glorious beginning out of which +springs tyranny. +</p> + +<p> +Glorious indeed, he said. But what is the next step? +</p> + +<p> +The ruin of oligarchy is the ruin of democracy; the same disease magnified and +intensified by liberty overmasters democracy—the truth being that the +excessive increase of anything often causes a reaction in the opposite +direction; and this is the case not only in the seasons and in vegetable and +animal life, but above all in forms of government. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +The excess of liberty, whether in States or individuals, seems only to pass +into excess of slavery. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, the natural order. +</p> + +<p> +And so tyranny naturally arises out of democracy, and the most aggravated form +of tyranny and slavery out of the most extreme form of liberty? +</p> + +<p> +As we might expect. +</p> + +<p> +That, however, was not, as I believe, your question—you rather desired to +know what is that disorder which is generated alike in oligarchy and democracy, +and is the ruin of both? +</p> + +<p> +Just so, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, I meant to refer to the class of idle spendthrifts, of whom the +more courageous are the leaders and the more timid the followers, the same whom +we were comparing to drones, some stingless, and others having stings. +</p> + +<p> +A very just comparison. +</p> + +<p> +These two classes are the plagues of every city in which they are generated, +being what phlegm and bile are to the body. And the good physician and lawgiver +of the State ought, like the wise bee-master, to keep them at a distance and +prevent, if possible, their ever coming in; and if they have anyhow found a way +in, then he should have them and their cells cut out as speedily as possible. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, by all means, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then, in order that we may see clearly what we are doing, let us imagine +democracy to be divided, as indeed it is, into three classes; for in the first +place freedom creates rather more drones in the democratic than there were in +the oligarchical State. +</p> + +<p> +That is true. +</p> + +<p> +And in the democracy they are certainly more intensified. +</p> + +<p> +How so? +</p> + +<p> +Because in the oligarchical State they are disqualified and driven from office, +and therefore they cannot train or gather strength; whereas in a democracy they +are almost the entire ruling power, and while the keener sort speak and act, +the rest keep buzzing about the bema and do not suffer a word to be said on the +other side; hence in democracies almost everything is managed by the drones. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then there is another class which is always being severed from the mass. +</p> + +<p> +What is that? +</p> + +<p> +They are the orderly class, which in a nation of traders is sure to be the +richest. +</p> + +<p> +Naturally so. +</p> + +<p> +They are the most squeezable persons and yield the largest amount of honey to +the drones. +</p> + +<p> +Why, he said, there is little to be squeezed out of people who have little. +</p> + +<p> +And this is called the wealthy class, and the drones feed upon them. +</p> + +<p> +That is pretty much the case, he said. +</p> + +<p> +The people are a third class, consisting of those who work with their own +hands; they are not politicians, and have not much to live upon. This, when +assembled, is the largest and most powerful class in a democracy. +</p> + +<p> +True, he said; but then the multitude is seldom willing to congregate unless +they get a little honey. +</p> + +<p> +And do they not share? I said. Do not their leaders deprive the rich of their +estates and distribute them among the people; at the same time taking care to +reserve the larger part for themselves? +</p> + +<p> +Why, yes, he said, to that extent the people do share. +</p> + +<p> +And the persons whose property is taken from them are compelled to defend +themselves before the people as they best can? +</p> + +<p> +What else can they do? +</p> + +<p> +And then, although they may have no desire of change, the others charge them +with plotting against the people and being friends of oligarchy? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And the end is that when they see the people, not of their own accord, but +through ignorance, and because they are deceived by informers, seeking to do +them wrong, then at last they are forced to become oligarchs in reality; they +do not wish to be, but the sting of the drones torments them and breeds +revolution in them. +</p> + +<p> +That is exactly the truth. +</p> + +<p> +Then come impeachments and judgments and trials of one another. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +The people have always some champion whom they set over them and nurse into +greatness. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that is their way. +</p> + +<p> +This and no other is the root from which a tyrant springs; when he first +appears above ground he is a protector. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that is quite clear. +</p> + +<p> +How then does a protector begin to change into a tyrant? Clearly when he does +what the man is said to do in the tale of the Arcadian temple of Lycaean Zeus. +</p> + +<p> +What tale? +</p> + +<p> +The tale is that he who has tasted the entrails of a single human victim minced +up with the entrails of other victims is destined to become a wolf. Did you +never hear it? +</p> + +<p> +Oh, yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the protector of the people is like him; having a mob entirely at his +disposal, he is not restrained from shedding the blood of kinsmen; by the +favourite method of false accusation he brings them into court and murders +them, making the life of man to disappear, and with unholy tongue and lips +tasting the blood of his fellow citizens; some he kills and others he banishes, +at the same time hinting at the abolition of debts and partition of lands: and +after this, what will be his destiny? Must he not either perish at the hands of +his enemies, or from being a man become a wolf—that is, a tyrant? +</p> + +<p> +Inevitably. +</p> + +<p> +This, I said, is he who begins to make a party against the rich? +</p> + +<p> +The same. +</p> + +<p> +After a while he is driven out, but comes back, in spite of his enemies, a +tyrant full grown. +</p> + +<p> +That is clear. +</p> + +<p> +And if they are unable to expel him, or to get him condemned to death by a +public accusation, they conspire to assassinate him. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that is their usual way. +</p> + +<p> +Then comes the famous request for a body-guard, which is the device of all +those who have got thus far in their tyrannical career—‘Let not the +people’s friend,’ as they say, ‘be lost to them.’ +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +The people readily assent; all their fears are for him—they have none for +themselves. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And when a man who is wealthy and is also accused of being an enemy of the +people sees this, then, my friend, as the oracle said to Croesus, +</p> + +<p> +‘By pebbly Hermus’ shore he flees and rests not, and is not ashamed +to be a coward.’ +</p> + +<p> +And quite right too, said he, for if he were, he would never be ashamed again. +</p> + +<p> +But if he is caught he dies. +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +And he, the protector of whom we spoke, is to be seen, not ‘larding the +plain’ with his bulk, but himself the overthrower of many, standing up in +the chariot of State with the reins in his hand, no longer protector, but +tyrant absolute. +</p> + +<p> +No doubt, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And now let us consider the happiness of the man, and also of the State in +which a creature like him is generated. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, let us consider that. +</p> + +<p> +At first, in the early days of his power, he is full of smiles, and he salutes +every one whom he meets;—he to be called a tyrant, who is making promises +in public and also in private! liberating debtors, and distributing land to the +people and his followers, and wanting to be so kind and good to every one! +</p> + +<p> +Of course, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But when he has disposed of foreign enemies by conquest or treaty, and there is +nothing to fear from them, then he is always stirring up some war or other, in +order that the people may require a leader. +</p> + +<p> +To be sure. +</p> + +<p> +Has he not also another object, which is that they may be impoverished by +payment of taxes, and thus compelled to devote themselves to their daily wants +and therefore less likely to conspire against him? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +And if any of them are suspected by him of having notions of freedom, and of +resistance to his authority, he will have a good pretext for destroying them by +placing them at the mercy of the enemy; and for all these reasons the tyrant +must be always getting up a war. +</p> + +<p> +He must. +</p> + +<p> +Now he begins to grow unpopular. +</p> + +<p> +A necessary result. +</p> + +<p> +Then some of those who joined in setting him up, and who are in power, speak +their minds to him and to one another, and the more courageous of them cast in +his teeth what is being done. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that may be expected. +</p> + +<p> +And the tyrant, if he means to rule, must get rid of them; he cannot stop while +he has a friend or an enemy who is good for anything. +</p> + +<p> +He cannot. +</p> + +<p> +And therefore he must look about him and see who is valiant, who is +high-minded, who is wise, who is wealthy; happy man, he is the enemy of them +all, and must seek occasion against them whether he will or no, until he has +made a purgation of the State. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, and a rare purgation. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, not the sort of purgation which the physicians make of the body; +for they take away the worse and leave the better part, but he does the +reverse. +</p> + +<p> +If he is to rule, I suppose that he cannot help himself. +</p> + +<p> +What a blessed alternative, I said:—to be compelled to dwell only with +the many bad, and to be by them hated, or not to live at all! +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that is the alternative. +</p> + +<p> +And the more detestable his actions are to the citizens the more satellites and +the greater devotion in them will he require? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And who are the devoted band, and where will he procure them? +</p> + +<p> +They will flock to him, he said, of their own accord, if he pays them. +</p> + +<p> +By the dog! I said, here are more drones, of every sort and from every land. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, there are. +</p> + +<p> +But will he not desire to get them on the spot? +</p> + +<p> +How do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +He will rob the citizens of their slaves; he will then set them free and enrol +them in his body-guard. +</p> + +<p> +To be sure, he said; and he will be able to trust them best of all. +</p> + +<p> +What a blessed creature, I said, must this tyrant be; he has put to death the +others and has these for his trusted friends. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; they are quite of his sort. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, and these are the new citizens whom he has called into existence, +who admire him and are his companions, while the good hate and avoid him. +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +Verily, then, tragedy is a wise thing and Euripides a great tragedian. +</p> + +<p> +Why so? +</p> + +<p> +Why, because he is the author of the pregnant saying, +</p> + +<p> +‘Tyrants are wise by living with the wise;’ +</p> + +<p> +and he clearly meant to say that they are the wise whom the tyrant makes his +companions. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, and he also praises tyranny as godlike; and many other things of +the same kind are said by him and by the other poets. +</p> + +<p> +And therefore, I said, the tragic poets being wise men will forgive us and any +others who live after our manner if we do not receive them into our State, +because they are the eulogists of tyranny. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, those who have the wit will doubtless forgive us. +</p> + +<p> +But they will continue to go to other cities and attract mobs, and hire voices +fair and loud and persuasive, and draw the cities over to tyrannies and +democracies. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, they are paid for this and receive honour—the greatest honour, +as might be expected, from tyrants, and the next greatest from democracies; but +the higher they ascend our constitution hill, the more their reputation fails, +and seems unable from shortness of breath to proceed further. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +But we are wandering from the subject: Let us therefore return and enquire how +the tyrant will maintain that fair and numerous and various and ever-changing +army of his. +</p> + +<p> +If, he said, there are sacred treasures in the city, he will confiscate and +spend them; and in so far as the fortunes of attainted persons may suffice, he +will be able to diminish the taxes which he would otherwise have to impose upon +the people. +</p> + +<p> +And when these fail? +</p> + +<p> +Why, clearly, he said, then he and his boon companions, whether male or female, +will be maintained out of his father’s estate. +</p> + +<p> +You mean to say that the people, from whom he has derived his being, will +maintain him and his companions? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; they cannot help themselves. +</p> + +<p> +But what if the people fly into a passion, and aver that a grown-up son ought +not to be supported by his father, but that the father should be supported by +the son? The father did not bring him into being, or settle him in life, in +order that when his son became a man he should himself be the servant of his +own servants and should support him and his rabble of slaves and companions; +but that his son should protect him, and that by his help he might be +emancipated from the government of the rich and aristocratic, as they are +termed. And so he bids him and his companions depart, just as any other father +might drive out of the house a riotous son and his undesirable associates. +</p> + +<p> +By heaven, he said, then the parent will discover what a monster he has been +fostering in his bosom; and, when he wants to drive him out, he will find that +he is weak and his son strong. +</p> + +<p> +Why, you do not mean to say that the tyrant will use violence? What! beat his +father if he opposes him? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he will, having first disarmed him. +</p> + +<p> +Then he is a parricide, and a cruel guardian of an aged parent; and this is +real tyranny, about which there can be no longer a mistake: as the saying is, +the people who would escape the smoke which is the slavery of freemen, has +fallen into the fire which is the tyranny of slaves. Thus liberty, getting out +of all order and reason, passes into the harshest and bitterest form of +slavery. +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Very well; and may we not rightly say that we have sufficiently discussed the +nature of tyranny, and the manner of the transition from democracy to tyranny? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, quite enough, he said. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"></a> BOOK IX.</h2> + +<p> +Last of all comes the tyrannical man; about whom we have once more to ask, how +is he formed out of the democratical? and how does he live, in happiness or in +misery? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, he is the only one remaining. +</p> + +<p> +There is, however, I said, a previous question which remains unanswered. +</p> + +<p> +What question? +</p> + +<p> +I do not think that we have adequately determined the nature and number of the +appetites, and until this is accomplished the enquiry will always be confused. +</p> + +<p> +Well, he said, it is not too late to supply the omission. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, I said; and observe the point which I want to understand: Certain of +the unnecessary pleasures and appetites I conceive to be unlawful; every one +appears to have them, but in some persons they are controlled by the laws and +by reason, and the better desires prevail over them—either they are +wholly banished or they become few and weak; while in the case of others they +are stronger, and there are more of them. +</p> + +<p> +Which appetites do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +I mean those which are awake when the reasoning and human and ruling power is +asleep; then the wild beast within us, gorged with meat or drink, starts up and +having shaken off sleep, goes forth to satisfy his desires; and there is no +conceivable folly or crime—not excepting incest or any other unnatural +union, or parricide, or the eating of forbidden food—which at such a +time, when he has parted company with all shame and sense, a man may not be +ready to commit. +</p> + +<p> +Most true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +But when a man’s pulse is healthy and temperate, and when before going to +sleep he has awakened his rational powers, and fed them on noble thoughts and +enquiries, collecting himself in meditation; after having first indulged his +appetites neither too much nor too little, but just enough to lay them to +sleep, and prevent them and their enjoyments and pains from interfering with +the higher principle—which he leaves in the solitude of pure abstraction, +free to contemplate and aspire to the knowledge of the unknown, whether in +past, present, or future: when again he has allayed the passionate element, if +he has a quarrel against any one—I say, when, after pacifying the two +irrational principles, he rouses up the third, which is reason, before he takes +his rest, then, as you know, he attains truth most nearly, and is least likely +to be the sport of fantastic and lawless visions. +</p> + +<p> +I quite agree. +</p> + +<p> +In saying this I have been running into a digression; but the point which I +desire to note is that in all of us, even in good men, there is a lawless +wild-beast nature, which peers out in sleep. Pray, consider whether I am right, +and you agree with me. