University of Virginia Library
B358.J8 1927
CLEM
The dialogues of Plato, select
CX 000 141 829
doddddddddddddddddddddbdbdbd
THE DIALOGUES OF
PLATO
Selections from the Translation of
BENJAMIN JOWETT, Late Master
of BALLIOL COLLEGE & Regius
Professor of Greek in the University
of OXFORD; Edited with an Intro-
duction by WILLIAM CHASE GREENE,
Assistant Professor of Greek & Latin
in HARVARD University

LIVERIGHT PUBLISHING CORP NEW YORK
·
Clemons Lib.
B
358
J8
1927
OR, 1954, BY LIVERIGHT PUBLISHING CORP.
Copyright, 1927, by
HORACE LIVERIGHT, INC.
LIVERIGHT PUBLISHING CORP.
All rights of reprinting are reserved
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
I
TO THE MASTER
AND FELLOWS OF
BALLIOL COLLEGE
THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED
IN GRATEFUL RECOGNITION
OF LEARNING AND FRIENDSHIP
PREFACE
The translation of the Dialogues of Plato by Benja-
min Jowett has long been recognized as an English
classic. Those who can not read their Plato in the
original Greek can best explore his thought by reading
the five volumes of the Jowett translation. Some
readers, however, who may hesitate to embark on so
long a voyage will wish nevertheless to know more of
Plato than they can find in handbooks or in brief
fragments of translation from Plato. They will not
be content to limit their reading to the Republic or to
any two or three dialogues; they will be curious to
become acquainted with Plato's portrait of his master
Socrates, to learn something of Plato's own logical
method, of his moral profundity, of his whimsical
drollery, of his poetic fancy, as they reveal themselves
in various works. For such readers the present edition
is intended. From eighteen of the dialogues have been
chosen passages, comprising nearly one-third of the
whole text of Plato, which give a fair conception of
the philosopher's persuasive charm and of his many-
sided interests, as well as of the essential unity of his
thought. The general introduction attempts a survey
of certain elements in Plato's philosophy, with some
indication of its importance for the modern world.
For permission to use the third edition of Jowett's
translation, I am indebted to the Delegates of the
Clarendon Press and to the Trustees of the Jowett
Copyright. For the general introduction and for the
special introductions, summaries, and comments I am
responsible; a few quotations from Jowett's introduc-
tions are incorporated. and are signed with his initial.
vii
viii
PREFACE
I acknowledge with thanks the permission given me by
the Syndics of the Harvard University Press to borrow
certain passages from my book, "The Achievement of
Greece"; I have also used a few sentences from other
writings of my own. The marginal page references
are, as usual, to the famous edition of Plato by the
French printer Stephanus, references to portions of the
pages being lettered from a to e.
I have not attempted to revise the translation itself,
except in a few places, most of which are especially
indicated; for the majority of these corrections I am
under obligations to published suggestions of Profes-
sor Paul Shorey, of the late James Adam, and of Dr.
Paul Elmer More. In general the third edition of
Jowett's translation represents a thorough revision of
the earlier editions; its principles are admirably set
forth in his Preface, pages xiv-xxiv.
Within the limits of the introduction, it has seemed
best to make no mention of modern scholars, whether
in agreement or in disagreement. My understanding
of Plato owes much to Jowett, as well as to those
writers, among many others, whose works are named
in the very brief list at the end of this volume. My
friend Professor Raphael Demos, of the Harvard De-
partment of Philosophy, has kindly read and criticised
my general introduction. Certain debatable points I
have set forth, I trust temperately, without mention-
ing divergent views: for lack of space "the wolf's
cause" must go unheard.
I take the liberty of dedicating the present volume
to the Master and Fellows of Balliol College, Jowett's
College, and for three well-remembered years my own
college.
CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS,
W. C. G.
August, 1926.
PREFACE
INTRODUCTION
CONTENTS
PAGE
vii
xi
APOLOGY
CRITO
PHAEDO
ION
3
33
49; 241
123
PROTAGORAS
MENO
CRATYLUS
143
159
173
GORGIAS
179
SYMPOSIUM
215
THE REPUBLIC
249
PHAEDRUS
435
THEAETETUS
469
PARMENIDES
475
SOPHIST
STATESMAN
PHILEBUS
TIMAEUS
483
489
495
505
LAWS
LIST OF BOOKS
523
535
ix
INTRODUCTION
I
The Dialogues of Plato are the fruit of a rare mind;
but they could not have kept their perennial freshness
if they had not somehow succeeded in expressing the
problems and the convictions that are common to Plato's
age and to all later ages. Genius alone is not enough;
or perhaps it were wiser to say that we recognize genius
only in the power of divination that overleaps the
boundaries of a special time and place. Certainly Plato
saw in the Athens of the fifth and fourth centuries be-
fore Christ a multitude of conditions that he would
recognize as only too familiar if he could be confronted
with our modern world; nor would he admit that we
have yet found any more hopeful solutions of some
of his perplexities than those which he attempted more
than two thousand years ago. Indeed he might mod-
estly suggest that it was precisely because he had ob-
served in the experience of Athens the very defects
which are to be noted in our world that he had been
driven to the conclusions expressed in his dialogues.
Familiar with the new science of his day, and with
its tendency to quicken or to unsettle men's minds, and
to stimulate material productivity, Plato would be a
keen critic of certain tendencies in our life. He would
note the acceleration of activity caused by the intro-
duction of machinery, especially of the automobile; he
would ask whether speed and change and quantitative
increase have not become ends in themselves. Is not
the ideal of many of our younger generation, he might
xi
xii
INTRODUCTION
ask, best expressed in terms of jazz music and new
dances and rapid motion from one place to another,
the second place being preferred not necessarily as bet-
ter but only as different? The police-court bears ugly,
tragic testimony every day to the truth of this judg-
ment. What limit, external or self-imposed, can there
be to such acceleration, unless a qualitative standard be
once more substituted for a quantitative standard?
We can easily see how Plato's mind might deal with
other phases of our civilization, drawing up an indict-
ment both grave and kindly. In the displacement of
the spoken drama by the moving picture, it may be
urged, we have multiplied audiences and shifted the
appeal from the reason to the senses; granted that the
senses may give valuable information, are they not
often also subtle deceivers, substituting superficial ap-
pearances for realities? So in our popular art, novelty
and sensation, the bizarre and exotic, are at odds with
the demands of normal and disciplined human nature.
Again, the newspapers that cater to shallow or depraved
minds purvey falsehood and half-truths under the guise
of truth; even when they can claim some measure of
veracity, they are out of date in twenty-four hours.
Quite as insidious is the voice of the advertiser whose
honeyed words enchant men, for his own gain, to buy
what they do not need; for he is compelled by his
rivals to use all his seductive arts in the creation of
a world of false values,-a world of spenders, acutely
sensitive to superficial criticism and fluctuating fashion,
never reaching a stable equilibrium. All such persons,
-entertainers, journalists, merchants, Plato would
regard as sophists, plausible pretenders to the rôle of
educator, who in their easy flattery of good-natured
humanity forget the faithful wounds that a friend must
sometimes give.
The man in the street is ready for such flattery, for
INTRODUCTION
xiii
is he not a believer in the natural goodness of man, the
sanctity of commercial success as the tangible evidence
of goodness, and the duty of man to become success-
ful? Dealing with mass production in his business, he
trusts to institutions and state agencies when moral
questions are at issue. He finds in pragmatism a way
of thinking that seems akin to his mode of living:
readily tested by tangible standards, it is no philosophy
of the clouds, and it imposes on its adherents no faith
in a dimly descried world of abstractions. Especially
since the Great War, all conceptions and standards that
could conceivably be stamped as 'visionary' have been
suspect, and the natural goodness of man has been in-
terpreted in a more chauvinistic fashion; super-patriot-
ism, the gospel of efficiency, and standardization have
become the idols of the hour. Inconsistently enough,
yet not wholly inconsistently, we have at the same time
clung to the dogma of democratic equality, a corollary
of the natural goodness of man. In the field of public
education, therefore, we have perforce in many cases
fitted educational standards to the abilities and the
miscellaneous demands of the tax-payers' families: an
academic degree must not be beyond their reach. Col-
leges, like newspapers and novels, must provide 'what
the public wants.'
Among other pretenders to the name of educator
Plato would find many a skilful writer who has won
the ear of our world. If among dramatists there were
one in whom he might detect a note of Socratic scepti-
cism, without the Socratic conviction of eternal moral
values, it would be in a writer whose plays should un-
veil hypocrisies and question old institutions without
affording new and more trustworthy guides to action.
If among all our writers there were one whom he would.
most readily name a sophist, it would be a prolific and
popular novelist, trained in his earlier years in science,
xiv
INTRODUCTION
who should employ the novel as a vehicle for socio-
logical and political views; one, moreover, who should
receive a new revelation of truth every little while,
and who should view the course of human history as
a minor episode in the cosmic adventure.
There are other sophists to-day, however, who pro-
nounce solemn opinions in the name of science. The
old-fashioned school of materialists went so far as to
deny dogmatically the existence of everything, sub-
stance, or quality, or value, that can not be perceived
with the senses and exploited by the methods of the
laboratory; by the reduction of everything to matter
they annihilated the grounds of morality and of human
responsibility. To such thoroughgoing materialism
there are several objections, based on the unity of
organisms, the fact of memory, and the realization that
'matter' itself is in part a mental construction relative
to the observer. But the denial of moral responsibility
is now being effected in a novel way. Our newer psy-
chologists have discovered that much of our life is car-
ried on unconsciously, and they would persuade us that
we are responsible neither for the existence nor for the
emergence of our unconscious thoughts and emotions
in conscious form; they would describe us as mental
automata, whose behavior may be noted, but whose ac-
tions deserve neither praise nor blame. Thus the social
environment (itself predetermined) becomes the only
criminal or the only effective saint; all motives for indi-
vidual self-improvement are paralyzed; the arm of the
law is impotent; good and evil become meaningless or
at least irrelevant terms. We do not need to be good
unless we happen to wish to be good,-whatever that
may mean! Thus, the older determinisms of theology,
or of materialistic science, or of economic laws,' are
now being supplanted by a psychological determinism
I
1
I
INTRODUCTION
XV
that can find in man no power of initiative or inhibition
or self-direction; it is 'a psychology without a soul.'
In the field of religion, too, we are conscious of the
wide gap that divides those whose resort is to ecclesiasti-
cal authority, or to supernatural revelation, or to the
literal interpretation of an infallible Scripture, from
those who will accept nothing that their own experience
can not verify or that their own reason can not explain.
Granted that science, as such, can tell us nothing about
moral values or about the ultimate problems of creation,
causality, and personality, it is still necessary to frame
some conception of conduct and of our place in the uni-
verse that shall do violence neither to the valid testi-
mony of science nor to the moral experience of the
race. Many to-day will eagerly accept the material
results of science, while denying the very principles that
have made possible the discovery of these results.
Others, perplexed by the difficulty of explaining the
presence of evil in a universe created by a good God,
will deny altogether the existence of evil; still others
will regard evil as the necessary condition of good, or
as an imperfect stage in the creation of good. Probably
all these persons, as well as the adherents of not a few
'queer' religious sects, err because of a determination
to force everything into a pattern too small to contain
it; all must be reduced to reason, or to intuition; all is
science, or all is religion. The prompting of common
sense may yet point to a certain modesty or reticence as
the better part of valor. Science will work within its
well-defined province; the religious experience of man
will continue to strive, to test, to question, to affirm the
lasting principles of conduct and of happiness. Yet
much will remain undetermined or unexplained: it
may be found wiser, for example, not to attempt to im-
prison within metaphysical formulas the manner of
God's dealings with the universe.
xvi
INTRODUCTION
Can the philosophers of our day bring order into
chaos? They, if any mortals, should be able to find a
one in the many, and to reconcile the claims of science
and religion, matter and mind, individual and society.
Yet it is the philosophers who exhibit the widest di-
vergencies, ranging from the frankest champions of
mechanism and pluralism, through the various shades
of pragmatism and realism to the extreme of monism.
They define good in terms of intuition or of utility, of
social advantage or of individual happiness, of human
pleasure or of an absolute or divine will. Perhaps the
most widely read philosopher of our day describes life
in terms of a moving picture, nor can he find anything
more certain than instincts and intuitions. Can all these
philosophers be right? Or are we to choose among their
views in accordance with our personal tastes, as if they
were cooks? Or if different degrees of validity are to
be recognized among them, what is to be the test,-the
internal consistency of a system, or the power to meet
the demands of practical living, or some third criterion?
Surely in so great a quest it is hard to suppose that there
is no integrating force or conviction that men of intelli-
gence and good will may share. But where is it to be
found?
Perhaps these are some of the tendencies in our age
which, we may suppose, Plato would observe. It is a
fascinating age, full of life and variety, sentimental
and vicious by turns; in it the sublime and the ridiculous
rub shoulders. Powerful and impotent at once, opu-
lent, but not altogether happy, never far from war and
starvation, master of untold physical resources and
slave of its own imperious desires, our civilization is
moving with increasing rapidity along a road not of its
own choosing. All this Plato would observe with sym-
pathy and understanding; for there is hardly a feature
INTRODUCTION
xvii
in the picture which would not remind him of the
Athens of his day.
II
Plato, the son of Ariston and Perictione, was born,
probably in Athens, in 427 B. c. An aristocrat by birth,
-for he not only was related to Critias and Charmides,
members of the 'Thirty,' but traced descent from a
kinsman of Solon and from Codrus, the last Attic king,
-he received the liberal training of an aristocrat.
Though he later gave up verse, as a young man he
wrote poetry, including perhaps some of the extant
short poems attributed to him; at any rate, the imagina-
tive character of the dialogues is a sufficient indication
of his poetic feeling. According to one tradition, he
was named for his grandfather, Aristocles, but received
the nickname Plato because of the breadth of his shoul-
ders, or of his forehead, or possibly of his literary
style.
Plato's was no cloistered life. Growing up during
the Peloponnesian War (431-404), he witnessed the
decay of Athenian democracy, now grown imperialistic.
In the pages of Thucydides he could read of the mag-
nificent ideals of Pericles, now sadly gone astray, and
he beheld with his own eyes, no doubt, the sailing of
the ill-starred Athenian fleet for Syracuse (415); prob-
ably he saw the Spartans enter Athens at the end of
the war and, together with the defeated Athenians, tear
down the Long Walls to the music of flute-players.
At least, he knew the bitter disillusionment of the
war, and was deterred from entering on a political
life by the party-spirit that he had observed. Mean-
while his education was continuing. Like any intel-
ligent Athenian lad, he had absorbed the traditional
Greek culture by reading the poets; he knew the theatre,
with its panorama of characters; perhaps he heard some
xviii
INTRODUCTION
of the lectures of the Sophists, the clever teachers,
mostly foreigners, who were willing (for a considera-
tion) to prepare young men for public life. For a
time Plato was the pupil of Cratylus, who expounded
the Heracleitean doctrine of the flux, and seemed to
leave nothing stable; and he was picking up impres-
sions, too, of the Orphic cults, with their sharp division
of soul and body, and of the Pythagorean communi-
ties. Probably it was when he was about twenty that he
fell under the spell of Socrates, the strange, satyr-like
creature, half rationalist, half mystic, who was under-
mining the easy-going, conventional notions of all whom
he met, and compelling them to find a rational, lasting
principle behind their conduct.
The death of Socrates, in 399, seems to have marked
the turning-point in the life of his pupil; Plato was
'converted' to philosophy, and philosophy now meant
for him no trifling play with words, but the devoted
quest for a way of life. Though it is not certain how
he spent the next score of years, it is clear that he had
travelled widely, in Sicily and Southern Italy certainly,
and perhaps in Egypt and Cyrene as well, before he
settled in Athens at the age of forty, and founded the
Academy. This, the first university, was organized as
a religious guild, somewhat after the manner of the
Pythagorean communities that Plato had visited in
Italy; its habitation was a house and garden in a suburb,
northwest of Athens, named for the local hero
Academus, whose shrine happened to be there. To the
Academy resorted for considerable periods young men
from many parts of the Greek world; they shared in
its common life, and followed its thorough course of
mathematical and philosophic studies, receiving a far
more profound and disinterested training than the
sophists ever gave. Many of them became notable
men; some gave useful help in constitutional and legal
INTRODUCTION
xix
matters to cities who asked for advice. Plato himself,
twenty years after the foundation of the Academy, was
persuaded to attempt the realization of his political
principles for the good of the young tyrant of Syracuse.
He failed, as he had expected to fail; for the only re-
form that was worth attempting, as he believed, re-
quired a more protracted preparation than frail human
nature would endure; young Dionysius simply would
not study geometry! A subsequent visit to Syracuse
failed to harmonize the troubled city. Plato returned
to the Academy, where he died nearly twenty years
later, at the age of eighty-one.
ers,
Socrates, like others among the world's greatest teach-
left no writings of his own; our knowledge of him
comes chiefly from the memoirs of an acquaintance,
the honest Xenophon, and from the much more sig-
nificant dialogues of his brilliant pupil Plato. Possibly
even before the death of Socrates, surely not long
thereafter, Plato began to compose dramatic sketches
that preserved something of the personality of his mas-
ter and not a little of his interests and methods. Near-
est to the very words of Socrates, and probably earliest,
comes the Apology, supposedly the defense of Socrates
in court.' The story of his last hours is continued in
the Crito and the Phaedo. A number of other dia-
logues, obviously written early in Plato's literary ca-
reer, exhibit Socrates in the rôle of questioner, seldom
finding conclusive results: these are the Charmides,
Laches, Lysis, Euthyphro, and Ion. In several some-
what later dialogues, notably in the Meno and the
1 The order of composition of the dialogues cannot be determined
with complete accuracy; but a few bits of external evidence and certain
considerations of subject-matter, attitude, and style point in general to
some such order as that followed in this volume. The chief exception
is the position of the Phaedo, whose content and style indicate that it
was composed just before the Republic; because of its biographical in-
terest, however, it is here printed immediately after the Apology and
the Crito.
!
XX
INTRODUCTION
Symposium, may be found richly suggestive touches of
portraiture; but in them the philosophic thought is be-
coming as much Platonic as Socratic. In most of the
dialogues written after the Republic, indeed, Socrates
becomes a minor figure, and in the Laws he actually
does not appear. Thus the dramatic sketch, recording
the personality and point of view of Socrates, develops
almost imperceptibly into the dogmatic exposition of
Platonic philosophy. It is well to remember, more-
over, that much of Plato's most mature thought, all his
mathematical teaching, and some of his most intimate
ethical instruction were given orally in the Academy;
for he sincerely believed in the superiority of the 'liv-
ing' word to lifeless' writings, even if he did take
the trouble to write his immortal dialogues (see Phae-
drus 274-277). In the seventh of those epistles which
have come down under his name, an epistle which may
well be genuine, the writer has these words about 'the
subjects to which I devote myself': 'I certainly have
composed no work in regard to [them], nor shall I
ever do so in future; for there is no way of putting it
in words like other studies. Acquaintance with it must
come rather after a long period of attendance on in-
struction in the subject itself and of close companion-
ship, when, suddenly, like a blaze kindled by a leaping
spark, it is generated in the soul and at once becomes
self-sustaining.'¹
A certain development in the Platonic philosophy
may therefore be recognized; and it is only natural to
find Plato dwelling in successive dialogues with varying
emphasis on the many phases of his thought. At first
it is Socrates and his work that claim his attention.
Presently we find him dealing with the twin problems of
the nature of knowledge and the nature of good and
1 Translated by L. A. Post. Jowett did not accept the Epistles as
genuine, and did not translate the
INTRODUCTION
xxi
evil, still tentatively, but like Socrates never doubting
that truth and good exist. And now in the great group
of dialogues that includes the Symposium, the Phaedo,
the Republic, and the Phaedrus, he affirms trium-
phantly, but always as an hypothesis to be verified by
experience, the reality of a realm of ideas, the guaran-
tee alike of truth and of goodness. Difficulties remain
to be inet; and the 'dialectical' group of dialogues, to-
gether with the Timaeus and the Laws, are devoted to
the attempt to mediate between the realm of ideas and
the world of the senses, between creator and created.
In these latest dialogues the tone becomes less meta-
physical and more theological; the dramatic interest
disappears.
Such a development may be recognized; but it should
not be overstressed. If Plato's interests are now ethi-
cal, now mathematical; if he seems at one time to soar
into a supercelestial region, at another time to creep
painfully on earth; if in one dialogue he deals with
ideas, in another with a personal Creator, it is not that
Plato has changed his mind, or seriously revised his
philosophy. It is rather that he is not by temperament
a system-maker who cares to set forth an encyclopaedic
exposition. He prefers the free dramatic method that
permits him to trace the emergence of a problem, to
present both sides of a case, to leave some matters in
doubt (perhaps to be dealt with on another occasion),
to heighten the light that plays over the subject upper-
most in his mind, to employ irony, satire, and dramatic
contrast in the interest of those settled convictions which
he has held for some sixty years. For quite as striking
as the variety and the shifting emphasis is the unity of
Plato's thought. Behind the passing moods and the
inevitable traces of advancing years one may perceive
the working of a mind that early found its true bent,
and that unwaveringly pressed towards its goal.
xxii
INTRODUCTION
It would not be safe to argue, of course, that Plato
conceived at once the whole of his philosophy, and that
with miraculous self-control he feigned a halting ap-
proach to it. His doubts and scruples, like his affirma-
tions, are sincere. Yet it is true that he uses his rare
gift for comedy not only for the sake of vivacity but
for a deeper philosophic purpose. On almost every
page of Plato is inscribed a ridicule, sometimes cour-
teous, sometimes veiled, often outspoken, of Plato's
adversaries. At first the objects of his shafts are real
persons, the contemporaries of his master Socrates,
whose prestige he defends against all comers.
Even
in the early dialogues, however, there are cases in which
Socrates does not quite come off a manifest victor in
the battle of wit; a conclusion is suggested, directly or
indirectly, which clearly belongs to the writer of the
dialogue. By degrees the hero of the dialogues ap-
pears no longer as Socrates, but as an impersonal spirit.
of philosophy speaking through various mouths, and
in at least one notable instance, the Protagoras, speak-
ing directly against the character named Socrates. The
antithesis being clear in Plato's mind,-now Socrates
contra mundum, now the true philosopher ranged
against the sham pretender,-the course of comedy is
plain; for comedy means, as Plato holds, the exposure
of all pretensions. So the orthodox teachers of Greece,
-poets, rhapsodes, sophists, rhetoricians, philosophers,
-are held up to ridicule. And often the essence of
a dialogue proves to be a spirit, apparently disinter-
ested, but in fact carefully directed by the author,
which may be called 'the argument personified' as the
real hero of the piece; 'Whither the argument blows,
we follow.' (Republic 394d. See also Apology 39c;
the Laws in the Crito 46, 50; Protagoras 361a; Sym-
posium 201d-212a; Phaedo passim; Phaedrus 260-
261). In this fashion Plato is fond of setting off or
INTRODUCTION
xxiii
projecting his views by making them as impersonal as
possible; it is something told to Socrates, or dreamed,
or argued to him by the spirit of logic, that he firmly
holds; the characters in his writings are merely carried
by the current.
If the dramatic element, and in particular if the
spirit of comedy, be duly recognized in the reading of
Plato, much perplexity and sometimes serious misunder-
standing may be avoided. A striking case, for example,
is the sentence of exile from the ideal republic which
Socrates is represented as passing on the poets. It
should be understood, however, that Plato is drawing
a contrast between poetry as it exists and an unattain-
able ideal of philosophy viewed sub specie aeternitatis.
The exile is a comic gesture, drawing attention to the
perilous enchantments of poetry; for poetry, though
able to remind one of the pure realm of ideas, is apt to
linger in the world of the senses. It were better to do
without poetry, Plato argues, than to let it interfere
with that grasp of truth which in theory is open to the
reason. If we remember, however, that Plato has
admitted that the grasp of absolute truth is only par-
tially attainable, the solemn sentence against poetry
may be taken at something less than its face value.
No reader can fail to enjoy the comedy that lies by
the way: the metaphorical description of Socrates as a
gad-fly, or as a midwife; the damaging account of the
Heracleitean philosophy of the flux, in which the world
is 'like a leaky vessel or a man who has a running at
the nose'; characterization, as of the love-sick Hippo-
thales, who writes bad verse and talks in his sleep; in-
cident, as in the opening of the Protagoras and through-
out the Symposium; the parables in the Republic of the
Cave, the Captain of the Ship, the philosopher as a
watch-dog, the marriage of the portionless maiden
Philosophy to an upstart little tinker, the drones and
xxiv
INTRODUCTION
the wasps, the Great Beast. One can only be thankful
that for once in the history of the world Lady Phi-
losophy learned to speak with utter charm the language
of true poetry, and that Plato preferred the dramatic
essay, with its personal touch, to dry-as-dust system-
building. And it is not a little thing to enjoy the fine
flavor of conversation among gentlemen; for the phi-
losopher, Plato tells us, is unlike the slavish profes-
sional man in that he 'has his talk out in peace.' All
time is at his command: 'the argument is our servant
and must wait our leisure.' (Theaetetus 172, 173.)
'How charming is divine philosophy!
Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,
But musical as is Apollo's lute,
And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets,
Where no crude surfeit reigns.'
III
It was a much-perturbed world that young Plato
found about him. Among educated men everything
was in dispute: political sanctions, literary values,
moral standards, religious convictions, even the possi-
bility of reaching any truth about anything, were being
disputed. From the ordinary Athenian little, of course,
could be learned; for far from being the nimble..
minded rationalist that he has sometimes been given
credit for being, the average Athenian was on the whole
a shrewd conservative. His morality was based on
habit, fortified by proverbial wisdom; he appealed to
the poets and to dreams and oracles for enlightenment;
if he no longer found comfort in the awe-inspiring re-
ligion of the gods of Olympus, he probably had more
than an equivalent in his devotion to some mystery
cult, Orphic or Eleusinian, which promised salvation
INTRODUCTION
XXV
to its initiates. His whole life, therefore, was more
dependent on intuition than on reason.
Yet his ways
of thinking were capable of being profoundly affected
by the thought of exceptional men, as well as by the
march of historical events.
The thinkers of Greece had moved far within the
previous two centuries. Critical of Homer and the old
religion, they were trying in some new way to find order
in the universe. For a time they had attempted, de-
spite their imperfect instruments of thought and their
failure to appreciate the importance of observation, to
deal with physical nature; in terms of water, 'the
boundless,' or air, they sought the unity of the visible
universe. Or they sought by logical methods to reduce
everything to change and diversity (Heracleitus) or to
rest and unity (Parmenides). Theirs was an impossible
undertaking, and the very opposition of their views
bred in the minds of many men a distrust of science
and a desire to explore instead the qualities of human
nature.
Here too, however, there were confusion and dis-
agreement. Herodotus was telling of the strange and
varied customs of foreign lands; if Heracleitus was not
right in saying that all things are in a state of flux, at
least it seemed true that human institutions were vari-
able. Law was made and unmade, as the Athenian
democracy willed; the rights of subject states depended
on the sovereign pleasure of Athens. And as the Pelo-
ponnesian War was fought out to the bitter end an in-
creasingly cynical spirit appeared; it was every man for
himself, with no law, human or divine, to deter him.
The sophists generally promoted the gospel of worldly
success; cleverness, rather than stability, was most ad-
mired. They lectured on Homer, or logic, or goodness,
or materialistic science, or what you will; the subject
did not seem to matter so much as the intellectual
xxvi
INTRODUCTION
adroitness displayed, though many of the sophists were
doubtless honest enough. The young men were agape;
such tricks, such new reasons for things, their fathers
had never known. And it was delightful to be told by
the great Protagoras, if they understood him aright,
that they themselves were the measure of what was
right and wrong. What appears to each man to be
true, his followers argued, is true for him; there are
no absolutely true statements which are true for all
persons, and judgments about particular objects are
all that we can make. Not only is the particular man
the measure of all his experience, but he can not go
beyond the experience of the moment. So irresponsible
ethical and logical judgments became the counterpart
of the irresponsible elements of the physicists. The
theatre soon learned to spread sceptical views, or at least
to suggest that man is adrift in a world in which pleas-
ure and pain are the supreme facts. How in this per-
turbed world could truth, permanence, consistency, sig-
nificance be found?
Socrates agreed that nothing certain could be learned
by speculations about the physical world, based on
fleeting impressions of the flux; and, after all, such
speculations had little practical value. So far he was a
sceptic. But it is possible, he asserted, by looking into
the mind of man to find principles of conduct which
rational discourse can clarify and fix. So he walked
about cross-examining his fellow Athenians, drawing
illustrations from the crafts, calling attention to the
common element in diverse situations, and thus estab-
lishing the nature of various moral qualities. These
qualities, he held, are capable of being tested in daily
experience; they are consistent, when subjected to ra-
tional criticism; they are somehow more real than the
transitory appearances of daily life. So in reply to the
appeals of his old friend Crito he refuses to escape
INTRODUCTION
xxvii
from prison; why? Not because bones and muscles
would not easily carry him away, but because he thinks
it more just and honorable to remain (Phaedo 98-99).
Nevertheless it is not merely the reason on which
Socrates depends; indeed the reason can often find a
plausible pretext for what one wishes to do against
one's better judgment. And what we may vaguely call
our 'better judgment' Socrates referred to as an inner,
God-given voice, which warned him occasionally against
some contemplated action. This intuition, always nega-
tive in the experience of Socrates, was absolutely to be
trusted; and so far as it was operative in him, Soc-
rates may be described as a mystic. We shall see that
Plato, too, found a large place in his philosophy for a
principle that often appeared to deny man's natural
inclinations; but so far as the divine voice of Socrates
was an intuitive, unaccountable phenomenon, it was
beyond the reach of the rational criticism that clarified
his other moral principles. Such a discrepancy could
not be permanently satisfactory to the intellect; yet the
consistent conduct of Socrates, the inner serenity that
marked even his last hours, afforded a concrete example
of a way of life, at once rational and mystical, whose
influence moved young Plato to the very depths of his
nature. The welfare of the soul, said Socrates in
court, is the greatest thing.
The mind of young Plato, dissatisfied with the de-
nial of the possibility of knowledge implicit in the
teaching of the Heracleitean philosopher Cratylus, was
caught on the rebound by the teaching of Socrates. Sen-
sible phenomena are gone before you can name them;
but moral qualities, Socrates had shown, have a per-
manent value and meaning. Plato therefore supposed
first these moral qualities or standards, and then other
principles and relations, to have a real and permanent
existence. Borrowing from the terminology of the
xxviii
INTRODUCTION
semi-mathematical thinkers of days just before his
own, he called them Ideas, or Forms. This, then, is
the origin of what is known as Plato's Theory of Ideas.
Though individual men alter their characters or die,
the essential character of goodness, justice, courage, and
beauty are unchanging. In the Platonizing language
of St. Paul, (the things which are seen are temporal;
but the things which are not seen are eternal.”
It should be noted that the Greek expressions which
Jowett translates as 'idea' do not at all signify mere
mental notions or images, possibly arbitrary or unreal,
but refer rather to the common quality or principle in
different individual things that justifies us in using the
same name of them. Plato's language is by no means
technical; and for this most real of all realities he uses
phrases which in other contexts would be understood
as 'shape,' 'look,' 'class,' 'the thing itself,' 'essence,'
or 'just exactly what each really is.' We must not
confuse the origin of the Theory of Ideas with what
Plato holds to be the nature of the ideas. He holds
that there are ideas because the denial of them results
in the impossibility of any knowledge or goodness.
But the reality of the ideas does not depend on our
knowledge of them. They are absolutely real in their
own right, however imperfect our knowledge of them
may be. And as the ideas are clarified and correlated
they are seen to derive their validity ultimately from
a supreme principle, the Idea of the Good, the inde-
pendent source and cause of all things. It cannot be
described, save by analogies; it cannot be grasped except
by the imagination. But if knowledge is at all possible,
the Idea of the Good must be the most real of all
things.
In another sense, however, the Theory of Ideas is
susceptible of a different kind of test. The ideas are
not merely intellectual principles; they are also ethical
INTRODUCTION
xxix
principles, and may therefore be tested in daily living.
If the idea of justice is real, it may be expected that it
will somehow make a difference in the life of one who
consciously strives to approximate it. And this expecta-
tion is justified, Plato shows in the Republic, because
as a matter of fact the just man enjoys a sense of hap-
piness that is denied to the unjust. Not that he will
necessarily be conscious of physical pleasure; for hap-
piness differs qualitatively from pleasure. Indeed he
will often find his desires in conflict with something
within him that will not be denied, a rational view, a
conception of a further objective, a limit or law thwart-
ing the momentary wish. We seem here again to be
in the presence of what Socrates described as his divine
voice; and again it seems often to be a voice that de-
nies. But it is no longer so unaccountable, so mystical
a power; it can justify itself now both by its practical
results in human happiness, and by its place in a com-
plex of rational and moral realities. Nor does it al-
If it checks the
ways appear now as a negative force.
unruly desires, as the charioteer an unruly horse, if it
speaks with authority in the face of evil, it also strives
for a positive good discerned within the world of ideas.
The kingdom of Heaven is no mere negation, nor is
the Platonic realm of ideas.
To some it will seem that Plato goes too far in his
eagerness to subject the senses and the desires to rea-
son. If so, it is not because of any failure to recognize
the existence of a lower, subconscious self, such as the
newer psychologists of our day are exploiting. No one
has more forcibly dealt with that 'lawless wild-beast,
nature, which peers out in sleep' (Republic 572a); his
point is that it is precisely because so much of our life
is unconscious that we must struggle to direct it in-
telligently. And the part that is free, because non-
material, the self-moving soul, is responsible for the
XXX
INTRODUCTION
direction. The senses and matter are not absolutely
evil, certainly they are not non-existent; but because
they are irresponsible they must be controlled, for
pleasure can not be ranked as a leading motive, 'no,
not even if all the oxen and horses and animals in the
world by their pursuit of enjoyment proclaim her so'
(Philebus 67). Such asceticism as Plato approves,
then, is not an end, but a means toward a more stable
and truly happy state. And to any sceptic who remains
unconvinced as to the existence of a realm of ideas, and
of the soul as a responsible moral agent, Plato will re-
ply by pointing first to the logical nihilism that in-
evitably follows the denial of all but matter, and sec-
ondly to the practical test in terms of happiness that
may be applied in the consciousness of man. 'Live
like a Socrates, obedient to the dictates of eternal
values, and see what follows in your own life,' will
be his reply. Hence, Plato is impelled in his later dia-
logues to turn more and more from the metaphysical
conception of ideas to the priority of soul to body, of
God to the created world; and the world of the senses
often seems by comparison to be very mean and il-
lusory.
Plato is at a loss to explain the precise relation of
the flux to the realm of ideas; he can not do better
than have recourse to figurative language. Though a
beautiful statue is not the same thing as the Idea of
Beauty, it is possible to say that it 'participates in'
Beauty, or 'has a share' of it or 'communion with' it,
or again that it 'resembles' or 'imitates' Beauty, or
that Beauty 'is present with' the statue, or 'takes pos-
session' of it. Such are some of Plato's phrases for the
paradoxical relation of the One and the Many, the Idea
and the Particular. Theological arguments that try to
reconcile the immanence with the transcendence of God
reveal a similar embarrassment; how can God be 'in'
INTRODUCTION
xxxi
the universe without being identified with it? Nor is
the difficulty limited to Theology. What do we mean
by saying that an object 'is' beautiful? Not, of course,
that it is identical with beauty, but rather that we
'predicate' beauty of it, suggesting that it falls within
a class of beautiful objects. 'Class' is only a substi-
tute for Plato's term Idea.
There are times, to be sure, when Plato seems
dangerously near to separating the ideas completely
from the world of concrete objects; and Aristotle re-
peatedly accuses him of such a separation, arguing that
the ideas are thus rendered both unknowable and super-
fluous. But Plato himself anticipates all that can be
said to this effect (especially in the Parmenides), and
insists nevertheless that without the ideas real knowl-
edge is impossible, paradoxical though the relation of
idea to particular object may seem. Indeed, it is only
a very literal-minded and one-sided interpretation of
the ideas that is open to such objections. For though
the ideas are sometimes to be described as mere logical
entities or mathematical essences, in general they may
better be understood as the permanent significance and
value, the reality, the organization and coherence, the
purpose of the world and its component parts, viewed
from many angles and with reference to many objec-
tives. Plato's ideas, then, are paradoxically both trans-
cendent and immanent: as immanent, they give form to
the world; as transcendent, they preserve their charac-
ter as objects of thought.
Education, Plato holds accordingly, is not the ac-
cumulation of information, but the gradual progress of
the pupil from an interest in the illusory deceptions of
the flux to the contemplation of the significance and
values discovered by the mind; he must turn himself
about toward the Idea of the Good. By the aid of the
xxxii
INTRODUCTION
various sciences and mathematics and pure logic he will
make his arduous ascent.
Yet the Theory of Ideas, which arises from the de-
sire to emerge from the flux, is not merely a logical
doctrine. For, like the adherents of the various mys-
tical sects, Orphic and Eleusinian and Dionysian, Plato
longed to be free from the trammels of the senses and
almost as in the act of dying to find union with the
eternal goodness of the universe. Thus the ideas may
become the object of immediate mystical intuition; and
Plato's thought is often permeated with the very
language of the mysteries, imaginative or even ecstatic.
So in the Symposium and in the Phaedrus he states the
approach to reality both in the sober terminology of the
discursive reason (progress through the sciences, or
the perception of the one in the many), and also in the
guise of an ecstatic vision of absolute truth. And if
Plato is in such passages more than half a poet, still
more does he give rein to his imagination in the myths.
The Platonic myth is not an allegory; for it does not
take the place of reasoned discourse, and Plato never
resorts to myths when his meaning could be adequately
stated in logical formulae. Hence he is always careful
to explain that he does not affirm his myths to be true
in detail, or real objects to correspond with each part of
them. He does hold, on the other hand, that they are
true to his most profound convictions, and that one
would do well to act on the belief that they are some-
how true.
When his reason has done its utmost to
show the superiority of the just life to the unjust, the
goodness of God and the immortality of the soul, he
proceeds, as did the mystical religions, to build a dream-
world, the contemplation of which instils in the mind.
a vivid sense of the truth of these convictions. With
Er, in the Republic, we look upon the tremendous con-
sequences of good and evil in a future life; in the
1
t
t
INTRODUCTION
xxxiii
Timaeus we trace the unfolding of God's goodness in
the visible world. We are transported out of time into
a region where only values subsist. It were idle to
dispute the imagery of such creations, for they do not
pretend to correspond in detail to any tangible objects;
on the other hand, such conceptions as God and the
soul are strictly the objects neither of sense-perception
nor of the discursive reason, but rather of immediate
intuition. Dispute such conceptions, or dispute the
testimony of a lover, and the ultimate appeal must be
to the test of living experience; admit them, and they
can be communicated to others only in the language of
the myth, which is the language of poetry.
As in the life of the individual the Platonic phi-
losophy provides powerful motives for not yielding to
the fugitive promptings of the desires, so it offers so-
ciety, which is composed of individuals, sound reasons
for disciplining its members for their greater good.
Plato is distrustful both of average human nature, with
its easy-going optimism and sentimentality and self-
assertiveness, and also of the possibility of reforming
human nature externally and wholesale. It is not
true, he would say, that all's well with the world,
and no useful end is gained by pretending that all's
well; yet no simple material or political change,—a
redistribution of wealth, or an extension of the fran-
chise, would seem to him to be any adequate reform.
If this part of Plato's creed seems pessimistic, it is not
inconsistent with the rare optimism that causes him to
base every hope of improvement on the possibility of
some individuals, now selfish or sluggish, rising above
their present levels and pursuing the Idea of the Good;
and of others, less gifted by nature, being willing to
accept direction from their betters for the good of all.
To the cynic and the political opportunist, who can
conceive of nothing more certain than the 'facts' of
xxxiv
INTRODUCTION
-
daily life, economic motives, vacillating electorates,
and the 'spoils' of public life,-Plato's answer is sim-
ple. The society about us which superficially seems so
vividly real is illusory; for a society, like a man, is truly
not what it seems to be at a given moment but rather
what it is capable of becoming when its latent powers
are developed, when it awakes to its destiny. Men are
not by nature permanently selfish, for example; they
are really social, and develop their powers and per-
sonalities and are most truly happy in the midst of
organized society.
repres-
Thus the state, far from being an alien and
sive agency, is the expression of the more highly
developed, that is, of the real nature of men. And in-
telligent self-control, as the condition of self-expres-
sion, is the quality of the happily organized society.
Material devices, such as the rather ascetic communism
which Plato favors for the highly philosophic rulers of
his ideal state (for them only, be it noted, and for
them simply as a release from such family and economic
responsibilities as might detract from their larger use-
fulness), are wholly subordinate to that education of
individuals which is the primary business of society.
Even the type of government to be preferred, mo-
narchical or aristocratic or democratic, is less important
than the spirit manifested; yet Plato feels more and
more confident that no large proportion of persons will
ever be fit to rule, and democracy is far from being in
his eyes an end in itself.
In yet another field the Platonic philosophy seeks
to find an escape from the flux. Those poets and artists
who are content to record the fleeting impressions of
the senses, or to tickle the fancies and indulge the pas-
sions of an ignorant people by specious emotional and
rhetorical appeals, Plato invites to use their art in the
service of truth. The ideas, he argues, being eternal,
INTRODUCTION
XXXV
1
exhibit the end toward which nature herself strives, the
types which the artist and the poet, though working in
the world of flux, should try to embody in their
statues and poems. The apparent hostility which, as
we have noticed, he discloses toward the poets is oc-
casioned not because they use, as indeed they must,
images taken from the world of the senses, but because
they are so often content to remain in that dangerously
seductive world. Poetry, a half-loaf, may be better
than no bread; but the good is nevertheless the enemy
of the best, the realm of ideas. Even Aristophanes
agrees with Plato so far: 'As a child learns from all
who may come in his way, so the grown world learns
from the poet.' Now the quarrel of Platonism with
art and poetry is not with the technique of realism, as
such; a vivid impression, conveyed by sense images,
so far as it presents an illusion of authentic reality is
to be commended. What Platonism opposes is rather
the aim of one sort of naturalism, the photographic
record of sensibilia that attempts no rational selection,
no interpretation of significance and values, or (still
worse) that leaves the impression that the lower, more
selfish instincts in human nature are inevitable, or at
least are more real and more significant than the en-
deavor to achieve self-control and to dwell with eternal
things. Superficiality, implicit trust in the senses, cheap
cynicism and scepticism, these are the real enemies of
Platonism. With what uncanny exactitude the Parable
of the Cave (Republic 514-519) may be read as a de-
scription of the interior of a moving picture house, and
how easily we deceive ourselves into thinking that from
the flux on the screen we gain true knowledge! If
Plato does less than justice to the claims of individual
self-expression in art and literature, he may neverthe-
less serve as the corrective most needed in our day.
1 Frogs, 1054-1055, translated by G. Murray.
xxxvi
INTRODUCTION
IV
To trace the omnipresent influence of Platonism in
the course of later philosophy falls outside the scope
of these pages. Aristotelianism, Stoicism, even Chris-
tianity itself, owe large and direct debts to the genius
of Plato; without his work the religious thought of the
early church, of the Middle Ages, and of the Renais-
sance, would have taken a different course; political
and educational theory, even of the most recent type,
is deeply indebted to him. In literature, too, Platon-
ism is the source of a mighty river. The Republic is
the original of Cicero's De Republica, with a Dream of
Scipio to balance the Myth of Er; the Phaedo suggests
to Virgil the profounder elements in the revelation
of Anchises to Aeneas. It is Platonism, again, that
emerges in St. Augustine's City of God and in most of
the countless Utopias that men have dreamed of. Plato
the mystic crowds out Plato the thinker in the writings
of the Neoplatonists and their followers in the Middle
Ages and the Renaissance, the Timaeus and the
imaginative myths are the most familiar of his writ-
ings; yet in Dante and Spenser and Milton and
Vaughan and in a host of minor poets in Italy and
France and England in the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries Plato found kindred spirits who tried to pierce
behind the veil of semblances to a more serene, a more
lasting region. Thus the Paradise of Dante, and Spen-
ser's Hymne of Heavenly Beautie, and Milton's Comus
are truly Platonic. Milton's own motive deserves to
be remembered: 'What besides God has resolved con-
cerning me, I know not; but this at least: He has in-
stilled into me, at all events, a vehement love of the
beautiful.. I am wont day and night to seek for
this idea of the beautiful' [here Milton quotes Plato's
phrase in Greek] 'through all the forms and faces of
7
ཝཱ
ཐྭ
INTRODUCTION
xxxvii
things (for many are the shapes of things divine), and
to follow it leading me on as with certain assured
traces." 1 And Sidney, who at this point understood
Plato better than most of the critics, says truly: 'that
the poet hath the Idea is manifest.'
Among the romantic poets, Wordsworth and Cole-
ridge and Shelley bear independent testimony to the
truth of a personal, not often of a traditional, Platon-
ism. It was especially Wordsworth who could look on
nature and 'see into the life of things'; and his own
experience lies behind the lines:
'And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things.'
Platonism, then, is not merely an historic movement
that has in the past inspired religions and philosophies,
given form to states, directed education, and moulded
poetry; it is a living force that can be tested and veri-
fied in the experience of our own day. Though Plato
himself failed in his attempt to reform Syracuse, the
Republic, far from being a mere dreamer's fiction, is
realized every time that it is read with sympathy and
a kindling imagination. What if it describes an all too
static polity? Its effect as criticism and as a motive for
action may be in the highest degree dynamic. At the
very least, it stings one with a contempt for one's lower
1 From a letter to Charles Diodati
xxxviii
INTRODUCTION
nature, for the pretensions of the 'economic man' to
have the last word, for all paltering with superficiali-
ties and half truths and sops to the conscience. Or one
may claim in its behalf that the reader into whose mind.
it has sunk deep may not indeed have a ready-made
formula for action in a given case (Plato himself was
cautious in dealing with the flux), but will somehow
deal worthily and hopefully with the situation as it
arises. As the gentleman of fine breeding and tradi-
tions and liberal training can be trusted in an emergency
to 'rise to the occasion' when the narrowly trained ex-
pert can only follow a rule of thumb, so the true
Platonist is one whom rigorous discipline and single
devotion to truth have made expert in the art of living
nobly.
And just because Platonism cannot be reduced to a
mechanical formula, it would be foolish to attempt to
state here the precise solution of our own problems
that Plato would suggest. No one ever became a
Platonist in a day; for the philosophy of Plato is not
an intellectual assent to a set of phrases, but an educa-
tion from within, a turning of the eye toward the light,
a slow process that transforms the character and all
that it experiences. He who reads wisely the dialogues
of Plato will discover that at the same time he is read-
ing the world about him in a new light, and that the dry
leaves of familiar experience are being stirred by the
breath of a fresh wind. Values will be rearranged,
customs and institutions will be newly appraised; facts
will be interpreted not singly but as they fit into the
whole scheme of things, that is, ideally. And as the
truth of Platonism grows on one, it will be realized
that Plato deserves respect as much for his reticence
as for what he said. He was wise enough not to force
into verbal moulds the paradoxical relations of mind
and matter, good and evil, God and the universe; these
INTRODUCTION
xxxix
ultimates he leaves distinguishable, disparate, yet in-
terfused; if he must deal with their relationships, he
will use the language of poetry, and appeal to the
practical tests of a man's consciousness.
For life must be lived, despite all intellectual diffi-
culties, and it is often in the personality of a Socrates
or of some village Hampden that the fruits and the
ultimate sanction of philosophy are to be found. Even
if at the moment the realm of ideas seems to the wise
man to be unrealized, to be only a 'city which is within.
him' or a 'pattern laid away in heaven' (Republic
591, 592), even if he has fallen, as it were, 'among
wild beasts,' and cannot resist their fierceness in such
a way as to help himself or others, he may yet 'hold
his peace and go his own way. He is like one who, in
the storm of dust and sleet which the driving wind
hurries along, retires under the shelter of a wall'
(Republic 496e). We may add, what the Socrates of
the Republic could not add, that such an one may some
day prove to have achieved, though remaining per-
force in private life, far more than the 'wild beasts.'
For he will have realized in his own person both the
spirit of detachment and disinterested criticism and the
spirit of ardent energy in the service of the ideal which
are the inseparable elements of Platonism; and his
example will set the feet of others in the path of phi-
losophy, the way that leads to the good life.
WILLIAM CHASE GREENE
APOLOGY
At the age of seventy, Socrates was tried at Athens on the
threefold charge of introducing new divinities, of denying
the gods recognized by the state, and of corrupting young
men. The Apology professes to be his defense spoken in court.
Although Greek writers seldom tried to report speeches with
verbal accuracy, the Apology probably represents the general
drift of Socrates' actual speech, and indeed is perhaps of all
Plato's writings the one that most faithfully records his mas-
ter's words. The speech falls into three parts: in a formal
defense Socrates ostensibly meets the charges of his accusers;
after the condemnation, he speaks, as Attic law permitted him
to do, in mitigation of the penalty to be inflicted; finally, after
the sentence of death by the hemlock, he discourses propheti-
cally, for the benefit of those who will hear him, on the sig-
nificance of the case.
It can hardly be doubted that if Socrates had wished to
condescend to a conventional defense against the vaguely
worded accusation, fortified by the usual pleas for mercy, he
could have saved his life. But such a compromise with his
conscience was the last thing to be expected of him. He does
not wish to die; and he does not wilfully provoke his judges;
nevertheless he realizes that his real opponent is not so much the
insignificant Meletus or the bitter Anytus as public resent-
ment for his frank criticism of the Athenian democracy, ally-
ing itself with a mere prejudice against the life of reason, a
prejudice aggravated by the unjust suspicion that the dangerous
Alcibiades and Critias may have learned too much from Soc-
rates. So Socrates does indeed make a defence, adequate
enough for a fair-minded jury, but devotes most of his time
to his real defence, the interpretation of his past life, address-
ing himself less to his immediate audience than to all men of
good will.
The great interest of the Apology, therefore, lies in its auto-
biographical character and in the comic contrast that Socrates
draws between his life, the constant life of disinterested philo-
sophic inquiry, and the petty world of bargain and intrigue in
which his judges move. For all his grotesque exterior, this
"gadfly" is obedient to an inner voice; and his martyrdom is
preferable to the injustice of his accusers.
W. C. G.
CARD
cal
5 5000
APOLOGY
begs to be
speak in his
allowed to
accustomed
manner.
How you, O Athenians, have been affected by my accusers,
Apology.
17 I cannot tell; but I know that they almost made me forget SOCRATES.
who I was so persuasively did they speak; and yet they Socrates
have hardly uttered a word of truth. But of the many false-
hoods told by them, there was one which quite amazed me;—
I mean when they said that you should be upon your guard
and not allow yourselves to be deceived by the force of my
eloquence. To say this, when they were certain to be detected
as soon as I opened my lips and proved myself to be anything
but a great speaker, did indeed appear to me most shameless
-unless by the force of eloquence they mean the force of
truth; for if such is their meaning, I admit that I am eloquent.
But in how different a way from theirs! Well, as I was
saying, they have scarcely spoken the truth at all; but from me
you shall hear the whole truth: not, however, delivered after
their manner in a set oration duly ornamented with words and
phrases. No, by heaven! but I shall use the words and argu-
ments which occur to me at the moment; for I am confident
in the justice of my cause: at my time of life I ought not to
be appearing before you, O men of Athens, in the character
of a juvenile orator-let no one expect it of me. And I must
beg of you to grant me a favour:-If I defend myself in my
accustomed manner, and you hear me using the words which
I have been in the habit of using in the agora, at the tables of
the money-changers, or anywhere else, I would ask you not to
be surprised, and not to interrupt me on this account. For
I am more than seventy years of age, and appearing now for
the first time in a court of law, I am quite a stranger to the
language of the place; and therefore I would have you regard The judges
me as if I were really a stranger, whom you would excuse if
he spoke in his native tongue, and after the fashion of his he defends
country: Am I making an unfair request of you? Never
mind the manner, which may or may not be good; but think fashion.
18
must excuse
Socrates if
himself in
his own
3
4
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Apology.
SOCRATES.
He has to
meet two
sorts of ac-
cusers.
only of the truth of my words, and give heed to that: let the
speaker speak truly and the judge decide justly.
And first, I have to reply to the older charges and to my
first accusers, and then I will go on to the later ones. For of
old I have had many accusers, who have accused me falsely
to you during many years; and I am more afraid of them than
of Anytus and his associates, who are dangerous, too, in their
own way. But far more dangerous are the others, who began.
when you were children, and took possession of your minds
with their falsehoods, telling of one Socrates, a wise man, who
speculated about the heaven above, and searched into the
earth beneath, and made the worse appear the better cause.
The disseminators of this tale are the accusers whom I dread;
for their hearers are apt to fancy that such enquirers do not
believe in the existence of the gods. And they are many, and
their charges against me are of ancient date, and they were
made by them in the days when you were more impressible
than you are now-in childhood, or it may have been in youth
-and the cause when heard went by default, for there was
none to answer. And hardest of all, I do not know and
cannot tell the names of my accusers; unless in the chance
case of a Comic poet. All who from envy and malice have
persuaded you some of them having first convinced them-
selves all this class of men are most difficult to deal with;
for I cannot have them up here, and cross-examine them, and
therefore I must simply fight with shadows in my own defence,
and argue when there is no one who answers. I will ask you
then to assume with me, as I was saying, that my opponents
are of two kinds; one recent, the other ancient: and I hope
that you will see the propriety of my answering the latter first,
for these accusations you heard long before the others, and
much oftener.
Well, then, I must make my defence, and endeavour to clear
away in a short time, a slander which has lasted a long time.
May I succeed, if to succeed be for my good and yours, or
likely to avail me in my cause! The task is not an easy one; I
quite understand the nature of it. And so leaving the event
with God, in obedience to the law I will now make my defence.
I will begin at the beginning, and ask what is the accusation.
which has given rise to the slander of me, and in fact has
1
I
I
I
I
APOLOGY
5
SOCRATES.
accusation
of the thea-
declares
that he is
losophy.
encouraged Meletus to prefer this charge against me. Well, Apology.
what do the slanderers say? They shall be my prosecutors,
and I will sum up their words in an affidavit: 'Socrates is an There is the
evil-doer, and a curious person, who searches into things
under the earth and in heaven, and he makes the worse tres; which
appear the better cause; and he teaches the aforesaid doc-
trines to others.' Such is the nature of the accusation: it is a student of
just what you have yourselves seen in the comedy of Aristo- natural phi-
phanes, who has introduced a man whom he calls Socrates,
going about and saying that he walks in air, and talking a
deal of nonsense concerning matters of which I do not pre-
tend to know either much or little-not that I mean to speak
disparagingly of any one who is a student of natural philo-
sophy. I should be very sorry if Meletus could bring so grave
a charge against me. But the simple truth is, O Athenians,
that I have nothing to do with physical speculations. Very
many of those here present are witnesses to the truth of this,
and to them I appeal. Speak then, you who have heard me,
and tell your neighbours whether any of you have ever known
me hold forth in few words or in many upon such matters.
... You hear their answer. And from what they say of
this part of the charge you will be able to judge of the truth
of the rest.
As little foundation is there for the report that I am a
teacher, and take money; this accusation has no more truth
in it than the other. Although, if a man were really able to
instruct mankind, to receive money for giving instruction
would, in my opinion, be an honour to him. There is
Gorgias of Leontium, and Prodicus of Ceos, and Hippias
of Elis, who go the round of the cities, and are able to
persuade the young men to leave their own citizens by whom
20 they might be taught for nothing, and come to them whom
they not only pay, but are thankful if they may be allowed to
pay them.
There is at this time a Parian philosopher
residing in Athens, of whom I have heard; and I came to
hear of him in this way:-I came across a man who has
spent a world of money on the Sophists, Callias, the son of
Hipponicus, and knowing that he had sons, I asked him:
'Callias,' I said, 'if your two sons were foals or calves,
1 Aristophanes, Clouds, 225 ff.
There is the
report that
he is a So-
phist who
receives
money.
The ironical
question
rates put
which Soc-
to Callias.
6
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Apology.
SOCRATES.
The accusa-
inere would be no difficulty in finding some one to put over
them; we should hire a trainer of horses, or a farmer prob-
ably, who would improve and perfect them in their own
proper virtue and excellence; but as they are human beings,
whom are you thinking of placing over them? Is there any
one who understands human and political virtue? You must
have thought about the matter, for you have sons; is there
any one?' 'There is,' he said. 'Who is he?' said I; ‘and
of what country? and what does he charge?' 'Evenus the
Parian,' he replied; 'he is the man, and his charge is five
minae.' Happy is Evenus, I said to myself, if he really has
this wisdom, and teaches at such a moderate charge. Had I
the same, I should have been very proud and conceited; but
the truth is that I have no knowledge of the kind.
I dare say, Athenians, that some one among you will reply,
'Yes, Socrates, but what is the origin of these accusations
which are brought against you; there must have been some-
thing strange which you
have been doing? All these rumours
and this talk about you would never have arisen if you had
been like other men: tell us, then, what is the cause of them,
for we should be sorry to judge hastily of you.' Now I regard
this as a fair challenge, and I will endeavour to explain to you
the reason why I am called wise and have such an evil fame.
Please to attend then. And although some of you may think
that I am joking, I declare that I will tell you the entire truth.
Men of Athens, this reputation of mine has come of a certain
sort of wisdom which I possess. If you ask me what kind of
tions against wisdom, I reply, wisdom such as may perhaps be attained by
man, for to that extent I am inclined to believe that I am
wise; whereas the persons of whom I was speaking have
a superhuman wisdom, which I may fail to describe, because
I have it not myself; and he who says that I have, speaks
falsely, and is taking away my character. And here, O men
of Athens, I must beg you not to interrupt me, even if I seem
to say something extravagant. For the word which I will
speak is not mine. I will refer you to a witness who is
worthy of credit; that witness shall be the God of Delphi-
he will tell you about my wisdom, if I have any, and of what
sort it is. You must have known Chaerephon; he was early
a friend of mine, and also a friend of yours, for he shared in 21
me have
arisen out of
a sort of
wisdom
which I
Dossess.
I
1
1
APOLOGY
7
Apology
the recent exile of the people, and returned with you. Well,
Chaerephon, as you know, was very impetuous in all his SOCRATES
doings, and he went to Delphi and boldly asked the oracle to
tise of it
arose out of
tell him whether as I was saying, I must beg you not to My prac-
interrupt he asked the oracle to tell him whether any one
was wiser than I was, and the Pythian prophetess answered, a declara-
that there was no man wiser. Chaerephon is dead himself;
but his brother, who is in court, will confirm the truth of what
I am saying.
tion of the
Delphian
Oracle that
I was the
wisest of
Because I am going to explain men.
about
searching
who was
wiser than
cians; then
Why do I mention this?
to you why I have such an evil name. When I heard the
answer, I said to myself, What can the god mean? and what
is the interpretation of his riddle? for I know that I have
no wisdom, small or great. What then can he mean when
he says that I am the wisest of men? And yet he is a
god, and cannot lie; that would be against his nature. After
long consideration, I thought of a method of trying the
question. I reflected that if I could only find a man wiser I went
than myself, then I might go to the god with a refutation in
my hand. I should say to him, 'Here is a man who is wiser after a man
than I am; but you said that I was the wisest.' Accordingly
I went to one who had the reputation of wisdom, and observed myself: at
first among
him—his name I need not mention; he was a politician whom
the politi-
I selected for examination-and the result was as follows:
When I began to talk with him, I could not help thinking philoso-
that he was not really wise, although he was thought wise by
many, and still wiser by himself; and thereupon I tried to
explain to him that he thought himself wise, but was not
really wise; and the consequence was that he hated me, and
his enmity was shared by several who were present and
heard me. So I left him, saying to myself, as I went away:
Well, although I do not suppose that either of us knows
anything really beautiful and good, I am better off than he is,
-for he knows nothing, and thinks that he knows; I neither
know nor think that I know. In this latter particular, then,
I seem to have slightly the advantage of him. Then I went
to another who had still higher pretensions to wisdom, and
my conclusion was exactly the same. Whereupon I made
another enemy of him, and of many others besides him.
Then I went to one man after another, being not uncon-
among the
phers; and
I had an
advantage
found that
over them,
because I
had no
knowledge.
conceit of
8
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Apology.
SOCRATES.
I found that
the poets
were the
worst pos-
sible inter-
preters of
their own
writings.
The artisans
had some
real know-
ledge, but
they had
also a con-
ceit that
they knew
things
which were
beyond
them.
the word of
And I said to
scious of the enmity which I provoked, and I lamented and
feared this: but necessity was laid upon me,
God, I thought, ought to be considered first.
myself, Go I must to all who appear to know, and find out
the meaning of the oracle. And I swear to you, Athenians, 22
by the dog I swear!-for I must tell you the truth—the result
of my mission was just this: I found that the men most in
repute were all but the most foolish; and that others less
esteemed were really wiser and better. I will tell you the
tale of my wanderings and of the 'Herculean' labours, as I
may call them, which I endured only to find at last the oracle
irrefutable. After the politicians, I went to the poets; tragic,
dithyrambic, and all sorts. And there, I said to myself, you
will be instantly detected; now you will find out that you are
more ignorant than they are. Accordingly, I took them some
of the most elaborate passages in their own writings, and
asked what was the meaning of them-thinking that they
would teach me something. Will you believe me? I am al-
most ashamed to confess the truth, but I must say that there is
hardly a person present who would not have talked better
about their poetry than they did themselves. Then I knew
that not by wisdom do poets write poetry, but by a sort of
genius and inspiration; they are like diviners or soothsayers
who also say many fine things, but do not understand the
meaning of them. The poets appeared to me to be much in
the same case; and I further observed that upon the strength of
their poetry they believed themselves to be the wisest of men
in other things in which they were not wise. So I departed,
conceiving myself to be superior to them for the same reason
that I was superior to the politicians.
At last I went to the artisans. I was conscious that I
knew nothing at all, as I may say, and I was sure that they
knew many fine things; and here I was not mistaken, for
they did know many things of which I was ignorant, and in
this they certainly were wiser than I was. But I observed
that even the good artisans fell into the same error as the
poets;-because they were good workmen they thought that
they also knew all sorts of high matters, and this defect in
them overshadowed their wisdom; and therefore I asked
myself on behalf of the oracle, whether I would like to be as
1
1
APOLOGY
9
Apology.
I was, neither having their knowledge nor their ignorance, or
like them in both; and I made answer to myself and to the SOCRates.
oracle that I was better off as I was.
This inquisition has led to my having many enemies of
23 the worst and most dangerous kind, and has given occasion
was in-
to Socrates,
but to all
men who
know that
their wis
dom is
worth
also to many calumnies. And I am called wise, for my The oracle
hearers always imagine that I myself possess the wisdom tended to
which I find wanting in others: but the truth is, O men apply, not
of Athens, that God only is wise; and by his answer he
intends to show that the wisdom of men is worth little or
nothing; he is not speaking of Socrates, he is only using
my name by way of illustration, as if he said, He, O men, is
the wisest, who, like Socrates, knows that his wisdom is nothing.
in truth worth nothing. And so I go about the world,
obedient to the god, and search and make enquiry into the
wisdom of any one, whether citizen or stranger, who appears
to be wise; and if he is not wise, then in vindication of
the oracle I show him that he is not wise; and my occu-
pation quite absorbs me, and I have no time to give either
to any public matter of interest or to any concern of my
own, but I am in utter poverty by reason of my devotion to
the god.
my imita-
tors who go
tecting pre-
tenders
and the en-
mity which
they arouse
falls upon
me.
There is another thing:-young men of the richer classes, There are
who have not much to do, come about me of their own
accord; they like to hear the pretenders examined, and they about de-
often imitate me, and proceed to examine others; there are
plenty of persons, as they quickly discover, who think that
they know something, but really know little or nothing; and
then those who are examined by them instead of being
'ngry with themselves are angry with me: This confounded
Socrates, they say; this villainous misleader of youth!-
and then if somebody asks them, Why, what evil does he
practise or teach? they do not know, and cannot tell;
but in order that they may not appear to be at a loss, they
repeat the ready-made charges which are used against all
philosophers about teaching things up in the clouds and
under the earth, and having no gods, and making the worse
appear the better cause; for they do not like to confess that
their pretence of knowledge has been detected-which is
the truth; and as they are numerous and ambitious and
10
"
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Apology.
Socrates,
MELETUS.
The second
elass of ac-
cusers.
All men are
discovered
to be im-
provers of
youth with
the single
exception
of Socrates.
energetic, and are drawn up in battle array and have per-
suasive tongues, they have filled your ears with their loud
and inveterate calumnies. And this is the reason why my
three accusers, Meletus and Anytus and Lycon, have set
upon me; Meletus, who has a quarrel with me on behalf
of the poets; Anytus, on behalf of the craftsmen and poli-
ticians; Lycon, on behalf of the rhetoricians: and as I said 24
at the beginning, I cannot expect to get rid of such a mass of
calumny all in a moment. And this, O men of Athens, is the
truth and the whole truth; I have concealed nothing, I have
dissembled nothing. And yet, I know that my plainness of
speech makes them hate me, and what is their hatred but a
proof that I am speaking the truth?-Hence has arisen the
prejudice against me; and this is the reason of it, as you will
find out either in this or in any future enquiry.
I have said enough in my defence against the first class of
my accusers; I turn to the second class. They are headed
by Meletus, that good man and true lover of his country, as
he calls himself. Against these, too, I must try to make a
defence:-Let their affidavit be read: it contains something
of this kind: It says that Socrates is a doer of evil, who
corrupts the youth; and who does not believe in the gods of
the state, but has other new divinities of his own. Such is
the charge; and now let us examine the particular counts.
He says that I am a doer of evil, and corrupt the youth; but
I say, O men of Athens, that Meletus is a doer of evil, in
that he pretends to be in earnest when he is only in jest and is
so eager to bring me to trial from a pretended zeal and in-
terest about matters in which he really never had the smallest
interest. And the truth of this I will endeavour to prove
to you.
Come hither, Meletus, and let me ask a question of you.
You think a great deal about the improvement of youth?
Yes, I do.
Tell the judges, then, who is their improver; for you must
know, as you have taken the pains to discover their corrupter,
and are citing and accusing me before them. Speak, then,
and tell the judges who their improver is.-Observe, Meletus,
that you are silent, and have nothing to say. But is not this
rather disgraceful, and a very considerable proof of what
1
1
APOLOGY
IJ
I was saying, that you have no interest in the matter? Speak Apology
up, friend, and tell us who their improver is.
The laws.
But that, my good sir, is not my meaning. I want to
know who the person is, who, in the first place, knows
the laws.
The judges, Socrates, who are present in court.
What, do you mean to say, Meletus, that they are able
to instruct and improve youth?
Certainly they are.
What, all of them, or some only and not others?
All of them.
By the goddess Herè, that is good news! There are
plenty of improvers, then.
And what do you say of the
25 audience,—do they improve them?
Yes, they do.
And the senators?
Yes, the senators improve them.
But perhaps the members of the assembly corrupt them?-
or do they too improve them?
They improve them.
Then every Athenian improves and elevates them; all
with the exception of myself; and I alone am their corrupter?
Is that what you affirm?
That is what I stoutly affirm.
Does one mian do
Socrates,
MELETUS.
rather un-
fortunate
not accord
with the
the animals
I am very unfortunate if you are right. But suppose I ask But this
you a question: How about horses?
them harm and all the world good? Is not the exact opposite fact does
the truth? One man is able to do them good, or at least
not many;—the trainer of horses, that is to say, does them analogy of
good, and others who have to do with them rather injure
them? Is not that true, Meletus, of horses, or of any other
animals? Most assuredly it is; whether you and Anytus
say yes or no. Happy indeed would be the condition of
youth if they had one corrupter only, and all the rest of
the world were their improvers. But you, Meletus, have
sufficiently shown that you never had a thought about the
young your carelessness is seen in your not caring about
the very things which you bring against me.
And now, Meletus, I will ask you another question-by
12
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Apology.
SOCRATES,
MELETUS.
When I do
harm to my
neighbour
I must do
harm to
myself:
and there-
fore I can
not be sup-
posed to
injure them
intention-
lly.
Zeus I will: Which is better, to live among bad citizens, or
among good ones? Answer, friend, I say; the question.
is one which may be easily answered. Do not the good
do their neighbours good, and the bad do them evil?
Certainly.
And is there any one who would rather be injured than
benefited by those who live with him? Answer, my good
friend, the law requires you to answer-does any one like to
be injured?
Certainly not.
And when you accuse me of corrupting and deteriorating
the youth, do you allege that I corrupt them intentionally or
unintentionally?
Intentionally, I say.
But you have just admitted that the good do their neigh-
bours good, and the evil do them evil. Now, is that a truth
which your superior wisdom has recognized thus early in life,
and am I at my age in such darkness and ignorance as not
to know that if a man with whom I have to live is corrupted
by me, I am very likely to be harmed by him; and yet I
corrupt him, and intentionally, too-so you say, although
neither I nor any other human being is ever likely to be
convinced by you. But either I do not corrupt them, or 26
I corrupt them unintentionally; and on either view of the
case you lie. If my offence is unintentional, the law has no
cognizance of unintentional offences: you ought to have
taken me privately, and warned and admonished me; for
if I had been better advised, I should have left off doing what
I only did unintentionally-no doubt I should; but you
would have nothing to say to me and refused to teach me.
And now you bring me up in this court, which is a place not
of instruction, but of punishment.
It will be very clear to you, Athenians, as I was saying,
that Meletus has no care at all, great or small, about the
matter. But still I should like to know, Meletus, in what
I am affirmed to corrupt the young. I suppose you mean,
as I infer from your indictment, that I teach them not to
acknowledge the gods which the state acknowledges, but
some other new divinities or spiritual agencies in their
1
APOLOGY
13
stead. These are the lessons by which I corrupt the youth,
as you say.
Yes, that I say emphatically.
Apology.
SOCRATES,
MELETUS.
is declared
by Meletus
atheist and
to corrupt
Then, by the gods, Meletus, of whom we are speaking, tell Socrates
me and the court, in somewhat plainer terms, what you mean!
for I do not as yet understand whether you affirm that I teach to be an
other men to acknowledge some gods, and therefore that I do
believe in gods, and am not an entire atheist—this you do not the religion
lay to my charge, but only you say that they are not the
same gods which the city recognizes-the charge is that they
are different gods. Or, do you mean that I am an atheist
simply, and a teacher of atheism?
I mean the latter that you are a complete atheist.
What an extraordinary statement! Why do you think so,
Meletus? Do you mean that I do not believe in the god-
head of the sun or moon, like other men?
I assure you, judges, that he does not: for he says that
the sun is stone, and the moon earth.
of the young.
Meletus has
confound
with Anax-
confounded
Friend Meletus, you think that you are accusing Anaxa-
goras: and you have but a bad opinion of the judges, if you
fancy them illiterate to such a degree as not to know that
these doctrines are found in the books of Anaxagoras the agoras;
Clazomenian, which are full of them. And so, forsooth, the
youth are said to be taught them by Socrates, when there
are not unfrequently exhibitions of them at the theatre ¹
(price of admission one drachma at the most); and they
might pay their money, and laugh at Socrates if he pretends
to father these extraordinary views. And so, Meletus, you
really think that I do not believe in any god?
1
contra-
dicted hir
indictment.
I swear by Zeus that you believe absolutely in none at all. and he has
Nobody will believe you, Meletus, and I am pretty sure
that you do not believe yourself. I cannot help thinking, self in the
men of Athens, that Meletus is reckless and impudent, and
that he has written this indictment in a spirit of mere wanton-
27ness and youthful bravado. Has he not compounded a
riddle, thinking to try me? He said to himself:-I shall
1 Probably in allusion to Aristophanes who caricatured, and to
Euripides who borrowed the notions of Anaxagoras, as well as to other
dramatic poets.
[According to another interpretation, the book of Anaxagoras was
often to be bought at a moderate price in the agora. G.]
14
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Apology.
SOCRATES,
MELETUS.
How can
Socrates
believe in
divine
agencies
and not
believe in
gods?
see whether the wise Socrates will discover my facetious
contradiction, or whether I shall be able to deceive him and
the rest of them. For he certainly does appear to me to
contradict himself in the indictment as much as if he said
that Socrates is guilty of not believing in the gods, and yet
of believing in them—but this is not like a person who is in
earnest.
I should like you, O men of Athens, to join me in ex-
amining what I conceive to be his inconsistency; and do
you Meletus, answer. And I must remind the audience
of my request that they would not make a disturbance if
I speak in my accustomed manner:
Did ever man, Meletus, believe in the existence of human
things, and not of human beings? . . . I wish, men of Athens,
that he would answer, and not be always trying to get up an
interruption. Did ever any man believe in horsemanship,
and not in horses? or in flute-playing, and not in flute-
players? No, my friend; I will answer to you and to the
court, as you refuse to answer for yourself. There is no
man who ever did. But now please to answer the next
question: Can a man believe in spiritual and divine agencies,
and not in spirits or demigods?
He cannot.
How lucky I am to have extracted that answer, by the
assistance of the court! But then you swear in the in-
dictment that I teach you to believe in divine or spiritual
agencies (new or old, no matter for that); at any rate, I
believe in spiritual agencies, so you say and swear in the
affidavit; and yet if I believe in divine beings, how can I help
believing in spirits or demigods;-must I not? To be sure
I must; and therefore I may assume that your silence gives
consent. Now what are spirits or demigods? are they not
either gods or the sons of gods?
Certainly they are.
But this is what I call the facetious riddle invented by
you: the demigods or spirits are gods, and you say first that
I do not believe in gods, and then again that I do believe in
gods; that is, if I believe in demigods. For if the demigods
are the illegitimate sons of gods, whether by the nymphs
or by any other mothers, of whom they are said to be the
APOLOGY
15
sons-what human being will ever believe that there are Apology.
no gods if they are the sons of gods? You might as well SOCRates.
affirm the existence of mules, and deny that of horses and
asses. Such nonsense, Meletus, could only have been in-
tended by you to make trial of me. You have put this into
the indictment because you had nothing real of which to
accuse me. But no one who has a particle of understanding
will ever be convinced by you that the same men can believe
in divine and superhuman things, and yet not believe that
28 there are gods and demigods and heroes.
I have said enough in answer to the charge of Meletus:
any elaborate defence is unnecessary; but I know only too
well how many are the enmities which I have incurred, and
this is what will be my destruction if I am destroyed;-not
Meletus, nor yet Anytus, but the envy and detraction of the
world, which has been the death of many good men, and will
probably be the death of many more; there is no danger of
my being the last of them.
fear death
or fear any.
disgrace.
Some one will say: And are you not ashamed, Socrates, of Let no man
a course of iife which is likely to bring you to an untimely
end? To him I may fairly answer: There you are mistaken: thing but
a man who is good for anything ought not to calculate the
chance of living or dying; he ought only to consider whether
in doing anything he is doing right or wrong-acting the part
of a good man or of a bad. Whereas, upon your view, the
heroes who fell at Troy were not good for much, and the son
of Thetis above all, who altogether despised danger in com-
parison with disgrace; and when he was so eager to slay
Hector, his goddess mother said to him, that if he avenged
his companion Patroclus, and slew Hector, he would die
himself 'Fate,' she said, in these or the like words, 'waits
for you next after Hector;' he, receiving this warning,
utterly despised danger and death, and instead of fearing
them, feared rather to live in dishonour, and not to avenge
his friend. 'Let me die forthwith,' he replies, and be
avenged of my enemy, rather than abide here by the beaked
ships, a laughing-stock and a burden of the earth.' Had
Achilles any thought of death and danger? For wherever
a man's place is, whether the place which he has chosen or
that in which he has been placed by a commander, there he
16
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Apology.
SOCRATES.
Socrates,
who has
often faced
death in
battle, will
not make
any condi
tion in order
to save his
own life;
for he does
not know
whether
death is a
good or an
evil.
He must
always be a
preacher of
philosophy.
ought to remain in the hour of danger; he should not think
of death or of anything but of disgrace. And this, O men of
Athens, is a true saying.
Strange, indeed, would be my conduct, O men of Athens,
if I who, when I was ordered by the generals whom you
chose to command me at Potidaea and Amphipolis and
Delium, remained where they placed me, like any other man,
facing death--if now, when, as I conceive and imagine, God
orders me to fulfil the philosopher's mission of searching into
myself and other men, I were to desert my post through fear 20
of death, or any other fear; that would indeed be strange,
and I might justly be arraigned in court for denying the
existence of the gods, if I disobeyed the oracle because I was
afraid of death, fancying that I was wise when I was not
wise. For the fear of death is indeed the pretence of wis-
dom, and not real wisdom, being a pretence of knowing
the unknown; and no one knows whether death, which men
in their fear apprehend to be the greatest evil, may not be
the greatest good. Is not this ignorance of a disgraceful
sort, the ignorance which is the conceit that a man knows
what he does not know? And in this respect only I believe
myself to differ from men in general, and may perhaps claim
to be wiser than they are:-that whereas I know but little of
the world below, I do not suppose that I know: but I do
know that injustice and disobedience to a better, whether
God or man, is evil and dishonourable, and I will never fear
or avoid a possible good rather than a certain evil. And
therefore if you let me go now, and are not convinced by
Anytus, who said that since I had been prosecuted I must be
put to death; (or if not that I ought never to have been
prosecuted at all); and that if I escape now, your sons will
all be utterly ruined by listening to my words-if you say to
me, Socrates, this time we will not mind Anytus, and you
shall be let off, but upon one condition, that you are not to
enquire and speculate in this way any more, and that if you
are caught doing so again you shall die;-if this was the
condition on which you let me go, I should reply: Men of
Athens, I honour and love you; but I shall obey God rather
than you, and while I have life and strength I shall never
cease from the practice and teaching of philosophy, exhorting
APOLOGY
17
—
-
Apology.
any one whom I meet and saying to him after my manner:
You, my friend, a citizen of the great and mighty and wise SOCRATES.
city of Athens, are you not ashamed of heaping up the
greatest amount of money and honour and reputation, and
caring so little about wisdom and truth and the greatest
improvement of the soul, which you never regard or heed at
all? And if the person with whom I am arguing, says:
Yes, but I do care; then I do not leave him or let him go at
once; but I proceed to interrogate and examine and cross-
examine him, and if I think that he has no virtue in him, but
only says that he has, I reproach him with undervaluing the
30 greater, and overvaluing the less. And I shall repeat the
same words to every one whom meet, young and old
citizens and alien, but especially to the citizens, inasmuch as
they are my brethren. For know that this is the command 'Necessity
of God; and I believe that no greater good has ever hap-
pened in the state than my service to the God. For I do noth-
ing but go about persuading you all, old and young alike,
not to take thought for your persons or your properties,
but first and chiefly to care about the greatest improvement
of the soul. I tell you that virtue is not given by money,
but that from virtue comes money and every other good
of man, public as well as private. This is my teaching,
and if this is the doctrine which corrupts the youth, I am
a mischievous person. But if any one says that this is not
my teaching, he is speaking an untruth. Wherefore, O men
of Athens, I say to you, do as Anytus bids or not as Anytus
bids, and either acquit me or not; but whichever you do,
understand that I shall never alter my ways, not even if I
have to die many times.
Men of Athens, do not interrupt, but hear me; there was
an understanding between us that you should hear me to the
end: I have something more to say, at which you may be
inclined to cry out; but I believe that to hear me will be
good for you, and therefore I beg that you will not cry out.
I would have you know, that if you kill such an one as I am,
you will injure yourselves more than you will injure me.
Nothing will injure me, not Meletus nor yet Anytus-they
cannot, for a bad man is not permitted to injure a better than
himself. I do not deny that Anytus may, perhaps, kill him,
is laid
upon me:
I must
obey God
rather than
man.'
Neither you
nor Meletus
can ever
injure me.
18
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Apology.
SOCRATES.
I am the
gadfly of
the Athen-
ian people,
given to
them by
God, and
they will
never have
another, if
they kill
me.
or drive him into exile, or deprive him of civil rights; and
he may imagine, and others may imagine, that he is inflicting
a great injury upon him: but there I do not agree. For the
evil of doing as he is doing-the evil of unjustly taking away
the life of another-is greater far.
And now, Athenians, I am not going to argue
for my own
sake, as you may think, but for yours, that you may not sin
against the God by condemning me, who am his gift to you.
For if you kill me you will not easily find a successor to me,
who, if I may use such a ludicrous figure of speech, am a
sort of gadfly, given to the state by God; and the state is
a great and noble steed who is tardy in his motions owing to
his very size, and requires to be stirred into life. I am that.
gadfly which God has attached to the state, and all day long 31
and in all places am always fastening upon you, arousing and
persuading and reproaching you. You will not easily find
another like me, and therefore I would advise you to spare
me. I dare say that you may feel out of temper (like a
person who is suddenly awakened from sleep), and you think
that you might easily strike me dead as Anytus advises, and
then you would sleep on for the remainder of your lives, unless
God in his care of you sent you another gadfly. When
I say that I am given to you by God, the proof of my mission
is this: if I had been like other men, I should not have
neglected all my own concerns or patiently seen the neglect
of them during all these years, and have been doing yours,
coming to you individually like a father or elder brother,
exhorting you to regard virtue; such conduct, I say, would
be unlike human nature. If I had gained anything, or if my
exhortations had been paid, there would have been some
sense in my doing so; but now, as you will perceive, not
even the impudence of my accusers dares to say that I have
ever exacted or sought pay of any one; of that they have no
witness. And I have a sufficient witness to the truth of what
I say my poverty.
Some one may wonder why I go about in private giving
advice and busying myself with the concerns of others, but
do not venture to come forward in public and advise the
state. I will tell you why. You have heard me speak at
sundry times and in divers places of an oracle or sign which
APOLOGY
19
The in-
ternal sign
comes to me, and is the divinity which Meletus ridicules in Apology.
the indictment. This sign, which is a kind of voice, first SOCRATES.
began to come to me when I was a child; it always forbids
but never commands me to do anything which I am going to
do. This is what deters me from being a politician. And
rightly, as I think. For I am certain, O men of Athens, that
if I had engaged in politics, I should have perished long ago,
and done no good either to you or to myself. And do not
be offended at my telling you the truth: for the truth is, that
no man who goes to war with you or any other multitude, and if he
honestly striving against the many lawless and unrighteous
32 deeds which are done in a state, will save his life; he who
will fight for the right, if he would live even for a brief space,
must have a private station and not a public one.
always for-
bade him
to engage
in politics;
had done
so, he
would have
perished
long ago.
shown that
he would
sooner die
than com-
mit injus-
tice at the
trial of the
generals
and under
the tyranny
of the
I can give you convincing evidence of what I say, not He had
words only, but what you value far more-actions. Let me
relate to you a passage of my own life which will prove to you
that I should never have yielded to injustice from any fear of
death, and that ‘as I should have refused to yield' I must have
died at once. I will tell you a tale of the courts, not very
interesting perhaps, but nevertheless true. The only office
of state which I ever held, O men of Athens, was that of
senator: the tribe Antiochis, which is my tribe, had the pre- Thirty.
sidency at the trial of the generals who had not taken up the
bodies of the slain after the battle of Arginusae; and you
proposed to try them in a body, contrary to law, as you all
thought afterwards; but at the time I was the only one of the
Prytanes who was opposed to the illegality, and I gave my
vote against you; and when the orators threatened to im-
peach and arrest me, and you called and shouted, I made up
my mind that I would run the risk, having law and justice
with me, rather than take part in your injustice because I
feared imprisonment and death. This happened in the days
of the democracy. But when the oligarchy of the Thirty was
in power, they sent for me and four others into the rotunda,
and bade us bring Leon the Salaminian from Salamis, as they
wanted to put him to death. This was a specimen of the sort
of commands which they were always giving with the view of
implicating as many as possible in their crimes; and then I
showed, not in word only but in deed, that, if I may be
20
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Apology.
Socrates.
He is
always talk-
ing to the
citizens, but
he teaches
nothing;
he takes no
pay and has
no secrets.
allowed to use such an expression, I cared not a straw for
death, and that my great and only care was lest I should do
an unrighteous or unholy thing. For the strong arm of that
oppressive power did not frighten me into doing wrong; and
when we came out of the rotunda the other four went to
Salamis and fetched Leon, but I went quietly home. For
which I might have lost my life, had not the power of the
Thirty shortly afterwards come to an end. And many will
witness to my words.
Now do you really imagine that I could have survived all
these years, if I had led a public life, supposing that like a
good man I had always maintained the right and had made
justice, as I ought, the first thing? No indeed, men of
Athens, neither I nor any other man. But I have been 33
always the same in all my actions, public as well as private,
and never have I yielded any base compliance to those who
are slanderously termed my disciples, or to any other. Not
that I have any regular disciples. But if any one likes to
come and hear me while I am pursuing my mission, whether
he be young or old, he is not excluded. Nor do I converse
only with those who pay; but any one, whether he be rich or
poor, may ask and answer me and listen to my words; and
whether he turns out to be a bad man or a good one, neither
result can be justly imputed to me; for I never taught or pro-
fessed to teach him anything. And if any one says that he
has ever learned or heard anything from me in private which
all the world has not heard, let me tell you that he is lying.
But I shall be asked, Why do people delight in continually
conversing with you? I have told you already, Athenians,
the whole truth about this matter: they like to hear the cross-
examination of the pretenders to wisdom; there is amusement
in it. Now this duty of cross-examining other men has been
imposed upon me by God; and has been signified to me by
oracles, visions, and in every way in which the will of divine
power was ever intimated to any one. This is true, O
Athenians; or, if not true, would be soon refuted. If I am or
have been corrupting the youth, those of them who are now
grown up and have become sensible that I gave them bad
advice in the days of their youth should come forward as
accusers, and take their revenge; or if they do not like to
APOLOGY
21
Apology
parents
those whom
he is sup
posed to
have cor-
rupted do
not come
forward
and testify
him.
come themselves, some of cheir relatives, fathers, brothers, or
other kinsmen, should say what evil their families have SOCRATES.
suffered at my hands. Now is their time. Many of them I The
see in the court. There is Crito, who is of the same age and and kins-
of the same deme with myself, and there is Critobulus his son, men of
whom I also see. Then again there is Lysanias of Sphettus,
who is the father of Aeschines-he is present; and also there
is Antiphon of Cephisus, who is the father of Epigenes; and
there are the brothers of several who have associated with me.
There is Nicostratus the son of Theosdotides, and the brother
of Theodotus (now Theodotus himself is dead, and therefore against
he, at any rate, will not seek to stop him); and there is
Paralus the son of Demodocus, who had a brother Theages;
34 and Adeimantus the son of Ariston, whose brother Plato is
present; and Aeantodorus, who is the brother of Apollodotus,
whom I also see. I might mention a great many others, some
of whom Meletus should have produced as witnesses in the
course of his speech; and let him still produce them, if he has
forgotten-I will make way for him. And let him say, if he
has any testimony of the sort which he can produce. Nay,
Athenians, the very opposite is the truth. For all these are
ready to witness on behalf of the corrupter, of the injurer of
their kindred, as Meletus and Anytus call me; not the cor-
rupted youth only-there might have been a motive for that-
but their uncorrupted elder relatives. Why should they too
support me with their testimony? Why, indeed, except for
the sake of truth and justice, and because they know that I
am speaking the truth, and that Meletus is a liar.
Well, Athenians, this and the like of this is all the defence
which I have to offer. Yet a word more. Perhaps there
may be some one who is offended at me, when he calls to
mind how he himself on a similar, or even a less serious
occasion, prayed and entreated the judges with many tears,
and how he produced his children in court, which was a
inoving spectacle, together with a host of relations and
friends; whereas I, who am probably in danger of my life,
will do none of these things. The contrast may occur to his
mind, and he may be set against me, and vote in anger
because he is displeased at me on this account. Now if there
be such a person among you,-mind, I do not say that there
22
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Apology.
SOCRATES.
He is flesh
and blood;
but he will
not appeal
to the pity
of his
judges: or
make a
scene in
the court
such as he
has often
witnessed.
The judge
should not
be influ-
enced by
his feel-
ings, but
convinced
by reason.
is,—to him I may fairly reply: My friend, I am a man, and
like other men, a creature of flesh and blood, and not 'of
wood or stone,' as Homer says; and I have a family, yes
and sons, O Athenians, three in number, one almost a man,
and two others who are still young; and yet I will not bring
any of them hither in order to petition you for an acquittal.
And why not?
you.
Not from any self-assertion or want of re-
spect for
Whether I am or am not afraid of death is
another question, of which I will not now speak. But, having
regard to public opinion, I feel that such conduct would be
discreditable to myself, and to you, and to the whole state.
One who has reached my years, and who has a name for wis-
dom, ought not to demean himself. Whether this opinion of
me be deserved or not, at any rate the world has decided that
Socrates is in some way superior to other men.
And if those 35
among you who are said to be superior in wisdom and
courage, and any other virtue, demean themselves in this
way, how shameful is their conduct! I have seen men of
reputation, when they have been condemned, behaving in the
strangest manner: they seemed to fancy that they were going
to suffer something dreadful if they died, and that they could
be immortal if you only allowed them to live; and I think
that such are a dishonour to the state, and that any stranger
coming in would have said of them that the most eminent men
of Athens, to whom the Athenians themselves give honour
and command, are no better than women. And I say that
these things ought not to be done by those of us who have
a reputation; and if they are done, you ought not to permit
them; you ought rather to show that you are far more disposed
to condemn the man who gets up a doleful scene and makes
the city ridiculous, than him who holds his peace.
But, setting aside the question of public opinion, there
seems to be something wrong in asking a favour of a judge,
and thus procuring an acquittal, instead of informing and con-
vincing him. For his duty is, not to make a present of justice.
but to give judgment; and he has sworn that he will judge
according to the laws, and not according to his own good
pleasure; and we ought not to encourage you, nor should
you allow yourselves to be encouraged, in this habit of perjury
there can be no piety in that. Do not then require me to
APOLOGY
23
Apology.
do what I consider dishonourable and impious and wrong,
especially now, when I am being tried for impiety on the SOCRATES.
indictment of Meletus. For if, O men of Athens, by force of
persuasion and entreaty I could overpower your oaths, then
I should be teaching you to believe that there are no gods,
and in defending should simply convict myself of the charge
of not believing in them. But that is not so-far otherwise.
For I do believe that there are gods, and in a sense higher
than that in which any of my accusers believe in them. And
to you and to God I commit my cause, to be determined by
you as is best for you and me.
There are many reasons why I am not grieved, O men of
36 Athens, at the vote of condemnation. I expected it, and am
only surprised that the votes are so nearly equal; for I had
thought that the majority against me would have been far
larger; but now, had thirty votes gone over to the other side,
I should have been acquitted. And I may say, I think, that
I have escaped Meletus. I may say more; for without the
assistance of Anytus and Lycon, any one may see that he
would not have had a fifth part of the votes, as the law
requires, in which case he would have incurred a fine of a
thousand drachmae.
And so he proposes death as the penalty. And what shall
I propose on my part, O men of Athens? Clearly that
which is my due. And what is my due? What return shall be
made to the man who has never had the wit to be idle during
his whole life; but has been careless of what the many care
for-wealth, and family interests, and military offices, and
speaking in the assembly, and magistracies, and plots, and
parties. Reflecting that I was really too honest a man to Socrates all
be a politician and live, I did not go where I could do no
good to you or to myself; but where I could do the greatest
good privately to every one of you, thither I went, and sought do the
to persuade every man among you that he must look to him- good to the
self, and seek virtue and wisdom before he looks to his private
interests, and look to the state before he looks to the interests
of the state; and that this should be the order which he
observes in all his actions. What shall be done to such an
his life long
has been
seeking to
greatest
Athenians.
24
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Apology.
SOCRATES.
Should he
not be re-
warded
with main-
tenance in
the Pryta-
neum?
The con-
sciousness
of inno-
cence gives
him confi-
dence.
No alterna-
tive in his
own judg-
ment pref-
erable to
death.
one? Doubtless some good thing, O men of Athens, if he
has his reward; and the good should be of a kind suitable to
him. What would be a reward suitable to a poor man who
is your benefactor, and who desires leisure that he may
instruct you? There can be no reward so fitting as main-
tenance in the Prytaneum, O men of Athens, a reward which
he deserves far more than the citizen who has won the prize
at Olympia in the horse or chariot race, whether the chariots
were drawn by two horses or by many. For I am in want,
and he has enough; and he only gives you the appearance of
happiness, and I give you the reality. And if I am to estimate
the penalty fairly, I should say that maintenance in the Pry- 3:
taneum is the just return.
Perhaps you think that I am braving you in what I am
saying now, as in what I said before about the tears and
prayers. But this is not so. I speak rather because I am
convinced that I never intentionally wronged any one,
although I cannot convince you the time has been too
short; if there were a law at Athens, as there is in other
cities, that a capital cause should not be decided in one day,
then I believe that I should have convinced you. But I
cannot in a moment refute great slanders; and, as I am
convinced that I never wronged another, I will assuredly not:
wrong myself. I will not say of myself that I deserve any
evil, or propose any penalty. Why should I? Because I
am afraid of the penalty of death which Meletus proposes?
When I do not know whether death is a good or an evil, why
should I propose a penalty which would certainly be an evil?
Shall I say imprisonment? And why should I live in prison,.
and be the slave of the magistrates of the year-of the Eleven?
Or shall the penalty be a fine, and imprisonment until the fine-
is paid? There is the same objection. I should have to lie:
in prison, for money I have none, and cannot pay. And if I
say exile (and this may possibly be the penalty which you will
affix), I must indeed be blinded by the love of life, if I am so
irrational as to expect that when you, who are my own
citizens, cannot endure my discourses and words, and have
found them so grievous and odious that you will have no
more of them, others are likely to endure me. No indeed,
men of Athens, that is not very likely. And what a life
APOLOGY
25
Apology.
should I lead, at my age, wandering from city to city, ever
changing my place of exile, and always being driven out! SOCRATES.
For I am quite sure that wherever I go, as here, the
young men will flock to me; and if I drive them away, their
elders will drive me out at their request; and if I let them
come, their fathers and friends will drive me out for their
sakes.
ever he
goes he
out.
Some one will say: Yes, Socrates, but cannot you hold
your tongue, and then you may go into a foreign city, and no
one will interfere with you? Now I have great difficulty in
making you understand my answer to this. For if I tell you For wher
that to do as you say would be a disobedience to the God,
and therefore that I cannot hold my tongue, you will not must speak
38 believe that I am serious; and if I say again that daily to
discourse about virtue, and of those other things about which
you hear me examining myself and others, is the greatest
good of man, and that the unexamined life is not worth
living, you are still less likely to believe me. Yet I say what
is true although a thing of which it is hard for me to per-
suade you. Also, I have never been accustomed to think that
I deserve to suffer any harm. Had I money I might have
estimated the offence at what I was able to pay, and not have
been much the worse. But I have none, and therefore I
must ask you to proportion the fine to my means. Well,
perhaps I could afford a mina, and therefore I propose that
penalty: Plato, Crito, Critobulus, and Apollodorus, my
friends here, bid me say thirty minae, and they will be the
sureties. Let thirty minae be the penalty; for which sum
they will be ample security to you.
[He is condemned to death.]
Not much time will be gained, O Athenians, in return for
the evil name which you will get from the detractors of the
city, who will say that you killed Socrates, a wise man; for
they will call me wise, even although I am not wise, when
they want to reproach you. If you had waited a little while,
your desire would have been fulfilled in the course of nature.
For I am far advanced in years, as you may perceive, and
not far from death. I am speaking now not to all of you, but
only to those who have condemned me to death. And I have
They will
be accused
of killing a
wise man.
Why could
they not
wait a few
years?
26
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Apology.
SOCRATES.
They are
about to
slay
Socrates
because he
has been
their ac-
cuser: other
another thing to say to them: You think that I was convicted
because I had no words of the sort which would have pro-
cured my acquittal-I mean, if I had thought fit to leave
nothing undone or unsaid. Not so; the deficiency which
led to my conviction was not of words-certainly not. But I
had not the boldness or impudence or inclination to address
you as you would have liked me to do, weeping and wailing
and lamenting, and saying and doing many things which you
have been accustomed to hear from others, and which,
as I
maintain, are unworthy of me. I thought at the time that I
ought not to do anything common or mean when in danger:
nor do I now repent of the style of my defence; I would
rather die having spoken after my manner, than speak in
your manner and live. For neither in war nor yet at law
ought I or any man to use every way of escaping death. 39
Often in battle there can be no doubt that if a man will throw
away his arms, and fall on his knees before his pursuers,
he may escape death; and in other dangers there are other
ways of escaping death, if a man is willing to say and do any-
thing. The difficulty, my friends, is not to avoid death, but
to avoid unrighteousness; for that runs faster than death. I
am old and move slowly, and the slower runner has over-
taken me, and my accusers are keen and quick, and the faster
runner, who is unrighteousness, has overtaken them. And
now I depart hence condemned by yo to suffer the penalty
of death, they too go their ways condemned by the truth
to suffer the penalty of villainy and wrong; and I must abide
by my award let them abide by theirs. I suppose that these
things may be regarded as fated, and I think that they are
well.
And now, O men who have condemned me, I would fain
prophesy to you; for I am about to die, and in the hour of
death men are gifted with prophetic power. And I prophesy
to you who are my murderers, that immediately after my
departure punishment far heavier than you have inflicted on
me will surely await you. Me you have killed because you
wanted to escape the accuser, and not to give an account of
your lives.
But that will not be as you suppose: far other-
wise. For I say that there will be more accusers of you than
vehemently. there are now;
accusers whom hitherto I have restrained:
accusers
will rise up
and de-
nounce
them more
APOLOGY
27
Apology.
and as they are younger they will be more inconsiderate with
you, and you will be more offended at them. If you think SOCRATES.
that by killing men you can prevent some one from censuring
your evil lives, you are mistaken; that is not a way of escape
which is either possible or honourable; the easiest and the
noblest way is not to be disabling others, but to be improving
yourselves. This is the prophecy which I utter before my
departure to the judges who have condemned me.
that what is
happening
to him will
be good,
because the
Friends, who would have acquitted me, I would like also
to talk with you about the thing which has come to pass, while
the magistrates are busy, and before I go to the place at
which I must die. Stay then a little, for we may as well talk
40 with one another while there is time. You are my friends,
and I should like to show you the meaning of this event which
has happened to me. O my judges-for you I may truly call
judges-I should like to tell you of a wonderful circumstance.
Hitherto the divine faculty of which the internal oracle is the He believes
source has constantly been in the habit of opposing me even
about trifles, if I was going to make a slip or error in any
matter; and now as you see there has come upon me that
which may be thought, and is generally believed to be, the last internal
and worst evil. But the oracle made no sign of opposition,
either when I was leaving my house in the morning, or when
I was on my way to the court, or while I was speaking, at any-
thing which I was going to say; and yet I have often been
stopped in the middle of a speech, but now in nothing I either
said or did touching the matter in hand has the oracle opposed
What do I take to be the explanation of this silence?
I will tell you. It is an intimation that what has happened
to me is a good, and that those of us who think that death is
an evil are in error. For the customary sign would surely
have opposed me had I been going to evil and not to good.
me.
oracle gives
opposition.
no sign of
either a
good or
Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that there Death
is great reason to hope that death is a good; for one of two
things either death is a state of nothingness and utter nothing:
unconsciousness, or, as men say, there is a change and
migration of the soul from this world to another. Now if
you suppose that there is no consciousness, but a sleep like a profound
the sleep of him who is undisturbed even by dreams, death sleep.
will be an unspeakable gain. For if a person were to select
28
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Apology.
SOCRATES.
How
blessed to
have a just
judgment
passed on
us; to con-
verse with
Homer and
Hesiod; to
see the
heroes of
Troy, and
to continue
the search
the night in which his sleep was undisturbed even by dreams,
and were to compare with this the other days and nights
of his life, and then were to tell us how many days and
nights he had passed in the course of his life better and
more pleasantly than this one, I think that any man, I
will not say a private man, but even the great king will
not find many such days or nights, when compared with
the others. Now if death be of such a nature, I say that to
die is gain; for eternity is then only a single night. But if
death is the journey to another place, and there, as men say,
all the dead abide, what good, O my friends and judges
can be greater than this? If indeed when the pilgrim
arrives in the world below, he is delivered from the pro- 41
fessors of justice in this world, and finds the true judges
who are said to give judgment there, Minos and Rhada-
manthus and Aeacus and Triptolemus, and other sons of
God who were righteous in their own life, that pilgrimage
will be worth making. What would not a man give if he
might converse with Orpheus and Musaeus and Hesiod
and Homer? Nay, if this be true, let me die again and
again. I myself, too, shall have a wonderful interest in
there meeting and conversing with Palamedes, and Ajax
the son of Telamon, and any other ancient hero who has
suffered death through an unjust judgment; and there will
be no small pleasure, as I think, in comparing my own
sufferings with theirs. Above all, I shall then be able to
continue my search into true and false knowledge; as in this
world, so also in the next; and I shall find out who is wise,
and who pretends to be wise, and is not. What would not
a man give, O judges, to be able to examine the leader of
the great Trojan expedition; or Odysseus or Sisyphus, or
numberless others, men and women too! What infinite
delight would there be in conversing with them and asking
them questions! In another world they do not put a man
to death for asking questions: assuredly not. For besides
being happier than we are, they will be immortal, if what is
said is true.
after know-
ledge in
another
world!
Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer about death, and
know of a certainty, that no evil can happen to a good man,
either in life or after death. He and his are not neglected
the go
mere C
།།།་
Therefore
12 700
er have
Come
1
#
ther
A
The
APOLOGY
29
Apology.
by the gods; nor has my own approaching end happened
by mere chance. But I see clearly that the time had arrived SOCRATES.
when it was better for me to die and be released from trouble;
wherefore the oracle gave no sign. For which reason, also,
I am not angry with my condemners, or with my accusers;
they have done me no harm, although they did not mean to
do me any good; and for this I may gently blame
them.
Still I have a favour to ask of them. When my sons are
grown up, I would ask you, O my friends, to punish them;
and I would have you trouble them, as I have troubled you,
if they seem to care about riches, or anything, more than
about virtue; or if they pretend to be something when they
are really nothing, then reprove them, as I have reproved
you, for not caring about that for which they ought to care,
and thinking that they are something when they are really
42 nothing. And if you do this, both I and my sons will have
received justice at your hands.
The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways—
I to die, and you to live. Which is better God only knows
Do to my
sons as I
have done
to you.
CRITC
Socrates' aged and loyal friend, Crito, visits him in prison.
Unable to endure the thought of his friend's approaching
death, Crito implores him to make his escape. The reply of
Socrates rises above personal considerations; whether injured
or not, the only thing that matters is that he shall be true to
his own convictions, and therefore to the laws of Athens,
whose child he is. His personal misfortune, if viewed sub
specie aeternitatis, is simply loyalty to the principles of the
good life; if it is a human tragedy, it is also a divine comedy.
W. C. G.
CRITO
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE
SOCRATES.
CRITO.
SCENE:-The Prison of Socrates.
Socrates. WHY have you come at this hour, Crito? it must
43 be quite early?
Crito. Yes, certainly.
Soc. What is the exact time?
Cr. The dawn is breaking.
Crito.
Socrates,
CRITO.
Crito ap-
Soc. I wonder that the keeper of the prison would let pears at
you in.
Cr. He knows me, because I often come, Socrates; more-
over, I have done him a kindness.
Soc. And are you only just arrived?
Cr. No, I came some time ago.
Soc. Then why did you sit and say nothing, instead of at
once awakening me?
Cr. I should not have liked myself, Socrates, to be in such
great trouble and unrest as you are—indeed I should not: I
have been watching with amazement your peaceful slumbers;
and for that reason I did not awake you, because I wished to
minimize the pain. I have always thought you to be of a
happy disposition; but never did I see anything like the easy,
tranquil manner in which you bear this calamity.
Soc. Why, Crito, when a man has reached my age he ought
not to be repining at the approach of death.
Cr. And yet other old men find themselves in similar mis-
fortunes, and age does not prevent them from repining.
Soc. That is true. But you have not told me why you
come at this early hour.
break of
dawn in
the prison
of Socrates,
whom he
finds
asleep.
33
34
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Crito.
SOCRATES,
CRITO.
The ship
from Delos
is expected.
A vision
of a fair
woman
who proph-
esies in
the lan-
guage of
Homer that
Socrates
will die on
the third
day.
Cr. I come to bring you a message which is sad and pain-
ful; not, as I believe, to yourself, but to all of us who are
your friends, and saddest of all to me.
Soc. What? Has the ship come from Delos, on the arrival
of which I am to die?
Cr. No, the ship has not actually arrived, but she will prob-
ably be here to-day, as persons who have come from Sunium
tell me that they left her there; and therefore to-morrow, Soc-
rates, will be the last day of your life.
Soc. Very well, Crito; if such is the will of God, I am
willing; but my belief is that there will be a delay of a day.
Cr. Why do you think so?
Soc. I will tell you. I am to die on the day after the
arrival of the ship.
Cr. Yes; that is what the authorities say.
Soc. But I do not think that the ship will be here until to-
morrow; this I infer from a vision which I had last night, or
rather only just now, when you fortunately allowed me to
sleep.
Cr. And what was the nature of the vision?
44
Soc. There appeared to me the likeness of a woman, fair
and comely, clothed in bright raiment, who called to me and
said: O Socrates,
"The third day hence to fertile Phthia shalt thou go.'1
Cr. What a singular dream, Socrates!
Soc. There can be no doubt about the meaning, Crito, I
think.
Cr. Yes; the meaning is only too clear. But, oh! my be-
loved Socrates, let me entreat you once more to take my
advice and escape.
For if you die I shall not only lose a
friend who can never be replaced, but there is another evil:
people who do not know you and me will believe that I might
have saved you if I had been willing to give money, but that
I did not care. Now, can there be a worse disgrace than
this-that I should be thought to value money more than the
life of a friend? For the many will not be persuaded that I
wanted you to escape, and that you refused.
Soc. But why, my dear Crito, should we care about the
1 Homer, Il. ix. 363.
ф
persons
truly
Cr.
2
must be
n do
spon
Soc.
to do t
IP
of cha
C
Cr
Socrat
SER
Four
son
solen
CRITO
35
opinion of the many? Good men, and they are the only Crito.
persons who are worth considering, will think of these things SOCRATES,
truly as they occurred.
CRITO.
variety of
arguments
Cr. But you see, Socrates, that the opinion of the many Crito by a
must be regarded, for what is now happening shows that they
can do the greatest evil to any one who has lost their good tries to in-
opinion.
duce
Socrates to
escape.
The means
Soc. I only wish it were so, Crito; and that the many make his
could do the greatest evil; for then they would also be able
to do the greatest good-and what a fine thing this would be!
But in reality they can do neither; for they cannot make a
man either wise or foolish; and whatever they do is the result
of chance.
Cr. Well, I will not dispute with you; but please to tell me,
Socrates, whether you are not acting out of regard to me and
your other friends: are you not afraid that if you escape from
prison we may get into trouble with the informers for having
stolen you away, and lose either the whole or a great part of
45 our property; or that even a worse evil may happen to us?
Now, if you fear on our account, be at ease; for in order to
save you, we ought surely to run this, or even a greater
risk; be persuaded, then, and do as I say.
Soc. Yes, Crito, that is one fear which you mention, but by
no means the only one.
Cr. Fear not there are persons who are willing to get
you out of prison at no great cost; and as for the informers,
they are far from being exorbitant in their demands a little
money will satisfy them. My means, which are certainly
ample, are at your service, and if you have a scruple about
spending all mine, here are strangers who will give you the
use of theirs; and one of them, Simmias the Theban, has
brought a large sum of money for this very purpose; and
Cebes and many others are prepared to spend their money in
helping you to escape. I say, therefore, do not hesitate on
our account, and do not say, as you did in the court,¹ that you
will have a difficulty in knowing what to do with yourself any-
where else. For men will love you in other places to which
you may go, and not in Athens only; there are friends of
mine in Thessaly, if you like to go to them, who will value and
1 Cp. Apol. 37 c, d.
will be
vided and
without
easily pro-
danger to
any one
36
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Crito.
SOCRATES,
CRITO.
He is not
justified in
throwing
away his
be deserting
his chil-
dren, and
will bring
the reproach
of cowardice
on his
friends.
protect you, and no Thessalian will give you any trouble.
Nor can I think that you are at all justified, Socrates, in
betraying your own life when you might be saved; in acting
thus you are playing into the hands of your enemies, who
are hurrying on your destruction. And further I should say
that you are deserting your own children; for you might
life; he will bring them up and educate them; instead of which you go
away and leave them, and they will have to take their chance;
and if they do not meet with the usual fate of orphans, there
will be small thanks to you. No man should bring children
into the world who is unwilling to persevere to the end in
their nurture and education. But you appear to be choosing
the easier part, not the better and manlier, which would have
been more becoming in one who professes to care for virtue
in all his actions, like yourself. And indeed, I am ashamed
not only of you, but of us who are your friends, when I reflect
that the whole business will be attributed entirely to our want
of courage. The trial need never have come on, or might
have been managed differently; and this last act, or crowning
folly, will seem to have occurred through our negligence and
cowardice, who might have saved you, if we had been good for 46
anything; and you might have saved yourself, for there was
no difficulty at all. See now, Socrates, how sad and discredit-
able are the consequences, both to us and you.
Make up
your mind then, or rather have your mind already made up,
for the time of deliberation is over, and there is only one
thing to be done, which must be done this very night, and if
we delay at all will be no longer practicable or possible; I
beseech you therefore, Socrates, be persuaded by me, and do
I say.
Socrates is
one of those
who must
be guided
by reason.
as
Soc. Dear Crito, your zeal is invaluable, if a right one; but
if wrong, the greater the zeal the greater the danger; and
therefore we ought to consider whether I shall or shall not do
as you say. For I am and always have been one of those
natures who must be guided by reason, whatever the reason
may be which upon reflection appears to me to be the best;
and now that this chance has befallen me, I cannot repudiate
my own words: the principles which I have hitherto honoured
and revered I still honour, and unless we can at once find
other and better principles, I am certain not to agree with you;
20, not
| more
WAT O
that so
were
And 1
be
Viad.
ent
LET
accer
m
200
A
CRITO
37
CRITO.
no, not even if the power of the multitude could inflict many Crito.
more imprisonments, confiscations, deaths, frightening us like SOCRATES,
children with hobgoblin terrors.¹ What will be the fairest
way of considering the question? Shall I return to your
old argument about the opinions of men?-we were saying
that some of them are to be regarded, and others not. Now
were we right in maintaining this before I was condemned?
And has the argument which was once good now proved
to be talk for the sake of talking-mere childish non-
sense? That is what I want to consider with your help,
Crito: whether, under my present circumstances, the argu-
ment appears to be in any way different or not; and is to be
allowed by me or disallowed. That argument, which, as I
believe, is maintained by many persons of authority, was to
the effect, as I was saying, that the opinions of some men are
to be regarded, and of other men not to be regarded. Now
47 you, Crito, are not going to die to-morrow—at least, there is no
human probability of this—and therefore you are disinterested
and not liable to be deceived by the circumstances in which
you are placed. Tell me then, whether I am right in saying Ought he
that some opinions, and the opinions of some men only, are to
be valued, and that other opinions, and the opinions of other of the many
men, are not to be valued. I ask you whether I was right in
maintaining this?
Cr. Certainly.
Soc. The good are to be regarded, and not the bad?
Cr. Yes.
Soc. And the opinions of the wise are good, and the opinions
of the unwise are evil?
Cr. Certainly.
Soc. And what was said about another matter? Is the
pupil who devotes himself to the practice of gymnastics sup-
posed to attend to the praise and blame and opinion of
every man, or of one man only-his physician or trainer,
whoever he may be?
Cr. Of one man only.
Soc. And he ought to fear the censure and welcome the
praise of that one only, and not of the many?
to follow
the opinion
or of the
few, of the
wise or of
the unwise?
