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THERE IS\nAN IMPROVED EDITION OF THIS TITLE WHICH MAY BE VIEWED AT EBOOK (#55201)\n**********************************************************************\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE REPUBLIC\n\nby Plato\n\n(360 B.C.)\n\n\ntranslated by Benjamin Jowett\n\n\n\n\nTHE INTRODUCTION\n\nTHE Republic of Plato is the longest of his works with the exception of\nthe Laws, and is certainly the greatest of them.  There are nearer\napproaches to modern metaphysics in the Philebus and in the Sophist;\nthe Politicus or Statesman is more ideal; the form and institutions of\nthe State are more clearly drawn out in the Laws; as works of art, the\nSymposium and the Protagoras are of higher excellence.  But no other\nDialogue of Plato has the same largeness of view and the same\nperfection of style; no other shows an equal knowledge of the world, or\ncontains more of those thoughts which are new as well as old, and not\nof one age only but of all.  Nowhere in Plato is there a deeper irony\nor a greater wealth of humor or imagery, or more dramatic power.  Nor\nin any other of his writings is the attempt made to interweave life and\nspeculation, or to connect politics with philosophy.  The Republic is\nthe centre around which the other Dialogues may be grouped; here\nphilosophy reaches the highest point to which ancient thinkers ever\nattained.  Plato among the Greeks, like Bacon among the moderns, was\nthe first who conceived a method of knowledge, although neither of them\nalways distinguished the bare outline or form from the substance of\ntruth; and both of them had to be content with an abstraction of\nscience which was not yet realized.  He was the greatest metaphysical\ngenius whom the world has seen; and in him, more than in any other\nancient thinker, the germs of future knowledge are contained.  The\nsciences of logic and psychology, which have supplied so many\ninstruments of thought to after-ages, are based upon the analyses of\nSocrates and Plato.  The principles of definition, the law of\ncontradiction, the fallacy of arguing in a circle, the distinction\nbetween the essence and accidents of a thing or notion, between means\nand ends, between causes and conditions; also the division of the mind\ninto the rational, concupiscent, and irascible elements, or of\npleasures and desires into necessary and unnecessary--these and other\ngreat forms of thought are all of them to be found in the Republic, and\nwere probably first invented by Plato.  The greatest of all logical\ntruths, and the one of which writers on philosophy are most apt to lose\nsight, the difference between words and things, has been most\nstrenuously insisted on by him, although he has not always avoided the\nconfusion of them in his own writings.  But he does not bind up truth\nin logical formulae,--logic is still veiled in metaphysics; and the\nscience which he imagines to \"contemplate all truth and all existence\"\nis very unlike the doctrine of the syllogism which Aristotle claims to\nhave discovered.\n\nNeither must we forget that the Republic is but the third part of a\nstill larger design which was to have included an ideal history of\nAthens, as well as a political and physical philosophy.  The fragment\nof the Critias has given birth to a world-famous fiction, second only\nin importance to the tale of Troy and the legend of Arthur; and is said\nas a fact to have inspired some of the early navigators of the\nsixteenth century.  This mythical tale, of which the subject was a\nhistory of the wars of the Athenians against the Island of Atlantis, is\nsupposed to be founded upon an unfinished poem of Solon, to which it\nwould have stood in the same relation as the writings of the\nlogographers to the poems of Homer.  It would have told of a struggle\nfor Liberty, intended to represent the conflict of Persia and Hellas.\nWe may judge from the noble commencement of the Timaeus, from the\nfragment of the Critias itself, and from the third book of the Laws, in\nwhat manner Plato would have treated this high argument.  We can only\nguess why the great design was abandoned; perhaps because Plato became\nsensible of some incongruity in a fictitious history, or because he had\nlost his interest in it, or because advancing years forbade the\ncompletion of it; and we may please ourselves with the fancy that had\nthis imaginary narrative ever been finished, we should have found Plato\nhimself sympathizing with the struggle for Hellenic independence,\nsinging a hymn of triumph over Marathon and Salamis, perhaps making the\nreflection of Herodotus where he contemplates the growth of the\nAthenian empire--\"How brave a thing is freedom of speech, which has\nmade the Athenians so far exceed every other state of Hellas in\ngreatness!\" or, more probably, attributing the victory to the ancient\ngood order of Athens and to the favor of Apollo and Athene.\n\nAgain, Plato may be regarded as the \"captain\" ('arhchegoz') or leader\nof a goodly band of followers; for in the Republic is to be found the\noriginal of Cicero's De Republica, of St. Augustine's City of God, of\nthe Utopia of Sir Thomas More, and of the numerous other imaginary\nStates which are framed upon the same model.  The extent to which\nAristotle or the Aristotelian school were indebted to him in the\nPolitics has been little recognized, and the recognition is the more\nnecessary because it is not made by Aristotle himself.  The two\nphilosophers had more in common than they were conscious of; and\nprobably some elements of Plato remain still undetected in Aristotle.\nIn English philosophy too, many affinities may be traced, not only in\nthe works of the Cambridge Platonists, but in great original writers\nlike Berkeley or Coleridge, to Plato and his ideas.  That there is a\ntruth higher than experience, of which the mind bears witness to\nherself, is a conviction which in our own generation has been\nenthusiastically asserted, and is perhaps gaining ground.  Of the Greek\nauthors who at the Renaissance brought a new life into the world Plato\nhas had the greatest influence.  The Republic of Plato is also the\nfirst treatise upon education, of which the writings of Milton and\nLocke, Rousseau, Jean Paul, and Goethe are the legitimate descendants.\nLike Dante or Bunyan, he has a revelation of another life; like Bacon,\nhe is profoundly impressed with the unity of knowledge; in the early\nChurch he exercised a real influence on theology, and at the Revival of\nLiterature on politics.  Even the fragments of his words when \"repeated\nat second-hand\" have in all ages ravished the hearts of men, who have\nseen reflected in them their own higher nature.  He is the father of\nidealism in philosophy, in politics, in literature.  And many of the\nlatest conceptions of modern thinkers and statesmen, such as the unity\nof knowledge, the reign of law, and the equality of the sexes, have\nbeen anticipated in a dream by him.\n\n\n\nARGUMENT\n\nThe argument of the Republic is the search after Justice, the nature of\nwhich is first hinted at by Cephalus, the just and blameless old\nman--then discussed on the basis of proverbial morality by Socrates and\nPolemarchus--then caricatured by Thrasymachus and partially explained\nby Socrates--reduced to an abstraction by Glaucon and Adeimantus, and\nhaving become invisible in the individual reappears at length in the\nideal State which is constructed by Socrates.  The first care of the\nrulers is to be education, of which an outline is drawn after the old\nHellenic model, providing only for an improved religion and morality,\nand more simplicity in music and gymnastic, a manlier strain of poetry,\nand greater harmony of the individual and the State.  We are thus led\non to the conception of a higher State, in which \"no man calls anything\nhis own,\" and in which there is neither \"marrying nor giving in\nmarriage,\" and \"kings are philosophers\" and \"philosophers are kings;\"\nand there is another and higher education, intellectual as well as\nmoral and religious, of science as well as of art, and not of youth\nonly but of the whole of life.  Such a State is hardly to be realized\nin this world and would quickly degenerate.  To the perfect ideal\nsucceeds the government of the soldier and the lover of honor, this\nagain declining into democracy, and democracy into tyranny, in an\nimaginary but regular order having not much resemblance to the actual\nfacts.  When \"the wheel has come full circle\" we do not begin again\nwith a new period of human life; but we have passed from the best to\nthe worst, and there we end.  The subject is then changed and the old\nquarrel of poetry and philosophy which had been more lightly treated in\nthe earlier books of the Republic is now resumed and fought out to a\nconclusion.  Poetry is discovered to be an imitation thrice removed\nfrom the truth, and Homer, as well as the dramatic poets, having been\ncondemned as an imitator, is sent into banishment along with them.  And\nthe idea of the State is supplemented by the revelation of a future\nlife.\n\nThe division into books, like all similar divisions, is probably later\nthan the age of Plato.  The natural divisions are five in number;--(1)\nBook I and the first half of Book II down to the paragraph beginning,\n\"I had always admired the genius of Glaucon and Adeimantus,\" which is\nintroductory; the first book containing a refutation of the popular and\nsophistical notions of justice, and concluding, like some of the\nearlier Dialogues, without arriving at any definite result.  To this is\nappended a restatement of the nature of justice according to common\nopinion, and an answer is demanded to the question--What is justice,\nstripped of appearances?  The second division (2) includes the\nremainder of the second and the whole of the third and fourth books,\nwhich are mainly occupied with the construction of the first State and\nthe first education.  The third division (3) consists of the fifth,\nsixth, and seventh books, in which philosophy rather than justice is\nthe subject of inquiry, and the second State is constructed on\nprinciples of communism and ruled by philosophers, and the\ncontemplation of the idea of good takes the place of the social and\npolitical virtues.  In the eighth and ninth books (4) the perversions\nof States and of the individuals who correspond to them are reviewed in\nsuccession; and the nature of pleasure and the principle of tyranny are\nfurther analyzed in the individual man.  The tenth book (5) is the\nconclusion of the whole, in which the relations of philosophy to poetry\nare finally determined, and the happiness of the citizens in this life,\nwhich has now been assured, is crowned by the vision of another.\n\nOr a more general division into two parts may be adopted; the first\n(Books I-IV) containing the description of a State framed generally in\naccordance with Hellenic notions of religion and morality, while in the\nsecond (Books V-X) the Hellenic State is transformed into an ideal\nkingdom of philosophy, of which all other governments are the\nperversions.  These two points of view are really opposed, and the\nopposition is only veiled by the genius of Plato.  The Republic, like\nthe Phaedrus, is an imperfect whole; the higher light of philosophy\nbreaks through the regularity of the Hellenic temple, which at last\nfades away into the heavens.  Whether this imperfection of structure\narises from an enlargement of the plan; or from the imperfect\nreconcilement in the writer's own mind of the struggling elements of\nthought which are now first brought together by him; or, perhaps, from\nthe composition of the work at different times--are questions, like the\nsimilar question about the Iliad and the Odyssey, which are worth\nasking, but which cannot have a distinct answer.  In the age of Plato\nthere was no regular mode of publication, and an author would have the\nless scruple in altering or adding to a work which was known only to a\nfew of his friends.  There is no absurdity in supposing that he may\nhave laid his labors aside for a time, or turned from one work to\nanother; and such interruptions would be more likely to occur in the\ncase of a long than of a short writing.  In all attempts to determine\nthe chronological he order of the Platonic writings on internal\nevidence, this uncertainty about any single Dialogue being composed at\none time is a disturbing element, which must be admitted to affect\nlonger works, such as the Republic and the Laws, more than shorter\nones.  But, on the other hand, the seeming discrepancies of the\nRepublic may only arise out of the discordant elements which the\nphilosopher has attempted to unite in a single whole, perhaps without\nbeing himself able to recognize the inconsistency which is obvious to\nus.  For there is a judgment of after ages which few great writers have\never been able to anticipate for themselves.  They do not perceive the\nwant of connection in their own writings, or the gaps in their systems\nwhich are visible enough to those who come after them.  In the\nbeginnings of literature and philosophy, amid the first efforts of\nthought and language, more inconsistencies occur than now, when the\npaths of speculation are well worn and the meaning of words precisely\ndefined.  For consistency, too, is the growth of time; and some of the\ngreatest creations of the human mind have been wanting in unity.  Tried\nby this test, several of the Platonic Dialogues, according to our\nmodern ideas, appear to be defective, but the deficiency is no proof\nthat they were composed at different times or by different hands.  And\nthe supposition that the Republic was written uninterruptedly and by a\ncontinuous effort is in some degree confirmed by the numerous\nreferences from one part of the work to another.\n\nThe second title, \"Concerning Justice,\" is not the one by which the\nRepublic is quoted, either by Aristotle or generally in antiquity, and,\nlike the other second titles of the Platonic Dialogues, may therefore\nbe assumed to be of later date.  Morgenstern and others have asked\nwhether the definition of justice, which is the professed aim, or the\nconstruction of the State is the principal argument of the work.  The\nanswer is, that the two blend in one, and are two faces of the same\ntruth; for justice is the order of the State, and the State is the\nvisible embodiment of justice under the conditions of human society.\nThe one is the soul and the other is the body, and the Greek ideal of\nthe State, as of the individual, is a fair mind in a fair body.  In\nHegelian phraseology the State is the reality of which justice is the\nideal.  Or, described in Christian language, the kingdom of God is\nwithin, and yet develops into a Church or external kingdom; \"the house\nnot made with hands, eternal in the heavens,\" is reduced to the\nproportions of an earthly building.  Or, to use a Platonic image,\njustice and the State are the warp and the woof which run through the\nwhole texture.  And when the constitution of the State is completed,\nthe conception of justice is not dismissed, but reappears under the\nsame or different names throughout the work, both as the inner law of\nthe individual soul, and finally as the principle of rewards and\npunishments in another life.  The virtues are based on justice, of\nwhich common honesty in buying and selling is the shadow, and justice\nis based on the idea of good, which is the harmony of the world, and is\nreflected both in the institutions of States and in motions of the\nheavenly bodies.  The Timaeus, which takes up the political rather than\nthe ethical side of the Republic, and is chiefly occupied with\nhypotheses concerning the outward world, yet contains many indications\nthat the same law is supposed to reign over the State, over nature, and\nover man.\n\nToo much, however, has been made of this question both in ancient and\nin modern times.  There is a stage of criticism in which all works,\nwhether of nature or of art, are referred to design.  Now in ancient\nwritings, and indeed in literature generally, there remains often a\nlarge element which was not comprehended in the original design.  For\nthe plan grows under the author's hand; new thoughts occur to him in\nthe act of writing; he has not worked out the argument to the end\nbefore he begins.  The reader who seeks to find some one idea under\nwhich the whole may be conceived, must necessarily seize on the vaguest\nand most general.  Thus Stallbaum, who is dissatisfied with the\nordinary explanations of the argument of the Republic, imagines himself\nto have found the true argument \"in the representation of human life in\na State perfected by justice and governed according to the idea of\ngood.\" There may be some use in such general descriptions, but they can\nhardly be said to express the design of the writer.  The truth is, that\nwe may as well speak of many designs as of one; nor need anything be\nexcluded from the plan of a great work to which the mind is naturally\nled by the association of ideas, and which does not interfere with the\ngeneral purpose.  What kind or degree of unity is to be sought after in\na building, in the plastic arts, in poetry, in prose, is a problem\nwhich has to be determined relatively to the subject-matter. To Plato\nhimself, the inquiry \"what was the intention of the writer,\" or \"what\nwas the principal argument of the Republic\" would have been hardly\nintelligible, and therefore had better be at once dismissed.\n\nIs not the Republic the vehicle of three or four great truths which, to\nPlato's own mind, are most naturally represented in the form of the\nState?  Just as in the Jewish prophets the reign of Messiah, or \"the\nday of the Lord,\" or the suffering Servant or people of God, or the\n\"Sun of righteousness with healing in his wings\" only convey, to us at\nleast, their great spiritual ideals, so through the Greek State Plato\nreveals to us his own thoughts about divine perfection, which is the\nidea of good--like the sun in the visible world;--about human\nperfection, which is justice--about education beginning in youth and\ncontinuing in later years--about poets and sophists and tyrants who are\nthe false teachers and evil rulers of mankind--about \"the world\" which\nis the embodiment of them--about a kingdom which exists nowhere upon\nearth but is laid up in heaven to be the pattern and rule of human\nlife.  No such inspired creation is at unity with itself, any more than\nthe clouds of heaven when the sun pierces through them.  Every shade of\nlight and dark, of truth, and of fiction which is the veil of truth, is\nallowable in a work of philosophical imagination.  It is not all on the\nsame plane; it easily passes from ideas to myths and fancies, from\nfacts to figures of speech.  It is not prose but poetry, at least a\ngreat part of it, and ought not to be judged by the rules of logic or\nthe probabilities of history.  The writer is not fashioning his ideas\ninto an artistic whole; they take possession of him and are too much\nfor him.  We have no need therefore to discuss whether a State such as\nPlato has conceived is practicable or not, or whether the outward form\nor the inward life came first into the mind of the writer.  For the\npracticability of his ideas has nothing to do with their truth; and the\nhighest thoughts to which he attains may be truly said to bear the\ngreatest \"marks of design\"--justice more than the external frame-work\nof the State, the idea of good more than justice.  The great science of\ndialectic or the organization of ideas has no real content; but is only\na type of the method or spirit in which the higher knowledge is to be\npursued by the spectator of all time and all existence.  It is in the\nfifth, sixth, and seventh books that Plato reaches the \"summit of\nspeculation,\" and these, although they fail to satisfy the requirements\nof a modern thinker, may therefore be regarded as the most important,\nas they are also the most original, portions of the work.\n\nIt is not necessary to discuss at length a minor question which has\nbeen raised by Boeckh, respecting the imaginary date at which the\nconversation was held (the year 411 B. C. which is proposed by him will\ndo as well as any other); for a writer of fiction, and especially a\nwriter who, like Plato, is notoriously careless of chronology, only\naims at general probability.  Whether all the persons mentioned in the\nRepublic could ever have met at any one time is not a difficulty which\nwould have occurred to an Athenian reading the work forty years later,\nor to Plato himself at the time of writing (any more than to\nShakespeare respecting one of his own dramas); and need not greatly\ntrouble us now.  Yet this may be a question having no answer \"which is\nstill worth asking,\" because the investigation shows that we can not\nargue historically from the dates in Plato; it would be useless\ntherefore to waste time in inventing far-fetched reconcilements of them\nin order avoid chronological difficulties, such, for example, as the\nconjecture of C. F. Hermann, that Glaucon and Adeimantus are not the\nbrothers but the uncles of Plato, or the fancy of Stallbaum that Plato\nintentionally left anachronisms indicating the dates at which some of\nhis Dialogues were written.\n\n\n\nCHARACTERS\n\nThe principal characters in the Republic are Cephalus, Polemarchus,\nThrasymachus, Socrates, Glaucon, and Adeimantus.  Cephalus appears in\nthe introduction only, Polemarchus drops at the end of the first\nargument, and Thrasymachus is reduced to silence at the close of the\nfirst book.  The main discussion is carried on by Socrates, Glaucon,\nand Adeimantus.  Among the company are Lysias (the orator) and\nEuthydemus, the sons of Cephalus and brothers of Polemarchus, an\nunknown Charmantides--these are mute auditors; also there is\nCleitophon, who once interrupts, where, as in the Dialogue which bears\nhis name, he appears as the friend and ally of Thrasymachus.\n\nCephalus, the patriarch of house, has been appropriately engaged in\noffering a sacrifice.  He is the pattern of an old man who has almost\ndone with life, and is at peace with himself and with all mankind.  He\nfeels that he is drawing nearer to the world below, and seems to linger\naround the memory of the past.  He is eager that Socrates should come\nto visit him, fond of the poetry of the last generation, happy in the\nconsciousness of a well-spent life, glad at having escaped from the\ntyranny of youthful lusts.  His love of conversation, his affection,\nhis indifference to riches, even his garrulity, are interesting traits\nof character.  He is not one of those who have nothing to say, because\ntheir whole mind has been absorbed in making money.  Yet he\nacknowledges that riches have the advantage of placing men above the\ntemptation to dishonesty or falsehood.  The respectful attention shown\nto him by Socrates, whose love of conversation, no less than the\nmission imposed upon him by the Oracle, leads him to ask questions of\nall men, young and old alike, should also be noted.  Who better suited\nto raise the question of justice than Cephalus, whose life might seem\nto be the expression of it?  The moderation with which old age is\npictured by Cephalus as a very tolerable portion of existence is\ncharacteristic, not only of him, but of Greek feeling generally, and\ncontrasts with the exaggeration of Cicero in the De Senectute.  The\nevening of life is described by Plato in the most expressive manner,\nyet with the fewest possible touches.  As Cicero remarks (Ep. ad Attic.\niv. 16), the aged Cephalus would have been out of place in the\ndiscussion which follows, and which he could neither have understood\nnor taken part in without a violation of dramatic propriety.\n\nHis \"son and heir\" Polemarchus has the frankness and impetuousness of\nyouth; he is for detaining Socrates by force in the opening scene, and\nwill not \"let him off\" on the subject of women and children.  Like\nCephalus, he is limited in his point of view, and represents the\nproverbial stage of morality which has rules of life rather than\nprinciples; and he quotes Simonides as his father had quoted Pindar.\nBut after this he has no more to say; the answers which he makes are\nonly elicited from him by the dialectic of Socrates.  He has not yet\nexperienced the influence of the Sophists like Glaucon and Adeimantus,\nnor is he sensible of the necessity of refuting them; he belongs to the\npre-Socratic or pre-dialectical age.  He is incapable of arguing, and\nis bewildered by Socrates to such a degree that he does not know what\nhe is saying.  He is made to admit that justice is a thief, and that\nthe virtues follow the analogy of the arts.  From his brother Lysias we\nlearn that he fell a victim to the Thirty Tyrants, but no allusion is\nhere made to his fate, nor to the circumstance that Cephalus and his\nfamily were of Syracusan origin, and had migrated from Thurii to Athens.\n\nThe \"Chalcedonian giant,\" Thrasymachus, of whom we have already heard\nin the Phaedrus, is the personification of the Sophists, according to\nPlato's conception of them, in some of their worst characteristics.  He\nis vain and blustering, refusing to discourse unless he is paid, fond\nof making an oration, and hoping thereby to escape the inevitable\nSocrates; but a mere child in argument, and unable to foresee that the\nnext \"move\" (to use a Platonic expression) will \"shut him up.\"  He has\nreached the stage of framing general notions, and in this respect is in\nadvance of Cephalus and Polemarchus.  But he is incapable of defending\nthem in a discussion, and vainly tries to cover his confusion in banter\nand insolence.  Whether such doctrines as are attributed to him by\nPlato were really held either by him or by any other Sophist is\nuncertain; in the infancy of philosophy serious errors about morality\nmight easily grow up--they are certainly put into the mouths of\nspeakers in Thucydides; but we are concerned at present with Plato's\ndescription of him, and not with the historical reality.  The\ninequality of the contest adds greatly to the humor of the scene.  The\npompous and empty Sophist is utterly helpless in the hands of the great\nmaster of dialectic, who knows how to touch all the springs of vanity\nand weakness in him.  He is greatly irritated by the irony of Socrates,\nbut his noisy and imbecile rage only lays him more and more open to the\nthrusts of his assailant.  His determination to cram down their\nthroats, or put \"bodily into their souls\" his own words, elicits a cry\nof horror from Socrates.  The state of his temper is quite as worthy of\nremark as the process of the argument.  Nothing is more amusing than\nhis complete submission when he has been once thoroughly beaten.  At\nfirst he seems to continue the discussion with reluctance, but soon\nwith apparent good-will, and he even testifies his interest at a later\nstage by one or two occasional remarks.  When attacked by Glaucon he is\nhumorously protected by Socrates \"as one who has never been his enemy\nand is now his friend.\" From Cicero and Quintilian and from Aristotle's\nRhetoric we learn that the Sophist whom Plato has made so ridiculous\nwas a man of note whose writings were preserved in later ages.  The\nplay on his name which was made by his contemporary Herodicus, \"thou\nwast ever bold in battle,\" seems to show that the description of him is\nnot devoid of verisimilitude.\n\nWhen Thrasymachus has been silenced, the two principal respondents,\nGlaucon and Adeimantus, appear on the scene:  here, as in Greek\ntragedy, three actors are introduced.  At first sight the two sons of\nAriston may seem to wear a family likeness, like the two friends\nSimmias and Cebes in the Phaedo.  But on a nearer examination of them\nthe similarity vanishes, and they are seen to be distinct characters.\nGlaucon is the impetuous youth who can \"just never have enough of\nfechting\" (cf. the character of him in Xen. Mem. iii. 6); the man of\npleasure who is acquainted with the mysteries of love; the \"juvenis qui\ngaudet canibus,\" and who improves the breed of animals; the lover of\nart and music who has all the experiences of youthful life.  He is full\nof quickness and penetration, piercing easily below the clumsy\nplatitudes of Thrasymachus to the real difficulty; he turns out to the\nlight the seamy side of human life, and yet does not lose faith in the\njust and true.  It is Glaucon who seizes what may be termed the\nludicrous relation of the philosopher to the world, to whom a state of\nsimplicity is \"a city of pigs,\" who is always prepared with a jest when\nthe argument offers him an opportunity, and who is ever ready to second\nthe humor of Socrates and to appreciate the ridiculous, whether in the\nconnoisseurs of music, or in the lovers of theatricals, or in the\nfantastic behavior of the citizens of democracy.  His weaknesses are\nseveral times alluded to by Socrates, who, however, will not allow him\nto be attacked by his brother Adeimantus.  He is a soldier, and, like\nAdeimantus, has been distinguished at the battle of Megara.\n\nThe character of Adeimantus is deeper and graver, and the profounder\nobjections are commonly put into his mouth.  Glaucon is more\ndemonstrative, and generally opens the game.  Adeimantus pursues the\nargument further.  Glaucon has more of the liveliness and quick\nsympathy of youth; Adeimantus has the maturer judgment of a grown-up\nman of the world.  In the second book, when Glaucon insists that\njustice and injustice shall be considered without regard to their\nconsequences, Adeimantus remarks that they are regarded by mankind in\ngeneral only for the sake of their consequences; and in a similar vein\nof reflection he urges at the beginning of the fourth book that\nSocrates falls in making his citizens happy, and is answered that\nhappiness is not the first but the second thing, not the direct aim but\nthe indirect consequence of the good government of a State.  In the\ndiscussion about religion and mythology, Adeimantus is the respondent,\nbut Glaucon breaks in with a slight jest, and carries on the\nconversation in a lighter tone about music and gymnastic to the end of\nthe book.  It is Adeimantus again who volunteers the criticism of\ncommon sense on the Socratic method of argument, and who refuses to let\nSocrates pass lightly over the question of women and children.  It is\nAdeimantus who is the respondent in the more argumentative, as Glaucon\nin the lighter and more imaginative portions of the Dialogue.  For\nexample, throughout the greater part of the sixth book, the causes of\nthe corruption of philosophy and the conception of the idea of good are\ndiscussed with Adeimantus.  Then Glaucon resumes his place of principal\nrespondent; but he has a difficulty in apprehending the higher\neducation of Socrates, and makes some false hits in the course of the\ndiscussion.  Once more Adeimantus returns with the allusion to his\nbrother Glaucon whom he compares to the contentious State; in the next\nbook he is again superseded, and Glaucon continues to the end.\n\nThus in a succession of characters Plato represents the successive\nstages of morality, beginning with the Athenian gentleman of the olden\ntime, who is followed by the practical man of that day regulating his\nlife by proverbs and saws; to him succeeds the wild generalization of\nthe Sophists, and lastly come the young disciples of the great teacher,\nwho know the sophistical arguments but will not be convinced by them,\nand desire to go deeper into the nature of things.  These too, like\nCephalus, Polemarchus, Thrasymachus, are clearly distinguished from one\nanother.  Neither in the Republic, nor in any other Dialogue of Plato,\nis a single character repeated.\n\nThe delineation of Socrates in the Republic is not wholly consistent.\nIn the first book we have more of the real Socrates, such as he is\ndepicted in the Memorabilia of Xenophon, in the earliest Dialogues of\nPlato, and in the Apology.  He is ironical, provoking, questioning, the\nold enemy of the Sophists, ready to put on the mask of Silenus as well\nas to argue seriously.  But in the sixth book his enmity towards the\nSophists abates; he acknowledges that they are the representatives\nrather than the corrupters of the world.  He also becomes more dogmatic\nand constructive, passing beyond the range either of the political or\nthe speculative ideas of the real Socrates.  In one passage Plato\nhimself seems to intimate that the time had now come for Socrates, who\nhad passed his whole life in philosophy, to give his own opinion and\nnot to be always repeating the notions of other men.  There is no\nevidence that either the idea of good or the conception of a perfect\nState were comprehended in the Socratic teaching, though he certainly\ndwelt on the nature of the universal and of final causes (cp. Xen.\nMem. i. 4; Phaedo 97); and a deep thinker like him in his thirty or\nforty years of public teaching, could hardly have falled to touch on\nthe nature of family relations, for which there is also some positive\nevidence in the Memorabilia (Mem. i. 2, 51 foll.) The Socratic method\nis nominally retained; and every inference is either put into the mouth\nof the respondent or represented as the common discovery of him and\nSocrates.  But any one can see that this is a mere form, of which the\naffectation grows wearisome as the work advances.  The method of\ninquiry has passed into a method of teaching in which by the help of\ninterlocutors the same thesis is looked at from various points of view.\n\nThe nature of the process is truly characterized by Glaucon, when he\ndescribes himself as a companion who is not good for much in an\ninvestigation, but can see what he is shown, and may, perhaps, give the\nanswer to a question more fluently than another.\n\nNeither can we be absolutely certain that, Socrates himself taught the\nimmortality of the soul, which is unknown to his disciple Glaucon in\nthe Republic; nor is there any reason to suppose that he used myths or\nrevelations of another world as a vehicle of instruction, or that he\nwould have banished poetry or have denounced the Greek mythology.  His\nfavorite oath is retained, and a slight mention is made of the\ndaemonium, or internal sign, which is alluded to by Socrates as a\nphenomenon peculiar to himself.  A real element of Socratic teaching,\nwhich is more prominent in the Republic than in any of the other\nDialogues of Plato, is the use of example and illustration\n('taphorhtika auto prhospherhontez'): \"Let us apply the test of common\ninstances.\" \"You,\" says Adeimantus, ironically, in the sixth book, \"are\nso unaccustomed to speak in images.\"  And this use of examples or\nimages, though truly Socratic in origin, is enlarged by the genius of\nPlato into the form of an allegory or parable, which embodies in the\nconcrete what has been already described, or is about to be described,\nin the abstract.  Thus the figure of the cave in Book VII is a\nrecapitulation of the divisions of knowledge in Book VI.  The composite\nanimal in Book IX is an allegory of the parts of the soul.  The noble\ncaptain and the ship and the true pilot in Book VI are a figure of the\nrelation of the people to the philosophers in the State which has been\ndescribed.  Other figures, such as the dog in the second, third, and\nfourth books, or the marriage of the portionless maiden in the sixth\nbook, or the drones and wasps in the eighth and ninth books, also form\nlinks of connection in long passages, or are used to recall previous\ndiscussions.\n\nPlato is most true to the character of his master when he describes him\nas \"not of this world.\"  And with this representation of him the ideal\nState and the other paradoxes of the Republic are quite in accordance,\nthough they can not be shown to have been speculations of Socrates.  To\nhim, as to other great teachers both philosophical and religious, when\nthey looked upward, the world seemed to be the embodiment of error and\nevil.  The common sense of mankind has revolted against this view, or\nhas only partially admitted it.  And even in Socrates himself the\nsterner judgment of the multitude at times passes into a sort of\nironical pity or love.  Men in general are incapable of philosophy, and\nare therefore at enmity with the philosopher; but their\nmisunderstanding of him is unavoidable: for they have never seen him as\nhe truly is in his own image; they are only acquainted with artificial\nsystems possessing no native force of truth--words which admit of many\napplications.  Their leaders have nothing to measure with, and are\ntherefore ignorant of their own stature.  But they are to be pitied or\nlaughed at, not to be quarrelled with; they mean well with their\nnostrums, if they could only learn that they are cutting off a Hydra's\nhead.  This moderation towards those who are in error is one of the\nmost characteristic features of Socrates in the Republic.  In all the\ndifferent representations of Socrates, whether of Xenophon or Plato,\nand the differences of the earlier or later Dialogues, he always\nretains the character of the unwearied and disinterested seeker after\ntruth, without which he would have ceased to be Socrates.\n\nLeaving the characters we may now analyze the contents of the Republic,\nand then proceed to consider (1) The general aspects of this Hellenic\nideal of the State, (2) The modern lights in which the thoughts of\nPlato may be read.\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK I\n\n\nSOCRATES - GLAUCON\n\nI WENT down yesterday to the Piraeus with Glaucon the son of Ariston,\nthat I might offer up my prayers to the goddess; and also because I\nwanted to see in what manner they would celebrate the festival, which\nwas a new thing.  I was delighted with the procession of the\ninhabitants; but that of the Thracians was equally, if not more,\nbeautiful.  When we had finished our prayers and viewed the spectacle,\nwe turned in the direction of the city; and at that instant Polemarchus\nthe son of Cephalus chanced to catch sight of us from a distance as we\nwere starting on our way home, and told his servant to run and bid us\nwait for him.  The servant took hold of me by the cloak behind, and\nsaid: Polemarchus desires you to wait.\n\nI turned round, and asked him where his master was.\n\nThere he is, said the youth, coming after you, if you will only wait.\n\nCertainly we will, said Glaucon; and in a few minutes Polemarchus\nappeared, and with him Adeimantus, Glaucon's brother, Niceratus the son\nof Nicias, and several others who had been at the procession.\n\nSOCRATES - POLEMARCHUS - GLAUCON - ADEIMANTUS\n\nPolemarchus said to me:  I perceive, Socrates, that you and our\ncompanion are already on your way to the city.\n\nYou are not far wrong, I said.\n\nBut do you see, he rejoined, how many we are?\n\nOf course.\n\nAnd are you stronger than all these? for if not, you will have to\nremain where you are.\n\nMay there not be the alternative, I said, that we may persuade you to\nlet us go?\n\nBut can you persuade us, if we refuse to listen to you? he said.\n\nCertainly not, replied Glaucon.\n\nThen we are not going to listen; of that you may be assured.\n\nAdeimantus added:  Has no one told you of the torch-race on horseback\nin honour of the goddess which will take place in the evening?\n\nWith horses!  I replied:  That is a novelty.  Will horsemen carry\ntorches and pass them one to another during the race?\n\nYes, said Polemarchus, and not only so, but a festival will he\ncelebrated at night, which you certainly ought to see.  Let us rise\nsoon after supper and see this festival; there will be a gathering of\nyoung men, and we will have a good talk.  Stay then, and do not be\nperverse.\n\nGlaucon said:  I suppose, since you insist, that we must.\n\nVery good, I replied.\n\nGLAUCON - CEPHALUS - SOCRATES\n\nAccordingly we went with Polemarchus to his house; and there we found\nhis brothers Lysias and Euthydemus, and with them Thrasymachus the\nChalcedonian, Charmantides the Paeanian, and Cleitophon the son of\nAristonymus.  There too was Cephalus the father of Polemarchus, whom I\nhad not seen for a long time, and I thought him very much aged.  He was\nseated on a cushioned chair, and had a garland on his head, for he had\nbeen sacrificing in the court; and there were some other chairs in the\nroom arranged in a semicircle, upon which we sat down by him.  He\nsaluted me eagerly, and then he said:--\n\nYou don't come to see me, Socrates, as often as you ought: If I were\nstill able to go and see you I would not ask you to come to me.  But at\nmy age I can hardly get to the city, and therefore you should come\noftener to the Piraeus.  For let me tell you, that the more the\npleasures of the body fade away, the greater to me is the pleasure and\ncharm of conversation.  Do not then deny my request, but make our house\nyour resort and keep company with these young men; we are old friends,\nand you will be quite at home with us.\n\nI replied:  There is nothing which for my part I like better, Cephalus,\nthan conversing with aged men; for I regard them as travellers who have\ngone a journey which I too may have to go, and of whom I ought to\nenquire, whether the way is smooth and easy, or rugged and difficult.\nAnd this is a question which I should like to ask of you who have\narrived at that time which the poets call the 'threshold of old\nage'--Is life harder towards the end, or what report do you give of it?\n\nI will tell you, Socrates, he said, what my own feeling is.  Men of my\nage flock together; we are birds of a feather, as the old proverb says;\nand at our meetings the tale of my acquaintance commonly is--I cannot\neat, I cannot drink; the pleasures of youth and love are fled away:\nthere was a good time once, but now that is gone, and life is no longer\nlife.  Some complain of the slights which are put upon them by\nrelations, and they will tell you sadly of how many evils their old age\nis the cause.  But to me, Socrates, these complainers seem to blame\nthat which is not really in fault.  For if old age were the cause, I\ntoo being old, and every other old man, would have felt as they do.\nBut this is not my own experience, nor that of others whom I have\nknown.  How well I remember the aged poet Sophocles, when in answer to\nthe question, How does love suit with age, Sophocles,--are you still\nthe man you were?  Peace, he replied; most gladly have I escaped the\nthing of which you speak; I feel as if I had escaped from a mad and\nfurious master.  His words have often occurred to my mind since, and\nthey seem as good to me now as at the time when he uttered them.  For\ncertainly old age has a great sense of calm and freedom; when the\npassions relax their hold, then, as Sophocles says, we are freed from\nthe grasp not of one mad master only, but of many.  The truth is,\nSocrates, that these regrets, and also the complaints about relations,\nare to be attributed to the same cause, which is not old age, but men's\ncharacters and tempers; for he who is of a calm and happy nature will\nhardly feel the pressure of age, but to him who is of an opposite\ndisposition youth and age are equally a burden.\n\nI listened in admiration, and wanting to draw him out, that he might go\non--Yes, Cephalus, I said:  but I rather suspect that people in general\nare not convinced by you when you speak thus; they think that old age\nsits lightly upon you, not because of your happy disposition, but\nbecause you are rich, and wealth is well known to be a great comforter.\n\nYou are right, he replied; they are not convinced:  and there is\nsomething in what they say; not, however, so much as they imagine.  I\nmight answer them as Themistocles answered the Seriphian who was\nabusing him and saying that he was famous, not for his own merits but\nbecause he was an Athenian:  'If you had been a native of my country or\nI of yours, neither of us would have been famous.' And to those who are\nnot rich and are impatient of old age, the same reply may be made; for\nto the good poor man old age cannot be a light burden, nor can a bad\nrich man ever have peace with himself.\n\nMay I ask, Cephalus, whether your fortune was for the most part\ninherited or acquired by you?\n\nAcquired!  Socrates; do you want to know how much I acquired?  In the\nart of making money I have been midway between my father and\ngrandfather: for my grandfather, whose name I bear, doubled and trebled\nthe value of his patrimony, that which he inherited being much what I\npossess now; but my father Lysanias reduced the property below what it\nis at present: and I shall be satisfied if I leave to these my sons not\nless but a little more than I received.\n\nThat was why I asked you the question, I replied, because I see that\nyou are indifferent about money, which is a characteristic rather of\nthose who have inherited their fortunes than of those who have acquired\nthem; the makers of fortunes have a second love of money as a creation\nof their own, resembling the affection of authors for their own poems,\nor of parents for their children, besides that natural love of it for\nthe sake of use and profit which is common to them and all men.  And\nhence they are very bad company, for they can talk about nothing but\nthe praises of wealth.  That is true, he said.\n\nYes, that is very true, but may I ask another question?  What do you\nconsider to be the greatest blessing which you have reaped from your\nwealth?\n\nOne, he said, of which I could not expect easily to convince others.\nFor let me tell you, Socrates, that when a man thinks himself to be\nnear death, fears and cares enter into his mind which he never had\nbefore; the tales of a world below and the punishment which is exacted\nthere of deeds done here were once a laughing matter to him, but now he\nis tormented with the thought that they may be true: either from the\nweakness of age, or because he is now drawing nearer to that other\nplace, he has a clearer view of these things; suspicions and alarms\ncrowd thickly upon him, and he begins to reflect and consider what\nwrongs he has done to others.  And when he finds that the sum of his\ntransgressions is great he will many a time like a child start up in\nhis sleep for fear, and he is filled with dark forebodings.  But to him\nwho is conscious of no sin, sweet hope, as Pindar charmingly says, is\nthe kind nurse of his age:\n\n    Hope, he says, cherishes the soul of him who lives in\n    justice and holiness and is the nurse of his age and the\n    companion of his journey;--hope which is mightiest to sway\n    the restless soul of man.\n\nHow admirable are his words!  And the great blessing of riches, I do\nnot say to every man, but to a good man, is, that he has had no\noccasion to deceive or to defraud others, either intentionally or\nunintentionally; and when he departs to the world below he is not in\nany apprehension about offerings due to the gods or debts which he owes\nto men.  Now to this peace of mind the possession of wealth greatly\ncontributes; and therefore I say, that, setting one thing against\nanother, of the many advantages which wealth has to give, to a man of\nsense this is in my opinion the greatest.\n\nWell said, Cephalus, I replied; but as concerning justice, what is\nit?--to speak the truth and to pay your debts--no more than this?  And\neven to this are there not exceptions?  Suppose that a friend when in\nhis right mind has deposited arms with me and he asks for them when he\nis not in his right mind, ought I to give them back to him?  No one\nwould say that I ought or that I should be right in doing so, any more\nthan they would say that I ought always to speak the truth to one who\nis in his condition.\n\nYou are quite right, he replied.\n\nBut then, I said, speaking the truth and paying your debts is not a\ncorrect definition of justice.\n\nCEPHALUS - SOCRATES - POLEMARCHUS\n\nQuite correct, Socrates, if Simonides is to be believed, said\nPolemarchus interposing.\n\nI fear, said Cephalus, that I must go now, for I have to look after the\nsacrifices, and I hand over the argument to Polemarchus and the company.\n\nIs not Polemarchus your heir?  I said.\n\nTo be sure, he answered, and went away laughing to the sacrifices.\n\nSOCRATES - POLEMARCHUS\n\nTell me then, O thou heir of the argument, what did Simonides say, and\naccording to you truly say, about justice?\n\nHe said that the repayment of a debt is just, and in saying so he\nappears to me to be right.\n\nI should be sorry to doubt the word of such a wise and inspired man,\nbut his meaning, though probably clear to you, is the reverse of clear\nto me.  For he certainly does not mean, as we were now saying that I\nought to return a return a deposit of arms or of anything else to one\nwho asks for it when he is not in his right senses; and yet a deposit\ncannot be denied to be a debt.\n\nTrue.\n\nThen when the person who asks me is not in his right mind I am by no\nmeans to make the return?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nWhen Simonides said that the repayment of a debt was justice, he did\nnot mean to include that case?\n\nCertainly not; for he thinks that a friend ought always to do good to a\nfriend and never evil.\n\nYou mean that the return of a deposit of gold which is to the injury of\nthe receiver, if the two parties are friends, is not the repayment of a\ndebt,--that is what you would imagine him to say?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd are enemies also to receive what we owe to them?\n\nTo be sure, he said, they are to receive what we owe them, and an\nenemy, as I take it, owes to an enemy that which is due or proper to\nhim--that is to say, evil.\n\nSimonides, then, after the manner of poets, would seem to have spoken\ndarkly of the nature of justice; for he really meant to say that\njustice is the giving to each man what is proper to him, and this he\ntermed a debt.\n\nThat must have been his meaning, he said.\n\nBy heaven!  I replied; and if we asked him what due or proper thing is\ngiven by medicine, and to whom, what answer do you think that he would\nmake to us?\n\nHe would surely reply that medicine gives drugs and meat and drink to\nhuman bodies.\n\nAnd what due or proper thing is given by cookery, and to what?\n\nSeasoning to food.\n\nAnd what is that which justice gives, and to whom?\n\nIf, Socrates, we are to be guided at all by the analogy of the\npreceding instances, then justice is the art which gives good to\nfriends and evil to enemies.\n\nThat is his meaning then?\n\nI think so.\n\nAnd who is best able to do good to his friends and evil to his enemies\nin time of sickness?\n\nThe physician.\n\nOr when they are on a voyage, amid the perils of the sea?\n\nThe pilot.\n\nAnd in what sort of actions or with a view to what result is the just\nman most able to do harm to his enemy and good to his friends?\n\nIn going to war against the one and in making alliances with the other.\n\nBut when a man is well, my dear Polemarchus, there is no need of a\nphysician?\n\nNo.\n\nAnd he who is not on a voyage has no need of a pilot?\n\nNo.\n\nThen in time of peace justice will be of no use?\n\nI am very far from thinking so.\n\nYou think that justice may be of use in peace as well as in war?\n\nYes.\n\nLike husbandry for the acquisition of corn?\n\nYes.\n\nOr like shoemaking for the acquisition of shoes,--that is what you mean?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd what similar use or power of acquisition has justice in time of\npeace?\n\nIn contracts, Socrates, justice is of use.\n\nAnd by contracts you mean partnerships?\n\nExactly.\n\nBut is the just man or the skilful player a more useful and better\npartner at a game of draughts?\n\nThe skilful player.\n\nAnd in the laying of bricks and stones is the just man a more useful or\nbetter partner than the builder?\n\nQuite the reverse.\n\nThen in what sort of partnership is the just man a better partner than\nthe harp-player, as in playing the harp the harp-player is certainly a\nbetter partner than the just man?\n\nIn a money partnership.\n\nYes, Polemarchus, but surely not in the use of money; for you do not\nwant a just man to be your counsellor the purchase or sale of a horse;\na man who is knowing about horses would be better for that, would he\nnot?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd when you want to buy a ship, the shipwright or the pilot would be\nbetter?\n\nTrue.\n\nThen what is that joint use of silver or gold in which the just man is\nto be preferred?\n\nWhen you want a deposit to be kept safely.\n\nYou mean when money is not wanted, but allowed to lie?\n\nPrecisely.\n\nThat is to say, justice is useful when money is useless?\n\nThat is the inference.\n\nAnd when you want to keep a pruning-hook safe, then justice is useful\nto the individual and to the state; but when you want to use it, then\nthe art of the vine-dresser?\n\nClearly.\n\nAnd when you want to keep a shield or a lyre, and not to use them, you\nwould say that justice is useful; but when you want to use them, then\nthe art of the soldier or of the musician?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd so of all the other things;--justice is useful when they are\nuseless, and useless when they are useful?\n\nThat is the inference.\n\nThen justice is not good for much.  But let us consider this further\npoint:  Is not he who can best strike a blow in a boxing match or in\nany kind of fighting best able to ward off a blow?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd he who is most skilful in preventing or escaping from a disease is\nbest able to create one?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd he is the best guard of a camp who is best able to steal a march\nupon the enemy?\n\nCertainly.\n\nThen he who is a good keeper of anything is also a good thief?\n\nThat, I suppose, is to be inferred.\n\nThen if the just man is good at keeping money, he is good at stealing\nit.\n\nThat is implied in the argument.\n\nThen after all the just man has turned out to be a thief.  And this is\na lesson which I suspect you must have learnt out of Homer; for he,\nspeaking of Autolycus, the maternal grandfather of Odysseus, who is a\nfavourite of his, affirms that\n\n    He was excellent above all men in theft and perjury.\n\nAnd so, you and Homer and Simonides are agreed that justice is an art\nof theft; to be practised however 'for the good of friends and for the\nharm of enemies,'--that was what you were saying?\n\nNo, certainly not that, though I do not now know what I did say; but I\nstill stand by the latter words.\n\nWell, there is another question:  By friends and enemies do we mean\nthose who are so really, or only in seeming?\n\nSurely, he said, a man may be expected to love those whom he thinks\ngood, and to hate those whom he thinks evil.\n\nYes, but do not persons often err about good and evil: many who are not\ngood seem to be so, and conversely?\n\nThat is true.\n\nThen to them the good will be enemies and the evil will be their\nfriends?  True.\n\nAnd in that case they will be right in doing good to the evil and evil\nto the good?\n\nClearly.\n\nBut the good are just and would not do an injustice?\n\nTrue.\n\nThen according to your argument it is just to injure those who do no\nwrong?\n\nNay, Socrates; the doctrine is immoral.\n\nThen I suppose that we ought to do good to the just and harm to the\nunjust?\n\nI like that better.\n\nBut see the consequence:--Many a man who is ignorant of human nature\nhas friends who are bad friends, and in that case he ought to do harm\nto them; and he has good enemies whom he ought to benefit; but, if so,\nwe shall be saying the very opposite of that which we affirmed to be\nthe meaning of Simonides.\n\nVery true, he said:  and I think that we had better correct an error\ninto which we seem to have fallen in the use of the words 'friend' and\n'enemy.'\n\nWhat was the error, Polemarchus?  I asked.\n\nWe assumed that he is a friend who seems to be or who is thought good.\n\nAnd how is the error to be corrected?\n\nWe should rather say that he is a friend who is, as well as seems,\ngood; and that he who seems only, and is not good, only seems to be and\nis not a friend; and of an enemy the same may be said.\n\nYou would argue that the good are our friends and the bad our enemies?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd instead of saying simply as we did at first, that it is just to do\ngood to our friends and harm to our enemies, we should further say: It\nis just to do good to our friends when they are good and harm to our\nenemies when they are evil?\n\nYes, that appears to me to be the truth.\n\nBut ought the just to injure any one at all?\n\nUndoubtedly he ought to injure those who are both wicked and his\nenemies.\n\nWhen horses are injured, are they improved or deteriorated?\n\nThe latter.\n\nDeteriorated, that is to say, in the good qualities of horses, not of\ndogs?\n\nYes, of horses.\n\nAnd dogs are deteriorated in the good qualities of dogs, and not of\nhorses?\n\nOf course.\n\nAnd will not men who are injured be deteriorated in that which is the\nproper virtue of man?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd that human virtue is justice?\n\nTo be sure.\n\nThen men who are injured are of necessity made unjust?\n\nThat is the result.\n\nBut can the musician by his art make men unmusical?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nOr the horseman by his art make them bad horsemen?\n\nImpossible.\n\nAnd can the just by justice make men unjust, or speaking general can\nthe good by virtue make them bad?\n\nAssuredly not.\n\nAny more than heat can produce cold?\n\nIt cannot.\n\nOr drought moisture?\n\nClearly not.\n\nNor can the good harm any one?\n\nImpossible.\n\nAnd the just is the good?\n\nCertainly.\n\nThen to injure a friend or any one else is not the act of a just man,\nbut of the opposite, who is the unjust?\n\nI think that what you say is quite true, Socrates.\n\nThen if a man says that justice consists in the repayment of debts, and\nthat good is the debt which a man owes to his friends, and evil the\ndebt which he owes to his enemies,--to say this is not wise; for it is\nnot true, if, as has been clearly shown, the injuring of another can be\nin no case just.\n\nI agree with you, said Polemarchus.\n\nThen you and I are prepared to take up arms against any one who\nattributes such a saying to Simonides or Bias or Pittacus, or any other\nwise man or seer?\n\nI am quite ready to do battle at your side, he said.\n\nShall I tell you whose I believe the saying to be?\n\nWhose?\n\nI believe that Periander or Perdiccas or Xerxes or Ismenias the Theban,\nor some other rich and mighty man, who had a great opinion of his own\npower, was the first to say that justice is 'doing good to your friends\nand harm to your enemies.'\n\nMost true, he said.\n\nYes, I said; but if this definition of justice also breaks down, what\nother can be offered?\n\nSeveral times in the course of the discussion Thrasymachus had made an\nattempt to get the argument into his own hands, and had been put down\nby the rest of the company, who wanted to hear the end.  But when\nPolemarchus and I had done speaking and there was a pause, he could no\nlonger hold his peace; and, gathering himself up, he came at us like a\nwild beast, seeking to devour us.  We were quite panic-stricken at the\nsight of him.\n\nSOCRATES - POLEMARCHUS - THRASYMACHUS\n\nHe roared out to the whole company:  What folly.  Socrates, has taken\npossession of you all?  And why, sillybillies, do you knock under to\none another?  I say that if you want really to know what justice is,\nyou should not only ask but answer, and you should not seek honour to\nyourself from the refutation of an opponent, but have your own answer;\nfor there is many a one who can ask and cannot answer.  And now I will\nnot have you say that justice is duty or advantage or profit or gain or\ninterest, for this sort of nonsense will not do for me; I must have\nclearness and accuracy.\n\nI was panic-stricken at his words, and could not look at him without\ntrembling.  Indeed I believe that if I had not fixed my eye upon him, I\nshould have been struck dumb:  but when I saw his fury rising, I looked\nat him first, and was therefore able to reply to him.\n\nThrasymachus, I said, with a quiver, don't be hard upon us.\nPolemarchus and I may have been guilty of a little mistake in the\nargument, but I can assure you that the error was not intentional.  If\nwe were seeking for a piece of gold, you would not imagine that we were\n'knocking under to one another,' and so losing our chance of finding\nit.  And why, when we are seeking for justice, a thing more precious\nthan many pieces of gold, do you say that we are weakly yielding to one\nanother and not doing our utmost to get at the truth?  Nay, my good\nfriend, we are most willing and anxious to do so, but the fact is that\nwe cannot.  And if so, you people who know all things should pity us\nand not be angry with us.\n\nHow characteristic of Socrates! he replied, with a bitter\nlaugh;--that's your ironical style!  Did I not foresee--have I not\nalready told you, that whatever he was asked he would refuse to answer,\nand try irony or any other shuffle, in order that he might avoid\nanswering?\n\nYou are a philosopher, Thrasymachus, I replied, and well know that if\nyou ask a person what numbers make up twelve, taking care to prohibit\nhim whom you ask from answering twice six, or three times four, or six\ntimes two, or four times three, 'for this sort of nonsense will not do\nfor me,'--then obviously, that is your way of putting the question, no\none can answer you.  But suppose that he were to retort, 'Thrasymachus,\nwhat do you mean?  If one of these numbers which you interdict be the\ntrue answer to the question, am I falsely to say some other number\nwhich is not the right one?--is that your meaning?'--How would you\nanswer him?\n\nJust as if the two cases were at all alike! he said.\n\nWhy should they not be?  I replied; and even if they are not, but only\nappear to be so to the person who is asked, ought he not to say what he\nthinks, whether you and I forbid him or not?\n\nI presume then that you are going to make one of the interdicted\nanswers?\n\nI dare say that I may, notwithstanding the danger, if upon reflection I\napprove of any of them.\n\nBut what if I give you an answer about justice other and better, he\nsaid, than any of these?  What do you deserve to have done to you?\n\nDone to me!--as becomes the ignorant, I must learn from the wise--that\nis what I deserve to have done to me.\n\nWhat, and no payment! a pleasant notion!\n\nI will pay when I have the money, I replied.\n\nSOCRATES - THRASYMACHUS - GLAUCON\n\nBut you have, Socrates, said Glaucon:  and you, Thrasymachus, need be\nunder no anxiety about money, for we will all make a contribution for\nSocrates.\n\nYes, he replied, and then Socrates will do as he always does--refuse to\nanswer himself, but take and pull to pieces the answer of some one else.\n\nWhy, my good friend, I said, how can any one answer who knows, and says\nthat he knows, just nothing; and who, even if he has some faint notions\nof his own, is told by a man of authority not to utter them?  The\nnatural thing is, that the speaker should be some one like yourself who\nprofesses to know and can tell what he knows.  Will you then kindly\nanswer, for the edification of the company and of myself?\n\nGlaucon and the rest of the company joined in my request and\nThrasymachus, as any one might see, was in reality eager to speak; for\nhe thought that he had an excellent answer, and would distinguish\nhimself.  But at first he to insist on my answering; at length he\nconsented to begin.  Behold, he said, the wisdom of Socrates; he\nrefuses to teach himself, and goes about learning of others, to whom he\nnever even says thank you.\n\nThat I learn of others, I replied, is quite true; but that I am\nungrateful I wholly deny.  Money I have none, and therefore I pay in\npraise, which is all I have:  and how ready I am to praise any one who\nappears to me to speak well you will very soon find out when you\nanswer; for I expect that you will answer well.\n\nListen, then, he said; I proclaim that justice is nothing else than the\ninterest of the stronger.  And now why do you not me?  But of course\nyou won't.\n\nLet me first understand you, I replied.  Justice, as you say, is the\ninterest of the stronger.  What, Thrasymachus, is the meaning of this?\nYou cannot mean to say that because Polydamas, the pancratiast, is\nstronger than we are, and finds the eating of beef conducive to his\nbodily strength, that to eat beef is therefore equally for our good who\nare weaker than he is, and right and just for us?\n\nThat's abominable of you, Socrates; you take the words in the sense\nwhich is most damaging to the argument.\n\nNot at all, my good sir, I said; I am trying to understand them; and I\nwish that you would be a little clearer.\n\nWell, he said, have you never heard that forms of government differ;\nthere are tyrannies, and there are democracies, and there are\naristocracies?\n\nYes, I know.\n\nAnd the government is the ruling power in each state?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd the different forms of government make laws democratical,\naristocratical, tyrannical, with a view to their several interests; and\nthese laws, which are made by them for their own interests, are the\njustice which they deliver to their subjects, and him who transgresses\nthem they punish as a breaker of the law, and unjust.  And that is what\nI mean when I say that in all states there is the same principle of\njustice, which is the interest of the government; and as the government\nmust be supposed to have power, the only reasonable conclusion is, that\neverywhere there is one principle of justice, which is the interest of\nthe stronger.\n\nNow I understand you, I said; and whether you are right or not I will\ntry to discover.  But let me remark, that in defining justice you have\nyourself used the word 'interest' which you forbade me to use.  It is\ntrue, however, that in your definition the words 'of the stronger' are\nadded.\n\nA small addition, you must allow, he said.\n\nGreat or small, never mind about that:  we must first enquire whether\nwhat you are saying is the truth.  Now we are both agreed that justice\nis interest of some sort, but you go on to say 'of the stronger'; about\nthis addition I am not so sure, and must therefore consider further.\n\nProceed.\n\nI will; and first tell me, Do you admit that it is just or subjects to\nobey their rulers?\n\nI do.\n\nBut are the rulers of states absolutely infallible, or are they\nsometimes liable to err?\n\nTo be sure, he replied, they are liable to err.\n\nThen in making their laws they may sometimes make them rightly, and\nsometimes not?\n\nTrue.\n\nWhen they make them rightly, they make them agreeably to their\ninterest; when they are mistaken, contrary to their interest; you admit\nthat?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the laws which they make must be obeyed by their subjects,--and\nthat is what you call justice?\n\nDoubtless.\n\nThen justice, according to your argument, is not only obedience to the\ninterest of the stronger but the reverse?\n\nWhat is that you are saying? he asked.\n\nI am only repeating what you are saying, I believe.  But let us\nconsider: Have we not admitted that the rulers may be mistaken about\ntheir own interest in what they command, and also that to obey them is\njustice?  Has not that been admitted?\n\nYes.\n\nThen you must also have acknowledged justice not to be for the interest\nof the stronger, when the rulers unintentionally command things to be\ndone which are to their own injury.  For if, as you say, justice is the\nobedience which the subject renders to their commands, in that case, O\nwisest of men, is there any escape from the conclusion that the weaker\nare commanded to do, not what is for the interest, but what is for the\ninjury of the stronger?\n\nNothing can be clearer, Socrates, said Polemarchus.\n\nSOCRATES - CLEITOPHON - POLEMARCHUS - THRASYMACHUS\n\nYes, said Cleitophon, interposing, if you are allowed to be his witness.\n\nBut there is no need of any witness, said Polemarchus, for Thrasymachus\nhimself acknowledges that rulers may sometimes command what is not for\ntheir own interest, and that for subjects to obey them is justice.\n\nYes, Polemarchus,--Thrasymachus said that for subjects to do what was\ncommanded by their rulers is just.\n\nYes, Cleitophon, but he also said that justice is the interest of the\nstronger, and, while admitting both these propositions, he further\nacknowledged that the stronger may command the weaker who are his\nsubjects to do what is not for his own interest; whence follows that\njustice is the injury quite as much as the interest of the stronger.\n\nBut, said Cleitophon, he meant by the interest of the stronger what the\nstronger thought to be his interest,--this was what the weaker had to\ndo; and this was affirmed by him to be justice.\n\nThose were not his words, rejoined Polemarchus.\n\nSOCRATES - THRASYMACHUS\n\nNever mind, I replied, if he now says that they are, let us accept his\nstatement.  Tell me, Thrasymachus, I said, did you mean by justice what\nthe stronger thought to be his interest, whether really so or not?\n\nCertainly not, he said.  Do you suppose that I call him who is mistaken\nthe stronger at the time when he is mistaken?\n\nYes, I said, my impression was that you did so, when you admitted that\nthe ruler was not infallible but might be sometimes mistaken.\n\nYou argue like an informer, Socrates.  Do you mean, for example, that\nhe who is mistaken about the sick is a physician in that he is\nmistaken? or that he who errs in arithmetic or grammar is an\narithmetician or grammarian at the me when he is making the mistake, in\nrespect of the mistake?  True, we say that the physician or\narithmetician or grammarian has made a mistake, but this is only a way\nof speaking; for the fact is that neither the grammarian nor any other\nperson of skill ever makes a mistake in so far as he is what his name\nimplies; they none of them err unless their skill fails them, and then\nthey cease to be skilled artists.  No artist or sage or ruler errs at\nthe time when he is what his name implies; though he is commonly said\nto err, and I adopted the common mode of speaking.  But to be perfectly\naccurate, since you are such a lover of accuracy, we should say that\nthe ruler, in so far as he is the ruler, is unerring, and, being\nunerring, always commands that which is for his own interest; and the\nsubject is required to execute his commands; and therefore, as I said\nat first and now repeat, justice is the interest of the stronger.\n\nIndeed, Thrasymachus, and do I really appear to you to argue like an\ninformer?\n\nCertainly, he replied.\n\nAnd you suppose that I ask these questions with any design of injuring\nyou in the argument?\n\nNay, he replied, 'suppose' is not the word--I know it; but you will be\nfound out, and by sheer force of argument you will never prevail.\n\nI shall not make the attempt, my dear man; but to avoid any\nmisunderstanding occurring between us in future, let me ask, in what\nsense do you speak of a ruler or stronger whose interest, as you were\nsaying, he being the superior, it is just that the inferior should\nexecute--is he a ruler in the popular or in the strict sense of the\nterm?\n\nIn the strictest of all senses, he said.  And now cheat and play the\ninformer if you can; I ask no quarter at your hands.  But you never\nwill be able, never.\n\nAnd do you imagine, I said, that I am such a madman as to try and\ncheat, Thrasymachus?  I might as well shave a lion.\n\nWhy, he said, you made the attempt a minute ago, and you failed.\n\nEnough, I said, of these civilities.  It will be better that I should\nask you a question:  Is the physician, taken in that strict sense of\nwhich you are speaking, a healer of the sick or a maker of money?  And\nremember that I am now speaking of the true physician.\n\nA healer of the sick, he replied.\n\nAnd the pilot--that is to say, the true pilot--is he a captain of\nsailors or a mere sailor?\n\nA captain of sailors.\n\nThe circumstance that he sails in the ship is not to be taken into\naccount; neither is he to be called a sailor; the name pilot by which\nhe is distinguished has nothing to do with sailing, but is significant\nof his skill and of his authority over the sailors.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nNow, I said, every art has an interest?\n\nCertainly.\n\nFor which the art has to consider and provide?\n\nYes, that is the aim of art.\n\nAnd the interest of any art is the perfection of it--this and nothing\nelse?\n\nWhat do you mean?\n\nI mean what I may illustrate negatively by the example of the body.\nSuppose you were to ask me whether the body is self-sufficing or has\nwants, I should reply:  Certainly the body has wants; for the body may\nbe ill and require to be cured, and has therefore interests to which\nthe art of medicine ministers; and this is the origin and intention of\nmedicine, as you will acknowledge.  Am I not right?\n\nQuite right, he replied.\n\nBut is the art of medicine or any other art faulty or deficient in any\nquality in the same way that the eye may be deficient in sight or the\near fail of hearing, and therefore requires another art to provide for\nthe interests of seeing and hearing--has art in itself, I say, any\nsimilar liability to fault or defect, and does every art require\nanother supplementary art to provide for its interests, and that\nanother and another without end?  Or have the arts to look only after\ntheir own interests?  Or have they no need either of themselves or of\nanother?--having no faults or defects, they have no need to correct\nthem, either by the exercise of their own art or of any other; they\nhave only to consider the interest of their subject-matter. For every\nart remains pure and faultless while remaining true--that is to say,\nwhile perfect and unimpaired.  Take the words in your precise sense,\nand tell me whether I am not right.\"\n\nYes, clearly.\n\nThen medicine does not consider the interest of medicine, but the\ninterest of the body?\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nNor does the art of horsemanship consider the interests of the art of\nhorsemanship, but the interests of the horse; neither do any other arts\ncare for themselves, for they have no needs; they care only for that\nwhich is the subject of their art?\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nBut surely, Thrasymachus, the arts are the superiors and rulers of\ntheir own subjects?\n\nTo this he assented with a good deal of reluctance.\n\nThen, I said, no science or art considers or enjoins the interest of\nthe stronger or superior, but only the interest of the subject and\nweaker?\n\nHe made an attempt to contest this proposition also, but finally\nacquiesced.\n\nThen, I continued, no physician, in so far as he is a physician,\nconsiders his own good in what he prescribes, but the good of his\npatient; for the true physician is also a ruler having the human body\nas a subject, and is not a mere money-maker; that has been admitted?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the pilot likewise, in the strict sense of the term, is a ruler of\nsailors and not a mere sailor?\n\nThat has been admitted.\n\nAnd such a pilot and ruler will provide and prescribe for the interest\nof the sailor who is under him, and not for his own or the ruler's\ninterest?\n\nHe gave a reluctant 'Yes.'\n\nThen, I said, Thrasymachus, there is no one in any rule who, in so far\nas he is a ruler, considers or enjoins what is for his own interest,\nbut always what is for the interest of his subject or suitable to his\nart; to that he looks, and that alone he considers in everything which\nhe says and does.\n\nWhen we had got to this point in the argument, and every one saw that\nthe definition of justice had been completely upset, Thrasymachus,\ninstead of replying to me, said:  Tell me, Socrates, have you got a\nnurse?\n\nWhy do you ask such a question, I said, when you ought rather to be\nanswering?\n\nBecause she leaves you to snivel, and never wipes your nose: she has\nnot even taught you to know the shepherd from the sheep.\n\nWhat makes you say that?  I replied.\n\nBecause you fancy that the shepherd or neatherd fattens of tends the\nsheep or oxen with a view to their own good and not to the good of\nhimself or his master; and you further imagine that the rulers of\nstates, if they are true rulers, never think of their subjects as\nsheep, and that they are not studying their own advantage day and\nnight.  Oh, no; and so entirely astray are you in your ideas about the\njust and unjust as not even to know that justice and the just are in\nreality another's good; that is to say, the interest of the ruler and\nstronger, and the loss of the subject and servant; and injustice the\nopposite; for the unjust is lord over the truly simple and just: he is\nthe stronger, and his subjects do what is for his interest, and\nminister to his happiness, which is very far from being their own.\nConsider further, most foolish Socrates, that the just is always a\nloser in comparison with the unjust.  First of all, in private\ncontracts: wherever the unjust is the partner of the just you will find\nthat, when the partnership is dissolved, the unjust man has always more\nand the just less.  Secondly, in their dealings with the State: when\nthere is an income tax, the just man will pay more and the unjust less\non the same amount of income; and when there is anything to be received\nthe one gains nothing and the other much.  Observe also what happens\nwhen they take an office; there is the just man neglecting his affairs\nand perhaps suffering other losses, and getting nothing out of the\npublic, because he is just; moreover he is hated by his friends and\nacquaintance for refusing to serve them in unlawful ways.  But all this\nis reversed in the case of the unjust man.  I am speaking, as before,\nof injustice on a large scale in which the advantage of the unjust is\nmore apparent; and my meaning will be most clearly seen if we turn to\nthat highest form of injustice in which the criminal is the happiest of\nmen, and the sufferers or those who refuse to do injustice are the most\nmiserable--that is to say tyranny, which by fraud and force takes away\nthe property of others, not little by little but wholesale;\ncomprehending in one, things sacred as well as profane, private and\npublic; for which acts of wrong, if he were detected perpetrating any\none of them singly, he would be punished and incur great disgrace--they\nwho do such wrong in particular cases are called robbers of temples,\nand man-stealers and burglars and swindlers and thieves.  But when a\nman besides taking away the money of the citizens has made slaves of\nthem, then, instead of these names of reproach, he is termed happy and\nblessed, not only by the citizens but by all who hear of his having\nachieved the consummation of injustice.  For mankind censure injustice,\nfearing that they may be the victims of it and not because they shrink\nfrom committing it.  And thus, as I have shown, Socrates, injustice,\nwhen on a sufficient scale, has more strength and freedom and mastery\nthan justice; and, as I said at first, justice is the interest of the\nstronger, whereas injustice is a man's own profit and interest.\n\nThrasymachus, when he had thus spoken, having, like a bathman, deluged\nour ears with his words, had a mind to go away.  But the company would\nnot let him; they insisted that he should remain and defend his\nposition; and I myself added my own humble request that he would not\nleave us.  Thrasymachus, I said to him, excellent man, how suggestive\nare your remarks!  And are you going to run away before you have fairly\ntaught or learned whether they are true or not?  Is the attempt to\ndetermine the way of man's life so small a matter in your eyes--to\ndetermine how life may be passed by each one of us to the greatest\nadvantage?\n\nAnd do I differ from you, he said, as to the importance of the enquiry?\n\nYou appear rather, I replied, to have no care or thought about us,\nThrasymachus--whether we live better or worse from not knowing what you\nsay you know, is to you a matter of indifference.  Prithee, friend, do\nnot keep your knowledge to yourself; we are a large party; and any\nbenefit which you confer upon us will be amply rewarded.  For my own\npart I openly declare that I am not convinced, and that I do not\nbelieve injustice to be more gainful than justice, even if uncontrolled\nand allowed to have free play.  For, granting that there may be an\nunjust man who is able to commit injustice either by fraud or force,\nstill this does not convince me of the superior advantage of injustice,\nand there may be others who are in the same predicament with myself.\nPerhaps we may be wrong; if so, you in your wisdom should convince us\nthat we are mistaken in preferring justice to injustice.\n\nAnd how am I to convince you, he said, if you are not already convinced\nby what I have just said; what more can I do for you?  Would you have\nme put the proof bodily into your souls?\n\nHeaven forbid!  I said; I would only ask you to be consistent; or, if\nyou change, change openly and let there be no deception.  For I must\nremark, Thrasymachus, if you will recall what was previously said, that\nalthough you began by defining the true physician in an exact sense,\nyou did not observe a like exactness when speaking of the shepherd; you\nthought that the shepherd as a shepherd tends the sheep not with a view\nto their own good, but like a mere diner or banqueter with a view to\nthe pleasures of the table; or, again, as a trader for sale in the\nmarket, and not as a shepherd.  Yet surely the art of the shepherd is\nconcerned only with the good of his subjects; he has only to provide\nthe best for them, since the perfection of the art is already ensured\nwhenever all the requirements of it are satisfied.  And that was what I\nwas saying just now about the ruler.  I conceived that the art of the\nruler, considered as ruler, whether in a state or in private life,\ncould only regard the good of his flock or subjects; whereas you seem\nto think that the rulers in states, that is to say, the true rulers,\nlike being in authority.\n\nThink!  Nay, I am sure of it.\n\nThen why in the case of lesser offices do men never take them willingly\nwithout payment, unless under the idea that they govern for the\nadvantage not of themselves but of others?  Let me ask you a question:\nAre not the several arts different, by reason of their each having a\nseparate function?  And, my dear illustrious friend, do say what you\nthink, that we may make a little progress.\n\nYes, that is the difference, he replied.\n\nAnd each art gives us a particular good and not merely a general\none--medicine, for example, gives us health; navigation, safety at sea,\nand so on?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nAnd the art of payment has the special function of giving pay: but we\ndo not confuse this with other arts, any more than the art of the pilot\nis to be confused with the art of medicine, because the health of the\npilot may be improved by a sea voyage.  You would not be inclined to\nsay, would you, that navigation is the art of medicine, at least if we\nare to adopt your exact use of language?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nOr because a man is in good health when he receives pay you would not\nsay that the art of payment is medicine?\n\nI should say not.\n\nNor would you say that medicine is the art of receiving pay because a\nman takes fees when he is engaged in healing?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nAnd we have admitted, I said, that the good of each art is specially\nconfined to the art?\n\nYes.\n\nThen, if there be any good which all artists have in common, that is to\nbe attributed to something of which they all have the common use?\n\nTrue, he replied.\n\nAnd when the artist is benefited by receiving pay the advantage is\ngained by an additional use of the art of pay, which is not the art\nprofessed by him?\n\nHe gave a reluctant assent to this.\n\nThen the pay is not derived by the several artists from their\nrespective arts.  But the truth is, that while the art of medicine\ngives health, and the art of the builder builds a house, another art\nattends them which is the art of pay.  The various arts may be doing\ntheir own business and benefiting that over which they preside, but\nwould the artist receive any benefit from his art unless he were paid\nas well?\n\nI suppose not.\n\nBut does he therefore confer no benefit when he works for nothing?\n\nCertainly, he confers a benefit.\n\nThen now, Thrasymachus, there is no longer any doubt that neither arts\nnor governments provide for their own interests; but, as we were before\nsaying, they rule and provide for the interests of their subjects who\nare the weaker and not the stronger--to their good they attend and not\nto the good of the superior.\n\nAnd this is the reason, my dear Thrasymachus, why, as I was just now\nsaying, no one is willing to govern; because no one likes to take in\nhand the reformation of evils which are not his concern without\nremuneration.  For, in the execution of his work, and in giving his\norders to another, the true artist does not regard his own interest,\nbut always that of his subjects; and therefore in order that rulers may\nbe willing to rule, they must be paid in one of three modes of payment:\nmoney, or honour, or a penalty for refusing.\n\nSOCRATES - GLAUCON\n\nWhat do you mean, Socrates? said Glaucon.  The first two modes of\npayment are intelligible enough, but what the penalty is I do not\nunderstand, or how a penalty can be a payment.\n\nYou mean that you do not understand the nature of this payment which to\nthe best men is the great inducement to rule?  Of course you know that\nambition and avarice are held to be, as indeed they are, a disgrace?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd for this reason, I said, money and honour have no attraction for\nthem; good men do not wish to be openly demanding payment for governing\nand so to get the name of hirelings, nor by secretly helping themselves\nout of the public revenues to get the name of thieves.  And not being\nambitious they do not care about honour.  Wherefore necessity must be\nlaid upon them, and they must be induced to serve from the fear of\npunishment.  And this, as I imagine, is the reason why the forwardness\nto take office, instead of waiting to be compelled, has been deemed\ndishonourable.  Now the worst part of the punishment is that he who\nrefuses to rule is liable to be ruled by one who is worse than himself.\nAnd the fear of this, as I conceive, induces the good to take office,\nnot because they would, but because they cannot help--not under the\nidea that they are going to have any benefit or enjoyment themselves,\nbut as a necessity, and because they are not able to commit the task of\nruling to any one who is better than themselves, or indeed as good.