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I agree. +</p> + +<p> +And now remember the character which we attributed to the democratic man. He +was supposed from his youth upwards to have been trained under a miserly +parent, who encouraged the saving appetites in him, but discountenanced the +unnecessary, which aim only at amusement and ornament? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And then he got into the company of a more refined, licentious sort of people, +and taking to all their wanton ways rushed into the opposite extreme from an +abhorrence of his father’s meanness. At last, being a better man than his +corruptors, he was drawn in both directions until he halted midway and led a +life, not of vulgar and slavish passion, but of what he deemed moderate +indulgence in various pleasures. After this manner the democrat was generated +out of the oligarch? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; that was our view of him, and is so still. +</p> + +<p> +And now, I said, years will have passed away, and you must conceive this man, +such as he is, to have a son, who is brought up in his father’s +principles. +</p> + +<p> +I can imagine him. +</p> + +<p> +Then you must further imagine the same thing to happen to the son which has +already happened to the father:—he is drawn into a perfectly lawless +life, which by his seducers is termed perfect liberty; and his father and +friends take part with his moderate desires, and the opposite party assist the +opposite ones. As soon as these dire magicians and tyrant-makers find that they +are losing their hold on him, they contrive to implant in him a master passion, +to be lord over his idle and spendthrift lusts—a sort of monstrous winged +drone—that is the only image which will adequately describe him. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that is the only adequate image of him. +</p> + +<p> +And when his other lusts, amid clouds of incense and perfumes and garlands and +wines, and all the pleasures of a dissolute life, now let loose, come buzzing +around him, nourishing to the utmost the sting of desire which they implant in +his drone-like nature, then at last this lord of the soul, having Madness for +the captain of his guard, breaks out into a frenzy: and if he finds in himself +any good opinions or appetites in process of formation, and there is in him any +sense of shame remaining, to these better principles he puts an end, and casts +them forth until he has purged away temperance and brought in madness to the +full. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that is the way in which the tyrannical man is generated. +</p> + +<p> +And is not this the reason why of old love has been called a tyrant? +</p> + +<p> +I should not wonder. +</p> + +<p> +Further, I said, has not a drunken man also the spirit of a tyrant? +</p> + +<p> +He has. +</p> + +<p> +And you know that a man who is deranged and not right in his mind, will fancy +that he is able to rule, not only over men, but also over the gods? +</p> + +<p> +That he will. +</p> + +<p> +And the tyrannical man in the true sense of the word comes into being when, +either under the influence of nature, or habit, or both, he becomes drunken, +lustful, passionate? O my friend, is not that so? +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly. +</p> + +<p> +Such is the man and such is his origin. And next, how does he live? +</p> + +<p> +Suppose, as people facetiously say, you were to tell me. +</p> + +<p> +I imagine, I said, at the next step in his progress, that there will be feasts +and carousals and revellings and courtezans, and all that sort of thing; Love +is the lord of the house within him, and orders all the concerns of his soul. +</p> + +<p> +That is certain. +</p> + +<p> +Yes; and every day and every night desires grow up many and formidable, and +their demands are many. +</p> + +<p> +They are indeed, he said. +</p> + +<p> +His revenues, if he has any, are soon spent. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Then comes debt and the cutting down of his property. +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +When he has nothing left, must not his desires, crowding in the nest like young +ravens, be crying aloud for food; and he, goaded on by them, and especially by +love himself, who is in a manner the captain of them, is in a frenzy, and would +fain discover whom he can defraud or despoil of his property, in order that he +may gratify them? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that is sure to be the case. +</p> + +<p> +He must have money, no matter how, if he is to escape horrid pains and pangs. +</p> + +<p> +He must. +</p> + +<p> +And as in himself there was a succession of pleasures, and the new got the +better of the old and took away their rights, so he being younger will claim to +have more than his father and his mother, and if he has spent his own share of +the property, he will take a slice of theirs. +</p> + +<p> +No doubt he will. +</p> + +<p> +And if his parents will not give way, then he will try first of all to cheat +and deceive them. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And if he fails, then he will use force and plunder them. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, probably. +</p> + +<p> +And if the old man and woman fight for their own, what then, my friend? Will +the creature feel any compunction at tyrannizing over them? +</p> + +<p> +Nay, he said, I should not feel at all comfortable about his parents. +</p> + +<p> +But, O heavens! Adeimantus, on account of some new-fangled love of a harlot, +who is anything but a necessary connection, can you believe that he would +strike the mother who is his ancient friend and necessary to his very +existence, and would place her under the authority of the other, when she is +brought under the same roof with her; or that, under like circumstances, he +would do the same to his withered old father, first and most indispensable of +friends, for the sake of some newly-found blooming youth who is the reverse of +indispensable? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, indeed, he said; I believe that he would. +</p> + +<p> +Truly, then, I said, a tyrannical son is a blessing to his father and mother. +</p> + +<p> +He is indeed, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +He first takes their property, and when that fails, and pleasures are beginning +to swarm in the hive of his soul, then he breaks into a house, or steals the +garments of some nightly wayfarer; next he proceeds to clear a temple. +Meanwhile the old opinions which he had when a child, and which gave judgment +about good and evil, are overthrown by those others which have just been +emancipated, and are now the body-guard of love and share his empire. These in +his democratic days, when he was still subject to the laws and to his father, +were only let loose in the dreams of sleep. But now that he is under the +dominion of love, he becomes always and in waking reality what he was then very +rarely and in a dream only; he will commit the foulest murder, or eat forbidden +food, or be guilty of any other horrid act. Love is his tyrant, and lives +lordly in him and lawlessly, and being himself a king, leads him on, as a +tyrant leads a State, to the performance of any reckless deed by which he can +maintain himself and the rabble of his associates, whether those whom evil +communications have brought in from without, or those whom he himself has +allowed to break loose within him by reason of a similar evil nature in +himself. Have we not here a picture of his way of life? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, indeed, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And if there are only a few of them in the State, and the rest of the people +are well disposed, they go away and become the body-guard or mercenary soldiers +of some other tyrant who may probably want them for a war; and if there is no +war, they stay at home and do many little pieces of mischief in the city. +</p> + +<p> +What sort of mischief? +</p> + +<p> +For example, they are the thieves, burglars, cut-purses, foot-pads, robbers of +temples, man-stealers of the community; or if they are able to speak they turn +informers, and bear false witness, and take bribes. +</p> + +<p> +A small catalogue of evils, even if the perpetrators of them are few in number. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; but small and great are comparative terms, and all these things, +in the misery and evil which they inflict upon a State, do not come within a +thousand miles of the tyrant; when this noxious class and their followers grow +numerous and become conscious of their strength, assisted by the infatuation of +the people, they choose from among themselves the one who has most of the +tyrant in his own soul, and him they create their tyrant. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, and he will be the most fit to be a tyrant. +</p> + +<p> +If the people yield, well and good; but if they resist him, as he began by +beating his own father and mother, so now, if he has the power, he beats them, +and will keep his dear old fatherland or motherland, as the Cretans say, in +subjection to his young retainers whom he has introduced to be their rulers and +masters. This is the end of his passions and desires. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +When such men are only private individuals and before they get power, this is +their character; they associate entirely with their own flatterers or ready +tools; or if they want anything from anybody, they in their turn are equally +ready to bow down before them: they profess every sort of affection for them; +but when they have gained their point they know them no more. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, truly. +</p> + +<p> +They are always either the masters or servants and never the friends of +anybody; the tyrant never tastes of true freedom or friendship. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +And may we not rightly call such men treacherous? +</p> + +<p> +No question. +</p> + +<p> +Also they are utterly unjust, if we were right in our notion of justice? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, and we were perfectly right. +</p> + +<p> +Let us then sum up in a word, I said, the character of the worst man: he is the +waking reality of what we dreamed. +</p> + +<p> +Most true. +</p> + +<p> +And this is he who being by nature most of a tyrant bears rule, and the longer +he lives the more of a tyrant he becomes. +</p> + +<p> +That is certain, said Glaucon, taking his turn to answer. +</p> + +<p> +And will not he who has been shown to be the wickedest, be also the most +miserable? and he who has tyrannized longest and most, most continually and +truly miserable; although this may not be the opinion of men in general? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, inevitably. +</p> + +<p> +And must not the tyrannical man be like the tyrannical State, and the +democratical man like the democratical State; and the same of the others? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And as State is to State in virtue and happiness, so is man in relation to man? +</p> + +<p> +To be sure. +</p> + +<p> +Then comparing our original city, which was under a king, and the city which is +under a tyrant, how do they stand as to virtue? +</p> + +<p> +They are the opposite extremes, he said, for one is the very best and the other +is the very worst. +</p> + +<p> +There can be no mistake, I said, as to which is which, and therefore I will at +once enquire whether you would arrive at a similar decision about their +relative happiness and misery. And here we must not allow ourselves to be +panic-stricken at the apparition of the tyrant, who is only a unit and may +perhaps have a few retainers about him; but let us go as we ought into every +corner of the city and look all about, and then we will give our opinion. +</p> + +<p> +A fair invitation, he replied; and I see, as every one must, that a tyranny is +the wretchedest form of government, and the rule of a king the happiest. +</p> + +<p> +And in estimating the men too, may I not fairly make a like request, that I +should have a judge whose mind can enter into and see through human nature? he +must not be like a child who looks at the outside and is dazzled at the pompous +aspect which the tyrannical nature assumes to the beholder, but let him be one +who has a clear insight. May I suppose that the judgment is given in the +hearing of us all by one who is able to judge, and has dwelt in the same place +with him, and been present at his dally life and known him in his family +relations, where he may be seen stripped of his tragedy attire, and again in +the hour of public danger—he shall tell us about the happiness and misery +of the tyrant when compared with other men? +</p> + +<p> +That again, he said, is a very fair proposal. +</p> + +<p> +Shall I assume that we ourselves are able and experienced judges and have +before now met with such a person? We shall then have some one who will answer +our enquiries. +</p> + +<p> +By all means. +</p> + +<p> +Let me ask you not to forget the parallel of the individual and the State; +bearing this in mind, and glancing in turn from one to the other of them, will +you tell me their respective conditions? +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Beginning with the State, I replied, would you say that a city which is +governed by a tyrant is free or enslaved? +</p> + +<p> +No city, he said, can be more completely enslaved. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, as you see, there are freemen as well as masters in such a State? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, I see that there are—a few; but the people, speaking +generally, and the best of them are miserably degraded and enslaved. +</p> + +<p> +Then if the man is like the State, I said, must not the same rule prevail? his +soul is full of meanness and vulgarity—the best elements in him are +enslaved; and there is a small ruling part, which is also the worst and +maddest. +</p> + +<p> +Inevitably. +</p> + +<p> +And would you say that the soul of such an one is the soul of a freeman, or of +a slave? +</p> + +<p> +He has the soul of a slave, in my opinion. +</p> + +<p> +And the State which is enslaved under a tyrant is utterly incapable of acting +voluntarily? +</p> + +<p> +Utterly incapable. +</p> + +<p> +And also the soul which is under a tyrant (I am speaking of the soul taken as a +whole) is least capable of doing what she desires; there is a gadfly which +goads her, and she is full of trouble and remorse? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And is the city which is under a tyrant rich or poor? +</p> + +<p> +Poor. +</p> + +<p> +And the tyrannical soul must be always poor and insatiable? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And must not such a State and such a man be always full of fear? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, indeed. +</p> + +<p> +Is there any State in which you will find more of lamentation and sorrow and +groaning and pain? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +And is there any man in whom you will find more of this sort of misery than in +the tyrannical man, who is in a fury of passions and desires? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Reflecting upon these and similar evils, you held the tyrannical State to be +the most miserable of States? +</p> + +<p> +And I was right, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, I said. And when you see the same evils in the tyrannical man, what +do you say of him? +</p> + +<p> +I say that he is by far the most miserable of all men. +</p> + +<p> +There, I said, I think that you are beginning to go wrong. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +I do not think that he has as yet reached the utmost extreme of misery. +</p> + +<p> +Then who is more miserable? +</p> + +<p> +One of whom I am about to speak. +</p> + +<p> +Who is that? +</p> + +<p> +He who is of a tyrannical nature, and instead of leading a private life has +been cursed with the further misfortune of being a public tyrant. +</p> + +<p> +From what has been said, I gather that you are right. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I replied, but in this high argument you should be a little more certain, +and should not conjecture only; for of all questions, this respecting good and +evil is the greatest. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Let me then offer you an illustration, which may, I think, throw a light upon +this subject. +</p> + +<p> +What is your illustration? +</p> + +<p> +The case of rich individuals in cities who possess many slaves: from them you +may form an idea of the tyrant’s condition, for they both have slaves; +the only difference is that he has more slaves. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that is the difference. +</p> + +<p> +You know that they live securely and have nothing to apprehend from their +servants? +</p> + +<p> +What should they fear? +</p> + +<p> +Nothing. But do you observe the reason of this? +</p> + +<p> +Yes; the reason is, that the whole city is leagued together for the protection +of each individual. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, I said. But imagine one of these owners, the master say of some +fifty slaves, together with his family and property and slaves, carried off by +a god into the wilderness, where there are no freemen to help him—will he +not be in an agony of fear lest he and his wife and children should be put to +death by his slaves? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, he will be in the utmost fear. +</p> + +<p> +The time has arrived when he will be compelled to flatter divers of his slaves, +and make many promises to them of freedom and other things, much against his +will—he will have to cajole his own servants. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that will be the only way of saving himself. +</p> + +<p> +And suppose the same god, who carried him away, to surround him with neighbours +who will not suffer one man to be the master of another, and who, if they could +catch the offender, would take his life? +</p> + +<p> +His case will be still worse, if you suppose him to be everywhere surrounded +and watched by enemies. +</p> + +<p> +And is not this the sort of prison in which the tyrant will be bound—he +who being by nature such as we have described, is full of all sorts of fears +and lusts? His soul is dainty and greedy, and yet alone, of all men in the +city, he is never allowed to go on a journey, or to see the things which other +freemen desire to see, but he lives in his hole like a woman hidden in the +house, and is jealous of any other citizen who goes into foreign parts and sees +anything of interest. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And amid evils such as these will not he who is ill-governed in his own +person—the tyrannical man, I mean—whom you just now decided to be +the most miserable of all—will not he be yet more miserable when, instead +of leading a private life, he is constrained by fortune to be a public tyrant? +He has to be master of others when he is not master of himself: he is like a +diseased or paralytic man who is compelled to pass his life, not in retirement, +but fighting and combating with other men. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, the similitude is most exact. +</p> + +<p> +Is not his case utterly miserable? and does not the actual tyrant lead a worse +life than he whose life you determined to be the worst? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +He who is the real tyrant, whatever men may think, is the real slave, and is +obliged to practise the greatest adulation and servility, and to be the +flatterer of the vilest of mankind. He has desires which he is utterly unable +to satisfy, and has more wants than any one, and is truly poor, if you know how +to inspect the whole soul of him: all his life long he is beset with fear and +is full of convulsions and distractions, even as the State which he resembles: +and surely the resemblance holds? +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, as we were saying before, he grows worse from having power: he +becomes and is of necessity more jealous, more faithless, more unjust, more +friendless, more impious, than he was at first; he is the purveyor and +cherisher of every sort of vice, and the consequence is that he is supremely +miserable, and that he makes everybody else as miserable as himself. +</p> + +<p> +No man of any sense will dispute your words. +</p> + +<p> +Come then, I said, and as the general umpire in theatrical contests proclaims +the result, do you also decide who in your opinion is first in the scale of +happiness, and who second, and in what order the others follow: there are five +of them in all—they are the royal, timocratical, oligarchical, +democratical, tyrannical. +</p> + +<p> +The decision will be easily given, he replied; they shall be choruses coming on +the stage, and I must judge them in the order in which they enter, by the +criterion of virtue and vice, happiness and misery. +</p> + +<p> +Need we hire a herald, or shall I announce, that the son of Ariston (the best) +has decided that the best and justest is also the happiest, and that this is he +who is the most royal man and king over himself; and that the worst and most +unjust man is also the most miserable, and that this is he who being the +greatest tyrant of himself is also the greatest tyrant of his State? +</p> + +<p> +Make the proclamation yourself, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And shall I add, ‘whether seen or unseen by gods and men’? +</p> + +<p> +Let the words be added. +</p> + +<p> +Then this, I said, will be our first proof; and there is another, which may +also have some weight. +</p> + +<p> +What is that? +</p> + +<p> +The second proof is derived from the nature of the soul: seeing that the +individual soul, like the State, has been divided by us into three principles, +the division may, I think, furnish a new demonstration. +</p> + +<p> +Of what nature? +</p> + +<p> +It seems to me that to these three principles three pleasures correspond; also +three desires and governing powers. +</p> + +<p> +How do you mean? he said. +</p> + +<p> +There is one principle with which, as we were saying, a man learns, another +with which he is angry; the third, having many forms, has no special name, but +is denoted by the general term appetitive, from the extraordinary strength and +vehemence of the desires of eating and drinking and the other sensual appetites +which are the main elements of it; also money-loving, because such desires are +generally satisfied by the help of money. +</p> + +<p> +That is true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +If we were to say that the loves and pleasures of this third part were +concerned with gain, we should then be able to fall back on a single notion; +and might truly and intelligibly describe this part of the soul as loving gain +or money. +</p> + +<p> +I agree with you. +</p> + +<p> +Again, is not the passionate element wholly set on ruling and conquering and +getting fame? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Suppose we call it the contentious or ambitious—would the term be +suitable? +</p> + +<p> +Extremely suitable. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, every one sees that the principle of knowledge is wholly +directed to the truth, and cares less than either of the others for gain or +fame. +</p> + +<p> +Far less. +</p> + +<p> +‘Lover of wisdom,’ ‘lover of knowledge,’ are titles +which we may fitly apply to that part of the soul? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +One principle prevails in the souls of one class of men, another in others, as +may happen? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then we may begin by assuming that there are three classes of men—lovers +of wisdom, lovers of honour, lovers of gain? +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +And there are three kinds of pleasure, which are their several objects? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Now, if you examine the three classes of men, and ask of them in turn which of +their lives is pleasantest, each will be found praising his own and +depreciating that of others: the money-maker will contrast the vanity of honour +or of learning if they bring no money with the solid advantages of gold and +silver? +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And the lover of honour—what will be his opinion? Will he not think that +the pleasure of riches is vulgar, while the pleasure of learning, if it brings +no distinction, is all smoke and nonsense to him? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And are we to suppose, I said, that the philosopher sets any value on other +pleasures in comparison with the pleasure of knowing the truth, and in that +pursuit abiding, ever learning, not so far indeed from the heaven of pleasure? +Does he not call the other pleasures necessary, under the idea that if there +were no necessity for them, he would rather not have them? +</p> + +<p> +There can be no doubt of that, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Since, then, the pleasures of each class and the life of each are in dispute, +and the question is not which life is more or less honourable, or better or +worse, but which is the more pleasant or painless—how shall we know who +speaks truly? +</p> + +<p> +I cannot myself tell, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Well, but what ought to be the criterion? Is any better than experience and +wisdom and reason? +</p> + +<p> +There cannot be a better, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I said, reflect. Of the three individuals, which has the greatest +experience of all the pleasures which we enumerated? Has the lover of gain, in +learning the nature of essential truth, greater experience of the pleasure of +knowledge than the philosopher has of the pleasure of gain? +</p> + +<p> +The philosopher, he replied, has greatly the advantage; for he has of necessity +always known the taste of the other pleasures from his childhood upwards: but +the lover of gain in all his experience has not of necessity tasted—or, I +should rather say, even had he desired, could hardly have tasted—the +sweetness of learning and knowing truth. +</p> + +<p> +Then the lover of wisdom has a great advantage over the lover of gain, for he +has a double experience? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, very great. +</p> + +<p> +Again, has he greater experience of the pleasures of honour, or the lover of +honour of the pleasures of wisdom? +</p> + +<p> +Nay, he said, all three are honoured in proportion as they attain their object; +for the rich man and the brave man and the wise man alike have their crowd of +admirers, and as they all receive honour they all have experience of the +pleasures of honour; but the delight which is to be found in the knowledge of +true being is known to the philosopher only. +</p> + +<p> +His experience, then, will enable him to judge better than any one? +</p> + +<p> +Far better. +</p> + +<p> +And he is the only one who has wisdom as well as experience? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Further, the very faculty which is the instrument of judgment is not possessed +by the covetous or ambitious man, but only by the philosopher? +</p> + +<p> +What faculty? +</p> + +<p> +Reason, with whom, as we were saying, the decision ought to rest. +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And reasoning is peculiarly his instrument? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +If wealth and gain were the criterion, then the praise or blame of the lover of +gain would surely be the most trustworthy? +</p> + +<p> +Assuredly. +</p> + +<p> +Or if honour or victory or courage, in that case the judgment of the ambitious +or pugnacious would be the truest? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +But since experience and wisdom and reason are the judges— +</p> + +<p> +The only inference possible, he replied, is that pleasures which are approved +by the lover of wisdom and reason are the truest. +</p> + +<p> +And so we arrive at the result, that the pleasure of the intelligent part of +the soul is the pleasantest of the three, and that he of us in whom this is the +ruling principle has the pleasantest life. +</p> + +<p> +Unquestionably, he said, the wise man speaks with authority when he approves of +his own life. +</p> + +<p> +And what does the judge affirm to be the life which is next, and the pleasure +which is next? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly that of the soldier and lover of honour; who is nearer to himself than +the money-maker. +</p> + +<p> +Last comes the lover of gain? +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Twice in succession, then, has the just man overthrown the unjust in this +conflict; and now comes the third trial, which is dedicated to Olympian Zeus +the saviour: a sage whispers in my ear that no pleasure except that of the wise +is quite true and pure—all others are a shadow only; and surely this will +prove the greatest and most decisive of falls? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, the greatest; but will you explain yourself? +</p> + +<p> +I will work out the subject and you shall answer my questions. +</p> + +<p> +Proceed. +</p> + +<p> +Say, then, is not pleasure opposed to pain? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And there is a neutral state which is neither pleasure nor pain? +</p> + +<p> +There is. +</p> + +<p> +A state which is intermediate, and a sort of repose of the soul about +either—that is what you mean? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +You remember what people say when they are sick? +</p> + +<p> +What do they say? +</p> + +<p> +That after all nothing is pleasanter than health. But then they never knew this +to be the greatest of pleasures until they were ill. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I know, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And when persons are suffering from acute pain, you must have heard them say +that there is nothing pleasanter than to get rid of their pain? +</p> + +<p> +I have. +</p> + +<p> +And there are many other cases of suffering in which the mere rest and +cessation of pain, and not any positive enjoyment, is extolled by them as the +greatest pleasure? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; at the time they are pleased and well content to be at rest. +</p> + +<p> +Again, when pleasure ceases, that sort of rest or cessation will be painful? +</p> + +<p> +Doubtless, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Then the intermediate state of rest will be pleasure and will also be pain? +</p> + +<p> +So it would seem. +</p> + +<p> +But can that which is neither become both? +</p> + +<p> +I should say not. +</p> + +<p> +And both pleasure and pain are motions of the soul, are they not? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +But that which is neither was just now shown to be rest and not motion, and in +a mean between them? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +How, then, can we be right in supposing that the absence of pain is pleasure, +or that the absence of pleasure is pain? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +This then is an appearance only and not a reality; that is to say, the rest is +pleasure at the moment and in comparison of what is painful, and painful in +comparison of what is pleasant; but all these representations, when tried by +the test of true pleasure, are not real but a sort of imposition? +</p> + +<p> +That is the inference. +</p> + +<p> +Look at the other class of pleasures which have no antecedent pains and you +will no longer suppose, as you perhaps may at present, that pleasure is only +the cessation of pain, or pain of pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +What are they, he said, and where shall I find them? +</p> + +<p> +There are many of them: take as an example the pleasures of smell, which are +very great and have no antecedent pains; they come in a moment, and when they +depart leave no pain behind them. +</p> + +<p> +Most true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Let us not, then, be induced to believe that pure pleasure is the cessation of +pain, or pain of pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +No. +</p> + +<p> +Still, the more numerous and violent pleasures which reach the soul through the +body are generally of this sort—they are reliefs of pain. +</p> + +<p> +That is true. +</p> + +<p> +And the anticipations of future pleasures and pains are of a like nature? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Shall I give you an illustration of them? +</p> + +<p> +Let me hear. +</p> + +<p> +You would allow, I said, that there is in nature an upper and lower and middle +region? +</p> + +<p> +I should. +</p> + +<p> +And if a person were to go from the lower to the middle region, would he not +imagine that he is going up; and he who is standing in the middle and sees +whence he has come, would imagine that he is already in the upper region, if he +has never seen the true upper world? +</p> + +<p> +To be sure, he said; how can he think otherwise? +</p> + +<p> +But if he were taken back again he would imagine, and truly imagine, that he +was descending? +</p> + +<p> +No doubt. +</p> + +<p> +All that would arise out of his ignorance of the true upper and middle and +lower regions? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then can you wonder that persons who are inexperienced in the truth, as they +have wrong ideas about many other things, should also have wrong ideas about +pleasure and pain and the intermediate state; so that when they are only being +drawn towards the painful they feel pain and think the pain which they +experience to be real, and in like manner, when drawn away from pain to the +neutral or intermediate state, they firmly believe that they have reached the +goal of satiety and pleasure; they, not knowing pleasure, err in contrasting +pain with the absence of pain, which is like contrasting black with grey +instead of white—can you wonder, I say, at this? +</p> + +<p> +No, indeed; I should be much more disposed to wonder at the opposite. +</p> + +<p> +Look at the matter thus:—Hunger, thirst, and the like, are inanitions of +the bodily state? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And ignorance and folly are inanitions of the soul? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And food and wisdom are the corresponding satisfactions of either? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And is the satisfaction derived from that which has less or from that which has +more existence the truer? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly, from that which has more. +</p> + +<p> +What classes of things have a greater share of pure existence in your +judgment—those of which food and drink and condiments and all kinds of +sustenance are examples, or the class which contains true opinion and knowledge +and mind and all the different kinds of virtue? Put the question in this +way:—Which has a more pure being—that which is concerned with the +invariable, the immortal, and the true, and is of such a nature, and is found +in such natures; or that which is concerned with and found in the variable and +mortal, and is itself variable and mortal? +</p> + +<p> +Far purer, he replied, is the being of that which is concerned with the +invariable. +</p> + +<p> +And does the essence of the invariable partake of knowledge in the same degree +as of essence? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, of knowledge in the same degree. +</p> + +<p> +And of truth in the same degree? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And, conversely, that which has less of truth will also have less of essence? +</p> + +<p> +Necessarily. +</p> + +<p> +Then, in general, those kinds of things which are in the service of the body +have less of truth and essence than those which are in the service of the soul? +</p> + +<p> +Far less. +</p> + +<p> +And has not the body itself less of truth and essence than the soul? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +What is filled with more real existence, and actually has a more real +existence, is more really filled than that which is filled with less real +existence and is less real? +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +And if there be a pleasure in being filled with that which is according to +nature, that which is more really filled with more real being will more really +and truly enjoy true pleasure; whereas that which participates in less real +being will be less truly and surely satisfied, and will participate in an +illusory and less real pleasure? +</p> + +<p> +Unquestionably. +</p> + +<p> +Those then who know not wisdom and virtue, and are always busy with gluttony +and sensuality, go down and up again as far as the mean; and in this region +they move at random throughout life, but they never pass into the true upper +world; thither they neither look, nor do they ever find their way, neither are +they truly filled with true being, nor do they taste of pure and abiding +pleasure. Like cattle, with their eyes always looking down and their heads +stooping to the earth, that is, to the dining-table, they fatten and feed and +breed, and, in their excessive love of these delights, they kick and butt at +one another with horns and hoofs which are made of iron; and they kill one +another by reason of their insatiable lust. For they fill themselves with that +which is not substantial, and the part of themselves which they fill is also +unsubstantial and incontinent. +</p> + +<p> +Verily, Socrates, said Glaucon, you describe the life of the many like an +oracle. +</p> + +<p> +Their pleasures are mixed with pains—how can they be otherwise? For they +are mere shadows and pictures of the true, and are coloured by contrast, which +exaggerates both light and shade, and so they implant in the minds of fools +insane desires of themselves; and they are fought about as Stesichorus says +that the Greeks fought about the shadow of Helen at Troy in ignorance of the +truth. +</p> + +<p> +Something of that sort must inevitably happen. +</p> + +<p> +And must not the like happen with the spirited or passionate element of the +soul? Will not the passionate man who carries his passion into action, be in +the like case, whether he is envious and ambitious, or violent and contentious, +or angry and discontented, if he be seeking to attain honour and victory and +the satisfaction of his anger without reason or sense? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, the same will happen with the spirited element also. +</p> + +<p> +Then may we not confidently assert that the lovers of money and honour, when +they seek their pleasures under the guidance and in the company of reason and +knowledge, and pursue after and win the pleasures which wisdom shows them, will +also have the truest pleasures in the highest degree which is attainable to +them, inasmuch as they follow truth; and they will have the pleasures which are +natural to them, if that which is best for each one is also most natural to +him? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, certainly; the best is the most natural. +</p> + +<p> +And when the whole soul follows the philosophical principle, and there is no +division, the several parts are just, and do each of them their own business, +and enjoy severally the best and truest pleasures of which they are capable? +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +But when either of the two other principles prevails, it fails in attaining its +own pleasure, and compels the rest to pursue after a pleasure which is a shadow +only and which is not their own? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And the greater the interval which separates them from philosophy and reason, +the more strange and illusive will be the pleasure? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And is not that farthest from reason which is at the greatest distance from law +and order? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +And the lustful and tyrannical desires are, as we saw, at the greatest +distance? Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the royal and orderly desires are nearest? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then the tyrant will live at the greatest distance from true or natural +pleasure, and the king at the least? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +But if so, the tyrant will live most unpleasantly, and the king most +pleasantly? +</p> + +<p> +Inevitably. +</p> + +<p> +Would you know the measure of the interval which separates them? +</p> + +<p> +Will you tell me? +</p> + +<p> +There appear to be three pleasures, one genuine and two spurious: now the +transgression of the tyrant reaches a point beyond the spurious; he has run +away from the region of law and reason, and taken up his abode with certain +slave pleasures which are his satellites, and the measure of his inferiority +can only be expressed in a figure. +</p> + +<p> +How do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +I assume, I said, that the tyrant is in the third place from the oligarch; the +democrat was in the middle? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And if there is truth in what has preceded, he will be wedded to an image of +pleasure which is thrice removed as to truth from the pleasure of the oligarch? +</p> + +<p> +He will. +</p> + +<p> +And the oligarch is third from the royal; since we count as one royal and +aristocratical? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he is third. +</p> + +<p> +Then the tyrant is removed from true pleasure by the space of a number which is +three times three? +</p> + +<p> +Manifestly. +</p> + +<p> +The shadow then of tyrannical pleasure determined by the number of length will +be a plane figure. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And if you raise the power and make the plane a solid, there is no difficulty +in seeing how vast is the interval by which the tyrant is parted from the king. +</p> + +<p> +Yes; the arithmetician will easily do the sum. +</p> + +<p> +Or if some person begins at the other end and measures the interval by which +the king is parted from the tyrant in truth of pleasure, he will find him, when +the multiplication is completed, living 729 times more pleasantly, and the +tyrant more painfully by this same interval. +</p> + +<p> +What a wonderful calculation! And how enormous is the distance which separates +the just from the unjust in regard to pleasure and pain! +</p> + +<p> +Yet a true calculation, I said, and a number which nearly concerns human life, +if human beings are concerned with days and nights and months and years. (729 +NEARLY equals the number of days and nights in the year.) +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, human life is certainly concerned with them. +</p> + +<p> +Then if the good and just man be thus superior in pleasure to the evil and +unjust, his superiority will be infinitely greater in propriety of life and in +beauty and virtue? +</p> + +<p> +Immeasurably greater. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, and now having arrived at this stage of the argument, we may +revert to the words which brought us hither: Was not some one saying that +injustice was a gain to the perfectly unjust who was reputed to be just? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that was said. +</p> + +<p> +Now then, having determined the power and quality of justice and injustice, let +us have a little conversation with him. +</p> + +<p> +What shall we say to him? +</p> + +<p> +Let us make an image of the soul, that he may have his own words presented +before his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Of what sort? +</p> + +<p> +An ideal image of the soul, like the composite creations of ancient mythology, +such as the Chimera or Scylla or Cerberus, and there are many others in which +two or more different natures are said to grow into one. +</p> + +<p> +There are said of have been such unions. +</p> + +<p> +Then do you now model the form of a multitudinous, many-headed monster, having +a ring of heads of all manner of beasts, tame and wild, which he is able to +generate and metamorphose at will. +</p> + +<p> +You suppose marvellous powers in the artist; but, as language is more pliable +than wax or any similar substance, let there be such a model as you propose. +</p> + +<p> +Suppose now that you make a second form as of a lion, and a third of a man, the +second smaller than the first, and the third smaller than the second. +</p> + +<p> +That, he said, is an easier task; and I have made them as you say. +</p> + +<p> +And now join them, and let the three grow into one. +</p> + +<p> +That has been accomplished. +</p> + +<p> +Next fashion the outside of them into a single image, as of a man, so that he +who is not able to look within, and sees only the outer hull, may believe the +beast to be a single human creature. +</p> + +<p> +I have done so, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And now, to him who maintains that it is profitable for the human creature to +be unjust, and unprofitable to be just, let us reply that, if he be right, it +is profitable for this creature to feast the multitudinous monster and +strengthen the lion and the lion-like qualities, but to starve and weaken the +man, who is consequently liable to be dragged about at the mercy of either of +the other two; and he is not to attempt to familiarize or harmonize them with +one another—he ought rather to suffer them to fight and bite and devour +one another. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said; that is what the approver of injustice says. +</p> + +<p> +To him the supporter of justice makes answer that he should ever so speak and +act as to give the man within him in some way or other the most complete +mastery over the entire human creature. He should watch over the many-headed +monster like a good husbandman, fostering and cultivating the gentle qualities, +and preventing the wild ones from growing; he should be making the lion-heart +his ally, and in common care of them all should be uniting the several parts +with one another and with himself. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that is quite what the maintainer of justice say. +</p> + +<p> +And so from every point of view, whether of pleasure, honour, or advantage, the +approver of justice is right and speaks the truth, and the disapprover is wrong +and false and ignorant? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, from every point of view. +</p> + +<p> +Come, now, and let us gently reason with the unjust, who is not intentionally +in error. ‘Sweet Sir,’ we will say to him, ‘what think you of +things esteemed noble and ignoble? Is not the noble that which subjects the +beast to the man, or rather to the god in man; and the ignoble that which +subjects the man to the beast?’ He can hardly avoid saying Yes—can +he now? +</p> + +<p> +Not if he has any regard for my opinion. +</p> + +<p> +But, if he agree so far, we may ask him to answer another question: ‘Then +how would a man profit if he received gold and silver on the condition that he +was to enslave the noblest part of him to the worst? Who can imagine that a man +who sold his son or daughter into slavery for money, especially if he sold them +into the hands of fierce and evil men, would be the gainer, however large might +be the sum which he received? And will any one say that he is not a miserable +caitiff who remorselessly sells his own divine being to that which is most +godless and detestable? Eriphyle took the necklace as the price of her +husband’s life, but he is taking a bribe in order to compass a worse +ruin.’ +</p> + +<p> +Yes, said Glaucon, far worse—I will answer for him. +</p> + +<p> +Has not the intemperate been censured of old, because in him the huge multiform +monster is allowed to be too much at large? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +And men are blamed for pride and bad temper when the lion and serpent element +in them disproportionately grows and gains strength? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And luxury and softness are blamed, because they relax and weaken this same +creature, and make a coward of him? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And is not a man reproached for flattery and meanness who subordinates the +spirited animal to the unruly monster, and, for the sake of money, of which he +can never have enough, habituates him in the days of his youth to be trampled +in the mire, and from being a lion to become a monkey? +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And why are mean employments and manual arts a reproach? Only because they +imply a natural weakness of the higher principle; the individual is unable to +control the creatures within him, but has to court them, and his great study is +how to flatter them. +</p> + +<p> +Such appears to be the reason. +</p> + +<p> +And therefore, being desirous of placing him under a rule like that of the +best, we say that he ought to be the servant of the best, in whom the Divine +rules; not, as Thrasymachus supposed, to the injury of the servant, but because +every one had better be ruled by divine wisdom dwelling within him; or, if this +be impossible, then by an external authority, in order that we may be all, as +far as possible, under the same government, friends and equals. +</p> + +<p> +True, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And this is clearly seen to be the intention of the law, which is the ally of +the whole city; and is seen also in the authority which we exercise over +children, and the refusal to let them be free until we have established in them +a principle analogous to the constitution of a state, and by cultivation of +this higher element have set up in their hearts a guardian and ruler like our +own, and when this is done they may go their ways. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, the purpose of the law is manifest. +</p> + +<p> +From what point of view, then, and on what ground can we say that a man is +profited by injustice or intemperance or other baseness, which will make him a +worse man, even though he acquire money or power by his wickedness? +</p> + +<p> +From no point of view at all. +</p> + +<p> +What shall he profit, if his injustice be undetected and unpunished? He who is +undetected only gets worse, whereas he who is detected and punished has the +brutal part of his nature silenced and humanized; the gentler element in him is +liberated, and his whole soul is perfected and ennobled by the acquirement of +justice and temperance and wisdom, more than the body ever is by receiving +gifts of beauty, strength and health, in proportion as the soul is more +honourable than the body. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +To this nobler purpose the man of understanding will devote the energies of his +life. And in the first place, he will honour studies which impress these +qualities on his soul and will disregard others? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +In the next place, he will regulate his bodily habit and training, and so far +will he be from yielding to brutal and irrational pleasures, that he will +regard even health as quite a secondary matter; his first object will be not +that he may be fair or strong or well, unless he is likely thereby to gain +temperance, but he will always desire so to attemper the body as to preserve +the harmony of the soul? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly he will, if he has true music in him. +</p> + +<p> +And in the acquisition of wealth there is a principle of order and harmony +which he will also observe; he will not allow himself to be dazzled by the +foolish applause of the world, and heap up riches to his own infinite harm? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not, he said. +</p> + +<p> +He will look at the city which is within him, and take heed that no disorder +occur in it, such as might arise either from superfluity or from want; and upon +this principle he will regulate his property and gain or spend according to his +means. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And, for the same reason, he will gladly accept and enjoy such honours as he +deems likely to make him a better man; but those, whether private or public, +which are likely to disorder his life, he will avoid? +</p> + +<p> +Then, if that is his motive, he will not be a statesman. +</p> + +<p> +By the dog of Egypt, he will! in the city which is his own he certainly will, +though in the land of his birth perhaps not, unless he have a divine call. +</p> + +<p> +I understand; you mean that he will be a ruler in the city of which we are the +founders, and which exists in idea only; for I do not believe that there is +such an one anywhere on earth? +</p> + +<p> +In heaven, I replied, there is laid up a pattern of it, methinks, which he who +desires may behold, and beholding, may set his own house in order. But whether +such an one exists, or ever will exist in fact, is no matter; for he will live +after the manner of that city, having nothing to do with any other. +</p> + +<p> +I think so, he said. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"></a> BOOK X.</h2> + +<p> +Of the many excellences which I perceive in the order of our State, there is +none which upon reflection pleases me better than the rule about poetry. +</p> + +<p> +To what do you refer? +</p> + +<p> +To the rejection of imitative poetry, which certainly ought not to be received; +as I see far more clearly now that the parts of the soul have been +distinguished. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +Speaking in confidence, for I should not like to have my words repeated to the +tragedians and the rest of the imitative tribe—but I do not mind saying +to you, that all poetical imitations are ruinous to the understanding of the +hearers, and that the knowledge of their true nature is the only antidote to +them. +</p> + +<p> +Explain the purport of your remark. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I will tell you, although I have always from my earliest youth had an awe +and love of Homer, which even now makes the words falter on my lips, for he is +the great captain and teacher of the whole of that charming tragic company; but +a man is not to be reverenced more than the truth, and therefore I will speak +out. +</p> + +<p> +Very good, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Listen to me then, or rather, answer me. +</p> + +<p> +Put your question. +</p> + +<p> +Can you tell me what imitation is? for I really do not know. +</p> + +<p> +A likely thing, then, that I should know. +</p> + +<p> +Why not? for the duller eye may often see a thing sooner than the keener. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said; but in your presence, even if I had any faint notion, I +could not muster courage to utter it. Will you enquire yourself? +</p> + +<p> +Well then, shall we begin the enquiry in our usual manner: Whenever a number of +individuals have a common name, we assume them to have also a corresponding +idea or form:—do you understand me? +</p> + +<p> +I do. +</p> + +<p> +Let us take any common instance; there are beds and tables in the +world—plenty of them, are there not? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +But there are only two ideas or forms of them—one the idea of a bed, the +other of a table. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And the maker of either of them makes a bed or he makes a table for our use, in +accordance with the idea—that is our way of speaking in this and similar +instances—but no artificer makes the ideas themselves: how could he? +</p> + +<p> +Impossible. +</p> + +<p> +And there is another artist,—I should like to know what you would say of +him. +</p> + +<p> +Who is he? +</p> + +<p> +One who is the maker of all the works of all other workmen. +</p> + +<p> +What an extraordinary man! +</p> + +<p> +Wait a little, and there will be more reason for your saying so. For this is he +who is able to make not only vessels of every kind, but plants and animals, +himself and all other things—the earth and heaven, and the things which +are in heaven or under the earth; he makes the gods also. +</p> + +<p> +He must be a wizard and no mistake. +</p> + +<p> +Oh! you are incredulous, are you? Do you mean that there is no such maker or +creator, or that in one sense there might be a maker of all these things but in +another not? Do you see that there is a way in which you could make them all +yourself? +</p> + +<p> +What way? +</p> + +<p> +An easy way enough; or rather, there are many ways in which the feat might be +quickly and easily accomplished, none quicker than that of turning a mirror +round and round—you would soon enough make the sun and the heavens, and +the earth and yourself, and other animals and plants, and all the other things +of which we were just now speaking, in the mirror. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; but they would be appearances only. +</p> + +<p> +Very good, I said, you are coming to the point now. And the painter too is, as +I conceive, just such another—a creator of appearances, is he not? +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +But then I suppose you will say that what he creates is untrue. And yet there +is a sense in which the painter also creates a bed? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, but not a real bed. +</p> + +<p> +And what of the maker of the bed? were you not saying that he too makes, not +the idea which, according to our view, is the essence of the bed, but only a +particular bed? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I did. +</p> + +<p> +Then if he does not make that which exists he cannot make true existence, but +only some semblance of existence; and if any one were to say that the work of +the maker of the bed, or of any other workman, has real existence, he could +hardly be supposed to be speaking the truth. +</p> + +<p> +At any rate, he replied, philosophers would say that he was not speaking the +truth. +</p> + +<p> +No wonder, then, that his work too is an indistinct expression of truth. +</p> + +<p> +No wonder. +</p> + +<p> +Suppose now that by the light of the examples just offered we enquire who this +imitator is? +</p> + +<p> +If you please. +</p> + +<p> +Well then, here are three beds: one existing in nature, which is made by God, +as I think that we may say—for no one else can be the maker? +</p> + +<p> +No. +</p> + +<p> +There is another which is the work of the carpenter? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the work of the painter is a third? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Beds, then, are of three kinds, and there are three artists who superintend +them: God, the maker of the bed, and the painter? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, there are three of them. +</p> + +<p> +God, whether from choice or from necessity, made one bed in nature and one +only; two or more such ideal beds neither ever have been nor ever will be made +by God. +</p> + +<p> +Why is that? +</p> + +<p> +Because even if He had made but two, a third would still appear behind them +which both of them would have for their idea, and that would be the ideal bed +and not the two others. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +God knew this, and He desired to be the real maker of a real bed, not a +particular maker of a particular bed, and therefore He created a bed which is +essentially and by nature one only. +</p> + +<p> +So we believe. +</p> + +<p> +Shall we, then, speak of Him as the natural author or maker of the bed? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he replied; inasmuch as by the natural process of creation He is the +author of this and of all other things. +</p> + +<p> +And what shall we say of the carpenter—is not he also the maker of the +bed? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +But would you call the painter a creator and maker? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Yet if he is not the maker, what is he in relation to the bed? +</p> + +<p> +I think, he said, that we may fairly designate him as the imitator of that +which the others make. +</p> + +<p> +Good, I said; then you call him who is third in the descent from nature an +imitator? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And the tragic poet is an imitator, and therefore, like all other imitators, he +is thrice removed from the king and from the truth? +</p> + +<p> +That appears to be so. +</p> + +<p> +Then about the imitator we are agreed. And what about the painter?—I +would like to know whether he may be thought to imitate that which originally +exists in nature, or only the creations of artists? +</p> + +<p> +The latter. +</p> + +<p> +As they are or as they appear? you have still to determine this. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +I mean, that you may look at a bed from different points of view, obliquely or +directly or from any other point of view, and the bed will appear different, +but there is no difference in reality. And the same of all things. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, the difference is only apparent. +</p> + +<p> +Now let me ask you another question: Which is the art of painting designed to +be—an imitation of things as they are, or as they appear—of +appearance or of reality? +</p> + +<p> +Of appearance. +</p> + +<p> +Then the imitator, I said, is a long way off the truth, and can do all things +because he lightly touches on a small part of them, and that part an image. For +example: A painter will paint a cobbler, carpenter, or any other artist, though +he knows nothing of their arts; and, if he is a good artist, he may deceive +children or simple persons, when he shows them his picture of a carpenter from +a distance, and they will fancy that they are looking at a real carpenter. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And whenever any one informs us that he has found a man who knows all the arts, +and all things else that anybody knows, and every single thing with a higher +degree of accuracy than any other man—whoever tells us this, I think that +we can only imagine him to be a simple creature who is likely to have been +deceived by some wizard or actor whom he met, and whom he thought all-knowing, +because he himself was unable to analyse the nature of knowledge and ignorance +and imitation. +</p> + +<p> +Most true. +</p> + +<p> +And so, when we hear persons saying that the tragedians, and Homer, who is at +their head, know all the arts and all things human, virtue as well as vice, and +divine things too, for that the good poet cannot compose well unless he knows +his subject, and that he who has not this knowledge can never be a poet, we +ought to consider whether here also there may not be a similar illusion. +Perhaps they may have come across imitators and been deceived by them; they may +not have remembered when they saw their works that these were but imitations +thrice removed from the truth, and could easily be made without any knowledge +of the truth, because they are appearances only and not realities? Or, after +all, they may be in the right, and poets do really know the things about which +they seem to the many to speak so well? +</p> + +<p> +The question, he said, should by all means be considered. +</p> + +<p> +Now do you suppose that if a person were able to make the original as well as +the image, he would seriously devote himself to the image-making branch? Would +he allow imitation to be the ruling principle of his life, as if he had nothing +higher in him? +</p> + +<p> +I should say not. +</p> + +<p> +The real artist, who knew what he was imitating, would be interested in +realities and not in imitations; and would desire to leave as memorials of +himself works many and fair; and, instead of being the author of encomiums, he +would prefer to be the theme of them. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that would be to him a source of much greater honour and profit. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I said, we must put a question to Homer; not about medicine, or any of +the arts to which his poems only incidentally refer: we are not going to ask +him, or any other poet, whether he has cured patients like Asclepius, or left +behind him a school of medicine such as the Asclepiads were, or whether he only +talks about medicine and other arts at second-hand; but we have a right to know +respecting military tactics, politics, education, which are the chiefest and +noblest subjects of his poems, and we may fairly ask him about them. +‘Friend Homer,’ then we say to him, ‘if you are only in the +second remove from truth in what you say of virtue, and not in the +third—not an image maker or imitator—and if you are able to discern +what pursuits make men better or worse in private or public life, tell us what +State was ever better governed by your help? The good order of Lacedaemon is +due to Lycurgus, and many other cities great and small have been similarly +benefited by others; but who says that you have been a good legislator to them +and have done them any good? Italy and Sicily boast of Charondas, and there is +Solon who is renowned among us; but what city has anything to say about +you?’ Is there any city which he might name? +</p> + +<p> +I think not, said Glaucon; not even the Homerids themselves pretend that he was +a legislator. +</p> + +<p> +Well, but is there any war on record which was carried on successfully by him, +or aided by his counsels, when he was alive? +</p> + +<p> +There is not. +</p> + +<p> +Or is there any invention of his, applicable to the arts or to human life, such +as Thales the Milesian or Anacharsis the Scythian, and other ingenious men have +conceived, which is attributed to him? +</p> + +<p> +There is absolutely nothing of the kind. +</p> + +<p> +But, if Homer never did any public service, was he privately a guide or teacher +of any? Had he in his lifetime friends who loved to associate with him, and who +handed down to posterity an Homeric way of life, such as was established by +Pythagoras who was so greatly beloved for his wisdom, and whose followers are +to this day quite celebrated for the order which was named after him? +</p> + +<p> +Nothing of the kind is recorded of him. For surely, Socrates, Creophylus, the +companion of Homer, that child of flesh, whose name always makes us laugh, +might be more justly ridiculed for his stupidity, if, as is said, Homer was +greatly neglected by him and others in his own day when he was alive? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I replied, that is the tradition. But can you imagine, Glaucon, that if +Homer had really been able to educate and improve mankind—if he had +possessed knowledge and not been a mere imitator—can you imagine, I say, +that he would not have had many followers, and been honoured and loved by them? +Protagoras of Abdera, and Prodicus of Ceos, and a host of others, have only to +whisper to their contemporaries: ‘You will never be able to manage either +your own house or your own State until you appoint us to be your ministers of +education’—and this ingenious device of theirs has such an effect +in making men love them that their companions all but carry them about on their +shoulders. And is it conceivable that the contemporaries of Homer, or again of +Hesiod, would have allowed either of them to go about as rhapsodists, if they +had really been able to make mankind virtuous? Would they not have been as +unwilling to part with them as with gold, and have compelled them to stay at +home with them? Or, if the master would not stay, then the disciples would have +followed him about everywhere, until they had got education enough? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Socrates, that, I think, is quite true. +</p> + +<p> +Then must we not infer that all these poetical individuals, beginning with +Homer, are only imitators; they copy images of virtue and the like, but the +truth they never reach? The poet is like a painter who, as we have already +observed, will make a likeness of a cobbler though he understands nothing of +cobbling; and his picture is good enough for those who know no more than he +does, and judge only by colours and figures. +</p> + +<p> +Quite so. +</p> + +<p> +In like manner the poet with his words and phrases may be said to lay on the +colours of the several arts, himself understanding their nature only enough to +imitate them; and other people, who are as ignorant as he is, and judge only +from his words, imagine that if he speaks of cobbling, or of military tactics, +or of anything else, in metre and harmony and rhythm, he speaks very +well—such is the sweet influence which melody and rhythm by nature have. +And I think that you must have observed again and again what a poor appearance +the tales of poets make when stripped of the colours which music puts upon +them, and recited in simple prose. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said. +</p> + +<p> +They are like faces which were never really beautiful, but only blooming; and +now the bloom of youth has passed away from them? +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +Here is another point: The imitator or maker of the image knows nothing of true +existence; he knows appearances only. Am I not right? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Then let us have a clear understanding, and not be satisfied with half an +explanation. +</p> + +<p> +Proceed. +</p> + +<p> +Of the painter we say that he will paint reins, and he will paint a bit? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the worker in leather and brass will make them? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +But does the painter know the right form of the bit and reins? Nay, hardly even +the workers in brass and leather who make them; only the horseman who knows how +to use them—he knows their right form. +</p> + +<p> +Most true. +</p> + +<p> +And may we not say the same of all things? +</p> + +<p> +What? +</p> + +<p> +That there are three arts which are concerned with all things: one which uses, +another which makes, a third which imitates them? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And the excellence or beauty or truth of every structure, animate or inanimate, +and of every action of man, is relative to the use for which nature or the +artist has intended them. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +Then the user of them must have the greatest experience of them, and he must +indicate to the maker the good or bad qualities which develop themselves in +use; for example, the flute-player will tell the flute-maker which of his +flutes is satisfactory to the performer; he will tell him how he ought to make +them, and the other will attend to his instructions? +</p> + +<p> +Of course. +</p> + +<p> +The one knows and therefore speaks with authority about the goodness and +badness of flutes, while the other, confiding in him, will do what he is told +by him? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +The instrument is the same, but about the excellence or badness of it the maker +will only attain to a correct belief; and this he will gain from him who knows, +by talking to him and being compelled to hear what he has to say, whereas the +user will have knowledge? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +But will the imitator have either? Will he know from use whether or no his +drawing is correct or beautiful? or will he have right opinion from being +compelled to associate with another who knows and gives him instructions about +what he should draw? +</p> + +<p> +Neither. +</p> + +<p> +Then he will no more have true opinion than he will have knowledge about the +goodness or badness of his imitations? +</p> + +<p> +I suppose not. +</p> + +<p> +The imitative artist will be in a brilliant state of intelligence about his own +creations? +</p> + +<p> +Nay, very much the reverse. +</p> + +<p> +And still he will go on imitating without knowing what makes a thing good or +bad, and may be expected therefore to imitate only that which appears to be +good to the ignorant multitude? +</p> + +<p> +Just so. +</p> + +<p> +Thus far then we are pretty well agreed that the imitator has no knowledge +worth mentioning of what he imitates. Imitation is only a kind of play or +sport, and the tragic poets, whether they write in Iambic or in Heroic verse, +are imitators in the highest degree? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And now tell me, I conjure you, has not imitation been shown by us to be +concerned with that which is thrice removed from the truth? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And what is the faculty in man to which imitation is addressed? +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +I will explain: The body which is large when seen near, appears small when seen +at a distance? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And the same object appears straight when looked at out of the water, and +crooked when in the water; and the concave becomes convex, owing to the +illusion about colours to which the sight is liable. Thus every sort of +confusion is revealed within us; and this is that weakness of the human mind on +which the art of conjuring and of deceiving by light and shadow and other +ingenious devices imposes, having an effect upon us like magic. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And the arts of measuring and numbering and weighing come to the rescue of the +human understanding—there is the beauty of them—and the apparent +greater or less, or more or heavier, no longer have the mastery over us, but +give way before calculation and measure and weight? +</p> + +<p> +Most true. +</p> + +<p> +And this, surely, must be the work of the calculating and rational principle in +the soul? +</p> + +<p> +To be sure. +</p> + +<p> +And when this principle measures and certifies that some things are equal, or +that some are greater or less than others, there occurs an apparent +contradiction? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +But were we not saying that such a contradiction is impossible—the same +faculty cannot have contrary opinions at the same time about the same thing? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +Then that part of the soul which has an opinion contrary to measure is not the +same with that which has an opinion in accordance with measure? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And the better part of the soul is likely to be that which trusts to measure +and calculation? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And that which is opposed to them is one of the inferior principles of the +soul? +</p> + +<p> +No doubt. +</p> + +<p> +This was the conclusion at which I was seeking to arrive when I said that +painting or drawing, and imitation in general, when doing their own proper +work, are far removed from truth, and the companions and friends and associates +of a principle within us which is equally removed from reason, and that they +have no true or healthy aim. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +The imitative art is an inferior who marries an inferior, and has inferior +offspring. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And is this confined to the sight only, or does it extend to the hearing also, +relating in fact to what we term poetry? +</p> + +<p> +Probably the same would be true of poetry. +</p> + +<p> +Do not rely, I said, on a probability derived from the analogy of painting; but +let us examine further and see whether the faculty with which poetical +imitation is concerned is good or bad. +</p> + +<p> +By all means. +</p> + +<p> +We may state the question thus:—Imitation imitates the actions of men, +whether voluntary or involuntary, on which, as they imagine, a good or bad +result has ensued, and they rejoice or sorrow accordingly. Is there anything +more? +</p> + +<p> +No, there is nothing else. +</p> + +<p> +But in all this variety of circumstances is the man at unity with +himself—or rather, as in the instance of sight there was confusion and +opposition in his opinions about the same things, so here also is there not +strife and inconsistency in his life? Though I need hardly raise the question +again, for I remember that all this has been already admitted; and the soul has +been acknowledged by us to be full of these and ten thousand similar +oppositions occurring at the same moment? +</p> + +<p> +And we were right, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, thus far we were right; but there was an omission which must now +be supplied. +</p> + +<p> +What was the omission? +</p> + +<p> +Were we not saying that a good man, who has the misfortune to lose his son or +anything else which is most dear to him, will bear the loss with more +equanimity than another? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +But will he have no sorrow, or shall we say that although he cannot help +sorrowing, he will moderate his sorrow? +</p> + +<p> +The latter, he said, is the truer statement. +</p> + +<p> +Tell me: will he be more likely to struggle and hold out against his sorrow +when he is seen by his equals, or when he is alone? +</p> + +<p> +It will make a great difference whether he is seen or not. +</p> + +<p> +When he is by himself he will not mind saying or doing many things which he +would be ashamed of any one hearing or seeing him do? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +There is a principle of law and reason in him which bids him resist, as well as +a feeling of his misfortune which is forcing him to indulge his sorrow? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +But when a man is drawn in two opposite directions, to and from the same +object, this, as we affirm, necessarily implies two distinct principles in him? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +One of them is ready to follow the guidance of the law? +</p> + +<p> +How do you mean? +</p> + +<p> +The law would say that to be patient under suffering is best, and that we +should not give way to impatience, as there is no knowing whether such things +are good or evil; and nothing is gained by impatience; also, because no human +thing is of serious importance, and grief stands in the way of that which at +the moment is most required. +</p> + +<p> +What is most required? he asked. +</p> + +<p> +That we should take counsel about what has happened, and when the dice have +been thrown order our affairs in the way which reason deems best; not, like +children who have had a fall, keeping hold of the part struck and wasting time +in setting up a howl, but always accustoming the soul forthwith to apply a +remedy, raising up that which is sickly and fallen, banishing the cry of sorrow +by the healing art. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, that is the true way of meeting the attacks of fortune. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said; and the higher principle is ready to follow this suggestion of +reason? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +And the other principle, which inclines us to recollection of our troubles and +to lamentation, and can never have enough of them, we may call irrational, +useless, and cowardly? +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, we may. +</p> + +<p> +And does not the latter—I mean the rebellious principle—furnish a +great variety of materials for imitation? Whereas the wise and calm +temperament, being always nearly equable, is not easy to imitate or to +appreciate when imitated, especially at a public festival when a promiscuous +crowd is assembled in a theatre. For the feeling represented is one to which +they are strangers. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Then the imitative poet who aims at being popular is not by nature made, nor is +his art intended, to please or to affect the rational principle in the soul; +but he will prefer the passionate and fitful temper, which is easily imitated? +</p> + +<p> +Clearly. +</p> + +<p> +And now we may fairly take him and place him by the side of the painter, for he +is like him in two ways: first, inasmuch as his creations have an inferior +degree of truth—in this, I say, he is like him; and he is also like him +in being concerned with an inferior part of the soul; and therefore we shall be +right in refusing to admit him into a well-ordered State, because he awakens +and nourishes and strengthens the feelings and impairs the reason. As in a city +when the evil are permitted to have authority and the good are put out of the +way, so in the soul of man, as we maintain, the imitative poet implants an evil +constitution, for he indulges the irrational nature which has no discernment of +greater and less, but thinks the same thing at one time great and at another +small—he is a manufacturer of images and is very far removed from the +truth. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly. +</p> + +<p> +But we have not yet brought forward the heaviest count in our +accusation:—the power which poetry has of harming even the good (and +there are very few who are not harmed), is surely an awful thing? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, certainly, if the effect is what you say. +</p> + +<p> +Hear and judge: The best of us, as I conceive, when we listen to a passage of +Homer, or one of the tragedians, in which he represents some pitiful hero who +is drawling out his sorrows in a long oration, or weeping, and smiting his +breast—the best of us, you know, delight in giving way to sympathy, and +are in raptures at the excellence of the poet who stirs our feelings most. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, of course I know. +</p> + +<p> +But when any sorrow of our own happens to us, then you may observe that we +pride ourselves on the opposite quality—we would fain be quiet and +patient; this is the manly part, and the other which delighted us in the +recitation is now deemed to be the part of a woman. +</p> + +<p> +Very true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Now can we be right in praising and admiring another who is doing that which +any one of us would abominate and be ashamed of in his own person? +</p> + +<p> +No, he said, that is certainly not reasonable. +</p> + +<p> +Nay, I said, quite reasonable from one point of view. +</p> + +<p> +What point of view? +</p> + +<p> +If you consider, I said, that when in misfortune we feel a natural hunger and +desire to relieve our sorrow by weeping and lamentation, and that this feeling +which is kept under control in our own calamities is satisfied and delighted by +the poets;—the better nature in each of us, not having been sufficiently +trained by reason or habit, allows the sympathetic element to break loose +because the sorrow is another’s; and the spectator fancies that there can +be no disgrace to himself in praising and pitying any one who comes telling him +what a good man he is, and making a fuss about his troubles; he thinks that the +pleasure is a gain, and why should he be supercilious and lose this and the +poem too? Few persons ever reflect, as I should imagine, that from the evil of +other men something of evil is communicated to themselves. And so the feeling +of sorrow which has gathered strength at the sight of the misfortunes of others +is with difficulty repressed in our own. +</p> + +<p> +How very true! +</p> + +<p> +And does not the same hold also of the ridiculous? There are jests which you +would be ashamed to make yourself, and yet on the comic stage, or indeed in +private, when you hear them, you are greatly amused by them, and are not at all +disgusted at their unseemliness;—the case of pity is +repeated;—there is a principle in human nature which is disposed to raise +a laugh, and this which you once restrained by reason, because you were afraid +of being thought a buffoon, is now let out again; and having stimulated the +risible faculty at the theatre, you are betrayed unconsciously to yourself into +playing the comic poet at home. +</p> + +<p> +Quite true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And the same may be said of lust and anger and all the other affections, of +desire and pain and pleasure, which are held to be inseparable from every +action—in all of them poetry feeds and waters the passions instead of +drying them up; she lets them rule, although they ought to be controlled, if +mankind are ever to increase in happiness and virtue. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot deny it. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, Glaucon, I said, whenever you meet with any of the eulogists of +Homer declaring that he has been the educator of Hellas, and that he is +profitable for education and for the ordering of human things, and that you +should take him up again and again and get to know him and regulate your whole +life according to him, we may love and honour those who say these +things—they are excellent people, as far as their lights extend; and we +are ready to acknowledge that Homer is the greatest of poets and first of +tragedy writers; but we must remain firm in our conviction that hymns to the +gods and praises of famous men are the only poetry which ought to be admitted +into our State. For if you go beyond this and allow the honeyed muse to enter, +either in epic or lyric verse, not law and the reason of mankind, which by +common consent have ever been deemed best, but pleasure and pain will be the +rulers in our State. +</p> + +<p> +That is most true, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And now since we have reverted to the subject of poetry, let this our defence +serve to show the reasonableness of our former judgment in sending away out of +our State an art having the tendencies which we have described; for reason +constrained us. But that she may not impute to us any harshness or want of +politeness, let us tell her that there is an ancient quarrel between philosophy +and poetry; of which there are many proofs, such as the saying of ‘the +yelping hound howling at her lord,’ or of one ‘mighty in the vain +talk of fools,’ and ‘the mob of sages circumventing Zeus,’ +and the ‘subtle thinkers who are beggars after all’; and there are +innumerable other signs of ancient enmity between them. Notwithstanding this, +let us assure our sweet friend and the sister arts of imitation, that if she +will only prove her title to exist in a well-ordered State we shall be +delighted to receive her—we are very conscious of her charms; but we may +not on that account betray the truth. I dare say, Glaucon, that you are as much +charmed by her as I am, especially when she appears in Homer? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, indeed, I am greatly charmed. +</p> + +<p> +Shall I propose, then, that she be allowed to return from exile, but upon this +condition only—that she make a defence of herself in lyrical or some +other metre? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +And we may further grant to those of her defenders who are lovers of poetry and +yet not poets the permission to speak in prose on her behalf: let them show not +only that she is pleasant but also useful to States and to human life, and we +will listen in a kindly spirit; for if this can be proved we shall surely be +the gainers—I mean, if there is a use in poetry as well as a delight? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said, we shall be the gainers. +</p> + +<p> +If her defence fails, then, my dear friend, like other persons who are +enamoured of something, but put a restraint upon themselves when they think +their desires are opposed to their interests, so too must we after the manner +of lovers give her up, though not without a struggle. We too are inspired by +that love of poetry which the education of noble States has implanted in us, +and therefore we would have her appear at her best and truest; but so long as +she is unable to make good her defence, this argument of ours shall be a charm +to us, which we will repeat to ourselves while we listen to her strains; that +we may not fall away into the childish love of her which captivates the many. +At all events we are well aware that poetry being such as we have described is +not to be regarded seriously as attaining to the truth; and he who listens to +her, fearing for the safety of the city which is within him, should be on his +guard against her seductions and make our words his law. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, I quite agree with you. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, my dear Glaucon, for great is the issue at stake, greater than +appears, whether a man is to be good or bad. And what will any one be profited +if under the influence of honour or money or power, aye, or under the +excitement of poetry, he neglect justice and virtue? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; I have been convinced by the argument, as I believe that any one +else would have been. +</p> + +<p> +And yet no mention has been made of the greatest prizes and rewards which await +virtue. +</p> + +<p> +What, are there any greater still? If there are, they must be of an +inconceivable greatness. +</p> + +<p> +Why, I said, what was ever great in a short time? The whole period of three +score years and ten is surely but a little thing in comparison with eternity? +</p> + +<p> +Say rather ‘nothing,’ he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And should an immortal being seriously think of this little space rather than +of the whole? +</p> + +<p> +Of the whole, certainly. But why do you ask? +</p> + +<p> +Are you not aware, I said, that the soul of man is immortal and imperishable? +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me in astonishment, and said: No, by heaven: And are you really +prepared to maintain this? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, I said, I ought to be, and you too—there is no difficulty in proving +it. +</p> + +<p> +I see a great difficulty; but I should like to hear you state this argument of +which you make so light. +</p> + +<p> +Listen then. +</p> + +<p> +I am attending. +</p> + +<p> +There is a thing which you call good and another which you call evil? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Would you agree with me in thinking that the corrupting and destroying element +is the evil, and the saving and improving element the good? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +And you admit that every thing has a good and also an evil; as ophthalmia is +the evil of the eyes and disease of the whole body; as mildew is of corn, and +rot of timber, or rust of copper and iron: in everything, or in almost +everything, there is an inherent evil and disease? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said. +</p> + +<p> +And anything which is infected by any of these evils is made evil, and at last +wholly dissolves and dies? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +The vice and evil which is inherent in each is the destruction of each; and if +this does not destroy them there is nothing else that will; for good certainly +will not destroy them, nor again, that which is neither good nor evil. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +If, then, we find any nature which having this inherent corruption cannot be +dissolved or destroyed, we may be certain that of such a nature there is no +destruction? +</p> + +<p> +That may be assumed. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, and is there no evil which corrupts the soul? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, there are all the evils which we were just now passing in review: +unrighteousness, intemperance, cowardice, ignorance. +</p> + +<p> +But does any of these dissolve or destroy her?—and here do not let us +fall into the error of supposing that the unjust and foolish man, when he is +detected, perishes through his own injustice, which is an evil of the soul. +Take the analogy of the body: The evil of the body is a disease which wastes +and reduces and annihilates the body; and all the things of which we were just +now speaking come to annihilation through their own corruption attaching to +them and inhering in them and so destroying them. Is not this true? +</p> + +<p> +Yes. +</p> + +<p> +Consider the soul in like manner. Does the injustice or other evil which exists +in the soul waste and consume her? Do they by attaching to the soul and +inhering in her at last bring her to death, and so separate her from the body? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, I said, it is unreasonable to suppose that anything can perish from +without through affection of external evil which could not be destroyed from +within by a corruption of its own? +</p> + +<p> +It is, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Consider, I said, Glaucon, that even the badness of food, whether staleness, +decomposition, or any other bad quality, when confined to the actual food, is +not supposed to destroy the body; although, if the badness of food communicates +corruption to the body, then we should say that the body has been destroyed by +a corruption of itself, which is disease, brought on by this; but that the +body, being one thing, can be destroyed by the badness of food, which is +another, and which does not engender any natural infection—this we shall +absolutely deny? +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And, on the same principle, unless some bodily evil can produce an evil of the +soul, we must not suppose that the soul, which is one thing, can be dissolved +by any merely external evil which belongs to another? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said, there is reason in that. +</p> + +<p> +Either, then, let us refute this conclusion, or, while it remains unrefuted, +let us never say that fever, or any other disease, or the knife put to the +throat, or even the cutting up of the whole body into the minutest pieces, can +destroy the soul, until she herself is proved to become more unholy or +unrighteous in consequence of these things being done to the body; but that the +soul, or anything else if not destroyed by an internal evil, can be destroyed +by an external one, is not to be affirmed by any man. +</p> + +<p> +And surely, he replied, no one will ever prove that the souls of men become +more unjust in consequence of death. +</p> + +<p> +But if some one who would rather not admit the immortality of the soul boldly +denies this, and says that the dying do really become more evil and +unrighteous, then, if the speaker is right, I suppose that injustice, like +disease, must be assumed to be fatal to the unjust, and that those who take +this disorder die by the natural inherent power of destruction which evil has, +and which kills them sooner or later, but in quite another way from that in +which, at present, the wicked receive death at the hands of others as the +penalty of their deeds? +</p> + +<p> +Nay, he said, in that case injustice, if fatal to the unjust, will not be so +very terrible to him, for he will be delivered from evil. But I rather suspect +the opposite to be the truth, and that injustice which, if it have the power, +will murder others, keeps the murderer alive—aye, and well awake too; so +far removed is her dwelling-place from being a house of death. +</p> + +<p> +True, I said; if the inherent natural vice or evil of the soul is unable to +kill or destroy her, hardly will that which is appointed to be the destruction +of some other body, destroy a soul or anything else except that of which it was +appointed to be the destruction. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, that can hardly be. +</p> + +<p> +But the soul which cannot be destroyed by an evil, whether inherent or +external, must exist for ever, and if existing for ever, must be immortal? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +That is the conclusion, I said; and, if a true conclusion, then the souls must +always be the same, for if none be destroyed they will not diminish in number. +Neither will they increase, for the increase of the immortal natures must come +from something mortal, and all things would thus end in immortality. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +But this we cannot believe—reason will not allow us—any more than +we can believe the soul, in her truest nature, to be full of variety and +difference and dissimilarity. +</p> + +<p> +What do you mean? he said. +</p> + +<p> +The soul, I said, being, as is now proven, immortal, must be the fairest of +compositions and cannot be compounded of many elements? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +Her immortality is demonstrated by the previous argument, and there are many +other proofs; but to see her as she really is, not as we now behold her, marred +by communion with the body and other miseries, you must contemplate her with +the eye of reason, in her original purity; and then her beauty will be +revealed, and justice and injustice and all the things which we have described +will be manifested more clearly. Thus far, we have spoken the truth concerning +her as she appears at present, but we must remember also that we have seen her +only in a condition which may be compared to that of the sea-god Glaucus, whose +original image can hardly be discerned because his natural members are broken +off and crushed and damaged by the waves in all sorts of ways, and +incrustations have grown over them of seaweed and shells and stones, so that he +is more like some monster than he is to his own natural form. And the soul +which we behold is in a similar condition, disfigured by ten thousand ills. But +not there, Glaucon, not there must we look. +</p> + +<p> +Where then? +</p> + +<p> +At her love of wisdom. Let us see whom she affects, and what society and +converse she seeks in virtue of her near kindred with the immortal and eternal +and divine; also how different she would become if wholly following this +superior principle, and borne by a divine impulse out of the ocean in which she +now is, and disengaged from the stones and shells and things of earth and rock +which in wild variety spring up around her because she feeds upon earth, and is +overgrown by the good things of this life as they are termed: then you would +see her as she is, and know whether she have one shape only or many, or what +her nature is. Of her affections and of the forms which she takes in this +present life I think that we have now said enough. +</p> + +<p> +True, he replied. +</p> + +<p> +And thus, I said, we have fulfilled the conditions of the argument; we have not +introduced the rewards and glories of justice, which, as you were saying, are +to be found in Homer and Hesiod; but justice in her own nature has been shown +to be best for the soul in her own nature. Let a man do what is just, whether +he have the ring of Gyges or not, and even if in addition to the ring of Gyges +he put on the helmet of Hades. +</p> + +<p> +Very true. +</p> + +<p> +And now, Glaucon, there will be no harm in further enumerating how many and how +great are the rewards which justice and the other virtues procure to the soul +from gods and men, both in life and after death. +</p> + +<p> +Certainly not, he said. +</p> + +<p> +Will you repay me, then, what you borrowed in the argument? +</p> + +<p> +What did I borrow? +</p> + +<p> +The assumption that the just man should appear unjust and the unjust just: for +you were of opinion that even if the true state of the case could not possibly +escape the eyes of gods and men, still this admission ought to be made for the +sake of the argument, in order that pure justice might be weighed against pure +injustice. Do you remember? +</p> + +<p> +I should be much to blame if I had forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as the cause is decided, I demand on behalf of justice that the +estimation in which she is held by gods and men and which we acknowledge to be +her due should now be restored to her by us; since she has been shown to confer +reality, and not to deceive those who truly possess her, let what has been +taken from her be given back, that so she may win that palm of appearance which +is hers also, and which she gives to her own. +</p> + +<p> +The demand, he said, is just. +</p> + +<p> +In the first place, I said—and this is the first thing which you will +have to give back—the nature both of the just and unjust is truly known +to the gods. +</p> + +<p> +Granted. +</p> + +<p> +And if they are both known to them, one must be the friend and the other the +enemy of the gods, as we admitted from the beginning? +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And the friend of the gods may be supposed to receive from them all things at +their best, excepting only such evil as is the necessary consequence of former +sins? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Then this must be our notion of the just man, that even when he is in poverty +or sickness, or any other seeming misfortune, all things will in the end work +together for good to him in life and death: for the gods have a care of any one +whose desire is to become just and to be like God, as far as man can attain the +divine likeness, by the pursuit of virtue? +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; if he is like God he will surely not be neglected by him. +</p> + +<p> +And of the unjust may not the opposite be supposed? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Such, then, are the palms of victory which the gods give the just? +</p> + +<p> +That is my conviction. +</p> + +<p> +And what do they receive of men? Look at things as they really are, and you +will see that the clever unjust are in the case of runners, who run well from +the starting-place to the goal but not back again from the goal: they go off at +a great pace, but in the end only look foolish, slinking away with their ears +draggling on their shoulders, and without a crown; but the true runner comes to +the finish and receives the prize and is crowned. And this is the way with the +just; he who endures to the end of every action and occasion of his entire life +has a good report and carries off the prize which men have to bestow. +</p> + +<p> +True. +</p> + +<p> +And now you must allow me to repeat of the just the blessings which you were +attributing to the fortunate unjust. I shall say of them, what you were saying +of the others, that as they grow older, they become rulers in their own city if +they care to be; they marry whom they like and give in marriage to whom they +will; all that you said of the others I now say of these. And, on the other +hand, of the unjust I say that the greater number, even though they escape in +their youth, are found out at last and look foolish at the end of their course, +and when they come to be old and miserable are flouted alike by stranger and +citizen; they are beaten and then come those things unfit for ears polite, as +you truly term them; they will be racked and have their eyes burned out, as you +were saying. And you may suppose that I have repeated the remainder of your +tale of horrors. But will you let me assume, without reciting them, that these +things are true? +</p> + +<p> +Certainly, he said, what you say is true. +</p> + +<p> +These, then, are the prizes and rewards and gifts which are bestowed upon the +just by gods and men in this present life, in addition to the other good things +which justice of herself provides. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he said; and they are fair and lasting. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, I said, all these are as nothing either in number or greatness in +comparison with those other recompenses which await both just and unjust after +death. And you ought to hear them, and then both just and unjust will have +received from us a full payment of the debt which the argument owes to them. +</p> + +<p> +Speak, he said; there are few things which I would more gladly hear. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I said, I will tell you a tale; not one of the tales which Odysseus tells +to the hero Alcinous, yet this too is a tale of a hero, Er the son of Armenius, +a Pamphylian by birth. He was slain in battle, and ten days afterwards, when +the bodies of the dead were taken up already in a state of corruption, his body +was found unaffected by decay, and carried away home to be buried. And on the +twelfth day, as he was lying on the funeral pile, he returned to life and told +them what he had seen in the other world. He said that when his soul left the +body he went on a journey with a great company, and that they came to a +mysterious place at which there were two openings in the earth; they were near +together, and over against them were two other openings in the heaven above. In +the intermediate space there were judges seated, who commanded the just, after +they had given judgment on them and had bound their sentences in front of them, +to ascend by the heavenly way on the right hand; and in like manner the unjust +were bidden by them to descend by the lower way on the left hand; these also +bore the symbols of their deeds, but fastened on their backs. He drew near, and +they told him that he was to be the messenger who would carry the report of the +other world to men, and they bade him hear and see all that was to be heard and +seen in that place. Then he beheld and saw on one side the souls departing at +either opening of heaven and earth when sentence had been given on them; and at +the two other openings other souls, some ascending out of the earth dusty and +worn with travel, some descending out of heaven clean and bright. And arriving +ever and anon they seemed to have come from a long journey, and they went forth +with gladness into the meadow, where they encamped as at a festival; and those +who knew one another embraced and conversed, the souls which came from earth +curiously enquiring about the things above, and the souls which came from +heaven about the things beneath. And they told one another of what had happened +by the way, those from below weeping and sorrowing at the remembrance of the +things which they had endured and seen in their journey beneath the earth (now +the journey lasted a thousand years), while those from above were describing +heavenly delights and visions of inconceivable beauty. The story, Glaucon, +would take too long to tell; but the sum was this:—He said that for every +wrong which they had done to any one they suffered tenfold; or once in a +hundred years—such being reckoned to be the length of man’s life, +and the penalty being thus paid ten times in a thousand years. If, for example, +there were any who had been the cause of many deaths, or had betrayed or +enslaved cities or armies, or been guilty of any other evil behaviour, for each +and all of their offences they received punishment ten times over, and the +rewards of beneficence and justice and holiness were in the same proportion. I +need hardly repeat what he said concerning young children dying almost as soon +as they were born. Of piety and impiety to gods and parents, and of murderers, +there were retributions other and greater far which he described. He mentioned +that he was present when one of the spirits asked another, ‘Where is +Ardiaeus the Great?’ (Now this Ardiaeus lived a thousand years before the +time of Er: he had been the tyrant of some city of Pamphylia, and had murdered +his aged father and his elder brother, and was said to have committed many +other abominable crimes.) The answer of the other spirit was: ‘He comes +not hither and will never come. And this,’ said he, ‘was one of the +dreadful sights which we ourselves witnessed. We were at the mouth of the +cavern, and, having completed all our experiences, were about to reascend, when +of a sudden Ardiaeus appeared and several others, most of whom were tyrants; +and there were also besides the tyrants private individuals who had been great +criminals: they were just, as they fancied, about to return into the upper +world, but the mouth, instead of admitting them, gave a roar, whenever any of +these incurable sinners or some one who had not been sufficiently punished +tried to ascend; and then wild men of fiery aspect, who were standing by and +heard the sound, seized and carried them off; and Ardiaeus and others they +bound head and foot and hand, and threw them down and flayed them with +scourges, and dragged them along the road at the side, carding them on thorns +like wool, and declaring to the passers-by what were their crimes, and that +they were being taken away to be cast into hell.’ And of all the many +terrors which they had endured, he said that there was none like the terror +which each of them felt at that moment, lest they should hear the voice; and +when there was silence, one by one they ascended with exceeding joy. These, +said Er, were the penalties and retributions, and there were blessings as +great. +</p> + +<p> +Now when the spirits which were in the meadow had tarried seven days, on the +eighth they were obliged to proceed on their journey, and, on the fourth day +after, he said that they came to a place where they could see from above a line +of light, straight as a column, extending right through the whole heaven and +through the earth, in colour resembling the rainbow, only brighter and purer; +another day’s journey brought them to the place, and there, in the midst +of the light, they saw the ends of the chains of heaven let down from above: +for this light is the belt of heaven, and holds together the circle of the +universe, like the under-girders of a trireme. From these ends is extended the +spindle of Necessity, on which all the revolutions turn. The shaft and hook of +this spindle are made of steel, and the whorl is made partly of steel and also +partly of other materials. Now the whorl is in form like the whorl used on +earth; and the description of it implied that there is one large hollow whorl +which is quite scooped out, and into this is fitted another lesser one, and +another, and another, and four others, making eight in all, like vessels which +fit into one another; the whorls show their edges on the upper side, and on +their lower side all together form one continuous whorl. This is pierced by the +spindle, which is driven home through the centre of the eighth. The first and +outermost whorl has the rim broadest, and the seven inner whorls are narrower, +in the following proportions—the sixth is next to the first in size, the +fourth next to the sixth; then comes the eighth; the seventh is fifth, the +fifth is sixth, the third is seventh, last and eighth comes the second. The +largest (or fixed stars) is spangled, and the seventh (or sun) is brightest; +the eighth (or moon) coloured by the reflected light of the seventh; the second +and fifth (Saturn and Mercury) are in colour like one another, and yellower +than the preceding; the third (Venus) has the whitest light; the fourth (Mars) +is reddish; the sixth (Jupiter) is in whiteness second. Now the whole spindle +has the same motion; but, as the whole revolves in one direction, the seven +inner circles move slowly in the other, and of these the swiftest is the +eighth; next in swiftness are the seventh, sixth, and fifth, which move +together; third in swiftness appeared to move according to the law of this +reversed motion the fourth; the third appeared fourth and the second fifth. The +spindle turns on the knees of Necessity; and on the upper surface of each +circle is a siren, who goes round with them, hymning a single tone or note. The +eight together form one harmony; and round about, at equal intervals, there is +another band, three in number, each sitting upon her throne: these are the +Fates, daughters of Necessity, who are clothed in white robes and have chaplets +upon their heads, Lachesis and Clotho and Atropos, who accompany with their +voices the harmony of the sirens—Lachesis singing of the past, Clotho of +the present, Atropos of the future; Clotho from time to time assisting with a +touch of her right hand the revolution of the outer circle of the whorl or +spindle, and Atropos with her left hand touching and guiding the inner ones, +and Lachesis laying hold of either in turn, first with one hand and then with +the other. +</p> + +<p> +When Er and the spirits arrived, their duty was to go at once to Lachesis; but +first of all there came a prophet who arranged them in order; then he took from +the knees of Lachesis lots and samples of lives, and having mounted a high +pulpit, spoke as follows: ‘Hear the word of Lachesis, the daughter of +Necessity. Mortal souls, behold a new cycle of life and mortality. Your genius +will not be allotted to you, but you will choose your genius; and let him who +draws the first lot have the first choice, and the life which he chooses shall +be his destiny. Virtue is free, and as a man honours or dishonours her he will +have more or less of her; the responsibility is with the chooser—God is +justified.’ When the Interpreter had thus spoken he scattered lots +indifferently among them all, and each of them took up the lot which fell near +him, all but Er himself (he was not allowed), and each as he took his lot +perceived the number which he had obtained. Then the Interpreter placed on the +ground before them the samples of lives; and there were many more lives than +the souls present, and they were of all sorts. There were lives of every animal +and of man in every condition. And there were tyrannies among them, some +lasting out the tyrant’s life, others which broke off in the middle and +came to an end in poverty and exile and beggary; and there were lives of famous +men, some who were famous for their form and beauty as well as for their +strength and success in games, or, again, for their birth and the qualities of +their ancestors; and some who were the reverse of famous for the opposite +qualities. And of women likewise; there was not, however, any definite +character in them, because the soul, when choosing a new life, must of +necessity become different. But there was every other quality, and the all +mingled with one another, and also with elements of wealth and poverty, and +disease and health; and there were mean states also. And here, my dear Glaucon, +is the supreme peril of our human state; and therefore the utmost care should +be taken. Let each one of us leave every other kind of knowledge and seek and +follow one thing only, if peradventure he may be able to learn and may find +some one who will make him able to learn and discern between good and evil, and +so to choose always and everywhere the better life as he has opportunity. He +should consider the bearing of all these things which have been mentioned +severally and collectively upon virtue; he should know what the effect of +beauty is when combined with poverty or wealth in a particular soul, and what +are the good and evil consequences of noble and humble birth, of private and +public station, of strength and weakness, of cleverness and dullness, and of +all the natural and acquired gifts of the soul, and the operation of them when +conjoined; he will then look at the nature of the soul, and from the +consideration of all these qualities he will be able to determine which is the +better and which is the worse; and so he will choose, giving the name of evil +to the life which will make his soul more unjust, and good to the life which +will make his soul more just; all else he will disregard. For we have seen and +know that this is the best choice both in life and after death. A man must take +with him into the world below an adamantine faith in truth and right, that +there too he may be undazzled by the desire of wealth or the other allurements +of evil, lest, coming upon tyrannies and similar villainies, he do irremediable +wrongs to others and suffer yet worse himself; but let him know how to choose +the mean and avoid the extremes on either side, as far as possible, not only in +this life but in all that which is to come. For this is the way of happiness. +</p> + +<p> +And according to the report of the messenger from the other world this was what +the prophet said at the time: ‘Even for the last comer, if he chooses +wisely and will live diligently, there is appointed a happy and not undesirable +existence. Let not him who chooses first be careless, and let not the last +despair.’ And when he had spoken, he who had the first choice came +forward and in a moment chose the greatest tyranny; his mind having been +darkened by folly and sensuality, he had not thought out the whole matter +before he chose, and did not at first sight perceive that he was fated, among +other evils, to devour his own children. But when he had time to reflect, and +saw what was in the lot, he began to beat his breast and lament over his +choice, forgetting the proclamation of the prophet; for, instead of throwing +the blame of his misfortune on himself, he accused chance and the gods, and +everything rather than himself. Now he was one of those who came from heaven, +and in a former life had dwelt in a well-ordered State, but his virtue was a +matter of habit only, and he had no philosophy. And it was true of others who +were similarly overtaken, that the greater number of them came from heaven and +therefore they had never been schooled by trial, whereas the pilgrims who came +from earth having themselves suffered and seen others suffer, were not in a +hurry to choose. And owing to this inexperience of theirs, and also because the +lot was a chance, many of the souls exchanged a good destiny for an evil or an +evil for a good. For if a man had always on his arrival in this world dedicated +himself from the first to sound philosophy, and had been moderately fortunate +in the number of the lot, he might, as the messenger reported, be happy here, +and also his journey to another life and return to this, instead of being rough +and underground, would be smooth and heavenly. Most curious, he said, was the +spectacle—sad and laughable and strange; for the choice of the souls was +in most cases based on their experience of a previous life. There he saw the +soul which had once been Orpheus choosing the life of a swan out of enmity to +the race of women, hating to be born of a woman because they had been his +murderers; he beheld also the soul of Thamyras choosing the life of a +nightingale; birds, on the other hand, like the swan and other musicians, +wanting to be men. The soul which obtained the twentieth lot chose the life of +a lion, and this was the soul of Ajax the son of Telamon, who would not be a +man, remembering the injustice which was done him in the judgment about the +arms. The next was Agamemnon, who took the life of an eagle, because, like +Ajax, he hated human nature by reason of his sufferings. About the middle came +the lot of Atalanta; she, seeing the great fame of an athlete, was unable to +resist the temptation: and after her there followed the soul of Epeus the son +of Panopeus passing into the nature of a woman cunning in the arts; and far +away among the last who chose, the soul of the jester Thersites was putting on +the form of a monkey. There came also the soul of Odysseus having yet to make a +choice, and his lot happened to be the last of them all. Now the recollection +of former toils had disenchanted him of ambition, and he went about for a +considerable time in search of the life of a private man who had no cares; he +had some difficulty in finding this, which was lying about and had been +neglected by everybody else; and when he saw it, he said that he would have +done the same had his lot been first instead of last, and that he was delighted +to have it. And not only did men pass into animals, but I must also mention +that there were animals tame and wild who changed into one another and into +corresponding human natures—the good into the gentle and the evil into +the savage, in all sorts of combinations. +</p> + +<p> +All the souls had now chosen their lives, and they went in the order of their +choice to Lachesis, who sent with them the genius whom they had severally +chosen, to be the guardian of their lives and the fulfiller of the choice: this +genius led the souls first to Clotho, and drew them within the revolution of +the spindle impelled by her hand, thus ratifying the destiny of each; and then, +when they were fastened to this, carried them to Atropos, who spun the threads +and made them irreversible, whence without turning round they passed beneath +the throne of Necessity; and when they had all passed, they marched on in a +scorching heat to the plain of Forgetfulness, which was a barren waste +destitute of trees and verdure; and then towards evening they encamped by the +river of Unmindfulness, whose water no vessel can hold; of this they were all +obliged to drink a certain quantity, and those who were not saved by wisdom +drank more than was necessary; and each one as he drank forgot all things. Now +after they had gone to rest, about the middle of the night there was a +thunderstorm and earthquake, and then in an instant they were driven upwards in +all manner of ways to their birth, like stars shooting. He himself was hindered +from drinking the water. But in what manner or by what means he returned to the +body he could not say; only, in the morning, awaking suddenly, he found himself +lying on the pyre. +</p> + +<p> +And thus, Glaucon, the tale has been saved and has not perished, and will save +us if we are obedient to the word spoken; and we shall pass safely over the +river of Forgetfulness and our soul will not be defiled. Wherefore my counsel +is, that we hold fast ever to the heavenly way and follow after justice and +virtue always, considering that the soul is immortal and able to endure every +sort of good and every sort of evil. Thus shall we live dear to one another and +to the gods, both while remaining here and when, like conquerors in the games +who go round to gather gifts, we receive our reward. And it shall be well with +us both in this life and in the pilgrimage of a thousand years which we have +been describing. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE REPUBLIC ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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