Cr. Clearly so.
1 Cp. Apol. 30 C.
38
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Crito.
SOCRATES,
CRITO.
The
opinion of
the one
wise man
is to be
followed.
Soc. And he ought to act and train, and eat and drink in
the way which seems good to his single master who has
understanding, rather than according to the opinion of all
other men put together?
Cr. True.
Soc. And if he disobeys and disregards the opinion and
approval of the one, and regards the opinion of the many
who have no understanding, will he not suffer evil?
Cr. Certainly he will.
Soc. And what will the evil be, whither tending and what
affecting, in the disobedient person?
Cr. Clearly, affecting the body; that is what is destroyed
by the evil.
Soc. Very good; and is not this true, Crito, of other
things which we need not separately enumerate? In
questions of just and unjust, fair and foul, good and evil,
which are the subjects of our present consultation, ought we
to follow the opinion of the many and to fear them; or the
opinion of the one man who has understanding? ought we
not to fear and reverence him more than all the rest of the
world: and if we desert him shall we not destroy and injure
that principle in us which may be assumed to be improved
by justice and deteriorated by injustice;—there is such a prin-
ciple?
Cr. Certainly there is, Socrates.
Soc. Take a parallel instance:-if, acting under the advice
of those who have no understanding, we destroy that which
is improved by health and is deteriorated by disease, would
life be worth having? And that which has been destroyed
is-the body?
Cr. Yes.
Soc. Could we live, having an evil and corrupted body?
Cr. Certainly not.
Soc. And will life be worth having, if that higher part of
man be destroyed, which is improved by justice and depraved
by injustice? Do we suppose that principle, whatever it
may be in man, which has to do with justice and injustice, to 48
be inferior to the body?
Cr. Certainly not.
Soc. More honourable than the body?
CRITO
39
Cr. Far more.
Crito.
CRITO.
Soc. Then, my friend, we must not regard what the many Socrates,
say of us: but what he, the one man who has understanding
of just and unjust, will say, and what the truth will say. No matter
And therefore you begin in error when you advise that we
should regard the opinion of the many about just and unjust, of us.
good and evil, honourable and dishonourable.—'Well,' some
one will say, 'but the many can kill us.'
Cr. Yes, Socrates; that will clearly be the answer.
what the
many say
life, to be
Soc. And it is true: but still I find with surprise that the Not life,
but a good
old argument is unshaken as ever. And I should like to
know whether I may say the same of another proposition-- chiefly
that not life, but a good life, is to be chiefly valued?
Cr. Yes, that also remains unshaken.
Soc. And a good life is equivalent to a just and honourable
one-that holds also?
Cr. Yes, it does.
valued.
Soc. From these premisses I proceed to argue the question
whether I ought or ought not to try and escape without the
consent of the Athenians: and if I am clearly right in
escaping, then I will make the attempt; but if not, I will
abstain. The other considerations which you mention, of
money and loss of character and the duty of educating one's
children, are, I fear, only the doctrines of the multitude, who
would be as ready to restore people to life, if they were able,
as they are to put them to death-and with as little reason.
But now, since the argument has thus far prevailed, the only Admitting
question which remains to be considered is, whether we shall
lo rightly either in escaping or in suffering others to ought I to
aid in our escape and paying them in money and thanks,
or whether in reality we shall not do rightly; and if the
latter, then death or any other calamity which may ensue
on my remaining here must not be allowed to enter into the
calculation.
Cr. I think that you are right, Socrates; how then shall
we proceed?
Soc. Let us consider the matter together, and do you
either refute me if you can, and I will be convinced; or else
cease, my dear friend, from repeating to me that I ought to
escape against the wishes of the Athenians: for I regard it
these prin-
ciples,
try and es-
cape or not?
40
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Crito.
SOCRATES,
CRITO.
May we
sometimes
do evil that
good may
come?
May we
render evil
for evil?
as of great importance to act as I am going to act with your
approval and not against your will. And now please to con-
sider my first position, and try how you can best answer 49
me.
Cr. I will.
Soc. Are we to say that we are never intentionally to do
wrong, or that in one way we ought and in another way we
ought not to do wrong, or is doing wrong always evil and
dishonourable, as I was just now saying, and as has been
already acknowledged by us? Are all our former admis-
sions which were made within a few days to be thrown
away? And have we, at our age, been earnestly discoursing
with one another all our life long only to discover that we
are no better than children? Or, in spite of the opinion of
the many, and in spite of consequences whether better or
worse, shall we insist on the truth of what was then said,
that injustice is always an evil and dishonour to him who
acts unjustly? Shall we say so or not?
Cr. Yes.
Soc. Then we must do no wrong?
Cr. Certainly not.
Soc. Nor when injured injure in return, as the many
imagine, for we must injure no one at all? 2
Cr. Clearly not.
Soc. Again, Crito, may we do evil?
Cr. Surely not, Socrates.
Soc. And what of doing evil in return for evil, which is the
morality of the many-is that just or not?
Cr. Not just.
Soc. For doing evil to another is the same as injuring
him?
Cr. Very true.
Soc. Then we ought not to retaliate or render evil for evil
to any one, whatever evil we may have suffered from him.
But I would have you consider, Crito, whether you really
mean what you are saying. For this opinion has never been
1 [J., translating from an inferior text, has "I highly value your at-
tempts to persuade me to do so, but I may not be persuaded against my
own better judgment."]
2 e. g. cp. Rep. i. 335 e.
tic:
erson
igreed
1
ཀླ་
wardi
prem
from
thak
* fc
C
Jut
GULL
(
4
CRITO
4I
Crito.
CRITO.
always to
be deemed
held, and never will be held, by any considerable number of
persons; and those who are agreed and those who are not Socrates,
agreed upon this point have no common ground, and can
only despise one another when they see how widely they
differ. Tell me, then, whether you agree with and assent to Or is evil
my first principle, that neither injury nor retaliation nor
warding off evil by evil is ever right. And shall that be the
premiss of our argument? Or do you decline and dissent
from this? For so I have ever thought, and continue to
think; but, if you are of another opinion, let me hear what
you have to say. If, however, you remain of the same mind
as formerly, I will proceed to the next step.
evil? Are
you of the
same mind
as formerly
about all
this?
sents.
Then ought
Cr. You may proceed, for I have not changed my mind. Crito as-
Soc. Then I will go on to the next point, which may be
put in the form of a question:-Ought a man to do what he Socrates to
admits to be right, or ought he to betray the right?
desert or
not?
Cr. He ought to do what he thinks right.
Soc. But if this is true, what is the application?
In
50 leaving the prison against the will of the Athenians, do I
wrong any? or rather do I not wrong those whom I ought
least to wrong? Do I not desert the principles which were
acknowledged by us to be just-what do you say?
Cr. I cannot tell, Socrates; for I do not know.
come and
argue with
a State exist
in which
aside?
Soc. Then consider the matter in this way:-Imagine that The Laws
I am about to play truant (you may call the proceeding by
any name which you like), and the laws and the government him.—Can
come and interrogate me: "Tell us, Socrates,' they say;
'what are you about? Are you not going by an act of yours law is set
to overturn us—the laws, and the whole state, as far as in
you lies?
Do you imagine that a state can subsist and not
be overthrown, in which the decisions of law have no power,
but are set aside and trampled upon by individuals?' What
will be our answer, Crito, to these and the like words?
Any one, and especially a rhetorician, will have a good deal
to say on behalf of the law which requires a sentence to be
carried out. He will argue that this law should not be set
aside; and shall we reply, 'Yes; but the state has injured us
and given an unjust sentence.' Suppose I say that?
Cr. Very good, Socrates.
Soc. 'And was that our agreement with you?' the law
42
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Crito.
Socrates,
CRITO.
fault to find
with them?
would
answer; 'or were you to abide by the sentence of the
state?' And if I were to express my astonishment at their
words, the law would probably add: 'Answer, Socrates, in-
stead of opening your eyes you are in the habit of asking
Has he any and answering questions. Tell us,-What complaint have
you to make against us which justifies you in attempting to
destroy us and the state? In the first place did we not
bring you into existence? Your father married your mother
by our aid and begat you. Say whether you have any ob-
jection to urge against those of us who regulate marriage?'
None, I should reply. 'Or against those of us who after
birth regulate the nurture and education of children, in
which you also were trained? Were not the laws, which
have the charge of education, right in commanding your
father to train you in music and gymnastic?' Right, I
should reply. Well then, since you were brought into the
world and nurtured and educated by us, can you deny in the
first place that you are our child and slave, as your fathers
were before you? And if this is true you are not on equal
terms with us; nor can you think that you have a right to do
to us what we are doing to you. Would you have any right
to strike or revile or do any other evil to your father or your
master, if you had one, because you have been struck or
reviled by him, or received some other evil at his hands?—
you would not say this? And because we think right to 51
destroy you, do you think that you have any right to destroy
us in return, and your country as far as in you lies? Will
you, O professor of true virtue, pretend that you are justified
in this? Has a philosopher like you failed to discover that
our country is more to be valued and higher and holier far
than mother or father or any ancestor, and more to be re-
garded in the eyes of the gods and of men of understanding?
also to be soothed, and gently and reverently entreated when
angry, even more than a father, and either to be persuaded,
or if not persuaded, to be obeyed? And when we are
punished by her, whether with imprisonment or stripes, the
punishment is to be endured in silence; and if she lead us
to wounds or death in battle, thither we follow as is right;
neither may any one yield or retreat or leave his rank, but
whether in battle or in a court of law, or in any other place.
No man has
any right
to strike a
blow at his
country any
more than at
his father
or master.
CRITO
43
he must do what his city and his country order him; or he
must change their view of what is just: and if he may
do no
violence to his father or master, much less may he do vio-
lence to his country.' What answer shall we make to this,
Crito? Do the laws speak truly, or do they not?
Cr. I think that they do.
Soc. Then the laws will say: 'Consider, Socrates, if we
are speaking truly that in your present attempt you are
going to do us an injury. For, having brought you into
the world, and nurtured and educated you, and given you
and every other citizen a share in every good which we had
to give, we further proclaim to any Athenian by the liberty
which we allow him, that if he does not like us when he has
become of age and has seen the ways of the city, and made
our acquaintance, he may go where he pleases and take his
goods with him. None of us laws will forbid him or interfere
with him. Any one who does not like us and the city, and
who wants to emigrate to a colony or to any other city, may
go where he likes, retaining his property. But he who has
experience of the manner in which we order justice and ad-
minister the state, and still remains, has entered into an
implied contract that he will do as we command him.
he who disobeys us is, as we maintain, thrice wrong;
because in disobeying us he is disobeying his parents;
secondly, because we are the authors of his education;
thirdly, because he has made an agreement with us that he
52 will duly obey our commands; and he neither obeys them
nor convinces us that our commands are unjust; and we do
not rudely impose them, but give him the alternative of
obeying or convincing;-that is what we offer, and he
does neither.
And
Crito.
SOCRATES,
CRITO.
The laws
has
argue that
made an
implied
agreement
with them
which he
is not at
first, liberty to
"These are the sort of accusations to which, as we were
saying, you, Socrates, will be exposed if you accomplish
your intentions; you, above all other Athenians.' Suppose
now I ask, why I rather than anybody else? they will
justly retort upon me that I above all other men have
acknowledged the agreement. "There is clear proof,'
they will say, 'Socrates, that we and the city were not dis-
pleasing to you. Of all Athenians you have been the most
constant resident in the city, which, as you never leave, you
break at his
pleasure.
44
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Crito.
SOCRATES,
CRITO.
This agree-
ment he is
now going
to break.
may be supposed to love.¹ For you never went out of the
city either to see the games, except once when you went to
the Isthmus, or to any other place unless when you were on
military service; nor did you travel as other men do. Nor
had you any curiosity to know other states or their laws:
your affections did not go beyond us and our state; we were
your special favourites, and you acquiesced in our govern-
ment of you; and here in this city you begat your children,
which is a proof of your satisfaction. Moreover, you might
in the course of the trial, if you had liked, have fixed the
penalty at banishment; the state which refuses to let you go
now would have let you go then. But you pretended that you
preferred death to exile, and that you were not unwilling to
die. And now you have forgotten these fine sentiments,
and pay no respect to us the laws, of whom you are the
destroyer; and are doing what only a miserable slave would
do, running away and turning your back upon the compacts
and agreements which you made as a citizen. And first of
all answer this very question: Are we right in saying that
you agreed to be governed according to us in deed, and
not in word only? Is that true or not?' How shall we
answer, Crito? Must we not assent?
Cr. We cannot help it, Socrates.
Soc. Then will they not say: 'You, Socrates, are breaking
the covenants and agreements which you made with us at
your leisure, not in any haste or under any compulsion or
deception, but after you have had seventy years to think
of them, during which time you were at liberty to leave
the city, if we were not to your mind, or if our covenants
appeared to you to be unfair. You had your choice, and
might have gone either to Lacedaemon or Crete, both which
states are often praised by you for their good government,
or to some other Hellenic or foreign state.
Whereas you, 53
above all other Athenians, seemed to be so fond of the state,
or, in other words, of us her laws (and who would care about
a state which has no laws?), that you never stirred out of her;
the halt, the blind, the maimed were not more stationary
in her than you were. And now you run away and forsake
your agreements. Not so, Socrates, if you will take our
2 Cp. Apol. 37 d.
1 Cp. Phaedr. 220 C.
CRITO
45
advice; do not make yourself ridiculous by escaping out of
the city.
Crito.
Socrates.
If he does
jure his
friends and
he will in-
will dis-
grace him-
'For just consider, if you transgress and err in this sort of
way, what good will you do either to yourself or to your
friends? That your friends will be driven into exile and
deprived of citizenship, or will lose their property, is
tolerably certain; and you yourself, if you fly to one of the self.
neighbouring cities, as, for example, Thebes or Megara,
both of which are well governed, will come to them as an
enemy, Socrates, and their government will be against you,
and all patriotic citizens will cast an evil eye upon you as
a subverter of the laws, and you will confirm in the minds of
the judges the justice of their own condemnation of you.
For he who is a corrupter of the laws is more than likely to
be a corrupter of the young and foolish portion of mankind.
Will you then flee from well-ordered cities and virtuous
men? and is existence worth having on these terms? Or
will you go to them without shame, and talk to them,
Socrates? And what will you say to them?
What you
say here about virtue and justice and institutions and laws
being the best things among men? Would that be decent
of you? Surely not. But if you go away from well-
governed states to Crito's friends in Thessaly, where there
is great disorder and licence, they will be charmed to hear
the tale of your escape from prison, set off with ludicrous.
particulars of the manner in which you were wrapped in a
goatskin or some other disguise, and metamorphosed as the
manner is of runaways; but will there be no one to remind
you that in your old age you were not ashamed to violate
the most sacred laws from a miserable desire of a little more
life? Perhaps not, if you keep them in a good temper; but
if they are out of temper you will hear many degrading
things; you will live, but how?-as the flatterer of all men,
and the servant of all men; and doing what?-eating and
drinking in Thessaly, having gone abroad in order that you
may get a dinner. And where will be your fine sentiments
54 about justice and virtue? Say that you wish to live for the
sake of your children-you want to bring them up and
educate them will you take them into Thessaly and deprive
them of Athenian citizenship? Is this the benefit which
46
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Crito.
SOCRATES,
CRITO.
Let him
think of
justice first,
and of life
and chil-
dren after-
wards.
The mystic
voice.
you will confer upon them? Or are you under the im-
pression that they will be better cared for and educated
here if you are still alive, although absent from them; for
your friends will take care of them? Do you fancy that if
you are an inhabitant of Thessaly they will take care of them,
and if you are an inhabitant of the other world that they
will not take care of them? Nay; but if they who call
themselves friends are good for anything, they will to be
sure they will.
'Listen, then, Socrates, to us who have brought you up.
Think not of life and children first, and of justice afterwards,
but of justice first, that you may be justified before the
princes of the world below. For neither will you nor any
that belong to you be happier or holier or juster in this life,
or happier in another, if you do as Crito bids. Now you
depart in innocence, a sufferer and not a doer of evil; a
victim, not of the laws but of men. But if you go forth,
returning evil for evil, and injury for injury, breaking the
covenants and agreements which you have made with us,
and wronging those whom you ought least of all to wrong,
that is to say, yourself, your friends, your country, and us,
we shall be angry with you while you live, and our brethren,
the laws in the world below, will receive you as an enemy;
for they will know that you have done your best to destroy
us. Listen, then, to us and not to Crito.'
This, dear Crito, is the voice which I seem to hear mur-
muring in my ears, like the sound of the flute in the ears of
the mystic; that voice, I say, is humming in my ears, and
prevents me from hearing any other. And I know that
anything more which you may say will be vain. Yet speak,
if you have anything to say.
Cr. I have nothing to say, Socrates.
Soc. Leave me then, Crito, to fulfil the will of God, and to
follow whither he leads.
PHAEDO
Some months or years after the death of Socrates, the story
of his last hours is recounted by his disciple Phaedo. Plato, the
narrator remarks incidentally, was not present; and there is
reason to believe that Plato did not intend the dialogue to be
a transcript of what was actually said on this occasion. It
should be read rather as an interpretation, on the part of the
mature philosopher, of the significance of death, especially
of the death of a good man. Most of the discussion of im-
mortality is based on a form of the theory of ideas which the
real Socrates can hardly have entertained; this discussion,
therefore, though appropriately enough introduced into such
a setting, is Platonic rather than Socratic in colouring. It
differs from the pictures of Socrates to be found in the earlier
dialogue somewhat as the Fourth Gospel differs from the first
three. Accordingly, the reader will best understand the cen-
tral part of the dialogue after reading in the next half-
dozen dialogues in the present arrangement.
The most important thing about death, however, as both
Socrates and Plato would agree, is the spirit in which one
meets it. Many a reader of the Phaedo who will give only a
partial assent to the philosophic arguments for immortality
will find a sound argument for courage in the face of death
in the manliness and good cheer with which Socrates met it.
It is well, therefore, to read the Phaedo (particularly 57-64
and 115-118) immediately after the Apology and the Crito
simply for the portrait of Socrates. One should not overlook,
moreover, the curious way in which the Phaedo supplements
the Apology. In court, Socrates pleaded formally, at least, for
life, against those who wished to put him to death; here he
defends his readiness to die against those who deplore his
death. (See also p. 241 of this volume.)
W. C. G.
PHAEDO
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE
PHAEDO, who is the narrator
of the Dialogue to
ECHECRATES OF PHLIUS.
SOCRATES.
ATTENDANT OF THE PRISON.
SCENE:-The Prison of Socrates.
APOLLODORUS,
SIMMIAS.
CEBES.
CRITO.
PLACE OF THE NARRATION:-Phlius.
Echecrates. WERE you yourself, Phaedo, in the prison with
57 Socrates on the day when he drank the poison?
58
Phaedo. Yes, Echecrates, I was.
Ech. I should so like to hear about his death. What did
he say in his last hours? We were informed that he died
by taking poison, but no one knew anything more; for no
Phliasian ever goes to Athens now, and it is a long time
since any stranger from Athens has found his way hither;
so that we had no clear account.
Phaed. Did you not hear of the proceedings at the trial?
Ech. Yes; some one told us about the trial, and we could
not understand why, having been condemned, he should
have been put to death, not at the time, but long afterwards.
What was the reason of this?
Phaed. An accident, Echecrates: the stern of the ship
which the Athenians send to Delos happened to have been
crowned on the day before he was tried.
Ech. What is this ship?
Phaedo.
ECHECRATES,
PHAEDO.
The death
of Socrates
was de
ferred by
the holy
season of
Phaed. It is the ship in which, according to Athenian the mission
tradition, Theseus went to Crete when he took with him the to Delos.
fourteen youths, and was the saviour of them and of himself.
And they are said to have vowed to Apollo at the time, that
if they were saved they would send a yearly mission to
49
50
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
PHAEDO.
Phaedo. Delos. Now this custom still continues, and the whole
ECHECRATES, period of the voyage to and from Delos, beginning when the
priest of Apollo crowns the stern of the ship, is a holy
season, during which the city is not allowed to be polluted
by public executions; and when the vessel is detained by
contrary winds, the time spent in going and returning is very
considerable. As I was saying, the ship was crowned on the
day before the trial, and this was the reason why Socrates
lay in prison and was not put to death until long after he
was condemned.
Phaedo is
requested
by Eche-
crates to
give an ac-
Ech. What was the manner of his death, Phaedo? What
was said or done? And which of his friends were with
him? Or did the authorities forbid them to be present-so
that he had no friends near him when he died?
Phaed. No; there were several of them with him.
Ech. If you have nothing to do, I wish that you would tell
me what passed, as exactly as you can.
Phaed. I have nothing at all to do, and will try to gratify
count of the your wish. To be reminded of Socrates is always the greatest
delight to me, whether I speak myself or hear another speak
of him.
death of
Socrates.
He de-
scribes his
noble and
fearless de-
meanour.
Ech. You will have listeners who are of the same mind
with you, and I hope that you will be as exact as you
can.
Phaed. I had a singular feeling at being in his company.
For I could hardly believe that I was present at the death of
a friend, and therefore I did not pity him, Echecrates; he
died so fearlessly, and his words and bearing were so noble
and gracious, that to me he appeared blessed. I thought
that in going to the other world he could not be without
a divine call, and that he would be happy, if any man ever 59
was, when he arrived there; and therefore I did not pity
him as might have seemed natural at such an hour. But I
had not the pleasure which I usually feel in philosophical
discourse (for philosophy was the theme of which we spoke).
I was pleased, but in the pleasure there was also a strange
admixture of pain; for I reflected that he was soon to die, and
this double feeling was shared by us all; we were laughing
and weeping by turns, especially the excitable Apollodorus
-you know the sort of man?
PHAEDO
51
Ech. Yes.
Phaedo.
Phaed. He was quite beside himself; and I and all of us CEBES
were greatly moved.
Ech. Who were present?
SOCRATES.
Socratic cir.
Phaed. Of native Athenians there were, besides Apollo- The
dorus, Critobulus and his father Crito, Hermogenes, Epi- cle:-the
genes, Aeschines, Antisthenes; likewise Ctesippus of the deme
of Paeania, Menexenus, and some others; Plato, if I am not
mistaken, was ill.
Ech. Were there any strangers?
Phaed. Yes, there were; Simmias the Theban, and Cebes,
and Phaedondes; Euclid and Terpsion, who came from
Megara.
Ech. And was Aristippus there, and Cleombrotus?
Phaed. No, they were said to be in Aegina.
Ech. Any one else?
Phaed. I think that these were nearly all.
absence of
noted.
Plato is
ing at the
prison.
Ech. Well, and what did you talk about?
Phaed. I will begin at the beginning, and endeavour to The meet-
repeat the entire conversation. On the previous days we
had been in the habit of assembling early in the morning at
the court in which the trial took place, and which is not far
from the prison. There we used to wait talking with one
another until the opening of the doors (for they were not
opened very early); then we went in and generally passed
the day with Socrates. On the last morning we assembled
sooner than usual, having heard on the day before when
we quitted the prison in the evening that the sacred ship
had come from Delos; and so we arranged to meet very
early at the accustomed place. On our arrival the jailer who The friends
answered the door, instead of admitting us, came out and
told us to stay until he called us. 'For the Eleven,' he said, while the
'are now with Socrates; they are taking off his chains, and
giving orders that he is to die to-day.'
60 and said that we might come in. On entering we found
Socrates just released from chains, and Xanthippè, whom
you know, sitting by him, and holding his child in her arms.
When she saw us she uttered a cry and said, as women will:
'O Socrates, this is the last time that either you will con-
verse with your friends, or they with you.' Socrates turned
are denied
admission
Eleven are
with
He soon returned Socrates.
52
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
CEBES.
Socrates,
whose
chains have
now been
taken off,
is led by
the feeling
of relief to
remark on
the curious
manner in
which
pleasure
and pain
are always
conjoined.
Having
been told
in a dream
that he
should
compose
music, in
order to
satisfy a
scruple
about the
meaning of
the dream
he has been
writing
verses while
he was in
prison.
to Crito and said: 'Crito, let some one take her home.'
Some of Crito's people accordingly led her away, crying out
and beating herself. And when she was gone, Socrates,
sitting up on the couch, bent and rubbed his leg, saying, as
he was rubbing: How singular is the thing called pleasure,
and how curiously related to pain, which might be thought
to be the opposite of it; for they are never present to a man
at the same instant, and yet he who pursues either is generally
compelled to take the other; their bodies are two, but they
are joined by a single head. And I cannot help thinking
that if Aesop had remembered them, he would have made a
fable about God trying to reconcile their strife, and how,
when he could not, he fastened their heads together; and
this is the reason why when one comes the other follows:
as I know by my own experience now, when after the pain
in my leg which was caused by the chain pleasure appears to
succeed.
Upon this Cebes said: I am glad, Socrates, that you have
mentioned the name of Aesop. For it reminds me of a
question which has been asked by many, and was asked of
me only the day before yesterday by Evenus the poet-he
will be sure to ask it again, and therefore if you would like
me to have an answer ready for him, you may as well tell me
what I should say to him:-he wanted to know why you, who
never before wrote a line of poetry, now that you are in
prison are turning Aesop's fables into verse, and also com-
posing that hymn in honour of Apollo.
Tell him, Cebes, he replied, what is the truth—that I had
no idea of rivalling him or his poems; to do so, as I knew
would be no easy task. But I wanted to see whether I could
purge away a scruple which I felt about the meaning of
certain dreams. In the course of my life I have often had
intimations in dreams 'that I should compose music.'
The
same dream came to me sometimes in one form, and some-
times in another, but always saying the same or nearly the
same words: 'Cultivate and make music,' said the dream.
And hitherto I had imagined that this was only intended to
exhort and encourage me in the study of philosophy, which
has been the pursuit of my life, and is the noblest and best 61
of music. The dream was bidding me do what I was already
PHAEDO
53
SIMMIAS,
doing, in the same way that the competitor in a race is Phaedo.
bidden by the spectators to run when he is already running. SOCRATES,
But I was not certain of this; for the dream might have CEBES.
meant music in the popular sense of the word, and being
under sentence of death, and the festival giving me a respite,
I thought that it would be safer for me to satisfy the scruple,
and, in obedience to the dream, to compose a few verses before
I departed. And first I made a hymn in honour of the god
of the festival, and then considering that a poet, if he is
really to be a poet, should not only put together words, but
should invent stories, and that I have no invention, I took
some fables of Aesop, which I had ready at hand and which
I knew they were the first I came upon-and turned them
into verse.
Tell this to Evenus, Cebes, and bid him be of Evenus the
good cheer; say that I would have him come after me if he
be a wise man, and not tarry; and that to-day I am likely
to be going, for the Athenians say that I must.
Simmias said: What a message for such a man! having
been a frequent companion of his I should say that, as far as
I know him, he will never take your advice unless he
obliged.
Why, said Socrates,—is not Evenus a philosopher?
I think that he is, said Simmias.
is
Then he, or any man who has the spirit of philosophy,
will be willing to die; but he will not take his own life, for
that is held to be unlawful.
Here he changed his position, and put his legs off the
couch on to the ground, and during the rest of the con-
versation he remained sitting.
Why do you say, enquired Cebes, that a man ought not to
take his own life, but that the philosopher will be ready to
follow the dying?
poet had
been curi-
ous about
the mean-
ing of this
behaviour
of his, and
Socrates
Soc
gives him
the explana
tion of it,
bidding
him be of
good cheer,
and come
'But he will
after him.
not come.'
Socrates replied: And have you, Cebes and Simmias, who Socrates
are the disciples of Philolaus, never heard him speak of this?
Yes, but his language was obscure, Socrates.
My words, too, are only an echo; but there is no reason
why I should not repeat what I have heard: and indeed, as
I am going to another place, it is very meet for me to be
thinking and talking of the nature of the pilgrimage which I
replies that
a philoso-
pher like
Evenus
should be
ready to
die, though
he must not
take his
own life.
54
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaeda
SOCRATES,
SIMMIAS,
CEBES.
This inci-
dental re-
mark leads
to a dis-
cussion on
suicide.
Man is a
prisoner
who has no
right to run
away; and
he is also a
possession
of the gods
and must
not rob his
masters.
And why
should he
wish to
leave the
best of
services?
am about to make. What can I do better in the interval
between this and the setting of the sun?
Then tell me, Socrates, why is suicide held to be un-
lawful? as I have certainly heard Philolaus, about whom you
were just now asking, affirm when he was staying with us at
Thebes; and there are others who say the same, although I
have never understood what was meant by any of them.
Do not lose heart, replied Socrates, and the day may come 62
when you will understand. I suppose that you wonder why,
when other things which are evil may be good at certain
times and to certain persons, death is to be the only ex-
ception, and why, when a man is better dead, he is not per-
mitted to be his own benefactor, but must wait for the hand
of another.
Very true, said Cebes, laughing gently and speaking in his
native Boeotian.
I admit the appearance of inconsistency in what I am
saying; but there may not be any real inconsistency after all.
There is a doctrine whispered in secret that man is a
prisoner who has no right to open the door and run away;
this is a great mystery which I do not quite understand.
Yet I too believe that the gods are our guardians, and that
we men are a possession of theirs. Do you not agree?
Yes, I quite agree, said Cebes.
And if one of your own possessions, an ox or an ass, for
example, took the liberty of putting himself out of the way
when you had given no intimation of your wish that he
should die, would you not be angry with him, and would you
not punish him if you could?
Certainly, replied Cebes.
Then, if we look at the matter thus, there may be reason in
saying that a man should wait, and not take his own life until
God summons him, as he is now summoning me.
Yes, Socrates, said Cebes, there seems to be truth in what
you say. And yet how can you reconcile this seemingly true.
belief that God is our guardian and we his possessions, with
the willingness to die which you were just now attributing to
the philosopher? That the wisest of men should be willing
to leave a service in which they are ruled by the gods who
are the best of rulers, is not reasonable; for surely no wise
PHAEDO
55
SIMMIAS,
CEBES.
man thinks that when set at liberty he can take better care of Phaedo.
himself than the gods take of him. A fool may perhaps SOCRATES,
think so-
-he may argue that he had better run away from
his master, not considering that his duty is to remain to the
end, and not to run away from the good, and that there
would be no sense in his running away. The wise man will
want to be ever with him who is better than himself. Now
this, Socrates, is the reverse of what was just now said; for
upon this view the wise man should sorrow and the fool
rejoice at passing out of life.
63 The earnestness of Cebes seemed to please Socrates.
Here, said he, turning to us, is a man who is always enquir-
ing, and is not so easily convinced by the first thing which
he hears.
self, Soc-
rates, are
to run
And certainly, added Simmias, the objection which he is You your.
now making does appear to me to have some force. For
what can be the meaning of a truly wise man wanting to fly too ready
away and lightly leave a master who is better than himself?
And I rather imagine that Cebes is referring to you; he
thinks that you are too ready to leave us, and too ready to
leave the gods whom you acknowledge to be our good
masters.
Yes, replied Socrates; there is reason in what you say.
And so you think that I ought to answer your indictment as
if I were in a court?
We should like you to do so, said Simmias.
Then I must try to make a more successful defence before
you than I did before the judges. For I am quite ready to
admit, Simmias and Cebes, that I ought to be grieved at
death, if I were not persuaded in the first place that I am
going to other gods who are wise and good (of which I am
as certain as I can be of any such matters), and secondly
(though I am not so sure of this last) to men departed, better
than those whom I leave behind; and therefore I do not
grieve as I might have done, for I have good hope that there
is yet something remaining for the dead, and as has been
said of old, some far better thing for the good than for the
evil.
But do you mean to take away your thoughts with you,
Socrates? said Simmias. Will you not impart them to us?
away.
Socrates
replies that
he is going
to other
gods who
are wise
and good.
56
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
SIMMIAS,
CRITO.
The true
philosopher
is always
dying:-
why then
should he
avoid the
death which
he desires?
'How the
world will
laugh when
they hear
this!'
Yes, they
do not un-
derstand
the nature
of death,
-for they are a benefit in which we too are entitled to share.
Moreover, if you succeed in convincing us, that will be an
answer to the charge against yourself.
I will do my best, replied Socrates. But you must first let
me hear what Crito wants; he has long been wishing to say
something to me.
Only this, Socrates, replied Crito:-the attendant who is
to give you the poison has been telling me, and he wants me
to tell you, that you are not to talk much; talking, he says,
increases heat, and this is apt to interfere with the action
of the poison; persons who excite themselves are sometimes
obliged to take a second or even a third dose.
Then, said Socrates, let him mind his business and be pre-
pared to give the poison twice or even thrice if necessary;
that is all.
I knew quite well what you would say, replied Crito; but I
was obliged to satisfy him.
Never mind him, he said.
And now, O my judges, I desire to prove to you that the
real philosopher has reason to be of good cheer when he is
about to die, and that after death he may hope to obtain the 64
greatest good in the other world. And how this may be,
Simmias and Cebes, I will endeavour to explain. For I
deem that the true votary of philosophy is likely to be
misunderstood by other men; they do not perceive that he
is always pursuing death and dying; and if this be so, and
he has had the desire of death all his life long, why when
his time comes should he repine at that which he has been
always pursuing and desiring?
Simmias said laughingly: Though not in a laughing
humour, you have made me laugh, Socrates; for I cannot
help thinking that the many when they hear your words will
say how truly you have described philosophers, and our
people at home will likewise say that the life which philoso-
phers desire is in reality death, and that they have found
them out to be deserving of the death which they desire.
And they are right, Simmias, in thinking so, with the
exception of the words 'they have found them out'; for they
have not found out either what is the nature of that death
which the true philosopher deserves, or how he deserves or
PHAEDO
57
desires death. But enough of them:-let us discuss the Phaedo.
matter among ourselves. Do we believe that there is such a SOCRATES,
thing as death?
To be sure, replied Simmias.
Is it not the separation of soul and body? And to be
dead is the completion of this; when the soul exists in her-
self, and is released from the body and the body is released
from the soul, what is this but death?
Just so, he replied.
SIMMIAS.
or why
the phi-
losopher
desires or
deserves it.
when the
soul is most
There is another question, which will probably throw light Life is best
on our present enquiry if you and I can agree about it:-
Ought the philosopher to care about the pleasures-if they freed from
are to be called pleasures of eating and drinking?
Certainly not, answered Simmias.
the concerns
of the body,
and is alone
and by
And what about the pleasures of love-should he care for herself.
them?
By no means.
And will he think much of the other ways of indulging the
body, for example, the acquisition of costly raiment, or
sandals, or other adornments of the body? Instead of car-
ing about them, does he not rather despise anything more
than nature needs? What do you say?
I should say that the true philosopher would despise them.
Would you not say that he is entirely concerned with the
soul and not with the body? He would like, as far as he
can, to get away from the body and to turn to the soul.
Quite true.
In matters of this sort philosophers, above all other men,
65 may be observed in every sort of way to dissever the soul
from the communion of the body.
Very true.
Whereas, Simmias, the rest of the world are of opinion
that to him who has no sense of pleasure and no part in
bodily pleasure, life is not worth having; and that he who is
indifferent about them is as good as dead.
That is also true.
The senses
What again shall we say of the actual acquirement of
knowledge?—is the body, if invited to share in the enquiry,
a hinderer or a helper? I mean to say, have sight and are untrust
hearing any truth in them? Are they not, as the poets are guides:
worthy
58
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phardo.
Socrates,
SIMMIAS.
they mis-
lead the
soul in the
search for
truth.
And there-
fore the
philosopher
runs away
from the
body.
Another
argument.
The abso-
lute truth
of justice,
beauty, and
other ideas
is not per-
ceived by
the senses,
which only
introduce a
disturbing
element.
always telling us, inaccurate witnesses? and yet, if even they
are inaccurate and indistinct, what is to be said of the other
senses?—for you will allow that they are the best of them?
Certainly, he replied.
Then when does the soul attain truth?-for in attempting
to consider anything in company with the body she is ob-
viously deceived.
True.
Then must not true existence be revealed to her in thought,
if at all?
Yes.
And thought is best when the mind is gathered into herself
and none of these things trouble her-neither sounds nor
sights nor pain nor any pleasure, when she takes leave of
the body, and has as little as possible to do with it, when she
has no bodily sense or desire, but is aspiring after true
being?
Certainly.
And in this the philosopher dishonours the body; his soul
runs away from his body and desires to be alone and by
herself?
That is true.
Well, but there is another thing, Simmias: Is there or is
there not an absolute justice?
Assuredly there is.
And an absolute beauty and absolute good?
Of course.
But did you ever behold any of them with your eyes?
Certainly not.
Or did you ever reach them with any other bodily sense?
—and I speak not of these alone, but of absolute greatness,
and health, and strength, and of the essence or true nature of
everything. Has the reality of them ever been perceived by
you through the bodily organs? or rather, is not the nearest
approach to the knowledge of their several natures made by
him who so orders his intellectual vision as to have the most
exact conception of the essence of each thing which he con-
siders?
Certainly.
And he attains to the purest knowledge of them who goes
PHAEDO
59
Phaedo.
SIMMIAS.
to each with the mind alone, not introducing or intruding in
the act of thought sight or any other sense together with SOCRATES,
is reason, but with the very light of the mind in her own clear-
ness searches into the very truth of each; he who has got
rid, as far as he can, of eyes and ears and, so to speak, of the
whole body, these being in his opinion distracting elements
which when they infect the soul hinder her from acquiring
truth and knowledge-who, if not he, is likely to attain to the
knowledge of true being?
What you say has a wonderful truth in it, Socrates, replied
Simmias.
And when real philosophers consider all these things, will
they not be led to make a reflection which they will express
in words something like the following? 'Have we not found,'
they will say, 'a path of thought which seems to bring us and
our argument to the conclusion, that while we are in the
body, and while the soul is infected with the evils of the body,
our desire will not be satisfied? and our desire is of the truth.
For the body is a source of endless trouble to us by reason of
the mere requirement of food; and is liable also to diseases
which overtake and impede us in the search after true being:
it fills us full of loves, and lusts, and fears, and fancies of all
kinds, and endless foolery, and in fact, as men say, takes
away from us the power of thinking at all. Whence come
wars, and fightings, and factions? whence but from the body
and the lusts of the body? Wars are occasioned by the love
of money, and money has to be acquired for the sake and in
the service of the body; and by reason of all these impedi-
ments we have no time to give to philosophy; and, last and
worst of all, even if we are at leisure and betake ourselves to
some speculation, the body is always breaking in upon us,
causing turmoil and confusion in our enquiries, and so
amazing us that we are prevented from seeing the truth.
It has been proved to us by experience that if we would have
pure knowledge of anything we must be quit of the body-
the soul in herself must behold things in themselves: and
then we shall attain the wisdom which we desire, and of
which we say that we are lovers; not while we live, but after
death; for if while in company with the body, the soul
cannot have pure knowledge, one of two things follows--
The soul
must per-
ceive thing
in herself
in them.
selves.
60
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
SIMMIAS.
Purification
is the sepa-
ration of
the soul
from the
body.
either knowledge is not to be attained at all, or, if at all, after
death. For then, and not till then, the soul will be parted 67
from the body and exist in herself alone. In this present
life, I reckon that we make the nearest approach to know-
ledge when we have the least possible intercourse or com-
munion with the body, and are not surfeited with the bodily
nature, but keep ourselves pure until the hour when God
himself is pleased to release us. And thus having got rid of
the foolishness of the body we shall be pure and hold con-
verse with the pure, and know of ourselves the clear light
everywhere, which is no other than the light of truth.' For
the impure are not permitted to approach the pure. These
are the sort of words, Simmias, which the true lovers of
knowledge cannot help saying to one another, and thinking.
You would agree; would you not?
Undoubtedly, Socrates.
But, O my friend, if this be true, there is great reason to
hope that, going whither I go, when I have come to the end
of my journey, I shall attain that which has been the pursuit
of my life. And therefore I go on my way rejoicing, and not
I only, but every other man who believes that his mind has
been made ready and that he is in a manner purified.
Certainly, replied Simmias.
And what is purification but the separation of the soul
from the body, as I was saving before; the habit of the soul
gathering and collecting herself into herself from all sides
out of the body; the dwelling in her own place alone, as in
another life, so also in this, as far as she can;-the release
of the soul from the chains of the body?
Very true, he said.
And this separation and release of the soul from the body
is termed death?
To be sure, he said.
And the true philosophers, and they only, are ever seeking
to release the soul. Is not the separation and release of the
soul from the body their especial study?
That is true.
And, as I was saying at first, there would be a ridiculous
contradiction in men studying to live as nearly as they can in
a state of death, and yet repining when it comes upon them.
PHAEDO
61
Clearly.
Phaedo.
SIMMIAS.
And the true philosophers, Simmias, are always occupied SOCRATES,
in the practice of dying, wherefore also to them least of all
men is death terrible. Look at the matter thus:-if they
have been in every way the enemies of the body, and are
wanting to be alone with the soul, when this desire of theirs
is granted, how inconsistent would they be if they trembled
and repined, instead of rejoicing at their departure to that
place where, when they arrive, they hope to gain that which
68 in life they desired-and this was wisdom-and at the same
time to be rid of the company of their enemy. Many a man
has been willing to go to the world below animated by the
hope of seeing there an earthly love, or wife, or son, and
conversing with them. And will he who is a true lover of And the
wisdom, and is strongly persuaded in like manner that only
in the world below he can worthily enjoy her, still repine at
death? Will he not depart with joy? Surely he will, O my
friend, if he be a true philosopher. For he will have a firm
conviction that there, and there only, he can find wisdom in
her purity. And if this be true, he would be very absurd, as
I was saying, if he were afraid of death.
He would indeed, replied Simmias.
And when you see a man who is repining at the approach
of death, is not his reluctance a sufficient proof that he is not
a lover of wisdom, but a lover of the body, and probably
at the same time a lover of either money or power, or both?
Quite so, he replied.
And is not courage, Simmias, a quality which is specially
characteristic of the philosopher?
Certainly.
There is temperance again which even by the vulgar is sup-
posed to consist in the control and regulation of the passions,
and in the sense of superiority to them-is not temperance
a virtue belonging to those only who despise the body,
pass their lives in philosophy?
who
Most assuredly.
For the courage and temperance of other men, if you
consider them, are really a contradiction.
and
will
fore the
true phi-
losopher
always try-
ing to dis
who has been
engage
him
from the
himself
body will
rejoice in
death.
He alone
possesses
secret of
the true
virtue,
which in or
dinary men
is merely
based on a
calculation
of lesser
and greater
evils.
How so?
62
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
SIMMIAS.
Ordinary
men are
courageous
only from
cowardice;
temperate
from intem-
perance.
True virtue
is insepa-
rable from
wisdom.
Well, he said, you are aware that death is regarded by
men in general as a great evil.
Very true, he said.
And do not courageous men face death because they are
afraid of yet greater evils?
That is quite true.
Then all but the philosophers are courageous only from
fear, and because they are afraid; and yet that a man should
be courageous from fear, and because he is a coward, is
surely a strange thing.
Very true.
And are not the temperate exactly in the same case?
They are temperate because they are intemperate—which
might seem to be a contradiction, but is nevertheless the sort
of thing which happens with this foolish temperance. For
there are pleasures which they are afraid of losing; and in
their desire to keep them, they abstain from some pleasures,
because they are overcome by others; and although to be
conquered by pleasure is called by men intemperance, to 69
them the conquest of pleasure consists in being conquered
by pleasure. And that is what I mean by saying that, in a
sense, they are made temperate through intemperance.
Such appears to be the case.
O
Yet the exchange of one fear or pleasure or pain for
another fear or pleasure or pain, and of the greater for the
less, as if they were coins, is not the exchange of virtue.
my blessed Simmias, is there not one true coin for which all
things ought to be exchanged?-and that is wisdom; and
only in exchange for this, and in company with this, is any-
thing truly bought or sold, whether courage or temperance
or justice. And is not all true virtue the companion of
wisdom, no matter what fears or pleasures or other similar
goods or evils may or may not attend her? But the virtue
which is made up of these goods, when they are severed
from wisdom and exchanged with one another, is a shadow
of virtue only, nor is there any freedom or health or truth in
her; but in the true exchange there is a purging away of all
these things, and temperance, and justice, and courage, and
wisdom herself are the purgation of them. The founders of
the mysteries would appear to have had a real meaning, and
PHAEDO
63
Phaedo.
CEBES.
sus-bearers
were not talking nonsense when they intimated in a figure
long ago that he who passes unsanctified and uninitiated into SOCRATES,
the world below will lie in a slough, but that he who arrives
there after initiation and purification will dwell with the
gods. For 'many,' as they say in the mysteries, are the The Thyr
thyrsus-bearers, but few are the mystics,'--meaning, as I and the
interpret the words, 'the true philosophers.' In the number mystics.
of whom, during my whole life, I have been seeking, accord-
ing to my ability, to find a place;-whether I have sought in
a right way or not, and whether I have succeeded or not, I
shall truly know in a little while, if God will, when I myself
arrive in the other world-such is my belief. And therefore
I maintain that I am right, Simmias and Cebes, in not grieving
or repining at parting from you and my masters in this world,
for I believe that I shall equally find good masters and friends
in another world. But most men do not believe this saying;
if then I succeed in convincing you by my defence better than
I did the Athenian judges, it will be well.
entertained
lest the soul
dies should
be scattered
winds.
Cebes answered: I agree, Socrates, in the greater part of Fears are
70 what you say. But in what concerns the soul, men are apt
to be incredulous; they fear that when she has left the body when she
her place may be nowhere, and that on the very day of death
she may perish and come to an end-immediately on her re- to the
lease from the body, issuing forth dispersed like smoke or
air and in her flight vanishing away into nothingness. If
she could only be collected into herself after she has obtained
release from the evils of which you were speaking, there
would be good reason to hope, Socrates, that what you say
is true.
But surely it requires a great deal of argument and
many proofs to show that when the man is dead his soul
yet exists, and has any force or intelligence.
True, Cebes, said Socrates; and shall I suggest that we
converse a little of the probabilities of these things?
I am sure, said Cebes, that I should greatly like to know
your opinion about them.
sion suited
to the occa-
I reckon, said Socrates, that no one who heard me now, The discus-
not even if he were one of my old enemies, the Comic poets,
could accuse me of idle talking about matters in which I sion.
have no concern:-If you please, then, we will proceed with
the enquiry.
64
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
Socrates,
CEBES.
All things
which have
opposites
are gene-
rated out of
opposites.
And there
are inter-
mediate
processes
or passages
into and
out of one
another,
Suppose we consider the question whether the souls of men
after death are or are not in the world below. There comes
into my mind an ancient doctrine which affirms that they
go from hence into the other world, and returning hither, are
born again from the dead. Now if it be true that the living
come from the dead, then our souls must exist in the other
world, for if not, how could they have been born again?
And this would be conclusive, if there were any real evidence
that the living are only born from the dead; but if this is not
so, then other arguments will have to be adduced.
Very true, replied Cebes.
Then let us consider the whole question, not in relation to
man only, but in relation to animals generally, and to plants,
and to everything of which there is generation, and the proof
I will be easier. Are not all things which have opposites
generated out of their opposites? I mean such things as good
and evil, just and unjust—and there are innumerable other op-
posites which are generated out of opposites. And I want to
show that in all opposites there is of necessity a similar alter-
nation; I mean to say, for example, that anything which be-
comes greater must become greater after being less.
True.
And that which becomes less must have been once greater
and then have become less.
Yes.
And the weaker is generated from the stronger, and the
swifter from the slower.
Very true.
And the worse is from the better, and the more just is from
the more unjust.
Of course.
And is this true of all opposites? and are we convinced
that all of them are generated out of opposites?
Yes.
And in this universal opposition of all things, are there not
also two intermediate processes which are ever going on, from
one to the other opposite, and back again; where there is a
greater and a less there is also an intermediate process of
increase and diminution, and that which grows is said to
wax, and that which decays to wane?
71
PHAEDO
65
Phaedo.
Yes, he said.
CEBES.
crease and
diminution,
And there are many other processes, such as division and SOCRATES,
composition, cooling and heating, which equally involve a
passage into and out of one another. And this necessarily such as in-
holds of all opposites, even though not always expressed in
words—they are really generated out of one another, and division
there is a passing or process from one to the other of them?
Very true, he replied.
Well, and is there not an opposite of life, as sleep is the
opposite of waking?
True, he said.
And what is it?
Death, he answered.
And these, if they are opposites, are generated the one
from the other, and have their two intermediate processes
also?
Of course.
Now, said Socrates, I will analyze one of the two pairs of
opposites which I have mentioned to you, and also its inter-
mediate processes, and you shall analyze the other to me.
One of them I term sleep, the other waking. The state of
sleep is opposed to the state of waking, and out of sleeping
waking is generated, and out of waking, sleeping; and the
process of generation is in the one case falling asleep, and in
the other waking up. Do you agree?
I entirely agree.
and com-
position,
and the
like.
Then, suppose that you analyze life and death to me in the Life is op.
same manner. Is not death opposed to life?
Yes.
And they are generated one from the other?
Yes.
What is generated from the living?
The dead.
And what from the dead?
I can only say in answer-the living.
Then the living, whether things or persons, Cebes, are
generated from the dead?
That is clear, he replied.
Then the inference is that our souls exist in the world
below?
posed to
death, as
waking is
to sleeping,
and in like
manner
they are
generated
from one
another.
66
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
CEBES.
That is true.
And one of the two processes or generations is visible-for
surely the act of dying is visible?
Surely, he said.
What then is to be the result?
Shall we exclude the
opposite process? and shall we suppose nature to walk on
one leg only?
Must we not rather assign to death some
corresponding process of generation?
Certainly, he replied.
And what is that process?
If there
were no
compensa-
tion or
return in
nature, all
things
would pass
into the
state of
death.
The sleep-
ing Endy-
mion would
be unmean-
ing in a
world of
sleepers.
Return to life.
And return to life, if there be such a thing, is the birth
of the dead into the world of the living?
Quite true.
Then here is a new way by which we arrive at the con-
clusion that the living come from the dead, just as the dead
come from the living; and this, if true, affords a most certain
proof that the souls of the dead exist in some place out of
which they come again.
Yes, Socrates, he said; the conclusion seems to flow
necessarily out of our previous admissions.
And that these admissions were not unfair, Cebes, he said,
may be shown, I think, as follows: If generation were in a
straight line only, and there were no compensation or circle
in nature, no turn or return of elements into their opposites,
then you know that all things would at last have the same
form and pass into the same state, and there would be no
more generation of them.
What do you mean? he said.
A simple thing enough, which I will illustrate by the case
of sleep, he replied. You know that if there were no alter-
nation of sleeping and waking, the tale of the sleeping
Endymion would in the end have no meaning, because all
other things would be asleep too, and he would not be dis-
tinguishable from the rest. Or if there were composition
only, and no division of substances, then the chaos of
Anaxagoras would come again. And in like manner, my
dear Cebes, if all things which partook of life were to die,
and after they were dead remained in the form of death, and
did not come to life again, all would at last die, and nothing
72
PHAEDO
67
SOCRATES,
would be alive-what other result could there be? For if the Phaedo.
living spring from any other things, and they too die, must
not all things at last be swallowed up in death?
There is no escape, Socrates, said Cebes; and to me your
argument seems to be absolutely true.
Yes, he said, Cebes, it is and must be so, in my opinion;
and we have not been deluded in making these admissions;
but I am confident that there truly is such a thing as living
again, and that the living spring from the dead, and that the
souls of the dead are in existence, and that the good souls
have a better portion than the evil.
CEBES
SIMMIAS.
trine of
implies a
Cebes added: Your favourite doctrine, Socrates, that The doc-
knowledge is simply recollection, if true, also necessarily recollection
implies a previous time in which we have learned that which
we now recollect. But this would be impossible unless our
73 soul had been in some place before existing in the form of
man; here then is another proof of the soul's immortality.
But tell me, Cebes, said Simmias, interposing, what argu-
ments are urged in favour of this doctrine of recollection. I
am not very sure at the moment that I remember them.
previous
existence.
question to
a person,
and he
answers out
One excellent proof, said Cebes, is afforded by questions. You put a
If you put a question to a person in a right way, he will give
a true answer of himself, but how could he do this unless
there were knowledge and right reason already in him?
And this is most clearly shown when he is taken to a diagram
or to anything of that sort.
But if, said Socrates, you are still incredulous, Simmias, I
would ask you whether you may not agree with me when you
look at the matter in another way;-I mean, if you are still
incredulous as to whether knowledge is recollection?
Incredulous I am not, said Simmias; but I want to have
this doctrine of recollection brought to my own recollection,
and, from what Cebes has said, I am beginning to recollect
and be convinced: but I should still like to hear what you
were going to say.
This is what I would say, he replied: We should agree,
if I am not mistaken, that what a man recollects he must
have known at some previous time.
Very true.
of his own
mind.
68
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
SIMMIAS.
A person
may recol-
lect what he
has never
seen to-
gether with
what he has
seen. How
is this?
Recollec-
tion is the
knowledge
of some
person or
thing de-
rived from
some other
person or
thing which
may be
either like
or unlike
them.
The im-
perfect
equality of
And what is the nature of this knowledge or recollection?
I mean to ask, Whether a person who, having seen or heard
or in any way perceived anything, knows not only that, but
has a conception of something else which is the subject, not
of the same but of some other kind of knowledge, may not be
fairly said to recollect that of which he has the conception?
What do you mean?
I mean what I may illustrate by the following instance:-
The knowledge of a lyre is not the same as the knowledge of
a man?
True.
And yet what is the feeling of lovers when they recognize
a lyre, or a garment, or anything else which the beloved has
been in the habit of using? Do not they, from knowing the
lyre, form in the mind's eye an image of the youth to whom
the lyre belongs? And this is recollection. In like manner
any one who sees Simmias may remember Cebes; and there
are endless examples of the same thing.
Endless, indeed, replied Simmias.
And recollection is most commonly a process of recovering
that which has been already forgotten through time and inat-
tention.
Very true, he said.
Well; and may you not also from seeing the picture of a
horse or a lyre remember a man? and from the picture of
Simmias, you may be led to remember Cebes?
True.
Or you may also be led to the recollection of Simmias
himself?
Quite so.
And in all these cases, the recollection may be derived
from things either like or unlike?
It may be.
And when the recollection is derived from like things, then
another consideration is sure to arise, which is whether the
likeness in any degree falls short or not of that which is
recollected?
Very true, he said.
And shall we proceed a step further, and affirm that there
is such a thing as equality, not of one piece of wood or stone
74
PHAEDO
69
with another, but that, over and above this, there is absolute
equality? Shall we say so?
Say so, yes, replied Simmias, and swear to it, with all the
confidence in life.
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
SIMMIAS.
pieces of
wood or
And do we know the nature of this absolute essence? stone sug-
To be sure, he said.
gests the
perfect idea
And whence did we obtain our knowledge? Did we not of equality.
see equalities of material things, such as pieces of wood and
stones, and gather from them the idea of an equality which is
different from them? For you will acknowledge that there
is a difference. Or look at the matter in another way:-Do
not the same pieces of wood or stone appear at one time
equal, and at another time unequal?
That is certain.
But are real equals ever unequal? or is the idea of equality
the same as of inequality?
Impossible, Socrates.
Then these (so-called) equals are not the same with the idea
of equality?
I should say, clearly not, Socrates.
And yet from these equals, although differing from the idea
of equality, you conceived and attained that idea?
Very true, he said.
Which might be like, or might be unlike them?
Yes.
But that makes no difference: whenever from seeing one
thing you conceived another, whether like or unlike, there
must surely have been an act of recollection?
Very true.
But what would you say of equal portions of wood and
stone, or other material equals? and what is the impression
produced by them? Are they equals in the same sense in
which absolute equality is equal? or do they fall short of
this perfect equality in a measure?
Yes, he said, in a very great measure too.
material
equals wher
And must we not allow, that when I or any one, looking at But if the
any object, observes that the thing which he sees aims at
being some other thing, but falls short of, and cannot be, that
cther thing, but is inferior, he who makes this observation
compared
equality fall
to the ideal
70
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
SIMMIAS.
short of it,
the ideal
equality
with which
they are
compared
must be
prior to
them,
though only
known
through the
medium of
them.
That higher
sense of
equality
must have
been known
to us before
we were
born, was
forgotten at
birth, and
was re-
covered by
the use of
the senses.
must have had a previous knowledge of that to which the
other, although similar, was inferior?
Certainly.
And has not this been our own case in the matter of equals
and of absolute equality?
Precisely.
Then we must have known equality previously to the time
when we first saw the material equals, and reflected that all 75
these apparent equals strive to attain absolute equality, but
fall short of it?
Very true.
And we recognize also that this absolute equality has only
been known, and can only be known, through the medium of
sight or touch, or of some other of the senses, which are all
alike in this respect?
Yes, Socrates, as far as the argument is concerned, one of
them is the same as the other.
From the senses then is derived the knowledge that all sensi-
ble things aim at an absolute equality of which they fall short?
Yes.
Then before we began to see or hear or perceive in any
way, we must have had a knowledge of absolute equality, or
we could not have referred to that standard the equals which
are derived from the senses?-for to that they all aspire, and
of that they fall short.
No other inference can be drawn from the previous state-
ments.
And did we not see and hear and have the use of our other
senses as soon as we were born?
Certainly.
Then we must have acquired the knowledge of equality at
some previous time?
Yes.
That is to say, before we were born, I suppose?
True.
And if we acquired this knowledge before we were born,
and were born having the use of it, then we also knew before
we were born and at the instant of birth not only the equal or
the greater or the less, but all other ideas; for we are not
speaking only of equality, but of beauty, goodness, justice,
PHAEDO
71
76
holiness, and of all which we stamp with the name of essence Phaedo.
in the dialectical process, both when we ask and when we SOCRATES,
answer questions. Of all this we may certainly affirm that
we acquired the knowledge before birth?
We may.
SIMMIAS.
called
But, if after having acquired, we have not forgotten what What is
in each case we acquired, then we must always have come learning
into life having knowledge, and shall always continue to know therefore is
as long as life lasts for knowing is the acquiring and retain- only a recol
ing knowledge and not forgetting. Is not forgetting, Simmias,
just the losing of knowledge?
Quite true, Socrates.
But if the knowledge which we acquired before birth was
lost by us at birth, and if afterwards by the use of the senses
we recovered what we previously knew, will not the process
which we call learning be a recovering of the knowledge
which is natural to us, and may not this be rightly termed
recollection?
Very true.
So much is clear-that when we perceive something, either
by the help of sight, or hearing, or some other sense, from
that perception we are able to obtain a notion of some other
thing like or unlike which is associated with it but has been
forgotten. Whence, as I was saying, one of two alternatives
follows:-either we had this knowledge at birth, and con-
tinued to know through life; or, after birth, those who are
said to learn only remember, and learning is simply recol-
lection.
Yes, that is quite true, Socrates.
And which alternative, Simmias, do you prefer? Had we
the knowledge at our birth, or did we recollect the things
which we knew previously to our birth?
I cannot decide at the moment.
At any rate you can decide whether he who has knowledge
will or will not be able to render an account of his knowledge?
What do you say?
Certainly, he will.
But do you think that every man is able to give an account
of these very matters about which we are speaking?
Would that they could, Socrates, but I rather fear that
lection of
ideas
which we
possessed
in a previ
ous state.
72
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
SIMMIAS.
But if so,
our souls
must have
existed be-
fore they
were in the
form of
man; or if
not the
souls, then
not the
ideas.
to-morrow, at this time, there will no longer be any one
alive who is able to give an account of them such as ought
to be given.
Then you are not of opinion, Simmias, that all men know
these things?
Certainly not.
They are in process of recollecting that which they learned
before?
Certainly.
But when did our souls acquire this knowledge?—not since
we were born as men?
Certainly not.
And therefore, previously?
Yes.
Then, Simmias, our souls must also have existed without
bodies before they were in the form of man, and must have
had intelligence.
Unless indeed you suppose, Socrates, that these notions are
given us at the very moment of birth; for this is the only
time which remains.
Yes, my friend, but if so, when do we lose them? for they
are not in us when we are born-that is admitted.
Do we
lose them at the moment of receiving them or if not at what
other time?
No, Socrates, I perceive that I was unconsciously talking
nonsense.
Then may we not say, Simmias, that if, as we are always
repeating, there is an absolute beauty, and goodness, and
an absolute essence of all things; and if to this, which is now
discovered to have existed in our former state, we refer all
our sensations, and with this compare them, finding these ideas
to be pre-existent and our inborn possession-then our souls
must have had a prior existence, but if not, there would be no
force in the argument? There is the same proof that these
ideas must have existed before we were born, as that our
souls existed before we were born; and if not the ideas, then
not the souls.
Yes, Socrates; I am convinced that there is precisely the
same necessity for the one as for the other; and the argu-
PHAEDO
73
SIMMIAS,
CEBES.
77 ment retreats successfully to the position that the existence Phaedo.
of the soul before birth cannot be separated from the exist- SOCRATES,
ence of the essence of which you speak. For there is
nothing which to my mind is so patent as that beauty, good-
ness, and the other notions of which you were just now speak-
ing, have a most real and absolute existence; and I am
satisfied with the proof.
Well, but is Cebes equally satisfied? for I must convince
him too.
I cannot get
and Cebes
are agreed
that the
previous
existence of
sufficiently
proved, but
the soul is
I think, said Simmias, that Cebes is satisfied: although he Simmias
is the most incredulous of mortals, yet I believe that he is
sufficiently convinced of the existence of the soul before in thinking
birth. But that after death the soul will continue to exist is
not yet proven even to my own satisfaction.
rid of the feeling of the many to which Cebes was referring
-the feeling that when the man dies the soul will be dis-
persed, and that this may be the extinction of her. For future
admitting that she may have been born elsewhere, and existence.
framed out of other elements, and was in existence before
entering the human body, why after having entered in and
gone out again may she not herself be destroyed and come.
to an end?
Very true, Simmias, said Cebes; about half of what was
required has been proven; to wit, that our souls existed
before we were born:-that the soul will exist after death as
well as before birth is the other half of which the proof is
still wanting, and has to be supplied; when that is given
the demonstration will be complete.
not the
soul passes
from death
to birth,
But that proof, Simmias and Cebes, has been already
given, said Socrates, if you put the two arguments together
-I mean this and the former one, in which we admitted
that everything living is born of the dead. For if the soul But if the
exists before birth, and in coming to life and being born can
be born only from death and dying, must she not after death
continue to exist, since she has to be born again?-Surely
the proof which you desire has been already furnished.
Still I suspect that you and Simmias would be glad to probe
the argument further. Like children, you are haunted with
a fear that when the soul leaves the body, the wind may
really blow her away and scatter her; especially if a man
exist after
death as
she must
well as be-
ore birth.
74
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
CEBES.
The fear
that the
son will
vanish into
air must be
charmed
away.
What is the
element
which is
liable to be
scattered?-
Not the
simple and
unchange-
able, but
the com-
posite and
changing.
should happen to die in a great storm and not when the sky
is calm.
Cebes answered with a smile: Then, Socrates, you must
argue us out of our fears-and yet, strictly speaking, they 78
are not our fears, but there is a child within us to whom
death is a sort of hobgoblin: him too we must persuade not
to be afraid when he is alone in the dark.
Socrates said: Let the voice of the charmer be applied
daily until you have charmed away the fear.
And where shall we find a good charmer of our fears,
Socrates, when you are gone?
Hellas, he replied, is a large place, Cebes, and has
many good men, and there are barbarous races not a few:
seek for him among them all, far and wide, sparing
neither pains nor money;
for there is no better way of
spending your money. And you must seek among your-
selves too; for you will not find others better able to make
the search.
The search, replied Cebes, shall certainly be made. And
now, if you please, let us return to the point of the argument
at which we digressed.
By all means, replied Socrates; what else should I
please?
Very good.
Must we not, said Socrates, ask ourselves what that is
which, as we imagine, is liable to be scattered, and about
which we fear? and what again is that about which we have
no fear?
And then we may proceed further to enquire
whether that which suffers dispersion is or is not of the
nature of soul—our hopes and fears as to our own souls will
turn upon the answers to these questions.
Very true, he said.
Now the compound or composite may be supposed to be
naturally capable, as of being compounded, so also of being
dissolved; but that which is uncompounded, and that only,
must be, if anything is, indissoluble.
Yes; I should imagine so, said Cebes.
And the uncompounded may be assumed to be the same
and unchanging, whereas the compound is always changing
and never the same.
PHAEDO
75
Phaedo.
Cebes.
and the
I agree, he said.
Then now let us return to the previous discussion. Is SOCRATES,
that idea or essence, which in the dialectical process we
define as essence or true existence-whether essence of The soul
equality, beauty, or anything else are these essences, I say,
liable at times to some degree of change? or are they each
of them always what they are, having the same simple self-
existent and unchanging forms, not admitting of variation at
all, or in any way, or at any time?
They must be always the same, Socrates, replied Cebes.
And what would you say of the many beautiful—whether
men or horses or garments or any other things which are
named by the same names and may be called equal or
beautiful, are they all unchanging and the same always, or
quite the reverse? May they not rather be described as al-
most always changing and hardly ever the same, either with
themselves or with one another?
-
The latter, replied Cebes; they are always in a state of
change.
79 And these you can touch and see and perceive with the
senses, but the unchanging things you can only perceive
with the mind-they are invisible and are not seen?
That is very true, he said.
Well then, added Socrates, let us suppose that there are
two sorts of existences-one seen, the other unseen.
Let us suppose them.
The seen is the changing, and the unseen is the un-
changing?
That may be also supposed.
And, further, is not one part of us body, another part
soul?
To be sure.
And to which class is the body more alike and akin?
Clearly to the seen-no one can doubt that.
And is the soul seen or not seen?
Not by man, Socrates.
And what we mean by 'seen' and 'not seen' is that which
is or is not visible to the eye of man?
Yes, to the eye of man.
And is the soul seen or not seen?
ideas be
long to the
class of the
unchang-
ing, which
is also the
unseen
76
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
CEBES.
The soul
which is
unseen,
when she
makes use
of the bodily
senses, is
dragged
down into
the region
of the
changeable,
and must
return into
herself
before she
can attain
to true
wisdom.
The soul is
of the
nature of
the un-
changeable,
the body of
the chang-
ing; the
soul rules,
the body
serves; the
soul is in
the likeness
of the
divine, the
body of the
mortal.
Not seen.
Unseen then?
Yes.
Then the soul is more like to the unseen, and the body to
the seen?
That follows necessarily, Socrates.
And were we not saying long ago that the soul when using
the body as an instrument of perception, that is to say, when
using the sense of sight or hearing or some other sense (for
the meaning of perceiving through the body is perceiving
through the senses)- -were we not saying that the soul too is
then dragged by the body into the region of the changeable,
and wanders and is confused; the world spins round her,
and she is like a drunkard, when she touches change?
Very true.
But when returning into herself she reflects, then she
passes into the other world, the region of purity, and
eternity, and immortality, and unchangeableness, which are
her kindred, and with them she ever lives, when she is
by herself and is not let or hindered; then she ceases
from her erring ways, and being in communion with the un-
changing is unchanging. And this state of the soul is
called wisdom?
That is well and truly said, Socrates, he replied.
And to which class is the soul more nearly alike and akin,
as far as may be inferred from this argument, as well as
from the preceding one?
I think, Socrates, that, in the opinion of every one who
follows the argument, the soul will be infinitely more like
the unchangeable-even the most stupid person will not deny
that.
And the body is more like the changing?
Yes.
Yet once
more consider the matter in another light:
When the soul and the body are united, then nature orders 80
the soul to rule and govern, and the body to obey and serve.
Now which of these two functions is akin to the divine?
and which to the mortal? Does not the divine appear to
you to be that which naturally orders and rules, and the
mortal to be that which is subject and servant?
PHAEDO
77
True.
Phaedo.
And which does the soul resemble?
The soul resembles the divine, and the body the mortal-
there can be no doubt of that, Socrates.
Then reflect, Cebes: of all which has been said is not this
the conclusion?-that the soul is in the very likeness of the
divine, and immortal, and intellectual, and uniform, and
indissoluble, and unchangeable; and that the body is in the
very likeness of the human and mortal, and unintellectual,
and multiform, and dissoluble, and changeable. Can this,
my dear Cebes, be denied?
It cannot.
But if it be true, then is not the body liable to speedy
dissolution? and is not the soul almost or altogether in-
dissoluble?
Certainly.
or
the
SOCRATES,
CEBES.
something
learned
about the
soul; for
the corpse
of a man
And do you further observe, that after a man is dead, the Even from
body, or visible part of him, which is lying in the visible the body
world and is called a corpse, and would naturally be dis- may be
solved and decomposed and dissipated, is not dissolved
decomposed at once, but may remain for some time, nay
even for a long time, if the constitution be sound at
time of death, and the season of the year favourable? For
the body when shrunk and embalmed, as the manner is in
Egypt, may remain almost entire through infinite ages; and
even in decay, there are still some portions, such as the
bones and ligaments, which are practically indestructible:—
Do you agree?
Yes.
And is it likely that the soul, which is invisible, in passing
to the place of the true Hades, which like her is invisible,
and pure, and noble, and on her way to the good and wise
God, whither, if God will, my soul is also soon to go,-that
the soul, I repeat, if this be her nature and origin, will be
blown away and destroyed immediately on quitting the
body, as the many say? That can never be, my dear
Simmias and Cebes. The truth rather is, that the soul
which is pure at departing and draws after her no bodily
taint, having never voluntarily during life had connection with
the body, which she is ever avoiding, herself gathered into
lasts for
and when
embalmed,
some time,
in a manner
for ever.
How un-
likely then
that the
soul should
at once pass
away!
78
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
CEBES.
Rather
when free
from bodily
impurity
she departs
herself;—and making such abstraction her perpetual study—
which means that she has been a true disciple of philc- 81
sophy; and therefore has in fact been always engaged in
the practice of dying? For is not philosophy the study of
death?-
Certainly-
That soul, I say, herself invisible, departs to the invisible
world to the divine and immortal and rational: hither
arriving, she is secure of bliss and is released from the error
and folly of men, their fears and wild passions and all
of the blessed. Other human ills, and for ever dwells, as they say of the
initiated, in company with the gods. Is not this true,
Cebes?
to the seats
But the
souls of
the wicked
are dragged
down by
the corpo-
real ele-
ment.
Yes, said Cebes, beyond a doubt.
But the soul which has been polluted, and is impure at the
time of her departure, and is the companion and servant of
the body always, and is in love with and fascinated by the
body and by the desires and pleasures of the body, until she
is led to believe that the truth only exists in a bodily form,
which a man may touch and see and taste, and use for the
purposes of his lusts-the soul, I mean, accustomed to hate
and fear and avoid the intellectual principle, which to the
bodily eye is dark and invisible, and can be attained only by
philosophy; do you suppose that such a soul will depart
pure and unalloyed?
Impossible, he replied.
She is held fast by the corporeal, which the continual
association and constant care of the body have wrought into
her nature.
Very true.
And this corporeal element, my friend, is heavy and
weighty and earthy, and is that element of sight by which
a soul is depressed and dragged down again into the visible
world, because she is afraid of the invisible and of the world
below-prowling about tombs and sepulchres, near which,
as they tell us, are seen certain ghostly apparitions of souls
which have not departed pure, but are cloyed with sight and
therefore visible.¹
That is very likely, Socrates.
1 Compare Milton, Comus, 463 foll.
PHAEDO
79
CEBES.
Yes, that is very likely, Cebes; and these must be the Phaedo.
souls, not of the good, but of the evil, which are compelled SOCRATES,
to wander about such places in payment of the penalty of
their former evil way of life; and they continue to wander
until through the craving after the corporeal which never
leaves them, they are imprisoned finally in another body.
And they may be supposed to find their prisons in the same
natures which they have had in their former lives.
What natures do you mean, Socrates?
What I mean is that men who have followed after gluttony,
and wantonness, and drunkenness, and have had no thought
of avoiding them, would pass into asses and animals of that
82 sort. What do you think?
They wan-
bodies of
the animals
der into the
or of birds
which are of
like
nature with
I think such an opinion to be exceedingly probable.
And those who have chosen the portion of injustice, and themselves.
tyranny, and violence, will pass into wolves, or into hawks
and kites;-whither else can we suppose them to go?
Yes, said Cebes; with such natures, beyond question.
And there is no difficulty, he said, in assigning to all of
them places answering to their several natures and pro-
pensities?
There is not, he said.
Some are happier than others; and the happiest both in
themselves and in the place to which they go are those who
have practised the civil and social virtues which are called
temperance and justice, and are acquired by habit and atten-
tion without philosophy and mind.
Why are they the happiest?
Because they may be expected to pass into some gentle
and social kind which is like their own, such as bees or wasps
or ants, or back again into the form of man, and just and
moderate men may be supposed to spring from them.
Very likely.
No one who has not studied philosophy and who is not
entirely pure at the time of his departure is allowed to enter
the company of the Gods, but the lover of knowledge only.
And this is the reason, Simmias and Cebes, why the true
votaries of philosophy abstain from all fleshly lusts, and hold
out against them and refuse to give themselves up to them,—
not because they fear poverty or the ruin of their families,
80
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
CEBES.
The new
conscious-
ness which
is awakened
by phi.
losophy.
The phi-
losopher
considers
not only
the conse-
quences of
pleasures
and pains,
but, what is
far worse,
the false
like the lovers of money, and the world in general; nor like
the lovers of power and honour, because they dread the dis-
honour or disgrace of evil deeds.
No, Socrates, that would not become them, said Cebes.
No indeed, he replied; and therefore they who have any
care of their own souls, and do not merely live moulding and
fashioning the body, say farewell to all this; they will not
walk in the ways of the blind: and when philosophy offers
them purification and release from evil, they feel that they
ought not to resist her influence, and whither she leads they
turn and follow.
What do you mean, Socrates?
I will tell you, he said. The lovers of knowledge are con-
scious that the soul was simply fastened and glued to the
body-until philosophy received her, she could only view real
existence through the bars of a prison, not in and through
herself; she was wallowing in the mire of every sort of
ignorance, and by reason of lust had become the principal
accomplice in her own captivity. This was her original 83
state; and then, as I was saying, and as the lovers of
knowledge are well aware, philosophy, seeing how terrible
was her confinement, of which she was to herself the cause,
received and gently comforted her and sought to release her,
pointing out that the eye and the ear and the other senses
are full of deception, and persuading her to retire from them,
and abstain from all but the necessary use of them, and be
gathered up and collected into herself, bidding her trust in
herself and her own pure apprehension of pure existence, and
to mistrust whatever comes to her through other channels
and is subject to variation; for such things are visible and
tangible, but what she sees in her own nature is intelligible
and invisible. And the soul of the true philosopher thinks
that she ought not to resist this deliverance, and therefore ab-
stains from pleasures and desires and pains and fears, as far
as she is able; reflecting that when a man has great joys or
sorrows or fears or desires, he suffers from them, not merely
the sort of evil which might be anticipated—as for example,
the loss of his health or property which he has sacrificed to
his lust-but an evil greater far, which is the greatest and
worst of all evils, and one of which he never thinks.
PHAEDO
81
What is it, Socrates? said Cebes.
Phaedo.
CEBEL.
The evil is that when the feeling of pleasure or pain is SOCRATES,
most intense, every soul of man imagines the object of this
intense feeling to be then plainest and truest: but this is not
so, they are really the things of sight.
Very true.
And is not this the state in which the soul is most en-
thralled by the body?
How so?
Why, because each pleasure and pain is a sort of nail
which nails and rivets the souls to the body, until she be-
comes like the body, and believes that to be true which the
body affirms to be true; and from agreeing with the body
and having the same delights she is obliged to have the same
habits and haunts, and is not likely ever to be pure at her
departure to the world below, but is always infected by the
body; and so she sinks into another body and there ger-
minates and grows, and has therefore no part in the com-
munion of the divine and pure and simple.
Most true, Socrates, answered Cebes.
And this, Cebes, is the reason why the true lovers of
knowledge are temperate and brave; and not for the reason
which the world gives.
84 Certainly not.
lights in
which they
show
objects.
which has
been eman-
from plea-
sures and
not be
Certainly not! The soul of a philosopher will reason in The soul
quite another way; she will not ask philosophy to release
her in order that when released she may deliver herself up cipated
again to the thraldom of pleasures and pains, doing a work
only to be undone again, weaving instead of unweaving her pains will
Penelope's web. But she will calm passion, and follow blown away
reason, and dwell in the contemplation of her, beholding the at death.
true and divine (which is not matter of opinion), and thence
deriving nourishment. Thus she seeks to live while she
lives, and after death she hopes to go to her own kindred
and to that which is like her, and to be freed from human
ills. Never fear, Simmias and Cebes, that a soul which has
been thus nurtured and has had these pursuits, will at her
departure from the body be scattered and blown away by the
winds and be nowhere and nothing.
Wher Socrates had done sneaking, for a considerable time
82
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
SIMMIAS,
CEBES.
Simmias
and Cebes
have their
doubts, but
think that
this is not
the time to
express
them.
Socrates re-
bukes their
want of
confidence
in him.
What is the
meaning of
the swans'
singing?
They do
not lament,
as men sup-
pose, at
their ap-
proaching
death; but
they rejoice
because
they are
going to the
God, whose
servants
they are.
Socrates,
who is their
fellow-
servant,
there was silence; he himself appeared to be meditating, as
most of us were, on what had been said; only Cebes and
Simmias spoke a few words to one another. And Socrates
observing them asked what they thought of the argument,
and whether there was anything wanting? For, said he,
there are many points still open to suspicion and attack, if
any one were disposed to sift the matter thoroughly. Should
you be considering some other matter I say no more, but if
you are still in doubt do not hesitate to say exactly what you
think, and let us have anything better which you can sug-
gest; and if you think that I can be of any use, allow me to
help you.
Simmias said: I must confess, Socrates, that doubts did
arise in our minds, and each of us was urging and inciting
the other to put the question which we wanted to have
answered but which neither of us liked to ask, fearing that
our importunity might be troublesome at such a time.
Socrates replied with a smile: O Simmias, what are you
saying? I am not very likely to persuade other men that
I do not regard my present situation as a misfortune, if I
cannot even persuade you that I am no worse off now than at
any other time in my life. Will you not allow that I have
as much of the spirit of prophecy in me as the swans? For
they, when they perceive that they must die, having sung all
their life long, do then sing more lustily than ever, rejoicing
in the thought that they are about to go away to the god 85
whose ministers they are. But men, because they are them-
selves afraid of death, slanderously affirm of the swans that
they sing a lament at the last, not considering that no bird
sings when cold, or hungry, or in pain, not even the night-
ingale, nor the swallow, nor yet the hoopoe; which are said
indeed to tune a lay of sorrow, although I do not believe this
to be true of them any more than of the swans. But because
they are sacred to Apollo, they have the gift of prophecy,
and anticipate the good things of another world; wherefore
they sing and rejoice in that day more than ever they did
before. And I too believing myself to be the consecrated
servant of the same God, and the fellow-servant of the
swans, and thinking that I have received from my master
gifts of prophecy which are not inferior to theirs, would not
PHAEDO
83
go out of life less merrily than the swans. Never mind Phaedo.
then, if this be your only objection, but speak and ask any- SOCRATES,
thing which you like, while the eleven magistrates of Athens
allow.
SIMMIAS.
will not
leave the
insists that
they must
to the
bottom.
Very good, Socrates, said Simmias; then I will tell you my world less
difficulty, and Cebes will tell you his. I feel myself (and I cheerily.
daresay that you have the same feeling), how hard or rather
impossible is the attainment of any certainty about questions
such as these in the present life. And yet I should deem Simmias
him a coward who did not prove what is said about them to
the uttermost, or whose heart failed him before he had ex- probe truth
amined them on every side. For he should persevere until
he has achieved one of two things; either he should dis-
cover, or be taught the truth about them; or, if this be
impossible, I would have him take the best and most irre-
fragable of human theories, and let this be the raft upon
which he sails through life—not without risk, as I admit, if
he cannot find some word of God which will more surely and
safely carry him. And now, as you bid me, I will venture to
question you, and then I shall not have to reproach myself
hereafter with not having said at the time what I think. For
when I consider the matter, either alone or with Cebes, the
argument does certainly appear to me, Socrates, to be not
sufficient.
Socrates answered: I dare say, my friend, that you may
be right, but I should like to know in what respect the argu-
ment is insufficient.
not survive
how then
can the
soul, which
is also a
harmony,
In this respect, replied Simmias: Suppose a person to The har-
use the same argument about harmony and the lyre-might mony does
he not say that harmony is a thing invisible, incorporeal, the lyre;
86 perfect, divine, existing in the lyre which is harmonized, but
that the lyre and the strings are matter and material, compo-
site, earthy, and akin to mortality? And when some one
breaks the lyre, or cuts and rends the strings, then he who survive the
takes this view would argue as you do, and on the same
analogy, that the harmony survives and has not perished-
you cannot imagine, he would say, that the lyre without the
strings, and the broken strings themselves which are mortal
remain, and yet that the harmony, which is of heavenly
and immortal nature and kindred, has perished—perished
body?
84
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
CEBES.
before the mortal. The harmony must still be some-
where, and the wood and strings will decay before anything
can happen to that. The thought, Socrates, must have
occurred to your own mind that such is our conception of the
soul; and that when the body is in a manner strung and
held together by the elements of hot and cold, wet and dry,
then the soul is the harmony or due proportionate admixture
of them. But if so, whenever the strings of the body are
unduly loosened or overstrained through disease or other
injury, then the soul, though most divine, like other harmo-
nies of music or of works of art, of course perishes at once;
although the material remains of the body may last for a
considerable time, until they are either decayed or burnt.
And if any one maintains that the soul, being the harmony
of the elements of the body, is first to perish in that which is
called death, how shall we answer him?
Socrates looked fixedly at us as his manner was, and said
with a smile: Simmias has reason on his side; and why does
not some one of you who is better able than myself answer
him? for there is force in his attack upon me. But perhaps,
before we answer him, we had better also hear what Cebes
has to say that we may gain time for reflection, and when
they have both spoken, we may either assent to them, if
there is truth in what they say, or if not, we will maintain
our position. Please to tell me then, Cebes, he said, what
was the difficulty which troubled you?
Cebes said: I will tell you. My feeling is that the argu-
ment is where it was, and open to the same objections which
were urged before; for I am ready to admit that the exist-87
ence of the soul before entering into the bodily form has
been very ingeniously, and if I may say so, quite sufficiently
proven; but the existence of the soul after death is still, in
my judgment, unproven. Now my objection is not the same
as that of Simmias; for I am not disposed to deny that the
soul is stronger and more lasting than the body, being of
opinion that in all such respects the soul very far excels the
body. Well then, says the argument to me, why do you
remain unconvinced?-When you see that the weaker con-
tinues in existence after the man is dead, will you not admit
that the more lasting must also survive during the same
PHAEDO
85
Phaedo.
may outlive
many coats
and himself
be outlived
by the last:
which has
period of time? Now I will ask you to consider whether
the objection, which, like Simmias, I will express in a figure, CEBES.
is of any weight. The analogy which I will adduce is that
of an old weaver, who dies, and after his death somebody
says: He is not dead, he must be alive;-see, there is the A weaver
coat which he himself wove and wore, and which remains
whole and undecayed. And then he procceds to ask of some
one who is incredulous, whether a man lasts longer, or the
coat which is in use and wear; and when he is answered
that a man lasts far longer, thinks that he has thus certainly
demonstrated the survival of the man, who is the more
lasting, because the less lasting remains. But that, Simmias,
as I would beg you to remark, is a mistake; any one can see
that he who talks thus is talking nonsense. For the truth is,
that the weaver aforesaid, having woven and worn many
such coats, outlived several of them; and was outlived by the
last; but a man is not therefore proved to be slighter and
weaker than a coat. Now the relation of the body to the so the soul
soul may be expressed in a similar figure; and any one may
very fairly say in like manner that the soul is lasting, and the through
body weak and shortlived in comparison. He may argue in bodies may
like manner that every soul wears out many bodies, especi-
ally if a man live many years. While he is alive the body
deliquesces and decays, and the soul always weaves another
garment and repairs the waste. But, of course, whenever
the soul perishes, she must have on her last garment, and
this will survive her; and then at length, when the soul is
dead, the body will show its native weakness, and quickly
decompose and pass away. I would therefore rather not
rely on the argument from superior strength to prove the
88 continued existence of the soul after death. For granting
even more than you affirm to be possible, and acknowledging
not only that the soul existed before birth, but also that the
souls of some exist, and will continue to exist after death,
and will be born and die again and again, and that there is a
natural strength in the soul which will hold out and be born
many times nevertheless, we may be still inclined to think
that she will weary in the labours of successive births, and
may at last succumb in one of her deaths and utterly perish;
and this death and dissolution of the body which brings
many
in the end
be worn
out
86
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
PHAEDO,
ECHECRATES.
The despair
of the
audience at
hearing the
overthrow
of the
argument.
The won-
derful man-
ner in which
Socrates
soothes his
dis-
appointed
hearers and
rehabilitates
the
argument.
destruction to the soul may be unknown to any of us, for no
one of us can have had any experience of it: and if so, then
I maintain that he who is confident about death has but a
foolish confidence, unless he is able to prove that the soul is
altogether immortal and imperishable. But if he cannot
prove the soul's immortality, he who is about to die will
always have reason to fear that when the body is disunited,
the soul also may utterly perish.
All of us, as we afterwards remarked to one another, had
an unpleasant feeling at hearing what they said. When we
had been so firmly convinced before, now to have our faith
shaken seemed to introduce a confusion and uncertainty, not
only into the previous argument, but into any future one;
either we were incapable of forming a judgment, or there
were no grounds of belief.
Ech. There I feel with you-by heaven I do, Phaedo, and
when you were speaking, I was beginning to ask myself the
same question: What argument can I ever trust again? For
what could be more convincing than the argument of Socrates,
which has now fallen into discredit? That the soul is a har-
mony is a doctrine which has always had a wonderful attrac-
tion for me, and, when mentioned, came back to me at once,
as my own original conviction. And now I must begin again
and find another argument which will assure me that when
the man is dead the soul survives. Tell me, I implore
you, how did Socrates proceed? Did he appear to share
the unpleasant feeling which you mention? or did he calmly
meet the attack? And did he answer forcibly or feebly?
Narrate what passed as exactly as you can.
Phaed. Often, Echecrates, I have wondered at Socrates,
but never more than on that occasion. That he should be 89
able to answer was nothing, but what astonished me was,
first, the gentle and pleasant and approving manner in which
he received the words of the young men, and then his quick
sense of the wound which had been inflicted by the argument,
and the readiness with which he healed it. He might be
compared to a general rallying his defeated and broken
army, urging them to accompany him and return to the field
of argument.
Ech. What followed?
PHAEDO
87
PHAEDO.
Phaed. You shall hear, for I was close to him on his right Phoedo.
hand, seated on a sort of stool, and he on a couch which was SOCRATES,
a good deal higher. He stroked my head, and pressed the
hair upon my neck—he had a way of playing with my hair;
and then he said: To-morrow, Phaedo, I suppose that these
fair locks of yours will be severed.
Yes, Socrates, I suppose that they will, I replied.
Not so, if you will take my advice.
What shall I do with them? I said.
To-day he replied, and not to-morrow, if this argument dies
and we cannot bring it to life again, you and I will both
shave our locks: and if I were you, and the argument got
away from me, and I could not hold my ground against
Simmias and Cebes, I would myself take an oath, like the
Argives, not to wear hair any more until I had renewed the
conflict and defeated them.
Yes, I said; but Heracles himself is said not to be a match
for two.
Summon me then, he said, and I will be your Iolaus until
the sun goes down.
I summon you rather, I rejoined, not as Heracles sum-
moning Iolaus, but as Iolaus might summon Heracles.
That will do as well, he said. But first let us take care
that we avoid a danger.
Of what nature? I said.
Lest we become misologists, he
haters of
ideas
greater than
haters of
men.
of becoming
replied: no worse thing The danger
can happen to a man than this. For as there are misan- of becoming
thropists or haters of men, there are also misologists or
haters of ideas, and both spring from the same cause, which
is ignorance of the world. Misanthropy arises out of the too
great confidence of inexperience;-you trust a man and think
him altogether true and sound and faithful, and then in a
little while he turns out to be false and knavish; and then
another and another, and when this has happened several
times to a man, especially when it happens among those
whom he deems to be his own most trusted and familiar
friends, and he has often quarrelled with them, he at last
hates all men, and believes that no one has any good in him
at all. You must have observed this trait of character?
i have.
88
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
PHAEDO.
There are
few very
pad or very
good men;
(although
bad argu-
ments may
be more
numerous
than bad
men); the
main point
is that he
who has
been often
deceived by
either is apt
to lose faith
in them,
And is not the feeling discreditable?
Is it not obvious
that such an one having to deal with other men, was clearly
without any experience of human nature; for experience
would have taught him the true state of the case, that few are
the good and few the evil, and that the great majority are in 9c
the interval between them.
What do you mean? I said.
I mean, he replied, as you might say of the very large and
very small-that nothing is more uncommon than a very
large or very small man; and this applies generally to all
extremes, whether of great and small, or swift and slow, or
fair and foul, or black and white: and whether the instances
you select be men or dogs or anything else, few are the
extremes, but many are in the mean between them. Did you
never observe this?
Yes, I said, I have.
And do you not imagine, he said, that if there were a com-
petition in evil, the worst would be found to be very few?
Yes, that is very likely, I said.
Yes, that is very likely, he replied; although in this
respect arguments are unlike men-there I was led on by
you to say more than I had intended; but the point of com-
parison was, that when a simple man who has no skill in
dialectics believes an argument to be true which he afterwards
imagines to be false, whether really false or not, and then
another and another, he has no longer any faith left, and
great disputers, as you know, come to think at last that they
have grown to be the wisest of mankind; for they alone per-
ceive the utter unsoundness and instability of all arguments,
or indeed, of all things, which, like the currents in the
Euripus, are going up and down in never-ceasing ebb and
flow.
That is quite true, I said.
Yes, Phaedo, he replied, and how melancholy, if there be
such a thing as truth or certainty or possibility of knowledge
—that a man should have lighted upon some argument or
other which at first seemed true and then turned out to be
false, and instead of blaming himself and his own want of
wit, because he is annoyed should at last be too glad to
transfer the blame from himself to arguments in general: and
PHAEDO
89
for ever afterwards should hate and revile them, and lose Phaedo.
truth and the knowledge of realities.
Yes, indeed, I said; that is very melancholy.
SOCRATES,
PHAEDO.
who is soon
at stake on
the argu-
a fair judge.
Simmias
and Cebes
him to con-
must help
matter
Let us then, in the first place, he said, be careful of allow-
ing or of admitting into our souls the notion that there is no Socrates,
health or soundness in any arguments at all. Rather
say that
to die, has
we have not yet attained to soundness in ourselves, and that too much
we must struggle man fully and do our best to gain health of
mind—you and all other men having regard to the whole of ment to be
your future life, and I myself in the prospect of death. For
91 at this moment I am sensible that I have not the temper of
a philosopher; like the vulgar, I am only a partisan. Now
the partisan, when he is engaged in a dispute, cares nothing sider the
about the rights of the question, but is anxious only to con- impartially.
vince his hearers of his own assertions. And the difference
between him and me at the present moment is merely this-
that whereas he seeks to convince his hearers that what he
says is true, I am rather seeking to convince myself; to
convince my hearers is a secondary matter with me. And
do but see how much I gain by the argument. For if what I
say is true, then I do well to be persuaded of the truth; but
if there be nothing after death, still, during the short time
that remains, I shall not distress my friends with lamenta-
tions, and my ignorance will not last, but will die with me,
and therefore no harm will be done. This is the state of
mind, Simmias and Cebes, in which I approach the argument.
And I would ask you to be thinking of the truth and not of
Socrates: agree with me, if I seem to you to be speaking the
truth; or if not, withstand me might and main, that I may
not deceive you as well as myself in my enthusiasm, and like
the bee, leave my sting in you before I die.
and Cebes
are inclined
may perish
And now let us proceed, he said. And first of all let me Simmias
be sure that I have in my mind what you were saying.
Simmias, if I remember rightly, has fears and misgivings to fear that
whether the soul, although a fairer and diviner thing than the soul
the body, being as she is in the form of harmony, may not before the
perish first.
On the other hand, Cebes appeared to grant they still
that the soul was more lasting than the body, but he said that hold to the
no one could know whether the soul, after having worn out reminis.
many bodies, might not perish herself and leave her last cence
body, but
doctrine of
90
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
Socrates,
SIMMIAS,
CEBES.
The ele-
ments of
harmony
are prior to
harmony,
but the
body is not
prior to the
soul.
body behind her; and that this is death, which is the
destruction not of the body but of the soul, for in the body
the work of destruction is ever going on. Are not these,
Simmias and Cebes, the points which we have to consider?
They both agreed to this statement of them.
He proceeded: And did you deny the force of the whole
preceding argument, or of a part only?
Of a part only, they replied.
And what did you think, he said, of that part of the
argument in which we said that knowledge was recollection,
and hence inferred that the soul must have previously ex-
isted somewhere else before she was enclosed in the 92
body?
Cebes said that he had been wonderfully impressed by that
part of the argument, and that his conviction remained
absolutely unshaken. Simmias agreed, and added that he
himself could hardly imagine the possibility of his ever
thinking differently.
But, rejoined Socrates, you will have to think differently,
my Theban friend, if you still maintain that harmony is a
compound, and that the soul is a harmony which is made out
of strings set in the frame of the body; for you will surely
never allow yourself to say that a harmony is prior to the
elements which compose it.
Never, Socrates.
But do you not see that this is what you imply when you
say that the soul existed before she took the form and body
of man, and was made up of elements which as yet had no
existence? For harmony is not like the soul, as you
suppose; but first the lyre, and the strings, and the sounds
exist in a state of discord, and then harmony is made last of
all, and perishes first. And how can such a notion of the
soul as this agree with the other?
And yet, he said, there surely ought to be harmony in a
discourse of which harmony is the theme?
There ought, replied Siminias.
But there is no harmony, he said, in the two propositions
that knowledge is recollection, and that the soul is a harmony.
Which of them will you retain?
I think, he replied, that I have a much stronger faith,
PHAEDO
91
SIMMIAS.
knowledges
that his
does not
with the
Socrates, in the first of the two, which has been fully Phaedo.
demonstrated to me, than in the latter, which has not been SOCRATES,
demonstrated at all, but rests only on probable and plausible
grounds; and is therefore believed by the many. I know Simmias ac-
too well that these arguments from probabilities are im-
postors, and unless great caution is observed in the use of argument
them, they are apt to be deceptive-in geometry, and in harmonize
other things too. But the doctrine of knowledge and recol-
lection has been proven to me on trustworthy grounds: and
the proof was that the soul must have existed before she
came into the body, because to her belongs the essence of
which the very name implies existence. Having, as I am
convinced, rightly accepted this conclusion, and on sufficient
grounds, I must, as I suppose, cease to argue or allow others
to argue that the soul is a harmony.
Let me put the matter, Simmias, he said, in another point
93 of view: Do you imagine that a harmony or any other
composition can be in a state other than that of the elements,
out of which it is compounded?
Certainly not.
Or do or suffer anything other than they do or suffer?
He agreed.
Then a harmony does not, properly speaking, lead the
parts or elements which make up the harmony, but only
follows them.
He assented.
For harmony cannot possibly have any motion, or sound,
or other quality which is opposed to its parts.
That would be impossible, he replied.
And does not the nature of every harmony depend upon
the manner in which the elements are harmonized?
I do not understand you, he said.
is
proposition
that knowl-
edge is rec-
ollection.
admits of
degrees, but
I mean to say that a harmony admits of degrees, and is Harmony
more of a harmony, and more completely a harmony, when
more truly and fully harmonized, to any extent which
possible; and less of a harmony, and less completely a
harmony, when less truly and fully harmonized.
True.
But does the soul admit of degrees? or is one soul in the
in the soul
degrees;
there are no
92
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
SIMMIAS.
and there-
fore there
cannot be a
soul or har-
mony with-
in a soul.
very least degree more or less, or more or less completely, a
soul than another?
Not in the least
Yet surely of two souls, one is said to have intelligence
and virtue, and to be good, and the other to have folly and
vice, and to be an evil soul: and this is said truly?
Yes, truly.
But what will those who maintain the soul to be a harmony
say of this presence of virtue and vice in the soul?-will
they say that here is another harmony, and another discord,
and that the virtuous soul is harmonized, and herself being
a harmony has another harmony within her, and that the
vicious soul is inharmonical and has no harmony within her?
I cannot tell, replied Simmias; but I suppose that some-
thing of the sort would be asserted by those who say that
the soul is a harmony.
And we have already admitted that no soul is more a soul
than another; which is equivalent to admitting that harmony
is not more or less harmony, or more or less completely a
harmony?
Quite true.
And that which is not more or less a harmony is not more
or less harmonized?
True.
And that which is not more or less harmonized cannot
have more or less of harmony, but only an equal harmony?
Yes, an equal harmony.
Then one soul not being more or less absolutely a soul
than another, is not more or less harmonized?
Exactly.
And therefore has neither more nor less of discord, nor
yet of harmony?
She has not.
And having neither more nor less of harmony or of dis-
cord, one soul has no more vice or virtue than another, if
vice be discord and virtue harmony?
Not at all more.
Or speaking more correctly, Simmias, the soul, if she is a 94
harmony, will never have any vice; because a harmony,
being absolutely a harmony, has no part in the inharmonical.
PHAEDO
93
No.
Phaedo.
SIMMIAS.
And therefore a soul which is absolutely a soul has no vice? SOCRATES,
How can she have, if the previous argument holds?
Then, if all souls are equally by their nature souls, all
souls of all living creatures will be equally good?
I agree with you, Socrates, he said.
If the soul
is a har-
mony, all
souls must
good.
And can all this be true, think you? he said; for these be equally
are the consequences which seem to follow from the assump-
tion that the soul is a harmony?
It cannot be true.
Once more, he said, what ruler is there of the elements of
human nature other than the soul, and especially the wise
soul? Do you know of any?
Indeed, I do not.
And is the soul in agreement with the affections of the
body? or is she at variance with them? For example, when
the body is hot and thirsty, does not the soul incline us
against drinking? and when the body is hungry, against
eating? And this is only one instance out of ten thousand of
the opposition of the soul to the things of the body.
Very true.
But we have already acknowledged that the soul, being a
harmony, can never utter a note at variance with the tensions
and relaxations and vibrations and other affections of the
strings out of which she is composed; she can only follow,
she cannot lead them?
It must be so, he replied.
The soul
leads and
follow. She
does not
and repri-
And yet do we not now discover the soul to be doing the
exact opposite-leading the elements of which she is believed
to be composed; almost always opposing and coercing them
in all sorts of ways throughout life, sometimes more violently constrains
with the pains of medicine and gymnastic; then again more mands the
gently; now threatening, now admonishing the desires, passions.
passions, fears, as if talking to a thing which is not herself,
as Homer in the Odyssey represents Odysseus doing in the
words-
Do
you
'He beat his breast, and thus reproached his heart:
Endure, my heart; far worse hast thou endured!'
think that Homer wrote this under the idea that the
soul is a harmony capable of being led by the affections of
94
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
SIMMIAS,
CEBES.
Recapitula-
tion of the
argument of
Cebes.
the body, and not rather of a nature which should lead and
master them-herself a far diviner thing than any harmony?
Yes, Socrates, I quite think so.
Then, my friend, we can never be right in saying that the
soul is a harmony, for we should contradict the divine 95
Homer, and contradict ourselves.
True, he said.
Thus much, said Socrates, of Harmonia, your Theban
goddess, who has graciously yielded to us; but what shall I
say, Cebes, to her husband Cadmus, and how shall I make
peace with him?
I think that you will discover a way of propitiating him,
said Cebes; I am sure that you have put the argument with
Harmonia in a manner that I could never have expected.
For when Simmias was mentioning his difficulty, I quite
imagined that no answer could be given to him, and there-
fore I was surprised at finding that his argument could not
sustain the first onset of yours, and not impossibly the other,
whom you call Cadmus, may share a similar fate.
Nay, my good friend, said Socrates, let us not boast, lest
some evil eye should put to flight the word which I am about
to speak. That, however, may be left in the hands of those
above; while I draw near in Homeric fashion, and try the
mettle of your words. Here lies the point:-You want to
have it proven to you that the soul is imperishable and im-
mortal, and the philosopher who is confident in death appears
to you to have but a vain and foolish confidence, if he believes
that he will fare better in the world below than one who has
ied another sort of life, unless he can prove this: and you
say that the demonstration of the strength and divinity of
the soul, and of her existence prior to our becoming men,
does not necessarily imply her immortality. Admitting the
soul to be longlived, and to have known and done much in a
former state, still she is not on that account immortal; and
her entrance into the human form may be a sort of disease
which is the beginning of dissolution, and may at last, after
the toils of life are over, end in that which is called death.
And whether the soul enters into the body once only or
many times, does not, as you say, make any difference in
the fears of individuals. For any man, who is not devoid of
PHAEDO
95
CEBES.
sense, must fear, if he has no knowledge and can give no Phaedo.
account of the soul's immortality. This, or something like SOCRATES,
this, I suspect to be your notion, Cebes; and I designedly
recur to it in order that nothing may escape us, and that
you may, if you wish, add or subtract anything.
But, said Cebes, as far as I see at present, I have nothing
to add or subtract: I mean what you say that I mean.
Socrates paused awhile, and seemed to be absorbed in
reflection. At length he said: You are raising a tre-
mendous question, Cebes, involving the whole nature of
96 generation and corruption, about which, if you like, I will
give you my own experience; and if anything which I say is
likely to avail toward the solution of your difficulty you may
make use of it.
I should very much like, said Cebes, to hear what you have
to say.
The specu
lations of
Socrates
about
physics
made him
commonest
things.
Then I will tell you, said Socrates. When I was young,
Cebes, I had a prodigious desire to know that department of
philosophy which is called the investigation of nature; to
know the causes of things, and why a thing is and is
created or destroyed appeared to me to be a lofty pro- forget the
fession; and I was always agitating myself with the con-
sideration of questions such as these: Is the growth of
animals the result of some decay which the hot and cold
principle contracts, as some have said? Is the blood the
element with which we think, or the air, or the fire? or
perhaps nothing of the kind-but the brain may be the
originating power of the perceptions of hearing and sight
and smell, and memory and opinion may come from them,
and science may be based on memory and opinion when they
have attained fixity. And then I went on to examine the
corruption of them, and then to the things of heaven and
earth, and at last I concluded myself to be utterly and abso-
lutely incapable of these enquiries, as I will satisfactorily
prove to you. For I was fascinated by them to such a degree
that my eyes grew blind to things which I had seemed to
myself, and also to others, to know quite well; I forgot what
I had before thought self-evident truth; e. g. such a fact as
that the growth of man is the result of eating and drinking;
for when by the digestion of food flesh is added to flesh and
96
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
Socrates,
Cebes.
Difficulty of
explaining
relative
notions.
The great
expecta-
tions which
Socrates
had from
the doctrine
of Anaxag.
oras, that
all was
Mind.
bone to bone, and whenever there is an aggregation of con
genial elements, the lesser bulk becomes larger and the small
man great. Was not that a reasonable notion?
Yes, said Cebes, I think so.
There was a
Well; but let me tell you something more.
time when I thought that I understood the meaning of greater
and less pretty well; and when I saw a great man standing
by a little one, I fancied that one was taller than the other by
a head; or one horse would appear to be greater than
another horse: and still more clearly did I seem to perceive
that ten is two more than eight, and that two cubits are more
than one, because two is the double of one.
And what is now your notion of such matters? said Cebes.
I should be far enough from imagining, he replied, that I
knew the cause of any of them, by heaven I should; for I
cannot satisfy myself that, when one is added to one, the one
to which the addition is made becomes two, or that the two 97
units added together make two by reason of the addition. I
cannot understand how, when separated from the other, each
of them was one and not two, and now, when they are
brought together, the mere juxtaposition or meeting of them
should be the cause of their becoming two: neither can I
understand how the division of one is the way to make two;
for then a different cause would produce the same effect,—as
in the former instance the addition and juxtaposition of one
to one was the cause of two, in this the separation and sub-
traction of one from the other would be the cause. Nor am
I any longer satisfied that I understand the reason why one
or anything else is either generated or destroyed or is at all,
but I have in my mind some confused notion of a new
method, and can never admit the other.
Then I heard some one reading, as he said, from a book
of Anaxagoras, that mind was the disposer and cause of all,
and I was delighted at this notion, which appeared quite
admirable, and I said to myself: If mind is the disposer,
mind will dispose all for the best, and put each particular in
the best place; and I argued that if any one desired to find
out the cause of the generation or destruction or existence of
anything, he must find out what state of being or doing or
suffering was best for that thing, and therefore a man had only
PHAEDO
97
to consider the best for himself and others, and then he Phaedo.
would also know the worse, since the same science com- SOCRATES.
prehended both. And I rejoiced to think that I had found in
Anaxagoras a teacher of the causes of existence such as I de-
sired, and I imagined that he would tell me first whether the
earth is flat or round; and whichever was true, he would
proceed to explain the cause and the necessity of this being
so, and then he would teach me the nature of the best and
show that this was best; and if he said that the earth was in
the centre, he would further explain that this position was
the best, and I should be satisfied with the explanation
98 given, and not want any other sort of cause. And I thought
that I would then go on and ask him about the sun and moon
and stars, and that he would explain to me their comparative
swiftness, and their returnings and various states, active and
passive, and how all of them were for the best. For I could
not imagine that when he spoke of mind as the disposer of
them, he would give any other account of their being as they
are, except that this was best; and I thought that when he
had explained to me in detail the cause of each and the
cause of all, he would go on to explain to me what was best
for each and what was good for all. These hopes I would
not have sold for a large sum of money, and I seized the
books and read them as fast as I could in my eagerness to
know the better and the worse.
disappoint.
What expectations I had formed, and how grievously was The great-
I disappointed! As I proceeded, I found my philosopher ness of his
altogether forsaking mind or any other principle of order, ment.
but having recourse to air, and ether, and water, and other
eccentricities. I might compare him to a person who began
by maintaining generally that mind is the cause of the
actions of Socrates, but who, when he endeavoured to ex-
plain the causes of my several actions in detail, went on to
show that I sit here because my body is made up of bones
and muscles; and the bones, as he would say, are hard and
have joints which divide them, and the muscles are elastic,
and they cover the bones, which have also a covering or
environment of flesh and skin which contains them; and as
the bones are lifted at their joints by the contraction or
relaxation of the muscles, I am able to bend my limbs, and
98
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
CEBES
The eye of
the soul.
this is why I am sitting here in a curved posture—that is
what he would say; and he would have a similar explanation
of my talking to you, which he would attribute to sound, and
air, and hearing, and he would assign ten thousand other
causes of the same sort, forgetting to mention the true cause,
which is, that the Athenians have thought fit to condemn me,
and accordingly I have thought it better and more right to
remain here and undergo my sentence; for I am inclined to
think that these muscles and bones of mine would have gone
off long ago to Megara or Boeotia-by the dog they would,
borne thither by my idea of what was best, if I had not
thought it better and more honourable,' instead of playing
truant and running away, to endure any punishment which
the state inflicts. There is surely a strange confusion of
causes and conditions in all this. It may be said, indeed, that
without bones and muscles and the other parts of the body I
cannot execute my purposes. But to say that I do as I do be-
cause of them, and that this is the way in which mind acts,
and not from the choice of the best, is a very careless and idle
mode of speaking. I wonder that they cannot distinguish the
cause from the condition, which the many, feeling about in
the dark, are always mistaking and misnaming. And thus one
man makes a vortex all round and steadies the earth by the
heaven; another gives the air as a support to the earth, which
is a sort of broad trough. Any power which in arranging them
as they are arranges them for the best never enters into their
minds; and instead of finding any superior strength in it, they
rather expect to discover another Atlas of the world who is
stronger and more everlasting and more containing than the
good; of the obligatory and containing power of the good
they think nothing; and yet this is the principle which I would
fain learn if any one would teach me. But as I have failed
either to discover myself, or to learn of any one else, the nature
of the best, I will exhibit to you, if you like, what I have found
to be the second best mode of enquiring into the cause.
I should very much like to hear, he replied
Socrates proceeded:-I thought that as I had failed in the
contemplation of true existence, I ought to be careful that I
1 J. has 'if they had been moved only by their own idea of what
was best, and if I had not chosen the better and nobler part.'
99
PHAEDO
99
CEBES.
did not lose the eye of my soul; as people may injure their Phaedo.
bodily eye by observing and gazing on the sun during an Socrates,
eclipse, unless they take the precaution of only looking at
the image reflected in the water, or in some similar medium.
So in my own case, I was afraid that my soul might be The ab-
blinded altogether if I looked at things with my eyes or tried. plain or
to apprehend them by the help of the senses. And I thought plainer than
that I had better have recourse to the world of mind and the con-
100 seek there the truth of existence. I dare say that the simile
is not perfect for I am very far from admitting that he who
contemplates existences through the medium of thought, sees
them only 'through a glass darkly,' rather than¹ he who
considers them in action and operation. However, this was
the method which I adopted: I first assumed some principle
which I judged to be the strongest, ar.d then I affirmed as
true whatever seemed to agree with this, whether relating to
the cause or to anything else; and that which disagreed I re-
garded as untrue. But I should like to explain my meaning
more clearly, as I do not think that you as yet under-
stand me.
No indeed, replied Cebes, not very well.
crete.
There is nothing new, he said, in what I am about to tell
you; but only what I have been always and everywhere
repeating in the previous discussion and on other occasions:
I want to show you the nature of that cause which has
occupied my thoughts. I shall have to go back to those
familiar words which are in the mouth of every one, and first If the ideas
of all assume that there is an absolute beauty and goodness.
and greatness, and the like; grant me this, and I hope to be existence
able to show you the nature of the cause, and to prove the
immortality of the soul.
I
Cebes said: You may proceed at once with the proof, for
grant you this.
Well, he said, then I should like to know whether you
agree with me in the next step; for I cannot help thinking,
if there be anything beautiful other than absolute beauty,
should there be such, that it can be beautiful only in so far
as it partakes of absolute beauty-and I should say the same
of everything. Do you agree in this notion of the cause?
1 J. has 'any more than.'
have an
absolute
the soul is
immortal.
100
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
Cebes.
All things
exist by
participa-
'on in
neral ideas.
We thus
escape cer-
tain contra-
dictions
of relation.
Yes, he said, I agree.
He proceeded: I know nothing and can understand
nothing of any other of those wise causes which are alleged;
and if a person says to me that the bloom of colour, or form,
or any such thing is a source of beauty, I leave all that,
which is only confusing to me, and simply and singly, and
perhaps foolishly, hold and am assured in my own mind that
nothing makes a thing beautiful but the presence and par-
ticipation of beauty in whatever way or manner obtained;
for as to the manner I am uncertain, but I stoutly contend
that by beauty all beautiful things become beautiful. This
appears to me to be the safest answer which I can give,
either to myself or to another, and to this I cling, in the per-
suasion that this principle will never be overthrown, and that
to myself or to any one who asks the question, I may safely
reply, That by beauty beautiful things become beautiful. Do
you not agree with me?
I do.
And that by greatness only great things become great and
greater greater, and by smallness the less become less?
True.
Then if a person were to remark that A is taller by a head
than B, and B less by a head than A, you would refuse to IOI
admit his statement, and would stoutly contend that what
you mean is only that the greater is greater by, and by
reason of, greatness, and the less is less only by, and by
reason of, smallness; and thus you would avoid the danger
of saying that the greater is greater and the less less by the
measure of the head, which is the same in both, and would
also avoid the monstrous absurdity of supposing that the
greater man is greater by reason of the head, which is small.
You would be afraid to draw such an inference, would
you not?
Indeed, I should, said Cebes, laughing.
In like manner you would be afraid to say that ten
exceeded eight by, and by reason of, two; but would
say by, and by reason of, number; or you would say that
two cubits exceed one cubit not by a half, but by
magnitude?—for there is the same liability to error in all
these cases.