\nFor there is reason to think that if a city were composed entirely of\ngood men, then to avoid office would be as much an object of contention\nas to obtain office is at present; then we should have plain proof that\nthe true ruler is not meant by nature to regard his own interest, but\nthat of his subjects; and every one who knew this would choose rather\nto receive a benefit from another than to have the trouble of\nconferring one.  So far am I from agreeing with Thrasymachus that\njustice is the interest of the stronger.  This latter question need not\nbe further discussed at present; but when Thrasymachus says that the\nlife of the unjust is more advantageous than that of the just, his new\nstatement appears to me to be of a far more serious character.  Which\nof us has spoken truly?  And which sort of life, Glaucon, do you prefer?\n\nI for my part deem the life of the just to be the more advantageous, he\nanswered.\n\nDid you hear all the advantages of the unjust which Thrasymachus was\nrehearsing?\n\nYes, I heard him, he replied, but he has not convinced me.\n\nThen shall we try to find some way of convincing him, if we can, that\nhe is saying what is not true?\n\nMost certainly, he replied.\n\nIf, I said, he makes a set speech and we make another recounting all\nthe advantages of being just, and he answers and we rejoin, there must\nbe a numbering and measuring of the goods which are claimed on either\nside, and in the end we shall want judges to decide; but if we proceed\nin our enquiry as we lately did, by making admissions to one another,\nwe shall unite the offices of judge and advocate in our own persons.\n\nVery good, he said.\n\nAnd which method do I understand you to prefer?  I said.\n\nThat which you propose.\n\nWell, then, Thrasymachus, I said, suppose you begin at the beginning\nand answer me.  You say that perfect injustice is more gainful than\nperfect justice?\n\nSOCRATES - GLAUCON - THRASYMACHUS\n\nYes, that is what I say, and I have given you my reasons.\n\nAnd what is your view about them?  Would you call one of them virtue\nand the other vice?\n\nCertainly.\n\nI suppose that you would call justice virtue and injustice vice?\n\nWhat a charming notion!  So likely too, seeing that I affirm injustice\nto be profitable and justice not.\n\nWhat else then would you say?\n\nThe opposite, he replied.\n\nAnd would you call justice vice?\n\nNo, I would rather say sublime simplicity.\n\nThen would you call injustice malignity?\n\nNo; I would rather say discretion.\n\nAnd do the unjust appear to you to be wise and good?\n\nYes, he said; at any rate those of them who are able to be perfectly\nunjust, and who have the power of subduing states and nations; but\nperhaps you imagine me to be talking of cutpurses.\n\nEven this profession if undetected has advantages, though they are not\nto be compared with those of which I was just now speaking.\n\nI do not think that I misapprehend your meaning, Thrasymachus, I\nreplied; but still I cannot hear without amazement that you class\ninjustice with wisdom and virtue, and justice with the opposite.\n\nCertainly I do so class them.\n\nNow, I said, you are on more substantial and almost unanswerable\nground; for if the injustice which you were maintaining to be\nprofitable had been admitted by you as by others to be vice and\ndeformity, an answer might have been given to you on received\nprinciples; but now I perceive that you will call injustice honourable\nand strong, and to the unjust you will attribute all the qualities\nwhich were attributed by us before to the just, seeing that you do not\nhesitate to rank injustice with wisdom and virtue.\n\nYou have guessed most infallibly, he replied.\n\nThen I certainly ought not to shrink from going through with the\nargument so long as I have reason to think that you, Thrasymachus, are\nspeaking your real mind; for I do believe that you are now in earnest\nand are not amusing yourself at our expense.\n\nI may be in earnest or not, but what is that to you?--to refute the\nargument is your business.\n\nVery true, I said; that is what I have to do:  But will you be so good\nas answer yet one more question?  Does the just man try to gain any\nadvantage over the just?\n\nFar otherwise; if he did would not be the simple, amusing creature\nwhich he is.\n\nAnd would he try to go beyond just action?\n\nHe would not.\n\nAnd how would he regard the attempt to gain an advantage over the\nunjust; would that be considered by him as just or unjust?\n\nHe would think it just, and would try to gain the advantage; but he\nwould not be able.\n\nWhether he would or would not be able, I said, is not to the point.  My\nquestion is only whether the just man, while refusing to have more than\nanother just man, would wish and claim to have more than the unjust?\n\nYes, he would.\n\nAnd what of the unjust--does he claim to have more than the just man\nand to do more than is just.\n\nOf course, he said, for he claims to have more than all men.\n\nAnd the unjust man will strive and struggle to obtain more than the\nunjust man or action, in order that he may have more than all?\n\nTrue.\n\nWe may put the matter thus, I said--the just does not desire more than\nhis like but more than his unlike, whereas the unjust desires more than\nboth his like and his unlike?\n\nNothing, he said, can be better than that statement.\n\nAnd the unjust is good and wise, and the just is neither?\n\nGood again, he said.\n\nAnd is not the unjust like the wise and good and the just unlike them?\n\nOf course, he said, he who is of a certain nature, is like those who\nare of a certain nature; he who is not, not.\n\nEach of them, I said, is such as his like is?\n\nCertainly, he replied.\n\nVery good, Thrasymachus, I said; and now to take the case of the arts:\nyou would admit that one man is a musician and another not a musician?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd which is wise and which is foolish?\n\nClearly the musician is wise, and he who is not a musician is foolish.\n\nAnd he is good in as far as he is wise, and bad in as far as he is\nfoolish?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd you would say the same sort of thing of the physician?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd do you think, my excellent friend, that a musician when he adjusts\nthe lyre would desire or claim to exceed or go beyond a musician in the\ntightening and loosening the strings?\n\nI do not think that he would.\n\nBut he would claim to exceed the non-musician?\n\nOf course.\n\nAnd what would you say of the physician?  In prescribing meats and\ndrinks would he wish to go beyond another physician or beyond the\npractice of medicine?\n\nHe would not.\n\nBut he would wish to go beyond the non-physician?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd about knowledge and ignorance in general; see whether you think\nthat any man who has knowledge ever would wish to have the choice of\nsaying or doing more than another man who has knowledge.  Would he not\nrather say or do the same as his like in the same case?\n\nThat, I suppose, can hardly be denied.\n\nAnd what of the ignorant? would he not desire to have more than either\nthe knowing or the ignorant?\n\nI dare say.\n\nAnd the knowing is wise?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the wise is good?\n\nTrue.\n\nThen the wise and good will not desire to gain more than his like, but\nmore than his unlike and opposite?\n\nI suppose so.\n\nWhereas the bad and ignorant will desire to gain more than both?\n\nYes.\n\nBut did we not say, Thrasymachus, that the unjust goes beyond both his\nlike and unlike?  Were not these your words?  They were.\n\nThey were.\n\nAnd you also said that the lust will not go beyond his like but his\nunlike?\n\nYes.\n\nThen the just is like the wise and good, and the unjust like the evil\nand ignorant?\n\nThat is the inference.\n\nAnd each of them is such as his like is?\n\nThat was admitted.\n\nThen the just has turned out to be wise and good and the unjust evil\nand ignorant.\n\nThrasymachus made all these admissions, not fluently, as I repeat them,\nbut with extreme reluctance; it was a hot summer's day, and the\nperspiration poured from him in torrents; and then I saw what I had\nnever seen before, Thrasymachus blushing.  As we were now agreed that\njustice was virtue and wisdom, and injustice vice and ignorance, I\nproceeded to another point:\n\nWell, I said, Thrasymachus, that matter is now settled; but were we not\nalso saying that injustice had strength; do you remember?\n\nYes, I remember, he said, but do not suppose that I approve of what you\nare saying or have no answer; if however I were to answer, you would be\nquite certain to accuse me of haranguing; therefore either permit me to\nhave my say out, or if you would rather ask, do so, and I will answer\n'Very good,' as they say to story-telling old women, and will nod 'Yes'\nand 'No.'\n\nCertainly not, I said, if contrary to your real opinion.\n\nYes, he said, I will, to please you, since you will not let me speak.\nWhat else would you have?\n\nNothing in the world, I said; and if you are so disposed I will ask and\nyou shall answer.\n\nProceed.\n\nThen I will repeat the question which I asked before, in order that our\nexamination of the relative nature of justice and injustice may be\ncarried on regularly.  A statement was made that injustice is stronger\nand more powerful than justice, but now justice, having been identified\nwith wisdom and virtue, is easily shown to be stronger than injustice,\nif injustice is ignorance; this can no longer be questioned by any one.\nBut I want to view the matter, Thrasymachus, in a different way: You\nwould not deny that a state may be unjust and may be unjustly\nattempting to enslave other states, or may have already enslaved them,\nand may be holding many of them in subjection?\n\nTrue, he replied; and I will add the best and perfectly unjust state\nwill be most likely to do so.\n\nI know, I said, that such was your position; but what I would further\nconsider is, whether this power which is possessed by the superior\nstate can exist or be exercised without justice.\n\nIf you are right in you view, and justice is wisdom, then only with\njustice; but if I am right, then without justice.\n\nI am delighted, Thrasymachus, to see you not only nodding assent and\ndissent, but making answers which are quite excellent.\n\nThat is out of civility to you, he replied.\n\nYou are very kind, I said; and would you have the goodness also to\ninform me, whether you think that a state, or an army, or a band of\nrobbers and thieves, or any other gang of evil-doers could act at all\nif they injured one another?\n\nNo indeed, he said, they could not.\n\nBut if they abstained from injuring one another, then they might act\ntogether better?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd this is because injustice creates divisions and hatreds and\nfighting, and justice imparts harmony and friendship; is not that true,\nThrasymachus?\n\nI agree, he said, because I do not wish to quarrel with you.\n\nHow good of you, I said; but I should like to know also whether\ninjustice, having this tendency to arouse hatred, wherever existing,\namong slaves or among freemen, will not make them hate one another and\nset them at variance and render them incapable of common action?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd even if injustice be found in two only, will they not quarrel and\nfight, and become enemies to one another and to the just.\n\nThey will.\n\nAnd suppose injustice abiding in a single person, would your wisdom say\nthat she loses or that she retains her natural power?\n\nLet us assume that she retains her power.\n\nYet is not the power which injustice exercises of such a nature that\nwherever she takes up her abode, whether in a city, in an army, in a\nfamily, or in any other body, that body is, to begin with, rendered\nincapable of united action by reason of sedition and distraction; and\ndoes it not become its own enemy and at variance with all that opposes\nit, and with the just?  Is not this the case?\n\nYes, certainly.\n\nAnd is not injustice equally fatal when existing in a single person; in\nthe first place rendering him incapable of action because he is not at\nunity with himself, and in the second place making him an enemy to\nhimself and the just?  Is not that true, Thrasymachus?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd O my friend, I said, surely the gods are just?\n\nGranted that they are.\n\nBut if so, the unjust will be the enemy of the gods, and the just will\nbe their friend?\n\nFeast away in triumph, and take your fill of the argument; I will not\noppose you, lest I should displease the company.\n\nWell then, proceed with your answers, and let me have the remainder of\nmy repast.  For we have already shown that the just are clearly wiser\nand better and abler than the unjust, and that the unjust are incapable\nof common action; nay ing at more, that to speak as we did of men who\nare evil acting at any time vigorously together, is not strictly true,\nfor if they had been perfectly evil, they would have laid hands upon\none another; but it is evident that there must have been some remnant\nof justice in them, which enabled them to combine; if there had not\nbeen they would have injured one another as well as their victims; they\nwere but half--villains in their enterprises; for had they been whole\nvillains, and utterly unjust, they would have been utterly incapable of\naction.  That, as I believe, is the truth of the matter, and not what\nyou said at first.  But whether the just have a better and happier life\nthan the unjust is a further question which we also proposed to\nconsider.  I think that they have, and for the reasons which to have\ngiven; but still I should like to examine further, for no light matter\nis at stake, nothing less than the rule of human life.\n\nProceed.\n\nI will proceed by asking a question:  Would you not say that a horse\nhas some end?\n\nI should.\n\nAnd the end or use of a horse or of anything would be that which could\nnot be accomplished, or not so well accomplished, by any other thing?\n\nI do not understand, he said.\n\nLet me explain:  Can you see, except with the eye?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nOr hear, except with the ear?\n\nNo.\n\nThese then may be truly said to be the ends of these organs?\n\nThey may.\n\nBut you can cut off a vine-branch with a dagger or with a chisel, and\nin many other ways?\n\nOf course.\n\nAnd yet not so well as with a pruning-hook made for the purpose?\n\nTrue.\n\nMay we not say that this is the end of a pruning-hook?\n\nWe may.\n\nThen now I think you will have no difficulty in understanding my\nmeaning when I asked the question whether the end of anything would be\nthat which could not be accomplished, or not so well accomplished, by\nany other thing?\n\nI understand your meaning, he said, and assent.\n\nAnd that to which an end is appointed has also an excellence?  Need I\nask again whether the eye has an end?\n\nIt has.\n\nAnd has not the eye an excellence?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the ear has an end and an excellence also?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd the same is true of all other things; they have each of them an end\nand a special excellence?\n\nThat is so.\n\nWell, and can the eyes fulfil their end if they are wanting in their\nown proper excellence and have a defect instead?\n\nHow can they, he said, if they are blind and cannot see?\n\nYou mean to say, if they have lost their proper excellence, which is\nsight; but I have not arrived at that point yet.  I would rather ask\nthe question more generally, and only enquire whether the things which\nfulfil their ends fulfil them by their own proper excellence, and fall\nof fulfilling them by their own defect?\n\nCertainly, he replied.\n\nI might say the same of the ears; when deprived of their own proper\nexcellence they cannot fulfil their end?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd the same observation will apply to all other things?\n\nI agree.\n\nWell; and has not the soul an end which nothing else can fulfil?  for\nexample, to superintend and command and deliberate and the like.  Are\nnot these functions proper to the soul, and can they rightly be\nassigned to any other?\n\nTo no other.\n\nAnd is not life to be reckoned among the ends of the soul?\n\nAssuredly, he said.\n\nAnd has not the soul an excellence also?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd can she or can she not fulfil her own ends when deprived of that\nexcellence?\n\nShe cannot.\n\nThen an evil soul must necessarily be an evil ruler and superintendent,\nand the good soul a good ruler?\n\nYes, necessarily.\n\nAnd we have admitted that justice is the excellence of the soul, and\ninjustice the defect of the soul?\n\nThat has been admitted.\n\nThen the just soul and the just man will live well, and the unjust man\nwill live ill?\n\nThat is what your argument proves.\n\nAnd he who lives well is blessed and happy, and he who lives ill the\nreverse of happy?\n\nCertainly.\n\nThen the just is happy, and the unjust miserable?\n\nSo be it.\n\nBut happiness and not misery is profitable.\n\nOf course.\n\nThen, my blessed Thrasymachus, injustice can never be more profitable\nthan justice.\n\nLet this, Socrates, he said, be your entertainment at the Bendidea.\n\nFor which I am indebted to you, I said, now that you have grown gentle\ntowards me and have left off scolding.  Nevertheless, I have not been\nwell entertained; but that was my own fault and not yours.  As an\nepicure snatches a taste of every dish which is successively brought to\ntable, he not having allowed himself time to enjoy the one before, so\nhave I gone from one subject to another without having discovered what\nI sought at first, the nature of justice.  I left that enquiry and\nturned away to consider whether justice is virtue and wisdom or evil\nand folly; and when there arose a further question about the\ncomparative advantages of justice and injustice, I could not refrain\nfrom passing on to that.  And the result of the whole discussion has\nbeen that I know nothing at all.  For I know not what justice is, and\ntherefore I am not likely to know whether it is or is not a virtue, nor\ncan I say whether the just man is happy or unhappy.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II\n\n\nSOCRATES - GLAUCON\n\nWITH these words I was thinking that I had made an end of the\ndiscussion; but the end, in truth, proved to be only a beginning.  For\nGlaucon, who is always the most pugnacious of men, was dissatisfied at\nThrasymachus' retirement; he wanted to have the battle out.  So he said\nto me:  Socrates, do you wish really to persuade us, or only to seem to\nhave persuaded us, that to be just is always better than to be unjust?\n\nI should wish really to persuade you, I replied, if I could.\n\nThen you certainly have not succeeded.  Let me ask you now:--How would\nyou arrange goods--are there not some which we welcome for their own\nsakes, and independently of their consequences, as, for example,\nharmless pleasures and enjoyments, which delight us at the time,\nalthough nothing follows from them?\n\nI agree in thinking that there is such a class, I replied.\n\nIs there not also a second class of goods, such as knowledge, sight,\nhealth, which are desirable not only in themselves, but also for their\nresults?\n\nCertainly, I said.\n\nAnd would you not recognize a third class, such as gymnastic, and the\ncare of the sick, and the physician's art; also the various ways of\nmoney-making--these do us good but we regard them as disagreeable; and\nno one would choose them for their own sakes, but only for the sake of\nsome reward or result which flows from them?\n\nThere is, I said, this third class also.  But why do you ask?\n\nBecause I want to know in which of the three classes you would place\njustice?\n\nIn the highest class, I replied,--among those goods which he who would\nbe happy desires both for their own sake and for the sake of their\nresults.\n\nThen the many are of another mind; they think that justice is to be\nreckoned in the troublesome class, among goods which are to be pursued\nfor the sake of rewards and of reputation, but in themselves are\ndisagreeable and rather to be avoided.\n\nI know, I said, that this is their manner of thinking, and that this\nwas the thesis which Thrasymachus was maintaining just now, when he\ncensured justice and praised injustice.  But I am too stupid to be\nconvinced by him.\n\nI wish, he said, that you would hear me as well as him, and then I\nshall see whether you and I agree.  For Thrasymachus seems to me, like\na snake, to have been charmed by your voice sooner than he ought to\nhave been; but to my mind the nature of justice and injustice have not\nyet been made clear.  Setting aside their rewards and results, I want\nto know what they are in themselves, and how they inwardly work in the\nsoul.  If you, please, then, I will revive the argument of\nThrasymachus.  And first I will speak of the nature and origin of\njustice according to the common view of them.  Secondly, I will show\nthat all men who practise justice do so against their will, of\nnecessity, but not as a good.  And thirdly, I will argue that there is\nreason in this view, for the life of the unjust is after all better far\nthan the life of the just--if what they say is true, Socrates, since I\nmyself am not of their opinion.  But still I acknowledge that I am\nperplexed when I hear the voices of Thrasymachus and myriads of others\ndinning in my ears; and, on the other hand, I have never yet heard the\nsuperiority of justice to injustice maintained by any one in a\nsatisfactory way.  I want to hear justice praised in respect of itself;\nthen I shall be satisfied, and you are the person from whom I think\nthat I am most likely to hear this; and therefore I will praise the\nunjust life to the utmost of my power, and my manner of speaking will\nindicate the manner in which I desire to hear you too praising justice\nand censuring injustice.  Will you say whether you approve of my\nproposal?\n\nIndeed I do; nor can I imagine any theme about which a man of sense\nwould oftener wish to converse.\n\nI am delighted, he replied, to hear you say so, and shall begin by\nspeaking, as I proposed, of the nature and origin of justice.\n\nGLAUCON\n\nThey say that to do injustice is, by nature, good; to suffer injustice,\nevil; but that the evil is greater than the good.  And so when men have\nboth done and suffered injustice and have had experience of both, not\nbeing able to avoid the one and obtain the other, they think that they\nhad better agree among themselves to have neither; hence there arise\nlaws and mutual covenants; and that which is ordained by law is termed\nby them lawful and just.  This they affirm to be the origin and nature\nof justice;--it is a mean or compromise, between the best of all, which\nis to do injustice and not be punished, and the worst of all, which is\nto suffer injustice without the power of retaliation; and justice,\nbeing at a middle point between the two, is tolerated not as a good,\nbut as the lesser evil, and honoured by reason of the inability of men\nto do injustice.  For no man who is worthy to be called a man would\never submit to such an agreement if he were able to resist; he would be\nmad if he did.  Such is the received account, Socrates, of the nature\nand origin of justice.\n\nNow that those who practise justice do so involuntarily and because\nthey have not the power to be unjust will best appear if we imagine\nsomething of this kind:  having given both to the just and the unjust\npower to do what they will, let us watch and see whither desire will\nlead them; then we shall discover in the very act the just and unjust\nman to be proceeding along the same road, following their interest,\nwhich all natures deem to be their good, and are only diverted into the\npath of justice by the force of law.  The liberty which we are\nsupposing may be most completely given to them in the form of such a\npower as is said to have been possessed by Gyges the ancestor of\nCroesus the Lydian.  According to the tradition, Gyges was a shepherd\nin the service of the king of Lydia; there was a great storm, and an\nearthquake made an opening in the earth at the place where he was\nfeeding his flock.  Amazed at the sight, he descended into the opening,\nwhere, among other marvels, he beheld a hollow brazen horse, having\ndoors, at which he stooping and looking in saw a dead body of stature,\nas appeared to him, more than human, and having nothing on but a gold\nring; this he took from the finger of the dead and reascended.  Now the\nshepherds met together, according to custom, that they might send their\nmonthly report about the flocks to the king; into their assembly he\ncame having the ring on his finger, and as he was sitting among them he\nchanced to turn the collet of the ring inside his hand, when instantly\nhe became invisible to the rest of the company and they began to speak\nof him as if he were no longer present.  He was astonished at this, and\nagain touching the ring he turned the collet outwards and reappeared;\nhe made several trials of the ring, and always with the same\nresult-when he turned the collet inwards he became invisible, when\noutwards he reappeared.  Whereupon he contrived to be chosen one of the\nmessengers who were sent to the court; where as soon as he arrived he\nseduced the queen, and with her help conspired against the king and\nslew him, and took the kingdom.  Suppose now that there were two such\nmagic rings, and the just put on one of them and the unjust the other;\nno man can be imagined to be of such an iron nature that he would stand\nfast in justice.  No man would keep his hands off what was not his own\nwhen he could safely take what he liked out of the market, or go into\nhouses and lie with any one at his pleasure, or kill or release from\nprison whom he would, and in all respects be like a God among men.\nThen the actions of the just would be as the actions of the unjust;\nthey would both come at last to the same point.  And this we may truly\naffirm to be a great proof that a man is just, not willingly or because\nhe thinks that justice is any good to him individually, but of\nnecessity, for wherever any one thinks that he can safely be unjust,\nthere he is unjust.  For all men believe in their hearts that injustice\nis far more profitable to the individual than justice, and he who\nargues as I have been supposing, will say that they are right.  If you\ncould imagine any one obtaining this power of becoming invisible, and\nnever doing any wrong or touching what was another's, he would be\nthought by the lookers-on to be a most wretched idiot, although they\nwould praise him to one another's faces, and keep up appearances with\none another from a fear that they too might suffer injustice.  Enough\nof this.\n\nNow, if we are to form a real judgment of the life of the just and\nunjust, we must isolate them; there is no other way; and how is the\nisolation to be effected?  I answer:  Let the unjust man be entirely\nunjust, and the just man entirely just; nothing is to be taken away\nfrom either of them, and both are to be perfectly furnished for the\nwork of their respective lives.  First, let the unjust be like other\ndistinguished masters of craft; like the skilful pilot or physician,\nwho knows intuitively his own powers and keeps within their limits, and\nwho, if he fails at any point, is able to recover himself.  So let the\nunjust make his unjust attempts in the right way, and lie hidden if he\nmeans to be great in his injustice (he who is found out is nobody): for\nthe highest reach of injustice is: to be deemed just when you are not.\nTherefore I say that in the perfectly unjust man we must assume the\nmost perfect injustice; there is to be no deduction, but we must allow\nhim, while doing the most unjust acts, to have acquired the greatest\nreputation for justice.  If he have taken a false step he must be able\nto recover himself; he must be one who can speak with effect, if any of\nhis deeds come to light, and who can force his way where force is\nrequired his courage and strength, and command of money and friends.\nAnd at his side let us place the just man in his nobleness and\nsimplicity, wishing, as Aeschylus says, to be and not to seem good.\nThere must be no seeming, for if he seem to be just he will be honoured\nand rewarded, and then we shall not know whether he is just for the\nsake of justice or for the sake of honours and rewards; therefore, let\nhim be clothed in justice only, and have no other covering; and he must\nbe imagined in a state of life the opposite of the former.  Let him be\nthe best of men, and let him be thought the worst; then he will have\nbeen put to the proof; and we shall see whether he will be affected by\nthe fear of infamy and its consequences.  And let him continue thus to\nthe hour of death; being just and seeming to be unjust.  When both have\nreached the uttermost extreme, the one of justice and the other of\ninjustice, let judgment be given which of them is the happier of the\ntwo.\n\nSOCRATES - GLAUCON\n\nHeavens! my dear Glaucon, I said, how energetically you polish them up\nfor the decision, first one and then the other, as if they were two\nstatues.\n\nI do my best, he said.  And now that we know what they are like there\nis no difficulty in tracing out the sort of life which awaits either of\nthem.  This I will proceed to describe; but as you may think the\ndescription a little too coarse, I ask you to suppose, Socrates, that\nthe words which follow are not mine.-- Let me put them into the mouths\nof the eulogists of injustice: They will tell you that the just man who\nis thought unjust will be scourged, racked, bound--will have his eyes\nburnt out; and, at last, after suffering every kind of evil, he will be\nimpaled:  Then he will understand that he ought to seem only, and not\nto be, just; the words of Aeschylus may be more truly spoken of the\nunjust than of the just.  For the unjust is pursuing a reality; he does\nnot live with a view to appearances--he wants to be really unjust and\nnot to seem only:--\n\n    His mind has a soil deep and fertile,\n    Out of which spring his prudent counsels.\n\nIn the first place, he is thought just, and therefore bears rule in the\ncity; he can marry whom he will, and give in marriage to whom he will;\nalso he can trade and deal where he likes, and always to his own\nadvantage, because he has no misgivings about injustice and at every\ncontest, whether in public or private, he gets the better of his\nantagonists, and gains at their expense, and is rich, and out of his\ngains he can benefit his friends, and harm his enemies; moreover, he\ncan offer sacrifices, and dedicate gifts to the gods abundantly and\nmagnificently, and can honour the gods or any man whom he wants to\nhonour in a far better style than the just, and therefore he is likely\nto be dearer than they are to the gods.  And thus, Socrates, gods and\nmen are said to unite in making the life of the unjust better than the\nlife of the just.\n\nADEIMANTUS - SOCRATES\n\nI was going to say something in answer to Glaucon, when Adeimantus, his\nbrother, interposed:  Socrates, he said, you do not suppose that there\nis nothing more to be urged?\n\nWhy, what else is there?  I answered.\n\nThe strongest point of all has not been even mentioned, he replied.\n\nWell, then, according to the proverb, 'Let brother help brother'--if he\nfails in any part do you assist him; although I must confess that\nGlaucon has already said quite enough to lay me in the dust, and take\nfrom me the power of helping justice.\n\nADEIMANTUS\n\nNonsense, he replied.  But let me add something more:  There is another\nside to Glaucon's argument about the praise and censure of justice and\ninjustice, which is equally required in order to bring out what I\nbelieve to be his meaning.  Parents and tutors are always telling their\nsons and their wards that they are to be just; but why? not for the\nsake of justice, but for the sake of character and reputation; in the\nhope of obtaining for him who is reputed just some of those offices,\nmarriages, and the like which Glaucon has enumerated among the\nadvantages accruing to the unjust from the reputation of justice.\nMore, however, is made of appearances by this class of persons than by\nthe others; for they throw in the good opinion of the gods, and will\ntell you of a shower of benefits which the heavens, as they say, rain\nupon the pious; and this accords with the testimony of the noble Hesiod\nand Homer, the first of whom says, that the gods make the oaks of the\njust--\n\n    To hear acorns at their summit, and bees I the middle;\n    And the sheep the bowed down bowed the with the their fleeces.\n\nand many other blessings of a like kind are provided for them.  And\nHomer has a very similar strain; for he speaks of one whose fame is--\n\n    As the fame of some blameless king who, like a god,\n    Maintains justice to whom the black earth brings forth\n    Wheat and barley, whose trees are bowed with fruit,\n    And his sheep never fail to bear, and the sea gives him fish.\n\nStill grander are the gifts of heaven which Musaeus and his son\nvouchsafe to the just; they take them down into the world below, where\nthey have the saints lying on couches at a feast, everlastingly drunk,\ncrowned with garlands; their idea seems to be that an immortality of\ndrunkenness is the highest meed of virtue.  Some extend their rewards\nyet further; the posterity, as they say, of the faithful and just shall\nsurvive to the third and fourth generation.  This is the style in which\nthey praise justice.  But about the wicked there is another strain;\nthey bury them in a slough in Hades, and make them carry water in a\nsieve; also while they are yet living they bring them to infamy, and\ninflict upon them the punishments which Glaucon described as the\nportion of the just who are reputed to be unjust; nothing else does\ntheir invention supply.  Such is their manner of praising the one and\ncensuring the other.\n\nOnce more, Socrates, I will ask you to consider another way of speaking\nabout justice and injustice, which is not confined to the poets, but is\nfound in prose writers.  The universal voice of mankind is always\ndeclaring that justice and virtue are honourable, but grievous and\ntoilsome; and that the pleasures of vice and injustice are easy of\nattainment, and are only censured by law and opinion.  They say also\nthat honesty is for the most part less profitable than dishonesty; and\nthey are quite ready to call wicked men happy, and to honour them both\nin public and private when they are rich or in any other way\ninfluential, while they despise and overlook those who may be weak and\npoor, even though acknowledging them to be better than the others.  But\nmost extraordinary of all is their mode of speaking about virtue and\nthe gods: they say that the gods apportion calamity and misery to many\ngood men, and good and happiness to the wicked.  And mendicant prophets\ngo to rich men's doors and persuade them that they have a power\ncommitted to them by the gods of making an atonement for a man's own or\nhis ancestor's sins by sacrifices or charms, with rejoicings and\nfeasts; and they promise to harm an enemy, whether just or unjust, at a\nsmall cost; with magic arts and incantations binding heaven, as they\nsay, to execute their will.  And the poets are the authorities to whom\nthey appeal, now smoothing the path of vice with the words of Hesiod;--\n\n    Vice may be had in abundance without trouble; the way is smooth\n    and her dwelling-place is near. But before virtue the gods have\n    set toil,\n\nand a tedious and uphill road:  then citing Homer as a witness that the\ngods may be influenced by men; for he also says:\n\n    The gods, too, may he turned from their purpose; and men pray to\n    them and avert their wrath by sacrifices and soothing entreaties,\n    and by libations and the odour of fat, when they have sinned and\n    transgressed.\n\nAnd they produce a host of books written by Musaeus and Orpheus, who\nwere children of the Moon and the Muses--that is what they\nsay--according to which they perform their ritual, and persuade not\nonly individuals, but whole cities, that expiations and atonements for\nsin may be made by sacrifices and amusements which fill a vacant hour,\nand are equally at the service of the living and the dead; the latter\nsort they call mysteries, and they redeem us from the pains of hell,\nbut if we neglect them no one knows what awaits us.\n\nHe proceeded:  And now when the young hear all this said about virtue\nand vice, and the way in which gods and men regard them, how are their\nminds likely to be affected, my dear Socrates,--those of them, I mean,\nwho are quickwitted, and, like bees on the wing, light on every flower,\nand from all that they hear are prone to draw conclusions as to what\nmanner of persons they should be and in what way they should walk if\nthey would make the best of life?  Probably the youth will say to\nhimself in the words of Pindar--\n\n    Can I by justice or by crooked ways of deceit ascend a loftier\n    tower which may he a fortress to me all my days?\n\nFor what men say is that, if I am really just and am not also thought\njust profit there is none, but the pain and loss on the other hand are\nunmistakable.  But if, though unjust, I acquire the reputation of\njustice, a heavenly life is promised to me.  Since then, as\nphilosophers prove, appearance tyrannizes over truth and is lord of\nhappiness, to appearance I must devote myself.  I will describe around\nme a picture and shadow of virtue to be the vestibule and exterior of\nmy house; behind I will trail the subtle and crafty fox, as\nArchilochus, greatest of sages, recommends.  But I hear some one\nexclaiming that the concealment of wickedness is often difficult; to\nwhich I answer, Nothing great is easy.  Nevertheless, the argument\nindicates this, if we would be happy, to be the path along which we\nshould proceed.  With a view to concealment we will establish secret\nbrotherhoods and political clubs.  And there are professors of rhetoric\nwho teach the art of persuading courts and assemblies; and so, partly\nby persuasion and partly by force, I shall make unlawful gains and not\nbe punished.  Still I hear a voice saying that the gods cannot be\ndeceived, neither can they be compelled.  But what if there are no\ngods? or, suppose them to have no care of human things--why in either\ncase should we mind about concealment?  And even if there are gods, and\nthey do care about us, yet we know of them only from tradition and the\ngenealogies of the poets; and these are the very persons who say that\nthey may be influenced and turned by 'sacrifices and soothing\nentreaties and by offerings.' Let us be consistent then, and believe\nboth or neither.  If the poets speak truly, why then we had better be\nunjust, and offer of the fruits of injustice; for if we are just,\nalthough we may escape the vengeance of heaven, we shall lose the gains\nof injustice; but, if we are unjust, we shall keep the gains, and by\nour sinning and praying, and praying and sinning, the gods will be\npropitiated, and we shall not be punished.  'But there is a world below\nin which either we or our posterity will suffer for our unjust deeds.'\nYes, my friend, will be the reflection, but there are mysteries and\natoning deities, and these have great power.  That is what mighty\ncities declare; and the children of the gods, who were their poets and\nprophets, bear a like testimony.\n\nOn what principle, then, shall we any longer choose justice rather than\nthe worst injustice? when, if we only unite the latter with a deceitful\nregard to appearances, we shall fare to our mind both with gods and\nmen, in life and after death, as the most numerous and the highest\nauthorities tell us.  Knowing all this, Socrates, how can a man who has\nany superiority of mind or person or rank or wealth, be willing to\nhonour justice; or indeed to refrain from laughing when he hears\njustice praised?  And even if there should be some one who is able to\ndisprove the truth of my words, and who is satisfied that justice is\nbest, still he is not angry with the unjust, but is very ready to\nforgive them, because he also knows that men are not just of their own\nfree will; unless, peradventure, there be some one whom the divinity\nwithin him may have inspired with a hatred of injustice, or who has\nattained knowledge of the truth--but no other man.  He only blames\ninjustice who, owing to cowardice or age or some weakness, has not the\npower of being unjust.  And this is proved by the fact that when he\nobtains the power, he immediately becomes unjust as far as he can be.\n\nThe cause of all this, Socrates, was indicated by us at the beginning\nof the argument, when my brother and I told you how astonished we were\nto find that of all the professing panegyrists of justice--beginning\nwith the ancient heroes of whom any memorial has been preserved to us,\nand ending with the men of our own time--no one has ever blamed\ninjustice or praised justice except with a view to the glories,\nhonours, and benefits which flow from them.  No one has ever adequately\ndescribed either in verse or prose the true essential nature of either\nof them abiding in the soul, and invisible to any human or divine eye;\nor shown that of all the things of a man's soul which he has within\nhim, justice is the greatest good, and injustice the greatest evil.\nHad this been the universal strain, had you sought to persuade us of\nthis from our youth upwards, we should not have been on the watch to\nkeep one another from doing wrong, but every one would have been his\nown watchman, because afraid, if he did wrong, of harbouring in himself\nthe greatest of evils.  I dare say that Thrasymachus and others would\nseriously hold the language which I have been merely repeating, and\nwords even stronger than these about justice and injustice, grossly, as\nI conceive, perverting their true nature.  But I speak in this vehement\nmanner, as I must frankly confess to you, because I want to hear from\nyou the opposite side; and I would ask you to show not only the\nsuperiority which justice has over injustice, but what effect they have\non the possessor of them which makes the one to be a good and the other\nan evil to him.  And please, as Glaucon requested of you, to exclude\nreputations; for unless you take away from each of them his true\nreputation and add on the false, we shall say that you do not praise\njustice, but the appearance of it; we shall think that you are only\nexhorting us to keep injustice dark, and that you really agree with\nThrasymachus in thinking that justice is another's good and the\ninterest of the stronger, and that injustice is a man's own profit and\ninterest, though injurious to the weaker.  Now as you have admitted\nthat justice is one of that highest class of goods which are desired\nindeed for their results, but in a far greater degree for their own\nsakes--like sight or hearing or knowledge or health, or any other real\nand natural and not merely conventional good--I would ask you in your\npraise of justice to regard one point only: I mean the essential good\nand evil which justice and injustice work in the possessors of them.\nLet others praise justice and censure injustice, magnifying the rewards\nand honours of the one and abusing the other; that is a manner of\narguing which, coming from them, I am ready to tolerate, but from you\nwho have spent your whole life in the consideration of this question,\nunless I hear the contrary from your own lips, I expect something\nbetter.  And therefore, I say, not only prove to us that justice is\nbetter than injustice, but show what they either of them do to the\npossessor of them, which makes the one to be a good and the other an\nevil, whether seen or unseen by gods and men.\n\nSOCRATES - ADEIMANTUS\n\nI had always admired the genius of Glaucon and Adeimantus, but on\nhearing these words I was quite delighted, and said: Sons of an\nillustrious father, that was not a bad beginning of the Elegiac verses\nwhich the admirer of Glaucon made in honour of you after you had\ndistinguished yourselves at the battle of Megara:--\n\n    'Sons of Ariston,' he sang, 'divine offspring of an\n    illustrious hero.'\n\nThe epithet is very appropriate, for there is something truly divine in\nbeing able to argue as you have done for the superiority of injustice,\nand remaining unconvinced by your own arguments.  And I do believe that\nyou are not convinced--this I infer from your general character, for\nhad I judged only from your speeches I should have mistrusted you.  But\nnow, the greater my confidence in you, the greater is my difficulty in\nknowing what to say.  For I am in a strait between two; on the one hand\nI feel that I am unequal to the task; and my inability is brought home\nto me by the fact that you were not satisfied with the answer which I\nmade to Thrasymachus, proving, as I thought, the superiority which\njustice has over injustice.  And yet I cannot refuse to help, while\nbreath and speech remain to me; I am afraid that there would be an\nimpiety in being present when justice is evil spoken of and not lifting\nup a hand in her defence.  And therefore I had best give such help as I\ncan.\n\nGlaucon and the rest entreated me by all means not to let the question\ndrop, but to proceed in the investigation.  They wanted to arrive at\nthe truth, first, about the nature of justice and injustice, and\nsecondly, about their relative advantages.  I told them, what I really\nthought, that the enquiry would be of a serious nature, and would\nrequire very good eyes.  Seeing then, I said, that we are no great\nwits, I think that we had better adopt a method which I may illustrate\nthus; suppose that a short-sighted person had been asked by some one to\nread small letters from a distance; and it occurred to some one else\nthat they might be found in another place which was larger and in which\nthe letters were larger--if they were the same and he could read the\nlarger letters first, and then proceed to the lesser--this would have\nbeen thought a rare piece of good fortune.\n\nVery true, said Adeimantus; but how does the illustration apply to our\nenquiry?\n\nI will tell you, I replied; justice, which is the subject of our\nenquiry, is, as you know, sometimes spoken of as the virtue of an\nindividual, and sometimes as the virtue of a State.\n\nTrue, he replied.\n\nAnd is not a State larger than an individual?\n\nIt is.\n\nThen in the larger the quantity of justice is likely to be larger and\nmore easily discernible.  I propose therefore that we enquire into the\nnature of justice and injustice, first as they appear in the State, and\nsecondly in the individual, proceeding from the greater to the lesser\nand comparing them.\n\nThat, he said, is an excellent proposal.\n\nAnd if we imagine the State in process of creation, we shall see the\njustice and injustice of the State in process of creation also.\n\nI dare say.\n\nWhen the State is completed there may be a hope that the object of our\nsearch will be more easily discovered.\n\nYes, far more easily.\n\nBut ought we to attempt to construct one?  I said; for to do so, as I\nam inclined to think, will be a very serious task.  Reflect therefore.\n\nI have reflected, said Adeimantus, and am anxious that you should\nproceed.\n\nA State, I said, arises, as I conceive, out of the needs of mankind; no\none is self-sufficing, but all of us have many wants.  Can any other\norigin of a State be imagined?\n\nThere can I be no other.\n\nThen, as we have many wants, and many persons are needed to supply\nthem, one takes a helper for one purpose and another for another; and\nwhen these partners and helpers are gathered together in one habitation\nthe body of inhabitants is termed a State.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nAnd they exchange with one another, and one gives, and another\nreceives, under the idea that the exchange will be for their good.\n\nVery true.\n\nThen, I said, let us begin and create in idea a State; and yet the true\ncreator is necessity, who is the mother of our invention.\n\nOf course, he replied.\n\nNow the first and greatest of necessities is food, which is the\ncondition of life and existence.\n\nCertainly.\n\nThe second is a dwelling, and the third clothing and the like.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd now let us see how our city will be able to supply this great\ndemand: We may suppose that one man is a husbandman, another a builder,\nsome one else a weaver--shall we add to them a shoemaker, or perhaps\nsome other purveyor to our bodily wants?\n\nQuite right.\n\nThe barest notion of a State must include four or five men.\n\nClearly.\n\nAnd how will they proceed?  Will each bring the result of his labours\ninto a common stock?--the individual husbandman, for example, producing\nfor four, and labouring four times as long and as much as he need in\nthe provision of food with which he supplies others as well as himself;\nor will he have nothing to do with others and not be at the trouble of\nproducing for them, but provide for himself alone a fourth of the food\nin a fourth of the time, and in the remaining three-fourths of his time\nbe employed in making a house or a coat or a pair of shoes, having no\npartnership with others, but supplying himself all his own wants?\n\nAdeimantus thought that he should aim at producing food only and not at\nproducing everything.\n\nProbably, I replied, that would be the better way; and when I hear you\nsay this, I am myself reminded that we are not all alike; there are\ndiversities of natures among us which are adapted to different\noccupations.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd will you have a work better done when the workman has many\noccupations, or when he has only one?\n\nWhen he has only one.\n\nFurther, there can be no doubt that a work is spoilt when not done at\nthe right time?\n\nNo doubt.\n\nFor business is not disposed to wait until the doer of the business is\nat leisure; but the doer must follow up what he is doing, and make the\nbusiness his first object.\n\nHe must.\n\nAnd if so, we must infer that all things are produced more plentifully\nand easily and of a better quality when one man does one thing which is\nnatural to him and does it at the right time, and leaves other things.\n\nUndoubtedly..\n\nThen more than four citizens will be required; for the husbandman will\nnot make his own plough or mattock, or other implements of agriculture,\nif they are to be good for anything.  Neither will the builder make his\ntools--and he too needs many; and in like manner the weaver and\nshoemaker.\n\nTrue.\n\nThen carpenters, and smiths, and many other artisans, will be sharers\nin our little State, which is already beginning to grow?\n\nTrue.\n\nYet even if we add neatherds, shepherds, and other herdsmen, in order\nthat our husbandmen may have oxen to plough with, and builders as well\nas husbandmen may have draught cattle, and curriers and weavers fleeces\nand hides,--still our State will not be very large.\n\nThat is true; yet neither will it be a very small State which contains\nall these.\n\nThen, again, there is the situation of the city--to find a place where\nnothing need be imported is well-nigh impossible.\n\nImpossible.\n\nThen there must be another class of citizens who will bring the\nrequired supply from another city?\n\nThere must.\n\nBut if the trader goes empty-handed, having nothing which they require\nwho would supply his need, he will come back empty-handed.\n\nThat is certain.\n\nAnd therefore what they produce at home must be not only enough for\nthemselves, but such both in quantity and quality as to accommodate\nthose from whom their wants are supplied.\n\nVery true.\n\nThen more husbandmen and more artisans will be required?\n\nThey will.\n\nNot to mention the importers and exporters, who are called merchants?\n\nYes.\n\nThen we shall want merchants?\n\nWe shall.\n\nAnd if merchandise is to be carried over the sea, skilful sailors will\nalso be needed, and in considerable numbers?\n\nYes, in considerable numbers.\n\nThen, again, within the city, how will they exchange their productions?\nTo secure such an exchange was, as you will remember, one of our\nprincipal objects when we formed them into a society and constituted a\nState.\n\nClearly they will buy and sell.\n\nThen they will need a market-place, and a money-token for purposes of\nexchange.\n\nCertainly.\n\nSuppose now that a husbandman, or an artisan, brings some production to\nmarket, and he comes at a time when there is no one to exchange with\nhim,--is he to leave his calling and sit idle in the market-place?\n\nNot at all; he will find people there who, seeing the want, undertake\nthe office of salesmen.  In well-ordered States they are commonly those\nwho are the weakest in bodily strength, and therefore of little use for\nany other purpose; their duty is to be in the market, and to give money\nin exchange for goods to those who desire to sell and to take money\nfrom those who desire to buy.\n\nThis want, then, creates a class of retail-traders in our State.  Is\nnot 'retailer' the term which is applied to those who sit in the\nmarket-place engaged in buying and selling, while those who wander from\none city to another are called merchants?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nAnd there is another class of servants, who are intellectually hardly\non the level of companionship; still they have plenty of bodily\nstrength for labour, which accordingly they sell, and are called, if I\ndo not mistake, hirelings, hire being the name which is given to the\nprice of their labour.\n\nTrue.\n\nThen hirelings will help to make up our population?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd now, Adeimantus, is our State matured and perfected?\n\nI think so.\n\nWhere, then, is justice, and where is injustice, and in what part of\nthe State did they spring up?\n\nProbably in the dealings of these citizens with one another.  cannot\nimagine that they are more likely to be found anywhere else.\n\nI dare say that you are right in your suggestion, I said; we had better\nthink the matter out, and not shrink from the enquiry.\n\nLet us then consider, first of all, what will be their way of life, now\nthat we have thus established them.  Will they not produce corn, and\nwine, and clothes, and shoes, and build houses for themselves?  And\nwhen they are housed, they will work, in summer, commonly, stripped and\nbarefoot, but in winter substantially clothed and shod.  They will feed\non barley-meal and flour of wheat, baking and kneading them, making\nnoble cakes and loaves; these they will serve up on a mat of reeds or\non clean leaves, themselves reclining the while upon beds strewn with\nyew or myrtle.  And they and their children will feast, drinking of the\nwine which they have made, wearing garlands on their heads, and hymning\nthe praises of the gods, in happy converse with one another.  And they\nwill take care that their families do not exceed their means; having an\neye to poverty or war.\n\nSOCRATES - GLAUCON\n\nBut, said Glaucon, interposing, you have not given them a relish to\ntheir meal.\n\nTrue, I replied, I had forgotten; of course they must have a\nrelish-salt, and olives, and cheese, and they will boil roots and herbs\nsuch as country people prepare; for a dessert we shall give them figs,\nand peas, and beans; and they will roast myrtle-berries and acorns at\nthe fire, drinking in moderation.  And with such a diet they may be\nexpected to live in peace and health to a good old age, and bequeath a\nsimilar life to their children after them.\n\nYes, Socrates, he said, and if you were providing for a city of pigs,\nhow else would you feed the beasts?\n\nBut what would you have, Glaucon?  I replied.\n\nWhy, he said, you should give them the ordinary conveniences of life.\nPeople who are to be comfortable are accustomed to lie on sofas, and\ndine off tables, and they should have sauces and sweets in the modern\nstyle.\n\nYes, I said, now I understand:  the question which you would have me\nconsider is, not only how a State, but how a luxurious State is\ncreated; and possibly there is no harm in this, for in such a State we\nshall be more likely to see how justice and injustice originate.  In my\nopinion the true and healthy constitution of the State is the one which\nI have described.  But if you wish also to see a State at fever heat, I\nhave no objection.  For I suspect that many will not be satisfied with\nthe simpler way of way They will be for adding sofas, and tables, and\nother furniture; also dainties, and perfumes, and incense, and\ncourtesans, and cakes, all these not of one sort only, but in every\nvariety; we must go beyond the necessaries of which I was at first\nspeaking, such as houses, and clothes, and shoes: the arts of the\npainter and the embroiderer will have to be set in motion, and gold and\nivory and all sorts of materials must be procured.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nThen we must enlarge our borders; for the original healthy State is no\nlonger sufficient.  Now will the city have to fill and swell with a\nmultitude of callings which are not required by any natural want; such\nas the whole tribe of hunters and actors, of whom one large class have\nto do with forms and colours; another will be the votaries of\nmusic--poets and their attendant train of rhapsodists, players,\ndancers, contractors; also makers of divers kinds of articles,\nincluding women's dresses.  And we shall want more servants.  Will not\ntutors be also in request, and nurses wet and dry, tirewomen and\nbarbers, as well as confectioners and cooks; and swineherds, too, who\nwere not needed and therefore had no place in the former edition of our\nState, but are needed now?  They must not be forgotten:  and there will\nbe animals of many other kinds, if people eat them.\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd living in this way we shall have much greater need of physicians\nthan before?\n\nMuch greater.\n\nAnd the country which was enough to support the original inhabitants\nwill be too small now, and not enough?\n\nQuite true.\n\nThen a slice of our neighbours' land will be wanted by us for pasture\nand tillage, and they will want a slice of ours, if, like ourselves,\nthey exceed the limit of necessity, and give themselves up to the\nunlimited accumulation of wealth?\n\nThat, Socrates, will be inevitable.\n\nAnd so we shall go to war, Glaucon.  Shall we not?\n\nMost certainly, he replied.\n\nThen without determining as yet whether war does good or harm, thus\nmuch we may affirm, that now we have discovered war to be derived from\ncauses which are also the causes of almost all the evils in States,\nprivate as well as public.\n\nUndoubtedly.\n\nAnd our State must once more enlarge; and this time the will be nothing\nshort of a whole army, which will have to go out and fight with the\ninvaders for all that we have, as well as for the things and persons\nwhom we were describing above.\n\nWhy? he said; are they not capable of defending themselves?\n\nNo, I said; not if we were right in the principle which was\nacknowledged by all of us when we were framing the State: the\nprinciple, as you will remember, was that one man cannot practise many\narts with success.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nBut is not war an art?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd an art requiring as much attention as shoemaking?\n\nQuite true.\n\nAnd the shoemaker was not allowed by us to be husbandman, or a weaver,\na builder--in order that we might have our shoes well made; but to him\nand to every other worker was assigned one work for which he was by\nnature fitted, and at that he was to continue working all his life long\nand at no other; he was not to let opportunities slip, and then he\nwould become a good workman.  Now nothing can be more important than\nthat the work of a soldier should be well done.  But is war an art so\neasily acquired that a man may be a warrior who is also a husbandman,\nor shoemaker, or other artisan; although no one in the world would be a\ngood dice or draught player who merely took up the game as a\nrecreation, and had not from his earliest years devoted himself to this\nand nothing else?\n\nNo tools will make a man a skilled workman, or master of defence, nor\nbe of any use to him who has not learned how to handle them, and has\nnever bestowed any attention upon them.  How then will he who takes up\na shield or other implement of war become a good fighter all in a day,\nwhether with heavy-armed or any other kind of troops?\n\nYes, he said, the tools which would teach men their own use would be\nbeyond price.\n\nAnd the higher the duties of the guardian, I said, the more time, and\nskill, and art, and application will be needed by him?\n\nNo doubt, he replied.\n\nWill he not also require natural aptitude for his calling?\n\nCertainly.\n\nThen it will be our duty to select, if we can, natures which are fitted\nfor the task of guarding the city?\n\nIt will.\n\nAnd the selection will be no easy matter, I said; but we must be brave\nand do our best.\n\nWe must.\n\nIs not the noble youth very like a well-bred dog in respect of guarding\nand watching?\n\nWhat do you mean?\n\nI mean that both of them ought to be quick to see, and swift to\novertake the enemy when they see him; and strong too if, when they have\ncaught him, they have to fight with him.\n\nAll these qualities, he replied, will certainly be required by them.\n\nWell, and your guardian must be brave if he is to fight well?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd is he likely to be brave who has no spirit, whether horse or dog or\nany other animal?  Have you never observed how invincible and\nunconquerable is spirit and how the presence of it makes the soul of\nany creature to be absolutely fearless and indomitable?\n\nI have.\n\nThen now we have a clear notion of the bodily qualities which are\nrequired in the guardian.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd also of the mental ones; his soul is to be full of spirit?\n\nYes.\n\nBut are not these spirited natures apt to be savage with one another,\nand with everybody else?\n\nA difficulty by no means easy to overcome, he replied.\n\nWhereas, I said, they ought to be dangerous to their enemies, and\ngentle to their friends; if not, they will destroy themselves without\nwaiting for their enemies to destroy them.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nWhat is to be done then?  I said; how shall we find a gentle nature\nwhich has also a great spirit, for the one is the contradiction of the\nother?\n\nTrue.\n\nHe will not be a good guardian who is wanting in either of these two\nqualities; and yet the combination of them appears to be impossible;\nand hence we must infer that to be a good guardian is impossible.\n\nI am afraid that what you say is true, he replied.\n\nHere feeling perplexed I began to think over what had preceded.  My\nfriend, I said, no wonder that we are in a perplexity; for we have lost\nsight of the image which we had before us.\n\nWhat do you mean? he said.\n\nI mean to say that there do exist natures gifted with those opposite\nqualities.\n\nAnd where do you find them?\n\nMany animals, I replied, furnish examples of them; our friend the dog\nis a very good one:  you know that well-bred dogs are perfectly gentle\nto their familiars and acquaintances, and the reverse to strangers.\n\nYes, I know.\n\nThen there is nothing impossible or out of the order of nature in our\nfinding a guardian who has a similar combination of qualities?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nWould not he who is fitted to be a guardian, besides the spirited\nnature, need to have the qualities of a philosopher?\n\nI do not apprehend your meaning.\n\nThe trait of which I am speaking, I replied, may be also seen in the\ndog, and is remarkable in the animal.\n\nWhat trait?\n\nWhy, a dog, whenever he sees a stranger, is angry; when an\nacquaintance, he welcomes him, although the one has never done him any\nharm, nor the other any good.  Did this never strike you as curious?\n\nThe matter never struck me before; but I quite recognise the truth of\nyour remark.\n\nAnd surely this instinct of the dog is very charming;--your dog is a\ntrue philosopher.\n\nWhy?\n\nWhy, because he distinguishes the face of a friend and of an enemy only\nby the criterion of knowing and not knowing.  And must not an animal be\na lover of learning who determines what he likes and dislikes by the\ntest of knowledge and ignorance?\n\nMost assuredly.\n\nAnd is not the love of learning the love of wisdom, which is philosophy?\n\nThey are the same, he replied.\n\nAnd may we not say confidently of man also, that he who is likely to be\ngentle to his friends and acquaintances, must by nature be a lover of\nwisdom and knowledge?\n\nThat we may safely affirm.\n\nThen he who is to be a really good and noble guardian of the State will\nrequire to unite in himself philosophy and spirit and swiftness and\nstrength?\n\nUndoubtedly.\n\nThen we have found the desired natures; and now that we have found\nthem, how are they to be reared and educated?  Is not this enquiry\nwhich may be expected to throw light on the greater enquiry which is\nour final end--How do justice and injustice grow up in States? for we\ndo not want either to omit what is to the point or to draw out the\nargument to an inconvenient length.\n\nSOCRATES - ADEIMANTUS\n\nAdeimantus thought that the enquiry would be of great service to us.\n\nThen, I said, my dear friend, the task must not be given up, even if\nsomewhat long.\n\nCertainly not.\n\nCome then, and let us pass a leisure hour in story-telling, and our\nstory shall be the education of our heroes.\n\nBy all means.\n\nAnd what shall be their education?  Can we find a better than the\ntraditional sort?--and this has two divisions, gymnastic for the body,\nand music for the soul.\n\nTrue.\n\nShall we begin education with music, and go on to gymnastic afterwards?\n\nBy all means.\n\nAnd when you speak of music, do you include literature or not?\n\nI do.\n\nAnd literature may be either true or false?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the young should be trained in both kinds, and we begin with the\nfalse?\n\nI do not understand your meaning, he said.\n\nYou know, I said, that we begin by telling children stories which,\nthough not wholly destitute of truth, are in the main fictitious; and\nthese stories are told them when they are not of an age to learn\ngymnastics.\n\nVery true.\n\nThat was my meaning when I said that we must teach music before\ngymnastics.\n\nQuite right, he said.\n\nYou know also that the beginning is the most important part of any\nwork, especially in the case of a young and tender thing; for that is\nthe time at which the character is being formed and the desired\nimpression is more readily taken.\n\nQuite true.\n\nAnd shall we just carelessly allow children to hear any casual tales\nwhich may be devised by casual persons, and to receive into their minds\nideas for the most part the very opposite of those which we should wish\nthem to have when they are grown up?\n\nWe cannot.\n\nThen the first thing will be to establish a censorship of the writers\nof fiction, and let the censors receive any tale of fiction which is\ngood, and reject the bad; and we will desire mothers and nurses to tell\ntheir children the authorised ones only.  Let them fashion the mind\nwith such tales, even more fondly than they mould the body with their\nhands; but most of those which are now in use must be discarded.\n\nOf what tales are you speaking? he said.\n\nYou may find a model of the lesser in the greater, I said; for they are\nnecessarily of the same type, and there is the same spirit in both of\nthem.\n\nVery likely, he replied; but I do not as yet know what you would term\nthe greater.\n\nThose, I said, which are narrated by Homer and Hesiod, and the rest of\nthe poets, who have ever been the great story-tellers of mankind.\n\nBut which stories do you mean, he said; and what fault do you find with\nthem?\n\nA fault which is most serious, I said; the fault of telling a lie, and,\nwhat is more, a bad lie.\n\nBut when is this fault committed?\n\nWhenever an erroneous representation is made of the nature of gods and\nheroes,--as when a painter paints a portrait not having the shadow of a\nlikeness to the original.\n\nYes, he said, that sort of thing is certainly very blamable; but what\nare the stories which you mean?\n\nFirst of all, I said, there was that greatest of all lies, in high\nplaces, which the poet told about Uranus, and which was a bad lie\ntoo,--I mean what Hesiod says that Uranus did, and how Cronus\nretaliated on him.  The doings of Cronus, and the sufferings which in\nturn his son inflicted upon him, even if they were true, ought\ncertainly not to be lightly told to young and thoughtless persons; if\npossible, they had better be buried in silence.  But if there is an\nabsolute necessity for their mention, a chosen few might hear them in a\nmystery, and they should sacrifice not a common [Eleusinian] pig, but\nsome huge and unprocurable victim; and then the number of the hearers\nwill be very few indeed.\n\nWhy, yes, said he, those stories are extremely objectionable.\n\nYes, Adeimantus, they are stories not to be repeated in our State; the\nyoung man should not be told that in committing the worst of crimes he\nis far from doing anything outrageous; and that even if he chastises\nhis father when does wrong, in whatever manner, he will only be\nfollowing the example of the first and greatest among the gods.\n\nI entirely agree with you, he said; in my opinion those stories are\nquite unfit to be repeated.\n\nNeither, if we mean our future guardians to regard the habit of\nquarrelling among themselves as of all things the basest, should any\nword be said to them of the wars in heaven, and of the plots and\nfightings of the gods against one another, for they are not true.  No,\nwe shall never mention the battles of the giants, or let them be\nembroidered on garments; and we shall be silent about the innumerable\nother quarrels of gods and heroes with their friends and relatives.  If\nthey would only believe us we would tell them that quarrelling is\nunholy, and that never up to this time has there been any, quarrel\nbetween citizens; this is what old men and old women should begin by\ntelling children; and when they grow up, the poets also should be told\nto compose for them in a similar spirit.  But the narrative of\nHephaestus binding Here his mother, or how on another occasion Zeus\nsent him flying for taking her part when she was being beaten, and all\nthe battles of the gods in Homer--these tales must not be admitted into\nour State, whether they are supposed to have an allegorical meaning or\nnot.  For a young person cannot judge what is allegorical and what is\nliteral; anything that he receives into his mind at that age is likely\nto become indelible and unalterable; and therefore it is most important\nthat the tales which the young first hear should be models of virtuous\nthoughts.\n\nThere you are right, he replied; but if any one asks where are such\nmodels to be found and of what tales are you speaking--how shall we\nanswer him?\n\nI said to him, You and I, Adeimantus, at this moment are not poets, but\nfounders of a State:  now the founders of a State ought to know the\ngeneral forms in which poets should cast their tales, and the limits\nwhich must be observed by them, but to make the tales is not their\nbusiness.\n\nVery true, he said; but what are these forms of theology which you mean?\n\nSomething of this kind, I replied:--God is always to be represented as\nhe truly is, whatever be the sort of poetry, epic, lyric or tragic, in\nwhich the representation is given.\n\nRight.\n\nAnd is he not truly good? and must he not be represented as such?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd no good thing is hurtful?\n\nNo, indeed.\n\nAnd that which is not hurtful hurts not?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nAnd that which hurts not does no evil?\n\nNo.\n\nAnd can that which does no evil be a cause of evil?\n\nImpossible.\n\nAnd the good is advantageous?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd therefore the cause of well-being?\n\nYes.\n\nIt follows therefore that the good is not the cause of all things, but\nof the good only?\n\nAssuredly.\n\nThen God, if he be good, is not the author of all things, as the many\nassert, but he is the cause of a few things only, and not of most\nthings that occur to men.  For few are the goods of human life, and\nmany are the evils, and the good is to be attributed to God alone; of\nthe evils the causes are to be sought elsewhere, and not in him.\n\nThat appears to me to be most true, he said.\n\nThen we must not listen to Homer or to any other poet who is guilty of\nthe folly of saying that two casks\n\n    Lie at the threshold of Zeus, full of lots, one of good,\n    the other of evil lots,\n\nand that he to whom Zeus gives a mixture of the two\n\n    Sometimes meets with evil fortune, at other times with good;\n\nbut that he to whom is given the cup of unmingled ill,\n\n    Him wild hunger drives o'er the beauteous earth.\n\nAnd again\n\n    Zeus, who is the dispenser of good and evil to us.\n\nAnd if any one asserts that the violation of oaths and treaties, which\nwas really the work of Pandarus, was brought about by Athene and Zeus,\nor that the strife and contention of the gods was instigated by Themis\nand Zeus, he shall not have our approval; neither will we allow our\nyoung men to hear the words of Aeschylus, that\n\n    God plants guilt among men when he desires utterly to\n    destroy a house.\n\nAnd if a poet writes of the sufferings of Niobe--the subject of the\ntragedy in which these iambic verses occur--or of the house of Pelops,\nor of the Trojan war or on any similar theme, either we must not permit\nhim to say that these are the works of God, or if they are of God, he\nmust devise some explanation of them such as we are seeking; he must\nsay that God did what was just and right, and they were the better for\nbeing punished; but that those who are punished are miserable, and that\nGod is the author of their misery--the poet is not to be permitted to\nsay; though he may say that the wicked are miserable because they\nrequire to be punished, and are benefited by receiving punishment from\nGod; but that God being good is the author of evil to any one is to be\nstrenuously denied, and not to be said or sung or heard in verse or\nprose by any one whether old or young in any well-ordered commonwealth.\nSuch a fiction is suicidal, ruinous, impious.\n\nI agree with you, he replied, and am ready to give my assent to the law.\n\nLet this then be one of our rules and principles concerning the gods,\nto which our poets and reciters will be expected to conform--that God\nis not the author of all things, but of good only.\n\nThat will do, he said.\n\nAnd what do you think of a second principle?  Shall I ask you whether\nGod is a magician, and of a nature to appear insidiously now in one\nshape, and now in another--sometimes himself changing and passing into\nmany forms, sometimes deceiving us with the semblance of such\ntransformations; or is he one and the same immutably fixed in his own\nproper image?\n\nI cannot answer you, he said, without more thought.\n\nWell, I said; but if we suppose a change in anything, that change must\nbe effected either by the thing itself, or by some other thing?\n\nMost certainly.\n\nAnd things which are at their best are also least liable to be altered\nor discomposed; for example, when healthiest and strongest, the human\nframe is least liable to be affected by meats and drinks, and the plant\nwhich is in the fullest vigour also suffers least from winds or the\nheat of the sun or any similar causes.\n\nOf course.\n\nAnd will not the bravest and wisest soul be least confused or deranged\nby any external influence?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd the same principle, as I should suppose, applies to all composite\nthings--furniture, houses, garments; when good and well made, they are\nleast altered by time and circumstances.\n\nVery true.\n\nThen everything which is good, whether made by art or nature, or both,\nis least liable to suffer change from without?\n\nTrue.\n\nBut surely God and the things of God are in every way perfect?\n\nOf course they are.\n\nThen he can hardly be compelled by external influence to take many\nshapes?\n\nHe cannot.\n\nBut may he not change and transform himself?\n\nClearly, he said, that must be the case if he is changed at all.\n\nAnd will he then change himself for the better and fairer, or for the\nworse and more unsightly?\n\nIf he change at all he can only change for the worse, for we cannot\nsuppose him to be deficient either in virtue or beauty.\n\nVery true, Adeimantus; but then, would any one, whether God or man,\ndesire to make himself worse?\n\nImpossible.\n\nThen it is impossible that God should ever be willing to change; being,\nas is supposed, the fairest and best that is conceivable, every god\nremains absolutely and for ever in his own form.\n\nThat necessarily follows, he said, in my judgment.\n\nThen, I said, my dear friend, let none of the poets tell us that\n\n    The gods, taking the disguise of strangers from other lands,\n    walk up and down cities in all sorts of forms;\n\nand let no one slander Proteus and Thetis, neither let any one, either\nin tragedy or in any other kind of poetry, introduce Here disguised in\nthe likeness of a priestess asking an alms\n\n    For the life-giving daughters of Inachus the river of Argos;\n\n--let us have no more lies of that sort.  Neither must we have mothers\nunder the influence of the poets scaring their children with a bad\nversion of these myths--telling how certain gods, as they say, 'Go\nabout by night in the likeness of so many strangers and in divers\nforms'; but let them take heed lest they make cowards of their\nchildren, and at the same time speak blasphemy against the gods.\n\nHeaven forbid, he said.\n\nBut although the gods are themselves unchangeable, still by witchcraft\nand deception they may make us think that they appear in various forms?\n\nPerhaps, he replied.\n\nWell, but can you imagine that God will be willing to lie, whether in\nword or deed, or to put forth a phantom of himself?\n\nI cannot say, he replied.\n\nDo you not know, I said, that the true lie, if such an expression may\nbe allowed, is hated of gods and men?\n\nWhat do you mean? he said.\n\nI mean that no one is willingly deceived in that which is the truest\nand highest part of himself, or about the truest and highest matters;\nthere, above all, he is most afraid of a lie having possession of him.\n\nStill, he said, I do not comprehend you.\n\nThe reason is, I replied, that you attribute some profound meaning to\nmy words; but I am only saying that deception, or being deceived or\nuninformed about the highest realities in the highest part of\nthemselves, which is the soul, and in that part of them to have and to\nhold the lie, is what mankind least like;--that, I say, is what they\nutterly detest.\n\nThere is nothing more hateful to them.\n\nAnd, as I was just now remarking, this ignorance in the soul of him who\nis deceived may be called the true lie; for the lie in words is only a\nkind of imitation and shadowy image of a previous affection of the\nsoul, not pure unadulterated falsehood.  Am I not right?\n\nPerfectly right.\n\nThe true lie is hated not only by the gods, but also by men?\n\nYes.\n\nWhereas the lie in words is in certain cases useful and not hateful; in\ndealing with enemies--that would be an instance; or again, when those\nwhom we call our friends in a fit of madness or illusion are going to\ndo some harm, then it is useful and is a sort of medicine or\npreventive; also in the tales of mythology, of which we were just now\nspeaking--because we do not know the truth about ancient times, we make\nfalsehood as much like truth as we can, and so turn it to account.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nBut can any of these reasons apply to God?  Can we suppose that he is\nignorant of antiquity, and therefore has recourse to invention?\n\nThat would be ridiculous, he said.\n\nThen the lying poet has no place in our idea of God?\n\nI should say not.\n\nOr perhaps he may tell a lie because he is afraid of enemies?\n\nThat is inconceivable.\n\nBut he may have friends who are senseless or mad?\n\nBut no mad or senseless person can be a friend of God.\n\nThen no motive can be imagined why God should lie?\n\nNone whatever.\n\nThen the superhuman and divine is absolutely incapable of falsehood?\n\nYes.\n\nThen is God perfectly simple and true both in word and deed; he changes\nnot; he deceives not, either by sign or word, by dream or waking vision.\n\nYour thoughts, he said, are the reflection of my own.\n\nYou agree with me then, I said, that this is the second type or form in\nwhich we should write and speak about divine things.  The gods are not\nmagicians who transform themselves, neither do they deceive mankind in\nany way.\n\nI grant that.\n\nThen, although we are admirers of Homer, we do not admire the lying\ndream which Zeus sends to Agamemnon; neither will we praise the verses\nof Aeschylus in which Thetis says that Apollo at her nuptials\n\n    Was celebrating in song her fair progeny whose days were\n    to be long, and to know no sickness. And when he had\n    spoken of my lot as in all things blessed of heaven he\n    raised a note of triumph and cheered my soul. And I\n    thought that the word of Phoebus being divine and full\n    of prophecy, would not fail. And now he himself who\n    uttered the strain, he who was present at the banquet,\n    and who said this--he it is who has slain my son.\n\nThese are the kind of sentiments about the gods which will arouse our\nanger; and he who utters them shall be refused a chorus; neither shall\nwe allow teachers to make use of them in the instruction of the young,\nmeaning, as we do, that our guardians, as far as men can be, should be\ntrue worshippers of the gods and like them.\n\nI entirely agree, be said, in these principles, and promise to make\nthem my laws.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK III\n\n\nSOCRATES - ADEIMANTUS\n\nSUCH then, I said, are our principles of theology--some tales are to be\ntold, and others are not to be told to our disciples from their youth\nupwards, if we mean them to honour the gods and their parents, and to\nvalue friendship with one another.\n\nYes; and I think that our principles are right, he said.\n\nBut if they are to be courageous, must they not learn other lessons\nbesides these, and lessons of such a kind as will take away the fear of\ndeath?  Can any man be courageous who has the fear of death in him?\n\nCertainly not, he said.\n\nAnd can he be fearless of death, or will he choose death in battle\nrather than defeat and slavery, who believes the world below to be real\nand terrible?\n\nImpossible.\n\nThen we must assume a control over the narrators of this class of tales\nas well as over the others, and beg them not simply to but rather to\ncommend the world below, intimating to them that their descriptions are\nuntrue, and will do harm to our future warriors.\n\nThat will be our duty, he said.\n\nThen, I said, we shall have to obliterate many obnoxious passages,\nbeginning with the verses,\n\n    I would rather he a serf on the land of a poor and portionless\n    man than rule over all the dead who have come to nought.\n\nWe must also expunge the verse, which tells us how Pluto feared,\n\n    Lest the mansions grim and squalid which the gods abhor should\n    be seen both of mortals and immortals.\n\nAnd again:\n\n    O heavens! verily in the house of Hades there is soul and\n    ghostly form but no mind at all!\n\nAgain of Tiresias:--\n\n    [To him even after death did Persephone grant mind,] that he\n    alone should be wise; but the other souls are flitting shades.\n\nAgain:--\n\n    The soul flying from the limbs had gone to Hades, lamentng her\n    fate, leaving manhood and youth.\n\nAgain:--\n\n    And the soul, with shrilling cry, passed like smoke beneath the\n    earth.\n\nAnd,--\n\n    As bats in hollow of mystic cavern, whenever any of the has\n    dropped out of the string and falls from the rock, fly shrilling\n    and cling to one another, so did they with shrilling cry hold\n    together as they moved.\n\nAnd we must beg Homer and the other poets not to be angry if we strike\nout these and similar passages, not because they are unpoetical, or\nunattractive to the popular ear, but because the greater the poetical\ncharm of them, the less are they meet for the ears of boys and men who\nare meant to be free, and who should fear slavery more than death.\n\nUndoubtedly.\n\nAlso we shall have to reject all the terrible and appalling names\ndescribe the world below--Cocytus and Styx, ghosts under the earth, and\nsapless shades, and any similar words of which the very mention causes\na shudder to pass through the inmost soul of him who hears them.  I do\nnot say that these horrible stories may not have a use of some kind;\nbut there is a danger that the nerves of our guardians may be rendered\ntoo excitable and effeminate by them.\n\nThere is a real danger, he said.\n\nThen we must have no more of them.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnother and a nobler strain must be composed and sung by us.\n\nClearly.\n\nAnd shall we proceed to get rid of the weepings and wailings of famous\nmen?\n\nThey will go with the rest.\n\nBut shall we be right in getting rid of them?  Reflect:  our principle\nis that the good man will not consider death terrible to any other good\nman who is his comrade.\n\nYes; that is our principle.\n\nAnd therefore he will not sorrow for his departed friend as though he\nhad suffered anything terrible?\n\nHe will not.\n\nSuch an one, as we further maintain, is sufficient for himself and his\nown happiness, and therefore is least in need of other men.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nAnd for this reason the loss of a son or brother, or the deprivation of\nfortune, is to him of all men least terrible.\n\nAssuredly.\n\nAnd therefore he will be least likely to lament, and will bear with the\ngreatest equanimity any misfortune of this sort which may befall him.\n\nYes, he will feel such a misfortune far less than another.\n\nThen we shall be right in getting rid of the lamentations of famous\nmen, and making them over to women (and not even to women who are good\nfor anything), or to men of a baser sort, that those who are being\neducated by us to be the defenders of their country may scorn to do the\nlike.\n\nThat will be very right.