PHAEDO
ΙΟΙ
Very true, he said.
Phaedo.
SIMMIAS,
PHAEDO.
Again, would you not be cautious of affirming that the SOCRATES,
addition of one to one, or the division of one, is the cause of CEBES,
two? And you would loudly asseverate that you know of no ECHECRATE
way in which anything comes into existence except by parti-
cipation in its own proper essence, and consequently, as far
as you know, the only cause of two is the participation in
duality this is the way to make two, and the participation in
one is the way to make one. You would say: I will let
alone puzzles of division and addition-wiser heads than
mine may answer them; inexperienced as I am, and ready to
start, as the proverb says, at my own shadow, I cannot afford.
to give up the sure ground of a principle. And if any one
assails you there, you would not mind him, or answer him,
until you had seen whether the consequences which follow
agree with one another or not; and when you are further
required to give an explanation of this principle, you would
go on to assume a higher principle, and a higher, until you
found a resting-place in the best of the higher; but you
would not confuse the principle and the consequences in
your reasoning, like the Eristics—at least if you wanted to
discover real existence. Not that this confusion signifies to
them, who never care or think about the matter at all, for
they have the wit to be well pleased with themselves however
102 great may be the turmoil of their ideas. But you, if you are
a philosopher, will certainly do as I say.
What you say is most true, said Simmias and Cebes, both
speaking at once.
Ech. Yes, Phaedo; and I do not wonder at their assent-
ing. Any one who has the least sense will acknowledge the
wonderful clearness of Socrates' reasoning.
Phaed. Certainly, Echecrates; and such was the feeling
of the whole company at the time.
Ech. Yes, and equally of ourselves, who were not of the
company, and are now listening to your recital. But what
followed?
Phaed. After all this had been admitted, and they had
agreed that ideas exist, and that other things participate in
them and derive their names from them, Socrates, if I
remembered rightly, said:-
102
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
CEBES.
There may
still remain
the contra-
diction of
the same
person
being both
greater and
less, but
this is only
because he
has great-
ness or
smallness
relatively to
another
person.
The idea of
greatness
can never
be small;
and the
greatness in
us drives
out small-
ness.
This is your way of speaking; and yet when you say that
Simmias is greater than Socrates and less than Phaedo, do
you not predicate of Simmias both greatness and smallness?
Yes, I do.
But still you allow that Simmias does not really exceed
Socrates, as the words may seem to imply, because he is
Simmias, but by reason of the size which he has; just as
Simmias does not exceed Socrates because he is Simmias,
any more than because Socrates is Socrates, but because
he has smallness when compared with the greatness of
Simmias?
True.
And if Phaedo exceeds him in size, this is not because
Phaedo is Phaedo, but because Phaedo has greatness rela-
tively to Simmias, who is comparatively smaller?
That is true.
And therefore Simmias is said to be great, and is also
said to be small, because he is in a mean between them,
exceeding the smallness of the one by his greatness, and
allowing the greatness of the other to exceed his smallness.
He added, laughing, I am speaking like a book, but I
believe that what I am saying is true.
Simmias assented.
I speak as I do because I want you to agree with me in
thinking, not only that absolute greatness will never be
great and also small, but that greatness in us or in the con-
crete will never admit the small or admit of being exceeded:
instead of this, one of two things will happen, either the
greater will fly or retire before the opposite, which is the
less, or at the approach of the less has already ceased to
exist; but will not, if allowing or admitting of smallness, be
changed by that; even as I, having received and admitted.
smallness when compared with Simmias, remain just as I
was, and am the same small person. And as the idea of
greatness cannot condescend ever to be or become small, in
like manner the smallness in us cannot be or become great;
nor can any other opposite which remains the same ever
be or become its own opposite, but either passes away or 103
perishes in the change.
That, replied Cebes, is quite my notion.
PHAEDO
103
Hereupon one of the company, though I do not exactly Phaedo.
remember which of them, said: In heaven's name, is not Socrates,
this the direct contrary of what was admitted before-that
CEBES
comes from
the less
from the
But greater.
out of the greater came the less and out of the less the Yet the
greater, and that opposites were simply generated from greater
opposites; but now this principle seems to be utterly denied. the less, and
Socrates inclined his head to the speaker and listened. I
like your courage, he said, in reminding us of this.
you do not observe that there is a difference in the two
cases. For then we were speaking of opposites in the con- Distin-
guish:-
crete, and now of the essential opposite which, as is affirmed,
The things
neither in us nor in nature can ever be at variance with in which the
opposites
into and
itself: then, my friend, we were speaking of things in which inhere
opposites are inherent and which are called after them, generate
but now about the opposites which are inherent in them out of one
and which give their name to them; and these essential another:
opposites will never, as we maintain, admit of generation opposites
into or out of one another. At the same time, turning to themselves.
Cebes, he said: Are you at all disconcerted, Cebes, at our
friend's objection?
No, I do not feel so, said Cebes; and yet I cannot deny
that I am often disturbed by objections.
Then we are agreed after all, said Socrates, that the oppo-
site will never in any case be opposed to itself?
To that we are quite agreed, he replied.
never the
be con-
verted into
Yet once more let me ask you to consider the question Snow may
from another point of view, and see whether you agree with
me:-There is a thing which you term heat, and another water at the
thing which you term cold?
Certainly.
But are they the same as fire and snow?
Most assuredly not.
Heat is a thing different from fire, and cold is not the
same with snow?
Yes.
And yet you will surely admit, that when snow, as was
before said, is under the influence of heat, they will not
remain snow and heat; but at the advance of the heat, the
snow will either retire or perish?
Very true, he replied.
approach of
heat, but
not cold
into heat.
104
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
CEBES.
Not only
essential
opposites,
but some
concrete
things
which con-
tain oppo-
sites, ex-
clude each
other.
And the fire too at the advance of the cold will either
retire or perish; and when the fire is under the influence of
the cold, they will not remain as before, fire and cold.
That is true, he said.
And in some cases the name of the idea is not only
attached to the idea in an eternal connection, but anything
else which, not being the idea, exists only in the form of the
idea, may also lay claim to it. I will try to make this
clearer by an example:-The odd number is always called
by the name of odd?
Very true.
But is this the only thing which is called odd? Are there
not other things which have their own name, and yet are 104
called odd, because, although not the same as oddness, they
are never without oddness?—that is what I mean to ask-
whether numbers such as the number three are not of the
class of odd. And there are many other examples: would
you not say, for example, that three may be called by its
proper name, and also be called odd, which is not the same
with three? and this may be said not only of three but also
of five, and of every alternate number-each of them without
being oddness is odd; and in the same way two and four,
and the other series of alternate numbers, has every number
even, without being evenness. Do you agree?
Of course.
Then now mark the point at which I am aiming:-not
only do essential opposites exclude one another, but also
concrete things, which, although not in themselves opposed,
contain opposites; these, I say, likewise reject the idea
which is opposed to that which is contained in them, and
when it approaches them they either perish or withdraw.
For example; Will not the number three endure annihilation
or anything sooner than be converted into an even number,
while remaining three?
Very true, said Cebes.
And yet, he said, the number two is certainly not opposed
to the number three?
It is not.
Then not only do opposite ideas repel the advance of one
PHAEDO
105
another, but also there are other natures which repel the ap- Phaedo.
proach of opposites.
Very true, he said.
Suppose, he said, that we endeavour, if possible, to deter-
mine what these are.
By all means.
SOCRATES.
CEBES.
Are they not, Cebes, such as compel the things of which That is to
they have possession, not only to take their own form, but
also the form of some opposite?
What do you mean?
say the
opposites
which give
an impress
to other
I mean, as I was just now saying, and as I am sure that things.
you know, that those things which are possessed by the num-
ber three must not only be three in number, but must also be
odd.
Quite true.
And on this oddness, of which the number three has the
impress, the opposite idea will never intrude?
No.
And this impress was given by the odd principle?
Yes.
And to the odd is opposed the even?
True.
Then the idea of the even number will never arrive at
three?
No.
Then three has no part in the even?
None.
Then the triad or number three is uneven?
Very true.
may not
be opposed
and yet may
not admit
of oppo-
sites; e.g.
three is not
To return then to my distinction of natures which are Natures
not opposed, and yet do not admit opposites-as, in the
instance given, three, although not opposed to the even,
does not any the more admit of the even, but always brings
the opposite into play on the other side; or as two does not
105 receive the odd, or fire the cold-from these examples (and
there are many more of them) perhaps you may be able to
arrive at the general conclusion, that not only opposites will
not receive opposites, but also that nothing which brings the
opposite will admit the opposite of that which it brings, in
that to which it is brought. And here let me recapitulate
opposed to
two, and
yet does not
even any
more than
admit the
two admits
of the odd.
106
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
Socrates,
CEBES.
The merely
verbal truth
may be re-
placed by a
higher one.
We may
now say,
not life
makes alive,
but the
soul makes
alive; and
the soul has
a life-giving
power
which does
not admit
of death
and is there-
fore im-
mortal.
for there is no harm in repetition. The number five will
not admit the nature of the even, any more than ten, which
is the double of five, will admit the nature of the odd. The
double has another opposite, and is not strictly opposed to
the odd, but nevertheless rejects the odd altogether. Nor
again will parts in the ratio 3:2, nor any fraction in which
there is a half, nor again in which there is a third, admit
the notion of the whole, although they are not opposed to
the whole: You will agree?
Yes, he said, I entirely agree and go along with you in that.
And now, he said, let us begin again; and do not you
answer my question in the words in which I ask it: let me
have not the old safe answer of which I spoke at first, but
another equally safe, of which the truth will be inferred by
you from what has been just said. I mean that if any one
asks you 'what that is, of which the inherence makes the
body hot,' you will reply not heat (this is what I call the
safe and stupid answer), but fire, a far superior answer,
which we are now in a condition to give. Or if any one
asks you 'why a body is diseased,' you will not say from
disease, but from fever; and instead of saying that oddness
is the cause of odd numbers, you will say that the monad is
the cause of them: and so of things in general, as I dare
say that you will understand sufficiently without my ad-
ducing any further examples.
Yes, he said, I quite understand you.
Tell me, then, what is that of which the inherence will
render the body alive?
The soul, he replied.
And is this always the case?
Yes, he said, of course.
Then whatever the soul possesses, to that she comes bear-
ing life?
Yes, certainly.
And is there any opposite to life?
There is, he said.
And what is that?
Death.
Then the soul, as has been acknowledged, will never re-
ceive the opposite of what she brings.
PHAEDO
107
Phaedo.
106
Impossible, replied Cebes.
And now, he said, what did we just now call that principle SOCRATES,
which repels the even?
The odd.
And that principle which repels the musical or the just?
The unmusical, he said, and the unjust.
And what do we call that principle which does not admit
of death?
The immortal, he said.
And does the soul admit of death?
No.
Then the soul is immortal?
Yes, he said.
And may we say that this has been proven?
Yes, abundantly proven, Socrates, he replied.
CEBES.
Supposing that the odd were imperishable, must not three Illustra-
be imperishable?
Of course.
And if that which is cold were imperishable, when the
warm principle came attacking the snow, must not the snow
have retired whole and unmelted-for it could never have
perished, nor could it have remained and admitted the heat?
True, he said.
Again, if the uncooling or warm principle were imperishable,
the fire when assailed by cold would not have perished or have
been extinguished, but would have gone away unaffected?
Certainly, he said.
And the same may be said of the immortal: if the immortal
is also imperishable, the soul when attacked by death cannot
perish; for the preceding argument shows that the soul will
not admit of death, or ever be dead, any more than three or
the odd number will admit of the even, or fire, or the heat in
the fire, of the cold. Yet a person may say: 'But although
the odd will not become even at the approach of the even,
why may not the odd perish and the even take the place of
the odd?' Now to him who makes this objection, we cannot
answer that the odd principle is imperishable; for this has
not been acknowledged, but if this had been acknowledged,
there would have been no difficulty in contending that at the
approach of the even the odd principle and the number three
tions.
108
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
CEBES,
SIMMIAS.
The im-
nortal is
imperish-
able, and
therefore
the soul is
imperish.
able.
At death
the soul re-
tires into
another
world.
took their departure; and the same argument would hav
held good of fire and heat and any other thing.
Very true.
And the same may be said of the immortal: if the immortal
is also imperishable, then the soul will be imperishable as
well as immortal; but if not, some other proof of her im-
perishableness will have to be given.
No other proof is needed, he said; for if the im:nortal, being
eternal, is liable to perish, then nothing is imperishable.
Yes, replied Socrates, and yet all men will agree that God,
and the essential form of life, and the immortal in general,
will never perish.
Yes, all men, he said that is true; and what is more,
gods, if I am not mistaken, as well as men.
Seeing then that the immortal is indestructible, must not
the soul, if she is immortal, be also imperishable?
Most certainly.
Then when death attacks a man, the mortal portion of him
may be supposed to die, but the immortal retires at the
approach of death and is preserved safe and sound?
True.
Then, Cebes, beyond question, the soul is immortal and
imperishable, and our souls will truly exist in another 107
world!
I am convinced, Socrates, said Cebes, and have nothing.
more to object; but if my friend Simmias, or any one else,
has any further objection to make, he had better speak out,
and not keep silence, since I do not know to what other
season he can defer the discussion, if there is anything which
he wants to say or to have said.
But I have nothing more to say, replied Simmias; nor car
I see any reason for doubt after what has been said. But 1
still feel and cannot help feeling uncertain in my own mind,
when I think of the greatness of the subject and the feeble-
ness of man.
Yes, Simmias, replied Socrates, that is well said: and I
may add that first principles, even if they appear certain,
should be carefully considered; and when they are satis-
factorily ascertained, then, with a sort of hesitating confidence
in human reason, you may, I think, follow the course of the
PHAEDO
109
argument; and if that be plain and clear, there will be no
need for any further enquiry.
Very true.
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
SIMMIAS.
'Where-
all these
things, what
fore, seeing
manner of
persons
be?'
But then, O my friends, he said, if the soul is really im-
mortal, what care should be taken of her, not only in respect
of the portion of time which is called life, but of eternity!
And the danger of neglecting her from this point of view does
indeed appear to be awful.
If death had only been the end ought we to
of all, the wicked would have had a good bargain in dying,
for they would have been happily quit not only of their body,
but of their own evil together with their souls. But now,
inasmuch as the soul is manifestly immortal, there is no
release or salvation from evil except the attainment of the
highest virtue and wisdom. For the soul when on her pro-
gress to the world below takes nothing with her but nurture
and education; and these are said greatly to benefit or
greatly to injure the departed, at the very beginning of his
journey thither.
The attend-
ant genius
of each
brings him
to the
For after death, as they say, the genius of each individual,
to whom he belonged in life, leads him to a certain place in
which the dead are gathered together, whence after judg-
ment has been given they pass into the world below, follow- after death
ing the guide, who is appointed to conduct them from this judgment.
world to the other: and when they have there received their
due and remained their time, another guide brings them back
again after many revolutions of ages. Now this way to the
108 other world is not, as Aeschylus says in the Telephus, a
ent desti-
nies of pure
single and straight path—if that were so no guide would be
needed, for no one could miss it; but there are many partings
of the road, and windings, as I infer from the rites and
sacrifices which are offered to the gods below in places where
three ways meet on earth. The wise and orderly soul follows The differ-
in the straight path and is conscious of her surroundings;
out the soul which desires the body, and which, as I was and impure
relating before, has long been fluttering about the lifeless souls.
frame and the world of sight, is after many struggles and
many sufferings hardly and with violence carried away by
her attendant genius; and when she arrives at the place
where the other souls are gathered, if she be impure and
have done impure deeds, whether foul murders or other
IIO
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
Socrates,
SIMMIAS.
Description
of the divers
regions of
earth.
The earth
is a round
body kept
in her place
by equi-
poise and
the equa
bility of the
crimes which are the brothers of these, and the works of
brothers in crime-from that soul every one flees and turns
away; no one will be her companion, no one her guide, but
alone she wanders in extremity of evil until certain times are
fulfilled, and when they are fulfilled, she is borne irresistibly
to her own fitting habitation; as every pure and just soul
which has passed through life in the company and under the
guidance of the gods has also her own proper home.
Now the earth has divers wonderful regions, and is indeed
in nature and extent very unlike the notions of geographers,
as I believe on the authority of one who shall be nameless.
What do you mean, Socrates? said Simmias. I have
myself heard many descriptions of the earth, but I do not
know, and I should very much like to know, in which of these
you put faith.
And I, Simmias, replied Socrates, if I had the art of
Glaucus would tell you; although I know not that the art of
Glaucus could prove the truth of my tale, which I myself
should never be able to prove, and even if I could, I fear,
Simmias, that my life would come to an end before the argu-
ment was completed. I may describe to you, however, the
form and regions of the earth according to my conception of
them.
That, said Simmias, will be enough.
Well then, he said, my conviction is, that the earth is a
round body in the centre of the heavens, and therefore has
no need of air or of any similar force to be a support, but is 109
kept there and hindered from falling or inclining any way by
the equability of the surrounding heaven and by her own
surrounding equipoise. For that which, being in equipoise, is in the
centre of that which is equably diffused, will not incline any
way in any degree, but will always remain in the same state
and not deviate. And this is my first notion.
heaven.
Mankind
lives only
in a small
portion of
the earth
at a dis-
tance from
the surface.
Which is surely a correct one, said Simmias.
Also I believe that the earth is very vast, and that we who
dwell in the region extending from the river Phasis to the
Pillars of Heracles inhabit a small portion only about the sea,
like ants or frogs about a marsh, and that there are other in-
habitants of many other like places; for everywhere on the
face of the earth there are hollows of various forms and sizes,
PHAEDO
III
SIMMIAS.
into which the water and the mist and the lower air collect. Phaedo.
But the true earth is pure and situated in the pure heaven- SOCRATES,
there are the stars also; and it is the heaven which is com-
monly spoken of by us as the ether, and of which our own
earth is the sediment gathering in the hollows beneath. But
we who live in these hollows are deceived into the notion that
we are dwelling above on the surface of the earth; which is
just as if a creature who was at the bottom of the sea were to
fancy that he was on the surface of the water, and that the sea
was the heaven through which he saw the sun and the other
stars, he having never come to the surface by reason of his
feebleness and sluggishness, and having never lifted up his
head and seen, nor ever heard from one who had seen, how
much purer and fairer the world above is than his own. And
such is exactly our case: for we are dwelling in a hollow of
the earth, and fancy that we are on the surface; and the air
we call the heaven, in which we imagine that the stars move.
But the fact is, that owing to our feebleness and sluggishness If, like
we are prevented from reaching the surface of the air: for if
any man could arrive at the exterior limit, or take the wings then put
of a bird and come to the top, then like a fish who puts his
head out of the water and sees this world, he would see a water, we
world beyond; and, if the nature of man could sustain the
sight, he would acknowledge that this other world was the the atmo-
place of the true heaven and the true light and the true earth.
10 For our earth, and the stones, and the entire region which
surrounds us, are spoilt and corroded, as in the sea all things and the
are corroded by the brine, neither is there any noble or true earth.
perfect growth, but caverns only, and sand, and an endless
shore is not to be compared to
And still less is this our world
Of that upper earth which is
slough of mud; and even the
the fairer sights of this world.
to be compared with the other.
under the heaven, I can tell you a charming tale, Simmias,
which is well worth hearing.
And we, Socrates, replied Simmias, shall be charmed to
listen to you.
The tale, my friend, he said, is as follows:-In the first
place, the earth, when looked at from above, is in appear-
ance streaked like one of those balls which have leather
coverings in twelve pieces, and is decked with various
fishes who
now and
their heads
out of the
could rise
to the top of
sphere, we
should
behold the
true heaven
I 12
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES.
The upper
earth is in
every re-
spect far
fairer than
the lower.
There is
gold and
purple, and
pure light,
and trees
and flowers
lovelier far
than our
own, and
all the
stones are
more pre-
cious than
our pre-
cious
stones.
The blessed
gods dwell
there and
hold con-
colours, of which the colours used by painters on earth are
in a manner samples. But there the whole earth is made
up of them, and they are brighter far and clearer than ours;
there is a purple of wonderful lustre, also the radiance of
gold, and the white which is in the earth is whiter than any
chalk or snow.
Of these and other colours the earth is
made up, and they are more in number and fairer than the
of man has ever seen; the very hollows (of which I was
speaking) filled with air and water have a colour of their
own, and are seen like light gleaming amid the diversity of
the other colours, so that the whole presents a single and
continuous appearance of variety in unity. And in this fair
region everything that grows-trees, and flowers, and fruits
eye
-are in a like degree fairer than any here; and there are
hills, having stones in them in a like degree smoother, and
more transparent, and fairer in colour than our highly-
valued emeralds and sardonyxes and jaspers, and other
gems, which are but minute fragments of them: for there all
the stones are like our precious stones, and fairer still.¹ The
reason is, that they are pure, and not, like our precious
stones, infected or corroded by the corrupt briny elements
which coagulate among us, and which breed foulness and
disease both in earth and stones, as well as in animals and
plants. They are the jewels of the upper earth, which also
shines with gold and silver and the like, and they are set in III
the light of day and are large and abundant and in all
places, making the earth a sight to gladden the beholder's
eye. And there are animals and men, some in a middle
region, others dwelling about the air as we dwell about the
sea; others in islands which the air flows round, near the
continent; and in a word, the air is used by them as the
water and the sea are by us, and the ether is to them what
the air is to us. Moreover, the temperament of their
seasons is such that they have no disease, and live much
longer than we do, and have sight and hearing and smell,
and all the other senses, in far greater perfection, in the same
proportion that air is purer than water or the ether than
air. Also they have temples and sacred places in which the
gods really dwell, and they hear their voices and receive
1 Cp. Rev., esp. c. xxi. v. 18 ff.
PHAEDO
113
Phaedo.
the in-
habitants.
their answers, and are conscious of them and hold converse
with them; and they see the sun, moon, and stars as they SOCRATES.
truly are, and their other blessedness is of a piece with this. verse with
Such is the nature of the whole earth, and of the things
which are around the earth; and there are divers regions in
the hollows on the face of the globe everywhere, some of
them deeper and more extended than that which we inhabit,
others deeper but with a narrower opening than ours, and
some are shallow and also wider. All have numerous
perforations, and there are passages broad and narrow in
the interior of the earth, connecting them with one another; Description
and there flows out of and into them, as into basins, a vast
tide of water, and huge subterranean streams of perennial earth and
rivers, and springs hot and cold, and a great fire, and great
rivers of fire, and streams of liquid mud, thin or thick (like seas and
the rivers of mud in Sicily, and the lava streams which
follow them), and the regions about which they happen to
How are filled up with them. And there is a swinging or
see-saw in the interior of the earth which moves all this up
and down, and is due to the following cause:-There is
a chasm which is the vastest of them all, and pierces right
112 through the whole earth; this is that chasm which Homer
describes in the words,-
'Far off, where is the inmost depth beneath the earth;"
and which he in other places, and many other poets, have
called Tartarus. And the see-saw is caused by the streams
flowing into and out of this chasm, and they each have the
nature of the soil through which they flow. And the reason
why the streams are always flowing in and out, is that the
watery element has no bed or bottom, but is swinging and
surging up and down, and the surrounding wind and air do
the same; they follow the water up and down, hither and
thither, over the earth-just as in the act of respiration the
air is always in process of inhalation and exhalation;—and
the wind swinging with the water in and out produces
fearful and irresistible blasts: when the waters retire with a
rush into the lower parts of the earth, as they are called,
they flow through the earth in those regions, and fill them
up like water raised by a pump, and then when they leave
of the in-
terior of the
of the sub-
terranean
114
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES.
Oceanus,
Acheron,
Pyriphlege.
thon, and
Styx (or
Cocytus).
those regions and rush back hither, they again fill the
hollows here, and when these are filled, flow through sub-
terranean channels and find their way to their several
places, forming seas, and lakes, and rivers, and springs.
Thence they again enter the earth, some of them making a
long circuit into many lands, others going to a few places
and not so distant; and again fall into Tartarus, some at a
point a good deal lower than that at which they rose, and
others not much lower, but all in some degree lower than
the point from which they came. And some burst forth
again on the opposite side, and some on the same side, and
some wind round the earth with one or many folds like the
coils of a serpent, and descend as far as they can, but always
return and fall into the chasm. The rivers flowing in either
direction can descend only to the centre and no further, for
opposite to the rivers is a precipice.
Now these rivers are many, and mighty, and diverse, and
there are four principal ones, of which the greatest and outer-
most is that called Oceanus, which flows round the earth in
a circle; and in the opposite direction flows Acheron, which
passes under the earth through desert places into the 113
Acherusian lake: this is the lake to the shores of which the
souls of the many go when they are dead, and after waiting
an appointed time, which is to some a longer and to some a
shorter time, they are sent back to be born again as animals.
The third river passes out between the two, and near the place
of outlet pours into a vast region of fire, and forms a lake
larger than the Mediterranean Sea, boiling with water and
mud; and proceeding muddy and turbid, and winding about
the earth, comes, among other places, to the extremities of
the Acherusian lake, but mingles not with the waters of the
lake, and after making many coils about the earth plunges
into Tartarus at a deeper level. This is that Pyriphlege-
thon, as the stream is called, which throws up jets of fire in
different parts of the earth. The fourth river goes out on
the opposite side, and falls first of all into a wild and savage
region, which is all of a dark blue colour, like lapis lazuli;
and this is that river which is called the Stygian river, and
falls into and forms the Lake Styx, and after falling into the
lake and receiving strange powers in the waters, passes
PHAEDO
115
under the earth, winding round in the opposite direction, and Phaedo.
comes near the Acherusian lake from the opposite side to SOCRATES.
Pyriphlegethon. And the water of this river too mingles
with no other, but flows round in a circle and falls into
Tartarus over against Pyriphlegethon; and the name of the
river, as the poets say, is Cocytus.
And
ment of the
dead.
Such is the nature of the other world; and when the dead The judg
arrive at the place to which the genius of each severally
guides them, first of all, they have sentence passed upon
them, as they have lived well and piously or not.
those who appear to have lived neither well nor ill, go to
the river Acheron, and embarking in any vessels which
they may find, are carried in them to the lake, and there
they dwell and are purified of their evil deeds, and having
suffered the penalty of the wrongs which they have done to
others, they are absolved, and receive the rewards of their
good deeds, each of them according to his deserts. But
those who appear to be incurable by reason of the greatness
of their crimes-who have committed many and terrible
deeds of sacrilege, murders foul and violent, or the like
-such are hurled into Tartarus which is their suitable
destiny, and they never come out. Those again who have
committed crimes, which, although great, are
not irre-
mediable-who in a moment of anger, for example, have
done some violence to a father or
a father or a mother, and have
114 repented for the remainder of their lives, or, who have taken
the life of another under the like extenuating circumstances
-these are plunged into Tartarus, the pains of which they
are compelled to undergo for a year, but at the end of the
year the wave casts them forth-mere homicides by way of
Cocytus, parricides and matricides by Pyriphlegethon-and
they are borne to the Acherusian lake, and there they lift up
their voices and call upon the victims whom they have slain
or wronged, to have pity on them, and to be kind to them,
and let them come out into the lake. And if they prevail,
then they come forth and cease from their troubles; but if
not, they are carried back again into Tartarus and from
thence into the rivers unceasingly, until they obtain mercy
from those whom they have wronged: for that is the sen-
tence inflicted upon them by their judges. Those too who
116
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
CRITO.
These
descriptions
are not true
to the letter,
but some-
thing like
them is
true.
have been pre-eminent for holiness of life are released from
this earthly prison, and go to their pure home which is
above, and dwell in the purer earth; and of these, such as
have duly purified themselves with philosophy live hence-
forth altogether without the body, in mansions fairer still
which may not be described, and of which the time would
fail me to tell.
Wherefore, Simmias, seeing all these things, what ought
not we to do that we may obtain virtue and wisdom in this
life? Fair is the prize, and the hope great!
A man of sense ought not to say, nor will I be very con-
fident, that the description which I have given of the soul and
her mansions is exactly true. But I do say that, inasmuch
as the soul is shown to be immortal, he may venture to
think, not improperly or unworthily, that something of the
kind is true. The venture is a glorious one, and he ought to
comfort himself with words like these, which is the reason
why I lengthen out the tale. Wherefore, I say, let a man be
of good cheer about his soul, who having cast away the
pleasures and ornaments of the body as alien to him and
working harm rather than good, has sought after the pleasures
of knowledge; and has arrayed the soul, not in some foreign
attire, but in her own proper jewels, temperance, and justice,
and courage, and nobility, and truth-in these adorned she 115
is ready to go on her journey to the world below, when her
hour comes. You, Simmias and Cebes, and all other men,
will depart at some time or other. Me already, as a tragic
poet would say, the voice of fate calls. Soon I must drink
the poison; and I think that I had better repair to the bath
first, in order that the women may not have the trouble of
washing my body after I am dead.
When he had done speaking, Crito said: And have you
any commands for us, Socrates-anything to say about your
children, or any other matter in which we can serve you?
Nothing particular, Crito, he replied: only, as I have
always told you, take care of yourself; that is a service
which you may be ever rendering to me and mine and to
all of us, whether you promise to do so or not.
But if you
have no thought for yourselves, and care not to walk according
to the rule which I have prescribed for you, not now for the
PHAEDO
117
first time, however much you may profess or promise at the
moment, it will be of no avail.
We will do our best, said Crito: And in what way shall we
bury you?
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
CRITO.
body which
remains is
Socrates.
In any way that you like; but you must get hold of me,
and take care that I do not run away from you. Then he
turned to us, and added with a smile:-I cannot make Crito
believe that I am the same Socrates who have been talking
and conducting the argument; he fancies that I am the other
Socrates whom he will soon see, a dead body-and he asks,
How shall he bury me? And though I have spoken many The dead
words in the endeavour to show that when I have drunk the
poison I shall leave you and go to the joys of the blessed, not the true
these words of mine, with which I was comforting you and
myself, have had, as I perceive, no effect upon Crito. And
therefore I want you to be surety for me to him now, as
at the trial he was surety to the judges for me: but let
the promise be of another sort; for he was surety for me
to the judges that I would remain, and you must be my
surety to him that I shall not remain, but go away and
depart; and then he will suffer less at my death, and not be
grieved when he sees my body being burned or buried. I
would not have him sorrow at my hard lot, or say at the
burial, Thus we lay out Socrates, or, Thus we follow him to
the grave or bury him; for false words are not only evil in
themselves, but they infect the soul with evil. Be of good
cheer then, my dear Crito, and say that you are burying my
116 body only, and do with that whatever is usual, and what you
think best.
When he had spoken these words, he arose and went
into a chamber to bathe; Crito followed him and told us to
wait. So we remained behind, talking and thinking of the
subject of discourse, and also of the greatness of our sorrow;
he was like a father of whom we were being bereaved, and
we were about to pass the rest of our lives as orphans. He takes
When he had taken the bath his children were brought to
him-(he had two young sons and an elder one); and the
women of his family also came, and he talked to them and
gave them a few directions in the presence of Crito; then
he dismissed them and returned to us.
leave of his
family.
118
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
CRITO,
THE JAILER
The
humanity
of the
jailer.
Crito would
detain
Socrates a
little while.
Socrates
thinks that
there is
nothing to
be gained
by delay.
The poison
is brought.
Now the hour of sunset was near, for a good deal of time
had passed while he was within. When he came out, he sat
down with us again after his bath, but not much was said.
Soon the jailer, who was the servant of the Eleven, entered
and stood by him, saying:-To you, Socrates, whom I know
to be the noblest and gentlest and best of all who ever came
to this place, I will not impute the angry feelings of other
men, who rage and swear at me, when, in obedience to the
authorities, I bid them drink the poison-indeed, I am sure
that you will not be angry with me; for others, as you are
aware, and not I, are to blame. And so fare you well, and
try to bear lightly what must needs be-you know my
errand. Then bursting into tears he turned away and went
out.
Socrates looked at him and said: I return your good
wishes, and will do as you bid. Then turning to us, he said,
How charming the man is: since I have been in prison he
has always been coming to see me, and at times he would
talk to me, and was as good to me as could be, and now see
how generously he sorrows on my account. We must do as
he says, Crito; and therefore let the cup be brought, if the
poison is prepared: if not, let the attendant prepare some.
Yet, said Crito, the sun is still upon the hill-tops, and I
know that many a one has taken the draught late, and after
the announcement has been made to him, he has eaten and
drunk, and enjoyed the society of his beloved; do not hurry
-there is time enough.
Socrates said: Yes, Crito, and they of whom you speak
are right in so acting, for they think that they will be
gainers by the delay; but I am right in not following their
example, for I do not think that I should gain anything by
drinking the poison a little later; I should only be ridiculous 117
in my own eyes for sparing and saving a life which is already
forfeit. Please then to do as I say, and not to refuse me.
Crito made a sign to the servant, who was standing by;
and he went out, and having been absent for some time
returned with the jailer carrying the cup of poison. Socrates
said: You, my good friend, who are experienced in these
matters, shall give me directions how I am to proceed. The
man answered: You have only to walk about until your legs
PHAEDO
119
CRITO,
pany of
control
are heavy, and then to lie down, and the poison will act. At Phaedo.
the same time he handed the cup to Socrates, who in the SOCRATES,
easiest and gentlest manner, without the least fear or change PHAEDO.
of colour or feature, looking at the man with all his eyes, He drinks
Echecrates, as his manner was, took the cup and said: What the poison.
do you say about making a libation out of this cup to any
god? May I, or not? The man answered: We only pre-
pare, Socrates, just so much as we deem enough. I under-
stand, he said: but I may and must ask the gods to prosper
my journey from this to the other world-even so—and so be
it according to my prayer. Then raising the cup to his lips,
quite readily and cheerfully he drank off the poison. And The com-
hitherto most of us had been able to control our sorrow; but friends are
now when we saw him drinking, and saw too that he had unable to
finished the draught, we could no longer forbear, and in spite themselves.
of myself my own tears were flowing fast; so that I covered
my face and wept, not for him, but at the thought of my own
calamity in having to part from such a friend. Nor was I the
first; for Crito, when he found himself unable to restrain his
tears, had got up, and I followed; and at that moment,
Apollodorus, who had been weeping all the time, broke out in
a loud and passionate cry which made cowards of us all.
Socrates alone retained his calmness: What is this strange
outcry? he said. I sent away the women mainly in order
that they might not misbehave in this way, for I have been should die
told that a man should die in peace. Be quiet then, and
have patience. When we heard his words we were ashamed,
and refrained our tears; and he walked about until, as he
said, his legs began to fail, and then he lay on his back,
according to the directions, and the man who gave him the
poison now and then looked at his feet and legs; and after a
while he pressed his foot hard, and asked him if he could
118 feel; and he said, No; and then his leg, and so upwards and
upwards, and showed us that he was cold and stiff. And he
felt them himself, and said: When the poison reaches the
heart, that will be the end. He was beginning to grow cold
about the groin, when he uncovered his face, for he had
covered himself up, and said-they were his last words-he
said: Crito, I owe a cock to Asclepius; will you remember The debt to
to pay the debt? The debt shall be paid, said Crito; is Asclepius.
Socrates,
'A man
in peace.'
[20
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedo.
SOCRATES,
CRITO,
PHAEDO.
there anything else? There was no answer to this question;
but in a minute or two a movement was heard, and the
attendants uncovered him; his eyes were set, and Crito
closed his eyes and mouth.
Such was the end, Echecrates, of our friend; concerning
whom I may truly say, that of all the men of his time whom I
have known, he was the wisest and justest and best.
ION
In several of his earlier dialogues Plato exhibits Socrates
in the rôle of the critic who is unable, or who ironically pro-
fesses to be unable, to reach a conclusive result, but who by
the Socratic method of question and answer at least clears the
ground of false notions. So in the Euthyphro, while await-
ing trial on the charge of impiety, he ironically discusses the
nature of piety with an orthodox Athenian; again, in con-
versation with the beautiful boy Charmides, he refutes suc-
cessive definitions of temperance; with Lysis he weighs ques-
tions relating to friendship; in the Laches he argues, though
without a distinct result, the nature of courage. But in each
case the result is not wholly negative; while hazy, conven-
tional, and inconsistent views are brought to light, certain
valid distinctions and various qualities in human nature are
established, and in particular the presence of knowledge as
an element in every kind of virtue.
The Ion, one of the most graceful and delicately ironical
of Plato's writings, also belongs to this group of dialogues.
Here Plato deals for the first, but not for the last, time with
the problem of inspiration. It is clear that poetry is not the
result of the same logical processes that we use in ordinary
life; in a sense the poet is in a less responsible state than other
people, and seems at times to be the passive recipient of sug-
gestions, external or internal, whose source he can hardly
analyze. The traditional Greek view was that the poet was
the happy victim of 'enthusiasm,' that is, quite literally, a
god was in him. With this notion Plato makes sport in the
Ion. The rhapsode Ion, being a recognized reciter and in-
terpreter of Homer, poses as one of the official educators of
Greece. But under the eager questioning of Socrates, he
affirms and retracts; he has as many forms as Proteus,'
while Socrates is 'only a common man who speaks the truth.'
Socrates easily shows that Ion simply has no conception of
the meaning of knowledge, but ironically allows him at last
to take refuge in the claim to inspiration. Here Plato neither
seriously upholds the traditional view of poetic inspiration
nor wholly discards it. He does, however, insist on a dis-
tinction between rational knowledge and the unaccountable,
though often precious, works of poets. And the good nature
with which his Socrates treats the fatuous rhapsode makes high
comedy of the dialogue.
W. C. G.
ION
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE
SOCRATES. ION.
Socrates. WELCOME, Ion. Are you from your native city
530 of Ephesus?
Ion.
SOCRATES,
Ion. No, Socrates; but from Epidaurus, where I attended IoN.
the festival of Asclepius.
Socrates
Soc. And do the Epidaurians have contests of rhapsodes meets Ion
at the festival?
Ion. O yes; and of all sorts of musical performers.
Soc. And were you one of the competitors-and did you
succeed?
Ion. I obtained the first prize of all, Socrates.
Soc. Well done; and I hope that you will do the same for
us at the Panathenaea.
Ion. And I will, please heaven.
the Rhap-
sode.
able is the
profession
sode! He
is always
finely
and he lives
in good
dressed
Soc. I often envy the profession of a rhapsode, Ion; for How envi-
you
have always to wear fine clothes, and to look as beautiful
as you can is a part of your art. Then, again, you are obliged of a rhap-
to be continually in the company of many good poets; and
especially of Homer, who is the best and most divine of them;
and to understand him, and not merely learn his words by
rote, is a thing greatly to be envied. And no man can be a
rhapsode who does not understand the meaning of the poet.
For the rhapsode ought to interpret the mind of the poet to
his hearers, but how can he interpret him well unless he
knows what he means? All this is greatly to be envied.
Ion. Very true, Socrates; interpretation has certainly been
the most laborious part of my art; and I believe myself able
to speak about Homer better than any man; and that neither
Metrodorus of Lampsacus, nor Stesimbrotus of Thasos, nor
Glaucon, nor any one else who ever was, had as good ideas
about Homer as I have, or as many.
company
among
poets, of
the inter-
whom he is
preter t
men.
123
124
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Ion.
SOCRATES,
ION.
Ion devotes
himself to
the exclu-
sive inter-
pretation of
Homer.
Soc. I am glad to hear you say so, Ion; I see that you
will not refuse to acquaint me with them.
Ion. Certainly, Socrates; and you really ought to hear
how exquisitely I render Homer. I think that the Homer-
idae should give me a golden crown.
Soc. I shall take an opportunity of hearing your embellish-
ments of him at some other time. But just now I should 531
like to ask you a question: Does your art extend to Hesiod
and Archilochus, or to Homer only?
Ion. To Homer only; he is in himself quite enough.
Soc. Are there any things about which Homer and Hesiod.
agree?
Ion. Yes; in my opinion there are a good many.
Soc. And can you interpret better what Homer says, or
what Hesiod says, about these matters in which they agree?
Ion. I can interpret them equally well, Socrates, where
they agree.
Soc. But what about matters in which they do not agree?
for example, about divination, of which both Homer and
Hesiod have something to say,-
Ion. Very true:
Soc. Would you or a good prophet be a better interpreter
of what these two poets say about divination, not only when
they agree, but when they disagree?
Ion. A prophet.
Soc. And if you were a prophet, would you not be able to
interpret them when they disagree as well as when they
agree?
Ion. Clearly.
Soc. But how did you come to have this skill about Homer
only, and not about Hesiod or the other poets? Does not
Homer speak of the same themes which all other poets
handle? Is not war his great argument? and does he not
speak of human society and of intercourse of men, good and
bad, skilled and unskilled, and of the gods conversing with
one another and with mankind, and about what happens in
heaven and in the world below, and the generations of gods
and heroes? Are not these the themes of which Homer
sings?
Ion. Very true, Socrates.
t
ION
125
Soc. And do not the other poets sing of the same?
Ion.
Ion. Yes, Socrates; but not in the same way as Homer. SOCRATES,
Soc. What, in a worse way?
Ion. Yes, in a far worse.
Soc. And Homer in a better way?
Ion. He is incomparably better.
ION.
Socrates
argues that
Soc. And yet surely, my dear friend Ion, in a discussion But
about arithmetic, where many people are speaking, and one
speaks better than the rest, there is somebody who can he who
judge which of them is the good speaker?
Ion. Yes.
Soc. And he who judges of the good will be the same as
he who judges of the bad speakers?
Ion. The same.
Soc. And he will be the arithmetician?
Ion. Yes.
Soc. Well, and in discussions about the wholesomeness of
food, when many persons are speaking, and one speaks
better than the rest, will he who recognizes the better speaker
be a different person from him who recognizes the worse,
or the same?
Ion. Clearly the same.
Soc. And who is he, and what is his name?
Ion. The physician.
Soc. And speaking generally, in all discussions in which
the subject is the same and many men are speaking, will not
532 he who knows the good know the bad speaker also? For if
he does not know the bad, neither will he know the good
when the same topic is being discussed.
Ion. True.
Soc. Is not the same person skilful in both?
Ion. Yes.
Soc. And you say that Homer and the other poets, such
as Hesiod and Archilochus, speak of the same things,
although not in the same way; but the one speaks well and
the other not so well?
Ion. Yes; and I am right in saying so.
Soc. And if you knew the good speaker, you would also
know the inferior speakers to be inferior?
Ion. That is true.
knows
Homer,
who is the
better, will
know Ar-
chilochus
and Hesiod,
who are the
inferiors.
126
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Ion.
SOCRATES,
ION.
'Why then
is Ion all
alive when
Homer is
spoken of,
but goes
to sleep at
the mention
of any
other
poet?'-
Because
he has no
knowledge
of poetry as
a whole.
The anal-
ogy of the
other arts.
Soc. Then, my dear friend, can I be mistaken in saying
that Ion is equally skilled in Homer and in other poets,
since he himself acknowledges that the same person will be
a good judge of all those who speak of the same things; and
that almost all poets do speak of the same things?
Ion. Why then, Socrates, do I lose attention and go to
sleep and have absolutely no ideas of the least value, when
any one speaks of any other poet; but when Homer is
mentioned, I wake up at once and am all attention and have
plenty to say?
Soc. The reason, my friend, is obvious. No one can fail
to see that you speak of Homer without any art or know-
ledge. If you were able to speak of him by rules of art, you
would have been able to speak of all other poets; for poetry
is a whole.
Ion. Yes.
Soc. And when any one acquires any other art as a whole,
the same may be said of them. Would you like me to explain
my meaning, Ion?
Ion. Yes, indeed, Socrates; I very much wish that you
would: for I love to hear you wise men talk.
Soc. O that we were wise, Ion, and that you could truly
call us so; but you rhapsodes and actors, and the poets whose
verses you sing, are wise; whereas I am a common man,
who only speak the truth. For consider what a very common-
place and trivial thing is this which I have said—a thing
which any man might say: that when a man has acquired
a knowledge of a whole art, the enquiry into good and
bad is one and the same. Let us consider this matter; is not
the art of painting a whole?
Ion. Yes.
Soc. And there are and have been many painters good
and bad?
Ion. Yes.
Soc. And did you ever know any one who was skilful in
pointing out the excellences and defects of Polygnotus the
son of Aglaophon, but incapable of criticizing other painters; 533
and when the work of any other painter was produced, went
to sleep and was at a loss, and had no ideas; but when he
had to give his opinion about Polygnotus, or whoever the
ION
127
painter might be, and about him only, woke up and was
attentive and had plenty to say?
Ion. No indeed, I have never known such a person.
Soc. Or did you ever know of any one in sculpture, who
was skilful in expounding the merits of Daedalus the son of
Metion, or of Epeius the son of Panopeus, or of Theodorus
the Samian, or of any individual sculptor; but when the
works of sculptors in general were produced, was at a loss
and went to sleep and had nothing to say?
Ion. No indeed; no more than the other.
Soc. And if I am not mistaken, you never met with any one
among flute-players or harp-players or singers to the harp or
rhapsodes who was able to discourse of Olympus or Thamyras
or Orpheus, or Phemius the rhapsode of Ithaca, but was at a
loss when he came to speak of Ion of Ephesus, and had no
notion of his merits or defects?
Ion. I cannot deny what you say, Socrates. Nevertheless
I am conscious in my own self, and the world agrees with me
in thinking that I do speak better and have more to say about
Homer than any other man. But I do not speak equally well
about others tell me the reason of this.
Ion.
SOCRATES,
ION.
The gift of
well about
Homer is
speaking
an inspira-
tion which
magnetic
power. All
are in-
spired.
Soc. I perceive, Ion; and I will proceed to explain to you
what I imagine to be the reason of this. The gift which you
possess of speaking excellently about Homer is not an art,
but, as I was just saying, an inspiration; there is a divinity
moving you, like that contained in the stone which Euripides exercises a
calls a magnet, but which is commonly known as the stone of
Heraclea. This stone not only attracts iron rings, but also good poets
imparts to thein a similar power of attracting other rings;
and sometimes you may see a number of pieces of iron and
rings suspended from one another so as to form quite a long
chain: and all of them derive their power of suspension from
the original stone. In like manner the Muse first of all
inspires men herself; and from these inspired persons a chain
of other persons is suspended, who take the inspiration. For
all good poets, epic as well as lyric, compose their beautiful
poems not by art, but because they are inspired and possessed.
534 And as the Corybantian revellers when they dance are not in
their right mind, so the lyric poets are not in their right mind
when they are composing their beautiful strains: but when
128
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Ion.
SOCRATES,
ION.
They have
no rules of
art, and are
therefore
unable to
of more
than one
kind.
falling under the power of music and metre they are inspired
and possessed; like Bacchic maidens who draw milk and
honey from the rivers when they are under the influence of
Dionysus but not when they are in their right mind. And
the soul of the lyric poet does the same, as they themselves
say; for they tell us that they bring songs from honeyed
fountains, culling them out of the gardens and dells of the
Muses; they, like the bees, winging their way from flower to
flower. And this is true. For the poet is a light and winged
and holy thing, and there is no invention in him until he has
been inspired and is out of his senses, and the mind is no
longer in him: when he has not attained to this state, he is
powerless and is unable to utter his oracles. Many are the
noble words in which poets speak concerning the actions of
men; but like yourself when speaking about Homer, they do
not speak of them by any rules of art: they are simply inspired
to utter that to which the Muse impels them, and that only;
utter strains and when inspired, one of them will make dithyrambs, another
hymns of praise, another choral strains, another epic or iambic
verses and he who is good at one is not good at any other
kind of verse: for not by art does the poet sing, but by power
divine. Had he learned by rules of art, he would have known
how to speak not of one theme only, but of all; and therefore
God takes away the minds of poets, and uses them as his
ministers, as he also uses diviners and holy prophets, in order
that we who hear them may know them to be speaking not
of themselves who utter these priceless words in a state of
unconsciousness, but that God himself is the speaker, and that
through them he is conversing with us. And Tynnichus the
Chalcidian affords a striking instance of what I am saying:
he wrote nothing that any one would care to remember but
the famous paean which is in every one's mouth, one of the
finest poems ever written, simply an invention of the Muses,
as he himself says. For in this way the God would seem to
indicate to us and not allow us to doubt that these beautiful
poems are not human, or the work of man, but divine and the
work of God; and that the poets are only the interpreters of
the Gods by whom they are severally possessed. Was not
this the lesson which the God intended to teach when by the
Tynnichus
composed a
single poem
only.
ION
129
535 mouth of the worst of poets he sang the best of songs? Am
I not right, Ion?
Ion. Yes, indeed, Socrates, I feel that you are; for your
words touch my soul, and I am persuaded that good poets by
a divine inspiration interpret the things of the Gods to us.
Soc. And you rhapsodists are interpreters of the poets?
Ion. There again you are right.
Soc. Then you are the interpreters of interpreters?
Ion. Precisely.
Soc. I wish you would frankly tell me, Ion, what I am
going to ask of you: When you produce the greatest effect
upon the audience in the recitation of some striking passages,
such as the apparition of Odysseus leaping forth on the floor,
recognized by the suitors and casting his arrows at his feet,
or the description of Achilles rushing at Hector, or the
sorrows of Andromache, Hecuba, or Priam,-are you in your
right mind? Are you not carried out of yourself, and does
not your soul in an ecstasy seem to be among the persons or
places of which you are speaking, whether they are in Ithaca
or in Troy or whatever may be the scene of the poem?
Ion. That proof strikes home to me, Socrates. For I must
frankly confess that at the tale of pity my eyes are filled with
tears, and when I speak of horrors, my hair stands on end and
my heart throbs.
Soc. Well, Ion, and what are we to say of a man who at
a sacrifice or festival, when he is dressed in holiday attire,
and has golden crowns upon his head, of which nobody
has robbed him, appears weeping or panic-stricken in the
presence of more than twenty thousand friendly faces, when
there is no one despoiling or wronging him;-is he in his
right mind or is he not?
Ion. No indeed, Socrates, I must say that, strictly speaking,
he is not in his right mind.
Soc. And are you aware that you produce similar effects
on most of the spectators?
Ion. Only too well; for I look down upon them from the
stage, and behold the various emotions of pity, wonder, stern-
ness, stamped upon their countenances when I am speaking:
and I am obliged to give my very best attention to them; for
if I make them cry I myself shall laugh, and if i make them
Ion.
SOCRATES,
ION.
Ion himself
is not in his
when he
produces
right mind
the greatest
effect.
130
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Ion.
SOCRATES,
ION.
The rings
which hang
from the
Muse.
laugh I myself shall cry when the time of payment arrives.
Soc. Do you know that the spectator is the last of the rings
which, as I am saying, receive the power of the original mag-
net from one another? The rhapsode like yourself and the
actor are intermediate links, and the poet himself is the first 536
of them. Through all these the God sways the souls of men
in any direction which he pleases, and makes one man hang
down from another. Thus there is a vast chain of dancers
and masters and under-masters of choruses, who are sus-
pended, as if from the stone, at the side of the rings which
hang down from the Muse. And every poet has some Muse
from whom he is suspended, and by whom he is said to be
possessed, which is nearly the same thing; for he is taken
hold of. And from these first rings, which are the poets,
depend others, some deriving their inspiration from Orpheus,
others from Musaeus; but the greater number are possessed
and held by Homer. Of whom, Ion, you are one, and are
possessed by Homer; and when any one repeats the words
of another poet you go to sleep, and know not what to say;
but when any one recites a strain of Homer you wake up in
a moment, and your soul leaps within you, and you have
plenty to say; for not by art or knowledge about Homer do
you say what you say, but by divine inspiration and by
possession; just as the Corybantian revellers too have a
quick perception of that strain only which is appropriated to
the God by whom they are possessed, and have plenty of
dances and words for that, but take no heed of any other.
And you, Ion, when the name of Homer is mentioned have
plenty to say, and have nothing to say of others. You ask,
'Why is this?' The answer is that you praise Homer not
by art but by divine inspiration.
Ion. That is good, Socrates; and yet I doubt whether you
will ever have eloquence enough to persuade me that I praise
Homer only when I am mad and possessed; and if you could
hear me speak of him I am sure you would never think this
to be the case.
Soc. I should like very much to hear you, but not until
you have answered a question which I have to ask. On
what part of Homer do you speak well?-not surely about
every part.
ION
131
Ion. There is no part, Socrates, about which I do not speak Ion.
well: of that I can assure you.
Soc. Surely not about things in Homer of which
no knowledge?
you have
SOCKATES,
ION.
Ion knows
every part
Ion. And what is there in Homer of which I have no of Homer.
knowledge?
Soc. Why, does not Homer speak in many passages about
537 arts? For example, about driving; if I can only remember
the lines I will repeat them.
Ion. I remember, and will repeat them.
Soc. Tell me then, what Nestor says to Antilochus, his
son, where he bids him be careful of the turn at the horse-
race in honour of Patroclus.
Ion. 'Bend gently,' he says, 'in the polished chariot to the left of them,
and urge the horse on the right hand with whip and voice; and slacken
the rein. And when you are at the goal, let the left horse draw near,
yet so that the nave of the well-wrought wheel may not even seem to
touch the extremity; and avoid catching the stone.'1
Soc. Enough. Now, Ion, will the charioteer or the
physician be the better judge of the propriety of these
lines?
Ion. The charioteer, clearly.
Soc. And will the reason be that this is his art, or will
there be any other reason?
Ion. No, that will be the reason.
Soc. And every art is appointed by God to have know-
ledge of a certain work; for that which we know by the art
of the pilot we do not know by the art of medicine?
Ion. Certainly not.
Soc. Nor do we know by the art of the carpenter that
which we know by the art of medicine?
Ion. Certainly not.
Soc. And this is true of all the arts;-that which we know
with one art we do not know with the other? But let me
ask a prior question: You admit that there are differences
of arts?
Ion. Yes.
Soc. You would argue, as I should, that when one art is
1 Il. xxiii, 335.
132
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Ion.
SOCRATES,
ION.
Every art
has a dis-
tinct sub-
ject; and
he who has
no know-
ledge of an
art can
form no
judgment
of it.
of one kind of knowledge and another of another, they are
different?
Ion. Yes.
Soc. Yes, surely; for if the subject of knowledge were the
same, there would be no meaning in saying that the arts
were different,-if they both gave the same knowledge. For
example, I know that here are five fingers, and you know
the same. And if I were to ask whether I and you became
acquainted with this fact by the help of the same art of
arithmetic, you would acknowledge that we did?
Ion. Yes.
Soc. Tell me, then, what I was intending to ask you, 538
-whether this holds universally? Must the same art have
the same subject of knowledge, and different arts other
subjects of knowledge?
Ion. That is my opinion, Socrates.
Soc. Then he who has no knowledge of a particular art
will have no right judgment of the sayings and doings of
that art?
Ion. Very true.
Soc. Then which will be a better judge of the lines which
you were reciting from Homer, you or the charioteer?
Ion. The charioteer.
Soc. Why, yes, because you are a rhapsode and not a
charioteer.
Ion. Yes.
Soc. And the art of the rhapsode is different from that of
the charioteer?
Ion. Yes.
Soc. And if a different knowledge, then a knowledge of
different matters?
Ion. True.
Soc. You know the passage in which Hecamede, the con-
cubine of Nestor, is described as giving to the wounded
Machaon a posset, as he says,
'Made with Pramnian wine; and she grated cheese of goat's milk with
a grater of bronze, and at his side placed an onion which gives a
relish to drink.' 1
: Il xi. 638. 630.
ION
133
539
Ion.
Now would you say that the art of the rhapsode or the art
of medicine was better able to judge of the propriety of SOCRATES,
these lines?
Ion. The art of medicine.
Soc. And when Homer says,
'And she descended into the deep like a leaden plummet, which, set in
the horn of ox that ranges in the fields, rushes along carrying death
among the ravenous fishes,'-1
ION.
For exam-
ple, the
rhapsode
can form no
judgment
of the art
of medicine,
or of the
fisherman's
or of the
will the art of the fisherman or of the rhapsode be better
able to judge whether these lines are rightly expressed or prophetic
not?
Ion. Clearly, Socrates, the art of the fisherman.
Soc. Come now, suppose that you were to say to me:
'Since you, Socrates, are able to assign different passages in
Homer to their corresponding arts, I wish that you would
tell me what are the passages of which the excellence ought
to be judged by the prophet and prophetic art;' and you will
see how readily and truly I shall answer you. For there are
many such passages, particularly in the Odyssey; as, for ex-
ample, the passage in which Theoclymenus the prophet of the
house of Melampus says to the suitors:—
'Wretched men! what is happening to you? Your heads and your
faces and your limbs underneath are shrouded in night; and the voice
of lamentation bursts forth, and your cheeks are wet with tears. And
the vestibule is full, and the court is full, of ghosts descending into the
darkness of Erebus, and the sun has perished out of heaven, and an
evil mist is spread abroad.' 2
And there are many such passages in the Iliad also; as
for example in the description of the battle near the rampart,
where he says:—
'As they were eager to pass the ditch, there came to them an omen: a
soaring eagle, holding back the people on the left, bore a huge bloody
dragon in his talons, still living and panting; nor had he yet resigned
the strife, for he bent back and smote the bird which carried him on the
breast by the neck, and he in pain let him fall from him to the ground
into the midst of the multitude. And the eagle, with a cry, was borne
afar on the wings of the wind.' 3
These are the sort of things which I should say that the
prophet ought to consider and determine.
art.
1 II. xxiv. 80.
3 Tl, xii. 250.
2 Od. xx. 351.
134
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Ion.
SOCRATES,
ION.
Ion is still
of opinion
that the
rhapsode
can form
a better
general
judgment
of the pro-
prieties of
character:
Ion. And you are quite right, Socrates, in saying so.
Soc. Yes, Ion, and you are right also. And as I have
selected from the Iliad and Odyssey for you passages which
describe the office of the prophet and the physician and the
fisherman, do you, who know Homer so much better than I
do, Ion, select for me passages which relate to the rhapsode
and the rhapsode's art, and which the rhapsode ought to
examine and judge of better than other men.
Ion. All passages, I should say, Socrates.
Soc. Not all, Ion, surely. Have you already forgotten
what you were saying? A rhapsode ought to have a better
memory.
Ion. Why, what am I forgetting?
Soc. Do you not remember that you declared the art of
the rhapsode to be different from the art of the charioteer?
Ion. Yes, I remember.
Soc. And you admitted that being different they would
have different subjects of knowledge?
Ion. Yes.
Soc. Then upon your own showing the rhapsode, and the
art of the rhapsode, will not know everything?
you
Ion. I should exclude certain things, Socrates.
Soc. You mean to say that
would exclude pretty
much the subjects of the other arts.
all of them, which of them will he know?
As he does not know
Ion. He will know what a man and what a woman ought
to say, and what a freeman and what a slave ought to say,
and what a ruler and what a subject.
Soc. Do you mean that a rhapsode will know better than
the pilot what the ruler of a sea-tossed vessel ought to say?
Ion. No; the pilot will know best.
Soc. Or will the rhapsode know better than the physican
what the ruler of a sick man ought to say?
Ion. He will not.
Soc. But he will know what a slave ought to say?
Ion. Yes.
Soc. Suppose the slave to be a cowherd; the rhapsode will
know better than the cowherd what he ought to say in order
to soothe the infuriated cows?
Ion. No, he will not.
540
ION
135
541
Soc. But he will know what a spinning-woman ought to
say about the working of wool?
Ion. No.
Soc. At any rate he will know what a general ought to
say when exhorting his soldiers?
Ion. Yes, that is the sort of thing which the rhapsode will
be sure to know.
Soc. Well, but is the art of the rhapsode the art of the
general?
Ion.
SOCRATES,
ION.
Ion. I am sure that I should know what a general ought not of what
to say.
a slave or
a cowherd
ought to
what a
general
say, but of
ought to
say, and
Soc. Why, yes, Ion, because you may possibly have a
knowledge of the art of the general as well as of the rhap-
sode; and you may also have a knowledge of horsemanship
as well as of the lyre: and then you would know when
horses were well or ill managed. But suppose I were to ask accidentally
you: By the help of which art, Ion, do you know whether
horses are well managed, by your skill as a horseman or as
a performer on the lyre-what would you answer?
Ion. I should reply, by my skill as a horseman.
Soc. And if you judged of performers on the lyre, you
would admit that you judged of them as a performer on the
lyre, and not as a horseman?
Ion. Yes.
Soc. And in judging of the general's art, do you judge of
it as a general or a rhapsode?
Ion. To me there appears to be no difference between
them.
Soc. What do you mean? Do you mean to say that the
art of the rhapsode and of the general is the same?
Ion. Yes, one and the same.
of what the
professors
of other
arts would
say.
Soc. Then he who is a good rhapsode is also a good Ion is made
general?
Ion. Certainly, Socrates.
to admit
that he,
being the
Soc. And he who is a good general is also a good best of
rhapsode?
Ion. No; I do not say that.
Soc. But you do say that he who is a good rhapsode is
also a good general.
rhapsodes,
is also the
best of
generals.
Ion. Certainly.
136
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Ion.
SOCRATES,
ION.
But why
then is he
not em-
ployed?
Soc. And you are the best of Hellenic rhapsodes?
Ion. Far the best, Socrates.
Soc. And are you the best general, Ion?
Ion. To be sure, Socrates; and Homer was my master.
Soc. But then, Ion, what in the name of goodness can be
the reason why you, who are the best of generals as well as
the best of rhapsodes in all Hellas, go about as a rhapsode
when you might be a general? Do you think that the
Hellenes want a rhapsode with his golden crown, and do not
want a general?
Ion. Why, Socrates, the reason is, that my countrymen,
the Ephesians, are the servants and soldiers of Athens, and
do not need a general; and you and Sparta are not likely to
have me, for you think that you have enough generals of your
own.
Soc. My good Ion, did you never hear of Apollodorus of
Cyzicus?
Ion. Who may he be?
Soc. One who, though a foreigner, has often been chosen
their general by the Athenians: and there is Phanosthenes
of Andros, and Heraclides of Clazomenae, whom they have
also appointed to the command of their armies and to other
offices, although aliens, after they had shown their merit.
And will they not choose Ion the Ephesian to be their
general, and honour him, if he prove himself worthy? Were
not the Ephesians originally Athenians, and Ephesus is no
mean city? But, indeed, Ion, if you are correct in saying
that by art and knowledge you are able to praise Homer,
you do not deal fairly with me, and after all your professions
of knowing many glorious things about Homer, and promises
that you would exhibit them, you are only a deceiver, and so
far from exhibiting the art of which you are a master, will not,
even after my repeated entreaties, explain to me the nature
Ion is either of it. You have literally as many forms as Proteus; and
now you go all manner of ways, twisting and turning, and,
like Proteus, become all manner of people at once, and at
last slip away from me in the disguise of a general in order
that you may escape exhibiting your Homeric lore. And if 542
you have art, then, as I was saying, in falsifying your promise
that you would exhibit Homer, you are not dealing fairly
d rogue, or
he is an
inspired
person.
ION
137
with me.
ION.
But if, as I believe, you have no art, but speak all Ion.
these beautiful words about Homer unconsciously under his SOCRATES,
inspiring influence, then I acquit you of dishonesty, and shall
only say that you are inspired. Which do you prefer to be
thought, dishonest or inspired?
Ion. There is a great difference, Socrates, between the Ion accepts
two alternatives; and inspiration is by far the nobler.
the latter
of the two
Soc. Then, Ion, I shall assume the nobler alternative; and alterna-
attribute to you in your praises of Homer inspiration, and
not art.
tives.
1
PROTAGORAS
None of the educators of Greece claimed more for their
profession than the sophists; and among the sophists few
ranked so deservedly high as Protagoras of Abdera. The
dialogue to which he gives his name is recounted by Socrates,
who relates to a companion his meeting with the great man
at the house of Callias, a lavish patron of the sophists.
What was the wisdom of Protagoras, and of the sophists
generally? Some, like Hippias, dealt with physics and as-
tronomy; Prodicus and many others interested themselves.
particularly in ethics. These two appear in the present dia-
logue. Still others, like Gorgias, might be described as
rhetoricians, as literary critics, or as logicians and teachers of
disputation. Some were genuine educators, some were charla-
tans; they differed from Socrates in their willingness to ac-
cept pay, and usually in their cult of success, rather than of
objective truth. Protagoras professed to teach such know-
ledge as would make men better, especially in public life. He
was apparently a sincere humanist, whose general aim dif-
fered not greatly from that of Socrates. But in thoroughness,
in consistency, in depth of purpose and devotion to truth,
there is a world of difference between the two. In the
present dialogue the character of Protagoras is drawn in no
unfriendly spirit; he holds all the respectable doctrines, and
is the mouthpiece of common sense. When it comes to a
rational foundation for his beliefs, however, he is lost;
Socrates simply floors him by superior dialectic. What Protag-
oras holds and Socrates denies (that virtue can be taught)
is shown to be not common-sense, but the consequence of the
doctrine that Protagoras has denied, namely, that virtue is
knowledge and is one. But the irony of the conclusion, show-
ing simply that the tables have been turned, should not blind
the reader to Plato's real thought. It is plain that he speaks
through the mouths both of Protagoras and of Socrates. He
does not repudiate the fundamental moral notions of the
sophist; and incidentally he approves for practical purposes a
sort of utilitarianism in dealing with pleasure, almost a
hedonistic calculus. But he insists on that systematic coördi-
nation and unification of moral qualities which the criticism
of Socrates was able to supply. In other words, Protagoras
supplies the content, Socrates the method. Either competitor
in the contest would from his point of view call it a draw;
but 'the argument' with its human voice may well 'laugh'
(361 a); for the argument' is the hero of the dialogue,
and from the content of Protagoras and the method of
Socrates it is already launched on the construction of the
revised ethics that one meets in the later dialogues.
But a
further advance, Socrates sees, must depend on a more careful
search into the nature of virtue and of the possibility of
teaching it; that is left for later discussions.
W. C. G.
1
310
PROTAGORAS
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE
SOCRATES, who is the narrator of
the Dialogue to his Companion.
HIPPOCRATES.
ALCIBIADES.
CRITIAS.
PROTAGORAS,
HIPPIAS,
Sophists.
PRODICUS,
CALLIAS, a wealthy Athenian.
SCENE:-The House of Callias.
SOCRATES,
HIPPO-
Socrates. Last night, or rather very early this morning, Protagoras.
Hippocrates, the son of Apollodorus and the brother of Phason,
gave a tremendous thump with his staff at my door; some one
opened to him, and he came rushing in and bawled out:
Socrates, are you awake or asleep?
CRATES.
He is
I knew his voice, and said: Hippocrates, is that you? and actually in
do you bring any news?
Athens,
and Hippo-
crates has
come to
Good news, he said; nothing but good.
Delightful, I said; but what is the news? and why have bring the
you come hither at this unearthly hour?
He drew nearer to me and said: Protagoras is come.
Yes, I replied; he came two days ago: have you only just
heard of his arrival?
Yes, by the gods, he said; but not until yesterday evening.
At the same time he felt for the truckle-bed, and sat down
at my feet, and then he said: Yesterday quite late in the
evening, on my return from Oenoe whither I had gone in
pursuit of my runaway slave Satyrus, as I meant to have told
you, if some other matter had not come in the way; -on my
return, when we had done supper and were about to retire
to rest, my brother said to me: Protagoras is come.
I was
going to you at once, and then I thought that the night was
far spent. But the moment sleep left me after my fatigue, I
got up and came hither direct.
good news
to Socrates.
143
[44
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Protagoras.
SOCRATES,
HIPPO-
CRATES.
He wants
Socrates to
introduce
him at
once.
But the day
has not yet
risen, so
the two
take a turn
in the
court.
Socrates
seizes the
oppor-
tunity of
question-
ing Hippo-
crates-
Why is he
going to
Prota-
goras?
What will
he make
of him?
I, who knew the very courageous madness of the man,
said: What is the matter? Has Protagoras robbed you of
anything?
He replied, laughing: Yes, indeed he has, Socrates, of the
wisdom which he keeps from me.
But, surely, I said, if you give him money, and make friends.
with him, he will make you as wise as he is himself.
Would to heaven, he replied, that this were the case! He
might take all that I have, and all that my friends have, if he
pleased. But that is why I have come to you now, in order
that you may speak to him on my behalf; for I am young,
and also I have never seen nor heard him; (when he visited
Athens before I was but a child;) and all men praise him,
Socrates; he is reputed to be the most accomplished of
speakers. There is no reason why we should not go to him
at once, and then we shall find him at home. He lodges,
as I hear, with Callias the son of Hipponicus: let us start.
I replied: Not yet, my good friend; the hour is too early.
But let us rise and take a turn in the court and wait about
there until day-break; when the day breaks, then we will go.
For Protagoras is generally at home, and we shall be sure to
find him; never fear.
Upon this we got up and walked about in the court, and I
thought that I would make trial of the strength of his resolu-
tion. So I examined him and put questions to him. Tell
me, Hippocrates, I said, as you are going to Protagoras, and
will be paying your money to him, what is he to whom you
are going? and what will he make of you? If, for example,
you had thought of going to Hippocrates of Cos, the Ascle-
piad, and were about to give him your money, and some one
had said to you: You are paying money to your namesake
Hippocrates, O Hippocrates; tell me, what is he that you
give him money? how would you have answered?
I should say, he replied, that I gave money to him as a
physician.
And what will he make of you?
A physician, he said.
And if you were resolved to go to Polycleitus the Argive,
or Pheidias the Athenian, and were intending to give them
money, and some one had asked you: What are Polycleitus
PROTAGORAS
145
and Pheidias? and why do you give them this money?-how Protagoras.
would you have answered?
I should have answered, that they were statuaries.
And what will they make of you?
A statuary, of course.
Well now, I said, you and I are going to Protagoras, and
we are ready to pay him money on your behalf. If our own
means are sufficient, and we can gain him with these, we
shall be only too glad; but if not, then we are to spend
the money of your friends as well. Now suppose, that while
we are thus enthusiastically pursuing our object some one
were to say to us: Tell me, Socrates, and you Hippocrates,
what is Protagoras, and why are you going to pay him
money, how should we answer? I know that Pheidias is
a sculptor, and that Homer is a poet; but what appellation is
given to Protagoras? how is he designated?
They call him a Sophist, Socrates, he replied.
Then we are going to pay our money to him in the charac-
ter of a Sophist?
Certainly.
But suppose a person were to ask this further question:
What will Protagoras make of
312 And how about yourself?
you, if you go to see him?
He answered, with a blush upon his face (for the day was
just beginning to dawn, so that I could see him): Unless
this differs in some way from the former instances, I suppose
that he will make a Sophist of me.
By the gods, I said, and are you not ashamed at having to
appear before the Hellenes in the character of a Sophist?
Indeed, Socrates, to confess the truth, I am.
But you should not assume, Hippocrates, that the instruc-
tion of Protagoras is of this nature: may you not learn of
him in the same way that you learned the arts of the gramma-
rian, or musician, or trainer, not with the view of making
any of them a profession, but only as a part of education, and
because a private gentleman and freeman ought to know
them?
Just so, he said; and that, in my opinion, is a far truer
account of the teaching of Protagoras.
Socrates,
HIPPO-
CRATES.
The break-
reveals a
ing dawn
blush on
the face of
Hippo-
crates as he
replies, 'A
Sophist.'
146
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Protagoras.
Socrates,
HIPPO-
CRATES.
Do you
know what
you are
doing, or
what is
the nature
of the
Sophist?
He is one
who makes
men talk
eloquently
about what
he knows.
I said: I wonder whether you know what you are doing?
And what am I doing?
You are going to commit your soul to the care of a man.
whom you call a Sophist. And yet I hardly think that you
know what a Sophist is; and if not, then you do not even
know to whom you are committing your soul and whether
the thing to which you commit yourself be good or evil.
I certainly think that I do know, he replied.
Then tell me, what do you imagine that he is?
I take him to be one who knows wise things, he replied,
as his name implies.
And might you not, I said, affirm this of the painter and of
the carpenter also: Do not they, too, know wise things?
But suppose a person were to ask us: In what are the
painters wise? We should answer: In what relates to the
making of likenesses, and similarly of other things. And if
he were further to ask: What is the wisdom of the Sophist,
and what is the manufacture over which he presides?-how
should we answer him?
How should we answer him, Socrates? What other
answer could there be but that he presides over the art which
makes men eloquent?
Yes, I replied, that is very likely true, but not enough;
for in the answer a further question is involved: Of what
does the Sophist make a man talk eloquently? The player
on the lyre may be supposed to make a man talk eloquently
about that which he makes him understand, that is about
playing the lyre. Is not that true?
Yes.
Then about what does the Sophist make him eloquent?
Must not he make him eloquent in that which he under-
stands?
Yes, that may be assumed.
And what is that which the Sophist knows and makes his
disciple know?
Indeed, he said, I cannot tell.
Then I proceeded to say: "Well, but are you aware of the 313
danger which you are incurring? If you were going to
commit your body to some one, who might do good or harm.
to it, would you not carefully consider and ask the opinion
PROTAGORAS
147
HIPPO-
CRATES.
But if you
know what
that is, you
safely trust
yourself to
of your friends and kindred, and deliberate many days as to Protagoras.
whether you
should give him the care of your body? But SOCRATES,
when the soul is in question, which you hold to be of far
more value than the body, and upon the good or evil of
which depends the well-being of your all,-about this you do not
never consulted either with your father or with brother
your
or with any one of us who are your companions. But no cannot
sooner does this foreigner appear, than you instantly com-
mit your soul to his keeping. In the evening, as you say, him.
you hear of him, and in the morning you go to him, never
deliberating or taking the opinion of any one as to whether
you ought to intrust yourself to him or not;-you have quite
made up your mind that you will at all hazards be a pupil of
Protagoras, and are prepared to expend all the property of
yourself and of your friends in carrying out at any price this
determination, although, as you admit, you do not know him,
and have never spoken with him: and you call him a Sophist,
but are manifestly ignorant of what a Sophist is; and yet
you are going to commit yourself to his keeping.
When he heard me say this, he replied: No other infer-
ence, Socrates, can be drawn from your words.
Sophist is
I proceeded: Is not a Sophist, Hippocrates, one who The
deals wholesale or retail in the food of the soul? To me
that appears to be his nature.
And what, Socrates, is the food of the soul?
Surely, I said, knowledge is the food of the soul; and we
must take care, my friend, that the Sophist does not deceive
us when he praises what he sells, like the dealers wholesale
or retail who sell the food of the body; for they praise
indiscriminately all their goods, without knowing what are
really beneficial or hurtful: neither do their customers know,
with the exception of any trainer or physician who may
happen to buy of them. In like manner those who carry
about the wares of knowledge, and make the round of the
cities, and sell or retail them to any customer who is in want
of them, praise them all alike; though I should not wonder,
O my friend, if many of them were really ignorant of their
effect upon the soul; and their customers equally ignorant,
unless he who buys of them happens to be a physician of the
soul. If, therefore, you have understanding of what is good
one who
sells the
food of the
soul,
148
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Protagoras. Wand evil, you may safely buy knowledge of Protagoras or of
SOCRATES,
THE DOOR-
KEEPER.
which may
be poison.
The porter
of the
house
shows that
he is not
a friend
of the
Sophists.
Socraces
pacifies
him.
any one; but if not, then, O my friend, pause, and do not 314
hazard your dearest interests at a game of chance. For
there is far greater peril in buying knowledge than in buying
meat and drink: the one you purchase of the wholesale
or retail dealer, and carry them away in other vessels, and
before you receive them into the body as food, you may
deposit them at home and call in any experienced friend
who knows what is good to be eaten or drunken, and what
not, and how much, and when; and then the danger of pur-
chasing them is not so great. But you cannot buy the
wares of knowledge and carry them away in another vessel;
when you have paid for them you must receive them into
the soul and go your way, either greatly harmed or greatly
benefited; and therefore we should deliberate and take
counsel with our elders; for we are still young-too young
to determine such a matter. And now let us go, as we were
intending, and hear Protagoras; and when we have heard
what he has to say, we may take counsel of others; for not
only is Protagoras at the house of Callias, but there is Hip-
pias of Elis, and, if I am not mistaken, Prodicus of Ceos, and
several other wise men.
To this we agreed, and proceeded on our way until we
reached the vestibule of the house; and there we stopped in
order to conclude a discussion which had arisen between us
as we were going along; and we stood talking in the vesti-
bule until we had finished and come to an understanding.
And I think that the door-keeper, who was a eunuch,
and who was probably annoyed at the great inroad of the
Sophists, must have heard us talking. At any rate, when we
knocked at the door, and he opened and saw
us, he
grumbled: They are Sophists-he is not at home; and
instantly gave the door a hearty bang with both his hands.
Again we knocked, and he answered without opening: Did
you not hear me say that he is not at home, fellows? But,
my friend, I said, you need not be alarmed; for we are not
Sophists, and we are not come to see Callias, but we want to
see Protagoras; and I must request you to announce us. At
last, after a good deal of difficulty, the man was persuaded to
open the door.
PROTAGORAS
149
trained
When we entered, we found Protagoras taking a walk in Protagoras.
the cloister; and next to him, on one side, were walking Socrates.
Callias, the son of Hipponicus, and Paralus, the son of Peri-
cles, who, by the mother's side, is his half-brother, and
315 Charmides, the son of Glaucon. On the other side of him.
were Xanthippus, the other son of Pericles, Philippides, the
son of Philomelus; also Antimoerus of Mende, who of all
the disciples of Protagoras is the most famous, and intends
to make sophistry his profession. A train of listeners A well-
followed him; the greater part of them appeared to be band of
foreigners, whom Protagoras had brought with him out of listeners
the various cities visited by him in his journeys, he, like accompany
Orpheus, attracting them by his voice, and they following. while walk-
I should mention also that there were some Athenians in the ing in the
company. Nothing delighted me more than the precision of
their movements: they never got into his way at all; but
when he and those who were with him turned back, then the
band of listeners parted regularly on either side; he was
always in front, and they wheeled round and took their
places behind him in perfect order.
Protagoras
cloister.
in the
After him, as Homer says,' 'I lifted up my eyes and saw' Hippias
Hippias the Elean sitting in the opposite cloister on a chair is seated
of state, and around him were seated on benches Eryxi- opposite
machus, the son of Acumenus, and Phaedrus the Myrrhinu- cloister.
sian, and Andron the son of Androtion, and there were
strangers whom he had brought with him from his native
city of Elis, and some others: they were putting to Hippias
certain physical and astronomical questions, and he, ex cathe-
dra, was determining their several questions to them, and
discoursing of them.
house, still
in bed.
Also, 'my eyes beheld Tantalus;'2 for Prodicus the Cean Prodicus in
was at Athens: he had been lodged in a room which, in the the store-
days of Hipponicus, was a storehouse; but, as the house was
full, Callias had cleared this out and made the room into
a guest-chamber. Now Prodicus was still in bed, wrapped
up in sheepskins and bedclothes, of which there seemed to be
a great heap; and there was sitting by him on the couches
near, Pausanias of the deme of Cerameis, and with Pausanias
was a youth quite young, who is certainly remarkable for his
? Od. xi. 582.
1 Od. xi. 6or foll.
150
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Protagoras.
SOCRATES,
PROTAGORAS.
Pausanias
the lover of
Agathon.
Alcibiades
makes his
appear.
ance.
Hippo-
crates and
Socrates
approach
Prota-
goras, who
enlarges
upon the
antiquity of
his art and
upon the
jealousies
and sus-
nicions
which are
entertained
of him.
good looks, and, if I am not mistaken, is also of a fair and
gentle nature. I thought that I heard him called Agathon, and
my suspicion is that he is the beloved of Pausanias. There
was this youth, and also there were the two Adeimantuses,
one the son of Cepis, and the other of Leucolophides, and
some others. I was very anxious to hear what Prodicus was
saying, for he seems to me to be an all-wise and inspired
man; but I was not able to get into the inner circle, and his 316
fine deep voice made an echo in the room which rendered
his words inaudible.
No sooner had we entered than there followed us Alci-
biades the beautiful, as you say, and I believe you; and also
Critias the son of Callaeschrus.
On entering we stopped a little, in order to look about us,
and then walked up to Protagoras, and I said: Protagoras,
my friend Hippocrates and I have come to see you.
Do you wish, he said, to speak with me alone, or in the
presence of the company?
Whichever you please, I said; you shall determine when
you have heard the purpose of our visit.
And what is your purpose? he said.
I must explain, I said, that my friend Hippocrates is a
native Athenian; he is the son of Apollodorus, and of a
great and prosperous house, and he is himself in natural
ability quite a match for anybody of his own age. I believe
that he aspires to political eminence; and this he thinks
that conversation with you is most likely to procure for him.
And now you can determine whether you would wish to
speak to him of your teaching alone or in the presence of
the company.
Thank you, Socrates, for your consideration of me. For
certainly a stranger finding his way into great cities, and
persuading the flower of the youth in them to leave the
company of their kinsmen or any other acquaintances, old or
young, and live with him, under the idea that they will be
improved by his conversation, ought to be very cautious;
great jealousies are aroused by his proceedings, and he is
the subject of many enmities and conspiracies. Now the
art of the Sophist is, as I believe, of great antiquity; but in
ancient times those who practised it, fearing this odium, veiled
PROTAGORAS
151
PROTAGORAS.
The
Sophists of
themselves
poets and
but Prota-
goras
thinks that
openness is
the best
policy.
and disguised themselves under various names, some under Protagoras.
that of poets, as Homer, Hesiod, and Simonides, some, of SOCRATES,
hierophants and prophets, as Orpheus and Musaeus, and
some, as I observe, even under the name of gymnastic-
masters, like Iccus of Tarentum, or the more recently cele- old con-
brated Herodicus, now of Selymbria and formerly of Megara, cealed
who is a first-rate Sophist. Your own Agathocles pretended under the
to be a musician, but was really an eminent Sophist; also names of
Pythocleides the Cean; and there were many others; and musicians,
all of them, as I was saying, adopted these arts as veils or
disguises because they were afraid of the odium which they
317 would incur. But that is not my way, for I do not believe that
they effected their purpose, which was to deceive the govern-
ment, who were not blinded by them; and as to the people,
they have no understanding, and only repeat what their rulers
are pleased to tell them. Now to run away, and to be caught
in running away, is the very height of folly, and also greatly
increases the exasperation of mankind; for they regard him
who runs away as a rogue, in addition to any other objec-
tions which they have to him; and therefore I take an
entirely opposite course, and acknowledge myself to be a
Sophist and instructor of mankind; such an open ac-
knowledgment appears to me to be a better sort of caution
than concealment. Nor do I neglect other precautions, and
therefore I hope, as I may say, by the favour of heaven that
no harm will come of the acknowledgment that I am a
Sophist. And I have been now many years in the pro-
fession-for all my years when added up are many:
there is no one here present of whom I might not be the
father. Wherefore I should much prefer conversing with
you, if you want to speak with me, in the presence of the
company.
As I suspected that he would like to have a little display
and glorification in the presence of Prodicus and Hippias,
and would gladly show us to them in the light of his
admirers, I said: But why should we not summon Prodicus
and Hippias and their friends to hear us?
Very good, he said.
They agree
to hold a
Suppose, said Callias, that we hold a council in which you
may sit and discuss.-This was agreed upon, and great delight council.
152
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Protagoras.
Socrates,
PROTAGORAS.
The ques
tion is
isked,
What will
happen to
Hippo-
crates if he
becomes
the disciple
of Prota-
goras?
Answer:
He will
daily grow
wiser and
better.
But in
what?
was felt at the prospect of hearing wise men talk; we our-
selves took the chairs and benches, and arranged them by
Hippias, where the other benches had been already placed.
Meanwhile Callias and Alcibiades got Prodicus out of bed
and brought in him and his companions.
When we were all seated, Protagoras said: Now that the
company are assembled, Socrates, tell me about the young
man of whom you were just now speaking.
I replied: I will begin again at the same point, Pro-
tagoras, and tell you once more the purport of my visit: this
is my friend Hippocrates, who is desirous of making your
acquaintance; he would like to know what will happen to
him if he associates with you. I have no more to say.
Protagoras answered: Young man, if you associate with
me, on the very first day you will return home a better man
than you came, and better on the second day than on the
first, and better every day than you were on the day before.
When I heard this, I said: Protagoras, I do not at all
wonder at hearing you say this; even at your age, and with
all your wisdom, if any one were to teach you what you did
not know before, you would become better no doubt: but
please to answer in a different way-I will explain how by
an example. Let me suppose that Hippocrates, instead of
desiring your acquaintance, wished to become acquainted
with the young man Zeuxippus of Heraclea, who has lately
been in Athens, and he had come to him as he has come to
you, and had heard him say, as he has heard you say, that
every day he would grow and become better if he associated
with him: and then suppose that he were to ask him, ‘In
what shall I become better, and in what shall I grow?'-
Zeuxippus would answer, ‘In painting.' And suppose that he
went to Orthagoras the Theban, and heard him say the same
thing, and asked him, 'In what shall I become better day
by day?' he would reply, 'In flute-playing.' Now I want
you to make the same sort of answer to this young man and
to me, who am asking questions on his account.
When you
say that on the first day on which he associates with you he
will return home a better man, and on every day will grow in
like manner, in what, Protagoras, will he be better? and
about what?
318
PROTAGORAS
153
319
PROTAGORAS.
When Protagoras heard me say this, he replied: You ask Protagoras.
questions fairly, and I like to answer a question which is SOCRATES,
fairly put.
If Hippocrates comes to me he will not ex-
perience the sort of drudgery with which other Sophists are
in the habit of insulting their pupils; who, when they have
just escaped from the arts, are taken and driven back into
them by these teachers, and made to learn calculation, and
astronomy, and geometry, and music (he gave a look at
Hippias as he said this); but if he comes to me, he will
learn that which he comes to learn. And this is prudence in
affairs private as well as public; he will learn to order his
own house in the best manner, and he will be able to speak
and act for the best in the affairs of the state.
Do I understand you, I said; and is your meaning that
you teach the art of politics, and that you promise to make
men good citizens?
In the
knowledge
of affairs
private as
well as
public.
knowledge
cannot be
communi-
cated by
another.
That, Socrates, is exactly the profession which I make.
Then I said, you do indeed possess a noble art, if there is
no mistake about this; for I will freely confess to you,
Protagoras, that I have a doubt whether this art is capable
of being taught, and yet I know not how to disbelieve your
assertion. And I ought to tell you why I am of opinion that
this art cannot be taught or communicated by man to man. But such
I say that the Athenians are an understanding people, and
indeed they are esteemed to be such by the other Hellenes. taught or
Now I observe that when we are met together in the
assembly, and the matter in hand relates to building, the one man to
builders are summoned as advisers; when the question is one
of ship-building, then the ship-wrights; and the like of other
arts which they think capable of being taught and learned.
And if some person offers to give them advice who is not
supposed by them to have any skill in the art, even though
he be good-looking, and rich, and noble, they will not listen
to him, but laugh and hoot at him, until either he is clamoured
down and retires of himself; or if he persist, he is dragged
away or put out by the constables at the command of the
prytanes. This is their way of behaving about professors of
the arts. But when the question is an affair of state, then
everybody is free to have a say-carpenter, tinker, cobbler,
sailor, passenger; rich and poor, high and low-any one
154
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Protagoras.
SOCRATES,
PROTAGORAS.
Pericles
could not
teach his
own sons
politics,
nor his
ward
Cleinias
virtue.
Compli-
mentary
speeches
which
Socrates
who likes gets up, and no one reproaches him, as in the
former case, with not having learned, and having no teacher,
and yet giving advice; evidently because they are under the
impression that this sort of knowledge cannot be taught.
And not only is this true of the state, but of individuals; the
best and wisest of our citizens are unable to impart their
political wisdom to others: as for example, Pericles, the 320
father of these young men, who gave them excellent instruc-
tion in all that could be learned from masters, in his own
department of politics neither taught them, nor gave them
teachers; but they were allowed to wander at their own free
will in a sort of hope that they would light upon virtue of
their own
wn accord. Or take another example: there was
Cleinias the younger brother of our friend Alcibiades, of
whom this very same Pericles was the guardian; and he
being in fact under the apprehension that Cleinias would be
corrupted by Alcibiades, took him away, and placed him in
the house of Ariphron to be educated; but before six months
had elapsed, Ariphron sent him back, not knowing what to
do with him. And I could mention numberless other
instances of persons who were good themselves, and never
yet made any one else good, whether friend or stranger.
Now I, Protagoras, having these examples before me, am
inclined to think that virtue cannot be taught. But then
again, when I listen to your words, I waver; and am dis-
posed to think that there must be something in what you say,
because I know that you have great experience, and learning,
and invention. And I wish that you would, if possible, show
me a little more clearly that virtue can be taught.
[Protagoras holds that virtue can be taught, and indeed
is taught. Socrates presses, in spite of several interruptions,
the question whether virtue is one; for if it is one, then it can
be taught. Protagoras is reluctantly driven to the admission
that virtue is one. But that means, after all, that the tables
are completely turned!]
My only object, I said, in continuing the discussion, has
been the desire to ascertain the nature and relations of virtue;
for if this were clear, I am very sure that the other controversy 361
which has been carried cn at great length by both of us-you
affirming and I denying that virtue can be taught—would
PROTAGORAS
155
PROTAGORAS.
and Pro-
tagoras
another.
They have
somehow
both of
changed
their posi-
cha
tion in the
course of
the argu-
also become clear. The result of our discussion appears to Protagoras.
me to be singular. For if the argument had a human voice, SOCRATES,
that voice would be heard laughing at us and saying: 'Prota-
goras and Socrates, you are strange beings; there are you,
Socrates, who were saying that virtue cannot be taught, address
contradicting yourself now by your attempt to prove that to one
all things are knowledge, including justice, and temperance,
and courage,--which tends to show that virtue can certainly
be taught; for if virtue were other than knowledge, as them
Protagoras attempted to prove, then clearly virtue cannot
be taught; but if virtue is entirely knowledge, as you are
seeking to show, then I cannot but suppose that virtue is
capable of being taught. Protagoras, on the other hand, ment
who started by saying that it might be taught, is now eager
to prove it to be anything rather than knowledge; and if
this is true, it must be quite incapable of being taught.' Now
I, Protagoras, perceiving this terrible confusion of our ideas,
have a great desire that they should be cleared up. And I
should like to carry on the discussion until we ascertain what
virtue is, and whether capable of being taught or not, lest
haply Epimetheus should trip us up and deceive us in the
argument, as he forgot us in the story; I prefer your Pro-
metheus to your Epimetheus, for of him I make use, whenever
I am busy about these questions, in Promethean care of my
own life. And if you have no objection, as I said at first, I
should like to have your help in the enquiry.
Protagoras replied: Socrates, I am not of a base nature,
and I am the last man in the world to be envious. I cannot
but applaud your energy and your conduct of an argument.
As I have often said, I admire you above all men whom ī
know, and far above all men of your age; and I believe that
you will become very eminent in philosophy. Let us come
back to the subject at some future time; at present we had
better turn to something else.
By all means, I said, if that is your wish; for I too ought
long since to have kept the engagement of which I spoke
before, and only tarried because I could not refuse the
request of the noble Callias. So the conversation ended,
and we went our way.
ΜΕΝΟ
The Socrates of the Meno returns to the question that he
has debated in the Protagoras: can virtue be taught? Much
of the interest of the dialogue, however, lies by the way. In
the earlier part we find an admirable example of the Socratic
quest for a universal definition,--not merely for such an
enumeration of specia! virtues as the confident young Meno
offers him, a veritable 'swarm of virtues' (72a), but a con-
ception that shall be universally valid, in which essence is to
be distinguished from accidents, as later logicians would say.
W. C. G.
ΜΕΝΟ.
SOCRATES.
MENO
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE
A SLAVE OF MENO.
ANYTUS.
[The inexperienced Meno is soon entangled in logical dif-
ficulties, and exclaims against the numbing effect of Socrates'
enquiries.]
Socrates to
a torpedo
whose
touch has
taken away
his sense
and speech.
Meno. O Socrates, I used to be told, before I knew you, Meno
80 that you were always doubting yourself and making others compares
doubt; and now you are casting your spells over me, and
am simply getting bewitched and enchanted, and am at my
wits' end. And if I may venture to make a jest upon you, you
seem to me both in your appearance and in your power over
others to be very like the flat torpedo fish, who torpifies those
who come near him and touch him, as you have now torpified
me, I think. For my soul and my tongue are really torpid,
and I do not know how to answer you; and though I have
been delivered of an infinite variety of speeches about virtue
before now, and to many persons—and very good ones they
thought at this moment I cannot even say what
virtue is. And I think that you are very wise in not voyaging
and going away from home, for if you did in other places as
you do in Athens, you would be cast into prison as a magician.
Socrates. You are a rogue, Meno, and had all but caught me.
Men. What do you mean, Socrates?
were, as
Soc. I can tell why you made a simile about me.
Men. Why?
the cause of
dulness in
Soc. In order that I might make another simile about you. Socrates is
For I know that all pretty young gentiemen like to have pretty
similes made about them-as well they may-but I shall not
return the compliment. As to my being a torpedo, if the tor-
pedo is torpid as well as the cause of torpidity in others, then
others be-
cause he i
dull.
himself
159
160
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Meno.
Socrates,
ΜΕΝΟ.
How can
you enquire
about what
you do not
know, and
if you know
why should
you
enquire?
The an
cient poets
tell us that
the soul of
man is im-
mortal and
has a recol-
lection of
all that she
has ever
known in
former
states of
being.
indeed I am a torpedo, but not otherwise; for I perplex
others, not because I am clear, but because I am utterly per-
plexed myself. And now I know not what virtue is, and you
seem to be in the same case, although you did once perhaps
know before you touched me. However, I have no objection
to join with you in the enquiry.
x Men. And how will you enquire, Socrates, into that which
you do not know? What will you put forth as the subject of
enquiry? And if you find what you want, how will you ever
know that this is the thing which you did not know?
Soc. I know, Meno, what you mean; but just see what
a tiresome dispute you are introducing. You argue that
a man cannot enquire either about that which he knows, or
about that which he does not know; for if he knows, he has
no need to enquire; and if not, he cannot; for he does not
know the very subject about which he is to enquire.
Men. Well, Socrates, and is not the argument sound?
Soc. I think not.
Men. Why not?
Soc. I will tell you why: I have heard from certain wise
men and women who spoke of things divine that—
Men. What did they say?
Soc. They spoke of a glorious truth, as I conceive.
Men. What was it? and who were they?
Soc. Some of them were priests and priestesses, who had
studied how they might be able to give a reason of their
profession: there have been poets also, who spoke of these
things by inspiration, like Pindar, and many others who were
inspired. And they say-mark, now, and see whether their
words are true-they say that the soul of man is immortal
and at one time has an end, which is termed dying, and
at another time is born again, but is never destroyed. And
the moral is, that a man ought to live always in perfect holi-
'For in the ninth year Persephone sends the souls of
those from whom she has received the penalty of ancient crime
back again from beneath into the light of the sun above, and
these are they who become noble kings and mighty men and
great in wisdom and are called saintly heroes in after ages.
The soul, then as being immortal, and having been born again
many times, and having seen all things that exist, whether
ness.
81
ΜΕΝΟ
161
MENO,
SLAVE
in this world or in the world below, has knowledge of them Meno.
all; and it is no wonder that she should be able to call to re- SOCRATES,
membrance all that she ever knew about virtue, and about MENO'S
everything; for as all nature is akin, and the soul has learned
all things, there is no difficulty in her eliciting or as men say
learning, out of a single recollection all the rest, if a man is
strenuous and does not faint; for all enquiry and all learning
is but recollection. And therefore we ought not to listen
to this sophistical argument about the impossibility of en-
quiry: for it will make us idle, and is sweet only to the
sluggard; but the other saying will make us active and in-
quisitive. In that confiding, I will gladly enquire with you
into the nature of virtue.
Men. Yes, Socrates; but what do you mean by saying that
we do not learn, and that what we call learning is only a pro-
cess of recollection? Can you teach me how this is?
Soc. I told you, Meno, just now that you were a rogue, and
now you ask whether I can teach you, when I am saying that
82 there is no teaching, but only recollection; and thus you
imagine that you will involve me in a contradiction.
Men. Indeed, Socrates, I protest that I had no such in-
tention. I only asked the question from habit; but if you can
prove to me that what you say is true, I wish that you would.
slave is in-
Itroduced,
Soc. It will be no easy matter, but I will try to please A Greek
you to the utmost of my power. Suppose that
Suppose that you call
one of your numerous attendants, that I mav demonstrate from whom
on him.
Men. Certainly. Come hither, boy.
Soc. He is Greek, and speaks Greek, does he not?
Men. Yes, indeed; he was born in the house.
Soc. Attend now to the questions which I ask him, and
observe whether he learns of me or only remembers.
[Some irony one may doubtless detect in the torpidity which
Socrates here affects; he is in earnest when he denounces the
tiresome sophistic habit of mind that pretends to find a dif-
ficulty in seeking what one already knows, and an equal
difficulty in seeking what one does not know. Indeed, in the
Euthydemus, a dialogue probably written about the same time
as the Meno, Plato satirizes, among other quibbles, this very
proposition as mere eristic and a stumbling block in the path
certain ma-
thematical
conclusions
which he
has never
learned are
elicited by
Socrates.
162
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Meno.
SOCRATES,
MENO.
At present
he is in a
dream; he
will soon
grow
clearer.
of truth. In the Meno, the answer of Socrates insists that
knowledge does not consist in the accumulation of external
facts but rather in the unfolding of truth, already latent in
the soul, under the stress of persistent enquiry. All learning
is therefore recollection of knowledge entertained in a previous
life, when the soul knew everything, and our birth would be,
as Wordsworth has it, but a sleep and a forgetting. Yet
Plato would not agree with Wordsworth that man's life
necessarily causes him to forget that imperial palace whence
he came;' for Plato will maintain that the philosopher, at
least, spends his life in recapturing the vision splendid.
Of the previous existence and wisdom of the soul, Meno has
to be persuaded by the introduction of his slave, from whom
Socrates elicits certain geometrical conclusions (the 'Pytha-
gorean proposition') which he assuredly has never learned
in this life.]
Soc. What do you say of him, Meno? Were not all these
answers given out of his own head?
Men. Yes, they were all his own.
Soc. And yet, as we were just now saying, he did not
know?
Men. True.
Soc. But still he had in him those notions of his-had he not?
Men. Yes.
Soc. Then he who does not know may still have true
notions of that which he does not know?
Men. He has.
Soc. And at present these notions have just been stirred up
in him, as in a dream; but if he were frequently asked the
same questions, in different forms, he would know as well as
any one at last?
Men. I dare say.
Soc. Without any one teaching him he will recover his
knowledge for himself, if he is only asked questions?
Men. Yes.
Soc. And this spontaneous recovery of knowledge in him is
recollection?
Men. True.
Soc. And this knowledge which he now has must he not
either have acquired or always possessed?
85
ΜΕΝΟ
163
86
Men. Yes.
Meno.
MENO.
Either this
knowledge
was ac-
quired by
Soc. But if he always possessed this knowledge he would SOCRATES,
always have known; or if he has acquired the knowledge he
could not have acquired it in this life, unless he has been
taught geometry; for he may be made to do the same with
all geometry and every other branch of knowledge. Now,
has any one ever taught him all this? You must know about
him, if, as you say, he was born and bred in your house.
Men. And I am certain that no one ever did teach him.
Soc. And yet he has the knowledge?
Men. The fact, Socrates, is undeniable.
Soc. But if he did not acquire the knowledge in this life,
then he must have had and learned it at some other time?
Men. Clearly he must.
Soc. Which must have been the time when he was not a
man?
Men. Yes.
Soc. And if there have been always true thoughts in him,
both at the time when he was and was not a man, which only
need to be awakened into knowledge by putting questions to
him, his soul must have always possessed this knowledge, for
he always either was or was not a man?
Men. Obviously.
Soc. And if the truth of all things always existed in the
soul, then the soul is immortal. Wherefore be of good
cheer, and try to recollect what you do not know, or rather
what you do not remember.
him in a
former state
of exist-
ence, or
was always
known to
him.
Better to
enquire
than to
fancy that
Men. I feel, somehow, that I like what you are saying.
Soc. And I, Meno, like what I am saying. Some things I
have said of which I am not altogether confident. But that
we shall be better and braver and less helpless if we think
that we ought to enquire, than we should have been if we
indulged in the idle fancy that there was no knowing and not
use in seeking to know what we do not know; that is a as enquiry
theme upon which I am ready to fight, in word and deed, to
the utmost of my power.
Men. There again, Socrates, your words seem to me ex-
cellent.
Soc. Then, as we are agreed that a man should enquire
there is no
such thing
and no use
in it.
164
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Meno.
SOCRATES,
MENO.
But were
we not mis-
taken in our
view?
There may
be another
guide to
good action
as well as
knowledge.
about that which he does not know, shall you and I make an
effort to enquire together into the nature of virtue?
[Two notable points meet us in the preceding passage. One
is the conviction, here for the first time voiced, that the soul
by virtue of the power to deal with abstract ideas (here
mathematical), is not confined to the narrow limits of this
life, but is immortal. In this dialogue, as later in the Phaedrus,
Socrates is represented as being particularly interested in the
existence of the soul previous to this life; presently in the
Phaedo we shall find him using a similar argument (substitut-
ing ethical concepts) in support of the continued existence of
the soul after death. In the Meno, as in the Phaedo (114d,
115d), Socrates speaks with some diffidence about his reason-
ing; in each case he is sure that one should not mistrust the
reason through fear of verbal quibbles (Cf. Phaedo 8od).
This manly will to enquire, then, is the second point to be
noted.
After this digression, Socrates returns to the original ques-
tion about the possibility of teaching virtue. If it is know-
ledge, he argues, it can be taught; and since it is a good, it
must be directed by knowledge, and therefore capable of
being taught. Now comes a test question: Is knowledge
actually taught? Not, in the true sense (the unfolding of in-
ternal truth), by the sophists or by statesmen, Socrates shows,
to the manifest irritation of the reactionary Anytus (who is
eventually to become one of his accusers in court).
It appears, then, that after all there is no such thing as
real knowledge. But before giving up the quest Socrates
discovers a last resort.]
Soc. I am afraid, Meno, that you and I are not good for
much, and that Gorgias has been as poor an educator of you
as Prodicus has been of me. Certainly we shall have to
look to ourselves, and try to find some one who will help
in some way or other to improve us. This I say, because
I observe that in the previous discussion none of us remarked
that right and good action is possible to man under other
guidance than that of knowledge (έñoτýμµn);—and indeed if
this be denied, there is no seeing how there can be any good
men at all.
Men. How do you mean, Socrates?
-
ΜΕΝΟ
165
Soc. I mean that good men are necessarily useful or Meno.
97 profitable. Were we not right in admitting this? It must SOCRATES,
be so.
Men. Yes.
Soc. And in supposing that they will be useful only if they
are true guides to us of action—there we were also right?
Men. Yes.
Soc. But when we said that a man cannot be a good guide
unless he have knowledge (opóvnoic), in this we were wrong.
Men. What do you mean by the word 'right'?
Soc. I will explain. If a man knew the way to Larisa, or
anywhere else, and went to the place and led others thither,
would he not be a right and good guide?
Men. Certainly.
Soc. And a person who had a right opinion about the way,
but had never been and did not know, might be a good guide
also, might he not?
Men. Certainly.
Soc. And while he has true opinion about that which the
other knows, he will be just as good a guide if he thinks the
truth, as he who knows the truth?
Men. Exactly.
Soc. Then true opinion is as good a guide to correct action
as knowledge; and that was the point which we omitted in
our speculation about the nature of virtue, when we said that
knowledge only is the guide of right action; whereas there is
also right opinion.
Men. True.
Soc. Then right opinion is not less useful than knowledge?
Men. The difference, Socrates, is only that he who has
knowledge will always be right; but he who has right
opinion will sometimes be right, and sometimes not.
Soc. What do you mean? Can he be wrong who has
right opinions, so long as he has right opinions?
Men. I admit the cogency of your argument, and therefore,
Socrates, I wonder that knowledge should be preferred to
right opinion or why they should ever differ.
Soc. And shall I explain this wonder to you?
Men. Do tell me.
Soc. You would not wonder if you had ever observed the
MENO.
light
opinion is
as good a
guide to
action as
knowledge.
166
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Meno.
CRATES,
ENO.
But right
opinions
are apt to
walk away,
like the
images of
Daedalus.
images of Daedalus; but perhaps you have not got them in
your country?
Men. What have they to do with the question?
Soc. Because they require to be fastened in order to keep
them, and if they are not fastened they will play truant and
run away.
Men. Well, what of that?
of great value,
Now this is an
Soc. I mean to say that they are not very valuable pos-
sessions if they are at liberty, for they will walk off like
runaway slaves; but when fastened, they are
for they are really beautiful works of art.
illustration of the nature of true opinions: while they abide 98
with us they are beautiful and fruitful, but they run away out
of the human soul, and do not remain long, and therefore
they are not of much value until they are fastened by the
tie of the cause; and this fastening of them, friend Meno,
is recollection, as you and I have agreed to call it. But
when they are bound, in the first place, they have the nature
of knowldege; and, in the second place, they are abiding.
And this is why knowledge is more honourable and excellent
than true opinion, because fastened by a chain.
Men. What you are saying, Socrates, seems to be very
like the truth.
Soc. I too speak rather in ignorance; I only conjecture.
And yet that knowledge differs from true opinion is no
matter of conjecture with me. There are not many things
which I profess to know, but this is most certainly one of
them.
Men. Yes, Socrates; and you are quite right in saying so.
Soc. And am I not also right in saying that true opinion
leading the way perfects action quite as well as knowledge?
Men. There again, Socrates, I think that you are right.
Soc. Then right opinion is not a whit inferior to knowledge,
or less useful in action; nor is the man who has right opinion
inferior to him who has knowledge?
Men, True.
Soc. And surely the good man has been acknowledged by
us to be useful?
Men. Yes.
Soc. Seeing then that men become good and useful to
MENO
167
99
Meno.
states, not only because they have knowledge, but because
they have right opinion, and that neither knowledge nor SOCRATES,
right opinion is given to man by nature or acquired by him-
do you imagine either of them to be given by nature?
Men. Not I.
Soc. Then if they are not given by nature, neither are the
good by nature good?
Men. Certainly not.
Soc. And nature being excluded, then came the question
whether virtue is acquired by teaching?
Men. Yes.
Soc. If virtue was wisdom [or knowledge], then, as we
thought, it was taught?
Men. Yes.
Soc. And if it was taught it was wisdom?
Men. Certainly.
Soc. And if there were teachers, it might be taught; and
if there were no teachers, not?
Men. True.
Soc. But surely we acknowledged that there were no teach-
ers of virtue?
Men. Yes.
Soc. Then we acknowledged that it was not taught, and
was not wisdom?
Men. Certainly.
Soc. And yet we admitted that it was a good?
Men. Yes.
Soc. And the right guide is useful and good?
Men. Certainly.
MENO.
and know-
not be
ledge can-
Soc. And the only right guides are knowledge and true If virtue
opinion-these are the guides of man; for things which
happen by chance are not under the guidance of man: but
the guides of man are true opinion and knowledge.
Men. I think so too.
Soc. But if virtue is not taught, neither is virtue knowledge.
Men. Clearly not.
Soc. Then of two good and useful things, one, which is
knowledge, has been set aside, and cannot be supposed to
our guide in political life.
Men. I think not.
taught, the
only right
guides
of men
are true
opinions.
168
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Meno.
SOCRATES,
MENO
Right
opinion is
in politics
what divi-
nation is in
religion;
diviners,
prophets,
poets,
statesmen,
may all be
truly called
'divine
men.”
Soc. And therefore not by any wisdom, and not because
they were wise, did Themistocles and those others of whom
Anytus spoke govern states. This was the reason why they
were unable to make others like themselves-because their
virtue was not grounded on knowledge.
Men. That is probably true, Socrates.
Soc. But if not by knowledge, the only alternative which
remains is that statesmen must have guided states by right
opinion, which is in politics what divination is in religion;
for diviners and also prophets say many things truly, but
they know not what they say.
Men. So I believe.
Soc. And may we not, Meno, truly call those men 'divine'
who, having no understanding, yet succeed in many a grand
deed and word?
Men. Certainly.
Soc. Then we shall also be right in calling divine those
whom we were just now speaking of as diviners and prophets,
including the whole tribe of poets. Yes, and statesmen
above all may be said to be divine and illumined, being in-
spired and possessed of God, in which condition they say
many grand things, not knowing what they say.
Men. Yes.
Soc. And the women too, Meno, call good men divine-
do they not? and the Spartans, when they praise a good
man, say 'that he is a divine man.'
Men. And I think, Socrates, that they are right; although
very likely our friend Anytus may take offence at the word.
Soc. I do not care; as for Anytus, there will be another
opportunity of talking with him. To sum up our enquiry-
the result seems to be, if we are at all right in our view, that
virtue is neither natural nor acquired, but an instinct given
by God to the virtuous. Nor is the instinct accompanied 100
by reason, unless there may be supposed to be among states-
men some one who is capable of educating statesmen. And
if there be such an one, he may be said to be among the
living what Homer says that Tiresias was among the dead,
'he alone has understanding; but the rest are flitting shades;'
and he and his virtue in like manner will be a reality among
shadows.
MENO
169
Men. That is excellent, Socrates.
Meno.
MENO.
comes by
Soc. Then, Meno, the conclusion is that virtue comes to SOCRATES,
the virtuous by the gift of God. But we shall never know
the certain truth until, before asking how virtue is given,
we enquire into the actual nature of virtue. I fear that the gift of
I must go away, but do you, now that you are persuaded
yourself, persuade our friend Anytus. And do not let him be
so exasperated; if you can conciliate him, you will have done
good service to the Athenian people.
[This ironical conclusion of the dialogue, which appears
to elevate right opinion at the expense of knowledge, reminds
one of the conclusion of the Ion, with its resort to inspiration.
Doubtless Plato means to recognize the practical value of
right opinion; but he very definitely distinguishes it, as ac-
cidental, from the sort of knowledge that can give a con-
sistent and rational account of itself. Between the lines, then,
one may descry Plato's vision of a type of truth that shall
be nothing less than absolute. This vision, and the contrast
between a higher, ideal world, and the world about us is one
that Plato will elaborate much more fully in succeeding
dialogues.]
God.
1
CRATYLUS
The person for whom the present dialogue is named was
a Heracleitean philosopher, a champion of the flux; we are
told elsewhere that he was the teacher of Plato before the
latter fell under the spell of Socrates. The subject of the
discussion is the nature of language and the correctness of
words. The Sophist Hermogenes maintains that names are
merely conventional, and may be changed at will; Cratylus
argues that they are natural and true. Between these extreme
positions, Socrates introduces an intermediate view of language
as a rational act that expresses or gives effect in sound to the
real differences in things. Now the study of language in
Plato's day was even less fully developed than the study of
logic, and the dialogue abounds in absurd etymologies and
explanations which Plato intends in the main to be satirical.
The reason is clear: by the use of fanciful illustrations Plato
avoids confessing ignorance, and at the same time avoids com-
mitting himself to authentic examples of a science that he
knows to be in its infancy. One cannot convict him of
error, for he can always plead the jester's privilege.
The end of the dialogue, given below, becomes serious
in tone. Socrates, though on the whole basing his theory of
language on a compromise that favors the position of
Cratylus a little more than that of Hermogenes, will not
admit that any 'man of sense will like to put himself or the
education of his mind in the power of names,' especially as
they seem to partake to a certain degree in the Heracleitean
flux. Here again, as less clearly in the Meno, Plato indicates
a growing conviction (his Socrates here calls it a 'dream')
that there is such a thing as an absolute beauty, or good, or
the like, beyond the control of the flux; true knowledge must
be of such absolute realities.
The final exchange of advice between the successive mas-
ters of Plato is highly amusing. The Heracleitean phi-
losophy dies hard!
W. C. G.
CRATYLUS
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE
SOCRATES, HERMOGENES, CRATYLUS.
[Which come first?
Names or things?]
Socrates. You were saying, if you remember, that he who
Cratylus.
438
gave names must have known the things which he named; are
you still of that opinion?
SOCRATES,
Cratylus. I am.
Soc. And would you say that the giver of the first names
had also a knowledge of the things which he named?
Crat. I should.
Soc. But how could he have learned or discovered things
from names if the primitive names were not yet given? For,
if we are correct in our view, the only way of learning and
discovering things, is either to discover names for ourselves
or to learn them from others.
Crat. I think that there is a good deal in what you say,
Socrates.
Soc. But if things are only to be known through names,
how can we suppose that the givers of names had know-
ledge, or were legislators before there were names at all,
and therefore before they could have known them?
CRATYLUS.
The truth
is that God
gave lan-
guage.
Crat. I believe, Socrates, the true account of the matter to
be, that a power more than human gave things their first
names, and that the names which are thus given are neces-
sarily their true names.
Soc. Then how came the giver of the names, if he was an Then how
inspired being or God, to contradict himself? For were we
not saying just now that he made some names expressive of
rest and others of motion?
Crat. But I suppose one
Were we mistaken?
came the
inspired
giver of
language to
contradict
of the two not to be names himself?
at all.
773
174
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Cratylus.
SOCRATES,
CRATYLUS.
and how
can we
distinguish
between the
true and
false in lan-
guage?
We must
know things
without
words.
Which is
the nobler
way-to
study
things in
names or in
themselves?
Soc. And which then, did he make, my good friend;
those which are expressive of rest, or those which are ex-
pressive of motion? This is a point which, as I said before,
cannot be determined by counting them.
Crat. No; not in that way, Socrates.
Soc. But if this is a battle of names, some of them assert-
ing that they are like the truth, others contending that they
are, how or by what criterion are we to decide between
them? For there are no other names to which appeal
can be made, but obviously recourse must be had to another
standard which, without employing names, will make clear
which of the two are right; and this must be a standard
which shows the truth of things.
Crat. I agree.
Soc. But if that is true, Cratylus, then I suppose that things
may be known without names?
Crat. Clearly.
Soc. But how would you expect to know them? What
other way can there be of knowing them, except the true
and natural way, through their affinities, when they are akin
to each other, and through themselves? For that which is
other and different from them must signify something other
and different from them.
Crat. What you are saying is, I think, true.
Soc. Well, but reflect; have we not several times acknow- 439
ledged that names rightly given are the likenesses and images
of the things which they name?
Crat. Yes.
Soc. Let us suppose that to any extent you please you
can learn things through the medium of names, and suppose
also that you can learn them from the things themselves-
which is likely to be the nobler and clearer way; to learn
of the image, whether the image and the truth of which the
image is the expression have been rightly conceived, or to
learn of the truth whether the truth and the image of it have
been duly executed?
Crat. I should say that we must learn of the truth.
Soc. How real existence is to be studied or discovered is,
I suspect, beyond you and me. But we may admit so much,
that the knowledge of things is not to be derived from
I
CRATYLUS
175
440
names. No; they must be studied and investigated in them- Cratylus.
selves.
Crat. Clearly, Socrates.
SOCRATES,
CRATYLUS.
But are
there
things in
Soc. There is another point. I should not like us to be
imposed upon by the appearance of such a multitude of names,
all tending in the same direction. I myself do not deny that themselves?
the givers of names did really give them under the idea that all
things were in motion and flux; which was their sincere but, I
think, mistaken opinion. And having fallen into a kind of
whirlpool themselves, they are carried round, and want to drag
us in after them. There is a matter, master Cratylus, about
which I often dream, and should like to ask your opinion:
Tell me, whether there is or is not any absolute beauty or good,
or any other absolute existence?
Crat. Certainly, Socrates, I think so.
Not if all is
flux and
in a state of
Soc. Then let us seek the true beauty: not asking whether
a face is fair, or anything of that sort, for all such things
appear to be in a flux; but let us ask whether the true beauty transition.
is not always beautiful.
Crat. Certainly.
Soc. Is it then possible to predicate of it rightly, if it is ever
vanishing, first that it is 'that,' and next that it is of such or
such a nature, or must it not ever, while the words are in our
mouths, straightway become other, and slip away and no
longer be the same?¹
Crat. Undoubtedly.
Soc. Then how can that be a real thing which is never in
the same state? for obviously things which are the same can-
not change while they remain the same; and if they are al-
ways the same and in the same state, and never depart from
their original form, they can never change or be moved.
Crat. Certainly they cannot.
Soc. Nor yet can they be known by any one; for at the
moment that the observer approaches, then they become other
and of another nature, so that you cannot get any further
in knowing their nature or state, for you cannot know that
which has no state.
1 J. has 'And can we rightly speak of a beauty which is always pass-
ing away, and is first this and then that; must not the same thing be
born and retire and vanish while the word is in our mouths?'
176
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Cratylus.
Socrates,
CRATYLUS.
Crat. True.
Soc. Nor can we reasonably say, Cratylus, that there is
knowledge at all, if everything is in a state of transition and
there is nothing abiding; for knowledge too cannot continue
to be knowledge unless continuing always to abide and
exist. But if the very nature of knowledge changes, at the
time when the change occurs there will be no knowledge;
and if the transition is always going on, there will always
be no knowledge, and, according to this view, there will be
no one to know and nothing to be known: but if that which
knows and that which is known exists ever, and the beautiful
and the good and every other thing also exist, then I do
not think that they can resemble a process or flux, as we
were just now supposing. Whether there is this eternal
nature in things or whether the truth is what Heracleitus
and his followers and many others say, is a question hard to
determine; and no man of sense will like to put himself or
the education of his mind in the power of names: neither
will he so far trust names or the givers of names as to be
confident in any knowledge which condemns himself and
other existences to an unhealthy state of unreality; he will
not believe that all things leak like a pot, or imagine that
the world is a man who has a running at the nose. This
may be true, Cratylus, but is also very likely to be untrue;:
and therefore I would not have you be too casily persuaded
of it. Reflect well and like a man, and do not easily accept:
such a doctrine; for you are young and of an age to learn..
And when you have found the truth, come and tell me..
Crat. I will do as you say, though I can assure you,,
Socrates, that I have been considering the matter already,.
and the result of a great deal of trouble and consideration
is that I incline to Heracleitus.
Soc. Then, another day, my friend, when you come back,,
you shall give me a lesson; but at present, go into the country,
as you are intending, and Hermogenes shall set you on your
way.
Crat. Very good, Socrates; I hope, however, that you will
continue to think about these things yourself、
GORGIAS
Ostensibly concerned chiefly with an attempt to define the
function of rhetoric, the Gorgias soon cuts to the core of the
matter and weighs the nature of good and evil in the soul
of man.
From now on, the dialogues reveal an increasing
moral earnestness, not devoid of comedy, but hovering al-
ways about the nature of man as a moral agent.
W. C. G.
GORGIAS
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE
CALLICLES
SOCRATES.
GORGIAS.
CHAEREPHON.
POLUS.
Scene: The house of Callicles.
481
[The famous Sophist Gorgias, whose influence on Greek
Gorgias.
style was very great, seems unable, under the questioning of SOCRATES,
Socrates, to give a consistent account of his art. It is con- CALLICLES.
cerned with persuasion, it appears; but mere persuasion may
be used for immoral ends, and Gorgias cannot find any moral
implications in his art. His pupil Polus comes to the rescue,
but is indignant when Socrates reduces rhetoric to the level of
cookery and other forms of flattery or sham, which are
sharply distinguished from the true art of life. And he is
incredulous when Socrates launches his famous paradoxes:
That it is worse to do than to suffer evil; That a man who
has done evil had better be punished than unpunished. Here
is a new standard of conduct, based on a conception of the
health of the soul; Polus is reluctantly won over to the posi-
tion of Socrates, and rhetoric appears to be a superfluous art.
But at this point the argument is interrupted by their host,
Callicles, who is less scrupulous than Polus.]
asks in
amazement
Callicles. Tell me, Socrates, are you in earnest, or only in Callicles
jest? For if you are in earnest, and what you say
is true,
is not the whole of human life turned upside down; and whether
are we not doing as would appear, in everything the opposite Socrates
of what we ought to be doing?
Socrates. O Callicles, if there were not some community of
feelings among mankind, however varying in different per-
sons—I mean to say, if every man's feelings were peculiar to
himself and were not shared by the rest of his species-I do
really
means what
he says.
I am only
repeating
philosophy,
the words of
179
180
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias.
SOCRATES,
CALLICLES.
whose lover
For
I am.
as you love
the Athe-
nian people,
and their
namesake
Demus, so
I have two
loves, philo-
sophy and
Alcibiades.
The son of
Cleinias is
inconstant,
but philo-
sophy is
ever the
same: she
it is whom
you have
to refute:
I am only
her mouth-
piece.
Polus was
vanquished
because he
refused to
not see how we could ever communicate our impressions to one
another. I make this remark because I perceive that you
and I have a common feeling. For we are lovers both, and
both of us have two loves apiece:—I am the lover of Alci-
biades, the son of Cleinias, and of philosophy; and you of
the Athenian Demus, and of Demus the son of Pyrilampes.
Now, I observe that you, with all your cleverness, do not
venture to contradict your favourite in any word or opinion
of his; but as he changes you change, backwards and for-
wards. When the Athenian Demus denies anything that
you are saying in the assembly, you go over to his opinion;
and you do the same with Demus, the fair young son of
Pyrilampes. For you have not the power to resist the words
and ideas of your loves; and if a person were to express
surprise at the strangeness of what you say from time to time.
when under their influence, you would probably reply to 482
him, if you were honest, that you cannot help saying what
your loves say unless they are prevented; and that you can
only be silent when they are. Now you must understand
that my words are an echo too, and therefore you need not
wonder at me; but if you want to silence me, silence philo-
sophy, who is my love, for she is always telling me what I
am now telling you, my friend; neither is she capricious like
my other love, for the son of Cleinias says one thing to-day
and another thing to-morrow, but philosophy is always true.
She is the teacher at whose words you are now wondering,
and you have heard her yourself. Her you must refute, and
either show, as I was saying, that to do injustice and to escape
punishment is not the worst of all evils; or, if you leave her
word unrefuted, by the dog the god of Egypt, I declare, O
Callicles, that Callicles will never be at one with himself, but
that his whole life will be a discord. And yet, my friend, I
would rather that my lyre should be inharmonious, and that
there should be no music in the chorus which I provided;
aye, or that the whole world should be at odds with me, and
oppose me, rather than that I myself should be at odds with
myself, and contradict myself.
Cal. O Socrates, you are a regular declaimer, and seem to
be running riot in the argument. And now you are declaim-
ing in this way because Polus has fallen into the same
GORGIAS
181
Gorgias.
would re-
error himself of which he accused Gorgias: for he said
that when Gorgias was asked by you, whether, if some one CALLICLES.
came to him who wanted to learn rhetoric, and did not take a bold
know justice, he would teach him justice, Gorgias in his line.
modesty replied that he would, because he thought that man-
kind in general would be displeased if he answered 'No';
and then in consequence of this admission, Gorgias was
compelled to contradict himself, that being just the sort of
thing in which you delight. Whereupon Polus laughed at
you deservedly, as I think; but now he has himself fallen
into the same trap. I cannot say very much for his wit
when he conceded to you that to do is more dishonourable
than to suffer injustice, for this was the admission which
led to his being entangled by you; and because he was
too modest to say what he thought, he had his mouth
stopped. For the truth is, Socrates, that you, who pretend
to be engaged in the pursuit of truth, are appealing now to
the popular and vulgar notions of right, which are not natural,
but only conventional. Convention and nature are generally Callicles
at variance with one another: and hence, if a person is too
483 modest to say what he thinks, he is compelled to contradict
himself; and you, in your ingenuity perceiving the advantage
to be thereby gained, slyly ask of him who is arguing con-
ventionally a question which is to be determined by the rule term.
of nature; and if he is talking of the rule of nature, you slip
away to custom: as, for instance, you did in this very dis-
cussion about doing and suffering injustice. When Polus
was speaking of the conventionally dishonourable, yoù
assailed him from the point of view of nature; for by the rule
of nature, to suffer injustice is the greater disgrace because
the greater evil; but conventionally, to do evil is the more
disgraceful. For the suffering of injustice is not the part of
a man, but of a slave, who indeed had better die than live;
since when he is wronged and trampled upon, he is unable Convention
to help himself, or any other about whom he cares. The was only
reason, as I conceive, is that the makers of laws are the
majority who are weak; and they make laws and distribute
praises and censures with a view to themselves and to their
own interests; and they terrify the stronger sort of men, and
those who are able to get the better of them, in order that
turn to the
rule of
nature in
the lower
sense of the
introduced
by the weak
majority in
order to
protect
themselves
few strong.
against the
182
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias.
CALLICLES.
A man of
courage
would
easily break
down the
guards of
convention.
Pindar.
1
they may not get the better of them; and they say, that
dishonesty is shameful and unjust; meaning, by the word
injustice, the desire of a man to have more than his neigh-
bours; for knowing their own inferiority, I suspect that they
are too glad of equality. And therefore the endeavour to
have more than the many, is conventionally said to be shame-
ful and unjust, and is called injustice, whereas nature herself
intimates that it is just for the better to have more than the
worse, the more powerful than the weaker; and in many
ways she shows, among men as well as among animals, and
indeed among whole cities and races, that justice consists in
the superior ruling over and having more than the inferior.
For on what principle of justice did Xerxes invade Hellas,
or his father the Scythians? (not to speak of numberless
other examples). Nay, but these are the men who act
according to nature; yes, by Heaven, and according to the
law of nature: not, perhaps, according to that artificial law,
which we invent and impose upon our fellows, of whom we
take the best and strongest from their youth upwards, and
tame them like young lions,-charming them with the sound 484
of the voice, and saying to them, that with equality they must
be content, and that the equal is the honourable and the just.
But if there were a man who had sufficient force, he would
shake off and break through, and escape from all this; he
would trample under foot all our formulas and spells and
charms, and all our laws which are against nature: the slave
would rise in rebellion and be lord over us, and the light of
natural justice would shine forth. And this I take to be the
sentiment of Pindar, when he says in his poem, that
'Law is the king of all, of mortals as well as of immortals;'
this, as he says,
'Makes might to be right, doing violence with highest hand; as I infer
from the deeds of Heracles, for without buying them-'
-I do not remember the exact words, but the meaning is,
that without buying them, and without their being given to
him, he carried off the oxen of Geryon, according to the law
of natural right, and that the oxen and other possessions of
1 Cp. Rep. ii. 359.
GORGIAS
183
not a bad
youth.
the weaker and inferior properly belong to the stronger and Gorgias.
superior. And this is true, as you may ascertain, if you will CALLICLES.
leave philosophy and go on to higher things: for philosophy, A little
Socrates, if pursued in moderation and at the proper age, is philosophy
an elegant accomplishment, but too much philosophy is the thing in
ruin of human life. Even if a man has good parts, still, if he
carries philosophy into later life, he is necessarily ignorant
of all those things which a gentleman and a person of honour
ought to know; he is inexperienced in the laws of the State,
and in the language which ought to be used in the dealings
of man with man, whether private or public, and utterly
ignorant of the pleasures and desires of mankind and of human
character in general. And people of this sort, when they
betake themselves to politics or business, are as ridiculous as
I imagine the politicians to be, when they make their appear-
ance in the arena of philosophy. For, as Euripides says,
'Every man shines in that and pursues that, and devotes the greatest
portion of the day to that in which he most excels,'
485 but anything in which he is inferior, he avoids and depre-
ciates, and praises the opposite from partiality to himself, and
because he thinks that he will thus praise himself. The true
principle is to unite them. Philosophy, as a part of education,
is an excellent thing, and there is no disgrace to a man while
he is young in pursuing such a study; but when he is more
advanced in years, the thing becomes ridiculous, and I feel
toward philosophers as I do toward those who lisp and
imitate children. For I love to see a little child, who is not
of an age to speak plainly, lisping at his play; there is an
appearance of grace and freedom in his utterance, which is
natural to his childish years. But when I hear some small
creature carefully articulating its words, I am offended; the
sound is disagreeable, and has to my ears the twang of slavery.
So when I hear a man lisping, or see him playing like a
child, his behaviour appears to me ridiculous and unmanly
and worthy of stripes. And I have the same feeling about But the
students of philosophy; when I see a youth thus engaged, sold
the study appears to me to be in character, and becoming a not be con
man of a liberal education, and him who neglects philosophy later life.
I regard as an inferior man, who will never aspire to anything
study
tinued into
184
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias
CALLICLES.
great or noble.
But if I see him continuing the study in
later life, and not leaving off, I should like to beat him,
Socrates; for, as I was saying, such an one, even though he
have good natural parts, becomes effeminate. He flies from
the busy centre and the market-place, in which, as the poet
says, men become distinguished; he creeps into a corner for
the rest of his life, and talks in a whisper with three or four
admiring youths, but never speaks out like a freeman in a
satisfactory manner. Now I, Socrates, am very well inclined
toward you, and my feeling may be compared with that of
Zethus towards Amphion, in the play of Euripides, whom I
was mentioning just now: for I am disposed to say to you
much what Zethus said to his brother that you, Socrates, are
careless about the things of which you ought to be careful;
and that you
'Who have a soul so noble, are remarkable for a puerile exterior;
Neither in a court of justice could you state a case, or give any
reason or proof,
Or offer valiant counsel on another's behalf.'
And you must not be offended, my dear Socrates, for I am
speaking out of good-will toward you, if I ask whether you
are not ashamed of being thus defenceless; which I affirm
to be the condition not of you only but of all those who will
carry the study of philosophy too far. For suppose that
some one were to take you, or any one of your sort, off to
prison, declaring that you had done wrong when you had
done no wrong, you must allow that you would not know
what to do: there you would stand giddy and gaping, and
not having a word to say; and when you went up before the
Court, even if the accuser were a poor creature and not good
for much, you would die if he were disposed to claim the
penalty of death. And yet, Socrates, what is the value of
'An art which converts a man of sense into a fool,'
who is helpless, and has no power to save either himself or
others, when he is in the greatest danger and is going to be
despoiled by his enemies of all his goods, and has to live,
simply deprived of his rights of citizenship?-he being a
man who, if I may use the expression, may be boxed on the
486
GORGIAS
185
ears with impunity. Then, my good friend, take my advice,
and refute no more:
Gorgias.
SOCRATES,
'Learn the philosophy of business, and acquire the reputation of wisdom.
But leave to others these niceties,'
whether they are to be described as follies or absurdities:
'For they will only
Give you poverty for the inmate of your dwelling.'
Cease, then, emulating these paltry splitters of words, and
emulate only the man of substance and honour, who is well
to do.
CALLICLES
the desired
touchstone
Soc. If my soul, Callicles, were made of gold, should I not Callicles
rejoice to discover one of those stones with which they test
gold, and the very best possible one to which I might bring of Socrates.
my soul; and if the stone and I agreed in approving of her
training, then I should know that I was in a satisfactory
state, and that no other test was needed by me.
Cal. What is your meaning, Socrates?
Soc. I will tell you; I think that I have found in you the
desired touchstone.
Cal. Why?
Soc. Because I am sure that if you agree with me in any
of the opinions which my soul forms, I have at last found the
truth indeed. For I consider that if a man is to make a
487 complete trial of the good or evil of the soul, he ought to
have not
the know-
frankness
or good-wil
have three qualities-knowledge, good-will, outspokenness,
which are all possessed by you. Many whom I meet are un-
able to make trial of me, because they are not wise as you are;
others are wise, but they will not tell me the truth, because Other men
they have not the same interest in me which you have; and
these two strangers, Gorgias and Polus, are undoubtedly ledge or
wise men and my very good friends, but they are not out-
spoken enough, and they are too modest. Why, their which is
modesty is so great that they are driven to contradict them-
selves, first one and then the other of them, in the face of are too
a large company, on matters of the highest moment. But
you have all the qualities in which these others are deficient, cerity is
having received an excellent education; to this many Athe-
nians can testify. And you are my friend. Shall I tell you tency.
required;
and they
modest.
His sin-
shown by
his consis
186
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias.
SOCRATES,
CALLICLES.
But still
he would
ask, What
Callicles
means
by the
superior?
why I think so? I know that you, Callicles, and Tisander of
Aphidnae, and Andron the son of Androtion, and Nausicydes
of the deme of Cholarges, studied together: there were four
of you, and I once heard you advising with one another as
to the extent to which the pursuit of philosophy should be
carried, and, as I know, you came to the conclusion that the
study should not be pushed too much into detail. You were
cautioning one another not to be overwise; you were afraid
that too much wisdom might unconsciously to yourselves be
the ruin of you. And now when I hear you giving the same
advice to me which you then gave to your most intimate
friends, I have a sufficient evidence of your real good-will
to me. And of the frankness of your nature and freedom
from modesty I am assured by yourself, and the assurance
is confirmed by your last speech. Well, then, the inference
in the present case clearly is, that if you agree with me in
an argument about any point, that point will have been
sufficiently tested by us, and will not require to be submitted
to any further test. For you could not have agreed with
me, either from lack of knowledge or from superfluity of
modesty, nor yet from a desire to deceive me, for you are
my friend, as you tell me yourself. And therefore when you
and I are agreed, the result will be the attainment of perfect
truth. Now there is no nobler enquiry, Callicles, than that
which you censure me for making,—What ought the character
of a man to be, and what his pursuits, and how far is he to
go, both in maturer years and in youth? For be assured
that if I err in my own conduct I do not err intentionally, 488
but from ignorance. Do not then desist from advising me,
now that you have begun, until I have learned clearly what
this is which I am to practise, and how I may acquire it.
And if you find me assenting to your words, and hereafter
not doing that to which I assented, call me 'dolt,' and deem
me unworthy of receiving further instruction. Once more,
then, tell me what you and Pindar mean by natural justice:
Do you not mean that the superior should take the property
of the inferior by force; that the better should rule the
worse, the noble have more than the mean? Am I not
right in my recollection?
Cal. Yes; that is what I was saying, and so I still aver.
GORGIAS
187
CALLICLES.
Soc. And do you mean by the better the same as the Gorgias.
superior? for I could not make out what you were saying SOCRATES,
at the time-whether you meant by the superior the stronger,
and that the weaker must obey the stronger, as you seemed
to imply when you said that great cities attack small ones
in accordance with natural right, because they are superior
and stronger, as though the superior and stronger and better
were the same; or whether the better may be also the in-
ferior and weaker, and the superior the worse, or whether
better is to be defined in the same way as superior: this is
the point which I want to have cleared up. Are the superior
and better and stronger the same or different?
Cal. I say unequivocally that they are the same.
Soc. Then the many are by nature superior to the one, He means
against whom, as you were saying, they make the laws?
Cal. Certainly.
the better
and
stronger
fore the
Soc. Then the laws of the many are the laws of the and there-
superior?
Cal. Very true.
Soc. Then they are the laws of the better; for the superior
class are far better, as you were saying?
Cal. Yes.
many who
make the
laws, which
are noble
because
they are
made by
Soc. And since they are superior, the laws which are made the better.
by them are by nature good?
Cal. Yes.
1
And the
many are
opinion
also of
that to do
is more
than to
injustice.
Soc. And are not the many of opinion, as you were lately
489 saying, that justice is equality, and that to do is more dis-
graceful than to suffer injustice?-is that so or not? Answer,
Callicles, and let no modesty be found to come in the way;"
do the many think, or do they not think thus?—I must beg disgraceful
of you to answer, in order that if you agree with me I may suffer
fortify myself by the assent of so competent an authority.
Cal. Yes; the opinion of the many is what you say.
Soc. Then not only custom but nature also affirms that
to do is more disgraceful than to suffer injustice, and that
justice is equality; so that you seem to have been wrong
in your former assertion, when accusing me you said that
nature and custom are opposed, and that I, knowing this,
was dishonestly plaving between them, appealing to custom
1 Cp. what is said of Gorgias by Callicles at p. 482.
188
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias.
SOCRATES,
CALLICLES.
'Of course
I don't
mean the
mob.'
Then once
more,-
Who are
the better?
The wiser:
the one
wise among
ten thou-
sand fools,
-he ought
to rule.
when the argument is about nature, and to nature when the
argument is about custom?
Cal. This man will never cease talking nonsense. At
your age, Socrates, are you not ashamed to be catching at
words and chuckling over some verbal slip? do you not
see-have I not told you already, that by superior I mean
better: do you imagine me to say, that if a rabble of slaves
and nondescripts, who are of no use except perhaps for their
physical strength, get together, their ipsissima verba are laws?
Soc. Ho! my philosopher, is that your line?
Cal. Certainly.
Soc. I was thinking, Callicles, that something of the kind
must have been in your mind, and that is why I repeated
the question,-What is the superior? I wanted to know
clearly what you meant; for you surely do not think that
two men are better than one, or that your slaves are better
than you because they are stronger? Then please to begin
again, and tell me who the better are, if they are not the
stronger; and I will ask you, great Sir, to be a little milder
in your instructions, or I shall have to run away from you.
Cal. You are ironical.
Soc. No, by the hero Zethus, Callicles, by whose aid you
were just now saying (486a) many ironical things against
me, I am not:-tell me, then, whom you mean by the better?
Cal. I mean the more excellent.
Soc. Do you not see that you are yourself using words
which have no meaning and that you are explaining nothing?
-will you tell me whether you mean by the better and
superior the wiser, or if not, whom?
Cal. Most assuredly, I do mean the wiser.
Soc. Then according to you, one wise man may often
be superior to ten thousand fools, and he ought to rule
them, and they ought to be his subjects, and he ought to
have more than they should. This is what I believe that
you mean (and you must not suppose that I am word-
catching), if you allow that the one is superior to the ten
thousand?
Cal. Yes; that is what I mean, and that is what I conceive
to be natural justice-that the better and wiser should rule
and have more than the inferior.
490
GORGIAS
189
CALLICLES.
contrary to
Soc. Stop there, and let me ask you what you would say Gorgias.
in this case: Let us suppose that we are all together as we SOCRATES,
are now; there are several of us, and we have a large
common store of meats and drinks, and there are all sorts But this is
of persons in our company having various degrees of strength the analogy
and weakness, and one of us, being a physician, is wiser in of the other
the matter of food than all the rest, and he is probably
stronger than some and not so strong as others of us-will
he not, being wiser, he also better than we are, and our
superior in this matter of food?
Cal. Certainly.
Soc. Either, then, he will have a larger share of the meats
and drinks, because he is better, or he will have the distribu-
tion of all of them by reason of his authority, but he will not
expend or make use of a larger share of them on his own
person, or if he does, he will be punished;-his share will
exceed that of some, and be less than that of others, and if
he be the weakest of all, he being the best of all will have
the smallest share of all, Callicles: am I not right, my
friend?
arts.
Cal. You talk about meats and drinks and physicians and Callicles is
other nonsense; I am not speaking of them.
disgusted
at the com-
Soc. Well, but do you admit that the wiser is the better? monplace
Answer 'Yes' or 'No.'
Cal. Yes.
Soc. And ought not the better to have a larger share?
Cal. Not of meats and drinks.
Soc. I understand: then, perhaps, of coats-the skilfullest
weaver ought to have the largest coat, and the greatest
number of them, and go about clothed in the best and finest
of them?
Cal. Fudge about coats!
Soc. Then the skilfullest and best in making shoes ought
to have the advantage in shoes; the shoemaker, clearly, should
walk about in the largest shoes, and have the greatest num-
ber of them?
Cal. Fudge about shoes! What nonsense are you
talking?
Soc. Or, if this is not your meaning, perhaps you would
say that the wise and good and true husbandman should
parallels of
Socrates.
190
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias.
Socrates,
CALLICLES.
Socrates is
accused of
always
saying the
same
things: he
accuses
Callicles
of never
saying the
sanie about
the same.
actually have a larger share of seeds, and have as much seed
as possible for his own land?
Cal. How you go on, always talking in the same way, So-
crates!
Soc. Yes, Callicles, and also about the same things.
Cal. Yes, by the Gods, you are literally always talking of
cobblers and fullers and cooks and doctors, as if this had to
do with our argument.
Soc. But why will you not tell me in what a man must be
superior and wiser in order to claim a larger share; will you
neither accept a suggestion, nor offer one?
Cal. I have already told you. In the first place, I mean
by superiors not cobblers or cooks, but wise politicians who
understand the administration of a state, and who are not
only wise, but also valiant and able to carry out their de-
signs, and not the men to faint from want of soul.
Soc. See now, most excellent Callicles, how different my
charge against you is from that which you bring against me,
for you reproach me with always saying the same; but I re-
proach you with never saying the same about the same
things, for at one time you were defining the better and the
superior to be the stronger, then again as the wiser, and now
you bring forward a new notion; the superior and the better
are now declared by you to be the more courageous: I wish,
my good friend, that you would tell me, once for all, whom
you affirm to be the better and superior, and in what they
are better?
Cal. I have already told you that I mean those who are
wise and courageous in the administration of a state-they
ought to be the rulers of their states, and justice consists in
their having more than their subjects.
Soc. But whether rulers or subjects will they or will they
not have more than themselves, my friend?
Cal. What do you mean?
Soc. I mean that every man is his own ruler; but perhaps
you think that there is no necessity for him to rule himself;
he is only required to rule others?
Cal. What do you mean by his 'ruling over himself'?
Soc. A simple thing enough; just what is commonly said,
491
GORGIAS
191
that a man should be temperate and master of himself, and
ruler of his own pleasures and passions.
Cal. What innocence! you mean those fools, the tem-
perate?
Soc. Certainly:-any one may know that to be my
meaning.
Gorgias.
Socrates,
CALLICLES.
asserts his
doctrine
esteem in
which
virtue and
held is due
only to
for them-
justice are
men's fear
selves. No
man who
has the power
to enjoy
himself
self-control.
Cal. Quite so, Socrates; and they are really fools, for how Callicles re
can a man be happy who is the servant of anything? On
the contrary, I plainly assert, that he who would truly live that the
ought to allow his desires to wax to the uttermost, and not to
chastise them; but when they have grown to their greatest
492 he should have courage and intelligence to minister to
them and to satisfy all his longings. And this I affirm to be
natural justice and nobility. To this, however, the many can-
not attain; and they blame the strong man because they are
ashamed of their own weakness, which they desire to con-
ceal, and hence they say that intemperance is base. As I
have remarked already, they enslave the nobler natures, and
being unable to satisfy their pleasures, they praise temper-
ance and justice out of their own cowardice. For if a man
had been originally the son of a king, or had a nature
capable of acquiring an empire or a tyranny or sovereignty,
what could be more truly base or evil than temperance—to a
man like him, I say, who might freely be enjoying every
good, and has no one to stand in his way, and yet has
admitted custom and reason and the opinion of other men to
be lords over him?-must not he be in a miserable plight
whom the reputation of justice and temperance hinders from
giving more to his friends than to his enemies, even though
he be a ruler in his city? Nay, Socrates, for you profess to
be a votary of the truth, and the truth is this: that luxury
and intemperance and licence, if they be provided with
means, are virtue and happiness-all the rest is a mere
bauble, agreements contrary to nature, foolish talk of men,
nothing worth.
Soc. There is a noble freedom, Callicles, in your way of
approaching the argument; for what you say is what the
rest of the world think, but do not like to say. And I must
beg of you to persevere, that the true rule of human life may
become manifest. Tell me, then-you say, do you not, that
192
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias.
SOCRATES,
CALLICLES.
To live
without
pleasure or
passion is
to be dead.
No; the
true death,
as Pytha-
gorean
philosophy
tells us, is
to pour
water out
of a vessel
full of holes
into a
colander
full of holes.
in the rightly-developed man the passions ought not to be
controlled, but that we should let them grow to the utmost
and somehow or other satisfy them, and that this is virtue?
Cal. Yes; I do.
Soc. Then those who want nothing are not truly said to
be happy?
Cal. No indeed, for then stones and dead men would be
the happiest of all.
Soc. But surely life according to your view is an awful
thing; and indeed I think that Euripides may have been right
in saying,
'Who knows if life be not death and death life';
2
He
and that we are very likely dead; I have heard a philosopher 493
say that at this moment we are actually dead, and that the
body (cua) is our tomb (cñua ¹), and that the part of the
soul which is the seat of the desires is liable to be tossed about by
words and blown up and down; and some ingenious person,
probably a Sicilian or an Italian, playing with the word,
invented a tale in which he called the soul-because of its
believing and make-believe nature-a vessel, and the ig-
norant he called the uninitiated or leaky, and the place in
the souls of the uninitiated in which the desires are seated,
being the intemperate and incontinent part, he compared to
a vessel full of holes, because it can never be satisfied.
is not of your way of thinking, Callicles, for he declares, that
of all the souls in Hades, meaning the invisible world
(acidέc), these uninitiated or leaky persons are the most mis-
erable, and that they pour water into a vessel which is full of
holes out of a colander which is similarly perforated. The
colander, as my informer assures me, is the soul, and the soul
which he compares to a colander is the soul of the ignorant,
which is likewise full of holes, and therefore incontinent,
owing to a bad memory and want of faith. These notions
are strange enough, but they show the principle which, if I
can, I would fain prove to you; that you should change your
mind, and, instead of the intemperate and insatiate life, choose
that which is orderly and sufficient and has a due provision
1 Cp. Phaedr. 250 c.
* An untranslatable pun,—διὰ τὸ πιθανόν τε καὶ πιστικὸν ὠνόμασε πίθον.
GORGIAS
193
for daily needs. Do I make any impression on you, and are Gorgias.
you coming over to the opinion that the orderly are happier SOCRATES,
than the intemperate? Or do I fail to persuade you, and,
however many tales I rehearse to you, do you continue of
the same opinion still?
CALLICLES.
perate man
is the
sound, the
intemperate
Cal. The latter, Socrates, is more like the truth.
Soc. Well, I will tell you another image, which comes out The tem-
of the same school:-Let me request you to consider how
far you would accept this as an account of the two lives of
the temperate and intemperate in a figure:-There are two the leaky
men, both of whom have a number of casks; the one man vessel.
has his casks sound and full, one of wine, another of honey,
and a third of milk, besides others filled with other liquids,
and the streams which fill them are few and scanty, and he
can only obtain them with a great deal of toil and difficulty;
but when his casks are once filled he has no need to feed
them any more, and has no further trouble with them or care
about them. The other, in like manner, can procure streams,
though not without difficulty; but his vessels are leaky and
unsound, and night and day he is compelled to be filling
494 them, and if he pauses for a moment, he is in an agony of
pain. Such are their respective lives:-And now would you
say that the life of the intemperate is happier than that of
the temperate? Do I not convince you that the opposite is
the truth?
desire and
pleasure is
Cal. You do not convince me, Socrates, for the one who The life of
has filled himself has no longer any pleasure left; and this,
as I was just now saying, is the life of a stone: he has
neither joy nor sorrow after he is once filled; but the pleasure
depends on the superabundance of the influx.
not to be
to a full
compared
vessel, but
to an ever-
Soc. But the more you pour in, the greater the waste; and running
the holes must be large for the liquid to escape.
Cal. Certainly.
Soc. The life which you are now depicting is not that of a
dead man, or of a stone, but of a cormorant; you mean that
he is to be hungering and eating?
Cal. Yes.
Soc. And he is to be thirsting and drinking?
Cal. Yes, that is what I mean; he is to have all his desires
stream.
194
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias.
SOCRATES,
CALLICLES.
Callicles
professes a
virtuous
indignation
at the very
mention of
the conse-
quences of
his own
doctrine.
about him, and to be able to live happily in the gratification
of them.
Soc. Capital, excellent; go on as you have begun, and
have no shame; I, too, must disencumber myself of shame:
and first, will you tell me whether you include itching and
scratching, provided you have enough of them and pass your
life in scratching, in your notion of happiness?
Cal. What a strange being you are, Socrates! a regular
mob-orator.
Soc. That was the reason, Callicles, why I scared Polus
and Gorgias, until they were too modest to say what they
thought; but you will not be too modest and will not be
scared, for you are a brave man. And now, answer my
question.
Cal. I answer, that even the scratcher would live plea-
santly.
Soc. And if pleasantly, then also happily?
Cal. To be sure.
Soc. But what if the itching is not confined to the head?
Shall I pursue the question? And here, Callicles, I would
have you consider how you would reply if consequences are
pressed upon you, especially if in the last resort you are
asked, whether the life of a catamite is not terrible, foul,
miserable? Or would you venture to say, that they too are
happy, if they only get enough of what they want?
Cal. Are you not ashamed, Socrates, of introducing such
topics into the argument?
Soc. Well, my fine friend, but am I the introducer of these
topics, or he who says without any qualification that all who
feel pleasure in whatever manner are happy, and who admits
of no distinction between good and bad pleasures? And I 495
would still ask, whether you say that pleasure and good are
the same, or whether there is some pleasure which is not a
good?
Cal. Well, then, for the sake of consistency, I will say that
they are the same.
Soc. You are breaking the original agreement, Callicles,
and will no longer be a satisfactory companion in the search
after truth, if you say what is contrary to your real opinion.
Cal. Why, that is what you are doing too, Socrates.
GORGIAS
195
Gorgias.
CALLICLES.
Soc. Then we are both doing wrong. Still, my dear friend,
I would ask you to consider whether pleasure, from whatever SOCRATES,
source derived, is the good; for, if this be true, then the dis-
agreeable consequences which have been darkly intimated
must follow, and many others.
Cal. That, Socrates, is only your opinion.
Soc. And do you, Callicles, seriously maintain what you
are saying?
Cal. Indeed I do.
Soc. Then, as you are in earnest, shall we proceed with
the argument?
Cal. By all means.
Soc. Well, if you are willing to proceed, determine this
question for me:-There is something, I presume, which you
would call knowledge?
Cal. There is.
Callicles,
mitted that
having ad-
pleasure
and good
are the
Soc. And were you not saying just now, that some courage same, is led
implied knowledge?
Cal. I was.
Soc. And you were speaking of courage and knowledge as
two things different from one another?
Cal. Certainly I was.
Soc. And would you say that pleasure and knowledge are
the same, or not the same?
Cal. Not the same, O man of wisdom.
Soc. And would you say that courage
pleasure?
Cal. Certainly.
differed from
Soc. Well, then, let us remember that Callicles, the Achar-
nian, says that pleasure and good are the same; but that
knowledge and courage are not the same, either with one
another, or with the good.
Cal. And what does cur friend Socrates, of Foxton, say-
does he assent to this, or not?
Soc. He does not assent; neither will Callicles, when he
sees himself truly. You will admit, I suppose, that good and
evil fortune are opposed to each other?
Cal. Yes.
Soc. And if they are opposed to each other, then, like health
to make
the further
admission
that plea-
sure and
knowledge
and cour
age are
different.
196
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias
SOCRATES,
CALLICLES.
A man may
have good
and evil by
turns, but
not at the
same time.
and disease, they exclude one another; a man cannot have
them both, or be without them both, at the same time?
Cal. What do you mean?
Soc. Take the case of any bodily affection: a man may
have the complaint in his eyes which is called ophthalmia?
Cal. To be sure.
Soc. But he surely cannot have the same eyes well and
sound at the same time?
Cal. Certainly not.
Soc. And when he has got rid of his ophthalmia, has he got
rid of the health of his eyes too? Is the final result, that he
gets rid of them both together?
Cal. Certainly not.
Soc. That would surely be marvellous and absurd?
Cal. Very.
Soc. I suppose that he is affected by them, and gets rid of
them in turns?
Cal. Yes.
Soc. And he may have strength and weakness in the same
way, by fits?
Cal. Yes.
Soc. Or swiftness and slowness?
Cal. Certainly.
Soc. And does he have and not have good and happiness,
and their opposites, evil and misery, in a similar alterna-
tion?
Cal. Certainly he has.
Soc. If then there be anything which a man has and has
not at the same time, clearly that cannot be good and evil—
do we agree? Please not to answer without consideration.
Cal. I entirely agree.
Soc. Go back now to our former admissions. Did you say
that to hunger, I mean the mere state of hunger, was pleasant
or painful?
Cal. I said painful, but that to eat when you are hungry is
pleasant.
Soc. I know; but still the actual hunger is painful: am 1
not right?
Cal. Yes.
Soc. And thirst, too, is painful?
496
GORGIAS
197
497
Cal. Yes, very.
Gorgias.
Soc. Need I adduce any more instances, or would you SOCRATES,
agree that all wants or desires are painful?
Cal. I agree, and therefore you need not adduce any more
instances.
Soc. Very good. And you would admit that to drink, when
you are thirsty, is pleasant?
Cal. Yes.
Soc. And in the sentence which you have just uttered, the
word 'thirsty' implies pain?
Cal. Yes.
Soc. And the word 'drinking' is expressive of pleasure, and
of the satisfaction of the want?
Cal. Yes.
Soc. There is pleasure in drinking?
Cal. Certainly.
Soc. When you are thirsty?
Cal. Yes.
Soc. And in pain?
Cal. Yes.
Soc. Do you see the inference:—that pleasure and pain are
simultaneous, when you say that being thirsty, you drink?
For are they not simultaneous, and do they not affect at the
same time the same part, whether of the soul or the body?-
which of them is affected cannot be supposed to be of any
consequence: Is not this true?
Cal. It is.
Soc. You said also, that no man could have good and evil
fortune at the same time?
Cal. Yes, I did.
Soc. But you admitted, that when in pain a man might
also have pleasure?
Cal. Clearly.
CALLICLES.
But he may
have plea.
sure and
pain at the
same time.
Therefore
Soc. Then pleasure is not the same as good fortune, or
pain the same as evil fortune, and therefore the good is not pleasure
the same as the pleasant?
Cal. I wish I knew, Socrates, what your quibbling means.
Soc. You know, Callicles, but you affect not to know.
[In the preceding passage, Callicles has maintained that
might is right, and that law is only a convention sanctioned
and pain
are not the
same as
good and
evil.
198
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias.
SOCRATES,
CALLICLES.
The plea-
sant not the
same as the
good, and
is to be
sought only
of the
good; and
we are good
when good
is present
in us, and
good is the
effect of
order and
truth and
by the combination of the many weak against the few strong.
His real conviction is that pleasure is the only rule of life;
but he has been capable of recognizing, because of an in-
stance that shocked him, that one must distinguish among
pleasures. So the hedonistic calculus that was suggested in
the Protagoras is in process of revision; happiness, which must
be judged by qualitative standards, is distinguished from plea-
sure, which is merely quantitative; and the good is not the
same as the pleasant. This conclusion is now enforced with
reference to rhetoric and poetry, and finally to conduct. Cal-
licles will listen no more: accordingly Socrates summarizes
the argument up to this point.]
Soc. Listen to me, then, while I recapitulate the argument:
Is the pleasant the same as the good? Not the same.
Callicles and I are agreed about that. And is the pleasant
to be pursued for the sake of the good? or the good for the
for the sake sake of the pleasant? The pleasant is to be pursued for the
sake of the good. And that is pleasant at the presence of
which we are pleased, and that is good at the presence of
which we are good? To be sure. And we are good, and all
good things whatever are good when some virtue is present
in us or them? That, Callicles, is my conviction. But the
virtue of each thing, whether body or soul, instrument or
creature, when given to them in the best way comes to them
not by chance but as the result of the order and truth and
art which are imparted to them: Am I not right? I maintain
that I am. And is not the virtue of each thing dependent on
order or arrangement? Yes, I say. And that which makes
a thing good is the proper order inhering in each thing?
Such is my view. And is not the soul which has an order of
her own better than that which has no order? Certainly.
And the soul which has order is orderly? Of course. And
that which is orderly is temperate? Assuredly. And the 597
temperate soul is good? No other answer can I give, Calli-
cles dear; have you any?
art.
Cal. Go on, my good fellow.
Soc. Then I shall proceed to add, that if the temperate
soul is the good soul, the soul which is in the opposite condi-
tion, that is, the foolish and intemperate, is the bad soul. Very
true.
GORGIAS
199
perate soul
is the good
relation to
soul, just in
Very men, and
Very
holy in
relation to
is therefore
happy; and
the reverse
And will not the temperate man do what is proper, both in Gorgias.
relation to the gods and to men; for he would not be tem- SOCRATES.
erate if he did not? Certainly he will do what is proper. The tem-
In his relation to other men he will do what is just; and in
his relation to the gods he will do what is holy; and he who
does what is just and holy must be just and holy?
true. And must he not be courageous? for the duty of a
temperate man is not to follow or to avoid what he ought not, gods, and
but what he ought, whether things or men or pleasures or
pains, and patiently to endure when he ought; and therefore, the intem-
Callicles, the temperate man, being, as we have described, perate is
also just and courageous and holy, cannot be other than of all this.
a perfectly good man, nor can the good man do otherwise
than well and perfectly whatever he does; and he who does
well' must of necessity be happy and blessed, and the evil
man who does evil, miserable: now this latter is he whom
you were applauding the intemperate who is the opposite of
the temperate. Such is my position, and these things I
affirm to be true. And if they are true, then I further affirm
that he who desires to be happy must pursue and practise
temperance and run away from intemperance as fast as his
legs will carry him: he had better order his life so as not to
need punishment; but if either he or any of his friends,
whether private individual or city, are in need of punishment,
then justice must be done and he must suffer punishment, if
he would be happy. This appears to me to be the aim which
a man ought to have, and toward which he ought to direct
all the energies both of himself and of the state, acting so
that he may have temperance and justice present with him
and be happy, not suffering his lusts to be unrestrained, and
in the never-ending desire to satisfy them leading a robber's
life. Such a one is the friend neither of God nor man, for
he is incapable of communion, and he who is incapable of
communion is also incapable of friendship. And philoso-
phers tell us, Callicles, that communion and friendship
508 and orderliness and temperance and justice bind together
heaven and earth and gods and men, and that this universe is
therefore called Cosmos or order, not disorder or misrule,
1 The Greek is ambiguous; it means both to do well (i.e. prosper) and
to act rightly.
[G.]
200
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias.
SOCRATES.
mitted that
virtue is
happiness
and vice
misery,
then what
Socrates
me never
my friend. But although you are a philosopher you seem to
to have observed that geometrical equality is
mighty, both among gods and men; you think that you ought
to cultivate inequality or excess, and do not care about
If it be ad geometry.-Well, then, either the principle that the happy
are made happy by the possession of justice and temperance,
and the miserable miserable by the possession of vice, must
be refuted, or, if it is granted, what will be the consequences?
All the consequences which I drew before, Callicles, and
about which you asked me whether I was in earnest when I
said that a man ought to accuse himself and his son and his
friend if he did anything wrong, and that to this end he
should use his rhetoric-all those consequences are true.
And that which you thought that Polus was led to admit out
of modesty is true, viz. that, to do injustice, if more disgrace-
ful than to suffer, is in that degree worse; and the other
position, which, according to Polus, Gorgias admitted out of
modesty, that he who would truly be a rhetorician ought to
be just and have a knowledge of justice, has also turned out
to be truc.
said about
the use of
rhetoric in
self-accusa-
tion turns
out to be
true.
And now, these things being as we have said, let us
proceed in the next place to consider whether you are right
in throwing in my teeth that I am unable to help myself
or any of my friends or kinsmen, or to save them in the
extremity of danger, and that I am in the power of another
like an outlaw to whom any one may do what he likes,—he
may box my ears, which was a brave saying of yours; or
take away my goods or banish me, or even do his worst and
kill me; a condition which, as you say, is the height of
disgrace. My answer to you is one which has been already
often repeated, but may as well be repeated once more. I
tell you, Callicles, that to be boxed on the ears wrongfully is
not the worst evil which can be fall a man, nor to have my
purse or my body cut open, but that to smite and slay me
and mine wrongfully is far more disgraceful and more evil;
aye, and to despoil and enslave and pillage, or in any way at
all to wrong me and mine, is far more disgraceful and evil to
the doer of the wrong than to me who am the sufferer.
These truths, which have been already set forth as I state 509
them in the previous discussion, would seem now to have
GORGIAS
201
Gorgias.
CALLICLES,
The great-
est evil to
but there
is a greater
do injustice;
still, not to
be punished
for doing
been fixed and riveted by us, if I may use an expression
which is certainly bold, in words which are like bonds of SOCRATES,
iron and adamant; and unless you or some other still more
enterprising hero shall break them, there is no possibility of
denying what I say. For my position has always been, that
I myself am ignorant how these things are; but that I have
never met any one who could say otherwise, any more than
you can, and not appear ridiculous. This is my position
still, and if what I am saying is true, and injustice is the
greatest of evils to the doer of injustice, and yet there is if
possible a greater than this greatest of evils, in an unjust
man not suffering retribution, what is that defence of which
the want will make a man truly ridiculous? Must not the
defence be one which will avert the greatest of human evils?
And is not this the defence, the inability to provide which for
self or family or friends is the most disgraceful? ¹—and next
will come that which is unable to avert the next greatest evil;
thirdly that which is unable to avert the third greatest evil;
and so of other evils. As is the greatness of evil so is the
honour of being able to avert them in their several degrees,
and the disgrace of not being able to avert them. Am I not
right, Callicles?
Cal. Yes, quite right.
Soc. Seeing then that there are these two evils, the doing
injustice and the suffering injustice—and we affirm that to do
injustice is a greater, and to suffer injustice a lesser evil-by
what devices can a man succeed in obtaining the two
advantages, the one of not doing and the other of not suffer-
ing injustice? must he have the power, or only the will to
obtain them? I mean to ask whether a man will escape in-
justice if he has only the will to escape, or must he have
provided himself with the power?
Cal. He must have provided himself with the power; that
is clear.
Soc. And what do you say of doing injustice? Is the will
only sufficient, and will that prevent him from doing injustice,
or must he have provided himself with power and art; and
if he have not studied and practised, will he be unjust still?
1 J. has 'And will not the worst of all defences be that with which
a man is unable to defend himself or his family or his friends?'
injustice.
202
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias.
Socrates,
CALLICLES.
The tyrant
naturally
hates both
his su-
periors and
inferiors:
he likes
only those
who resem-
ble him in
character.
And the
way to be a
great man
and not to
suffer injury
is to be-
come like
Surely you might say, Callicles, whether you think that Polus
and I were right in admitting the conclusion that no one
does wrong voluntarily, but that all do wrong against their
will?
Cal. Granted, Socrates, if you will only have done.
Soc. Then, as would appear, power and art have to be pro-
vided in order that we may do no injustice?
Cal. Certainly.
Soc. And what art will protect us from suffering injustice,
if not wholly, yet as far as possible? I want to know whether
you agree with me; for I think that such an art is the art of
one who is either a ruler or even tyrant himself, or the equal
and companion of the ruling power.
Cal. Well said, Socrates; and please to observe how ready
I am to praise you when you talk sense.
of an-
Soc. Think and tell me whether you would approve
other view of mine: To me every man appears to be most
the friend of him who is most like to him-like to like, as
ancient sages say: Would you not agree to this?
Cal. I should.
Soc. But when the tyrant is rude and uneducated, he may
be expected to fear any one who is his superior in virtue, and
will never be able to be perfectly friendly with him.
Cal. That is true.
Soc. Neither will he be the friend of any one who is
greatly his inferior, for the tyrant will despise him, and will
never seriously regard him as a friend.
Cal. That again is true.
Soc. Then the only friend worth mentioning, whom the
tyrant can have, will be one who is of the same character, and
has the same likes and dislikes, and is at the same time willing
to be subject and subservient to him; he is the man who will
have power in the state, and no one will injure him with im-
punity is not that so?
Cal. Yes.
Soc. And if a young man begins to ask how he may be-
come great and formidable, this would seem to be the way-
he will accustom himself, from his youth upward, to feel
sorrow and joy on the same occasions as his master, and will
contrive to be as like him as possible?
510
GORGIAS
203
Cal. Yes.
Gorgias.
CALLICLES.
Soc. And in this way he will have accomplished, as you SOCRATES,
and your friends would say, the end of becoming a great man
and not suffering injury?
Cal. Very true.
him. And
there can be
no greater
evil to
him than
Soc. But will he also escape from doing injury? Must not
the very opposite be true, if he is to be like the tyrant in his this.
511 injustice, and to have influence with him? Will he not
rather contrive to do as much wrong as possible, and not be
punished?
Cal. True.
Soc. And by the imitation of his master and by the power
which he thus acquires will not his soul become bad and
corrupted, and will not this be the greatest evil to him?
Cal. You always contrive somehow or other, Socrates, to
invert everything: do you not know that he who imitates the
tyrant will, if he has a mind, kill him who does not imitate
him and take away his goods?
Soc. Excellent Callicles, I am not deaf, and I have heard
that a great many times from you and from Polus and from
nearly every man in the city, but I wish that you would hear
me too. I dare say that he will kill him if he has a mind-
the bad man will kill the good and true.
But how
provoking
that the bad
man should
slay the
good!
Cal. And is not that just the provoking thing?
Soc. Nay, not to a man of sense, as the argument shows: do Nay, but
you think that all our cares should be directed to prolonging
life to the uttermost, and to the study of those arts which
secure us from danger always: like that art of rhetoric
which saves men in courts of law, and which you advise me
to cultivate?
Cal. Yes, truly, and very good advice too.
we should
not always
study the
arts which
death;—the
save us from
art of swim-
ming, the
art of the
Soc. Well, my friend, but what do you think of swimming; pilot, &c.
is that an art of any great pretensions?
Cal. No, indeed.
Soc. And yet surely swimming saves a man from death,
and there are occasions on which he must know how to swim.
And if you despise the swimmers, I will tell you of another
and greater art, the art of the pilot, who not only saves the
souls of men, but also their bodies and properties from the
extremity of danger, just like rhetoric. Yet his art is modest
The pilot
demands
a very
moderate
204
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias.
SOCRATES
payment as
the fare of
a passenger
from
Aegina
io Athens,
because
he is not
certain
whether
salvation
from death
be a good
or an evil.
The
engineer,
too:-how
and unpresuming: it has no airs or pretences of doing any-
thing extraordinary, and, in return for the same salvation
which is given by the pleader, demands only two obols, if he
brings us from Aegina to Athens, or for the longer voyage
from Pontus or Egypt, at the utmost two drachmae, when he
has saved, as I was just now saying, the passenger and his
wife and children and goods, and safely disembarked them at
the Piraeus, this is the payment which he asks in return for
so great a boon; and he who is the master of the art, and has
done all this, gets out and walks about on the sea-shore by
his ship in an unassuming way. For he is able to reflect and
is aware that he cannot tell which of his fellow-passengers he
has benefited, and which of them he has injured in not allow-
ing them to be drowned. He knows that they are just the
same when he has disembarked them as when they embarked, 512
and not a whit better either in their bodies or in their souls;
and he considers that if a man who is afflicted by great and
incurable bodily diseases is only to be pitied for having es-
caped, and is in no way benefited by him in having been
saved from drowning, much less he who has great and incur-
able diseases, not of the body, but of the soul, which is the
more valuable part of him; neither is life worth having nor
of any profit to the bad man, whether he be delivered from
the sea, or the law-courts, or any other devourer;—and so he
reflects that such an one had better not live, for he cannot
live well.
And this is the reason why the pilot, although he is our
saviour, is not usually conceited, any more than the engineer,
who is not at all behind either the general, or the pilot, or
any one else, in his saving power, for he sometimes saves
whole cities. Is there any comparison between him and the
pleader? And if he were to talk, Callicles, in your grandiose
style, he would bury you under a mountain of words, de-
much better claring and insisting that we ought all of us to be engine-
makers, and that no other profession is worth thinking about;
he would have plenty to say. Nevertheless you despise him
and his art, and sneeringly call him an engine-maker, and
you will not allow your daughters to marry his son, or marry
your son to his daughters. And yet, on your principle, what
justice or reason is there in
your refusal? What right have
than the
pleader!
GORGIAS
205
Gorgias.
SOCRATES,
CALLICLES.
another
of your
but you de-
spise him,
you ought
to esteem
you to despise the engine-maker, and the others whom I was
just now mentioning? I know that you will say, 'I am
better, and better born.' But if the better is not what I say,
and virtue consists only in a man saving himself and his,
whatever may be his character, then your censure of the He too is
engine-maker, and of the physician, and of the other arts of
salvation, is ridiculous. O my friend! I want you to see that saviours;
the noble and the good may possibly be something different
from saving and being saved:-May not he who is truly a whereas
man cease to care about living a certain time?-he knows, as
women say, that no man can escape fate, and therefore he is him highly.
not fond of life; he leaves all that with God, and considers
in what way he can best spend his appointed term;—whether
by assimilating himself to the constitution under which he
513 lives, as you at this moment have to consider how you may
become as like as possible to the Athenian people, if you
mean to be in their good graces, and to have power in the
state; whereas I want you to think and see whether this is I want you
for the interest of either of us;-I would not have us risk whether
that which is dearest on the acquisition of this power, like
the Thessalian enchantresses, who, as they say, bring down
the moon from heaven at the risk of their own perdition.
But if you suppose that any man will show you the art of
becoming great in the city, and yet not conforming yourself
to the ways of the city, whether for better or worse, then I
can only say that you are mistaken, Callicles; for he who
would deserve to be the true natural friend of the Athenian
Demus, aye, or of Pyrilampes' darling who is called after
them, must be by nature like them, and not an imitator only.
He, then, who will make you most like them, will make you
as you desire, a statesman and orator: for every man is
pleased when he is spoken to in his own language and spirit,
and dislikes any other. But perhaps you, sweet Callicles,
may be of another mind. What do you say?
Cal. Somehow or other your words, Socrates, always
appear to me to be good words; and yet, like the rest of the
world, I am not quite convinced by them.
to consider
you can
come great
among the
unless you
become
possibly be-
people
like them.
Soc. The reason is, Callicles, that the love of Demus which Callicles in-
abides in your soul is an adversary to me; but I dare
say that
if we recur to these same matters, and consider them more
clines for an
instant to
the Gospel
206
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias.
SOCRATES,
CALLICLES.
of Socrates,
thoroughly, you may be convinced for all that.
Please, then,
to remember that there are two processes of training all
things, including body and soul; in the one, as we said, we
treat them with a view to pleasure, and in the other with a
of the world view to the highest good, and then we do not indulge but
resist them: was not that the distinction which we drew?
but the love
and of
popularity
overcomes
him.
Two pro-
cesses of
training;
one having
a view to
pleasure,
the other to
good.
Cal. Very true.
Soc. And the one which had pleasure in view was just a
vulgar flattery:-was not that another of our conclusions?
Cal. Be it So, if you will have it.
Soc. And the other had in view the greatest improvement
of that which was ministered to, whether body or soul?
Cal. Quite true.
[Once more Callicles has been drawn into the argument,
which has dwelt on the internal nature of goodness and hap-
piness. But one should not overlook the fact that the assent
of Callicles to the proposition that goodness means happiness
was gained by an ambiguity of phraseology (indicated in the
text, 507c); neither Callicles nor Socrates notes this quibble,
which is not the only one in the dialogue. It may be true
that goodness results in happiness, as the conventional morality
which Callicles despises would maintain; and it may be that
Plato can yet find a firm basis for his conviction. At present,
however, he feels so strongly the force of the obvious fact
that good men often do suffer that he is ready to seek refuge,
by a sort of religious faith, in the myth at the end of the
dialogue; a future life will redress the inequalities of this
life. For in Callicles he sees personified the spirit of evil and
of worldliness, and against it his instinct rebels. The true
art of living, which is the art of improving oneself and one's
fellows, matters more than the mere preservation of life:
Socrates therefore is not disturbed at the suggestion that he
may be haled into court and put in peril of his life.]
Soc. For no man who is not an utter fool and coward
is afraid of death itself, but he is afraid of doing wrong.
For to go to the world below having one's soul full of in-
justice is the last and worst of all evils. And in proof of
what I say, if you have no objection, I should like to tell you
a story.
Cal. Very well, proceed; and then we shall have done.
GORGIAS
207
1
no reason
Socrates
tion of what
happens in
the world
below.
days of
Zeus, the
of another
world too
sembled the
judgments
of this.
523 Soc. Listen, then, as story-tellers say, to a very pretty Gorgias.
tale, which I dare say that you may be disposed to regard as Socrates.
a fable only, but which, as I believe, is a true tale, for I The philo-
mean to speak the truth. Homer tells us,¹ how Zeus and sopher has
Poseidon and Pluto divided the empire which they inherited to dread
from their father. Now in the days of Cronos there existed death, as
a law respecting the destiny of man, which has always been, will prove
and still continues to be in Heaven, that he who has lived by a rela
all his life in justice and holiness shall go, when he is dead,
to the Islands of the Blessed, and dwell there in perfect
happiness out of the reach of evil; but that he who has lived
unjustly and impiously shall go to the house of vengeance
and punishment, which is called Tartarus. And in the time Before the
of Cronos, and even quite lately in the reign of Zeus, the
judgment was given on the very day on which the men were judgments
to die; the judges were alive, and the men were alive; and
the consequence was that the judgments were not well given. much re-
Then Pluto and the authorities from the Islands of the
Blessed came to Zeus, and said that the souls found their
way to the wrong places. Zeus said: 'I shall put a stop to
this; the judgments are not well given, because the persons
who are judged have their clothes on, for they are alive; and
there are many who, having evil souls, are apparelled in fair
bodies, or encased in wealth or rank, and, when the day of
judgment arrives, numerous witnesses come forward and
testify on their behalf that they have lived righteously. The
judges are awed by them, and they themselves too have their
clothes on when judging; their eyes and ears and their whole
bodies are interposed as a veil before their own souls. All
this is a hindrance to them; there are the clothes of the
judges and the clothes of the judged.-What is to be done? Zeus takes
I will tell you:-In the first place, I will deprive men of
the foreknowledge of death, which they possess at present: rection and
this power which they have Prometheus has already received
my orders to take from them: in the second place, they shall them.
be entirely stripped before they are judged, for they shall be
judged when they are dead; and the judge too shall be naked,
that is to say, dead-he with his naked soul shall pierce
into the other naked souls; and they shall die suddenly
1 Il. xv. 187. foll.
measures
for the cor-
improve-
ment of
208
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias.
SOCRATES.
As the body
soul after
death; they
both retain
the traces
of what
they were
in life,
and be deprived of all their kindred, and leave their brave
attire strewn upon the earth-conducted in this manner, the
judgment will be just. I knew all about the matter before
any of you, and therefore I have made my sons judges; two
from Asia, Minos and Rhadamanthus, and one from Europe,
Aeacus. And these, when they are dead, shall give judg- 524
ment in the meadow at the parting of the ways, whence the
two roads lead, one to the Islands of the Blessed, and the
other to Tartarus. Rhadamanthus shall judge those who
come from Asia, and Aeacus those who come from Europe.
And to Minos I shall give the primacy, and he shall hold
a court of appeal, in case either of the two others are in any
doubt: then the judgment respecting the last journey of
men will be as just as possible.'
From this tale, Callicles, which I have heard and believe,
is, so is the I draw the following inferences:-Death, if I am right, is in
the first place the separation from one another of two things,
soul and body; nothing else. And after they are separated
they retain their several natures, as in life; the body keeps
the same habit, and the results of treatment or accident are
distinctly visible in it: for example, he who by nature or
training or both, was a tall man while he was alive, will
remain as he was, after he is dead; and the fat man will
remain fat; and so on; and the dead man, who in life had a
fancy to have flowing hair, will have flowing hair. And if he
was marked with the whip and had the prints of the scourge,
or of wounds in him when he was alive, you might see the
same in the dead body; and if his limbs were broken or mis-
shapen when he was alive, the same appearance would be
visible in the dead. And in a word, whatever was the habit
of the body during life would be distinguishable after death,
either perfectly, or in a great measure and for a certain time.
And I should imagine that this is equally true of the soul,
Callicles; when a man is stripped of the body, all the natural
or acquired affections of the soul are laid open to view.-
And when they come to the judge, as those from Asia come
to Rhadamanthus, he places them near him and inspects
them quite impartially, not knowing whose the soul is: per-
haps he may lay hands on the soul of the great king, or of
some other king or potentate, who has no soundness in him,
and they
are pun-
ished ac-
cordingly.
GORGIAS
209
Gorgias.
but his soul is marked with the whip, and is full of the prints
and scars of perjuries and crimes with which each action has Socrates.
525 stained him, and he is all crooked with falsehood and im-
posture, and has no straightness, because he has lived with-
out truth. Him Rhadamanthus beholds, full of all deformity
and disproportion, which is caused by licence and luxury
and insolence and incontinence, and despatches him igno-
miniously to his prison, and there he undergoes the punish-
ment which he deserves.
office of
punishment
is either to
improve or
to deter.
Now the proper office of punishment is twofold: he who The proper
is rightly punished ought either to become better and profit
by it, or he ought to be made an example to his fellows, that
they may see what he suffers, and fear and become better.
Those who are improved when they are punished by gods
and men, are those whose sins are curable; and they are
improved, as in this world so also in another, by pain and
suffering; for there is no other way in which they can be
delivered from their evil. But they who have been guilty of
the worst crimes, and are incurable by reason of their crimes,
are made examples; for, as they are incurable, the time has
passed at which they can receive any benefit. They get no
good themselves, but others get good when they behold them
enduring for ever the most terrible and painful and fearful
sufferings as the penalty of their sins there they are, hang-
ing up as examples, in the prison-house of the world below,
a spectacle and a warning to all unrighteous men who come
thither. And among them, as I confidently affirm, will be
found Archelaus, if Polus truly reports of him, and any other
tyrant who is like him. Of these fearful examples, most, as
I believe, are taken from the class of tyrants and kings and
potentates and public men, for they are the authors of the
greatest and most impious crimes, because they have the
power. And Homer witnesses to the truth of this; for they
are always kings and potentates whom he has described as
suffering everlasting punishment in the world below: such
were Tantalus and Sisyphus and Tityus. But no one ever The meaner
described Thersites, or any private person who was a villain,
as suffering everlasting punishment, or as incurable. For to ble of great
commit the worst crimes, as I am inclined to think, was not
in his power, and he was happier than those who had the
sort of men
are incapa-
crimes.
210
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Gorgias.
Socrates.
Great men
have some-
times been
good men;
but power
is apt to
corrupt
them.
The im-
partiality of
the judges
in another
world.
power. No, Callicles, the very bad men come from the 526
class of those who have power. And yet in that very class
there may arise good men, and worthy of all admiration they
are, for where there is great power to do wrong, to live and
to die justly is a hard thing, and greatly to be praised, and
few there are who attain to this. Such good and true men,
however, there have been, and will be again, at Athens and
in other states, who have fulfilled their trust righteously; and
there is one who is quite famous all over Hellas, Aristeides,
the son of Lysimachus. But, in general, great men are also
bad, my friend.
As I was saying, Rhadamanthus, when he gets a soul of
the bad kind, knows nothing about him, neither who he is,
nor who his parents are; he knows only that he has got hold
of a villain; and seeing this, he stamps him as curable or in-
curable, and sends him away to Tartarus, whither he goes
and receives his proper recompense. Or, again, he looks
with admiration on the soul of some just one who has lived
in holiness and truth; he may have been a private man or
not; and I should say, Callicles, that he is most likely to
have been a philosopher who has done his own work, and
not troubled himself with the doings of other men in his life-
time; him Rhadamanthus sends to the Islands of the Blessed.
Aeacus does the same; and they both have sceptres, and
judge; but Minos alone has a golden sceptre and is seated
looking on, as Odysseus in Homer 2 declares that he saw
him:
'Holding a sceptre of gold, and giving laws to the dead.'
Now I, Callicles, am persuaded of the truth of these things,
and I consider how I shall present my soul whole and
undefiled before the judge in that day. Renouncing the
honours at which the world aims, I desire only to know the
truth, and to live as well as I can, and, when I die, to die as
well as I can. And, to the utmost of my power, I exhort all
other men to do the same. And, in return for your exhorta-
tion of me, I exhort you also to take part in the great combat,
which is the combat of life, and greater than every other
earthly conflict. And I retort your reproach of me, and say,
2 Odyss. xi. 469.
1 Cp. Rep. x. 615 e.
GORGIAS
211
that you will not be able to help yourself when the day of Gorgias.
trial and judgment, of which I was speaking, comes upon SOCRAtes.
you; you will go before the judge, the son of Aegina, and,
527 when he has got you in his grip and is carrying you off, you
will gape and your head will swim round, just as mine would.
in the courts of this world, and very likely some one will
shamefully box you on the ears, and put upon you any sort of
insult.
•
Perhaps this may appear to you to be only an old wife's tale,
which you will contemn. And there might be reason in your
contemning such tales, if by searching we could find out any-
thing better or truer: but now you see that you and Polus
and Gorgias, who are the three wisest of the Greeks of our
day, are not able to show that we ought to live any life which
does not profit in another world as well as in this. And of
all that has been said, nothing remains unshaken but the
saying, that to do injustice is more to be avoided than to suffer
injustice, and that the reality, and not the appearance of virtue
is to be followed above all things, as well in public as in
private life; and that when any one has been wrong in any-
thing, he is to be chastised, and that the next best thing to a
man being just is that he should become just, and be chastised
and punished; also that he should avoid all flattery of him-
self as well as of others, of the few or of the many: and
rhetoric and any other art should be used by him, and all his
actions should be done always, with a view to justice.
Follow me then, and I will lead you where you will be
happy in life and after death, as the argument shows. And
never mind if some one despises you as a fool, and insults
you, if he has a mind; let him strike you, by Zeus, and do
you be of good cheer, and do not mind the insulting blow, for
you will never come to any harm in the practice of virtue, if
you are a really good and true man. When we have prac-
tised virtue together, we will apply ourselves to politics, if
that seems desirable, or we will advise about whatever else
may seem good to us, for we shall be better able to judge
then. In our present condition we ought not to give our-
selves airs, for even on the most important subjects we are
always changing our minds; so utterly stupid are we!
us, then, take the argument as our guide, which has revealed
Let
212
THE DIALOGUES OF FLATO
Gorgias.
SOCRATES.
to us that the best way of life is to practise justice and every
virtue in life and death. This way let us go; and in this
exhort all men to follow, not in the way to which you trust
and in which you exhort me to follow you; for that way, Cal-
licles, is nothing worth.
SYMPOSIUM
The Symposium is surely the most perfect drama among
the dialogues of Plato. Setting, characters, plot and comic
relief are manipulated with consummate art. From the
point of view of philosophic progress, the richness of form
makes possible an interplay of personalities and ideas that gives
a result not merely cumulative but architectural.
To an unnamed speaker, the excitable Apollodorus tells
the story of a famous conversation held some years ago after
a banquet at the house of the tragic poet Agathon, who had
just won his first victory. Apollodorus had himself heard
the story from Aristodemus, whose exact words he repeats.
W. C. G.
SYMPOSIUM
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE
APOLLODORUS, who repeats to PAUSANIAS.
his companion the dialogue
which he had heard from
Aristodemus, and had al-
ready once narrated to Glau-
con.
PHAEDRUS.
ERYXIMACHUS.
ARISTOPHANES.
AGATHON.
SOCRATES.
ALCIBIADES.
A TROOP OF Revellers.
SCENE:-The House of Agathon.
mus the
narrator
Apollodorus. He said that he met Socrates fresh from the Aristode
bath and sandalled; and as the sight of the sandals was un-
usual, he asked him whither he was going that he had been had gone
converted into such a beau:—
to the ban-
quet on the
of Socrates.
To a banquet at Agathon's, he replied, whose invitation to invitation
his sacrifice of victory I refused yesterday, fearing a crowd,
but promising that I would come to-day instead; and so I
have put on my finery, because he is such a fine man. What
say you to going with me unasked?
I will do as you bid me, I replied.
Follow then, he said, and let us demolish the proverb:-
'To the feasts of inferior men the good unbidden go';
instead of which our proverb will run:-
"To the feasts of the good the good unbidden go';
own rule.
and this alteration may be supported by the authority of Homer
Homer himself, who not only demolishes but literally out- violates his
rages the proverb. For, after picturing Agamemnon as the
most valiant of men, he makes Menelaus, who is but a faint-
hearted warrior, come unbidden to the banquet of Agamem-
non, who is feasting and offering sacrifices, not the better to
the worse, but the worse to the better.
215
216
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sym
posium.
ARISTODE-
MUS,
AGATHON.
I rather fear, Socrates, said Aristodemus, lest this may still
be my case; and that, like Menelaus in Homer, I shall be
the inferior person, who
"To the feasts of the wise unbidden goes.'
But I shall say that I was bidden of
have to make an excuse.
and then
you,
you will
Aristode-
mus is wel-
come on his
own ac-
count, but
where is his
inseparable
com-
panion?
"Two going together,'
he replied, in Homeric fashion, one or other of them may
invent an excuse by the way.
This was the style of their conversation as they went along.
Socrates dropped behind in a fit of abstraction, and desired
Aristodemus, who was waiting, to go on before him. When
he reached the house of Agathon he found the doors wide
open, and a comical thing happened. A servant coming out
met him, and led him at once into the banqueting-hall in
which the guests were reclining, for the banquet was about
to begin. Welcome, Aristodemus, said Agathon, as soon as
he appeared-you are just in time to sup with us; if you
come on any other matter put it off, and make one of us, as I
was looking for you yesterday and meant to have asked you,
if I could have found you. But what have you done with
Socrates?
I turned round, but Socrates was nowhere to be seen: and
I had to explain that he had been with me a moment before,
and that I came by his invitation to the supper.
You were quite right in coming, said Agathon; but where
is he himself?
He was behind me just now, as I entered, he said, and 175
I cannot think what has become of him.
Go and look for him, boy, said Agathon, and bring him in;
and do you, Aristodemus, meanwhile take the place by
Eryximachus.
The servant then assisted him to wash, and he lay down,
and presently another servant came in and reported that our
friend Socrates had retired into the portico of the neighbour-
ing house. "There he is fixed,' said he, 'and when I call to
him he will not stir.'
SYMPOSIUM
217
176
How strange, said Agathon; then you must call him again,
and keep calling him.
Let him alone, said my informant; he has a way of stop-
ping anywhere and losing himself without any reason. I
believe that he will soon appear; do not therefore disturb
him.
Sym-
posium..
AGATHON,
ARISTODE-
MUS,
SOCRATES.
tesy of
Agathon.
Well, if you think so, I will leave him, said Agathon. And
then, turning to the servants, he added, 'Let us have supper
without waiting for him. Serve up whatever you please, for The cour
there is no one to give you orders; hitherto I have never
left you to yourselves. But on this occasion imagine that
you are our hosts, and that I and the company are your
guests; treat us well, and then we shall commend you.'
After this, supper was served, but still no Socrates; and
during the meal Agathon several times expressed a wish
to send for him, but Aristodemus objected; and at last when
the feast was about half over-for the fit, as usual, was not of
long duration-Socrates entered. Agathon, who was re-
clining alone at the end of the table, begged that he would Socrates
take the place next to him; that 'I may touch you,' he said, ‘and
have the benefit of that wise thought which came into your
mind in the portico, and is now in your possession; for I am
certain that you would not have come away until you had him and
found what you sought.'
How I wish, said Socrates, taking his place as he was
desired, that wisdom could be infused by touch, out of the
fuller into the emptier man, as water runs through wool out
of a fuller cup into an emptier one; if that were so, how
greatly should I value the privilege of reclining at your side!
For you would have filled me full with a stream of wisdom
plenteous and fair; whereas my own is of a very mean and
questionable sort, no better than a dream.
But yours is
bright and full of promise, and was manifested forth in all
the splendour of youth the day before yesterday, in the pre-
sence of more than thirty thousand Hellenes.
You are mocking, Socrates, said Agathon, and ere long
you and I will have to determine who bears off the palm of
wisdom of this Dionysus shall be the judge; but at present
you are better occupied with supper.
Socrates took his place on the couch, and supped with the
At length
enters: the
compli-
ments
which pass
between
Agathon.
218
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sym-
posium.
PAUSANIUS,
ARISTO-
PHANES,
ERYXIMA-
CHUS,
AGATHON,
PHAEDRUS.
The good
advice of
Pausanias.
Men who
drank hard
yesterday
should
avoid
drinking
to-day.
rest; and then libations were offered, and after a hymn had
been sung to the god, and there had been the usual cere-
monies, they were about to commence drinking, when
Pausanias said, And now, my friends, how can we drink
with least injury to ourselves? I can assure you that I feel
severely the effect of yesterday's potations, and must have
time to recover; and I suspect that most of you are in the
same predicament, for you were of the party yesterday. Con-
sider then: How can the drinking be made easiest?
I entirely agree, said Aristophanes, that we should, by all
means, avoid hard drinking, for I was myself one of those
who were yesterday drowned in drink.
I think that you are right, said Eryximachus, the son of
Acumenus; but I should still like to hear one other person
speak: Is Agathon able to drink hard?
I am not equal to it, said Agathon.
Then, said Eryximachus, the weak heads like myself,
Aristodemus, Phaedrus, and others who never can drink,
are fortunate in finding that the stronger ones are not in a
drinking mood. (I do not include Socrates, who is able
either to drink or to abstain, and will not mind, whichever we
do.) Well, as none of the company seem disposed to drink
much, I may be forgiven for saying, as a physician, that
drinking deep is a bad practice, which I never follow, if I can
help, and certainly do not recommend to another, least of all
to any one who still feels the effects of yesterday's carouse.
I always do what you advise, and especially what you pre-
scribe as a physician, rejoined Phaedrus the Myrrhinusian,
and the rest of the company, if they are wise, will do the
same.
It was agreed that drinking was not to be the order of the
day, but that they were all to drink only so much as they
pleased.
Then, said Eryximachus, as you are all agreed that
drinking is to be voluntary, and that there is to be no com-
pulsion, I move, in the next place, that the flute-girl, who
has just made her appearance, be told to go away and play
to herself, or, if she likes, to the women who are within.
To-day let us have conversation instead; and, if you will
allow me, I will tell you what sort of conversation.
177
SYMPOSIUM
219
[Eryximachus, the physician, acting on the suggestion of
Phaedrus, proposes as the topic of conversation a succession of
speeches in honour of Love.
Phaedrus as 'father of the idea, speaks first, praising Love
in a rather extravagant vein, tinged with not a little sophistic
rhetoric. His more discriminating successor, Pausanias, dis-
tinguishes two loves, a heavenly and an earthly love, resulting
in noble or in disgraceful conduct. The comic poet Aristo-
phanes, whose turn should come next, has a hiccough, and
therefore gives place to the physician Eryximachus, who (after
prescribing for the hiccough) discourses as a naturalist on
the all-pervasive and harmonizing influence of love in all
things. The comic poet, now cured of the hiccough (and
thus apparently accidentally, but really with great skill, made
to speak just before the tragic poet), launches on a thoroughly
Aristophanic myth, which professes to account for the origin
of the sexes, and of love as the groping of sundered and im-
perfect creatures for their other half; love is the desire and
pursuit of the whole. Next the host, Agathon, delivers his
speech, half-playful, yet having a certain measure of serious-
ness;' it is an extravagant panegyric on love, emphasizing
the distinction between the youthful, ever-glorious god Love
and his works, and calling attention to the affinity of love and
beauty.
And now it is the turn of Socrates to speak. The previous
speeches will not be refuted; neither do they rise gradually
to a climax in the speech of Socrates. Rather do they serve
as the materials from which Socrates builds his own discourse;
or, to change the figure, the light, at first prismatic, is later
gathered into a white radiance by the mind of Socrates. But
it is especially the speech of Agathon, his immediate predeces-
sor, which gives him his cue. Love is of beauty, or of the
good; but Socrates first compels Agathon to admit that no
man can love, or desire, that which he has, though he may
well desire more of what he already has. Love in itself,
then, as Aristophanes has shown, is in a sense an acknowledg-
ment of imperfection, and should not be praised as perfect
(as Agathon has praised it). Socrates in this fashion effects
a transition from the love of the temporal, the quantitative,
to the love of the timeless, the qualitative,-in a word, to
Sym-
posium.
220
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sym-
posium.
Recapitu.
lation of the
argument.
"S
the realm of abstract ideas of goodness and beauty. Thus
philosophy, like love, mediates between mortal and immortal,
between concrete and universal, and stands in a mean between
ignorance and wisdom. In such a manner Plato is pushing
aside the old stumbling block that we met in the Meno,-the
question how one can seek (or love) what one does not know.
In his speech, it will be seen, Socrates ironically disclaims
responsibility for his wisdom by professing merely to repeat
what he has learned from the wise Diotima; such a literary
device enables him to express the views of Plato without seem-
ing discourteous to his host. And at a notable point in the
discourse (210) by adopting the solemn language of the
mysteries, Plato further marks as his own the new conception
of philosophy as a process not merely of begetting, as do the
poet and the legislator, by the loving embrace of beauty,
lasting forms of wisdom and virtue, but of rising as by the
steps of a ladder through experience after experience of
beauty, each level becoming less involved in the transitory
flux, until the philosophic lover at last attains to the rapt con-
templation of absolute beauty, eternal and unchanging. This
conception carries further the ideal sketched in the Meno,
in which the knowledge was a process of remembering, and
the objects of knowledge were mathematical abstractions; it
includes not only the process of abstraction but the purifying
of emotion by the reason. For the realm of ideas, Plato
holds, is not merely rational, or merely ethical, or merely the
object of desire, but a union of all, serving different needs
on different occasions.
The emotional pitch of the revelation is high; comic relief
comes in the last act of the dialogue, which nevertheless per-
mits Alcibiades to descant, absurdly enough, on the character
of Socrates and to show, what Socrates himself could not well
have shown, that he is the living embodiment of the experience
that he has recounted, the union of passion and chastity.]
Then now, said Socrates, let us recapitulate the argument.
First, is not love of something, and of something too which is
wanting to a man?
Yes, he replied.
Remember further what you said in your speech or if
you do not remember I will remind you: you said that the
201
SYMPOSIUM
221
love of the beautiful set in order the empire of the gods, for
that of deformed things there is no love-did you not say
something of that kind?
Yes, said Agathon.
Yes, my friend, and the remark was a just one. And if
this is true, Love is the love of beauty and not of deformity?
He assented.
And the admission has been already made that love is of
something which a man wants and has not?
True, he said.
Then Love wants and has not beauty?
Certainly, he replied.
Sym-
posium.
SOCRATES,
AGATHON.
And would you call that beautiful which wants and does The conclu-
not possess beauty?
Certainly not.
Then would you still say that love is beautiful?
sion is, that
love is not
beautiful
but is of
the beauti-
Agathon replied: I fear that I did not understand what I ful, and
was saying.
that the
beautiful is
You made a very good speech, Agathon, replied Socrates; the good.
but there is yet one small question which I would fain ask:
-Is not the good also the beautiful?
Yes.
Then in wanting the beautiful, love wants also the
good?
I cannot refute you, Socrates, said Agathon:-Let us
assume that what you say is true.
Say rather, beloved Agathon, that you cannot refute the
truth; for Socrates is easily refuted.
ment was
communi-
Socrates by
Diotima.
And now, taking my leave of you, I will rehearse a tale of The argu-
love which I heard from Diotima of Mantineia, a woman.
wise in this and in many other kinds of knowledge, who in cated to
the days of old, when the Athenians offered sacrifice before
the coming of the plague, delayed the disease ten years.
She was my instructress in the art of love, and I shall repeat
to you what she said to me, beginning with the admissions
made by Agathon, which are nearly if not quite the same
which I made to the wise woman when she questioned me:
I think that this will be the easist way, and I shall take both
parts myself as well as I can. As you, Agathon, suggested,
I must speak first of the being and nature of Love, and then
222
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sym-
posium.
SOCRATES.
of his works. First I said to her in nearly the same words
which he used to me, that Love was a mighty god, and like-
wise fair; and she proved to me as I proved to him that, by
my own showing, Love was neither fair nor good. 'What
do you mean, Diotima,' I said, 'is love then evil and foul?'
Love is not 'Hush,' she cried; 'must that be foul which is not fair?'
'And is that which is not wise, ignorant? 202
do you not see that there is a mean between wisdom and
not fair and ignorance?' 'And what may that be?' I said. 'Right
opinion,' she replied; 'which, as you know, being incapable
to be es-
teemed foul
and evil be-
cause he is
good:
but, on the
other hand,
he is not a
god who
does not
possess the
good and
the fair.
He is a great
spirit who
mediates
between
gods and
men;
'Certainly,' I said.
of giving a reason, is not knowledge (for how can knowledge
be devoid of reason? nor again, ignorance, for neither can
ignorance attain the truth), but is clearly something which is
mean between ignorance and wisdom.' 'Quite true,' I
replied. 'Do not then insist,' she said, 'that what is not fair
is of necessity foul, or what is not good evil; or infer that
because love is not fair and good he is therefore foul and
evil; for he is in a mean between them.' 'Well,' I said,
'Love is surely admitted by all to be a great god.' 'By those
who know or by those who do not know?' 'By all.'
'And how, Socrates,' she said with a smile, 'can Love be
acknowledged to be a great god by those who say that he is
not a god at all?' 'And who are they?' I said. 'You and
I are two of them,' she replied. 'How can that be?' I said.
'It is quite intelligible,' she replied; 'for you yourself would
acknowledge that the gods are happy and fair-of course you
would would you dare to say that any god was not?'
'Certainly not,' I replied. 'And you mean by the happy,
those who are the possessors of things good or fair?' 'Yes.'
'And you admitted that Love, because he was in want,
desires those good and fair things of which he is in want?'
'Yes, I did.' 'But how can he be a god who has no portion
in what is either good or fair?' 'Impossible.' 'Then you
see that you also deny the divinity of Love.'
'What then is Love?' I asked; 'Is he mortal?' 'No.'
'What then?' 'As in the former instance, he is neither
mortal nor immortal, but in a mean between the two.' 'What
is he, Diotima?' 'He is a great spirit (dalµwv), and like
all spirits he is intermediate between the divine and the
mortal.' 'And what,' I said, 'is his power?' 'He inter-
SYMPOSIUM
223
posium.
SOCRATES.
Plenty and
Poverty;
prets,' she replied, 'between gods and men, conveying and Sym-
taking across to the gods the prayers and sacrifices of men,
and to men the commands and replies of the gods; he is the
mediator who spans the chasm which divides them, and
therefore in him all is bound together, and through him
the arts of the prophet and the priest, their sacrifices and
203 mysteries and charms, and all prophecy and incantation, find
their way. For God mingles not with man; but through
Love all the intercourse and converse of God with man,
whether awake or asleep, is carried on. The wisdom which
understands this is spiritual; all other wisdom, such as that
of arts and handicrafts, is mean and vulgar. Now these
spirits or intermediate powers are many and diverse, and one
of them is Love.' 'And who,' I said, 'was his father, and
who his mother?' "The tale,' she said, 'will take time;
nevertheless I will tell you. On the birthday of Aphrodite the son of
there was a feast of the gods, at which the god Poros or
Plenty, who is the son of Metis or Discretion, was one of the
guests. When the feast was over, Penia or Poverty, as the
manner is on such occasions, came about the doors to beg.
Now Plenty, who was the worse for nectar (there was no
wine in those days), went into the garden of Zeus and fell
into a heavy sleep; and Poverty considering her own
straitened circumstances, plotted to have a child by him,
and accordingly she lay down at his side and conceived
Love, who partly because he is naturally a lover of the
beautiful, and because Aphrodite is herself beautiful, and
also because he was born on her birthday, is her follower
and attendant. And as his parentage is, so also are his
fortunes. In the first place he is always poor, and anything a shoeless,
but tender and fair, as the many imagine him; and he is ill-favoured
rough and squalid, and has no shoes, nor a house to dwell in;
on the bare earth exposed he lies under the open heaven,
in the streets, or at the doors of houses, taking his rest; and spiring
like his mother he is always in distress. Like his father too, fair and
whom he also partly resembles, he is always plotting against good;
the fair and good; he is bold, enterprising, strong, a mighty
hunter, always weaving some intrigue or other, keen in the
pursuit of wisdom, fertile in resources; a philosopher at all
times, terrible as an enchanter, sorcerer, sophist. He is
houseless,
vagabond,
who is
always con-
against the
224
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sym
posium.
SOCRATES.
not wise,
but a lover
of wisdom.
Love is of
the beauti-
ful, but in
what?
by nature neither mortal nor immortal, but alive and flourish-
ing at one moment when he is in plenty, and dead at another
moment, and again alive by reason of his father's nature.
But that which is always flowing in is always flowing out, and
so he is never in want and never in wealth; and, further, he
is in a mean between ignorance and knowledge. The truth of
the matter is this: No god is a philosopher or seeker after
wisdom, for he is wise already; nor does any man who is
wise seek after wisdom. Neither do the ignorant seek after
wisdom. For herein is the evil of ignorance, that he who is 204
neither good nor wise is nevertheless satisfied with himself:
he has no desire for that of which he feels no want.' 'But
who then, Diotima,' I said, 'are the lovers of wisdom, if they
are neither the wise nor the foolish?' 'A child may answer
that question,' she replied; 'they are those who are in a mean
between the two; Love is one of them. For wisdom is
a most beautiful thing, and Love is of the beautiful; and
therefore Love is also a philosopher or lover of wisdom, and
being a lover of wisdom is in a mean between the wise and
the ignorant. And of this too his birth is the cause; for
his father is wealthy and wise, and his mother poor and
foolish. Such, my dear Socrates, is the nature of the spirit
Love. The error in your conception of him was very natural,
and as I imagine from what you say, has arisen out of a con-
fusion of love and the beloved, which made you think that love
was all beautiful. For the beloved is the truly beautiful, and
delicate, and perfect, and blessed; but the principle of love is
of another nature, and is such as I have described.'
I said: 'O thou stranger woman, thou sayest well; but
assuming Love to be such as you say, what is the use of him
to men?' 'That, Socrates,' she replied, 'I will attempt to
unfold: of his nature and birth I have already spoken; and
you acknowledge that love is of the beautiful. But some one
will say: Of the beautiful in what, Socrates and Diotima?-
or rather let me put the question more clearly, and ask:
When a man loves the beautiful, what does he desire?' I
answered her "That the beautiful may be his.' 'Still,' she
said, 'the answer suggests a further question: What is given
ful, which is by the possession of beauty?' 'To what you have asked,' I
replied, 'I have no answer ready.' 'Then,' she said, ‘let me
Of the pos-
session of
the beauti-
also the
SYMPOSIUM
225
Sym-
posium.
SOCRATES.
of the good,
happiness.
not com-
general
sense.
put the word "good" in the place of the beautiful, and repeat
the question once more: If he who loves loves the good,
what is it then that he loves?' "The possession of the
good,' I said. 'And what does he gain who possesses the possession
good?' 'Happiness,' I replied; 'there is less difficulty in which is
205 answering that question.' 'Yes,' she said, 'the happy are
made happy by the acquisition of good things. Nor is there
any need to ask why a man desires happiness; the answer
is already final.' 'You are right,' I said. 'And is this wish.
and this desire common to all? and do all men always desire
their own good, or only some men?-what say you?' 'All
men,' I replied; 'the desire is common to all.' 'Why, then,'
she rejoined, 'are not all men, Socrates, said to love, but
only some of them? whereas you say that all men are always
loving the same things.' 'I myself wonder,' I said, 'why
this is.' 'There is nothing to wonder at,' she replied; 'the Yet love is
reason is that one part of love is separated off and receives monly used
the name of the whole, but the other parts have other names.' in this
'Give an illustration,' I said. She answered me as follows:
"There is poetry, which, as you know, is complex and mani-
fold. All creation or passage of non-being into being is TRY
poetry or making, and the processes of all art are creative;
and the masters of arts are all poets or makers.' 'Very
true.' 'Still,' she said, 'you know that they are not called
poets, but have other names; only that portion of the art
which is separated off from the rest, and is concerned with
music and metre, is termed poetry, and they who possess
poetry in this sense of the word are called poets.' 'Very
true,' I said. 'And the same holds of love.
For you may
say generally that all desire of good and happiness is only
the great and subtle power of love; but they who are
drawn toward him by any other path, whether the path of
money-making or gymnastics or philosophy, are not called
lovers the name of the whole is appropriated to those
whose affection takes one form only-they alone are said
to love, or to be lovers.' 'I dare say,' I replied, 'that
you are right.' 'Yes,' she added, and you hear people say
that lovers are seeking for their other half; but I say that
they are seeking neither for the half of themselves, nor
for the whole, unless the half or the whole be also a
226
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sym-
posium.
SOCRATES.
Love is
birth, is
creation;
power of
conception
or parturi-
tion;
good. And they will cut off their own hands and feet and
cast them away, if they are evil; for they love not what
is their own, unless perchance there be some one who calls
what belongs to him the good, and what belongs to another 206
the evil. For there is nothing which men love but the good.
Is there anything?' 'Certainly, I should say, that there is
nothing.' 'Then,' she said, 'the simple truth is, that men
love the good.' 'Yes,' I said. "To which must be added
that they love the possession of the good?' 'Yes, that must
be added.' 'And not only the possession, but the everlasting
possession of the good?' 'That must be added too.' 'Then
love,' she said, 'may be described generally as the love of
the everlasting possession of the good?' "That is most
true.'
'Then if this be the nature of love, can you tell me further,'
she said, 'what is the manner of the pursuit? what are they
is the divine doing who show all this eagerness and heat which is called
love? and what is the object which they have in view? An-
swer me.' 'Nay, Diotima,' I replied, 'if I had known, I should
not have wondered at your wisdom, neither should I have
come to learn from you about this very matter.' 'Well,' she
said, 'I will teach you:-The object which they have in view
is birth in beauty, whether of body or soul.' 'I do not
understand you,' I said; 'the oracle requires an explanation.'
'I will make my meaning clearer,' she replied. 'I mean
to say, that all men are bringing to the birth in their bodies.
and in their souls. There is a certain age at which human
nature is desirous of procreation-procreation which must be
in beauty and not in deformity; and this procreation is the
union of man and woman, and is a divine thing; for concep-
tion and generation are an immortal principle in the mortal
creature, and in the inharmonious they can never be. But
the deformed is always inharmonious with the divine, and the
beautiful harmonious. Beauty, then, is the destiny or goddess
of parturition who presides at birth, and therefore, when
approaching beauty, the conceiving power is propitious, and
diffusive, and benign, and begets and bears fruit: at the sight
of ugliness she frowns and contracts and has a sense of pain,
and turns away, and shrivels up, and not without a pang re-
frains from conception. And this is the reason why, when the
SYMPOSIUM
227
Sym-
posium.
SOCRATES.
love of the
beautiful
only, but
hour of conception arrives, and the teeming nature is full,
there is such a flutter and ecstasy about beauty whose ap-
proach is the alleviation of the pain of travail. For love,
Socrates, is not, as you imagine, the love of the beautiful only.' is not the
'What then?' "The love of generation and of birth in
beauty.' 'Yes,' I said. 'Yes, indeed,' she replied. 'But why
of generation?' 'Because to the mortal creature, generation beauty.
is a sort of eternity and immortality,' she replied; ‘and if, as
has been already admitted, love is of the everlasting posses-
207 sion of the good, all men will necessarily desire immortality
together with good: Wherefore love is of immortality.'
All this she taught me at various times when she spoke of
love. And I remember her once saying to me, ‘What is the
cause, Socrates, of love, and the attendant desire? See you
not how all animals, birds, as well as beasts, in their desire of
procreation, are in agony when they take the infection of love,
which begins with the desire of union; whereto is added the
care of offspring, on whose behalf the weakest are ready to
battle against the strongest even to the uttermost, and to die
for them, and will let themselves be tormented with hunger or
suffer anything in order to maintain their young. Man may
be supposed to act thus from reason; but why should animals.
have these passionate feelings? Can you tell me why?'
Again I replied that I did not know. She said to me: 'And
do you expect ever to become a master in the art of love, if
you do not know this?' 'But I have told you already, Dio-
tima, that my ignorance is the reason why I come to you; for
I am conscious that I want a teacher; tell me then the cause of
this and of the other mysteries of love.' 'Marvel not,' she
said, 'if you believe that love is of the immortal, as we have
several times acknowledged; for here again, and on the same
principle too, the mortal nature is seeking as far as is possible
to be everlasting and immortal: and this is only to be attained
by generation, because generation always leaves behind a new
existence in the place of the old. Nay even in the life of the
same individual there is succession and not absolute unity:
a man is called the same, and yet in the short interval which
elapses between youth and age, and in which every animal is
said to have life and identity, he is undergoing a perpetual
process of loss and reparation--hair, flesh, bones, blood, and
of birth in
whence
arises the
great power
of love in
men and
animals?
The mortal
nature is
always
changing
and gener-
ating, body
and soul
alike;
228
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sym-
posium.
SOCRATES.
the sciences
Come and
go, and are
preserved
by recollec-
tion; and
All human
things, un-
like the
divine, are
made im-
mortal by
a law of
succession.
The strug-
gles and
sufferings
of human
life are all
of them
animated
by the de-
sire of im-
mortality.
the whole body are always changing. Which is true not only
of the body, but also of the soul, whose habits, tempers,
opinions, desires, pleasures, pains, fears, never remain the
same in any one of us, but are always coming and going; and
equally true of knowledge, and what is still more surprising
to us mortals, not only do the sciences in general spring 208
up and decay, so that in respect of them we are never the
same; but each of them individually experiences a like
change. For what is implied in the word "recollection,"
but the departure of knowledge, which is ever being forgotten,
and is renewed and preserved by recollection, and appears to
be the same although in reality new, according to that law of
succession by which all mortal things are preserved, not
absolutely the same, but by substitution, the old worn-out
mortality leaving another new and similar existence behind-
unlike the divine, which is always the same and not another?
And in this way, Socrates, the mortal body, or mortal any-
thing, partakes of immortality; but the immortal in another
way. Marvel not then at the love which all men have of their
offspring; for that universal love and interest is for the sake
of immortality.'
I was astonished at her words, and said: 'Is this really
true, O thou wise Diotima?' And she answered with all the
authority of an accomplished sophist: 'Of that, Socrates, you
may be assured;--think only of the ambition of men, and you
will wonder at the senselessness of their ways, unless you
consider how they are stirred by the love of an immortality of
fame. They are ready to run all risks greater far than they
would have run for their children, and to spend money and
undergo any sort of toil, and even to die, for the sake of
leaving behind them a name which shall be eternal. Do you
imagine that Alcestis would have died to save Admetus, or
Achilles to avenge Patroclus, or your own Codrus in order
to preserve the kingdom for his sons, if they had not im-
agined that the memory of their virtues, which still survives
among us, would be immortal? Nay,' she said, 'I am per-
suaded that all men do all things, and the better they are the
more they do them, in hope of the glorious fame of immortal
virtue; for they desire the immortal.
"Those who are pregnant in the body only, betake them-
SYMPOSIUM
229
Sym
posium.
SOCRATES.
tions of the
soul,-con-
ceptions of
wisdom and
virtue, the
works of
poets and
legislators,
far than
any mortal
selves to women and beget children-this is the character of
their love; their offspring, as they hope, will preserve their
memory and give them the blessedness and immortality which
209 they desire in the future. But souls which are pregnant- The crea
for there certainly are men who are more creative in their
souls than in their bodies-conceive that which is proper for
the soul to conceive or contain. And what are these concep-
tions?-wisdom and virtue in general. And such creators
are poets and all artists who are deserving of the name
inventor. But the greatest and fairest sort of wisdom by far are fairer
is that which is concerned with the ordering of states and
families, and which is called temperance and justice. And he children.
who in youth has the seed of these implanted in him and
is himself inspired, when he comes to maturity desires to
beget and generate. He wanders about seeking beauty that
he may beget offspring-for in deformity he will beget
nothing and naturally embraces the beautiful rather than
the deformed body; above all when he finds a fair and
noble and well-nurtured soul, he embraces the two in one
person, and to such an one he is full of speech about virtue
and the nature and pursuits of a good man; and he tries to
educate him; and at the touch of the beautiful which is ever
present to his memory, even when absent, he brings forth
that which he had conceived long before, and in company
with him tends that which he brings forth; and they are mar-
ried by a far nearer tie and have a closer friendship than
those who beget mortal children, for the children who are
their common offspring are fairer and more immortal. Who,
when he thinks of Homer and Hesiod and other great poets,
would not rather have their children than ordinary human
ones? Who would not emulate them in the creation of
children such as theirs, which have preserved their memory
and given them everlasting glory? Or who would not have
such children as Lycurgus left behind him to be the saviours,
not only of Lacedaemon, but of Hellas, as one may say?
There is Solon, too, who is the revered father of Athenian
laws; and many others there are in many other places, both
among Hellenes and barbarians, who have given to the world
many noble works, and have been the parents of virtue of
every kind; and many temples have been raised in their
230
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sym-
posium.
Socrates.
He who
would be
truly ini-
tiated
should pass
from the
concrete to
the ab-
stract, from
the indi-
vidual to
the univer-
sal, from
the univer-
sal to the
universe of
truth and
beauty.
honour for the sake of children such as theirs; which were
never raised in honour of any one, for the sake of his mortal
children.
"These are the lesser mysteries of love, into which even
you, Socrates, may enter; to the greater and more hidden 210
ones which are the crown of these, and to which, if you pur-
sue them in a right spirit, they will lead, I know not whether
you will be able to attain. But I will do my utmost to inform
you, and do you follow if you can. For he who would pro-
ceed aright in this matter should begin in youth to visit beau-
tiful forms; and first, if he be guided by his instructor aright,
to love one such form only-out of that he should create fair
thoughts; and soon he will of himself perceive that the beauty
of one form is akin to the beauty of another; and then if
beauty of form in general is his pursuit, how foolish would he
be not to recognize that the beauty in every form is one and
the same! And when he perceives this he will abate his
violent love of the one, which he will despise and deem a
small thing, and will become a lover of all beautiful forms;
in the next stage he will consider that the beauty of the mind
is more honourable than the beauty of the outward form. So
that if a virtuous soul have but a little comeliness, he will be
content to love and tend him, and will search out and bring
to the birth thoughts which may improve the young, until he
is compelled to contemplate and see the beauty of institutions
and laws, and to understand that the beauty of them all is of
one family, and that personal beauty is a trifle; and after laws
and institutions he will go on to the sciences, that he may see
their beauty, being not like a servant in love with the beauty
of one youth or man or institution, himself a slave mean and
narrow-minded, but drawing toward and contemplating the
vast sea of beauty, he will create many fair and noble thoughts
and notions in boundless love of wisdom; until on that shore
he grows and waxes strong, and at last the vision is revealed
to him of a single science, which is the science of beauty
everywhere. To this I will proceed; please to give me your
very best attention:
'He who has been instructed thus far in the things of love,
and who has learned to see the beautiful in due order and
succession, when he comes toward the end will suddenly
SYMPOSIUM
231
Sym
posium.
SOCRATES.
view
beauty, not
but abso-
pass by
stones from
earth to
heaven.
perceive a nature of wondrous beauty (and this, Socrates, is
211 the final cause of all our former toils)—a nature which in the
first place is everlasting, not growing and decaying, or waxing
and waning; secondly, not fair in one point of view and foul
in another, or at one time or in one relation or at one place
fair, at another time or in another relation or at another place He should
foul, as if fair to some and foul to others, or in the likeness of
a face or hands or any other part of the bodily frame, or in relatively,
any form of speech or knowledge, or existing in any other lutely; and
being, as for example, in an animal, or in heaven, or in earth, he should
or in any other place; but beauty absolute, separate, simple, stepping-
and everlasting, which without diminution and without in-
crease, or any change, is imparted to the ever-growing and
perishing beauties of all other things. He who from these
ascending under the influence of true love, begins to perceive
that beauty, is not far from the end. And the true order of
going, or being led by another, to the things of love, is to
begin from the beauties of earth and mount upwards for the
sake of that other beauty, using these as steps only, and from
one going on to two, and from two to all fair forms, and from
fair forms to fair practices, and from fair practices to fair
notions, until from fair notions he arrives at the notion of
absolute beauty, and at last knows what the essence of beauty
is. This, my dear Socrates,' said the stranger of Mantineia,
'is that life above all others which man should live, in the
contemplation of beauty absolute; a beauty which if you
once beheld, you would see not to be after the measure of
gold, and garments, and fair boys and youths, whose presence
now entrances you; and you and many an one would be con-
tent to live seeing them only and conversing with them
without meat or drink, if that were possible—you only want
to look at them and to be with them. But what if man had
eyes to see the true beauty-the divine beauty, I mean, pure
and clear and unalloyed, not clogged with the pollutions of
mortality and all the colours and vanities of human life-
thither looking, and holding converse with the true beauty
212 simple and divine? Remember how in that communion only,
beholding beauty with the eye of the mind, he will be enabled
to bring forth, not images of beauty, but realities (for he has
hold not of an image but of a reality), and bringing forth and
232
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sym
posium.
AGATHON,
SOCRATES,
ALCIBIADES.
Alcibiades
is led in
drunk and
bearing a
crown,
which he
places on
the head of
Agathon.
nourishing true virtue to become the friend of God and be
immortal, if mortal man may. Would that be an ignoble
life?'
Such, Phaedrus—and I speak not only to you, but to all of
you were the words of Diotima; and I am persuaded of
their truth. And being persuaded of them, I try to persuade
others, that in the attainment of this end human nature will
not easily find a helper better than love. And therefore,
also, I say that every man ought to honour him as I myself
honour him, and walk in his ways, and exhort others to
do the same, and praise the power and spirit of love accord-
ing to the measure of my ability now and ever.
The words which I have spoken, you, Phaedrus, may
call an encomium of love, or anything else which you
please.
1
When Socrates had done speaking, the company ap-
plauded, and Aristophanes was beginning to say something
in answer to the allusion which Socrates had made to his
own speech, when suddenly there was a great knocking
at the door of the house, as of revellers, and the sound of
a flute-girl was heard. Agathon told the attendants to go
and see who were the intruders. 'If they are friends of
ours,' he said, 'invite them in, but if not, say that the
drinking is over.' A little while afterwards they heard the
voice of Alcibiades resounding in the court; he was in a
great state of intoxication, and kept roaring and shouting
'Where is Agathon? Lead me to Agathon,' and at length,
supported by the flute-girl and some of his attendants, he
found his way to them. 'Hail, friends,' he said, appearing
at the door crowned with a massive garland of ivy and
violets, his head flowing with ribands. 'Will
you
very drunken man as a companion of your revels? Or shall
I crown Agathon, which was my intention in coming,
and go away? For I was unable to come yesterday, and
therefore I am here to-day, carrying on my head these
ribands, that taking them from my own head, I may crown
the head of this fairest and wisest of men, as I may be
allowed to call him. Will you laugh at me because I am
have a
1 P. 205 e.
SYMPOSIUM
233
213 drunk? Yet I know very well that I am speaking the truth
although you may laugh. But first tell me; if I come in
shall we have the understanding of which I spoke?
you drink with me or not?'
Will
Sym-
posium.
SOCRATES,
ALCIBIADES.
The company were vociferous in begging that he would.
take his place among them, and Agathon specially invited
him. Thereupon he was led in by the people who were
with him; and as he was being led, intending to crown
Agathon, he took the ribands from his own head and held
them in front of his eyes; he was thus prevented from seeing
Socrates, who made way for him, and Alcibiades took the Alcibiades
vacant place between Agathon and Socrates, and in taking
the place he embraced Agathon and crowned him. Take off place be-
his sandals, said Agathon, and let him make a third on
the same couch.
takes the
vacant
tween Aga-
thon and
Socrates.
ates that
Agathon is
By all means; but who makes the third partner in our
revels? said Alcibiades, turning round and starting up as
he caught sight of Socrates. By Heracles, he said, what He insinu-
is this? here is Socrates always lying in wait for me, and
always, as his way is, coming out at all sorts of unsuspected the beloved
places: and now, what have you to say for yourself, and of Socrates.
why are you lying here, where I perceive that you have
contrived to find a place, not by a joker or lover of jokes,
like Aristophanes, but by the fairest of the company?
to be vio-
lent, and
Socrates turned to Agathon and said: I must ask you to
protect me, Agathon; for the passion of this man has grown.
quite a serious matter to me. Since I became his admirer
I have never been allowed to speak to any other fair one, He begins
or so much as to look at them. If I do, he goes wild with
envy and jealousy, and not only abuses me but can hardly Socrates
keep his hands off me, and at this moment he may
some harm. Please to see to this, and either reconcile me
to him, or if he attempts violence, protect me, as I am in
bodily fear of his mad and passionate attempts.
do me
claims the
protection
of Agathon.
He crowns
Socrates
There can never be reconciliation between you and me,
said Alcibiades; but for the present I will defer your chastise-
ment. And I must beg you, Agathon, to give me back some
of the ribands that I may crown the marvellous head of
this universal despot-I would not have him complain Agathon.
of me for crowning you, and neglecting him, who in con-
as well as
234
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sym-
posium.
SOCRATES,
ALCIBIADES,
ERYXIMA-
CHUS.
A new
spirit
passes over
the dream.
Socrates'
powers of
drinking.
versation is the conqueror of all mankind; and this not onl
once, as you were the day before yesterday, but always.
Whereupon, taking some of the ribands, he crowned Socrates,
and again reclined.
Then he said: You seem, my friends, to be sober, which is
a thing not to be endured; you must drink-for that was
the agreement under which I was admitted and I elect
myself master of the feast until you are well drunk. Let
us have a large goblet, Agathon, or rather, he said, addressing
the attendant, bring me that wine-cooler. The wine-cooler
which had caught his eye was a vessel holding more than
two quarts-this he filled and emptied, and bade the attendant 214
fill it again for Socrates. Observe, my friends, said Alcibi-
ades, that this ingenious trick of mine will have no effect
on Socrates, for he can drink any quantity of wine and not
be at all nearer being drunk. Socrates drank the cup which
the attendant filled for him.
Eryximachus said: What is this, Alcibiades? Are we to
have neither conversation nor singing over our cups; but
simply to drink as if we were thirsty?
Alcibiades replied: Hail, worthy son of a most wise and
worthy sire!
The same to you, said Eryximachus; but what shall
we do?
That I leave to you, said Alcibiades.
"The wise physician skilled our wounds to heal' 1
shall prescribe and we will obey. What do you want?
Well, said Eryximachus, before you appeared we had
passed a resolution that each one of us in turn should make
a speech in praise of love, and as good a one as he could:
the turn was passed round from left to right; and as all of us
have spoken, and you have not spoken but have well drunken,
you ought to speak, and then impose upon Socrates any task.
which you please, and he on his right hand neighbour, and
so on.
That is good, Eryximachus, said Alcibiades; and yet the
comparison of a drunken man's speech with those of
sober men is hardly fair; and I should like to know, sweet
1 From Pope's Homer, Il. xi. 514.
SYMPOSIUM
235
215
Sym-
posium.
SOCRATES,
friend, whether you really believe what Socrates was just
now saying; for I can assure you that the very reverse
is the fact, and that if I praise any one but himself in his
presence whether God or man, he will hardly keep his ERYXIMA-
hands off me.
For shame, said Socrates.
Hold your tongue, said Alcibiades, for by Poseidon, there
is no one else whom I will praise when you are of the
company.
Well, then, said Eryximachus, if you like praise Socrates.
What do you think, Eryximachus? said Alicibiades: shall
I attack him and inflict the punishment before you all?
What are you about? said Socrates; are you going to
raise a laugh at my expense? Is that the meaning of your
praise?
I am going to speak the truth, if you will permit me.
I not only permit, but exhort you to speak the truth.
Then I will begin at once, said Alicibiades, and if I say
anything which is not true, you may interrupt me if you will,
and say 'that is a lie,' though my intention is to speak the
truth. But you must not wonder if I speak any how as
things come into my mind; for the fluent and orderly
enumeration of all your singularities is not a task which is
easy to a man in my condition.
I
AGATHON.