\n\nThen we will once more entreat Homer and the other poets not to depict\nAchilles, who is the son of a goddess, first lying on his side, then on\nhis back, and then on his face; then starting up and sailing in a\nfrenzy along the shores of the barren sea; now taking the sooty ashes\nin both his hands and pouring them over his head, or weeping and\nwailing in the various modes which Homer has delineated.  Nor should he\ndescribe Priam the kinsman of the gods as praying and beseeching,\n\n    Rolling in the dirt, calling each man loudly by his name.\n\nStill more earnestly will we beg of him at all events not to introduce\nthe gods lamenting and saying,\n\n    Alas! my misery! Alas! that I bore the harvest to my sorrow.\n\nBut if he must introduce the gods, at any rate let him not dare so\ncompletely to misrepresent the greatest of the gods, as to make him\nsay--\n\n    O heavens! with my eyes verily I behold a dear friend of mine\n    chased round and round the city, and my heart is sorrowful.\n\nOr again:--\n\n    Woe is me that I am fated to have Sarpedon, dearest of men to\n    me, subdued at the hands of Patroclus the son of Menoetius.\n\nFor if, my sweet Adeimantus, our youth seriously listen to such\nunworthy representations of the gods, instead of laughing at them as\nthey ought, hardly will any of them deem that he himself, being but a\nman, can be dishonoured by similar actions; neither will he rebuke any\ninclination which may arise in his mind to say and do the like.  And\ninstead of having any shame or self-control, he will be always whining\nand lamenting on slight occasions.\n\nYes, he said, that is most true.\n\nYes, I replied; but that surely is what ought not to be, as the\nargument has just proved to us; and by that proof we must abide until\nit is disproved by a better.\n\nIt ought not to be.\n\nNeither ought our guardians to be given to laughter.  For a fit of\nlaughter which has been indulged to excess almost always produces a\nviolent reaction.\n\nSo I believe.\n\nThen persons of worth, even if only mortal men, must not be represented\nas overcome by laughter, and still less must such a representation of\nthe gods be allowed.\n\nStill less of the gods, as you say, he replied.\n\nThen we shall not suffer such an expression to be used about the gods\nas that of Homer when he describes how\n\n    Inextinguishable laughter arose among the blessed gods, when\n    they saw Hephaestus bustling about the mansion.\n\nOn your views, we must not admit them.\n\nOn my views, if you like to father them on me; that we must not admit\nthem is certain.\n\nAgain, truth should be highly valued; if, as we were saying, a lie is\nuseless to the gods, and useful only as a medicine to men, then the use\nof such medicines should be restricted to physicians; private\nindividuals have no business with them.\n\nClearly not, he said.\n\nThen if any one at all is to have the privilege of lying, the rulers of\nthe State should be the persons; and they, in their dealings either\nwith enemies or with their own citizens, may be allowed to lie for the\npublic good.  But nobody else should meddle with anything of the kind;\nand although the rulers have this privilege, for a private man to lie\nto them in return is to be deemed a more heinous fault than for the\npatient or the pupil of a gymnasium not to speak the truth about his\nown bodily illnesses to the physician or to the trainer, or for a\nsailor not to tell the captain what is happening about the ship and the\nrest of the crew, and how things are going with himself or his fellow\nsailors.\n\nMost true, he said.\n\nIf, then, the ruler catches anybody beside himself lying in the State,\n\n    Any of the craftsmen, whether he priest or physician or\n    carpenter.\n\nhe will punish him for introducing a practice which is equally\nsubversive and destructive of ship or State.\n\nMost certainly, he said, if our idea of the State is ever carried out.\n\nIn the next place our youth must be temperate?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAre not the chief elements of temperance, speaking generally, obedience\nto commanders and self-control in sensual pleasures?\n\nTrue.\n\nThen we shall approve such language as that of Diomede in Homer,\n\n    Friend, sit still and obey my word,\n\nand the verses which follow,\n\n    The Greeks marched breathing prowess,\n    ...in silent awe of their leaders,\n\nand other sentiments of the same kind.\n\nWe shall.\n\nWhat of this line,\n\n    O heavy with wine, who hast the eyes of a dog and the heart of a\n    stag,\n\nand of the words which follow?  Would you say that these, or any\nsimilar impertinences which private individuals are supposed to address\nto their rulers, whether in verse or prose, are well or ill spoken?\n\nThey are ill spoken.\n\nThey may very possibly afford some amusement, but they do not conduce\nto temperance.  And therefore they are likely to do harm to our young\nmen--you would agree with me there?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd then, again, to make the wisest of men say that nothing in his\nopinion is more glorious than\n\n    When the tables are full of bread and meat, and the cup-bearer\n    carries round wine which he draws from the bowl and pours into\n    the cups,\n\nis it fit or conducive to temperance for a young man to hear such\nwords?  Or the verse\n\n    The saddest of fates is to die and meet destiny from hunger?\n\nWhat would you say again to the tale of Zeus, who, while other gods and\nmen were asleep and he the only person awake, lay devising plans, but\nforgot them all in a moment through his lust, and was so completely\novercome at the sight of Here that he would not even go into the hut,\nbut wanted to lie with her on the ground, declaring that he had never\nbeen in such a state of rapture before, even when they first met one\nanother\n\n    Without the knowledge of their parents;\n\nor that other tale of how Hephaestus, because of similar goings on,\ncast a chain around Ares and Aphrodite?\n\nIndeed, he said, I am strongly of opinion that they ought not to hear\nthat sort of thing.\n\nBut any deeds of endurance which are done or told by famous men, these\nthey ought to see and hear; as, for example, what is said in the verses,\n\n    He smote his breast, and thus reproached his heart,\n    Endure, my heart; far worse hast thou endured!\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nIn the next place, we must not let them be receivers of gifts or lovers\nof money.\n\nCertainly not.\n\nNeither must we sing to them of\n\n    Gifts persuading gods, and persuading reverend kings.\n\nNeither is Phoenix, the tutor of Achilles, to be approved or deemed to\nhave given his pupil good counsel when he told him that he should take\nthe gifts of the Greeks and assist them; but that without a gift he\nshould not lay aside his anger.  Neither will we believe or acknowledge\nAchilles himself to have been such a lover of money that he took\nAgamemnon's or that when he had received payment he restored the dead\nbody of Hector, but that without payment he was unwilling to do so.\n\nUndoubtedly, he said, these are not sentiments which can be approved.\n\nLoving Homer as I do, I hardly like to say that in attributing these\nfeelings to Achilles, or in believing that they are truly to him, he is\nguilty of downright impiety.  As little can I believe the narrative of\nhis insolence to Apollo, where he says,\n\n    Thou hast wronged me, O far-darter, most abominable of deities.\n    Verily I would he even with thee, if I had only the power,\n\nor his insubordination to the river-god, on whose divinity he is ready\nto lay hands; or his offering to the dead Patroclus of his own hair,\nwhich had been previously dedicated to the other river-god Spercheius,\nand that he actually performed this vow; or that he dragged Hector\nround the tomb of Patroclus, and slaughtered the captives at the pyre;\nof all this I cannot believe that he was guilty, any more than I can\nallow our citizens to believe that he, the wise Cheiron's pupil, the\nson of a goddess and of Peleus who was the gentlest of men and third in\ndescent from Zeus, was so disordered in his wits as to be at one time\nthe slave of two seemingly inconsistent passions, meanness, not\nuntainted by avarice, combined with overweening contempt of gods and\nmen.\n\nYou are quite right, he replied.\n\nAnd let us equally refuse to believe, or allow to be repeated, the tale\nof Theseus son of Poseidon, or of Peirithous son of Zeus, going forth\nas they did to perpetrate a horrid rape; or of any other hero or son of\na god daring to do such impious and dreadful things as they falsely\nascribe to them in our day: and let us further compel the poets to\ndeclare either that these acts were not done by them, or that they were\nnot the sons of gods;--both in the same breath they shall not be\npermitted to affirm.  We will not have them trying to persuade our\nyouth that the gods are the authors of evil, and that heroes are no\nbetter than men-sentiments which, as we were saying, are neither pious\nnor true, for we have already proved that evil cannot come from the\ngods.\n\nAssuredly not.\n\nAnd further they are likely to have a bad effect on those who hear\nthem; for everybody will begin to excuse his own vices when he is\nconvinced that similar wickednesses are always being perpetrated by--\n\n    The kindred of the gods, the relatives of Zeus, whose ancestral\n    altar, the attar of Zeus, is aloft in air on the peak of Ida,\n\nand who have\n\n    the blood of deities yet flowing in their veins.\n\nAnd therefore let us put an end to such tales, lest they engender\nlaxity of morals among the young.\n\nBy all means, he replied.\n\nBut now that we are determining what classes of subjects are or are not\nto be spoken of, let us see whether any have been omitted by us.  The\nmanner in which gods and demigods and heroes and the world below should\nbe treated has been already laid down.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd what shall we say about men?  That is clearly the remaining portion\nof our subject.\n\nClearly so.\n\nBut we are not in a condition to answer this question at present, my\nfriend.\n\nWhy not?\n\nBecause, if I am not mistaken, we shall have to say that about men\npoets and story-tellers are guilty of making the gravest misstatements\nwhen they tell us that wicked men are often happy, and the good\nmiserable; and that injustice is profitable when undetected, but that\njustice is a man's own loss and another's gain--these things we shall\nforbid them to utter, and command them to sing and say the opposite.\n\nTo be sure we shall, he replied.\n\nBut if you admit that I am right in this, then I shall maintain that\nyou have implied the principle for which we have been all along\ncontending.\n\nI grant the truth of your inference.\n\nThat such things are or are not to be said about men is a question\nwhich we cannot determine until we have discovered what justice is, and\nhow naturally advantageous to the possessor, whether he seems to be\njust or not.\n\nMost true, he said.\n\nEnough of the subjects of poetry:  let us now speak of the style; and\nwhen this has been considered, both matter and manner will have been\ncompletely treated.\n\nI do not understand what you mean, said Adeimantus.\n\nThen I must make you understand; and perhaps I may be more intelligible\nif I put the matter in this way.  You are aware, I suppose, that all\nmythology and poetry is a narration of events, either past, present, or\nto come?\n\nCertainly, he replied.\n\nAnd narration may be either simple narration, or imitation, or a union\nof the two?\n\nThat again, he said, I do not quite understand.\n\nI fear that I must be a ridiculous teacher when I have so much\ndifficulty in making myself apprehended.  Like a bad speaker,\ntherefore, I will not take the whole of the subject, but will break a\npiece off in illustration of my meaning.  You know the first lines of\nthe Iliad, in which the poet says that Chryses prayed Agamemnon to\nrelease his daughter, and that Agamemnon flew into a passion with him;\nwhereupon Chryses, failing of his object, invoked the anger of the God\nagainst the Achaeans.  Now as far as these lines,\n\n    And he prayed all the Greeks, but especially the two sons of Atreus,\n    the chiefs of the people,\n\nthe poet is speaking in his own person; he never leads us to suppose\nthat he is any one else.  But in what follows he takes the person of\nChryses, and then he does all that he can to make us believe that the\nspeaker is not Homer, but the aged priest himself.  And in this double\nform he has cast the entire narrative of the events which occurred at\nTroy and in Ithaca and throughout the Odyssey.\n\nYes.\n\nAnd a narrative it remains both in the speeches which the poet recites\nfrom time to time and in the intermediate passages?\n\nQuite true.\n\nBut when the poet speaks in the person of another, may we not say that\nhe assimilates his style to that of the person who, as he informs you,\nis going to speak?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd this assimilation of himself to another, either by the use of voice\nor gesture, is the imitation of the person whose character he assumes?\n\nOf course.\n\nThen in this case the narrative of the poet may be said to proceed by\nway of imitation?\n\nVery true.\n\nOr, if the poet everywhere appears and never conceals himself, then\nagain the imitation is dropped, and his poetry becomes simple\nnarration.  However, in order that I may make my meaning quite clear,\nand that you may no more say, I don't understand,' I will show how the\nchange might be effected.  If Homer had said, 'The priest came, having\nhis daughter's ransom in his hands, supplicating the Achaeans, and\nabove all the kings;' and then if, instead of speaking in the person of\nChryses, he had continued in his own person, the words would have been,\nnot imitation, but simple narration.  The passage would have run as\nfollows (I am no poet, and therefore I drop the metre), 'The priest\ncame and prayed the gods on behalf of the Greeks that they might\ncapture Troy and return safely home, but begged that they would give\nhim back his daughter, and take the ransom which he brought, and\nrespect the God.  Thus he spoke, and the other Greeks revered the\npriest and assented.  But Agamemnon was wroth, and bade him depart and\nnot come again, lest the staff and chaplets of the God should be of no\navail to him--the daughter of Chryses should not be released, he\nsaid--she should grow old with him in Argos.  And then he told him to\ngo away and not to provoke him, if he intended to get home unscathed.\nAnd the old man went away in fear and silence, and, when he had left\nthe camp, he called upon Apollo by his many names, reminding him of\neverything which he had done pleasing to him, whether in building his\ntemples, or in offering sacrifice, and praying that his good deeds\nmight be returned to him, and that the Achaeans might expiate his tears\nby the arrows of the god,'--and so on.  In this way the whole becomes\nsimple narrative.\n\nI understand, he said.\n\nOr you may suppose the opposite case--that the intermediate passages\nare omitted, and the dialogue only left.\n\nThat also, he said, I understand; you mean, for example, as in tragedy.\n\nYou have conceived my meaning perfectly; and if I mistake not, what you\nfailed to apprehend before is now made clear to you, that poetry and\nmythology are, in some cases, wholly imitative--instances of this are\nsupplied by tragedy and comedy; there is likewise the opposite style,\nin which the my poet is the only speaker--of this the dithyramb affords\nthe best example; and the combination of both is found in epic, and in\nseveral other styles of poetry.  Do I take you with me?\n\nYes, he said; I see now what you meant.\n\nI will ask you to remember also what I began by saying, that we had\ndone with the subject and might proceed to the style.\n\nYes, I remember.\n\nIn saying this, I intended to imply that we must come to an\nunderstanding about the mimetic art,--whether the poets, in narrating\ntheir stories, are to be allowed by us to imitate, and if so, whether\nin whole or in part, and if the latter, in what parts; or should all\nimitation be prohibited?\n\nYou mean, I suspect, to ask whether tragedy and comedy shall be\nadmitted into our State?\n\nYes, I said; but there may be more than this in question: I really do\nnot know as yet, but whither the argument may blow, thither we go.\n\nAnd go we will, he said.\n\nThen, Adeimantus, let me ask you whether our guardians ought to be\nimitators; or rather, has not this question been decided by the rule\nalready laid down that one man can only do one thing well, and not\nmany; and that if he attempt many, he will altogether fall of gaining\nmuch reputation in any?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd this is equally true of imitation; no one man can imitate many\nthings as well as he would imitate a single one?\n\nHe cannot.\n\nThen the same person will hardly be able to play a serious part in\nlife, and at the same time to be an imitator and imitate many other\nparts as well; for even when two species of imitation are nearly\nallied, the same persons cannot succeed in both, as, for example, the\nwriters of tragedy and comedy--did you not just now call them\nimitations?\n\nYes, I did; and you are right in thinking that the same persons cannot\nsucceed in both.\n\nAny more than they can be rhapsodists and actors at once?\n\nTrue.\n\nNeither are comic and tragic actors the same; yet all these things are\nbut imitations.\n\nThey are so.\n\nAnd human nature, Adeimantus, appears to have been coined into yet\nsmaller pieces, and to be as incapable of imitating many things well,\nas of performing well the actions of which the imitations are copies.\n\nQuite true, he replied.\n\nIf then we adhere to our original notion and bear in mind that our\nguardians, setting aside every other business, are to dedicate\nthemselves wholly to the maintenance of freedom in the State, making\nthis their craft, and engaging in no work which does not bear on this\nend, they ought not to practise or imitate anything else; if they\nimitate at all, they should imitate from youth upward only those\ncharacters which are suitable to their profession--the courageous,\ntemperate, holy, free, and the like; but they should not depict or be\nskilful at imitating any kind of illiberality or baseness, lest from\nimitation they should come to be what they imitate.  Did you never\nobserve how imitations, beginning in early youth and continuing far\ninto life, at length grow into habits and become a second nature,\naffecting body, voice, and mind?\n\nYes, certainly, he said.\n\nThen, I said, we will not allow those for whom we profess a care and of\nwhom we say that they ought to be good men, to imitate a woman, whether\nyoung or old, quarrelling with her husband, or striving and vaunting\nagainst the gods in conceit of her happiness, or when she is in\naffliction, or sorrow, or weeping; and certainly not one who is in\nsickness, love, or labour.\n\nVery right, he said.\n\nNeither must they represent slaves, male or female, performing the\noffices of slaves?\n\nThey must not.\n\nAnd surely not bad men, whether cowards or any others, who do the\nreverse of what we have just been prescribing, who scold or mock or\nrevile one another in drink or out of in drink or, or who in any other\nmanner sin against themselves and their neighbours in word or deed, as\nthe manner of such is.  Neither should they be trained to imitate the\naction or speech of men or women who are mad or bad; for madness, like\nvice, is to be known but not to be practised or imitated.\n\nVery true, he replied.\n\nNeither may they imitate smiths or other artificers, or oarsmen, or\nboatswains, or the like?\n\nHow can they, he said, when they are not allowed to apply their minds\nto the callings of any of these?\n\nNor may they imitate the neighing of horses, the bellowing of bulls,\nthe murmur of rivers and roll of the ocean, thunder, and all that sort\nof thing?\n\nNay, he said, if madness be forbidden, neither may they copy the\nbehaviour of madmen.\n\nYou mean, I said, if I understand you aright, that there is one sort of\nnarrative style which may be employed by a truly good man when he has\nanything to say, and that another sort will be used by a man of an\nopposite character and education.\n\nAnd which are these two sorts? he asked.\n\nSuppose, I answered, that a just and good man in the course of a\nnarration comes on some saying or action of another good man,--I should\nimagine that he will like to personate him, and will not be ashamed of\nthis sort of imitation:  he will be most ready to play the part of the\ngood man when he is acting firmly and wisely; in a less degree when he\nis overtaken by illness or love or drink, or has met with any other\ndisaster.  But when he comes to a character which is unworthy of him,\nhe will not make a study of that; he will disdain such a person, and\nwill assume his likeness, if at all, for a moment only when he is\nperforming some good action; at other times he will be ashamed to play\na part which he has never practised, nor will he like to fashion and\nframe himself after the baser models; he feels the employment of such\nan art, unless in jest, to be beneath him, and his mind revolts at it.\n\nSo I should expect, he replied.\n\nThen he will adopt a mode of narration such as we have illustrated out\nof Homer, that is to say, his style will be both imitative and\nnarrative; but there will be very little of the former, and a great\ndeal of the latter.  Do you agree?\n\nCertainly, he said; that is the model which such a speaker must\nnecessarily take.\n\nBut there is another sort of character who will narrate anything, and,\nthe worse lie is, the more unscrupulous he will be; nothing will be too\nbad for him:  and he will be ready to imitate anything, not as a joke,\nbut in right good earnest, and before a large company.  As I was just\nnow saying, he will attempt to represent the roll of thunder, the noise\nof wind and hall, or the creaking of wheels, and pulleys, and the\nvarious sounds of flutes; pipes, trumpets, and all sorts of\ninstruments:  he will bark like a dog, bleat like a sheep, or crow like\na cock; his entire art will consist in imitation of voice and gesture,\nand there will be very little narration.\n\nThat, he said, will be his mode of speaking.\n\nThese, then, are the two kinds of style?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd you would agree with me in saying that one of them is simple and\nhas but slight changes; and if the harmony and rhythm are also chosen\nfor their simplicity, the result is that the speaker, if he speaks\ncorrectly, is always pretty much the same in style, and he will keep\nwithin the limits of a single harmony (for the changes are not great),\nand in like manner he will make use of nearly the same rhythm?\n\nThat is quite true, he said.\n\nWhereas the other requires all sorts of harmonies and all sorts of\nrhythms, if the music and the style are to correspond, because the\nstyle has all sorts of changes.\n\nThat is also perfectly true, he replied.\n\nAnd do not the two styles, or the mixture of the two, comprehend all\npoetry, and every form of expression in words?  No one can say anything\nexcept in one or other of them or in both together.\n\nThey include all, he said.\n\nAnd shall we receive into our State all the three styles, or one only\nof the two unmixed styles? or would you include the mixed?\n\nI should prefer only to admit the pure imitator of virtue.\n\nYes, I said, Adeimantus, but the mixed style is also very charming: and\nindeed the pantomimic, which is the opposite of the one chosen by you,\nis the most popular style with children and their attendants, and with\nthe world in general.\n\nI do not deny it.\n\nBut I suppose you would argue that such a style is unsuitable to our\nState, in which human nature is not twofold or manifold, for one man\nplays one part only?\n\nYes; quite unsuitable.\n\nAnd this is the reason why in our State, and in our State only, we\nshall find a shoemaker to be a shoemaker and not a pilot also, and a\nhusbandman to be a husbandman and not a dicast also, and a soldier a\nsoldier and not a trader also, and the same throughout?\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nAnd therefore when any one of these pantomimic gentlemen, who are so\nclever that they can imitate anything, comes to us, and makes a\nproposal to exhibit himself and his poetry, we will fall down and\nworship him as a sweet and holy and wonderful being; but we must also\ninform him that in our State such as he are not permitted to exist; the\nlaw will not allow them.  And so when we have anointed him with myrrh,\nand set a garland of wool upon his head, we shall send him away to\nanother city.  For we mean to employ for our souls' health the rougher\nand severer poet or story-teller, who will imitate the style of the\nvirtuous only, and will follow those models which we prescribed at\nfirst when we began the education of our soldiers.\n\nWe certainly will, he said, if we have the power.\n\nThen now, my friend, I said, that part of music or literary education\nwhich relates to the story or myth may be considered to be finished;\nfor the matter and manner have both been discussed.\n\nI think so too, he said.\n\nNext in order will follow melody and song.\n\nThat is obvious.\n\nEvery one can see already what we ought to say about them, if we are to\nbe consistent with ourselves.\n\nSOCRATES - GLAUCON\n\nI fear, said Glaucon, laughing, that the words 'every one' hardly\nincludes me, for I cannot at the moment say what they should be; though\nI may guess.\n\nAt any rate you can tell that a song or ode has three parts--the words,\nthe melody, and the rhythm; that degree of knowledge I may presuppose?\n\nYes, he said; so much as that you may.\n\nAnd as for the words, there surely be no difference words between words\nwhich are and which are not set to music; both will conform to the same\nlaws, and these have been already determined by us?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the melody and rhythm will depend upon the words?\n\nCertainly.\n\nWe were saying, when we spoke of the subject-matter, that we had no\nneed of lamentations and strains of sorrow?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd which are the harmonies expressive of sorrow?  You are musical, and\ncan tell me.\n\nThe harmonies which you mean are the mixed or tenor Lydian, and the\nfull-toned or bass Lydian, and such like.\n\nThese then, I said, must be banished; even to women who have a\ncharacter to maintain they are of no use, and much less to men.\nCertainly.\n\nIn the next place, drunkenness and softness and indolence are utterly\nunbecoming the character of our guardians.\n\nUtterly unbecoming.\n\nAnd which are the soft or drinking harmonies?\n\nThe Ionian, he replied, and the Lydian; they are termed 'relaxed.'\n\nWell, and are these of any military use?\n\nQuite the reverse, he replied; and if so the Dorian and the Phrygian\nare the only ones which you have left.\n\nI answered:  Of the harmonies I know nothing, but I want to have one\nwarlike, to sound the note or accent which a brave man utters in the\nhour of danger and stern resolve, or when his cause is failing, and he\nis going to wounds or death or is overtaken by some other evil, and at\nevery such crisis meets the blows of fortune with firm step and a\ndetermination to endure; and another to be used by him in times of\npeace and freedom of action, when there is no pressure of necessity,\nand he is seeking to persuade God by prayer, or man by instruction and\nadmonition, or on the other hand, when he is expressing his willingness\nto yield to persuasion or entreaty or admonition, and which represents\nhim when by prudent conduct he has attained his end, not carried away\nby his success, but acting moderately and wisely under the\ncircumstances, and acquiescing in the event.  These two harmonies I ask\nyou to leave; the strain of necessity and the strain of freedom, the\nstrain of the unfortunate and the strain of the fortunate, the strain\nof courage, and the strain of temperance; these, I say, leave.\n\nAnd these, he replied, are the Dorian and Phrygian harmonies of which I\nwas just now speaking.\n\nThen, I said, if these and these only are to be used in our songs and\nmelodies, we shall not want multiplicity of notes or a panharmonic\nscale?\n\nI suppose not.\n\nThen we shall not maintain the artificers of lyres with three corners\nand complex scales, or the makers of any other many-stringed\ncuriously-harmonised instruments?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nBut what do you say to flute-makers and flute-players? Would you admit\nthem into our State when you reflect that in this composite use of\nharmony the flute is worse than all the stringed instruments put\ntogether; even the panharmonic music is only an imitation of the flute?\n\nClearly not.\n\nThere remain then only the lyre and the harp for use in the city, and\nthe shepherds may have a pipe in the country.\n\nThat is surely the conclusion to be drawn from the argument.\n\nThe preferring of Apollo and his instruments to Marsyas and his\ninstruments is not at all strange, I said.\n\nNot at all, he replied.\n\nAnd so, by the dog of Egypt, we have been unconsciously purging the\nState, which not long ago we termed luxurious.\n\nAnd we have done wisely, he replied.\n\nThen let us now finish the purgation, I said.  Next in order to\nharmonies, rhythms will naturally follow, and they should be subject to\nthe same rules, for we ought not to seek out complex systems of metre,\nor metres of every kind, but rather to discover what rhythms are the\nexpressions of a courageous and harmonious life; and when we have found\nthem, we shall adapt the foot and the melody to words having a like\nspirit, not the words to the foot and melody.  To say what these\nrhythms are will be your duty--you must teach me them, as you have\nalready taught me the harmonies.\n\nBut, indeed, he replied, I cannot tell you.  I only know that there are\nsome three principles of rhythm out of which metrical systems are\nframed, just as in sounds there are four notes out of which all the\nharmonies are composed; that is an observation which I have made.  But\nof what sort of lives they are severally the imitations I am unable to\nsay.\n\nThen, I said, we must take Damon into our counsels; and he will tell us\nwhat rhythms are expressive of meanness, or insolence, or fury, or\nother unworthiness, and what are to be reserved for the expression of\nopposite feelings.  And I think that I have an indistinct recollection\nof his mentioning a complex Cretic rhythm; also a dactylic or heroic,\nand he arranged them in some manner which I do not quite understand,\nmaking the rhythms equal in the rise and fall of the foot, long and\nshort alternating; and, unless I am mistaken, he spoke of an iambic as\nwell as of a trochaic rhythm, and assigned to them short and long\nquantities.  Also in some cases he appeared to praise or censure the\nmovement of the foot quite as much as the rhythm; or perhaps a\ncombination of the two; for I am not certain what he meant.  These\nmatters, however, as I was saying, had better be referred to Damon\nhimself, for the analysis of the subject would be difficult, you know.\n\nRather so, I should say.\n\nBut there is no difficulty in seeing that grace or the absence of grace\nis an effect of good or bad rhythm.\n\nNone at all.\n\nAnd also that good and bad rhythm naturally assimilate to a good and\nbad style; and that harmony and discord in like manner follow style;\nfor our principle is that rhythm and harmony are regulated by the\nwords, and not the words by them.\n\nJust so, he said, they should follow the words.\n\nAnd will not the words and the character of the style depend on the\ntemper of the soul?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd everything else on the style?\n\nYes.\n\nThen beauty of style and harmony and grace and good rhythm depend on\nsimplicity,--I mean the true simplicity of a rightly and nobly ordered\nmind and character, not that other simplicity which is only an\neuphemism for folly?\n\nVery true, he replied.\n\nAnd if our youth are to do their work in life, must they not make these\ngraces and harmonies their perpetual aim?\n\nThey must.\n\nAnd surely the art of the painter and every other creative and\nconstructive art are full of them,--weaving, embroidery, architecture,\nand every kind of manufacture; also nature, animal and vegetable,--in\nall of them there is grace or the absence of grace.  And ugliness and\ndiscord and inharmonious motion are nearly allied to ill words and ill\nnature, as grace and harmony are the twin sisters of goodness and\nvirtue and bear their likeness.\n\nThat is quite true, he said.\n\nBut shall our superintendence go no further, and are the poets only to\nbe required by us to express the image of the good in their works, on\npain, if they do anything else, of expulsion from our State?  Or is the\nsame control to be extended to other artists, and are they also to be\nprohibited from exhibiting the opposite forms of vice and intemperance\nand meanness and indecency in sculpture and building and the other\ncreative arts; and is he who cannot conform to this rule of ours to be\nprevented from practising his art in our State, lest the taste of our\ncitizens be corrupted by him?  We would not have our guardians grow up\namid images of moral deformity, as in some noxious pasture, and there\nbrowse and feed upon many a baneful herb and flower day by day, little\nby little, until they silently gather a festering mass of corruption in\ntheir own soul.  Let our artists rather be those who are gifted to\ndiscern the true nature of the beautiful and graceful; then will our\nyouth dwell in a land of health, amid fair sights and sounds, and\nreceive the good in everything; and beauty, the effluence of fair\nworks, shall flow into the eye and ear, like a health-giving breeze\nfrom a purer region, and insensibly draw the soul from earliest years\ninto likeness and sympathy with the beauty of reason.\n\nThere can be no nobler training than that, he replied.\n\nAnd therefore, I said, Glaucon, musical training is a more potent\ninstrument than any other, because rhythm and harmony find their way\ninto the inward places of the soul, on which they mightily fasten,\nimparting grace, and making the soul of him who is rightly educated\ngraceful, or of him who is ill-educated ungraceful; and also because he\nwho has received this true education of the inner being will most\nshrewdly perceive omissions or faults in art and nature, and with a\ntrue taste, while he praises and rejoices over and receives into his\nsoul the good, and becomes noble and good, he will justly blame and\nhate the bad, now in the days of his youth, even before he is able to\nknow the reason why; and when reason comes he will recognise and salute\nthe friend with whom his education has made him long familiar.\n\nYes, he said, I quite agree with you in thinking that our youth should\nbe trained in music and on the grounds which you mention.\n\nJust as in learning to read, I said, we were satisfied when we knew the\nletters of the alphabet, which are very few, in all their recurring\nsizes and combinations; not slighting them as unimportant whether they\noccupy a space large or small, but everywhere eager to make them out;\nand not thinking ourselves perfect in the art of reading until we\nrecognise them wherever they are found:\n\nTrue--\n\nOr, as we recognise the reflection of letters in the water, or in a\nmirror, only when we know the letters themselves; the same art and\nstudy giving us the knowledge of both:\n\nExactly--\n\nEven so, as I maintain, neither we nor our guardians, whom we have to\neducate, can ever become musical until we and they know the essential\nforms, in all their combinations, and can recognise them and their\nimages wherever they are found, not slighting them either in small\nthings or great, but believing them all to be within the sphere of one\nart and study.\n\nMost assuredly.\n\nAnd when a beautiful soul harmonises with a beautiful form, and the two\nare cast in one mould, that will be the fairest of sights to him who\nhas an eye to see it?\n\nThe fairest indeed.\n\nAnd the fairest is also the loveliest?\n\nThat may be assumed.\n\nAnd the man who has the spirit of harmony will be most in love with the\nloveliest; but he will not love him who is of an inharmonious soul?\n\nThat is true, he replied, if the deficiency be in his soul; but if\nthere be any merely bodily defect in another he will be patient of it,\nand will love all the same.\n\nI perceive, I said, that you have or have had experiences of this sort,\nand I agree.  But let me ask you another question: Has excess of\npleasure any affinity to temperance?\n\nHow can that be? he replied; pleasure deprives a man of the use of his\nfaculties quite as much as pain.\n\nOr any affinity to virtue in general?\n\nNone whatever.\n\nAny affinity to wantonness and intemperance?\n\nYes, the greatest.\n\nAnd is there any greater or keener pleasure than that of sensual love?\n\nNo, nor a madder.\n\nWhereas true love is a love of beauty and order--temperate and\nharmonious?\n\nQuite true, he said.\n\nThen no intemperance or madness should be allowed to approach true love?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nThen mad or intemperate pleasure must never be allowed to come near the\nlover and his beloved; neither of them can have any part in it if their\nlove is of the right sort?\n\nNo, indeed, Socrates, it must never come near them.\n\nThen I suppose that in the city which we are founding you would make a\nlaw to the effect that a friend should use no other familiarity to his\nlove than a father would use to his son, and then only for a noble\npurpose, and he must first have the other's consent; and this rule is\nto limit him in all his intercourse, and he is never to be seen going\nfurther, or, if he exceeds, he is to be deemed guilty of coarseness and\nbad taste.\n\nI quite agree, he said.\n\nThus much of music, which makes a fair ending; for what should be the\nend of music if not the love of beauty?\n\nI agree, he said.\n\nAfter music comes gymnastic, in which our youth are next to be trained.\n\nCertainly.\n\nGymnastic as well as music should begin in early years; the training in\nit should be careful and should continue through life.  Now my belief\nis,--and this is a matter upon which I should like to have your opinion\nin confirmation of my own, but my own belief is,--not that the good\nbody by any bodily excellence improves the soul, but, on the contrary,\nthat the good soul, by her own excellence, improves the body as far as\nthis may be possible.  What do you say?\n\nYes, I agree.\n\nThen, to the mind when adequately trained, we shall be right in handing\nover the more particular care of the body; and in order to avoid\nprolixity we will now only give the general outlines of the subject.\n\nVery good.\n\nThat they must abstain from intoxication has been already remarked by\nus; for of all persons a guardian should be the last to get drunk and\nnot know where in the world he is.\n\nYes, he said; that a guardian should require another guardian to take\ncare of him is ridiculous indeed.\n\nBut next, what shall we say of their food; for the men are in training\nfor the great contest of all--are they not?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nAnd will the habit of body of our ordinary athletes be suited to them?\n\nWhy not?\n\nI am afraid, I said, that a habit of body such as they have is but a\nsleepy sort of thing, and rather perilous to health.  Do you not\nobserve that these athletes sleep away their lives, and are liable to\nmost dangerous illnesses if they depart, in ever so slight a degree,\nfrom their customary regimen?\n\nYes, I do.\n\nThen, I said, a finer sort of training will be required for our warrior\nathletes, who are to be like wakeful dogs, and to see and hear with the\nutmost keenness; amid the many changes of water and also of food, of\nsummer heat and winter cold, which they will have to endure when on a\ncampaign, they must not be liable to break down in health.\n\nThat is my view.\n\nThe really excellent gymnastic is twin sister of that simple music\nwhich we were just now describing.\n\nHow so?\n\nWhy, I conceive that there is a gymnastic which, like our music, is\nsimple and good; and especially the military gymnastic.\n\nWhat do you mean?\n\nMy meaning may be learned from Homer; he, you know, feeds his heroes at\ntheir feasts, when they are campaigning, on soldiers' fare; they have\nno fish, although they are on the shores of the Hellespont, and they\nare not allowed boiled meats but only roast, which is the food most\nconvenient for soldiers, requiring only that they should light a fire,\nand not involving the trouble of carrying about pots and pans.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd I can hardly be mistaken in saying that sweet sauces are nowhere\nmentioned in Homer.  In proscribing them, however, he is not singular;\nall professional athletes are well aware that a man who is to be in\ngood condition should take nothing of the kind.\n\nYes, he said; and knowing this, they are quite right in not taking them.\n\nThen you would not approve of Syracusan dinners, and the refinements of\nSicilian cookery?\n\nI think not.\n\nNor, if a man is to be in condition, would you allow him to have a\nCorinthian girl as his fair friend?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nNeither would you approve of the delicacies, as they are thought, of\nAthenian confectionery?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nAll such feeding and living may be rightly compared by us to melody and\nsong composed in the panharmonic style, and in all the rhythms.\nExactly.\n\nThere complexity engendered license, and here disease; whereas\nsimplicity in music was the parent of temperance in the soul; and\nsimplicity in gymnastic of health in the body.\n\nMost true, he said.\n\nBut when intemperance and disease multiply in a State, halls of justice\nand medicine are always being opened; and the arts of the doctor and\nthe lawyer give themselves airs, finding how keen is the interest which\nnot only the slaves but the freemen of a city take about them.\n\nOf course.\n\nAnd yet what greater proof can there be of a bad and disgraceful state\nof education than this, that not only artisans and the meaner sort of\npeople need the skill of first-rate physicians and judges, but also\nthose who would profess to have had a liberal education?  Is it not\ndisgraceful, and a great sign of want of good-breeding, that a man\nshould have to go abroad for his law and physic because he has none of\nhis own at home, and must therefore surrender himself into the hands of\nother men whom he makes lords and judges over him?\n\nOf all things, he said, the most disgraceful.\n\nWould you say 'most,' I replied, when you consider that there is a\nfurther stage of the evil in which a man is not only a life-long\nlitigant, passing all his days in the courts, either as plaintiff or\ndefendant, but is actually led by his bad taste to pride himself on his\nlitigiousness; he imagines that he is a master in dishonesty; able to\ntake every crooked turn, and wriggle into and out of every hole,\nbending like a withy and getting out of the way of justice: and all for\nwhat?--in order to gain small points not worth mentioning, he not\nknowing that so to order his life as to be able to do without a napping\njudge is a far higher and nobler sort of thing.  Is not that still more\ndisgraceful?\n\nYes, he said, that is still more disgraceful.\n\nWell, I said, and to require the help of medicine, not when a wound has\nto be cured, or on occasion of an epidemic, but just because, by\nindolence and a habit of life such as we have been describing, men fill\nthemselves with waters and winds, as if their bodies were a marsh,\ncompelling the ingenious sons of Asclepius to find more names for\ndiseases, such as flatulence and catarrh; is not this, too, a disgrace?\n\nYes, he said, they do certainly give very strange and newfangled names\nto diseases.\n\nYes, I said, and I do not believe that there were any such diseases in\nthe days of Asclepius; and this I infer from the circumstance that the\nhero Eurypylus, after he has been wounded in Homer, drinks a posset of\nPramnian wine well besprinkled with barley-meal and grated cheese,\nwhich are certainly inflammatory, and yet the sons of Asclepius who\nwere at the Trojan war do not blame the damsel who gives him the drink,\nor rebuke Patroclus, who is treating his case.\n\nWell, he said, that was surely an extraordinary drink to be given to a\nperson in his condition.\n\nNot so extraordinary, I replied, if you bear in mind that in former\ndays, as is commonly said, before the time of Herodicus, the guild of\nAsclepius did not practise our present system of medicine, which may be\nsaid to educate diseases.  But Herodicus, being a trainer, and himself\nof a sickly constitution, by a combination of training and doctoring\nfound out a way of torturing first and chiefly himself, and secondly\nthe rest of the world.\n\nHow was that? he said.\n\nBy the invention of lingering death; for he had a mortal disease which\nhe perpetually tended, and as recovery was out of the question, he\npassed his entire life as a valetudinarian; he could do nothing but\nattend upon himself, and he was in constant torment whenever he\ndeparted in anything from his usual regimen, and so dying hard, by the\nhelp of science he struggled on to old age.\n\nA rare reward of his skill!\n\nYes, I said; a reward which a man might fairly expect who never\nunderstood that, if Asclepius did not instruct his descendants in\nvaletudinarian arts, the omission arose, not from ignorance or\ninexperience of such a branch of medicine, but because he knew that in\nall well-ordered states every individual has an occupation to which he\nmust attend, and has therefore no leisure to spend in continually being\nill.  This we remark in the case of the artisan, but, ludicrously\nenough, do not apply the same rule to people of the richer sort.\n\nHow do you mean? he said.\n\nI mean this:  When a carpenter is ill he asks the physician for a rough\nand ready cure; an emetic or a purge or a cautery or the knife,--these\nare his remedies.  And if some one prescribes for him a course of\ndietetics, and tells him that he must swathe and swaddle his head, and\nall that sort of thing, he replies at once that he has no time to be\nill, and that he sees no good in a life which is spent in nursing his\ndisease to the neglect of his customary employment; and therefore\nbidding good-bye to this sort of physician, he resumes his ordinary\nhabits, and either gets well and lives and does his business, or, if\nhis constitution falls, he dies and has no more trouble.\n\nYes, he said, and a man in his condition of life ought to use the art\nof medicine thus far only.\n\nHas he not, I said, an occupation; and what profit would there be in\nhis life if he were deprived of his occupation?\n\nQuite true, he said.\n\nBut with the rich man this is otherwise; of him we do not say that he\nhas any specially appointed work which he must perform, if he would\nlive.\n\nHe is generally supposed to have nothing to do.\n\nThen you never heard of the saying of Phocylides, that as soon as a man\nhas a livelihood he should practise virtue?\n\nNay, he said, I think that he had better begin somewhat sooner.\n\nLet us not have a dispute with him about this, I said; but rather ask\nourselves:  Is the practice of virtue obligatory on the rich man, or\ncan he live without it?  And if obligatory on him, then let us raise a\nfurther question, whether this dieting of disorders which is an\nimpediment to the application of the mind t in carpentering and the\nmechanical arts, does not equally stand in the way of the sentiment of\nPhocylides?\n\nOf that, he replied, there can be no doubt; such excessive care of the\nbody, when carried beyond the rules of gymnastic, is most inimical to\nthe practice of virtue.\n\nYes, indeed, I replied, and equally incompatible with the management of\na house, an army, or an office of state; and, what is most important of\nall, irreconcilable with any kind of study or thought or\nself-reflection--there is a constant suspicion that headache and\ngiddiness are to be ascribed to philosophy, and hence all practising or\nmaking trial of virtue in the higher sense is absolutely stopped; for a\nman is always fancying that he is being made ill, and is in constant\nanxiety about the state of his body.\n\nYes, likely enough.\n\nAnd therefore our politic Asclepius may be supposed to have exhibited\nthe power of his art only to persons who, being generally of healthy\nconstitution and habits of life, had a definite ailment; such as these\nhe cured by purges and operations, and bade them live as usual, herein\nconsulting the interests of the State; but bodies which disease had\npenetrated through and through he would not have attempted to cure by\ngradual processes of evacuation and infusion:  he did not want to\nlengthen out good-for-nothing lives, or to have weak fathers begetting\nweaker sons;--if a man was not able to live in the ordinary way he had\nno business to cure him; for such a cure would have been of no use\neither to himself, or to the State.\n\nThen, he said, you regard Asclepius as a statesman.\n\nClearly; and his character is further illustrated by his sons.  Note\nthat they were heroes in the days of old and practised the medicines of\nwhich I am speaking at the siege of Troy:  You will remember how, when\nPandarus wounded Menelaus, they\n\n    Sucked the blood out of the wound, and sprinkled soothing remedies,\n\nbut they never prescribed what the patient was afterwards to eat or\ndrink in the case of Menelaus, any more than in the case of Eurypylus;\nthe remedies, as they conceived, were enough to heal any man who before\nhe was wounded was healthy and regular in habits; and even though he\ndid happen to drink a posset of Pramnian wine, he might get well all\nthe same.  But they would have nothing to do with unhealthy and\nintemperate subjects, whose lives were of no use either to themselves\nor others; the art of medicine was not designed for their good, and\nthough they were as rich as Midas, the sons of Asclepius would have\ndeclined to attend them.\n\nThey were very acute persons, those sons of Asclepius.\n\nNaturally so, I replied.  Nevertheless, the tragedians and Pindar\ndisobeying our behests, although they acknowledge that Asclepius was\nthe son of Apollo, say also that he was bribed into healing a rich man\nwho was at the point of death, and for this reason he was struck by\nlightning.  But we, in accordance with the principle already affirmed\nby us, will not believe them when they tell us both;--if he was the son\nof a god, we maintain that he was not avaricious; or, if he was\navaricious he was not the son of a god.\n\nAll that, Socrates, is excellent; but I should like to put a question\nto you:  Ought there not to be good physicians in a State, and are not\nthe best those who have treated the greatest number of constitutions\ngood and bad? and are not the best judges in like manner those who are\nacquainted with all sorts of moral natures?\n\nYes, I said, I too would have good judges and good physicians.  But do\nyou know whom I think good?\n\nWill you tell me?\n\nI will, if I can.  Let me however note that in the same question you\njoin two things which are not the same.\n\nHow so? he asked.\n\nWhy, I said, you join physicians and judges.  Now the most skilful\nphysicians are those who, from their youth upwards, have combined with\nthe knowledge of their art the greatest experience of disease; they had\nbetter not be robust in health, and should have had all manner of\ndiseases in their own persons.  For the body, as I conceive, is not the\ninstrument with which they cure the body; in that case we could not\nallow them ever to be or to have been sickly; but they cure the body\nwith the mind, and the mind which has become and is sick can cure\nnothing.\n\nThat is very true, he said.\n\nBut with the judge it is otherwise; since he governs mind by mind; he\nought not therefore to have been trained among vicious minds, and to\nhave associated with them from youth upwards, and to have gone through\nthe whole calendar of crime, only in order that he may quickly infer\nthe crimes of others as he might their bodily diseases from his own\nself-consciousness; the honourable mind which is to form a healthy\njudgment should have had no experience or contamination of evil habits\nwhen young.  And this is the reason why in youth good men often appear\nto be simple, and are easily practised upon by the dishonest, because\nthey have no examples of what evil is in their own souls.\n\nYes, he said, they are far too apt to be deceived.\n\nTherefore, I said, the judge should not be young; he should have\nlearned to know evil, not from his own soul, but from late and long\nobservation of the nature of evil in others: knowledge should be his\nguide, not personal experience.\n\nYes, he said, that is the ideal of a judge.\n\nYes, I replied, and he will be a good man (which is my answer to your\nquestion); for he is good who has a good soul.  But the cunning and\nsuspicious nature of which we spoke,--he who has committed many crimes,\nand fancies himself to be a master in wickedness, when he is amongst\nhis fellows, is wonderful in the precautions which he takes, because he\njudges of them by himself:  but when he gets into the company of men of\nvirtue, who have the experience of age, he appears to be a fool again,\nowing to his unseasonable suspicions; he cannot recognise an honest\nman, because he has no pattern of honesty in himself; at the same time,\nas the bad are more numerous than the good, and he meets with them\noftener, he thinks himself, and is by others thought to be, rather wise\nthan foolish.\n\nMost true, he said.\n\nThen the good and wise judge whom we are seeking is not this man, but\nthe other; for vice cannot know virtue too, but a virtuous nature,\neducated by time, will acquire a knowledge both of virtue and vice: the\nvirtuous, and not the vicious, man has wisdom--in my opinion.\n\nAnd in mine also.\n\nThis is the sort of medicine, and this is the sort of law, which you\nsanction in your State.  They will minister to better natures, giving\nhealth both of soul and of body; but those who are diseased in their\nbodies they will leave to die, and the corrupt and incurable souls they\nwill put an end to themselves.\n\nThat is clearly the best thing both for the patients and for the State.\n\nAnd thus our youth, having been educated only in that simple music\nwhich, as we said, inspires temperance, will be reluctant to go to law.\n\nClearly.\n\nAnd the musician, who, keeping to the same track, is content to\npractise the simple gymnastic, will have nothing to do with medicine\nunless in some extreme case.\n\nThat I quite believe.\n\nThe very exercises and tolls which he undergoes are intended to\nstimulate the spirited element of his nature, and not to increase his\nstrength; he will not, like common athletes, use exercise and regimen\nto develop his muscles.\n\nVery right, he said.\n\nNeither are the two arts of music and gymnastic really designed, as is\noften supposed, the one for the training of the soul, the other fir the\ntraining of the body.\n\nWhat then is the real object of them?\n\nI believe, I said, that the teachers of both have in view chiefly the\nimprovement of the soul.\n\nHow can that be? he asked.\n\nDid you never observe, I said, the effect on the mind itself of\nexclusive devotion to gymnastic, or the opposite effect of an exclusive\ndevotion to music?\n\nIn what way shown? he said.\n\nThe one producing a temper of hardness and ferocity, the other of\nsoftness and effeminacy, I replied.\n\nYes, he said, I am quite aware that the mere athlete becomes too much\nof a savage, and that the mere musician is melted and softened beyond\nwhat is good for him.\n\nYet surely, I said, this ferocity only comes from spirit, which, if\nrightly educated, would give courage, but, if too much intensified, is\nliable to become hard and brutal.\n\nThat I quite think.\n\nOn the other hand the philosopher will have the quality of gentleness.\nAnd this also, when too much indulged, will turn to softness, but, if\neducated rightly, will be gentle and moderate.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd in our opinion the guardians ought to have both these qualities?\n\nAssuredly.\n\nAnd both should be in harmony?\n\nBeyond question.\n\nAnd the harmonious soul is both temperate and courageous?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the inharmonious is cowardly and boorish?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd, when a man allows music to play upon him and to pour into his soul\nthrough the funnel of his ears those sweet and soft and melancholy airs\nof which we were just now speaking, and his whole life is passed in\nwarbling and the delights of song; in the first stage of the process\nthe passion or spirit which is in him is tempered like iron, and made\nuseful, instead of brittle and useless.  But, if he carries on the\nsoftening and soothing process, in the next stage he begins to melt and\nwaste, until he has wasted away his spirit and cut out the sinews of\nhis soul; and he becomes a feeble warrior.\n\nVery true.\n\nIf the element of spirit is naturally weak in him the change is\nspeedily accomplished, but if he have a good deal, then the power of\nmusic weakening the spirit renders him excitable;--on the least\nprovocation he flames up at once, and is speedily extinguished; instead\nof having spirit he grows irritable and passionate and is quite\nimpracticable.\n\nExactly.\n\nAnd so in gymnastics, if a man takes violent exercise and is a great\nfeeder, and the reverse of a great student of music and philosophy, at\nfirst the high condition of his body fills him with pride and spirit,\nand lie becomes twice the man that he was.\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd what happens? if he do nothing else, and holds no con-a verse with\nthe Muses, does not even that intelligence which there may be in him,\nhaving no taste of any sort of learning or enquiry or thought or\nculture, grow feeble and dull and blind, his mind never waking up or\nreceiving nourishment, and his senses not being purged of their mists?\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nAnd he ends by becoming a hater of philosophy, uncivilized, never using\nthe weapon of persuasion,--he is like a wild beast, all violence and\nfierceness, and knows no other way of dealing; and he lives in all\nignorance and evil conditions, and has no sense of propriety and grace.\n\nThat is quite true, he said.\n\nAnd as there are two principles of human nature, one the spirited and\nthe other the philosophical, some God, as I should say, has given\nmankind two arts answering to them (and only indirectly to the soul and\nbody), in order that these two principles (like the strings of an\ninstrument) may be relaxed or drawn tighter until they are duly\nharmonised.\n\nThat appears to be the intention.\n\nAnd he who mingles music with gymnastic in the fairest proportions, and\nbest attempers them to the soul, may be rightly called the true\nmusician and harmonist in a far higher sense than the tuner of the\nstrings.\n\nYou are quite right, Socrates.\n\nAnd such a presiding genius will be always required in our State if the\ngovernment is to last.\n\nYes, he will be absolutely necessary.\n\nSuch, then, are our principles of nurture and education: Where would be\nthe use of going into further details about the dances of our citizens,\nor about their hunting and coursing, their gymnastic and equestrian\ncontests?  For these all follow the general principle, and having found\nthat, we shall have no difficulty in discovering them.\n\nI dare say that there will be no difficulty.\n\nVery good, I said; then what is the next question?  Must we not ask who\nare to be rulers and who subjects?\n\nCertainly.\n\nThere can be no doubt that the elder must rule the younger.\n\nClearly.\n\nAnd that the best of these must rule.\n\nThat is also clear.\n\nNow, are not the best husbandmen those who are most devoted to\nhusbandry?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd as we are to have the best of guardians for our city, must they not\nbe those who have most the character of guardians?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd to this end they ought to be wise and efficient, and to have a\nspecial care of the State?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd a man will be most likely to care about that which he loves?\n\nTo be sure.\n\nAnd he will be most likely to love that which he regards as having the\nsame interests with himself, and that of which the good or evil fortune\nis supposed by him at any time most to affect his own?\n\nVery true, he replied.\n\nThen there must be a selection.  Let us note among the guardians those\nwho in their whole life show the greatest eagerness to do what is for\nthe good of their country, and the greatest repugnance to do what is\nagainst her interests.\n\nThose are the right men.\n\nAnd they will have to be watched at every age, in order that we may see\nwhether they preserve their resolution, and never, under the influence\neither of force or enchantment, forget or cast off their sense of duty\nto the State.\n\nHow cast off? he said.\n\nI will explain to you, I replied.  A resolution may go out of a man's\nmind either with his will or against his will; with his will when he\ngets rid of a falsehood and learns better, against his will whenever he\nis deprived of a truth.\n\nI understand, he said, the willing loss of a resolution; the meaning of\nthe unwilling I have yet to learn.\n\nWhy, I said, do you not see that men are unwillingly deprived of good,\nand willingly of evil?  Is not to have lost the truth an evil, and to\npossess the truth a good? and you would agree that to conceive things\nas they are is to possess the truth?\n\nYes, he replied; I agree with you in thinking that mankind are deprived\nof truth against their will.\n\nAnd is not this involuntary deprivation caused either by theft, or\nforce, or enchantment?\n\nStill, he replied, I do not understand you.\n\nI fear that I must have been talking darkly, like the tragedians.  I\nonly mean that some men are changed by persuasion and that others\nforget; argument steals away the hearts of one class, and time of the\nother; and this I call theft.  Now you understand me?\n\nYes.\n\nThose again who are forced are those whom the violence of some pain or\ngrief compels to change their opinion.\n\nI understand, he said, and you are quite right.\n\nAnd you would also acknowledge that the enchanted are those who change\ntheir minds either under the softer influence of pleasure, or the\nsterner influence of fear?\n\nYes, he said; everything that deceives may be said to enchant.\n\nTherefore, as I was just now saying, we must enquire who are the best\nguardians of their own conviction that what they think the interest of\nthe State is to be the rule of their lives.  We must watch them from\ntheir youth upwards, and make them perform actions in which they are\nmost likely to forget or to be deceived, and he who remembers and is\nnot deceived is to be selected, and he who falls in the trial is to be\nrejected.  That will be the way?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd there should also be toils and pains and conflicts prescribed for\nthem, in which they will be made to give further proof of the same\nqualities.\n\nVery right, he replied.\n\nAnd then, I said, we must try them with enchantments that is the third\nsort of test--and see what will be their behaviour: like those who take\ncolts amid noise and tumult to see if they are of a timid nature, so\nmust we take our youth amid terrors of some kind, and again pass them\ninto pleasures, and prove them more thoroughly than gold is proved in\nthe furnace, that we may discover whether they are armed against all\nenchantments, and of a noble bearing always, good guardians of\nthemselves and of the music which they have learned, and retaining\nunder all circumstances a rhythmical and harmonious nature, such as\nwill be most serviceable to the individual and to the State.  And he\nwho at every age, as boy and youth and in mature life, has come out of\nthe trial victorious and pure, shall be appointed a ruler and guardian\nof the State; he shall be honoured in life and death, and shall receive\nsepulture and other memorials of honour, the greatest that we have to\ngive.  But him who fails, we must reject.  I am inclined to think that\nthis is the sort of way in which our rulers and guardians should be\nchosen and appointed.  I speak generally, and not with any pretension\nto exactness.\n\nAnd, speaking generally, I agree with you, he said.\n\nAnd perhaps the word 'guardian' in the fullest sense ought to be\napplied to this higher class only who preserve us against foreign\nenemies and maintain peace among our citizens at home, that the one may\nnot have the will, or the others the power, to harm us.  The young men\nwhom we before called guardians may be more properly designated\nauxiliaries and supporters of the principles of the rulers.\n\nI agree with you, he said.\n\nHow then may we devise one of those needful falsehoods of which we\nlately spoke--just one royal lie which may deceive the rulers, if that\nbe possible, and at any rate the rest of the city?\n\nWhat sort of lie? he said.\n\nNothing new, I replied; only an old Phoenician tale of what has often\noccurred before now in other places, (as the poets say, and have made\nthe world believe,) though not in our time, and I do not know whether\nsuch an event could ever happen again, or could now even be made\nprobable, if it did.\n\nHow your words seem to hesitate on your lips!\n\nYou will not wonder, I replied, at my hesitation when you have heard.\n\nSpeak, he said, and fear not.\n\nWell then, I will speak, although I really know not how to look you in\nthe face, or in what words to utter the audacious fiction, which I\npropose to communicate gradually, first to the rulers, then to the\nsoldiers, and lastly to the people.  They are to be told that their\nyouth was a dream, and the education and training which they received\nfrom us, an appearance only; in reality during all that time they were\nbeing formed and fed in the womb of the earth, where they themselves\nand their arms and appurtenances were manufactured; when they were\ncompleted, the earth, their mother, sent them up; and so, their country\nbeing their mother and also their nurse, they are bound to advise for\nher good, and to defend her against attacks, and her citizens they are\nto regard as children of the earth and their own brothers.\n\nYou had good reason, he said, to be ashamed of the lie which you were\ngoing to tell.\n\nTrue, I replied, but there is more coming; I have only told you half.\nCitizens, we shall say to them in our tale, you are brothers, yet God\nhas framed you differently.  Some of you have the power of command, and\nin the composition of these he has mingled gold, wherefore also they\nhave the greatest honour; others he has made of silver, to be\nauxillaries; others again who are to be husbandmen and craftsmen he has\ncomposed of brass and iron; and the species will generally be preserved\nin the children.  But as all are of the same original stock, a golden\nparent will sometimes have a silver son, or a silver parent a golden\nson.  And God proclaims as a first principle to the rulers, and above\nall else, that there is nothing which should so anxiously guard, or of\nwhich they are to be such good guardians, as of the purity of the race.\nThey should observe what elements mingle in their off spring; for if\nthe son of a golden or silver parent has an admixture of brass and\niron, then nature orders a transposition of ranks, and the eye of the\nruler must not be pitiful towards the child because he has to descend\nin the scale and become a husbandman or artisan, just as there may be\nsons of artisans who having an admixture of gold or silver in them are\nraised to honour, and become guardians or auxiliaries.  For an oracle\nsays that when a man of brass or iron guards the State, it will be\ndestroyed.  Such is the tale; is there any possibility of making our\ncitizens believe in it?\n\nNot in the present generation, he replied; there is no way of\naccomplishing this; but their sons may be made to believe in the tale,\nand their sons' sons, and posterity after them.\n\nI see the difficulty, I replied; yet the fostering of such a belief\nwill make them care more for the city and for one another.  Enough,\nhowever, of the fiction, which may now fly abroad upon the wings of\nrumour, while we arm our earth-born heroes, and lead them forth under\nthe command of their rulers.  Let them look round and select a spot\nwhence they can best suppress insurrection, if any prove refractory\nwithin, and also defend themselves against enemies, who like wolves may\ncome down on the fold from without; there let them encamp, and when\nthey have encamped, let them sacrifice to the proper Gods and prepare\ntheir dwellings.\n\nJust so, he said.\n\nAnd their dwellings must be such as will shield them against the cold\nof winter and the heat of summer.\n\nI suppose that you mean houses, he replied.\n\nYes, I said; but they must be the houses of soldiers, and not of\nshop-keepers.\n\nWhat is the difference? he said.\n\nThat I will endeavour to explain, I replied.  To keep watchdogs, who,\nfrom want of discipline or hunger, or some evil habit, or evil habit or\nother, would turn upon the sheep and worry them, and behave not like\ndogs but wolves, would be a foul and monstrous thing in a shepherd?\n\nTruly monstrous, he said.\n\nAnd therefore every care must be taken that our auxiliaries, being\nstronger than our citizens, may not grow to be too much for them and\nbecome savage tyrants instead of friends and allies?\n\nYes, great care should be taken.\n\nAnd would not a really good education furnish the best safeguard?\n\nBut they are well-educated already, he replied.\n\nI cannot be so confident, my dear Glaucon, I said; I am much certain\nthat they ought to be, and that true education, whatever that may be,\nwill have the greatest tendency to civilize and humanize them in their\nrelations to one another, and to those who are under their protection.\n\nVery true, he replied.\n\nAnd not only their education, but their habitations, and all that\nbelongs to them, should be such as will neither impair their virtue as\nguardians, nor tempt them to prey upon the other citizens.  Any man of\nsense must acknowledge that.\n\nHe must.\n\nThen let us consider what will be their way of life, if they are to\nrealize our idea of them.  In the first place, none of them should have\nany property of his own beyond what is absolutely necessary; neither\nshould they have a private house or store closed against any one who\nhas a mind to enter; their provisions should be only such as are\nrequired by trained warriors, who are men of temperance and courage;\nthey should agree to receive from the citizens a fixed rate of pay,\nenough to meet the expenses of the year and no more; and they will go\nand live together like soldiers in a camp.  Gold and silver we will\ntell them that they have from God; the diviner metal is within them,\nand they have therefore no need of the dross which is current among\nmen, and ought not to pollute the divine by any such earthly admixture;\nfor that commoner metal has been the source of many unholy deeds, but\ntheir own is undefiled.  And they alone of all the citizens may not\ntouch or handle silver or gold, or be under the same roof with them, or\nwear them, or drink from them.  And this will be their salvation, and\nthey will be the saviours of the State.  But should they ever acquire\nhomes or lands or moneys of their own, they will become housekeepers\nand husbandmen instead of guardians, enemies and tyrants instead of\nallies of the other citizens; hating and being hated, plotting and\nbeing plotted against, they will pass their whole life in much greater\nterror of internal than of external enemies, and the hour of ruin, both\nto themselves and to the rest of the State, will be at hand.  For all\nwhich reasons may we not say that thus shall our State be ordered, and\nthat these shall be the regulations appointed by us for guardians\nconcerning their houses and all other matters?  other\n\nYes, said Glaucon.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK IV\n\n\nADEIMANTUS - SOCRATES\n\nHERE Adeimantus interposed a question:  How would you answer, Socrates,\nsaid he, if a person were to say that you are making these people\nmiserable, and that they are the cause of their own unhappiness; the\ncity in fact belongs to them, but they are none the better for it;\nwhereas other men acquire lands, and build large and handsome houses,\nand have everything handsome about them, offering sacrifices to the\ngods on their own account, and practising hospitality; moreover, as you\nwere saying just now, they have gold and silver, and all that is usual\namong the favourites of fortune; but our poor citizens are no better\nthan mercenaries who are quartered in the city and are always mounting\nguard?\n\nYes, I said; and you may add that they are only fed, and not paid in\naddition to their food, like other men; and therefore they cannot, if\nthey would, take a journey of pleasure; they have no money to spend on\na mistress or any other luxurious fancy, which, as the world goes, is\nthought to be happiness; and many other accusations of the same nature\nmight be added.\n\nBut, said he, let us suppose all this to be included in the charge.\n\nYou mean to ask, I said, what will be our answer?\n\nYes.\n\nIf we proceed along the old path, my belief, I said, is that we shall\nfind the answer.  And our answer will be that, even as they are, our\nguardians may very likely be the happiest of men; but that our aim in\nfounding the State was not the disproportionate happiness of any one\nclass, but the greatest happiness of the whole; we thought that in a\nState which is ordered with a view to the good of the whole we should\nbe most likely to find Justice, and in the ill-ordered State injustice:\nand, having found them, we might then decide which of the two is the\nhappier.  At present, I take it, we are fashioning the happy State, not\npiecemeal, or with a view of making a few happy citizens, but as a\nwhole; and by-and-by we will proceed to view the opposite kind of\nState.  Suppose that we were painting a statue, and some one came up to\nus and said, Why do you not put the most beautiful colours on the most\nbeautiful parts of the body--the eyes ought to be purple, but you have\nmade them black--to him we might fairly answer, Sir, you would not\nsurely have us beautify the eyes to such a degree that they are no\nlonger eyes; consider rather whether, by giving this and the other\nfeatures their due proportion, we make the whole beautiful.  And so I\nsay to you, do not compel us to assign to the guardians a sort of\nhappiness which will make them anything but guardians; for we too can\nclothe our husbandmen in royal apparel, and set crowns of gold on their\nheads, and bid them till the ground as much as they like, and no more.\nOur potters also might be allowed to repose on couches, and feast by\nthe fireside, passing round the winecup, while their wheel is\nconveniently at hand, and working at pottery only as much as they like;\nin this way we might make every class happy-and then, as you imagine,\nthe whole State would be happy.  But do not put this idea into our\nheads; for, if we listen to you, the husbandman will be no longer a\nhusbandman, the potter will cease to be a potter, and no one will have\nthe character of any distinct class in the State.  Now this is not of\nmuch consequence where the corruption of society, and pretension to be\nwhat you are not, is confined to cobblers; but when the guardians of\nthe laws and of the government are only seemingly and not real\nguardians, then see how they turn the State upside down; and on the\nother hand they alone have the power of giving order and happiness to\nthe State.  We mean our guardians to be true saviours and not the\ndestroyers of the State, whereas our opponent is thinking of peasants\nat a festival, who are enjoying a life of revelry, not of citizens who\nare doing their duty to the State.  But, if so, we mean different\nthings, and he is speaking of something which is not a State.  And\ntherefore we must consider whether in appointing our guardians we would\nlook to their greatest happiness individually, or whether this\nprinciple of happiness does not rather reside in the State as a whole.\nBut the latter be the truth, then the guardians and auxillaries, and\nall others equally with them, must be compelled or induced to do their\nown work in the best way.  And thus the whole State will grow up in a\nnoble order, and the several classes will receive the proportion of\nhappiness which nature assigns to them.\n\nI think that you are quite right.\n\nI wonder whether you will agree with another remark which occurs to me.\n\nWhat may that be?\n\nThere seem to be two causes of the deterioration of the arts.\n\nWhat are they?\n\nWealth, I said, and poverty.\n\nHow do they act?\n\nThe process is as follows:  When a potter becomes rich, will he, think\nyou, any longer take the same pains with his art?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nHe will grow more and more indolent and careless?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd the result will be that he becomes a worse potter?\n\nYes; he greatly deteriorates.\n\nBut, on the other hand, if he has no money, and cannot provide himself\ntools or instruments, he will not work equally well himself, nor will\nhe teach his sons or apprentices to work equally well.\n\nCertainly not.\n\nThen, under the influence either of poverty or of wealth, workmen and\ntheir work are equally liable to degenerate?\n\nThat is evident.\n\nHere, then, is a discovery of new evils, I said, against which the\nguardians will have to watch, or they will creep into the city\nunobserved.\n\nWhat evils?\n\nWealth, I said, and poverty; the one is the parent of luxury and\nindolence, and the other of meanness and viciousness, and both of\ndiscontent.\n\nThat is very true, he replied; but still I should like to know,\nSocrates, how our city will be able to go to war, especially against an\nenemy who is rich and powerful, if deprived of the sinews of war.\n\nThere would certainly be a difficulty, I replied, in going to war with\none such enemy; but there is no difficulty where there are two of them.\n\nHow so? he asked.\n\nIn the first place, I said, if we have to fight, our side will be\ntrained warriors fighting against an army of rich men.\n\nThat is true, he said.\n\nAnd do you not suppose, Adeimantus, that a single boxer who was perfect\nin his art would easily be a match for two stout and well-to-do\ngentlemen who were not boxers?\n\nHardly, if they came upon him at once.\n\nWhat, not, I said, if he were able to run away and then turn and strike\nat the one who first came up?  And supposing he were to do this several\ntimes under the heat of a scorching sun, might he not, being an expert,\noverturn more than one stout personage?\n\nCertainly, he said, there would be nothing wonderful in that.\n\nAnd yet rich men probably have a greater superiority in the science and\npractice of boxing than they have in military qualities.\n\nLikely enough.\n\nThen we may assume that our athletes will be able to fight with two or\nthree times their own number?\n\nI agree with you, for I think you right.\n\nAnd suppose that, before engaging, our citizens send an embassy to one\nof the two cities, telling them what is the truth: Silver and gold we\nneither have nor are permitted to have, but you may; do you therefore\ncome and help us in war, of and take the spoils of the other city:\nWho, on hearing these words, would choose to fight against lean wiry\ndogs, rather than, with the dogs on their side, against fat and tender\nsheep?\n\nThat is not likely; and yet there might be a danger to the poor State\nif the wealth of many States were to be gathered into one.\n\nBut how simple of you to use the term State at all of any but our own!\n\nWhy so?\n\nYou ought to speak of other States in the plural number; not one of\nthem is a city, but many cities, as they say in the game.  For indeed\nany city, however small, is in fact divided into two, one the city of\nthe poor, the other of the rich; these are at war with one another; and\nin either there are many smaller divisions, and you would be altogether\nbeside the mark if you treated them all as a single State.  But if you\ndeal with them as many, and give the wealth or power or persons of the\none to the others, you will always have a great many friends and not\nmany enemies.  And your State, while the wise order which has now been\nprescribed continues to prevail in her, will be the greatest of States,\nI do not mean to say in reputation or appearance, but in deed and\ntruth, though she number not more than a thousand defenders.  A single\nState which is her equal you will hardly find, either among Hellenes or\nbarbarians, though many that appear to be as great and many times\ngreater.\n\nThat is most true, he said.\n\nAnd what, I said, will be the best limit for our rulers to fix when\nthey are considering the size of the State and the amount of territory\nwhich they are to include, and beyond which they will not go?\n\nWhat limit would you propose?\n\nI would allow the State to increase so far as is consistent with unity;\nthat, I think, is the proper limit.\n\nVery good, he said.\n\nHere then, I said, is another order which will have to be conveyed to\nour guardians:  Let our city be accounted neither large nor small, but\none and self-sufficing.\n\nAnd surely, said he, this is not a very severe order which we impose\nupon them.\n\nAnd the other, said I, of which we were speaking before is lighter\nstill, I mean the duty of degrading the offspring of the guardians\nwhen inferior, and of elevating into the rank of guardians the\noffspring of the lower classes, when naturally superior.  The intention\nwas, that, in the case of the citizens generally, each individual\nshould be put to the use for which nature which nature intended him,\none to one work, and then every man would do his own business, and be\none and not many; and so the whole city would be one and not many.\n\nYes, he said; that is not so difficult.\n\nThe regulations which we are prescribing, my good Adeimantus, are not,\nas might be supposed, a number of great principles, but trifles all, if\ncare be taken, as the saying is, of the one great thing,--a thing,\nhowever, which I would rather call, not great, but sufficient for our\npurpose.\n\nWhat may that be? he asked.\n\nEducation, I said, and nurture:  If our citizens are well educated, and\ngrow into sensible men, they will easily see their way through all\nthese, as well as other matters which I omit; such, for example, as\nmarriage, the possession of women and the procreation of children,\nwhich will all follow the general principle that friends have all\nthings in common, as the proverb says.\n\nThat will be the best way of settling them.\n\nAlso, I said, the State, if once started well, moves with accumulating\nforce like a wheel.  For good nurture and education implant good\nconstitutions, and these good constitutions taking root in a good\neducation improve more and more, and this improvement affects the breed\nin man as in other animals.\n\nVery possibly, he said.\n\nThen to sum up:  This is the point to which, above all, the attention\nof our rulers should be directed,--that music and gymnastic be\npreserved in their original form, and no innovation made.  They must do\ntheir utmost to maintain them intact.  And when any one says that\nmankind most regard\n\n    The newest song which the singers have,\n\nthey will be afraid that he may be praising, not new songs, but a new\nkind of song; and this ought not to be praised, or conceived to be the\nmeaning of the poet; for any musical innovation is full of danger to\nthe whole State, and ought to be prohibited.  So Damon tells me, and I\ncan quite believe him;-he says that when modes of music change, of the\nState always change with them.\n\nYes, said Adeimantus; and you may add my suffrage to Damon's and your\nown.\n\nThen, I said, our guardians must lay the foundations of their fortress\nin music?\n\nYes, he said; the lawlessness of which you speak too easily steals in.\n\nYes, I replied, in the form of amusement; and at first sight it appears\nharmless.\n\nWhy, yes, he said, and there is no harm; were it not that little by\nlittle this spirit of licence, finding a home, imperceptibly penetrates\ninto manners and customs; whence, issuing with greater force, it\ninvades contracts between man and man, and from contracts goes on to\nlaws and constitutions, in utter recklessness, ending at last,\nSocrates, by an overthrow of all rights, private as well as public.\n\nIs that true?  I said.\n\nThat is my belief, he replied.\n\nThen, as I was saying, our youth should be trained from the first in a\nstricter system, for if amusements become lawless, and the youths\nthemselves become lawless, they can never grow up into well-conducted\nand virtuous citizens.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nAnd when they have made a good beginning in play, and by the help of\nmusic have gained the habit of good order, then this habit of order, in\na manner how unlike the lawless play of the others! will accompany them\nin all their actions and be a principle of growth to them, and if there\nbe any fallen places a principle in the State will raise them up again.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nThus educated, they will invent for themselves any lesser rules which\ntheir predecessors have altogether neglected.\n\nWhat do you mean?\n\nI mean such things as these:--when the young are to be silent before\ntheir elders; how they are to show respect to them by standing and\nmaking them sit; what honour is due to parents; what garments or shoes\nare to be worn; the mode of dressing the hair; deportment and manners\nin general.  You would agree with me?\n\nYes.\n\nBut there is, I think, small wisdom in legislating about such\nmatters,--I doubt if it is ever done; nor are any precise written\nenactments about them likely to be lasting.\n\nImpossible.\n\nIt would seem, Adeimantus, that the direction in which education starts\na man, will determine his future life.  Does not like always attract\nlike?\n\nTo be sure.\n\nUntil some one rare and grand result is reached which may be good, and\nmay be the reverse of good?\n\nThat is not to be denied.\n\nAnd for this reason, I said, I shall not attempt to legislate further\nabout them.\n\nNaturally enough, he replied.\n\nWell, and about the business of the agora, dealings and the ordinary\ndealings between man and man, or again about agreements with the\ncommencement with artisans; about insult and injury, of the\ncommencement of actions, and the appointment of juries, what would you\nsay? there may also arise questions about any impositions and\nextractions of market and harbour dues which may be required, and in\ngeneral about the regulations of markets, police, harbours, and the\nlike.  But, oh heavens! shall we condescend to legislate on any of\nthese particulars?\n\nI think, he said, that there is no need to impose laws about them on\ngood men; what regulations are necessary they will find out soon enough\nfor themselves.\n\nYes, I said, my friend, if God will only preserve to them the laws\nwhich we have given them.\n\nAnd without divine help, said Adeimantus, they will go on for ever\nmaking and mending their laws and their lives in the hope of attaining\nperfection.\n\nYou would compare them, I said, to those invalids who, having no\nself-restraint, will not leave off their habits of intemperance?\n\nExactly.\n\nYes, I said; and what a delightful life they lead! they are always\ndoctoring and increasing and complicating their disorders, and always\nfancying that they will be cured by any nostrum which anybody advises\nthem to try.\n\nSuch cases are very common, he said, with invalids of this sort.\n\nYes, I replied; and the charming thing is that they deem him their\nworst enemy who tells them the truth, which is simply that, unless they\ngive up eating and drinking and wenching and idling, neither drug nor\ncautery nor spell nor amulet nor any other remedy will avail.\n\nCharming! he replied.  I see nothing charming in going into a passion\nwith a man who tells you what is right.\n\nThese gentlemen, I said, do not seem to be in your good graces.\n\nAssuredly not.\n\nNor would you praise the behaviour of States which act like the men\nwhom I was just now describing.  For are there not ill-ordered States\nin which the citizens are forbidden under pain of death to alter the\nconstitution; and yet he who most sweetly courts those who live under\nthis regime and indulges them and fawns upon them and is skilful in\nanticipating and gratifying their humours is held to be a great and\ngood statesman--do not these States resemble the persons whom I was\ndescribing?\n\nYes, he said; the States are as bad as the men; and I am very far from\npraising them.\n\nBut do you not admire, I said, the coolness and dexterity of these\nready ministers of political corruption?\n\nYes, he said, I do; but not of all of them, for there are some whom the\napplause of the multitude has deluded into the belief that they are\nreally statesmen, and these are not much to be admired.\n\nWhat do you mean?  I said; you should have more feeling for them.  When\na man cannot measure, and a great many others who cannot measure\ndeclare that he is four cubits high, can he help believing what they\nsay?\n\nNay, he said, certainly not in that case.\n\nWell, then, do not be angry with them; for are they not as good as a\nplay, trying their hand at paltry reforms such as I was describing;\nthey are always fancying that by legislation they will make an end of\nfrauds in contracts, and the other rascalities which I was mentioning,\nnot knowing that they are in reality cutting off the heads of a hydra?\n\nYes, he said; that is just what they are doing.\n\nI conceive, I said, that the true legislator will not trouble himself\nwith this class of enactments whether concerning laws or the\nconstitution either in an ill-ordered or in a well-ordered State; for\nin the former they are quite useless, and in the latter there will be\nno difficulty in devising them; and many of them will naturally flow\nout of our previous regulations.\n\nWhat, then, he said, is still remaining to us of the work of\nlegislation?\n\nNothing to us, I replied; but to Apollo, the God of Delphi, there\nremains the ordering of the greatest and noblest and chiefest things of\nall.\n\nWhich are they? he said.\n\nThe institution of temples and sacrifices, and the entire service of\ngods, demigods, and heroes; also the ordering of the repositories of\nthe dead, and the rites which have to be observed by him who would\npropitiate the inhabitants of the world below.  These are matters of\nwhich we are ignorant ourselves, and as founders of a city we should be\nunwise in trusting them to any interpreter but our ancestral deity.  He\nis the god who sits in the center, on the navel of the earth, and he is\nthe interpreter of religion to all mankind.\n\nYou are right, and we will do as you propose.\n\nBut where, amid all this, is justice? son of Ariston, tell me where.\nNow that our city has been made habitable, light a candle and search,\nand get your brother and Polemarchus and the rest of our friends to\nhelp, and let us see where in it we can discover justice and where\ninjustice, and in what they differ from one another, and which of them\nthe man who would be happy should have for his portion, whether seen or\nunseen by gods and men.\n\nSOCRATES - GLAUCON\n\nNonsense, said Glaucon:  did you not promise to search yourself, saying\nthat for you not to help justice in her need would be an impiety?\n\nI do not deny that I said so, and as you remind me, I will be as good\nas my word; but you must join.\n\nWe will, he replied.\n\nWell, then, I hope to make the discovery in this way:  I mean to begin\nwith the assumption that our State, if rightly ordered, is perfect.\n\nThat is most certain.\n\nAnd being perfect, is therefore wise and valiant and temperate and just.\n\nThat is likewise clear.\n\nAnd whichever of these qualities we find in the State, the one which is\nnot found will be the residue?\n\nVery good.\n\nIf there were four things, and we were searching for one of them,\nwherever it might be, the one sought for might be known to us from the\nfirst, and there would be no further trouble; or we might know the\nother three first, and then the fourth would clearly be the one left.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nAnd is not a similar method to be pursued about the virtues, which are\nalso four in number?\n\nClearly.\n\nFirst among the virtues found in the State, wisdom comes into view, and\nin this I detect a certain peculiarity.\n\nWhat is that?\n\nThe State which we have been describing is said to be wise as being\ngood in counsel?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd good counsel is clearly a kind of knowledge, for not by ignorance,\nbut by knowledge, do men counsel well?\n\nClearly.\n\nAnd the kinds of knowledge in a State are many and diverse?\n\nOf course.\n\nThere is the knowledge of the carpenter; but is that the sort of\nknowledge which gives a city the title of wise and good in counsel?\n\nCertainly not; that would only give a city the reputation of skill in\ncarpentering.\n\nThen a city is not to be called wise because possessing a knowledge\nwhich counsels for the best about wooden implements?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nNor by reason of a knowledge which advises about brazen pots, I said,\nnor as possessing any other similar knowledge?\n\nNot by reason of any of them, he said.\n\nNor yet by reason of a knowledge which cultivates the earth; that would\ngive the city the name of agricultural?\n\nYes.\n\nWell, I said, and is there any knowledge in our recently founded State\namong any of the citizens which advises, not about any particular thing\nin the State, but about the whole, and considers how a State can best\ndeal with itself and with other States?\n\nThere certainly is.\n\nAnd what is knowledge, and among whom is it found?  I asked.\n\nIt is the knowledge of the guardians, he replied, and found among those\nwhom we were just now describing as perfect guardians.\n\nAnd what is the name which the city derives from the possession of this\nsort of knowledge?\n\nThe name of good in counsel and truly wise.\n\nAnd will there be in our city more of these true guardians or more\nsmiths?\n\nThe smiths, he replied, will be far more numerous.\n\nWill not the guardians be the smallest of all the classes who receive a\nname from the profession of some kind of knowledge?\n\nMuch the smallest.\n\nAnd so by reason of the smallest part or class, and of the knowledge\nwhich resides in this presiding and ruling part of itself, the whole\nState, being thus constituted according to nature, will be wise; and\nthis, which has the only knowledge worthy to be called wisdom, has been\nordained by nature to be of all classes the least.\n\nMost true.\n\nThus, then, I said, the nature and place in the State of one of the\nfour virtues has somehow or other been discovered.\n\nAnd, in my humble opinion, very satisfactorily discovered, he replied.\n\nAgain, I said, there is no difficulty in seeing the nature of courage;\nand in what part that quality resides which gives the name of\ncourageous to the State.\n\nHow do you mean?\n\nWhy, I said, every one who calls any State courageous or cowardly, will\nbe thinking of the part which fights and goes out to war on the State's\nbehalf.\n\nNo one, he replied, would ever think of any other.\n\nCertainly not.\n\nThe rest of the citizens may be courageous or may be cowardly but their\ncourage or cowardice will not, as I conceive, have the effect of making\nthe city either the one or the other.\n\nThe city will be courageous in virtue of a portion of herself which\npreserves under all circumstances that opinion about the nature of\nthings to be feared and not to be feared in which our legislator\neducated them; and this is what you term courage.\n\nI should like to hear what you are saying once more, for I do not think\nthat I perfectly understand you.\n\nI mean that courage is a kind of salvation.\n\nSalvation of what?\n\nOf the opinion respecting things to be feared, what they are and of\nwhat nature, which the law implants through education; and I mean by\nthe words 'under all circumstances' to intimate that in pleasure or in\npain, or under the influence of desire or fear, a man preserves, and\ndoes not lose this opinion.  Shall I give you an illustration?\n\nIf you please.\n\nYou know, I said, that dyers, when they want to dye wool for making the\ntrue sea-purple, begin by selecting their white colour first; this they\nprepare and dress with much care and pains, in order that the white\nground may take the purple hue in full perfection.  The dyeing then\nproceeds; and whatever is dyed in this manner becomes a fast colour,\nand no washing either with lyes or without them can take away the\nbloom.  But, when the ground has not been duly prepared, you will have\nnoticed how poor is the look either of purple or of any other colour.\n\nYes, he said; I know that they have a washed-out and ridiculous\nappearance.\n\nThen now, I said, you will understand what our object was in selecting\nour soldiers, and educating them in music and gymnastic; we were\ncontriving influences which would prepare them to take the dye of the\nlaws in perfection, and the colour of their opinion about dangers and\nof every other opinion was to be indelibly fixed by their nurture and\ntraining, not to be washed away by such potent lyes as\npleasure--mightier agent far in washing the soul than any soda or lye;\nor by sorrow, fear, and desire, the mightiest of all other solvents.\nAnd this sort of universal saving power of true opinion in conformity\nwith law about real and false dangers I call and maintain to be\ncourage, unless you disagree.\n\nBut I agree, he replied; for I suppose that you mean to exclude mere\nuninstructed courage, such as that of a wild beast or of a slave--this,\nin your opinion, is not the courage which the law ordains, and ought to\nhave another name.\n\nMost certainly.\n\nThen I may infer courage to be such as you describe?\n\nWhy, yes, said I, you may, and if you add the words 'of a citizen,' you\nwill not be far wrong;--hereafter, if you like, we will carry the\nexamination further, but at present we are we w seeking not for courage\nbut justice; and for the purpose of our enquiry we have said enough.\n\nYou are right, he replied.\n\nTwo virtues remain to be discovered in the State-first temperance, and\nthen justice which is the end of our search.\n\nVery true.\n\nNow, can we find justice without troubling ourselves about temperance?\n\nI do not know how that can be accomplished, he said, nor do I desire\nthat justice should be brought to light and temperance lost sight of;\nand therefore I wish that you would do me the favour of considering\ntemperance first.\n\nCertainly, I replied, I should not be justified in refusing your\nrequest.\n\nThen consider, he said.\n\nYes, I replied; I will; and as far as I can at present see, the virtue\nof temperance has more of the nature of harmony and symphony than the\npreceding.\n\nHow so? he asked.\n\nTemperance, I replied, is the ordering or controlling of certain\npleasures and desires; this is curiously enough implied in the saying\nof 'a man being his own master' and other traces of the same notion may\nbe found in language.\n\nNo doubt, he said.\n\nThere is something ridiculous in the expression 'master of himself';\nfor the master is also the servant and the servant the master; and in\nall these modes of speaking the same person is denoted.\n\nCertainly.\n\nThe meaning is, I believe, that in the human soul there is a better and\nalso a worse principle; and when the better has the worse under\ncontrol, then a man is said to be master of himself; and this is a term\nof praise:  but when, owing to evil education or association, the\nbetter principle, which is also the smaller, is overwhelmed by the\ngreater mass of the worse--in this case he is blamed and is called the\nslave of self and unprincipled.\n\nYes, there is reason in that.\n\nAnd now, I said, look at our newly created State, and there you will\nfind one of these two conditions realised; for the State, as you will\nacknowledge, may be justly called master of itself, if the words\n'temperance' and 'self-mastery' truly express the rule of the better\npart over the worse.\n\nYes, he said, I see that what you say is true.\n\nLet me further note that the manifold and complex pleasures and desires\nand pains are generally found in children and women and servants, and\nin the freemen so called who are of the lowest and more numerous class.\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nWhereas the simple and moderate desires which follow reason, and are\nunder the guidance of mind and true opinion, are to be found only in a\nfew, and those the best born and best educated.\n\nVery true.  These two, as you may perceive, have a place in our State;\nand the meaner desires of the are held down by the virtuous desires and\nwisdom of the few.\n\nThat I perceive, he said.\n\nThen if there be any city which may be described as master of its own\npleasures and desires, and master of itself, ours may claim such a\ndesignation?\n\nCertainly, he replied.\n\nIt may also be called temperate, and for the same reasons?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd if there be any State in which rulers and subjects will be agreed\nas to the question who are to rule, that again will be our State?\n\nUndoubtedly.\n\nAnd the citizens being thus agreed among themselves, in which class\nwill temperance be found--in the rulers or in the subjects?\n\nIn both, as I should imagine, he replied.\n\nDo you observe that we were not far wrong in our guess that temperance\nwas a sort of harmony?\n\nWhy so?\n\nWhy, because temperance is unlike courage and wisdom, each of which\nresides in a part only, the one making the State wise and the other\nvaliant; not so temperance, which extends to the whole, and runs\nthrough all the notes of the scale, and produces a harmony of the\nweaker and the stronger and the middle class, whether you suppose them\nto be stronger or weaker in wisdom or power or numbers or wealth, or\nanything else.  Most truly then may we deem temperance to be the\nagreement of the naturally superior and inferior, as to the right to\nrule of either, both in states and individuals.\n\nI entirely agree with you.\n\nAnd so, I said, we may consider three out of the four virtues to have\nbeen discovered in our State.  The last of those qualities which make a\nstate virtuous must be justice, if we only knew what that was.\n\nThe inference is obvious.\n\nThe time then has arrived, Glaucon, when, like huntsmen, we should\nsurround the cover, and look sharp that justice does not steal away,\nand pass out of sight and escape us; for beyond a doubt she is\nsomewhere in this country:  watch therefore and strive to catch a sight\nof her, and if you see her first, let me know.\n\nWould that I could! but you should regard me rather as a follower who\nhas just eyes enough to, see what you show him--that is about as much\nas I am good for.\n\nOffer up a prayer with me and follow.\n\nI will, but you must show me the way.\n\nHere is no path, I said, and the wood is dark and perplexing; still we\nmust push on.\n\nLet us push on.\n\nHere I saw something:  Halloo!  I said, I begin to perceive a track,\nand I believe that the quarry will not escape.\n\nGood news, he said.\n\nTruly, I said, we are stupid fellows.\n\nWhy so?\n\nWhy, my good sir, at the beginning of our enquiry, ages ago, there was\njustice tumbling out at our feet, and we never saw her; nothing could\nbe more ridiculous.  Like people who go about looking for what they\nhave in their hands--that was the way with us--we looked not at what we\nwere seeking, but at what was far off in the distance; and therefore, I\nsuppose, we missed her.\n\nWhat do you mean?\n\nI mean to say that in reality for a long time past we have been talking\nof justice, and have failed to recognise her.\n\nI grow impatient at the length of your exordium.\n\nWell then, tell me, I said, whether I am right or not: You remember the\noriginal principle which we were always laying down at the foundation\nof the State, that one man should practise one thing only, the thing to\nwhich his nature was best adapted;--now justice is this principle or a\npart of it.\n\nYes, we often said that one man should do one thing only.\n\nFurther, we affirmed that justice was doing one's own business, and not\nbeing a busybody; we said so again and again, and many others have said\nthe same to us.\n\nYes, we said so.\n\nThen to do one's own business in a certain way may be assumed to be\njustice.  Can you tell me whence I derive this inference?\n\nI cannot, but I should like to be told.\n\nBecause I think that this is the only virtue which remains in the State\nwhen the other virtues of temperance and courage and wisdom are\nabstracted; and, that this is the ultimate cause and condition of the\nexistence of all of them, and while remaining in them is also their\npreservative; and we were saying that if the three were discovered by\nus, justice would be the fourth or remaining one.\n\nThat follows of necessity.\n\nIf we are asked to determine which of these four qualities by its\npresence contributes most to the excellence of the State, whether the\nagreement of rulers and subjects, or the preservation in the soldiers\nof the opinion which the law ordains about the true nature of dangers,\nor wisdom and watchfulness in the rulers, or whether this other which I\nam mentioning, and which is found in children and women, slave and\nfreeman, artisan, ruler, subject,--the quality, I mean, of every one\ndoing his own work, and not being a busybody, would claim the palm--the\nquestion is not so easily answered.\n\nCertainly, he replied, there would be a difficulty in saying which.\n\nThen the power of each individual in the State to do his own work\nappears to compete with the other political virtues, wisdom,\ntemperance, courage.\n\nYes, he said.\n\nAnd the virtue which enters into this competition is justice?\n\nExactly.\n\nLet us look at the question from another point of view: Are not the\nrulers in a State those to whom you would entrust the office of\ndetermining suits at law?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd are suits decided on any other ground but that a man may neither\ntake what is another's, nor be deprived of what is his own?\n\nYes; that is their principle.\n\nWhich is a just principle?\n\nYes.\n\nThen on this view also justice will be admitted to be the having and\ndoing what is a man's own, and belongs to him?\n\nVery true.\n\nThink, now, and say whether you agree with me or not.  Suppose a\ncarpenter to be doing the business of a cobbler, or a cobbler of a\ncarpenter; and suppose them to exchange their implements or their\nduties, or the same person to be doing the work of both, or whatever be\nthe change; do you think that any great harm would result to the State?\n\nNot much.\n\nBut when the cobbler or any other man whom nature designed to be a\ntrader, having his heart lifted up by wealth or strength or the number\nof his followers, or any like advantage, attempts to force his way into\nthe class of warriors, or a warrior into that of legislators and\nguardians, for which he is unfitted, and either to take the implements\nor the duties of the other; or when one man is trader, legislator, and\nwarrior all in one, then I think you will agree with me in saying that\nthis interchange and this meddling of one with another is the ruin of\nthe State.\n\nMost true.\n\nSeeing then, I said, that there are three distinct classes, any\nmeddling of one with another, or the change of one into another, is the\ngreatest harm to the State, and may be most justly termed evil-doing?\n\nPrecisely.\n\nAnd the greatest degree of evil-doing to one's own city would be termed\nby you injustice?\n\nCertainly.\n\nThis then is injustice; and on the other hand when the trader, the\nauxiliary, and the guardian each do their own business, that is\njustice, and will make the city just.\n\nI agree with you.\n\nWe will not, I said, be over-positive as yet; but if, on trial, this\nconception of justice be verified in the individual as well as in the\nState, there will be no longer any room for doubt; if it be not\nverified, we must have a fresh enquiry.  First let us complete the old\ninvestigation, which we began, as you remember, under the impression\nthat, if we could previously examine justice on the larger scale, there\nwould be less difficulty in discerning her in the individual.  That\nlarger example appeared to be the State, and accordingly we constructed\nas good a one as we could, knowing well that in the good State justice\nwould be found.  Let the discovery which we made be now applied to the\nindividual--if they agree, we shall be satisfied; or, if there be a\ndifference in the individual, we will come back to the State and have\nanother trial of the theory.  The friction of the two when rubbed\ntogether may possibly strike a light in which justice will shine forth,\nand the vision which is then revealed we will fix in our souls.\n\nThat will be in regular course; let us do as you say.\n\nI proceeded to ask:  When two things, a greater and less, are called by\nthe same name, are they like or unlike in so far as they are called the\nsame?\n\nLike, he replied.\n\nThe just man then, if we regard the idea of justice only, will be like\nthe just State?\n\nHe will.\n\nAnd a State was thought by us to be just when the three classes in the\nState severally did their own business; and also thought to be\ntemperate and valiant and wise by reason of certain other affections\nand qualities of these same classes?\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nAnd so of the individual; we may assume that he has the same three\nprinciples in his own soul which are found in the State; and he may be\nrightly described in the same terms, because he is affected in the same\nmanner?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nOnce more then, O my friend, we have alighted upon an easy\nquestion--whether the soul has these three principles or not?\n\nAn easy question!  Nay, rather, Socrates, the proverb holds that hard\nis the good.\n\nVery true, I said; and I do not think that the method which we are\nemploying is at all adequate to the accurate solution of this question;\nthe true method is another and a longer one.  Still we may arrive at a\nsolution not below the level of the previous enquiry.\n\nMay we not be satisfied with that? he said;--under the circumstances, I\nam quite content.\n\nI too, I replied, shall be extremely well satisfied.\n\nThen faint not in pursuing the speculation, he said.\n\nMust we not acknowledge, I said, that in each of us there are the same\nprinciples and habits which there are in the State; and that from the\nindividual they pass into the State?--how else can they come there?\nTake the quality of passion or spirit;--it would be ridiculous to\nimagine that this quality, when found in States, is not derived from\nthe individuals who are supposed to possess it, e.g. the Thracians,\nScythians, and in general the northern nations; and the same may be\nsaid of the love of knowledge, which is the special characteristic of\nour part of the world, or of the love of money, which may, with equal\ntruth, be attributed to the Phoenicians and Egyptians.\n\nExactly so, he said.\n\nThere is no difficulty in understanding this.\n\nNone whatever.\n\nBut the question is not quite so easy when we proceed to ask whether\nthese principles are three or one; whether, that is to say, we learn\nwith one part of our nature, are angry with another, and with a third\npart desire the satisfaction of our natural appetites; or whether the\nwhole soul comes into play in each sort of action--to determine that is\nthe difficulty.\n\nYes, he said; there lies the difficulty.\n\nThen let us now try and determine whether they are the same or\ndifferent.\n\nHow can we? he asked.\n\nI replied as follows:  The same thing clearly cannot act or be acted\nupon in the same part or in relation to the same thing at the same\ntime, in contrary ways; and therefore whenever this contradiction\noccurs in things apparently the same, we know that they are really not\nthe same, but different.\n\nGood.\n\nFor example, I said, can the same thing be at rest and in motion at the\nsame time in the same part?\n\nImpossible.\n\nStill, I said, let us have a more precise statement of terms, lest we\nshould hereafter fall out by the way.  Imagine the case of a man who is\nstanding and also moving his hands and his head, and suppose a person\nto say that one and the same person is in motion and at rest at the\nsame moment-to such a mode of speech we should object, and should\nrather say that one part of him is in motion while another is at rest.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd suppose the objector to refine still further, and to draw the nice\ndistinction that not only parts of tops, but whole tops, when they spin\nround with their pegs fixed on the spot, are at rest and in motion at\nthe same time (and he may say the same of anything which revolves in\nthe same spot), his objection would not be admitted by us, because in\nsuch cases things are not at rest and in motion in the same parts of\nthemselves; we should rather say that they have both an axis and a\ncircumference, and that the axis stands still, for there is no\ndeviation from the perpendicular; and that the circumference goes\nround.  But if, while revolving, the axis inclines either to the right\nor left, forwards or backwards, then in no point of view can they be at\nrest.\n\nThat is the correct mode of describing them, he replied.\n\nThen none of these objections will confuse us, or incline us to believe\nthat the same thing at the same time, in the same part or in relation\nto the same thing, can act or be acted upon in contrary ways.\n\nCertainly not, according to my way of thinking.\n\nYet, I said, that we may not be compelled to examine all such\nobjections, and prove at length that they are untrue, let us assume\ntheir absurdity, and go forward on the understanding that hereafter, if\nthis assumption turn out to be untrue, all the consequences which\nfollow shall be withdrawn.\n\nYes, he said, that will be the best way.\n\nWell, I said, would you not allow that assent and dissent, desire and\naversion, attraction and repulsion, are all of them opposites, whether\nthey are regarded as active or passive (for that makes no difference in\nthe fact of their opposition)?\n\nYes, he said, they are opposites.\n\nWell, I said, and hunger and thirst, and the desires in general, and\nagain willing and wishing,--all these you would refer to the classes\nalready mentioned.  You would say--would you not?--that the soul of him\nwho desires is seeking after the object of his desires; or that he is\ndrawing to himself the thing which he wishes to possess: or again, when\na person wants anything to be given him, his mind, longing for the\nrealisation of his desires, intimates his wish to have it by a nod of\nassent, as if he had been asked a question?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd what would you say of unwillingness and dislike and the absence of\ndesire; should not these be referred to the opposite class of repulsion\nand rejection?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAdmitting this to be true of desire generally, let us suppose a\nparticular class of desires, and out of these we will select hunger and\nthirst, as they are termed, which are the most obvious of them?\n\nLet us take that class, he said.\n\nThe object of one is food, and of the other drink?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd here comes the point:  is not thirst the desire which the soul has\nof drink, and of drink only; not of drink qualified by anything else;\nfor example, warm or cold, or much or little, or, in a word, drink of\nany particular sort:  but if the thirst be accompanied by heat, then\nthe desire is of cold drink; or, if accompanied by cold, then of warm\ndrink; or, if the thirst be excessive, then the drink which is desired\nwill be excessive; or, if not great, the quantity of drink will also be\nsmall:  but thirst pure and simple will desire drink pure and simple,\nwhich is the natural satisfaction of thirst, as food is of hunger?\n\nYes, he said; the simple desire is, as you say, in every case of the\nsimple object, and the qualified desire of the qualified object.\n\nBut here a confusion may arise; and I should wish to guard against an\nopponent starting up and saying that no man desires drink only, but\ngood drink, or food only, but good food; for good is the universal\nobject of desire, and thirst being a desire, will necessarily be thirst\nafter good drink; and the same is true of every other desire.\n\nYes, he replied, the opponent might have something to say.\n\nNevertheless I should still maintain, that of relatives some have a\nquality attached to either term of the relation; others are simple and\nhave their correlatives simple.\n\nI do not know what you mean.\n\nWell, you know of course that the greater is relative to the less?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd the much greater to the much less?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the sometime greater to the sometime less, and the greater that is\nto be to the less that is to be?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd so of more and less, and of other correlative terms, such as the\ndouble and the half, or again, the heavier and the lighter, the swifter\nand the slower; and of hot and cold, and of any other relatives;--is\nnot this true of all of them?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd does not the same principle hold in the sciences?  The object of\nscience is knowledge (assuming that to be the true definition), but the\nobject of a particular science is a particular kind of knowledge; I\nmean, for example, that the science of house-building is a kind of\nknowledge which is defined and distinguished from other kinds and is\ntherefore termed architecture.\n\nCertainly.\n\nBecause it has a particular quality which no other has?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd it has this particular quality because it has an object of a\nparticular kind; and this is true of the other arts and sciences?\n\nYes.\n\nNow, then, if I have made myself clear, you will understand my original\nmeaning in what I said about relatives.  My meaning was, that if one\nterm of a relation is taken alone, the other is taken alone; if one\nterm is qualified, the other is also qualified.  I do not mean to say\nthat relatives may not be disparate, or that the science of health is\nhealthy, or of disease necessarily diseased, or that the sciences of\ngood and evil are therefore good and evil; but only that, when the term\nscience is no longer used absolutely, but has a qualified object which\nin this case is the nature of health and disease, it becomes defined,\nand is hence called not merely science, but the science of medicine.\n\nI quite understand, and I think as you do.\n\nWould you not say that thirst is one of these essentially relative\nterms, having clearly a relation--\n\nYes, thirst is relative to drink.\n\nAnd a certain kind of thirst is relative to a certain kind of drink;\nbut thirst taken alone is neither of much nor little, nor of good nor\nbad, nor of any particular kind of drink, but of drink only?\n\nCertainly.\n\nThen the soul of the thirsty one, in so far as he is thirsty, desires\nonly drink; for this he yearns and tries to obtain it?\n\nThat is plain.\n\nAnd if you suppose something which pulls a thirsty soul away from\ndrink, that must be different from the thirsty principle which draws\nhim like a beast to drink; for, as we were saying, the same thing\ncannot at the same time with the same part of itself act in contrary\nways about the same.\n\nImpossible.\n\nNo more than you can say that the hands of the archer push and pull the\nbow at the same time, but what you say is that one hand pushes and the\nother pulls.\n\nExactly so, he replied.\n\nAnd might a man be thirsty, and yet unwilling to drink?\n\nYes, he said, it constantly happens.\n\nAnd in such a case what is one to say?  Would you not say that there\nwas something in the soul bidding a man to drink, and something else\nforbidding him, which is other and stronger than the principle which\nbids him?\n\nI should say so.\n\nAnd the forbidding principle is derived from reason, and that which\nbids and attracts proceeds from passion and disease?\n\nClearly.\n\nThen we may fairly assume that they are two, and that they differ from\none another; the one with which man reasons, we may call the rational\nprinciple of the soul, the other, with which he loves and hungers and\nthirsts and feels the flutterings of any other desire, may be termed\nthe irrational or appetitive, the ally of sundry pleasures and\nsatisfactions?\n\nYes, he said, we may fairly assume them to be different.\n\nThen let us finally determine that there are two principles existing in\nthe soul.  And what of passion, or spirit?  Is it a third, or akin to\none of the preceding?\n\nI should be inclined to say--akin to desire.\n\nWell, I said, there is a story which I remember to have heard, and in\nwhich I put faith.  The story is, that Leontius, the son of Aglaion,\ncoming up one day from the Piraeus, under the north wall on the\noutside, observed some dead bodies lying on the ground at the place of\nexecution.  He felt a desire to see them, and also a dread and\nabhorrence of them; for a time he struggled and covered his eyes, but\nat length the desire got the better of him; and forcing them open, he\nran up to the dead bodies, saying, Look, ye wretches, take your fill of\nthe fair sight.\n\nI have heard the story myself, he said.\n\nThe moral of the tale is, that anger at times goes to war with desire,\nas though they were two distinct things.\n\nYes; that is the meaning, he said.\n\nAnd are there not many other cases in which we observe that when a\nman's desires violently prevail over his reason, he reviles himself,\nand is angry at the violence within him, and that in this struggle,\nwhich is like the struggle of factions in a State, his spirit is on the\nside of his reason;--but for the passionate or spirited element to take\npart with the desires when reason that she should not be opposed, is a\nsort of thing which thing which I believe that you never observed\noccurring in yourself, nor, as I should imagine, in any one else?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nSuppose that a man thinks he has done a wrong to another, the nobler he\nis the less able is he to feel indignant at any suffering, such as\nhunger, or cold, or any other pain which the injured person may inflict\nupon him--these he deems to be just, and, as I say, his anger refuses\nto be excited by them.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nBut when he thinks that he is the sufferer of the wrong, then he boils\nand chafes, and is on the side of what he believes to be justice; and\nbecause he suffers hunger or cold or other pain he is only the more\ndetermined to persevere and conquer.  His noble spirit will not be\nquelled until he either slays or is slain; or until he hears the voice\nof the shepherd, that is, reason, bidding his dog bark no more.\n\nThe illustration is perfect, he replied; and in our State, as we were\nsaying, the auxiliaries were to be dogs, and to hear the voice of the\nrulers, who are their shepherds.\n\nI perceive, I said, that you quite understand me; there is, however, a\nfurther point which I wish you to consider.\n\nWhat point?\n\nYou remember that passion or spirit appeared at first sight to be a\nkind of desire, but now we should say quite the contrary; for in the\nconflict of the soul spirit is arrayed on the side of the rational\nprinciple.\n\nMost assuredly.\n\nBut a further question arises:  Is passion different from reason also,\nor only a kind of reason; in which latter case, instead of three\nprinciples in the soul, there will only be two, the rational and the\nconcupiscent; or rather, as the State was composed of three classes,\ntraders, auxiliaries, counsellors, so may there not be in the\nindividual soul a third element which is passion or spirit, and when\nnot corrupted by bad education is the natural auxiliary of reason\n\nYes, he said, there must be a third.\n\nYes, I replied, if passion, which has already been shown to be\ndifferent from desire, turn out also to be different from reason.\n\nBut that is easily proved:--We may observe even in young children that\nthey are full of spirit almost as soon as they are born, whereas some\nof them never seem to attain to the use of reason, and most of them\nlate enough.\n\nExcellent, I said, and you may see passion equally in brute animals,\nwhich is a further proof of the truth of what you are saying.  And we\nmay once more appeal to the words of Homer, which have been already\nquoted by us,\n\n    He smote his breast, and thus rebuked his soul,\n\nfor in this verse Homer has clearly supposed the power which reasons\nabout the better and worse to be different from the unreasoning anger\nwhich is rebuked by it.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nAnd so, after much tossing, we have reached land, and are fairly agreed\nthat the same principles which exist in the State exist also in the\nindividual, and that they are three in number.\n\nExactly.\n\nMust we not then infer that the individual is wise in the same way, and\nin virtue of the same quality which makes the State wise?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAlso that the same quality which constitutes courage in the State\nconstitutes courage in the individual, and that both the State and the\nindividual bear the same relation to all the other virtues?\n\nAssuredly.\n\nAnd the individual will be acknowledged by us to be just in the same\nway in which the State is just?\n\nThat follows, of course.\n\nWe cannot but remember that the justice of the State consisted in each\nof the three classes doing the work of its own class?\n\nWe are not very likely to have forgotten, he said.\n\nWe must recollect that the individual in whom the several qualities of\nhis nature do their own work will be just, and will do his own work?\n\nYes, he said, we must remember that too.\n\nAnd ought not the rational principle, which is wise, and has the care\nof the whole soul, to rule, and the passionate or spirited principle to\nbe the subject and ally?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd, as we were saying, the united influence of music and gymnastic\nwill bring them into accord, nerving and sustaining the reason with\nnoble words and lessons, and moderating and soothing and civilizing the\nwildness of passion by harmony and rhythm?\n\nQuite true, he said.\n\nAnd these two, thus nurtured and educated, and having learned truly to\nknow their own functions, will rule over the concupiscent, which in\neach of us is the largest part of the soul and by nature most\ninsatiable of gain; over this they will keep guard, lest, waxing great\nand strong with the fulness of bodily pleasures, as they are termed,\nthe concupiscent soul, no longer confined to her own sphere, should\nattempt to enslave and rule those who are not her natural-born\nsubjects, and overturn the whole life of man?\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nBoth together will they not be the best defenders of the whole soul and\nthe whole body against attacks from without; the one counselling, and\nthe other fighting under his leader, and courageously executing his\ncommands and counsels?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd he is to be deemed courageous whose spirit retains in pleasure and\nin pain the commands of reason about what he ought or ought not to fear?\n\nRight, he replied.\n\nAnd him we call wise who has in him that little part which rules, and\nwhich proclaims these commands; that part too being supposed to have a\nknowledge of what is for the interest of each of the three parts and of\nthe whole?\n\nAssuredly.\n\nAnd would you not say that he is temperate who has these same elements\nin friendly harmony, in whom the one ruling principle of reason, and\nthe two subject ones of spirit and desire are equally agreed that\nreason ought to rule, and do not rebel?\n\nCertainly, he said, that is the true account of temperance whether in\nthe State or individual.\n\nAnd surely, I said, we have explained again and again how and by virtue\nof what quality a man will be just.\n\nThat is very certain.\n\nAnd is justice dimmer in the individual, and is her form different, or\nis she the same which we found her to be in the State?\n\nThere is no difference in my opinion, he said.\n\nBecause, if any doubt is still lingering in our minds, a few\ncommonplace instances will satisfy us of the truth of what I am saying.\n\nWhat sort of instances do you mean?\n\nIf the case is put to us, must we not admit that the just State, or the\nman who is trained in the principles of such a State, will be less\nlikely than the unjust to make away with a deposit of gold or silver?\nWould any one deny this?\n\nNo one, he replied.\n\nWill the just man or citizen ever be guilty of sacrilege or theft, or\ntreachery either to his friends or to his country?\n\nNever.\n\nNeither will he ever break faith where there have been oaths or\nagreements?\n\nImpossible.\n\nNo one will be less likely to commit adultery, or to dishonour his\nfather and mother, or to fall in his religious duties?\n\nNo one.\n\nAnd the reason is that each part of him is doing its own business,\nwhether in ruling or being ruled?\n\nExactly so.\n\nAre you satisfied then that the quality which makes such men and such\nstates is justice, or do you hope to discover some other?\n\nNot I, indeed.\n\nThen our dream has been realised; and the suspicion which we\nentertained at the beginning of our work of construction, that some\ndivine power must have conducted us to a primary form of justice, has\nnow been verified?\n\nYes, certainly.\n\nAnd the division of labour which required the carpenter and the\nshoemaker and the rest of the citizens to be doing each his own\nbusiness, and not another's, was a shadow of justice, and for that\nreason it was of use?\n\nClearly.\n\nBut in reality justice was such as we were describing, being concerned\nhowever, not with the outward man, but with the inward, which is the\ntrue self and concernment of man:  for the just man does not permit the\nseveral elements within him to interfere with one another, or any of\nthem to do the work of others,--he sets in order his own inner life,\nand is his own master and his own law, and at peace with himself; and\nwhen he has bound together the three principles within him, which may\nbe compared to the higher, lower, and middle notes of the scale, and\nthe intermediate intervals--when he has bound all these together, and\nis no longer many, but has become one entirely temperate and perfectly\nadjusted nature, then he proceeds to act, if he has to act, whether in\na matter of property, or in the treatment of the body, or in some\naffair of politics or private business; always thinking and calling\nthat which preserves and co-operates with this harmonious condition,\njust and good action, and the knowledge which presides over it, wisdom,\nand that which at any time impairs this condition, he will call unjust\naction, and the opinion which presides over it ignorance.\n\nYou have said the exact truth, Socrates.\n\nVery good; and if we were to affirm that we had discovered the just man\nand the just State, and the nature of justice in each of them, we\nshould not be telling a falsehood?\n\nMost certainly not.\n\nMay we say so, then?\n\nLet us say so.\n\nAnd now, I said, injustice has to be considered.\n\nClearly.\n\nMust not injustice be a strife which arises among the three\nprinciples--a meddlesomeness, and interference, and rising up of a part\nof the soul against the whole, an assertion of unlawful authority,\nwhich is made by a rebellious subject against a true prince, of whom he\nis the natural vassal,--what is all this confusion and delusion but\ninjustice, and intemperance and cowardice and ignorance, and every form\nof vice?\n\nExactly so.\n\nAnd if the nature of justice and injustice be known, then the meaning\nof acting unjustly and being unjust, or, again, of acting justly, will\nalso be perfectly clear?\n\nWhat do you mean? he said.\n\nWhy, I said, they are like disease and health; being in the soul just\nwhat disease and health are in the body.\n\nHow so? he said.\n\nWhy, I said, that which is healthy causes health, and that which is\nunhealthy causes disease.\n\nYes.\n\nAnd just actions cause justice, and unjust actions cause injustice?\n\nThat is certain.\n\nAnd the creation of health is the institution of a natural order and\ngovernment of one by another in the parts of the body; and the creation\nof disease is the production of a state of things at variance with this\nnatural order?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd is not the creation of justice the institution of a natural order\nand government of one by another in the parts of the soul, and the\ncreation of injustice the production of a state of things at variance\nwith the natural order?\n\nExactly so, he said.\n\nThen virtue is the health and beauty and well-being of the soul, and\nvice the disease and weakness and deformity of the same?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd do not good practices lead to virtue, and evil practices to vice?\n\nAssuredly.\n\nStill our old question of the comparative advantage of justice and\ninjustice has not been answered:  Which is the more profitable, to be\njust and act justly and practise virtue, whether seen or unseen of gods\nand men, or to be unjust and act unjustly, if only unpunished and\nunreformed?\n\nIn my judgment, Socrates, the question has now become ridiculous.  We\nknow that, when the bodily constitution is gone, life is no longer\nendurable, though pampered with all kinds of meats and drinks, and\nhaving all wealth and all power; and shall we be told that when the\nvery essence of the vital principle is undermined and corrupted, life\nis still worth having to a man, if only he be allowed to do whatever he\nlikes with the single exception that he is not to acquire justice and\nvirtue, or to escape from injustice and vice; assuming them both to be\nsuch as we have described?\n\nYes, I said, the question is, as you say, ridiculous.  Still, as we are\nnear the spot at which we may see the truth in the clearest manner with\nour own eyes, let us not faint by the way.\n\nCertainly not, he replied.\n\nCome up hither, I said, and behold the various forms of vice, those of\nthem, I mean, which are worth looking at.\n\nI am following you, he replied:  proceed.\n\nI said, The argument seems to have reached a height from which, as from\nsome tower of speculation, a man may look down and see that virtue is\none, but that the forms of vice are innumerable; there being four\nspecial ones which are deserving of note.\n\nWhat do you mean? he said.\n\nI mean, I replied, that there appear to be as many forms of the soul as\nthere are distinct forms of the State.\n\nHow many?\n\nThere are five of the State, and five of the soul, I said.\n\nWhat are they?\n\nThe first, I said, is that which we have been describing, and which may\nbe said to have two names, monarchy and aristocracy, accordingly as\nrule is exercised by one distinguished man or by many.\n\nTrue, he replied.\n\nBut I regard the two names as describing one form only; for whether the\ngovernment is in the hands of one or many, if the governors have been\ntrained in the manner which we have supposed, the fundamental laws of\nthe State will be maintained.\n\nThat is true, he replied.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK V\n\n\nSOCRATES - GLAUCON - ADEIMANTUS\n\nSUCH is the good and true City or State, and the good and man is of the\nsame pattern; and if this is right every other is wrong; and the evil\nis one which affects not only the ordering of the State, but also the\nregulation of the individual soul, and is exhibited in four forms.\n\nWhat are they? he said.\n\nI was proceeding to tell the order in which the four evil forms\nappeared to me to succeed one another, when Pole marchus, who was\nsitting a little way off, just beyond Adeimantus, began to whisper to\nhim: stretching forth his hand, he took hold of the upper part of his\ncoat by the shoulder, and drew him towards him, leaning forward himself\nso as to be quite close and saying something in his ear, of which I\nonly caught the words, 'Shall we let him off, or what shall we do?'\n\nCertainly not, said Adeimantus, raising his voice.\n\nWho is it, I said, whom you are refusing to let off?\n\nYou, he said.\n\nI repeated, Why am I especially not to be let off?\n\nWhy, he said, we think that you are lazy, and mean to cheat us out of a\nwhole chapter which is a very important part of the story; and you\nfancy that we shall not notice your airy way of proceeding; as if it\nwere self-evident to everybody, that in the matter of women and\nchildren 'friends have all things in common.'\n\nAnd was I not right, Adeimantus?\n\nYes, he said; but what is right in this particular case, like\neverything else, requires to be explained; for community may be of many\nkinds.  Please, therefore, to say what sort of community you mean.  We\nhave been long expecting that you would tell us something about the\nfamily life of your citizens--how they will bring children into the\nworld, and rear them when they have arrived, and, in general, what is\nthe nature of this community of women and children-for we are of\nopinion that the right or wrong management of such matters will have a\ngreat and paramount influence on the State for good or for evil.  And\nnow, since the question is still undetermined, and you are taking in\nhand another State, we have resolved, as you heard, not to let you go\nuntil you give an account of all this.\n\nTo that resolution, said Glaucon, you may regard me as saying Agreed.\n\nSOCRATES - ADEIMANTUS - GLAUCON - THRASYMACHUS\n\nAnd without more ado, said Thrasymachus, you may consider us all to be\nequally agreed.\n\nI said, You know not what you are doing in thus assailing me: What an\nargument are you raising about the State!  Just as I thought that I had\nfinished, and was only too glad that I had laid this question to sleep,\nand was reflecting how fortunate I was in your acceptance of what I\nthen said, you ask me to begin again at the very foundation, ignorant\nof what a hornet's nest of words you are stirring.  Now I foresaw this\ngathering trouble, and avoided it.\n\nFor what purpose do you conceive that we have come here, said\nThrasymachus,--to look for gold, or to hear discourse?\n\nYes, but discourse should have a limit.\n\nYes, Socrates, said Glaucon, and the whole of life is the only limit\nwhich wise men assign to the hearing of such discourses.  But never\nmind about us; take heart yourself and answer the question in your own\nway: What sort of community of women and children is this which is to\nprevail among our guardians? and how shall we manage the period between\nbirth and education, which seems to require the greatest care?  Tell us\nhow these things will be.\n\nYes, my simple friend, but the answer is the reverse of easy; many more\ndoubts arise about this than about our previous conclusions.  For the\npracticability of what is said may be doubted; and looked at in another\npoint of view, whether the scheme, if ever so practicable, would be for\nthe best, is also doubtful.  Hence I feel a reluctance to approach the\nsubject, lest our aspiration, my dear friend, should turn out to be a\ndream only.\n\nFear not, he replied, for your audience will not be hard upon you; they\nare not sceptical or hostile.\n\nI said:  My good friend, I suppose that you mean to encourage me by\nthese words.\n\nYes, he said.\n\nThen let me tell you that you are doing just the reverse; the\nencouragement which you offer would have been all very well had I\nmyself believed that I knew what I was talking about: to declare the\ntruth about matters of high interest which a man honours and loves\namong wise men who love him need occasion no fear or faltering in his\nmind; but to carry on an argument when you are yourself only a\nhesitating enquirer, which is my condition, is a dangerous and slippery\nthing; and the danger is not that I shall be laughed at (of which the\nfear would be childish), but that I shall miss the truth where I have\nmost need to be sure of my footing, and drag my friends after me in my\nfall.  And I pray Nemesis not to visit upon me the words which I am\ngoing to utter.  For I do indeed believe that to be an involuntary\nhomicide is a less crime than to be a deceiver about beauty or goodness\nor justice in the matter of laws.  And that is a risk which I would\nrather run among enemies than among friends, and therefore you do well\nto encourage me.\n\nGlaucon laughed and said:  Well then, Socrates, in case you and your\nargument do us any serious injury you shall be acquitted beforehand of\nthe and shall not be held to be a deceiver; take courage then and speak.\n\nWell, I said, the law says that when a man is acquitted he is free from\nguilt, and what holds at law may hold in argument.\n\nThen why should you mind?\n\nWell, I replied, I suppose that I must retrace my steps and say what I\nperhaps ought to have said before in the proper place.  The part of the\nmen has been played out, and now properly enough comes the turn of the\nwomen.  Of them I will proceed to speak, and the more readily since I\nam invited by you.\n\nFor men born and educated like our citizens, the only way, in my\nopinion, of arriving at a right conclusion about the possession and use\nof women and children is to follow the path on which we originally\nstarted, when we said that the men were to be the guardians and\nwatchdogs of the herd.\n\nTrue.\n\nLet us further suppose the birth and education of our women to be\nsubject to similar or nearly similar regulations; then we shall see\nwhether the result accords with our design.\n\nWhat do you mean?\n\nWhat I mean may be put into the form of a question, I said: Are dogs\ndivided into hes and shes, or do they both share equally in hunting and\nin keeping watch and in the other duties of dogs? or do we entrust to\nthe males the entire and exclusive care of the flocks, while we leave\nthe females at home, under the idea that the bearing and suckling their\npuppies is labour enough for them?\n\nNo, he said, they share alike; the only difference between them is that\nthe males are stronger and the females weaker.\n\nBut can you use different animals for the same purpose, unless they are\nbred and fed in the same way?\n\nYou cannot.\n\nThen, if women are to have the same duties as men, they must have the\nsame nurture and education?\n\nYes.\n\nThe education which was assigned to the men was music and gymnastic.\nYes.\n\nThen women must be taught music and gymnastic and also the art of war,\nwhich they must practise like the men?\n\nThat is the inference, I suppose.\n\nI should rather expect, I said, that several of our proposals, if they\nare carried out, being unusual, may appear ridiculous.\n\nNo doubt of it.\n\nYes, and the most ridiculous thing of all will be the sight of women\nnaked in the palaestra, exercising with the men, especially when they\nare no longer young; they certainly will not be a vision of beauty, any\nmore than the enthusiastic old men who in spite of wrinkles and\nugliness continue to frequent the gymnasia.\n\nYes, indeed, he said:  according to present notions the proposal would\nbe thought ridiculous.\n\nBut then, I said, as we have determined to speak our minds, we must not\nfear the jests of the wits which will be directed against this sort of\ninnovation; how they will talk of women's attainments both in music and\ngymnastic, and above all about their wearing armour and riding upon\nhorseback!\n\nVery true, he replied.\n\nYet having begun we must go forward to the rough places of the law; at\nthe same time begging of these gentlemen for once in their life to be\nserious.  Not long ago, as we shall remind them, the Hellenes were of\nthe opinion, which is still generally received among the barbarians,\nthat the sight of a naked man was ridiculous and improper; and when\nfirst the Cretans and then the Lacedaemonians introduced the custom,\nthe wits of that day might equally have ridiculed the innovation.\n\nNo doubt.\n\nBut when experience showed that to let all things be uncovered was far\nbetter than to cover them up, and the ludicrous effect to the outward\neye vanished before the better principle which reason asserted, then\nthe man was perceived to be a fool who directs the shafts of his\nridicule at any other sight but that of folly and vice, or seriously\ninclines to weigh the beautiful by any other standard but that of the\ngood.\n\nVery true, he replied.\n\nFirst, then, whether the question is to be put in jest or in earnest,\nlet us come to an understanding about the nature of woman:  Is she\ncapable of sharing either wholly or partially in the actions of men, or\nnot at all?  And is the art of war one of those arts in which she can\nor can not share?  That will be the best way of commencing the enquiry,\nand will probably lead to the fairest conclusion.\n\nThat will be much the best way.\n\nShall we take the other side first and begin by arguing against\nourselves; in this manner the adversary's position will not be\nundefended.\n\nWhy not? he said.\n\nThen let us put a speech into the mouths of our opponents.  They will\nsay: 'Socrates and Glaucon, no adversary need convict you, for you\nyourselves, at the first foundation of the State, admitted the\nprinciple that everybody was to do the one work suited to his own\nnature.' And certainly, if I am not mistaken, such an admission was\nmade by us.  'And do not the natures of men and women differ very much\nindeed?' And we shall reply:  Of course they do.  Then we shall be\nasked, 'Whether the tasks assigned to men and to women should not be\ndifferent, and such as are agreeable to their different natures?'\nCertainly they should.  'But if so, have you not fallen into a serious\ninconsistency in saying that men and women, whose natures are so\nentirely different, ought to perform the same actions?'-- What defence\nwill you make for us, my good Sir, against any one who offers these\nobjections?\n\nThat is not an easy question to answer when asked suddenly; and I shall\nand I do beg of you to draw out the case on our side.\n\nThese are the objections, Glaucon, and there are many others of a like\nkind, which I foresaw long ago; they made me afraid and reluctant to\ntake in hand any law about the possession and nurture of women and\nchildren.\n\nBy Zeus, he said, the problem to be solved is anything but easy.\n\nWhy yes, I said, but the fact is that when a man is out of his depth,\nwhether he has fallen into a little swimming bath or into mid-ocean, he\nhas to swim all the same.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd must not we swim and try to reach the shore:  we will hope that\nArion's dolphin or some other miraculous help may save us?\n\nI suppose so, he said.\n\nWell then, let us see if any way of escape can be found.  We\nacknowledged--did we not? that different natures ought to have\ndifferent pursuits, and that men's and women's natures are different.\nAnd now what are we saying?--that different natures ought to have the\nsame pursuits,--this is the inconsistency which is charged upon us.\n\nPrecisely.\n\nVerily, Glaucon, I said, glorious is the power of the art of\ncontradiction!\n\nWhy do you say so?\n\nBecause I think that many a man falls into the practice against his\nwill.  When he thinks that he is reasoning he is really disputing, just\nbecause he cannot define and divide, and so know that of which he is\nspeaking; and he will pursue a merely verbal opposition in the spirit\nof contention and not of fair discussion.\n\nYes, he replied, such is very often the case; but what has that to do\nwith us and our argument?\n\nA great deal; for there is certainly a danger of our getting\nunintentionally into a verbal opposition.\n\nIn what way?\n\nWhy, we valiantly and pugnaciously insist upon the verbal truth, that\ndifferent natures ought to have different pursuits, but we never\nconsidered at all what was the meaning of sameness or difference of\nnature, or why we distinguished them when we assigned different\npursuits to different natures and the same to the same natures.\n\nWhy, no, he said, that was never considered by us.\n\nI said:  Suppose that by way of illustration we were to ask the\nquestion whether there is not an opposition in nature between bald men\nand hairy men; and if this is admitted by us, then, if bald men are\ncobblers, we should forbid the hairy men to be cobblers, and conversely?\n\nThat would be a jest, he said.\n\nYes, I said, a jest; and why? because we never meant when we\nconstructed the State, that the opposition of natures should extend to\nevery difference, but only to those differences which affected the\npursuit in which the individual is engaged; we should have argued, for\nexample, that a physician and one who is in mind a physician may be\nsaid to have the same nature.\n\nTrue.\n\nWhereas the physician and the carpenter have different natures?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd if, I said, the male and female sex appear to differ in their\nfitness for any art or pursuit, we should say that such pursuit or art\nought to be assigned to one or the other of them; but if the difference\nconsists only in women bearing and men begetting children, this does\nnot amount to a proof that a woman differs from a man in respect of the\nsort of education she should receive; and we shall therefore continue\nto maintain that our guardians and their wives ought to have the same\npursuits.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nNext, we shall ask our opponent how, in reference to any of the\npursuits or arts of civic life, the nature of a woman differs from that\nof a man?\n\nThat will be quite fair.\n\nAnd perhaps he, like yourself, will reply that to give a sufficient\nanswer on the instant is not easy; but after a little reflection there\nis no difficulty.\n\nYes, perhaps.\n\nSuppose then that we invite him to accompany us in the argument, and\nthen we may hope to show him that there is nothing peculiar in the\nconstitution of women which would affect them in the administration of\nthe State.\n\nBy all means.\n\nLet us say to him:  Come now, and we will ask you a question:--when you\nspoke of a nature gifted or not gifted in any respect, did you mean to\nsay that one man will acquire a thing easily, another with difficulty;\na little learning will lead the one to discover a great deal; whereas\nthe other, after much study and application, no sooner learns than he\nforgets; or again, did you mean, that the one has a body which is a\ngood servant to his mind, while the body of the other is a hindrance to\nhim?-would not these be the sort of differences which distinguish the\nman gifted by nature from the one who is ungifted?\n\nNo one will deny that.\n\nAnd can you mention any pursuit of mankind in which the male sex has\nnot all these gifts and qualities in a higher degree than the female?\nNeed I waste time in speaking of the art of weaving, and the management\nof pancakes and preserves, in which womankind does really appear to be\ngreat, and in which for her to be beaten by a man is of all things the\nmost absurd?\n\nYou are quite right, he replied, in maintaining the general inferiority\nof the female sex:  although many women are in many things superior to\nmany men, yet on the whole what you say is true.\n\nAnd if so, my friend, I said, there is no special faculty of\nadministration in a state which a woman has because she is a woman, or\nwhich a man has by virtue of his sex, but the gifts of nature are alike\ndiffused in both; all the pursuits of men are the pursuits of women\nalso, but in all of them a woman is inferior to a man.\n\nVery true.\n\nThen are we to impose all our enactments on men and none of them on\nwomen?\n\nThat will never do.\n\nOne woman has a gift of healing, another not; one is a musician, and\nanother has no music in her nature?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd one woman has a turn for gymnastic and military exercises, and\nanother is unwarlike and hates gymnastics?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd one woman is a philosopher, and another is an enemy of philosophy;\none has spirit, and another is without spirit?\n\nThat is also true.\n\nThen one woman will have the temper of a guardian, and another not.\nWas not the selection of the male guardians determined by differences\nof this sort?\n\nYes.\n\nMen and women alike possess the qualities which make a guardian; they\ndiffer only in their comparative strength or weakness.\n\nObviously.\n\nAnd those women who have such qualities are to be selected as the\ncompanions and colleagues of men who have similar qualities and whom\nthey resemble in capacity and in character?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd ought not the same natures to have the same pursuits?\n\nThey ought.\n\nThen, as we were saying before, there is nothing unnatural in assigning\nmusic and gymnastic to the wives of the guardians--to that point we\ncome round again.\n\nCertainly not.\n\nThe law which we then enacted was agreeable to nature, and therefore\nnot an impossibility or mere aspiration; and the contrary practice,\nwhich prevails at present, is in reality a violation of nature.\n\nThat appears to be true.\n\nWe had to consider, first, whether our proposals were possible, and\nsecondly whether they were the most beneficial?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the possibility has been acknowledged?\n\nYes.\n\nThe very great benefit has next to be established?\n\nQuite so.\n\nYou will admit that the same education which makes a man a good\nguardian will make a woman a good guardian; for their original nature\nis the same?\n\nYes.\n\nI should like to ask you a question.\n\nWhat is it?\n\nWould you say that all men are equal in excellence, or is one man\nbetter than another?\n\nThe latter.\n\nAnd in the commonwealth which we were founding do you conceive the\nguardians who have been brought up on our model system to be more\nperfect men, or the cobblers whose education has been cobbling?\n\nWhat a ridiculous question!\n\nYou have answered me, I replied:  Well, and may we not further say that\nour guardians are the best of our citizens?\n\nBy far the best.\n\nAnd will not their wives be the best women?\n\nYes, by far the best.\n\nAnd can there be anything better for the interests of the State than\nthat the men and women of a State should be as good as possible?\n\nThere can be nothing better.\n\nAnd this is what the arts of music and gymnastic, when present in such\nmanner as we have described, will accomplish?\n\nCertainly.\n\nThen we have made an enactment not only possible but in the highest\ndegree beneficial to the State?\n\nTrue.\n\nThen let the wives of our guardians strip, for their virtue will be\ntheir robe, and let them share in the toils of war and the defence of\ntheir country; only in the distribution of labours the lighter are to\nbe assigned to the women, who are the weaker natures, but in other\nrespects their duties are to be the same.  And as for the man who\nlaughs at naked women exercising their bodies from the best of motives,\nin his laughter he is plucking\n\n    A fruit of unripe wisdom,\n\nand he himself is ignorant of what he is laughing at, or what he is\nabout;--for that is, and ever will be, the best of sayings, That the\nuseful is the noble and the hurtful is the base.\n\nVery true.\n\nHere, then, is one difficulty in our law about women, which we may say\nthat we have now escaped; the wave has not swallowed us up alive for\nenacting that the guardians of either sex should have all their\npursuits in common; to the utility and also to the possibility of this\narrangement the consistency of the argument with itself bears witness.\n\nYes, that was a mighty wave which you have escaped.\n\nYes, I said, but a greater is coming; you will of this when you see the\nnext.\n\nGo on; let me see.\n\nThe law, I said, which is the sequel of this and of all that has\npreceded, is to the following effect,--'that the wives of our guardians\nare to be common, and their children are to be common, and no parent is\nto know his own child, nor any child his parent.'\n\nYes, he said, that is a much greater wave than the other; and the\npossibility as well as the utility of such a law are far more\nquestionable.\n\nI do not think, I said, that there can be any dispute about the very\ngreat utility of having wives and children in common; the possibility\nis quite another matter, and will be very much disputed.\n\nI think that a good many doubts may be raised about both.\n\nYou imply that the two questions must be combined, I replied.  Now I\nmeant that you should admit the utility; and in this way, as I thought;\nI should escape from one of them, and then there would remain only the\npossibility.\n\nBut that little attempt is detected, and therefore you will please to\ngive a defence of both.\n\nWell, I said, I submit to my fate.  Yet grant me a little favour: let\nme feast my mind with the dream as day dreamers are in the habit of\nfeasting themselves when they are walking alone; for before they have\ndiscovered any means of effecting their wishes--that is a matter which\nnever troubles them--they would rather not tire themselves by thinking\nabout possibilities; but assuming that what they desire is already\ngranted to them, they proceed with their plan, and delight in detailing\nwhat they mean to do when their wish has come true--that is a way which\nthey have of not doing much good to a capacity which was never good for\nmuch.  Now I myself am beginning to lose heart, and I should like, with\nyour permission, to pass over the question of possibility at present.\nAssuming therefore the possibility of the proposal, I shall now proceed\nto enquire how the rulers will carry out these arrangements, and I\nshall demonstrate that our plan, if executed, will be of the greatest\nbenefit to the State and to the guardians.  First of all, then, if you\nhave no objection, I will endeavour with your help to consider the\nadvantages of the measure; and hereafter the question of possibility.\n\nI have no objection; proceed.\n\nFirst, I think that if our rulers and their auxiliaries are to be\nworthy of the name which they bear, there must be willingness to obey\nin the one and the power of command in the other; the guardians must\nthemselves obey the laws, and they must also imitate the spirit of them\nin any details which are entrusted to their care.\n\nThat is right, he said.\n\nYou, I said, who are their legislator, having selected the men, will\nnow select the women and give them to them;--they must be as far as\npossible of like natures with them; and they must live in common houses\nand meet at common meals, None of them will have anything specially his\nor her own; they will be together, and will be brought up together, and\nwill associate at gymnastic exercises.  And so they will be drawn by a\nnecessity of their natures to have intercourse with each\nother--necessity is not too strong a word, I think?\n\nYes, he said;--necessity, not geometrical, but another sort of\nnecessity which lovers know, and which is far more convincing and\nconstraining to the mass of mankind.\n\nTrue, I said; and this, Glaucon, like all the rest, must proceed after\nan orderly fashion; in a city of the blessed, licentiousness is an\nunholy thing which the rulers will forbid.\n\nYes, he said, and it ought not to be permitted.\n\nThen clearly the next thing will be to make matrimony sacred in the\nhighest degree, and what is most beneficial will be deemed sacred?\n\nExactly.\n\nAnd how can marriages be made most beneficial?--that is a question\nwhich I put to you, because I see in your house dogs for hunting, and\nof the nobler sort of birds not a few.  Now, I beseech you, do tell me,\nhave you ever attended to their pairing and breeding?\n\nIn what particulars?\n\nWhy, in the first place, although they are all of a good sort, are not\nsome better than others?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd do you breed from them all indifferently, or do you take care to\nbreed from the best only?\n\nFrom the best.\n\nAnd do you take the oldest or the youngest, or only those of ripe age?\n\nI choose only those of ripe age.\n\nAnd if care was not taken in the breeding, your dogs and birds would\ngreatly deteriorate?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd the same of horses and animals in general?\n\nUndoubtedly.\n\nGood heavens! my dear friend, I said, what consummate skill will our\nrulers need if the same principle holds of the human species!\n\nCertainly, the same principle holds; but why does this involve any\nparticular skill?\n\nBecause, I said, our rulers will often have to practise upon the body\ncorporate with medicines.  Now you know that when patients do not\nrequire medicines, but have only to be put under a regimen, the\ninferior sort of practitioner is deemed to be good enough; but when\nmedicine has to be given, then the doctor should be more of a man.\n\nThat is quite true, he said; but to what are you alluding?\n\nI mean, I replied, that our rulers will find a considerable dose of\nfalsehood and deceit necessary for the good of their subjects: we were\nsaying that the use of all these things regarded as medicines might be\nof advantage.\n\nAnd we were very right.\n\nAnd this lawful use of them seems likely to be often needed in the\nregulations of marriages and births.\n\nHow so?\n\nWhy, I said, the principle has been already laid down that the best of\neither sex should be united with the best as often, and the inferior\nwith the inferior, as seldom as possible; and that they should rear the\noffspring of the one sort of union, but not of the other, if the flock\nis to be maintained in first-rate condition.  Now these goings on must\nbe a secret which the rulers only know, or there will be a further\ndanger of our herd, as the guardians may be termed, breaking out into\nrebellion.\n\nVery true.\n\nHad we not better appoint certain festivals at which we will bring\ntogether the brides and bridegrooms, and sacrifices will be offered and\nsuitable hymeneal songs composed by our poets:  the number of weddings\nis a matter which must be left to the discretion of the rulers, whose\naim will be to preserve the average of population?  There are many\nother things which they will have to consider, such as the effects of\nwars and diseases and any similar agencies, in order as far as this is\npossible to prevent the State from becoming either too large or too\nsmall.\n\nCertainly, he replied.\n\nWe shall have to invent some ingenious kind of lots which the less\nworthy may draw on each occasion of our bringing them together, and\nthen they will accuse their own ill-luck and not the rulers.\n\nTo be sure, he said.\n\nAnd I think that our braver and better youth, besides their other\nhonours and rewards, might have greater facilities of intercourse with\nwomen given them; their bravery will be a reason, and such fathers\nought to have as many sons as possible.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd the proper officers, whether male or female or both, for offices\nare to be held by women as well as by men--\n\nYes--\n\nThe proper officers will take the offspring of the good parents to the\npen or fold, and there they will deposit them with certain nurses who\ndwell in a separate quarter; but the offspring of the inferior, or of\nthe better when they chance to be deformed, will be put away in some\nmysterious, unknown place, as they should be.\n\nYes, he said, that must be done if the breed of the guardians is to be\nkept pure.\n\nThey will provide for their nurture, and will bring the mothers to the\nfold when they are full of milk, taking the greatest possible care that\nno mother recognizes her own child; and other wet-nurses may be engaged\nif more are required.  Care will also be taken that the process of\nsuckling shall not be protracted too long; and the mothers will have no\ngetting up at night or other trouble, but will hand over all this sort\nof thing to the nurses and attendants.\n\nYou suppose the wives of our guardians to have a fine easy time of it\nwhen they are having children.\n\nWhy, said I, and so they ought.  Let us, however, proceed with our\nscheme.  We were saying that the parents should be in the prime of life?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd what is the prime of life?  May it not be defined as a period of\nabout twenty years in a woman's life, and thirty in a man's?\n\nWhich years do you mean to include?\n\nA woman, I said, at twenty years of age may begin to bear children to\nthe State, and continue to bear them until forty; a man may begin at\nfive-and-twenty, when he has passed the point at which the pulse of\nlife beats quickest, and continue to beget children until he be\nfifty-five.\n\nCertainly, he said, both in men and women those years are the prime of\nphysical as well as of intellectual vigour.\n\nAny one above or below the prescribed ages who takes part in the public\nhymeneals shall be said to have done an unholy and unrighteous thing;\nthe child of which he is the father, if it steals into life, will have\nbeen conceived under auspices very unlike the sacrifices and prayers,\nwhich at each hymeneal priestesses and priest and the whole city will\noffer, that the new generation may be better and more useful than their\ngood and useful parents, whereas his child will be the offspring of\ndarkness and strange lust.\n\nVery true, he replied.\n\nAnd the same law will apply to any one of those within the prescribed\nage who forms a connection with any woman in the prime of life without\nthe sanction of the rulers; for we shall say that he is raising up a\nbastard to the State, uncertified and unconsecrated.\n\nVery true, he replied.\n\nThis applies, however, only to those who are within the specified age:\nafter that we allow them to range at will, except that a man may not\nmarry his daughter or his daughter's daughter, or his mother or his\nmother's mother; and women, on the other hand, are prohibited from\nmarrying their sons or fathers, or son's son or father's father, and so\non in either direction.  And we grant all this, accompanying the\npermission with strict orders to prevent any embryo which may come into\nbeing from seeing the light; and if any force a way to the birth, the\nparents must understand that the offspring of such an union cannot be\nmaintained, and arrange accordingly.\n\nThat also, he said, is a reasonable proposition.  But how will they\nknow who are fathers and daughters, and so on?\n\nThey will never know.  The way will be this:--dating from the day of\nthe hymeneal, the bridegroom who was then married will call all the\nmale children who are born in the seventh and tenth month afterwards\nhis sons, and the female children his daughters, and they will call him\nfather, and he will call their children his grandchildren, and they\nwill call the elder generation grandfathers and grandmothers.  All who\nwere begotten at the time when their fathers and mothers came together\nwill be called their brothers and sisters, and these, as I was saying,\nwill be forbidden to inter-marry. This, however, is not to be\nunderstood as an absolute prohibition of the marriage of brothers and\nsisters; if the lot favours them, and they receive the sanction of the\nPythian oracle, the law will allow them.\n\nQuite right, he replied.\n\nSuch is the scheme, Glaucon, according to which the guardians of our\nState are to have their wives and families in common.  And now you\nwould have the argument show that this community is consistent with the\nrest of our polity, and also that nothing can be better--would you not?\n\nYes, certainly.\n\nShall we try to find a common basis by asking of ourselves what ought\nto be the chief aim of the legislator in making laws and in the\norganization of a State,--what is the greatest I good, and what is the\ngreatest evil, and then consider whether our previous description has\nthe stamp of the good or of the evil?\n\nBy all means.\n\nCan there be any greater evil than discord and distraction and\nplurality where unity ought to reign? or any greater good than the bond\nof unity?\n\nThere cannot.\n\nAnd there is unity where there is community of pleasures and\npains--where all the citizens are glad or grieved on the same occasions\nof joy and sorrow?\n\nNo doubt.\n\nYes; and where there is no common but only private feeling a State is\ndisorganized--when you have one half of the world triumphing and the\nother plunged in grief at the same events happening to the city or the\ncitizens?\n\nCertainly.\n\nSuch differences commonly originate in a disagreement about the use of\nthe terms 'mine' and 'not mine,' 'his' and 'not his.'\n\nExactly so.\n\nAnd is not that the best-ordered State in which the greatest number of\npersons apply the terms 'mine' and 'not mine' in the same way to the\nsame thing?\n\nQuite true.\n\nOr that again which most nearly approaches to the condition of the\nindividual--as in the body, when but a finger of one of us is hurt, the\nwhole frame, drawn towards the soul as a center and forming one kingdom\nunder the ruling power therein, feels the hurt and sympathizes all\ntogether with the part affected, and we say that the man has a pain in\nhis finger; and the same expression is used about any other part of the\nbody, which has a sensation of pain at suffering or of pleasure at the\nalleviation of suffering.\n\nVery true, he replied; and I agree with you that in the best-ordered\nState there is the nearest approach to this common feeling which you\ndescribe.\n\nThen when any one of the citizens experiences any good or evil, the\nwhole State will make his case their own, and will either rejoice or\nsorrow with him?\n\nYes, he said, that is what will happen in a well-ordered State.\n\nIt will now be time, I said, for us to return to our State and see\nwhether this or some other form is most in accordance with these\nfundamental principles.\n\nVery good.\n\nOur State like every other has rulers and subjects?\n\nTrue.\n\nAll of whom will call one another citizens?\n\nOf course.\n\nBut is there not another name which people give to their rulers in\nother States?\n\nGenerally they call them masters, but in democratic States they simply\ncall them rulers.\n\nAnd in our State what other name besides that of citizens do the people\ngive the rulers?\n\nThey are called saviours and helpers, he replied.\n\nAnd what do the rulers call the people?\n\nTheir maintainers and foster-fathers.\n\nAnd what do they call them in other States?\n\nSlaves.\n\nAnd what do the rulers call one another in other States?\n\nFellow-rulers.\n\nAnd what in ours?\n\nFellow-guardians.\n\nDid you ever know an example in any other State of a ruler who would\nspeak of one of his colleagues as his friend and of another as not\nbeing his friend?\n\nYes, very often.\n\nAnd the friend he regards and describes as one in whom he has an\ninterest, and the other as a stranger in whom he has no interest?\n\nExactly.\n\nBut would any of your guardians think or speak of any other guardian as\na stranger?\n\nCertainly he would not; for every one whom they meet will be regarded\nby them either as a brother or sister, or father or mother, or son or\ndaughter, or as the child or parent of those who are thus connected\nwith him.\n\nCapital, I said; but let me ask you once more:  Shall they be a family\nin name only; or shall they in all their actions be true to the name?\nFor example, in the use of the word 'father,' would the care of a\nfather be implied and the filial reverence and duty and obedience to\nhim which the law commands; and is the violator of these duties to be\nregarded as an impious and unrighteous person who is not likely to\nreceive much good either at the hands of God or of man?  Are these to\nbe or not to be the strains which the children will hear repeated in\ntheir ears by all the citizens about those who are intimated to them to\nbe their parents and the rest of their kinsfolk?\n\nThese, he said, and none other; for what can be more ridiculous than\nfor them to utter the names of family ties with the lips only and not\nto act in the spirit of them?\n\nThen in our city the language of harmony and concord will be more often\nbeard than in any other.  As I was describing before, when any one is\nwell or ill, the universal word will be with me 'it is well' or 'it is\nill.'\n\nMost true.\n\nAnd agreeably to this mode of thinking and speaking, were we not saying\nthat they will have their pleasures and pains in common?\n\nYes, and so they will.