CHUS-
Socrates is
like the
And now, my boys, I shall praise Socrates in a figure
which will appear to him, to be a caricature, and yet I speak,
not to make fun of him, but only for the truth's sake.
say, that he is exactly like the busts of Silenus, which are
set up in the statuaries' shops, holding pipes and flutes in busts of
their mouths; and they are made to open in the middle,
and have images of gods inside them. I say also that he ceal within
is like Marsyas the satyr. You yourself will not deny,
Socrates, that your face is like that of a satyr.
there is a resemblance in other points too. For example,
Aye, and
Silenus,
which con-
them
images of
gods; like
Marsyas
too, for his
of a satyr,
and his
if you will not face is that
That you are,
Marsyas. He words, even
souls of men
you are a bully, as I can prove by witnesses,
confess. And are you not a flute-player?
and a performer far more wonderful than
indeed with instruments used to charm the
by the power of his breath, and the players of his music imperfectly
do so still for the melodies of Olympus are derived from repeated,
when half-
uttered or
236
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sym-
posium.
ALCIBIADES.
exercise a
greater
charm over
men than
the melo-
dies which
Marsyas
taught to
Olympus.
Greater
than Peri-
cles, and
the true and
only ora-
tor.
He would
have re-
formed
Alcibiades
himself
if the love
of popu.
larity in
him had
not been
too strong.
Marsyas who taught them, and these, whether they are
played by a great master or by a miserable flute-girl, have
a power which no others have; they alone possess the soul
and reveal the wants of those who have need of gods and
mysteries, because they are divine. But you produce the
same effect with your words only, and do not require the
flute: that is the difference between you and him. When
we hear any other speaker, even a very good one, he pro-
duces absolutely no effect upon us, or not much, whereas
the mere fragments of you and your words, even at second-
hand, and however imperfectly repeated, amaze and possess
the souls of every man, woman, and child who comes within
hearing of them. And if I were not afraid that you would
think me hopelessly drunk, I would have sworn as well
as spoken to the influence which they have always had
and still have over me. For my heart leaps within me more
than that of any Corybantian reveller, and my eyes rain
tears when I hear them. And I observe that many others
are affected in the same manner. I have heard Pericles
and other great orators, and I thought that they spoke well,
but I never had any similar feeling; my soul was not stirred
by them, nor was I angry at the thought of my own slavish
state. But this Marsyas has often brought me to such a
pass, that I have felt as if I could hardly endure the life 216
which I am leading (this, Socrates, you will admit); and
I am conscious that if I did not shut my ears against him,
and fly as from the voice of the siren, my fate would be like
that of others, he would transfix me, and I should grow
old sitting at his feet. For he makes me confess that I ought
not to live as I do, neglecting the wants of my own soul,
and busying myself with the concerns of the Athenians;
therefore I hold my ears and tear myself away from him.
And he is the only person who ever made me ashamed,
which you might think not to be in my nature, and there
is no one else who does the same. For I know that I cannot
answer him or say that I ought not to do as he bids, but
when I leave his presence the love of popularity gets the
better of me. And therefore I run away and fly from him,
and when I see him I am ashamed of what I have con-
fessed to him. Many a time have I wished that he were
SYMPOSIUM
237
Sym
posium.
ALCIBIADES.
the fair.
dead, and yet I know that I should be much more sorry
than glad, if he were to die: so that I am at my wit's end.
And this is what I and many others have suffered from the
flute-playing of this satyr. Yet hear me once more while His love of
I show you how exact the image is, and how marvellous his
power. For let me tell you; none of you know him; but I
will reveal him to you; having begun, I must go on. See
you how fond he is of the fair? He is always with them and
is always being smitten by them, and then again he knows
nothing and is ignorant of all things such is the appearance
which he puts on. Is he not like a Silenus in this? To be
sure he is: his outer mask is the carved head of the Silenus;
but, O my companions in drink, when he is opened, what
temperance there is residing within! Know you that beauty
and wealth and honour, at which the many wonder, are of no
account with him, and are utterly despised by him: he
regards not at all the persons who are gifted with them;
mankind are nothing to him; all his life is spent in mocking
and flouting at them. But when I opened him, and looked
within at his serious purpose, I saw in him divine and golden
217 images of such fascinating beauty that I was ready to do
in a moment whatever Socrates commanded: they may have
escaped the observation of others, but I saw them.
[Alcibiades recounts his vain attempts to degrade his friend-
ship with Socrates.]
derful en-
durance of
when he
and Alcibi-
together at
Potidaea.
All this happened before he and I went on the expedition
to Potidaea; there we messed together, and I had the oppor- The won-
tunity of observing his extraordinary power of sustaining
220 fatigue. His endurance was simply marvellous when, being Socrates
cut off from our supplies, we were compelled to go without
food-on such occasions, which often happen in time of war, ades served
he was superior not only to me but to everybody; there was
no one to be compared to him. Yet at a festival he was
the only person who had any real powers of enjoyment;
though not willing to drink, he could if compelled beat us all
at that, wonderful to relate! no human being had ever seen
Socrates drunk; and his powers, if I am not mistaken, will
be tested before long. His fortitude in enduring cold was
also surprising. There was a severe frost, for the winter
in that region is really tremendous, and everybody else either
238
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sym-
posium.
ALCIBIADES.
'The long
fits of ab
straction co
which he
was sub-
ject.
How he
saved the
life of Alci-
biades, and
ought to
have re-
ceived the
prize of
valour
which was
conferred
on Alci-
biades on
account of
his rank.
remained indoors, or if they went out had on an amazing
quantity of clothes, and were well shod, and had their feet
swathed in felt and fleeces: in the midst of this, Socrates
with his bare feet on the ice and in his ordinary dress
marched better than the other soldiers who had shoes, and they
looked daggers at him because he seemed to despise them.
I have told you one tale, and now I must tell you another,
which is worth hearing,
'Of the doings and sufferings of the enduring man'
while he was on the expedition. One morning he was
thinking about something which he could not resolve; he
would not give it up, but continued thinking from early dawn
until noon-there he stood fixed in thought; and at noon
attention was drawn to him, and the rumour ran through
the wondering crowd that Socrates had been standing and
thinking about something ever since the break of day. At
last, in the evening after supper, some Ionians out of
curiosity (I should explain that this was not in winter but in
summer), brought out their mats and slept in the open air
that they might watch him and see whether he would stand
all night. There he stood until the following morning; and
with the return of light he offered up a prayer to the sun,
and went his way. I will also tell, if you please—and
indeed I am bound to tell-of his courage in battle; for who
but he saved my life? Now this was the engagement in
which I received the prize of valour: for I was wounded and
he would not leave me, but he rescued me and my arms; and
he ought to have received the prize of valour which the
generals wanted to confer on me partly on account of my
rank, and I told them so (this, again, Socrates will not im-
peach or deny), but he was more eager than the generals
that I and not he should have the prize. There was another
occasion on which his behaviour was very remarkable—in 221
the flight of the army after the battle of Delium, where he
served among the heavy-armed, I had better opportunity
of seeing him than at Potidaea, for I was myself on horse-
back, and therefore comparatively out of danger. He and
Laches were retreating, for the troops were in flight, and
I met them and told them not to be discouraged, and promised
SYMPOSIUM
239
Sym-
posium.
ALCIBIADES
His cool-
ness in
battle; his
unlikeness
to remain with them; and there you might see him,
Aristophanes, as you describe,¹ just as he is in the streets of
Athens, stalking like a pelican, and rolling his eyes, calmly
contemplating enemies as well as friends, and making very
intelligible to anybody, even from a distance, that whoever
attacked him would be likely to meet with a stout resistance;
and in this way he and his companion escaped-for this is
the sort of man who is never touched in war; those only are
pursued who are running away headlong. I particularly
observed how superior he was to Laches in presence of
mind. Many are the marvels which I might narrate in
praise of Socrates; most of his ways might perhaps be
paralleled in another man, but his absolute unlikeness to any absolute
human being that is or ever has been is perfectly astonishing. to any other
You may imagine Brasidas and others to have been like man.
Achilles; or you may imagine Nestor and Antenor to have
been like Pericles; and the same may be said of other famous
men, but of this strange being you will never be able
to find any likeness, however remote, either among men who
now are or who ever have been-other than that which I have
already suggested of Silenus and the satyrs; and they repre-
sent in a figure not only himself, but his words. For,
although I forgot to mention this to you before, his words
are like the images of Silenus which open; they are ridicu-
lous when you first hear them; he clothes himself in
language that is like the skin of the wanton satyr-for his He is the
talk is of pack-asses and smiths and cobblers and curriers,
and he is always repeating the same things in the same God within.
2
words, so that any ignorant or inexperienced person might
222 feel disposed to laugh at him; but he who opens the bust
and sees what is within will find that they are the only words
which have a meaning in them, and also the most divine,
abounding in fair images of virtue, and of the widest com-
prehension, or rather extending to the whole duty of a good
and honourable man.
This, friends, is my praise of Socrates. I have added my
blame of him for his ill-treatment of me; and he has ill-
treated not only me, but Charmides the son of Glaucon, and
Euthydemus the son of Diocles, and many others in the
¹Aristophanes, Clouds, 362.
2 Cp. Gorg. 490, 491.
satyr with-
out and the
240
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sym-
posium.
SOCRATES,
ALCIBIADES,
AGATHON.
The pur-
port of
Alcibiades'
speech, ac-
cording to
Socrates,
was only to
get up a
quarrel be-
tween him
and Aga.
thon.
Agathon
changes his
place that
he may be
nearer Soc-
rates and
not so near
Alcibiades.
Another
band of
revellers
enters, and
same way-beginning as their lover he has ended by making
them pay their addresses to him. Wherefore I say to you,
Agathon, 'Be not deceived by him; learn from me and take
warning, and do not be a fool and learn by experience, as
the proverb says.'
When Alcibiades had finished, there was a laugh at his
outspokenness; for he seemed to be still in love with
Socrates. You are sober, Alicibiades, said Socrates, or you
would never have gone so far about to hide the purpose of
your satyr's praises, for all this long story is only an in-
genious circumlocution, of which the point comes in by the
way at the end; you want to get up a quarrel between me
and Agathon, and your notion is that I ought to love you and
nobody else, and that you and you only ought to love
Agathon. But the plot of this Satyric or Silenic drama has
been detected, and you must not allow him, Agathon, to set
us at variance.
I believe you are right, said Agathon, and I am disposed
to think that his intention in placing himself between you and
me was only to divide us; but he shall gain nothing by that
move; for I will go and lie on the couch next to you.
Yes, yes, replied Socrates, by all means come here and lie
on the couch below me.
Alas, said Alcibiades, how I am fooled by this man; he is
determined to get the better of me at every turn. I do
beseech you, allow Agathon to lie between us.
Certainly not, said Socrates; as you praised me, and I in
turn ought to praise my neighbour on the right, he will be out
of order in praising me again when he ought rather to be
praised by me, and I must entreat you to consent to this, and
not be jealous, for I have a great desire to praise the youth. 223
Hurrah! cried Agathon, I will rise instantly, that I may
be praised by Socrates.
The usual way, said Alcibiades; where Socrates is, no one
else has any chance with the fair; and now how readily has
he invented a specious reason for attracting Agathon to
himself.
Agathon arose in order that he might take his place on
the couch by Socrates, when suddenly a band of revellers
entered, and spoiled the order of the banquet. Some one
1
SYMPOSIUM
241
Sym-
posium
largely, the
withdraw-
ing.
who was going out having left the door open, they had
found their way in, and made themselves at home; great con-
fusion ensued, and every one was compelled to drink large
quantities of wine. Aristodemus said that Eryximachus,
Phaedrus, and others went away-he himself fell asleep, and the com-
as the nights were long took a good rest: he was awakened pany drink
toward daybreak by a crowing of cocks, and when he awoke, wiser part
the others were either asleep, or had gone away; there
remained only Socrates, Aristophanes, and Agathon, who
were drinking out of a large goblet which they passed round,
and Socrates was discoursing to them. Aristodemus was
only half awake, and he did not hear the beginning of On the
the discourse; the chief thing which he remembered was
Socrates compelling the other two to acknowledge that the
genius of comedy was the same with that of tragedy, and that
the true artist in tragedy was an artist in comedy also.
this they were constrained to assent, being drowsy, and
quite following the argument. And first of all Aristophanes
dropped off, then when the day was already dawning, Aga-
thon. Socrates, having laid them to sleep, rose to depart;
Aristodemus, as his manner was, following him. At the Ly-
ceum he took a bath, and passed the day as usual. In the
evening he retired to rest at his own home.
PHAEDO
following
morning
and is
Socrates is
still awake,
To maintain-
not the
thesis that
the genius
[At this point the reader of the present volume will do well
to turn back and reread the Phaedo; for it was probably
written at about the same time as the Symposium, with which
indeed it is linked somewhat as 'Il Penseroso' is linked with
'L'Allegro.' Over the wine cup the Platonic Socrates has
shown how life may be glorified by the ardent pursuit of the
ideal world; and before he takes the hemlock cup he shows
that death, too, merely completes the life-long endeavor of
the good man to pass from the bonds of transitory things into
the enjoyment of eternal things.
The belief in immortality was as old as Homer, and
colored much of Greek literature; but it promised little of
good cheer save for the fortunate few. Outside of the main
current of Greek religion, the Orphic and Pythagorean sects,
ing the
of comedy
is the same
as that of
tragedy.
242
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sym-
posium.
to be sure, held out hopes of salvation to their initiates, and
the earlier Platonic dialogues have referred to immortality
either equivocally (Apology) or in conventional terms (Crito
and Gorgias); but not before the Phaedo do we find any
serious attempt to support this stubborn instinct on rational
grounds. Pato's arguments are elaborate, varied, and un-
equal in their claim to validity. Few to-day would accept
the analogies from the physical world; and some of the
metaphysical arguments no longer are convincing. Most
important, and most likely to win our consent, are the argu-
ments based on the soul's ability to entertain abstract moral
ideas which are not in the flux; for Plato this proves its
divine nature and its imperishable quality. If the ideas
are eternal, men's souls must be eternal, the argument runs;
it is akin to Christian arguments that derive human im-
mortality from the existence and goodness of God, inasmuch
as Plato's 'ideas' are the reality and the source of life and
order in the world. But, after all, the belief both in God and
in immortality is perhaps most validly conceived as following
from the living experience of a moral law, the effects of
which each of us may test in our own consciousness, and
which, if realized, can only be referred to something larger
and more lasting than ourselves. Such, in brief, is to be
Plato's method in the Republic of mediating between the
phenomena of daily life and the demands of the ideal world.
Until Plato has worked out more thoroughly this pragmatic
test, however, he relies chiefly on the theory of ideas, and on
his instinctive moral sense that justice to good and to evil
alike requires a future life of rewards and punishments.
Hence the resort to the myth toward the end of the dialogue,—
a myth cautiously set forth, after Plato's manner, and not
affirmed as true in detail, but in some sense corresponding im-
aginatively to his intuition of eternal moral values.
The ultimate appeal of the Phaedo, however, depends not
so much on the validity of its arguments for immortality as on
the exquisite portrait of Socrates, who is the incarnation of
faith in more than material things and in the power of a
constant dwelling with the realm of ideas to lift man's life
to a higher and more stable level. Not muscles and bones,
but mind is the true cause of action (Phaedo 98b-90d).
SYMPOSIUM
243
Even more than in the Symposium one is conscious of the dis-
tinction between body and soul, sense and thought, the many
and the one. The poet at his best, even though using imagery
from the flux, the philosopher almost always, both seek as far
as possible to free themselves from that blind trust in the
senses which impedes a comprehension of the true significance
of things. As a man draws near to death, the little transitory
things that may at times have seemed very dear now tend
to lose their importance. From this point of view it is true.
that the philosopher's whole life has been a rehearsal of death.
The persecutors of Socrates are impotent to harm him; for
dear is indeed swallowed up in victory.]
W. C. G.
Sym-
posium.
Į
I
THE REPUBLIC
"The argument of the Republic is the search after Justice,
the nature of which is first hinted at by Cephalus, the just and
blameless old man-then discussed on the basis of proverbial
morality by Socrates and Polemarchus-then caricatured by
Thrasymachus and partially explained by Socrates-reduced
to an abstraction by Glaucon and Adeimantus, and having be-
come invisible in the individual reappears at length in the
ideal State which is constructed by Socrates. The first care
of the rulers is to be education, of which an outline is drawn
after the old Hellenic model, providing only for an improved
religion and morality, and more simplicity in music and gym-
nastic, a manlier strain of poetry, and greater harmony of the
individual and the State. We are thus led on to the concep-
tion of a higher State, in which "no man calls anything his
own," and in which there is neither "marrying nor giving in
marriage," and "kings are philosophers" and "philosophers are
kings;" and there is another and higher education, intellectual
as well as moral and religious, of science as well as of art,
and not of youth only but of the whole of life. Such a State is
hardly to be realized in this world and quickly degenerates.
To the perfect ideal succeeds the government of the soldier
and the lover of honour, this again declining into democracy,
and democracy into tyranny, in an imaginary but regular order
having not much resemblance to the actual facts. When "the
wheel has come full circle" we do not begin again with a new
period of human life; but we have passed from the best to the
worst, and there we end. The subject is then changed and the
old quarrel of poetry and philosophy which had been more
lightly treated in the earlier books of the Republic is now re-
sumed and fought out to a conclusion. Poetry is discovered
to be an imitation thrice removed from the truth, and Homer,
as well as the dramatic poets, having been condemned 's an
imitator, is sent into banishment along with them. And the
idea of the State is supplemented by the revelation of a future
life.
The division into books, like all similar divisions, is prob-
ably later than the age of Plato. The natural divisions are
five in number;—(1) Book I and the first half of Book II
down to p. 368, which is introductory; the first book contain-
ing a refutation of the popular and sophistical notions of jus-
tice, and concluding, like some of the earlier Dialogues, with-
out arriving at any definite result. To this is appended a re-
statement of the nature of justice according to common opin-
ion, and an answer is demanded to the question-What is
justice, stripped of appearances? The second division (2)
includes the remainder of the second and the whole of the
third and fourth books, which are mainly occupied with the
construction of the first State and the first education. The
third division (3) consists of the fifth, sixth, and seventh books,
in which philosophy rather than justice is the subject of en-
quiry, and the second State is constructed on principles of com-
munism and ruled by philosophers, and the contemplation of
the idea of good takes the place of the social and political vir-
tues. In the eighth and ninth books (4) the perversions of
States and of the individuals who correspond to them are re-
viewed in succession; and the nature of pleasure and the prin-
ciple of tyranny are further analysed in the individual man.
The tenth book (5) is the conclusion of the whole, in which
the relations of philosophy to poetry are finally determined,
and the happiness of the citizens in this life, which has now
been assured, is crowned by the vision of another.'
[J.]
The Republic therefore is a most varied book; during the
night of talk we are led from what at first seems to be only a
small point of definition to the most fundamental questions
of human life; and we are lifted out of the world of time
and change till in the end we become spectators of eternal
values. Thus the Republic exemplifies, as do the Meno and
the Gorgias and, still more, the Symposium and the Phaedo,
Plato's struggle to be free from the flux and the bonds of mat-
ter. But it surpasses the previous dialogues in its attempt to
regard the realm of ideas as capable of being verified in the
experience of human beings, as constituting the significance of
things, as introducing order into chaos, and as being the au-
thor of moral health and of happiness.
[W. C. G.]
FIRST DIVISION
the facts'; the
[In the first of the five main divisions indicated above, the
discussion is represented as having arisen from a question about
the reason for the happy old age enjoyed by the host, the pious
Cephalus. He soon shows that though he is good by force of
habit he has never really thought about these matters; yet his
son Polemarchus, for all his confidence, is proved by Socrates
to have only a few second-hand maxims that enjoin particular
acts but that give no all-embracing and consistent definition of
justice, the quality that all attribute to the father. Thrasy-
machus, the Sophist, flings into the discussion the familiar
argument (used also by Callicles in the Gorgias) that justice
is merely what the strong command: but this leads to the ad-
mission that there is such a thing as an art of government,
not necessarily in the interest of the ruler. Thrasymachus
therefore shifts his ground and appeals to
real interest of rulers is not justice but injustice. But Socrates
points out that there must be an honor even among thieves,
and that internal harmony or moderation of some sort is the
condition of any principle that is to succeed; injustice pure
and simple does not pay. Socrates has answered Thrasymachus,
so far as verbal argument goes; but young Glaucon and
Adeimantus, the brothers of Plato, are not satisfied that So-
crates has quite proved that, as they believe, justice is good on
its own account, not merely for its consequences. Some would
consider justice not really good, yet nevertheless better than
being exposed to injustice, and would therefore be willing to
bind themselves not to injure others (this is the earliest state-
ment of the theory of the 'social contract'); other persons
would say that justice is to be pursued not for itself but for
the respectability or the material prosperity that the appearance
of justice brings. The rest of the dialogue is Plato's attempt
to show that justice is worth attaining for its influence within
the soul.]
.
THE REPUBLIC
BOOK I
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE
SOCRATES, who is the narrator.
GLAUCON.
ADEIMANTUS.
POLEMARCHUS.
CEPHALUS.
THRASY MACHUS.
CLEITOPHON.
And others who are mute auditors.
The scene is laid in the house of Cephalus at the Piraeus; and the whole
dialogue is narrated by Socrates the day after it actually took place
to Timaeus, Hermocrates, Critias, and a nameless person, who are
introduced in the Timaeus.
1
Republic
I.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
Socrates
I went down yesterday to the Piraeus with Glaucon the
327 son of Ariston, that I might offer up my prayers to the
goddess; and also because I wanted to see in what manner
they would celebrate the festival, which was a new thing.
I was delighted with the procession of the inhabitants; but Meeting of
that of the Thracians was equally, if not more, beautiful. and Glau-
When we had finished our prayers and viewed the spectacle,
we turned in the direction of the city; and at that instant marchus
Polemarchus the son of Cephalus chanced to catch sight of us Bendidean
from a distance as we were starting on our way home, and festival.
told his servant to run and bid us wait for him. The servant
took hold of me by the cloak behind, and said: Polemarchus
desires you to wait.
I turned round, and asked him where his master was.
There he is, said the youth, coming after
only wait.
you, if
you will
Certainly we will, said Glaucon; and in a few minutes.
Polemarchus appeared, and with him Adeimantus, Glaucon's
brother, Niceratus the son of Nicias, and several others who
had been at the procession.
1 Bendis, the Thracian Artemis.
con with
Pole-
at the
249
250
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
I.
SOCRATES,
POLEMAR-
CHUS,
GLAUCON,
ADEIMANTUS,
CEPHALUS.
The
equestrian
torch-race.
The
gathering
of friends
at the
house of
Cephalus.
Polemarchus said to me: I perceive, Socrates, that you
and your companion are already on your way to the city.
You are not far wrong, I said.
But do you see, he rejoined, how many we are?
Of course.
And are you stronger than all these? for if not, you will
have to remain where you are.
May there not be the alternative, I said, that we may per-
suade you to let us go?
But can you persuade us, if we refuse to listen to you? he
said.
Certainly not, replied Glaucon.
Then we are not going to listen; of that you may be
assured.
Adeimantus added: Has no one told you of the torch-race 328
on horseback in honour of the goddess which will take place
in the evening?
With horses! I replied: That is a novelty. Will horse-
men carry torches and pass them one to another during the
race?
Yes, said Polemarchus, and not only so, but a festival will
be celebrated at night, which you certainly ought to see.
Let us rise soon after supper and see this festival; there
will be a gathering of young men, and we will have a good
talk. Stay, then, and do not be perverse.
Glaucon said: I suppose, since you insist, that we must.
Very good, I replied.
Accordingly we went with Polemarchus to his house; and
there we found his brothers Lysias and Euthydemus, and
with them Thrasymachus the Chalcedonian, Charmantides.
the Paeanian, and Cleitophon the son of Aristonymus. There
too was Cephalus the father of Polemarchus, whom I had
not seen for a long time, and I thought him very much aged.
He was seated on a cushioned chair, and had a garland on
his head, for he had been sacrificing in the court; and there
were some other chairs in the room arranged in a semicircle,
upon which we sat down by him. He saluted me eagerly,
and then he said:—
You don't come to see me, Socrates, as often as you ought:
If I were still able to go and see you I would not ask you
THE REPUBLIC
251
329
1.
CEPHALUS,
to come to me. But at my age I can hardly get to the city, Republic
and therefore you should come oftener to the Piraeus. For
let me tell you, that the more the pleasures of the body fade SOCRATES.
away, the greater to me is the pleasure and charm of con-
versation. Do not then deny my request, but make our house
your resort and keep company with these young men; we
are old friends, and you will be quite at home with us.
I replied: There is nothing which for my part I like better,
Cephalus, than conversing with aged men; for I regard
them as travellers who have gone a journey which I too may
have to go, and of whom I ought to enquire, whether the way
is smooth and easy, or rugged and difficult. And this is a
question which I should like to ask of you who have arrived
at that time which the poets call the 'threshold of old age'
-Is life harder toward the end, or what report do you give
of it?
not to
I will tell you, Socrates, he said, what my own feeling Old age is
is. Men of my age flock together; we are birds of a feather, blame for
as the old proverb says; and at our meetings the tale of my the troubles
acquaintance commonly is-I cannot eat, I cannot drink; the of old men.
pleasures of youth and love are fled away: there was a good
time once, but now that is gone, and life is no longer life.
Some complain of the slights which are put upon them by
relations, and they will tell you sadly of how many evils their
old age is the cause. But to me, Socrates, these complainers
seem to blame that which is not really in fault. For if old
age were the cause, I too being old, and every other old
man, would have felt as they do. But this is not my own
experience, nor that of others whom I have known. How
well I remember the aged poet Sophocles, when in answer
to the question, How does love suit with age, Sophocles, The excel-
are you still the man you were? Peace, he replied; most
gladly have I escaped the thing of which you speak; I feel cles.
as if I had escaped from a mad and furious master. His
words have often occurred to my mind since, and they seem
as good to me now as at the time when he uttered them.
For certainly old age has a great sense of calm and freedom;
when the passions relax their hold, then, as Sophocles says,
we are freed from the grasp not of one mad master only,
but of many. The truth is, Socrates, that these regrets, and
lent saying
of Sopho-
252
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
I.
CEPHALUS,
SOCRATES.
It is ad-
mitted that
the old, if
they are to
be comfort-
able, must
have a fair
share of
external
goods;
neither
virtue alone
nor riches
alone can
make an
old man
happy.
Cephalus
has in-
herited
rather than
made a
fortune; he
is therefore
indifferent
to money.
also the complaints about relations, are to be attributed to
the same cause, which is not old age, but men's characters
and tempers; for he who is of a calm and happy nature will
hardly feel the pressure of age, but to him who is of an
opposite disposition youth and age are equally a burden.
I listened in admiration, and wanting to draw him out,
that he might go on-Yes, Cephalus, I said; but I rathe
suspect that people in general are not convinced by you
when you speak thus; they think that old age sits lightly upon
you, not because of your happy disposition, but because you
are rich, and wealth is well known to be a great comforter.
You are right, he replied; they are not convinced: and
there is something in what they say; not, however, so much
as they imagine. I might answer them as Themistocles
answered the Seriphian who was abusing him and saying
that he was famous, not for his own merits but because he
was an Athenian: 'If you had been a native of my country 330
or I of yours, neither of us would have been famous.' And to
those who are not rich and are impatient of old age, the
same reply may be made; for to the good poor man old age
cannot be a light burden, nor can a bad rich man ever have
peace with himself.
May I ask, Cephalus, whether your fortune was for the
most part inherited or acquired by you?
Acquired! Socrates; do you want to know how much I
acquired? In the art of making money I have been midway
between my father and grandfather: for my grandfather,
whose name I bear, doubled and trebled the value of his
patrimony, that which he inherited being much what I pos-
sess now; but father Lysanias reduced the
my
property
below what it is at present: and I shall be satisfied if I leave
to these my sons not less but a little more than I received.
That was why I asked you the question, I replied, be-
cause I see that you are indifferent about money, which
is a characteristic rather of those who have inherited their
fortunes than of those who have acquired them; the makers
of fortunes have a second love of money as a creation of their
own, resembling the affection of authors for their own poems,
or of parents for their children, besides that natural love of
it for the sake of use and profit which is common to them
THE REPUBLIC
253
and all men.
And hence they are very bad company, for Republic
they can talk about nothing but the praises of wealth.
That is true, he said.
I.
CEPHALUS,
SOCRATES.
Yes, that is very true, but may I ask another question?-
What do you consider to be the greatest blessing which you The advan-
have reaped from your wealth?
tages of
wealth.
death and
the con-
of sin be-
come more
age; and to
be rich
One, he said, of which I could not expect easily to con-
vince others. For let me tell you, Socrates, that when a The fear of
man thinks himself to be near death, fears and cares enter
into his mind which he never had before; the tales of a sciousness
world below and the punishment which is exacted there of
deeds done here were once a laughing matter to him, but vivid in old
now he is tormented with the thought that they may
be true:
either from the weakness of age, or because he is now drawing frees a man
nearer to that other place, he has a clearer view of these
things; suspicions and alarms crowd thickly upon him, and tions.
he begins to reflect and consider what wrongs he has done to
others. And when he finds that the sum of his transgres-
sions is great he will many a time like a child start up in his
sleep for fear, and he is filled with dark forebodings. But
331 to him who is conscious of no sin, sweet hope, as Pindar The ad-
charmingly says, is the kind nurse of his age:
'Hope,' he says, 'cherishes the soul of him who lives in justice and holi-
ness, and is the nurse of his age and the companion of his journey;-
hope which is mightiest to sway the restless soul of man.'
And the great blessing of
How admirable are his words!
riches, I do not say to every man, but to a good man, is,
that he has had no occasion to deceive or to defraud others,
either intentionally or unintentionally; and when he departs to
the world below he is not in any apprehension about offerings
due to the gods or debts which he owes to men. Now to
this peace of mind the possession of wealth greatly contri-
butes; and therefore I say, that, setting one thing against
another, of the many advantages which wealth has to give,
to a man of sense this is in my opinion the greatest.
from many
Tempta-
mirable
strain of
Pindar.
truth and
Well said, Cephalus, I replied; but as concerning justice, Justice
what is it?-to speak the truth and to pay your debts-no to speak
more than this? And even to this are there not exceptions? pay your
Suppose that a friend when in his right mind has deposited debts.
arms with me and he asks for them when he is not in his
254
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
I.
CEPHALUS,
SOCRATES,
POLEMAR-
CHUS.
This is the
definition
of Simo-
nides. But
you ought
not on all
occasions
to do
either.
What then
was his
meaning?
The bru-
tality of
Thrasyma-
chus.
right mind, ought I to give them back to him? No one would
say that I ought or that I should be right in doing so, any
more than they would say that I ought always to speak the
truth to one who is in his condition.
You are quite right, he replied.
But, then, I said, speaking the truth and paying your debts
is not a correct definition of justice.
Quite correct, Socrates, if Simonides is to be believed, said
Polemarchus interposing.
I fear, said Cephalus, that I must go now, for I have to
look after the sacrifices, and I hand over the argument to
Polemarchus and the company.
Is not Polemarchus your heir? I said.
To be sure, he answered, and went away laughing to the
sacrifices.
[Polemarchus suggests that Simonides may have meant
that justice gives to friends what is good and to enemies what
is evil. But this suggestion either lacks definiteness, as not
specifying what to do, or else it lacks moral content, as per-
mitting good or evil deeds indifferently, in behalf of a friend.
Furthermore, it does not reckon with the possibility that some
friends may be bad. And in any case, it is not just to render
evil for evil; for to render evil is to injure, or to make worse;
and justice cannot make any one worse.]
Several times in the course of the discussion Thrasymachus
had made an attempt to get the argument into his own hands,
and had been put down by the rest of the company, who
wanted to hear the end. But when Polemarchus and I had
done speaking and there was a pause, he could no longer
hold his peace; and, gathering himself up, he came at us like
a wild beast, seeking to devour us. We were quite panic-
stricken at the sight of him.
He roared out to the whole company: What folly, Socrates,
has taken possession of you all? And why, sillybillies, do
you knock under to one another? I say that if you want
really to know what justice is, you should not only ask but
answer, and you should not seek honour to yourself from
the refutation of an opponent, but have your own answer;
for there is many an one who can ask and cannot answer.
And now I will not have you say that justice is duty or ad-
THE REPUBLIC
255
33)
vantage or profit or gain or interest, for this sort of nonsense Republic
will not do for me; I must have clearness and accuracy.
I was panic-stricken at his words, and could not look at
him without trembling. Indeed I believe that if I had not
fixed my eye upon him, I should have been struck dumb:
but when I saw his fury rising, I looked at him first, and was
therefore able to reply to him.
Thrasymachus, I said, with a quiver, don't be hard upon us.
Polemarchus and I may have been guilty of a little mistake
in the argument, but I can assure you that the error was not
intentional. If we were seeking for a piece of gold, you
would not imagine that we were 'knocking under to one
another,' and so losing our chance of finding it. And why,
when we are seeking for justice, a thing more precious than
many pieces of gold, do you say that we are weakly yielding
to one another and not doing our utmost to get at the truth?
Nay, my good friend, we are most willing and anxious to do
so, but the fact is that we cannot. And if so, you people who
know all things should pity us and not be angry with us.
How characteristic of Socrates! he replied, with a bitter
laugh; that's your ironical style! Did I not foresee-have
I not already told you, that whatever he was asked he would
refuse to answer, and try irony or any other shuffle, in order
that he might avoid answering?
I.
SOCRATES,
THRASYMA-
CHUS.
cannot give
answers are
excluded.
You are a philosopher, Thrasymachus, I replied, and well Socrates
know that if you ask a person what numbers make up twelve, any answer
taking care to prohibit him whom you ask from answering if all true
twice, six, or three times four, or six times two, or four times
three, 'for this sort of nonsense will not do for me,'-then
obviously, if that is your way of putting the question, no one
can answer you. But suppose that he were to retort, 'Thrasy- Thrasyma-
machus, what do you mean? If one of these numbers which
you interdict be the true answer to the question, am I falsely his own
to say some other number which is not the right one?-is
that your meaning?'-How would you answer him?
Just as if the two cases were at all alike! he said.
Why should they not be? I replied; and even if they
are not, but only appear to be so to the person who is asked,
ought he not to say what he thinks, whether you and I forbid
him or not?
chus is as-
sailed with
weapons.
256
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
I.
SOCRATES,
THRASYMA-
CHUS,
GLAUCON.
The So-
phist de-
mands pay.
ment for
his instruc-
tions. The
company
are very
willing to
contribute.
Socrates
knows little
or nothing:
how can he
answer?
And he is
deterred by
the inter-
dict of
Thrasyma-
chus.
I presume then that you are going to make one of the
interdicted answers?
I dare say that I may, notwithstanding the danger, if upon
reflection I approve of any of them.
But what if I give you an answer about justice other and
better, he said, than any of these? What do you deserve to
have done to you?
Done to me!-as becomes the ignorant, I must learn from
the wise-that is what I deserve to have done to me.
What, and no payment! a pleasant notion!
I will pay when I have the money, I replied.
But you have, Socrates, said Glaucon: and you, Thrasyma-
chus, need be under no anxiety about money, for we will all
make a contribution for Socrates.
Yes, he replied, and then Socrates will do as he always
does refuse to answer himself, but take and pull to pieces
the answer of some one else.
Why, my good friend, I said, how can any one answer who
knows, and says that he knows, just nothing; and who, even
if he has some faint notions of his own, is told by a man
of authority not to utter them? The natural thing is, that
the speaker should be some one like yourself who pro- 338
fesses to know and can tell what he knows. Will you then
kindly answer, for the edification of the company and of
myself?
Glaucon and the rest of the company joined in my request,
and Thrasymachus, as any one might see, was in reality eager
to speak; for he thought that he had an excellent answer, and
would distinguish himself. But at first he affected to insist
on my answering; at length he consented to begin. Behold,
he said, the wisdom of Socrates; he refuses to teach himself,
and goes about learning of others, to whom he never even
says Thank you.
That I learn of others, I replied, is quite true; but that
I am ungrateful I wholly deny. Money I have none, and
therefore I pay in praise, which is all I have; and how ready
I am to praise any one who appears to me to speak well you
will very soon find out when you answer; for I expect that
you will answer well.
Listen, then, he said; I proclaim that justice is nothing
THE REPUBLIC
257
343
else than the interest of the stronger. And now why do you Republic
not praise me? But of course you won't.
I.
SOCRATES,
Let me first understand you, I replied. Justice, as you say, THRASYMA-
is the interest of the stronger. What, Thrasymachus, is the
meaning of this?
But
CHUS.
The defini
tion of
machus:
Justice is
Thrasy-
the interest
of the
[The definition of Thrasymachus cannot mean that justice
is the interest of the physically stronger, for men vary; nor
simply the interest of the government or sovereign at a given
time, for rulers may be mistaken as to their interest.
so far as a ruler is a real ruler, argues Thrasymachus, he makes stronger or
no mistakes. But as a ruler, Socrates replies, he practices an
art which, like the art of the physician or the pilot, seeks not
its own advantage but that of its subjects. At this point
Thrasymachus shifts his ground, and points to the facts.']
When we had got to this point in the argument, and every
one saw that the definition of justice had been completely
upset, Thrasymachus, instead of replying to me, said: Tell
me, Socrates, have you got a nurse?
ruler.'
Why do you ask such a question, I said, when you ought The impu-
rather to be answering?
dence of
Thrasy.
Because she leaves you to snivel, and never wipes your machus.
nose: she has not even taught you to know the shepherd
from the sheep.
What makes you say that? I replied.
chus dilates
upon the
of injustice,
Because you fancy that the shepherd or neatherd fattens Thrasyma-
or tends the sheep or oxen with a view to their own good
and not to the good of himself or his master; and you advantages
further imagine that the rulers of states, if they are true
rulers, never think of their subjects as sheep, and that they
are not studying their own advantage day and night. Oh,
no; and so entirely astray are you in your ideas about
the just and unjust as not even to know that justice and the
just are in reality another's good; that is to say, the interest
of the ruler and stronger, and the loss of the subject and
servant; and injustice the opposite; for the unjust is lord
over the truly simple and just: he is the stronger, and
his subjects do what is for his interest, and minister to his
happiness, which is very far from being their own. Consider
further, most foolish Socrates, that the just is always a loser
in comparison with the unjust. First of all, in private
258
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
1.
THRASYMA-
CHUS.
especially
when pur-
sued on a
great scale.
Tyranny.
contracts: wherever the unjust is the partner of the just
you will find that, when the partnership is dissolved, the
unjust man has always more and the just less. Secondly,
in their dealings with the State: when there is an income-tax,
the just man will pay more and the unjust less on the same
amount of income; and when there is anything to be received.
the one gains nothing and the other much. Observe also
what happens when they take an office; there is the just man
neglecting his affairs and perhaps suffering other losses, and
getting nothing out of the public, because he is just; more-
over he is hated by his friends and acquaintance for refusing
to serve them in unlawful ways. But all this is reversed
in the case of the unjust man. I am speaking, as before, of
injustice on a large scale in which the advantage of the unjust 344
is most apparent; and my meaning will be most clearly seen
if we turn to that highest form of injustice in which the
criminal is the happiest of men, and the sufferers or those
who refuse to do injustice are the most miserable—that is to
say tyranny, which by fraud and force takes away the prop-
erty of others, not little by little but wholesale; compre-
hending in one, things sacred as well as profane, private
and public; for which acts of wrong, if he were detected
perpetrating any one of them singly, he would be punished
and incur great disgrace--they who do such wrong in par-
ticular cases are called robbers of temples, and man-stealers
and burglars and swindlers and thieves. But when a man
besides taking away the money of the citizens has made
slaves of them, then, instead of these names of reproach, he
is termed happy and blessed, not only by the citizens but by
all who hear of his having achieved the consummation of
injustice. For mankind censure injustice, fearing that they
may be the victims of it and not because they shrink from
committing it. And thus, as I have shown, Socrates, in-
justice, when on a sufficient scale, has more strength and
freedom and mastery than justice; and, as I said at first,
justice is the interest of the stronger, whereas injustice is
a man's own profit and interest.
Thrasymachus, when he had thus spoken, having, like a
bath-man, deluged our ears with his words, had a mind to go
away.
But the company would not let him; they insisted
THE REPUBLIC
259
I.
SOCRATES,
CHUS.
that he should remain and defend his position; and I myself Republic
added my own humble request that he would not leave us.
Thrasymachus, I said to him, excellent man, how suggestive THRASYMA-
are your remarks! And are you going to run away before
you have fairly taught or learned whether they are true or Thrasyma-
not? Is the attempt to determine the way of man's life so
small a matter in your eyes-to determine how life may be speech
passed by each one of us to the greatest advantage?
chus having
made his
wants to
run away,
And do I differ from you, he said, as to the importance of but is de-
the enquiry?
tained by
the com-
Apparently, I replied, or else you have no care or thought pany.
about us, Thrasymachus-whether we live better or worse
from not knowing what you say you know, is to you a matter
345 of indifference. Prithee, friend, do not keep your knowledge
to yourself; we are a large party; and any benefit which you
confer upon us will be amply rewarded. For my own part I
openly declare that I am not convinced, and that I do not
believe injustice to be more gainful than justice, even if un-
controlled and allowed to have free play. For, granting that
there may be an unjust man who is able to commit injustice
either by fraud or force, still this does not convince me of the
superior advantage of injustice, and there may be others who
are in the same predicament with myself. Perhaps we may
be wrong; if so, you in your wisdom should convince us that
we are mistaken in preferring justice to injustice.
ger of
And how am I to convince you, he said, if you are not The swag.
already convinced by what I have just said; what more can Thrasyma-
I do for you? Would you have me put the proof bodily into chus.
your souls?
Heaven forbid! I said; I would only ask you to be con-
sistent; or, if you change, change openly and let there be no
deception. For I must remark, Thrasymachus, if you will
recall what was previously said, that although you began by
defining the true physician in an exact sense, you did not
observe a like exactness when speaking of the shepherd;
you thought that the shepherd as a shepherd tends the sheep
not with a view to their own good, but like a mere diner or
banquetter with a view to the pleasures of the table; or,
again, as a trader for sale in the market, and not as a shep-
1 J. has 'You appear rather, I replied, to have . . .'
260
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
I.
SOCRATES,
THRASYMA.
CHUS.
The arts
have dif-
ferent func-
tions and
are not to
be con-
founded
with the
art of
pay-
ment which
is common
to them all.
herd. Yet surely the art of the shepherd is concerned only
with the good of his subjects; he has only to provide the
best for them, since the perfection of the art is already en-
sured whenever all the requirements of it are satisfied. And
that was what I was saying just now about the ruler. I con-
ceived that the art of the ruler, considered as ruler, whether
in a state or in private life, could only regard the good of his
flock or subjects; whereas you seem to think that the rulers
in states, that is to say, the true rulers, like being in authority.
Think! Nay, I am sure of it.
Then why in the case of lesser offices do men never take
them willingly without payment, unless under the idea that
they govern for the advantage not of themselves but of 346
others? Let me ask you a question: Are not the several
arts different, by reason of their each having a separate func-
tion? And, my dear illustrious friend, do say what you
think, that we may make a little progress.
Yes, that is the difference, he replied.
And each art gives us a particular good and not merely a
general one-medicine, for example, gives us health; navi-
gation, safety at sea, and so on?
Yes, he said.
And the art of payment has the special function of giving
pay: but we do not confuse this with other arts, any more
than the art of the pilot is to be confused with the art of
medicine, because the health of the pilot may be improved by
a sea voyage. You would not be inclined to say, would you,
that navigation is the art of medicine, at least if we are to
adopt your exact use of language?
Certainly not.
Or because a man is in good health when he receives pay
you would not say that the art of payment is medicine?
I should not.
Nor would you say that medicine is the art of receiving
pay because a man takes fees when he is engaged in healing?
Certainly not.
And we have admitted, I said, that the good of each art is
specially confined to the art?
Yes.
Then, if there be any good which all artists have in com-
THE REPUBLIC
261
mon, that is to be attributed to something of which they all Republic
have the common use?
True, he replied
And when the artist is benefited by receiving pay the ad-
vantage is gained by an additional use of the art of pay, which
is not the art professed by him?
He gave a reluctant assent to this.
Then the pay is not derived by the several artists from
their respective arts. But the truth is, that while the art of
medicine gives health, and the art of the builder builds a
house, another art attends them which is the art of pay. The
various arts may be doing their own business and benefiting
that over which they preside, but would the artist receive any
benefit from his art unless he were paid as well?
I suppose not.
But does he therefore confer no benefit when he works for
nothing?
Certainly, he confers a benefit.
I.
SOCRATES,
THRASYMA-
CHUS.
ruler or
artist seeks,
not his own
but the
of his art;
and there-
fore he
must be
Then now, Thrasymachus, there is no longer any doubt The true
that neither arts nor governments provide for their own
interests; but, as we were before saying, they rule and pro-
vide for the interests of their subjects who are the weaker advantage,
and not the stronger to their good they attend and not to perfection
the good of the superior. And this is the reason, my dear
Thrasymachus, why, as I was just now saying, no one is
willing to govern; because no one likes to take in hand the
reformation of evils which are not his concern without re-
347 muneration. For, in the execution of his work, and in giving
his orders to another, the true artist does not regard his
own interest, but always that of his subjects; and there-
fore in order that rulers may be willing to rule, they must be
paid in one of three modes of payment, money, or honour, or
a penalty for refusing.
349
[Thrasymachus has come out in his true colors as the
champion of acquisitiveness as an end in itself; injustice is
a more profitable and discreet course than justice. Socrates
now proceeds to draw an analogy again with the arts.
Does the just man try to gain any advantage over the just?
Far otherwise; if he did he would not be the simple amus-
ing creature which he is.
paid.
262
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
I.
SOCRATES,
THRASYMA-
CHUS.
The just
tries to ob-
tain an ad-
vantage
over the
unjust, but
not over
the just;
the unjust
over both
just and
unjust.
Illustra-
tions.
And would he try to go beyond just action?
He would not.
And how would he regard the attempt to gain an advantage
over the unjust; would that be considered by him as just or
unjust?
He would think it just, and would try to gain the advantage;
but he would not be able.
Whether he would or would not be able, I said, is not
to the point. My question is only whether the just man, while
refusing to have more than another just man, would wish
and claim to have more than the unjust?
Yes, he would.
And what of the unjust-does he claim to have more than
the just man and to do more than is just?
Of course, he said, for he claims to have more than all men.
And the unjust man will strive and struggle to obtain more
than the unjust man or action, in order that he may have
more than all?
True.
We may put the matter thus, I said the just does not
desire more than his like but more than his unlike, whereas
the unjust desires more than both his like and his unlike?
Nothing, he said, can be better than that statement.
And the unjust is good and wise, and the just is neither?
Good again, he said.
And is not the unjust like the wise and good and the just
unlike them?
Of course, he said, he who is of a certain nature, is like
those who are of a certain nature; he who is not, not.
Each of them, I said, is such as his like is?
Certainly, he replied.
Very good, Thrasymachus, I said; and now to take the
case of the arts: you would admit that one man is a musician
and another not a musician?
Yes.
And which is wise and which is foolish?
Clearly the musician is wise, and he who is not a musician
is foolish.
And he is good in as far as he is wise, and bad in as far as
he is foolish?
THE REPUBLIC
263
350
Yes.
And you would say
Yes.
the same sort of thing of the physician?
And do you think, my excellent friend, that a musician
when he adjusts the lyre would desire or claim to exceed or
go beyond a musician in the tightening and loosening the
strings?
I do not think that he would.
But he would claim to exceed the non-musician?
Of course.
And what would you say of the physician? In prescribing
meats and drinks would he wish to go beyond another physi-
cian or beyond the practice of medicine?
He would not.
But he would wish to go beyond the non-physician?
Yes.
Republic
I.
SOCRATES,
THRASYMA-
CHUS.
remains
within the
And about knowledge and ignorance in general; see whether The artist
you think that any man who has knowledge ever would wish
to have the choice of saying or doing more than another man limits of
who has knowledge. Would he not rather say or do the
same as his like in the same case?
That, I suppose, can hardly be denied.
And what of the ignorant? would he not desire to have
more than either the knowing or the ignorant?
I dare say.
And the knowing is wise?
Yes.
And the wise is good?
True.
Then the wise and good will not desire to gain more than
his like, but more than his unlike and opposite?
I suppose so.
Whereas the bad and ignorant will desire to gain more
than both?
Yes.
But did we not say, Thrasymachus, that the unjust goes
beyond both his like and unlike? Were not these your words?
They were.
his art;
And you also said that the just will not go beyond his and similar-
like but his unlike?
ly the just
264
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
1.
SOCRATES,
THRASYMA-
CHUS.
man does
not exceed
the limits of
other just
men.
Thrasyma-
chus per-
spiring and
even blush-
ing.
At this
point the
temper of
Thrasyma-
chus begins
*c improve.
Yes.
Then the just is like the wise and good, and the unjust like
the evil and ignorant?
That is the inference.
And each of them is such as his like is?
That was admitted.
Then the just has turned out to be wise and good and the
unjust evil and ignorant.
Thrasymachus made all these admissions, not fluently, as
I repeat them, but with extreme reluctance; it was a hot
summer's day, and the perspiration poured from him in
torrents; and then I saw what I had never seen before,
Thrasymachus blushing. As we were now agreed that
justice was virtue and wisdom, and injustice vice and igno-
rance, I proceeded to another point:
[Having shown that injustice is bad art, Socrates next
argues that it is not even strong.]
A statement was made that injustice is stronger and more 351
powerful than justice, but now justice, having been identified
with wisdom and virtue, is easily shown to be stronger than
injustice, if injustice is ignorance; this can no longer be ques-
tioned by any one. But I want to view the matter, Thrasyma-
chus, in a different way: You would not deny that a state
may be unjust and may be unjustly attempting to enslave
other states, or may have already enslaved them, and may be
holding many of them in subjection?
True, he replied; and I will add that the best and most
perfectly unjust state will be most likely to do so.
I know, I said, that such was your position; but what I
would further consider is, whether this power which is pos-
sessed by the superior state can exist or be exercised without
justice or only with justice.
If you are right in your view, and justice is wisdom, then
only with justice; but if I am right, then without justice.
I am delighted, Thrasymachus, to see you not only nodding
assent and dissent, but making answers which are quite excel-
lent.
That is out of civility to you, he replied.
You are very kind, I said; and would you have the good-
ness also to inform me, whether you think that a state, or an
THE REPUBLIC
265
army, or a band of robbers and thieves, or any other gang of Republic
evil-doers could act at all if they injured one another?
No indeed, he said, they could not.
But if they abstained from injuring one another, then they
might act together better?
Yes.
And this is because injustice creates divisions and hatreds
and fighting, and justice imparts harmony and friendship; is
not that true, Thrasymachus?
I.
SOCRATES,
THRASYMA-
CHUS.
Perfect in
justice,
whether in
state or in-
I agree, he said, because I do not wish to quarrel with you.
How good of you, I said; but I should like to know also
whether injustice, having this tendency to arouse hatred,
wherever existing, among slaves or among freemen, will
not make them hate one another and set them at variance tive to
and render them incapable of common action?
Certainly.
And even if injustice be found in two only, will they not
quarrel and fight, and become enemies to one another and to
the just?
They will.
And suppose injustice abiding in a single person, would
your wisdom say that she loses or that she retains her natural
power?
Let us assume that she retains her power.
Yet is not the power which injustice exercises of such a
nature that wherever she takes up her abode, whether in a
city, in an army, in a family, or in any other body, that body
352 is, to begin with, rendered incapable of united action by
reason of sedition and distraction; and does it not become
its own enemy and at variance with all that opposes it, and
with the just? Is not this the case?
Yes, certainly.
And is not injustice equally fatal when existing in a single
person; in the first place rendering him incapable of action
because he is not at unity with himself, and in the second
place making him an enemy to himself and the just? Is not
that true, Thrasymachus?
Yes.
And O my friend, I said, surely the gods are just?
Granted that they are.
dividuals,
is destruc-
them.
266
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
I.
SOCRATES,
THRASYMA-
CHUS.
Recapitu-
lation.
Illustra-
tions of
ends and
excellences
prepara-
tory to the
enquiry
into the
end and
excellence
of the
¹oul.
But if so, the unjust will be the enemy of the gods, and the
just will be their friend?
Feast away in triumph, and take your fill of the argument;
I will not oppose you, lest I should displease the company.
Well, then, proceed with your answers, and let me have the
remainder of my repast. For we have already shown that
the just are clearly wiser and better and abler than the un-
just, and that the unjust are incapable of common action; nay
more, that to speak as we did of men who are evil acting
at any time vigorously together, is not strictly true, for if
they had been perfectly evil, they would have laid hands
upon one another; but it is evident that there must have
been some remnant of justice in them, which enabled them
to combine; if there had not been they would have injured
one another as well as their victims; they were but half-
villains in their enterprises; for had they been whole villains,
and utterly unjust, they would have been utterly incapable
of action. That, as I believe, is the truth of the matter, and
not what you said at first. But whether the just have a bet-
ter and happier life than the unjust is a further question
which we also proposed to consider. I think that they have
and for the reasons which I have given; but still I should
like to examine further, for no light matter is at stake,
nothing less than the rule of human life.
Proceed.
I will proceed by asking a question: Would you not say
that a horse has some end?
I should.
And the end or use of a horse or of anything would be
that which could not be accomplished, or not so well accom-
plished, by any other thing?
I do not understand, he said.
Let me explain: Can you see, except with the eye?
Certainly not.
Or hear, except with the ear?
No.
These then may be truly said to be the ends of these organs?
They may.
But you can cut off a vine-branch with a dagger or with 353
a chisel, and in many other ways?
THE REPUBLIC
267
Of course.
And yet not so well as with a pruning-hook made for the
purpose?
True.
May we not say that this is the end of a pruning-hook?
We may.
Then now I think you will have no difficulty in under-
standing my meaning when I asked the question whether the
end of anything would be that which could not be accom-
plished, or not so well accomplished, by any other thing?
I understand your meaning, he said, and assent.
Republic
I.
SOCRATES,
THRASYMA-
CHUS.
And that to which an end is appointed has also an excel- All things
lence? Need I ask again whether the eye has an end?
It has.
And has not the eye an excellence?
Yes.
And the ear has an end and an excellence also?
True.
And the same is true of all other things; they have each
of them an end and a special excellence?
That is so.
Well, and can the eyes fulfil their end if they are
wanting in their own proper excellence and have a defect
instead?
How can they, he said, if they are blind and cannot see?
You mean to say, if they have lost their proper excellence,
which is sight; but I have not arrived at that point yet. I
would rather ask the question more generally, and only en-
quire whether the things which fulfil their ends fulfil them by
their own proper excellence, and fail of fulfilling them by
their own defect?
Certainly, he replied.
I might say the same of the ears; when deprived of their
own proper excellence they cannot fulfil their end?
True.
And the same observation will apply to all other things?
I agree.
which have
ends have
also virtues
and excel-
lences by
which they
fulfil those
ends
Well; and has not the soul an end which nothing else can And the
fulfil? for example, to superintend and command and deli-
soul has a
268
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
I.
SOCRATES,
THRASYMA-
CHUS.
virtue and
an end-
the virtue
justice, the
end happi-
ness.
Hence
justice and
happiness
are neces-
sarily con-
nected.
Socrates is
displeased
with him-
self and
with the
argument.
berate and the like. Are not these functions proper to the
soul, and can they rightly be assigned to any other?
To no other.
And is not life to be reckoned among the ends of the soul?
Assuredly, he said.
And has not the soul an excellence also?
Yes.
And can she or can she not fulfil her own ends when de-
prived of that excellence?
She cannot.
Then an evil soul must necessarily be an evil ruler and
superintendent, and the good soul a good ruler?
And we have admitted that justice is the excellence of the
soul, and injustice the defect of the soul?
That has been admitted.
Then the just soul and the just man will live well, and the
unjust man will live ill?
That is what your argument proves.
And he who lives well is blessed and happy, and he who 354
lives ill the reverse of happy?
Certainly.
Then the just is happy, and the unjust miserable?
So be it.
But happiness and not misery is profitable.
Of course.
Then, my blessed Thrasymachus, injustice can never be
more profitable than justice.
Let this, Socrates, he said, be your entertainment at the
Bendidea.
For which I am indebted to you, I said, now that you have
grown gentle toward me and have left off scolding. Never-
theless, I have not been well entertained; but that was my
own fault and not yours. As an epicure snatches a taste of
every dish which is successively brought to table, he not
having allowed himself time to enjoy the one before, so
have I gone from one subject to another without having
discovered what I sought at first, the nature of justice. I left
that enquiry and turned away to consider whether justice is
virtue and wisdom or evil and folly; and when there arose a
further question about the comparative advantages of justice
THE REPUBLIC
269
I.
and injustice, I could not refrain from passing on to that. Republic
And the result of the whole discussion has been that I know
nothing at all. For I know not what justice is, and there-
fore I am not likely to know whether it is or is not a virtue,
nor can I say whether the just man is happy or unhappy.
SOCRATES,
Republic
II.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
The three-
fold divi-
sion of
goods.
BOOK II
With these words I was thinking that I had made an end
of the discussion; but the end, in truth, proved to be only 357
a beginning. For Glaucon, who is always the most pug-
nacious of men, was dissatisfied at Thrasymachus' retire-
ment; he wanted to have the battle out. So he said to me:
Socrates, do you wish really to persuade us, or only to seem
to have persuaded us, that to be just is always better than to
be unjust?
I should wish really to persuade you, I replied, if I could.
Then you certainly have not succeeded. Let me ask you
now-How would you arrange goods-are there not some
which we welcome for their own sakes, and independently of
their consequences, as, for example, harmless pleasures and
enjoyments, which delight us at the time, although nothing
follows from them?
I agree in thinking that there is such a class, I replied.
Is there not also a second class of goods, such as know-
ledge, sight, health, which are desirable not only in them-
selves, but also for their results?
Certainly, I said.
And would you not recognize a third class, such as gym-
nastic, and the care of the sick, and the physician's art; also
the various ways of money-making-these do us good but we
regard them as disagreeable; and no one would choose them
for their own sakes, but only for the sake of some reward or
result which flows from them?
There is, I said, this third class also. But why do you ask?
Because I want to know in which of the three classes you
would place justice?
In the highest class, I replied,—among those goods which 358
he who would be happy desires both for their own sake and
for the sake of their results.
Then the many are of another mind; they think that jus-
270
THE REPUBLIC
271
II.
tice is to be reckoned in the troublesome class, among goods Republic
which are to be pursued for the sake of rewards and of repu-
tation, but in themselves are disagreeable and rather to be
avoided.
I know, I said, that this is their manner of thinking, and
that this was the thesis which Thrasymachus was maintaining.
just now, when he censured justice and praised injustice.
But I am too stupid to be convinced by him.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
the argu-
1. The na-
ture of jus-
2. Justice
good:
ness of this
notion.
I wish, he said, that you would hear me as well as him, Three
and then I shall see whether you and I agree.
For Thra- heads of
symachus seems to me, like a snake, to have been charmed ment:-
by your voice sooner than he ought to have been; but to my
mind the nature of justice and injustice have not yet been tice:
made clear. Setting aside their rewards and results, I want a necessity,
to know what they are in themselves, and how they inwardly but not a
work in the soul. If you please, then, I will revive the argu- 3. The rea-
ment of Thrasymachus. And first I will speak of the nature sonable-
and origin of justice according to the common view of them.
Secondly, I will show that all men who practise justice do so
against their will, of necessity, but not as a good. And
thirdly, I will argue that there is reason in this view, for the
life of the unjust is after all better far than the life of the just
-if what they say is true, Socrates, since I myself am not of
their opinion. But still I acknowledge that I am perplexed
when I hear the voices of Thrasymachus and myriads of others
dinning in my ears; and, on the other hand, I have never
yet heard the superiority of justice to injustice maintained by
any one in a satisfactory way. I want to hear justice praised
in respect of itself; then I shall be satisfied, and you are the
person from whom I think that I am most likely to hear this;
and therefore I will praise the unjust life to the utmost of my
power, and my manner of speaking will indicate the manner
in which I desire to hear you too praising justice and
censuring injustice. Will you say whether you approve of
my proposal?
Indeed I do; nor can I imagine any theme about which a
man of sense would oftener wish to converse.
I am delighted, he replied, to hear you say so, and shall
begin by speaking, as I proposed, of the nature and origin of
justice.
272
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
II.
GLAUCON.
Justice a
compro-
mise be-
tween do-
ing and
suffering
evil.
The story
of Gyges.
They say that to do injustice is, by nature, good; to suffer
injustice, evil; but that the evil is greater than the good.
And so when men have both done and suffered injustice and
have had experience of both, not being able to avoid the one 359
and obtain the other, they think that they had better agree
among themselves to have neither; hence there arise laws
and mutual covenants; and that which is ordained by law is
termed by them lawful and just. This they affirm to be the
origin and nature of justice; it is a mean or compromise,
between the best of all, which is to do injustice and not be
punished, and the worst of all, which is to suffer injustice
without the power of retaliation; and justice, being at a
middle point between the two, is tolerated not as a good but
as the lesser evil, and honoured by reason of the inability of
men to do injustice. For no man who is worthy to be called
a man would ever submit to such an agreement if he were
able to resist; he would be mad if he did. Such is the
received account, Socrates, of the nature and origin of
justice.
Now that those who practise justice do so involuntarily
and because they have not the power to be unjust will best
appear if we imagine something of this kind: having given
both to the just and the unjust power to do what they will,
let us watch and see whither desire will lead them; then we
shall discover in the very act the just and unjust man to be
proceeding along the same road, following their interest,
which all natures deem to be their good, and are only di-
verted into the path of justice by the force of law. The
liberty which we are supposing may be most completely
given to them in the form of such a power as is said to have
been possessed by the ancestor of Gyges the Lydian.¹ Accord-
ing to the tradition, Gyges was a shepherd in the service of the
king of Lydia; there was a great storm, and an earthquake
made an opening in the earth at the place where he was feed
ing his flock. Amazed at the sight, he descended into the
opening, where, among other marvels, he beheld a hollow
brazen horse, having doors, at which he stooping and looking
in saw a dead body of stature, as appeared to him, more than
[1 J., translating from an inferior text, has 'by Gyges, the ancestor of
Croesus the Lydian.']
THE REPUBLIC
273
II.
GLAUCON.
cation of
the story
human, and having nothing on but a gold ring; this he took Republic
from the finger of the dead and reascended. Now the shep-
herds met together, according to custom, that they might send
their monthly report about the flocks to the king; into their as-
sembly he came having the ring on his finger, and as he was
sitting among them he chanced to turn the collet of the ring
inside his hand, when instantly he became invisible to the
rest of the company and they began to speak of him as if he
were no longer present. He was astonished at this, and again
360 touching the ring he turned the collet outwards and reap-
peared; he made several trials of the ring, and always with
the same result-when he turned the collet inwards he be-
came invisible, when outwards he reappeared. Whereupon
he contrived to be chosen one of the messengers who were sent
to the court; where as soon as he arrived he seduced the queen,
and with her help conspired against the king and slew him, and
took the kingdom. Suppose now that there were two such
magic rings, and the just put on one of them and the unjust The appli
the other; no man can be imagined to be of such an iron
nature that he would stand fast in justice. No man would of Gyges.
keep his hands off what was not his own when he could safely
take what he liked out of the market, or go into houses and lie
with any one at his pleasure, or kill or release from prison
whom he would, and in all respects be like a God among men.
Then the actions of the just would be as the actions of the un-
just; they would both come at last to the same point. And
this we may truly affirm to be a great proof that a man is just,
not willingly or because he thinks that justice is any good to
him individually, but of necessity, for wherever any one
thinks that he can safely be unjust, there he is unjust. For
all men believe in their hearts that injustice is far more
profitable to the individual than justice, and he who argues
as I have been supposing, will say that they are right. If
you could imagine any one obtaining this power of becoming
invisible, and never doing any wrong or touching what was
another's, he would be thought by the lookers-on to be a
most wretched idiot, although they would praise him to one
another's faces, and keep up appearances with one another
from a fear that they too might suffer injustice. Enough of
this.
274
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
II.
GLAUCON,
SOCRATES.
The unjust
to be
clothed
with power
and repu-
tation.
The just
to be un-
clothed of
all but his
virtue.
Now, if we are to form a real judgment of the life of the
just and unjust, we must isolate them; there is no other
way; and how is the isolation to be effected? I answer:
Let the unjust man be entirely unjust, and the just man
entirely just; nothing is to be taken away from either of
them, and both are to be perfectly furnished for the work of
their respective lives. First, let the unjust be like other
distinguished masters of craft; like the skilful pilot or
physician, who knows intuitively his own powers and keeps 361
within their limits, and who, if he fails at any point, is able
to recover himself. So let the unjust make his unjust at-
tempts in the right way, and lie hidden if he means to be
great in his injustice: (he who is found out is nobody:) for
the highest reach of injustice is, to be deemed just when you
are not. Therefore I say that in the perfectly unjust man
we must assume the most perfect injustice; there is to be no
deduction, but we must allow him, while doing the most
unjust acts, to have acquired the greatest reputation for
justice. If he have taken a false step he must be able to
recover himself; he must be one who can speak with effect, if
any of his deeds come to light, and who can force his way
where force is required by his courage and strength, and com-
mand of money and friends. And at his side let us place the
just man in his nobleness and simplicity, wishing, as Aeschy-
lus says, to be and not to seem good. There must be no
seeming, for if he seem to be just he will be honoured and
rewarded, and then we shall not know whether he is just for
the sake of justice or for the sake of honours and rewards;
therefore, let him be clothed in justice only, and have no
other covering; and he must be imagined in a state of life
the opposite of the former. Let him be the best of men, and
let him be thought the worst; then he will have been put to
the proof; and we shall see whether he will be affected by
the fear of infamy and its consequences. And let him con-
tinue thus to the hour of death; being just and seeming t
be unjust. When both have reached the uttermost extreme,
the one of justice and the other of injustice, let judgment be
given which of them is the happier of the two.
Heavens! my dear Glaucon, I said, how energetically you
THE REPUBLIC
275
polish them up for the decision, first one and then the other, Republic
as if they were two statues.
II.
SOCRATES.
I do my best, he said. And now that we know what they GLAUCON,
are like there is no difficulty in tracing out the sort of life ADEIMANTUS
which awaits either of them. This I will proceed to describe;
but as you may think the description a little too coarse, I ask
you to suppose, Socrates, that the words which follow are
not mine.-Let me put them into the mouths of the eulogists
of injustice: They will tell you that the just man who is
thought unjust will be scourged, racked, bound-will have
his eyes burnt out; and, at last, after suffering every kind of
evil, he will be impaled: Then he will understand that he The just
362 ought to seem only, and not to be, just; the words of
Aeschylus may be more truly spoken of the unjust than
the just. For the unjust is pursuing a reality; he does not
live with a view to appearances—he wants to be really unjust
and not to seem only:-
His mind has a soil deep and fertile,
Out of which spring his prudent counsels.' 1
of
man will
learn by
each expe-
he ought
rience that
to seem
and not to
be just.
who ap-
pears just
will attain
every sort
of pros-
perity.
In the first place, he is thought just, and therefore bears rule
in the city; he can marry whom he will, and give in marriage
to whom he will; also he can trade and deal where he likes, The unjust
and always to his own advantage, because he has no mis-
givings about injustice; and at every contest, whether in
public or private, he gets the better of his antagonists, and
gains at their expense, and is rich, and out of his gains he
can benefit his friends, and harm his enemies; moreover, he
can offer sacrifices, and dedicate gifts to the gods abundantly
and magnificently, and can honour the gods or any man
whom he wants to honour in a far better style than the just,
and therefore he is likely to be dearer than they are to the
gods. And thus, Socrates, gods and men are said to unite
in making the life of the unjust better than the life of the just.
I was going to say something in answer to Glaucon, when
Adeimantus, his brother, interposed: Socrates, he said, you
you do not suppose that there is nothing more to be urged?
Why, what else is there? I answered.
1 Seven against Thebes, 574.
276
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
II.
ADEIMANTUS,
SOCRATES.
Adeiman-
tus takes
up the
argument.
Justice is
praised and
injustice
blamed, but
only out of
regard to
their con-
sequences.
The re-
wards and
punish-
ments of
another
life.
The strongest point of all has not been even mentioned, he
replied.
Well, then, according to the proverb, 'Let brother help
brother'-if he fails in any part do you assist him; although
I must confess that Glaucon has already said quite enough
to lay me in the dust, and take from me the power of helping
justice.
Nonsense, he replied. But let me add something more:
There is another side to Glaucon's argument about the praise
and censure of justice and injustice, which is equally required
in order to bring out what I believe to be his meaning.
Parents and tutors are always telling their sons and their
wards that they are to be just; but why? not for the sake of 363
justice, but for the sake of character and reputation; in the
hope of obtaining for him who is reputed just some of those
offices, marriages, and the like which Glaucon has enumerated
among the advantages accruing to the unjust from the repu-
tation of justice. More, however, is made of appearances by
this class of persons than by the others; for they throw in
the good opinion of the gods, and will tell you of a shower
of benefits which the heavens, as they say, rain upon the
pious; and this accords with the testimony of the noble
Hesiod and Homer, the first of whom says, that the gods
make the oaks of the just-
'To bear acorns at their summit, and bees in the middle;
And the sheep are bowed down with the weight of their fleeces,'
"1
and many other blessings of a like kind are provided for
them. And Homer has a very similar strain; for he speaks
of one whose fame is-
'As the fame of some blameless king who, like a god,
Maintains justice; to whom the black earth brings forth
Wheat and barley, whose trees are bowed with fruit,
And his sheep never fail to bear, and the sea gives him fish.'2
Still grander are the gifts of heaven which Musaeus and his
son vouchsafe to the just; they take them down into the
world below, where they have the saints lying on couches
at a feast, everlastingly drunk, crowned with garlands; their
idea seems to be that an immortality of drunkenness is the
1 Hesiod, Works and Days, 230.
2 Homer. Od. xix. 109.
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277
II.
ADEIMANTUS
highest meed of virtue. Some extend their rewards yet Republic
further; the posterity, as they say, of the faithful and just
shall survive to the third and fourth generation. This is the
style in which they praise justice. But about the wicked
there is another strain; they bury them in a slough in
Hades, and make them carry water in a sieve; also while
they are yet living they bring them to infamy, and inflict.
upon them the punishments which Glaucon described as the
portion of the just who are reputed to be unjust; nothing
else does their invention supply. Such is their manner of
praising the one and censuring the other.
peating
is painful
and vice
Once more, Socrates, I will ask you to consider another way Men are
of speaking about justice and injustice, which is not confined always re-
364 to the poets, but is found in prose writers. The universal that virtue
voice of mankind is always declaring that justice and virtue
are honourable, but grievous and toilsome; and that the pleasant.
pleasures of vice and injustice are easy of attainment, and are
only censured by law and opinion. They say also that honesty
is for the most part less profitable than dishonesty; and they
are quite ready to call wicked men happy, and to honour
them both in public and private when they are rich or in any
other way influential, while they despise and overlook those
who may be weak and poor, even though acknowledging
them to be better than the others. But most extraordinary
of all is their mode of speaking about virtue and the gods:
they say that the gods apportion calamity and misery to
many good men, and good and happiness to the wicked.
And mendicant prophets go to rich men's doors and per-
suade them that they have a power committed to them
by the gods of making an atonement for a man's own
or his ancestor's sins by sacrifices or charms, with rejoic-
ings and feasts; and they promise to harm an enemy,
whether just or unjust, at a small cost; with magic arts.
and incantations bending heaven, as they say, to execute
their will. And the poets are the authorities to whom they
appeal, now smoothing the path of vice with the words of
Hesiod:-
'Vice may be had in abundance without trouble; the way is smooth
and her dwelling-place is near. But before virtue the gods have
set toil,' 1
1 Hesiod, Works and Days, 287.
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THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
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II.
ADEIMANTUS.
They are
taught that
sins may
be easily
expiated.
The effects
of all this
upon the
youthful
mind.
and a tedious and uphill road: then citing Homer as a
witness that the gods may be influenced by men; for he
also says:-
"The gods, too, may be turned from their purpose; and men pray
to them and avert their wrath by sacrifices and soothing entreaties,
and by libations and the odour of fat, when they have sinned and
transgressed.' 1
And they produce a host of books written by Musaeus and
Orpheus, who were children of the Moon and the Muses-
that is what they say-according to which they perform their
ritual, and persuade not only individuals, but whole cities
that expiations and atonements for sin may be made by
sacrifices and amusements which fill a vacant hour, and are
equally at the service of the living and the dead; the latter
sort they call mysteries, and they redeem us from the pains 365
of hell, but if we neglect them no one knows what awaits us.
He proceeded: And now when the young hear all this said
about virtue and vice, and the way in which gods and men
regard them, how are their minds likely to be affected, my
dear Socrates, those of them, I mean, who are quickwitted,
and, like bees on the wing, light on every flower, and from
all that they hear are prone to draw conclusions as to what
manner of persons they should be and in what way they
should walk if they would make the best of life? Probably
the youth will say to himself in the words of Pindar-
'Can I by justice or by crooked ways of deceit ascend a loftier
tower which may be a fortress to me all my days?'
For what men say is that, if I am really just and am not also
thought just, profit there is none, but the pain and loss on
the other hand are unmistakable. But if, though unjust,
I acquire the reputation of justice, a heavenly life is promised
to me. Since then, as philosophers prove, appearance tyran-
nizes over truth and is lord of happiness, to appearance I
must devote myself. I will describe around me a picture
and shadow of virtue to be the vestibule and exterior of my
house; behind I will trail the subtle and crafty fox, as
Archilochus, greatest of sages, recommends. But I hear
1 Homer. Iliad. ix. 493
THE REPUBLIC
279
II.
ADEIMANTUS.
The exist-
ence of the
gods is only
some one exclaiming that the concealment of wickedness is Republic
often difficult; to which I answer, Nothing great is easy.
Nevertheless, the argument indicates this, if we would be
happy, to be the path along which we should proceed. With
a view to concealment we will establish secret brotherhoods
and political clubs. And there are professors of rhetoric who
teach the art of persuading courts and assemblies; and so,
partly by persuasion and partly by force, I shall make un-
lawful gains and not be punished. Still I hear a voice
saying that the gods cannot be deceived, neither can they
be compelled. But what if there are no gods? or, suppose
them to have no care of human things-why in either case
should we mind about concealment? And even if there
are gods, and they do care about us, yet we know of them
only from tradition and the genealogies of the poets; and known to
these are the very persons who say that they may be in-
fluenced and turned by 'sacrifices and soothing entreaties who like-
and by offerings.' Let us be consistent then, and believe
both or neither. If the poets speak truly, why then we had
366 better be unjust, and offer of the fruits of injustice; for if we
are just, although we may escape the vengeance of heaven,
we shall lose the gains of injustice; but, if we are unjust, we forgive.
shall keep the gains, and by our sinning and praying, and
praying and sinning, the gods will be propitiated, and we
shall not be punished. 'But there is a world below in which
either we or our posterity will suffer for our unjust deeds.'
Yes, my friend, will be the reflection, but there are mysteries
and atoning deities, and these have great power. That is
what mighty cities declare; and the children of the gods,
who were their poets and prophets, bear a like testimony.
On what principle, then, shall we any longer choose justice
rather than the worst injustice? when, if we only unite the
latter with a deceitful regard to appearances, we shall fare to
our mind both with gods and men, in life and after death, as
the most numerous and the highest authorities tell us. Know-
ing all this, Socrates, how can a man who has any superiority
of mind or person or rank or wealth, be willing to honour
justice; or indeed to refrain from laughing when he hears
justice praised? And even if there should be some one who
is able to disprove the truth of my words, and who is satisfied
us through
the poets,
wise assure
us that they
may be
that they
bribed and
are very
ready to
280
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
II.
ADEIMANTUS.
All this,
even if not
absolutely
true, af-
fords great
excuse for
doing
wrong.
Men should
be taught
that justice
is in itself
the greatest
good and
injustice
the greatest
evil.
that justice is best, still he is not angry with the unjust, but
is very ready to forgive them, because he also knows that men
are not just of their own free will; unless, peradventure, there
be some one whom the divinity within him may have inspired.
with a hatred of injustice, or who has attained knowledge of
the truth-but no other man. He only blames injustice who,
owing to cowardice or age or some weakness, has not the
power of being unjust. And this is proved by the fact that
when he obtains the power, he immediately becomes unjust as
far as he can be.
The cause of all this, Socrates, was indicated by us at the
beginning of the argument, when my brother and I told you
how astonished we were to find that of all the professing
panegyrists of justice-beginning with the ancient heroes of
whom any memorial has been preserved to us, and ending
with the men of our own time-no one has ever blamed
injustice or praised justice except with a view to the glories,
honours, and benefits which flow from them. No one has
ever adequately described either in verse or prose the true
essential nature of either of them abiding in the soul, and
invisible to any human or divine eye; or shown that of all
the things of a man's soul which he has within him, justice is
the greatest good, and injustice the greatest evil. Had this 36%
been the universal strain, had you sought to persuade us of
this from our youth upwards, we should not have been on
the watch to keep one another from doing wrong, but every
one would have been his own watchman, because afraid, if he
did wrong, of harbouring in himself the greatest of evils. I
dare say that Thrasymachus and others would seriously hold
the language which I have been merely repeating, and words
even stronger than these about justice and injustice, grossly,
as I conceive, perverting their true nature. But I speak in
this vehement manner, as I must frankly confess to you,
because I want to hear from you the opposite side; and I
would ask you to show not only the superiority which justice
has over injustice, but what effect they have on the possessor
of them which makes the one to be a good and the other an
evil to him. And please, as Glaucon requested of you, to
exclude reputations; for unless you take away from each of
them his true reputation and add on the false, we shall say
THE REPUBLIC
281
that you do not praise justice, but the appearance of it; Republic
II.
we shall think that you are only exhorting us to keep in- ADEIMANTUS,
justice dark, and that you really agree with Thrasymachus SOCRATES.
in thinking that justice is another's good and the interest of
the stronger, and that injustice is a man's own profit and
interest, though injurious to the weaker. Now as you have
admitted that justice is one of that highest class of goods
which are desired indeed for their results, but in a far greater
degree for their own sakes-like sight or hearing or know-
ledge or health, or any other real and natural and not merely
conventional good-I would ask you in your praise of justice
to regard one point only: I mean the essential good and evil
which justice and injustice work in the possessors of them.
Let others praise justice and censure injustice, magnifying
the rewards and honours of the one and abusing the other;
that is a manner of arguing which, coming from them, I am
ready to tolerate, but from you who have spent your whole life
in the consideration of this question, unless I hear the contrary
from your own lips, I expect something better. And there-
fore, I say, not only prove to us that justice is better than
injustice, but show what they either of them do to the
possessor of them, which makes the one to be a good and
the other an evil, whether seen or unseen by gods and men.
I had always admired the genius of Glaucon and Adei-
mantus, but on hearing these words I was quite delighted,
368 and said: Sons of an illustrious father, that was not a bad
beginning of the Elegiac verses which the admirer of Glaucon
made in honour of you after you had distinguished yourselves
at the battle of Megara:-
'Sons of Ariston,' he sang, 'divine offspring of an illustrious hero.'
and Adei.
mantus
able to
argue so
well, but
uncon-
The epithet is very appropriate, for there is something truly Glaucon
divine in being able to argue as you have done for the supe-
riority of injustice, and remaining unconvinced by your own
arguments. And I do believe that you are not convinced
this I infer from your general character, for had I judged
only from your speeches I should have mistrusted you. But vinced by
now, the greater my confidence in you, the greater is my arguments.
difficulty in knowing what to say. For I am in a strait
between two; on the one hand I feel that I am unequal
their own
282
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
II.
SOCRATES.
to the task; and my inability is brought home to me by the
fact that you were not satisfied with the answer which I made
to Thrasymachus, proving, as I thought, the superiority
which justice has over injustice. And yet I cannot refuse to
help, while breath and speech remain to me; I am afraid
that there would be an impiety in being present when justice
is evil spoken of and not lifting up a hand in her defence.
And therefore had best give such help as I can.
ment.
SECOND DIVISION
[In order to exhibit the true nature of justice in man,
Socrates investigates its place in the state, which is 'man writ
large'; this he can do because man's social needs and instincts
require him to live with his fellowmen and to express the
various elements of his nature in social institutions. Accord-
ingly, Socrates traces the steps by which, logically rather than
historically, human fellowship passes from the satisfaction
of the most elementary physical needs, in what strikes Glaucon
as a 'city of pigs, to the elaborate state in which provision is
made for all the cravings of luxury and of intellectual refine-
At every stage it is found profitable to take advantage
of the natural differences of capacity in the citizens; this
means the division of labor by which separate classes of
farmers and artisans and tradesmen, of soldiers, and of rulers,
each with its own virtues and its own peculiar technical ability,
are to carry on their specialized functions. The soldierly
guardians and the rulers will need a thorough training both
of the body (gymnastic') and of the mind (music, which
includes literature and all the arts over which the Muses pre-
side), to give them good habits and good standards of conduct.
Almost imperceptibly Plato has been drawing our attention
from the average state to the ideal state; and his Socrates
now discusses the principles of government in the ideal state.
More depends on the strength of character and the disinter-
estedness of the rulers and on the spirit of the citizens than
on the form of government; accordingly much is said of the
choosing and testing of the rulers, and of expedients for
removing temptations from them even at the expense of leav-
ing them few ordinary pleasures; corruption of manners must
be prevented by laws guarding against innovations in music
and dances. Compared with fundamental matters like these,
ordinary details are unimportant and may safely be left to the
good sense of the rulers.
Now that the state has been established, Socrates reverts to
the original question, about the nature of justice. Obviously
the difference in capacity of the various classes in the state
leads us to find in each a characteristic virtue; the rulers have
283
284
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
The large
letters
Justice to
be seen in
the State
more easily
than in the
individual.
wisdom, the soldierly guardians have courage, and the workers
have a self-control that causes them to concern themselves
only with their own business. If all the classes in the state
exhibit their proper virtues, the state is just. And as the state
shows on the larger scale the work of human nature, the
individual is just if the several parts of his personality exist
in a harmonious relation to each other: the reason should rule,
aided by the higher emotions, and holding in check the lower,
bodily passions.]
Glaucon and the rest entreated me by all means not to let 368
the question drop, but to proceed in the investigation. They
wanted to arrive at the truth, first, about the nature of justice
and injustice, and secondly, about their relative advantages.
I told them, what I really thought, that the enquiry would be
of a serious nature, and would require very good eyes.
Seeing then, I said, that we are no great wits, I think that
we had better adopt a method which I may illustrate thus;
suppose that a short-sighted person had been asked by some
one to read small letters from a distance; and it occurred to
some one else that they might be found in another place
which was larger and in which the letters were larger-if
they were the same and he could read the larger letters first,
and then proceed to the lesser-this would have been thought
a rare piece of good fortune.
Very true, said Adeimantus; but how does the illustration
apply to our enquiry?
I will tell you, I replied; justice, which is the subject of
our enquiry, is, as you know, sometimes spoken of as the
virtue of an individual, and sometimes as the virtue of a
State.
True, he replied.
And is not a State larger than an individual?
It is.
Then in the larger the quantity of justice is likely to be
larger and more easily discernible. I propose therefore that
we enquire into the nature of justice and injustice, first as
they appear in the State, and secondly in the individual, 369
proceeding from the greater to the lesser and comparing
them.
THE REPUBLIC
285
That, he said, is an excellent proposal.
Republic
II.
And if we imagine the State in process of creation, we
shall see the justice and injustice of the State in process ADEIMANTUS.
of creation also.
I dare say.
When the State is completed there may be a hope that the
object of our search will be more easily discovered.
Yes, far more easily.
But ought we to attempt to construct one? I said; for to
do so, as I am inclined to think, will be a very serious task.
Reflect therefore.
I have reflected, said Adeimantus, and am anxious that
you should proceed.
SOCRATES,
A State, I said, arises, as I conceive, out of the needs The State
of mankind; no one is self-sufficing, but all of us have many
wants. Can any other origin of a State be imagined?
There can be no other.
Then, as we have many wants, and many persons are
needed to supply them, one takes a helper for one purpose
and another for another; and when these partners and
helpers are gathered together in one habitation the body of
inhabitants is termed a State.
True, he said.
And they exchange with one another, and one gives, and
another receives, under the idea that the exchange will be for
their good.
Very true.
Then, I said, let us begin and create in idea a State; and
yet the true creator is necessity, who is the mother of our
invention.
Of course, he replied.
arises out
of the
wants of
men.
Now the first and greatest of necessities is food, which is The four of
the condition of life and existence.
Certainly.
five greater
needs of
life, and the
The second is a dwelling, and the third clothing and the four or five
like.
True.
kinds of
citizens
who cor-
respond to
And now let us see how our city will be able to supply them.
this great demand: We may suppose that one man is a
husbandman, another a builder, some one else a weaver-
286
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
II.
Socrates,
ADEIMANTUS.
The divi-
sion of
labour.
The first
citizens
are:-1. a
husband-
man,
shall we add to them a shoemaker, or perhaps some other
purveyor to our bodily wants?
Quite right.
The barest notion of a State must include four or five men.
Clearly.
And how will they proceed? Will each bring the result
of his labours into a common stock?-the individual hus-
bandman, for example, producing for four, and labouring
four times as long and as much as he need in the provision
of food with which he supplies others as well as himself; or
will he have nothing to do with others and not be at the
trouble of producing for them, but provide for himself alone
a fourth of the food in a fourth of the time, and in the 370
remaining three fourths of his time be employed in making
a house or a coat or a pair of shoes, having no partnership
with others, but supplying himself all his own wants?
Adeimantus thought that he should aim at producing food
only and not at producing everything.
Probably, I replied, that would be the better way; and
when I hear you say this, I am myself reminded that we are
not all alike; there are diversities of natures among us which
are adapted to different occupations.
Very true.
And will you have a work better done when the workman
has many occupations, or when he has only one?
When he has only one.
Further, there can be no doubt that a work is spoilt when
not done at the right time?
No doubt.
For business is not disposed to wait until the doer of the
business is at leisure; but the doer must follow up what he
is doing, and make the business his first object.
He must.
And if so, we must infer that all things are produced more
plentifully and easily and of a better quality when one man
does one thing which is natural to him and does it at the
right time, and leaves other things.
Undoubtedly.
Then more than four citizens will be required; for the
husbandman will not make his own plough or mattock, or
THE REPUBLIC
287
371
II.
other implements of agriculture, if they are to be good for any- Republic
thing. Neither will the builder make his tools-and he too
needs many; and in like manner the weaver and shoemaker. ADEIMANTUS.
True.
SOCRATES,
2. a builder,
Then carpenters, and smiths, and many other artisans, will 3. a weaver,
be sharers in our little State, which is already beginning to
grow?
True.
Yet even if we add neatherds, shepherds, and other herds-
men, in order that our husbandmen may have oxen to plough
with, and builders as well as husbandmen may have draught
cattle, and curriers and weavers fleeces and hides, still our
State will not be very large.
That is true; yet neither will it be a very small State which
contains all these.
Then, again, there is the situation of the city-to find a
place where nothing need be imported is wellnigh impossible.
Impossible.
Then there must be another class of citizens who will bring
the required supply from another city?
There must.
But if the trader goes empty-handed, having nothing which
they require who would supply his need, he will come back
empty-handed.
That is certain.
And therefore what they produce at home must be not only
enough for themselves, but such both in quantity and quality
as to accommodate those from whom their wants are supplied.
Very true.
Then more husbandmen and more artisans will be required?
They will.
Not to mention the importers and exporters, who are called
merchants?
Yes.
Then we shall want merchants?
We shall.
And if merchandise is to be carried over the sea, skilful
sailors will also be needed, and in considerable numbers?
Yes, in considerable numbers.
Then, again, within the city, how will they exchange their
4. a shoe-
maker.
To these
must be
added:-
5. a car-
smith, etc.,
7. mer-
penter, 6. a
chants,
8. retailers.
288
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
II.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
The origin
of retail
trade.
productions? To secure such an exchange was, as you will
remember, one of our principal objects when we formed
them into a society and constituted a State.
Clearly they will buy and sell.
Then they will need a market-place, and a money-token
for purposes of exchange.
Certainly.
Suppose now that a husbandman, or an artisan, brings
some production to market, and he comes at a time when
there is no one to exchange with him,-is he to leave his
calling and sit idle in the market-place?
Not at all; he will find people there who, seeing the want,
undertake the office of salesmen. In well-ordered states they
are commonly those who are the weakest in bodily strength,
and therefore of little use for any other purpose; their duty is
to be in the market, and to give money in exchange for goods
to those who desire to sell and to take money from those
who desire to buy.
This want, then, creates a class of retail-traders in our
State. Is not 'retailer' the term which is applied to those
who sit in the market-place engaged in buying and selling,
while those who wander from one city to another are called
merchants?
Yes, he said.
And there is another class of servants, who are intellectually
hardly on the level of companionship; still they have plenty
of bodily strength for labour, which accordingly they sell, and
are called, if I do not mistake, hirelings, hire being the name
which is given to the price of their labour.
True.
Then hirelings will help to make up our population?
Yes.
And now, Adeimantus, is our State matured and perfected?
I think so.
Where, then, is justice, and where is injustice, and in what
part of the State did they spring up?
Probably in the dealings of these citizens with one another. 372
I cannot imagine that they are more likely to be found
anywhere else.
I dare say that you are right in your suggestion, I said;
THE REPUBLIC
289
we had better think the matter out, and not shrink from the Republic
enquiry.
II.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
A picture
Let us then consider, first of all, what will be their way of
life, now that we have thus established them. Will they not
produce corn, and wine, and clothes, and shoes, and build of primitive
houses for themselves? And when they are housed, they will life.
work, in summer, commonly, stripped and barefoot, but in
winter substantially clothed and shod. They will feed on
barley-meal and flour of wheat, baking and kneading them,
making noble cakes and loaves; these they will serve up on
a mat of reeds or on clean leaves, themselves reclining the
while upon beds strewn with yew or myrtle. And they and
their children will feast, drinking of the wine which they have
made, wearing garlands on their heads, and hymning the
praises of the gods, in happy converse with one another.
And they will take care that their families do not exceed their
means; having an eye to poverty or war.
But, said Glaucon, interposing, you have not given them
a relish to their meal.
True, I replied, I had fogotten; of course they must have
a relish-salt, and olives, and cheese, and they will boil roots
and herbs such as country people prepare; for a dessert
we shall give them figs, and peas, and beans; and they
will roast myrtle-berries and acorns at the fire, drinking in
moderation. And with such a diet they may be expected to
live in peace and health to a good old age, and bequeath a
similar life to their children after them.
Yes, Socrates, he said, and if you were providing for a city
of pigs, how else would you feed the beasts?
But what would you have, Glaucon? I replied.
Why, he said, you should give them the ordinary con-
veniences of life. People who are to be comfortable are
accustomed to lie on sofas, and dine off tables, and they should
have sauces and sweets in the modern style.
State must
be called
Yes, I said, now I understand: the question which you A luxurious
would have me consider is, not only how a State, but how a
luxurious State is created; and possibly there is no harm in into exist-
this, for in such a State we shall be more likely to see
how justice and injustice originate. In my opinion the true
and healthy constitution of the State is the one which I have
ence,
290
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
11.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
and in this
many new
callings
will be
required.
The terri-
tory of our
State must
De en-
larged; and
bence will
arise war
between us
and our
neigh-
bours.
described. But if you wish also to see a State at fever-heat,
I have no objection. For I suspect that many will not be
satisfied with the simpler way of life. They will be for adding 373
sofas, and tables, and other furniture; also dainties, and per-
fumes, and incense, and courtesans, and cakes, all these not
of one sort only, but in every variety; we must go beyond the
necessaries of which I was at first speaking, such as houses,
and clothes, and shoes: the arts of the painter and the
embroiderer will have to be set in motion, and gold and ivory
and all sorts of materials must be procured.
True, he said.
Then we must enlarge our borders; for the original
healthy State is no longer sufficient. Now will the city have
to fill and swell with a multitude of callings which are not
required by any natural want; such as the whole tribe of
hunters and actors, of whom one large class have to do with
forms and colours; another will be the votaries of music-
poets and their attendant train of rhapsodists, players, dancers,
contractors; also makers of divers kinds of articles, including
women's dresses. And we shall want more servants. Will
not tutors be also in request, and nurses wet and dry, tire-
women and barbers, as well as confectioners and cooks; and
swineherds, too, who were not needed and therefore had
no place in the former edition of our State, but are needed
now?
They must not be forgotten: and there will be
animals of many other kinds, if people eat them.
Certainly.
And living in this way we shall have much greater need of
physicians than before?
Much greater.
And the country which was enough to support the original
inhabitants will be too small now, and not enough?
Quite true.
Then a slice of our neighbour's land will be wanted by us
for pasture and tillage, and they will want a slice of ours, if,
like ourselves, they exceed the limit of necessity, and give
themselves up to the unlimited accumulation of wealth?
That, Socrates, will be inevitable.
And so we shall go to war, Glaucon.
Most certainly, he replied.
Shall we not?
THE REPUBLIC
291
II.
Socrates,
Then, without determining as yet whether war does good Republic
or harm, thus much we may affirm, that now we have dis-
covered war to be derived from causes which are also the GLAUCON.
causes of almost all the evils in States, private as well as
public.
Undoubtedly.
And our State must once more enlarge; and this time the
enlargement will be nothing short of a whole army, which
374 will have to go out and fight with the invaders for all that we
have, as well as for the things and persons whom we were
describing above.
Why? he said; are they not capable of defending them-
selves?
No, I said; not if we were right in the principle which
was acknowledged by all of us when we were framing the
State: the principle, as you will remember, was that one
man cannot practise many arts with success.
Very true, he said.
But is not war an art?
Certainly.
And an art requiring as much attention as shoemaking?
Quite true.
war is an
art, and as
be pursued
no art can
with suc-
cess unless
a man's
whole at-
tention is
devoted to
it, a soldier
cannot be
allowed to
exercise
any calling
own.
The war-
And the shoemaker was not allowed by us to be a husband-
nan, or a weaver, or a builder-in order that we might have but his
our shoes well made; but to him and to every other worker
was assigned one work for which he was by nature fitted, and
at that he was to continue working all his life long and at no
other; he was not to let opportunities slip, and then he
would become a good workman. Now nothing can be more
important than that the work of a soldier should be well
done. But is war an art so easily acquired that a man may
be a warrior who is also a husbandman, or shoemaker, or
other artisan; although no one in the world would be a good long ap-
dice or draught player who merely took up the game as a
recreation, and had not from his earliest years devoted him- many na-
tural gifts,
self to this and nothing else? No tools will make a man a
skilled workman, or master of defence, nor be of any use to
him who has not learned how to handle them, and has never
bestowed any attention upon them. How then will he who
takes up a shield or other implement of war become a good
rior's art
requires :
prentice-
ship and
292
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
II.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
The selec-
tion of
guardians.
fighter all in a day, whether with heavy-armed or any other
kind of troops?
Yes, he said, the tools which would teach men their own
use would be beyond price.
And the higher the duties of the guardian, I said, the more
time, and skill, and art, and application will be needed by him?
No doubt, he replied.
Will he not also require natural aptitude for his calling?
Certainly.
Then it will be our duty to select, if we can, natures which
are fitted for the task of guarding the city?
It will.
And the selection will be no easy matter, I said; but we
must be brave and do our best.
We must.
Is not the noble youth very like a well-bred dog in respect 375
of guarding and watching?
What do you mean?
I mean that both of them ought to be quick to see, and
swift to overtake the enemy when they see him; and strong
too if, when they have caught him, they have to fight with him.
All these qualities, he replied, will certainly be required by
them.
Well, and your guardian must be brave if he is to fight
well?
Certainly.
And is he likely to be brave who has no spirit, whether
horse or dog or any other animal? Have you never observed
how invincible and unconquerable is spirit and how the pres-
ence of it makes the soul of any creature to be absolutely
fearless and indomitable?
I have.
Then now we have a clear notion of the bodily qualities
which are required in the guardian.
True.
And also of the mental ones; his soul is to be full of
spirit?
Yes.
But are not these spirited natures apt to be savage with
one another, and with everybody else?
THE REPUBLIC
293
376
A difficulty by no means easy to overcome, he replied.
Whereas, I said, they ought to be dangerous to their
enemies, and gentle to their friends; if not, they will de-
stroy themselves without waiting for their enemies to destroy
them.
True, he said.
What is to be done then? I said; how shall we find a
gentle nature which has also a great spirit, for the one is the
contradiction of the other?
True.
Republic
II.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
ian must
unite the
He will not be a good guardian who is wanting in either of The guard-
these two qualities; and yet the combination of them appears
to be impossible; and hence we must infer that to be a good opposite
guardian is impossible.
I am afraid that what you say is true, he replied.
Here feeling perplexed I began to think over what had
preceded. My friend, I said, no wonder that we are in a
perplexity; for we have lost sight of the image which we had
before us.
What do you mean? he said.
I mean to say that there do exist natures gifted with those
opposite qualities.
And where do you find them?
qualities of
gentleness
and spirit.
tion may
Many animals, I replied, furnish examples of them; our Such a
friend the dog is a very good one: you know that well-bred combina
dogs are perfectly gentle to their familiars and acquaintances, be observed
and the reverse to strangers.
Yes, I know.
Then there is nothing impossible or out of the order of
nature in our finding a guardian who has a similar combina-
tion of qualities?
Certainly not.
Would not he who is fitted to be a guardian, besides the
spirited nature, need to have the qualities of a philosopher?
I do not apprehend your meaning.
The trait of which I am speaking, I replied, may be also
seen in the dog, and is remarkable in the animal.
What trait?
in the dog.
distin-
Why, a dog, whenever he sees a stranger, is angry; when The dog
an acquaintance, he welcomes him, although the one has guishes
294
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
II.
Socrates,
GLAUCON,
never done him any harm, nor the other any good. Did this
never strike you as curious?
The matter never struck me before; but I quite recognise
ADEIMANTUS. the truth of your remark.
friend and
enemy by
the crite-
rion of
knowing
and not
knowing:
whereby he
is shown
to be a phi-
losopher.
How are
our citi-
zens to be
reared and
educated?
And surely this instinct of the dog is very charming;-
your dog is a true philosopher.
Why?
Why, because he distinguishes the face of a friend and of
an enemy only by the criterion of knowing and not knowing.
And must not an animal be a lover of learning who deter-
mines what he likes and dislikes by the test of knowledge
and ignorance?
Most assuredly.
And is not the love of learning the love of wisdom, which
is philosophy?
They are the same, he replied.
And may we not say confidently of man also, that he who
is likely to be gentle to his friends and acquaintances, must
by nature be a lover of wisdom and knowledge?
That we may safely affirm.
Then he who is to be a really good and noble guardian of
the State will require to unite in himself philosophy and
spirit and swiftness and strength?
Undoubtedly.
Then we have found the desired natures; and now that
we have found them, how are they to be reared and educated?
Is not this an enquiry which may be expected to throw light
on the greater enquiry which is our final end-How do
justice and injustice grow up in States? for we do not want
either to omit what is to the point or to draw out the argu-
ment to an inconvenient length.
Adeimantus thought that the enquiry would be of great
service to us.
Then, I said, my dear friend, the task must not be given up,
even if somewhat long.
Certainly not.
Come then, and let us pass a leisure hour in story-telling,
and our story shall be the education of our heroes.
By all means.
And what shall be their education? Can we find a better
THE REPUBLIC
295
377
than the traditional sort?-and this has two divisions, Republic
gymnastic for the body, and music for the soul.
True.
Shall we begin education with music, and go on to
ymnastic afterwards?
By all means.
II.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
Education
divided
into gym-
nastic for
And when you speak of music, do you include literature or the body
not?
I do.
And literature may be either true or false?
Yes.
and music
for the soul.
Music
includes
literature,
which may
be true or
And the young should be trained in both kinds, and we false.
begin with the false?
I do not understand your meaning, he said.
You know, I said, that we begin by telling children stories
which, though not wholly destitute of truth, are in the main
fictitious; and these stories are told them when they are not
of an age to learn gymnastics.
Very true.
That was my meaning when I said that we must teach
music before gymnastics.
Quite right, he said.
ning the
most im-
You know also that the beginning is the most important The begin
part of any work, especially in the case of a young and tender
thing; for that is the time at which the character is being portant
formed and the desired impression is more readily taken. education.
Quite true.
And shall we just carelessly allow children to hear any
casual tales which may be devised by casual persons, and
to receive into their minds ideas for the most part the
very opposite of those which we should wish them to have
when they are grown up?
We cannot.
Then the first thing will be to establish a censorship of the
writers of fiction, and let the censors receive any tale of
fiction which is good, and reject the bad; and we will desire
mothers and nurses to tell their children the authorized ones
only. Let them fashion the mind with such tales, even more
fondly than they mould the body with their hands; but
most of those which are now in use must be discarded.
part of
Works of
fiction to
be placed
under a
censorship.
296
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
II.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS,
Homer and
Hesiod are
tellers of
bad lies,
that is to
say, they
give false
representa-
tions of the
gods,
and alle-
gorical
interpreta-
tions of
them are
not under-
stood by
the young.
God is to be
represented
as he truly
is.
Of what tales are you speaking? he said.
You may find a model of the lesser in the greater, I said;
for they are necessarily of the same type, and there is the
same spirit in both of them.
Very likely, he replied; but I do not as yet know what you
would term the greater.
Those, I said, which are narrated by Homer and Hesiod,
and the rest of the poets, who have ever been the great story-
tellers of mankind.
But which stories do you mean, he said; and what fault do
you find with them?
A fault which is more serious, I said; the fault of telling a
lie, and, what is more, a bad lie.
But when is this fault committed?
Whenever an erroneous representation is made of the
nature of gods and heroes,--as when a painter paints a
portrait not having the shadow of a likeness to the original.
Yes, he said, that sort of thing is certainly very blamable;
but what are the stories which you mean?
[Socrates gives examples of such myths as represent the
gods as quarrelling; they set a bad example to the young.]
These tales must not be admitted into our State, whether
they are supposed to have an allegorical meaning or not. For
a young person cannot judge what is allegorical and what
is literal; anything that he receives into his mind at that age
is likely to become indelible and unalterable; and therefore
it is most important that the tales which the young first hear
should be models of virtuous thoughts.
There you are right, he replied; but if any one asks where
are such models to be found and of what tales are you
speaking-how shall we answer him?
I said to him, You and I, Adeimantus, at this moment are 379
not poets, but founders of a State: now the founders of
a State ought to know the general forms in which poets
should cast their tales, and the limits which must be observed
by them, but to make the tales is not their business.
Very true, he said; but what are these forms of theology
which you mean?
Something of this kind, I replied:-God is always to be
THE REPUBLIC
297
represented as he truly is, whatever be the sort of poetry, Republic
epic, lyric or tragic, in which the representation is given.
Right.
[God is good, and the author of good only; no poetry is to
be tolerated that represents God as the author of evil, except
as punishing the wicked. Again, God must not be represented
as changing into many forms: he cannot be changed by ex-
ternal influences; and, being, perfect, he will not change
himself. Least of all will be deceive others. That would in-
troduce the most hateful of all things, the 'lie in the soul.']
II.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS-
Republic
III.
SOCRATES,
BOOK III
Such then, I said, are our principles of theology-some
tales are to be told, and others are not to be told to our 386
disciples from their youth upwards, if we mean them to
ADEIMANTUS. honour the gods and their parents, and to value friendship
with one another.
The dis-
couraging
lessons of
mythology.
The de-
scription
of the world
below in
Homer.
Yes; and I think that our principles are right, he said.
But if they are to be courageous, must they not learn other
lessons besides these, and lessons of such a kind as will take
away the fear of death?
Can any man be courageous who
has the fear of death in him?
Certainly not, he said.
And can he be fearless of death, or will he choose death in
battle rather than defeat and slavery, who believes the world
below to be real and terrible?
Impossible.
Then we must assume a control over the narrators of this
class of tales as well as over the others, and beg them not
simply to revile, but rather to commend the world below,
intimating to them that their descriptions are untrue, and
will do harm to our future warriors.
That will be our duty, he said.
Then, I said, we shall have to obliterate many obnoxious
passages, beginning with the verses,
'I would rather be a serf on the land of a poor and portionless man
than rule over all the dead who have come to nought.'1
[Other quotations and illustrations from Homer justifying
the fear of death, or representing unmanly speech or conduct,
or affording examples of excessive emotion, or suggesting un-
ethical standards of action, are reviewed and condemned, 'not
because they are unpoetical, or unattractive to the popular ear,
but because the greater the poetical charm of them, the less are
1 Od. xi. 489.
298
THE REPUBLIC
299
they meet for the ears of boys and men who are meant to be Republic
free' (387a).
III.
SOCRATES,
Socrates next discusses the element of imitation in poetry.] ADEIMANTUS.
394 In saying this, I intended to imply that we must come to an
understanding about the mimetic art,-whether the poets,
in narrating their stories, are to be allowed by us to imitate,
and if so, whether in whole or in part, and if the latter, in
what parts; or should all imitation be probibited?
395
You mean, I suspect, to ask whether tragedy and comedy
shall be admitted into our State?
Yes, I said; but there may be more than this in question: A hint
I really do not know as yet, but whither the argument may
blow, thither we go.
And go we will, he said.
about
Homer
(cp. infra,
bk. x.)
ians ought
not to be
Then, Adeimantus, let me ask you whether our guardians Our guard-
ought to be imitators; or rather, has not this question been
decided by the rule already laid down that one man can only
do one thing well, and not many; and that if he attempt
many, he will altogether fail of gaining much reputation
in any?
Certainly.
And this is equally true of imitation; no one man can
imitate many things as well as he would imitate a single one?
He cannot.
Then the same person will hardly be able to play a serious
part in life, and at the same time to be an imitator and imitate
many other parts as well; for even when two species of
imitation are nearly allied, the same persons cannot succeed
in both, as, for example, the writers of tragedy and comedy
-did you not just now call them imitations?
Yes, I did; and you are right in thinking that the same
persons cannot succeed in both.
Any more than they can be rhapsodists and actors at once?
True.
Neither are comic and tragic actors the same; yet all these
things are but imitations.
They are so.
And human nature, Adeimantus, appears to have been
coined into yet smaller pieces, and to be as incapable of
imitators,
man can
only do one
for one
thing well;
300
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
III.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
he cannot
even imi-
tate many
things.
Imitations
which are
of the de-
grading
sort.
imitating many things well, as of performing well the actions
of which the imitations are copies.
Quite true, he replied.
If then we adhere to our original notion and bear in mind
that our guardians, setting aside every other business, are to
dedicate themselves wholly to the maintenance of freedom in
the State, making this their craft, and engaging in no work
which does not bear on this end, they ought not to practise
or imitate anything else; if they imitate at all, they should
imitate from youth upwards, only those characters which are
suitable to their profession-the courageous, temperate,
holy, free, and the like; but they should not depict or be
skilful at imitating any kind of illiberality or baseness, lest
from imitation they should come to be what they imitate.
Did you never observe how imitations, beginning in early
youth and continuing far into life, at length grow into habits.
and become a second nature, affecting body, voice, and
mind?
Yes, certainly, he said.
Then, I said, we will not allow those for whom we profess
a care and of whom we say that they ought to be good men,
to imitate a woman, whether young or old, quarrelling with
her husband, or striving and vaunting against the gods in
conceit of her happiness, or when she is in affliction, or
sorrow, or weeping; and certainly not one who is in sick-
ness, love, or labour.
Very right, he said.
Neither must they represent slaves, male or female, per-
forming the offices of slaves?
They must not.
And surely not bad men, whether cowards or any others,
who do the reverse of what we have just been prescribing,
who scold or mock or revile one another in drink or out of
drink, or who in any other manner sin against themselves
and their neighbours in word or deed, as the manner of such
is. Neither should they be trained to imitate the action or 396
speech of men or women who are mad or bad; for madness,
like vice, is to be known but not to be practised or imitated.
Very true, he replied.
THE REPUBLIC
301
III.
SOCRATES,
Neither may they imitate smiths or other artificers, or Republic
oarsmen, or boatswains, or the like?
How can they, he said, when they are not allowed to apply ADEIMANTUS.
their minds to the callings of any of these?
Nor may they imitate the neighing of horses, the bellowing
of bulls, the murmur of rivers and roll of the ocean, thunder,
and all that sort of thing?
Nay, he said, if madness be forbidden, neither may they
copy the behaviour of madmen.
You mean, I said, if I understand you aright, that there is
one sort of narrative style which may be employed by a truly
good man when he has anything to say, and that another sort
will be used by a man of an opposite character and education.
And which are these two sorts? he asked.
which may
Suppose, I answered, that a just and good man in the
course of a narration comes on some saying or action of Imitations
another good man,-I should imagine that he will like to be en-
personate him, and will not be ashamed of this sort of couraged.
imitation: he will be most ready to play the part of the
good man when he is acting firmly and wisely; in a less
degree when he is overtaken by illness or love or drink, or
has met with any other disaster. But when he comes to a
character which is unworthy of him, he will not make a
study of that; he will disdain such a person, and will assume
his likeness, if at all, for a moment only when he is performing
some good action; at other times he will be ashamed to play
a part which he has never practised, nor will he like to
fashion and frame himself after the baser models; he feels
the employment of such an art, unless in jest, to be beneath
him, and his mind revolts at it.
So I should expect, he replied.
Then he will adopt a mode of narration such as we have
illustrated out of Homer, that is to say, his style will be both
imitative and narrative; but there will be very little of the
former, and a great deal of the latter. Do you agree?
Certainly, he said; that is the model which such a speaker
397 must necessarily take.
But there is another sort of character who will narrate Imitations
anything, and, the worse he is, the more unscrupulous he will
be; nothing will be too bad for him: and he will be ready to
which are
hibited.
to be pro-
302
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
III.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
Two kinds
of style-
the one
simple, the
other mul-
tiplex.
There
is also
a third
which is a
combina-
tion of the
two.
The simple
style alone
is to be
admitted in
the State;
the attrac-
tions of
the mixed
style are
acknow-
ledged, but
it appears
to be ex-
cluded.
imitate anything, not as a joke, but in right good earnest, and
before a large company. As I was just now saying, he will
attempt to represent the roll of thunder, the noise of wind
and hail, or the creaking of wheels, and pulleys, and the
various sounds of flutes, pipes, trumpets, and all sorts of
instruments: he will bark like a dog, bleat like a sheep, or
crow like a cock; his entire art will consist in imitation of
voice and gesture, and there will be very little narration.
That, he said, will be his mode of speaking.
These, then, are the two kinds of style?
Yes.
And you
would agree with me in saying that one of them is
simple and has but slight changes; and if the harmony and
rhythm are also chosen for their simplicity, the result is that
the speaker, if he speaks correctly, is always pretty much the
same in style, and he will keep within the limits of a single
harmony (for the changes are not great), and in like manner
he will make use of nearly the same rhythm?
That is quite true, he said.
Whereas the other requires all sorts of harmonies and all
sorts of rhythms, if the music and the style are to correspond,
because the style has all sorts of changes.
That is also perfectly true, he replied.
And do not the two styles, or the mixture of the two, com-
prehend all poetry, and every form of expression in words?
No one can say anything except in one or other of them or in
both together.
They include all, he said.
And shall we receive into our State all the three styles, or
one only of the two unmixed styles? or would you include
the mixed?
I should prefer only to admit the pure imitator of virtue.
Yes, I said, Adeimantus; but the mixed style is also very
charming: and indeed the pantomimic, which is the opposite
of the one chosen by you, is the most popular style with
children and their attendants, and with the world in general.
I do not deny it.
But I suppose you would argue that such a style is unsuit-
able to our State, in which human nature is not twofold or
manifold, for one man plays one part only?
THE REPUBLIC
303
398
401
Yes; quite unsuitable.
And this is the reason why in our State, and in our State
Republic
III.
Socrates,
ADEIMANTUS,
only, we shall find a shoemaker to be a shoemaker and not
a pilot also, and a husbandman to be a husbandman and not a GLaucon.
dicast also, and a soldier a soldier and not a trader also, and
the same throughout?
True, he said.
must
And so
mimic
great
but he is to
be sent out
country.