\n\nAnd they will have a common interest in the same thing which they will\nalike call 'my own,' and having this common interest they will have a\ncommon feeling of pleasure and pain?\n\nYes, far more so than in other States.\n\nAnd the reason of this, over and above the general constitution of the\nState, will be that the guardians will have a community of women and\nchildren?\n\nThat will be the chief reason.\n\nAnd this unity of feeling we admitted to be the greatest good, as was\nimplied in our own comparison of a well-ordered State to the relation\nof the body and the members, when affected by pleasure or pain?\n\nThat we acknowledged, and very rightly.\n\nThen the community of wives and children among our citizens is clearly\nthe source of the greatest good to the State?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd this agrees with the other principle which we were affirming,--that\nthe guardians were not to have houses or lands or any other property;\ntheir pay was to be their food, which they were to receive from the\nother citizens, and they were to have no private expenses; for we\nintended them to preserve their true character of guardians.\n\nRight, he replied.\n\nBoth the community of property and the community of families, as I am\nsaying, tend to make them more truly guardians; they will not tear the\ncity in pieces by differing about 'mine' and 'not mine;' each man\ndragging any acquisition which he has made into a separate house of his\nown, where he has a separate wife and children and private pleasures\nand pains; but all will be affected as far as may be by the same\npleasures and pains because they are all of one opinion about what is\nnear and dear to them, and therefore they all tend towards a common end.\n\nCertainly, he replied.\n\nAnd as they have nothing but their persons which they can call their\nown, suits and complaints will have no existence among them; they will\nbe delivered from all those quarrels of which money or children or\nrelations are the occasion.\n\nOf course they will.\n\nNeither will trials for assault or insult ever be likely to occur among\nthem.  For that equals should defend themselves against equals we shall\nmaintain to be honourable and right; we shall make the protection of\nthe person a matter of necessity.\n\nThat is good, he said.\n\nYes; and there is a further good in the law; viz.  that if a man has a\nquarrel with another he will satisfy his resentment then and there, and\nnot proceed to more dangerous lengths.\n\nCertainly.\n\nTo the elder shall be assigned the duty of ruling and chastising the\nyounger.\n\nClearly.\n\nNor can there be a doubt that the younger will not strike or do any\nother violence to an elder, unless the magistrates command him; nor\nwill he slight him in any way.  For there are two guardians, shame and\nfear, mighty to prevent him:  shame, which makes men refrain from\nlaying hands on those who are to them in the relation of parents; fear,\nthat the injured one will be succoured by the others who are his\nbrothers, sons, one wi fathers.\n\nThat is true, he replied.\n\nThen in every way the laws will help the citizens to keep the peace\nwith one another?\n\nYes, there will be no want of peace.\n\nAnd as the guardians will never quarrel among themselves there will be\nno danger of the rest of the city being divided either against them or\nagainst one another.\n\nNone whatever.\n\nI hardly like even to mention the little meannesses of which they will\nbe rid, for they are beneath notice:  such, for example, as the\nflattery of the rich by the poor, and all the pains and pangs which men\nexperience in bringing up a family, and in finding money to buy\nnecessaries for their household, borrowing and then repudiating,\ngetting how they can, and giving the money into the hands of women and\nslaves to keep--the many evils of so many kinds which people suffer in\nthis way are mean enough and obvious enough, and not worth speaking of.\n\nYes, he said, a man has no need of eyes in order to perceive that.\n\nAnd from all these evils they will be delivered, and their life will be\nblessed as the life of Olympic victors and yet more blessed.\n\nHow so?\n\nThe Olympic victor, I said, is deemed happy in receiving a part only of\nthe blessedness which is secured to our citizens, who have won a more\nglorious victory and have a more complete maintenance at the public\ncost.  For the victory which they have won is the salvation of the\nwhole State; and the crown with which they and their children are\ncrowned is the fulness of all that life needs; they receive rewards\nfrom the hands of their country while living, and after death have an\nhonourable burial.\n\nYes, he said, and glorious rewards they are.\n\nDo you remember, I said, how in the course of the previous discussion\nsome one who shall be nameless accused us of making our guardians\nunhappy--they had nothing and might have possessed all things-to whom\nwe replied that, if an occasion offered, we might perhaps hereafter\nconsider this question, but that, as at present advised, we would make\nour guardians truly guardians, and that we were fashioning the State\nwith a view to the greatest happiness, not of any particular class, but\nof the whole?\n\nYes, I remember.\n\nAnd what do you say, now that the life of our protectors is made out to\nbe far better and nobler than that of Olympic victors--is the life of\nshoemakers, or any other artisans, or of husbandmen, to be compared\nwith it?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nAt the same time I ought here to repeat what I have said elsewhere,\nthat if any of our guardians shall try to be happy in such a manner\nthat he will cease to be a guardian, and is not content with this safe\nand harmonious life, which, in our judgment, is of all lives the best,\nbut infatuated by some youthful conceit of happiness which gets up into\nhis head shall seek to appropriate the whole State to himself, then he\nwill have to learn how wisely Hesiod spoke, when he said, 'half is more\nthan the whole.'\n\nIf he were to consult me, I should say to him:  Stay where you are,\nwhen you have the offer of such a life.\n\nYou agree then, I said, that men and women are to have a common way of\nlife such as we have described--common education, common children; and\nthey are to watch over the citizens in common whether abiding in the\ncity or going out to war; they are to keep watch together, and to hunt\ntogether like dogs; and always and in all things, as far as they are\nable, women are to share with the men?  And in so doing they will do\nwhat is best, and will not violate, but preserve the natural relation\nof the sexes.\n\nI agree with you, he replied.\n\nThe enquiry, I said, has yet to be made, whether such a community be\nfound possible--as among other animals, so also among men--and if\npossible, in what way possible?\n\nYou have anticipated the question which I was about to suggest.\n\nThere is no difficulty, I said, in seeing how war will be carried on by\nthem.\n\nHow?\n\nWhy, of course they will go on expeditions together; and will take with\nthem any of their children who are strong enough, that, after the\nmanner of the artisan's child, they may look on at the work which they\nwill have to do when they are grown up; and besides looking on they\nwill have to help and be of use in war, and to wait upon their fathers\nand mothers.  Did you never observe in the arts how the potters' boys\nlook on and help, long before they touch the wheel?\n\nYes, I have.\n\nAnd shall potters be more careful in educating their children and in\ngiving them the opportunity of seeing and practising their duties than\nour guardians will be?\n\nThe idea is ridiculous, he said.\n\nThere is also the effect on the parents, with whom, as with other\nanimals, the presence of their young ones will be the greatest\nincentive to valour.\n\nThat is quite true, Socrates; and yet if they are defeated, which may\noften happen in war, how great the danger is! the children will be lost\nas well as their parents, and the State will never recover.\n\nTrue, I said; but would you never allow them to run any risk?\n\nI am far from saying that.\n\nWell, but if they are ever to run a risk should they not do so on some\noccasion when, if they escape disaster, they will be the better for it?\n\nClearly.\n\nWhether the future soldiers do or do not see war in the days of their\nyouth is a very important matter, for the sake of which some risk may\nfairly be incurred.\n\nYes, very important.\n\nThis then must be our first step,--to make our children spectators of\nwar; but we must also contrive that they shall be secured against\ndanger; then all will be well.\n\nTrue.\n\nTheir parents may be supposed not to be blind to the risks of war, but\nto know, as far as human foresight can, what expeditions are safe and\nwhat dangerous?\n\nThat may be assumed.\n\nAnd they will take them on the safe expeditions and be cautious about\nthe dangerous ones?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd they will place them under the command of experienced veterans who\nwill be their leaders and teachers?\n\nVery properly.\n\nStill, the dangers of war cannot be always foreseen; there is a good\ndeal of chance about them?\n\nTrue.\n\nThen against such chances the children must be at once furnished with\nwings, in order that in the hour of need they may fly away and escape.\n\nWhat do you mean? he said.\n\nI mean that we must mount them on horses in their earliest youth, and\nwhen they have learnt to ride, take them on horseback to see war: the\nhorses must be spirited and warlike, but the most tractable and yet the\nswiftest that can be had.  In this way they will get an excellent view\nof what is hereafter to be their own business; and if there is danger\nthey have only to follow their elder leaders and escape.\n\nI believe that you are right, he said.\n\nNext, as to war; what are to be the relations of your soldiers to one\nanother and to their enemies?  I should be inclined to propose that the\nsoldier who leaves his rank or throws away his arms, or is guilty of\nany other act of cowardice, should be degraded into the rank of a\nhusbandman or artisan.  What do you think?\n\nBy all means, I should say.\n\nAnd he who allows himself to be taken prisoner may as well be made a\npresent of to his enemies; he is their lawful prey, and let them do\nwhat they like with him.\n\nCertainly.\n\nBut the hero who has distinguished himself, what shall be done to him?\nIn the first place, he shall receive honour in the army from his\nyouthful comrades; every one of them in succession shall crown him.\nWhat do you say?\n\nI approve.\n\nAnd what do you say to his receiving the right hand of fellowship?\n\nTo that too, I agree.\n\nBut you will hardly agree to my next proposal.\n\nWhat is your proposal?\n\nThat he should kiss and be kissed by them.\n\nMost certainly, and I should be disposed to go further, and say: Let no\none whom he has a mind to kiss refuse to be kissed by him while the\nexpedition lasts.  So that if there be a lover in the army, whether his\nlove be youth or maiden, he may be more eager to win the prize of\nvalour.\n\nCapital, I said.  That the brave man is to have more wives than others\nhas been already determined:  and he is to have first choices in such\nmatters more than others, in order that he may have as many children as\npossible?\n\nAgreed.\n\nAgain, there is another manner in which, according to Homer, brave\nyouths should be honoured; for he tells how Ajax, after he had\ndistinguished himself in battle, was rewarded with long chines, which\nseems to be a compliment appropriate to a hero in the flower of his\nage, being not only a tribute of honour but also a very strengthening\nthing.\n\nMost true, he said.\n\nThen in this, I said, Homer shall be our teacher; and we too, at\nsacrifices and on the like occasions, will honour the brave according\nto the measure of their valour, whether men or women, with hymns and\nthose other distinctions which we were mentioning; also with\n\n    seats of precedence, and meats and full cups;\n\nand in honouring them, we shall be at the same time training them.\n\nThat, he replied, is excellent.\n\nYes, I said; and when a man dies gloriously in war shall we not say, in\nthe first place, that he is of the golden race?\n\nTo be sure.\n\nNay, have we not the authority of Hesiod for affirming that when they\nare dead\n\n    They are holy angels upon the earth, authors of good,\n    averters of evil, the guardians of speech-gifted men?\n\nYes; and we accept his authority.\n\nWe must learn of the god how we are to order the sepulture of divine\nand heroic personages, and what is to be their special distinction and\nwe must do as he bids?\n\nBy all means.\n\nAnd in ages to come we will reverence them and kneel before their\nsepulchres as at the graves of heroes.  And not only they but any who\nare deemed pre-eminently good, whether they die from age, or in any\nother way, shall be admitted to the same honours.\n\nThat is very right, he said.\n\nNext, how shall our soldiers treat their enemies?  What about this?\n\nIn what respect do you mean?\n\nFirst of all, in regard to slavery?  Do you think it right that\nHellenes should enslave Hellenic States, or allow others to enslave\nthem, if they can help?  Should not their custom be to spare them,\nconsidering the danger which there is that the whole race may one day\nfall under the yoke of the barbarians?\n\nTo spare them is infinitely better.\n\nThen no Hellene should be owned by them as a slave; that is a rule\nwhich they will observe and advise the other Hellenes to observe.\n\nCertainly, he said; they will in this way be united against the\nbarbarians and will keep their hands off one another.\n\nNext as to the slain; ought the conquerors, I said, to take anything\nbut their armour?  Does not the practice of despoiling an enemy afford\nan excuse for not facing the battle?  Cowards skulk about the dead,\npretending that they are fulfilling a duty, and many an army before now\nhas been lost from this love of plunder.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd is there not illiberality and avarice in robbing a corpse, and also\na degree of meanness and womanishness in making an enemy of the dead\nbody when the real enemy has flown away and left only his fighting gear\nbehind him,--is not this rather like a dog who cannot get at his\nassailant, quarrelling with the stones which strike him instead?\n\nVery like a dog, he said.\n\nThen we must abstain from spoiling the dead or hindering their burial?\n\nYes, he replied, we most certainly must.\n\nNeither shall we offer up arms at the temples of the gods, least of all\nthe arms of Hellenes, if we care to maintain good feeling with other\nHellenes; and, indeed, we have reason to fear that the offering of\nspoils taken from kinsmen may be a pollution unless commanded by the\ngod himself?\n\nVery true.\n\nAgain, as to the devastation of Hellenic territory or the burning of\nhouses, what is to be the practice?\n\nMay I have the pleasure, he said, of hearing your opinion?\n\nBoth should be forbidden, in my judgment; I would take the annual\nproduce and no more.  Shall I tell you why?\n\nPray do.\n\nWhy, you see, there is a difference in the names 'discord' and 'war,'\nand I imagine that there is also a difference in their natures; the one\nis expressive of what is internal and domestic, the other of what is\nexternal and foreign; and the first of the two is termed discord, and\nonly the second, war.\n\nThat is a very proper distinction, he replied.\n\nAnd may I not observe with equal propriety that the Hellenic race is\nall united together by ties of blood and friendship, and alien and\nstrange to the barbarians?\n\nVery good, he said.\n\nAnd therefore when Hellenes fight with barbarians and barbarians with\nHellenes, they will be described by us as being at war when they fight,\nand by nature enemies, and this kind of antagonism should be called\nwar; but when Hellenes fight with one another we shall say that Hellas\nis then in a state of disorder and discord, they being by nature\nfriends and such enmity is to be called discord.\n\nI agree.\n\nConsider then, I said, when that which we have acknowledged to be\ndiscord occurs, and a city is divided, if both parties destroy the\nlands and burn the houses of one another, how wicked does the strife\nappear!  No true lover of his country would bring himself to tear in\npieces his own nurse and mother:  There might be reason in the\nconqueror depriving the conquered of their harvest, but still they\nwould have the idea of peace in their hearts and would not mean to go\non fighting for ever.\n\nYes, he said, that is a better temper than the other.\n\nAnd will not the city, which you are founding, be an Hellenic city?\n\nIt ought to be, he replied.\n\nThen will not the citizens be good and civilized?\n\nYes, very civilized.\n\nAnd will they not be lovers of Hellas, and think of Hellas as their own\nland, and share in the common temples?\n\nMost certainly.\n\nAnd any difference which arises among them will be regarded by them as\ndiscord only--a quarrel among friends, which is not to be called a war?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nThen they will quarrel as those who intend some day to be reconciled?\nCertainly.\n\nThey will use friendly correction, but will not enslave or destroy\ntheir opponents; they will be correctors, not enemies?\n\nJust so.\n\nAnd as they are Hellenes themselves they will not devastate Hellas, nor\nwill they burn houses, not even suppose that the whole population of a\ncity--men, women, and children--are equally their enemies, for they\nknow that the guilt of war is always confined to a few persons and that\nthe many are their friends.  And for all these reasons they will be\nunwilling to waste their lands and raze their houses; their enmity to\nthem will only last until the many innocent sufferers have compelled\nthe guilty few to give satisfaction?\n\nI agree, he said, that our citizens should thus deal with their\nHellenic enemies; and with barbarians as the Hellenes now deal with one\nanother.\n\nThen let us enact this law also for our guardians:-that they are\nneither to devastate the lands of Hellenes nor to burn their houses.\n\nAgreed; and we may agree also in thinking that these, all our previous\nenactments, are very good.\n\nBut still I must say, Socrates, that if you are allowed to go on in\nthis way you will entirely forget the other question which at the\ncommencement of this discussion you thrust aside:--Is such an order of\nthings possible, and how, if at all?  For I am quite ready to\nacknowledge that the plan which you propose, if only feasible, would do\nall sorts of good to the State.  I will add, what you have omitted,\nthat your citizens will be the bravest of warriors, and will never\nleave their ranks, for they will all know one another, and each will\ncall the other father, brother, son; and if you suppose the women to\njoin their armies, whether in the same rank or in the rear, either as a\nterror to the enemy, or as auxiliaries in case of need, I know that\nthey will then be absolutely invincible; and there are many domestic\ntic advantages which might also be mentioned and which I also fully\nacknowledge: but, as I admit all these advantages and as many more as\nyou please, if only this State of yours were to come into existence, we\nneed say no more about them; assuming then the existence of the State,\nlet us now turn to the question of possibility and ways and means--the\nrest may be left.\n\nIf I loiter for a moment, you instantly make a raid upon me, I said,\nand have no mercy; I have hardly escaped the first and second waves,\nand you seem not to be aware that you are now bringing upon me the\nthird, which is the greatest and heaviest.  When you have seen and\nheard the third wave, I think you be more considerate and will\nacknowledge that some fear and hesitation was natural respecting a\nproposal so extraordinary as that which I have now to state and\ninvestigate.\n\nThe more appeals of this sort which you make, he said, the more\ndetermined are we that you shall tell us how such a State is possible:\nspeak out and at once.\n\nLet me begin by reminding you that we found our way hither in the\nsearch after justice and injustice.\n\nTrue, he replied; but what of that?\n\nI was only going to ask whether, if we have discovered them, we are to\nrequire that the just man should in nothing fail of absolute justice;\nor may we be satisfied with an approximation, and the attainment in him\nof a higher degree of justice than is to be found in other men?\n\nThe approximation will be enough.\n\nWe are enquiring into the nature of absolute justice and into the\ncharacter of the perfectly just, and into injustice and the perfectly\nunjust, that we might have an ideal.  We were to look at these in order\nthat we might judge of our own happiness and unhappiness according to\nthe standard which they exhibited and the degree in which we resembled\nthem, but not with any view of showing that they could exist in fact.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nWould a painter be any the worse because, after having delineated with\nconsummate art an ideal of a perfectly beautiful man, he was unable to\nshow that any such man could ever have existed?\n\nHe would be none the worse.\n\nWell, and were we not creating an ideal of a perfect State?\n\nTo be sure.\n\nAnd is our theory a worse theory because we are unable to prove the\npossibility of a city being ordered in the manner described?\n\nSurely not, he replied.\n\nThat is the truth, I said.  But if, at your request, I am to try and\nshow how and under what conditions the possibility is highest, I must\nask you, having this in view, to repeat your former admissions.\n\nWhat admissions?\n\nI want to know whether ideals are ever fully realised in language?\nDoes not the word express more than the fact, and must not the actual,\nwhatever a man may think, always, in the nature of things, fall short\nof the truth?  What do you say?\n\nI agree.\n\nThen you must not insist on my proving that the actual State will in\nevery respect coincide with the ideal:  if we are only able to discover\nhow a city may be governed nearly as we proposed, you will admit that\nwe have discovered the possibility which you demand; and will be\ncontented.  I am sure that I should be contented--will not you?\n\nYes, I will.\n\nLet me next endeavour to show what is that fault in States which is the\ncause of their present maladministration, and what is the least change\nwhich will enable a State to pass into the truer form; and let the\nchange, if possible, be of one thing only, or if not, of two; at any\nrate, let the changes be as few and slight as possible.\n\nCertainly, he replied.\n\nI think, I said, that there might be a reform of the State if only one\nchange were made, which is not a slight or easy though still a possible\none.\n\nWhat is it? he said.\n\nNow then, I said, I go to meet that which I liken to the greatest of\nthe waves; yet shall the word be spoken, even though the wave break and\ndrown me in laughter and dishonour; and do you mark my words.\n\nProceed.\n\nI said:  Until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of this\nworld have the spirit and power of philosophy, and political greatness\nand wisdom meet in one, and those commoner natures who pursue either to\nthe exclusion of the other are compelled to stand aside, cities will\nnever have rest from their evils,--nor the human race, as I\nbelieve,--and then only will this our State have a possibility of life\nand behold the light of day.  Such was the thought, my dear Glaucon,\nwhich I would fain have uttered if it had not seemed too extravagant;\nfor to be convinced that in no other State can there be happiness\nprivate or public is indeed a hard thing.\n\nSocrates, what do you mean?  I would have you consider that the word\nwhich you have uttered is one at which numerous persons, and very\nrespectable persons too, in a figure pulling off their coats all in a\nmoment, and seizing any weapon that comes to hand, will run at you\nmight and main, before you know where you are, intending to do heaven\nknows what; and if you don't prepare an answer, and put yourself in\nmotion, you will be prepared by their fine wits,' and no mistake.\n\nYou got me into the scrape, I said.\n\nAnd I was quite right; however, I will do all I can to get you out of\nit; but I can only give you good-will and good advice, and, perhaps, I\nmay be able to fit answers to your questions better than another--that\nis all.  And now, having such an auxiliary, you must do your best to\nshow the unbelievers that you are right.\n\nI ought to try, I said, since you offer me such invaluable assistance.\nAnd I think that, if there is to be a chance of our escaping, we must\nexplain to them whom we mean when we say that philosophers are to rule\nin the State; then we shall be able to defend ourselves: There will be\ndiscovered to be some natures who ought to study philosophy and to be\nleaders in the State; and others who are not born to be philosophers,\nand are meant to be followers rather than leaders.\n\nThen now for a definition, he said.\n\nFollow me, I said, and I hope that I may in some way or other be able\nto give you a satisfactory explanation.\n\nProceed.\n\nI dare say that you remember, and therefore I need not remind you, that\na lover, if lie is worthy of the name, ought to show his love, not to\nsome one part of that which he loves, but to the whole.\n\nI really do not understand, and therefore beg of you to assist my\nmemory.\n\nAnother person, I said, might fairly reply as you do; but a man of\npleasure like yourself ought to know that all who are in the flower of\nyouth do somehow or other raise a pang or emotion in a lover's breast,\nand are thought by him to be worthy of his affectionate regards.  Is\nnot this a way which you have with the fair:  one has a snub nose, and\nyou praise his charming face; the hook-nose of another has, you say, a\nroyal look; while he who is neither snub nor hooked has the grace of\nregularity:  the dark visage is manly, the fair are children of the\ngods; and as to the sweet 'honey pale,' as they are called, what is the\nvery name but the invention of a lover who talks in diminutives, and is\nnot adverse to paleness if appearing on the cheek of youth?  In a word,\nthere is no excuse which you will not make, and nothing which you will\nnot say, in order not to lose a single flower that blooms in the\nspring-time of youth.\n\nIf you make me an authority in matters of love, for the sake of the\nargument, I assent.\n\nAnd what do you say of lovers of wine?  Do you not see them doing the\nsame?  They are glad of any pretext of drinking any wine.\n\nVery good.\n\nAnd the same is true of ambitious men; if they cannot command an army,\nthey are willing to command a file; and if they cannot be honoured by\nreally great and important persons, they are glad to be honoured by\nlesser and meaner people, but honour of some kind they must have.\n\nExactly.\n\nOnce more let me ask:  Does he who desires any class of goods, desire\nthe whole class or a part only?\n\nThe whole.\n\nAnd may we not say of the philosopher that he is a lover, not of a part\nof wisdom only, but of the whole?\n\nYes, of the whole.\n\nAnd he who dislikes learnings, especially in youth, when he has no\npower of judging what is good and what is not, such an one we maintain\nnot to be a philosopher or a lover of knowledge, just as he who refuses\nhis food is not hungry, and may be said to have a bad appetite and not\na good one?\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nWhereas he who has a taste for every sort of knowledge and who is\ncurious to learn and is never satisfied, may be justly termed a\nphilosopher?  Am I not right?\n\nGlaucon said:  If curiosity makes a philosopher, you will find many a\nstrange being will have a title to the name.  All the lovers of sights\nhave a delight in learning, and must therefore be included.  Musical\namateurs, too, are a folk strangely out of place among philosophers,\nfor they are the last persons in the world who would come to anything\nlike a philosophical discussion, if they could help, while they run\nabout at the Dionysiac festivals as if they had let out their ears to\nhear every chorus; whether the performance is in town or country--that\nmakes no difference--they are there.  Now are we to maintain that all\nthese and any who have similar tastes, as well as the professors of\nquite minor arts, are philosophers?\n\nCertainly not, I replied; they are only an imitation.\n\nHe said:  Who then are the true philosophers?\n\nThose, I said, who are lovers of the vision of truth.\n\nThat is also good, he said; but I should like to know what you mean?\n\nTo another, I replied, I might have a difficulty in explaining; but I\nam sure that you will admit a proposition which I am about to make.\n\nWhat is the proposition?\n\nThat since beauty is the opposite of ugliness, they are two?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd inasmuch as they are two, each of them is one?\n\nTrue again.\n\nAnd of just and unjust, good and evil, and of every other class, the\nsame remark holds:  taken singly, each of them one; but from the\nvarious combinations of them with actions and things and with one\nanother, they are seen in all sorts of lights and appear many?  Very\ntrue.\n\nAnd this is the distinction which I draw between the sight-loving,\nart-loving, practical class and those of whom I am speaking, and who\nare alone worthy of the name of philosophers.\n\nHow do you distinguish them? he said.\n\nThe lovers of sounds and sights, I replied, are, as I conceive, fond of\nfine tones and colours and forms and all the artificial products that\nare made out of them, but their mind is incapable of seeing or loving\nabsolute beauty.\n\nTrue, he replied.\n\nFew are they who are able to attain to the sight of this.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd he who, having a sense of beautiful things has no sense of absolute\nbeauty, or who, if another lead him to a knowledge of that beauty is\nunable to follow--of such an one I ask, Is he awake or in a dream only?\nReflect:  is not the dreamer, sleeping or waking, one who likens\ndissimilar things, who puts the copy in the place of the real object?\n\nI should certainly say that such an one was dreaming.\n\nBut take the case of the other, who recognises the existence of\nabsolute beauty and is able to distinguish the idea from the objects\nwhich participate in the idea, neither putting the objects in the place\nof the idea nor the idea in the place of the objects--is he a dreamer,\nor is he awake?\n\nHe is wide awake.\n\nAnd may we not say that the mind of the one who knows has knowledge,\nand that the mind of the other, who opines only, has opinion\n\nCertainly.\n\nBut suppose that the latter should quarrel with us and dispute our\nstatement, can we administer any soothing cordial or advice to him,\nwithout revealing to him that there is sad disorder in his wits?\n\nWe must certainly offer him some good advice, he replied.\n\nCome, then, and let us think of something to say to him.  Shall we\nbegin by assuring him that he is welcome to any knowledge which he may\nhave, and that we are rejoiced at his having it?  But we should like to\nask him a question:  Does he who has knowledge know something or\nnothing?  (You must answer for him.)\n\nI answer that he knows something.\n\nSomething that is or is not?\n\nSomething that is; for how can that which is not ever be known?\n\nAnd are we assured, after looking at the matter from many points of\nview, that absolute being is or may be absolutely known, but that the\nutterly non-existent is utterly unknown?\n\nNothing can be more certain.\n\nGood.  But if there be anything which is of such a nature as to be and\nnot to be, that will have a place intermediate between pure being and\nthe absolute negation of being?\n\nYes, between them.\n\nAnd, as knowledge corresponded to being and ignorance of necessity to\nnot-being, for that intermediate between being and not-being there has\nto be discovered a corresponding intermediate between ignorance and\nknowledge, if there be such?\n\nCertainly.\n\nDo we admit the existence of opinion?\n\nUndoubtedly.\n\nAs being the same with knowledge, or another faculty?\n\nAnother faculty.\n\nThen opinion and knowledge have to do with different kinds of matter\ncorresponding to this difference of faculties?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd knowledge is relative to being and knows being.  But before I\nproceed further I will make a division.\n\nWhat division?\n\nI will begin by placing faculties in a class by themselves: they are\npowers in us, and in all other things, by which we do as we do.  Sight\nand hearing, for example, I should call faculties.  Have I clearly\nexplained the class which I mean?\n\nYes, I quite understand.\n\nThen let me tell you my view about them.  I do not see them, and\ntherefore the distinctions of fire, colour, and the like, which enable\nme to discern the differences of some things, do not apply to them.  In\nspeaking of a faculty I think only of its sphere and its result; and\nthat which has the same sphere and the same result I call the same\nfaculty, but that which has another sphere and another result I call\ndifferent.  Would that be your way of speaking?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd will you be so very good as to answer one more question?  Would you\nsay that knowledge is a faculty, or in what class would you place it?\n\nCertainly knowledge is a faculty, and the mightiest of all faculties.\n\nAnd is opinion also a faculty?\n\nCertainly, he said; for opinion is that with which we are able to form\nan opinion.\n\nAnd yet you were acknowledging a little while ago that knowledge is not\nthe same as opinion?\n\nWhy, yes, he said:  how can any reasonable being ever identify that\nwhich is infallible with that which errs?\n\nAn excellent answer, proving, I said, that we are quite conscious of a\ndistinction between them.\n\nYes.\n\nThen knowledge and opinion having distinct powers have also distinct\nspheres or subject-matters?\n\nThat is certain.\n\nBeing is the sphere or subject-matter of knowledge, and knowledge is to\nknow the nature of being?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd opinion is to have an opinion?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd do we know what we opine? or is the subject-matter of opinion the\nsame as the subject-matter of knowledge?\n\nNay, he replied, that has been already disproven; if difference in\nfaculty implies difference in the sphere or subject matter, and if, as\nwe were saying, opinion and knowledge are distinct faculties, then the\nsphere of knowledge and of opinion cannot be the same.\n\nThen if being is the subject-matter of knowledge, something else must\nbe the subject-matter of opinion?\n\nYes, something else.\n\nWell then, is not-being the subject-matter of opinion? or, rather, how\ncan there be an opinion at all about not-being? Reflect: when a man has\nan opinion, has he not an opinion about something?  Can he have an\nopinion which is an opinion about nothing?\n\nImpossible.\n\nHe who has an opinion has an opinion about some one thing?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd not-being is not one thing but, properly speaking, nothing?\n\nTrue.\n\nOf not-being, ignorance was assumed to be the necessary correlative; of\nbeing, knowledge?\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nThen opinion is not concerned either with being or with not-being?\n\nNot with either.\n\nAnd can therefore neither be ignorance nor knowledge?\n\nThat seems to be true.\n\nBut is opinion to be sought without and beyond either of them, in a\ngreater clearness than knowledge, or in a greater darkness than\nignorance?\n\nIn neither.\n\nThen I suppose that opinion appears to you to be darker than knowledge,\nbut lighter than ignorance?\n\nBoth; and in no small degree.\n\nAnd also to be within and between them?\n\nYes.\n\nThen you would infer that opinion is intermediate?\n\nNo question.\n\nBut were we not saying before, that if anything appeared to be of a\nsort which is and is not at the same time, that sort of thing would\nappear also to lie in the interval between pure being and absolute\nnot-being; and that the corresponding faculty is neither knowledge nor\nignorance, but will be found in the interval between them?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd in that interval there has now been discovered something which we\ncall opinion?\n\nThere has.\n\nThen what remains to be discovered is the object which partakes equally\nof the nature of being and not-being, and cannot rightly be termed\neither, pure and simple; this unknown term, when discovered, we may\ntruly call the subject of opinion, and assign each to its proper\nfaculty, the extremes to the faculties of the extremes and the mean to\nthe faculty of the mean.\n\nTrue.\n\nThis being premised, I would ask the gentleman who is of opinion that\nthere is no absolute or unchangeable idea of beauty--in whose opinion\nthe beautiful is the manifold--he, I say, your lover of beautiful\nsights, who cannot bear to be told that the beautiful is one, and the\njust is one, or that anything is one--to him I would appeal, saying,\nWill you be so very kind, sir, as to tell us whether, of all these\nbeautiful things, there is one which will not be found ugly; or of the\njust, which will not be found unjust; or of the holy, which will not\nalso be unholy?\n\nNo, he replied; the beautiful will in some point of view be found ugly;\nand the same is true of the rest.\n\nAnd may not the many which are doubles be also halves?--doubles, that\nis, of one thing, and halves of another?\n\nQuite true.\n\nAnd things great and small, heavy and light, as they are termed, will\nnot be denoted by these any more than by the opposite names?\n\nTrue; both these and the opposite names will always attach to all of\nthem.\n\nAnd can any one of those many things which are called by particular\nnames be said to be this rather than not to be this?\n\nHe replied:  They are like the punning riddles which are asked at\nfeasts or the children's puzzle about the eunuch aiming at the bat,\nwith what he hit him, as they say in the puzzle, and upon what the bat\nwas sitting.  The individual objects of which I am speaking are also a\nriddle, and have a double sense: nor can you fix them in your mind,\neither as being or not-being, or both, or neither.\n\nThen what will you do with them?  I said.  Can they have a better place\nthan between being and not-being? For they are clearly not in greater\ndarkness or negation than not-being, or more full of light and\nexistence than being.\n\nThat is quite true, he said.\n\nThus then we seem to have discovered that the many ideas which the\nmultitude entertain about the beautiful and about all other things are\ntossing about in some region which is halfway between pure being and\npure not-being?\n\nWe have.\n\nYes; and we had before agreed that anything of this kind which we might\nfind was to be described as matter of opinion, and not as matter of\nknowledge; being the intermediate flux which is caught and detained by\nthe intermediate faculty.\n\nQuite true.\n\nThen those who see the many beautiful, and who yet neither see absolute\nbeauty, nor can follow any guide who points the way thither; who see\nthe many just, and not absolute justice, and the like,--such persons\nmay be said to have opinion but not knowledge?\n\nThat is certain.\n\nBut those who see the absolute and eternal and immutable may be said to\nknow, and not to have opinion only?\n\nNeither can that be denied.\n\nThe one loves and embraces the subjects of knowledge, the other those\nof opinion?  The latter are the same, as I dare say will remember, who\nlistened to sweet sounds and gazed upon fair colours, but would not\ntolerate the existence of absolute beauty.\n\nYes, I remember.\n\nShall we then be guilty of any impropriety in calling them lovers of\nopinion rather than lovers of wisdom, and will they be very angry with\nus for thus describing them?\n\nI shall tell them not to be angry; no man should be angry at what is\ntrue.\n\nBut those who love the truth in each thing are to be called lovers of\nwisdom and not lovers of opinion.\n\nAssuredly.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK VI\n\n\nSOCRATES - GLAUCON\n\nAND thus, Glaucon, after the argument has gone a weary way, the true\nand the false philosophers have at length appeared in view.\n\nI do not think, he said, that the way could have been shortened.\n\nI suppose not, I said; and yet I believe that we might have had a\nbetter view of both of them if the discussion could have been confined\nto this one subject and if there were not many other questions awaiting\nus, which he who desires to see in what respect the life of the just\ndiffers from that of the unjust must consider.\n\nAnd what is the next question? he asked.\n\nSurely, I said, the one which follows next in order.  Inasmuch as\nphilosophers only are able to grasp the eternal and unchangeable, and\nthose who wander in the region of the many and variable are not\nphilosophers, I must ask you which of the two classes should be the\nrulers of our State?\n\nAnd how can we rightly answer that question?\n\nWhichever of the two are best able to guard the laws and institutions\nof our State--let them be our guardians.\n\nVery good.\n\nNeither, I said, can there be any question that the guardian who is to\nkeep anything should have eyes rather than no eyes?\n\nThere can be no question of that.\n\nAnd are not those who are verily and indeed wanting in the knowledge of\nthe true being of each thing, and who have in their souls no clear\npattern, and are unable as with a painter's eye to look at the absolute\ntruth and to that original to repair, and having perfect vision of the\nother world to order the laws about beauty, goodness, justice in this,\nif not already ordered, and to guard and preserve the order of\nthem--are not such persons, I ask, simply blind?\n\nTruly, he replied, they are much in that condition.\n\nAnd shall they be our guardians when there are others who, besides\nbeing their equals in experience and falling short of them in no\nparticular of virtue, also know the very truth of each thing?\n\nThere can be no reason, he said, for rejecting those who have this\ngreatest of all great qualities; they must always have the first place\nunless they fail in some other respect.\n\nSuppose then, I said, that we determine how far they can unite this and\nthe other excellences.\n\nBy all means.\n\nIn the first place, as we began by observing, the nature of the\nphilosopher has to be ascertained.  We must come to an understanding\nabout him, and, when we have done so, then, if I am not mistaken, we\nshall also acknowledge that such an union of qualities is possible, and\nthat those in whom they are united, and those only, should be rulers in\nthe State.\n\nWhat do you mean?\n\nLet us suppose that philosophical minds always love knowledge of a sort\nwhich shows them the eternal nature not varying from generation and\ncorruption.\n\nAgreed.\n\nAnd further, I said, let us agree that they are lovers of all true\nbeing; there is no part whether greater or less, or more or less\nhonourable, which they are willing to renounce; as we said before of\nthe lover and the man of ambition.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd if they are to be what we were describing, is there not another\nquality which they should also possess?\n\nWhat quality?\n\nTruthfulness:  they will never intentionally receive into their mind\nfalsehood, which is their detestation, and they will love the truth.\n\nYes, that may be safely affirmed of them.\n\n'May be,' my friend, I replied, is not the word; say rather 'must be\naffirmed:'  for he whose nature is amorous of anything cannot help\nloving all that belongs or is akin to the object of his affections.\n\nRight, he said.\n\nAnd is there anything more akin to wisdom than truth?\n\nHow can there be?\n\nCan the same nature be a lover of wisdom and a lover of falsehood?\n\nNever.\n\nThe true lover of learning then must from his earliest youth, as far as\nin him lies, desire all truth?\n\nAssuredly.\n\nBut then again, as we know by experience, he whose desires are strong\nin one direction will have them weaker in others; they will be like a\nstream which has been drawn off into another channel.\n\nTrue.\n\nHe whose desires are drawn towards knowledge in every form will be\nabsorbed in the pleasures of the soul, and will hardly feel bodily\npleasure--I mean, if he be a true philosopher and not a sham one.\n\nThat is most certain.\n\nSuch an one is sure to be temperate and the reverse of covetous; for\nthe motives which make another man desirous of having and spending,\nhave no place in his character.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnother criterion of the philosophical nature has also to be considered.\n\nWhat is that?\n\nThere should be no secret corner of illiberality; nothing can more\nantagonistic than meanness to a soul which is ever longing after the\nwhole of things both divine and human.\n\nMost true, he replied.\n\nThen how can he who has magnificence of mind and is the spectator of\nall time and all existence, think much of human life?\n\nHe cannot.\n\nOr can such an one account death fearful?\n\nNo indeed.\n\nThen the cowardly and mean nature has no part in true philosophy?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nOr again:  can he who is harmoniously constituted, who is not covetous\nor mean, or a boaster, or a coward-can he, I say, ever be unjust or\nhard in his dealings?\n\nImpossible.\n\nThen you will soon observe whether a man is just and gentle, or rude\nand unsociable; these are the signs which distinguish even in youth the\nphilosophical nature from the unphilosophical.\n\nTrue.\n\nThere is another point which should be remarked.\n\nWhat point?\n\nWhether he has or has not a pleasure in learning; for no one will love\nthat which gives him pain, and in which after much toil he makes little\nprogress.\n\nCertainly not.\n\nAnd again, if he is forgetful and retains nothing of what he learns,\nwill he not be an empty vessel?\n\nThat is certain.\n\nLabouring in vain, he must end in hating himself and his fruitless\noccupation?  Yes.\n\nThen a soul which forgets cannot be ranked among genuine philosophic\nnatures; we must insist that the philosopher should have a good memory?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd once more, the inharmonious and unseemly nature can only tend to\ndisproportion?\n\nUndoubtedly.\n\nAnd do you consider truth to be akin to proportion or to disproportion?\n\nTo proportion.\n\nThen, besides other qualities, we must try to find a naturally\nwell-proportioned and gracious mind, which will move spontaneously\ntowards the true being of everything.\n\nCertainly.\n\nWell, and do not all these qualities, which we have been enumerating,\ngo together, and are they not, in a manner, necessary to a soul, which\nis to have a full and perfect participation of being?\n\nThey are absolutely necessary, he replied.\n\nAnd must not that be a blameless study which he only can pursue who has\nthe gift of a good memory, and is quick to learn,--noble, gracious, the\nfriend of truth, justice, courage, temperance, who are his kindred?\n\nThe god of jealousy himself, he said, could find no fault with such a\nstudy.\n\nAnd to men like him, I said, when perfected by years and education, and\nto these only you will entrust the State.\n\nSOCRATES - ADEIMANTUS\n\nHere Adeimantus interposed and said:  To these statements, Socrates, no\none can offer a reply; but when you talk in this way, a strange feeling\npasses over the minds of your hearers:  They fancy that they are led\nastray a little at each step in the argument, owing to their own want\nof skill in asking and answering questions; these littles accumulate,\nand at the end of the discussion they are found to have sustained a\nmighty overthrow and all their former notions appear to be turned\nupside down.  And as unskilful players of draughts are at last shut up\nby their more skilful adversaries and have no piece to move, so they\ntoo find themselves shut up at last; for they have nothing to say in\nthis new game of which words are the counters; and yet all the time\nthey are in the right.  The observation is suggested to me by what is\nnow occurring.  For any one of us might say, that although in words he\nis not able to meet you at each step of the argument, he sees as a fact\nthat the votaries of philosophy, when they carry on the study, not only\nin youth as a part of education, but as the pursuit of their maturer\nyears, most of them become strange monsters, not to say utter rogues,\nand that those who may be considered the best of them are made useless\nto the world by the very study which you extol.\n\nWell, and do you think that those who say so are wrong?\n\nI cannot tell, he replied; but I should like to know what is your\nopinion.\n\nHear my answer; I am of opinion that they are quite right.\n\nThen how can you be justified in saying that cities will not cease from\nevil until philosophers rule in them, when philosophers are\nacknowledged by us to be of no use to them?\n\nYou ask a question, I said, to which a reply can only be given in a\nparable.\n\nYes, Socrates; and that is a way of speaking to which you are not at\nall accustomed, I suppose.\n\nI perceive, I said, that you are vastly amused at having plunged me\ninto such a hopeless discussion; but now hear the parable, and then you\nwill be still more amused at the meagreness of my imagination: for the\nmanner in which the best men are treated in their own States is so\ngrievous that no single thing on earth is comparable to it; and\ntherefore, if I am to plead their cause, I must have recourse to\nfiction, and put together a figure made up of many things, like the\nfabulous unions of goats and stags which are found in pictures.\nImagine then a fleet or a ship in which there is a captain who is\ntaller and stronger than any of the crew, but he is a little deaf and\nhas a similar infirmity in sight, and his knowledge of navigation is\nnot much better.  The sailors are quarrelling with one another about\nthe steering--every one is of opinion that he has a right to steer,\nthough he has never learned the art of navigation and cannot tell who\ntaught him or when he learned, and will further assert that it cannot\nbe taught, and they are ready to cut in pieces any one who says the\ncontrary.  They throng about the captain, begging and praying him to\ncommit the helm to them; and if at any time they do not prevail, but\nothers are preferred to them, they kill the others or throw them\noverboard, and having first chained up the noble captain's senses with\ndrink or some narcotic drug, they mutiny and take possession of the\nship and make free with the stores; thus, eating and drinking, they\nproceed on their voyage in such a manner as might be expected of them.\nHim who is their partisan and cleverly aids them in their plot for\ngetting the ship out of the captain's hands into their own whether by\nforce or persuasion, they compliment with the name of sailor, pilot,\nable seaman, and abuse the other sort of man, whom they call a\ngood-for-nothing; but that the true pilot must pay attention to the\nyear and seasons and sky and stars and winds, and whatever else belongs\nto his art, if he intends to be really qualified for the command of a\nship, and that he must and will be the steerer, whether other people\nlike or not-the possibility of this union of authority with the\nsteerer's art has never seriously entered into their thoughts or been\nmade part of their calling.  Now in vessels which are in a state of\nmutiny and by sailors who are mutineers, how will the true pilot be\nregarded?  Will he not be called by them a prater, a star-gazer, a\ngood-for-nothing?\n\nOf course, said Adeimantus.\n\nThen you will hardly need, I said, to hear the interpretation of the\nfigure, which describes the true philosopher in his relation to the\nState; for you understand already.\n\nCertainly.\n\nThen suppose you now take this parable to the gentleman who is\nsurprised at finding that philosophers have no honour in their cities;\nexplain it to him and try to convince him that their having honour\nwould be far more extraordinary.\n\nI will.\n\nSay to him, that, in deeming the best votaries of philosophy to be\nuseless to the rest of the world, he is right; but also tell him to\nattribute their uselessness to the fault of those who will not use\nthem, and not to themselves.  The pilot should not humbly beg the\nsailors to be commanded by him--that is not the order of nature;\nneither are 'the wise to go to the doors of the rich'--the ingenious\nauthor of this saying told a lie--but the truth is, that, when a man is\nill, whether he be rich or poor, to the physician he must go, and he\nwho wants to be governed, to him who is able to govern.  The ruler who\nis good for anything ought not to beg his subjects to be ruled by him;\nalthough the present governors of mankind are of a different stamp;\nthey may be justly compared to the mutinous sailors, and the true\nhelmsmen to those who are called by them good-for-nothings and\nstar-gazers.\n\nPrecisely so, he said.\n\nFor these reasons, and among men like these, philosophy, the noblest\npursuit of all, is not likely to be much esteemed by those of the\nopposite faction; not that the greatest and most lasting injury is done\nto her by her opponents, but by her own professing followers, the same\nof whom you suppose the accuser to say, that the greater number of them\nare arrant rogues, and the best are useless; in which opinion I agreed.\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the reason why the good are useless has now been explained?\n\nTrue.\n\nThen shall we proceed to show that the corruption of the majority is\nalso unavoidable, and that this is not to be laid to the charge of\nphilosophy any more than the other?\n\nBy all means.\n\nAnd let us ask and answer in turn, first going back to the description\nof the gentle and noble nature.  Truth, as you will remember, was his\nleader, whom he followed always and in all things; failing in this, he\nwas an impostor, and had no part or lot in true philosophy.\n\nYes, that was said.\n\nWell, and is not this one quality, to mention no others, greatly at\nvariance with present notions of him?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd have we not a right to say in his defence, that the true lover of\nknowledge is always striving after being--that is his nature; he will\nnot rest in the multiplicity of individuals which is an appearance\nonly, but will go on--the keen edge will not be blunted, nor the force\nof his desire abate until he have attained the knowledge of the true\nnature of every essence by a sympathetic and kindred power in the soul,\nand by that power drawing near and mingling and becoming incorporate\nwith very being, having begotten mind and truth, he will have knowledge\nand will live and grow truly, and then, and not till then, will he\ncease from his travail.\n\nNothing, he said, can be more just than such a description of him.\n\nAnd will the love of a lie be any part of a philosopher's nature?  Will\nhe not utterly hate a lie?\n\nHe will.\n\nAnd when truth is the captain, we cannot suspect any evil of the band\nwhich he leads?\n\nImpossible.\n\nJustice and health of mind will be of the company, and temperance will\nfollow after?\n\nTrue, he replied.\n\nNeither is there any reason why I should again set in array the\nphilosopher's virtues, as you will doubtless remember that courage,\nmagnificence, apprehension, memory, were his natural gifts.  And you\nobjected that, although no one could deny what I then said, still, if\nyou leave words and look at facts, the persons who are thus described\nare some of them manifestly useless, and the greater number utterly\ndepraved; we were then led to enquire into the grounds of these\naccusations, and have now arrived at the point of asking why are the\nmajority bad, which question of necessity brought us back to the\nexamination and definition of the true philosopher.\n\nExactly.\n\nAnd we have next to consider the corruptions of the philosophic nature,\nwhy so many are spoiled and so few escape spoiling--I am speaking of\nthose who were said to be useless but not wicked--and, when we have\ndone with them, we will speak of the imitators of philosophy, what\nmanner of men are they who aspire after a profession which is above\nthem and of which they are unworthy, and then, by their manifold\ninconsistencies, bring upon philosophy, and upon all philosophers, that\nuniversal reprobation of which we speak.\n\nWhat are these corruptions? he said.\n\nI will see if I can explain them to you.  Every one will admit that a\nnature having in perfection all the qualities which we required in a\nphilosopher, is a rare plant which is seldom seen among men.\n\nRare indeed.\n\nAnd what numberless and powerful causes tend to destroy these rare\nnatures!\n\nWhat causes?\n\nIn the first place there are their own virtues, their courage,\ntemperance, and the rest of them, every one of which praise worthy\nqualities (and this is a most singular circumstance) destroys and\ndistracts from philosophy the soul which is the possessor of them.\n\nThat is very singular, he replied.\n\nThen there are all the ordinary goods of life--beauty, wealth,\nstrength, rank, and great connections in the State--you understand the\nsort of things--these also have a corrupting and distracting effect.\n\nI understand; but I should like to know more precisely what you mean\nabout them.\n\nGrasp the truth as a whole, I said, and in the right way; you will then\nhave no difficulty in apprehending the preceding remarks, and they will\nno longer appear strange to you.\n\nAnd how am I to do so? he asked.\n\nWhy, I said, we know that all germs or seeds, whether vegetable or\nanimal, when they fail to meet with proper nutriment or climate or\nsoil, in proportion to their vigour, are all the more sensitive to the\nwant of a suitable environment, for evil is a greater enemy to what is\ngood than what is not.\n\nVery true.\n\nThere is reason in supposing that the finest natures, when under alien\nconditions, receive more injury than the inferior, because the contrast\nis greater.\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd may we not say, Adeimantus, that the most gifted minds, when they\nare ill-educated, become pre-eminently bad?  Do not great crimes and\nthe spirit of pure evil spring out of a fulness of nature ruined by\neducation rather than from any inferiority, whereas weak natures are\nscarcely capable of any very great good or very great evil?\n\nThere I think that you are right.\n\nAnd our philosopher follows the same analogy-he is like a plant which,\nhaving proper nurture, must necessarily grow and mature into all\nvirtue, but, if sown and planted in an alien soil, becomes the most\nnoxious of all weeds, unless he be preserved by some divine power.  Do\nyou really think, as people so often say, that our youth are corrupted\nby Sophists, or that private teachers of the art corrupt them in any\ndegree worth speaking of?  Are not the public who say these things the\ngreatest of all Sophists?  And do they not educate to perfection young\nand old, men and women alike, and fashion them after their own hearts?\n\nWhen is this accomplished? he said.\n\nWhen they meet together, and the world sits down at an assembly, or in\na court of law, or a theatre, or a camp, or in any other popular\nresort, and there is a great uproar, and they praise some things which\nare being said or done, and blame other things, equally exaggerating\nboth, shouting and clapping their hands, and the echo of the rocks and\nthe place in which they are assembled redoubles the sound of the praise\nor blame--at such a time will not a young man's heart, as they say,\nleap within him?  Will any private training enable him to stand firm\nagainst the overwhelming flood of popular opinion? or will he be\ncarried away by the stream?  Will he not have the notions of good and\nevil which the public in general have--he will do as they do, and as\nthey are, such will he be?\n\nYes, Socrates; necessity will compel him.\n\nAnd yet, I said, there is a still greater necessity, which has not been\nmentioned.\n\nWhat is that?\n\nThe gentle force of attainder or confiscation or death which, as you\nare aware, these new Sophists and educators who are the public, apply\nwhen their words are powerless.\n\nIndeed they do; and in right good earnest.\n\nNow what opinion of any other Sophist, or of any private person, can be\nexpected to overcome in such an unequal contest?\n\nNone, he replied.\n\nNo, indeed, I said, even to make the attempt is a great piece of folly;\nthere neither is, nor has been, nor is ever likely to be, any different\ntype of character which has had no other training in virtue but that\nwhich is supplied by public opinion--I speak, my friend, of human\nvirtue only; what is more than human, as the proverb says, is not\nincluded:  for I would not have you ignorant that, in the present evil\nstate of governments, whatever is saved and comes to good is saved by\nthe power of God, as we may truly say.\n\nI quite assent, he replied.\n\nThen let me crave your assent also to a further observation.\n\nWhat are you going to say?\n\nWhy, that all those mercenary individuals, whom the many call Sophists\nand whom they deem to be their adversaries, do, in fact, teach nothing\nbut the opinion of the many, that is to say, the opinions of their\nassemblies; and this is their wisdom.  I might compare them to a man\nwho should study the tempers and desires of a mighty strong beast who\nis fed by him-he would learn how to approach and handle him, also at\nwhat times and from what causes he is dangerous or the reverse, and\nwhat is the meaning of his several cries, and by what sounds, when\nanother utters them, he is soothed or infuriated; and you may suppose\nfurther, that when, by continually attending upon him, he has become\nperfect in all this, he calls his knowledge wisdom, and makes of it a\nsystem or art, which he proceeds to teach, although he has no real\nnotion of what he means by the principles or passions of which he is\nspeaking, but calls this honourable and that dishonourable, or good or\nevil, or just or unjust, all in accordance with the tastes and tempers\nof the great brute.  Good he pronounces to be that in which the beast\ndelights and evil to be that which he dislikes; and he can give no\nother account of them except that the just and noble are the necessary,\nhaving never himself seen, and having no power of explaining to others\nthe nature of either, or the difference between them, which is immense.\nBy heaven, would not such an one be a rare educator?\n\nIndeed, he would.\n\nAnd in what way does he who thinks that wisdom is the discernment of\nthe tempers and tastes of the motley multitude, whether in painting or\nmusic, or, finally, in politics, differ from him whom I have been\ndescribing?  For when a man consorts with the many, and exhibits to\nthem his poem or other work of art or the service which he has done the\nState, making them his judges when he is not obliged, the so-called\nnecessity of Diomede will oblige him to produce whatever they praise.\nAnd yet the reasons are utterly ludicrous which they give in\nconfirmation of their own notions about the honourable and good.  Did\nyou ever hear any of them which were not?\n\nNo, nor am I likely to hear.\n\nYou recognise the truth of what I have been saying?  Then let me ask\nyou to consider further whether the world will ever be induced to\nbelieve in the existence of absolute beauty rather than of the many\nbeautiful, or of the absolute in each kind rather than of the many in\neach kind?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nThen the world cannot possibly be a philosopher?\n\nImpossible.\n\nAnd therefore philosophers must inevitably fall under the censure of\nthe world?\n\nThey must.\n\nAnd of individuals who consort with the mob and seek to please them?\n\nThat is evident.\n\nThen, do you see any way in which the philosopher can be preserved in\nhis calling to the end? and remember what we were saying of him, that\nhe was to have quickness and memory and courage and magnificence--these\nwere admitted by us to be the true philosopher's gifts.\n\nYes.\n\nWill not such an one from his early childhood be in all things first\namong all, especially if his bodily endowments are like his mental ones?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd his friends and fellow-citizens will want to use him as he gets\nolder for their own purposes?\n\nNo question.\n\nFalling at his feet, they will make requests to him and do him honour\nand flatter him, because they want to get into their hands now, the\npower which he will one day possess.\n\nThat often happens, he said.\n\nAnd what will a man such as he be likely to do under such\ncircumstances, especially if he be a citizen of a great city, rich and\nnoble, and a tall proper youth?  Will he not be full of boundless\naspirations, and fancy himself able to manage the affairs of Hellenes\nand of barbarians, and having got such notions into his head will he\nnot dilate and elevate himself in the fulness of vain pomp and\nsenseless pride?\n\nTo be sure he will.\n\nNow, when he is in this state of mind, if some one gently comes to him\nand tells him that he is a fool and must get understanding, which can\nonly be got by slaving for it, do you think that, under such adverse\ncircumstances, he will be easily induced to listen?\n\nFar otherwise.\n\nAnd even if there be some one who through inherent goodness or natural\nreasonableness has had his eyes opened a little and is humbled and\ntaken captive by philosophy, how will his friends behave when they\nthink that they are likely to lose the advantage which they were hoping\nto reap from his companionship?  Will they not do and say anything to\nprevent him from yielding to his better nature and to render his\nteacher powerless, using to this end private intrigues as well as\npublic prosecutions?\n\nThere can be no doubt of it.\n\nAnd how can one who is thus circumstanced ever become a philosopher?\n\nImpossible.\n\nThen were we not right in saying that even the very qualities which\nmake a man a philosopher may, if he be ill-educated, divert him from\nphilosophy, no less than riches and their accompaniments and the other\nso-called goods of life?\n\nWe were quite right.\n\nThus, my excellent friend, is brought about all that ruin and failure\nwhich I have been describing of the natures best adapted to the best of\nall pursuits; they are natures which we maintain to be rare at any\ntime; this being the class out of which come the men who are the\nauthors of the greatest evil to States and individuals; and also of the\ngreatest good when the tide carries them in that direction; but a small\nman never was the doer of any great thing either to individuals or to\nStates.\n\nThat is most true, he said.\n\nAnd so philosophy is left desolate, with her marriage rite incomplete:\nfor her own have fallen away and forsaken her, and while they are\nleading a false and unbecoming life, other unworthy persons, seeing\nthat she has no kinsmen to be her protectors, enter in and dishonour\nher; and fasten upon her the reproaches which, as you say, her\nreprovers utter, who affirm of her votaries that some are good for\nnothing, and that the greater number deserve the severest punishment.\n\nThat is certainly what people say.\n\nYes; and what else would you expect, I said, when you think of the puny\ncreatures who, seeing this land open to them--a land well stocked with\nfair names and showy titles--like prisoners running out of prison into\na sanctuary, take a leap out of their trades into philosophy; those who\ndo so being probably the cleverest hands at their own miserable crafts?\nFor, although philosophy be in this evil case, still there remains a\ndignity about her which is not to be found in the arts.  And many are\nthus attracted by her whose natures are imperfect and whose souls are\nmaimed and disfigured by their meannesses, as their bodies are by their\ntrades and crafts.  Is not this unavoidable?\n\nYes.\n\nAre they not exactly like a bald little tinker who has just got out of\ndurance and come into a fortune; he takes a bath and puts on a new\ncoat, and is decked out as a bridegroom going to marry his master's\ndaughter, who is left poor and desolate?\n\nA most exact parallel.\n\nWhat will be the issue of such marriages?  Will they not be vile and\nbastard?\n\nThere can be no question of it.\n\nAnd when persons who are unworthy of education approach philosophy and\nmake an alliance with her who is a rank above them what sort of ideas\nand opinions are likely to be generated?  Will they not be sophisms\ncaptivating to the ear, having nothing in them genuine, or worthy of or\nakin to true wisdom?\n\nNo doubt, he said.\n\nThen, Adeimantus, I said, the worthy disciples of philosophy will be\nbut a small remnant:  perchance some noble and well-educated person,\ndetained by exile in her service, who in the absence of corrupting\ninfluences remains devoted to her; or some lofty soul born in a mean\ncity, the politics of which he contemns and neglects; and there may be\na gifted few who leave the arts, which they justly despise, and come to\nher;--or peradventure there are some who are restrained by our friend\nTheages' bridle; for everything in the life of Theages conspired to\ndivert him from philosophy; but ill-health kept him away from politics.\nMy own case of the internal sign is hardly worth mentioning, for\nrarely, if ever, has such a monitor been given to any other man.  Those\nwho belong to this small class have tasted how sweet and blessed a\npossession philosophy is, and have also seen enough of the madness of\nthe multitude; and they know that no politician is honest, nor is there\nany champion of justice at whose side they may fight and be saved.\nSuch an one may be compared to a man who has fallen among wild\nbeasts--he will not join in the wickedness of his fellows, but neither\nis he able singly to resist all their fierce natures, and therefore\nseeing that he would be of no use to the State or to his friends, and\nreflecting that he would have to throw away his life without doing any\ngood either to himself or others, he holds his peace, and goes his own\nway.  He is like one who, in the storm of dust and sleet which the\ndriving wind hurries along, retires under the shelter of a wall; and\nseeing the rest of mankind full of wickedness, he is content, if only\nhe can live his own life and be pure from evil or unrighteousness, and\ndepart in peace and good-will, with bright hopes.\n\nYes, he said, and he will have done a great work before he departs.\n\nA great work--yes; but not the greatest, unless he find a State\nsuitable to him; for in a State which is suitable to him, he will have\na larger growth and be the saviour of his country, as well as of\nhimself.\n\nThe causes why philosophy is in such an evil name have now been\nsufficiently explained:  the injustice of the charges against her has\nbeen shown-is there anything more which you wish to say?\n\nNothing more on that subject, he replied; but I should like to know\nwhich of the governments now existing is in your opinion the one\nadapted to her.\n\nNot any of them, I said; and that is precisely the accusation which I\nbring against them--not one of them is worthy of the philosophic\nnature, and hence that nature is warped and estranged;--as the exotic\nseed which is sown in a foreign land becomes denaturalized, and is wont\nto be overpowered and to lose itself in the new soil, even so this\ngrowth of philosophy, instead of persisting, degenerates and receives\nanother character.  But if philosophy ever finds in the State that\nperfection which she herself is, then will be seen that she is in truth\ndivine, and that all other things, whether natures of men or\ninstitutions, are but human;--and now, I know that you are going to\nask, what that State is.\n\nNo, he said; there you are wrong, for I was going to ask another\nquestion--whether it is the State of which we are the founders and\ninventors, or some other?\n\nYes, I replied, ours in most respects; but you may remember my saying\nbefore, that some living authority would always be required in the\nState having the same idea of the constitution which guided you when as\nlegislator you were laying down the laws.\n\nThat was said, he replied.\n\nYes, but not in a satisfactory manner; you frightened us by interposing\nobjections, which certainly showed that the discussion would be long\nand difficult; and what still remains is the reverse of easy.\n\nWhat is there remaining?\n\nThe question how the study of philosophy may be so ordered as not to be\nthe ruin of the State:  All great attempts are attended with risk;\n'hard is the good,' as men say.\n\nStill, he said, let the point be cleared up, and the enquiry will then\nbe complete.\n\nI shall not be hindered, I said, by any want of will, but, if at all,\nby a want of power:  my zeal you may see for yourselves; and please to\nremark in what I am about to say how boldly and unhesitatingly I\ndeclare that States should pursue philosophy, not as they do now, but\nin a different spirit.\n\nIn what manner?\n\nAt present, I said, the students of philosophy are quite young;\nbeginning when they are hardly past childhood, they devote only the\ntime saved from moneymaking and housekeeping to such pursuits; and even\nthose of them who are reputed to have most of the philosophic spirit,\nwhen they come within sight of the great difficulty of the subject, I\nmean dialectic, take themselves off.  In after life when invited by\nsome one else, they may, perhaps, go and hear a lecture, and about this\nthey make much ado, for philosophy is not considered by them to be\ntheir proper business:  at last, when they grow old, in most cases they\nare extinguished more truly than Heracleitus' sun, inasmuch as they\nnever light up again.\n\nBut what ought to be their course?\n\nJust the opposite.  In childhood and youth their study, and what\nphilosophy they learn, should be suited to their tender years: during\nthis period while they are growing up towards manhood, the chief and\nspecial care should be given to their bodies that they may have them to\nuse in the service of philosophy; as life advances and the intellect\nbegins to mature, let them increase the gymnastics of the soul; but\nwhen the strength of our citizens fails and is past civil and military\nduties, then let them range at will and engage in no serious labour, as\nwe intend them to live happily here, and to crown this life with a\nsimilar happiness in another.\n\nHow truly in earnest you are, Socrates! he said; I am sure of that; and\nyet most of your hearers, if I am not mistaken, are likely to be still\nmore earnest in their opposition to you, and will never be convinced;\nThrasymachus least of all.\n\nDo not make a quarrel, I said, between Thrasymachus and me, who have\nrecently become friends, although, indeed, we were never enemies; for I\nshall go on striving to the utmost until I either convert him and other\nmen, or do something which may profit them against the day when they\nlive again, and hold the like discourse in another state of existence.\n\nYou are speaking of a time which is not very near.\n\nRather, I replied, of a time which is as nothing in comparison with\neternity.  Nevertheless, I do not wonder that the many refuse to\nbelieve; for they have never seen that of which we are now speaking\nrealised; they have seen only a conventional imitation of philosophy,\nconsisting of words artificially brought together, not like these of\nours having a natural unity.  But a human being who in word and work is\nperfectly moulded, as far as he can be, into the proportion and\nlikeness of virtue--such a man ruling in a city which bears the same\nimage, they have never yet seen, neither one nor many of them--do you\nthink that they ever did?\n\nNo indeed.\n\nNo, my friend, and they have seldom, if ever, heard free and noble\nsentiments; such as men utter when they are earnestly and by every\nmeans in their power seeking after truth for the sake of knowledge,\nwhile they look coldly on the subtleties of controversy, of which the\nend is opinion and strife, whether they meet with them in the courts of\nlaw or in society.\n\nThey are strangers, he said, to the words of which you speak.\n\nAnd this was what we foresaw, and this was the reason why truth forced\nus to admit, not without fear and hesitation, that neither cities nor\nStates nor individuals will ever attain perfection until the small\nclass of philosophers whom we termed useless but not corrupt are\nprovidentially compelled, whether they will or not, to take care of the\nState, and until a like necessity be laid on the State to obey them; or\nuntil kings, or if not kings, the sons of kings or princes, are\ndivinely inspired with a true love of true philosophy.  That either or\nboth of these alternatives are impossible, I see no reason to affirm:\nif they were so, we might indeed be justly ridiculed as dreamers and\nvisionaries.  Am I not right?\n\nQuite right.\n\nIf then, in the countless ages of the past, or at the present hour in\nsome foreign clime which is far away and beyond our ken, the perfected\nphilosopher is or has been or hereafter shall be compelled by a\nsuperior power to have the charge of the State, we are ready to assert\nto the death, that this our constitution has been, and is--yea, and\nwill be whenever the Muse of Philosophy is queen.  There is no\nimpossibility in all this; that there is a difficulty, we acknowledge\nourselves.\n\nMy opinion agrees with yours, he said.\n\nBut do you mean to say that this is not the opinion of the multitude?\n\nI should imagine not, he replied.\n\nO my friend, I said, do not attack the multitude:  they will change\ntheir minds, if, not in an aggressive spirit, but gently and with the\nview of soothing them and removing their dislike of over-education, you\nshow them your philosophers as they really are and describe as you were\njust now doing their character and profession, and then mankind will\nsee that he of whom you are speaking is not such as they supposed--if\nthey view him in this new light, they will surely change their notion\nof him, and answer in another strain.  Who can be at enmity with one\nwho loves them, who that is himself gentle and free from envy will be\njealous of one in whom there is no jealousy?  Nay, let me answer for\nyou, that in a few this harsh temper may be found but not in the\nmajority of mankind.\n\nI quite agree with you, he said.\n\nAnd do you not also think, as I do, that the harsh feeling which the\nmany entertain towards philosophy originates in the pretenders, who\nrush in uninvited, and are always abusing them, and finding fault with\nthem, who make persons instead of things the theme of their\nconversation? and nothing can be more unbecoming in philosophers than\nthis.\n\nIt is most unbecoming.\n\nFor he, Adeimantus, whose mind is fixed upon true being, has surely no\ntime to look down upon the affairs of earth, or to be filled with\nmalice and envy, contending against men; his eye is ever directed\ntowards things fixed and immutable, which he sees neither injuring nor\ninjured by one another, but all in order moving according to reason;\nthese he imitates, and to these he will, as far as he can, conform\nhimself.  Can a man help imitating that with which he holds reverential\nconverse?\n\nImpossible.\n\nAnd the philosopher holding converse with the divine order, becomes\norderly and divine, as far as the nature of man allows; but like every\none else, he will suffer from detraction.\n\nOf course.\n\nAnd if a necessity be laid upon him of fashioning, not only himself,\nbut human nature generally, whether in States or individuals, into that\nwhich he beholds elsewhere, will he, think you, be an unskilful\nartificer of justice, temperance, and every civil virtue?\n\nAnything but unskilful.\n\nAnd if the world perceives that what we are saying about him is the\ntruth, will they be angry with philosophy?  Will they disbelieve us,\nwhen we tell them that no State can be happy which is not designed by\nartists who imitate the heavenly pattern?\n\nThey will not be angry if they understand, he said.  But how will they\ndraw out the plan of which you are speaking?\n\nThey will begin by taking the State and the manners of men, from which,\nas from a tablet, they will rub out the picture, and leave a clean\nsurface.  This is no easy task.  But whether easy or not, herein will\nlie the difference between them and every other legislator,--they will\nhave nothing to do either with individual or State, and will inscribe\nno laws, until they have either found, or themselves made, a clean\nsurface.\n\nThey will be very right, he said.\n\nHaving effected this, they will proceed to trace an outline of the\nconstitution?\n\nNo doubt.\n\nAnd when they are filling in the work, as I conceive, they will often\nturn their eyes upwards and downwards:  I mean that they will first\nlook at absolute justice and beauty and temperance, and again at the\nhuman copy; and will mingle and temper the various elements of life\ninto the image of a man; and thus they will conceive according to that\nother image, which, when existing among men, Homer calls the form and\nlikeness of God.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nAnd one feature they will erase, and another they will put in, they\nhave made the ways of men, as far as possible, agreeable to the ways of\nGod?\n\nIndeed, he said, in no way could they make a fairer picture.\n\nAnd now, I said, are we beginning to persuade those whom you described\nas rushing at us with might and main, that the painter of constitutions\nis such an one as we are praising; at whom they were so very indignant\nbecause to his hands we committed the State; and are they growing a\nlittle calmer at what they have just heard?\n\nMuch calmer, if there is any sense in them.\n\nWhy, where can they still find any ground for objection?  Will they\ndoubt that the philosopher is a lover of truth and being?\n\nThey would not be so unreasonable.\n\nOr that his nature, being such as we have delineated, is akin to the\nhighest good?\n\nNeither can they doubt this.\n\nBut again, will they tell us that such a nature, placed under\nfavourable circumstances, will not be perfectly good and wise if any\never was?  Or will they prefer those whom we have rejected?\n\nSurely not.\n\nThen will they still be angry at our saying, that, until philosophers\nbear rule, States and individuals will have no rest from evil, nor will\nthis our imaginary State ever be realised?\n\nI think that they will be less angry.\n\nShall we assume that they are not only less angry but quite gentle, and\nthat they have been converted and for very shame, if for no other\nreason, cannot refuse to come to terms?\n\nBy all means, he said.\n\nThen let us suppose that the reconciliation has been effected.  Will\nany one deny the other point, that there may be sons of kings or\nprinces who are by nature philosophers?\n\nSurely no man, he said.\n\nAnd when they have come into being will any one say that they must of\nnecessity be destroyed; that they can hardly be saved is not denied\neven by us; but that in the whole course of ages no single one of them\ncan escape--who will venture to affirm this?\n\nWho indeed!\n\nBut, said I, one is enough; let there be one man who has a city\nobedient to his will, and he might bring into existence the ideal\npolity about which the world is so incredulous.\n\nYes, one is enough.\n\nThe ruler may impose the laws and institutions which we have been\ndescribing, and the citizens may possibly be willing to obey them?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd that others should approve of what we approve, is no miracle or\nimpossibility?\n\nI think not.\n\nBut we have sufficiently shown, in what has preceded, that all this, if\nonly possible, is assuredly for the best.\n\nWe have.\n\nAnd now we say not only that our laws, if they could be enacted, would\nbe for the best, but also that the enactment of them, though difficult,\nis not impossible.\n\nVery good.\n\nAnd so with pain and toil we have reached the end of one subject, but\nmore remains to be discussed;--how and by what studies and pursuits\nwill the saviours of the constitution be created, and at what ages are\nthey to apply themselves to their several studies?\n\nCertainly.\n\nI omitted the troublesome business of the possession of women, and the\nprocreation of children, and the appointment of the rulers, because I\nknew that the perfect State would be eyed with jealousy and was\ndifficult of attainment; but that piece of cleverness was not of much\nservice to me, for I had to discuss them all the same.  The women and\nchildren are now disposed of, but the other question of the rulers must\nbe investigated from the very beginning.  We were saying, as you will\nremember, that they were to be lovers of their country, tried by the\ntest of pleasures and pains, and neither in hardships, nor in dangers,\nnor at any other critical moment were to lose their patriotism--he was\nto be rejected who failed, but he who always came forth pure, like gold\ntried in the refiner's fire, was to be made a ruler, and to receive\nhonours and rewards in life and after death.  This was the sort of\nthing which was being said, and then the argument turned aside and\nveiled her face; not liking to stir the question which has now arisen.\n\nI perfectly remember, he said.\n\nYes, my friend, I said, and I then shrank from hazarding the bold word;\nbut now let me dare to say--that the perfect guardian must be a\nphilosopher.\n\nYes, he said, let that be affirmed.\n\nAnd do not suppose that there will be many of them; for the gifts which\nwere deemed by us to be essential rarely grow together; they are mostly\nfound in shreds and patches.\n\nWhat do you mean? he said.\n\nYou are aware, I replied, that quick intelligence, memory, sagacity,\ncleverness, and similar qualities, do not often grow together, and that\npersons who possess them and are at the same time high-spirited and\nmagnanimous are not so constituted by nature as to live orderly and in\na peaceful and settled manner; they are driven any way by their\nimpulses, and all solid principle goes out of them.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nOn the other hand, those steadfast natures which can better be depended\nupon, which in a battle are impregnable to fear and immovable, are\nequally immovable when there is anything to be learned; they are always\nin a torpid state, and are apt to yawn and go to sleep over any\nintellectual toil.\n\nQuite true.\n\nAnd yet we were saying that both qualities were necessary in those to\nwhom the higher education is to be imparted, and who are to share in\nany office or command.\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd will they be a class which is rarely found?\n\nYes, indeed.\n\nThen the aspirant must not only be tested in those labours and dangers\nand pleasures which we mentioned before, but there is another kind of\nprobation which we did not mention--he must be exercised also in many\nkinds of knowledge, to see whether the soul will be able to endure the\nhighest of all, will faint under them, as in any other studies and\nexercises.\n\nYes, he said, you are quite right in testing him.  But what do you mean\nby the highest of all knowledge?\n\nYou may remember, I said, that we divided the soul into three parts;\nand distinguished the several natures of justice, temperance, courage,\nand wisdom?\n\nIndeed, he said, if I had forgotten, I should not deserve to hear more.\n\nAnd do you remember the word of caution which preceded the discussion\nof them?\n\nTo what do you refer?\n\nWe were saying, if I am not mistaken, that he who wanted to see them in\ntheir perfect beauty must take a longer and more circuitous way, at the\nend of which they would appear; but that we could add on a popular\nexposition of them on a level with the discussion which had preceded.\nAnd you replied that such an exposition would be enough for you, and so\nthe enquiry was continued in what to me seemed to be a very inaccurate\nmanner; whether you were satisfied or not, it is for you to say.\n\nYes, he said, I thought and the others thought that you gave us a fair\nmeasure of truth.\n\nBut, my friend, I said, a measure of such things Which in any degree\nfalls short of the whole truth is not fair measure; for nothing\nimperfect is the measure of anything, although persons are too apt to\nbe contented and think that they need search no further.\n\nNot an uncommon case when people are indolent.\n\nYes, I said; and there cannot be any worse fault in a guardian of the\nState and of the laws.\n\nTrue.\n\nThe guardian then, I said, must be required to take the longer circuit,\nand toll at learning as well as at gymnastics, or he will never reach\nthe highest knowledge of all which, as we were just now saying, is his\nproper calling.\n\nWhat, he said, is there a knowledge still higher than this--higher than\njustice and the other virtues?\n\nYes, I said, there is.  And of the virtues too we must behold not the\noutline merely, as at present--nothing short of the most finished\npicture should satisfy us.  When little things are elaborated with an\ninfinity of pains, in order that they may appear in their full beauty\nand utmost clearness, how ridiculous that we should not think the\nhighest truths worthy of attaining the highest accuracy!\n\nA right noble thought; but do you suppose that we shall refrain from\nasking you what is this highest knowledge?\n\nNay, I said, ask if you will; but I am certain that you have heard the\nanswer many times, and now you either do not understand me or, as I\nrather think, you are disposed to be troublesome; for you have of been\ntold that the idea of good is the highest knowledge, and that all other\nthings become useful and advantageous only by their use of this.  You\ncan hardly be ignorant that of this I was about to speak, concerning\nwhich, as you have often heard me say, we know so little; and, without\nwhich, any other knowledge or possession of any kind will profit us\nnothing.  Do you think that the possession of all other things is of\nany value if we do not possess the good? or the knowledge of all other\nthings if we have no knowledge of beauty and goodness?\n\nAssuredly not.\n\nYou are further aware that most people affirm pleasure to be the good,\nbut the finer sort of wits say it is knowledge\n\nYes.\n\nAnd you are aware too that the latter cannot explain what they mean by\nknowledge, but are obliged after all to say knowledge of the good?\n\nHow ridiculous!\n\nYes, I said, that they should begin by reproaching us with our\nignorance of the good, and then presume our knowledge of it--for the\ngood they define to be knowledge of the good, just as if we understood\nthem when they use the term 'good'--this is of course ridiculous.\n\nMost true, he said.\n\nAnd those who make pleasure their good are in equal perplexity; for\nthey are compelled to admit that there are bad pleasures as well as\ngood.\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd therefore to acknowledge that bad and good are the same?\n\nTrue.\n\nThere can be no doubt about the numerous difficulties in which this\nquestion is involved.\n\nThere can be none.\n\nFurther, do we not see that many are willing to do or to have or to\nseem to be what is just and honourable without the reality; but no one\nis satisfied with the appearance of good--the reality is what they\nseek; in the case of the good, appearance is despised by every one.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nOf this then, which every soul of man pursues and makes the end of all\nhis actions, having a presentiment that there is such an end, and yet\nhesitating because neither knowing the nature nor having the same\nassurance of this as of other things, and therefore losing whatever\ngood there is in other things,--of a principle such and so great as\nthis ought the best men in our State, to whom everything is entrusted,\nto be in the darkness of ignorance?\n\nCertainly not, he said.\n\nI am sure, I said, that he who does not know now the beautiful and the\njust are likewise good will be but a sorry guardian of them; and I\nsuspect that no one who is ignorant of the good will have a true\nknowledge of them.\n\nThat, he said, is a shrewd suspicion of yours.\n\nAnd if we only have a guardian who has this knowledge our State will be\nperfectly ordered?\n\nOf course, he replied; but I wish that you would tell me whether you\nconceive this supreme principle of the good to be knowledge or\npleasure, or different from either.\n\nAye, I said, I knew all along that a fastidious gentleman like you\nwould not be contented with the thoughts of other people about these\nmatters.\n\nTrue, Socrates; but I must say that one who like you has passed a\nlifetime in the study of philosophy should not be always repeating the\nopinions of others, and never telling his own.\n\nWell, but has any one a right to say positively what he does not know?\n\nNot, he said, with the assurance of positive certainty; he has no right\nto do that:  but he may say what he thinks, as a matter of opinion.\n\nAnd do you not know, I said, that all mere opinions are bad, and the\nbest of them blind?  You would not deny that those who have any true\nnotion without intelligence are only like blind men who feel their way\nalong the road?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd do you wish to behold what is blind and crooked and base, when\nothers will tell you of brightness and beauty?\n\nGLAUCON - SOCRATES\n\nStill, I must implore you, Socrates, said Glaucon, not to turn away\njust as you are reaching the goal; if you will only give such an\nexplanation of the good as you have already given of justice and\ntemperance and the other virtues, we shall be satisfied.\n\nYes, my friend, and I shall be at least equally satisfied, but I cannot\nhelp fearing that I shall fall, and that my indiscreet zeal will bring\nridicule upon me.  No, sweet sirs, let us not at present ask what is\nthe actual nature of the good, for to reach what is now in my thoughts\nwould be an effort too great for me.  But of the child of the good who\nis likest him, I would fain speak, if I could be sure that you wished\nto hear--otherwise, not.\n\nBy all means, he said, tell us about the child, and you shall remain in\nour debt for the account of the parent.\n\nI do indeed wish, I replied, that I could pay, and you receive, the\naccount of the parent, and not, as now, of the offspring only; take,\nhowever, this latter by way of interest, and at the same time have a\ncare that i do not render a false account, although I have no intention\nof deceiving you.\n\nYes, we will take all the care that we can:  proceed.\n\nYes, I said, but I must first come to an understanding with you, and\nremind you of what I have mentioned in the course of this discussion,\nand at many other times.\n\nWhat?\n\nThe old story, that there is a many beautiful and a many good, and so\nof other things which we describe and define; to all of them 'many' is\napplied.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nAnd there is an absolute beauty and an absolute good, and of other\nthings to which the term 'many' is applied there is an absolute; for\nthey may be brought under a single idea, which is called the essence of\neach.\n\nVery true.\n\nThe many, as we say, are seen but not known, and the ideas are known\nbut not seen.\n\nExactly.\n\nAnd what is the organ with which we see the visible things?\n\nThe sight, he said.\n\nAnd with the hearing, I said, we hear, and with the other senses\nperceive the other objects of sense?\n\nTrue.\n\nBut have you remarked that sight is by far the most costly and complex\npiece of workmanship which the artificer of the senses ever contrived?\n\nNo, I never have, he said.\n\nThen reflect; has the ear or voice need of any third or additional\nnature in order that the one may be able to hear and the other to be\nheard?\n\nNothing of the sort.\n\nNo, indeed, I replied; and the same is true of most, if not all, the\nother senses--you would not say that any of them requires such an\naddition?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nBut you see that without the addition of some other nature there is no\nseeing or being seen?\n\nHow do you mean?\n\nSight being, as I conceive, in the eyes, and he who has eyes wanting to\nsee; colour being also present in them, still unless there be a third\nnature specially adapted to the purpose, the owner of the eyes will see\nnothing and the colours will be invisible.\n\nOf what nature are you speaking?\n\nOf that which you term light, I replied.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nNoble, then, is the bond which links together sight and visibility, and\ngreat beyond other bonds by no small difference of nature; for light is\ntheir bond, and light is no ignoble thing?\n\nNay, he said, the reverse of ignoble.\n\nAnd which, I said, of the gods in heaven would you say was the lord of\nthis element?  Whose is that light which makes the eye to see perfectly\nand the visible to appear?\n\nYou mean the sun, as you and all mankind say.\n\nMay not the relation of sight to this deity be described as follows?\n\nHow?\n\nNeither sight nor the eye in which sight resides is the sun?\n\nNo.\n\nYet of all the organs of sense the eye is the most like the sun?\n\nBy far the most like.\n\nAnd the power which the eye possesses is a sort of effluence which is\ndispensed from the sun?\n\nExactly.\n\nThen the sun is not sight, but the author of sight who is recognised by\nsight.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nAnd this is he whom I call the child of the good, whom the good begat\nin his own likeness, to be in the visible world, in relation to sight\nand the things of sight, what the good is in the intellectual world in\nrelation to mind and the things of mind.\n\nWill you be a little more explicit? he said.\n\nWhy, you know, I said, that the eyes, when a person directs them\ntowards objects on which the light of day is no longer shining, but the\nmoon and stars only, see dimly, and are nearly blind; they seem to have\nno clearness of vision in them?\n\nVery true.\n\nBut when they are directed towards objects on which the sun shines,\nthey see clearly and there is sight in them?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd the soul is like the eye:  when resting upon that on which truth\nand being shine, the soul perceives and understands and is radiant with\nintelligence; but when turned towards the twilight of becoming and\nperishing, then she has opinion only, and goes blinking about, and is\nfirst of one opinion and then of another, and seems to have no\nintelligence?\n\nJust so.\n\nNow, that which imparts truth to the known and the power of knowing to\nthe knower is what I would have you term the idea of good, and this you\nwill deem to be the cause of science, and of truth in so far as the\nlatter becomes the subject of knowledge; beautiful too, as are both\ntruth and knowledge, you will be right in esteeming this other nature\nas more beautiful than either; and, as in the previous instance, light\nand sight may be truly said to be like the sun, and yet not to be the\nsun, so in this other sphere, science and truth may be deemed to be\nlike the good, but not the good; the good has a place of honour yet\nhigher.\n\nWhat a wonder of beauty that must be, he said, which is the author of\nscience and truth, and yet surpasses them in beauty; for you surely\ncannot mean to say that pleasure is the good?\n\nGod forbid, I replied; but may I ask you to consider the image in\nanother point of view?\n\nIn what point of view?\n\nYou would say, would you not, that the sun is only the author of\nvisibility in all visible things, but of generation and nourishment and\ngrowth, though he himself is not generation?\n\nCertainly.\n\nIn like manner the good may be said to be not only the author of\nknowledge to all things known, but of their being and essence, and yet\nthe good is not essence, but far exceeds essence in dignity and power.\n\nGlaucon said, with a ludicrous earnestness:  By the light of heaven,\nhow amazing!\n\nYes, I said, and the exaggeration may be set down to you; for you made\nme utter my fancies.\n\nAnd pray continue to utter them; at any rate let us hear if there is\nanything more to be said about the similitude of the sun.\n\nYes, I said, there is a great deal more.\n\nThen omit nothing, however slight.\n\nI will do my best, I said; but I should think that a great deal will\nhave to be omitted.\n\nYou have to imagine, then, that there are two ruling powers, and that\none of them is set over the intellectual world, the other over the\nvisible.  I do not say heaven, lest you should fancy that I am playing\nupon the name ('ourhanoz, orhatoz'). May I suppose that you have this\ndistinction of the visible and intelligible fixed in your mind?\n\nI have.\n\nNow take a line which has been cut into two unequal parts, and divide\neach of them again in the same proportion, and suppose the two main\ndivisions to answer, one to the visible and the other to the\nintelligible, and then compare the subdivisions in respect of their\nclearness and want of clearness, and you will find that the first\nsection in the sphere of the visible consists of images.  And by images\nI mean, in the first place, shadows, and in the second place,\nreflections in water and in solid, smooth and polished bodies and the\nlike:  Do you understand?\n\nYes, I understand.\n\nImagine, now, the other section, of which this is only the resemblance,\nto include the animals which we see, and everything that grows or is\nmade.\n\nVery good.\n\nWould you not admit that both the sections of this division have\ndifferent degrees of truth, and that the copy is to the original as the\nsphere of opinion is to the sphere of knowledge?\n\nMost undoubtedly.\n\nNext proceed to consider the manner in which the sphere of the\nintellectual is to be divided.\n\nIn what manner?\n\nThus:--There are two subdivisions, in the lower or which the soul uses\nthe figures given by the former division as images; the enquiry can\nonly be hypothetical, and instead of going upwards to a principle\ndescends to the other end; in the higher of the two, the soul passes\nout of hypotheses, and goes up to a principle which is above\nhypotheses, making no use of images as in the former case, but\nproceeding only in and through the ideas themselves.\n\nI do not quite understand your meaning, he said.\n\nThen I will try again; you will understand me better when I have made\nsome preliminary remarks.  You are aware that students of geometry,\narithmetic, and the kindred sciences assume the odd and the even and\nthe figures and three kinds of angles and the like in their several\nbranches of science; these are their hypotheses, which they and\neverybody are supposed to know, and therefore they do not deign to give\nany account of them either to themselves or others; but they begin with\nthem, and go on until they arrive at last, and in a consistent manner,\nat their conclusion?\n\nYes, he said, I know.\n\nAnd do you not know also that although they make use of the visible\nforms and reason about them, they are thinking not of these, but of the\nideals which they resemble; not of the figures which they draw, but of\nthe absolute square and the absolute diameter, and so on--the forms\nwhich they draw or make, and which have shadows and reflections in\nwater of their own, are converted by them into images, but they are\nreally seeking to behold the things themselves, which can only be seen\nwith the eye of the mind?\n\nThat is true.\n\nAnd of this kind I spoke as the intelligible, although in the search\nafter it the soul is compelled to use hypotheses; not ascending to a\nfirst principle, because she is unable to rise above the region of\nhypothesis, but employing the objects of which the shadows below are\nresemblances in their turn as images, they having in relation to the\nshadows and reflections of them a greater distinctness, and therefore a\nhigher value.\n\nI understand, he said, that you are speaking of the province of\ngeometry and the sister arts.\n\nAnd when I speak of the other division of the intelligible, you will\nunderstand me to speak of that other sort of knowledge which reason\nherself attains by the power of dialectic, using the hypotheses not as\nfirst principles, but only as hypotheses--that is to say, as steps and\npoints of departure into a world which is above hypotheses, in order\nthat she may soar beyond them to the first principle of the whole; and\nclinging to this and then to that which depends on this, by successive\nsteps she descends again without the aid of any sensible object, from\nideas, through ideas, and in ideas she ends.\n\nI understand you, he replied; not perfectly, for you seem to me to be\ndescribing a task which is really tremendous; but, at any rate, I\nunderstand you to say that knowledge and being, which the science of\ndialectic contemplates, are clearer than the notions of the arts, as\nthey are termed, which proceed from hypotheses only: these are also\ncontemplated by the understanding, and not by the senses:  yet, because\nthey start from hypotheses and do not ascend to a principle, those who\ncontemplate them appear to you not to exercise the higher reason upon\nthem, although when a first principle is added to them they are\ncognizable by the higher reason.  And the habit which is concerned with\ngeometry and the cognate sciences I suppose that you would term\nunderstanding and not reason, as being intermediate between opinion and\nreason.\n\nYou have quite conceived my meaning, I said; and now, corresponding to\nthese four divisions, let there be four faculties in the soul-reason\nanswering to the highest, understanding to the second, faith (or\nconviction) to the third, and perception of shadows to the last-and let\nthere be a scale of them, and let us suppose that the several faculties\nhave clearness in the same degree that their objects have truth.\n\nI understand, he replied, and give my assent, and accept your\narrangement.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK VII\n\n\nSOCRATES - GLAUCON\n\nAND now, I said, let me show in a figure how far our nature is\nenlightened or unenlightened:--Behold! human beings living in a\nunderground den, which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching\nall along the den; here they have been from their childhood, and have\ntheir legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only see\nbefore them, being prevented by the chains from turning round their\nheads.  Above and behind them a fire is blazing at a distance, and\nbetween the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you will\nsee, if you look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen which\nmarionette players have in front of them, over which they show the\npuppets.\n\nI see.\n\nAnd do you see, I said, men passing along the wall carrying all sorts\nof vessels, and statues and figures of animals made of wood and stone\nand various materials, which appear over the wall?  Some of them are\ntalking, others silent.\n\nYou have shown me a strange image, and they are strange prisoners.\n\nLike ourselves, I replied; and they see only their own shadows, or the\nshadows of one another, which the fire throws on the opposite wall of\nthe cave?\n\nTrue, he said; how could they see anything but the shadows if they were\nnever allowed to move their heads?\n\nAnd of the objects which are being carried in like manner they would\nonly see the shadows?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nAnd if they were able to converse with one another, would they not\nsuppose that they were naming what was actually before them?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd suppose further that the prison had an echo which came from the\nother side, would they not be sure to fancy when one of the passers-by\nspoke that the voice which they heard came from the passing shadow?\n\nNo question, he replied.\n\nTo them, I said, the truth would be literally nothing but the shadows\nof the images.\n\nThat is certain.\n\nAnd now look again, and see what will naturally follow it' the\nprisoners are released and disabused of their error.  At first, when\nany of them is liberated and compelled suddenly to stand up and turn\nhis neck round and walk and look towards the light, he will suffer\nsharp pains; the glare will distress him, and he will be unable to see\nthe realities of which in his former state he had seen the shadows; and\nthen conceive some one saying to him, that what he saw before was an\nillusion, but that now, when he is approaching nearer to being and his\neye is turned towards more real existence, he has a clearer vision,\nwhat will be his reply?  And you may further imagine that his\ninstructor is pointing to the objects as they pass and requiring him to\nname them,--will he not be perplexed?  Will he not fancy that the\nshadows which he formerly saw are truer than the objects which are now\nshown to him?\n\nFar truer.\n\nAnd if he is compelled to look straight at the light, will he not have\na pain in his eyes which will make him turn away to take and take in\nthe objects of vision which he can see, and which he will conceive to\nbe in reality clearer than the things which are now being shown to him?\n\nTrue, he now\n\nAnd suppose once more, that he is reluctantly dragged up a steep and\nrugged ascent, and held fast until he's forced into the presence of the\nsun himself, is he not likely to be pained and irritated?  When he\napproaches the light his eyes will be dazzled, and he will not be able\nto see anything at all of what are now called realities.\n\nNot all in a moment, he said.\n\nHe will require to grow accustomed to the sight of the upper world.\nAnd first he will see the shadows best, next the reflections of men and\nother objects in the water, and then the objects themselves; then he\nwill gaze upon the light of the moon and the stars and the spangled\nheaven; and he will see the sky and the stars by night better than the\nsun or the light of the sun by day?\n\nCertainly.\n\nLast of he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of him\nin the water, but he will see him in his own proper place, and not in\nanother; and he will contemplate him as he is.\n\nCertainly.\n\nHe will then proceed to argue that this is he who gives the season and\nthe years, and is the guardian of all that is in the visible world, and\nin a certain way the cause of all things which he and his fellows have\nbeen accustomed to behold?\n\nClearly, he said, he would first see the sun and then reason about him.\n\nAnd when he remembered his old habitation, and the wisdom of the den\nand his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would felicitate\nhimself on the change, and pity them?\n\nCertainly, he would.\n\nAnd if they were in the habit of conferring honours among themselves on\nthose who were quickest to observe the passing shadows and to remark\nwhich of them went before, and which followed after, and which were\ntogether; and who were therefore best able to draw conclusions as to\nthe future, do you think that he would care for such honours and\nglories, or envy the possessors of them?  Would he not say with Homer,\n\n    Better to be the poor servant of a poor master,\n\nand to endure anything, rather than think as they do and live after\ntheir manner?\n\nYes, he said, I think that he would rather suffer anything than\nentertain these false notions and live in this miserable manner.\n\nImagine once more, I said, such an one coming suddenly out of the sun\nto be replaced in his old situation; would he not be certain to have\nhis eyes full of darkness?\n\nTo be sure, he said.\n\nAnd if there were a contest, and he had to compete in measuring the\nshadows with the prisoners who had never moved out of the den, while\nhis sight was still weak, and before his eyes had become steady (and\nthe time which would be needed to acquire this new habit of sight might\nbe very considerable) would he not be ridiculous?  Men would say of him\nthat up he went and down he came without his eyes; and that it was\nbetter not even to think of ascending; and if any one tried to loose\nanother and lead him up to the light, let them only catch the offender,\nand they would put him to death.\n\nNo question, he said.\n\nThis entire allegory, I said, you may now append, dear Glaucon, to the\nprevious argument; the prison-house is the world of sight, the light of\nthe fire is the sun, and you will not misapprehend me if you interpret\nthe journey upwards to be the ascent of the soul into the intellectual\nworld according to my poor belief, which, at your desire, I have\nexpressed whether rightly or wrongly God knows.  But, whether true or\nfalse, my opinion is that in the world of knowledge the idea of good\nappears last of all, and is seen only with an effort; and, when seen,\nis also inferred to be the universal author of all things beautiful and\nright, parent of light and of the lord of light in this visible world,\nand the immediate source of reason and truth in the intellectual; and\nthat this is the power upon which he who would act rationally, either\nin public or private life must have his eye fixed.\n\nI agree, he said, as far as I am able to understand you.\n\nMoreover, I said, you must not wonder that those who attain to this\nbeatific vision are unwilling to descend to human affairs; for their\nsouls are ever hastening into the upper world where they desire to\ndwell; which desire of theirs is very natural, if our allegory may be\ntrusted.\n\nYes, very natural.\n\nAnd is there anything surprising in one who passes from divine\ncontemplations to the evil state of man, misbehaving himself in a\nridiculous manner; if, while his eyes are blinking and before he has\nbecome accustomed to the surrounding darkness, he is compelled to fight\nin courts of law, or in other places, about the images or the shadows\nof images of justice, and is endeavouring to meet the conceptions of\nthose who have never yet seen absolute justice?\n\nAnything but surprising, he replied.\n\nAny one who has common sense will remember that the bewilderments of\nthe eyes are of two kinds, and arise from two causes, either from\ncoming out of the light or from going into the light, which is true of\nthe mind's eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye; and he who\nremembers this when he sees any one whose vision is perplexed and weak,\nwill not be too ready to laugh; he will first ask whether that soul of\nman has come out of the brighter light, and is unable to see because\nunaccustomed to the dark, or having turned from darkness to the day is\ndazzled by excess of light.  And he will count the one happy in his\ncondition and state of being, and he will pity the other; or, if he\nhave a mind to laugh at the soul which comes from below into the light,\nthere will be more reason in this than in the laugh which greets him\nwho returns from above out of the light into the den.\n\nThat, he said, is a very just distinction.\n\nBut then, if I am right, certain professors of education must be wrong\nwhen they say that they can put a knowledge into the soul which was not\nthere before, like sight into blind eyes.\n\nThey undoubtedly say this, he replied.\n\nWhereas, our argument shows that the power and capacity of learning\nexists in the soul already; and that just as the eye was unable to turn\nfrom darkness to light without the whole body, so too the instrument of\nknowledge can only by the movement of the whole soul be turned from the\nworld of becoming into that of being, and learn by degrees to endure\nthe sight of being, and of the brightest and best of being, or in other\nwords, of the good.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd must there not be some art which will effect conversion in the\neasiest and quickest manner; not implanting the faculty of sight, for\nthat exists already, but has been turned in the wrong direction, and is\nlooking away from the truth?\n\nYes, he said, such an art may be presumed.\n\nAnd whereas the other so-called virtues of the soul seem to be akin to\nbodily qualities, for even when they are not originally innate they can\nbe implanted later by habit and exercise, the of wisdom more than\nanything else contains a divine element which always remains, and by\nthis conversion is rendered useful and profitable; or, on the other\nhand, hurtful and useless.  Did you never observe the narrow\nintelligence flashing from the keen eye of a clever rogue--how eager he\nis, how clearly his paltry soul sees the way to his end; he is the\nreverse of blind, but his keen eyesight is forced into the service of\nevil, and he is mischievous in proportion to his cleverness.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nBut what if there had been a circumcision of such natures in the days\nof their youth; and they had been severed from those sensual pleasures,\nsuch as eating and drinking, which, like leaden weights, were attached\nto them at their birth, and which drag them down and turn the vision of\ntheir souls upon the things that are below--if, I say, they had been\nreleased from these impediments and turned in the opposite direction,\nthe very same faculty in them would have seen the truth as keenly as\nthey see what their eyes are turned to now.\n\nVery likely.\n\nYes, I said; and there is another thing which is likely, or rather a\nnecessary inference from what has preceded, that neither the uneducated\nand uninformed of the truth, nor yet those who never make an end of\ntheir education, will be able ministers of State; not the former,\nbecause they have no single aim of duty which is the rule of all their\nactions, private as well as public; nor the latter, because they will\nnot act at all except upon compulsion, fancying that they are already\ndwelling apart in the islands of the blest.\n\nVery true, he replied.\n\nThen, I said, the business of us who are the founders of the State will\nbe to compel the best minds to attain that knowledge which we have\nalready shown to be the greatest of all-they must continue to ascend\nuntil they arrive at the good; but when they have ascended and seen\nenough we must not allow them to do as they do now.\n\nWhat do you mean?\n\nI mean that they remain in the upper world:  but this must not be\nallowed; they must be made to descend again among the prisoners in the\nden, and partake of their labours and honours, whether they are worth\nhaving or not.\n\nBut is not this unjust? he said; ought we to give them a worse life,\nwhen they might have a better?\n\nYou have again forgotten, my friend, I said, the intention of the\nlegislator, who did not aim at making any one class in the State happy\nabove the rest; the happiness was to be in the whole State, and he held\nthe citizens together by persuasion and necessity, making them\nbenefactors of the State, and therefore benefactors of one another; to\nthis end he created them, not to please themselves, but to be his\ninstruments in binding up the State.\n\nTrue, he said, I had forgotten.\n\nObserve, Glaucon, that there will be no injustice in compelling our\nphilosophers to have a care and providence of others; we shall explain\nto them that in other States, men of their class are not obliged to\nshare in the toils of politics:  and this is reasonable, for they grow\nup at their own sweet will, and the government would rather not have\nthem.  Being self-taught, they cannot be expected to show any gratitude\nfor a culture which they have never received.  But we have brought you\ninto the world to be rulers of the hive, kings of yourselves and of the\nother citizens, and have educated you far better and more perfectly\nthan they have been educated, and you are better able to share in the\ndouble duty.  Wherefore each of you, when his turn comes, must go down\nto the general underground abode, and get the habit of seeing in the\ndark.  When you have acquired the habit, you will see ten thousand\ntimes better than the inhabitants of the den, and you will know what\nthe several images are, and what they represent, because you have seen\nthe beautiful and just and good in their truth.  And thus our State\nwhich is also yours will be a reality, and not a dream only, and will\nbe administered in a spirit unlike that of other States, in which men\nfight with one another about shadows only and are distracted in the\nstruggle for power, which in their eyes is a great good.  Whereas the\ntruth is that the State in which the rulers are most reluctant to\ngovern is always the best and most quietly governed, and the State in\nwhich they are most eager, the worst.\n\nQuite true, he replied.\n\nAnd will our pupils, when they hear this, refuse to take their turn at\nthe toils of State, when they are allowed to spend the greater part of\ntheir time with one another in the heavenly light?\n\nImpossible, he answered; for they are just men, and the commands which\nwe impose upon them are just; there can be no doubt that every one of\nthem will take office as a stern necessity, and not after the fashion\nof our present rulers of State.\n\nYes, my friend, I said; and there lies the point.  You must contrive\nfor your future rulers another and a better life than that of a ruler,\nand then you may have a well-ordered State; for only in the State which\noffers this, will they rule who are truly rich, not in silver and gold,\nbut in virtue and wisdom, which are the true blessings of life.\nWhereas if they go to the administration of public affairs, poor and\nhungering after the' own private advantage, thinking that hence they\nare to snatch the chief good, order there can never be; for they will\nbe fighting about office, and the civil and domestic broils which thus\narise will be the ruin of the rulers themselves and of the whole State.\n\nMost true, he replied.\n\nAnd the only life which looks down upon the life of political ambition\nis that of true philosophy.  Do you know of any other?\n\nIndeed, I do not, he said.\n\nAnd those who govern ought not to be lovers of the task?  For, if they\nare, there will be rival lovers, and they will fight.\n\nNo question.\n\nWho then are those whom we shall compel to be guardians?  Surely they\nwill be the men who are wisest about affairs of State, and by whom the\nState is best administered, and who at the same time have other honours\nand another and a better life than that of politics?\n\nThey are the men, and I will choose them, he replied.\n\nAnd now shall we consider in what way such guardians will be produced,\nand how they are to be brought from darkness to light,--as some are\nsaid to have ascended from the world below to the gods?\n\nBy all means, he replied.\n\nThe process, I said, is not the turning over of an oyster-shell, but\nthe turning round of a soul passing from a day which is little better\nthan night to the true day of being, that is, the ascent from below,\nwhich we affirm to be true philosophy?\n\nQuite so.\n\nAnd should we not enquire what sort of knowledge has the power of\neffecting such a change?\n\nCertainly.\n\nWhat sort of knowledge is there which would draw the soul from becoming\nto being?  And another consideration has just occurred to me: You will\nremember that our young men are to be warrior athletes\n\nYes, that was said.\n\nThen this new kind of knowledge must have an additional quality?\n\nWhat quality?\n\nUsefulness in war.\n\nYes, if possible.\n\nThere were two parts in our former scheme of education, were there not?\n\nJust so.\n\nThere was gymnastic which presided over the growth and decay of the\nbody, and may therefore be regarded as having to do with generation and\ncorruption?\n\nTrue.\n\nThen that is not the knowledge which we are seeking to discover?  No.\n\nBut what do you say of music, which also entered to a certain extent\ninto our former scheme?\n\nMusic, he said, as you will remember, was the counterpart of gymnastic,\nand trained the guardians by the influences of habit, by harmony making\nthem harmonious, by rhythm rhythmical, but not giving them science; and\nthe words, whether fabulous or possibly true, had kindred elements of\nrhythm and harmony in them.  But in music there was nothing which\ntended to that good which you are now seeking.\n\nYou are most accurate, I said, in your recollection; in music there\ncertainly was nothing of the kind.  But what branch of knowledge is\nthere, my dear Glaucon, which is of the desired nature; since all the\nuseful arts were reckoned mean by us?\n\nUndoubtedly; and yet if music and gymnastic are excluded, and the arts\nare also excluded, what remains?\n\nWell, I said, there may be nothing left of our special subjects; and\nthen we shall have to take something which is not special, but of\nuniversal application.\n\nWhat may that be?\n\nA something which all arts and sciences and intelligences use in\ncommon, and which every one first has to learn among the elements of\neducation.\n\nWhat is that?\n\nThe little matter of distinguishing one, two, and three--in a word,\nnumber and calculation:--do not all arts and sciences necessarily\npartake of them?\n\nYes.\n\nThen the art of war partakes of them?\n\nTo the sure.\n\nThen Palamedes, whenever he appears in tragedy, proves Agamemnon\nridiculously unfit to be a general.  Did you never remark how he\ndeclares that he had invented number, and had numbered the ships and\nset in array the ranks of the army at Troy; which implies that they had\nnever been numbered before, and Agamemnon must be supposed literally to\nhave been incapable of counting his own feet--how could he if he was\nignorant of number?  And if that is true, what sort of general must he\nhave been?\n\nI should say a very strange one, if this was as you say.\n\nCan we deny that a warrior should have a knowledge of arithmetic?\n\nCertainly he should, if he is to have the smallest understanding of\nmilitary tactics, or indeed, I should rather say, if he is to be a man\nat all.\n\nI should like to know whether you have the same notion which I have of\nthis study?\n\nWhat is your notion?\n\nIt appears to me to be a study of the kind which we are seeking, and\nwhich leads naturally to reflection, but never to have been rightly\nused; for the true use of it is simply to draw the soul towards being.\n\nWill you explain your meaning? he said.\n\nI will try, I said; and I wish you would share the enquiry with me, and\nsay 'yes' or 'no' when I attempt to distinguish in my own mind what\nbranches of knowledge have this attracting power, in order that we may\nhave clearer proof that arithmetic is, as I suspect, one of them.\n\nExplain, he said.\n\nI mean to say that objects of sense are of two kinds; some of them do\nnot invite thought because the sense is an adequate judge of them;\nwhile in the case of other objects sense is so untrustworthy that\nfurther enquiry is imperatively demanded.\n\nYou are clearly referring, he said, to the manner in which the senses\nare imposed upon by distance, and by painting in light and shade.\n\nNo, I said, that is not at all my meaning.\n\nThen what is your meaning?\n\nWhen speaking of uninviting objects, I mean those which do not pass\nfrom one sensation to the opposite; inviting objects are those which\ndo; in this latter case the sense coming upon the object, whether at a\ndistance or near, gives no more vivid idea of anything in particular\nthan of its opposite.  An illustration will make my meaning\nclearer:--here are three fingers--a little finger, a second finger, and\na middle finger.\n\nVery good.\n\nYou may suppose that they are seen quite close:  And here comes the\npoint.\n\nWhat is it?\n\nEach of them equally appears a finger, whether seen in the middle or at\nthe extremity, whether white or black, or thick or thin--it makes no\ndifference; a finger is a finger all the same.  In these cases a man is\nnot compelled to ask of thought the question, what is a finger? for the\nsight never intimates to the mind that a finger is other than a finger.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd therefore, I said, as we might expect, there is nothing here which\ninvites or excites intelligence.\n\nThere is not, he said.\n\nBut is this equally true of the greatness and smallness of the fingers?\nCan sight adequately perceive them? and is no difference made by the\ncircumstance that one of the fingers is in the middle and another at\nthe extremity?  And in like manner does the touch adequately perceive\nthe qualities of thickness or thinness, or softness or hardness?  And\nso of the other senses; do they give perfect intimations of such\nmatters?  Is not their mode of operation on this wise--the sense which\nis concerned with the quality of hardness is necessarily concerned also\nwith the quality of softness, and only intimates to the soul that the\nsame thing is felt to be both hard and soft?\n\nYou are quite right, he said.\n\nAnd must not the soul be perplexed at this intimation which the sense\ngives of a hard which is also soft?  What, again, is the meaning of\nlight and heavy, if that which is light is also heavy, and that which\nis heavy, light?\n\nYes, he said, these intimations which the soul receives are very\ncurious and require to be explained.\n\nYes, I said, and in these perplexities the soul naturally summons to\nher aid calculation and intelligence, that she may see whether the\nseveral objects announced to her are one or two.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd if they turn out to be two, is not each of them one and different?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd if each is one, and both are two, she will conceive the two as in a\nstate of division, for if there were undivided they could only be\nconceived of as one?\n\nTrue.\n\nThe eye certainly did see both small and great, but only in a confused\nmanner; they were not distinguished.\n\nYes.\n\nWhereas the thinking mind, intending to light up the chaos, was\ncompelled to reverse the process, and look at small and great as\nseparate and not confused.\n\nVery true.\n\nWas not this the beginning of the enquiry 'What is great?' and 'What is\nsmall?'\n\nExactly so.\n\nAnd thus arose the distinction of the visible and the intelligible.\n\nMost true.\n\nThis was what I meant when I spoke of impressions which invited the\nintellect, or the reverse--those which are simultaneous with opposite\nimpressions, invite thought; those which are not simultaneous do not.\n\nI understand, he said, and agree with you.\n\nAnd to which class do unity and number belong?\n\nI do not know, he replied.\n\nThink a little and you will see that what has preceded will supply the\nanswer; for if simple unity could be adequately perceived by the sight\nor by any other sense, then, as we were saying in the case of the\nfinger, there would be nothing to attract towards being; but when there\nis some contradiction always present, and one is the reverse of one and\ninvolves the conception of plurality, then thought begins to be aroused\nwithin us, and the soul perplexed and wanting to arrive at a decision\nasks 'What is absolute unity?' This is the way in which the study of\nthe one has a power of drawing and converting the mind to the\ncontemplation of true being.\n\nAnd surely, he said, this occurs notably in the case of one; for we see\nthe same thing to be both one and infinite in multitude?\n\nYes, I said; and this being true of one must be equally true of all\nnumber?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd all arithmetic and calculation have to do with number?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd they appear to lead the mind towards truth?\n\nYes, in a very remarkable manner.\n\nThen this is knowledge of the kind for which we are seeking, having a\ndouble use, military and philosophical; for the man of war must learn\nthe art of number or he will not know how to array his troops, and the\nphilosopher also, because he has to rise out of the sea of change and\nlay hold of true being, and therefore he must be an arithmetician.\n\nThat is true.\n\nAnd our guardian is both warrior and philosopher?\n\nCertainly.\n\nThen this is a kind of knowledge which legislation may fitly prescribe;\nand we must endeavour to persuade those who are prescribe to be the\nprincipal men of our State to go and learn arithmetic, not as amateurs,\nbut they must carry on the study until they see the nature of numbers\nwith the mind only; nor again, like merchants or retail-traders, with a\nview to buying or selling, but for the sake of their military use, and\nof the soul herself; and because this will be the easiest way for her\nto pass from becoming to truth and being.\n\nThat is excellent, he said.\n\nYes, I said, and now having spoken of it, I must add how charming the\nscience is! and in how many ways it conduces to our desired end, if\npursued in the spirit of a philosopher, and not of a shopkeeper!\n\nHow do you mean?\n\nI mean, as I was saying, that arithmetic has a very great and elevating\neffect, compelling the soul to reason about abstract number, and\nrebelling against the introduction of visible or tangible objects into\nthe argument.  You know how steadily the masters of the art repel and\nridicule any one who attempts to divide absolute unity when he is\ncalculating, and if you divide, they multiply, taking care that one\nshall continue one and not become lost in fractions.\n\nThat is very true.\n\nNow, suppose a person were to say to them:  O my friends, what are\nthese wonderful numbers about which you are reasoning, in which, as you\nsay, there is a unity such as you demand, and each unit is equal,\ninvariable, indivisible,--what would they answer?\n\nThey would answer, as I should conceive, that they were speaking of\nthose numbers which can only be realised in thought.\n\nThen you see that this knowledge may be truly called necessary,\nnecessitating as it clearly does the use of the pure intelligence in\nthe attainment of pure truth?\n\nYes; that is a marked characteristic of it.\n\nAnd have you further observed, that those who have a natural talent for\ncalculation are generally quick at every other kind of knowledge; and\neven the dull if they have had an arithmetical training, although they\nmay derive no other advantage from it, always become much quicker than\nthey would otherwise have been.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nAnd indeed, you will not easily find a more difficult study, and not\nmany as difficult.\n\nYou will not.\n\nAnd, for all these reasons, arithmetic is a kind of knowledge in which\nthe best natures should be trained, and which must not be given up.\n\nI agree.\n\nLet this then be made one of our subjects of education.  And next,\nshall we enquire whether the kindred science also concerns us?\n\nYou mean geometry?\n\nExactly so.\n\nClearly, he said, we are concerned with that part of geometry which\nrelates to war; for in pitching a camp, or taking up a position, or\nclosing or extending the lines of an army, or any other military\nmanoeuvre, whether in actual battle or on a march, it will make all the\ndifference whether a general is or is not a geometrician.\n\nYes, I said, but for that purpose a very little of either geometry or\ncalculation will be enough; the question relates rather to the greater\nand more advanced part of geometry--whether that tends in any degree to\nmake more easy the vision of the idea of good; and thither, as I was\nsaying, all things tend which compel the soul to turn her gaze towards\nthat place, where is the full perfection of being, which she ought, by\nall means, to behold.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nThen if geometry compels us to view being, it concerns us; if becoming\nonly, it does not concern us?\n\nYes, that is what we assert.\n\nYet anybody who has the least acquaintance with geometry will not deny\nthat such a conception of the science is in flat contradiction to the\nordinary language of geometricians.\n\nHow so?\n\nThey have in view practice only, and are always speaking? in a narrow\nand ridiculous manner, of squaring and extending and applying and the\nlike--they confuse the necessities of geometry with those of daily\nlife; whereas knowledge is the real object of the whole science.\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nThen must not a further admission be made?\n\nWhat admission?\n\nThat the knowledge at which geometry aims is knowledge of the eternal,\nand not of aught perishing and transient.\n\nThat, he replied, may be readily allowed, and is true.\n\nThen, my noble friend, geometry will draw the soul towards truth, and\ncreate the spirit of philosophy, and raise up that which is now\nunhappily allowed to fall down.\n\nNothing will be more likely to have such an effect.\n\nThen nothing should be more sternly laid down than that the inhabitants\nof your fair city should by all means learn geometry.  Moreover the\nscience has indirect effects, which are not small.\n\nOf what kind? he said.\n\nThere are the military advantages of which you spoke, I said; and in\nall departments of knowledge, as experience proves, any one who has\nstudied geometry is infinitely quicker of apprehension than one who has\nnot.\n\nYes indeed, he said, there is an infinite difference between them.\n\nThen shall we propose this as a second branch of knowledge which our\nyouth will study?\n\nLet us do so, he replied.\n\nAnd suppose we make astronomy the third--what do you say?\n\nI am strongly inclined to it, he said; the observation of the seasons\nand of months and years is as essential to the general as it is to the\nfarmer or sailor.\n\nI am amused, I said, at your fear of the world, which makes you guard\nagainst the appearance of insisting upon useless studies; and I quite\nadmit the difficulty of believing that in every man there is an eye of\nthe soul which, when by other pursuits lost and dimmed, is by these\npurified and re-illumined; and is more precious far than ten thousand\nbodily eyes, for by it alone is truth seen.  Now there are two classes\nof persons:  one class of those who will agree with you and will take\nyour words as a revelation; another class to whom they will be utterly\nunmeaning, and who will naturally deem them to be idle tales, for they\nsee no sort of profit which is to be obtained from them.  And therefore\nyou had better decide at once with which of the two you are proposing\nto argue.  You will very likely say with neither, and that your chief\naim in carrying on the argument is your own improvement; at the same\ntime you do not grudge to others any benefit which they may receive.\n\nI think that I should prefer to carry on the argument mainly on my own\nbehalf.\n\nThen take a step backward, for we have gone wrong in the order of the\nsciences.\n\nWhat was the mistake? he said.\n\nAfter plane geometry, I said, we proceeded at once to solids in\nrevolution, instead of taking solids in themselves; whereas after the\nsecond dimension the third, which is concerned with cubes and\ndimensions of depth, ought to have followed.\n\nThat is true, Socrates; but so little seems to be known as yet about\nthese subjects.\n\nWhy, yes, I said, and for two reasons:--in the first place, no\ngovernment patronises them; this leads to a want of energy in the\npursuit of them, and they are difficult; in the second place, students\ncannot learn them unless they have a director.  But then a director can\nhardly be found, and even if he could, as matters now stand, the\nstudents, who are very conceited, would not attend to him.  That,\nhowever, would be otherwise if the whole State became the director of\nthese studies and gave honour to them; then disciples would want to\ncome, and there would be continuous and earnest search, and discoveries\nwould be made; since even now, disregarded as they are by the world,\nand maimed of their fair proportions, and although none of their\nvotaries can tell the use of them, still these studies force their way\nby their natural charm, and very likely, if they had the help of the\nState, they would some day emerge into light.\n\nYes, he said, there is a remarkable charm in them.  But I do not\nclearly understand the change in the order.  First you began with a\ngeometry of plane surfaces?\n\nYes, I said.\n\nAnd you placed astronomy next, and then you made a step backward?\n\nYes, and I have delayed you by my hurry; the ludicrous state of solid\ngeometry, which, in natural order, should have followed, made me pass\nover this branch and go on to astronomy, or motion of solids.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nThen assuming that the science now omitted would come into existence if\nencouraged by the State, let us go on to astronomy, which will be\nfourth.\n\nThe right order, he replied.  And now, Socrates, as you rebuked the\nvulgar manner in which I praised astronomy before, my praise shall be\ngiven in your own spirit.  For every one, as I think, must see that\nastronomy compels the soul to look upwards and leads us from this world\nto another.\n\nEvery one but myself, I said; to every one else this may be clear, but\nnot to me.\n\nAnd what then would you say?\n\nI should rather say that those who elevate astronomy into philosophy\nappear to me to make us look downwards and not upwards.\n\nWhat do you mean? he asked.\n\nYou, I replied, have in your mind a truly sublime conception of our\nknowledge of the things above.  And I dare say that if a person were to\nthrow his head back and study the fretted ceiling, you would still\nthink that his mind was the percipient, and not his eyes.  And you are\nvery likely right, and I may be a simpleton: but, in my opinion, that\nknowledge only which is of being and of the unseen can make the soul\nlook upwards, and whether a man gapes at the heavens or blinks on the\nground, seeking to learn some particular of sense, I would deny that he\ncan learn, for nothing of that sort is matter of science; his soul is\nlooking downwards, not upwards, whether his way to knowledge is by\nwater or by land, whether he floats, or only lies on his back.\n\nI acknowledge, he said, the justice of your rebuke.  Still, I should\nlike to ascertain how astronomy can be learned in any manner more\nconducive to that knowledge of which we are speaking?\n\nI will tell you, I said:  The starry heaven which we behold is wrought\nupon a visible ground, and therefore, although the fairest and most\nperfect of visible things, must necessarily be deemed inferior far to\nthe true motions of absolute swiftness and absolute slowness, which are\nrelative to each other, and carry with them that which is contained in\nthem, in the true number and in every true figure.  Now, these are to\nbe apprehended by reason and intelligence, but not by sight.\n\nTrue, he replied.\n\nThe spangled heavens should be used as a pattern and with a view to\nthat higher knowledge; their beauty is like the beauty of figures or\npictures excellently wrought by the hand of Daedalus, or some other\ngreat artist, which we may chance to behold; any geometrician who saw\nthem would appreciate the exquisiteness of their workmanship, but he\nwould never dream of thinking that in them he could find the true equal\nor the true double, or the truth of any other proportion.\n\nNo, he replied, such an idea would be ridiculous.\n\nAnd will not a true astronomer have the same feeling when he looks at\nthe movements of the stars?  Will he not think that heaven and the\nthings in heaven are framed by the Creator of them in the most perfect\nmanner?  But he will never imagine that the proportions of night and\nday, or of both to the month, or of the month to the year, or of the\nstars to these and to one another, and any other things that are\nmaterial and visible can also be eternal and subject to no\ndeviation--that would be absurd; and it is equally absurd to take so\nmuch pains in investigating their exact truth.\n\nI quite agree, though I never thought of this before.\n\nThen, I said, in astronomy, as in geometry, we should employ problems,\nand let the heavens alone if we would approach the subject in the right\nway and so make the natural gift of reason to be of any real use.\n\nThat, he said, is a work infinitely beyond our present astronomers.\n\nYes, I said; and there are many other things which must also have a\nsimilar extension given to them, if our legislation is to be of any\nvalue.  But can you tell me of any other suitable study?\n\nNo, he said, not without thinking.\n\nMotion, I said, has many forms, and not one only; two of them are\nobvious enough even to wits no better than ours; and there are others,\nas I imagine, which may be left to wiser persons.\n\nBut where are the two?\n\nThere is a second, I said, which is the counterpart of the one already\nnamed.\n\nAnd what may that be?\n\nThe second, I said, would seem relatively to the ears to be what the\nfirst is to the eyes; for I conceive that as the eyes are designed to\nlook up at the stars, so are the ears to hear harmonious motions; and\nthese are sister sciences--as the Pythagoreans say, and we, Glaucon,\nagree with them?\n\nYes, he replied.\n\nBut this, I said, is a laborious study, and therefore we had better go\nand learn of them; and they will tell us whether there are any other\napplications of these sciences.  At the same time, we must not lose\nsight of our own higher object.\n\nWhat is that?\n\nThere is a perfection which all knowledge ought to reach, and which our\npupils ought also to attain, and not to fall short of, as I was saying\nthat they did in astronomy.  For in the science of harmony, as you\nprobably know, the same thing happens.  The teachers of harmony compare\nthe sounds and consonances which are heard only, and their labour, like\nthat of the astronomers, is in vain.\n\nYes, by heaven! he said; and 'tis as good as a play to hear them\ntalking about their condensed notes, as they call them; they put their\nears close alongside of the strings like persons catching a sound from\ntheir neighbour's wall--one set of them declaring that they distinguish\nan intermediate note and have found the least interval which should be\nthe unit of measurement; the others insisting that the two sounds have\npassed into the same--either party setting their ears before their\nunderstanding.\n\nYou mean, I said, those gentlemen who tease and torture the strings and\nrack them on the pegs of the instrument:  might carry on the metaphor\nand speak after their manner of the blows which the plectrum gives, and\nmake accusations against the strings, both of backwardness and\nforwardness to sound; but this would be tedious, and therefore I will\nonly say that these are not the men, and that I am referring to the\nPythagoreans, of whom I was just now proposing to enquire about\nharmony.  For they too are in error, like the astronomers; they\ninvestigate the numbers of the harmonies which are heard, but they\nnever attain to problems-that is to say, they never reach the natural\nharmonies of number, or reflect why some numbers are harmonious and\nothers not.\n\nThat, he said, is a thing of more than mortal knowledge.\n\nA thing, I replied, which I would rather call useful; that is, if\nsought after with a view to the beautiful and good; but if pursued in\nany other spirit, useless.  Very true, he said.\n\nNow, when all these studies reach the point of inter-communion and\nconnection with one another, and come to be considered in their mutual\naffinities, then, I think, but not till then, will the pursuit of them\nhave a value for our objects; otherwise there is no profit in them.\n\nI suspect so; but you are speaking, Socrates, of a vast work.\n\nWhat do you mean?  I said; the prelude or what?  Do you not know that\nall this is but the prelude to the actual strain which we have to\nlearn?  For you surely would not regard the skilled mathematician as a\ndialectician?\n\nAssuredly not, he said; I have hardly ever known a mathematician who\nwas capable of reasoning.\n\nBut do you imagine that men who are unable to give and take a reason\nwill have the knowledge which we require of them?\n\nNeither can this be supposed.\n\nAnd so, Glaucon, I said, we have at last arrived at the hymn of\ndialectic.  This is that strain which is of the intellect only, but\nwhich the faculty of sight will nevertheless be found to imitate; for\nsight, as you may remember, was imagined by us after a while to behold\nthe real animals and stars, and last of all the sun himself.  And so\nwith dialectic; when a person starts on the discovery of the absolute\nby the light of reason only, and without any assistance of sense, and\nperseveres until by pure intelligence he arrives at the perception of\nthe absolute good, he at last finds himself at the end of the\nintellectual world, as in the case of sight at the end of the visible.\n\nExactly, he said.\n\nThen this is the progress which you call dialectic?\n\nTrue.\n\nBut the release of the prisoners from chains, and their translation\nfrom the shadows to the images and to the light, and the ascent from\nthe underground den to the sun, while in his presence they are vainly\ntrying to look on animals and plants and the light of the sun, but are\nable to perceive even with their weak eyes the images in the water\n(which are divine), and are the shadows of true existence (not shadows\nof images cast by a light of fire, which compared with the sun is only\nan image)--this power of elevating the highest principle in the soul to\nthe contemplation of that which is best in existence, with which we may\ncompare the raising of that faculty which is the very light of the body\nto the sight of that which is brightest in the material and visible\nworld--this power is given, as I was saying, by all that study and\npursuit of the arts which has been described.\n\nI agree in what you are saying, he replied, which may be hard to\nbelieve, yet, from another point of view, is harder still to deny.\nThis, however, is not a theme to be treated of in passing only, but\nwill have to be discussed again and again.  And so, whether our\nconclusion be true or false, let us assume all this, and proceed at\nonce from the prelude or preamble to the chief strain, and describe\nthat in like manner.  Say, then, what is the nature and what are the\ndivisions of dialectic, and what are the paths which lead thither; for\nthese paths will also lead to our final rest?\n\nDear Glaucon, I said, you will not be able to follow me here, though I\nwould do my best, and you should behold not an image only but the\nabsolute truth, according to my notion.  Whether what I told you would\nor would not have been a reality I cannot venture to say; but you would\nhave seen something like reality; of that I am confident.\n\nDoubtless, he replied.\n\nBut I must also remind you, that the power of dialectic alone can\nreveal this, and only to one who is a disciple of the previous sciences.\n\nOf that assertion you may be as confident as of the last.\n\nAnd assuredly no one will argue that there is any other method of\ncomprehending by any regular process all true existence or of\nascertaining what each thing is in its own nature; for the arts in\ngeneral are concerned with the desires or opinions of men, or are\ncultivated with a view to production and construction, or for the\npreservation of such productions and constructions; and as to the\nmathematical sciences which, as we were saying, have some apprehension\nof true being--geometry and the like--they only dream about being, but\nnever can they behold the waking reality so long as they leave the\nhypotheses which they use unexamined, and are unable to give an account\nof them.  For when a man knows not his own first principle, and when\nthe conclusion and intermediate steps are also constructed out of he\nknows not what, how can he imagine that such a fabric of convention can\never become science?\n\nImpossible, he said.\n\nThen dialectic, and dialectic alone, goes directly to the first\nprinciple and is the only science which does away with hypotheses in\norder to make her ground secure; the eye of the soul, which is\nliterally buried in an outlandish slough, is by her gentle aid lifted\nupwards; and she uses as handmaids and helpers in the work of\nconversion, the sciences which we have been discussing.  Custom terms\nthem sciences, but they ought to have some other name, implying greater\nclearness than opinion and less clearness than science: and this, in\nour previous sketch, was called understanding.  But why should we\ndispute about names when we have realities of such importance to\nconsider?\n\nWhy indeed, he said, when any name will do which expresses the thought\nof the mind with clearness?\n\nAt any rate, we are satisfied, as before, to have four divisions; two\nfor intellect and two for opinion, and to call the first division\nscience, the second understanding, the third belief, and the fourth\nperception of shadows, opinion being concerned with becoming, and\nintellect with being; and so to make a proportion:--\n\n    As being is to becoming, so is pure intellect to opinion.\n    And as intellect is to opinion, so is science to belief, and\n    understanding to the perception of shadows.\n\nBut let us defer the further correlation and subdivision of the\nsubjects of opinion and of intellect, for it will be a long enquiry,\nmany times longer than this has been.\n\nAs far as I understand, he said, I agree.\n\nAnd do you also agree, I said, in describing the dialectician as one\nwho attains a conception of the essence of each thing?  And he who does\nnot possess and is therefore unable to impart this conception, in\nwhatever degree he fails, may in that degree also be said to fail in\nintelligence?  Will you admit so much?\n\nYes, he said; how can I deny it?\n\nAnd you would say the same of the conception of the good?\n\nUntil the person is able to abstract and define rationally the idea of\ngood, and unless he can run the gauntlet of all objections, and is\nready to disprove them, not by appeals to opinion, but to absolute\ntruth, never faltering at any step of the argument--unless he can do\nall this, you would say that he knows neither the idea of good nor any\nother good; he apprehends only a shadow, if anything at all, which is\ngiven by opinion and not by science;--dreaming and slumbering in this\nlife, before he is well awake here, he arrives at the world below, and\nhas his final quietus.\n\nIn all that I should most certainly agree with you.\n\nAnd surely you would not have the children of your ideal State, whom\nyou are nurturing and educating--if the ideal ever becomes a\nreality--you would not allow the future rulers to be like posts, having\nno reason in them, and yet to be set in authority over the highest\nmatters?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nThen you will make a law that they shall have such an education as will\nenable them to attain the greatest skill in asking and answering\nquestions?\n\nYes, he said, you and I together will make it.\n\nDialectic, then, as you will agree, is the coping-stone of the\nsciences, and is set over them; no other science can be placed\nhigher--the nature of knowledge can no further go?\n\nI agree, he said.\n\nBut to whom we are to assign these studies, and in what way they are to\nbe assigned, are questions which remain to be considered?\n\nYes, clearly.\n\nYou remember, I said, how the rulers were chosen before?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nThe same natures must still be chosen, and the preference again given\nto the surest and the bravest, and, if possible, to the fairest; and,\nhaving noble and generous tempers, they should also have the natural\ngifts which will facilitate their education.\n\nAnd what are these?\n\nSuch gifts as keenness and ready powers of acquisition; for the mind\nmore often faints from the severity of study than from the severity of\ngymnastics:  the toil is more entirely the mind's own, and is not\nshared with the body.\n\nVery true, he replied.\n\nFurther, he of whom we are in search should have a good memory, and be\nan unwearied solid man who is a lover of labour in any line; or he will\nnever be able to endure the great amount of bodily exercise and to go\nthrough all the intellectual discipline and study which we require of\nhim.\n\nCertainly, he said; he must have natural gifts.\n\nThe mistake at present is, that those who study philosophy have no\nvocation, and this, as I was before saying, is the reason why she has\nfallen into disrepute:  her true sons should take her by the hand and\nnot bastards.\n\nWhat do you mean?\n\nIn the first place, her votary should not have a lame or halting\nindustry--I mean, that he should not be half industrious and half idle:\nas, for example, when a man is a lover of gymnastic and hunting, and\nall other bodily exercises, but a hater rather than a lover of the\nlabour of learning or listening or enquiring.  Or the occupation to\nwhich he devotes himself may be of an opposite kind, and he may have\nthe other sort of lameness.\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd as to truth, I said, is not a soul equally to be deemed halt and\nlame which hates voluntary falsehood and is extremely indignant at\nherself and others when they tell lies, but is patient of involuntary\nfalsehood, and does not mind wallowing like a swinish beast in the mire\nof ignorance, and has no shame at being detected?\n\nTo be sure.\n\nAnd, again, in respect of temperance, courage, magnificence, and every\nother virtue, should we not carefully distinguish between the true son\nand the bastard? for where there is no discernment of such qualities\nStates and individuals unconsciously err and the State makes a ruler,\nand the individual a friend, of one who, being defective in some part\nof virtue, is in a figure lame or a bastard.\n\nThat is very true, he said.\n\nAll these things, then, will have to be carefully considered by us; and\nif only those whom we introduce to this vast system of education and\ntraining are sound in body and mind, justice herself will have nothing\nto say against us, and we shall be the saviours of the constitution and\nof the State; but, if our pupils are men of another stamp, the reverse\nwill happen, and we shall pour a still greater flood of ridicule on\nphilosophy than she has to endure at present.\n\nThat would not be creditable.\n\nCertainly not, I said; and yet perhaps, in thus turning jest into\nearnest I am equally ridiculous.\n\nIn what respect?\n\nI had forgotten, I said, that we were not serious, and spoke with too\nmuch excitement.  For when I saw philosophy so undeservedly trampled\nunder foot of men I could not help feeling a sort of indignation at the\nauthors of her disgrace:  and my anger made me too vehement.\n\nIndeed!  I was listening, and did not think so.\n\nBut I, who am the speaker, felt that I was.  And now let me remind you\nthat, although in our former selection we chose old men, we must not do\nso in this.  Solon was under a delusion when he said that a man when he\ngrows old may learn many things--for he can no more learn much than he\ncan run much; youth is the time for any extraordinary toil.\n\nOf course.\n\nAnd, therefore, calculation and geometry and all the other elements of\ninstruction, which are a preparation for dialectic, should be presented\nto the mind in childhood; not, however, under any notion of forcing our\nsystem of education.\n\nWhy not?\n\nBecause a freeman ought not to be a slave in the acquisition of\nknowledge of any kind.  Bodily exercise, when compulsory, does no harm\nto the body; but knowledge which is acquired under compulsion obtains\nno hold on the mind.\n\nVery true.\n\nThen, my good friend, I said, do not use compulsion, but let early\neducation be a sort of amusement; you will then be better able to find\nout the natural bent.\n\nThat is a very rational notion, he said.\n\nDo you remember that the children, too, were to be taken to see the\nbattle on horseback; and that if there were no danger they were to be\nbrought close up and, like young hounds, have a taste of blood given\nthem?\n\nYes, I remember.\n\nThe same practice may be followed, I said, in all these\nthings--labours, lessons, dangers--and he who is most at home in all of\nthem ought to be enrolled in a select number.\n\nAt what age?\n\nAt the age when the necessary gymnastics are over:  the period whether\nof two or three years which passes in this sort of training is useless\nfor any other purpose; for sleep and exercise are unpropitious to\nlearning; and the trial of who is first in gymnastic exercises is one\nof the most important tests to which our youth are subjected.\n\nCertainly, he replied.\n\nAfter that time those who are selected from the class of twenty years\nold will be promoted to higher honour, and the sciences which they\nlearned without any order in their early education will now be brought\ntogether, and they will be able to see the natural relationship of them\nto one another and to true being.\n\nYes, he said, that is the only kind of knowledge which takes lasting\nroot.\n\nYes, I said; and the capacity for such knowledge is the great criterion\nof dialectical talent:  the comprehensive mind is always the\ndialectical.\n\nI agree with you, he said.\n\nThese, I said, are the points which you must consider; and those who\nhave most of this comprehension, and who are more steadfast in their\nlearning, and in their military and other appointed duties, when they\nhave arrived at the age of thirty have to be chosen by you out of the\nselect class, and elevated to higher honour; and you will have to prove\nthem by the help of dialectic, in order to learn which of them is able\nto give up the use of sight and the other senses, and in company with\ntruth to attain absolute being: And here, my friend, great caution is\nrequired.\n\nWhy great caution?\n\nDo you not remark, I said, how great is the evil which dialectic has\nintroduced?\n\nWhat evil? he said.\n\nThe students of the art are filled with lawlessness.\n\nQuite true, he said.\n\nDo you think that there is anything so very unnatural or inexcusable in\ntheir case? or will you make allowance for them?\n\nIn what way make allowance?\n\nI want you, I said, by way of parallel, to imagine a supposititious son\nwho is brought up in great wealth; he is one of a great and numerous\nfamily, and has many flatterers.  When he grows up to manhood, he\nlearns that his alleged are not his real parents; but who the real are\nhe is unable to discover.  Can you guess how he will be likely to\nbehave towards his flatterers and his supposed parents, first of all\nduring the period when he is ignorant of the false relation, and then\nagain when he knows?  Or shall I guess for you?\n\nIf you please.\n\nThen I should say, that while he is ignorant of the truth he will be\nlikely to honour his father and his mother and his supposed relations\nmore than the flatterers; he will be less inclined to neglect them when\nin need, or to do or say anything against them; and he will be less\nwilling to disobey them in any important matter.\n\nHe will.\n\nBut when he has made the discovery, I should imagine that he would\ndiminish his honour and regard for them, and would become more devoted\nto the flatterers; their influence over him would greatly increase; he\nwould now live after their ways, and openly associate with them, and,\nunless he were of an unusually good disposition, he would trouble\nhimself no more about his supposed parents or other relations.\n\nWell, all that is very probable.  But how is the image applicable to\nthe disciples of philosophy?\n\nIn this way:  you know that there are certain principles about justice\nand honour, which were taught us in childhood, and under their parental\nauthority we have been brought up, obeying and honouring them.\n\nThat is true.\n\nThere are also opposite maxims and habits of pleasure which flatter and\nattract the soul, but do not influence those of us who have any sense\nof right, and they continue to obey and honour the maxims of their\nfathers.\n\nTrue.\n\nNow, when a man is in this state, and the questioning spirit asks what\nis fair or honourable, and he answers as the legislator has taught him,\nand then arguments many and diverse refute his words, until he is\ndriven into believing that nothing is honourable any more than\ndishonourable, or just and good any more than the reverse, and so of\nall the notions which he most valued, do you think that he will still\nhonour and obey them as before?\n\nImpossible.\n\nAnd when he ceases to think them honourable and natural as heretofore,\nand he fails to discover the true, can he be expected to pursue any\nlife other than that which flatters his desires?\n\nHe cannot.\n\nAnd from being a keeper of the law he is converted into a breaker of it?\n\nUnquestionably.\n\nNow all this is very natural in students of philosophy such as I have\ndescribed, and also, as I was just now saying, most excusable.\n\nYes, he said; and, I may add, pitiable.\n\nTherefore, that your feelings may not be moved to pity about our\ncitizens who are now thirty years of age, every care must be taken in\nintroducing them to dialectic.\n\nCertainly.\n\nThere is a danger lest they should taste the dear delight too early;\nfor youngsters, as you may have observed, when they first get the taste\nin their mouths, argue for amusement, and are always contradicting and\nrefuting others in imitation of those who refute them; like puppy-dogs,\nthey rejoice in pulling and tearing at all who come near them.\n\nYes, he said, there is nothing which they like better.\n\nAnd when they have made many conquests and received defeats at the\nhands of many, they violently and speedily get into a way of not\nbelieving anything which they believed before, and hence, not only\nthey, but philosophy and all that relates to it is apt to have a bad\nname with the rest of the world.\n\nToo true, he said.\n\nBut when a man begins to get older, he will no longer be guilty of such\ninsanity; he will imitate the dialectician who is seeking for truth,\nand not the eristic, who is contradicting for the sake of amusement;\nand the greater moderation of his character will increase instead of\ndiminishing the honour of the pursuit.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nAnd did we not make special provision for this, when we said that the\ndisciples of philosophy were to be orderly and steadfast, not, as now,\nany chance aspirant or intruder?\n\nVery true.\n\nSuppose, I said, the study of philosophy to take the place of\ngymnastics and to be continued diligently and earnestly and exclusively\nfor twice the number of years which were passed in bodily\nexercise--will that be enough?\n\nWould you say six or four years? he asked.\n\nSay five years, I replied; at the end of the time they must be sent\ndown again into the den and compelled to hold any military or other\noffice which young men are qualified to hold: in this way they will get\ntheir experience of life, and there will be an opportunity of trying\nwhether, when they are drawn all manner of ways by temptation, they\nwill stand firm or flinch.\n\nAnd how long is this stage of their lives to last?\n\nFifteen years, I answered; and when they have reached fifty years of\nage, then let those who still survive and have distinguished themselves\nin every action of their lives and in every branch of knowledge come at\nlast to their consummation; the time has now arrived at which they must\nraise the eye of the soul to the universal light which lightens all\nthings, and behold the absolute good; for that is the pattern according\nto which they are to order the State and the lives of individuals, and\nthe remainder of their own lives also; making philosophy their chief\npursuit, but, when their turn comes, toiling also at politics and\nruling for the public good, not as though they were performing some\nheroic action, but simply as a matter of duty; and when they have\nbrought up in each generation others like themselves and left them in\ntheir place to be governors of the State, then they will depart to the\nIslands of the Blest and dwell there; and the city will give them\npublic memorials and sacrifices and honour them, if the Pythian oracle\nconsent, as demi-gods, but if not, as in any case blessed and divine.\n\nYou are a sculptor, Socrates, and have made statues of our governors\nfaultless in beauty.\n\nYes, I said, Glaucon, and of our governesses too; for you must not\nsuppose that what I have been saying applies to men only and not to\nwomen as far as their natures can go.\n\nThere you are right, he said, since we have made them to share in all\nthings like the men.\n\nWell, I said, and you would agree (would you not?) that what has been\nsaid about the State and the government is not a mere dream, and\nalthough difficult not impossible, but only possible in the way which\nhas been supposed; that is to say, when the true philosopher kings are\nborn in a State, one or more of them, despising the honours of this\npresent world which they deem mean and worthless, esteeming above all\nthings right and the honour that springs from right, and regarding\njustice as the greatest and most necessary of all things, whose\nministers they are, and whose principles will be exalted by them when\nthey set in order their own city?\n\nHow will they proceed?\n\nThey will begin by sending out into the country all the inhabitants of\nthe city who are more than ten years old, and will take possession of\ntheir children, who will be unaffected by the habits of their parents;\nthese they will train in their own habits and laws, I mean in the laws\nwhich we have given them:  and in this way the State and constitution\nof which we were speaking will soonest and most easily attain\nhappiness, and the nation which has such a constitution will gain most.\n\nYes, that will be the best way.  And I think, Socrates, that you have\nvery well described how, if ever, such a constitution might come into\nbeing.\n\nEnough then of the perfect State, and of the man who bears its\nimage--there is no difficulty in seeing how we shall describe him.\n\nThere is no difficulty, he replied; and I agree with you in thinking\nthat nothing more need be said.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK VIII\n\n\nSOCRATES - GLAUCON\n\nAND so, Glaucon, we have arrived at the conclusion that in the perfect\nState wives and children are to be in common; and that all education\nand the pursuits of war and peace are also to be common, and the best\nphilosophers and the bravest warriors are to be their kings?\n\nThat, replied Glaucon, has been acknowledged.\n\nYes, I said; and we have further acknowledged that the governors, when\nappointed themselves, will take their soldiers and place them in houses\nsuch as we were describing, which are common to all, and contain\nnothing private, or individual; and about their property, you remember\nwhat we agreed?\n\nYes, I remember that no one was to have any of the ordinary possessions\nof mankind; they were to be warrior athletes and guardians, receiving\nfrom the other citizens, in lieu of annual payment, only their\nmaintenance, and they were to take care of themselves and of the whole\nState.\n\nTrue, I said; and now that this division of our task is concluded, let\nus find the point at which we digressed, that we may return into the\nold path.\n\nThere is no difficulty in returning; you implied, then as now, that you\nhad finished the description of the State:  you said that such a State\nwas good, and that the man was good who answered to it, although, as\nnow appears, you had more excellent things to relate both of State and\nman.  And you said further, that if this was the true form, then the\nothers were false; and of the false forms, you said, as I remember,\nthat there were four principal ones, and that their defects, and the\ndefects of the individuals corresponding to them, were worth examining.\nWhen we had seen all the individuals, and finally agreed as to who was\nthe best and who was the worst of them, we were to consider whether the\nbest was not also the happiest, and the worst the most miserable.  I\nasked you what were the four forms of government of which you spoke,\nand then Polemarchus and Adeimantus put in their word; and you began\nagain, and have found your way to the point at which we have now\narrived.\n\nYour recollection, I said, is most exact.\n\nThen, like a wrestler, he replied, you must put yourself again in the\nsame position; and let me ask the same questions, and do you give me\nthe same answer which you were about to give me then.\n\nYes, if I can, I will, I said.\n\nI shall particularly wish to hear what were the four constitutions of\nwhich you were speaking.\n\nThat question, I said, is easily answered:  the four governments of\nwhich I spoke, so far as they have distinct names, are, first, those of\nCrete and Sparta, which are generally applauded; what is termed\noligarchy comes next; this is not equally approved, and is a form of\ngovernment which teems with evils:  thirdly, democracy, which naturally\nfollows oligarchy, although very different: and lastly comes tyranny,\ngreat and famous, which differs from them all, and is the fourth and\nworst disorder of a State.  I do not know, do you? of any other\nconstitution which can be said to have a distinct character.  There are\nlordships and principalities which are bought and sold, and some other\nintermediate forms of government.  But these are nondescripts and may\nbe found equally among Hellenes and among barbarians.\n\nYes, he replied, we certainly hear of many curious forms of government\nwhich exist among them.\n\nDo you know, I said, that governments vary as the dispositions of men\nvary, and that there must be as many of the one as there are of the\nother?  