And therefore when any one of these pantomimic gentle- The panto-
men, who are so clever that they can imitate anything, artist is to
comes to us, and makes a proposal to exhibit himself receive
and his poetry, we will fall down and worship him as honours,
a sweet and holy and wonderful being;
but we
also inform him that in our State such as he are not of the
permitted to exist; the law will not allow them.
when we have anointed him with myrrh, and set a garland
of wool upon his head, we shall send him away to another
city. For we mean to employ for our souls' health the
rougher and severer poet or story-teller, who will imitate
the style of the virtuous only, and will follow those models
which we prescribed at first when we began the education
of our soldiers.
We certainly will, he said, if we have the power.
Then now, my friend, I said, that part of music or literary
education which relates to the story or myth may be con-
sidered to be finished; for the matter and manner have both
been discussed.
[Melody, rhythm, 'harmonies' (corresponding to modern
modes, or possibly to keys), and instrumentation are criticised
on the same grounds; they are both to express and to form
character of a simple sort, and must therefore be austere and
significant. The same principle holds in the other arts.]
Our citi-
zens must
grow up to
amidst
manhood
impres-
sions of
But shall our superintendence go no further, and are the
poets only to be required by us to express the image of the
good in their works, on pain, if they do anything else, of
expulsion from our State? Or is the same control to be ex-
tended to other artists, and are they also to be prohibited from grace and
exhibiting the opposite forms of vice and intemperance and
meanness and indecency in sculpture and building and the ugliness
other creative arts; and is he who cannot conform to this rule
of ours to be prevented from practising his art in our State, excluded.
beauty
only; all
and vice
must be
304
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
III.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
The power
of impart-
ing grace is
possessed
by har-
mony.
We
lest the taste of our citizens be corrupted by him?
would not have our guardians grow up amid images of mortal
deformity, as in some noxious pasture, and there browse and
feed upon many a baneful herb and flower day by day,
little by little, until they silently gather a festering mass of
corruption in their own soul. Let our artists rather be those
who are gifted to discern the true nature of the beautiful and
graceful; then will our youth dwell in a land of health, amid
tair sights and sounds, and receive the good in everything;
and beauty, the effluence of fair works, shall flow into the eye
and ear, like a health-giving breeze from a purer region, and
insensibly draw the soul from earliest years into likeness and
sympathy with the beauty of reason.
There can be no nobler training than that, he replied.
And therefore, I said, Glaucon, musical training is a more
potent instrument than any other, because rhythm and har-
mony find their way into the inward places of the soul, on
which they mightily fasten, imparting grace, and making the
soul of him who is rightly educated graceful, or of him who
is ill-educated ungraceful; and also because he who has
received this true education of the inner being will most
shrewdly perceive omissions or faults in art and nature,
and with a true taste, while he praises and rejoices over and 402
receives into his soul the good, and becomes noble and good,
he will justly blame and hate the bad, now in the days of his
youth, even before he is able to know the reason why; and
when reason comes he will recognise and salute the friend
with whom his education has made him long familiar.
Yes, he said, I quite agree with you in thinking that our
youth should be trained in music and on the grounds which
you mention.
Just as in learning to read, I said, we were satisfied when
we knew the letters of the alphabet, which are very few, in
all their recurring sizes and combinations; not slighting
them as unimportant whether they occupy a space large or
small, but everywhere eager to make them out; and not
thinking ourselves perfect in the art of reading until we
recognise them wherever they are found:¹
True-
1 Cp. supra, I. 368 d
THE REPUBLIC
305
Or, as we recognise the reflection of letters in the water, Republic
or in a mirror, only when we know the letters themselves;
the same art and study giving us the knowledge of both:
III.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
408
Exactly-
musician
the essen-
tial forms
Even so, as I maintain, neither we nor our guardians, The true
whom we have to educate, can ever become musical until we must know
and they know the essential ferms of temperance, courage,
liberality, magnificence, and their kindred, as well as the of virtue
contrary forms, in all their combinations, and can recognise and vice
them and their images wherever they are found, not slighting
them either in small things or great, but believing them all
to be within the sphere of one art and study.
Most assuredly.
And when a beautiful soul harmonizes with a beautiful
form, and the two are cast in one mould, that will be the
fairest of sights to him who has an eye to see it?
The fairest indeed.
And the fairest is also the loveliest?
That may be assumed.
And the man who has the spirit of harmony will be most
in love with the loveliest; but he will not love him who is of
an inharmonious soul?
The har-
mony of
soul and
body the
fairest of
sights.
That is true, he replied, if the deficiency be in his soul; The true
but if there be any merely bodily defect in another he will
be patient of it, and will love all the same.
..[Since soul is related to body as cause to effect, the educa-
tion of the body must be directed by the soul. Socrates out-
lines a physical discipline conducive to hardiness and health,
avoiding excesses of athletic training and of diet; normally
physicians should be superfluous. But a doubt occurs to
Glaucon.]
Ought there not to be good physicians in a State, and are
not the best those who have treated the greatest number of
constitutions good and bad? and are not the best judges in like
manner those who are acquainted with all sorts of moral
natures?
Yes, I said, I too would have good judges and good phy-
sicians. But do you know whom I think good?
Will you tell me?
lover will
not mind
defects of
the person
306
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
III.
Socrates,
GLAUCON.
The physi-
cian should
have expe-
rience of
illness in
his own
person;
on the
other hand,
the judge
should not
learn to
know evil
by the
practice of
it, but by
long obser-
vation of
evil in
others.
Such a
knowledge
of human
better and
truer than
I will, if I can. Let me however note that in the same
question you join two things which are not the same.
How so? he asked.
Why, I said, you join physicians and judges. Now the
most skilful physicians are those who, from their youth
upwards, have combined with the knowledge of their art
the greatest experience of disease; they had better not be
robust in health, and should have had all manner of diseases
in their own persons. For the body, as I conceive, is not
the instrument with which they cure the body; in that case
we could not allow them ever to be or to have been sickly;
but they cure the body with the mind, and the mind which
has become and is sick can cure nothing.
That is very true, he said.
But with the judge it is otherwise; since he governs mind 409
by mind; he ought not therefore to have been trained among
vicious minds, and to have associated with them from youth
upwards, and to have gone through the whole calendar of
crime, only in order that he may quickly infer the crimes
of others as he might their bodily diseases from his own
self-consciousness; the honourable mind which is to form
a healthy judgment should have had no experience or con-
tamination of evil habits when young. And this is the reason
why in youth good men often appear to be simple, and are
easily practised upon by the dishonest, because they have no
examples of what evil is in their own souls.
Yes, he said, they are far too apt to be deceived.
Therefore, I said, the judge should not be young; he
should have learned to know evil, not from his own soul, but
from late and long observation of the nature of evil in others:
knowledge should be his guide, not personal experience.
Yes, he said, that is the ideal of a judge.
Yes, I replied, and he will be a good man (which is my
answer to your question); for he is good who has a good
nature is far soul. But the cunning and suspicious nature of which we
spoke, he who has committed many crimes, and fancies
himself to be a master in wickedness, when he is amongst
his fellows, is wonderful in the precautions which he takes,
because he judges of them by himself: but when he gets into
the company of men of virtue, who have the experience of
that of the
adept in
crime.
THE KEPUBLIC
307
III.
Socrates,
age, he appears to be a fool again, owing to his unseasonable Republic
suspicions; he cannot recognise an honest man, because he
has no pattern of honesty in himself; at the same time, as GLAUCON.
the bad are more numerous than the good, and he meets
with them oftener, he thinks himself, and is by others thought
to be, rather wise than foolish.
Most true, he said.
Then the good and wise judge whom we are seeking is not
this man, but the other; for vice cannot know virtue too, but
a virtuous nature, educated by time, will acquire a knowledge
both of virtue and vice: the virtuous, and not the vicious
man has wisdom-in my opinion.
And in mine also.
This is the sort of medicine, and this is the sort of law,
which you will sanction in your state. They will minister to
410 better natures, giving health both of soul and of body; but
those who are diseased in their bodies they will leave to die,
and the corrupt and incurable souls they will put an end to
themselves.
That is clearly the best thing both for the patients and for
the State.
And thus our youth, having been educated only in that
simple music which, as we said, inspires temperance, will be
reluctant to go to law.
Clearly.
And the musician, who, keeping to the same track, is con-
tent to practise the simple gymnastic, will have nothing to do
with medicine unless in some extreme case.
That I quite believe.
The very exercises and toils which he undergoes are
intended to stimulate the spirited element of his nature,
and not to increase his strength; he will not, like common
athletes, use exercise and regimen to develop his muscles.
Very right, he said.
Neither are the two arts of music and gymnastic really Music and
designed, as is often supposed, the one for the training of
the soul, the other for the training of the body.
What then is the real object of them?
gymnastic
are equally
designed
for the im-
provement
I believe, I said, that the teachers of both have in view of the
chiefly the improvement of the soul.
mind.
308
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
III.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
The mere
athlete
must be
softened,
and the
philosophic
nature pre-
vented
from be-
coming
too soft.
Music, if
carried too
far, renders
the weaker
nature effem-
inate, the
stronger
irritable.
How can that be? he asked.
Did you never observe, I said, the effect on the mind itself
of exclusive devotion to gymnastic, or the opposite effect of
an exclusive devotion to music?
In what way shown? he said.
The one producing a temper of hardness and ferocity, the
other of softness and effeminacy, I replied.
Yes, he said, I am quite aware that the mere athlete
becomes too much of a savage, and that the mere musician is
melted and softened beyond what is good for him.
Yet surely, I said, this ferocity only comes from spirit,
which, if rightly educated, would give courage, but, if too
much intensified, is liable to become hard and brutal.
That I quite think.
On the other hand the philosopher will have the quality of
gentleness. And this also, when too much indulged, will
turn to softness, but, if educated rightly, will be gentle and
moderate.
True.
And in our opinion the guardians ought to have both these
qualities?
Assuredly.
And both should be in harmony?
Beyond question.
And the harmonious soul is both temperate and coura- 411
geous?
Yes.
And the inharmonious is cowardly and boorish?
Very true.
And, when a man allows music to play upon him and
to pour into his soul through the funnel of his ears those
sweet and soft and melancholy airs of which we were just now
speaking, and his whole life is passed in warbling and the
delights of song; in the first stage of the process the passion
of spirit which is in him is tempered like iron, and made
useful, instead of brittle and useless. But, if he carries on
the softening and soothing process, in the next stage he
begins to melt and waste, until he has wasted away his spirit
and cut out the sinews of his soul; and he becomes a feeble
warrior.
THE REPUBLIC
309
Very true.
Republic
III.
If the element of spirit is naturally weak in him the change SOCRATES,
is speedily accomplished, but if he have a good deal, then the GLAUCON.
power of music weakening the spirit renders him excitable;
on the least provocation he flames up at once, and is
speedily extinguished; instead of having spirit he grows irrita-
ble and passionate and is quite impracticable.
Exactly.
And so in gymnastics, if a man takes violent exercise and
is a great feeder, and the reverse of a great student of music
and philosophy, at first the high condition of his body fills
him with pride and spirit, and he becomes twice the man that
he was.
Certainly.
And what happens? if he do nothing else, and hold no
converse with the Muses, does not even that intelligence
which there may be in him, having no taste of any sort of
learning or enquiry or thought or culture, grow feeble and
dull and blind, his mind never waking up or receiving nour-
ishment, and his senses not being purged of their mists?
True, he said.
And he ends by becoming a hater of philosophy, uncivilized,
never using the weapon of persuasion, he is like a wild
beast, all violence and fierceness, and knows no other way of
dealing; and he lives in all ignorance and evil conditions,
and has no sense of propriety and grace.
That is quite true, he said.
And as there are two principles of human nature, one the
spirited and the other the philosophical, some God, as I
should say, has given mankind two arts answering to them.
(and only indirectly to the soul and body), in order that these
412 two principles (like the strings of an instrument) may be
relaxed or drawn tighter until they are duly harmonized.
That appears to be the intention.
And he who mingles music with gymnastic in the fairest
proportions, and best attempers them to the soul, may be
rightly called the true musician and harmonist in a far higher
sense than the tuner of the strings.
You are quite right, Socrates.
And in like
well-fed
athlete, if
education,
manner the
he have no
degener-
ates into a
wild beast.
Music to
be mingled
with gym.
both at-
nastic, and
tempered
to the indi-
vidual soul.
310
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
III.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
Enough of
principles
of educa-
tion: who
are to be
our rulers?
The elder
must rule
and the
younger
serve.
'Those are
to be ap-
pointed
rulers who
have been
tested in all
the stages
of their life;
And such a presiding genius will be always required in our
State if the government is to last.
Yes, he will be absolutely necessary.
Such, then, are our principles of nurture and education:
Where would be the use of going into further details about
the dances of our citizens, or about their hunting and coursing,
their gymnastic and equestrian contests? For these all follow
the general principle, and having found that, we shall have
no difficulty in discovering them.
I dare say that there will be no difficulty.
Very good, I said; then what is the next question? Must
we not ask who are to be rulers and who subjects?
Certainly.
There can be no doubt that the elder must rule the younger.
Clearly.
And that the best of these must rule.
That is also clear.
Now, are not the best husbandmen those who are most de-
voted to husbandry?
Yes.
And as we are to have the best of guardians for our city,
must they not be those who have most the character of
guardians?
Yes.
And to this end they ought to be wise and efficient, and to
have a special care of the State?
True.
And a man will be most likely to care about that which he
loves?
To be sure.
And he will be most likely to love that which he regards as
having the same interests with himself, and that of which the
good or evil fortune is supposed by him at any time most to
affect his own?
Very true, he replied.
Then there must be a selection. Let us note among the
guardians those who in their whole life show the greatest
eagerness to do what is for the good of their country, and the
greatest repugnance to do what is against her interests.
Those are the right men.
THE REPUBLIC
311
III.
And they will have to be watched at every age, in order Republic
that we may see whether they preserve their resolution, and
never, under the influence either of force or enchantment, GLAUCON
forget or cast off their sense of duty to the State.
How cast off? he said.
I will explain to you, I replied. A resolution may go out
of a man's mind either with his will or against his will; with
413 his will when he gets rid of a falsehood and learns better,
against his will whenever he is deprived of a truth.
I understand, he said, the willing loss of a resolution; the
meaning of the unwilling I have yet to learn.
Why, I said, do you not see that men are unwillingly
deprived of good, and willingly of evil? Is not to have lost
the truth an evil, and to possess the truth a good? and you
would agree that to conceive things as they are is to possess
the truth?
Yes, he replied; I agree with you in thinking that man-
kind are deprived of truth against their will.
And is not this involuntary deprivation caused either by
theft, or force, or enchantment?
Still, he replied, I do not understand you.
SOCRATES,
and who
are un-
changed by
the influ-
I fear that I must have been talking darkly, like the trage-
dians. I only mean that some men are changed by persua-
sion and that others forget; argument steals away the hearts
of one class, and time of the other; and this I call the ft. of pleasure,
Now you understand me?
Yes.
Those again who are forced, are those whom the violence
of some pain or grief compels to change their opinion.
I understand, he said, and you are quite right.
ence either
or of fear,
And you would also acknowledge that the enchanted are or of en-
those who change their minds either under the softer influence chant-
of pleasure, or the sterner influence of fear?
Yes, he said; everything that deceives may be said to en-
chant.
Therefore, as I was just now saying, we must enquire who
are the best guardians of their own conviction that what they
think the interest of the State is to be the rule of their lives.
We must watch them from their youth upwards, and make
them perform actions in which they are most likely to forget
ments.
312
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
III.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
If they
stand the
test they
are to be
honoured
in life and
after death.
The title of
guardians
to be re-
served for
the elders,
the young
men to be
called aux-
iliaries.
or to be deceived, and he who remembers and is not deceived
is to be selected, and he who fails in the trial is to be re-
jected. That will be the way?
Yes.
And there should also be toils and pains and conflicts pre-
scribed for them, in which they will be made to give further
proof of the same qualities.
Very right, he replied.
And then, I said, we must try them with enchantments—
that is the third sort of test-and see what will be their
behaviour: like those who take colts amid noise and tumult
to see if they are of a timid nature, so must we take our
youth amid terrors of some kind, and again pass them into
pleasures, and prove them more thoroughly than gold is
proved in the furnace, that we may discover whether they
are armed against all enchantments, and of a noble bearing
always, good guardians of themselves and of the music which
they have learned, and retaining under all circumstances a
rhythmical and harmonious nature, such as will be most
serviceable to the individual and to the State. And he
who at every age, as boy and youth and in mature life, has
come out of the trial victorious and pure, shall be appointed
a ruler and guardian of the State; he shall be honoured in 414
life and death, and shall receive sepulture and other me-
morials of honour, the greatest that we have to give. But
him who fails, we must reject. I am inclined to think that
this is the sort of way in which our rulers and guardians
should be chosen and appointed. I speak generally, and not
with any pretension to exactness.
And, speaking generally, I agree with you, he said.
And perhaps the word 'guardian' in the fullest sense
ought to be applied to this higher class only who preserve us
against foreign enemies and maintain peace among our
citizens at home, that the one may not have the will, or the
others the power, to harm us. The young men whom we
before called guardians may be more properly designated
auxiliaries and supporters of the principles of the rulers.
I agree with you, he said.
How then may we devise one of those needful falsehoods
of which we lately spoke-just one royal lie which may
THE REPUBLIC
313
415
deceive the rulers, if that be possible, and at any rate the Republic
rest of the city?
What sort of lie? he said.
III.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
The Phoe-
Nothing new, I replied; only an old Phoenician tale of
what has often occurred before now in other places, (as the nician tale.
poets say, and have made the world believe,) though not in
our time, and I do not know whether such an event could
ever happen again, or could now even be made probable, if
it did.
How words seem to hesitate on your lips!
your
You will not wonder, I replied, at my hesitation when you
have heard.
Speak, he said, and fear not.
to be told
that they
auto-
are really
chthonous,
sent up out
of the earth,
Well then, I will speak, although I really know not how
to look you in the face, or in what words to utter the auda-
cious fiction, which I propose to communicate gradually, first
to the rulers, then to the soldiers, and lastly to the people. The citizens
They are to be told that their youth was a dream, and the
education and training which they received from us, an ap-
pearance only; in reality, during all that time they were being
formed and fed in the womb of the earth, where they them-
selves and their arms and appurtenances were manufactured;
when they were completed, the earth, their mother, sent
them up; and so, their country being their mother and also
their nurse, they are bound to advise for her good, and to
defend her against attacks, and her citizens they are to regard
as children of the earth and their own brothers.
You had good reason, he said, to be ashamed of the lie
which you were going to tell.
you
posed of
True, I replied, but there is more coming; I have only and com-
told half. Citizens, we shall say to them in our tale, you metals of
are brothers, yet God has framed you differently. Some various
of you have the power of command, and in the composition of quality.
these he has mingled gold, wherefore also they have the
greatest honour; others he has made of silver, to be auxil-
iaries; others again who are to be husbandmen and crafts-
men he has composed of brass and iron; and the species
will generally be preserved in the children. But as all are
of the same original stock, a golden parent will sometimes
have a silver son, or a silver parent a golden son. And God
314
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
III.
Socrates,
GLAUCON.
The noble
quality to
rise in the
State, the
ignoble to
descend.
Is such a
fiction cre-
dible?-
Yes, in a
future
generation:
not in the
present.
The selec-
tion of a
site for the
warriors'
camp.
The war-
riors must
be human-
ized by edu-
cation.
proclaims as a first principle to the rulers, and above all else,
that there is nothing which they should so anxiously guard,
or of which they are to be such good guardians, as of the
purity of the race. They should observe what elements
mingle in their offspring; for if the son of a golden or silver
parent has an admixture of brass and iron, then nature orders
a transposition of ranks, and the eye of the ruler must not be
pitiful toward the child because he has to descend in the
scale and become a husbandman or artisan, just as there may
be sons of artisans who having an admixture of gold or silver
in them are raised to honour, and become guardians or
auxiliaries. For an oracle says that when a man of brass
or iron guards the State, it will be destroyed. Such is the
tale; is there any possibility of making our citizens believe
in it?
Not in the present generation, he replied; there is no way
of accomplishing this; but their sons may be made to believe
in the tale, and their sons' sons, and posterity after them.
I see the difficulty, I replied; yet the fostering of such
a belief will make them care more for the city and for one
another. Enough, however, of the fiction, which may now
fly abroad upon the wings of rumour, while we arm our
earth-born heroes, and lead them forth under the command
of their rulers. Let them look round and select a spot
whence they can best suppress insurrection, if any prove
refractory within, and also defend themselves against enemies,
who like wolves may come down on the fold from without;
there let them encamp, and when they have encamped, let
them sacrifice to the proper Gods and prepare their dwellings.
Just so, he said.
And their dwellings must be such as will shield them
against the cold of winter and the heat of summer.
I suppose that you mean houses, he replied.
Yes, I said; but they must be the houses of soldiers, and not
of shop-keepers.
What is the difference? he said.
That I will endeavour to explain, I replied. To keep 416
watch-dogs, who, from want of discipline or hunger, or some
evil habit or other, would turn upon the sheep and worry
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
them, and behave not like dogs but wolves, would be a foul Republic
and monstrous thing in a shepherd?
Truly monstrous, he said.
And therefore every care must be taken that our auxiliaries,
being stronger than our citizens, may not grow to be too
much for them and become savage tyrants instead of friends
and allies?
Yes, great care should be taken.
And would not a really good education furnish the best
safeguard?
But they are well-educated already, he replied.
I cannot be so confident, my dear Glaucon, I said; I am
much more certain that they ought to be, and that true
education, whatever that may be, will have the greatest
tendency to civilize and humanize them in their relations
to one another, and to those who are under their protection.
Very true, he replied.
And not only their education, but their habitations, and all
that belongs to them, should be such as will neither impair
their virtue as guardians, nor tempt them to prey upon the
other citizens. Any man of sense must acknowledge that.
He must.
Then now let us consider what will be their way of life,
if they are to realize our idea of them. In the first place,
none of them should have any property of his own beyond
what is absolutely necessary; neither should they have
a private house or store closed against any one who has a
mind to enter; their provisions should be only such as
are required by trained warriors, who are men of temperance
and courage; they should agree to receive from the citizens
a fixed rate of pay, enough to meet the expenses of the year
and no more; and they will go to mess and live together like
soldiers in a camp.
Gold and silver we will tell them
that they have from God; the diviner metal is within them,
and they have therefore no need of the dross which is
current among men, and ought not to pollute the divine
417 by any such earthly admixture; for that commoner metal has
been the source of many unholy deeds, but their own is
undefiled. And they alone of all the citizens may not touch
or handle silver or gold, or be under the same roof with
315
III.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
Their way
be that of
of life wil
a camp.
316
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
III.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
They must
have no
homes or
property of
their own.
them, or wear them, or drink from them.
And this will
be their salvation, and they will be the saviours of the State.
But should they ever acquire homes or lands or moneys
of their own, they will become housekeepers and husbandmen
instead of guardians, enemies and tyrants instead of allies of
the other citizens; hating and being hated, plotting and
being plotted against, they will pass their whole life in much
greater terror of internal than of external enemies, and the
hour of ruin, both to themselves and to the rest of the State,
will be at hand. For all which reasons may we not say that
thus shall our State be ordered, and that these shall be the
regulations appointed by us for our guardians concerning their
houses and all other matters?
Yes, said Glaucon.
BOOK IV
IV.
SOCRATES.
has made
Here Adeimantus interposed a question: How would you Republic
419 answer, Socrates, said he, if a person were to say that you
are making these people miserable, and that they are the ADEIMANTUS,
cause of their own unhappiness; the city in fact belongs to An objec
them, but they are none the better for it; whereas other men tion that
acquire lands, and build large and handsome houses, and Socrates
have everything handsome about them, offering sacrifices his citizens
to the gods on their own account, and practising hospitality; poor and
moreover, as you were saying just now, they have gold
and silver, and all that is usual among the favourites of
fortune; but our poor citizens are no better than mercenaries
who are quartered in the city and are always mounting
guard?
420
miserable:
and worst
and of all, adds
Yes, I said; and you may add that they are only fed,
and not paid in addition to their food, like other men;
therefore they cannot, if they would, take a journey of
pleasure; they have no money to spend on a mistress or any
other luxurious fancy, which, as the world goes, is thought to
be happiness; and many other accusations of the same nature
might be added.
But, said he, let us suppose all this to be included in the
charge.
You mean to ask, I said, what will be our answer?
Yes.
Socrates,
they have
no money.
may be the
happiest of
mankind.
If we proceed along the old path, my belief, I said, is Yet very
that we shall find the answer. And our answer will be that, likely they
even as they are, our guardians may very likely be the
happiest of men; but that our aim in founding the State was
not the disproportionate happiness of any one class, but the
greatest happiness of the whole; we thought that in a State
which is ordered with a view to the good of the whole we
should be most likely to find justice, and in the ill-ordered
State injustice: and, having found them, we might then decide
which of the two is the happier. At present, I take it, we are
318
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
IV.
Socrates.
The State,
like a
statue,
must be
judged of
as a whole.
The guard-
ians must
be guard-
ians, not
boon com-
panions.
fashioning the happy State, not piecemeal, or with a view of
making a few happy citizens, but as a whole; and by-and-by
we will proceed to view the opposite kind of State. Suppose
that we were painting a statue, and some one came up to us
and said, Why do you not put the most beautiful colours on
the most beautiful parts of the body-the eyes ought to be
purple, but you have made them black-to him we might
fairly answer, Sir, you would not surely have us beautify the
eyes to such a degree that they are no longer eyes; consider
rather whether, by giving this and the other features their
due proportion, we make the whole beautiful. And so I
say to you, do not compel us to assign to the guardians
a sort of happiness which will make them anything but
guardians; for we too can clothe our husbandmen in royal
apparel, and set crowns of gold on their heads, and bid them
till the ground as much as they like, and no more. Our
potters also might be allowed to repose on couches, and
feast by the fireside, passing round the winecup, while their
wheel is conveniently at hand, and working at pottery only
as much as they like; in this way we might make every class
happy-and then, as you imagine, the whole State would
be happy. But do not put this idea into our heads; for,
if we listen to you, the husbandman will be no longer a 421
husbandman, the potter will cease to be a potter, and no one
will have the character of any distinct class in the State.
Now this is not of much consequence where the corruption
of society, and pretension to be what you are not, is confined
to cobblers; but when the guardians of the laws and of the
government are only seeming and not real guardians, then
see how they turn the State upside down; and on the other
hand they alone have the power of giving order and happiness
to the State. We mean our guardians to be true saviours
and not the destroyers of the State, whereas our opponent is
thinking of peasants at a festival, who are enjoying a life
of revelry, not of citizens who are doing their duty to the
State. But, if so, we mean different things, and he is
speaking of something which is not a State. And therefore
we must consider whether in appointing our guardians we
would look to their greatest happiness individually, or whether
this principle of happiness does not rather reside in the
THE REPUBLIC
319
422
IV.
ADEIMANTUS,
SOCRATES.
State as a whole. But if the latter be the truth, then the Republic
guardians and auxiliaries, and all others equally with them,
must be compelled or induced to do their own work in the
best way. And thus the whole State will grow up in a noble
order, and the several classes will receive the proportion
of happiness which nature assigns to them.
I think that you are quite right.
I wonder whether you will agree with another remark
which occurs to me.
What may that be?
There seem to be two causes of the deterioration of the
arts.
What are they?
Wealth, I said, and poverty.
How do they act?
The process is as follows: When a potter becomes rich, When an
will he, think you, any longer take the same pains with his
art?
Certainly not.
He will grow more and more indolent and careless?
Very true.
And the result will be that he becomes a worse potter?
Yes; he greatly deteriorates.
But, on the other hand, if he has no money, and cannot
provide himself with tools or instruments, he will not work
equally well himself, nor will he teach his sons or apprentices
to work equally well.
Certainly not.
Then, under the influence either of poverty or of wealth,
workmen and their work are equally liable to degenerate?
'That is evident.
Here, then, is a discovery of new evils, I said, against
which the guardians will have to watch, or they will creep
into the city unobserved.
What evils?
Wealth, I said, and poverty; the one is the parent of
luxury and indolence, and the other of meanness and vicious-
ness, and both of discontent.
That is very true, he replied; but still I should like to
know, Socrates, how our city will be able to go to war, es-
artisan
grows rich,
he becomes
careless: if
he is very
poor, he
has no
money to
buy tools
with. The
city should
be neither
poor nor
rich.
320
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
IV.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
But how
being poor,
can she
contend
against a
wealthy
enemy?
Our wiry
soldiers
will be
more than
a match for
their fat
neigh-
bonrs.
And they
will have
allies who
will readily
join on con-
dition of
receiving
the spoil.
pecially against an enemy who is rich and powerful, if deprived
of the sinews of war.
There would certainly be a difficulty, I replied, in going to
war with one such enemy; but there is no difficulty where
there are two of them.
How so? he asked.
In the first place, I said, if we have to fight, our side will
be trained warriors fighting against an army of rich men.
That is true, he said.
And do you not suppose, Adeimantus, that a single boxer
who was perfect in his art would easily be a match for two
stout and well-to-do gentlemen who were not boxers?
Hardly, if they came upon him at once.
What, not, I said, if he were able to run away and then
turn and strike at the one who first came up? And sup-
posing he were to do this several times under the heat of a
scorching sun, might he not, being an expert, overturn more
than one stout personage?
Certainly, he said, there would be nothing wonderful in
that.
And yet rich men probably have a greater superiority in
the science and practise of boxing than they have in military
qualities.
Likely enough.
Then we may assume that our athletes will be able to fight
with two or three times their own number?
I agree with you, for I think you right.
And suppose that, before engaging, our citizens send an
embassy to one of the two cities, telling them what is the
truth: Silver and gold we neither have nor are permitted to
have, but you may; do you therefore come and help us in
war, and take the spoils of the other city: Who, on hearing
these words, would choose to fight against lean wiry dogs,
rather than, with the dogs on their side, against fat and
tender sheep?
That is not likely; and yet there might be a danger to the
poor State if the wealth of many States were to be gathered
into one.
But how simple of you to use the term State at all of any
but our own!
THE REPUBLIC
321
Why so?
Republic
IV.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
cities will
are divided
You ought to speak of other States in the plural number;
not one of them is a city, but many cities, as they say in the
game. For indeed any city, however small, is in fact divided
into two, one the city of the poor, the other of the rich; these But many
123 are at war with one another; and in either there are many conspire?
smaller divisions, and you would be altogether beside the mark No: they
if you treated them all as a single State. But if you deal with in them-
them as many, and give the wealth or power or persons of the selves.
one to the others, you will always have a great many friends
and not many enemies. And your State, while the wise order Many
which has now been prescribed continues to prevail in her, contained
will be the greatest of States, I do not mean to say in reputa-
tion or appearance, but in deed and truth, though she number
not more than a thousand defenders. A single State which
is her equal you will hardly find, either among Hellenes or
barbarians, though many that appear to be as great and many
times greater.
That is most true, he said.
And what, I said, will be the best limit for our rulers to fix
when they are considering the size of the State and the
amount of territory which they are to include, and beyond
which they will not go?
What limit would you propose?
I would allow the State to increase so far as is consistent
with unity; that, I think, is the proper limit.
Very good, he said.
Here then, I said, is another order which will have to be
conveyed to our guardians: Let our city be accounted neither
large nor small, but one and self-sufficing.
And surely, said he, this is not a very severe order which
we impose upon them.
states are
in one.
The limit
to the size
of the State
the possi
bility of
unity.
The duty
of adjust-
ing the citi
zens to the
rank for
which na
And the other, said I, of which we were speaking before is
lighter still, I mean the duty of degrading the offspring of
the guardians when inferior, and of elevating into the rank of
guardians the offspring of the lower classes, when naturally
superior. The intention was, that, in the case of the citizens ture in-
generally, each individual should be put to the use for which them.
nature intended him, one to one work, and then every man
tended
322
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
IV.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
Good edu
cation has
a cumula-
tive force
and affects
the breed.
No innova-
tions to be
made either
in music or
gymnastic.
Damon.
would do his own business, and be one and not many; and
so the whole city would be one and not many.
Yes, he said; that is not so difficult.
The regulations which we are prescribing, my good Adei-
mantus, are not, as might be supposed, a number of great
principles, but trifles all, if care be taken, as the saying is, of
the one great thing,-a thing, however, which I would rather
call, not, great, but sufficient for our purpose.
What may that be? he asked.
Education, I said, and nurture: If our citizens are well
educated, and grow into sensible men, they will easily see
their way through all these, as well as other matters which I
omit; such, for example, as marriage, the possession of
women and the procreation of children, which will all follow 424
the general principle that friends have all things in common,
as the proverb says.
That will be the best way of settling them.
Also, I said, the State, if once started well, moves with
accumulating force like a wheel. For good nurture and edu-
cation implant good constitutions, and these good constitutions
taking root in a good education improve more and more, and
this improvement affects the breed in man as in other
animals.
Very possibly, he said.
Then to sum up: This is the point to which, above all, the
attention of our rulers should be directed, that music and
gymnastic be preserved in their original form, and no innova-
tion made. They must do their utmost to maintain them
intact. And when any one says that mankind most regard
'The newest song which the singers have,'¹
they will be afraid that he may be praising, not new songs,
but a new kind of song; and this ought not to be praised, or
conceived to be the meaning of the poet; for any musical
innovation is full of danger to the whole State, and ought to
be prohibited. So Damon tells me, and I can quite believe
him; he says that when modes of music change, the funda-
mental laws of the State always change with them.
1 Od. i. 352.
THE REPUBLIC
323
Yes, said Adeimantus; and you may add my suffrage to Republic
Damon's and your own.
IV.
Socrates,
Then, I said, our guardians must lay the foundations of ADEIMANTUS.
their fortress in music?
Yes, he said; the lawlessness of which you speak too easily
steals in.
Yes, I replied, in the form of amusement; and at first
sight it appears harmless.
The spirit
ness, be-
of lawless-
music,
Why, yes, he said, and there is no harm; were it not that
little by little this spirit of licence, finding a home, impercep-
tibly penetrates into manners and customs; whence, issuing ginning in
with greater force, it invades contracts between man and man, gradually
and from contracts goes on to laws and constitutions, in utter pervades
recklessness, ending at last, Socrates, by an overthrow of all
rights, private as well as public.
Is that true? I said.
That is my belief, he replied.
Then, as I was saying, our youth should be trained from
the first in a stricter system, for if amusements become lawless,
425 and the youths themselves become lawless, they can never grow
up into well-conducted and virtuous citizens.
Very true, he said.
the whole
of life.
The habit
basis of
of order the
And when they have made a good beginning in play, and
by the help of music have gained the habit of good order,
then this habit of order, in a manner how unlike the lawless education.
play of the others! will accompany them in all their actions
and be a principle of growth to them, and if there be any
fallen places in the State will raise them up again.
Very true, he said.
Thus educated, they will invent for themselves any lesser If the citi-
rules which their predecessors have altogether neglected.
What do you mean?
I mean such things as these:—when the young are to be
silent before their elders; how they are to show respect to
them by standing and making them sit; what honour is due
to parents; what garments or shoes are to be worn; the mode
of dressing the hair; deportment and manners in general.
You would agree with me?
Yes.
But there is, I think. small wisdom in legislating about
zens have
the root of
the matter
in them,
they will
supply the
details for
themselves.
324
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
IV.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
such matters,-I doubt if it is ever done; nor are any precise
written enactments about them likely to be lasting.
Impossible.
It would seem, Adeimantus, that the direction in which
education starts a man, will determine his future life. Does
not like always attract like?
To be sure.
Until some one rare and grand result is reached which
may be good, and may be the reverse of good?
That is not to be denied.
And for this reason, I said, I shall not attempt to legislate
further about them.
[Socrates satirizes politicians who tinker with legislation,
ignoring fundamentals; they are like quack physicians.]
But where, amid all this, is justice? son of Ariston, tell 427
me where. Now that our city has been made habitable,
light a candle and search, and get your brother and Pole-
marchus and the rest of our friends to help, and let us see
where in it we can discover justice and where injustice, and
in what they differ from one another, and which of them
the man who would be happy should have for his portion,
whether seen or unseen by gods and men.
Nonsense, said Glaucon: did you not promise to search
yourself, saying that for you not to help justice in her need
would be an impiety?
I do not deny that I said so; and as you remind me, I will
be as good as my word; but you must join.
We will, he replied.
Well, then, I hope to make the discovery in this way:
I mean to begin with the assumption that our State, if rightly
ordered, is perfect.
That is most certain.
And being perfect, is therefore wise and valiant and tem-
perate and just.
'That is likewise clear.
And whichever of these qualities we find in the State, the
one which is not found will be the residue?
Very good.
If there were four things, and we were searching for one
of them, wherever it might be, the one sought for might be
428
P
THE REPUBLIC
325
known to us from the first, and there would be no further Republic
trouble; or we might know the other three first, and then the
fourth would clearly be the one left.
Very true, he said.
And is not a similar method to be pursued about the virtues,
which are also four in number?
Clearly.
IV.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
First among the virtues found in the State, wisdom comes The place
into view, and in this I detect a certain peculiarity.
What is that?
of the
virtues in
the State:
The State which we have been describing is said to be wise (1) The wis-
as being good in counsel?
Very true.
dom of the
statesman
advises, not
about par-
And good counsel is clearly a kind of knowledge, for not ticular arts
by ignorance, but by knowledge, do men counsel well?
Clearly.
And the kinds of knowledge in a State are many and
diverse?
Of course.
There is the knowledge of the carpenter; but is that the
sort of knowledge which gives a city the title of wise and
good in counsel?
Certainly not; that would only give a city the reputation of
skill in carpentering.
Then a city is not to be called wise because possessing a
knowledge which counsels for the best about wooden im-
plements?
Certainly not.
Nor by reason of a knowledge which advises about brazen
pots, he said, nor as possessing any other similar knowledge?
Not by reason of any of them, he said.
Nor yet by reason of a knowledge which cultivates the
earth; that would give the city the name of agricultural?
Yes.
or pursuits,
the whole
State.
Well, I said, and is there any knowledge in our recently- but about
founded State among any of the citizens which advises, not
about any particular thing in the State, but about the whole,
and considers how a State can best deal with itself and with
other States?
There certainly is
326
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
IV.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
The states-
men or
guardians
are the
smallest of
all classes
in the State.
The
courage
which
makes the
city cou-
rageous
is found
chiefly in
the soldier.
It is the
quality
And what is this knowledge, and among whom is it found?
I asked.
It is the knowledge of the guardians, he replied, and is
found among those whom we were just now describing as
perfect guardians.
And what is the name which the city derives from the pos-
session of this sort of knowledge?
The name of good in counsel and truly wise.
And will there be in our city more of these true guardians
or more smiths?
The smiths, he replied, will be far more numerous.
Will not the guardians be the smallest of all the classes
who receive a name from the profession of some kind of
knowledge?
Much the smallest.
And so by reason of the smallest part or class, and of the
knowledge which resides in this presiding and ruling part of
itself, the whole State, being thus constituted according to
nature, will be wise; and this, which has the only knowledge 429
worthy to be called wisdom, has been ordained by nature to
be of all classes the least.
Most true.
Thus, then, I said, the nature and place in the State of one
of the four virtues has somehow or other been discovered.
And, in my humble opinion, very satisfactorily discovered,
he replied.
Again, I said, there is no difficulty in seeing the nature of
courage, and in what part that quality resides which gives the
name of courageous to the State.
How do you mean?
Why, I said, every one who calls any State courageous or
cowardly, will be thinking of the part which fights and goes
out to war on the State's behalf.
No one, he replied, would ever think of any other.
The rest of the citizens may be courageous or may be cow-
ardly, but their courage or cowardice will not, as I conceive,
have the effect of making the city either the one or the other.
Certainly not.
The city will be courageous in virtue of a portion of her-
self which preserves under all circumstances that opinion about
THE REPUBLIC
327
IV.
the nature of things to be feared and not to be feared in which Republic
our legislator educated them; and this is what you term
courage.
I should like to hear what you are saying once more, for I
do not think that I perfectly understand you.
I mean that courage is a kind of salvation.
Salvation of what?
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
which pre-
serves right
opinion
about
things to
and not to
be feared.
Of the opinion respecting things to be feared, what they be feared
are and of what nature, which the law implants through
education; and I mean by the words 'under all circumstances'
to intimate that in pleasure or in pain, or under the influence
of desire or fear, a man preserves, and does not lose this
opinion. Shall I give you an illustration?
If you please.
from the
You know, I said, that dyers, when they want to dye wool Illustration
for making the true sea-purple, begin by selecting their white art of dye-
colour first; this they prepare and dress with much care and ing.
pains, in order that the white ground may take the purple hue
in full perfection. The dyeing then proceeds; and whatever
is dyed in this manner becomes a fast colour, and no washing
either with lyes or without them can take away the bloom.
But, when the ground has not been duly prepared, you will
have noticed how poor is the look either of purple or of any
other colour.
Yes, he said; I know that they have a washed-out and
ridiculous appearance.
Then now, I said, you will understand what our object was
430 in selecting our soldiers, and educating them in music and
gymnastic; we were contriving influences which would pre-
pare them to take the dye of the laws in perfection, and the
colour of their opinion about dangers and of every other opin-
ion was to be indelibly fixed by their nurture and training,
not to be washed away by such potent lyes as pleasure-
mightier agent far in washing the soul than any soda or lye;
or by sorrow, fear, and desire, the mightiest of all other
solvents. And this sort of universal saving power of true
opinion in conformity with law about real and false dangers
I call and maintain to be courage, unless you disagree.
But I agree, he replied; for I suppose that you mean to
exclude mere uninstructed courage, such as that of a wild
Our sol-
diers must
take the
dye of the
laws.
328
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
IV.
Socrates,
GLAUCON.
Two other
virtues,
temperance
and justice,
which must
be con-
sidered in
their proper
order.
The tem-
perate is
master of
himself, but
the same
person,
when in-
temperate,
is also the
slave of
himself.
beast or of a slave-this, in your opinion, is not the courage
which the law ordains, and ought to have another name.
Most certainly.
Then I may infer courage to be such as you describe?
1
Why, yes, said I, you may, and if you add the words 'of
an ordinary citizen,' ¹ you will not be far wrong;-hereafter,
if you like, we will carry the examination further, but at
present we are seeking not for courage but justice; and for
the purpose of our enquiry we have said enough.
You are right, he replied.
Two virtues remain to be discovered in the State-first,
temperance, and then justice which is the end of our search.
Very true.
Now, can we find justice without troubling ourselves about
temperance?
I do not know how that can be accomplished, he said, nor
do I desire that justice should be brought to light and temper-
ance lost sight of; and therefore I wish that you would do
me the favour of considering temperance first.
Certainly, I replied, I should not be justified in refusing
your request.
Then consider, he said.
Yes, I replied; I will; and as far as I can at present see,
the virtue of temperance has more of the nature of harmony
and symphony than the preceding.
How so? he asked.
Temperance, I replied, is the ordering or controlling of
certain pleasures and desires; this is curiously enough im-
plied in the saying of 'a man being his own master'; and other
traces of the same notion may be found in language.
No doubt, he said.
There is something ridiculous in the expression 'master of
himself'; for the master is also the servant and the servant 431
the master; and in all these modes of speaking the same person
is denoted.
Certainly.
The meaning is, I believe, that in the human soul there is
a better and also a worse principle; and when the better has
the worse under control, then a man is said to be master of
(1 J. has 'the words "of a citizen."']
THE REPUBLIC
329
IV.
SOCRATES,
himself; and this is a term of praise: but when, owing to evil Republic
education or association, the better principle, which is also
the smaller, is overwhelmed by the greater mass of the worse GLAUCON.
-in this case he is blamed and is called the slave of self and
unprincipled.
Yes, there is reason in that.
And now, I said, look at our newly-created State, and there
you will find one of these two conditions realized; for the
State, as you will acknowledge, may be justly called master
of itself, if the words 'temperance' and 'self-mastery' truly
express the rule of the better part over the worse.
Yes, he said, I see that what you say is true.
Let me further note that the manifold and complex
pleasures and desires and pains are generally found in children
and women and servants, and in the freemen so called who
are of the lowest and more numerous class.
Certainly, he said.
Whereas the simple and moderate desires which follow
reason, and are under the guidance of mind and true opinion,
are to be found only in a few, and those the best born and
best educated.
Very true.
which has
These two, as you may perceive, have a place in our State; The State
and the meaner desires of the many are held down by the
virtuous desires and wisdom of the few.
That I perceive, he said.
the pas-
sions and
desires of
the many
Then if there be any city which may be described as controlled
master of its own pleasures and desires, and master of itself,
ours may claim such a designation?
Certainly, he replied.
It may also be called temperate, and for the same reasons?
Yes.
And if there be any State in which rulers and subjects will
be agreed as to the question who are to rule, that again will
be our State?
Undoubtedly.
And the citizens being thus agreed among themselves, in
which class will temperance be found in the rulers or in
the subjects?
In both, as I should imagine, he replied.
by the few
may be
rightly
called tem.
perate.
330
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
IV.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
Temper-
ance re-
sides in
the whole
State.
Justice is
not far off.
Do you observe that we were not far wrong in our guess
that temperance was a sort of harmony?
Why so?
Why, because temperance is unlike courage and wisdom,
each of which resides in a part only, the one making the
State wise and the other valiant; not so temperance, which 432
extends to the whole, and runs through all the notes of the
scale, and produces a harmony of the weaker and the stronger
and the middle class, whether you suppose them to be stronger
or weaker in wisdom or power of numbers or wealth, or any-
thing else. Most truly then may we deem temperance to be
the agreement of the naturally superior and inferior, as to
the right to rule of either, both in states and individuals.
I entirely agree with you.
And so, I said, we may consider three out of the four
virtues to have been discovered in our State. The last of
those qualities which make a state virtuous must be justice,
if we only knew what that was.
The inference is obvious.
The time then has arrived, Glaucon, when, like huntsmen,
we should surround the cover, and look sharp that justice
does not steal away, and pass out of sight and escape us; for
beyond a doubt she is somewhere in this country: watch there-
fore and strive to catch a sight of her, and if you see her first,
let me know.
Would that I could! but you should regard me rather as
a follower who has just eyes enough to see what you show
him—that is about as much as I am good for.
Offer up a prayer with me and follow.
I will, but you must show me the way.
Here is no path, I said, and the wood is dark and perplex-
ing; still we must push on.
Let us push on.
Here I saw something: Halloo! I said, I begin to perceive
a track, and I believe that the quarry will not escape.
Good news, he said.
Truly, I said, we are stupid fellows.
Why so?
Why, my good sir, at the beginning of our enquiry, ages
ago, there was justice tumbling out at our feet, and we never
THE REPUBLIC
331
433
IV.
saw her; nothing could be more ridiculous. Like people who Republic
go about looking for what they have in their hands-that was SOCRATES,
the way with us—we looked not at what we were seeking, but
at what was far off in the distance; and therefore, I suppose,
we missed her.
What do you mean?
I mean to say that in reality for a long time past we have
been talking of justice, and have failed to recognise her.
GLAUCON.
already
found her
when we
spoke of
one man
I grow impatient at the length of your exordium.
Well then, tell me, I said, whether I am right or not: You We had
remember the original principle which we were always laying
down at the foundation of the State, that one man should
practise one thing only, the thing to which his nature was
best adapted; now justice is this principle or a part of it.
Yes, we often said that one man should do one thing only.
Further, we affirmed that justice was doing one's own busi-
ness, and not being a busybody; we said so again and again,
and many others have said the same to us.
Yes, we said so.
Then to do one's own business in a certain way may be
assumed to be justice. Can you tell me whence I derive this
inference?
I cannot, but I should like to be told.
Because I think that this is the only virtue which remains
in the State when the other virtues of temperance and courage
and wisdom are abstracted; and, that this is the ultimate cause
and condition of the existence of all of them, and while re-
maining in them is also their preservative; and we were say-
ing that if the three were discovered by us, justice would
be the fourth or remaining one.
That follows of necessity.
If we are asked to determine which of these four qualities
by its presence contributes most to the excellence of the State,
whether the agreement of rulers and subjects, or the preser-
vation in the soldiers of the opinion which the law ordains
about the true nature of dangers, or wisdom and watchfulness
in the rulers, or whether this other which I am mentioning,
and which is found in children and women, slave and free-
man, artisan, ruler, subject, the quality, I mean, of every
doing one
thing only.
From
another
point of
view justice
is the resi-
due of
the three
others.
332
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
IV.
SOCRATES,
GIAUCON.
Our idea is
confirmed
by the ad-
ministra-
tion of jus-
tice in law-
suits. No
man is to
have what
is not his
own.
Illustra-
tion:
Classes,
like indi-
viduals,
should not
meddle
with one
another's
occupa-
tions.
one doing his own work, and not being a busybody, would
claim the palm-the question is not so easily answered.
Certainly, he replied, there would be a difficulty in saying
which.
Then the power of each individual in the State to do his
own work appears to compete with the other political virtues,
wisdom, temperance, courage.
Yes, he said.
And the virtue which enters into this competition is justice?
Exactly.
Let us look at the question from another point of view:
Are not the rulers in a State those to whom you would entrust
the office of determining suits at law?
Certainly.
And are suits decided on any other ground but that a man
may neither take what is another's, nor be deprived of what
is his own?
Yes; that is their principle.
Which is a just principle?
Yes.
Then on this view also justice will be admitted to be the
having and doing what is a man's own, and belongs to him?
Very true.
Think, now, and say whether you agree with me or not.
Suppose a carpenter to be doing the business of a cobbler,
or a cobbler of a carpenter; and suppose them to exchange
their implements or their duties, or the same person to be
doing the work of both, or whatever be the change; do you
think that any great harm would result to the State?
Not much.
But when the cobbler or any other man whom nature
designed to be a trader, having his heart lifted up by wealth
or strength or the number of his followers, or any like ad-
vantage, attempts to force his way into the class of warriors,
or a warrior into that of legislators and guardians, for which
he is unfitted, and either to take the implements or the duties
of the other; or when cne man is trader, legislator, and war-
rior all in one, then I think you will agree with me in saying
that this interchange and this meddling of one with another
is the ruin of the State.
434
THE REPUBLIC
333
435
Most true.
Seeing then, I said, that there are three distinct classes,
Republic
IV.
SOCRATES,
any meddling of one with another, or the change of one into GLAUCON.
another, is the greatest harm to the State, and may be most
justly termed evil-doing?
Precisely.
And the greatest degree of evil-doing to one's own city
would be termed by you injustice?
Certainly.
This then is injustice; and on the other hand when the
trader, the auxiliary, and the guardian each do their own
business, that is justice, and will make the city just.
I agree with you.
We will not, I said, be over-positive as yet; but if, on trial,
this conception of justice be verified in the individual as well
as in the State, there will be no longer any room for doubt;
if it be not verified, we must have a fresh enquiry. First let
us complete the old investigation, which we began, as you
remember, under the impression that, if we could previously
examine justice on the larger scale, there would be less diffi-
culty in discerning her in the individual. That larger example
appeared to be the State, and accordingly we constructed as
good an one as we could, knowing well that in the good State
justice would be found. Let the discovery which we made be
now applied to the individual-if they agree, we shall be
satisfied; or, if there be a difference in the individual, we will
come back to the State and have another trial of the theory.
The friction of the two when rubbed together may possibly
strike a light in which justice will shine forth, and the vision
which is then revealed we will fix in our souls.
[Socrates, before proceeding to identify the individual and
the state, analyzes the individual soul, and finds that it like-
wise has three principles, for the community has its roots in
human nature. After a digression intended to explain the
character of contradiction, he finds that the individual has
within himself conflicting elements, desires, rational inhibi-
tions, and emotional impulses which though not rational often
side with the reason and make for action; these last may be
called 'passion, or 'spirit, or at times 'righteous indigna-
tion.']
From the
larger ex-
ample of
the State
we will
now return
to the indi-
vidual.
334
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
IV.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
The con-
clusion that
the same
three prin-
ciples exist
both in the
State and
in the indi-
vidual ap-
plied to
each of
them.
Music and
gymnastic
will har-
monize
passion
and reason.
These two
combined
will control
desire,
And so, after much tossing, we have reached land, and are 441
fairly agreed that the same principles which exist in the State
exist also in the individual, and that they are three in number.
Exactly.
Must we not then infer that the individual is wise in the
same way, and in virtue of the same quality which makes the
State wise?
Certainly.
Also that the same quality which constitutes courage in the
State constitutes courage in the individual, and that both the
State and the individual bear the same relation to all the other
virtues?
Assuredly.
And the individual will be acknowledged by us to be just
in the same way in which the State is just?
That follows of course.
We cannot but remember that the justice of the State con-
sisted in each of the three classes doing the work of its own
class?
We are not very likely to have forgotten, he said.
We must recollect that the individual in whom the several
qualities of his nature do their own work will be just, and
will do his own work?
Yes, he said, we must remember that too.
And ought not the rational principle, which is wise, and
has the care of the whole soul, to rule, and the passionate or
spirited principle to be the subject and ally?
Certainly.
And, as we were saying, the united influence of music and
gymnastic will bring them into accord, nerving and sustaining
the reason with noble words and lessons, and moderating and
soothing and civilizing the wildness of passion by harmony 442
and rhythm?
Quite true, he said.
And these two, thus nurtured and educated, and having
learned truly to know their own functions, will rule over the
concupiscent, which in each of us is the largest part of the
soul and by nature most insatiable of gain; over this they
will keep guard, lest, waxing great and strong with the fulness
of bodily pleasures, as they are termed, the concupiscent soul,
THE REPUBLIC
335
IV.
no longer confined to her own sphere, should attempt to en- Republic
slave and rule those who are not her natural-born subjects, SOCRATES,
and overturn the whole life of man?
Very true, he said.
GLAUCON.
the best
Both together, will they not be the best defenders of the and will be
whole soul and the whole body against attacks from without; defenders
the one counselling, and the other fighting under his leader, both of
and courageously executing his commands and counsels?
True.
And he is to be deemed courageous whose spirit retains
in pleasure and in pain the commands of reason about what
he ought or ought not to fear?
Right, he replied.
body and
soul.
The cou-
rageous.
And him we call wise who has in him that little part which The wise.
rules, and which proclaims these commands; that part too
being supposed to have a knowledge of what is for the inter-
est of each of the three parts and of the whole?
Assuredly.
perate.
And would you not say that he is temperate who has these The tem-
same elements in friendly harmony, in whom the one ruling
principle of reason, and the two subject ones of spirit and
desire are equally agreed that reason ought to rule, and do
not rebel?
Certainly, he said, that is the true account of temperance
whether in the State or individual.
And surely, I said, we have explained again and again The just.
how and by virtue of what quality a man will be just.
That is very certain.
And is justice dimmer in the individual, and is her form
different, or is she the same which we found her to be in the
State?
There is no difference in my opinion, he said.
Because, if any doubt is still lingering in our minds, a
comparison with ordinary moral standards ¹ will satisfy us of
the truth of what I am saying.
What sort of standards do you mean?
1
The nature
of justice
If the case is put to us, must we not admit that the just illustrated
443 State, or the man who is trained in the principles of such a
[¹ J. has 'a few commonplace instances.']
336
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
IV.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
by com-
monplace
instances.
We have
realized the
hope enter-
tained in
the first
construc-
tion of the
State.
The three
principles
harmonize
in one.
The har-
mony of
human life.
State, will be less likely than the unjust to make away with
a deposit of gold or silver? Would any one deny this?
No one, he replied.
Will the just man or citizen ever be guilty of sacrilege or
theft, or treachery either to his friends or to his country?
Never.
Neither will he ever break faith where there have been
oaths or agreements?
Impossible.
No one will be less likely to commit adultery, or to dis-
honour his father and mother, or to fail in his religious duties?
No one.
And the reason is that each part of him is doing its own
business, whether in ruling or being ruled?
Exactly so.
Are you satisfied then that the quality which makes such
men and such states is justice, or do you hope to discover
some other?
Not I, indeed.
Then our dream has been realized; and the suspicion which
we entertained at the beginning of our work of construc-
tion, that some divine power must have conducted us to a
primary form of justice, has now been verified?
Yes, certainly.
And the division of labour which required the carpenter
and the shoemaker and the rest of the citizens to be doing each
his own business, and not another's, was a shadow of justice,
and for that reason it was of use?
Clearly.
But in reality justice was such as we were describing, being
concerned however, not with the outward man, but with
the inward, which is the true self and concernment of man:
for the just man does not permit the several elements within
him to interfere with one another, or any of them to do the
work of others, he sets in order his own inner life, and is
his own master and his own law, and at peace with himself;
and when he has bound together the three principles within
him, which may be compared to the higher, lower, and middle
notes of the scale, and the intermediate intervals-when he
has bound all these together, and is no longer many, but has
THE REPUBLIC
337
IV.
become one entirely temperate and perfectly adjusted nature, Republic
then he proceeds to act, if he has to act, whether in a matter SOCRATES,
of property, or in the treatment of the body, or in some affair GLAUCON.
of politics or private business; always thinking and calling
that which preserves and co-operates with this harmonious
condition, just and good action, and the knowledge which
presides over it, wisdom, and that which at any time impairs
444 this condition, he will call unjust action, and the opinion.
which presides over it ignorance.
You have said the exact truth, Socrates.
Very good; and if we were to affirm that we had dis-
covered the just man and the just State, and the nature of
justice in each of them, we should not be telling a falsehood?
Most certainly not.
May we say so, then?
Let us say so.
And now, I said, injustice has to be considered.
Clearly.
the oppo-
Must not injustice be a strife which arises among the three Injustice
principles-a meddlesomeness, and interference, and rising up site of jus
of a part of the soul against the whole, an assertion of unlaw- tice.
ful authority, which is made by a rebellious subject against
a true prince, of whom he is the natural vassal,-what is all
this confusion and delusion but injustice, and intemperance
and cowardice and ignorance, and every form of vice?
Exactly so.
And if the nature of justice and injustice be known, then
the meaning of acting unjustly and being unjust, or, again, of
acting justly, will also be perfectly clear?
What do you mean? he said.
Why, I said, they are like disease and health; being in the
soul just what disease and health are in the body.
How so? he said.
Why, I said, that which is healthy causes health, and that Analogy of
which is unhealthy causes disease.
Yes.
And just actions cause justice, and unjust actions cause
injustice?
That is certain.
body and
soul.
Health:
disease:
justice:
And the creation of health is the institution of a natural injustice.
338
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
IV.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
The old
question,
whether
the just or
the unjust is
the happier,
has become
ridiculous.
order and government of one by another in the parts of the
body; and the creation of disease is the production of a state
of things at variance with this natural order?
True.
And is not the creation of justice the institution of a natural
order and government of one by another in the parts of the
soul, and the creation of injustice the production of a state of
things at variance with the natural order?
Exactly so, he said.
Then virtue is the health and beauty and well-being of the
soul, and vice the disease and weakness and deformity of the
same?
True.
And do not good practices lead to virtue, and evil practices
to vice?
Assuredly.
Still our old question of the comparative advantage of 445
justice and injustice has not been answered: Which is the
more profitable, to be just and act justly and practise virtue,
whether seen or unseen of gods and men, or to be unjust and
act unjustly, if only unpunished and unreformed?
In my judgment, Socrates, the question has now become
ridiculous. We know that, when the bodily constitution is
gone, life is no longer endurable, though pampered with all
kinds of meats and drinks, and having all wealth and all
power; and shall we be told that when the very essence of
the vital principle is undermined and corrupted, life is still
worth having to a man, if only he be allowed to do what-
ever he likes with the single exception that he is not to acquire
justice and virtue, or to escape from injustice and vice; assum-
ing them both to be such as we have described?
Yes, I said, the question is, as you say, ridiculous. Still,
as we are near the spot at which we may see the truth in the
clearest manner with our own eyes, let us not faint by the
way.
Certainly not, he replied.
Come up hither, I said, and behold the various forms of
vice, those of them, I mean, which are worth looking at.
I am following you, he replied: proceed.
I said, The argument seems to have reached a height from
THE REPUBLIC
339
IV.
which, as from some tower of speculation, a man may look Republic
down and see that virtue is one, but that the forms of vice are
innumerable; there being four special ones which are deserv- GLAUCON.
ing of note.
What do you mean? he said.
SOCRATES,
I mean, I replied, that there appear to be as many forms of As many
the soul as there are distinct forms of the State.
How many?
There are five of the State, and five of the soul, I said.
What are they?
The first, I said, is that which we have been describing,
and which may be said to have two names, monarchy and
aristocracy, accordingly as rule is exercised by one distin-
guished man or by many.
True, he replied.
But I regard the two names as describing one form only;
for whether the government is in the hands of one or many,
if the governors have been trained in the manner which we
have supposed, the fundamental laws of the State will be
maintained.
That is true, he replied.
forms of
the soul
as of the
State.
THIRD DIVISION
[In a sense the quest of the Republic is now over; yet the
outlines of the argument need to be filled in with greater
detail. Socrates has made the stability of the ideal state de-
pend on the devotion of the rulers to duty; he now suggests
ways and means of securing this devotion. He argues that
their life can best be merged in the life of the state if they
have as little private life and private property as possible. He
finds no essential difference of kind in political capacity be-
tween men and women; he therefore holds that women
should have the same education ard occupations as men, for
their own good and for the good of the State. And now
Socrates is confronted by the urgent question whether his ideal
state, however desirable, is practicable. Of course it is the
very nature of ideals that they can be only approximated; yet
Socrates thinks that his ideal State can be approximated if in
the same person can be united the power of the statesman and
the insight of the philosopher; a king must become a philoso-
pher or a philosopher must become a king. Not, to be sure,
the ordinary sort of philosopher, who is, as a matter of fact,
an unpractical and rather ridiculous sort of dreamer, unap-
preciated if not actually dangerous; he must be the complete
man, who though not lacking in practical experience, under-
stands the abstruse theory of existence; who has clambered
out of our cave of ignorance and superstition and beheld the
sun of truth, yet is willing to return to the cave in order to
help his fellow-men. And Socrates sketches the sort of edu-
cation that it is necessary to add to the training already de-
scribed in order to produce the philosophic ruler,—an educa-
tion beginning with mathematics and ending with pure logic,
drawing the mind away from the observation of visible things
to the contemplation of the unchangeable principle of good-
ness and existence.]
BOOK V
and
V.
GLAUCON.
[Socrates first discusses certain objections, described as Republic
'waves, to the equality of women with men in education and
occupations, and to the proposed community of women SOCRATES,
children, which would mean for the ruling class the abolition
of the family. These proposals he justifies as conducive re-
spectively to efficiency and to unselfishness; for the present he
begs to be allowed to defer the question of their possibility.]
Yet grant me a little favour: let me feast my mind with
458 the dream as day dreamers are in the habit of feasting them-
selves when they are walking alone; for before they have
discovered any means of effecting their wishes-that is a
matter which never troubles them they would rather not
tire themselves by thinking about possibilities; but assuming
that what they desire is already granted to them, they pro-
ceed with their plan, and delight in detailing what they mean
to do when their wish has come true-that is a way which they
have of not doing much good to a capacity which was never
good for much. Now I myself am beginning to lose heart,
and I should like, with your permission, to pass over the ques-
tion of possibility at present. Assuming therefore the pos-
sibility of the proposal, I shall now proceed to enquire how
the rulers will carry out these arrangements, and I shall dem-
onstrate that our plan, if executed, will be of the greatest
benefit to the State and to the guardians. First of all, then,
if you have no objection, I will endeavour with your help to
consider the advantages of the measure; and hereafter the
question of possibility.
[Socrates continues to deal with the arrangements for mar-
riage on eugenic principles.]
Such is the scheme, Glaucon, according to which the
guardians of our State are to have their wives and families
in common. And now you would have the argument show
341
342
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
462
Republic
V.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
The great-
est good
of States,
unity; the
greatest
evil, dis-
cord.
The one
the result
of public,
the other
of private
feelings.
The State
like a living
being which
feels alto-
gether
when hurt
that this community is consistent with the rest of our polity,
and also that nothing can be better-would you not?
Yes, certainly.
Shall we try to find a common basis by asking of ourselves
what ought to be the chief aim of the legislator in making
laws and in the organization of a State,-what is the greatest
good, and what is the greatest evil, and then consider whether
our previous description has the stamp of the good or of the
evil?
By all means.
Can there be any greater evil than discord and distraction.
and plurality where unity ought to reign? or any greater
good than the bond of unity?
There cannot.
And there is unity where there is community of pleasures
and pains—where all the citizens are glad or grieved on the
same occasions of joy and sorrow?
No doubt.
Yes; and where there is no common but only private feel-
ing a State is disorganized-when you have one half of the
world triumphing and the other plunged in grief at the
same events happening to the city or the citizens?
Certainly.
Such differences coinmonly originate in a disagreement
about the use of the terms 'mine' and 'not mine,' 'his' and
'not his,'
Exactly so.
And is not that the best-ordered State in which the greatest
number of persons apply the terms 'mine' and 'not mine' in
the same way to the same thing?
Quite true.
Or that again which most nearly approaches to the con
dition of the individual-as in the body, when but a finger of
one of us is hurt, the whole frame, drawn toward the soul as
a centre and forming one kingdom under the ruling power
in any part. therein, feels the hurt and sympathizes all together with the
part affected, and we say that the man has a pain in his finger;
and the same expression is used about any other part of the
body, which has a sensation of pain at suffering or of pleasure
at the alleviation of suffering.
THE REPUBLIC
343
463
V.
Very true, he replied; and I agree with you that in the Republic
best-ordered State there is the nearest approach to this com-
mon feeling which you describe.
Then when any one of the citizens experiences any good
or evil, the whole State will make his case their own, and
will either rejoice or sorrow with him?
Yes, he said, that is what will happen in a well-ordered
State.
Socrates,
GLAUCON.
It will now be time, I said, for us to return to our State How dif-
and see whether this or some other form is most in accordance
with these fundamental principles.
Very good.
Our State like every other has rulers and subjects?
True.
All of whom will call one another citizens?
Of course.
But is there not another name which people give to their
rulers in other States?
Generally they call them masters, but in democratic States
they simply call them rulers.
And in our State what other name besides that of citizens
do the people give the rulers?
They are called saviours and helpers, he replied.
And what do the rulers call the people?
Their maintainers and foster-fathers.
And what do they call them in other States?
Slaves.
And what do the rulers call one another in other States?
Fellow-rulers.
And what in ours?
Fellow-guardians.
Did you ever know an example in any other State of a
ruler who would speak of one of his colleagues as his friend
and of another as not being his friend?
Yes, very often.
And the friend he regards and describes as one in whom
he has an interest, and the other as a stranger in whom he
has no interest?
Exactly.
ferent are
the terms
which are
applied to
the rulers
in other
States and
in our own!
344
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
Ꮴ .
Socrates,
GLAUCON.
The State
one family.
Using the
same
terms, they
will have
the same
modes of
thinking
and acting,
and this
is to be
attributed
mainly to
the com-
munity of
women and
children.
But would any of your guardians think or speak of any
other guardian as a stranger?
Certainly he would not; for every one whom they meet will
be regarded by them either as a brother or sister, or father
or mother, or son or daughter, or as the child or parent of
those who are thus connected with him.
Capital, I said; but let me ask you once more: Shall they
be a family in name only; or shall they in all their actions be
true to the name? For example, in the use of the word
'father,' would the care of a father be implied and the filial
reverence and duty and obedience to him which the law
commands; and is the violator of these duties to be regarded
as an impious and unrighteous person who is not likely to
receive much good either at the hands of God or of man?
Are these to be or not to be the strains which the children
will hear repeated in their ears by all the citizens about those
who are intimated to them to be their parents and the rest of
their kinsfolk?
These, he said, and none other; for what can be more
ridiculous than for them to utter the names of family ties with
the lips only and not to act in the spirit of them?
Then in our city the language of harmony and concord
will be more often heard than in any other. As I was
describing before, when any one is well or ill, the universal
word will be 'with me it is well' or 'it is ill.'
Most true.
And agreeably to this mode of thinking and speaking, were
we not saying that they will have their pleasures and pains in
common?
Yes, and so they will.
And they will have a common interest in the same thing
which they will alike call 'my own,' and having this common.
interest they will have a common feeling of pleasure and pain?
Yes, far more so than in other States.
And the reason of this, over and above the general con-
stitution of the State, will be that the guardians will have a
community of women and children?
That will be the chief reason.
And this unity of feeling we admitted to be the greatest
good, as was implied in our own comparison of a well-ordered
464
THE REPUBLIC
345
471
State to the relation of the body and the members, when Republic
affected by pleasure or pain?
That we acknowledged, and very rightly.
Then the community of wives and children among our
citizens is clearly the source of the greatest good to the State?
Certainly.
And this agrees with the other principle which we were
affirming,—that the guardians were not to have houses or
lands or any other property; their pay was to be their food,
which they were to receive from the other citizens, and they
were to have no private expenses; for we intended them to
preserve their true character of guardians.
Right, he replied.
V.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
be no pri-
vate inter-
them, and
therefore
Both the community of property and the community of There will
families, as I am saying, tend to make them more truly
guardians; they will not tear the city in pieces by differing ests among
about 'mine' and 'not mine;' each man dragging any ac-
quisition which he has made into a separate house of his own,
where he has a separate wife and children and private pleas-
ures and pains; but all will be affected as far as may be violence to
by the same pleasures and pains because they are all of one
opinion about what is near and dear to them, and therefore
they all tend toward a common end.
[Conversely, Socrates argues, strife and self-seeking would
be avoided. A digression describes the effect of the system
as a stimulus to gallantry in warfare. But Glaucon can no
longer refrain from raising the principal objection, the 'third
wave.']
no lawsuits
assault or
or trials for
elders.
plaint of
ing the
But still I must say, Socrates, that if you are allowed to The com-
go on in this way you will entirely forget the other question Glaucon
which at the commencement of this discussion you thrust respect-
aside: Is such an order of things possible, and how, if at hesitation
all? For I am quite ready to acknowledge that the plan of Socrates
which you propose, if only feasible, would do all sorts of
good to the State. I will add, what you have omitted, that
your citizens will be the bravest of warriors, and will never
leave their ranks, for they will all know one another, and
each will call the other father, brother, son; and if you sup-
pose the women to join their armies, whether in the same
rank or in the rear, either as a terror to the enemy, or as
346
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic auxiliaries in case of need, I know that they will then be
V.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
Socrates
excuses
himself and
makes one
or two re-
marks pre-
paratory
to a final
effort.
(1) The
ideal is a
standard
only, which
can never
be perfectly
realized;
absolutely invincible; and there are many domestic ad-
vantages which might also be mentioned and which I also
fully acknowledge: but, as I admit all these advantages and
as many more as you please, if only this State of yours were
to come into existence, we need say no more about them;
assuming then the existence of the State, let us now turn to
the question of possibility and ways and means-the rest may
be left.
If I loiter for a moment, you instantly make a raid upon 472
me, I said, and have no mercy; I have hardly escaped the
first and second waves, and you seem not to be aware that
you are now bringing upon me the third, which is the greatest
and heaviest. When you have seen and heard the third wave,
I think you will be more considerate and will acknowledge
that some fear and hesitation was natural respecting a pro-
posal so extraordinary as that which I have now to state and
investigate.
The more appeals of this sort which you make, he said, the
more determined are we that you shall tell us how such a
State is possible: speak out and at once.
Let me begin by reminding you that we found our way
hither in the search after justice and injustice.
True, he replied; but what of that?
I was only going to ask whether, if we have discovered
them, we are to require that the just man should in nothing
fail of absolute justice; or may we be satisfied with an ap-
proximation, and the attainment in him of a higher degree of
justice than is to be found in other men?
The approximation will be enough.
We were enquiring into the nature of absolute justice and
into the character of the perfectly just, and into injustice and
the perfectly unjust, that we might have an ideal. We were
to look at these in order that we might judge of our own
happiness and unhappiness according to the standard which
they exhibited and the degree in which we resembled them,
but not with any view of showing that they could exist in fact.
True, he said.
Would a painter be any the worse because, after having
delineated with consummate art an ideal of a perfectly beau-
THE REPUBLIC
347
473
tiful man, he was unable to show that
have existed?
He would be none the worse.
any such man could ever Republic
Ꮴ .
SOCRATES,
Well, and were we not creating an ideal of a perfect State?
To be sure.
And is our theory a worse theory because we are unable to
prove the possibility of a city being ordered in the manner
described?
Surely not, he replied.
GLAUCON.
none the
worse for
That is the truth, I said. But if, at your request, I am to (2) but is
try and show how and under what conditions the possibility is
highest, I must ask you, having this in view, to repeat your this.
former admissions.
What admissions?
Can anything be accomplished in deed exactly as it is ex-
pressed in word, or is there a natural necessity that action
should less lay hold of truth and reality than diction, whatever
some people may assert? What do you say?
I agree.
Then you must not insist on my proving that the actual
State will in every respect coincide with the ideal: if we are
only able to discover how a city may be governed nearly as
we proposed, you will admit that we have discovered the
possibility which you demand; and will be contented. I am
sure that I should be contented—will not you?
Yes, I will.
(3) Al-
though
the ideal
cannot be
realized,
Let me next endeavour to show what is that fault in States
which is the cause of their present maladministration, and
what is the least change which will enable a
State to pass
into the truer form; and let the change, if possible, be of one
thing only, or, if not, of two; at any rate, let the changes be changes,
as few and slight as possible.
Certainly, he replied.
I think, I said, that there might be a reform of the State if
only one change were made, which is not a slight or easy
though still a possible one.
[¹ J. has 'I want to know whether ideals are ever fully realized in
language? Does not the word express more than the fact, and must not
the actual, whatever a man may think, always, in the nature of things,
fall short of the truth?' The corrected version given above is that of
Shorey.}
one or two
or rather
a single
change,
might revo-
lutionize a
State.
348
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
Ꮴ .
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
Socrates
goes forth
to meet the
wave.
'Cities
will never
cease from
ill until
they are
governed
by philo-
sophers.'
What will
the world
say to this?
But who is
a philoso-
pher?
What is it? he said.
Now then, I said, I go to meet that which I liken to the
greatest of the waves; yet shall the word be spoken, even
though the wave break and drown me in laughter and dis-
honour; and do you mark my words.
Proceed.
I said: Until philosophers are kings, or the kings and
princes of this world have the spirit and power of philosophy,
and political greatness and wisdom meet in one, and those
commoner natures who pursue either to the exclusion of the
other are compelled to stand aside, cities will never have rest
from their evils, no, nor the human race, as I believe,—and
then only will this our State have a possibility of life and
behold the light of day. Such was the thought, my dear
Glaucon, which I would fain have uttered if it had not seemed
too extravagant; for to be convinced that in no other State can
there be happiness private or public is indeed a hard thing.
Socrates, what do you mean? I would have you consider
that the word which you have uttered is one at which
numerous persons, and very respectable persons too, in a
figure pulling off their coats all in a moment, and seizing 474
any weapon that comes to hand, will run at you might and
main, before you know where you are, intending to do
heaven knows what; and if you don't prepare an answer, and
put yourself in motion, you will be 'pared by their fine wits,'
and no mistake.
You got me into the scrape, I said.
And I was quite right; however, I will do all I can to get
you out of it; but I can only give you good-will and good
advice, and, perhaps, I may be able to fit answers to your
questions better than another—that is all. And now, having
such an auxiliary, you must do your best to show the un-
believers that you are right.
I ought to try, I said, since you offer me such invaluable
assistance. And I think that, if there is to be a chance of
our escaping, we must explain to them whom we mean when
we say that philosophers are to rule in the State; then we
shall be able to defend ourselves: There will be discovered
to be some natures who ought to study philosophy and to be
THE REPUBLIC
349
leaders in the State; and others who are not born to be philos- Republic
ophers, and are meant to be followers rather than leaders.
Then now for a definition, he said.
Follow me, I said, and I hope that I may in some way or
other be able to give you a satisfactory explanation.
Proceed.
Ꮴ .
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
the lover.
I dare say that you remember, and therefore I need not Parallel ui
remind you, that a lover, if he is worthy of the name, ought
to show his love, not to some one part of that which he loves,
but to the whole.
I really do not understand, and therefore beg of you to
assist my memory.
Another person, I said, might fairly reply as you do; but a
man of pleasure like yourself ought to know that all who are
in the flower of youth do somehow or other raise a pang or
emotion in a lover's breast, and are thought by him to be
worthy of his affectionate regards. Is not this a way which
you have with the fair: one has a snub nose, and you praise
his charming face; the hook-nose of another has, you say, a
royal look; while he who is neither snub nor hooked has the
grace of regularity: the dark visage is manly, the fair are
children of the gods; and as to the sweet 'honey pale,' as
they are called, what is the very name but the invention of a
lover who talks in diminutives, and is not averse to paleness
if appearing on the cheek of youth? In a word, there is no
475 excuse which you will not make, and nothing which you will
not say, in order not to lose a single flower that blooms in
the spring-time of youth.
If you make me an authority in matters of love, for the
sake of the argument, I assent.
The lover
of the fair
loves them
all;
the lover
And what do you say of lovers of wine? Do you not see
them doing the same? They are glad of any pretext of of wines,
drinking any wine.
Very good.
all wines;
all honour;
And the same is true of ambitious men; if they cannot the lover
command an army, they are willing to command a file; and of honour,
if they cannot be honoured by really great and important
persons, they are glad to be honoured by lesser and meaner
people, but honour of some kind they must have.
Exactly.
350
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
V.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
the philo-
sopher, or
lover of
wiedom, all
knowledge.
Under
knowledge,
however,
are not to
be included
sights and
sounds, or
under the
lovers of
knowledge,
musical
amateurs
and the
like.
Once more let me ask: Does he who desires
goods, desire the whole class or a part only?
The whole.
any class of
And may we not say of the philosopher that he is a lover,
not of a part of wisdom only, but of the whole?
Yes, of the whole.
And he who dislikes learning, especially in youth, when he
has no power of judging what is good and what is not, such
an one we maintain not to be a philosopher or a lover of
knowledge, just as he who refuses his food is not hungry,
and may be said to have a bad appetite and not a good
one?
Very true, he said.
Whereas he who has a taste for every sort of knowledge
and who is curious to learn and is never satisfied, may be
justly termed a philosopher? Am I not right?
Glaucon said: If curiosity makes a philosopher, you will
find many a strange being will have a title to the name. All
the lovers of sights have a delight in learning, and must
therefore be included. Musical amateurs, too, are a folk
strangely out of place among philosophers, for they are the
last persons in the world who would come to anything like a
philosophical discussion, if they could help, while they run
about at the Dionysiac festivals as if they had let out their
ears to hear every chorus; whether the performance is in
town or country-that makes no difference—they are there.
Now are we to maintain that all these and any who have
similar tastes, as well as the professors of quite minor arts
are philosophers?
Certainly not, I replied; they are only an imitation.
He said: Who then are the true philosophers?
Those I said, who are lovers of the vision of truth.
That is also good, he said; but I should like to know what
you mean?
To another, I replied, I might have a difficulty in ex-
plaining; but I am sure that you will admit a proposition
which I am about to make.
What is the proposition?
That since beauty is the opposite of ugliness, they are
two?
THE REPUBLIC
351
476
Certainly.
And inasmuch as they are two, each of them is one?
True again.
And of just and unjust, good and evil, and of every other
class, the same remark holds: taken singly, each of them is
one; but from the various combinations of them with actions
and things and with one another, they are seen in all sorts of
lights and appear many?
Very true.
And this is the distinction which I draw between the sight-
loving, art-loving, practical class and those of whom I am
speaking, and who are alone worthy of the name of philos-
ophers.
How do you distinguish them? he said.
The lovers of sounds and sights, I replied, are, as I con-
ceive, fond of fine tones and colours and forms and all the
artificial products that are made out of them; but their mind
is incapable of seeing or loving absolute beauty.
True, he replied.
Few are they who are able to attain to the sight of this.
Very true.
And he who, having a sense of beautiful things has no
sense of absolute beauty, or who, if another lead him to a
knowledge of that beauty is unable to follow-of such an one
I ask, Is he awake or in a dream only? Reflect: is not
the dreamer, sleeping or waking, one who likens dissimilar
things, who puts the copy in the place of the real object?
Republic
V.
Socrates,
GLAUCON.
ledge is the
distinguish
ability to
I should certainly say that such an one was dreaming.
But take the case of the other, who recognizes the existence True know-
of absolute beauty and is able to distinguish the idea from
the objects which participate in the idea, neither putting the
objects in the place of the idea nor the idea in the place of
the objects-is he a dreamer, or is he awake?
He is wide awake.
And may we not say that the mind of the one who knows
has knowledge, and that the mind of the other, who opines
only, has opinion?
Certainly.
But suppose that the latter should quarrel with us and
dispute our statement, can we administer any soothing cordial
between
the one
and many,
between
the idea and
the objects
which par-
take of the
idea.
352
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
V.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
There is an
intermedi-
ate between
being and
not being,
and a cor-
responding
intermedi-
ate between
ignorance
and know-
ledge. This
intermedi-
ate is a
faculty
termed
>pinion.
or advice to him, without revealing to him that there is sad
disorder in his wits?
We must certainly offer him some good advice, he replied.
Come, then, and let us think of something to say to him.
Shall we begin by assuring him that he is welcome to any
knowledge which he may have, and that we are rejoiced at his
having it? But we should like to ask him a question: Does
he who has knowledge know something or nothing? (You
must answer for him).
I answer that he knows something.
Something that is or is not?
Something that is; for how can that which is not ever be
known?
And are we assured, after looking at the matter from many 477
points of view, that absolute being is or may be absolutely
known, but that the utterly non-existent is utterly unknown?
Nothing can be more certain.
Good. But if there be anything which is of such a nature
as to be and not to be, that will have a place intermediate
between pure being and the absolute negation of being?
Yes, between them.
And, as knowledge corresponded to being and ignorance
of necessity to not-being, for that intermediate between being
and not-being there has to be discovered a corresponding
intermediate between ignorance and knowledge, if there be
such?
Certainly.
Do we admit the existence of opinion?
Undoubtedly.
As being the same with knowledge, or another faculty?
Another faculty.
Then opinion and knowledge have to do with different
kinds of matter corresponding to this difference of faculties?
Yes.
And knowledge is relative to being and knows being. But
before I proceed further I will make a division.
What division?
I will begin by placing faculties in a class by themselves:
they are powers in us, and in all other things, by which we
THE REPUBLIC
353
do as we do. Sight and hearing, for example, I should call
faculties. Have I clearly explained the class which I mean?
Yes, I quite understand.
Then let me tell you my view about them. I do not see
them, and therefore the distinctions of figure, colour, and the
like, which enable me to discern the differences of some
things, do not apply to them. In speaking of a faculty I
think only of its sphere and its result; and that which has
the same sphere and the same result I call the same faculty,
but that which has another sphere and another result I
call different. Would that be your way of speaking?
Yes.
And will you be so very good as to answer one more
question? Would you say that knowledge is a faculty, or in
what class would you place it?
Certainly knowledge is a faculty, and the mightiest of all
faculties.
And is opinion also a faculty?
Certainly, he said; for opinion is that with which we are
able to form an opinion.
And yet you were acknowledging a little while ago that
knowledge is not the same as opinion?
Republic
Ꮴ .
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
478 Why, yes, he said: how can any reasonable being ever Opinion
identify that which is infallible with that which errs?
differs from
knowledge
An excellent answer, proving, I said, that we are quite because the
conscious of a distinction between them.
Yes.
one errs
and the
other is
Then knowledge and opinion having distinct powers have unerring.
also distinct spheres or subject-matters?
That is certain.
Being is the sphere or subject-matter of knowledge, and
knowledge is to know the nature of being?
Yes.
And opinion is to have an opinion?
Yes.
And do we know what we opine? or is the subject-matter
of opinion the same as the subject-matter of knowledge?
Nay, he replied, that has been already disproven; if
difference in faculty implies difference in the sphere or
subject-matter, and if, as we were saying, opinion and know-
354
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
V.
Socrates,
GLAUCON.
It also dif-
fers from
ignorance,
which is
concerned
with
vothing.
Its place is
not to be
sought
without
or beyond
knowledge
or igno-
rance, but
between
hem.
ledge are distinct faculties, then the sphere of knowledge and
of opinion cannot be the same.
Then if being is the subject-matter of knowledge, something
else must be the subject-matter of opinion?
Yes, something else.
Well then, is not-being the subject-matter of opinion? or,
rather, how can there be an opinion at all about not-being?
Reflect: when a man has an opinion, has he not an opinion
about something? Can he have an opinion which is an
opinion about nothing?
Impossible.
He who has an opinion has an opinion about some one
thing?
Yes.
And not-being is not one thing but, properly speaking,
nothing?
True.
Of not-being, ignorance was assumed to be the necessary
correlative; of being, knowledge?
True, he said.
Then opinion is not concerned either with being or with
not-being?
Not with either.
And can therefore neither be ignorance nor knowledge?
That seems to be true.
But is opinion to be sought without and beyond either of
them, in a greater clearness than knowledge, or in a greater
darkness than ignorance?
In neither.
Then I suppose that opinion appears to you to be darker
than knowledge, but lighter than ignorance?
Both; and in no small degree.
And also to be within and between them?
Yes.
Then you would infer that opinion is intermediate?
No question.
But were we not saying before, that if anything appeared
to be of a sort which is and is not at the same time, that sort
of thing would appear also to lie in the interval between pure
being and absolute not-being; and that the corresponding
THE REPUBLIC
355
479
faculty is neither knowledge nor ignorance, but will be found Republic
in the interval between them?
True.
And in that interval there has now been discovered some-
thing which we call opinion?
There has.
Then what remains to be discovered is the object which
partakes equally of the nature of being and not-being, and
cannot rightly be termed either, pure and simple; this
unknown term, when discovered, we may truly call the
subject of opinion, and assign each to their proper faculty,—
the extremes to the faculties of the extremes and the mean to
the faculty of the mean.
True.
Ꮴ .
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
the one and
the rela
tiveness of
the many.
This being premised, I would ask the gentleman who is of The abso
opinion that there is no absolute or unchangeable idea of luteness of
beauty-in whose opinion the beautiful is the manifold-he,
I say, your lover of beautiful sights, who cannot bear to be
told that the beautiful is one, and the just is one, or that any-
thing is one to him I would appeal, saying, Will you be so
very kind, sir, as to tell us whether, of all these beautiful
things, there is one which will not be found ugly; or of the
just, which will not be found unjust; or of the holy, which
will not also be unholy?
No, he replied; the beautiful will in some point of view be
found ugly; and the same is true of the rest.
And may not the many which are doubles be also halves?
-doubles, that is, of one thing, and halves of another?
Quite true.
And things great and small, heavy and light, as they are
termed, will not be denoted by these any more than by the
opposite names?
True; both these and the opposite names will always
attach to all of them.
And can any one of those many things which are called by
particular names be said to be this rather than not to be
this?
He replied: They are like the punning riddles which are
asked at feasts or the children's puzzle about the eunuch
356
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
V.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON
Republic aiming at the bat, with what he hit him, as they say in the
puzzle, and upon what the bat was sitting. The individual
objects of which I am speaking are also a riddle, and have a
double sense: nor can you fix them in your mind, either as
being or not-being, or both, or neither.
Opinion is
the know-
ledge, not
of the abso-
lute, but of
the many.
Then what will you do with them? I said. Can they have
a better place than between being and not-being? For they
are clearly not in greater darkness or negation than not-
being, or more full of light and existence than being.
That is quite true, he said.
Thus then we seem to have discovered that the many ideas
which the multitude entertain about the beautiful and about
all other things are tossing about in some region which is
half-way between pure being and pure not-being?
We have.
Yes; and we had before agreed that anything of this kind
which we might find was to be described as matter of
opinion, and not as matter of knowledge; being the inter-
mediate flux which is caught and detained by the interme-
diate faculty.
Quite true.
Then those who see the many beautiful, and who yet
neither see absolute beauty, nor can follow any guide who
points the way thither; who see the many just, and not
absolute justice, and the like, such persons may be said to
have opinion but not knowledge?
That is certain.
But those who see the absolute and eternal and immutable
may be said to know, and not to have opinion only?
Neither can that be denied.
The one love and embrace the subjects of knowledge, the
other those of opinion? The latter are the same, as I dare
say you will remember, who listened to sweet sounds and 480
gazed upon fair colours, but would not tolerate the existence
of absolute beauty.
Yes, I remember.
Shall we then be guilty of any impropriety in calling them
lovers of opinion rather than lovers of wisdom, and will they
be very angry with us for thus describing them?
THE REPUBLIC
357
I shall tell them not to be angry; no man should be angry Republic
at what is true.
But those who love the truth in each thing are to be called
lovers of wisdom and not lovers of opinion.
V.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
Assuredly.
Republic
VI.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
If we had
time, we
might have
a nearer
view of the
true and
false philos-
opher.
Which of
them shall
be our
guardians?
A question
hardly to
be asked.
BOOK VI
And thus, Glaucon, after the argument has gone a weary
way, the true and the false philosophers have at length ap-
peared in view.
I do not think, he said, that the way could have been
shortened.
I suppose not, I said; and yet I believe that we might
have had a better view of both of them if the discussion
could have been confined to this one subject and if there
were not many other questions awaiting us, which he who
desires to see in what respect the life of the just differs from
that of the unjust must consider.
And what is the next question? he asked.
Surely, I said, the one which follows next in order. In-
asmuch as philosophers only are able to grasp the eternal
and unchangeable, and those who wander in the region of
the many and variable are not philosophers, I must ask you
which of the two classes should be the rulers of our State?
And how can we rightly answer that question?
Whichever of the two are best able to guard the laws and
institutions of our State---let them be our guardians.
Very good.
Neither, I said, can there be any question that the guardian
who is to keep anything should have eyes rather than no
eyes?
There can be no question of that.
And are not those who are verily and indeed wanting in
the knowledge of the true being of each thing, and who have
in their souls no clear pattern, and are unable as with a
painter's eye to look at the absolute truth and to that original
to repair, and having perfect vision of the other world to
order the laws about beauty, goodness, justice in this, if not
already ordered, and to guard and preserve the order of
them are not such persons, I ask, simply blind?
484
358
THE REPUBLIC
359
Truly, he replied, they are much in that condition.
Republic
VI.
SOCRATES,
And shall they be our guardians when there are others
who, besides being their equals in experience and falling GLAUCON
short of them in no particular of virtue, also know the very
truth of each thing?
There can be no reason, he said, for rejecting those who
485 have this greatest of all great qualities; they must always
have the first place unless they fail in some other respect.
Suppose then, I said, that we determine how far they can
unite this and the other excellences.
By all means.
opher is a
lover of
truth and
of all true
In the first place, as we began by observing, the nature of The philos
the philosopher has to be ascertained. We must come to an
understanding about him, and, when we have done so, then,
if I am not mistaken, we shall also acknowledge that such an
union of qualities is possible, and that those in whom they
are united, and those only, should be rulers in the State.
What do you mean?
Let us suppose that philosophical minds always love know-
ledge of a sort which shows them the eternal nature not
varying from generation and corruption.
Agreed.
And further, I said, let us agree that they are lovers of all
true being; there is no part whether greater or less, or more
or less honourable, which they are willing to renounce; as
we said before of the lover and the man of ambition.
True.
And if they are to be what we were describing, is there
not another quality which they should also possess?
What quality?
Truthfulness: they will never intentionally receive into
their mind falsehood, which is their detestation, and they will
love the truth.
Yes, that may be safely affirmed of them.
'May be,' my friend, I replied, is not the word; say, rather,
'must be affirmed': for he whose nature is amorous of any-
thing cannot help loving all that belongs or is akin to the
object of his affections.
Right, he said.
And is there anything more akin to wisdom than truth?
being.
360
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VI.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
He will be
absorbed in
the plea-
sures of the
soul, and
therefore
temperate
and the re-
verse of
covetous
or mean.
In the mag-
nificence of
his contem-
plations he
will not
think much
of human
life.
How can there be?
Can the same nature be a lover of wisdom and a lover of
falsehood?
Never.
The true lover of learning then must from his earliest
youth, as far as in him lies, desire all truth?
Assuredly.
But then again, as we know by experience, he whose
desires are strong in one direction will have them weaker in
others; they will be like a stream which has been drawn
off into another channel.
True.
He whose desires are drawn toward knowledge in every
form will be absorbed in the pleasures of the soul, and
will hardly feel bodily pleasure-I mean, if he be a true
philosopher and not a sham one.
That is most certain.
Such an
of covetous;
one is sure to be temperate and the reverse
for the motives which make another man
desirous of having and spending, have no place in his
character.
Very true.
Another criterion of the philosophical nature has also to be 486
considered.
What is that?
There should be no secret corner of illiberality; nothing
can be more antagonistic than meanness to a soul which
is ever longing after the whole of things both divine and
human.
Most true, he replied.
Then how can he who has magnificence of mind and is the
spectator of all time and all existence, think much of human
life?
He cannot.
Or can such an one account death fearful?
No indeed.
Then the cowardly and mean nature has no part in true
philosophy?
Certainly not.
Or again: can he who is harmoniously constituted, who is
THE REPUBLIC
361
not covetous or mean, or a boaster, or a coward-can he, Republic
I say, ever be unjust or hard in his dealings?
Impossible.
VI.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
Then you will soon observe whether a man is just and
gentle or rude and unsociable; these are the signs which He will be
distinguish even in youth the philosophical nature from the of a gentle,
unphilosophical.
True.
There is another point which should be remarked.
What point?
Whether he has or has not a pleasure in learning; for
no one will love that which gives him pain, and in which
after much toil he makes little progress.
Certainly not.
And again, if he is forgetful and retains nothing of what
he learns, will he not be an empty vessel?
That is certain.
Labouring in vain, he must end in hating himself and
his fruitless occupation?
Yes.
Then a soul which forgets cannot be ranked among genuine
philosophic natures; we must insist that the philosopher
should have a good memory?
Certainly.
And once more, the inharmonious and unseemly nature can
only tend to disproportion?
Undoubtedly.
And do you consider truth to be akin to proportion or
to disproportion?
To proportion.
Then, besides other qualities, we must try to find a naturally
well-proportioned and gracious mind, which will move spon-
taneously toward the true being of everything.
Certainly.
Well, and do not all these qualities, which we have been
enumerating, go together, and are they not, in a manner,
necessary to a soul which is to have a full and perfect
participation of being?
487 They are absolutely necessary, he replied.
And must not that be a blameless study which he only can
sociable,
harmoni-
ous nature;
a lover of
learning,
having a
good mem-
ory and
moving
spontane-
ously in the
world of
being.
362
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VI.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON,
ADEIMANTUS.
Conclu-
sion:
What a
blameless
study then
is phi-
losophy!
Nay, says
Adeiman-
tus, you
can prove
anything,
but your
hearers are
uncon-
vinced all
the same.
Common
opinion
declares
philoso-
phers to
be either
rogues or
useless.
Socrates,
instead of
denying
this state-
ment, ad-
mits the
truth of it.
pursue who has the gift of a good memory, and is quick
to learn, noble, gracious, the friend of truth, justice, courage,
temperance, who are his kindred?
The god of jealousy himself, he said, could find no fault
with such a study.
And to men like him, I said, when perfected by years and
education, and to these only you will entrust the State.
Here Adeimantus interposed and said: To these state-
ments. Socrates, no one can offer a reply; but when talk
you
in this way, a strange feeling passes over the minds of your
hearers: They fancy that they are led astray a little at
each step in the argument, owing to their own want of skill
in asking and answering questions; these littles accumulate,
and at the end of the discussion they are found to have
sustained a mighty overthrow and all their former notions
appear to be turned upside down. And as unskilful players
of draughts are at last shut up by their more skilful adver-
saries and have no piece to move, so they too find themselves
shut up at last; for they have nothing to say in this new
game of which words are the counters; and yet all the time
they are in the right. The observation is suggested to me by
what is now occurring. For any one of us might say, that
although in words he is not able to meet you at each step of
the argument, he sees as a fact that the votaries of philosophy,
when they carry on the study, not only in youth as a part of
education, but as the pursuit of their maturer years, most
of them become strange monsters, not to say utter rogues, and
that those who may be considered the best of them are made
useless to the world by the very study which you extol.
Well, and do you think that those who say so are wrong?
I cannot tell, he replied; but I should like to know what is
your opinion.
Hear my answer; I am of opinion that they are quite right.
Then how can you be justified in saying that cities will not
cease from evil until philosophers rule in them, when philoso
phers are acknowledged by us to be of no use to them?
You ask a question, I said, to which a reply can only
be given in a parable.
Yes, Socrates; and that is a way of speaking to which you
are not at all accustomed, I suppose.
THE REPUBLIC
363
VI.
I perceive, I said, that you are vastly amused at having Republic
plunged me into such a hopeless discussion; but now hear SOCRATES.
488 the parable, and then you will be still more amused at the
meagreness of my imagination: for the manner in which the
best men are treated in their own States is so grievous that A parable.
no single thing on earth is comparable to it; and therefore, if
captain
senses are
rather dull
(the people
in their
better
mutinous
crew (the
mob of
politicians);
and the
pilot (the
true philo-
sopher).
I am to plead their cause, I must have recourse to fiction, and
put together a figure made up of many things, like the
fabulous unions of goats and stags which are found in
pictures. Imagine then a fleet or a ship in which there is The noble
a captain who is taller and stronger than any of the crew, but whose
he is a little deaf and has a similar infirmity in sight, and
his knowledge of navigation is not much better. The
sailors are quarrelling with one another about the steering-
every one is of opinion that he has a right to steer, though he mind); the
has never learned the art of navigation and cannot tell who
taught him or when he learned, and will further assert that
it cannot be taught, and they are ready to cut in pieces any
one who says the contrary. They throng about the captain,
begging and praying him to commit the helm to them; and if
at any time they do not prevail, but others are preferred
to them, they kill the others or throw them overboard, and
having first chained up the noble captain's senses with drink
or some narcotic drug, they mutiny and take possession of
the ship and make free with the stores; thus, eating and
drinking, they proceed on their voyage in such manner as
might be expected of them. Him who is their partisan
and cleverly aids them in their plot for getting the ship out
of the captain's hands into their own whether by force or
persuasion, they compliment with the name of sailor, pilot,
able seaman, and abuse the other sort of man, whom they call
a good-for-nothing, not realizing that the true pilot must pay
attention to the year and seasons and sky and stars and winds,
and whatever else belongs to his art, if he intends to be really
qualified for the command of a ship. But art or system of
how to steer, let alone whether people wish him to steer or
no, that they think it impossible to acquire, and therewithal
the art of steering.¹ Now in vessels which are in a state of
[¹ J.'s interpretation is different. The translation given above is that
of J. Adam.]
364
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VI.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
The inter-
pretation.
The use
lessness of
philoso-
phers ariser
out of the
unwilling-
ness of
mankind to
make use
of them.
The real
enemies of
philosophy
are her
professing
followers.
mutiny and by sailors who are mutineers, how will the true
pilot be regarded? Will he not be called by them a prater,
a star-gazer, a good-for-nothing?
Of course, said Adeimantus.
Then you will hardly need, I said, to hear the interpretation
of the figure, which describes the true philosopher in his
relation to the State; for you understand already.
Certainly.
Then suppose you now take this parable to the gentleman
who is surprised at finding that philosophers have no honour
in their cities; explain it to him and try to convince him that
their having honour would be far more extraordinary.
I will.
Say to him, that, in deeming the best votaries of philo-
sophy to be useless to the rest of the world, he is right; but
also tell him to attribute their uselessness to the fault of
those who will not use them, and not to themselves. The
pilot should not humbly beg the sailors to be commanded by
him that is not the order of nature; neither are 'the wise
to go to the doors of the rich'-the ingenious author of this
saying told a lie-but the truth is, that, when a man is ill,
whether he be rich or poor, to the physician he must go, and
he who wants to be governed, to him who is able to govern.
The ruler who is good for anything ought not to beg his
subjects to be ruled by him; although the present governors
of mankind are of a different stamp; they may be justly
compared to the mutinous sailors, and the true helmsmen to
those who are called by them good-for-nothings and star-
gazers.
Precisely so, he said.
For these reasons, and among men like these, philosophy,
the noblest pursuit of all, is not likely to be much esteemed
by those of the opposite faction; not that the greatest and
most lasting injury is done to her by her opponents, but
by her own professing followers, the same of whom you
suppose the accuser to say that the greater number of them
are arrant rogues, and the best are useless; in which opinion
I agreed.
Yes.
THE REPUBLIC
365
And the reason why the good are useless has now been Republic
explained?
'True.
VI.
Socrates,
ADEIMANTUS
Then shall we proceed to show that the corruption of the
majority is also unavoidable, and that this is not to be laid to The cor-
the charge of philosophy any more than the other?
By all means.
And let us ask and answer in turn, first going back to the
490 description of the gentle and noble nature.
Truth, as you
will remember, was his leader, whom he followed always and
in all things; failing in this, he was an impostor, and had no
part or lot in true philosophy.
Yes, that was said.
Well, and is not this one quality, to mention no others,
greatly at variance with present notions of him?
Certainly, he said.
ruption of
philosophy
due to
many
causes.
But before
considering
re-enume-
this, let us
rate the
qualities of
And have we not a right to say in his defence, that the
true lover of knowledge is always striving after being-that
is his nature; he will not rest in the multiplicity of in-
dividuals which is an appearance only, but will go on-the
keen edge will not be blunted, nor the force of his desire the philoso-
abate until he have attained the knowledge of the true nature pher:
of every essence by a sympathetic and kindred power in the
soul, and by that power drawing near and mingling and
becoming incorporate with very being, having begotten
mind and truth, he will have knowledge and will live and
grow truly, and then, and not till then, will he cease from his
travail.
Nothing, he said, can be more just than such a description
of him.
his love of
of truth,
And will the love of a lie be any part of a philosopher's essence,
nature? Will he not utterly hate a lie?
He will.
of justice,
besides his
other
And when truth is the captain, we cannot suspect any evil virtues and
of the band which he leads?
Impossible.
Justice and health of mind will be of the company, and
temperance will follow after?
natural
gifts.
True, he replied.
Neither is there any reason why I should again set in array
366
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VI.
Socrates,
ADEIMANTUS.
The rea-
sons why
philosophi.
cal natures
so easily
deteriorate.
(1) There
are but a
few of
them;
(2) and they
may be dis-
tracted
from philo-
sophy by
their own
virtues;
the philosopher's virtues, insisting on their necessity,¹ as you
will doubtless remember that courage, magnificence, appre-
hension, memory, were his natural gifts. And you objected
that, although no one could deny what I then said, still, if
you leave words and look at facts, the persons who are thus
described are some of them manifestly useless, and the greater
number utterly depraved; we were then led to enquire into
the grounds of these accusations, and have now arrived at
the point of asking why are the majority bad, and for this
reason we again referred to and defined the nature of the
true philosopher as it must of necessity be.²
Exactly.
2
And we have next to consider the corruptions of the philo-
sophic nature, why so many are spoiled and so few escape
spoiling-I am speaking of those who were said to be useless.
but not wicked-and, when we have done with them, we will 491
speak of the imitators of philosophy, what manner of men
are they who aspire after a profession which is above them
and of which they are unworthy, and then, by their manifold
inconsistencies, bring upon philosophy, and upon all philo-
sophers, that universal reprobation of which we speak.
What are these corruptions? he said.
I will see if I can explain them to you. Every one will
admit that a nature having in perfection all the qualities
which we required in a philosopher, is a rare plant which
is seldom seen among men.
Rare indeed.
And what numberless and powerful causes tend to destroy
these rare natures!
What causes?
In the first place there are their own virtues, their courage,
temperance, and the rest of them, every one of which praise-
worthy qualities (and this is a most singular circumstance)
destroys and distracts from philosophy the soul which is the
possessor of them.
That is very singular, he replied.
Then there are all the ordinary goods of life—beauty,
[¹ J. omits the Greek word translated in these four words.]
[2 J. has 'which question of necessity brought us back to the ex-
amination and definition of the true philosopher.']
THE REPUBLIC
367
492
wealth, strength, rank, and great connections in the State
you understand the sort of things-these also have a cor-
rupting and distracting effect.
I understand; but I should like to know more precisely
what you mean about them.
Republic
VI.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
and also,
Grasp the truth as a whole, I said, and in the right way; ordinary
(3), by the
you will then have no difficulty in apprehending the preceding goods of
remarks, and they will no longer appear strange to you.
And how am I to do so? he asked.
Why, I said, we know that all germs or seeds, whether
vegetable or animal, when they fail to meet with proper
nutriment or climate or soil, in proportion to their vigour,
are all the more sensitive to the want of a suitable environ-
ment, for evil is a greater enemy to what is good than to
what is not.
Very true.
There is reason in supposing that the finest natures, when
under alien conditions, receive more injury than the inferior,
because the contrast is greater.
Certainly.
And may we not say, Adeimantus, that the most gifted
minds, when they are ill-educated, become pre-eminently bad?
Do not great crimes and the spirit of pure evil spring out of
a fulness of nature ruined by education rather than from any
inferiority, whereas weak natures are scarcely capable of any
very great good or very great evil?
There I think that you are right.
life.
(4) The
tures more
finer na-
liable to
injury than
the inferior.
are not cor-
rupted by
private
sophists,
but com-
pelled by
the opinion
And our philosopher follows the same analogy-he is like (5) They
a plant which, having proper nurture, must necessarily grow
and mature into all virtue, but, if sown and planted in an
alien soil, becomes the most noxious of all weeds, unless he
be preserved by some divine power. Do you really think, as
people so often say, that our youth are corrupted by Sophists,
or that private teachers of the art corrupt them in any degree
worth speaking of? Are not the public who say these things
the greatest of all Sophists? And do they not educate to
perfection young and old, men and women alike, and fashion
them after their own hearts?
When is this accomplished? he said.
When they meet together, and the world sits down at an
of the
world meet-
assembly
or in some
ing in the
other place
of resort.
368
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VI.
Socrates,
ADEIMANTUS
(6) The
other com-
pulsion-of
violence
and death.
They must
assembly, or in a court of law, or a theatre, or a camp, or in
any other popular resort, and there is a great uproar, and
they praise some things which are being said or done, and
blame other things, equally exaggerating both, shouting and
clapping their hands, and the echo of the rocks and the place
in which they are assembled redoubles the sound of the
praise or blame-at such a time will not a young man's
heart, as they say, leap within him? Will any private train-
ing enable him to stand firm against the overwhelming flood
of popular opinion? or will he be carried away by the
stream? Will he not have the notions of good and evil
which the public in general have—he will do as they do, and
as they are, such will he be?
Yes, Socrates; necessity will compel him.
And yet, I said, there is a still greater necessity, which
has not been mentioned.
What is that?
The gentle force of attainder or confiscation or death,
which, as you are aware, these new Sophists and educators,
who are the public, apply when their words are powerless.
Indeed they do; and in right good earnest.
Now what opinion of any other Sophist, or of any private
person, can be expected to overcome in such an unequal
contest?
None, he replied.
No, indeed, I said, even to make the attempt is a great
if at all, by piece of folly; for there neither, is, nor has been, nor is ever
be saved,
the power
of God.
likely to be, any different type of character produced by an
education opposed to that of public opinion¹-I speak, my
friend, of human virtue only; what is more than human, as
the proverb says, is not included: for I would not have you
ignorant that, in the present evil state of governments, what-
ever is saved and comes to good is saved by the power of
God, as we may truly say.
I quite assent, he replied.
Then let me crave your assent also to a further observation.
What are you going to say?
Why, that all those mercenary individuals, whom the many
[¹ J. has 'which has had no other training in virtue but that which is
supplied by public opinion.']
493
THE REPUBLIC
369
VI.
ADEIMANTUS.
behaviour
and temper
looked at
(the people
from their
worse side).
call Sophists and whom they deem to be their adversaries, do, Republic
in fact, teach nothing but the opinion of the many, that is
to say, the opinions of their assemblies; and this is their SOCRATES,
wisdom. I might compare them to a man who should study
the tempers and desires of a mighty strong beast who is fed The great
by him he would learn how to approach and handle him, brute; his
also at what times and from what causes he is dangerous
or the reverse, and what is the meaning of his several cries,
and by what sounds, when another utters them, he is soothed
or infuriated; and you may suppose further, that when,
by continually attending upon him, he has become perfect in
all this he calls his knowledge wisdom, and makes of it a
system or art, which he proceeds to teach, although he has
no real notion of what he means by the principles or
passions of which he is speaking, but calls this honourable
and that dishonourable, or good or evil, or just or unjust,
all in accordance with the tastes and tempers of the great
brute. Good he pronounces to be that in which the beast
delights and evil to be that which he dislikes; and he can
give no other account of them, but calls what is compulsory
just and good, having never himself seen, and having no
power of explaining to others the nature of either or the
difference between them, which is immense. By heaven,
would not such an one be a rare educator?
Indeed he would.
associates
with the
And in what way does he who thinks that wisdom is
the discernment of the tempers and tastes of the motley
multitude, whether in painting or music, or, finally, in politics,
differ from him whom I have been describing? For when a He who
man consorts with the many, and exhibits to them his poem
or other work of art or the service which he has done the
State, making them his judges when he is not obliged, the
so-called necessity of Diomede will oblige him to produce
whatever they praise. And yet as proof that these things are
really honourable and good, did you ever hear from one of pleases
them an argument that was not absurd?²
[¹ J. has 'except that the just and noble are the necessary.']
[2 J. has 'And yet the reasons are utterly ludicrous which they give in
confirmation of their own notions about the honourable and good. Did
you ever hear any of them which were not?']
people will
conform to
and will
their tastes
produce
only what
them.
370
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VI.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
The youth
who has
great
bodily and
mental gifts
will be
flattered
from his
childhood,
No, nor am I likely to hear.
You recognize the truth of what I have been saying? Then
let me ask you to consider further whether the world will
ever be induced to believe in the existence of absolute beauty
rather than of the many beautiful, or of the absolute in each 494
kind rather than of the many in each kind?
Certainly not.
Then the world cannot possibly be a philosopher?
Impossible.
And therefore philosophers must inevitably fall under the
censure of the world?
They must.
And of individuals who consort with the mob and seek
to please them?
That is evident.
Then, do you see any way in which the philosopher can
be preserved in his calling to the end? and remember what
we were saying of him, that he was to have quickness and
memory and courage and magnificence-these were admitted
by us to be the true philosopher's gifts.
Yes.
Will not such an one from his early childhood be in all
things first among all, especially if his bodily endowments
are like his mental ones?
Certainly, he said.
And his friends and fellow-citizens will want to use him as
he gets older for their own purposes?
No question.
Falling at his feet, they will make requests to him and
do him honour and flatter him, because they want to get into
their hands now the power which he will one day possess.
That often happens, he said.
And what will a man such as he is be likely to do under
such circumstances, especially if he be a citizen of a great
city, rich and noble, and a tall proper youth? Will he not be
full of boundless aspirations, and fancy himself able to manage
the affairs of Hellenes and of barbarians, and having got such
notions into his head will he not dilate and elevate himself
in the fulness of vain pomp and senseless pride?
To be sure he will.
THE REPUBLIC
371
495
VI.
Socrates,
Now, when he is in this state of mind, if some one gently Republic
comes to him and tells him that he is a fool and must get
understanding, which can only be got by slaving for it, do you ADEIMANTUS.
think that, under such adverse circumstances, he will be easily
induced to listen?
Far otherwise.
and being
incapable
of having
reason, will
away from
And even if there be some one who through inherent be easily
goodness or natural reasonableness has had his eyes opened drawn
a little and is humbled and taken captive by philosophy, how philoso-
will his friends behave when they think that they are likely to phy.
lose the advantage which they were hoping to reap from his
companionship? Will they not do and say anything to
prevent him from yielding to his better nature and to render
his teacher powerless, using to this end private intrigues as
well as public prosecutions?
There can be no doubt of it.
And how can one who is thus circumstanced ever become
a philosopher?