For we cannot suppose that States are made of 'oak and rock,'\nand not out of the human natures which are in them, and which in a\nfigure turn the scale and draw other things after them?\n\nYes, he said, the States are as the men are; they grow out of human\ncharacters.\n\nThen if the constitutions of States are five, the dispositions of\nindividual minds will also be five?\n\nCertainly.\n\nHim who answers to aristocracy, and whom we rightly call just and good,\nwe have already described.\n\nWe have.\n\nThen let us now proceed to describe the inferior sort of natures, being\nthe contentious and ambitious, who answer to the Spartan polity; also\nthe oligarchical, democratical, and tyrannical.  Let us place the most\njust by the side of the most unjust, and when we see them we shall be\nable to compare the relative happiness or unhappiness of him who leads\na life of pure justice or pure injustice.  The enquiry will then be\ncompleted.  And we shall know whether we ought to pursue injustice, as\nThrasymachus advises, or in accordance with the conclusions of the\nargument to prefer justice.\n\nCertainly, he replied, we must do as you say.\n\nShall we follow our old plan, which we adopted with a view to\nclearness, of taking the State first and then proceeding to the\nindividual, and begin with the government of honour?--I know of no name\nfor such a government other than timocracy, or perhaps timarchy.  We\nwill compare with this the like character in the individual; and, after\nthat, consider oligarchical man; and then again we will turn our\nattention to democracy and the democratical man; and lastly, we will go\nand view the city of tyranny, and once more take a look into the\ntyrant's soul, and try to arrive at a satisfactory decision.\n\nThat way of viewing and judging of the matter will be very suitable.\n\nFirst, then, I said, let us enquire how timocracy (the government of\nhonour) arises out of aristocracy (the government of the best).\nClearly, all political changes originate in divisions of the actual\ngoverning power; a government which is united, however small, cannot be\nmoved.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nIn what way, then, will our city be moved, and in what manner the two\nclasses of auxiliaries and rulers disagree among themselves or with one\nanother?  Shall we, after the manner of Homer, pray the Muses to tell\nus 'how discord first arose'? Shall we imagine them in solemn mockery,\nto play and jest with us as if we were children, and to address us in a\nlofty tragic vein, making believe to be in earnest?\n\nHow would they address us?\n\nAfter this manner:--A city which is thus constituted can hardly be\nshaken; but, seeing that everything which has a beginning has also an\nend, even a constitution such as yours will not last for ever, but will\nin time be dissolved.  And this is the dissolution:--In plants that\ngrow in the earth, as well as in animals that move on the earth's\nsurface, fertility and sterility of soul and body occur when the\ncircumferences of the circles of each are completed, which in\nshort-lived existences pass over a short space, and in long-lived ones\nover a long space.  But to the knowledge of human fecundity and\nsterility all the wisdom and education of your rulers will not attain;\nthe laws which regulate them will not be discovered by an intelligence\nwhich is alloyed with sense, but will escape them, and they will bring\nchildren into the world when they ought not.  Now that which is of\ndivine birth has a period which is contained in a perfect number, but\nthe period of human birth is comprehended in a number in which first\nincrements by involution and evolution (or squared and cubed) obtaining\nthree intervals and four terms of like and unlike, waxing and waning\nnumbers, make all the terms commensurable and agreeable to one another.\nThe base of these (3) with a third added (4) when combined with five\n(20) and raised to the third power furnishes two harmonies; the first a\nsquare which is a hundred times as great (400 = 4 X 100), and the other\na figure having one side equal to the former, but oblong, consisting of\na hundred numbers squared upon rational diameters of a square (i. e.\nomitting fractions), the side of which is five (7 X 7 = 49 X 100 =\n4900), each of them being less by one (than the perfect square which\nincludes the fractions, sc. 50) or less by two perfect squares of\nirrational diameters (of a square the side of which is five = 50 + 50 =\n100); and a hundred cubes of three (27 X 100 = 2700 + 4900 + 400 =\n8000). Now this number represents a geometrical figure which has\ncontrol over the good and evil of births.  For when your guardians are\nignorant of the law of births, and unite bride and bridegroom out of\nseason, the children will not be goodly or fortunate.  And though only\nthe best of them will be appointed by their predecessors, still they\nwill be unworthy to hold their fathers' places, and when they come into\npower as guardians, they will soon be found to fall in taking care of\nus, the Muses, first by under-valuing music; which neglect will soon\nextend to gymnastic; and hence the young men of your State will be less\ncultivated.  In the succeeding generation rulers will be appointed who\nhave lost the guardian power of testing the metal of your different\nraces, which, like Hesiod's, are of gold and silver and brass and iron.\nAnd so iron will be mingled with silver, and brass with gold, and hence\nthere will arise dissimilarity and inequality and irregularity, which\nalways and in all places are causes of hatred and war.  This the Muses\naffirm to be the stock from which discord has sprung, wherever arising;\nand this is their answer to us.\n\nYes, and we may assume that they answer truly.\n\nWhy, yes, I said, of course they answer truly; how can the Muses speak\nfalsely?\n\nAnd what do the Muses say next?\n\nWhen discord arose, then the two races were drawn different ways: the\niron and brass fell to acquiring money and land and houses and gold and\nsilver; but the gold and silver races, not wanting money but having the\ntrue riches in their own nature, inclined towards virtue and the\nancient order of things.  There was a battle between them, and at last\nthey agreed to distribute their land and houses among individual\nowners; and they enslaved their friends and maintainers, whom they had\nformerly protected in the condition of freemen, and made of them\nsubjects and servants; and they themselves were engaged in war and in\nkeeping a watch against them.\n\nI believe that you have rightly conceived the origin of the change.\n\nAnd the new government which thus arises will be of a form intermediate\nbetween oligarchy and aristocracy?\n\nVery true.\n\nSuch will be the change, and after the change has been made, how will\nthey proceed?  Clearly, the new State, being in a mean between\noligarchy and the perfect State, will partly follow one and partly the\nother, and will also have some peculiarities.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nIn the honour given to rulers, in the abstinence of the warrior class\nfrom agriculture, handicrafts, and trade in general, in the institution\nof common meals, and in the attention paid to gymnastics and military\ntraining--in all these respects this State will resemble the former.\n\nTrue.\n\nBut in the fear of admitting philosophers to power, because they are no\nlonger to be had simple and earnest, but are made up of mixed elements;\nand in turning from them to passionate and less complex characters, who\nare by nature fitted for war rather than peace; and in the value set by\nthem upon military stratagems and contrivances, and in the waging of\neverlasting wars--this State will be for the most part peculiar.\n\nYes.\n\nYes, I said; and men of this stamp will be covetous of money, like\nthose who live in oligarchies; they will have, a fierce secret longing\nafter gold and silver, which they will hoard in dark places, having\nmagazines and treasuries of their own for the deposit and concealment\nof them; also castles which are just nests for their eggs, and in which\nthey will spend large sums on their wives, or on any others whom they\nplease.\n\nThat is most true, he said.\n\nAnd they are miserly because they have no means of openly acquiring the\nmoney which they prize; they will spend that which is another man's on\nthe gratification of their desires, stealing their pleasures and\nrunning away like children from the law, their father: they have been\nschooled not by gentle influences but by force, for they have neglected\nher who is the true Muse, the companion of reason and philosophy, and\nhave honoured gymnastic more than music.\n\nUndoubtedly, he said, the form of government which you describe is a\nmixture of good and evil.\n\nWhy, there is a mixture, I said; but one thing, and one thing only, is\npredominantly seen,--the spirit of contention and ambition; and these\nare due to the prevalence of the passionate or spirited element.\n\nAssuredly, he said.\n\nSuch is the origin and such the character of this State, which has been\ndescribed in outline only; the more perfect execution was not required,\nfor a sketch is enough to show the type of the most perfectly just and\nmost perfectly unjust; and to go through all the States and all the\ncharacters of men, omitting none of them, would be an interminable\nlabour.\n\nVery true, he replied.\n\nNow what man answers to this form of government-how did he come into\nbeing, and what is he like?\n\nSOCRATES - ADEIMANTUS\n\nI think, said Adeimantus, that in the spirit of contention which\ncharacterises him, he is not unlike our friend Glaucon.\n\nPerhaps, I said, he may be like him in that one point; but there are\nother respects in which he is very different.\n\nIn what respects?\n\nHe should have more of self-assertion and be less cultivated, and yet a\nfriend of culture; and he should be a good listener, but no speaker.\nSuch a person is apt to be rough with slaves, unlike the educated man,\nwho is too proud for that; and he will also be courteous to freemen,\nand remarkably obedient to authority; he is a lover of power and a\nlover of honour; claiming to be a ruler, not because he is eloquent, or\non any ground of that sort, but because he is a soldier and has\nperformed feats of arms; he is also a lover of gymnastic exercises and\nof the chase.\n\nYes, that is the type of character which answers to timocracy.\n\nSuch an one will despise riches only when he is young; but as he gets\nolder he will be more and more attracted to them, because he has a\npiece of the avaricious nature in him, and is not singleminded towards\nvirtue, having lost his best guardian.\n\nWho was that? said Adeimantus.\n\nPhilosophy, I said, tempered with music, who comes and takes her abode\nin a man, and is the only saviour of his virtue throughout life.\n\nGood, he said.\n\nSuch, I said, is the timocratical youth, and he is like the\ntimocratical State.\n\nExactly.\n\nHis origin is as follows:--He is often the young son of a grave father,\nwho dwells in an ill-governed city, of which he declines the honours\nand offices, and will not go to law, or exert himself in any way, but\nis ready to waive his rights in order that he may escape trouble.\n\nAnd how does the son come into being?\n\nThe character of the son begins to develop when he hears his mother\ncomplaining that her husband has no place in the government, of which\nthe consequence is that she has no precedence among other women.\nFurther, when she sees her husband not very eager about money, and\ninstead of battling and railing in the law courts or assembly, taking\nwhatever happens to him quietly; and when she observes that his\nthoughts always centre in himself, while he treats her with very\nconsiderable indifference, she is annoyed, and says to her son that his\nfather is only half a man and far too easy-going: adding all the other\ncomplaints about her own ill-treatment which women are so fond of\nrehearsing.\n\nYes, said Adeimantus, they give us plenty of them, and their complaints\nare so like themselves.\n\nAnd you know, I said, that the old servants also, who are supposed to\nbe attached to the family, from time to time talk privately in the same\nstrain to the son; and if they see any one who owes money to his\nfather, or is wronging him in any way, and he falls to prosecute them,\nthey tell the youth that when he grows up he must retaliate upon people\nof this sort, and be more of a man than his father.  He has only to\nwalk abroad and he hears and sees the same sort of thing: those who do\ntheir own business in the city are called simpletons, and held in no\nesteem, while the busy-bodies are honoured and applauded.  The result\nis that the young man, hearing and seeing all these thing--hearing too,\nthe words of his father, and having a nearer view of his way of life,\nand making comparisons of him and others--is drawn opposite ways: while\nhis father is watering and nourishing the rational principle in his\nsoul, the others are encouraging the passionate and appetitive; and he\nbeing not originally of a bad nature, but having kept bad company, is\nat last brought by their joint influence to a middle point, and gives\nup the kingdom which is within him to the middle principle of\ncontentiousness and passion, and becomes arrogant and ambitious.\n\nYou seem to me to have described his origin perfectly.\n\nThen we have now, I said, the second form of government and the second\ntype of character?\n\nWe have.\n\nNext, let us look at another man who, as Aeschylus says,\n\n    Is set over against another State;\n\nor rather, as our plan requires, begin with the State.\n\nBy all means.\n\nI believe that oligarchy follows next in order.\n\nAnd what manner of government do you term oligarchy?\n\nA government resting on a valuation of property, in which the rich have\npower and the poor man is deprived of it.\n\nI understand, he replied.\n\nOught I not to begin by describing how the change from timocracy to\noligarchy arises?\n\nYes.\n\nWell, I said, no eyes are required in order to see how the one passes\ninto the other.\n\nHow?\n\nThe accumulation of gold in the treasury of private individuals is ruin\nthe of timocracy; they invent illegal modes of expenditure; for what do\nthey or their wives care about the law?\n\nYes, indeed.\n\nAnd then one, seeing another grow rich, seeks to rival him, and thus\nthe great mass of the citizens become lovers of money.\n\nLikely enough.\n\nAnd so they grow richer and richer, and the more they think of making a\nfortune the less they think of virtue; for when riches and virtue are\nplaced together in the scales of the balance, the one always rises as\nthe other falls.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd in proportion as riches and rich men are honoured in the State,\nvirtue and the virtuous are dishonoured.\n\nClearly.\n\nAnd what is honoured is cultivated, and that which has no honour is\nneglected.\n\nThat is obvious.\n\nAnd so at last, instead of loving contention and glory, men become\nlovers of trade and money; they honour and look up to the rich man, and\nmake a ruler of him, and dishonour the poor man.\n\nThey do so.\n\nThey next proceed to make a law which fixes a sum of money as the\nqualification of citizenship; the sum is higher in one place and lower\nin another, as the oligarchy is more or less exclusive; and they allow\nno one whose property falls below the amount fixed to have any share in\nthe government.  These changes in the constitution they effect by force\nof arms, if intimidation has not already done their work.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd this, speaking generally, is the way in which oligarchy is\nestablished.\n\nYes, he said; but what are the characteristics of this form of\ngovernment, and what are the defects of which we were speaking?\n\nFirst of all, I said, consider the nature of the qualification just\nthink what would happen if pilots were to be chosen according to their\nproperty, and a poor man were refused permission to steer, even though\nhe were a better pilot?\n\nYou mean that they would shipwreck?\n\nYes; and is not this true of the government of anything?\n\nI should imagine so.\n\nExcept a city?--or would you include a city?\n\nNay, he said, the case of a city is the strongest of all, inasmuch as\nthe rule of a city is the greatest and most difficult of all.\n\nThis, then, will be the first great defect of oligarchy?\n\nClearly.\n\nAnd here is another defect which is quite as bad.\n\nWhat defect?\n\nThe inevitable division:  such a State is not one, but two States, the\none of poor, the other of rich men; and they are living on the same\nspot and always conspiring against one another.\n\nThat, surely, is at least as bad.\n\nAnother discreditable feature is, that, for a like reason, they are\nincapable of carrying on any war.  Either they arm the multitude, and\nthen they are more afraid of them than of the enemy; or, if they do not\ncall them out in the hour of battle, they are oligarchs indeed, few to\nfight as they are few to rule.  And at the same time their fondness for\nmoney makes them unwilling to pay taxes.\n\nHow discreditable!\n\nAnd, as we said before, under such a constitution the same persons have\ntoo many callings--they are husbandmen, tradesmen, warriors, all in\none.  Does that look well?\n\nAnything but well.\n\nThere is another evil which is, perhaps, the greatest of all, and to\nwhich this State first begins to be liable.\n\nWhat evil?\n\nA man may sell all that he has, and another may acquire his property;\nyet after the sale he may dwell in the city of which he is no longer a\npart, being neither trader, nor artisan, nor horseman, nor hoplite, but\nonly a poor, helpless creature.\n\nYes, that is an evil which also first begins in this State.\n\nThe evil is certainly not prevented there; for oligarchies have both\nthe extremes of great wealth and utter poverty.\n\nTrue.\n\nBut think again:  In his wealthy days, while he was spending his money,\nwas a man of this sort a whit more good to the State for the purposes\nof citizenship?  Or did he only seem to be a member of the ruling body,\nalthough in truth he was neither ruler nor subject, but just a\nspendthrift?\n\nAs you say, he seemed to be a ruler, but was only a spendthrift.\n\nMay we not say that this is the drone in the house who is like the\ndrone in the honeycomb, and that the one is the plague of the city as\nthe other is of the hive?\n\nJust so, Socrates.\n\nAnd God has made the flying drones, Adeimantus, all without stings,\nwhereas of the walking drones he has made some without stings but\nothers have dreadful stings; of the stingless class are those who in\ntheir old age end as paupers; of the stingers come all the criminal\nclass, as they are termed.\n\nMost true, he said.\n\nClearly then, whenever you see paupers in a State, somewhere in that\nneighborhood there are hidden away thieves, and cutpurses and robbers\nof temples, and all sorts of malefactors.\n\nClearly.\n\nWell, I said, and in oligarchical States do you not find paupers?\n\nYes, he said; nearly everybody is a pauper who is not a ruler.\n\nAnd may we be so bold as to affirm that there are also many criminals\nto be found in them, rogues who have stings, and whom the authorities\nare careful to restrain by force?\n\nCertainly, we may be so bold.\n\nThe existence of such persons is to be attributed to want of education,\nill-training, and an evil constitution of the State?\n\nTrue.\n\nSuch, then, is the form and such are the evils of oligarchy; and there\nmay be many other evils.\n\nVery likely.\n\nThen oligarchy, or the form of government in which the rulers are\nelected for their wealth, may now be dismissed.  Let us next proceed to\nconsider the nature and origin of the individual who answers to this\nState.\n\nBy all means.\n\nDoes not the timocratical man change into the oligarchical on this wise?\n\nHow?\n\nA time arrives when the representative of timocracy has a son: at first\nhe begins by emulating his father and walking in his footsteps, but\npresently he sees him of a sudden foundering against the State as upon\na sunken reef, and he and all that he has is lost; he may have been a\ngeneral or some other high officer who is brought to trial under a\nprejudice raised by informers, and either put to death, or exiled, or\ndeprived of the privileges of a citizen, and all his property taken\nfrom him.\n\nNothing more likely.\n\nAnd the son has seen and known all this--he is a ruined man, and his\nfear has taught him to knock ambition and passion head-foremost from\nhis bosom's throne; humbled by poverty he takes to money-making and by\nmean and miserly savings and hard work gets a fortune together.  Is not\nsuch an one likely to seat the concupiscent and covetous element on the\nvacant throne and to suffer it to play the great king within him, girt\nwith tiara and chain and scimitar?\n\nMost true, he replied.\n\nAnd when he has made reason and spirit sit down on the ground\nobediently on either side of their sovereign, and taught them to know\ntheir place, he compels the one to think only of how lesser sums may be\nturned into larger ones, and will not allow the other to worship and\nadmire anything but riches and rich men, or to be ambitious of anything\nso much as the acquisition of wealth and the means of acquiring it.\n\nOf all changes, he said, there is none so speedy or so sure as the\nconversion of the ambitious youth into the avaricious one.\n\nAnd the avaricious, I said, is the oligarchical youth?\n\nYes, he said; at any rate the individual out of whom he came is like\nthe State out of which oligarchy came.\n\nLet us then consider whether there is any likeness between them.\n\nVery good.\n\nFirst, then, they resemble one another in the value which they set upon\nwealth?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAlso in their penurious, laborious character; the individual only\nsatisfies his necessary appetites, and confines his expenditure to\nthem; his other desires he subdues, under the idea that they are\nunprofitable.\n\nTrue.\n\nHe is a shabby fellow, who saves something out of everything and makes\na purse for himself; and this is the sort of man whom the vulgar\napplaud.  Is he not a true image of the State which he represents?\n\nHe appears to me to be so; at any rate money is highly valued by him as\nwell as by the State.\n\nYou see that he is not a man of cultivation, I said.\n\nI imagine not, he said; had he been educated he would never have made a\nblind god director of his chorus, or given him chief honour.\n\nExcellent!  I said.  Yet consider:  Must we not further admit that\nowing to this want of cultivation there will be found in him dronelike\ndesires as of pauper and rogue, which are forcibly kept down by his\ngeneral habit of life?\n\nTrue.\n\nDo you know where you will have to look if you want to discover his\nrogueries?\n\nWhere must I look?\n\nYou should see him where he has some great opportunity of acting\ndishonestly, as in the guardianship of an orphan.\n\nAye.\n\nIt will be clear enough then that in his ordinary dealings which give\nhim a reputation for honesty he coerces his bad passions by an enforced\nvirtue; not making them see that they are wrong, or taming them by\nreason, but by necessity and fear constraining them, and because he\ntrembles for his possessions.\n\nTo be sure.\n\nYes, indeed, my dear friend, but you will find that the natural desires\nof the drone commonly exist in him all the same whenever he has to\nspend what is not his own.\n\nYes, and they will be strong in him too.\n\nThe man, then, will be at war with himself; he will be two men, and not\none; but, in general, his better desires will be found to prevail over\nhis inferior ones.\n\nTrue.\n\nFor these reasons such an one will be more respectable than most\npeople; yet the true virtue of a unanimous and harmonious soul will\nflee far away and never come near him.\n\nI should expect so.\n\nAnd surely, the miser individually will be an ignoble competitor in a\nState for any prize of victory, or other object of honourable ambition;\nhe will not spend his money in the contest for glory; so afraid is he\nof awakening his expensive appetites and inviting them to help and join\nin the struggle; in true oligarchical fashion he fights with a small\npart only of his resources, and the result commonly is that he loses\nthe prize and saves his money.\n\nVery true.\n\nCan we any longer doubt, then, that the miser and money-maker answers\nto the oligarchical State?\n\nThere can be no doubt.\n\nNext comes democracy; of this the origin and nature have still to be\nconsidered by us; and then we will enquire into the ways of the\ndemocratic man, and bring him up for judgement.\n\nThat, he said, is our method.\n\nWell, I said, and how does the change from oligarchy into democracy\narise?  Is it not on this wise?--The good at which such a State alms is\nto become as rich as possible, a desire which is insatiable?\n\nWhat then?\n\nThe rulers, being aware that their power rests upon their wealth,\nrefuse to curtail by law the extravagance of the spendthrift youth\nbecause they gain by their ruin; they take interest from them and buy\nup their estates and thus increase their own wealth and importance?\n\nTo be sure.\n\nThere can be no doubt that the love of wealth and the spirit of\nmoderation cannot exist together in citizens of the same State to any\nconsiderable extent; one or the other will be disregarded.\n\nThat is tolerably clear.\n\nAnd in oligarchical States, from the general spread of carelessness and\nextravagance, men of good family have often been reduced to beggary?\n\nYes, often.\n\nAnd still they remain in the city; there they are, ready to sting and\nfully armed, and some of them owe money, some have forfeited their\ncitizenship; a third class are in both predicaments; and they hate and\nconspire against those who have got their property, and against\neverybody else, and are eager for revolution.\n\nThat is true.\n\nOn the other hand, the men of business, stooping as they walk, and\npretending not even to see those whom they have already ruined, insert\ntheir sting--that is, their money--into some one else who is not on his\nguard against them, and recover the parent sum many times over\nmultiplied into a family of children:  and so they make drone and\npauper to abound in the State.\n\nYes, he said, there are plenty of them--that is certain.\n\nThe evil blazes up like a fire; and they will not extinguish it, either\nby restricting a man's use of his own property, or by another remedy:\n\nWhat other?\n\nOne which is the next best, and has the advantage of compelling the\ncitizens to look to their characters:--Let there be a general rule that\nevery one shall enter into voluntary contracts at his own risk, and\nthere will be less of this scandalous money-making, and the evils of\nwhich we were speaking will be greatly lessened in the State.\n\nYes, they will be greatly lessened.\n\nAt present the governors, induced by the motives which I have named,\ntreat their subjects badly; while they and their adherents, especially\nthe young men of the governing class, are habituated to lead a life of\nluxury and idleness both of body and mind; they do nothing, and are\nincapable of resisting either pleasure or pain.\n\nVery true.\n\nThey themselves care only for making money, and are as indifferent as\nthe pauper to the cultivation of virtue.\n\nYes, quite as indifferent.\n\nSuch is the state of affairs which prevails among them.  And often\nrulers and their subjects may come in one another's way, whether on a\npilgrimage or a march, as fellow-soldiers or fellow-sailors; aye, and\nthey may observe the behaviour of each other in the very moment of\ndanger--for where danger is, there is no fear that the poor will be\ndespised by the rich--and very likely the wiry sunburnt poor man may be\nplaced in battle at the side of a wealthy one who has never spoilt his\ncomplexion and has plenty of superfluous flesh--when he sees such an\none puffing and at his wit's end, how can he avoid drawing the\nconclusion that men like him are only rich because no one has the\ncourage to despoil them?  And when they meet in private will not people\nbe saying to one another 'Our warriors are not good for much'?\n\nYes, he said, I am quite aware that this is their way of talking.\n\nAnd, as in a body which is diseased the addition of a touch from\nwithout may bring on illness, and sometimes even when there is no\nexternal provocation a commotion may arise within-in the same way\nwherever there is weakness in the State there is also likely to be\nillness, of which the occasions may be very slight, the one party\nintroducing from without their oligarchical, the other their\ndemocratical allies, and then the State falls sick, and is at war with\nherself; and may be at times distracted, even when there is no external\ncause.\n\nYes, surely.\n\nAnd then democracy comes into being after the poor have conquered their\nopponents, slaughtering some and banishing some, while to the remainder\nthey give an equal share of freedom and power; and this is the form of\ngovernment in which the magistrates are commonly elected by lot.\n\nYes, he said, that is the nature of democracy, whether the revolution\nhas been effected by arms, or whether fear has caused the opposite\nparty to withdraw.\n\nAnd now what is their manner of life, and what sort of a government\nhave they? for as the government is, such will be the man.\n\nClearly, he said.\n\nIn the first place, are they not free; and is not the city full of\nfreedom and frankness--a man may say and do what he likes?\n\n'Tis said so, he replied.\n\nAnd where freedom is, the individual is clearly able to order for\nhimself his own life as he pleases?\n\nClearly.\n\nThen in this kind of State there will be the greatest variety of human\nnatures?\n\nThere will.\n\nThis, then, seems likely to be the fairest of States, being an\nembroidered robe which is spangled with every sort of flower.  And just\nas women and children think a variety of colours to be of all things\nmost charming, so there are many men to whom this State, which is\nspangled with the manners and characters of mankind, will appear to be\nthe fairest of States.\n\nYes.\n\nYes, my good Sir, and there will be no better in which to look for a\ngovernment.\n\nWhy?\n\nBecause of the liberty which reigns there--they have a complete\nassortment of constitutions; and he who has a mind to establish a\nState, as we have been doing, must go to a democracy as he would to a\nbazaar at which they sell them, and pick out the one that suits him;\nthen, when he has made his choice, he may found his State.\n\nHe will be sure to have patterns enough.\n\nAnd there being no necessity, I said, for you to govern in this State,\neven if you have the capacity, or to be governed, unless you like, or\ngo to war when the rest go to war, or to be at peace when others are at\npeace, unless you are so disposed--there being no necessity also,\nbecause some law forbids you to hold office or be a dicast, that you\nshould not hold office or be a dicast, if you have a fancy--is not this\na way of life which for the moment is supremely delightful\n\nFor the moment, yes.\n\nAnd is not their humanity to the condemned in some cases quite\ncharming?  Have you not observed how, in a democracy, many persons,\nalthough they have been sentenced to death or exile, just stay where\nthey are and walk about the world--the gentleman parades like a hero,\nand nobody sees or cares?\n\nYes, he replied, many and many a one.\n\nSee too, I said, the forgiving spirit of democracy, and the 'don't\ncare' about trifles, and the disregard which she shows of all the fine\nprinciples which we solemnly laid down at the foundation of the\ncity--as when we said that, except in the case of some rarely gifted\nnature, there never will be a good man who has not from his childhood\nbeen used to play amid things of beauty and make of them a joy and a\nstudy--how grandly does she trample all these fine notions of ours\nunder her feet, never giving a thought to the pursuits which make a\nstatesman, and promoting to honour any one who professes to be the\npeople's friend.\n\nYes, she is of a noble spirit.\n\nThese and other kindred characteristics are proper to democracy, which\nis a charming form of government, full of variety and disorder, and\ndispensing a sort of equality to equals and unequals alike.\n\nWe know her well.\n\nConsider now, I said, what manner of man the individual is, or rather\nconsider, as in the case of the State, how he comes into being.\n\nVery good, he said.\n\nIs not this the way--he is the son of the miserly and oligarchical\nfather who has trained him in his own habits?\n\nExactly.\n\nAnd, like his father, he keeps under by force the pleasures which are\nof the spending and not of the getting sort, being those which are\ncalled unnecessary?\n\nObviously.\n\nWould you like, for the sake of clearness, to distinguish which are the\nnecessary and which are the unnecessary pleasures?\n\nI should.\n\nAre not necessary pleasures those of which we cannot get rid, and of\nwhich the satisfaction is a benefit to us?  And they are rightly so,\nbecause we are framed by nature to desire both what is beneficial and\nwhat is necessary, and cannot help it.\n\nTrue.\n\nWe are not wrong therefore in calling them necessary?\n\nWe are not.\n\nAnd the desires of which a man may get rid, if he takes pains from his\nyouth upwards--of which the presence, moreover, does no good, and in\nsome cases the reverse of good--shall we not be right in saying that\nall these are unnecessary?\n\nYes, certainly.\n\nSuppose we select an example of either kind, in order that we may have\na general notion of them?\n\nVery good.\n\nWill not the desire of eating, that is, of simple food and condiments,\nin so far as they are required for health and strength, be of the\nnecessary class?\n\nThat is what I should suppose.\n\nThe pleasure of eating is necessary in two ways; it does us good and it\nis essential to the continuance of life?\n\nYes.\n\nBut the condiments are only necessary in so far as they are good for\nhealth?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd the desire which goes beyond this, or more delicate food, or other\nluxuries, which might generally be got rid of, if controlled and\ntrained in youth, and is hurtful to the body, and hurtful to the soul\nin the pursuit of wisdom and virtue, may be rightly called unnecessary?\n\nVery true.\n\nMay we not say that these desires spend, and that the others make money\nbecause they conduce to production?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd of the pleasures of love, and all other pleasures, the same holds\ngood?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd the drone of whom we spoke was he who was surfeited in pleasures\nand desires of this sort, and was the slave of the unnecessary desires,\nwhereas he who was subject o the necessary only was miserly and\noligarchical?\n\nVery true.\n\nAgain, let us see how the democratical man grows out of the\noligarchical: the following, as I suspect, is commonly the process.\n\nWhat is the process?\n\nWhen a young man who has been brought up as we were just now\ndescribing, in a vulgar and miserly way, has tasted drones' honey and\nhas come to associate with fierce and crafty natures who are able to\nprovide for him all sorts of refinements and varieties of\npleasure--then, as you may imagine, the change will begin of the\noligarchical principle within him into the democratical?\n\nInevitably.\n\nAnd as in the city like was helping like, and the change was effected\nby an alliance from without assisting one division of the citizens, so\ntoo the young man is changed by a class of desires coming from without\nto assist the desires within him, that which is and alike again helping\nthat which is akin and alike?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd if there be any ally which aids the oligarchical principle within\nhim, whether the influence of a father or of kindred, advising or\nrebuking him, then there arises in his soul a faction and an opposite\nfaction, and he goes to war with himself.\n\nIt must be so.\n\nAnd there are times when the democratical principle gives way to the\noligarchical, and some of his desires die, and others are banished; a\nspirit of reverence enters into the young man's soul and order is\nrestored.\n\nYes, he said, that sometimes happens.\n\nAnd then, again, after the old desires have been driven out, fresh ones\nspring up, which are akin to them, and because he, their father, does\nnot know how to educate them, wax fierce and numerous.\n\nYes, he said, that is apt to be the way.\n\nThey draw him to his old associates, and holding secret intercourse\nwith them, breed and multiply in him.\n\nVery true.\n\nAt length they seize upon the citadel of the young man's soul, which\nthey perceive to be void of all accomplishments and fair pursuits and\ntrue words, which make their abode in the minds of men who are dear to\nthe gods, and are their best guardians and sentinels.\n\nNone better.\n\nFalse and boastful conceits and phrases mount upwards and take their\nplace.\n\nThey are certain to do so.\n\nAnd so the young man returns into the country of the lotus-eaters, and\ntakes up his dwelling there in the face of all men; and if any help be\nsent by his friends to the oligarchical part of him, the aforesaid vain\nconceits shut the gate of the king's fastness; and they will neither\nallow the embassy itself to enter, private if private advisers offer\nthe fatherly counsel of the aged will they listen to them or receive\nthem.  There is a battle and they gain the day, and then modesty, which\nthey call silliness, is ignominiously thrust into exile by them, and\ntemperance, which they nickname unmanliness, is trampled in the mire\nand cast forth; they persuade men that moderation and orderly\nexpenditure are vulgarity and meanness, and so, by the help of a rabble\nof evil appetites, they drive them beyond the border.\n\nYes, with a will.\n\nAnd when they have emptied and swept clean the soul of him who is now\nin their power and who is being initiated by them in great mysteries,\nthe next thing is to bring back to their house insolence and anarchy\nand waste and impudence in bright array having garlands on their heads,\nand a great company with them, hymning their praises and calling them\nby sweet names; insolence they term breeding, and anarchy liberty, and\nwaste magnificence, and impudence courage.  And so the young man passes\nout of his original nature, which was trained in the school of\nnecessity, into the freedom and libertinism of useless and unnecessary\npleasures.\n\nYes, he said, the change in him is visible enough.\n\nAfter this he lives on, spending his money and labour and time on\nunnecessary pleasures quite as much as on necessary ones; but if he be\nfortunate, and is not too much disordered in his wits, when years have\nelapsed, and the heyday of passion is over--supposing that he then\nre-admits into the city some part of the exiled virtues, and does not\nwholly give himself up to their successors--in that case he balances\nhis pleasures and lives in a sort of equilibrium, putting the\ngovernment of himself into the hands of the one which comes first and\nwins the turn; and when he has had enough of that, then into the hands\nof another; he despises none of them but encourages them all equally.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nNeither does he receive or let pass into the fortress any true word of\nadvice; if any one says to him that some pleasures are the\nsatisfactions of good and noble desires, and others of evil desires,\nand that he ought to use and honour some and chastise and master the\nothers--whenever this is repeated to him he shakes his head and says\nthat they are all alike, and that one is as good as another.\n\nYes, he said; that is the way with him.\n\nYes, I said, he lives from day to day indulging the appetite of the\nhour; and sometimes he is lapped in drink and strains of the flute;\nthen he becomes a water-drinker, and tries to get thin; then he takes a\nturn at gymnastics; sometimes idling and neglecting everything, then\nonce more living the life of a philosopher; often he-is busy with\npolitics, and starts to his feet and says and does whatever comes into\nhis head; and, if he is emulous of any one who is a warrior, off he is\nin that direction, or of men of business, once more in that.  His life\nhas neither law nor order; and this distracted existence he terms joy\nand bliss and freedom; and so he goes on.\n\nYes, he replied, he is all liberty and equality.\n\nYes, I said; his life is motley and manifold and an epitome of the\nlives of many;--he answers to the State which we described as fair and\nspangled.  And many a man and many a woman will take him for their\npattern, and many a constitution and many an example of manners is\ncontained in him.\n\nJust so.\n\nLet him then be set over against democracy; he may truly be called the\ndemocratic man.\n\nLet that be his place, he said.\n\nLast of all comes the most beautiful of all, man and State alike,\ntyranny and the tyrant; these we have now to consider.\n\nQuite true, he said.\n\nSay then, my friend, in what manner does tyranny arise?--that it has a\ndemocratic origin is evident.\n\nClearly.\n\nAnd does not tyranny spring from democracy in the same manner as\ndemocracy from oligarchy--I mean, after a sort?\n\nHow?\n\nThe good which oligarchy proposed to itself and the means by which it\nwas maintained was excess of wealth--am I not right?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the insatiable desire of wealth and the neglect of all other things\nfor the sake of money-getting was also the ruin of oligarchy?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd democracy has her own good, of which the insatiable desire brings\nher to dissolution?\n\nWhat good?\n\nFreedom, I replied; which, as they tell you in a democracy, is the\nglory of the State--and that therefore in a democracy alone will the\nfreeman of nature deign to dwell.\n\nYes; the saying is in everybody's mouth.\n\nI was going to observe, that the insatiable desire of this and the\nneglect of other things introduces the change in democracy, which\noccasions a demand for tyranny.\n\nHow so?\n\nWhen a democracy which is thirsting for freedom has evil cupbearers\npresiding over the feast, and has drunk too deeply of the strong wine\nof freedom, then, unless her rulers are very amenable and give a\nplentiful draught, she calls them to account and punishes them, and\nsays that they are cursed oligarchs.\n\nYes, he replied, a very common occurrence.\n\nYes, I said; and loyal citizens are insultingly termed by her slaves\nwho hug their chains and men of naught; she would have subjects who are\nlike rulers, and rulers who are like subjects: these are men after her\nown heart, whom she praises and honours both in private and public.\nNow, in such a State, can liberty have any limit?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nBy degrees the anarchy finds a way into private houses, and ends by\ngetting among the animals and infecting them.\n\nHow do you mean?\n\nI mean that the father grows accustomed to descend to the level of his\nsons and to fear them, and the son is on a level with his father, he\nhaving no respect or reverence for either of his parents; and this is\nhis freedom, and metic is equal with the citizen and the citizen with\nthe metic, and the stranger is quite as good as either.\n\nYes, he said, that is the way.\n\nAnd these are not the only evils, I said--there are several lesser\nones: In such a state of society the master fears and flatters his\nscholars, and the scholars despise their masters and tutors; young and\nold are all alike; and the young man is on a level with the old, and is\nready to compete with him in word or deed; and old men condescend to\nthe young and are full of pleasantry and gaiety; they are loth to be\nthought morose and authoritative, and therefore they adopt the manners\nof the young.\n\nQuite true, he said.\n\nThe last extreme of popular liberty is when the slave bought with\nmoney, whether male or female, is just as free as his or her purchaser;\nnor must I forget to tell of the liberty and equality of the two sexes\nin relation to each other.\n\nWhy not, as Aeschylus says, utter the word which rises to our lips?\n\nThat is what I am doing, I replied; and I must add that no one who does\nnot know would believe, how much greater is the liberty which the\nanimals who are under the dominion of man have in a democracy than in\nany other State:  for truly, the she-dogs, as the proverb says, are as\ngood as their she-mistresses, and the horses and asses have a way of\nmarching along with all the rights and dignities of freemen; and they\nwill run at anybody who comes in their way if he does not leave the\nroad clear for them:  and all things are just ready to burst with\nliberty.\n\nWhen I take a country walk, he said, I often experience what you\ndescribe.  You and I have dreamed the same thing.\n\nAnd above all, I said, and as the result of all, see how sensitive the\ncitizens become; they chafe impatiently at the least touch of authority\nand at length, as you know, they cease to care even for the laws,\nwritten or unwritten; they will have no one over them.\n\nYes, he said, I know it too well.\n\nSuch, my friend, I said, is the fair and glorious beginning out of\nwhich springs tyranny.\n\nGlorious indeed, he said.  But what is the next step?\n\nThe ruin of oligarchy is the ruin of democracy; the same disease\nmagnified and intensified by liberty overmasters democracy--the truth\nbeing that the excessive increase of anything often causes a reaction\nin the opposite direction; and this is the case not only in the seasons\nand in vegetable and animal life, but above all in forms of government.\n\nTrue.\n\nThe excess of liberty, whether in States or individuals, seems only to\npass into excess of slavery.\n\nYes, the natural order.\n\nAnd so tyranny naturally arises out of democracy, and the most\naggravated form of tyranny and slavery out of the most extreme form of\nliberty?\n\nAs we might expect.\n\nThat, however, was not, as I believe, your question-you rather desired\nto know what is that disorder which is generated alike in oligarchy and\ndemocracy, and is the ruin of both?\n\nJust so, he replied.\n\nWell, I said, I meant to refer to the class of idle spendthrifts, of\nwhom the more courageous are the-leaders and the more timid the\nfollowers, the same whom we were comparing to drones, some stingless,\nand others having stings.\n\nA very just comparison.\n\nThese two classes are the plagues of every city in which they are\ngenerated, being what phlegm and bile are to the body.  And the good\nphysician and lawgiver of the State ought, like the wise bee-master, to\nkeep them at a distance and prevent, if possible, their ever coming in;\nand if they have anyhow found a way in, then he should have them and\ntheir cells cut out as speedily as possible.\n\nYes, by all means, he said.\n\nThen, in order that we may see clearly what we are doing, let us\nimagine democracy to be divided, as indeed it is, into three classes;\nfor in the first place freedom creates rather more drones in the\ndemocratic than there were in the oligarchical State.\n\nThat is true.\n\nAnd in the democracy they are certainly more intensified.\n\nHow so?\n\nBecause in the oligarchical State they are disqualified and driven from\noffice, and therefore they cannot train or gather strength; whereas in\na democracy they are almost the entire ruling power, and while the\nkeener sort speak and act, the rest keep buzzing about the bema and do\nnot suffer a word to be said on the other side; hence in democracies\nalmost everything is managed by the drones.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nThen there is another class which is always being severed from the mass.\n\nWhat is that?\n\nThey are the orderly class, which in a nation of traders sure to be the\nrichest.\n\nNaturally so.\n\nThey are the most squeezable persons and yield the largest amount of\nhoney to the drones.\n\nWhy, he said, there is little to be squeezed out of people who have\nlittle.\n\nAnd this is called the wealthy class, and the drones feed upon them.\n\nThat is pretty much the case, he said.\n\nThe people are a third class, consisting of those who work with their\nown hands; they are not politicians, and have not much to live upon.\nThis, when assembled, is the largest and most powerful class in a\ndemocracy.\n\nTrue, he said; but then the multitude is seldom willing to congregate\nunless they get a little honey.\n\nAnd do they not share?  I said.  Do not their leaders deprive the rich\nof their estates and distribute them among the people; at the same time\ntaking care to reserve the larger part for themselves?\n\nWhy, yes, he said, to that extent the people do share.\n\nAnd the persons whose property is taken from them are compelled to\ndefend themselves before the people as they best can?\n\nWhat else can they do?\n\nAnd then, although they may have no desire of change, the others charge\nthem with plotting against the people and being friends of oligarchy?\nTrue.\n\nAnd the end is that when they see the people, not of their own accord,\nbut through ignorance, and because they are deceived by informers,\nseeking to do them wrong, then at last they are forced to become\noligarchs in reality; they do not wish to be, but the sting of the\ndrones torments them and breeds revolution in them.\n\nThat is exactly the truth.\n\nThen come impeachments and judgments and trials of one another.\n\nTrue.\n\nThe people have always some champion whom they set over them and nurse\ninto greatness.\n\nYes, that is their way.\n\nThis and no other is the root from which a tyrant springs; when he\nfirst appears above ground he is a protector.\n\nYes, that is quite clear.\n\nHow then does a protector begin to change into a tyrant?  Clearly when\nhe does what the man is said to do in the tale of the Arcadian temple\nof Lycaean Zeus.\n\nWhat tale?\n\nThe tale is that he who has tasted the entrails of a single human\nvictim minced up with the entrails of other victims is destined to\nbecome a wolf.  Did you never hear it?\n\nOh, yes.\n\nAnd the protector of the people is like him; having a mob entirely at\nhis disposal, he is not restrained from shedding the blood of kinsmen;\nby the favourite method of false accusation he brings them into court\nand murders them, making the life of man to disappear, and with unholy\ntongue and lips tasting the blood of his fellow citizen; some he kills\nand others he banishes, at the same time hinting at the abolition of\ndebts and partition of lands:  and after this, what will be his\ndestiny?  Must he not either perish at the hands of his enemies, or\nfrom being a man become a wolf--that is, a tyrant?\n\nInevitably.\n\nThis, I said, is he who begins to make a party against the rich?\n\nThe same.\n\nAfter a while he is driven out, but comes back, in spite of his\nenemies, a tyrant full grown.\n\nThat is clear.\n\nAnd if they are unable to expel him, or to get him condemned to death\nby a public accusation, they conspire to assassinate him.\n\nYes, he said, that is their usual way.\n\nThen comes the famous request for a bodyguard, which is the device of\nall those who have got thus far in their tyrannical career--'Let not\nthe people's friend,' as they say, 'be lost to them.'\n\nExactly.\n\nThe people readily assent; all their fears are for him--they have none\nfor themselves.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd when a man who is wealthy and is also accused of being an enemy of\nthe people sees this, then, my friend, as the oracle said to Croesus,\n\n    By pebbly Hermus' shore he flees and rests not and is not\n    ashamed to be a coward.\n\nAnd quite right too, said he, for if he were, he would never be ashamed\nagain.\n\nBut if he is caught he dies.\n\nOf course.\n\nAnd he, the protector of whom we spoke, is to be seen, not 'larding the\nplain' with his bulk, but himself the overthrower of many, standing up\nin the chariot of State with the reins in his hand, no longer\nprotector, but tyrant absolute.\n\nNo doubt, he said.\n\nAnd now let us consider the happiness of the man, and also of the State\nin which a creature like him is generated.\n\nYes, he said, let us consider that.\n\nAt first, in the early days of his power, he is full of smiles, and he\nsalutes every one whom he meets;--he to be called a tyrant, who is\nmaking promises in public and also in private! liberating debtors, and\ndistributing land to the people and his followers, and wanting to be so\nkind and good to every one!\n\nOf course, he said.\n\nBut when he has disposed of foreign enemies by conquest or treaty, and\nthere is nothing to fear from them, then he is always stirring up some\nwar or other, in order that the people may require a leader.\n\nTo be sure.\n\nHas he not also another object, which is that they may be impoverished\nby payment of taxes, and thus compelled to devote themselves to their\ndaily wants and therefore less likely to conspire against him?  Clearly.\n\nAnd if any of them are suspected by him of having notions of freedom,\nand of resistance to his authority, he will have a good pretext for\ndestroying them by placing them at the mercy of the enemy; and for all\nthese reasons the tyrant must be always getting up a war.\n\nHe must.\n\nNow he begins to grow unpopular.\n\nA necessary result.\n\nThen some of those who joined in setting him up, and who are in power,\nspeak their minds to him and to one another, and the more courageous of\nthem cast in his teeth what is being done.\n\nYes, that may be expected.\n\nAnd the tyrant, if he means to rule, must get rid of them; he cannot\nstop while he has a friend or an enemy who is good for anything.\n\nHe cannot.\n\nAnd therefore he must look about him and see who is valiant, who is\nhigh-minded, who is wise, who is wealthy; happy man, he is the enemy of\nthem all, and must seek occasion against them whether he will or no,\nuntil he has made a purgation of the State.\n\nYes, he said, and a rare purgation.\n\nYes, I said, not the sort of purgation which the physicians make of the\nbody; for they take away the worse and leave the better part, but he\ndoes the reverse.\n\nIf he is to rule, I suppose that he cannot help himself.\n\nWhat a blessed alternative, I said:--to be compelled to dwell only with\nthe many bad, and to be by them hated, or not to live at all!\n\nYes, that is the alternative.\n\nAnd the more detestable his actions are to the citizens the more\nsatellites and the greater devotion in them will he require?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd who are the devoted band, and where will he procure them?\n\nThey will flock to him, he said, of their own accord, if lie pays them.\n\nBy the dog!  I said, here are more drones, of every sort and from every\nland.\n\nYes, he said, there are.\n\nBut will he not desire to get them on the spot?\n\nHow do you mean?\n\nHe will rob the citizens of their slaves; he will then set them free\nand enrol them in his bodyguard.\n\nTo be sure, he said; and he will be able to trust them best of all.\n\nWhat a blessed creature, I said, must this tyrant be; he has put to\ndeath the others and has these for his trusted friends.\n\nYes, he said; they are quite of his sort.\n\nYes, I said, and these are the new citizens whom he has called into\nexistence, who admire him and are his companions, while the good hate\nand avoid him.\n\nOf course.\n\nVerily, then, tragedy is a wise thing and Euripides a great tragedian.\n\nWhy so?\n\nWhy, because he is the author of the pregnant saying,\n\n    Tyrants are wise by living with the wise;\n\nand he clearly meant to say that they are the wise whom the tyrant\nmakes his companions.\n\nYes, he said, and he also praises tyranny as godlike; and many other\nthings of the same kind are said by him and by the other poets.\n\nAnd therefore, I said, the tragic poets being wise men will forgive us\nand any others who live after our manner if we do not receive them into\nour State, because they are the eulogists of tyranny.\n\nYes, he said, those who have the wit will doubtless forgive us.\n\nBut they will continue to go to other cities and attract mobs, and hire\nvoices fair and loud and persuasive, and draw the cities over to\ntyrannies and democracies.\n\nVery true.\n\nMoreover, they are paid for this and receive honour--the greatest\nhonour, as might be expected, from tyrants, and the next greatest from\ndemocracies; but the higher they ascend our constitution hill, the more\ntheir reputation fails, and seems unable from shortness of breath to\nproceed further.\n\nTrue.\n\nBut we are wandering from the subject:  Let us therefore return and\nenquire how the tyrant will maintain that fair and numerous and various\nand ever-changing army of his.\n\nIf, he said, there are sacred treasures in the city, he will confiscate\nand spend them; and in so far as the fortunes of attainted persons may\nsuffice, he will be able to diminish the taxes which he would otherwise\nhave to impose upon the people.\n\nAnd when these fail?\n\nWhy, clearly, he said, then he and his boon companions, whether male or\nfemale, will be maintained out of his father's estate.\n\nYou mean to say that the people, from whom he has derived his being,\nwill maintain him and his companions?\n\nYes, he said; they cannot help themselves.\n\nBut what if the people fly into a passion, and aver that a grown-up son\nought not to be supported by his father, but that the father should be\nsupported by the son?  The father did not bring him into being, or\nsettle him in life, in order that when his son became a man he should\nhimself be the servant of his own servants and should support him and\nhis rabble of slaves and companions; but that his son should protect\nhim, and that by his help he might be emancipated from the government\nof the rich and aristocratic, as they are termed.  And so he bids him\nand his companions depart, just as any other father might drive out of\nthe house a riotous son and his undesirable associates.\n\nBy heaven, he said, then the parent will discover what a monster he has\nbeen fostering in his bosom; and, when he wants to drive him out, he\nwill find that he is weak and his son strong.\n\nWhy, you do not mean to say that the tyrant will use violence?  What!\nbeat his father if he opposes him?\n\nYes, he will, having first disarmed him.\n\nThen he is a parricide, and a cruel guardian of an aged parent; and\nthis is real tyranny, about which there can be no longer a mistake: as\nthe saying is, the people who would escape the smoke which is the\nslavery of freemen, has fallen into the fire which is the tyranny of\nslaves.  Thus liberty, getting out of all order and reason, passes into\nthe harshest and bitterest form of slavery.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nVery well; and may we not rightly say that we have sufficiently\ndiscussed the nature of tyranny, and the manner of the transition from\ndemocracy to tyranny?\n\nYes, quite enough, he said.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK IX\n\n\nSOCRATES - ADEIMANTUS\n\nLAST of all comes the tyrannical man; about whom we have once more to\nask, how is he formed out of the democratical? and how does he live, in\nhappiness or in misery?\n\nYes, he said, he is the only one remaining.\n\nThere is, however, I said, a previous question which remains unanswered.\n\nWhat question?\n\nI do not think that we have adequately determined the nature and number\nof the appetites, and until this is accomplished the enquiry will\nalways be confused.\n\nWell, he said, it is not too late to supply the omission.\n\nVery true, I said; and observe the point which I want to understand:\nCertain of the unnecessary pleasures and appetites I conceive to be\nunlawful; every one appears to have them, but in some persons they are\ncontrolled by the laws and by reason, and the better desires prevail\nover them-either they are wholly banished or they become few and weak;\nwhile in the case of others they are stronger, and there are more of\nthem.\n\nWhich appetites do you mean?\n\nI mean those which are awake when the reasoning and human and ruling\npower is asleep; then the wild beast within us, gorged with meat or\ndrink, starts up and having shaken off sleep, goes forth to satisfy his\ndesires; and there is no conceivable folly or crime--not excepting\nincest or any other unnatural union, or parricide, or the eating of\nforbidden food--which at such a time, when he has parted company with\nall shame and sense, a man may not be ready to commit.\n\nMost true, he said.\n\nBut when a man's pulse is healthy and temperate, and when before going\nto sleep he has awakened his rational powers, and fed them on noble\nthoughts and enquiries, collecting himself in meditation; after having\nfirst indulged his appetites neither too much nor too little, but just\nenough to lay them to sleep, and prevent them and their enjoyments and\npains from interfering with the higher principle--which he leaves in\nthe solitude of pure abstraction, free to contemplate and aspire to the\nknowledge of the unknown, whether in past, present, or future:  when\nagain he has allayed the passionate element, if he has a quarrel\nagainst any one--I say, when, after pacifying the two irrational\nprinciples, he rouses up the third, which is reason, before he takes\nhis rest, then, as you know, he attains truth most nearly, and is least\nlikely to be the sport of fantastic and lawless visions.\n\nI quite agree.\n\nIn saying this I have been running into a digression; but the point\nwhich I desire to note is that in all of us, even in good men, there is\na lawless wild-beast nature, which peers out in sleep.  Pray, consider\nwhether I am right, and you agree with me.\n\nYes, I agree.\n\nAnd now remember the character which we attributed to the democratic\nman.  He was supposed from his youth upwards to have been trained under\na miserly parent, who encouraged the saving appetites in him, but\ndiscountenanced the unnecessary, which aim only at amusement and\nornament?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd then he got into the company of a more refined, licentious sort of\npeople, and taking to all their wanton ways rushed into the opposite\nextreme from an abhorrence of his father's meanness.  At last, being a\nbetter man than his corruptors, he was drawn in both directions until\nhe halted midway and led a life, not of vulgar and slavish passion, but\nof what he deemed moderate indulgence in various pleasures.  After this\nmanner the democrat was generated out of the oligarch?\n\nYes, he said; that was our view of him, and is so still.\n\nAnd now, I said, years will have passed away, and you must conceive\nthis man, such as he is, to have a son, who is brought up in his\nfather's principles.\n\nI can imagine him.\n\nThen you must further imagine the same thing to happen to the son which\nhas already happened to the father:--he is drawn into a perfectly\nlawless life, which by his seducers is termed perfect liberty; and his\nfather and friends take part with his moderate desires, and the\nopposite party assist the opposite ones.  As soon as these dire\nmagicians and tyrant-makers find that they are losing their hold on\nhim, they contrive to implant in him a master passion, to be lord over\nhis idle and spendthrift lusts--a sort of monstrous winged drone--that\nis the only image which will adequately describe him.\n\nYes, he said, that is the only adequate image of him.\n\nAnd when his other lusts, amid clouds of incense and perfumes and\ngarlands and wines, and all the pleasures of a dissolute life, now let\nloose, come buzzing around him, nourishing to the utmost the sting of\ndesire which they implant in his drone-like nature, then at last this\nlord of the soul, having Madness for the captain of his guard, breaks\nout into a frenzy:  and if he finds in himself any good opinions or\nappetites in process of formation, and there is in him any sense of\nshame remaining, to these better principles he puts an end, and casts\nthem forth until he has purged away temperance and brought in madness\nto the full.\n\nYes, he said, that is the way in which the tyrannical man is generated.\n\nAnd is not this the reason why of old love has been called a tyrant?\n\nI should not wonder.\n\nFurther, I said, has not a drunken man also the spirit of a tyrant?\n\nHe has.\n\nAnd you know that a man who is deranged and not right in his mind, will\nfancy that he is able to rule, not only over men, but also over the\ngods?\n\nThat he will.\n\nAnd the tyrannical man in the true sense of the word comes into being\nwhen, either under the influence of nature, or habit, or both, he\nbecomes drunken, lustful, passionate?  O my friend, is not that so?\n\nAssuredly.\n\nSuch is the man and such is his origin.  And next, how does he live?\n\nSuppose, as people facetiously say, you were to tell me.\n\nI imagine, I said, at the next step in his progress, that there will be\nfeasts and carousals and revellings and courtezans, and all that sort\nof thing; Love is the lord of the house within him, and orders all the\nconcerns of his soul.\n\nThat is certain.\n\nYes; and every day and every night desires grow up many and formidable,\nand their demands are many.\n\nThey are indeed, he said.\n\nHis revenues, if he has any, are soon spent.\n\nTrue.\n\nThen comes debt and the cutting down of his property.\n\nOf course.\n\nWhen he has nothing left, must not his desires, crowding in the nest\nlike young ravens, be crying aloud for food; and he, goaded on by them,\nand especially by love himself, who is in a manner the captain of them,\nis in a frenzy, and would fain discover whom he can defraud or despoil\nof his property, in order that he may gratify them?\n\nYes, that is sure to be the case.\n\nHe must have money, no matter how, if he is to escape horrid pains and\npangs.\n\nHe must.\n\nAnd as in himself there was a succession of pleasures, and the new got\nthe better of the old and took away their rights, so he being younger\nwill claim to have more than his father and his mother, and if he has\nspent his own share of the property, he will take a slice of theirs.\n\nNo doubt he will.\n\nAnd if his parents will not give way, then he will try first of all to\ncheat and deceive them.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd if he fails, then he will use force and plunder them.\n\nYes, probably.\n\nAnd if the old man and woman fight for their own, what then, my friend?\nWill the creature feel any compunction at tyrannizing over them?\n\nNay, he said, I should not feel at all comfortable about his parents.\n\nBut, O heavens!  Adeimantus, on account of some newfangled love of a\nharlot, who is anything but a necessary connection, can you believe\nthat he would strike the mother who is his ancient friend and necessary\nto his very existence, and would place her under the authority of the\nother, when she is brought under the same roof with her; or that, under\nlike circumstances, he would do the same to his withered old father,\nfirst and most indispensable of friends, for the sake of some newly\nfound blooming youth who is the reverse of indispensable?\n\nYes, indeed, he said; I believe that he would.\n\nTruly, then, I said, a tyrannical son is a blessing to his father and\nmother.\n\nHe is indeed, he replied.\n\nHe first takes their property, and when that falls, and pleasures are\nbeginning to swarm in the hive of his soul, then he breaks into a\nhouse, or steals the garments of some nightly wayfarer; next he\nproceeds to clear a temple.  Meanwhile the old opinions which he had\nwhen a child, and which gave judgment about good and evil, are\noverthrown by those others which have just been emancipated, and are\nnow the bodyguard of love and share his empire.  These in his\ndemocratic days, when he was still subject to the laws and to his\nfather, were only let loose in the dreams of sleep.  But now that he is\nunder the dominion of love, he becomes always and in waking reality\nwhat he was then very rarely and in a dream only; he will commit the\nfoulest murder, or eat forbidden food, or be guilty of any other horrid\nact.  Love is his tyrant, and lives lordly in him and lawlessly, and\nbeing himself a king, leads him on, as a tyrant leads a State, to the\nperformance of any reckless deed by which he can maintain himself and\nthe rabble of his associates, whether those whom evil communications\nhave brought in from without, or those whom he himself has allowed to\nbreak loose within him by reason of a similar evil nature in himself.\nHave we not here a picture of his way of life?\n\nYes, indeed, he said.\n\nAnd if there are only a few of them in the State, the rest of the\npeople are well disposed, they go away and become the bodyguard or\nmercenary soldiers of some other tyrant who may probably want them for\na war; and if there is no war, they stay at home and do many little\npieces of mischief in the city.\n\nWhat sort of mischief?\n\nFor example, they are the thieves, burglars, cutpurses, footpads,\nrobbers of temples, man-stealers of the community; or if they are able\nto speak they turn informers, and bear false witness, and take bribes.\n\nA small catalogue of evils, even if the perpetrators of them are few in\nnumber.\n\nYes, I said; but small and great are comparative terms, and all these\nthings, in the misery and evil which they inflict upon a State, do not\ncome within a thousand miles of the tyrant; when this noxious class and\ntheir followers grow numerous and become conscious of their strength,\nassisted by the infatuation of the people, they choose from among\nthemselves the one who has most of the tyrant in his own soul, and him\nthey create their tyrant.\n\nYes, he said, and he will be the most fit to be a tyrant.\n\nIf the people yield, well and good; but if they resist him, as he began\nby beating his own father and mother, so now, if he has the power, he\nbeats them, and will keep his dear old fatherland or motherland, as the\nCretans say, in subjection to his young retainers whom he has\nintroduced to be their rulers and masters.  This is the end of his\npassions and desires.\n\nExactly.\n\nWhen such men are only private individuals and before they get power,\nthis is their character; they associate entirely with their own\nflatterers or ready tools; or if they want anything from anybody, they\nin their turn are equally ready to bow down before them: they profess\nevery sort of affection for them; but when they have gained their point\nthey know them no more.\n\nYes, truly.\n\nThey are always either the masters or servants and never the friends of\nanybody; the tyrant never tastes of true freedom or friendship.\n\nCertainly not.\n\nAnd may we not rightly call such men treacherous?\n\nNo question.\n\nAlso they are utterly unjust, if we were right in our notion of justice?\n\nYes, he said, and we were perfectly right.\n\nLet us then sum up in a word, I said, the character of the worst man:\nhe is the waking reality of what we dreamed.\n\nMost true.\n\nAnd this is he who being by nature most of a tyrant bears rule, and the\nlonger he lives the more of a tyrant he becomes.\n\nSOCRATES - GLAUCON\n\nThat is certain, said Glaucon, taking his turn to answer.\n\nAnd will not he who has been shown to be the wickedest, be also the\nmost miserable? and he who has tyrannized longest and most, most\ncontinually and truly miserable; although this may not be the opinion\nof men in general?\n\nYes, he said, inevitably.\n\nAnd must not the tyrannical man be like the tyrannical, State, and the\ndemocratical man like the democratical State; and the same of the\nothers?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd as State is to State in virtue and happiness, so is man in relation\nto man?\n\nTo be sure.\n\nThen comparing our original city, which was under a king, and the city\nwhich is under a tyrant, how do they stand as to virtue?\n\nThey are the opposite extremes, he said, for one is the very best and\nthe other is the very worst.\n\nThere can be no mistake, I said, as to which is which, and therefore I\nwill at once enquire whether you would arrive at a similar decision\nabout their relative happiness and misery.  And here we must not allow\nourselves to be panic-stricken at the apparition of the tyrant, who is\nonly a unit and may perhaps have a few retainers about him; but let us\ngo as we ought into every corner of the city and look all about, and\nthen we will give our opinion.\n\nA fair invitation, he replied; and I see, as every one must, that a\ntyranny is the wretchedest form of government, and the rule of a king\nthe happiest.\n\nAnd in estimating the men too, may I not fairly make a like request,\nthat I should have a judge whose mind can enter into and see through\nhuman nature?  He must not be like a child who looks at the outside and\nis dazzled at the pompous aspect which the tyrannical nature assumes to\nthe beholder, but let him be one who has a clear insight.  May I\nsuppose that the judgment is given in the hearing of us all by one who\nis able to judge, and has dwelt in the same place with him, and been\npresent at his dally life and known him in his family relations, where\nhe may be seen stripped of his tragedy attire, and again in the hour of\npublic danger--he shall tell us about the happiness and misery of the\ntyrant when compared with other men?\n\nThat again, he said, is a very fair proposal.\n\nShall I assume that we ourselves are able and experienced judges and\nhave before now met with such a person?  We shall then have some one\nwho will answer our enquiries.\n\nBy all means.\n\nLet me ask you not to forget the parallel of the individual and the\nState; bearing this in mind, and glancing in turn from one to the other\nof them, will you tell me their respective conditions?\n\nWhat do you mean? he asked.\n\nBeginning with the State, I replied, would you say that a city which is\ngoverned by a tyrant is free or enslaved?\n\nNo city, he said, can be more completely enslaved.\n\nAnd yet, as you see, there are freemen as well as masters in such a\nState?\n\nYes, he said, I see that there are--a few; but the people, speaking\ngenerally, and the best of them, are miserably degraded and enslaved.\n\nThen if the man is like the State, I said, must not the same rule\nprevail? his soul is full of meanness and vulgarity--the best elements\nin him are enslaved; and there is a small ruling part, which is also\nthe worst and maddest.\n\nInevitably.\n\nAnd would you say that the soul of such an one is the soul of a\nfreeman, or of a slave?\n\nHe has the soul of a slave, in my opinion.\n\nAnd the State which is enslaved under a tyrant is utterly incapable of\nacting voluntarily?\n\nUtterly incapable.\n\nAnd also the soul which is under a tyrant (I am speaking of the soul\ntaken as a whole) is least capable of doing what she desires; there is\na gadfly which goads her, and she is full of trouble and remorse?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd is the city which is under a tyrant rich or poor?\n\nPoor.\n\nAnd the tyrannical soul must be always poor and insatiable?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd must not such a State and such a man be always full of fear?\n\nYes, indeed.\n\nIs there any State in which you will find more of lamentation and\nsorrow and groaning and pain?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nAnd is there any man in whom you will find more of this sort of misery\nthan in the tyrannical man, who is in a fury of passions and desires?\n\nImpossible.\n\nReflecting upon these and similar evils, you held the tyrannical State\nto be the most miserable of States?\n\nAnd I was right, he said.\n\nCertainly, I said.  And when you see the same evils in the tyrannical\nman, what do you say of him?\n\nI say that he is by far the most miserable of all men.\n\nThere, I said, I think that you are beginning to go wrong.\n\nWhat do you mean?\n\nI do not think that he has as yet reached the utmost extreme of misery.\n\nThen who is more miserable?\n\nOne of whom I am about to speak.\n\nWho is that?\n\nHe who is of a tyrannical nature, and instead of leading a private life\nhas been cursed with the further misfortune of being a public tyrant.\n\nFrom what has been said, I gather that you are right.\n\nYes, I replied, but in this high argument you should be a little more\ncertain, and should not conjecture only; for of all questions, this\nrespecting good and evil is the greatest.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nLet me then offer you an illustration, which may, I think, throw a\nlight upon this subject.\n\nWhat is your illustration?\n\nThe case of rich individuals in cities who possess many slaves: from\nthem you may form an idea of the tyrant's condition, for they both have\nslaves; the only difference is that he has more slaves.\n\nYes, that is the difference.\n\nYou know that they live securely and have nothing to apprehend from\ntheir servants?\n\nWhat should they fear?\n\nNothing.  But do you observe the reason of this?\n\nYes; the reason is, that the whole city is leagued together for the\nprotection of each individual.\n\nVery true, I said.  But imagine one of these owners, the master say of\nsome fifty slaves, together with his family and property and slaves,\ncarried off by a god into the wilderness, where there are no freemen to\nhelp him--will he not be in an agony of fear lest he and his wife and\nchildren should be put to death by his slaves?\n\nYes, he said, he will be in the utmost fear.\n\nThe time has arrived when he will be compelled to flatter divers of his\nslaves, and make many promises to them of freedom and other things,\nmuch against his will--he will have to cajole his own servants.\n\nYes, he said, that will be the only way of saving himself.\n\nAnd suppose the same god, who carried him away, to surround him with\nneighbours who will not suffer one man to be the master of another, and\nwho, if they could catch the offender, would take his life?\n\nHis case will be still worse, if you suppose him to be everywhere\nsurrounded and watched by enemies.\n\nAnd is not this the sort of prison in which the tyrant will be\nbound--he who being by nature such as we have described, is full of all\nsorts of fears and lusts?  His soul is dainty and greedy, and yet\nalone, of all men in the city, he is never allowed to go on a journey,\nor to see the things which other freemen desire to see, but he lives in\nhis hole like a woman hidden in the house, and is jealous of any other\ncitizen who goes into foreign parts and sees anything of interest.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nAnd amid evils such as these will not he who is ill-governed in his own\nperson--the tyrannical man, I mean--whom you just now decided to be the\nmost miserable of all--will not he be yet more miserable when, instead\nof leading a private life, he is constrained by fortune to be a public\ntyrant?  He has to be master of others when he is not master of\nhimself: he is like a diseased or paralytic man who is compelled to\npass his life, not in retirement, but fighting and combating with other\nmen.\n\nYes, he said, the similitude is most exact.\n\nIs not his case utterly miserable? and does not the actual tyrant lead\na worse life than he whose life you determined to be the worst?\n\nCertainly.\n\nHe who is the real tyrant, whatever men may think, is the real slave,\nand is obliged to practise the greatest adulation and servility, and to\nbe the flatterer of the vilest of mankind.  He has desires which he is\nutterly unable to satisfy, and has more wants than any one, and is\ntruly poor, if you know how to inspect the whole soul of him: all his\nlife long he is beset with fear and is full of convulsions, and\ndistractions, even as the State which he resembles: and surely the\nresemblance holds?\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nMoreover, as we were saying before, he grows worse from having power:\nhe becomes and is of necessity more jealous, more faithless, more\nunjust, more friendless, more impious, than he was at first; he is the\npurveyor and cherisher of every sort of vice, and the consequence is\nthat he is supremely miserable, and that he makes everybody else as\nmiserable as himself.\n\nNo man of any sense will dispute your words.\n\nCome then, I said, and as the general umpire in theatrical contests\nproclaims the result, do you also decide who in your opinion is first\nin the scale of happiness, and who second, and in what order the others\nfollow:  there are five of them in all--they are the royal,\ntimocratical, oligarchical, democratical, tyrannical.\n\nThe decision will be easily given, he replied; they shall be choruses\ncoming on the stage, and I must judge them in the order in which they\nenter, by the criterion of virtue and vice, happiness and misery.\n\nNeed we hire a herald, or shall I announce, that the son of Ariston\n(the best) has decided that the best and justest is also the happiest,\nand that this is he who is the most royal man and king over himself;\nand that the worst and most unjust man is also the most miserable, and\nthat this is he who being the greatest tyrant of himself is also the\ngreatest tyrant of his State?\n\nMake the proclamation yourself, he said.\n\nAnd shall I add, 'whether seen or unseen by gods and men'?\n\nLet the words be added.\n\nThen this, I said, will be our first proof; and there is another, which\nmay also have some weight.\n\nWhat is that?\n\nThe second proof is derived from the nature of the soul: seeing that\nthe individual soul, like the State, has been divided by us into three\nprinciples, the division may, I think, furnish a new demonstration.\n\nOf what nature?\n\nIt seems to me that to these three principles three pleasures\ncorrespond; also three desires and governing powers.\n\nHow do you mean? he said.\n\nThere is one principle with which, as we were saying, a man learns,\nanother with which he is angry; the third, having many forms, has no\nspecial name, but is denoted by the general term appetitive, from the\nextraordinary strength and vehemence of the desires of eating and\ndrinking and the other sensual appetites which are the main elements of\nit; also money-loving, because such desires are generally satisfied by\nthe help of money.\n\nThat is true, he said.\n\nIf we were to say that the loves and pleasures of this third part were\nconcerned with gain, we should then be able to fall back on a single\nnotion; and might truly and intelligibly describe this part of the soul\nas loving gain or money.\n\nI agree with you.\n\nAgain, is not the passionate element wholly set on ruling and\nconquering and getting fame?\n\nTrue.\n\nSuppose we call it the contentious or ambitious--would the term be\nsuitable?\n\nExtremely suitable.\n\nOn the other hand, every one sees that the principle of knowledge is\nwholly directed to the truth, and cares less than either of the others\nfor gain or fame.\n\nFar less.\n\n'Lover of wisdom,' 'lover of knowledge,' are titles which we may fitly\napply to that part of the soul?\n\nCertainly.\n\nOne principle prevails in the souls of one class of men, another in\nothers, as may happen?\n\nYes.\n\nThen we may begin by assuming that there are three classes of\nmen--lovers of wisdom, lovers of honour, lovers of gain?\n\nExactly.\n\nAnd there are three kinds of pleasure, which are their several objects?\n\nVery true.\n\nNow, if you examine the three classes of men, and ask of them in turn\nwhich of their lives is pleasantest, each will be found praising his\nown and depreciating that of others:  the money-maker will contrast the\nvanity of honour or of learning if they bring no money with the solid\nadvantages of gold and silver?\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nAnd the lover of honour--what will be his opinion?  Will he not think\nthat the pleasure of riches is vulgar, while the pleasure of learning,\nif it brings no distinction, is all smoke and nonsense to him?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd are we to suppose, I said, that the philosopher sets any value on\nother pleasures in comparison with the pleasure of knowing the truth,\nand in that pursuit abiding, ever learning, not so far indeed from the\nheaven of pleasure?  Does he not call the other pleasures necessary,\nunder the idea that if there were no necessity for them, he would\nrather not have them?\n\nThere can be no doubt of that, he replied.\n\nSince, then, the pleasures of each class and the life of each are in\ndispute, and the question is not which life is more or less honourable,\nor better or worse, but which is the more pleasant or painless--how\nshall we know who speaks truly?\n\nI cannot myself tell, he said.\n\nWell, but what ought to be the criterion?  Is any better than\nexperience and wisdom and reason?\n\nThere cannot be a better, he said.\n\nThen, I said, reflect.  Of the three individuals, which has the\ngreatest experience of all the pleasures which we enumerated?  Has the\nlover of gain, in learning the nature of essential truth, greater\nexperience of the pleasure of knowledge than the philosopher has of the\npleasure of gain?\n\nThe philosopher, he replied, has greatly the advantage; for he has of\nnecessity always known the taste of the other pleasures from his\nchildhood upwards:  but the lover of gain in all his experience has not\nof necessity tasted--or, I should rather say, even had he desired,\ncould hardly have tasted--the sweetness of learning and knowing truth.\n\nThen the lover of wisdom has a great advantage over the lover of gain,\nfor he has a double experience?\n\nYes, very great.\n\nAgain, has he greater experience of the pleasures of honour, or the\nlover of honour of the pleasures of wisdom?\n\nNay, he said, all three are honoured in proportion as they attain their\nobject; for the rich man and the brave man and the wise man alike have\ntheir crowd of admirers, and as they all receive honour they all have\nexperience of the pleasures of honour; but the delight which is to be\nfound in the knowledge of true being is known to the philosopher only.\n\nHis experience, then, will enable him to judge better than any one?\n\nFar better.\n\nAnd he is the only one who has wisdom as well as experience?\n\nCertainly.\n\nFurther, the very faculty which is the instrument of judgment is not\npossessed by the covetous or ambitious man, but only by the philosopher?\n\nWhat faculty?\n\nReason, with whom, as we were saying, the decision ought to rest.\n\nYes.\n\nAnd reasoning is peculiarly his instrument?\n\nCertainly.\n\nIf wealth and gain were the criterion, then the praise or blame of the\nlover of gain would surely be the most trustworthy?\n\nAssuredly.\n\nOr if honour or victory or courage, in that case the judgement of the\nambitious or pugnacious would be the truest?\n\nClearly.\n\nBut since experience and wisdom and reason are the judges--\n\nThe only inference possible, he replied, is that pleasures which are\napproved by the lover of wisdom and reason are the truest.\n\nAnd so we arrive at the result, that the pleasure of the intelligent\npart of the soul is the pleasantest of the three, and that he of us in\nwhom this is the ruling principle has the pleasantest life.\n\nUnquestionably, he said, the wise man speaks with authority when he\napproves of his own life.\n\nAnd what does the judge affirm to be the life which is next, and the\npleasure which is next?\n\nClearly that of the soldier and lover of honour; who is nearer to\nhimself than the money-maker.\n\nLast comes the lover of gain?\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nTwice in succession, then, has the just man overthrown the unjust in\nthis conflict; and now comes the third trial, which is dedicated to\nOlympian Zeus the saviour:  a sage whispers in my ear that no pleasure\nexcept that of the wise is quite true and pure--all others are a shadow\nonly; and surely this will prove the greatest and most decisive of\nfalls?\n\nYes, the greatest; but will you explain yourself?\n\nI will work out the subject and you shall answer my questions.\n\nProceed.\n\nSay, then, is not pleasure opposed to pain?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd there is a neutral state which is neither pleasure nor pain?\n\nThere is.\n\nA state which is intermediate, and a sort of repose of the soul about\neither--that is what you mean?\n\nYes.\n\nYou remember what people say when they are sick?\n\nWhat do they say?\n\nThat after all nothing is pleasanter than health.  But then they never\nknew this to be the greatest of pleasures until they were ill.\n\nYes, I know, he said.\n\nAnd when persons are suffering from acute pain, you must.  have heard\nthem say that there is nothing pleasanter than to get rid of their pain?\n\nI have.\n\nAnd there are many other cases of suffering in which the mere rest and\ncessation of pain, and not any positive enjoyment, is extolled by them\nas the greatest pleasure?\n\nYes, he said; at the time they are pleased and well content to be at\nrest.\n\nAgain, when pleasure ceases, that sort of rest or cessation will be\npainful?\n\nDoubtless, he said.\n\nThen the intermediate state of rest will be pleasure and will also be\npain?\n\nSo it would seem.\n\nBut can that which is neither become both?\n\nI should say not.\n\nAnd both pleasure and pain are motions of the soul, are they not?\n\nYes.\n\nBut that which is neither was just now shown to be rest and not motion,\nand in a mean between them?\n\nYes.\n\nHow, then, can we be right in supposing that the absence of pain is\npleasure, or that the absence of pleasure is pain?\n\nImpossible.\n\nThis then is an appearance only and not a reality; that is to say, the\nrest is pleasure at the moment and in comparison of what is painful,\nand painful in comparison of what is pleasant; but all these\nrepresentations, when tried by the test of true pleasure, are not real\nbut a sort of imposition?\n\nThat is the inference.\n\nLook at the other class of pleasures which have no antecedent pains and\nyou will no longer suppose, as you perhaps may at present, that\npleasure is only the cessation of pain, or pain of pleasure.\n\nWhat are they, he said, and where shall I find them?\n\nThere are many of them:  take as an example the pleasures, of smell,\nwhich are very great and have no antecedent pains; they come in a\nmoment, and when they depart leave no pain behind them.\n\nMost true, he said.\n\nLet us not, then, be induced to believe that pure pleasure is the\ncessation of pain, or pain of pleasure.\n\nNo.\n\nStill, the more numerous and violent pleasures which reach the soul\nthrough the body are generally of this sort--they are reliefs of pain.\n\nThat is true.\n\nAnd the anticipations of future pleasures and pains are of a like\nnature?\n\nYes.\n\nShall I give you an illustration of them?\n\nLet me hear.\n\nYou would allow, I said, that there is in nature an upper and lower and\nmiddle region?\n\nI should.\n\nAnd if a person were to go from the lower to the middle region, would\nhe not imagine that he is going up; and he who is standing in the\nmiddle and sees whence he has come, would imagine that he is already in\nthe upper region, if he has never seen the true upper world?\n\nTo be sure, he said; how can he think otherwise?\n\nBut if he were taken back again he would imagine, and truly imagine,\nthat he was descending?\n\nNo doubt.\n\nAll that would arise out of his ignorance of the true upper and middle\nand lower regions?\n\nYes.\n\nThen can you wonder that persons who are inexperienced in the truth, as\nthey have wrong ideas about many other things, should also have wrong\nideas about pleasure and pain and the intermediate state; so that when\nthey are only being drawn towards the painful they feel pain and think\nthe pain which they experience to be real, and in like manner, when\ndrawn away from pain to the neutral or intermediate state, they firmly\nbelieve that they have reached the goal of satiety and pleasure; they,\nnot knowing pleasure, err in contrasting pain with the absence of pain,\nwhich is like contrasting black with grey instead of white--can you\nwonder, I say, at this?\n\nNo, indeed; I should be much more disposed to wonder at the opposite.\n\nLook at the matter thus:--Hunger, thirst, and the like, are inanitions\nof the bodily state?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd ignorance and folly are inanitions of the soul?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd food and wisdom are the corresponding satisfactions of either?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd is the satisfaction derived from that which has less or from that\nwhich has more existence the truer?\n\nClearly, from that which has more.\n\nWhat classes of things have a greater share of pure existence in your\njudgment--those of which food and drink and condiments and all kinds of\nsustenance are examples, or the class which contains true opinion and\nknowledge and mind and all the different kinds of virtue?  Put the\nquestion in this way:--Which has a more pure being--that which is\nconcerned with the invariable, the immortal, and the true, and is of\nsuch a nature, and is found in such natures; or that which is concerned\nwith and found in the variable and mortal, and is itself variable and\nmortal?\n\nFar purer, he replied, is the being of that which is concerned with the\ninvariable.\n\nAnd does the essence of the invariable partake of knowledge in the same\ndegree as of essence?\n\nYes, of knowledge in the same degree.\n\nAnd of truth in the same degree?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd, conversely, that which has less of truth will also have less of\nessence?\n\nNecessarily.\n\nThen, in general, those kinds of things which are in the service of the\nbody have less of truth and essence than those which are in the service\nof the soul?\n\nFar less.\n\nAnd has not the body itself less of truth and essence than the soul?\n\nYes.\n\nWhat is filled with more real existence, and actually has a more real\nexistence, is more really filled than that which is filled with less\nreal existence and is less real?\n\nOf course.\n\nAnd if there be a pleasure in being filled with that which is according\nto nature, that which is more really filled with more real being will\nmore really and truly enjoy true pleasure; whereas that which\nparticipates in less real being will be less truly and surely\nsatisfied, and will participate in an illusory and less real pleasure?\n\nUnquestionably.\n\nThose then who know not wisdom and virtue, and are always busy with\ngluttony and sensuality, go down and up again as far as the mean; and\nin this region they move at random throughout life, but they never pass\ninto the true upper world; thither they neither look, nor do they ever\nfind their way, neither are they truly filled with true being, nor do\nthey taste of pure and abiding pleasure.  Like cattle, with their eyes\nalways looking down and their heads stooping to the earth, that is, to\nthe dining-table, they fatten and feed and breed, and, in their\nexcessive love of these delights, they kick and butt at one another\nwith horns and hoofs which are made of iron; and they kill one another\nby reason of their insatiable lust.  For they fill themselves with that\nwhich is not substantial, and the part of themselves which they fill is\nalso unsubstantial and incontinent.\n\nVerily, Socrates, said Glaucon, you describe the life of the many like\nan oracle.\n\nTheir pleasures are mixed with pains--how can they be otherwise?  For\nthey are mere shadows and pictures of the true, and are coloured by\ncontrast, which exaggerates both light and shade, and so they implant\nin the minds of fools insane desires of themselves; and they are fought\nabout as Stesichorus says that the Greeks fought about the shadow of\nHelen at Troy in ignorance of the truth.\n\nSomething of that sort must inevitably happen.\n\nAnd must not the like happen with the spirited or passionate element of\nthe soul?  Will not the passionate man who carries his passion into\naction, be in the like case, whether he is envious and ambitious, or\nviolent and contentious, or angry and discontented, if he be seeking to\nattain honour and victory and the satisfaction of his anger without\nreason or sense?\n\nYes, he said, the same will happen with the spirited element also.\n\nThen may we not confidently assert that the lovers of money and honour,\nwhen they seek their pleasures under the guidance and in the company of\nreason and knowledge, and pursue after and win the pleasures which\nwisdom shows them, will also have the truest pleasures in the highest\ndegree which is attainable to them, inasmuch as they follow truth; and\nthey will have the pleasures which are natural to them, if that which\nis best for each one is also most natural to him?\n\nYes, certainly; the best is the most natural.\n\nAnd when the whole soul follows the philosophical principle, and there\nis no division, the several parts are just, and do each of them their\nown business, and enjoy severally the best and truest pleasures of\nwhich they are capable?\n\nExactly.\n\nBut when either of the two other principles prevails, it fails in\nattaining its own pleasure, and compels the rest to pursue after a\npleasure which is a shadow only and which is not their own?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd the greater the interval which separates them from philosophy and\nreason, the more strange and illusive will be the pleasure?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd is not that farthest from reason which is at the greatest distance\nfrom law and order?\n\nClearly.\n\nAnd the lustful and tyrannical desires are, as we saw, at the greatest\ndistance?  Yes.\n\nAnd the royal and orderly desires are nearest?\n\nYes.\n\nThen the tyrant will live at the greatest distance from true or natural\npleasure, and the king at the least?\n\nCertainly.\n\nBut if so, the tyrant will live most unpleasantly, and the king most\npleasantly?\n\nInevitably.\n\nWould you know the measure of the interval which separates them?\n\nWill you tell me?\n\nThere appear to be three pleasures, one genuine and two spurious: now\nthe transgression of the tyrant reaches a point beyond the spurious; he\nhas run away from the region of law and reason, and taken up his abode\nwith certain slave pleasures which are his satellites, and the measure\nof his inferiority can only be expressed in a figure.\n\nHow do you mean?\n\nI assume, I said, that the tyrant is in the third place from the\noligarch; the democrat was in the middle?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd if there is truth in what has preceded, he will be wedded to an\nimage of pleasure which is thrice removed as to truth from the pleasure\nof the oligarch?\n\nHe will.\n\nAnd the oligarch is third from the royal; since we count as one royal\nand aristocratical?\n\nYes, he is third.\n\nThen the tyrant is removed from true pleasure by the space of a number\nwhich is three times three?\n\nManifestly.\n\nThe shadow then of tyrannical pleasure determined by the number of\nlength will be a plane figure.\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd if you raise the power and make the plane a solid, there is no\ndifficulty in seeing how vast is the interval by which the tyrant is\nparted from the king.\n\nYes; the arithmetician will easily do the sum.\n\nOr if some person begins at the other end and measures the interval by\nwhich the king is parted from the tyrant in truth of pleasure, he will\nfind him, when the multiplication is complete, living 729 times more\npleasantly, and the tyrant more painfully by this same interval.\n\nWhat a wonderful calculation!  And how enormous is the distance which\nseparates the just from the unjust in regard to pleasure and pain!\n\nYet a true calculation, I said, and a number which nearly concerns\nhuman life, if human beings are concerned with days and nights and\nmonths and years.\n\nYes, he said, human life is certainly concerned with them.\n\nThen if the good and just man be thus superior in pleasure to the evil\nand unjust, his superiority will be infinitely greater in propriety of\nlife and in beauty and virtue?\n\nImmeasurably greater.\n\nWell, I said, and now having arrived at this stage of the argument, we\nmay revert to the words which brought us hither:  Was not some one\nsaying that injustice was a gain to the perfectly unjust who was\nreputed to be just?\n\nYes, that was said.\n\nNow then, having determined the power and quality of justice and\ninjustice, let us have a little conversation with him.\n\nWhat shall we say to him?\n\nLet us make an image of the soul, that he may have his own words\npresented before his eyes.\n\nOf what sort?\n\nAn ideal image of the soul, like the composite creations of ancient\nmythology, such as the Chimera or Scylla or Cerberus, and there are\nmany others in which two or more different natures are said to grow\ninto one.\n\nThere are said of have been such unions.\n\nThen do you now model the form of a multitudinous, many-headed monster,\nhaving a ring of heads of all manner of beasts, tame and wild, which he\nis able to generate and metamorphose at will.\n\nYou suppose marvellous powers in the artist; but, as language is more\npliable than wax or any similar substance, let there be such a model as\nyou propose.\n\nSuppose now that you make a second form as of a lion, and a third of a\nman, the second smaller than the first, and the third smaller than the\nsecond.\n\nThat, he said, is an easier task; and I have made them as you say.\n\nAnd now join them, and let the three grow into one.\n\nThat has been accomplished.\n\nNext fashion the outside of them into a single image, as of a man, so\nthat he who is not able to look within, and sees only the outer hull,\nmay believe the beast to be a single human creature.  I have done so,\nhe said.\n\nAnd now, to him who maintains that it is profitable for the human\ncreature to be unjust, and unprofitable to be just, let us reply that,\nif he be right, it is profitable for this creature to feast the\nmultitudinous monster and strengthen the lion and the lion-like\nqualities, but to starve and weaken the man, who is consequently liable\nto be dragged about at the mercy of either of the other two; and he is\nnot to attempt to familiarize or harmonize them with one another--he\nought rather to suffer them to fight and bite and devour one another.\n\nCertainly, he said; that is what the approver of injustice says.\n\nTo him the supporter of justice makes answer that he should ever so\nspeak and act as to give the man within him in some way or other the\nmost complete mastery over the entire human creature.\n\nHe should watch over the many-headed monster like a good husbandman,\nfostering and cultivating the gentle qualities, and preventing the wild\nones from growing; he should be making the lion-heart his ally, and in\ncommon care of them all should be uniting the several parts with one\nanother and with himself.\n\nYes, he said, that is quite what the maintainer of justice say.\n\nAnd so from every point of view, whether of pleasure, honour, or\nadvantage, the approver of justice is right and speaks the truth, and\nthe disapprover is wrong and false and ignorant.\n\nYes, from every point of view.\n\nCome, now, and let us gently reason with the unjust, who is not\nintentionally in error.  'Sweet Sir,' we will say to him, what think\nyou of things esteemed noble and ignoble?  Is not the noble that which\nsubjects the beast to the man, or rather to the god in man; and the\nignoble that which subjects the man to the beast?' He can hardly avoid\nsaying yes--can he now?\n\nNot if he has any regard for my opinion.\n\nBut, if he agree so far, we may ask him to answer another question:\n'Then how would a man profit if he received gold and silver on the\ncondition that he was to enslave the noblest part of him to the worst?\nWho can imagine that a man who sold his son or daughter into slavery\nfor money, especially if he sold them into the hands of fierce and evil\nmen, would be the gainer, however large might be the sum which he\nreceived?  And will any one say that he is not a miserable caitiff who\nremorselessly sells his own divine being to that which is most godless\nand detestable?  Eriphyle took the necklace as the price of her\nhusband's life, but he is taking a bribe in order to compass a worse\nruin.'\n\nYes, said Glaucon, far worse--I will answer for him.\n\nHas not the intemperate been censured of old, because in him the huge\nmultiform monster is allowed to be too much at large?\n\nClearly.\n\nAnd men are blamed for pride and bad temper when the lion and serpent\nelement in them disproportionately grows and gains strength?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd luxury and softness are blamed, because they relax and weaken this\nsame creature, and make a coward of him?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd is not a man reproached for flattery and meanness who subordinates\nthe spirited animal to the unruly monster, and, for the sake of money,\nof which he can never have enough, habituates him in the days of his\nyouth to be trampled in the mire, and from being a lion to become a\nmonkey?\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nAnd why are mean employments and manual arts a reproach Only because\nthey imply a natural weakness of the higher principle; the individual\nis unable to control the creatures within him, but has to court them,\nand his great study is how to flatter them.\n\nSuch appears to be the reason.\n\nAnd therefore, being desirous of placing him under a rule like that of\nthe best, we say that he ought to be the servant of the best, in whom\nthe Divine rules; not, as Thrasymachus supposed, to the injury of the\nservant, but because every one had better be ruled by divine wisdom\ndwelling within him; or, if this be impossible, then by an external\nauthority, in order that we may be all, as far as possible, under the\nsame government, friends and equals.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nAnd this is clearly seen to be the intention of the law, which is the\nally of the whole city; and is seen also in the authority which we\nexercise over children, and the refusal to let them be free until we\nhave established in them a principle analogous to the constitution of a\nstate, and by cultivation of this higher element have set up in their\nhearts a guardian and ruler like our own, and when this is done they\nmay go their ways.\n\nYes, he said, the purpose of the law is manifest.\n\nFrom what point of view, then, and on what ground can we say that a man\nis profited by injustice or intemperance or other baseness, which will\nmake him a worse man, even though he acquire money or power by his\nwickedness?\n\nFrom no point of view at all.\n\nWhat shall he profit, if his injustice be undetected and unpunished?\nHe who is undetected only gets worse, whereas he who is detected and\npunished has the brutal part of his nature silenced and humanized; the\ngentler element in him is liberated, and his whole soul is perfected\nand ennobled by the acquirement of justice and temperance and wisdom,\nmore than the body ever is by receiving gifts of beauty, strength and\nhealth, in proportion as the soul is more honourable than the body.\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nTo this nobler purpose the man of understanding will devote the\nenergies of his life.  And in the first place, he will honour studies\nwhich impress these qualities on his soul and disregard others?\n\nClearly, he said.\n\nIn the next place, he will regulate his bodily habit and training, and\nso far will he be from yielding to brutal and irrational pleasures,\nthat he will regard even health as quite a secondary matter; his first\nobject will be not that he may be fair or strong or well, unless he is\nlikely thereby to gain temperance, but he will always desire so to\nattemper the body as to preserve the harmony of the soul?\n\nCertainly he will, if he has true music in him.\n\nAnd in the acquisition of wealth there is a principle of order and\nharmony which he will also observe; he will not allow himself to be\ndazzled by the foolish applause of the world, and heap up riches to his\nown infinite harm?\n\nCertainly not, he said.\n\nHe will look at the city which is within him, and take heed that no\ndisorder occur in it, such as might arise either from superfluity or\nfrom want; and upon this principle he will regulate his property and\ngain or spend according to his means.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd, for the same reason, he will gladly accept and enjoy such honours\nas he deems likely to make him a better man; but those, whether private\nor public, which are likely to disorder his life, he will avoid?\n\nThen, if that is his motive, he will not be a statesman.\n\nBy the dog of Egypt, he will! in the city which is his own he certainly\nwill, though in the land of his birth perhaps not, unless he have a\ndivine call.\n\nI understand; you mean that he will be a ruler in the city of which we\nare the founders, and which exists in idea only; for I do not believe\nthat there is such an one anywhere on earth?\n\nIn heaven, I replied, there is laid up a pattern of it, methinks, which\nhe who desires may behold, and beholding, may set his own house in\norder.  But whether such an one exists, or ever will exist in fact, is\nno matter; for he will live after the manner of that city, having\nnothing to do with any other.\n\nI think so, he said.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK X\n\n\nSOCRATES - GLAUCON\n\nOF THE many excellences which I perceive in the order of our State,\nthere is none which upon reflection pleases me better than the rule\nabout poetry.\n\nTo what do you refer?\n\nTo the rejection of imitative poetry, which certainly ought not to be\nreceived; as I see far more clearly now that the parts of the soul have\nbeen distinguished.\n\nWhat do you mean?\n\nSpeaking in confidence, for I should not like to have my words repeated\nto the tragedians and the rest of the imitative tribe--but I do not\nmind saying to you, that all poetical imitations are ruinous to the\nunderstanding of the hearers, and that the knowledge of their true\nnature is the only antidote to them.\n\nExplain the purport of your remark.\n\nWell, I will tell you, although I have always from my earliest youth\nhad an awe and love of Homer, which even now makes the words falter on\nmy lips, for he is the great captain and teacher of the whole of that\ncharming tragic company; but a man is not to be reverenced more than\nthe truth, and therefore I will speak out.\n\nVery good, he said.\n\nListen to me then, or rather, answer me.\n\nPut your question.\n\nCan you tell me what imitation is? for I really do not know.\n\nA likely thing, then, that I should know.\n\nWhy not? for the duller eye may often see a thing sooner than the\nkeener.\n\nVery true, he said; but in your presence, even if I had any faint\nnotion, I could not muster courage to utter it.  Will you enquire\nyourself?\n\nWell then, shall we begin the enquiry in our usual manner: Whenever a\nnumber of individuals have a common name, we assume them to have also a\ncorresponding idea or form.  Do you understand me?\n\nI do.\n\nLet us take any common instance; there are beds and tables in the\nworld--plenty of them, are there not?\n\nYes.\n\nBut there are only two ideas or forms of them--one the idea of a bed,\nthe other of a table.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd the maker of either of them makes a bed or he makes a table for our\nuse, in accordance with the idea--that is our way of speaking in this\nand similar instances--but no artificer makes the ideas themselves: how\ncould he?\n\nImpossible.\n\nAnd there is another artist,--I should like to know what you would say\nof him.\n\nWho is he?\n\nOne who is the maker of all the works of all other workmen.\n\nWhat an extraordinary man!\n\nWait a little, and there will be more reason for your saying so.  For\nthis is he who is able to make not only vessels of every kind, but\nplants and animals, himself and all other things--the earth and heaven,\nand the things which are in heaven or under the earth; he makes the\ngods also.\n\nHe must be a wizard and no mistake.\n\nOh! you are incredulous, are you?  Do you mean that there is no such\nmaker or creator, or that in one sense there might be a maker of all\nthese things but in another not?  Do you see that there is a way in\nwhich you could make them all yourself?\n\nWhat way?\n\nAn easy way enough; or rather, there are many ways in which the feat\nmight be quickly and easily accomplished, none quicker than that of\nturning a mirror round and round--you would soon enough make the sun\nand the heavens, and the earth and yourself, and other animals and\nplants, and all the other things of which we were just now speaking, in\nthe mirror.\n\nYes, he said; but they would be appearances only.\n\nVery good, I said, you are coming to the point now.  And the painter\ntoo is, as I conceive, just such another--a creator of appearances, is\nhe not?\n\nOf course.\n\nBut then I suppose you will say that what he creates is untrue.  And\nyet there is a sense in which the painter also creates a bed?\n\nYes, he said, but not a real bed.\n\nAnd what of the maker of the bed?  Were you not saying that he too\nmakes, not the idea which, according to our view, is the essence of the\nbed, but only a particular bed?\n\nYes, I did.\n\nThen if he does not make that which exists he cannot make true\nexistence, but only some semblance of existence; and if any one were to\nsay that the work of the maker of the bed, or of any other workman, has\nreal existence, he could hardly be supposed to be speaking the truth.\n\nAt any rate, he replied, philosophers would say that he was not\nspeaking the truth.\n\nNo wonder, then, that his work too is an indistinct expression of truth.\n\nNo wonder.\n\nSuppose now that by the light of the examples just offered we enquire\nwho this imitator is?\n\nIf you please.\n\nWell then, here are three beds:  one existing in nature, which is made\nby God, as I think that we may say--for no one else can be the maker?\n\nNo.\n\nThere is another which is the work of the carpenter?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the work of the painter is a third?\n\nYes.\n\nBeds, then, are of three kinds, and there are three artists who\nsuperintend them:  God, the maker of the bed, and the painter?\n\nYes, there are three of them.\n\nGod, whether from choice or from necessity, made one bed in nature and\none only; two or more such ideal beds neither ever have been nor ever\nwill be made by God.\n\nWhy is that?\n\nBecause even if He had made but two, a third would still appear behind\nthem which both of them would have for their idea, and that would be\nthe ideal bed and the two others.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nGod knew this, and He desired to be the real maker of a real bed, not a\nparticular maker of a particular bed, and therefore He created a bed\nwhich is essentially and by nature one only.\n\nSo we believe.\n\nShall we, then, speak of Him as the natural author or maker of the bed?\n\nYes, he replied; inasmuch as by the natural process of creation He is\nthe author of this and of all other things.\n\nAnd what shall we say of the carpenter--is not he also the maker of the\nbed?\n\nYes.\n\nBut would you call the painter a creator and maker?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nYet if he is not the maker, what is he in relation to the bed?\n\nI think, he said, that we may fairly designate him as the imitator of\nthat which the others make.\n\nGood, I said; then you call him who is third in the descent from nature\nan imitator?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd the tragic poet is an imitator, and therefore, like all other\nimitators, he is thrice removed from the king and from the truth?\n\nThat appears to be so.\n\nThen about the imitator we are agreed.  And what about the painter?-- I\nwould like to know whether he may be thought to imitate that which\noriginally exists in nature, or only the creations of artists?\n\nThe latter.\n\nAs they are or as they appear?  You have still to determine this.\n\nWhat do you mean?\n\nI mean, that you may look at a bed from different points of view,\nobliquely or directly or from any other point of view, and the bed will\nappear different, but there is no difference in reality.  And the same\nof all things.\n\nYes, he said, the difference is only apparent.\n\nNow let me ask you another question:  Which is the art of painting\ndesigned to be--an imitation of things as they are, or as they\nappear--of appearance or of reality?\n\nOf appearance.\n\nThen the imitator, I said, is a long way off the truth, and can do all\nthings because he lightly touches on a small part of them, and that\npart an image.  For example:  A painter will paint a cobbler,\ncarpenter, or any other artist, though he knows nothing of their arts;\nand, if he is a good artist, he may deceive children or simple persons,\nwhen he shows them his picture of a carpenter from a distance, and they\nwill fancy that they are looking at a real carpenter.\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd whenever any one informs us that he has found a man knows all the\narts, and all things else that anybody knows, and every single thing\nwith a higher degree of accuracy than any other man--whoever tells us\nthis, I think that we can only imagine to be a simple creature who is\nlikely to have been deceived by some wizard or actor whom he met, and\nwhom he thought all-knowing, because he himself was unable to analyse\nthe nature of knowledge and ignorance and imitation.\n\nMost true.\n\nAnd so, when we hear persons saying that the tragedians, and Homer, who\nis at their head, know all the arts and all things human, virtue as\nwell as vice, and divine things too, for that the good poet cannot\ncompose well unless he knows his subject, and that he who has not this\nknowledge can never be a poet, we ought to consider whether here also\nthere may not be a similar illusion.  Perhaps they may have come across\nimitators and been deceived by them; they may not have remembered when\nthey saw their works that these were but imitations thrice removed from\nthe truth, and could easily be made without any knowledge of the truth,\nbecause they are appearances only and not realities?  Or, after all,\nthey may be in the right, and poets do really know the things about\nwhich they seem to the many to speak so well?\n\nThe question, he said, should by all means be considered.\n\nNow do you suppose that if a person were able to make the original as\nwell as the image, he would seriously devote himself to the\nimage-making branch?  Would he allow imitation to be the ruling\nprinciple of his life, as if he had nothing higher in him?\n\nI should say not.\n\nThe real artist, who knew what he was imitating, would be interested in\nrealities and not in imitations; and would desire to leave as memorials\nof himself works many and fair; and, instead of being the author of\nencomiums, he would prefer to be the theme of them.\n\nYes, he said, that would be to him a source of much greater honour and\nprofit.\n\nThen, I said, we must put a question to Homer; not about medicine, or\nany of the arts to which his poems only incidentally refer: we are not\ngoing to ask him, or any other poet, whether he has cured patients like\nAsclepius, or left behind him a school of medicine such as the\nAsclepiads were, or whether he only talks about medicine and other arts\nat second hand; but we have a right to know respecting military\ntactics, politics, education, which are the chiefest and noblest\nsubjects of his poems, and we may fairly ask him about them.  'Friend\nHomer,' then we say to him, 'if you are only in the second remove from\ntruth in what you say of virtue, and not in the third--not an image\nmaker or imitator--and if you are able to discern what pursuits make\nmen better or worse in private or public life, tell us what State was\never better governed by your help?  The good order of Lacedaemon is due\nto Lycurgus, and many other cities great and small have been similarly\nbenefited by others; but who says that you have been a good legislator\nto them and have done them any good?  Italy and Sicily boast of\nCharondas, and there is Solon who is renowned among us; but what city\nhas anything to say about you?'  Is there any city which he might name?\n\nI think not, said Glaucon; not even the Homerids themselves pretend\nthat he was a legislator.\n\nWell, but is there any war on record which was carried on successfully\nby him, or aided by his counsels, when he was alive?\n\nThere is not.\n\nOr is there any invention of his, applicable to the arts or to human\nlife, such as Thales the Milesian or Anacharsis the Scythian, and other\ningenious men have conceived, which is attributed to him?\n\nThere is absolutely nothing of the kind.\n\nBut, if Homer never did any public service, was he privately a guide or\nteacher of any?  Had he in his lifetime friends who loved to associate\nwith him, and who handed down to posterity an Homeric way of life, such\nas was established by Pythagoras who was so greatly beloved for his\nwisdom, and whose followers are to this day quite celebrated for the\norder which was named after him?\n\nNothing of the kind is recorded of him.  For surely, Socrates,\nCreophylus, the companion of Homer, that child of flesh, whose name\nalways makes us laugh, might be more justly ridiculed for his\nstupidity, if, as is said, Homer was greatly neglected by him and\nothers in his own day when he was alive?\n\nYes, I replied, that is the tradition.  But can you imagine, Glaucon,\nthat if Homer had really been able to educate and improve mankind--if\nhe had possessed knowledge and not been a mere imitator--can you\nimagine, I say, that he would not have had many followers, and been\nhonoured and loved by them?  Protagoras of Abdera, and Prodicus of\nCeos, and a host of others, have only to whisper to their\ncontemporaries: 'You will never be able to manage either your own house\nor your own State until you appoint us to be your ministers of\neducation'--and this ingenious device of theirs has such an effect in\nmaking them love them that their companions all but carry them about on\ntheir shoulders.  And is it conceivable that the contemporaries of\nHomer, or again of Hesiod, would have allowed either of them to go\nabout as rhapsodists, if they had really been able to make mankind\nvirtuous?  Would they not have been as unwilling to part with them as\nwith gold, and have compelled them to stay at home with them?  Or, if\nthe master would not stay, then the disciples would have followed him\nabout everywhere, until they had got education enough?\n\nYes, Socrates, that, I think, is quite true.\n\nThen must we not infer that all these poetical individuals, beginning\nwith Homer, are only imitators; they copy images of virtue and the\nlike, but the truth they never reach?  The poet is like a painter who,\nas we have already observed, will make a likeness of a cobbler though\nhe understands nothing of cobbling; and his picture is good enough for\nthose who know no more than he does, and judge only by colours and\nfigures.\n\nQuite so.\n\nIn like manner the poet with his words and phrases may be said to lay\non the colours of the several arts, himself understanding their nature\nonly enough to imitate them; and other people, who are as ignorant as\nhe is, and judge only from his words, imagine that if he speaks of\ncobbling, or of military tactics, or of anything else, in metre and\nharmony and rhythm, he speaks very well--such is the sweet influence\nwhich melody and rhythm by nature have.  And I think that you must have\nobserved again and again what a poor appearance the tales of poets make\nwhen stripped of the colours which music puts upon them, and recited in\nsimple prose.\n\nYes, he said.\n\nThey are like faces which were never really beautiful, but only\nblooming; and now the bloom of youth has passed away from them?\n\nExactly.\n\nHere is another point:  The imitator or maker of the image knows\nnothing of true existence; he knows appearances only.  Am I not right?\n\nYes.\n\nThen let us have a clear understanding, and not be satisfied with half\nan explanation.\n\nProceed.\n\nOf the painter we say that he will paint reins, and he will paint a bit?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the worker in leather and brass will make them?\n\nCertainly.\n\nBut does the painter know the right form of the bit and reins?  Nay,\nhardly even the workers in brass and leather who make them; only the\nhorseman who knows how to use them--he knows their right form.\n\nMost true.\n\nAnd may we not say the same of all things?\n\nWhat?\n\nThat there are three arts which are concerned with all things: one\nwhich uses, another which makes, a third which imitates them?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd the excellence or beauty or truth of every structure, animate or\ninanimate, and of every action of man, is relative to the use for which\nnature or the artist has intended them.\n\nTrue.\n\nThen the user of them must have the greatest experience of them, and he\nmust indicate to the maker the good or bad qualities which develop\nthemselves in use; for example, the flute-player will tell the\nflute-maker which of his flutes is satisfactory to the performer; he\nwill tell him how he ought to make them, and the other will attend to\nhis instructions?\n\nOf course.\n\nThe one knows and therefore speaks with authority about the goodness\nand badness of flutes, while the other, confiding in him, will do what\nhe is told by him?\n\nTrue.\n\nThe instrument is the same, but about the excellence or badness of it\nthe maker will only attain to a correct belief; and this he will gain\nfrom him who knows, by talking to him and being compelled to hear what\nhe has to say, whereas the user will have knowledge?\n\nTrue.\n\nBut will the imitator have either?  Will he know from use whether or no\nhis drawing is correct or beautiful?  Or will he have right opinion\nfrom being compelled to associate with another who knows and gives him\ninstructions about what he should draw?\n\nNeither.\n\nThen he will no more have true opinion than he will have knowledge\nabout the goodness or badness of his imitations?\n\nI suppose not.\n\nThe imitative artist will be in a brilliant state of intelligence about\nhis own creations?\n\nNay, very much the reverse.\n\nAnd still he will go on imitating without knowing what makes a thing\ngood or bad, and may be expected therefore to imitate only that which\nappears to be good to the ignorant multitude?\n\nJust so.\n\nThus far then we are pretty well agreed that the imitator has no\nknowledge worth mentioning of what he imitates.  Imitation is only a\nkind of play or sport, and the tragic poets, whether they write in\niambic or in Heroic verse, are imitators in the highest degree?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd now tell me, I conjure you, has not imitation been shown by us to\nbe concerned with that which is thrice removed from the truth?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd what is the faculty in man to which imitation is addressed?\n\nWhat do you mean?\n\nI will explain:  The body which is large when seen near, appears small\nwhen seen at a distance?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd the same object appears straight when looked at out of the water,\nand crooked when in the water; and the concave becomes convex, owing to\nthe illusion about colours to which the sight is liable.  Thus every\nsort of confusion is revealed within us; and this is that weakness of\nthe human mind on which the art of conjuring and of deceiving by light\nand shadow and other ingenious devices imposes, having an effect upon\nus like magic.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd the arts of measuring and numbering and weighing come to the rescue\nof the human understanding-there is the beauty of them--and the\napparent greater or less, or more or heavier, no longer have the\nmastery over us, but give way before calculation and measure and weight?\n\nMost true.\n\nAnd this, surely, must be the work of the calculating and rational\nprinciple in the soul\n\nTo be sure.\n\nAnd when this principle measures and certifies that some things are\nequal, or that some are greater or less than others, there occurs an\napparent contradiction?\n\nTrue.\n\nBut were we not saying that such a contradiction is the same faculty\ncannot have contrary opinions at the same time about the same thing?\n\nVery true.\n\nThen that part of the soul which has an opinion contrary to measure is\nnot the same with that which has an opinion in accordance with measure?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd the better part of the soul is likely to be that which trusts to\nmeasure and calculation?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd that which is opposed to them is one of the inferior principles of\nthe soul?\n\nNo doubt.\n\nThis was the conclusion at which I was seeking to arrive when I said\nthat painting or drawing, and imitation in general, when doing their\nown proper work, are far removed from truth, and the companions and\nfriends and associates of a principle within us which is equally\nremoved from reason, and that they have no true or healthy aim.\n\nExactly.\n\nThe imitative art is an inferior who marries an inferior, and has\ninferior offspring.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd is this confined to the sight only, or does it extend to the\nhearing also, relating in fact to what we term poetry?\n\nProbably the same would be true of poetry.\n\nDo not rely, I said, on a probability derived from the analogy of\npainting; but let us examine further and see whether the faculty with\nwhich poetical imitation is concerned is good or bad.\n\nBy all means.\n\nWe may state the question thus:--Imitation imitates the actions of men,\nwhether voluntary or involuntary, on which, as they imagine, a good or\nbad result has ensued, and they rejoice or sorrow accordingly.  Is\nthere anything more?\n\nNo, there is nothing else.\n\nBut in all this variety of circumstances is the man at unity with\nhimself--or rather, as in the instance of sight there was confusion and\nopposition in his opinions about the same things, so here also is there\nnot strife and inconsistency in his life?  Though I need hardly raise\nthe question again, for I remember that all this has been already\nadmitted; and the soul has been acknowledged by us to be full of these\nand ten thousand similar oppositions occurring at the same moment?\n\nAnd we were right, he said.\n\nYes, I said, thus far we were right; but there was an omission which\nmust now be supplied.\n\nWhat was the omission?\n\nWere we not saying that a good man, who has the misfortune to lose his\nson or anything else which is most dear to him, will bear the loss with\nmore equanimity than another?\n\nYes.\n\nBut will he have no sorrow, or shall we say that although he cannot\nhelp sorrowing, he will moderate his sorrow?\n\nThe latter, he said, is the truer statement.\n\nTell me:  will he be more likely to struggle and hold out against his\nsorrow when he is seen by his equals, or when he is alone?\n\nIt will make a great difference whether he is seen or not.\n\nWhen he is by himself he will not mind saying or doing many things\nwhich he would be ashamed of any one hearing or seeing him do?\n\nTrue.\n\nThere is a principle of law and reason in him which bids him resist, as\nwell as a feeling of his misfortune which is forcing him to indulge his\nsorrow?\n\nTrue.\n\nBut when a man is drawn in two opposite directions, to and from the\nsame object, this, as we affirm, necessarily implies two distinct\nprinciples in him?\n\nCertainly.\n\nOne of them is ready to follow the guidance of the law?\n\nHow do you mean?\n\nThe law would say that to be patient under suffering is best, and that\nwe should not give way to impatience, as there is no knowing whether\nsuch things are good or evil; and nothing is gained by impatience;\nalso, because no human thing is of serious importance, and grief stands\nin the way of that which at the moment is most required.\n\nWhat is most required? he asked.\n\nThat we should take counsel about what has happened, and when the dice\nhave been thrown order our affairs in the way which reason deems best;\nnot, like children who have had a fall, keeping hold of the part struck\nand wasting time in setting up a howl, but always accustoming the soul\nforthwith to apply a remedy, raising up that which is sickly and\nfallen, banishing the cry of sorrow by the healing art.\n\nYes, he said, that is the true way of meeting the attacks of fortune.\n\nYes, I said; and the higher principle is ready to follow this\nsuggestion of reason?\n\nClearly.\n\nAnd the other principle, which inclines us to recollection of our\ntroubles and to lamentation, and can never have enough of them, we may\ncall irrational, useless, and cowardly?\n\nIndeed, we may.\n\nAnd does not the latter--I mean the rebellious principle--furnish a\ngreat variety of materials for imitation?  Whereas the wise and calm\ntemperament, being always nearly equable, is not easy to imitate or to\nappreciate when imitated, especially at a public festival when a\npromiscuous crowd is assembled in a theatre.  For the feeling\nrepresented is one to which they are strangers.\n\nCertainly.\n\nThen the imitative poet who aims at being popular is not by nature\nmade, nor is his art intended, to please or to affect the principle in\nthe soul; but he will prefer the passionate and fitful temper, which is\neasily imitated?\n\nClearly.\n\nAnd now we may fairly take him and place him by the side of the\npainter, for he is like him in two ways:  first, inasmuch as his\ncreations have an inferior degree of truth--in this, I say, he is like\nhim; and he is also like him in being concerned with an inferior part\nof the soul; and therefore we shall be right in refusing to admit him\ninto a well-ordered State, because he awakens and nourishes and\nstrengthens the feelings and impairs the reason.  As in a city when the\nevil are permitted to have authority and the good are put out of the\nway, so in the soul of man, as we maintain, the imitative poet implants\nan evil constitution, for he indulges the irrational nature which has\nno discernment of greater and less, but thinks the same thing at one\ntime great and at another small-he is a manufacturer of images and is\nvery far removed from the truth.\n\nExactly.\n\nBut we have not yet brought forward the heaviest count in our\naccusation:--the power which poetry has of harming even the good (and\nthere are very few who are not harmed), is surely an awful thing?\n\nYes, certainly, if the effect is what you say.\n\nHear and judge:  The best of us, as I conceive, when we listen to a\npassage of Homer, or one of the tragedians, in which he represents some\npitiful hero who is drawling out his sorrows in a long oration, or\nweeping, and smiting his breast--the best of us, you know, delight in\ngiving way to sympathy, and are in raptures at the excellence of the\npoet who stirs our feelings most.\n\nYes, of course I know.\n\nBut when any sorrow of our own happens to us, then you may observe that\nwe pride ourselves on the opposite quality--we would fain be quiet and\npatient; this is the manly part, and the other which delighted us in\nthe recitation is now deemed to be the part of a woman.\n\nVery true, he said.\n\nNow can we be right in praising and admiring another who is doing that\nwhich any one of us would abominate and be ashamed of in his own person?\n\nNo, he said, that is certainly not reasonable.\n\nNay, I said, quite reasonable from one point of view.\n\nWhat point of view?\n\nIf you consider, I said, that when in misfortune we feel a natural\nhunger and desire to relieve our sorrow by weeping and lamentation, and\nthat this feeling which is kept under control in our own calamities is\nsatisfied and delighted by the poets;-the better nature in each of us,\nnot having been sufficiently trained by reason or habit, allows the\nsympathetic element to break loose because the sorrow is another's; and\nthe spectator fancies that there can be no disgrace to himself in\npraising and pitying any one who comes telling him what a good man he\nis, and making a fuss about his troubles; he thinks that the pleasure\nis a gain, and why should he be supercilious and lose this and the poem\ntoo?  Few persons ever reflect, as I should imagine, that from the evil\nof other men something of evil is communicated to themselves.  And so\nthe feeling of sorrow which has gathered strength at the sight of the\nmisfortunes of others is with difficulty repressed in our own.\n\nHow very true!\n\nAnd does not the same hold also of the ridiculous?  There are jests\nwhich you would be ashamed to make yourself, and yet on the comic\nstage, or indeed in private, when you hear them, you are greatly amused\nby them, and are not at all disgusted at their unseemliness;--the case\nof pity is repeated;--there is a principle in human nature which is\ndisposed to raise a laugh, and this which you once restrained by\nreason, because you were afraid of being thought a buffoon, is now let\nout again; and having stimulated the risible faculty at the theatre,\nyou are betrayed unconsciously to yourself into playing the comic poet\nat home.\n\nQuite true, he said.\n\nAnd the same may be said of lust and anger and all the other\naffections, of desire and pain and pleasure, which are held to be\ninseparable from every action--in all of them poetry feeds and waters\nthe passions instead of drying them up; she lets them rule, although\nthey ought to be controlled, if mankind are ever to increase in\nhappiness and virtue.\n\nI cannot deny it.\n\nTherefore, Glaucon, I said, whenever you meet with any of the eulogists\nof Homer declaring that he has been the educator of Hellas, and that he\nis profitable for education and for the ordering of human things, and\nthat you should take him up again and again and get to know him and\nregulate your whole life according to him, we may love and honour those\nwho say these things--they are excellent people, as far as their lights\nextend; and we are ready to acknowledge that Homer is the greatest of\npoets and first of tragedy writers; but we must remain firm in our\nconviction that hymns to the gods and praises of famous men are the\nonly poetry which ought to be admitted into our State.  For if you go\nbeyond this and allow the honeyed muse to enter, either in epic or\nlyric verse, not law and the reason of mankind, which by common consent\nhave ever been deemed best, but pleasure and pain will be the rulers in\nour State.\n\nThat is most true, he said.\n\nAnd now since we have reverted to the subject of poetry, let this our\ndefence serve to show the reasonableness of our former judgment in\nsending away out of our State an art having the tendencies which we\nhave described; for reason constrained us.  But that she may impute to\nus any harshness or want of politeness, let us tell her that there is\nan ancient quarrel between philosophy and poetry; of which there are\nmany proofs, such as the saying of 'the yelping hound howling at her\nlord,' or of one 'mighty in the vain talk of fools,' and 'the mob of\nsages circumventing Zeus,' and the 'subtle thinkers who are beggars\nafter all'; and there are innumerable other signs of ancient enmity\nbetween them.  Notwithstanding this, let us assure our sweet friend and\nthe sister arts of imitation that if she will only prove her title to\nexist in a well-ordered State we shall be delighted to receive her--we\nare very conscious of her charms; but we may not on that account betray\nthe truth.  I dare say, Glaucon, that you are as much charmed by her as\nI am, especially when she appears in Homer?\n\nYes, indeed, I am greatly charmed.\n\nShall I propose, then, that she be allowed to return from exile, but\nupon this condition only--that she make a defence of herself in lyrical\nor some other metre?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd we may further grant to those of her defenders who are lovers of\npoetry and yet not poets the permission to speak in prose on her\nbehalf: let them show not only that she is pleasant but also useful to\nStates and to human life, and we will listen in a kindly spirit; for if\nthis can be proved we shall surely be the gainers--I mean, if there is\na use in poetry as well as a delight?\n\nCertainly, he said, we shall the gainers.\n\nIf her defence fails, then, my dear friend, like other persons who are\nenamoured of something, but put a restraint upon themselves when they\nthink their desires are opposed to their interests, so too must we\nafter the manner of lovers give her up, though not without a struggle.\nWe too are inspired by that love of poetry which the education of noble\nStates has implanted in us, and therefore we would have her appear at\nher best and truest; but so long as she is unable to make good her\ndefence, this argument of ours shall be a charm to us, which we will\nrepeat to ourselves while we listen to her strains; that we may not\nfall away into the childish love of her which captivates the many.  At\nall events we are well aware that poetry being such as we have\ndescribed is not to be regarded seriously as attaining to the truth;\nand he who listens to her, fearing for the safety of the city which is\nwithin him, should be on his guard against her seductions and make our\nwords his law.\n\nYes, he said, I quite agree with you.\n\nYes, I said, my dear Glaucon, for great is the issue at stake, greater\nthan appears, whether a man is to be good or bad.  And what will any\none be profited if under the influence of honour or money or power,\naye, or under the excitement of poetry, he neglect justice and virtue?\n\nYes, he said; I have been convinced by the argument, as I believe that\nany one else would have been.\n\nAnd yet no mention has been made of the greatest prizes and rewards\nwhich await virtue.\n\nWhat, are there any greater still?  If there are, they must be of an\ninconceivable greatness.\n\nWhy, I said, what was ever great in a short time?  The whole period of\nthreescore years and ten is surely but a little thing in comparison\nwith eternity?\n\nSay rather 'nothing,' he replied.\n\nAnd should an immortal being seriously think of this little space\nrather than of the whole?\n\nOf the whole, certainly.  But why do you ask?\n\nAre you not aware, I said, that the soul of man is immortal and\nimperishable?\n\nHe looked at me in astonishment, and said:  No, by heaven: And are you\nreally prepared to maintain this?\n\nYes, I said, I ought to be, and you too--there is no difficulty in\nproving it.\n\nI see a great difficulty; but I should like to hear you state this\nargument of which you make so light.\n\nListen then.\n\nI am attending.\n\nThere is a thing which you call good and another which you call evil?\n\nYes, he replied.\n\nWould you agree with me in thinking that the corrupting and destroying\nelement is the evil, and the saving and improving element the good?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd you admit that every thing has a good and also an evil; as\nophthalmia is the evil of the eyes and disease of the whole body; as\nmildew is of corn, and rot of timber, or rust of copper and iron: in\neverything, or in almost everything, there is an inherent evil and\ndisease?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nAnd anything which is infected by any of these evils is made evil, and\nat last wholly dissolves and dies?\n\nTrue.\n\nThe vice and evil which is inherent in each is the destruction of each;\nand if this does not destroy them there is nothing else that will; for\ngood certainly will not destroy them, nor again, that which is neither\ngood nor evil.\n\nCertainly not.\n\nIf, then, we find any nature which having this inherent corruption\ncannot be dissolved or destroyed, we may be certain that of such a\nnature there is no destruction?\n\nThat may be assumed.\n\nWell, I said, and is there no evil which corrupts the soul?\n\nYes, he said, there are all the evils which we were just now passing in\nreview:  unrighteousness, intemperance, cowardice, ignorance.\n\nBut does any of these dissolve or destroy her?--and here do not let us\nfall into the error of supposing that the unjust and foolish man, when\nhe is detected, perishes through his own injustice, which is an evil of\nthe soul.  Take the analogy of the body: The evil of the body is a\ndisease which wastes and reduces and annihilates the body; and all the\nthings of which we were just now speaking come to annihilation through\ntheir own corruption attaching to them and inhering in them and so\ndestroying them.  Is not this true?\n\nYes.\n\nConsider the soul in like manner.  Does the injustice or other evil\nwhich exists in the soul waste and consume her?  Do they by attaching\nto the soul and inhering in her at last bring her to death, and so\nseparate her from the body?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nAnd yet, I said, it is unreasonable to suppose that anything can perish\nfrom without through affection of external evil which could not be\ndestroyed from within by a corruption of its own?\n\nIt is, he replied.\n\nConsider, I said, Glaucon, that even the badness of food, whether\nstaleness, decomposition, or any other bad quality, when confined to\nthe actual food, is not supposed to destroy the body; although, if the\nbadness of food communicates corruption to the body, then we should say\nthat the body has been destroyed by a corruption of itself, which is\ndisease, brought on by this; but that the body, being one thing, can be\ndestroyed by the badness of food, which is another, and which does not\nengender any natural infection--this we shall absolutely deny?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd, on the same principle, unless some bodily evil can produce an evil\nof the soul, we must not suppose that the soul, which is one thing, can\nbe dissolved by any merely external evil which belongs to another?\n\nYes, he said, there is reason in that.\n\nEither then, let us refute this conclusion, or, while it remains\nunrefuted, let us never say that fever, or any other disease, or the\nknife put to the throat, or even the cutting up of the whole body into\nthe minutest pieces, can destroy the soul, until she herself is proved\nto become more unholy or unrighteous in consequence of these things\nbeing done to the body; but that the soul, or anything else if not\ndestroyed by an internal evil, can be destroyed by an external one, is\nnot to be affirmed by any man.\n\nAnd surely, he replied, no one will ever prove that the souls of men\nbecome more unjust in consequence of death.\n\nBut if some one who would rather not admit the immortality of the soul\nboldly denies this, and says that the dying do really become more evil\nand unrighteous, then, if the speaker is right, I suppose that\ninjustice, like disease, must be assumed to be fatal to the unjust, and\nthat those who take this disorder die by the natural inherent power of\ndestruction which evil has, and which kills them sooner or later, but\nin quite another way from that in which, at present, the wicked receive\ndeath at the hands of others as the penalty of their deeds?\n\nNay, he said, in that case injustice, if fatal to the unjust, will not\nbe so very terrible to him, for he will be delivered from evil.  But I\nrather suspect the opposite to be the truth, and that injustice which,\nif it have the power, will murder others, keeps the murderer\nalive--aye, and well awake too; so far removed is her dwelling-place\nfrom being a house of death.\n\nTrue, I said; if the inherent natural vice or evil of the soul is\nunable to kill or destroy her, hardly will that which is appointed to\nbe the destruction of some other body, destroy a soul or anything else\nexcept that of which it was appointed to be the destruction.\n\nYes, that can hardly be.\n\nBut the soul which cannot be destroyed by an evil, whether inherent or\nexternal, must exist for ever, and if existing for ever, must be\nimmortal?\n\nCertainly.\n\nThat is the conclusion, I said; and, if a true conclusion, then the\nsouls must always be the same, for if none be destroyed they will not\ndiminish in number.  Neither will they increase, for the increase of\nthe immortal natures must come from something mortal, and all things\nwould thus end in immortality.\n\nVery true.\n\nBut this we cannot believe--reason will not allow us--any more than we\ncan believe the soul, in her truest nature, to be full of variety and\ndifference and dissimilarity.\n\nWhat do you mean? he said.\n\nThe soul, I said, being, as is now proven, immortal, must be the\nfairest of compositions and cannot be compounded of many elements?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nHer immortality is demonstrated by the previous argument, and there are\nmany other proofs; but to see her as she really is, not as we now\nbehold her, marred by communion with the body and other miseries, you\nmust contemplate her with the eye of reason, in her original purity;\nand then her beauty will be revealed, and justice and injustice and all\nthe things which we have described will be manifested more clearly.\nThus far, we have spoken the truth concerning her as she appears at\npresent, but we must remember also that we have seen her only in a\ncondition which may be compared to that of the sea-god Glaucus, whose\noriginal image can hardly be discerned because his natural members are\nbroken off and crushed and damaged by the waves in all sorts of ways,\nand incrustations have grown over them of seaweed and shells and\nstones, so that he is more like some monster than he is to his own\nnatural form.  And the soul which we behold is in a similar condition,\ndisfigured by ten thousand ills.  But not there, Glaucon, not there\nmust we look.\n\nWhere then?\n\nAt her love of wisdom.  Let us see whom she affects, and what society\nand converse she seeks in virtue of her near kindred with the immortal\nand eternal and divine; also how different she would become if wholly\nfollowing this superior principle, and borne by a divine impulse out of\nthe ocean in which she now is, and disengaged from the stones and\nshells and things of earth and rock which in wild variety spring up\naround her because she feeds upon earth, and is overgrown by the good\nthings of this life as they are termed:  then you would see her as she\nis, and know whether she has one shape only or many, or what her nature\nis.  Of her affections and of the forms which she takes in this present\nlife I think that we have now said enough.\n\nTrue, he replied.\n\nAnd thus, I said, we have fulfilled the conditions of the argument; we\nhave not introduced the rewards and glories of justice, which, as you\nwere saying, are to be found in Homer and Hesiod; but justice in her\nown nature has been shown to be best for the soul in her own nature.\nLet a man do what is just, whether he have the ring of Gyges or not,\nand even if in addition to the ring of Gyges he put on the helmet of\nHades.\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd now, Glaucon, there will be no harm in further enumerating how many\nand how great are the rewards which justice and the other virtues\nprocure to the soul from gods and men, both in life and after death.\n\nCertainly not, he said.\n\nWill you repay me, then, what you borrowed in the argument?\n\nWhat did I borrow?\n\nThe assumption that the just man should appear unjust and the unjust\njust:  for you were of opinion that even if the true state of the case\ncould not possibly escape the eyes of gods and men, still this\nadmission ought to be made for the sake of the argument, in order that\npure justice might be weighed against pure injustice.  Do you remember?\n\nI should be much to blame if I had forgotten.\n\nThen, as the cause is decided, I demand on behalf of justice that the\nestimation in which she is held by gods and men and which we\nacknowledge to be her due should now be restored to her by us; since\nshe has been shown to confer reality, and not to deceive those who\ntruly possess her, let what has been taken from her be given back, that\nso she may win that palm of appearance which is hers also, and which\nshe gives to her own.\n\nThe demand, he said, is just.\n\nIn the first place, I said--and this is the first thing which you will\nhave to give back--the nature both of the just and unjust is truly\nknown to the gods.\n\nGranted.\n\nAnd if they are both known to them, one must be the friend and the\nother the enemy of the gods, as we admitted from the beginning?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd the friend of the gods may be supposed to receive from them all\nthings at their best, excepting only such evil as is the necessary\nconsequence of former sins?\n\nCertainly.\n\nThen this must be our notion of the just man, that even when he is in\npoverty or sickness, or any other seeming misfortune, all things will\nin the end work together for good to him in life and death: for the\ngods have a care of any one whose desire is to become just and to be\nlike God, as far as man can attain the divine likeness, by the pursuit\nof virtue?\n\nYes, he said; if he is like God he will surely not be neglected by him.\n\nAnd of the unjust may not the opposite be supposed?\n\nCertainly.\n\nSuch, then, are the palms of victory which the gods give the just?\n\nThat is my conviction.\n\nAnd what do they receive of men?  Look at things as they really are,\nand you will see that the clever unjust are in the case of runners, who\nrun well from the starting-place to the goal but not back again from\nthe goal:  they go off at a great pace, but in the end only look\nfoolish, slinking away with their ears draggling on their shoulders,\nand without a crown; but the true runner comes to the finish and\nreceives the prize and is crowned.  And this is the way with the just;\nhe who endures to the end of every action and occasion of his entire\nlife has a good report and carries off the prize which men have to\nbestow.\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd now you must allow me to repeat of the just the blessings which you\nwere attributing to the fortunate unjust.  I shall say of them, what\nyou were saying of the others, that as they grow older, they become\nrulers in their own city if they care to be; they marry whom they like\nand give in marriage to whom they will; all that you said of the others\nI now say of these.  And, on the other hand, of the unjust I say that\nthe greater number, even though they escape in their youth, are found\nout at last and look foolish at the end of their course, and when they\ncome to be old and miserable are flouted alike by stranger and citizen;\nthey are beaten and then come those things unfit for ears polite, as\nyou truly term them; they will be racked and have their eyes burned\nout, as you were saying.  And you may suppose that I have repeated the\nremainder of your tale of horrors.  But will you let me assume, without\nreciting them, that these things are true?\n\nCertainly, he said, what you say is true.\n\nThese, then, are the prizes and rewards and gifts which are bestowed\nupon the just by gods and men in this present life, in addition to the\nother good things which justice of herself provides.\n\nYes, he said; and they are fair and lasting.\n\nAnd yet, I said, all these are as nothing, either in number or\ngreatness in comparison with those other recompenses which await both\njust and unjust after death.  And you ought to hear them, and then both\njust and unjust will have received from us a full payment of the debt\nwhich the argument owes to them.\n\nSpeak, he said; there are few things which I would more gladly hear.\n\nSOCRATES\n\nWell, I said, I will tell you a tale; not one of the tales which\nOdysseus tells to the hero Alcinous, yet this too is a tale of a hero,\nEr the son of Armenius, a Pamphylian by birth.  He was slain in battle,\nand ten days afterwards, when the bodies of the dead were taken up\nalready in a state of corruption, his body was found unaffected by\ndecay, and carried away home to be buried.  And on the twelfth day, as\nhe was lying on the funeral pile, he returned to life and told them\nwhat he had seen in the other world.  He said that when his soul left\nthe body he went on a journey with a great company, and that they came\nto a mysterious place at which there were two openings in the earth;\nthey were near together, and over against them were two other openings\nin the heaven above.  In the intermediate space there were judges\nseated, who commanded the just, after they had given judgment on them\nand had bound their sentences in front of them, to ascend by the\nheavenly way on the right hand; and in like manner the unjust were\nbidden by them to descend by the lower way on the left hand; these also\nbore the symbols of their deeds, but fastened on their backs.  He drew\nnear, and they told him that he was to be the messenger who would carry\nthe report of the other world to men, and they bade him hear and see\nall that was to be heard and seen in that place.  Then he beheld and\nsaw on one side the souls departing at either opening of heaven and\nearth when sentence had been given on them; and at the two other\nopenings other souls, some ascending out of the earth dusty and worn\nwith travel, some descending out of heaven clean and bright.  And\narriving ever and anon they seemed to have come from a long journey,\nand they went forth with gladness into the meadow, where they encamped\nas at a festival; and those who knew one another embraced and\nconversed, the souls which came from earth curiously enquiring about\nthe things above, and the souls which came from heaven about the things\nbeneath.  And they told one another of what had happened by the way,\nthose from below weeping and sorrowing at the remembrance of the things\nwhich they had endured and seen in their journey beneath the earth (now\nthe journey lasted a thousand years), while those from above were\ndescribing heavenly delights and visions of inconceivable beauty.  The\nStory, Glaucon, would take too long to tell; but the sum was this:--He\nsaid that for every wrong which they had done to any one they suffered\ntenfold; or once in a hundred years--such being reckoned to be the\nlength of man's life, and the penalty being thus paid ten times in a\nthousand years.  If, for example, there were any who had been the cause\nof many deaths, or had betrayed or enslaved cities or armies, or been\nguilty of any other evil behaviour, for each and all of their offences\nthey received punishment ten times over, and the rewards of beneficence\nand justice and holiness were in the same proportion.  I need hardly\nrepeat what he said concerning young children dying almost as soon as\nthey were born.  Of piety and impiety to gods and parents, and of\nmurderers, there were retributions other and greater far which he\ndescribed.  He mentioned that he was present when one of the spirits\nasked another, 'Where is Ardiaeus the Great?' (Now this Ardiaeus lived\na thousand years before the time of Er: he had been the tyrant of some\ncity of Pamphylia, and had murdered his aged father and his elder\nbrother, and was said to have committed many other abominable crimes.)\nThe answer of the other spirit was: 'He comes not hither and will never\ncome.  And this,' said he, 'was one of the dreadful sights which we\nourselves witnessed.  We were at the mouth of the cavern, and, having\ncompleted all our experiences, were about to reascend, when of a sudden\nArdiaeus appeared and several others, most of whom were tyrants; and\nthere were also besides the tyrants private individuals who had been\ngreat criminals:  they were just, as they fancied, about to return into\nthe upper world, but the mouth, instead of admitting them, gave a roar,\nwhenever any of these incurable sinners or some one who had not been\nsufficiently punished tried to ascend; and then wild men of fiery\naspect, who were standing by and heard the sound, seized and carried\nthem off; and Ardiaeus and others they bound head and foot and hand,\nand threw them down and flayed them with scourges, and dragged them\nalong the road at the side, carding them on thorns like wool, and\ndeclaring to the passers-by what were their crimes, and that they were\nbeing taken away to be cast into hell.' And of all the many terrors\nwhich they had endured, he said that there was none like the terror\nwhich each of them felt at that moment, lest they should hear the\nvoice; and when there was silence, one by one they ascended with\nexceeding joy.  These, said Er, were the penalties and retributions,\nand there were blessings as great.\n\nNow when the spirits which were in the meadow had tarried seven days,\non the eighth they were obliged to proceed on their journey, and, on\nthe fourth day after, he said that they came to a place where they\ncould see from above a line of light, straight as a column, extending\nright through the whole heaven and through the earth, in colour\nresembling the rainbow, only brighter and purer; another day's journey\nbrought them to the place, and there, in the midst of the light, they\nsaw the ends of the chains of heaven let down from above:  for this\nlight is the belt of heaven, and holds together the circle of the\nuniverse, like the under-girders of a trireme.  From these ends is\nextended the spindle of Necessity, on which all the revolutions turn.\nThe shaft and hook of this spindle are made of steel, and the whorl is\nmade partly of steel and also partly of other materials.  Now the whorl\nis in form like the whorl used on earth; and the description of it\nimplied that there is one large hollow whorl which is quite scooped\nout, and into this is fitted another lesser one, and another, and\nanother, and four others, making eight in all, like vessels which fit\ninto one another; the whorls show their edges on the upper side, and on\ntheir lower side all together form one continuous whorl.  This is\npierced by the spindle, which is driven home through the centre of the\neighth.  The first and outermost whorl has the rim broadest, and the\nseven inner whorls are narrower, in the following proportions--the\nsixth is next to the first in size, the fourth next to the sixth; then\ncomes the eighth; the seventh is fifth, the fifth is sixth, the third\nis seventh, last and eighth comes the second.  The largest (of fixed\nstars) is spangled, and the seventh (or sun) is brightest; the eighth\n(or moon) coloured by the reflected light of the seventh; the second\nand fifth (Saturn and Mercury) are in colour like one another, and\nyellower than the preceding; the third (Venus) has the whitest light;\nthe fourth (Mars) is reddish; the sixth (Jupiter) is in whiteness\nsecond.  Now the whole spindle has the same motion; but, as the whole\nrevolves in one direction, the seven inner circles move slowly in the\nother, and of these the swiftest is the eighth; next in swiftness are\nthe seventh, sixth, and fifth, which move together; third in swiftness\nappeared to move according to the law of this reversed motion the\nfourth; the third appeared fourth and the second fifth.  The spindle\nturns on the knees of Necessity; and on the upper surface of each\ncircle is a siren, who goes round with them, hymning a single tone or\nnote.  The eight together form one harmony; and round about, at equal\nintervals, there is another band, three in number, each sitting upon\nher throne: these are the Fates, daughters of Necessity, who are\nclothed in white robes and have chaplets upon their heads, Lachesis and\nClotho and Atropos, who accompany with their voices the harmony of the\nsirens--Lachesis singing of the past, Clotho of the present, Atropos of\nthe future; Clotho from time to time assisting with a touch of her\nright hand the revolution of the outer circle of the whorl or spindle,\nand Atropos with her left hand touching and guiding the inner ones, and\nLachesis laying hold of either in turn, first with one hand and then\nwith the other.\n\nWhen Er and the spirits arrived, their duty was to go at once to\nLachesis; but first of all there came a prophet who arranged them in\norder; then he took from the knees of Lachesis lots and samples of\nlives, and having mounted a high pulpit, spoke as follows: 'Hear the\nword of Lachesis, the daughter of Necessity.  Mortal souls, behold a\nnew cycle of life and mortality.  Your genius will not be allotted to\nyou, but you choose your genius; and let him who draws the first lot\nhave the first choice, and the life which he chooses shall be his\ndestiny.  Virtue is free, and as a man honours or dishonours her he\nwill have more or less of her; the responsibility is with the\nchooser--God is justified.' When the Interpreter had thus spoken he\nscattered lots indifferently among them all, and each of them took up\nthe lot which fell near him, all but Er himself (he was not allowed),\nand each as he took his lot perceived the number which he had obtained.\nThen the Interpreter placed on the ground before them the samples of\nlives; and there were many more lives than the souls present, and they\nwere of all sorts.  There were lives of every animal and of man in\nevery condition.  And there were tyrannies among them, some lasting out\nthe tyrant's life, others which broke off in the middle and came to an\nend in poverty and exile and beggary; and there were lives of famous\nmen, some who were famous for their form and beauty as well as for\ntheir strength and success in games, or, again, for their birth and the\nqualities of their ancestors; and some who were the reverse of famous\nfor the opposite qualities.  And of women likewise; there was not,\nhowever, any definite character them, because the soul, when choosing a\nnew life, must of necessity become different.  But there was every\nother quality, and the all mingled with one another, and also with\nelements of wealth and poverty, and disease and health; and there were\nmean states also.  And here, my dear Glaucon, is the supreme peril of\nour human state; and therefore the utmost care should be taken.  Let\neach one of us leave every other kind of knowledge and seek and follow\none thing only, if peradventure he may be able to learn and may find\nsome one who will make him able to learn and discern between good and\nevil, and so to choose always and everywhere the better life as he has\nopportunity.  He should consider the bearing of all these things which\nhave been mentioned severally and collectively upon virtue; he should\nknow what the effect of beauty is when combined with poverty or wealth\nin a particular soul, and what are the good and evil consequences of\nnoble and humble birth, of private and public station, of strength and\nweakness, of cleverness and dullness, and of all the soul, and the\noperation of them when conjoined; he will then look at the nature of\nthe soul, and from the consideration of all these qualities he will be\nable to determine which is the better and which is the worse; and so he\nwill choose, giving the name of evil to the life which will make his\nsoul more unjust, and good to the life which will make his soul more\njust; all else he will disregard.  For we have seen and know that this\nis the best choice both in life and after death.  A man must take with\nhim into the world below an adamantine faith in truth and right, that\nthere too he may be undazzled by the desire of wealth or the other\nallurements of evil, lest, coming upon tyrannies and similar\nvillainies, he do irremediable wrongs to others and suffer yet worse\nhimself; but let him know how to choose the mean and avoid the extremes\non either side, as far as possible, not only in this life but in all\nthat which is to come.  For this is the way of happiness.\n\nAnd according to the report of the messenger from the other world this\nwas what the prophet said at the time:  'Even for the last comer, if he\nchooses wisely and will live diligently, there is appointed a happy and\nnot undesirable existence.  Let not him who chooses first be careless,\nand let not the last despair.'  And when he had spoken, he who had the\nfirst choice came forward and in a moment chose the greatest tyranny;\nhis mind having been darkened by folly and sensuality, he had not\nthought out the whole matter before he chose, and did not at first\nsight perceive that he was fated, among other evils, to devour his own\nchildren.  But when he had time to reflect, and saw what was in the\nlot, he began to beat his breast and lament over his choice, forgetting\nthe proclamation of the prophet; for, instead of throwing the blame of\nhis misfortune on himself, he accused chance and the gods, and\neverything rather than himself.  Now he was one of those who came from\nheaven, and in a former life had dwelt in a well-ordered State, but his\nvirtue was a matter of habit only, and he had no philosophy.  And it\nwas true of others who were similarly overtaken, that the greater\nnumber of them came from heaven and therefore they had never been\nschooled by trial, whereas the pilgrims who came from earth, having\nthemselves suffered and seen others suffer, were not in a hurry to\nchoose.  And owing to this inexperience of theirs, and also because the\nlot was a chance, many of the souls exchanged a good destiny for an\nevil or an evil for a good.  For if a man had always on his arrival in\nthis world dedicated himself from the first to sound philosophy, and\nhad been moderately fortunate in the number of the lot, he might, as\nthe messenger reported, be happy here, and also his journey to another\nlife and return to this, instead of being rough and underground, would\nbe smooth and heavenly.  Most curious, he said, was the spectacle--sad\nand laughable and strange; for the choice of the souls was in most\ncases based on their experience of a previous life.  There he saw the\nsoul which had once been Orpheus choosing the life of a swan out of\nenmity to the race of women, hating to be born of a woman because they\nhad been his murderers; he beheld also the soul of Thamyras choosing\nthe life of a nightingale; birds, on the other hand, like the swan and\nother musicians, wanting to be men.  The soul which obtained the\ntwentieth lot chose the life of a lion, and this was the soul of Ajax\nthe son of Telamon, who would not be a man, remembering the injustice\nwhich was done him the judgment about the arms.  The next was\nAgamemnon, who took the life of an eagle, because, like Ajax, he hated\nhuman nature by reason of his sufferings.  About the middle came the\nlot of Atalanta; she, seeing the great fame of an athlete, was unable\nto resist the temptation:  and after her there followed the soul of\nEpeus the son of Panopeus passing into the nature of a woman cunning in\nthe arts; and far away among the last who chose, the soul of the jester\nThersites was putting on the form of a monkey.  There came also the\nsoul of Odysseus having yet to make a choice, and his lot happened to\nbe the last of them all.  Now the recollection of former tolls had\ndisenchanted him of ambition, and he went about for a considerable time\nin search of the life of a private man who had no cares; he had some\ndifficulty in finding this, which was lying about and had been\nneglected by everybody else; and when he saw it, he said that he would\nhave done the had his lot been first instead of last, and that he was\ndelighted to have it.  And not only did men pass into animals, but I\nmust also mention that there were animals tame and wild who changed\ninto one another and into corresponding human natures--the good into\nthe gentle and the evil into the savage, in all sorts of combinations.\n\nAll the souls had now chosen their lives, and they went in the order of\ntheir choice to Lachesis, who sent with them the genius whom they had\nseverally chosen, to be the guardian of their lives and the fulfiller\nof the choice:  this genius led the souls first to Clotho, and drew\nthem within the revolution of the spindle impelled by her hand, thus\nratifying the destiny of each; and then, when they were fastened to\nthis, carried them to Atropos, who spun the threads and made them\nirreversible, whence without turning round they passed beneath the\nthrone of Necessity; and when they had all passed, they marched on in a\nscorching heat to the plain of Forgetfulness, which was a barren waste\ndestitute of trees and verdure; and then towards evening they encamped\nby the river of Unmindfulness, whose water no vessel can hold; of this\nthey were all obliged to drink a certain quantity, and those who were\nnot saved by wisdom drank more than was necessary; and each one as he\ndrank forgot all things.  Now after they had gone to rest, about the\nmiddle of the night there was a thunderstorm and earthquake, and then\nin an instant they were driven upwards in all manner of ways to their\nbirth, like stars shooting.  He himself was hindered from drinking the\nwater.  But in what manner or by what means he returned to the body he\ncould not say; only, in the morning, awaking suddenly, he found himself\nlying on the pyre.\n\nAnd thus, Glaucon, the tale has been saved and has not perished, and\nwill save us if we are obedient to the word spoken; and we shall pass\nsafely over the river of Forgetfulness and our soul will not be\ndefiled.  Wherefore my counsel is that we hold fast ever to the\nheavenly way and follow after justice and virtue always, considering\nthat the soul is immortal and able to endure every sort of good and\nevery sort of evil.  Thus shall we live dear to one another and to the\ngods, both while remaining here and when, like conquerors in the games\nwho go round to gather gifts, we receive our reward.  And it shall be\nwell with us both in this life and in the pilgrimage of a thousand\nyears which we have been describing.","title":"The Republic","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":124441}