Impossible.
which
make a
man
losopher
may also
divert him
losophy.
from phi-
Then were we not right in saying that even the very The very
qualities which make a man a philosopher may, if he be ill- qualities
educated, divert him from philosophy, no less than riches and
their accompaniments and the other so-called goods of life?
We were quite right.
Thus, my excellent friend, is brought about all that ruin
and failure which I have been describing of the natures best
adapted to the best of all pursuits; they are natures which
we maintain to be rare at any time; this being the class Great na-
out of which come the men who are the authors of the
greatest evil to States and individuals; and also of the ble, either
greatest good when the tide carries them in that direction;
but a small man never was the doer of any great thing either great evil.
to individuals or to States.
That is most true, he said.
And so philosophy is left desolate, with her marriage rite
incomplete: for her own have fallen away and forsaken her,
and while they are leading a false and unbecoming life, other
unworthy persons, seeing that she has no kinsmen to be her
protectors, enter in and dishonour her; and fasten upon her
the reproaches which, as you say, her reprovers utter, who
tures alone
are capa-
of great
good, or
372
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VI.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS
The attrac-
tiveness of
philosophy
to the vul-
gar.
The mésal-
liance of
philoso-
phy.
Few are
the worthy
disciples:
affirm of her votaries that some are good for nothing, and
that the greatest number deserve the severest punishment.
That is certainly what people say.
Yes; and what else would you expect, I said, when you
think of the puny creatures who, seeing this land open to
them a land well stocked with fair names and showy titles-
like prisoners running out of prison into a sanctuary, take
a leap out of their trades into philosophy; those who do so
being probably the cleverest hands at their own miserable
crafts? For, although philosophy be in this evil case, still
there remains a dignity about her which is not to be found
in the arts. And many are thus attracted by her whose
natures are imperfect and whose souls are maimed and
disfigured by their meannesses, as their bodies are by their
trades and crafts. Is not this unavoidable?
Yes.
Are they not exactly like a bald little tinker who has just
got out of durance and come into a fortune; he takes a bath
and puts on a new coat, and is decked out as a bridegroom
going to marry his master's daughter, who is left poor and
desolate?
A most exact parallel.
What will be the issue of such marriages? Will they not
be vile and bastard?
There can be no question of it.
And when persons who are unworthy of education approach
philosophy and make an alliance with her who is in a rank
above them, what sort of ideas and opinions are likely to be
generated? Will they not deserve to be called sophisms, hav-
ing nothing in them genuine, or worthy of or akin to true
wisdom?
No doubt, he said.
Then, Adeimantus, I said, the worthy disciples of philosophy
will be but a small remnant: perchance some noble and well-
educated person, detained by exile in her service, who in the
absence of corrupting influences remains devoted to her; or
some lofty soul born in a mean city, the politics of which he
contemns and neglects; and there may be a gifted few who
leave the arts, which they justly despise, and come to her;-
or peradventure there are some who are restrained by our
496
THE REPUBLIC
373
friend Theages' bridle; for everything in the life of Theages Republic
VI.
conspired to divert him from philosophy; but ill-health kept SOCRATES,
him away from politics. My own case of the internal sign ADEIMANTUS
is hardly worth mentioning, for rarely, if ever, has such a
monitor been given to any other man. Those who belong
are unable
to resist
ness of the
to this small class have tasted how sweet and blessed a
possession philosophy is, and have also seen enough of the
madness of the multitude; and they know that no politician
is honest, nor is there any champion of justice at whose side.
they may fight and be saved. Such an one may be com- and these
pared to a man who has fallen among wild beasts-he will
not join in the wickedness of his fellows, but neither is he the mad-
able singly to resist all their fierce natures, and therefore world;
seeing that he would be of no use to the State or to his
friends, and reflecting that he would have to throw away his
life without doing any good either to himself or others, he
holds his peace, and goes his own way.
He is like one who,
in the storm of dust and sleet which the driving wind hurries
along, retires under the shelter of a wall; and seeing the rest
of mankind full of wickedness, he is content, if only he can
live his own life and be pure from evil or unrighteousness,
and depart in peace and good-will, with bright hopes.
Yes, he said, and he will have done a great work before he own life.
departs.
A great work-yes; but not the greatest, unless he find
497 a State suitable to him; for in a State which is suitable to
him, he will have a larger growth and be the saviour of his
country, as well as of himself.
504
[No existing state is suited to philosophy; therefore society
must be taught how to use philosophy without being ruined,—
no slight risk, but 'hard is the good. It must learn to dis-
tinguish between true philosophers and charlatans; and
philosophers, in turn, must be compelled to use their knowledge
for the good of society. But for this high office they will
need special qualities and a more extended training.]
The guardian then, I said, must be required to take the
longer circuit, and toil at learning as well as at gymnastics,
or he will never reach the highest knowledge of all, which,
as we were just now saying, is his proper calling.
they there-
order to
escape the
shelter
fore in
storm take
behind a
wall and
live their
The guard-
ian must
longer road
of the
take the
higher
learning,
374
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VI.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
which leads
upwards at
last to the
idea of
good.
But what is
the good?
Some say
pleasure,
others
knowledge,
which they
absurdly
explain to
mean
knowledge
of the good.
What, he said, is there a knowledge still higher than this
-higher than justice and the other virtues?
Yes, I said, there is. And of the virtues, too, we must be-
hold not the outline merely, as at present-nothing short of
the most finished picture should satisfy us. When little things
are elaborated with an infinity of pains, in order that they
may appear in their full beauty and utmost clearness, how
ridiculous that we should not think the highest truths worthy
of attaining the highest accuracy!
Yes; but do you suppose that we shall refrain from asking
you what is this highest knowledge?
Nay, I said, ask if you will; but I am certain that you have
heard the answer many times, and now you either do not
understand me or, as I rather think, you are disposed to be
troublesome; for you have often been told that the idea of 505
good is the highest knowledge, and that all other things
become useful and advantageous only by their use of this.
You can hardly be ignorant that of this I was about to
speak, concerning which, as you have often heard me say,
we know so little; and, without which, any other knowledge
or possession of any kind will profit us nothing. Do you
think that the possession of all other things is of any value
if we do not possess the good? or the knowledge of all other
things if we have no knowledge of beauty and goodness?
Assuredly not.
You are further aware that most people affirm pleasure to
be the good, but the finer sort of wits say it is knowledge?
Yes.
And you are aware too that the latter cannot explain what
they mean by knowledge, but are obliged after all to say
knowledge of the good?
How ridiculous!
Yes, I said, that they should begin by reproaching us with
our ignorance of the good, and then presume our knowledge
of it for the good they define to be knowledge of the good,
just as if we understood them when they use the term 'good'
-this is of course ridiculous.
Most true, he said.
And those who make pleasure their good are in equal
THE REPUBLIC
375
perplexity; for they are compelled to admit that there are Republic
bad pleasures as well as good.
Certainly.
And therefore to acknowledge that bad and good are the
same?
True.
There can be no doubt about the numerous difficulties in
which this question is involved.
There can be none.
Further, do we not see that many are willing to do or to
have or to seem to be what is just and honourable without
the reality; but no one is satisfied with the appearance of
good-the reality is what they seek; in the case of the good,
appearance is despised by every one.
Very true, he said.
VI.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
pursues the
without
knowing
good, but
the nature
Of this, then, which every soul of man pursues and makes Every man
the end of all his actions, having a presentiment that there is
such an end, and yet hesitating because neither knowing the
506 nature nor having the same assurance of this as of other
things, and therefore losing whatever good there is in other
things, of a principle such and so great as this ought the
best men in our State, to whom everything is entrusted, to
be in the darkness of ignorance?
Certainly not, he said.
I am sure, I said, that he who does not know how the
beautiful and the just are likewise good will be but a sorry
guardian of them; and I suspect that no one who is ignorant
of the good will have a true knowledge of them.
That, he said, is a shrewd suspicion of yours.
And if we only have a guardian who has this knowledge
our State will be perfectly ordered?
you
of it.
would tell me The guard-
Of course, he replied; but I wish that
whether you conceive this supreme principle of the good to ian ought
be knowledge or pleasure, or different from either?
Aye, I said, I quite well knew from the very first that you
would not be contented with the thoughts of other people about
these matters.
True, Socrates; but I must say that one who like you has
passed a lifetime in the study of philosophy should not be
to know
these
things.
376
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VI.
always repeating the opinions of others, and never telling
his own.
SOCRATES, Well, but has any one a right to say positively what he
ADEIMANTUS,
GLAUCON.
We can
only attain
to the
things of
mind
through
the things
of sense.
The 'child'
of the
good.
does not know?
No, he said with the assurance of positive certainty, he
has no right to do that: but he may say what he thinks, as a
matter of opinion.
And do you not know, I said, that all mere opinions are
bad, and the best of them blind? You would not deny that
those who have any true notion without intelligence are only
like blind men who feel their way along the road?
Very true.
And do you wish to behold what is blind and crooked and
base, when others will tell you of brightness and beauty?
Still, I must implore you, Socrates, said Glaucon, not to
turn away just as you are reaching the goal; if you will only
give such an explanation of the good as you have already
given of justice and temperance and the other virtues, we
shall be satisfied.
Yes, my friend, and I shall be at least equally satisfied, but
I cannot help fearing that I shall fail, and that my indiscreet
zeal will bring ridicule upon me. No, sweet sirs, let us not
at present ask what is the actual nature of the good, for to
reach what is now in my thoughts would be an effort too
But of the child of the good who is likest him,
I would fain speak, if I could be sure that you wished to
hear otherwise, not.
great for me.
By all means, he said, tell us about the child, and you shall
remain in our debt for the account of the parent.
I do indeed wish, I replied, that I could pay, and you 507
receive, the account of the parent, and not, as now, of the
offspring only; take, however, this latter by way of interest,'
and at the same time have a care that I do not render a false
account, although I have no intention of deceiving you.
Yes, we will take all the care that we can: proceed.
Yes, I said, but I must first come to an understanding with
you, and remind you of what I have mentioned in the course
of this discussion, and at many other times.
What?
1 A play upon TÓKоs, which means both 'offspring' and 'interest.'
THE REPUBLIC
377
The old story, that there is a many beautiful and a many Republic
good, and so of other things which we describe and define;
to all of them the term 'many' is applied.
True, he said.
And there is an absolute beauty and an absolute good, and
of other things to which the term 'many' is applied there is
an absolute; for they may be brought under a single idea,
which is called the essence of each.
Very true.
The many, as we say, are seen but not known, and the
ideas are known but not seen.
Exactly.
And what is the organ with which we see the visible
things?
The sight, he said.
And with the hearing, I said, we hear, and with the other
senses perceive the other objects of sense?
True.
But have you remarked that sight is by far the most costly
and complex piece of workmanship which the artificer of the
senses ever contrived?
No, I never have, he said.
Then reflect: has the ear or voice need of any third or
additional nature in order that the one may be able to hear
and the other to be heard?
Nothing of the sort.
No, indeed, I replied; and the same is true of most, if not
all, the other senses-
s-you
would not say that any of them
requires such an addition?
Certainly not.
But you see that without the addition of some other nature
there is no seeing or being seen?
How do you mean?
VI.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS
Sight the
most com-
plex of the
senses,
and, unlike
the other
senses, re-
addition
of a third
Sight being, as I conceive, in the eyes, and he who has
eyes wanting to see; colour being also present in them, still quires the
unless there be a third nature specially adapted to the
purpose, the owner of the eyes will see nothing and the nature be-
colours will be invisible.
Of what nature are you speaking?
Of that which you term light, I replied.
fore it can
be used.
This third
nature is
light.
378
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VI.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
The eye
like the
sun, but
not the
same
with it.
Visible ob-
jects are to
be seen
only when
the sun
shines upon
True, he said.
Noble, then, is the bond which links together sight and 508
visibility, and great beyond other bonds by no small difference
of nature; for light is their bond, and light is no ignoble
thing?
Nay, he said, the reverse of ignoble.
And which I said, of the gods in heaven would you say
Iwas the lord of this element? Whose is that light which
makes the eye to see perfectly and the visible to appear?
You mean the sun, as you and all mankind say.
May not the relation of sight to this deity be described as
follows?
How?
Neither sight nor the eye in which sight resides is the
sun?
No.
Yet of all the organs of sense the eye is the most like the
sun?
By far the most like.
And the power which the eye possesses is a sort of
effluence which is dispensed from the sun?
Exactly.
Then the sun is not sight, but the author of sight who is
recognized by sight?
True, he said.
And this is he whom I call the child of the good, whom the
good begat in his own likeness, to be in the visible world, in
relation to sight and the things of sight, what the good is in the
intellectual world in relation to mind and the things of mind:
Will you be a little more explicit? he said.
Why, you know, I said, that the eyes, when a person
directs them toward objects on which the light of day is
no longer shining, but the moon and stars only, see dimly,
and are nearly blind; they seem to have no clearness of
vision in them?
Very true.
But when they are directed toward objects on which the
sun shines, they see clearly and there is sight in them?
Certainly.
And the soul is like the eye: when resting upon that on
THE REPUBLIC
379
Republic
VI.
Socrates,
is only
known
minated by
the idea of
which truth and being shine, the soul perceives and under-
stands, and is radiant with intelligence; but when turned
toward the twilight of becoming and perishing, then she GLAUCON.
has opinion only, and goes blinking about, and is first of one
opinion and then of another, and seems to have no intelligence? them; truth
Just so.
Now, that which imparts truth to the known and the power when illu-
of knowing to the knower is what I would have you term the
idea of good, and this you will deem to be the cause of science, good.
and of truth in so far as the latter becomes the subject of
knowledge; beautiful too, as are both truth and knowledge,
you will be right in esteeming this other nature as more
509 beautiful than either; and as in the previous instance, light
and sight may be truly said to be like the sun, and yet not to
be the sun, so in this other sphere, science and truth may be
deemed to be like the good, but not the good; the good
has a place of honour yet higher.
What a wonder of beauty that must be, he said, which is the
author of science and truth, and yet surpasses them in beauty;
for you surely cannot mean to say that pleasure is the good?
God forbid, I replied; but may I ask you to consider the
image in another point of view?
In what point of view?
You would say, would you not, that the sun is not only the
author of visibility in all visible things, but of generation and
nourishment and growth, though he himself is not generation?
Certainly.
In like manner the good may be said to be not only the
author of knowledge to all things known, but of their being
and essence, and yet the good is not essence, but far exceeds
essence in dignity and power.
The idea
of good
science or
truth (the
higher than
objective
than the
subjective).
As the sun
is the cause
tion, so the
of genera.
good is the
cause of
Glaucon said, with a ludicrous earnestness: By the light of being and
heaven, how amazing!
[The relation of the stages of knowledge and of their ob-
jects is represented under the image of a line divided into
egments, corresponding respectively to shadows and reflec-
ions, natural and artistic objects, mathematical figures and
umbers, and intelligible ideas; or, again, corresponding to
ensation of shadows, faith (or belief), understanding, and
eason.]
essence.
Republic
VII.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
The den,
the prison-
ers:
the light at
a distance;
the low
wall, and
the moving
figures of
which the
shadows
are seen on
the oppo-
site wall of
the den.
BOOK VII
And now, I said, let me show in a figure how far our
nature is enlightened or unenlightened:-Behold! human 514
beings living in an underground den, which has a mouth
open toward the light and reaching all along the den;
here they have been from their childhood, and have their
legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and
can only see before them, being prevented by the chains
from turning round their heads. Above and behind them
a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the
prisoners there is a raised way; and you will see, if you
look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen which
marionette players have in front of them, over which they
show the puppets.
I see.
And do you see, I said, men passing along the wall carry-
ing all sorts of vessels, and statues and figures of animals
made of wood and stone and various materials, which appear 515
over the wall? Some of them are talking, others silent.
You have shown me a strange image, and they are strange
prisoners.
Like ourselves, I replied; and they see only their own
shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire
throws on the opposite wall of the cave?
True, he said; how could they see anything but the
shadows if they were never allowed to move their heads?
And of the objects which are being carried in like manner
they would only see the shadows?
Yes, he said.
And if they were able to converse with one another, would
they not suppose that they were naming what was actually
before them? ¹
Very true.
1
[1 The text is uncertain: The meaning may be 'would they not suppose
what they saw to be the real things?' G.]
380
THE REPUBLIC
381
VII.
SOCRATES,
And suppose further that the prison had an echo which Republic
came from the other side, would they not be sure to fancy
when one of the passers-by spoke that the voice which they GLAUCON
heard came from the passing shadow?
No question, he replied.
The prison.
To them, I said, the truth would be literally nothing but ers would
the shadows of the images.
That is certain.
At
And now look again, and see what will naturally follow if
the prisoners are released and disabused of their error.
first, when any of them is liberated and compelled suddenly
to stand up and turn his neck round and walk and look
toward the light, he will suffer sharp pains; the glare will
distress him, and he will be unable to see the realities of
which in his former state he had seen the shadows; and
then conceive some one saying to him, that what he saw
before was an illusion, but that now, when he is approaching
nearer to being and his eye is turned toward more real
existence, he has a clearer vision,-what will be his reply?
And you may further imagine that his instructor is pointing
to the objects as they pass and requiring him to name them,
-will he not be perplexed? Will he not fancy that the
shadows which he formerly saw are truer than the objects
which are now shown to him?
Far truer.
And if he is compelled to look straight at the light, will he
not have a pain in his eyes which will make him turn away to
take refuge in the objects of vision which he can see, and
which he will conceive to be in reality clearer than the things
which are now being shown to him?
True, he said.
mistake the
shadows
for realities.
And when
released,
they would
still persist
in main-
taining the
superior
truth of the
shadows.
upwards,
And suppose once more, that he is reluctantly dragged up when
a steep and rugged ascent, and held fast until he is forced dragged
into the presence of the sun himself, is he not likely to be
516 pained and irritated? When he approaches the light his
eyes will be dazzled, and he will not be able to see anything
at all of what are now called realities.
Not all in a moment, he said.
He will require to grow accustomed to the sight of the
upper world. And first he will see the shadows best, next
they would
be dazzled
by excess
of light.
382
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VII.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
At length
they will
see the sun
and under-
stand his
nature.
They would
then pity
their old
compan-
ions of the
'en.
the reflections of men and other objects in the water, and
then the objects themselves; then he will gaze upon the
light of the moon and the stars and the spangled heaven;
and he will see the sky and the stars by night better than the
sun or the light of the sun by day?
Certainly.
Last of all he will be able to see the sun, and not mere
reflections of him in the water, but he will see him in his
own proper place, and not in another; and he will con-
template him as he is.
Certainly.
He will then proceed to argue that this is he who gives
the season and the years, and is the guardian of all that is
in the visible world, and in a certain way the cause of all
things which he and his fellows have been accustomed to
behold?
Clearly, he said, he would first see the sun and then
reason about him.
And when he remembered his old habitation, and the
wisdom of the den and his fellow-prisoners, do you not
suppose that he would felicitate himself on the change, and
pity them?
Certainly, he would.
And if they were in the habit of conferring honours among
themselves on those who were quickest to observe the pass-
ing shadows and to remark which of them went before, and
which followed after, and which were together; and who were
therefore best able to draw conclusions as to the future, do
you think that he would care for such honours and glories,
or envy the possessors of them? Would he not say with
Homer,
'Better to be the poor servant of a poor master,'
and to endure anything, rather than think as they do and
live after their manner?
Yes, he said, I think that he would rather suffer anything
than entertain these false notions and live in this miserable
manner.
Imagine once more, I said, such an one coming suddenly
THE REPUBLIC
383
out of the sun to be replaced in his old situation; would he Republic
not be certain to have his eyes full of darkness?
To be sure, he said.
VII.
Socrates,
GLAUCON.
they re-
turned to
they would
worse than
see much
And if there were a contest, and he had to compete in
measuring the shadows with the prisoners who had never But when
517 moved out of the den, while his sight was still weak, and
before his eyes had become steady (and the time which the den
would be needed to acquire this new habit of sight might be
very considerable), would he not be ridiculous? Men would
say of him that up he went and down he came without his
eyes; and that it was better not even to think of ascending; left it.
and if any one tried to loose another and lead him up to the
light, let them only catch the offender, and they would put
him to death.
No question, he said.
those who
had never
is the world
of sight,
the light of
the sun.
the fire is
This entire allegory, I said, you may now append, dear The prison
Glaucon, to the previous argument; the prison-house is the
world of sight, the light of the fire is the sun, and you will
not misapprehend me if you interpret the journey upwards
to be the ascent of the soul into the intellectual world
according to my poor belief, which, at your desire, I have
expressed whether rightly or wrongly God knows. But,
whether true or false, my opinion is that in the world of
knowledge the idea of good appears last of all, and is seen
only with an effort; and, when seen, is also inferred to be
the universal author of all things beautiful and right, parent
of light and of the lord of light in this visible world, and the
immediate source of reason and truth in the intellectual;
and that this is the power upon which he who would act
rationally either in public or private life must have his eye
fixed.
I agree, he said, as far as I am able to understand you.
Moreover, I said, you must not wonder that those who
attain to this beatific vision are unwilling to descend to
human affairs; for their souls are ever hastening into the
upper world where they desire to dwell; which desire of
theirs is very natural, if our allegory may be trusted.
Yes, very natural.
And is there anything surprising in one who passes from
divine contemplations to the evil state of man, misbehaving
384
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VII.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
Nothing
extraordi-
nary in the
philoso-
pher being
unable to
see in the
dark.
The eyes
may be
blinded in
two ways,
by excess
or by defect
of light.
The con-
version of
the soul is
the turning
round the
eye from
darkness
to light.
himself in a ridiculous manner; if, while his eyes are blinking
and before he has become accustomed to the surrounding
darkness, he is compelled to fight in courts of law, or in
other places, about the images or the shadows of images of
justice, and is endeavouring to meet the conceptions of those
who have never yet seen absolute justice?
Anything but surprising, he replied.
Any one who has common sense will remember that the 518
bewilderments of the eyes are of two kinds, and arise from
two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going
into the light, which is true of the mind's eye, quite as much
as of the bodily eye; and he who remembers this when he
sees any one whose vision is perplexed and weak, will not
be too ready to laugh; he will first ask whether that soul of
man has come out of the brighter life, and is unable to see
because unaccustomed to the dark, or having turned from dark-
ness to the day is dazzled by excess of light. And he will
count the one happy in his condition and state of being, and
he will pity the other; or, if he have a mind to laugh at the
soul which comes from below into the light, there will be
more reason in this than in the laugh which greets him who
returns from above out of the light into the den.
That, he said, is a very just distinction.
But then, if I am right, certain professors of education
must be wrong when they say that they can put a knowledge
into the soul which was not there before, like sight into blind
eyes.
They undoubtedly say this, he replied.
Whereas, our argument shows that the power and capacity
of learning exist in the soul already; and that just as the
eye was unable to turn from darkness to light without the
whole body, so too the instrument of knowledge can only by
the movement of the whole soul be turned from the world of
becoming into that of being, and learn by degrees to endure
the sight of being, and of the brightest and best of being, or
in other words, of the good.
Very true.
And must there not be some art which will effect conver-
sion in the easiest and quickest manner; not implanting the
faculty of sight, for that exists already, but has been turned
THE REPUBLIC
385
in the wrong direction, and is looking away from the truth? Republic
Yes, he said, such an art may be presumed.
And whereas the other so-called virtues of the soul seem to
be akin to bodily qualities, for even when they are not
originally innate they can be implanted later by habit and
exercise, the virtue of wisdom more than anything else con-
tains a divine element which always remains, and by this con-
version is rendered useful and profitable; or, on the other
519 hand, hurtful and useless. Did you never observe the narrow
intelligence flashing from the keen eye of a clever rogue
how eager he is, how clearly his paltry soul sees the way to
his end; he is the reverse of blind, but his keen eye-sight is
forced into the service of evil, and he is mischievous in pro-
portion to his cleverness?
Very true, he said.
But what if there had been a circumcision of such natures
in the days of their youth; and they had been severed from
those sensual pleasures, such as eating and drinking, which,
like leaden weights, were attached to them at their birth, and
which drag them down and turn the vision of their souls upon
the things that are below-if, I say, they had been released
from these impediments and turned in the opposite direction,
the very same faculty in them would have seen the truth as
keenly as they see what their eyes are turned to now.
Very likely.
VII.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
The virtue
of wisdom
has a di-
vine power
which may
be turned
either to-
ward good
or toward
evil.
the unedu
cated nor
the over-
educated
will be
good ser-
Yes, I said; and there is another thing which is likely, or Neither
rather a necessary inference from what has preceded, that
neither the uneducated and uninformed of the truth, nor yet
those who never make an end of their education, will be able
ministers of State; not the former, because they have no single
aim of duty which is the rule of all their actions, private as
well as public; nor the latter, because they will not act at all
except upon compulsion, fancying that they are already dwell-
ing apart in the islands of the blest.
Very true, he replied.
Then, I said, the business of us who are the founders of
the State will be to compel the best minds to attain that
knowledge which we have already shown to be the greatest of
all-thev must continue to ascend until they arrive at the
vants of
the State
386
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VII.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
Men should
ascend to
the upper
world, but
they should
also return
to the
lower.
The duties
of philoso-
phers.
good; but when they have ascended and seen enough we
must not allow them to do as they do now.
What do you mean?
I mean that they remain in the upper world: but this must
not be allowed; they must be made to descend again among
the prisoners in the den, and partake of their labours and
honours, whether they are worth having or not.
But is not this unjust? he said; ought we to give them a
worse life, when they might have a better?
You have again forgotten, my friend, I said, the intention
of the legislator, who did not aim at making any one class in
the State happy above the rest; the happiness was to be in
the whole State, and he held the citizens together by per-
suasion and necessity, making them benefactors of the State,
and therefore benefactors of one another; to this end he 520
created them, not to please themselves, but to be his instru-
ments in binding up the State.
True, he said, I had forgotten.
Observe, Glaucon, that there will be no injustice in com-
pelling our philosophers to have a care and providence of
others; we shall explain to them that in other States, men
of their class are not obliged to share in the toils of politics:
and this is reasonable, for they grow up at their own sweet
will, and the government would rather not have them. Being
self-taught, they cannot be expected to show any gratitude for
a culture which they have never received. But we have
brought you into the world to be rulers of the hive, kings of
yourselves and of the other citizens, and have educated you
far better and more perfectly than they have been educated,
and you are better able to share in the double duty. Where-
fore each of you, when his turn comes, must go down to the
try will in general underground abode, and get the habit of seeing in the
dark. When you have acquired the habit, you will see ten
thousand times better than the inhabitants of the den, and you
will know what the several images are, and what they repre-
sent, because you have seen the beautiful and just and good in
their truth. And thus our State, which is also yours, will be a
reality, and not a dream only, and will be administered in a
spirit unlike that of other States, in which men fight with one
another about shadows only and are distracted in the struggle
Their obli
gations to
their coun-
duce them
to take part
in her gov-
ernment.
THE REPUBLIC
387
for power, which in their eyes is a great good. Whereas the Republic
truth is that the State in which the rulers are most reluctant
to govern is always the best and most quietly governed, and
the State in which they are most eager, the worst.
Quite true, he replied.
And will our pupils, when they hear this, refuse to take
their turn at the toils of State, when they are allowed to spend
the greater part of their time with one another in the heavenly
light?
Impossible, he answered; for they are just men, and the
commands which we impose upon them are just; there can
be no doubt that every one of them will take office as a stern
necessity, and not after the fashion of our present rulers of
State.
VII.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
They will
be willing
but not
anxious to
rule.
man must
be provided
with a
better life
than that
and then
Yes, my friend, I said; and there lies the point. You The states-
521 must contrive for your future rulers another and a better life
than that of a ruler, and then you may have a well-ordered
State; for only in the State which offers this, will they rule
who are truly rich, not in silver and gold, but in virtue and of a ruler;
wisdom, which are the true blessings of life. Whereas if he will not
they go to the administration of public affairs, poor and covet office.
hungering after their own private advantage, thinking that
hence they are to snatch the chief good, order there can never
be; for they will be fighting about office, and the civil and
domestic broils which thus arise will be the ruin of the rulers
themselves and of the whole State.
Most true, he replied.
And the only life which looks down upon the life of politi-
cal ambition is that of true philosophy. Do you know of any
other?
Indeed, I do not, he said.
And those who govern ought not to be lovers of the task?
For, if they are, there will be rival lovers, and they will fight.
No question.
Who then are those whom we shall compel to be guardians?
Surely they will be the men who are wisest about affairs of
State, and by whom the State is best administered, and who
at the same time have other honours and another and a better
life than that of politics?
They are the men, and I will choose them, he replied.
388
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VII.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
All these
studies
must be
correlated
with one
another.
Want of
reasoning
power in
mathema-
ticians.
Dialectic
proceeds
by reason
only, with-
out any
help of
sense.
The grad-
'ial ac-
quirement
of dialectic
by the pur-
[The subjects best calculated to turn about the souls of
future rulers toward the true day of being are arithmetic,
plane and solid geometry, astronomy, and harmonics, if
studied not merely for utilitarian purposes but as compelling
the student to pass from sense phenomena to abstract science,
and ultimately to the idea of the good.]
Now, when all these studies reach the point of inter-com- 531
munion and connection with one another, and come to be con-
sidered in their mutual affinities, then, I think, but not till
then, will the pursuit of them have a value for our objects;
otherwise there is no profit in them.
I suspect so; but you are speaking, Socrates, of a vast work.
What do you mean? I said; the prelude or what? Do you
not know that all this is but the prelude to the actual strain
which we have to learn? For you surely would not regard
the skilled mathematician as a dialectician?
Assuredly not, he said; I have hardly ever known a mathe-
matician who was capable of reasoning.
But do you imagine that men who are unable to give and
take a reason will have the knowledge which was require of 532
them?
Neither can this be supposed.
And so, Glaucon, I said, we have at last arrived at the hymn
of dialectic. This is that strain which is of the intellect only,
but which the faculty of sight will nevertheless be found to
imitate; for sight, as you may remember, was imagined by us
after a while to behold the real animals and stars, and last of
all the sun himself. And so with dialectic; when a persor.
starts on the discovery of the absolute by the light of reason
only, and without any assistance of sense, and perseveres un-
til by pure intelligence he arrives at the perception of the abso-
lute good, he at last finds himself at the end of the intellectual
world, as in the case of sight at the end of the visible.
Exactly, he said.
Then this is the progress which you call dialectic?
True.
But the release of the prisoners from chains, and their
translation from the shadows to the images and to the light,
and the ascent from the underground den to the sun, while
in his presence they are vainly trying to look on animals and
THE REPUBLIC
389
533
VII.
SOCRATES,
suit of the
arts antici-
plants and the light of the sun, but are able to perceive even Republic
with their weak eyes the images in the water which are divine,
and are the shadows of true existence (not shadows of images GLAUCON.
cast by a light of fire, which compared with the sun is only an
image)—this power of elevating the highest principle in the
soul to the contemplation of that which is best in existence,
with which we may compare the raising of that faculty which
is the very light of the body to the sight of that which is
brightest in the material and visible world-this power is
given, as I was saying, by all that study and pursuit of the
arts which has been described.
I agree in what you are saying, he replied, which may be
hard to believe, yet, from another point of view, is harder still
to deny. This however is not a theme to be treated of in
passing only, but will have to be discussed again and again.
And so, whether our conclusion be true or false, let us assume
all this, and proceed at once from the prelude or preamble
to the chief strain,' and describe that in like manner. Say,
then, what is the nature and what are the divisions of dialectic,
and what are the paths which lead thither; for these paths
will also lead to our final rest.
pated in
the alle-
gory of the
den.
of dialectic
can only be
Dear Glaucon, I said, you will not be able to follow me The nature
here, though I would do my best, and you should behold not
an image only but the absolute truth, according to my notion. revealed to
Whether what I told you would or would not have been a
reality I cannot venture to say; but you would have seen students of
something like reality; of that I am confident.
Doubtless, he replied.
But I must also remind you, that the power of dialectic
alone can reveal this, and only to one who is a disciple of the
previous sciences.
Of that assertion you may be as confident as of the last.
And assuredly no one will argue that there is any other
method of comprehending by any regular process all true
existence or of ascertaining what each thing is in its own
nature; for the arts in general are concerned with the desires
or opinions of men, or are cultivated with a view to produc-
tion and construction, or for the preservation of such produc-
tions and constructions; and as to the mathematical sciences
1 A play upon the word vóμos, which means both 'law' and 'strain.'
those who
have been
the prelim-
inary sci-
ences,
390
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VII.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
which are
her hand-
maids.
Two divi-
mind, intel-
lect and
which, as we were saying, have some apprehension of true
being-geometry and the like—they only dream about being,
but never can they behold the waking reality so long as they
leave the hypotheses which they use unexamined, and are
unable to give an account of them. For when a man knows
not his own first principle, and when the conclusion and in-
termediate steps are also constructed out of he knows not what,
how can he imagine that such a fabric of convention can ever
become science?
Impossible, he said.
Then dialectic, and dialectic alone, goes directly to the first
principle and is the only science which does away with
hypotheses in order to make her ground secure; the eye of
the soul, which is literally buried in an outlandish slough, is
by her gentle aid lifted upwards; and she uses as handmaids
and helpers in the work of conversion, the sciences which
we have been discussing. Custom terms them sciences, but
they ought to have some other name, implying greater clear-
ness than opinion and less clearness than science: and this,
in our previous sketch, was called understanding. But why
should we dispute about names when we have realities of
such importance to consider?
Why indeed, he said, when any name will do which ex-
presses the thought of the mind with clearness?
At any rate, we are satisfied, as before, to have four divi-
sions of the sions; two for intellect and two for opinion, and to call the
first division science, the second understanding, the third be-
lief, and the fourth perception of shadows, opinion being
concerned with becoming, and intellect with being; and so 534
to make a proportion:-
opinion,
each having
two sub-
divisions.
As being is to becoming, so is pure intellect to opinion.
And as intellect is to opinion, so is science to belief, and understanding
to the perception of shadows.
But let us pass over the proportion of the objects to which
these apply, that is, the objects of opinion and intellect,—and
their subdivisions,' for it will be a long enquiry, many times
longer than this has been.
[ J. has 'But let us defer the further correlation and subdivision of
the subjects of opinion and of inteilect.']
THE REPUBLIC
391
As far as I understand, he said, I agree.
And do you also agree, I said, in describing the dialectician.
as one who attains a conception of the essence of each thing?
And he who does not possess and is therefore unable to im-
part this conception, in whatever degree he fails, may in that
degree also be said to fail in intelligence? Will you admit
so much?
Yes; he said; how can I deny it?
Republic
VII.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
And you would say the same of the conception of the good?
Until the person is able to abstract and define rationally the
idea of good, and unless he can run the gauntlet of all objec-
tions, and is ready to disprove them, not by appeals to opinion,
but to absolute truth, never faltering at any step of the argu-
ment—unless he can do all this, you would say that he knows No truth
neither the idea of good nor any other good; he apprehends
only a shadow, if anything at all, which is given by opinion the idea of
and not by science;-dreaming and slumbering in this life,
before he is well awake here, he arrives at the world below,
and has his final quietus.
In all that I should most certainly agree with you.
And surely you would not have the children of your ideal
State, whom you are nurturing and educating-if the ideal
ever becomes a reality-you would not allow the future rulers
to be like posts, having no reason in them, and yet to be set in
authority over the highest matters?
Certainly not.
Then you will make a law that they shall have such an
education as will enable them to attain the greatest skill in
asking and answering questions?
Yes, he said, you and I together will make it.
which does
not rest on
good
have a high
Dialectic, then, as you will agree, is the coping-stone of the ought to
sciences, and is set over them; no other science can be placed
higher the nature of knowledge can no further go?
I agree, he said.
[The dialectician must have good natural gifts: keenness
of intellect, good memory, strength of character, industry, love
of truth, and the other moral virtues. The preliminary
studies should be begun unsystematically in childhood, but
not forced; and they should be suspended during the two or
three years of physical training. At the age of twenty, se-
place.
392
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VII.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
Young men
are fond of
pulling
truth to
pieces and
thus bring
disgrace
upon them-
selves and
upon phi.
losophy.
The dialec-
tician and
the eristic.
The study
of philoso-
phy to con-
tinue for
five years;
30-35.
lected students will systematically study the sciences; and of
these the most promising in every way will be chosen at the
age of thirty to study dialectic for about five years, with due
caution to prevent a devastating scepticism from coming over
them.]
There is a danger lest they should taste the dear delight 539
too early; for youngsters, as you may have observed, when
they first get the taste in their mouths, argue for amusement,
and are always contradicting and refuting others in imitation
of those who refute them; like puppy-dogs, they rejoice in
pulling and tearing at all who come near them.
Yes, he said, there is nothing which they like better.
And when they have made many conquests and received
defeats at the hands of many, they violently and speedily
get into a way of not believing anything which they believed
before, and hence, not only they, but philosophy and all that
relates to it is apt to have a bad name with the rest of the
world.
Too true, he said.
But when a man begins to get older, he will no longer be
guilty of such insanity; he will imitate the dialectician who is
seeking for truth, and not the eristic, who is contradicting for
the sake of amusement; and the greater moderation of his
character will increase instead of diminishing the honour of
the pursuit.
Very true, he said.
And did we not make special provision for this, when we
said that the disciples of philosophy were to be orderly and
steadfast, not, as now, any chance aspirant or intruder?
Very true.
Suppose, I said, the study of philosophy to take the place
of gymnastics and to be continued diligently and earnestly and
exclusively for twice the number of years which were passed
in bodily exercise-will that be enough?
Would you say six or four years? he asked.
Say five years, I replied; at the end of the time they must
be sent down again into the den and compelled to hold any
military or other office which young men are qualified to
hold: in this way they will get their experience of life, and
there will be an opportunity of trying whether, when they
THE REPUBLIC
393
540
are drawn all manner of ways by temptation, they will stand Republic
firm or flinch.
And how long is this stage of their lives to last?
Fifteen years, I answered; and when they have reached
fifty years of age, then let those who still survive and have
distinguished themselves in every action of their lives and in
every branch of knowledge come at last to their consumma-
tion: the time has now arrived at which they must raise the
eye of the soul to the universal light which lightens all
things, and behold the absolute good; for that is the pattern
according to which they are to order the State and the lives
of individuals, and the remainder of their own lives also;
making philosophy their chief pursuit, but, when their turn
comes, toiling also at politics and ruling for the public good,
not as though they were performing some heroic action, but
simply as a matter of duty; and when they have brought up
in each generation others like themselves and left them in
their place to be governors of the State, then they will depart
to the Islands of the Blest and dwell there; and the city will
give them public memorials and sacrifices and honour them,
if the Pythian oracle consent, as demigods, but if not, as in
any case blessed and divine.
You are a sculptor, Socrates, and have made statues of
our governors faultless in beauty.
Yes, I said, Glaucon, and of our governesses too; for you
must not suppose that what I have been saying applies to men
only and not to women as far as their natures can go.
There you are right, he said, since we have made them
to share in all things like the men.
Well, I said, and you would agree (would you not?) that
what has been said about the State and the government is not
a mere dream, and although difficult not impossible, but only
possible in the way which has been supposed; that is to say,
when the true philosopher kings are born in a State, one or
more of them, despising the honours of this present world
which they deem mean and worthless, esteeming above all
things right and the honour that springs from right, and re-
garding justice as the greatest and most necessary of all things,
whose ministers they are, and whose principles will be exalted
by them when they set in order their own city?
VII.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
During fif-
teen years,
35-50, they
are to hold
office.
At the end
of that time
they are to
live chiefly
in the con-
templation
of the good,
sionally to
but occa-
return to
politics.
394
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VII.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
Practical
measures
for the
speedy
foundation
of the
State.
How will they proceed?
They will begin by sending out into the country all the
inhabitants of the city who are more than ten years old, and
will take possession of their children, who will be unaffected
by the habits of their parents; these they will train in their
own habits and laws, I mean in the laws which we have given
them: and in this way the State and constitution of which we
were speaking will soonest and most easily attain happiness,
and the nation which has such a constitution will gain most.
Yes, that will be the best way. And I think, Socrates, that
you have very well described how, if ever, such a constitution
might come into being.
Enough then of the perfect State, and of the man who
bears its image-there is no difficulty in seeing how we shall
describe him.
There is no difficulty, he replied; and I agree with you in
thinking that nothing more need be said.
FOURTH DIVISION
[As Socrates traced the logical growth of the State from
primitive society to the ideal State, he now traces the steps
by which it must decay if inferior elements gain control of
the State. The disorganization of the State arises from the
debasing of the human nature on which it rests; the rulers
begin to care not for reason and the welfare of the State but
for property; other desires surge up and vie one with another,
so that the undiscriminating mob-rule of a democracy follows;
finally the worst passions are enthroned, and the government
has become a tyranny. All harmony and unity of purpose are
lost; and the tyrant, who has set the lower over the higher
instinct, cannot possibly feel the happiness of the philosopher
who alone has had a complete experience of life. Justice,
then, and real happiness are internal, and are valued because
they are signs of a healthy condition of the individual or of
the state, not because of outward consequences. Indeed, if,
as a matter of fact, the just man is debarred from political
activity in the city of his birth, he can still feel that he is a
citizen of a heavenly city in which he can live even a higher
life.
This account of the experience of the soul may be regarded
as Plato's ultimate reason for believing in justice. Defini-
tions and demonstrations may possibly be received; but they
are apt to be confused or forgotten, and they do not often
prompt action. The real reason for conviction and for action
must be something which can be tested in personal experience
and which grips the imagination. And if some of the details
of Plato's picture may be disputed, there can be no question
that all the testimony of our consciousness approves his con-
clusion that true happiness may be found only in self-know-
ledge and self-control. This conclusion, closely reasoned in
the early books of the Republic, now turns out to be after all
the counsel of common sense and daily experience; justice
results, if not always in pleasure, inevitably in happiness.]
Republic
VIII.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
Four im-
perfect con-
stitutions,
the Cretan
or Spartan,
Oligarchy,
Demo-
cracy,
Tyranny.
States are
like men,
because
they are
made up of
men.
BOOK VIII
[After a brief recapitulation, Socrates complies with the re-
quest that he speak of the four false forms of State.]
The four governments of which I spoke, so far as they 544
have distinct names, are, first, those of Crete and Sparta, which
are generally applauded; what is termed oligarchy comes next;
this is not equally approved, and is a form of government
which teems with evils: thirdly, democracy, which naturally
follows obligarchy, although very different: and lastly comes
tyranny, great and famous, which differs from them all, and
is the fourth and worst disorder of a State. I do not know,
do you? of any other constitution which can be said to have
a distinct character. There are lordships and principalities
which are bought and sold, and some other intermediate forms
of government. But these are nondescripts and may be found
equally among Hellenes and among barbarians.
Yes, he replied, we certainly hear of many curious forms of
government which exist among them.
Do you know, I said, that governments vary as the disposi-
tions of men vary, and that there must be as many of the one
as there are of the other? For we cannot suppose that States
are made of 'oak and rock,' and not out of the human natures
which are in them, and which in a figure turn the scale and
draw other things after them?
Yes, he said, the States are as the men are; they grow out
of human characters.
Then if the constitutions of States are five, the dispositions
of individual minds will also be five?
Certainly.
Him who answers to aristocracy, and whom we rightly
call just and good, we have already described.
We have.
Then let us now proceed to describe the inferior sort of
natures, being the contentious and ambitious, who answer to
the Spartan polity; also the oligarchical, democratical, and
545
396
THE REPUBLIC
397
555
tyrannical. Let us place the most just by the side of the most Republic
VIII.
GLAUCON.
unjust, and when we see them we shall be able to compare SOCRATES,
the relative happiness or unhappiness of him who leads a life
of pure justice or pure injustice. The enquiry will then be
completed. And we shall know whether we ought to pursue
injustice, as Thrasymachus advises, or in accordance with the
conclusions of the argument to prefer justice.
Certainly, he replied, we must do as you say.
and the in-
dividual.
Shall we follow our old plan, which we adopted with a The State
view to clearness, of taking the State first and then proceed-
ing to the individual, and begin with the government of
honour? I know of no name for such a government other
than timocracy, or perhaps timarchy. We will compare with
this the like character in the individual; and, after that,
consider oligarchy and the oligarchical man; and then again
we will turn our attention to democracy and the democratical
man; and lastly, we will go and view the city of tyranny,
and once more take a look into the tyrant's soul, and try to
arrive at a satisfactory decision.
[The human stock will deteriorate if eugenic principles be
forgotten; education will decay; private property will corrupt
character; a military, rather than a philosophic spirit will
prevail. So emerge the timocratic state and its counterpart
the ambitious timocratic man. The next stage in the decline
comes when the love of wealth becomes the ruling power;
political privilege falls to the rich, and oligarchy results. The
unity of the state is destroyed; it is really two states, with di-
verse interests, one of the rich, another of paupers. Similarly
the oligarchic man becomes absorbed wholly in avarice.]
arises out
of the ex-
Next comes democracy; of this the origin and nature have Democracy
still to be considered by us; and then we will enquire into the
ways of the democratic man, and bring him up for judgment. travagance
That, he said, is our method.
and indebt-
edness of
men of
position,
Well, I said, and how does the change from oligarchy
into democracy arise? Is it not on this wise?-The good at family and
which such a State aims is to become as rich as possible, a
desire which is insatiable?
What then?
The rulers, being aware that their power rests upon their
wealth, refuse to curtail by law the extravagance of the
398
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VIII.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
who remain
in the city,
and form a
dangerous
class ready
to head a
revolution.
The sub-
jects dis-
cover the
weakness of
their rulers.
spendthrift youth because they gain by their ruin; they
take interest from them and buy up their estates and thus
increase their own wealth and importance?
To be sure.
There can be no doubt that the love of wealth and the
spirit of moderation cannot exist together in citizens of the
same state to any considerable extent; one or the other will
be disregarded.
That is tolerably clear.
And in oligarchical States, from the general spread of
carelessness and extravagance, men of good family have often
been reduced to beggary?
Yes, often.
And still they remain in the city; there they are, ready
to sting and fully armed, and some of them owe money, some
have forfeited their citizenship; a third class are in both
predicaments; and they hate and conspire against those who
have got their property, and against everybody else, and are
eager for revolution.
That is true.
On the other hand, the men of business, stooping as they
walk, and pretending not even to see those whom they have
already ruined, insert their sting—that is, their money-into
some one else who is not on his guard against them, and re-
cover the parent sum many times over multiplied into a family
of children: and so they make drone and pauper to abound
in the State. . . . Such is the state of affairs which prevails 556
among them. And often rulers and their subjects may come
in one another's way, whether on a journey or on some other
occasion of meeting, on a pilgrimage or a march, as fellow-
soldiers or fellow-sailors; aye and they may observe the be-
haviour of each other in the very moment of danger-for
where danger is, there is no fear that the poor will be despised
by the rich and very likely the wiry sunburnt poor man may
be placed in battle at the side of a wealthy one who has never
spoilt his complexion and has plenty of superfluous flesh-when
he sees such an one puffing and at his wits'-end, how can he
avoid drawing the conclusion that men like him are only rich
because no one has the courage to despoil them? And when
THE REPUBLIC
399
VIII.
SOCRATES,
they meet in private will not people be saying to one another Republic
'Our warriors are not good for much?'
Yes, he said, I am quite aware that this is their way of ADEIMANTUS.
talking.
A slight
cause, in-
external,
may pro-
lution.
And, as in a body which is diseased the addition of a touch
from without may bring on illness, and sometimes even when ternal or
there is no external provocation a commotion may arise
within-in the same way wherever there is weakness in the duce revo
State there is also likely to be illness, of which the occasion
may be very slight, the one party introducing from without
their oligarchical, the other their democratical allies, and then
the State falls sick, and is at war with herself; and may be
557 at times distracted, even when there is no external cause.
Yes, surely.
origin and
And then democracy comes into being after the poor have Such is the
conquered their opponents, slaughtering some and banishing nature of
some, while to the remainder they give an equal share of democracy.
freedom and power; and this is the form of government in
which the magistrates are commonly elected by lot.
Yes, he said, that is the nature of democracy, whether the
revolution has been effected by arms, or whether fear has
caused the opposite party to withdraw.
And now what is their manner of life, and what sort of a
government have they? for as the government is, such will
be the man.
Clearly, he said.
In the first place, are they not free; and is not the city Democracy
full of freedom and frankness-a man may say and do what
he likes?
'Tis said so, he replied.
allows a
man to do
as he likes,
and there-
fore con-
And where freedom is, the individual is clearly able to tains the
order for himself his own life as he pleases.
Clearly.
greatest
variety of
characters
and consti
Then in this kind of State there will be the greatest variety tutions.
of human natures?
There will.
This, then, seems likely to be the fairest of States, being
like an embroidered robe which is spangled with every sort
of flower. And just as women and children think a variety
of colours to be of all things most charming, so there are
400
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VIII.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
The law
falls into
abeyance.
All prin-
ciples of
order and
good taste
are tram-
pled under
foot by
democracy.
many men to whom this State, which is spangled with the
manners and characters of mankind, will appear to be the
fairest of States.
Yes.
Yes, my good Sir, and there will be no better in which to
look for a government.
Why?
Because of the liberty which reigns there they have a
complete assortment of constitutions; and he who has a
mind to establish a State, as we have been doing, must go to
a democracy as he would to a bazaar at which they sell them,
and pick out the one that suits him; then, when he has
made his choice, he may found his State.
He will be sure to have patterns enough.
And there being no necessity, I said, for you to govern in
this State, even if you have the capacity, or to be governed,
unless you like, or to go to war when the rest go to war, or
to be at peace when others are at peace, unless you are so
disposed there being no necessity also, because some law
forbids you to hold office or be a dicast, that you should
not hold office or be a dicast, if you have a fancy-is not
this a way of life which for the moment is supremely de- 558
lightful?
For the moment, yes.
And is not the philosophical temper of the condemned in
some cases quite charming? Have you not observed how, in
a democracy, many persons, although they have been sen-
tenced to death or exile, just stay where they are and walk
about the world-the gentleman parades like a hero, and
nobody sees or cares?
Yes, he replied, many and many a one.
See too, I said, the forgiving spirit of democracy, and the
'don't care' about trifles, and the disregard which she shows
of all the fine principles which we solemnly laid down at the
foundation of the city-as when we said that, except in the
case of some rarely gifted nature, there never will be a good
man who has not from his childhood been used to play amid
things of beauty and make of them a joy and a study-how
grandly does she trample all these fine notions of ours under
her feet, never giving a thought to the pursuits which make a
THE REPUBLIC
401
559
statesman, and promoting to honour any one who professes Republic
to be the people's friend.
Yes, she is of a noble spirit.
These and other kindred characteristics are proper to
democracy, which is a charming form of government, full of
variety and disorder, and dispensing a sort of equality to
equals and unequals alike.
We know her well.
Consider now, I said, what manner of man the individual
is, or rather consider, as in the case of the State, how he
comes into being.
Very good, he said.
Is not this the way he is the son of the miserly and oli-
garchical father who has trained him in his own habits?
Exactly.
VIII.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS
And, like his father, he keeps under by force the pleasures Which are
which are of the spending and not of the getting sort, being
those which are called unnecessary?
Obviously.
the neces-
sary and
which the
unneces-
sary plea-
Would you like, for the sake of clearness, to distinguish sures?
which are the
and which are the unnecessary
necessary
pleasures?
I should.
desires
cannot be
Are not necessary pleasures those of which we cannot get Necessary
rid, and of which the satisfaction is a benefit to us? And
they are rightly called so, because we are framed by nature got rid of,
to desire both what is beneficial and what is necessary, and
cannot help it.
True.
We are not wrong therefore in calling them necessary?
We are not.
And the desires of which a man may get rid, if he takes
pains from his youth upwards of which the presence, more-
over, does no good, and in some cases the reverse of good-
shall we not be right in saying that all these are unnecessary?
Yes, certainly.
Suppose we select an example of either kind, in order that
we may have a general notion of them?
Very good.
Will not the desire of eating, that is, of simple food and
402
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VIII.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
but may be
indulged to
excess.
Illustration
taken from
eating and
drinking.
The young
oligarch is
led away by
his wild as-
sociates.
There are
allies to
condiments, in so far as they are required for health and
strength, be of the necessary class?
That is what I should suppose.
The pleasure of eating is necessary in two ways; it does us
good and it is essential to the continuance of life?
Yes.
But the condiments are only necessary in so far as they are
good for health?
Certainly.
And the desire which goes beyond this, of more delicate
food, or other luxuries, which might generally be got rid of,
if controlled and trained in youth, and is hurtful to the body,
and hurtful to the soul in the pursuit of wisdom and virtue,
may be rightly called unnecessary?
Very true.
May we not say that these desires spend, and that the
others make money because they conduce to production?
Certainly.
And of the pleasures of love, and all other pleasures, the
same holds good?
True.
And the drone of whom we spoke was he who was sur-
feited in pleasures and desires of this sort, and was the slave
of the unnecessary desires, whereas he who was subject to the
necessary only was miserly and oligarchical?
Very true.
Again, let us see how the democratical man grows out of
the oligarchical: the following, as I suspect, is commonly the
process.
What is the process?
When a young man who has been brought up as we were
just now describing, in a vulgar and miserly way, has tasted
drones' honey and has come to associate with fierce and
crafty natures who are able to provide for him all sorts of
refinements and varieties of pleasure-then, as you may
imagine, the change will begin of the oligarchical principle
within him into the democratical?
Inevitably.
And as in the city like was helping like, and the change
was effected by an alliance from without assisting one division
THE REPUBLIC
403
VIII.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
of the citizens, so too the young man is changed by a class of Republic
desires coming from without to assist the desires within him,
that which is akin and alike again helping that which is akin
and alike?
Certainly.
either part
of his na-
And if there be any ally which aids the oligarchical prin- ture.
ciple within him, whether the influence of a father or of
kindred, advising or rebuking him, then there arises in his
560 soul a faction and an opposite faction, and he goes to war
with himself.
It must be so.
And there are times when the democratical principle gives
way to the oligarchical, and some of his desires die, and others
are banished; a spirit of reverence enters into the young man's
soul and order is restored.
Yes, he said, that sometimes happens.
And then, again, after the old desires have been driven out,
fresh ones spring up, which are akin to them, and because he
their father does not know how to educate them, wax fierce
and numerous.
Yes, he said, that is apt to be the way.
They draw him to his old associates, and holding secret
intercourse with them, breed and multiply in him.
Very true.
At length they seize upon the citadel of the young man's
soul, which they perceive to be void of all accomplishments
and fair pursuits and true words, which make their abode in
the minds of men who are dear to the gods, and are their
best guardians and sentinels.
None better.
False and boastful conceits and phrases mount upwards and
take their place.
They are certain to do so.
And so the young man returns into the country of the
lotus-eaters, and takes up his dwelling there in the face of
all men; and if any help be sent by his friends to the oli-
garchical part of him, the aforesaid vain conceits shut the
gate of the king's fastness; and they will neither allow the
embassy itself to enter, nor if private advisers offer the fatherly
counsel of the aged will they listen to them or receive them.
The pro-
gress of the
oligarchic
young man
told in an
allegory.
404
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VIII.
SOCRATES,
There is a battle and they gain the day, and then modesty,
which they call silliness, is ignominiously thrust into exile
ADEIMANTUS. by them, and temperance, which they nickname unmanli-
ness, is trampled in the mire and cast forth; they persuade
men that moderation and orderly expenditure are vulgarity
and meanness, and so, by the help of a rabble of evil appe-
tites, they drive them beyond the border.
He be-
comes a
rake; but
he also
scmetimes
stops short
in his
career and
gives way
Yes, with a will.
And when they have emptied and swept clean the soul of
him who is now in their power and who is being initiated by
them in great mysteries, the next thing is to bring back to
their house insolence and anarchy and waste and impudence
in bright array having garlands on their heads, and a great
company with them, hymning their praises and calling them
by sweet names; insolence they term breeding, and anarchy 56x
liberty, and waste magnificence, and impudence courage.
And so the young man passes out of his original nature, which
was trained in the school of necessity, into the freedom and
libertinism of useless and unnecessary pleasures.
Yes, he said, the change in him is visible enough.
After this he lives on, spending his money and labour and
time on unnecessary pleasures quite as much as on necessary
ones; but if he be fortunate, and is not too much disordered
in his wits, when years have elapsed, and the heyday of
passion is over-supposing that he then re-admits into the
city some part of the exiled virtues, and does not wholly give
to pleasures himself up to their successors-in that case he balances his
pleasures and lives in a sort of equilibrium, putting the govern-
ment of himself into the hands of the one which comes first
and wins the turn; and when he has had enough of that,
then into the hands of another; he despises none of them but
encourages them all equally.
good and
bad indif-
ferently.
He rejects
all advice,
Very true, he said.
Neither does he receive or let pass into the fortress any
true word of advice; if any one says to him that some pleas-
ures are the satisfactions of good and noble desires, and others
of evil desires, and that he ought to use and honour some and
chastise and master the others-whenever this is repeated to
him he shakes his head and says that they are all alike, and that
one is as good as another.
THE REPUBLIC
405
562
Yes, he said; that is the way with him.
Yes, I said, he lives from day to day indulging the appetite
of the hour; and sometimes he is lapped in drink and strains
of the flute; then he becomes a water-drinker, and tries to get
thin; then he takes a turn at gymnastics; sometimes idling
and neglecting everything, then once more living the life of
a philosopher; often he is busy with politics, and starts to
his feet and says and does whatever comes into his head;
and, if he is emulous of any one who is a warrior, off he is
in that direction, or of men of business, once more in that.
His life has neither law nor order; and this distracted exist-
ence he terms joy and bliss and freedom; and so he goes on.
Yes, he replied, he is all liberty and equality.
Republic
VIII.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS
passing his
life in the
from one
another.
alternation
extreme to
one, but
all man-
Yes, I said, his life is motley and manifold and an epit- He is 'not
ome of the lives of many;-he answers to the State which
we described as fair and spangled. And many a man and kind's
many a woman will take him for their pattern, and many a
constitution and many an example of manners is contained
in him.
Just so.
Let him then be set over against democracy; he may truly
be called the democratic man.
Let that be his place, he said.
epitome.'
Last of all comes the most beautiful of all, man and State Tyranny
alike, tyranny and the tyrant; these we have now to con-
sider.
Quite true, he said.
Say then, my friend, In what manner does tyranny arise?
-that it has a democratic origin is evident. . . . When a
democracy which is thirsting for freedom has evil cup-bearers
presiding over the feast, and has drunk too deeply of the
strong wine of freedom, then, unless her rulers are very
amenable and give a plentiful draught, she calls them to
account and punishes them, and says that they are cursed
oligarchs.
Yes, he replied, a very common occurrence.
and the
tyrant.
in the end
means
Yes, I said; and loyal citizens are insultingly termed by Freedom
her slaves who hug their chains and men of naught; she
would have subjects who are like rulers, and rulers who are anarchy.
like subjects: these are men after her own heart, whom she
406
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
VIII.
Socrates,
ADEIMANTUS.
The inver-
sion of all
social rela-
tions.
Freedom
among the
animals.
praises and honours both in private and public. Now, in
such a State, can liberty have any limit?
Certainly not.
By degrees the anarchy finds a way into private houses,
and ends by getting among the animals and infecting them.
How do you mean?
I mean that the father grows accustomed to descend to the
level of his sons and to fear them, and the son is on a level
with his father, he having no respect or reverence for either
of his parents; and this is his freedom, and the metic is
equal with the citizen and the citizen with the metic, and the
stranger is quite as good as either.
Yes, he said, that is the way.
And these are not the only evils, I said—there are several
lesser ones: In such a state of society the master fears and
flatters his scholars, and the scholars despise their masters
and tutors; young and old are all alike; and the young man
is on a level with the old, and is ready to compete with him
in a word or deed; and old men condescend to the young and
are full of pleasantry and gaiety; they are loth to be thought
morose and authoritative, and therefore they adopt the man-
ners of the young.
Quite true, he said.
The last extreme of popular liberty is when the slave
bought with money, whether male or female, is just as free
as his or her purchaser; nor must I forget to tell of the
liberty and equality of the two sexes in relation to each other.
Why not, as Aeschylus says, utter the word which rises to
our lips?
That is what I am doing, I replied; and I must add that
no one who does not know would believe, how much greater
is the liberty which the animals who are under the dominion
of man have in a democracy than in any other State: for
truly, the she-dogs, as the proverb says, are as good as their
she-mistresses, and the horses and asses have a way of march-
ing along with all the rights and dignities of freemen; and
they will run at anybody who comes in their way if he does
not leave the road clear for them: and all things are just ready
to burst with liberty.
When I take a country walk, he said, I often experience
563
(
THE REPUBLIC
407
VIII.
SOCRATES,
ADEIMANTUS.
what you describe. You and I have dreamed the same thing. Republic
And above all, I said, and as the result of all, see how sen-
sitive the citizens become; they chafe impatiently at the least
touch of authority, and at length, as you know, they cease to
care even for the laws, written or unwritten; they will have No law, no
no one over them.
Yes, he said, I know it too well.
Such, my friend, I said, is the fair and glorious beginning
out of which springs tyranny.
[Tyranny, an excess of slavery, is the natural reaction
against the excess of liberty that characterizes democracy.
When the mob think that they are being oppressed by sub-
stantial citizens, who resist their rapacity, they find an avowed
champion in some adventurer, who presently holds his posi-
tion by force, and preys on the community. Tyranny, the
despotism of the worst, has replaced the indiscriminate anarchy
of democracy.]
authority.
Republic
IX.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
The um-
pire decides
that
BOOK IX
['In all of us, even in good men, there is a lawless wild-
beast nature, which peers out in sleep' (572a). The tyran-
nical man, corresponding to the tyrannical state, is he who
is dominated by this wild-beast nature, the lowest of his pas
sions, which can never be fully satisfied. He is the worst of
men, the least stable, the most miserable; no, still worse is the
lot of the tyrannical man who is constrained to become a
public tyrant.]
He who is the real tyrant, whatever men may think, is the 579
real slave, and is obliged to practise the greatest adulation
and servility, and to be the flatterer of the vilest of mankind,
He has desires which he is utterly unable to satisfy, and
has more wants than any one, and is truly poor, if you know
how to inspect the whole soul of him: all his life long he is
beset with fear and is full of convulsions and distractions, even
as the State which he resembles: and surely the resemblance
holds?
Very true, he said.
Moreover, as we were saying before, he grows worse 584
from having power: he becomes and is of necessity more
jealous, more faithless, more unjust, more friendless, more
impious, than he was at first; he is the purveyor and cherisher
of every sort of vice, and the consequence is that he is su-
premely miserable, and that he makes everybody else as miser-
able as himself.
No man of any sense will dispute your words.
Come then, I said, and as the general umpire in theatrical
contests proclaims the result, do you also decide who in your
opinion is first in the scale of happiness, and who second,
and in what order the others follow: there are five of them
in all-they are the royal, timocratical, oligarchical, demo-
cratical, tyrannical.
The decision will be easily given, he replied; they shall
408
THE REPUBLIC
409
588
be choruses coming on the stage, and I must judge them in Republic
the order in which they enter, by the criterion of virtue and
vice, happiness and misery.
Need we hire a herald, or shall I announce, that the son
of Ariston [the best] has decided that the best and justest
is also the happiest, and that this is he who is the most royal
man and king over himself; and that the worst and most
unjust man is also the most miserable, and that this is he who
being the greatest tyrant of himself is also the greatest tyrant
of his State?
Make the proclamation yourself, he said.
And shall I add, 'whether seen or unseen by gods and
men?'
Let the words be added.
[The foregoing discussion is confirmed by arguments de-
rived from the verdict of the philosopher, who, unlike par-
tially developed natures, has experienced all the possible objects
of desire; and, furthermore, by an analysis of the transitory,
conditional, illusive nature of most pleasures as contrasted
with the genuine, secure pleasure based on the reason. And
by a mathematical symbol Socrates argues that the true king
is 729 times happier than the tyrant.]
Well, I said, and now having arrived at this stage of the
argument, we may revert to the words which brought us
hither: Was not some one saying that injustice was a gain
to the perfectly unjust who was reputed to be just?
Yes, that was said.
Now then, having determined the power and quality of
justice and injustice, let us have a little conversation with
him.
What shall we say to him?
Let us make an image of the soul, that he may have his
own words presented before his eyes.
Of what sort?
IX.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
the best is
the happi-
worst is the
most miser-
This is the
est and the
able.
proclama-
tion of the
son of Aris
ton.
animal who
An ideal image of the soul, like the composite creations of The triple
ancient mythology, such as the Chimera or Scylla or Cerberus,
and there are many others in which two or more different
natures are said to grow into one.
There are said to have been such unions.
Then do you now model the form of a multitudinous,
has out-
wardly the
image of a
man.
410
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
IX.
Socrates,
GLAUCON.
Will any
one say
that we
should
strengthen
the monster
and the
lion at the
expense of
the man?
many-headed monster, having a ring of heads of all manner
of beasts, tame and wild, which he is able to generate and
metamorphose at will.
You suppose marvellous powers in the artist; but, as
language is more pliable than wax or any similar substance,
let there be such a model as you propose.
Suppose now that you make a second form as of a lion,
and a third of a man, the second smaller than the first, and
the third smaller than the second.
That, he said, is an easier task; and I have made them as
you say.
And now join them, and let the three grow into one.
That has been accomplished.
Next fashion the outside of them into a single image, as of
a man, so that he who is not able to look within, and sees
only the outer hull, may believe the beast to be a single
human creature.
I have done so, he said.
And now, to him who maintains that it is profitable for the
human creature to be unjust, and unprofitable to be just, let
us reply that, if he be right, it is profitable for this creature to
feast the multitudinous monster and strengthen the lion and
the lion-like qualities, but to starve and weaken the man, 589
who is consequently liable to be dragged about at the mercy
of either of the other two; and he is not to attempt to fam-
iliarize or harmonize them with one another-he ought rather
to suffer them to fight and bite and devour one another.
Certainly, he said; that is what the approver of injustice
says.
To him the supporter of justice makes answer that he
should ever so speak and act as to give the man within him
in some way or other the most complete mastery over the
entire human creature. He should watch over the many-
headed monster like a good husbandman, fostering and culti-
vating the gentle qualities, and preventing the wild ones from
growing; he should be making the lion-heart his ally, and in
common care of them all should be uniting the several parts
with one another and with himself.
Yes, he said, that is quite what the maintainer of justice
will say.
THE REPUBLIC
4II
IX.
SOCRATES,
And so from every point of view, whether of pleasure, Republic
honour, or advantage, the approver of justice is right and
speaks the truth, and the disapprover is wrong and false and GLAUCON.
ignorant?
Yes, from every point of view.
noble prin
ciple sub-
Is jects the
beast to the
Come, now, and let us gently reason with the unjust, who For the
is not intentionally in error. 'Sweet Sir,' we will say to him,
'what think you of things esteemed noble and ignoble?
not the noble that which subjects the beast to the man,
rather to the god in man; and the ignoble that which ignoble the
subjects the man to the beast?' He can hardly avoid saying
Yes can he now?
Not if he has any regard for my opinion.
or
But, if he agree so far, we may ask him to answer another
question: "Then how would a man profit if he received gold
and silver on the condition that he was to enslave the noblest
man, the
man to the
beast.
A man
would not
be the
gainer if he
part of him to the worst? Who can imagine that a man who
sold his son or daughter into slavery for money, especially if
he sold them into the hands of fierce and evil men, would
be the gainer, however large might be the sum which he
received? And will any one say that he is not a miserable much worse
590 caitiff who remorselessly sells his own divine being to that
which is most godless and detestable?'
591
From what point of view, then, and on what ground can
we say that a man is profited by injustice or intemperance or
other baseness, which will make him a worse man, even
though he acquire money or power by his wickedness?
From no point of view at all.
sold his
child: how
to sell his
soul!
What shall he profit, if his injustice be undetected and
unpunished? He who is undetected only gets worse, whereas
he who is detected and punished has the brutal part of his
nature silenced and humanized; the gentler element in him
is liberated, and his whole soul is perfected and ennobled by The wise
the acquirement of justice and temperance and wisdom, more
than the body ever is by receiving gifts of beauty, strength
and health, in proportion as the soul is more honourable than
the body.
Certainly, he said.
man will
employ his
energies in
freeing and
harmoniz-
ing the
nobler ele-
ments of
To this nobler purpose the man of understanding will his nature
devote the energies of his life. And in the first place,
and in reg-
412
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
IX.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
ulating
his bodily
habits.
he will honour studies which impress these qualities on his
soul, and will disregard others?
Clearly, he said.
In the next place, he will regulate his bodily habit and
training, and so far will he be from yielding to brutal and
irrational pleasures, that he will regard even health as quite
a secondary matter; his first object will be not that he may
be fair or strong or well, unless he is likely thereby to gain
temperance, but he will always desire so to attemper the
harmony of body as to preserve the harmony of the soul?
His first
aim not
health but
soul.
He will
not heap
up riches,
only ac-
Certainly he will, if he has true music in him.
And in the acquisition of wealth there is a principle of
order and harmony which he will also observe; he will not
allow himself to be dazzled by the foolish applause of the
world, and heap up riches to his own infinite harm?
Certainly not, he said.
He will look at the city which is within him, and take heed
that no disorder occur in it, such as might arise either from
and he will superfluity or from want; and upon this principle he will reg-
ulate his property and gain or spend according to his means.
Very true.
cept such
political
honours
as will not
deteriorate
his char-
acter.
He has a
city of his
own, and
the ideal
pattern of
this will be
the law of
his life.
And, for the same reason, he will gladly accept and enjoy
such honours as he deems likely to make him a better man; 592
but those, whether private or public, which are likely to
disorder his life, he will avoid?
Then, if that is his motive, he will not be a statesman.
By the dog of Egypt, he will! in the city which is his own
he certainly will, though in the land of his birth perhaps not,
unless he have a divine call.
I understand; you mean that he will be a ruler in the city
of which we are the founders, and which exists in idea only;
for I do not believe that there is such an one anywhere on
earth?
In heaven, I replied, there is laid up a pattern of it,
methinks which he who desires may behold, and beholding,
may set his own house in order. But whether such an one
exists, or ever will exist in fact, is no matter; for he will live
after the manner of that city, having nothing to do with any
other.
I think so, he said.
FIFTH DIVISION
[Having vindicated the claims of justice and the philosophic
life to exist in their own right, Socrates now proceeds to satir-
ize the claims of contemporary poetry to impart truth. He
has not excluded all imitative poetry in the previous discussion
(377-398), but only imitation of the bad. And he now
deftly uses the theory of ideas and the artist's imitation of
the artisan's imitation of the idea of the bed (instead of the
poet's imitation of the idea of the beautiful hitherto admitted
as possible) for the express purpose of exhibiting the arts in
the most unfavorable light. The division of the soul is simi-
larly exploited; and the former judgment of exile passed
against poetry is repeated. Yet it cannot be held that Plato
is seriously exiling all poetry. It is his anxiety for the
'safety of the city which is within him' (608a), a city which,
as he has just told us (591e-592b), is an ideal incapable of
complete realization, that impels him to oppose in a satiric
mood one of its chief rivals, the dangerously seductive poetry
of Homer and of the theatre. There is irony enough in the
spectacle of Plato, the truest poet among the philosophers,
professing to exile the poets. It is comedy; but it is more than
comedy. Plato at all times denies that truth can come from
the perception of the flux. If poetry is content to imitate the
flux, in realistic fashion, and to titillate the emotions, without
any attempt to suggest significance, or to reach eternal values,
then indeed poetry must be condemned; but the condemnation
is conditional.
The rest of the Republic is a speculation about the future
state of the soul. Its fate is described in the imaginative
myth of the vision of Er, which may well be compared with
the myths of the Gorgias, and the Phaedo. The dignity of
the human will is enhanced, as well as the greatness of the
moral issues at stake.]
Republic
X.
Socrates,
GLAUCON.
Poetical
imitations
are ruinous
to the mind
of the
hearer.
The nature
of imita-
tion.
BOOK X
Of the many excellences which I perceive in the order of
our State, there is none which upon reflection pleases me 595
better than the rule about poetry.
To what do you refer?
To the rejection of imitative poetry, which certainly ought
not to be received; as I see far more clearly now that
the parts of the soul have been distinguished.
What do you mean?
Speaking in confidence, for I should not like to have my
words repeated to the tragedians and the rest of the imitative
tribe-but I do not mind saying to you, that all poetical
imitations are ruinous to the understanding of the hearers,
and that the knowledge of their true nature is the only
antidote to them.
Explain the purport of your remark.
Well, I will tell you, although I have always from my
earliest youth had an awe and love of Homer, which even
now makes the words falter on my lips, for he is the great
captain and teacher of the whole of that charming tragic
company; but a man is not to be reverenced more than
the truth, and therefore I will speak out.
Very good, he said.
Listen to me then, or rather, answer me.
Put your question.
Can you tell me what imitation is? for I really do not
know.
A likely thing, then, that I should know.
Why not? for the duller eye may often see a thing sooner 596
that the keener.
Very true, he said; but in your presence, even if I had any
faint notion, I could not muster courage to utter it. Will you
enquire yourself?
Well, then, shall we begin the enquiry in our usual manner;
Whenever a number of individuals have a common name,
414
THE REPUBLIC
415
we assume them to have also a corresponding idea or form:- Republic
do you understand me?
I do.
Let us take any common instance; there are beds and
tables in the world-plenty of them, are there not?
Yes.
X.
Socrates,
GLAUCON.
The idea is
one, but the
objects
But there are only two ideas or forms of them-one the compre-
idea of a bed, the other of a table.
True.
And the maker of either of them makes a bed or he makes
a table for our use, in accordance with the idea that is our
way of speaking in this and similar instances-but no artificer
makes the ideas themselves: how could he?
Impossible.
And there is another artist,—I should like to know what
you would say of him.
Who is he?
hended
under it
are many.
One who is the maker of all the works of all other work- The univer
men.
So.
What an extraordinary man!
Wait a little, and there will be more reason for your saying
sal creator
an extraor-
dinary per-
son. But
note also
that every-
body is a
creator in
For this is he who is able to make not only vessels
of every kind, but plants and animals, himself and all other
things the earth and heaven, and the things which are in a sense.
heaven or under the earth; he makes the gods also.
He must be a wizard and no mistake.
Oh! you are incredulous, are you? Do you mean that
there is no such maker or creator, or that in one sense there
might be a maker of all these things but in another not? Do
you see that there is a way in which you could make them all
yourself?
What way?
An easy way enough; or rather, there are many ways.
in which the feat might be quickly and easily accomplished,
none quicker than that of turning a mirror round and round
-you would soon enough make the sun and the heavens,
and the earth and yourself, and other animals and plants, and
all the other things of which we were just now speaking, in
the mirror.
Yes. he said; but they would be appearances only.
For all
things may
be made by
the reflec-
tion of
them in a
mirror.
416
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
X.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
But this is
an appear-
ance only:
and the
painter too
is a maker
of appear-
ances.
Three bedr
and three
makers of
eds.
Very good, I said, you are coming to the point now. And
the painter too is, as I conceive, just such another—a creator
of appearances, is he not?
Of course.
But then I suppose you will say that what he creates is
untrue. And yet there is a sense in which the painter also
creates a bed?
Yes, he said, but not a real bed.
And what of the maker of the bed? were you not saying 597
that he too makes, not the idea which, according to our view,
is the essence of the bed, but only a particular bed?
Yes, I did.
Then if he does not make that which exists he cannot
make true existence, but only some semblance of existence;
and if any one were to say that the work of the maker of the
bed, or of any other workman, has real existence, he could
hardly be supposed to be speaking the truth.
At any rate, he replied, philosophers would say that he
was not speaking the truth.
No wonder, then, that his work too is an indistinct ex-
pression of truth.
No wonder.
Suppose now that by the light of the examples just offered
we enquire who this imitator is?
If you please.
Well, then, here are three beds: one existing in nature,
which is made by God, as I think that we may say-for
no one else can be the maker?
No.
There is another which is the work of the carpenter?
Yes.
And the work of the painter is a third?
Yes.
Beds, then, are of three kinds, and there are three artists
who superintend them: God, the maker of the bed, and the
painter?
Yes, there are three of them.
God, whether from choice or from necessity, made one bed
in nature and one only; two or more such ideal beds neither
ever have been nor ever will be made by God.
THE REPUBLIC
417
Why is that?
Because even if He had made but two, a third would still
appear behind them which both of them would have for
their idea, and that would be the ideal bed and not the
two others.
Very true, he said.
Republic
X.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
(1) The
creator.
God could
only make
God knew this, and He desired to be the real maker of a
real bed, not a particular maker of a particular bed, and one bed;
therefore He created a bed which is essentially and by nature
one only.
So we believe.
Shall we, then, speak of Him as the natural author or
maker of the bed?
Yes, he replied; inasmuch as by the natural process of
creation He is the author of this and of all other things.
if he made
two, a third
would still
appear be-
hind them.
And what shall we say of the carpenter-is not he also the (2) The
maker of the bed?
Yes.
But would you call the painter a creator and maker?
Certainly not.
Yet if he is not the maker, what is he in relation to the bed?
human
maker.
I think, he said, that we may fairly designate him as the (3) The imi
imitator of that which the others make.
tator, i.e.
the painter
Good, I said; then you call him who is third in the or poet,
descent from nature an imitator?
Certainly, he said.
whose art
is one of
imitation
or appear-
ance and a
And the tragic poet is an imitator, and therefore, like all
other imitators, he is thrice removed from the king and from long way
the truth?
That appears to be so.
Then about the imitator we are agreed. And what about
598 the painter?-I would like to know whether he may be
thought to imitate that which originally exists in nature, or
only the creations of artists?
The latter.
As they are or as they appear? you have still to determine
this.
What do you mean?
I mean, that you may look at a bed from different points of
view, obliquely or directly or from any other point of view,
removed
from the
truth.
418
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
X.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
Any one
who does
all things
does only a
very small
part of
them.
Any one
who pre-
tends to
know all
things is
ignorant
of the very
nature of
knowledge.
And he
who attri-
butes such
universal
knowledge
to the poets
is similarly
deceived.
and the bed will appear different, but there is no difference
in reality. And the same of all things.
Yes, he said, the difference is only apparent.
Now let me ask you another question: Which is the art of
painting designed to be—an imitation of things as they are
or as they appear--of appearance or of reality?
Of appearance.
Then the imitator, I said, is a long way off the truth, and
can do all things because he lightly touches on a small part
of them, and that part an image. For example: A painter
will paint a cobbler, carpenter, or any other artist, though he
knows nothing of their arts; and, if he is a good artist, he
may deceive children or simple persons, when he shows
them his picture of a carpenter from a distance, and they
will fancy that they are looking at a real carpenter.
Certainly.
And whenever any one informs us that he has found a man
who knows all the arts, and all things else that anybody
knows, and every single thing with a higher degree of ac-
curacy than any other man-whoever tells us this, I think
that we can only imagine him to be a simple creature who is
likely to have been deceived by some wizard or actor whom
he met, and whom he thought all-knowing, because he him-
self was unable to analyse the nature of knowledge and
ignorance and imitation.
Most true.
And so, when we hear persons saying that the tragedians,
and Homer, who is at their head, know all the arts and all
things human, virtue as well as vice, and divine things too,
for that the good poet cannot compose well unless he knows
his subject, and that he who has not this knowledge can
never be a poet, we ought to consider whether here also
there may not be a similar illusion. Perhaps they may have
come across imitators and been deceived by them; they
may not have remembered when they saw their works that
these were but imitations thrice removed from the truth, and 599
could easily be made without any knowledge of the truth,
because they are appearances only and not realities? Or,
after all, they may be in the right, and poets do really know
the things about which they seem to the many to speak so well?
THE REPUBLIC
419
605
X.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
The question, he said, should by all means be considered. Republic
Now do you suppose that if a person were able to make
the original as well as the image, he would seriously devote
himself to the image-making branch? Would he allow imi-
tation to be the ruling principle of his life, as if he had He who
nothing higher in him?
I should say not.
The real artist, who knew what he was imitating, would be
interested in realities and not in imitations; and would desire
to leave as memorials of himself works many and fair; and,
instead of being the author of encomiums, he would prefer
to be the theme of them.
[The poets have been of little utility, being mere imitators;
and they are concerned with the feelings, a part of the soul
inferior to the reason.]
But we have not yet brought forward the heaviest count in
our accusation: the power which poetry has of harming
even the good (and there are very few who are not harmed),
is surely an awful thing?
Yes, certainly, if the effect is what you say.
Hear and judge: The best of us, as I conceive, when we
listen to a passage of Homer, or one of the tragedians, in
which he represents some pitiful hero who is drawling out
his sorrows in a long oration, or weeping, and smiting his
breast-the best of us, you know, delight in giving way to
sympathy, and are in raptures at the excellence of the poet
who stirs our feelings most.
Yes, of course I know.
But when any sorrow of our own happens to us, then you
may observe that we pride ourselves on the opposite quality-
we would fain be quiet and patient; this is the manly part,
and the other which delighted us in the recitation is now
deemed to be the part of a woman.
Very true, he said.
Now can we be right in praising and admiring another
who is doing that which any one of us would abominate and
be ashamed of in his own person?
No, he said, that is certainly not reasonable.
606 Nay, I said, quite reasonable from one point of view.
What point of view?
could make
the original
would not
make the
image.
How can
we be right
thizing with
the sorrows
when we
restrain
in sympa-
of poetry
would fain
those of
real life?
420
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
X.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
We fail to
observe
that a sen-
timental
pity soon
creates a
real weak-
ness.
In like
manner
the love of
comedy
may turn
a man into
a buffoon.
If you consider, I said, that when in misfortune we feel a
natural hunger and desire to relieve our sorrow by weeping
and lamentation, and that this feeling which is kept under
control in our own calamities is satisfied and delighted by
the poets; the better nature in each of us, not having been
sufficiently trained by reason or habit, allows the sympathetic
element to break loose because the sorrow is another's; and
the spectator fancies that there can be no disgrace to him-
self in praising and pitying any one who comes telling
him what a good man he is, and making a fuss about his
troubles; he thinks that the pleasure is a gain, and why
should he be supercilious and lose this and the poem too?
Few persons ever reflect, as I should imagine, that from
the evil of other men something of evil is communicated
to themselves. And so the feeling of sorrow which has
gathered strength at the sight of the misfortunes of others
is with difficulty repressed in our own.
How very true!
And does not the same hold also of the ridiculous? There
are jests which you would be ashamed to make yourself, and
yet on the comic stage, or indeed in private, when you hear
them, you are greatly amused by them, and are not at all
disgusted at their unseemliness;-the case of pity is re-
peated; there is a principle in human nature which is
disposed to raise a laugh, and this which you once
restrained by reason, because you were afraid of being
thought a buffoon, is now let out again; and having stimu-
lated the risible faculty at the theatre, you are betrayed
unconsciously to yourself into playing the comic poet at
home.
Quite true, he said.
And the same may be said of lust and anger and all the
other affections, of desire and pain and pleasure, which are
held to be inseparable from every action-in all of them
poetry feeds and waters the passions instead of drying
them up; she lets them rule, although they ought to be
controlled, if mankind are ever to increase in happiness and
virtue.
I cannot deny it.
Therefore, Glaucon, I said, whenever you meet with any
THE REPUBLIC
421
X.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
lovers of
Homer, but
expel him
from our
of the eulogists of Homer declaring that he has been the Republic
educator of Hellas, and that he is profitable for education
and for the ordering of human things, and that you should
607 take him up again and again and yet again to know him and
regulate your whole life according to him, we may love We are
and honour those who say these things-they are excellent
people, as far as their lights extend; and we are ready we must
to acknowledge that Homer is the greatest of poets
first of tragedy writers; but we must remain firm in our State.
conviction that hymns to the gods and praises of famous
men are the only poetry which ought to be admitted into
our State. For if you go beyond this and allow the honeyed
muse to enter, either in epic or lyric verse, pleasure and pain
will be the lords of your State instead of law and the rule
that the common reason shall from time to time have pro-
nounced to be the best.'
That is most true, he said.
the poets.
And now since we have reverted to the subject of poetry, Apology to
let this our defence serve to show the reasonableness of our
former judgment in sending away out of our State an art
having the tendencies which we have described; for reason
constrained us. But that she may not impute to us any
harshness or want of politeness, let us tell her that there
is an ancient quarrel between philosophy and poetry; of
which there are many proofs, such as the saying of 'the
yelping hound howling at her lord,' or of one 'mighty in
the vain talk of fools,' and 'the mob of sages circumventing
Zeus,' and the 'subtle thinkers who are beggars after all;'
and there are innumerable other signs of ancient enmity
between them. Notwithstanding this, let us assure our sweet
friend and the sister arts of imitation, that if she will only
prove her title to exist in a well-ordered State we shall be
delighted to receive her-we are very conscious of her
charm; but we may not on that account betray the truth.
I dare say, Glaucon, that you are as much charmed by her
as I am, especially when she appears in Homer?
Yes, indeed, I am greatly charmed.
[¹ J. has 'not law and the reason of mankind, which by common con-
sent have ever been deemed best, but pleasure and pain will be the
rulers in our State.']
422
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
X.
SOCRATES,
GLAUCON.
Poetry is
attractive
but not
true.
Shall I propose, then, that she be allowed to return from
exile, but upon this condition only-that she make a defence
of herself in lyrical or some other metre?
Certainly.
And we may further grant to those of her defenders who
are lovers of poetry and yet not poets the permission to
speak in prose on her behalf: let them show not only that
she is pleasant but also useful to States and to human life,
and we will listen in a kindly spirit; for if this can be proved
we shall surely be the gainers-I mean, if there is a use in
poetry as well as a delight?
Certainly, he said, we shall be the gainers.
If her defence fails, then, my dear friend, like other
persons who are enamoured of something, but put a re-
straint upon themselves when they think their desires are
opposed to their interests, so too must we after the manner
of lovers give her up, though not without a struggle. We
too are inspired by that love of poetry which the education
of noble States has implanted in us, and therefore we would 608
have her appear at her best and truest; but so long as she is
unable to make good her defence, this argument of ours shall
be a charm to us, which we will repeat to ourselves while
we listen to her strains; that we may not fall away into the
childish love of her which captivates the many. At all events
we are well aware that poetry being such as we have de-
scribed is not to be regarded seriously as attaining to the
truth; and he who listens to her, fearing for the safety of the
city which is within him, should be on his guard against her
seductions and make our words his law.
Yes, he said, I quite agree with you.
Yes, I said, my dear Glaucon, for great is the issue at
stake, greater than appears, whether a man is to be good or
bad. And what will any one be profited if under the influence
of honour or money or power, aye, or under the excitement
of poetry, he neglect justice and virtue?
[The soul can be destroyed neither by material influences
nor yet by sin, though it is sadly disfigured in this life by
countless ills, and will be seen in its purity only hereafter.
Therefore to the internal rewards of virtue and vice hitherto
THE REPUBLIC
423
614
X.
considered may now be added the prospect of future rewards, Republic
if the gods care for virtue.]
SOCRATES.
ment.
Well, I said, I will tell you a tale; not one of the tales
which Odysseus tells to the hero Alcinous, yet this too is
a tale of a hero, Er the son of Armenius, a Pamphylian
by birth.
He was slain in battle, and ten days afterwards,
when the bodies of the dead were taken up already in a state
of corruption, his body was found unaffected by decay, and
carried away home to be buried. And on the twelfth day, as
he was lying on the funeral pile, he returned to life and told
them what he had seen in the other world. He said that
when his soul left the body he went on a journey with a great The judg
company, and that they came to a mysterious place at which
there were two openings in the earth; they were near to-
gether, and over against them were two other openings in
the heaven above. In the intermediate space there were
judges seated, who commanded the just, after they had given
judgment on them and had bound their sentences in front of
them, to ascend by the heavenly way on the right hand; and
in like manner the unjust were bidden by them to descend by
the lower way on the left hand; these also bore the symbols
of their deeds, but fastened on their backs. He drew near,
and they told him that he was to be the messenger who would
carry the report
of the other world to men, and they bade him
hear and see all that was to be heard and seen in that place.
Then he beheld and saw on one side the souls departing at through
either opening of heaven and earth when sentence had been
given on them; and at the two other openings other souls,
some ascending out of the earth dusty and worn with travel,
some descending out of heaven clean and bright. And
arriving ever and anon they seemed to have come from a
long journey, and they went forth with gladness into the
meadow, where they encamped as at a festival; and those
who knew one another embraced and conversed, the souls
which came from earth curiously enquiring about the things
above, and the souls which came from heaven about the
things beneath. And they told one another of what had
happened by the way, those from below weeping and sorrow-
615 ing at the remembrance of the things which they had en-
dured and seen in their journey beneath the earth (now the
The two
openings
in heaven
and the
two in
earth
which
passed
those who
ning and
those who
were begin-
had com-
pleted their
pilgrimage.
The meet-
ing in the
meadow.
424
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
X.
SOCRATES.
The
punish-
ment ten-
fold the
sin.
'Unbap-
tized in-
fants.'
Ardiaeus
the tyrant.
Incurable
sinners.
journey lasted a thousand years), while those from above
were describing heavenly delights and visions of inconceiv-
able beauty. The story, Glaucon, would take too long to
tell; but the sum was this:-He said that for every wrong
which they had done to any one they suffered tenfold; or once
in a hundred years--such being reckoned to be the length of
man's life, and the penalty being thus paid ten times in a thou-
sand years. If, for example, there were any who had been
the cause of many deaths, or had betrayed or enslaved cities
or armies, or been guilty of any other evil behaviour, for each
and all of their offences they received punishment ten times
over, and the rewards of beneficence and justice and holiness
were in the same proportion. I need hardly repeat what
he said concerning young children dying almost as soon
as they were born. Of piety and impiety to gods and parents,
and of murder,' there were retributions other and greater
far which he described. He mentioned that he was present
when one of the spirits asked another, 'Where is Ardiaeus
the Great?' (Now this Ardiaeus lived a thousand years
before the time of Er: he had been the tyrant of some city of
Pamphylia, and had murdered his aged father and his elder
brother, and was said to have committed many other abomin-
able crimes.) The answer of the other spirit was: 'He comes
not hither and will never come. And this,' said he, 'was one
of the dreadful sights which we ourselves witnessed. We
were at the mouth of the cavern, and, having completed all
our experiences, were about to reascend, when of a sudden
Ardiaeus appeared and several others, most of whom were
tyrants; and there were also besides the tyrants private in-
dividuals who had been great criminals: they were just, as
they fancied, about to return into the upper world, but the
mouth, instead of admitting them, gave a roar, whenever
any of these incurable sinners or some one who had not
been sufficiently punished tried to ascend; and then wild
men of fiery aspect, who were standing by and heard the
sound, seized and carried them off; and Ardiaeus and others 616
they bound head and foot and hand, and threw them down
and flayed them with scourges, and dragged them along the
road at the side, carding them on thorns like wool, and de-
[1 J. has 'murderers.']
THE REPUBLIC
425
X.
SOCRATES.
claring to the passers-by what were their crimes, and that Republic
they were being taken away to be cast into hell.' And of
all the many terrors which they had endured, he said that
there was none like the terror which each of them felt at that
moment, lest they should hear the voice; and when there was
silence, one by one they ascended with exceeding joy. These,
said Er, were the penalties and retributions, and there were
blessings as great.
Now when the spirits which were in the meadow had
tarried seven days, on the eighth they were obliged to pro-
ceed on their journey, and, on the fourth day after, he
said that they came to a place where they could see from
above a line of light, straight as a column, extending right
through the whole heaven and through the earth, in colour
resembling the rainbow, only brighter and purer; another
day's journey brought them to the place, and there, in the
midst of the light, they saw the ends of the chains of heaven
let down from above: for this light is the belt of heaven,
and holds together the circle of the universe, like the under-
girders of a trireme. From these ends is extended the spindle
of Necessity, on which all the revolutions turn. The shaft
and hook of this spindle are made of steel, and the whorl
is made partly of steel and also partly of other materials.
Now the whorl is in form like the whorl used on earth; and The whorls
the description of it implied that there is one large hollow
whorl which is quite scooped out, and into this is fitted another
lesser one, and another, and another, and four others, making
eight in all, like vessels which fit into one another; the whorls
show their edges on the upper side, and on their lower side
all together form one continuous whorl. This is pierced by
the spindle, which is driven home through the centre of the
eighth. The first and outermost whorl has the rim broadest,
and the seven inner whorls are narrower, in the following
proportions-the sixth is next to the first in size, the fourth
next to the sixth; then comes the eighth; the seventh is
fifth, the fifth is sixth, the third is seventh, last and eighth
comes the second. The largest [or fixed stars] is spangled,
and the seventh [or sun] is brightest; the eighth [or moon]
617 coloured by the reflected light of the seventh; the second
and fifth [Saturn and Mercury] are in colour like one another,
represent-
ing the
spheres of
ly bodies.
the heaven-
426
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
X.
SOCRATES.
The pro-
clamation
of the free
choice.
and yellower than the preceding; the third [Venus] has the
whitest light; the fourth [Mars] is reddish; the sixth
[Jupiter] is in whiteness second. Now the whole spindle
has the same motion; but, as the whole revolves in one
direction, the seven inner circles move slowly in the other,
and of these the swiftest is the eighth; next in swiftness are
the seventh, sixth, and fifth, which move together; third in
swiftness appeared to move according to the law of this
reversed motion the fourth; the third appeared fourth and the
second fifth. The spindle turns on the knees of Necessity;
and on the upper surface of each circle is a siren, who goes
round with them, hymning a single tone or note. The eight
together form one harmony; and round about, at equal
intervals, there is another band, three in number, each
sitting upon her throne: these are the Fates, daughters
of Necessity, who are clothed in white robes and have
chaplets upon their heads, Lachesis and Clotho and Atropos,
who accompany with their voices the harmony of the sirens
-Lachesis singing of the past, Clotho of the present, Atropos
of the future; Clotho from time to time assisting with a
touch of her right hand the revolution of the outer circle
of the whorl or spindle, and Atropos with her left hand
touching and guiding the inner ones, and Lachesis laying
hold of either in turn first with one hand and then with
the other.
When Er and the spirits arrived, their duty was to go at
once to Lachesis; but first of all there came a prophet who
arranged them in order; then he took from the knees of
Lachesis lots and samples of lives, and having mounted a
high pulpit, spoke as follows: 'Hear the word of Lachesis,
the daughter of Necessity. Mortal souls, behold a new cycle
of life and mortality. Your genius will not be allotted to you,
but you will choose your genius; and let him who draws the
first lot have the first choice, and the life which he chooses
shall be his destiny. Virtue is free, and as a man honours
or dishonours her he will have more or less of her; the
responsibility is with the chooser-God is justified.' When
the Interpreter had thus spoken he scattered lots indifferently
among them all, and each of them took up the lot which fell
near him, all but Er himself (he was not allowed), and each 618
THE REPUBLIC
427
X.
SOCRATES.
as he took his lot perceived the number which he had Republic
obtained. Then the Interpreter placed on the ground before
them the samples of lives; and there were many more lives
than the souls present, and they were of all sorts. There
were lives of every animal and of man in every condition.
And there were tyrannies among them, some lasting out the
tyrant's life, others which broke off in the middle and came
to an end in poverty and exile and beggary; and there were
lives of famous men, some who were famous for their form
and beauty as well as for their strength and success in games,
or, again, for their birth and the qualities of their ancestors;
and some who were the reverse of famous for the opposite
qualities. And of women likewise; there was not, however,
any definite character in them, because the soul, when
choosing a new life, must of necessity become different.
But there was every other quality, and they all mingled
with one another, and also with elements of wealth and
poverty, and disease and health; and there were mean
states also. And here, my dear Glaucon, is the supreme
peril of our human state; and therefore the utmost care
should be taken. Let each one of us leave every other kind The com-
of knowledge and seek and follow one thing only, if plexity of
per- circum-
adventure he may be able to learn and may find some one stances,
who will make him able to learn and discern between good
and evil, and so to choose always and everywhere the better
life as he has opportunity. He should consider the bearing
of all these things which have been mentioned severally and
collectively upon virtue; he should know what the effect and their
of beauty is when combined with poverty or wealth in a relation to
particular soul, and what are the good and evil conse- soul.
quences of noble and humble birth, of private and public
station, of strength and weakness, of cleverness and dulness,
and of all the natural and acquired gifts of the soul, and the
operation of them when conjoined; he will then look at the
nature of the soul, and from the consideration of all these
qualities he will be able to determine which is the better and
which is the worse; and so he will choose, giving the name
of evil to the life which will make his soul more unjust, and
good to the life which will make his soul more just; all else
he will disregard. For we have seen and know that this is
the human
428
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic the best choice both in life and after death.
X.
SOCRATES.
Habit not
enough
without
philosophy
when cir-
cumstances
change.
A man must 619
take with him into the world below an adamantine faith in
truth and right, that there too he may be undazzled by the
desire of wealth or the other allurements of evil, lest, coming
upon tyrannies and similar villainies, he do irremediable
wrongs to others and suffer yet worse himself; but let him
know how to choose the mean and avoid the extremes on
either side, as far as possible, not only in this life but
in all that which is to come. For this is the way of happi-
ness.
And according to the report of the messenger from the
other world this was what the prophet said at the time: 'Even
for the last comer, if he chooses wisely and will live dili-
gently, there is appointed a happy and not undesirable
existence. Let not him who chooses first be careless, and
let not the last despair.' And when he had spoken, he who
had the first choice came forward and in a moment chose the
greatest tyranny; his mind having been darkened by folly
and sensuality, he had not thought out the whole matter
before he chose, and did not at first sight perceive that he
was fated, among other evils, to devour his own children.
But when he had time to reflect, and saw what was in the
lot, he began to beat his breast and lament over his choice,
forgetting the proclamation of the prophet; for, instead of
throwing the blame of his misfortune on himself, he accused
chance and the gods, and everything rather than himself.
Now he was one of those who came from heaven, and in a
former life had dwelt in a well-ordered State, but his virtue
was a matter of habit only, and he had no philosophy. And
it was true of others who were similarly overtaken, that the
greater number of them came from heaven and therefore
they had never been schooled by trial, whereas the pilgrims
who came from earth having themselves suffered and seen
others suffer were not in a hurry to choose. And owing to
this inexperience of theirs, and also because the lot was a
chance, many of the sculs exchanged a good destiny for an
evil or an evil for a good. For if a man had always on his
arrival in this world dedicated himself from the first to sound
philosophy, and had been moderately fortunate in the number
of the lot, he might, as the messenger reported, be happy
THE REPUBLIC
429
X.
SOCRATES.
cle of the
here, and also his journey to another life and return to this, Republic
instead of being rough and underground, would be smooth
and heavenly. Most curious, he said, was the spectacle-
sad and laughable and strange; for the choice of the souls The specta-
620 was in most cases based on their experience of a previous election.
life. There he saw the soul which had once been Orpheus
choosing the life of a swan out of enmity to the race of
women, hating to be born of a woman because they had
been his murderers; he beheld also the soul of Thamyras
choosing the life of a nightingale; birds, on the other hand,
like the swan and other musicians, wanting to be men. The
soul which obtained the twentieth lot chose the life of a lion,
and this was the soul of Ajax the son of Telamon, who would
not be a man, remembering the injustice which was done him
in the judgment about the arms. The next was Agamemnon,
who took the life of an eagle, because, like Ajax, he hated
human nature by reason of his sufferings. About the middle
came the lot of Atalanta; she, seeing the great fame of an
athlete, was unable to resist the temptation: and after her
there followed the soul of Epeus the son of Panopeus passing
into the nature of a woman cunning in the arts; and far away
among the last who chose, the soul of the jester Thersites was
putting on the form of a monkey. There came also the soul
of Odysseus having yet to make a choice, and his lot happened
to be the last of them all. Now the recollection of former
toils had disenchanted him of ambition, and he went about
for a considerable time in search of the life of a private man
who had no cares; he had some difficulty in finding this,
which was lying about and had been neglected by everybody
else; and when he saw it, he said that he would have done
the same had his lot been first instead of last, and that he
was delighted to have it. And not only did men pass into
animals, but I must also mention that there were animals
tame and wild who changed into one another and into cor-
responding human natures-the good into the gentle and
the evil into the savage, in all sorts of combinations.
All the souls had now chosen their lives, and they went in
the order of their choice to Lachesis, who sent with them the
genius whom they had severally chosen, to be the guardian
of their lives and the fulfiller of the choice: this genius led
430
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Republic
X.
SOCRATES.
the souls first to Clotho, and drew them within the revolution
of the spindle impelled by her hand, thus ratifying the
destiny of each; and then, when they were fastened to this,
carried them to Atropos, who spun the threads and made
them irreversible, whence without turning round they passed 621
beneath the throne of Necessity; and when they had all
passed, they marched on in a scorching heat to the plain of
Forgetfulness, which was a barren waste destitute of trees
and verdure; and then toward evening they encamped
by the river of Unmindfulness, whose water no vessel can
hold; of this they were all obliged to drink a certain
quantity, and those who were not saved by wisdom drank
more than was necessary; and each one as he drank forgot
all things. Now after they had gone to rest, about the
middle of the night there was a thunderstorm and earth-
quake, and then in an instant they were driven upwards in
all manner of ways to their birth, like stars shooting. He
himself was hindered from drinking the water. But in what
manner or by what means he returned to the body he could
not say; only, in the morning, awaking suddenly, he found
himself lying on the pyre.
And thus, Glaucon, the tale has been saved and has not
perished, and will save us if we are obedient to the word
spoken; and we shall pass safely over the river of Forget-
fulness and our soul will not be defiled. Wherefore my
counsel is, that we hold fast ever to the heavenly way and
follow after justice and virtue always, considering that the
soul is immortal and able to endure every sort of good and
every sort of evil. Thus shall we live dear to one another
and to the gods, both while remaining here and when, like
conquerors in the games who go round to gather gifts, we
receive our reward. And it shall be well with us both in
this life and in the pilgrimage of a thousand years which we
have been describing.
PHAEDRUS
In beauty and richness of fancy, as well as in profundity,
the Phaedrus ranks high among the Platonic dialogues. In
subject and in temper it is most akin to the Symposium; for
it regards the realm of ideas not merely, as the Republic
tends to regard it, as the object of intellectual cognition, but
also as the object of ardent love, even of mystical intuition.
It reminds us anew that the very word philosophy means not
wisdom but the love of wisdom. The Phaedrus, accordingly,
like the Symposium, has always been a favorite work for
poets and mystics.
"The subjects of the Phaedrus (exclusive of the short intro-
ductory passage about mythology which is suggested by the
local tradition) are first the false or conventional art of
rhetoric; secondly, love or the inspiration of beauty and know-
ledge, which is described as madness; thirdly, dialectic or the
art of composition and division; fourthly, the true rhetoric,
which is based upon dialectic, and is neither the art of persua-
sion nor knowledge of the truth alone, but the art of persuasion
founded on knowledge of truth and knowledge of character;
fifthly, the superiority of the spoken over the written word.
The continuous thread which appears and reappears throughout
is rhetoric; this is the ground into which the rest of the Dia-
logue is worked, in parts embroidered with fine words which
are not in Socrates' manner, as he says, "in order to please
Phaedrus." The speech of Lysias which has thrown Phaedrus
into an ecstasy is adduced as an example of the false rhetoric;
the first speech of Socrates, though an improvement, partakes
of the same character; his second speech, which is full of that
higher element said to have been learned of Anaxagoras by
Pericles, and which in the midst of poetry does not forget
order, is an illustration of the higher or true rhetoric. This
higher rhetoric is based upon dialectic, and dialectic is a sort
of inspiration akin to love (cp. Symp. 210 foll.); in these
two aspects of philosophy the technicalities of rhetoric are
absorbed. And so the example becomes also the deeper theme
of discourse. The true knowledge of things in heaven and
earth is based upon enthusiasm or love of the idea going be-
fore us and ever present to us in this world and in another;
and the true order of speech or writing proceeds accordingly.
Love, again, has three degrees: first, of interested love corre-
sponding to the conventionalities of rhetoric; secondly, of dis-
interested or mad love, fixed on objects of sense, and answer-
ing, perhaps, to poetry; thirdly, of disinterested love directed.
toward the unseen, answering to dialectic or the science of the
ideas. Lastly, the art of rhetoric in the lower sense is found to
rest on a knowledge of the natures and characters of men,
which Socrates at the commencement of the Dialogue has
described as his own peculiar study.' [J.]
It will be seen that Plato is constantly emphasizing the
thesis that the speaker must know the truth in order to speak;
he even echoes the words of the myth about love when he
comes to deal with a true rhetoric, translating the ecstatic
vision of reality into the logical language of universals and
particulars, the one and the many (249bc; 265d; 273). And
beauty perceived by the senses, he tells us, constantly puts us in
mind of supercelestial beauty and reality. In this manner the
problem of inspiration raised in the Ion, finds some sort
of solution; the work of the poet or the artist is valid so far as
it interprets the sensible world significantly, or uses sensibilia to
express eternal values, and inspiration by a god gives place to
inspiration by the vision of ideas.
W. C. G.
PHAEDRUS
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE
SOCRATES.
PHAEDRUS.
SCENE:-Under a plane-tree, by the banks of the Ilissus.
Socrates. My dear Phaedrus, whence come you, and whither SOCRATES,
227 are you going?
PHAEDRUS.
who has
just left
Phaedrus. I have come from Lysias the son of Cephalus, Phaedrus,
and I am going to take a walk outside the wall, for I have
been sitting with him the whole morning; and our common Lysias the
friend Acumenus tells me that it is much more refreshing to
walk in the open air than to be shut up in a cloister.
Soc. There he is right. Lysias then, I suppose, was in the
town?
Phaedr. Yes, he was staying with Epicrates, here at the
house of Morychus; that house which is near the temple of
Olympian Zeus.
Soc. And how did he entertain you? Can I be wrong in
supposing that Lysias gave you a feast of discourse?
Phaedr. You shall hear, if you can spare time to accom-
pany me.
Soc. And should I not deem the conversation of you and
Lysias 'a thing of higher import,' as I may say in the words
of Pindar, 'than any business'?
Phaedr. Will you go on?
Soc. And will you go on with the narration?
orator, is
about to
take a walk
in the coun-
try, when
he meets
Socrates.
of Lysias
was a para
Phaedr. My tale, Socrates, is one of your sort, for love The theme
was the theme which occupied us-love after a fashion:
Lysias has been writing about a fair youth who was being dox about
tempted, but not by a lover; and this was the point: he
ingeniously proved that the non-lover should be accepted
rather than the lover.
love.
435
436
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
haedrus.
SOCRATES,
PHAEDRUS.
The ways of
Phaedrus
are well
known to
Socrates,
Soc. O that is noble of him! I wish that he would say the
poor man rather than the rich, and the old man rather than
the young one;-then he would meet the case of me and of
many a man; his words would be quite refreshing, and he
would be a public bene factor. For my part, I do so long to
hear his speech, that if you walk all the way to Megara, and
when you have reached the wall come back, as Herodicus
recommends, without going in, I will keep you company.
Phaedr. What do you mean, my good Socrates? How
can you imagine that my unpractised memory can do justice 228
to an elaborate work, which the greatest rhetorician of the
age spent a long time in composing. Indeed, I cannot; I
would give a great deal if I could.
Soc. I believe that I know Phaedrus about as well as I
know myself, and I am very sure that the speech of Lysias
was repeated to him, not once only, but again and again;—
he insisted on hearing it many times over and Lysias was very
willing to gratify him; at last, when nothing else would do,
he got hold of the book, and looked at what he most wanted
to see, this occupied him during the whole morning;—and
then when he was tired with sitting, he went out to take
a walk, not until, by the dog, as I believe, he had simply
learned by heart the entire discourse, unless it was un-
usually long, and he went to a place outside the wall that he
might practise his lesson. There he saw a certain lover of
discourse who had a similar weakness; he saw and re-
joiced; now thought he, 'I shall have a partner in my
revels.' And he invited him to come and walk with him.
But when the lover of discourse begged that he would repeat
the tale, he gave himself airs and said, 'No I cannot,' as if
he were indisposed; although, if the hearer had refused, he
would sooner or later have been compelled by him to listen
whether he would or no. Therefore, Phaedrus, bid him do
at once what he will soon do whether bidden or not.
-
Phaedr. I see that you will not let me off until I speak in
some fashion or other; verily therefore my best plan is to
speak as I best can.
Scc. A very true remark, that of yours.
Phaedr. I will do as I say; but believe me, Socrates, I did
not learn the very words-O no; nevertheless I have a
PHAEDRUS
437
general notion of what he said, and will give you a summary Phaedrus.
of the points in which the lover differed from the non-lover. SOCRATES,
Let me begin at the beginning.
PHAEDRUS.
serves that
he has got
Soc. Yes, my sweet one; but you must first of all show who ob-
what you have in your left hand under your cloak, for that
roll, as I suspect, is the actual discourse. Now, much as the roll
I love you, I would not have you suppose that I am going to under his
have your memory exercised at my expense, if you have cloak.
Lysias himself here.
Phaedr. Enough; I see that I have no hope of practising
But if I am to read, where would you
229 my art upon you.
please to sit?
Soc. Let us turn aside and go by the Ilissus; we will sit
down at some quiet spot.
Phaedr. I am fortunate in not having my sandals, and as
you never have any, I think that we may go along the brook
and cool our feet in the water; this will be the easiest way,
and at midday and in the summer is far from being unpleasant.
Soc. Lead on, and look out for a place in which we can
sit down.
Phaedr. Do you see that tallest plane-tres in the distance?
Soc. Yes.
Phaedr. There are shade and gentle breezes, and grass on
which we may either sit or lie down.
Soc. Move forward.
hidden
Phaedr. I should like to know, Socrates, whether the place On the way
is not somewhere here at which Boreas is said to have carried
off Orithyia from the banks of the Ilissus?
Soc. Such is the tradition.
Phaedr. And is this the exact spot? The little stream is
delightfully clear and bright; I can fancy that there might
be maidens playing near.
Soc. I believe that the spot is not exactly here, but about
a quarter of a mile lower down, where you cross to the temple
of Artemis, and there is, I think, some sort of an altar of
Boreas at the place.
Phaedr. I have never noticed it; but I beseech you to tell
me, Socrates, do you believe this tale?
to the
Ilissus
Phaedrus
asks the
opinion of
Socrates
the truth
respecting
of a local
legend.
Soc. The wise are doubtful, and I should not be singular Socrates
if, like them, I too doubted. I might have a rational ex-
desires to
438
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedrus.
SOCRATES,
PHAEDRUS.
know him-
self before
he enquires
into the
newly found
philosophy
of myth-
ology.
Socrates,
who is an
inhabitant
of the city,
is charmed
with the
sights and
sounds of
the country
which are
so new to
him.
planation that Orithyia was playing with Pharmacia, when
a northern gust carried her over the neighbouring rocks;
and this being the manner of her death, she was said to have
been carried away by Boreas. There is a discrepancy, how-
ever, about the locality; according to another version of the
story she was taken from the Areopagus, and not from this
place. Now I quite acknowledge that these allegories are
very nice, but he is not to be envied who has to invent them;
much labour and ingenuity will be required of him; and when
he has once begun, he must go on and rehabilitate Hippo-
centaurs and chimeras dire. Gorgons and winged steeds
flow in apace, and numberless other inconceivable and por-
tentous natures. And if he is sceptical about them, and
I would fain reduce them one after another to the rules of
probability, this sort of crude philosophy will take up a great
deal of time. Now I have no leisure for such enquiries;
shall I tell you why? I must first know myself, as the
Delphian inscription says; to be curious about that which is 230
not my concern, while I am still in ignorance of my own self,
would be ridiculous. And therefore I bid farewell to all this;
the common opinion is enough for me. For, as I was saying,
I want to know not about this, but about myself: am I a
monster more complicated and swollen with passion than the
serpent Typho, or a creature of a gentler and simpler sort,
to whom Nature has given a diviner and lowlier destiny?
But let me ask you, friend: have we not reached the plane-
tree to which you were conducting us?
Phaedr. Yes, this is the tree.
Soc. By Herè, a fair resting-place, full of summer sounds
and scents. Here is this lofty and spreading plane-tree, and the
agnus castus high and clustering, in the fullest blossom and
the greatest fragrance; and the stream which flows beneath
the plane-tree is deliciously cold to the feet. Judging from
the ornaments and images, this must be a spot sacred to
Achelous and the Nymphs. How delightful is the breeze:—
so very sweet; and there is a sound in the air shrill and
summerlike which makes answer to the chorus of the
cicadae. But the greatest charm of all is the grass, like
a pillow gently sloping to the head. My dear Phaedrus,
you have been an admirable guide.
PHAEDRUS
439
Phaedr. What
an
PHAEDRUS.
incomprehensible being you are, Phaedrus.
Socrates: when you are in the country, as you say, you SOCRATES.
really are like some stranger who is led about by a guide.
Do you ever cross the border? I rather think that you never
venture even outside the gates.
Soc. Very true, my good friend; and I hope that you will
excuse me when you hear the reason, which is, that I am a
lover of knowledge, and the men who dwell in the city are
my teachers, and not the trees or the country. Though I
do indeed believe that you have found a spell with which to
draw me out of the city into the country, like a hungry cow
before whom a bough or a bunch of fruit is waved.
only hold up before me in like manner a book, and you may
lead me all round Attica, and over the wide world. And
now having arrived, I intend to lie down, and do you choose
any posture in which you can read best. Begin.
For
[Phaedrus reads the speech, doubtless a parody of the style
of Lysias composed by Plato himself; it is a specious paradox-
ical attempt to prove that the non-lover should be preferred
to the lover, as more disinterested. Socrates is not greatly im-
pressed; he could make a better speech himself. Phaedrus
takes him at his word, and compels him to do so.
The first
speech of Socrates, after defining the irrational nature of
love, professes to condemn the lover for his selfish corrup-
tion of the beloved. Socrates is about to depart, without prais-
ing the non-lover; Phaedrus insists that he remain till the heat
of the day is over. At this point Socrates is reminded by his
usual sign,—that sign which always forbids, but never bids,
me to do anything which I am going to do,'-not to depart
till he has atoned for the impiety of his speech against the
god of Love. His second speech will be a recantation.]
He is a
knowledge
lover of
and of man-
kind, and
therefore
can only be
drawn out
of the city
by the help
of a book.
discourse of
Socrates:-
the purport
show that
love is a
of this is to
Soc. Know, then, that the former discourse was the word The second
244 of Phaedrus, the son of Vain Man, who dwells in the city of
Myrrhina (Myrrhinusius). And this which I am about
to utter is the recantation of Stesichorus the son of Godly
Man (Euphemus), who comes from the town of Desire
(Himera), and is to the following effect: 'I told a lie when
I said' that the beloved ought to accept the non-lover when he
might have the lover, because the one is sane, and the other
mad. It might be so if madness were simply an evil; but there
madness of
the noble
sort.
440
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedrus.
SOCRATES.
This mad-
ness is
of four
kinds:-
1. Prophe-
cy is mad-
ness, as is
proved by
considera-
tions of
philology.
2. The in-
spiration
which
purges
away an-
cient wrath.
is also a madness which is a divine gift, and the source of the
chiefest blessings granted to men. For prophecy is a mad-
ness, and the prophetess at Delphi and the priestesses at Dodona
when out of their senses have conferred great benefits on
Hellas, both in public and private life, but when in their
senses few or none. And I might also tell you how the Sibyl
and other inspired persons have given to many an one many
an intimation of the future which has saved them from
falling. But it would be tedious to speak of what every one
knows.
1
2
There will be more reason in appealing to the ancient
inventors of names, who would never have connected pro-
phecy (μavтIK), which foretells the future and is the noblest
of arts, with madness (μaviký), or called them both by the
same name, if they had deemed madness to be a disgrace or
dishonour; they must have thought that there was an in-
spired madness which was a noble thing; for the two words,
μαντική and μανική, are really the same, and the letter τ
is only a modern and tasteless insertion. And this is con-
firmed by the name which was given by them to the investi-
gation of futurity by men in their senses whether made by
the help of birds or of other signs-this, for as much as it is
an art which supplies from the reasoning 'faculty mind (voūc)
and information (iotopía) to human surmisings (oincic),
they originally termed olovoιOTIK, but the word has been
lately altered and made sonorous by the modern introduction
of the letter Omega (olovoιOTIKй and oiuvicTIKй), and in
proportion as prophecy (μavτik) is more perfect and august
than augury, both in name and fact, in the same proportion,
as the ancients testify, is madness superior to a sane mind
(owppooúvn), for the one is only of human, but the other
of divine origin. Again, where plagues and mightiest woes
have bred in certain families, owing to some ancient blood-
guiltiness, there madness has entered with holy prayers and
rites, and by inspired utterances found a way of deliverance
for those who are in need; and he who has part in this gift,
and is truly possessed and duly out of his mind, is by the use
of purifications and mysteries made whole and exempt from
[¹ J. has 'the rational investigation of futurity.']
[2 T. has 'thought.']
PHAEDRUS
44I
madness.
evil, future as well as present, and has a release from the Phaedrus.
245 calamity which was afflicting him. The third kind is the SOCRATES.
madness of those who are possessed by the Muses; which
taking hold of a delicate and virgin soul, and there inspiring 3. Poetry is
frenzy, awakens lyrical and all other numbers; with these
adorning the myriad actions of ancient heroes for the in-
struction of posterity. But he who, having no touch of the
Muses' madness in his soul, comes to the door and thinks
that he will get into the temple by the help of art-he, I
say, and his poetry are not admitted; the sane man disappears
and is nowhere when he enters into rivalry with the madman.
I might tell of many other noble deeds which have sprung
from inspired madness. And therefore, let no one frighten
or flutter us by saying that the temperate friend is to be
chosen rather than the inspired, but let him further show
that love is not sent by the gods for any good to lover or
beloved; if he can do so we will allow him to carry off the
palm. And we, on our part, will prove in answer to him that
the madness of love is the greatest of heaven's blessings, and madness.
the proof shall be one which the wise will receive, and the
witling disbelieve. But first of all, let us view the affections
and actions of the soul divine and human, and try to ascer-
tain the truth about them. The beginning of our proof is as
follows:-
4.
Love is
moving,
and there-
fore immor-
begotten.
tal and un-
The soul through all her being is immortal, for that which Soul is self-
is ever in motion is immortal; but that which moves another
and is moved by another, in ceasing to move ceases also to
live. Only the self-moving, never leaving self, never ceases
to move, and is the fountain and beginning of motion to all
that moves besides. Now, the beginning is unbegotten, for
that which is begotten has a beginning; but the beginning
is begotten of nothing, for if it were begotten of something,
then the begotten would not come from a beginning. But if
unbegotten, it must also be indestructible; for if beginning
were destroyed, there could be no beginning out of any-
thing, nor anything out of a beginning; and all things must
have a beginning. And therefore the self-moving is the
beginning of motion; and this can neither be destroyed nor
begotten, else the whole heavens and all creation would
collapse and stand still, and never again have motion or
442
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedrus.
Socrates.
The soul
described
under the
image of
two winged
horses and
a chariot-
eer.
The wing is
the element
of earth
which soars
upward.
birth. But if the self-moving is proved to be immortal, he
who affirms that self-motion is the very idea and essence of
the soul will not be put to confusion. For the body which
is moved from without is soulless; but that which is moved
from within has a soul, for such is the nature of the soul.
But if this be true, must not the soul be the self-moving, and 246
therefore of necessity unbegotten and immortal? Enough
of the soul's immortality.
Of the nature of the soul, though her true form be ever
a theme of large and more than mortal discourse, let me
speak briefly, and in a figure. And let the figure be com-
posite-a pair of winged horses and a charioteer. Now the
winged horses and the charioteers of the gods are all of them
noble and of noble descent, but those of other races are
mixed; the human charioteer drives his in a pair; and one
of them is noble and of noble breed, and the other is ignoble
and of ignoble breed; and the driving of them of necessity
gives a great deal of trouble to him. I will endeavour to
explain to you in what way the mortal differs from the
immortal creature. The soul in her totality has the care
of inanimate being everywhere, and traverses the whole
heaven in divers forms appearing;-when perfect and fully
winged she soars upward, and orders the whole world;
whereas the imperfect soul, losing her wings and drooping
in her flight at last settles on the solid ground-there finding
a home, she receives an earthly frame which appears to
be self-moved, but is really moved by her power; and
this composition of soul and body is called a living and
mortal creature. For immortal no such union can be
reasonably believed to be; although fancy, not having seen
nor surely known the nature of God, may imagine an im-
mortal creature having both a body and also a soul which
are united throughout all time. Let that, however, be as
God wills, and be spoken of acceptably to him.
And now
let us ask the reason why the soul loses her wings!
The wing is the corporeal element which is most akin
to the divine, and which by nature tends to soar aloft and
carry that which gravitates downwards into the upper
region, which is the habitation of the gods. The divine is
beauty, wisdom, goodness, and the like; and by these the
PHAEDRUS
443
wing of the soul is nourished, and grows apace; but when Phaedrus.
fed upon evil and foulness and the opposite of good, wastes SOCRATES.
and falls away. Zeus, the mighty lord, holding the reins of
festival of
celebrated
mortals
feebly fol
a winged chariot, leads the way in heaven, ordering all and
taking care of all; and there follows him the array of gods
247 and demi-gods, marshalled in eleven bands; Hestia alone
abides at home in the house of heaven; of the rest they who
are reckoned among the princely twelve march in their
appointed order. They see many blessed sights in the
inner heaven, and there are many ways to and fro, along
which the blessed gods are passing, every one doing his
own work; he may follow who will and can, for jealousy
has no place in the celestial choir. But when they go to The great
banquet and festival, then they move up the steep to the top the Gods,
of the vault of heaven. The chariots of the gods in even which is
poise, obeying the rein, glide rapidly; but the others labour, in the outer
for the vicious steed goes heavily, weighing down the heavens:
charioteer to the earth when his steed has not been
thoroughly trained:-and this is the hour of agony and low.
extremest conflict for the soul. For the immortals, when
they are at the end of their course, go forth and stand upon
the outside of heaven, and the revolution of the spheres
carries them round, and they behold the things beyond.
But of the heaven which is above the heavens, what earthly
poet ever did or ever will sing worthily? It is such as I will
describe; for I must dare to speak the truth, when truth is
my theme. There abides the very being with which true
knowledge is concerned; the colourless, formless, intangible
essence, visible only to mind, the pilot of the soul. The
divine intelligence, being nurtured upon mind and pure know-
ledge, and the intelligence of every soul which is capable of
receiving the food proper to it, rejoices at beholding reality,
and once more gazing upon truth, is replenished and made
glad, until the revolution of the worlds brings her around
again to the same place. In the revolution she beholds jus- The revolu-
tice, and temperance, and knowledge absolute, not in the tion of the
form of generation or of relation, which men call exist- which the
ence, but knowledge absolute in existence absolute; and soul beholds
beholding the other true existences in like manner, and feast-
ing upon them, she passes down into the interior of the
worlds in
all truth.
444
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedrus.
SOCRATES.
The trouble
of other
souls in the
upper
world.
They drop
to earth
and pass
into many
natures of
men.
heavens and returns home; and there the charioteer putting
up his horses at the stall, gives them ambrosia to eat and
nectar to drink.
Such is the life of the gods; but of other souls, that which 248
follows God best and is likest to him lifts the head of the
charioteer into the outer world, and is carried round in the
revolution, troubled indeed by the steeds, and with difficulty
beholding true being; while another only rises and falls,
and sees, and again fails to see by reason of the unruliness
of the steeds. The rest of the souls are also longing after
the upper world and they all follow, but not being strong
enough they are carried round below the surface, plunging,
treading on one another, each striving to be first; and there
is confusion and perspiration and the extremity of effort;
and many of them are lamed or have their wings broken
through the ill-driving of the charioteers; and all of them
after a fruitless toil, not having attained to the mysteries of
true being, go away, and feed upon opinion. The reason
why the souls exhibit this exceeding eagerness to behold
the plain of truth is that pasturage is found there, which is
suited to the highest part of the soul; and the wing on
which the soul soars is nourished with this. And there is
a law of Destiny, that the soul which attains any vision of
truth in company with a god is preserved from harm until
the next period, and if attaining always is always unharmed.
But when she is unable to follow, and fails to behold the
truth, and through some ill-hap sinks beneath the double
load of forgetfulness and vice, and her wings fall from her
and she drops to the ground, then the law ordains that this
soul shall at her first birth pass, not into any other animal,
but only into man; and the soul which has seen most of
truth shall come to the birth as a philosopher, or artist, or
some musical and loving nature; that which has seen truth
in the second degree shall be some righteous king
or warrior chief; the soul which is of the third class shall
be a politician, or economist, or trader; the fourth shall be
a lover of gymnastic toils, or a physician; the fifth shall
lead the life of a prophet or hierophant; to the sixth the
character of a poet or some other imitative artist will be
assigned; to the seventh the life of an artisan or husband-
PHAEDRUS
445
man; to the eighth that of a sophist or demagogue; to the Phaedrus.
ninth that of a tyrant;-all these are states of probation, in Socrates.
which he who does righteously improves, and he who does
unrighteously, deteriorates his lot.
mon soul
can only
grow wings
in ten thou-
sand years;
pher or phi-
quires them
Ten thousand years must elapse before the soul of each The com-
one can return to the place from whence she came, for she
249 cannot grow her wings in less; only the soul of a philoso-
pher, guileless and true, or the soul of a lover, who is not
devoid of philosophy, may acquire wings in the third of the the philoso-
recurring periods of a thousand years; he is distinguished losopher-
from the ordinary good man who gains wings in three lover ac-
thousand years:-and they who choose this life three times in three
in succession have wings given them, and go away at the thousand.
end of three thousand years. But the others¹ receive judg- The judg-
ment when they have completed their first life, and after the ment.
judgment they go, some of them to the houses of correction
which are under the earth, and are punished; others to
some place in heaven whither they are lightly borne by
justice, and there they live in a manner worthy of the life
which they led here when in the form of men. And at the
end of the first thousand years the good souls and also the
evil souls both come to draw lots and choose their second
life, and they may take any which they please. The soul
of a man may pass into the life of a beast, or from the beast
return again into the man. But the soul which has
seen the truth will not pass into the human form.
man must have intelligence of universals, and be able to never seen
proceed from the many particulars of sense to one concep- tions will
tion of reason; this is the recollection of those things which
our soul once saw while following God-when regardless
of that which we now call being she raised her head up
toward the true being. And therefore the mind of the
philosopher alone has wings; and this is just, for he is al-
ways, according to the measure of his abilities, clinging
in recollection to those things in which God abides, and in
beholding which He is what He is. And he who employs
initiated into perfect
never The souls
For a
aright these memories is ever being
mysteries and alone becomes truly perfect. But, as he for-
1 The philosopher alone is not subject to judgment (κpíois), for he bas
never lost the vision of truth.
of those
who have
general no-
never pass
into men.
446
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
SOCRATES.
Phaedrus. gets earthly interests and is rapt in the divine, the vulgar
deem him mad, and rebuke him; they do not see that he is
inspired.
The true
light is the
recollection
of the past.
Thus far I have been speaking of the fourth and last kind
of madness, which is imputed to him who, when he sees the
beauty of earth, is transported with the recollection of the
true beauty; he would like to fly away, but he cannot; he is
like a bird fluttering and looking upward and careless of the
world below; and he is therefore thought to be mad. And
I have shown this of all inspirations to be the noblest and
highest and the offspring of the highest to him who has or
shares in it, and that he who loves the beautiful is called.
a lover because he partakes of it. For, as has been already
said, every soul of man has in the way of nature beheld true
being; this was the condition of her passing into the form
of man.
But all souls do not easily recall the things of the 250
other world; they may have seen them for a short time
only, or they may have been unfortunate in their earthly
lot, and, having had their hearts turned to unrighteousness
through some corrupting influence, they may have lost the
memory of the holy things which once they saw.
Few only
retain an adequate remembrance of them; and they, when
they behold here any image of that other world, are rapt
in amazement; but they are ignorant of what this rapture
means, because they do not clearly perceive. For there is
no light of justice or temperance or any of the higher ideas
which are precious to souls in the earthly copies of them:
they are seen through a glass dimly; and there are few who,
going to the images, behold in them the realities, and these
only with difficulty. There was a time when with the rest of
the happy band they saw beauty shining in brightness,—we
philosophers following in the train of Zeus, others in com-
pany with other gods; and then we beheld the beatific vision
and were initiated into a mystery which may be truly
called most blessed, celebrated by us in our state of inno-
cence, before we had any experience of evils to come, when
we were admitted to the sight of apparitions innocent and
simple and calm and happy, which we beheld shining in
pure light, pure ourselves and not yet enshrined in that
living tomb which we carry about, now that we are im-
PHAEDRUS
447
prisoned in the body, like an oyster in his shell Let Phaedrus.
me linger over the memory of scenes which have passed SOCRATES.
away.
beauty here
on earth,
but of wis-
dom there
is no visi
ble image.
lection of
the true
quickly
fades, but is
renewed
with a sort
But of beauty, I repeat again that we saw her there shining We find
in company with the celestial forms; and coming to earth
we find her here too, shining in clearness through the clear-
est aperture of sense. For sight is the most piercing of our
bodily senses; though not by that is wisdom seen; her
loveliness would have been transporting if there had been
a visible image of her, and the other ideas, if they had visi-
ble counterparts, would be equally lovely. But this is the
privilege of beauty, that being the loveliest she is also the
most palpable to sight. Now he who is not newly initiated
or who has become corrupted, does not easily rise out of this
world to the sight of true beauty in the other; he looks only
at her earthly namesake, and instead of being awed at the
sight of her, he is given over to pleasure, and like a brutish The recol-
251 beast he rushes on to enjoy and beget; he consorts with
wantonness, and is not afraid or ashamed of pursuing plea- beauty
sure in violation of nature. But he whose initiation is
recent, and who has been the spectator of many glories in
the other world, is amazed when he sees any one having
a godlike face or form, which is the expression of divine the sight of
beauty; and at first a shudder runs through him, and again beauties of
the old awe steals over him; then looking upon the face of earth.
his beloved as of a god he reverences him, and if he were
not afraid of being thought a downright madman, he would
sacrifice to his beloved as to the image of a god; then while
he gazes on him there is a sort of reaction, and the
shudder passes into an unusual heat and perspiration; for,
as he receives the effluence of beauty through the eyes, the
wing moistens and he warms. And as he warms, the parts
out of which the wing grew, and which had been hitherto
closed and rigid, and had prevented the wing from shooting
forth, are melted, and as nourishment streams upon him,
the lower end of the wing begins to swell and grow from
the root upwards; and the growth extends under the whole
soul-for once the whole was winged. During this process
the whole soul is all in a state of ebullition and effervescence,
-which may be compared to the irritation and uneasiness
of ecstasy at
the higher
448
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
SOCRATES.
Phaedrus. in the gums at the time of cutting teeth,-bubbles up, and
has a feeling of uneasiness and tickling; but when in like
manner the soul is beginning to grow wings, the beauty
of the beloved meets her eye and she receives the sensible
warm motion of particles which flow toward her, there-
fore called emotion (iuepoc), and is refreshed and warmed
by them, and then she ceases from her pain with joy. But
when she is parted from her beloved and her moisture fails,
then the orifices of the passage out of which the wing shoots
dry up and close, and intercept the germ of the wing; which,
being shut up with the emotion, throbbing as with the pulsa-
tions of an artery, pricks the aperture which is nearest, until
at length the entire soul is pierced and maddened and pained,
and at the recollection of beauty is again delighted. And
from both of them together the soul is oppressed at the
strangeness of her condition, and is in a great strait and
excitement, and in her madness can neither sleep by night
nor abide in her place by day. And wherever she thinks
that she will behold the beautiful one, thither in her desire
she runs.
And when she has seen him, and bathed herself
in the waters of beauty, her constraint is loosened, and she
is refreshed, and has no more pangs and pains; and
this is the sweetest of all pleasures at the time, and is the 252
reason why the soul of the lover will never forsake
his beautiful one, whom he esteems above all; he has for-
gotten mother and brethren and companions, and he thinks
nothing of the neglect and loss of his property; the rules
and proprieties of life, on which he formerly prided himself,
he now despises, and is ready to sleep like a serv-
ant, wherever he is allowed, as near as he can to his desired
one, who is the object of his worship, and the physician who
can alone assuage the greatness of his pain.
And this state,
my dear imaginary youth to whom I am talking, is by men
called love, and among the gods has a name at which you,
in your simplicity, may be inclined to mock; there are two
lines in the apocryphal writings of Homer in which the
name occurs. One of them is rather outrageous, and not
altogether metrical. They are as follows:
'Fruitlo
dei.'
'Mortals call him fluttering love,
But the immortals call him winged one,
Because the growing of wings is a necessity to him.'
PHAEDRUS
449
You may
believe this, but not unless you like. At any rate Phaedrus.
the loves of lovers and their causes are such as I have SOCRATES.
described.
The souls
attending
choose each
is suitable
to their own
Now the lover who is taken to be the attendant of Zeus is
better able to bear the winged god, and can endure a heavier
burden; but the attendants and companions of Ares, when a Deity who
under the influence of love, if they fancy that they have been
at all wronged, are ready to kill and put an end to themselves nature.
and their beloved. And he who follows in the train of any
other god, while he is unspoiled and the impression lasts,
honours and imitates him, as far as he is able; and after the
manner of his God he behaves in his intercourse with his
beloved and with the rest of the world during the first period
of his earthly existence. Every one chooses his love from
the ranks of beauty according to his character, and this he
makes his god, and fashions and adorns as a sort of image
which he is to fall down and worship. The followers of
Zeus desire that their beloved should have a soul like him;
and therefore they seek out some one of a philosophical and
imperial nature, and when they have found him and loved
him, they do all they can to confirm such a nature in him,
and if they have no experience of such a disposition
hitherto, they learn of any one who can teach them, and
themselves follow in the same way. And they have the less
253 difficulty in finding the nature of their own god in them-
selves, because they have been compelled to gaze intensely
on him; their recollection clings to him, and they become
possessed of him, and receive from him their character and
disposition, so far as man can participate in God. They
regard the beloved as the cause of this experience,¹ wherefore
they love him all the more, and if, like the Bacchic Nymphs,
they draw inspiration from Zeus, they pour out their own
fountain upon him, wanting to make him as like as possible
to their own god. But those who are the followers of Herè
seek a royal love, and when they have found him they do just
the same with him; and in like manner the followers of
Apollo, and of every other god walking in the ways of their
god, seek a love who is to be made like him whom they serve, They walk
and when they have found him, they themselves imitate their
[¹ J. has 'the qualities of their god they attribute to the beloved.']
in the ways
of their
god.
450
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedrus.
SOCRATES.
The char-
acters of
the two
steeds.
god, and persuade their love to do the same, and educate
him into the manner and nature of the god as far as they
each can; for no feelings of envy or jealousy are enter-
tained by them toward their beloved, but they do their
utmost to create in him the greatest likeness of themselves
and of the god whom they honour. Thus fair and blissful
to the beloved is the desire of the inspired lover, and the
initiation of which I speak into the mysteries of true love,
if he be captured by the lover and their purpose is effected
Now the beloved is taken captive in the following manner:-
As I said at the beginning of this tale, I divided each soul
into three-two horses and a charioteer; and one of the
horses was good and the other bad: the division may re-
main, but I have not yet explained in what the goodness
or badness of either consists, and to that I will now proceed.
The right-hand horse is upright and cleanly made; he has
a lofty neck and an aquiline nose; his color is white, and
his eyes dark; he is a lover of honour and modesty and
temperance, and the associate of right opinion;¹ he needs no
touch of the whip, but is guided by word and admonition
only. The other is a crooked lumbering animal, put together
anyhow; he has a short thick neck; he is flat-faced and of
a dark colour, with grey and blood-shot eyes; the mate of
insolence and pride, shag-eared and deaf, hardly yielding to
whip and spur. Now when the charioteer beholds the vision
of love, and has his whole soul warmed through sense, and
is full of the prickings and ticklings of desire, the obedient
steed, then as always under the government of shame, refrains 254
from leaping on the beloved; but the other, heedless of the
pricks and of the blows of the whip, plunges and runs away,
giving all manner of trouble to his companion and the
charioteer, whom he forces to approach the beloved and to
remember the joys of love. They at first indignantly oppose
him and will not be urged on to do terrible and unlawful
deeds; but at last, when he persists in plaguing them, they
yield and agree to do as he bids them. And now they are
at the spot and behold the flashing beauty of the beloved;
which when the chariotcer sees, his memory is carried to the
true beauty, whom he beholds in company with Modesty like
[¹ J. has 'the follower of true glory.']
PHAEDRUS
451
255
vision of
beauty the
ill-condi-
rushes on
to enjoy,
tioned steed
but is re-
strained by
panion and
by the
yield to their prayer that
When the appointed hour The con-
forgotten, and he reminds
flict grows
an image placed upon a holy pedestal. He sees her, but Phaedrus.
he is afraid and falls backwards in adoration, and by his SOCRATES.
fall is compelled to pull back the reins with such violence
as to bring both the steeds on their haunches, the one willing At the
and unresisting, the unruly one very unwilling; and when
they have gone back a little, the one is overcome with shame
and wonder, and his whole soul is bathed in perspiration;
the other, when the pain is over which the bridle and the
fall had given him, having with difficulty taken breath, is
full of wrath and reproaches, which he heaps upon the his com
charioteer and his fellow-steed, for want of courage and
manhood, declaring that they have been false to their agree- charioteer.
ment and guilty of desertion. Again they refuse, and again
he urges them on, and will scarce
he would wait until another time.
comes, they make as if they had
them, fighting and neighing and dragging them on, until worse.
at length he, on the same thoughts intent, forces them to draw
near again. And when they are near he stoops his head and
puts up his tail, and takes the bit in his teeth and pulls
shamelessly. Then the charioteer is worse off than ever; he
falls back like a racer at the barrier, and with a still more
violent wrench drags the bit out of the teeth of the wild
steed and covers his abusive tongue and jaws with blood,
and forces his legs and haunches to the ground and punishes
him sorely. And when this has happened several times and
the villain has ceased from his wanton way, he is tamed
and humbled, and follows the will of the charioteer, and
when he sees the beautiful one he is ready to die of fear.
And from that time forward the soul of the lover follows
the beloved in modesty and holy fear.
worse and
And so the beloved who, like a god, has received every
true and loyal service from his lover, not in pretence but in
reality, being also himself of a nature friendly to his ad-
mirer, if in former days he has blushed to own his passion
and turned away his lover, because his youthful companions
or others slanderously told him that he would be disgraced,
now as years advance, at the appointed age and time, is led The perfect
to receive him into communion. For fate which has ordained communion
that there shall be no friendship among the evil has also good.
of the
452
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedrus.
SOCRATES.
The reflec-
tion of the
beloved in
the lover.
Some satis-
taction of
sensual
pleasure
also
ranted.
ordained that there shall ever be friendship among the good.
And the beloved when he has received him into communion
and intimacy, is quite amazed at the good-will of the lover;
he recognizes that the inspired friend is worth all other
friends or kinsmen; they have nothing of friendship in them
worthy to be compared with his. And when this feeling
continues and he is nearer to him and embraces him, in
gymnastic exercises and at other times of meeting, then the
fountain of that stream, which Zeus when he was in love
with Ganymede named Desire, overflows upon the lover,
and some enters into his soul, and some when he is filled
flows out again; and as a breeze or an echo rebounds from
the smooth rocks and returns whence it came, so does the
stream of beauty, passing through the eyes, which are the
windows of the soul, come back to the beautiful one; there
arriving and quickening the passages of the wings, watering
them and inclining them to grow, and filling the soul of the
beloved also with love. And thus he loves, but he knows
not what; he does not understand and cannot explain his
own state; he appears to have caught the infection of blind-
ness from another; the lover is his mirror in whom he is
beholding himself, but he is not aware of this. When he
is with the lover, both cease from their pain, but when he is
away then he longs as he is longed for, and has love's image,
love for love (Anteros) lodging in his breast, which he calls
and believes to be not love but friendship only, and his
desire is as the desire of the other, but weaker; he wants to
see him, touch him, kiss, embrace him, and probably not long
afterwards his desire is accomplished. When they meet, the
wanton steed of the lover has a word to say to the cha-
rioteer; he would like to have a little pleasure in return for 256
many pains, but the wanton steed of the beloved says not
a word, for he is bursting with passion which he understands
not; he throws his arms round the lover and embraces him
as his dearest friend; and, when they are side by side, he is
not in a state in which he can refuse the lover anything, if he
ask him; although his fellow-steed and the charioteer oppose
him with the arguments of shame and reason. After this
their happiness depends upon their self-control; if the better
elements of the mind which lead to order and philosophy
PHAEDRUS
453
life.
The
life of
philosophy
and the
lower life of
ambition
prevail, then they pass their life here in happiness and har- Phaedrus.
mony-masters of themselves and orderly enslaving the Socrates.
vicious and emancipating the virtuous elements of the soul; The har-
and when the end comes, they are light and winged for mony of
flight, having conquered in one of the three heavenly or
truly Olympian victories; nor can human discipline or divine
inspiration confer any greater blessing on man than this. If,
on the other hand, they leave philosophy and lead the lower
life of ambition, then probably, after wine or in some other
careless hour, the two wanton animals take the two souls when
off their guard and bring them together, and they accomplish
that desire of their hearts which to the many is bliss; and
this having once enjoyed they continue to enjoy, yet rarely
because they have not the approval of the whole soul. They
too are dear, but not so dear to one another as the others,
either at the time of their love or afterwards. They consider
that they have given and taken from each other the most
sacred pledges, and they may not break them and fall into
enmity. At last they pass out of the body, unwinged, but
eager to soar, and thus obtain no mean reward of love and
madness. For those who have once begun the heavenward
pilgrimage may not go down again to darkness and the
journey beneath the earth, but they live in light always; happy
companions in their pilgrimage, and when the time comes The end of
at which they receive their wings they have the same plumage grimage.
because of their love.
Thus great are the heavenly blessings which the friendship
of a lover will confer upon you, my youth. Whereas the
attachment of the non-lover, which is alloyed with a worldly
prudence and has worldly and niggardly ways of doling out
benefits, will breed in your soul those vulgar qualities which
the populace applaud, will send you bowling round the earth
257 during a period of nine thousand years, and leave you a fool
in the world below.
And thus, dear Eros, I have made and paid my recantation,
as well and as fairly as I could; more especially in the
matter of the poetical figures which I was compelled to use,
because Phaedrus would have them. And now forgive the
past and accept the present, and be gracious and merciful to
me, and do not in thine anger deprive me of sight, or take
their pil-
454
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedrus.
SOCRATES,
PHAEDRUS.
The poeti-
cal form is
only in-
tended to
please
Phaedrus.
What mo-
tive is
higher than
the love of
discourse?
The grass-
hoppers
will laugh
at us if we
sleep.
from me the art of love which thou hast given me, but grant
that I may be yet more esteemed in the eyes of the fair.
And if Phaedrus or I myself said anything rude in our first
speeches, blame Lysias, who is the father of the brat, and
let us have no more of his progeny; bid him study philo-
sophy, like his brother Polemarchus; and then his lover
Phaedrus will no longer halt between two opinions, but will
dedicate himself wholly to love and to philosophical dis-
courses.
[Phaedrus admires the speech, which surpasses the attempts
of Lysias and his critics the politicians, themselves the authors
of law, good or bad. And what is good or bad writing or
speaking? The question is worth consideration, says Socrates
in a fanciful interlude.]
Phaedr. For what should a man live if not for the pleas- 258
ures of discourse? Surely not for the sake of bodily pleasures,
which almost always have previous pain as a condition of
them, and therefore are rightly called slavish.
at us.
Soc. There is time enough. And I believe that the grass-
hoppers chirruping after their manner in the heat of the sun 259
over our heads are talking to one another and looking down
What would they say if they saw that we, like the
many, are not conversing, but slumbering at mid-day, lulled
by their voices, too indolent to think? Would they not have
a right to laugh at us? They might imagine that we were
slaves, who, coming to rest at a place of resort of theirs, like
sheep lie asleep at noon around the well. But if they see
us discoursing, and like Odysseus sailing past them, deaf to
their siren voices, they may perhaps, out of respect, give us
of the gifts which they receive from the gods that they may
impart them to men.
Phaedr. What gifts do you mean? I never heard of any.
Soc. A lover of music like yourself ought surely to have
heard the story of the grasshoppers, who are said to have
been human beings in an age before the Muses. And when
the Muses came and song appeared they were ravished with
delight; and singing always, never thought of eating and
drinking, until at last in their forgetfulness they died. And
now they live again in the grasshoppers; and this is the
return which the Muses make to them-they neither hunger,
PHAEDRUS
455
260
265
SOCRATES,
The grass-
were orig-
inally men
who died
from the
nor thirst, but from the hour of their birth are always sing- Phaedrus.
ing, and never eating or drinking; and when they die they PHAEDRUS.
go and inform the Muses in heaven who honours them on
earth. They win the love of Terpsichore for the dancers by
their report of them; of Erato for the lovers, and of the
other Muses for those who do them honour, according to
the several ways of honouring them;-of Calliope the eldest
Muse and of Urania who is next to her, for the philoso-
phers, of whose music the grasshoppers make report to
them; for these are the Muses who are chiefly concerned
with heaven and thought, divine as well as human, and they
have the sweetest utterance. For many reasons, then, we
ought always to talk and not to sleep at mid-day.
Phaedr. Let us talk.
Soc. Shall we discuss the rules of writing and speech as we
were proposing?
Phaedr. Very good.
Soc. In good speaking should not the mind of the speaker
know the truth of the matter about which he is going to speak?
love of
song.
orator re-
quire to
Phaedr. And yet, Socrates, I have heard that he who Does the
would be an orator has nothing to do with true justice, but
only with that which is likely to be approved by the many have know
who sit in judgment; nor with the truly good or honourable,
but only with opinion about them, and that from opinion
comes persuasion, and not from the truth.
[Lady Rhetoric is generally deceptive, to be sure. Yet
the knowledge of the truth is no more able to give persua-
sion than is the art of persuasion separable from the truth.
And even a deceiver must have some knowledge of truth, in
order to contrive a semblance of it. Socrates proposes to use
the speech of Lysias and his own as illustrations. Lysias de-
fined nothing, and made no orderly divisions; Socrates, in-
spired perhaps by the prophets of the Muses singing over-
head, constructed his speech with due regard for divisions.]
ledge?
was a crea
tion of
Soc. The composition was mostly playful. Yet in these The myth
chance fancies of the hour were involved two principles of
which we should be too glad to have a clearer description if
art could give us one.
Phaedr. What are they?
fancy, yet
true princi-
ples were
involved in
Soc. First, the comprehension of scattered particulars in it: (1) unity
456
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedrus.
Socrates,
PHAEDRUS.
of particu-
lars in a
single note;
(2) natural
division
into species.
The dialec-
tician is
concerned
with the
one and
many.
one idea; as in our definition of love, which whether true or
false certainly gave clearness and consistency to the discourse,
the speaker should define his several notions and so make his
meaning clear.
Phaedr. What is the other principle, Socrates?
Soc. The second principle is that of division into species
according to the natural formation, where the joint is, not
breaking any part as a bad carver might. Just as our two 266
discourses, alike assumed, first of all, a single form of un-
reason; and then, as the body which from being one becomes
double and may be divided into a left side and right side,
each having parts right and left of the same name—after this
manner the speaker proceeded to divide the parts of the left
side and did not desist until he found in them an evil or left-
handed love which he justly reviled; and the other discourse
leading us to the madness which lay on the right side, found
another love, also having the same name, but divine, which
the speaker held up before us and applauded and affirmed to
be the author of the greatest benefits.
Phaedr. Most true.
Soc. I am myself a great lover of these processes of divi-
sion and generalization; they help me to speak and to think.
And if I find any man who is able to see ‘a One and Many'
in nature, him I follow, and 'walk in his footsteps as if
he were a god.' And those who have this art, I have hitherto
been in the habit of calling dialecticians; but God knows
whether the name is right or not. And I should like to
know what name you would give to your or to Lysias' dis-
ciples, and whether this may not be that famous art of rhe-
toric which Thrasymachus and others teach and practise?
Skilful speakers they are, and impart their skill to any who
is willing to make kings of them and to bring gifts to them.
Phaedr. Yes, they are royal men; but their art is not the
same with the art of those whom you call, and rightly, in
my opinion, dialecticians.
[Though the rhetoricians can teach many technical tricks,
they are superficial, and know only the preliminaries of their
art, not the effective use of the several instruments of their
art, or the making of compositions as a whole.]
Phaedr. I quite admit, Socrates, that the art of rhetoric 269
PHAEDRUS
457
which these men teach and of which they write is such as Phaedrus.
you describe there I agree with you. But I still want to SOCRATES,
know where and how the true art of rhetoric and persuasion
is to be acquired.
If
and
PHAEDRUS.
The perfec
tory is part-
tion of ora-
ly a gift of
nature. But
it may be
Soc. The perfection which is required of the finished ora-
tor is, or rather must be, like the perfection of anything else,
partly given by nature, but may also be assisted by art.
you have the natural power and add to it knowledge
practice, you will be a distinguished speaker; if you fall
in either of these, you will be to that extent defective. But
the art, as far as there is an art, of rhetoric does not lie in the ever, is not
direction of Lysias or Thrasymachus.
Phaedr. In what direction then?
short improved
by art. This
art, how-
the art of
Thrasyma-
chus, but
partakes of
Soc. I conceive that there was a reason for Pericles having the nature
been the most accomplished of rhetoricians.
Phaedr. Why so? 1
Soc. All the great arts require discussion and high specula-
270 tion about the truths of nature; hence come loftiness of
thought and completeness of execution. And this, as I con-
ceive, was the quality which, in addition to his natural gifts,
Pericles acquired from his intercourse with Anaxagoras
whom he happened to know. He was thus imbued with the
higher philosophy, and attained the knowledge of Mind
and the negative of Mind, which were favourite themes of
Anaxagoras, and applied what suited his purpose to the art
of speaking.
Phaedr. Explain.
Soc. Rhetoric is like medicine.
Phaedr. How so?
Soc. Why, because medicine has to define the nature of
the body and rhetoric of the soul-if we would proceed, not
empirically but scientifically, in the one case to impart health
and strength by giving medicine and food, in the other to
implant the conviction or virtue which you desire, by the right
application of words and training.
1
Phaedr. There, Socrates, I suspect that you are right.
Soc. And do you think that you can know the nature of the
[¹ J. has 'I conceive Pericles to have been the most accomplished of
rhetoricians.
Phaedr. What of that?"}
of philoso-
phy.
458
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedrus.
SOCRATES,
PHAEDRUS.
First there
must be an
analysis of
the soul.
Then the
rhetorician
must show
by what
means the
soul affects
or is af-
fected, and
soul intelligently without knowing the nature of the whole?
Phaedr. Hippocrates the Asclepiad says that the nature even
of the body can only be understood as a whole.
Soc. Yes, friend, and he was right: still, we ought not to
be content with the name of Hippocrates, but to examine and
see whether his argument agrees with his conception of
nature.
Phaedr. I agree.
Soc. Then consider what truth as well as Hippocrates says
about this or about any other nature. Ought we not to con-
sider first whether that which we wish to learn and to teach
is a simple or multiform thing, and if simple, then to enquire
what power it has of acting or being acted upon in relation to
other things, and if multiform, then to number the forms;
and see, as in the case of a simple unit, so in the case of each
part of a compound, wherein each of them is naturally
adapted to act or be acted upon by anything?
1
Phaedr. You may very likely be right, Socrates.
Soc. The method which proceeds without analysis is like
the groping of a blind man. Yet, surely, he who is an artist
ought not to admit of a comparison with the blind, or deaf.
The rhetorician, who teaches his pupil to speak scientifically,
will particularly set forth the nature of that being to which he
addresses his speeches; and this, I conceive, to be the soul.
Phaedr. Certainly.
Soc. His whole effort is directed to the soul; for in that 271
he seeks to produce conviction.
Phaedr. Yes.
Soc. Then clearly, Thrasymachus or any one else who
teaches rhetoric in earnest will give an exact description of
the nature of the soul; which will enable us to see whether
she be single and same, or, like the body, multiform. That
is what we should call showing the nature of the soul.
Phaedr. Exactly.
Soc. He will explain, secondly, the mode in which she acts
or is acted upon.
Phaedr. True.
[1 J. has 'see first in the case of one of them, and then in the case of
all of them, what is that power of acting or being acted upon which
makes each and all of them to be what they are?']
PHAEDRUS
459
PHAEDRUS.
Soc. Thirdly, having classified men and speeches, and Phaedrus.
their kinds and affections, and adapted them to one another, SOCRATES,
he will tell the reasons of his arrangement, and show why
one soul is persuaded by a particular form of argument, and why one
another not.
Phaedr. You have hit upon a very good way.
Soc. Yes, that is the true and only way in which any sub-
ject can be set forth or treated by rules of art, whether in
speaking or writing. But the writers of the present day, at
whose feet you have sat, craftily conceal the nature of the
soul which they know quite well. Nor, until they adopt our
method of reading and writing, can we admit that they write
by rules of art?
Phaedr. What is our method?
Soc. I cannot give you the exact details; but I should like
to tell you generally, as far as is in my power, how a man
ought to proceed according to rules of art.
Phaedr. Let me hear.
soul in one
way and
another in
another.
Oratory is
the art of
enchanting
the soul,
and there.
fore the
next orator must
learn the
differences
of human
souls by re-
flection and
experience.
Soc. Oratory is the art of enchanting the soul, and there-
fore he who would be an orator has to learn the differences of
human souls they are so many and of such a nature, and
from them come the differences between man and man.
Having proceeded thus far in his analysis, he will
divide speeches into their different classes:-'Such and such
persons,' he will say, 'are affected by this or that kind of
speech in this or that way,' and he will tell you why. The
pupil must have a good theoretical notion of them first, and
then he must have experience of them in actual life, and be
able to follow them with all his senses about him, or he will
never get beyond the precepts of his masters. But when
he understands what persons are persuaded by what argu- Knowledge
272 ments, and sees the person about whom he was speaking in
the abstract actually before him, and knows that it is he, and acter
can say to himself, "This is the man or this is the character
who ought to have a certain argument applied to him in order rhetorician
to convince him of a certain opinion;'-he who knows all
this, and knows also when he should speak and when he
should refrain, and when he should use pithy sayings,
pathetic appeals, sensational effects, and all the other modes
of speech which he has learned;-when, I say, he knows
of indivi-
dual char-
necessary
to the
460
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaearus.
SOCRATES.
The inge-
nuity of
the god
Theuth,
who was
the inventor
of letters,
rebuked
by King
Thamus,
also called
Ammon.
the times and seasons of all these things, then, and not till
then, he is a perfect master of his art; but if he fail in any
of these points, whether in speaking or teaching or writing
them, and yet declares that he speaks by rules of art, he who
says 'I don't believe you' has the better of him.
[But the proverbial 'wolf' objects that it is foolish to aim
at first principles; plausibility such as will win conviction in
court is enough. Yet even plausibility, it has been shown,
comes best from one who knows the truth; and the good man
will aim at understanding the characters of his hearers, and at
classification and generalization, being more anxious to please
God than man. As to the art of writing, a 'tradition of the
ancients' (another fiction of Plato) will serve.]
Soc. At the Egyptian city of Naucratis, there was a famous 274
old god, whose name was Theuth; the bird which is called
the Ibis is sacred to him, and he was the inventor of many
arts, such as arithmetic and calculation and geometry and
astronomy and draughts and dice, but his great discovery
was the use of letters. Now in those days the god Thamus
was the king of the whole country of Egypt; and he dwelt
in that great city of Upper Egypt which the Hellenes call
Egyptian Thebes, and the god himself is called by them
Ammon. To him came Theuth and showed his inventions,
desiring that the other Egyptians might be allowed to have
the benefit of them; he enumerated them, and Thamus
enquired about their several uses, and praised some of them
and censured others, as he approved or disapproved of them.
It would take a long time to repeat all that Thamus said to
Theuth in praise or blame of the various arts. But when
they came to letters, This, said Theuth, will make the Egyp-
tians wiser and give them better memories; it is a specific
both for the memory and for the wit. Thamus replied: O
most ingenious Theuth, the parent or inventor of an art is not
always the best judge of the utility or inutility of his own
inventions to the users of them. And in this instance, you 275
who are the father of letters, from a paternal love of your own
children have been led to attribute to them a quality which they
cannot have; for this discovery of yours will create forgetful-
ness in the learners' souls, because they will not use their
memories; they will trust to the external written characters
PHAEDRUS
461
PHAEDRUS.
and not remember of themselves. The specific which you have Phaedrus.
discovered is an aid not to memory, but to reminiscence, and SOCRATES,
you give your disciples not truth, but only the semblance of
truth; they will be hearers of many things and will have
learned nothing; they will appear to be omniscient and will
generally know nothing; they will be tiresome company, hav-
ing the show of wisdom without the reality.
Phaedr. Yes, Socrates, you can easily invent tales of Egypt,
or of any other country.
Soc. There was a tradition in the temple of Dodona that
oaks first gave prophetic utterances. The men of old, unlike
in their simplicity to young philosophy, deemed that if they
heard the truth even from 'oak or rock,' it was enough for
them; whereas you seem to consider not whether a thing is
or is not true, but who the speaker is and from what country
the tale comes.
Phaedr. I acknowledge the justice of your rebuke; and I
think that the Theban is right in his view about letters.
The scep-
Phaedrus
reproved by
ticism of
Socrates.
Writing far
inferior to
Soc. He would be a very simple person, and quite a
stranger to the oracles of Thamus or Ammon, who should recollec-
leave in writing or receive in writing any art under the idea tion.
that the written word would be intelligible or certain; or who
deemed that writing was at all better than knowledge and
recollection of the same matters?
Phaedr. That is most true.
Soc. I cannot help feeling, Phaedrus, that writing is unfor-
tunately like painting; for the creations of the painter have
the attitude of life, and yet if you ask them a question they
preserve a solemn silence. And the same may be said of
speeches. You would imagine that they had intelligence, but
if you want to know anything and put a question to one of
them, the speaker always gives one unvarying answer. And
when they have been once written down they are tumbled
about anywhere among those who may or may not understand
them, and know not to whom they should reply, to whom not:
and, if they are maltreated or abused, they have no parent to
protect them; and they cannot protect or defend themselves.
Phaedr. That again is most true.
Soc. Is there not another kind of word or speech far
Writing is
ing: it is
silent ever,
like paint-
and cannot,
unlike
speech, be
individuals.
adapted to
462
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedrus.
SOCRATES,
PHAEDRUS.
But there
is another
kind of
writing
graven on
the tablets
of the mind.
What man
of sense
would plant
seeds in an
artificial
garden, to
bring forth
fruit or
flowers in
eight days,
and not in
deeper and
more fitting
soil?
As a pas-
time he
may plant
his fair
thoughts in
the garden,
better than this, and having far greater power-a son of the
same family, but lawfully begotten?
Phaedr. Whom do you mean, and what is his origin?
Soc. I mean an intelligent word graven in the soul of the
learner, which can defend itself, and knows when to speak
and when to be silent.
Phaedr. You mean the living word of knowledge which
has a soul, and of which the written word is properly no
more than an image?
And now may
Soc. Yes, of course that is what I mean.
I be allowed to ask you a question: Would a husbandman,
who is a man of sense, take the seeds, which he values and
which he wishes to bear fruit, and in sober seriousness plant
them during the heat of summer, in some garden of Adonis,
that he may rejoice when he sees them in eight days appear-
ing in beauty? at least he would do so, if at all, only for the
sake of amusement and pastime. But when he is in earnest
he sows in fitting soil, and practises husbandry, and is satisfied
if in eight months the seeds which he has sown arrive at
perfection?
Phaedr. Yes, Socrates, that will be his way when he is in
earnest; he will do the other, as you say, only in play.
Soc. And can we suppose that he who knows the just and
good and honourable has less understanding, than the hus-
bandman, about his own seeds?
Phaedr. Certainly not.
Soc. Then he will not seriously incline to 'write' his
thoughts 'in water' with pen and ink, sowing words which
can neither speak for themselves nor teach the truth ade-
quately to others?
Phaedr. No, that is not likely.
Soc. No, that is not likely-in the garden of letters he will
sow and plant, but only for the sake of recreation and amuse-
ment; he will write them down as memorials to be treasured
against the forgetfulness of old age, by himself, or by any
other old man who is treading the same path. He will re-
joice in beholding their tender growth; and while others are
refreshing their souls with banqueting and the like, this will
be the pastime in which his days are spent.
Phaedr. A pastime, Socrates, as noble as the other is ignoble,
276
PHAEDRUS
463
the pastime of a man who can be amused by serious talk, and Phaedrus.
can discourse merrily about justice and the like.
Socrates,
PHAEDRUS.
but his
implant
Soc. True, Phaedrus. But nobler far is the serious pur-
suit of the dialectician, who, finding a congenial soul, by serious aim
the help of science sows and plants therein words which will be to
77 are able to help themselves and him who planted them, them in his
and are not unfruitful, but have in them a seed which others own and
brought up in different soils render immortal, making natures.
the possessors of it happy to the utmost extent of human
happiness.
Phaedr. Far nobler, certainly.
Soc. And now, Phaedrus, having agreed upon the premises
we may decide about the conclusion.
Phaedr. About what conclusion?
Soc. About Lysias, whom we censured, and his art of
writing, and his discourses, and the rhetorical skill or want
of skill which was shown in them-these are the questions
which we sought to determine, and they brought us to this
point. And I think that we are now pretty well informed
about the nature of art and its opposite.
Phaedr. Yes, I think with you; but I wish that you would
repeat what was said.
other noble
The con-
clusion:-
be able to
know and
define and
subjects of
denote the
which he is
speaking,
and to dis-
cern the
those whom
Soc. Until a man knows the truth of the several particu-
lars of which he is writing or speaking, and is able to define A man must
them as they are, and having defined them again to divide
them until they can be no longer divided, and until in like
manner he is able to discern the nature of the soul, and dis-
cover the different modes of discourse which are adapted to
different natures, and to arrange and dispose them in such a
way that the simple form of speech may be addressed to the
simpler nature, and the complex and composite to the more
complex nature—until he has accomplished all this, he will be
unable to handle arguments according to rules of art, as far as
their nature allows them to be subjected to art, either for the
purpose of teaching or persuading;-such is the view which
is implied in the whole preceding argument.
Phaedr. Yes, that was our view, certainly.
Soc. Secondly, as to the censure which was passed on the
speaking or writing of discourses, and how they might be
natures of
he is ad-
dressing.
464
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedrus. rightly or wrongly censured-did not our previous argument
SOCRATES,
PHAEDRUS.
The legis
lator or
statesman
must know
the nature
of justice,
show-?
Phaedr. Show what?
Soc. That whether Lysias or any other writer that ever
was or will be, whether private man or statesman, proposes
laws and so becomes the author of a political treatise, fancy-
ing that there is any great certainty and clearness in his
or injustice, performance, the fact of his so writing is only a disgrace to
him, whatever men may say. For not to know the nature of
justice and injustice, and good and evil, and not to be able
to distinguish the dream from the reality, cannot in truth be
otherwise than disgraceful to him, even though he have the
applause of the whole world.
good and
evil.
To Lysias
or to any
man ig-
norance of
all these
things is a
disgrace.
is any one
who has
instruction
and in the
reminis-
cence of
ideas,-
Phaedr. Certainly.
Soc. But he who thinks that in the written word there is
necessarily much which is not serious, and that neither
poetry nor prose, spoken or written, is of any great value, if,
But if there like the compositions of the rhapsodes, they are only recited
in order to be believed, and not with any view to criticism or 278
faith in oral instruction; and who thinks that even the best of writings.
are but a reminiscence of what we know, and that only in
principles of justice and goodness and nobility taught and
communicated orally for the sake of instruction and graven
with him we in the soul, which is the true way of writing, is there clear-
ness and perfection and seriousness, and that such principles
are a man's own and his legitimate offspring;-being, in the
first place, the word which he finds in his own bosom; sec-
ondly, the brethren and descendants and relations of his idea
which have been duly implanted by him in the souls of others;
-and who cares for them and no others—this is the right
sort of man; and you and I, Phaedrus, would pray that we
may become like him.
sympathize,
and pray
that we may
become like
him.
Phaedr. That is most assuredly my desire and prayer.
Soc. And now the play is played out; and of rhetoric
enough. Go and tell Lysias that to the fountain and school
of the Nymphs we went down, and were bidden by them to
convey a message to him and to other composers of speeches
-to Homer and other writers of poems, whether set to
music or not; and to Solon and others who have composed
writings in the form of political discourses which they would
་
PHAEDRUS
465
279
THAEDRUS.
term laws to all of them we are to say that if their compo- Phaedrus.
sitions are based on knowledge of the truth, and they can SOCRATES,
defend or prove them, when they are put to the test, by
spoken arguments, which leave their writings poor in com- Poets,
parison of them, then they are to be called, not only poets, legislators,
orators, legislators, but are worthy of a higher name, befitting if their
the serious pursuit of their life.
Phaedr. What name would you assign to them?
orators,
composi-
tions are
based on
truth, are
worthy to
Soc. Wise, I may not call them; for that is a great name
which belongs to God alone,-lovers of wisdom or philoso- be called
phers is their modest and befitting title.
Phaedr. Very suitable.
Soc. And he who cannot rise above his own compilations
and compositions, which he has been long patching and
piecing, adding some and taking away some, may be justly
called poet or speech-maker or law-maker.
Phaedr. Certainly.
Soc. Now go and tell this to your companion.
philoso-
phers.
Give this as
our mes-
Phaedr. But there is also a friend of yours who ought not sage to
to be forgotten.
Soc. Who is he?
Phaedr. Isocrates the fair:-What message will you send
to him, and how shall we describe him?
Lysias.
Soc. Isocrates is still young, Phaedrus; but I am willing Another
to hazard a prophecy concerning him.
Phaedr. What would you prophesy?
message to
Isocrates,
which is
expressed in
the highest
praise.
Soc. I think that he has a genius which soars above the terms of
orations of Lysias, and that his character is cast in a finer
mould. My impression of him is that he will marvellously
improve as he grows older, and that all former rhetoricians
will be as children in comparison of him. And I believe that
he will not be satisfied with rhetoric, but that there is in him
a divine inspiration which will lead him to things higher still.
For he has an element of philosophy in his nature. This is
the message of the gods dwelling in this place, and which I
will myself deliver to Isocrates, who is my delight; and do
you give the other to Lysias, who is yours.
Phaedr. I will; and now as the heat is abated let us
depart.
466
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Phaedrus.
SOCRATES,
PHAEDRUS.
Soc. Should we not offer up a prayer first of all to the
local deities?
Phaedr. By all means.
Soc. Beloved Pan, and all ye other gods who haunt this
place, give me beauty in the inward soul; and may the out-
ward and inward man be at one. May I reckon the wise to
be the wealthy, and may I have such a quantity of gold as a
temperate man and he only can bear and carry.—Anything
more? The prayer, I think, is enough for me.
Phaedr. Ask the same for me, for friends should have all
things in common.
Soc. Let us go.
THEAETETUS
PARMENIDES
SOPHIST
STATESMAN
PHILEBUS
ย
151
THEAETETUS
THEAETETUS.
In the next five dialogues, which may be described as 'dia- Theaetetus.
lectical,' Plato is concerned with various metaphysical prob- SOCRATES,
lems connected with the theory of ideas or with the relation
of mind to its objects. Less imaginative and dramatic than
the preceding works, they nevertheless contain new and il-
luminating thought, and even fine glimpses of human nature.
The Theaetetus attacks the problem of the nature of
knowledge, disposing of several false conceptions, and in
particular of the relativity of Heracleitus and Protagoras; but
without reaching a dogmatic conclusion. Plato was wise
enough to realize that the problem cannot be solved by sheer
force of metaphysics; and science and psychology were then
still more inadequate for the purpose than they are to-day.
Socrates, the son of a midwife, by playing with the notion
that he is bringing to birth the thoughts of young Theaetetus,
at least shows where the problem lies, and throws out hints
that point toward a rudimentary 'critical philosophy' (in the
Kantian sense) with a list of categories.
W. C. G.
[The passages from the Theaetetus given below first present
and then refute a Heracleitean and Protagorean theory of the
relativity of knowledge. Socrates has invited Theaetetus to
define knowledge.]
Theaet. At any rate, Socrates, after such an exhortation
I should be ashamed of not trying to do my best. Now he
who knows perceives what he knows, and, as far as I can see
at present, knowledge is perception.
In answer
to the invi-
tation he
boldly re-
plies:
Soc. Bravely said, boy; that is the way in which you
should express your opinion. And now, let us examine to-
gether this conception of yours, and see whether it is Knowledge
a true birth or a mere wind-egg:-You say that knowledge is percep
is perception?
Theaet. Yes.
tion.
Soc. Well, you have delivered yourself of a very important This is only
152 doctrine about knowledge; it is indeed the opinion of Prota- another
469
470
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Theaetetus.
SOCRATES,
THEAETETUS.
way of ex-
pressing
Protagoras'
doctrine,
'Man is the
measure of
all things,'
i.e. things
are as they
appear to
you or me
at any mo-
ment.
This is true
in some
cases.
But Prota-
goras had
also a
hidden
meaning,-
'All things
are relative
and in mo-
tion.' In
this the
goras, who has another way of expressing it.
Man, he says,
is the measure of all things, of the existence of things that
are, and of the non-existence of things that are not:-You
have read him?
Theaet. O yes, again and again.
Soc. Does he not say that things are to you such as they
appear to you, and to me such as they appear to me, and that
you and I are men?
Theaet. Yes, he says so.
Soc. A wise man is not likely to talk nonsense. Let us
try to understand him: the same wind is blowing, and yet
one of us may be cold and the other not, or one may be
slightly and the other very cold?
Theaet. Quite true.
Soc. Now is the wind, regarded not in relation to us but
absolutely, cold or not; or are we to say, with Protagoras,
that the wind is cold to him who is cold, and not to him who
is not?
Theaet. I suppose the last.
Soc. Then it must appear so to each of them?
Theaet. Yes.
Soc. And 'appears to him' means the same as 'he per-
ceives.'
Theaet. True.
Soc. Then appearing and perceiving coincide in the case
of hot and cold, and in similar instances; for things appear,
or may be supposed to be, to each one such as he perceives
them?
Theaet. Yes.
Soc. Then perception is always of existence, and being the
same as knowledge is unerring?
Theaet. Clearly.
Soc. In the name of the Graces, what an almighty wise
man Protagoras must have been! He spoke these things in
a parable to the common herd, like you and me, but told the
truth. 'his Truth,' in secret to his own disciples.
1
Theact. What do you mean, Socrates?
Soc. I am about to speak of a high argument, in which all
things are said to be relative; you cannot rightly call any-
1 In allusion to a book of Protagoras' which bore this title.
THEAETETUS
471
153
THEAETETUS
agree with
him.
thing by any name, such as great or small, heavy or light, for Theaetetus.
the great will be small and the heavy light-there is no SOCRATES,
single thing or quality, but out of motion and change and
admixture all things are becoming relatively to one another, ancients
which 'becoming' is by us incorrectly called being, but is
really becoming, for nothing ever is, but all things are
becoming. Summon all philosophers-Protagoras, Hera-
cleitus, Empedocles, and the rest of them, one after another,
and with the exception of Parmenides they will agree with
you in this. Summon the great masters of either kind of
poetry-Epicharmus, the prince of Comedy, and Homer of
Tragedy; when the latter sings of
'Ocean whence sprang the gods, and mother Tethys,'
does he not mean that all things are the offspring of flux
and motion?
Theaet. I think so.
Soc. And who could take up arms against such a great
army having Homer for its general, and not appear ridicu-
lous?
Theaet. Who indeed, Socrates?
Soc. Yes, Theaetetus; and there are plenty of other proofs The praises
which will show that motion is the source of what is called of motion.
being and becoming, and inactivity of not-being and destruc-
tion; for fire and warmth, which are supposed to be the
parent and guardian of all other things, are born of move-
ment and of friction, which is a kind of motion;—is not this
the origin of fire?
Theaet. It is.
Soc. And the race of animals is generated in the same By motion
way?
Theaet. Certainly.
all things
are gener-
ated, and
body and
soul, water
Soc. And is not the bodily habit spoiled by rest and idle-
ness, but preserved for a long time by motion and exercise? and air, are
Theaet. True.
Soc. And what of the mental habit? Is not the soul
informed, and improved, and preserved by study and atten-
tion, which are motions; but when at rest, which in the soul
only means want of attention and study, is uninformed, and
speedily forgets whatever she has learned?
alike pre-
served by it.
472
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Theaetetus.
SOCRATES,
THEAETETUS.
Why did
not Prota-
goras say,
'A pig is the
measure of
all things'?
-for a pig
has sensa-
tion.
His doc-
trine is sui-
cidal, and
cuts away
his own and
all other
claims to
superior
wisdom.
Theaet. True.
Soc. Then motion is a good, and rest an evil, to the soul
as well as to the body?
Theaet. Clearly.
[On further analysis, conducted apparently on Heraclei-
tean and Protagorean principles, sensation dissolves into mo-
mentary perception, on the part of a changing percipient, of
a changing phenomenon. Each object is therefore relative to
but one percipient, and he alone can judge of its truth.]
Soc. I am charmed with the doctrine [of Protagoras], 161
that what appears is to each one, but I wonder that he did not
begin his book on Truth with a declaration that a pig or a
dog-faced baboon, or some other yet stranger monster which
has sensation, is the measure of all things; then he might have
shown a magnificent contempt for our opinion of him by in-
forming us at the outset that while we were reverencing him
like a God for his wisdom he was no better than a tadpole,
not to speak of his fellow-men-would not this have produced
an overpowering effect? For if truth is only sensation, and
no man can discern another's feelings better than he, or has
any superior right to determine whether his opinion is true or
false, but each, as we have several times repeated, is to him-
self the sole judge, and everything that he judges is true and
right, why, my friend, should Protagoras be preferred to the
place of wisdom and instruction, and deserve to be well paid,
and we poor ignoramuses have to go to him, if each one is
the measure of his own wisdom? Must he not be talking ‘ad
captandum' in all this? I say nothing of the ridiculous
predicament in which my own midwifery and the whole art
of dialectic is placed; for the attempt to supervise or refute
the notions or opinions of others would be a tedious and
enormous piece of folly, if to each man his own are right; 162
and this must be the case if Protagoras' Truth is the real
truth, and the philosopher is not merely amusing himself by
giving oracles out of the shrine of his book.
[In the sequel, the foregoing partly unfair refutation of
Protagoras is atoned for by the restatement of his doctrine.
Though it is true that each individual's sensations are his and
that (so far as he has sensations) he can have no others, it is
not true that all beliefs are equally good. But Protagoras
THEAETETUS
473
184
'is caught when he ascribes truth to the opinions of others, Theaetetus.
who give the lie direct to his own opinion.' The argument SOCRATES,
next shows the impossibility of any knowledge of a flux that
admits of no element of rest. Furthermore:-]
THEAETETUS
point of
Soc. And if any one were to ask you: With what does a Another
man see black and white colours? and with what does he view.
hear high and low sounds?-you would say, if I am not mis-
taken, 'With the eyes and with the ears.'
Theaet. I should.
Soc. The free use of words and phrases, rather than
minute precision, is generally characteristic of a liberal
education, and the opposite is pedantic; but sometimes pre-
cision is necessary, and I believe that the answer which
you have just given is open to the charge of incorrectness;
for which is more correct, to say that we see or hear with
the eyes and with the ears, or through the eyes and
through the ears.
Theaet. I should say 'through,' Socrates, rather than
'with.'
Soc. Yes, my boy, for no one can suppose that in each of
us, as in a sort of Trojan horse, there are perched a number
of unconnected senses, which do not all meet in some one
nature, the mind, or whatever we please to call it, of which
they are the instruments, and with which through them we
perceive objects of sense.
.
Theaet. I agree with you in that opinion.
185 Soc. Very good; and now tell me what is the power
which discerns, not only in sensible objects, but in all things,
universal notions, such as those which are called being and
not-being, and those others about which we were just asking
-what organs will you assign for the perception of these
notions?
ideas are
by the mind
alone with-
perceived
Theaet. You are thinking of being and not-being, likeness General
and unlikeness, sameness and difference, and also of unity
and other numbers which are applied to objects of sense;
and you mean to ask, through what bodily organ the soul
perceives odd and even numbers and other arithmetical
conceptions.
Soc. You follow me excellently, Theaetetus; that is pre-
cisely what I am asking.
out the help
of the
senses.
474
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Theaetetus.
SOCRATES,
THEAETETUS.
Theaet. Indeed, Socrates, I cannot answer; my only notion
is, that these, unlike objects of sense, have no separate organ,
but that the mind, by a power of her own, contemplates the
universals in all things.
[The rest of the dialogue is concerned with problems re-
garding judgment, and in particular with the difference be-
tween true and false judgments. The upshot of the discus-
sion is that neither sensation alone nor the mind alone can
give knowledge; and the way is cleared for a theory of cate
gories. The theory of ideas is not distinctly used.]
rate
1265
PARMENIDES
The Parmenides is one of the most obscure of the dia-
logues. Taken at its face value, it appears to represent the
theory of ideas, upheld by the young Socrates, as being demol-
ished by the revered Parmenides (the father of the Eleatic
philosophy of the One, and thus in a sense of idealism); and
then, when the puzzled Socrates is almost ready to relinquish
the theory of ideas, it appears to show the Eleatic philosophy
itself, when subjected by Parmenides to the glittering dialec-
tic of the Megarian School, as a barren negation. To such
annihilation can philosophers reduce philosophy!
The truth of the matter appears to be that Plato has him-
self scented the danger to which a transcendental view of the
ideas is exposed; he therefore anticipates the criticisms of
Aristotle that may be directed against the ideas, but insists
that without the hypothesis of ideas there is no escape from
the flux of Heracleitus with the impossibility of knowledge
that it entails (observed in the Theaetetus). And the second
part of the dialogue is devoted to an exhibition of the futile
tyranny of a verbal eristic, a veritable 'ocean of words,' a
metaphysic in vacuo. Plato is thus seeking, in a day when
truth is imperilled by the notion that it can be deduced simply
from words, to reëstablish a philosophy approved by experi-
ence and common sense. For modern analogies one would
turn to the disputes about the 'substance' and the 'transcen-
dence' or 'immanence' of God. Plato, to use theological lan-
guage, is hinting that God is both transcendent and immanent.
For he holds that the ideas, as immanent, give form to the
world; as transcendent, they preserve their character as ob-
jects of thought. He is thus true to his position in the Re-
public, in which the truth of his philosophy is represented as
capable of being tested in man's personal experience.
W. C. G.
[The passages that follow show young Socrates struggling
with the broblem of the one and the many. To Parmenides,
475
476
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Parmenides.
SOCRATES,
ZENO.
Differences
between
absolute
ideas or
natures,
and the
things
which
partake of
them.
who has upheld the one, and to Zeno, who has denied the
many, he argues that the same things may partake in the one
and the many.]
I understand, said Socrates, and quite accept your account.
But tell me, Zeno, do you not further think that there is an
idea of likeness in itself, and another idea of unlikeness, 129
which is the opposite of likeness, and that in these two, you
and I and all other things to which we apply the term many,
participate things which participate in likeness become in
that degree and manner like; and so far as they participate
in unlikeness become in that degree unlike, or both like and
unlike in the degree in which they participate in both? And
may not all things partake of both opposites, and be
both like and unlike, by reason of this participation?-Where
is the wonder? Now if a person could prove the absolute
like to become unlike, or the absolute unlike to become like,
that, in my opinion, would indeed be a wonder; but there
is nothing extraordinary, Zeno, in showing that the things
which only partake of likeness and unlikeness experience
both. Nor, again, if a person were to show that all is one
by partaking of one, and at the same time many by partaking
of many, would that be very astonishing. But if he were to
show me that the absolute one was many, or the absolute
many one, I should be truly amazed. And so of all the
rest: I should be surprised to hear that the natures or ideas
themselves had these opposite qualities; but not if
a person wanted to prove of me that I was many and also
one. When he wanted to show that I was many he would
say that I have a right and a left side, and a front and
a back, and an upper and a lower half, for I cannot deny
that I partake of multitude; when, on the other hand, he
wants to prove that I am one, he will say, that we who are
here assembled are seven, and that I am one and partake of
the one.
In both instances he proves his case. So again, if a
person shows that such things as wood, stones, and the like,
being many are also one, we admit that he shows the coexist-
ence of the one and many, but he does not show that the
many are one or the one many; he is uttering not a paradox
but a truism. If, however, as I just now suggested, some
one were to abstract simple notions of like, unlike, one,
PARMENIDES
477
PARMENIDES.
many, rest, motion, and similar ideas, and then to show that Parmenides.
these admit of admixture and separation in themselves, I SOCRATES,
should be very much astonished. This part of the argument
appears to be treated by you, Zeno, in a very spirited manner;
but, as I was saying, I should be far more amazed if any one
130 found in the ideas themselves which are apprehended by
reason, the same puzzle and entanglement which you have
shown to exist in visible objects.
[But Socrates admits absolute ideas of the just, the beau-
tiful, the good; is uncertain about ideas of man, fire, water;
and is inclined to repudiate ideas of 'ridiculous' objects, as
hair, mud, dirt, not a consistent view, as Parmenides inti-
mates. And various explanations of the way in which indi-
viduals partake in the idea are disproved, as that the idea is
divisible. Parmenides continues:-]....
given by
ization.
I imagine that the way in which you are led to assume one Ideas are
132 idea of each kind is as follows:-You see a number of great general-
objects, and when you look at them there seems to you to be
one and the same idea (or nature) in them all; hence you
conceive of greatness as one.
Very true, said Socrates.
And if you go on and allow your mind in like manner to
embrace in one view the idea of greatness and of great
things which are not the idea, and to compare them, will not
another greatness arise, which will appear to be the source
of all these?
It would seem so.
But the
general and
its par
ticulars
form a new
together
idea;
Then another idea of greatness now comes into view over
and above absolute greatness, and the individuals which par-
take of it; and then another, over and above all these, by the new
virtue of which they will all be great, and so each idea instead
of being one will be infinitely multiplied.
But may not the ideas, asked Socrates, be thoughts only,
and have no proper existence except in our minds, Parmen-
ides? For in that case each idea may still be one, and not
experience this infinite multiplication.
idea and its
particulars
another;
and so ad
It is
infinitum.
suggested
that the
ideas are
thoughts
And can there be individual thoughts which are thoughts only.This
of nothing?
Impossible, he said.
The thought must be of something?
solution is
rejected.
478
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Parmenides.
SOCRATES,
PARMENIDES.
A fresh
attempt.
The ideas
are
patterns,
and other
things will
be like
them. But
then there
will be like-
ness of the
like to the
like, and a
common idea
including
both; and
so on ad
infinitum.
Resem-
blance
must be
given up.
Yes.
Of something which is or which is not?
Of something which is.
Must it not be of a single something, which the thought
recognizes as attaching to all, being a single form or nature?
Yes.
And will not the something which is apprehended as one
and the same in all, be an idea?
From that, again, there is no escape.
Then, said Parmenides, if you say that everything else par-
ticipates in the ideas, must you not say either that everything
is made up of thoughts, and that all things think; or that
they are thoughts but have no thought?
The latter view, Parmenides, is no more rational than the
previous one. In my opinion, the ideas are, as it were,
patterns fixed in nature, and other things are like them, and
resemblances of them-what is meant by the participation
of other things in the ideas, is really assimilation to them.
But if, said he, the individual is like the idea, must not the
idea also be like the individual, in so far as the individual is
a resemblance of the idea? That which is like, cannot be
conceived of as other than the like of like.
Impossible.
And when two things are alike, must they not partake of
the same idea?
They must.
And will not that of which the two partake, and which
makes them alike, be the idea itself?
Certainly.
Then the idea cannot be like the individual, or the indi-
vidual like the idea; for if they are alike, some further idea
of likeness will always be coming to light, and if that be like 131
anything else, another; and new ideas will be always arising,
if the idea resembles that which partakes of it?
Quite true.
The theory, then, that other things participate in the ideas
by resemblance, has to be given up, and some other mode
of participation devised?
It would seem so.
PARMENIDES
479
Do you see then, Socrates, how great is the difficulty of Parmenides.
affirming the ideas to be absolute?
Yes, indeed.
And, further, let me say that as yet you only understand a
small part of the difficulty which is involved if you make of
each thing a single idea, parting it off from other things.
What difficulty? he said.
There are many, but the greatest of all is this:—If an
opponent argues that these ideas, being such as we say they
ought to be, must remain unknown, no one can prove to him
that he is wrong, unless he who denies their existence be a
man of great ability and knowledge, and is willing to follow
a long and laborious demonstration; he will remain uncon-
vinced, and still insist that they cannot be known.
What do you mean, Parmenides? said Socrates.
SOCRATES,
PARMENIDES.
In the first place, I think, Socrates, that you, or any one Ideas
who maintains the existence of absolute essences, will admit
that they cannot exist in us.
would be
no longer
absolute, if
they existed
And if
without us,
and their
resem-
blances in
No, said Socrates; for then they would be no longer within us.
absolute.
True, he said; and therefore when ideas are what they are then they
in relation to one another, their essence is determined by a
relation among themselves, and has nothing to do with the
resemblances, or whatever they are to be termed, which are our sphere
in our sphere, and from which we receive this or that name among
when we partake of them. And the things which are within
our sphere and have the same names with them, are likewise not to one
only relative to one another, and not to the ideas which have
the same names with them, but belong to themselves and not
to them.
What do you mean? said Socrates.
are related
themselves
only and
another.
For ex-
ample, we
tinguish
the indi-
and master
in the con-
I may illustrate my meaning in this way, said Parmenides: must dis-
-A master has a slave; now there is nothing absolute in the
relation between them, which is simply a relation of one man vidual slave
to another. But there is also an idea of mastership in the
abstract, which is relative to the idea of slavery in the
134 stract. These natures have nothing to do with us, nor
with them; they are concerned with themselves only, and
with ourselves. Do you see my meaning?
Yes, said Socrates, I quite see your meaning.
ab-
crete from
we
the ideas of
mastership
we and
slavery
in the
abstract.
480
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Parmenides.
Socrates,
PARMENIDES.
The truth
which we
have will
correspond
to the
knowledge
which we
have; and
we have no
knowledge
of the
absolute
or of the
ideas.
Another
objection.
God above
has abso-
lute know-
ledge. But
if so, he
cannot
have a
knowledge
of human
things, be-
cause they
are in
another
sphere.
And will not knowledge-I mean absolute knowledge—
answer to absolute truth?
Certainly.
And each kind of absolute knowledge will answer to each
kind of absolute being?
Yes.
But the knowledge which we have will answer to the truth
which we have; and again, each kind of knowledge which we
have will be a knowledge of each kind of being which we
have?
Certainly.
But the ideas themselves, as you admit, we have not, and
cannot have?
No, we cannot.
And the absolute natures or kinds are known severally by
the absolute idea of knowledge?
Yes.
And we have not got the idea of knowledge?
No.
'Then none of the ideas are known to us, because we have
no share in absolute knowledge?
I suppose not.
Then the nature of the beautiful in itself, and of the good
in itself, and all other ideas which we suppose to exist abso-
lutely, are unknown to us?
It would seem so.
I think that there is a stranger consequence still.
What is it?
Would you, or would you not say, that absolute know-
ledge, if there is such a thing, must be a far more exact
knowledge than our knowledge; and the same of beauty and
of the rest?
Yes.
And if there be such a thing as participation in absolute
knowledge, no one is more likely than God to have this most
exact knowledge?
Certainly.
But then, will God, having absolute knowledge, have a
knowledge of human things?
Why not?
PARMENIDES
481
135
Because, Socrates, said Parmenides, we have admitted that Parmenides.
the ideas are not valid in relation to human things; nor human SOCRATES,
things in relation to them; the relations of either are limited
to their respective spheres.
Yes, that has been admitted.
And if God has this perfect authority, and perfect know-
ledge, his authority cannot rule us, nor his knowledge
know us, or any human thing; just as our authority does
not extend to the gods, nor our knowledge know any-
thing which is divine, so by parity of reason they, being gods,
are not our masters, neither do they know the things of
men.
Yet, surely, said Socrates, to deprive God of knowledge is
monstrous.
These, Socrates, said Parmenides, are a few, and only a
few of the difficulties in which we are involved if ideas
really are and we determine each one of them to be an abso-
lute unity. He who hears what may be said against them
will deny the very existence of them—and even if they do
exist, he will say that they must of necessity be unknown to
man; and he will seem to have reason on his side, and as
we were remarking just now, will be very difficult to con-
vince; a man must be gifted with very considerable ability
before he can learn that everything has a class and an
absolute essence; and still more remarkable will he be who
discovers all these things for himself, and having thoroughly
investigated them is able to teach them to others.
I agree with you, Parmenides, said Socrates; and what
you say is very much to my mind.
And yet, Socrates, said Parmenides, if a man, fixing his
attention on these and the like difficulties, does away with
ideas of things and will not admit that every individual thing
has its own determinate idea which is always one and the
same, he will have nothing on which his mind can rest; and
so he will utterly destroy the power of reasoning, as you seem
to me to have particularly noted.
Very true, he said.
But, then, what is to become of philosophy? Whither
shall we turn, if the ideas are unknown?
I certainly do not see my way at present.
PARMENIDES.
482
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
SOCRATES,
PARMENIDES.
Parmenides. Yes, said Parmenides; and I think that this arises,
Socrates, out of your attempting to define the beautiful, the
just, the good, and the ideas generally, without sufficient pre-
vious training.
Parmenides
has ob-
served
Socrates
to be
untried in
dialectic.
[In the rest of the dialogue, Parmenides himself subjects the
Eleatic philosophy to such criticism as was characteristic of
the Megarian school, testing pairs of opposing hypotheses about
the One. The result is a series of contradictions or antino-
mies, and pure reason seems to be discredited.]
SOPHIST
The Sophist is one of a trilogy of dialogues which Plato
projected, the others being the Statesman and the Philosopher;
but the last, if ever written, has not been preserved. The
Sophist continues one of the inquiries of the Theaetetus, as to
the nature of false judgments and the necessity of a principle
of rest in any cognition of the flux. Socrates is only a minor
character, being practically supplanted by an 'Eleatic
Stranger,' and Plato refers somewhat impersonally to 'the
friends of the ideas.' The ostensible subject, discussed in the
first and the last parts, is the definition of the Sophist, whose
art by an elaborate series of divisions and sub-divisions is at
last discovered to be the 'contradictious, dissembling, ignorant,
human, word-juggling, unreal art of image-making.' In
the middle section, the Eleatic Stranger, while investigating the
meaning of 'not-being,' criticizes in turn all the schools of
philosophy; the old masters, the materialists, and 'the friends
of the ideas.' Only true idealism comes off unscathed; but
this means idealism so criticized as to admit that the ideas
are not isolated from each other. The philosopher is he who
can show what ideas will unite with each other and which
will not.
And in dealing with the conception of 'not-be-
ing' (to us an almost unmeaning conception, but for Plato
a stumbling block because of the tyrannical grip that 'being'
and 'the one' had on men's minds), Plato shows that truth
or falsehood are to be found not in terms but in propositions.
Thus negative judgments are explained, and Plato is enabled.
to sketch a theory of predication and of categories. Plato is
learning how to save the theory of ideas and at the same time
to recognize difference ('the other,' or relation) as funda-
mental; and to those who would deny him either rest or
motion, one or many, he will always say, 'Give us both.'
W. C. G.
483
484
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sophist.
STRANGER,
THEAETETUS.
Let us now
ask the Ma-
terialists
and Ideal-
ists to give
an account
of essence.
The Ideal-
ists are
civil
enough,
but the
Materialists
must be
improved
before they
can be
reasoned
with.
[In the following passage the Eleatic Stranger exhibits the
impossibility of knowledge from the point of view of either
materialist or idealist, if either motion or rest be denied.]
Stranger. There appears to be a sort of war of Giants and 246
Gods going on amongst them; they are fighting with one
another about the nature of essence.
Theaetetus. How is that?
Str. Some of them are dragging down all things from
heaven and from the unseen to earth, and they literally grasp
in their hands rocks and oaks; of these they lay hold, and
obstinately maintain that the things only which can be
touched or handled have being or essence, because they define
being and body as one, and if any one else says that what is
not a body exists they altogether despise him, and will hear of
nothing but body.
Theaet. I have often met with such men, and terrible fel-
lows they are.
Str. And that is the reason why their opponents cautiously
defend themselves from above, out of an unseen world,
mightily contending that true essence consists of certain
intelligible and incorporeal ideas; the bodies of the material-
ists, which by them are maintained to be the very truth, they
break up into little bits by their arguments, and affirm them
to be, not essence, but generation and motion. Between the
two armies, Theaetetus, there is always an endless conflict
raging concerning these matters.
Theaet. True.
Str. Let us ask each party in turn, to give an account of
that which they call essence.
Theaet. How shall we get it out of them?
Str. With those who make being to consist in ideas, there
will be less difficulty, for they are civil people enough; but
there will be very great difficulty, or rather an absolute
impossibility, in getting an opinion out of those who drag
everything down to matter. Shall I tell you what we must
do?
Theaet. What?
Str. Let us, if we can, really improve them; but if this is
not possible, let us imagine them to be better than they are,
and more willing to answer in accordance with the rules of
SOPHIST
485
247
Sophist.
arguinent, and then their opinion will be more worth having;
for that which better men acknowledge has more weight than STRAnger,
that which is acknowledged by inferior men. Moreover we
are no respecters of persons, but seekers after truth.
Theaet. Very good.
Str. Then now, on the supposition that they are improved,
let us ask them to state their views, and do you interpret
them.
Theaet. Agreed.
THEAETETUS.
Str. Let them say whether they would admit that there is The latter
such a thing as a mortal animal.
Theaet. Of course they would.
would ad-
mit that in
the mortal
animal
Str. And do they not acknowledge this to be a body having there is a
a soul?
Theaet. Certainly they do.
soul, and
that the
soul may
Str. Meaning to say that the soul is something which be just and
exists?
Theaet. True.
Str. And do they not say that one soul is just, and another
unjust, and that one soul is wise, and another foolish?
Theaet. Certainly.
Str. And that the just and wise soul becomes just and wise
by the possession of justice and wisdom, and the opposite un-
der opposite circumstances?
Theaet. Yes, they do.
Str. But surely that which may be present or may be ab-
sent will be admitted by them to exist?
Theaet. Certainly.
Str. And, allowing that justice, wisdom, the other virtues,
and their opposites exist, as well as a soul in which they
inhere, do they affirm any of them to be visible and tangible,
or are they all invisible?
Theaet. They would say that hardly any of them are
visible.
Str. And would they say that they are corporeal?
Theaet. They would distinguish: the soul would be said by
them to have a body; but as to the other qualities of justice,
wisdom, and the like, about which you asked, they would not
venture either to deny their existence, or to maintain that they
were all corporeal.
wise; and
whatever
they may
say of soul,
they would
never
venture to
assert that
the moral
qualities
are cor-
poreal.
486
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sophist.
STRANGER,
THEAETETUS.
What is
the nature,
common to
the cor-
poreal and
incorporeal,
which we
indicate
when we
say that
both 'are'?
It is a
power of
affecting
and being
affected by
another.
Now we
turn to the
friends of
ideas.-
They
acknowl-
edge a
distinction
between
generation
and es-
sence, and
that we
participate
in the
former with
the body
Str. Verily, Theaetetus, I perceive a great improvement in
them; the real aborigines, children of the dragon's teeth,
would have been deterred by no shame at all, but would have
obstinately asserted that nothing is which they are not able to
squeeze in their hands.
Theaet. That is pretty much their notion.
Str. Let us push the question; for if they will admit that
any, even the smallest particle of being, is incorporeal, it is
enough; they must then say what that nature is which is
common to both the corporeal and incorporeal, and which
they have in their mind's eye when they say of both of them
that they are.' Perhaps they may be in a difficulty; and if
this is the case, there is a possibility that they may accept a
notion of ours respecting the nature of being, having nothing
of their own to offer.
see.
Theaet. What is the notion? Tell me, and we shall soon
Str. My notion would be, that anything which possesses
any sort of power to affect another, or to be affected by
another, if only for a single moment, however trifling the
cause and however slight the effect, has real existence; and
I hold that the definition of being is simply power.
Theaet. They accept your suggestion, having nothing better
of their own to offer.
Str. Very good; perhaps we, as well as they, may one day
change our minds; but, for the present, this may be regarded 248
as the understanding which is established with them.
Theaet. Agreed.
Str. Let us now go to the friends of ideas; of their
opinions, too, you shall be the interpreter.
Theaet.. I will.
Str. To them we say--You would distinguish essence from
generation?
Theaet. 'Yes' they reply.
Str. And you would allow that we participate in generation
with the body, and through perception, but we participate
with the soul through thought in true essence; and esssence
you would affirm to be always the same and immutable,
whereas generation or becoming varies?
Theaet.. Yes; that is what we should affirm.
SOPHIST
487
249
Str. Well, fair sirs, we say to them, what is this participa-
Sophist.
tion, which you assert of both? Do you agree with our STRANGER,
recent definition?
Theaet. What definition?
THEAETETUS.
and in the
latter with
is this par-
Str. We said that being was an active or passive energy, the soul.
arising out of a certain power which proceeds from elements And what
meeting with one another. Perhaps your ears, Theaetetus,
may fail to catch their answer, which I recognize because I
have been accustomed to hear it.
Theaet. And what is their answer?
ticipation?
Is it to be
defined,
like being,
to be a
power of
Str. They deny the truth of what we were just now saying doing and
to the aborigines about existence.
Theaet. What was that?
Str. Any power of doing or suffering in a degree however
slight was held by us to be a sufficient definition of being?
Theaet. True.
Str. They deny this, and say that the power of doing or
suffering is confined to becoming and that neither power is
applicable to being.
Theaet. And is there not some truth in what they say?
Str. Yes; but our reply will be that we want to ascertain
from them more distinctly whether they further admit that
the soul knows, and that being or essence is known.
Theaet. There can be no doubt that they say so.
Str. And is knowing and being known doing or suffering,
or both, or is the one doing and the other suffering, or has
neither any share in either?
suffering?
But they
deny the
appro-
priateness
of this
definition
of being.
They admit
that the
however
soul knows
and that
being is
known.
ing and
But know-
being
known are
Theaet. Clearly, neither has any share in either; for if they active and
say anything else, they will contradict themselves.
Str. I understand; but they will allow that if to know is
active, then, of course, to be known is passive. And on this
view, being, in so far as it is known, is acted upon by know-
ledge, and is therefore in motion; for that which is in a
state of rest cannot be acted upon, as we affirm.
Theaet. True.
passive.
If being is
acted upon,
motion,-
an attribute
which, with
life and
it must be in
soul,
certainly
belongs to
being.
Str. And, O heavens, can we ever be made to believe that
motion and life and soul and mind are not present with perfect
perfect being? Can we imagine that being is devoid of life
and mind, and exists in awful unmeaningness an everlasting
fixture?
488
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Sophist.
STRANGER,
THEAETETUS.
But rest,
as well as
motion, is
necessary
to the
existence of
mind;
and the
philosopher
will de-
mand both.
Theaet. That would be a dreadful thing to admit, Stranger.
Str. But shall we say that being has mind and not life?
Theaet. How is that possible?
Str. Or shall we say that both inhere in perfect being, but
that it has no soul which contains them?
Theaet. And in what other way can it contain them?
Str. Or that being has mind and life and soul, but although
endowed with soul remains absolutely unmoved?
Theaet. All three suppositions appear to me to be irra-
tional.
Str. Under being, then, we must include motion, and that
which is moved.
Theaet. Certainly.
Str. Then, Theaetetus, our inference is, that if there is no
motion, neither is there any mind anywhere, or about any-
thing, or belonging to any one.
Theaet. Quite true.
Str. And yet this equally follows, if we grant that all things
are in motion-upon this view too mind has no existence.
Theaet. How so?
Str. Do you think that sameness of condition and mode
and subject could ever exist without a principle of rest?
Theaet. Certainly not.
Str. Can you see how without them mind could exist, or
come into existence anywhere?
Theaet. No.
Str. And surely contend we must in every possible way
against him who would annihilate knowledge and reason and
mind, and yet ventures to speak confidently about anything.
Theaet. Yes, with all our might.
Str. Then the philosopher, who has the truest reverence
for these qualities, cannot possibly accept the notion of those
who say that the whole is at rest, either as unity or in many
forms: and he will be utterly deaf to those who assert
universal motion. As children say, entreatingly, 'Give us
both,' so he will include both the movable and immovable
in his definition of being and all.
294
STATESMAN
The Statesman comes second in the trilogy that includes
the Sophist and the (projected) Philosopher. Its interest is
partly in method, for it resembles the Sophist in its use of
repeated divisions and subdivisions, resulting in the definition
of the 'royal art' of the statesman now in terms of the herds-
man, now of the weaver who skilfully blends his materials in
a pattern. Yet its interest is also in its subject, for despite his
preoccupation with the method, Plato's aim is not to lose him-
self in the clouds of metaphysics, but rather to get rid of the
futile sort of metaphysics, probably growing up within the
Academy as elsewhere, that was upsetting his philosophy and
detaching it from experience and common sense. Thus the
Statesman, like the three preceding dialogues, is an example
of an attempt to bring ideals nearer to earth; it stands be-
tween the almost visionary idealism of the Republic and the
more sober reflections of the Laws. Its cosmological myth,
moreover, gives evidence of an interest that will appear more
fully in the Timaeus.
W. C. G.
[The following passage illustrates in a political problem
Plato's growing interest in translating the highest ideals of
philosophy into concrete form. The Eleatic Stranger has not
quite convinced the younger Socrates that so long as rulers
govern scientifically, it does not matter whether they rule
with laws or without, whether over willing or over
willing subjects.]
Stranger. I see that we shall have to consider this notion
of there being good government without laws.
Younger Socrates. Certainly.
Young
objects to
government
without
Str. There can be no doubt that legislation is in a manner Socrates
the business of a king, and yet the best thing of all is not
that the law should rule, but that a man should rule sup-
posing him to have wisdom and royal power. Do you see
why this is?
laws.
489
490
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Statesman.
STRANGER,
YOUNG
SOCRATES.
He is
answered
that the
rule of a
wise man
is better
than the
rule of
law;
for the
complexity
of human
affairs can-
not be met
by legis
lation.
Law is like
an ob-
stinate and
ignorant
tyrant.
Why then
are laws
made?
As the
training.
master
makes
rules, not
for each
particular
case that
would be
impossible
--but for
the gener-
ality,
Y. Soc. Why?
Str. Because the law does not perfectly comprehend what
is noblest and most just for all and therefore cannot enforce
what is best. The differences of men and actions, and the
endless irregular movements of human things, do not admit
of any universal and simple rule. And no art whatsoever
can lay down a rule which will last for all time.
Y. Soc. Of course not.
Str. But the law is always striving to make one;-like an
obstinate and ignorant tyrant, who will not allow anything to
be done contrary to his appointment, or any question to be
asked-not even in sudden changes of circumstances, when
something happens to be better than what he commanded for
some one.
Y. Soc. Certainly; the law treats us all precisely in the
manner which
describe.
you
Str. A perfectly simple principle can never be applied to a
state of things which is the reverse of simple.
Y. Soc. True.
Str. Then if the law is not the perfection of right, why
are we compelled to make laws at all? The reason of this
has next to be investigated.
Y. Soc. Certainly.
Str. Let me ask, whether you have not meetings for
gymnastic contests in your city, such as there are in other
cities, at which men compete in running, wrestling, and
the like?
Y. Soc. Yes; they are very common among us.
Str. And what are the rules which are enforced on their
pupils by professional trainers or by others having similar
authority? Can you remember?
Y. Soc. To what do you refer?
Str. The training-masters do not issue minute rules for
individuals, or give every individual what is exactly suited
to his constitution; they think that they ought to go more
roughly to work, and to prescribe generally the regimen
which will benefit the majority.
Y. Soc. Very true.
Str. And therefore they assign equal amounts of exercise
to them all; they send them forth together, and let them rest
STATESMAN
491
together from their running, wrestling, or whatever the form Statesman.
of bodily exercise may be.
Y. Soc. True.
295
STRANGER,
YOUNG
SOCRATES.
so too the
Str. And now observe that the legislator who has to pre-
side over the herd, and to enforce justice in their dealings legislator
with one another, will not be able, in enacting for the general enacts what
good, to provide exactly what is suitable for each particular
case.
Y. Soc. He cannot be expected to do so.
is gener-
ally for the
best; for
he cannot
sit by each
man's side
through
direct him.
Str. He will lay down laws in a general form for the
majority, roughly meeting the cases of individuals; and life and
some of them he will deliver in writing, and others will be
unwritten; and these last will be traditional customs of the
country.
Y. Soc. He will be right.
Str. Yes, quite right; for how can he sit at every man's
side all through his life, prescribing for him the exact par-
ticulars of his duty? Who, Socrates, would be equal to such
a task? No one who really had the royal science, if he had
been able to do this, would have imposed upon himself the
restriction of a written law.
Y. Soc. So I should infer from what has now been said.
Str. Or rather, my good friend, from what is going to be
said.
Y. Soc. And what is that?
physician,
Str. Let us put to ourselves the case of a physician, or Again, a
trainer, who is about to go into a far country, and is expect- who is
ing to be a long time away from his patients-thinking that
his instructions will not be remembered unless they are written
down, he will leave notes of them for the use of his pupils
or patients.
Y. Soc. True.
going to a
foreign
will leave
country,
directions
in writing
for his
patients.
But if he
return
sooner
than he
Str. But what would you say, if he came back sooner than
he had intended, and, owing to an unexpected change of the should
winds or other celestial influences, something else happened
to be better for them,-would he not venture to suggest this
new remedy, although not contemplated in his former pre-
scription? Would he persist in observing the original law, a
neither himself giving any new commandments, nor the necessary,
patient daring to do otherwise than was prescribed, under he will
expected
ted
change of
treatment
492
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Statesman.
STRANGER,
YOUNG
SOCRATES.
disregard
his former
prescrip-
tion.
The legis
lator, in
like
manner,
would not
hesitate to
change his
own laws, if
he came to
life again.
A reformer
should
carry man-
kind with
him; but
even if he
use a little
violence
what
harm?
A phy-
sician is
not blamed
for curing
patient
against his
will;
the idea that this course only was healthy and medicinal, all
others noxious and heterodox? Viewed in the light of
science and true art, would not all such enactments be utterly
ridiculous?
Y. Soc. Utterly.
Str. And if he who gave laws, written or unwritten, deter-
mining what was good or bad, honourable or dishonourable,
just or unjust, to the tribes of men who flock together in their
several cities, and are governed in accordance with them; if,
I say, the wise legislator were suddenly to come again, or 296
another like to him, is he to be prohibited from changing
them?-would not this prohibition be in reality quite as
ridiculous as the other?
Y. Soc. Certainly.
Str. Do you know a plausible saying of the common people
which is in point?
Y. Soc. I do not recall what you mean at the moment.
Str. They say that if any one knows how the ancient laws
may be improved, he must first persuade his own State of
the improvement, and then he may legislate, but not other-
wise.
Y. Soc. And are they not right?
Str. I dare say. But supposing that he does use some
gentle violence for their good, what is this violence to be
called? Or rather, before you answer, let me ask the same
question in reference to our previous instances.
Y. Soc. What do you mean?
Str. Suppose that a skilful physician has a patient, of
whatever sex or age, whom he compels against his will to
do something for his good which is contrary to the written
rules; what is this compulsion to be called?
Would you
ever dream of calling it a violation of the art, or a breach
of the laws of health? Nothing could be more unjust than
for the patient to whom such violence is applied, to charge
the physician who practises the violence with wanting skill
or aggravating his disease.
Y. Soc. Most true.
Str. In the political art error is not called disease, but evil,
or disgrace, or injustice.
Y. Soc. Quite true.
STATESMAN
493
Str. And when the citizen, contrary to law and custom, is Statesman.
compelled to do what is juster and better and nobler than he STRANGER,
did before, the last and most absurd thing which he could
say about such violence is that he has incurred disgrace or
evil or injustice at the hands of those who compelled him.
Y. Soc. Very true.
YOUNG
SOCRATES.
and we
should not
condemn
who com-
pels men
more justly.
ment, as in
seaman-
ship, art is
superior
Str. And shall we say that the violence, if exercised by a any one
rich man, is just, and if by a poor man, unjust? May not
any man, rich or poor, with or without laws, with the will of to act
the citizens or against the will of the citizens, do what is for
their interest? Is not this the true principle of government, In govern-
according to which the wise and good man will order the
297 affairs of his subjects? As the pilot, by watching continually
over the interests of the ship and of the crew, not by to law.
laying down rules, but by making his art a law, preserves
the lives of his fellow-sailors, even so, and in the self-same
way, may there not be a true form of polity created by those
who are able to govern in a similar spirit, and who show a
strength of art which is superior to the law? Nor can wise
rulers ever err while they, observing the one great rule of
distributing justice to the citizens with intelligence and skill,
are able to preserve them, and, as far as may be, to make
them better from being worse.
Y. Soc. No one can deny what has been now said.
Str. Neither, if you consider, can any one deny the other
statement.
Y. Soc. What was it?
form of
govern-
ment, as
we said,
is of few
or of an
Str. We said that no great number of persons, whoever The true
they may be, can attain political knowledge, or order a State
wisely, but that the true government is to be found in a
small body, or in an individual, and that other States are
but imitations of this, as we said a little while ago, some for
the better and some for the worse.
Y. Soc. What do you mean? I cannot have understood forms are
your previous remark about imitations.
Str. And yet the mere suggestion which I hastily threw
out is highly important, even if we leave the question where
it is, and do not seek by the discussion of it to expose the
error which prevails in this matter.
Y. Soc. What do you mean?
individual:
other
imitations
of this.
494
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Statesman.
STRANGER,
YOUNG
SOCRATES.
They copy
its laws
and punish
very
severely the
infringe-
ment of
them.-Yet
this is not
the best
thing, but
only the
second
best.
Str. The idea which has to be grasped by us is not easy or
familiar; but we may attempt to express it thus:-Supposing
the government of which I have been speaking to be the only
true model, then the others must use the written laws of this
-in no other way can they be saved; they will have to do
what is now generally approved, although not the best thing
in the world.
Y. Soc. What is this?
Str. No citizen should do anything contrary to the laws,
and any infringement of them should be punished with death
and the most extreme penalties; and this is very right and
good when regarded as the second best thing, if you set
aside the first, of which I was just now speaking.
PHILEBUS
The subject discussed in the Philebus was hotly debated
in the Academy: the relation of pleasure and of wisdom,
when analysed, to the good. The answer that emerges is that
neither pleasure nor wisdom is self-sufficient, but that the
good is a mixture, which, as Plato now realizes in general,
implies not mere negation but rather determination, a combi-
nation of form and matter. And this good comprises several
desiderata, among which wisdom ranks lower than measure,
but higher than pleasure. In such a manner Plato is dealing
with what to-day would be called the claims of utilitarianism
as an ethical dogma; he does not deny pleasure as a fact and a
good, but he feels the difficulty of pinning it down to a definite
standard or of elevating it to the realm of ideas whence it
could properly speak with the authority of law. He would,
perhaps, not quite agree with Keats that Beauty 'must die,'
but he has a conception of
Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips.
W. C. G.
[The Philebus represents in part, like the foregoing dia-
logues, another attempt to work out the function of the ideas in
practical affairs. The existence of the ideas is accepted, as in
the Parmenides, as no longer a stumbling block but a neces-
sary paradox; the point to be determined is how to use the
ideas, how to pass from the one to the many or vice versa
not by one leap, as it were, but by such degrees as correspond to
the natural constitution of things. With this problem the pas-
sage given below is concerned. If the problem seems now
somewhat out of date, one may find good enough analogies
in modern antitheses of determinism and free will, state con-
trol and personal freedom, and the like.]
495
496
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Philebus.
SOCRATES,
PROTARCHUS.
We have
lighted
upon the
old prob-
lem of the
One and
Many
'be co-
existence
of the One
and Many
in concrete
objects
presents no
difficulty.
Our
troubles
begin with
abstract
unities.
What is
the relation
of ideas
and phe-
nomena?
Socrates. Then let us have a more definite understanding 14
and establish the principle on which the argument rests.
Protarchus. What principle?
Soc. A principle about which all men are always in a
difficulty, and some men sometimes against their will.
Pro. Speak plainer.
Soc. The principle which has just turned up, which is a
marvel of nature; for that one should be many or many one,
are wonderful propositions; and he who affirms either is very
open to attack.
Pro. Do you mean, when a person says that I, Protarchus,
am by nature one and also many, dividing the single 'me'
into many 'me's,' and even opposing them as great and
small, light and heavy, and in ten thousand other ways?
Soc. Those, Protarchus, are the common and acknowledged
paradoxes about the one and many, which I may say that
everybody has by this time agreed to dismiss as childish and
obvious and detrimental to the true course of thought; and
no more favour is shown to that other puzzle, in which a per-
son proves the members and parts of anything to be divided,
and then confessing that they are all one, says laughingly in
disproof of his own words: Why, here is a miracle, the one
is many and infinite, and the many are only one.
Pro. But what, Socrates, are those other marvels connected
with this subject which, as you imply, have not yet become
common and acknowledged?
Soc. When, my boy, the one does not belong to the class
of things that are born and perish, as in the instances which
we were giving, for in those cases, and when unity is of this
concrete nature, there is, as I was saying, a universal consent
that no refutation is needed; but when the assertion is made
that man is one, or ox is one, or beauty one, or the good one,
then the interest which attaches to these and similar unities
and the attempt which is made to divide them gives birth to
a controversy.
Pro. Of what nature?
Soc. In the first place, as to whether these unities have a
real existence; and then how each individual unity, being
always the same, and incapable either of generation or of
destruction, but retaining a permanent individuality, can be
15
PHILEBUS
497
PROTARCHUS.
conceived either as dispersed and multiplied in the infinity of Philebus.
the world of generation, or as still entire and yet divided from SOCRATES,
itself, which latter would seem to be the greatest impossibility
of all, for how can one and the same thing be at the same
time in one and in many things? These, Protarchus, are the
real difficulties, and this is the one and many to which they
relate; they are the source of great perplexity if ill decided,
and the right determination of them is very helpful.
Pro. Then, Socrates, let us begin by clearing up these
questions.
Soc. That is what I should wish.
Pro. And I am sure that all my other friends will be glad to
hear them discussed; Philebus, fortunately for us, is not dis-
posed to move, and we had better not stir him up with questions.
Soc. Good; and where shall we begin this great and mul-
tifarious battle, in which such various points are at issue?
Shall we begin thus?
Pro. How?
existence
of one and
a con-
sequence
-The en-
thusiasm
Soc. We say that the one and many become identified by The co-
thought, and that now, as in time past, they run about to-
gether, in and out of every word which is uttered, and that this many is
union of them will never cease, and is not now beginning, but
is, as I believe, an everlasting quality of thought itself, which of thought.
never grows old. Any young man, when he first tastes
these subtleties, is delighted, and fancies that he has found a of young
treasure of wisdom; in the first enthusiasm of his joy he
leaves no stone, or rather no thought unturned, now rolling discover
the puzzle.
up the many into the one, and kneading them together, now
unfolding and dividing them; he puzzles himself first and
above all, and then he proceeds to puzzle his neighbours,
16 whether they are older or younger, or of his own age-that
makes no difference; neither father nor mother does he
spare; no human being who has ears is safe from him,
hardly even his dog, and a barbarian would have no chance
of escaping him, if an interpreter could only be found.
men when
they first
want is to
find a path
to the
Pro. Considering, Socrates, how many we are, and that What we
all of us are young men, is there not a danger that we and
Philebus may all set upon you, if you abuse us? We
understand what you mean; but is there no charm by which
we may dispel all this confusion, no more excellent way of
truth.
498
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Philebus.
SOCRATES,
PROTARCHUS.
Socrates'
favourite
method is
to proceed
from unity
to infinity,
from the
one to the
many, by
regular
steps,
omitting
none of the
inter-
mediate
species.
We must
go on
defining
while any-
thing re-
mains to be
defined.
arriving at the truth? If there is, we hope that you will
guide us into that way, and we will do our best to follow,
for the enquiry in which we are engaged, Socrates, is not
unimportant.
Soc. The reverse of unimportant, my boys, as Philebus
calls you, and there neither is nor ever will be a better than
【ny own favourite way, which has nevertheless already often
deserted me and left me helpless in the hour of need.
Pro. Tell us what that is.
Soc. One which may be easily pointed out, but is by no
means easy of application; it is the parent of all the dis-
coveries in the arts.
Pro. Tell us what it is.
Soc. A gift of heaven, which, as I conceive, the gods
tossed among men by the hands of a new Prometheus, and
therewith a blaze of light; and the ancients, who were our
betters and nearer the gods than we are, handed down the
tradition, that whatever things are said to be are composed
of one and many, and have the finite and infinite implanted
in them: seeing, then, that such is the order of the world,
we too ought in every enquiry to begin by laying down one
idea of that which is the subject of enquiry; this unity we
shall find in everything. Having found it, we inay next
proceed to look for two, if there be two, or, if not, then for
three or some other number, subdividing each of these units,
until at last the unity with which we began is seen not
only to be one and many and infinite, but also a definite
number; the infinite must not be suffered to approach the
many until the entire number of the species intermediate
between unity and infinity has been discovered,—then, and
not till then, we may rest from division, and without further
troubling ourselves about the endless individuals may allow
them to drop into infinity. This, as I was saying, is the
way of considering and learning and teaching one another,
which the gods have handed down to us. But the wise men 17
of our time are either too quick or too slow in conceiving
plurality in unity. Having no method, they make their one
and many anyhow, and from unity pass at once to infinity;
the intermediate steps never occur to them. And this, I
PHILEBUS
499.
repeat, is what makes the difference between the mere art of
disputation and true dialectic.
Philebus.
SOCRATES,
Pro. I think that I partly understand you, Socrates, but I PROTARCHUS,
should like to have a clearer notion of what you are saying.
Soc. I may illustrate my meaning by the letters of the The true
alphabet, Protarchus, which you were made to learn as a
child.
Pro. How do they afford an illustration?
Soc. The sound which passes through the lips whether of
an individual or of all men is one and yet infinite.
Pro. Very true.
Soc. And yet not by knowing either that sound is one or
that sound is infinite are we perfect in the art of speech, but
the knowledge of the number and nature of sounds is what
makes a man a grammarian.
Pro. Very true.
method
applied to
grammar,
Soc. And the knowledge which makes a man a musician is and to
of the same kind.
Pro. How so?
Soc. Sound is one in music as well as in grammar?
Pro. Certainly.
Soc. And there is a higher note and a lower note, and
a note of equal pitch:--may we affirm so much?
Pro. Yes.
Soc. But you would not be a real musician if this was all
that you knew; though if you did not know this you would
know almost nothing of music.
Pro. Nothing.
Soc. But when you have learned what sounds are high
and what low, and the number and nature of the intervals
and their limits or proportions, and the systems compounded
out of them, which our fathers discovered, and have handed
down to us who are their descendants under the name of
harmonies; and the affections corresponding to them in
the movements of the human body, which when measured
by numbers ought, as they say, to be called rhythms and
measures; and they tell us that the same principle should
be applied to every one and many;-when, I say, you have
learned all this, then, my dear friend, you are perfect; and
you may be said to understand any other subject, when you
music.
500
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Philebus.
Socrates,
PROTARCHUS,
PHILEBUS.
If a man
has to start
with in-
finity, he
should not
jump at
once to
unity, but
should pro-
ceed first
to some
definite
quantity.-
An illustra-
tion of this
process
taken from
grammar.
have a similar grasp of it. But the infinity of kinds and the
infinity of individuals which there is in each of them, when
not classified, creates in every one of us a state of infinite
ignorance; and he who never looks for number in anything,
will not himself be looked for in the number of famous men.
Pro. I think that what Socrates is now saying is excellent,
Philebus.
Philebus. I think so too, but how do his words bear upon us I
and upon the argument?
Soc. Philebus is right in asking that question of us, Pro-
tarchus.
Pro. Indeed he is, and you must answer him.
Soc. I will; but you must let me make one little remark
first about these matters; I was saying, that he who begins
with any individual unity should proceed from that, not to
infinity, but to a definite number, and now I say conversely,
that he who has to begin with infinity should not jump to
unity, but he should look about for some number represent-
ing a certain quantity, and thus out of all end in one. And
now let us return for an illustration of our principle to the
case of letters.
Pro. What do you mean?
Soc. Some god or divine man, who in the Egyptian legend
is said to have been Theuth, observing that the human voice
was infinite, first distinguished in this infinity a certain num-
ber of vowels, and then other letters which had sound, but
were not pure vowels (i. e. the semivowels); these too exist
in a definite number; and lastly, he distinguished a third
class of letters which we now call mutes, without voice and
without sound, and divided these, and likewise the two other
classes of vowels and semivowels, into the individual sounds,
and told the number of them, and gave to each and all of
them the name of letters; and observing that none of us
could learn any one of them and not learn them all, and
in consideration of this common bond which in a manner
united them, he assigned to them all a single art and this he
called the art of grammar or letters.
0.
of kins
of them-
State of
er in
of famou
IS
The
الم
TIMAEUS
In his later years Plato yielded still more signally to the
temptation to imagine the realization of the realm of ideas
in the world of the senses. The Timaeus is the result.
Plato represents Socrates as having on the previous day re-
peated the conversation which comprises the Republic, and as
engaging in discourse on the present occasion with the aged
Critias (Plato's great-grandfather), the Pythagorean phi-
losopher Timaeus, and Hermocrates. It is noteworthy that
in the recapitulation of the Republic with which the Timaeus
begins the sixth and seventh books (on the higher education
and the rule of philosophers) are ignored, and furthermore
that the principal speaker is now Timaeus; it is clear that if
Plato is not marking a substitution or advance in his philoso-
phy, which he intends to carry further in the (incompleted)
Critias and the Hermocrates (projected, but never written),
he is at least temporarily shifting his methods and interests.
Socrates is represented as being desirous of seeing his state in
motion or in conflict, in the world of growth and decay;
but it soon transpires that the discussion is not really about the
state that Socrates has been supposed to found, but about
Platonic metaphysics in its relation to physics. Inasmuch as
the mature Socrates was certainly not interested in such specu-
lations, Plato avoids the absurdity of casting him in the prin-
cipal rôle by giving it to Timaeus, and by the same means he
disclaims personal responsibility for the views that are to be
expressed. For Plato is dealing with a subject which is by its
very nature incapable of absolute certainty (29bc.), and in
the details of which he has not the deep interest that he feels
in the idea of the good.
Modern readers will regard with some bewilderment the
attempt to deal in a priori fashion with physics, a field now
exploited by methods of minute observation and experiment.
Noting the enormous respect that the dialogue has enjoyed
in antiquity and in the Middle Ages, when it was interpreted
literally as science, or mystically as theology, they may fail
to give it the respect that it properly deserves. For at the
very least the Timaeus preserves a distinction between the
world of becoming, observed and recorded by science, and the
cause of the world of becoming, with regard to which science
can give only hypothesis or surmise. This cause Plato has
hitherto discussed usually in terms of ideas, and its relation to
1
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signal:
real
is the
revics
with the
hazaren
h the
ther
clear
abs
Ver
and eng
Es
and
1, but and
such su
1
the flux he has described by such metaphors as the participa-
tion of particulars in universals, or the imitation of a pattern;
in the Timaeus he frankly personifies the world of ideas, and
refers to God, a living soul, as the creator. But he is wise
enough to insist in no literal sense on the truth of his account,
which he casts in the form of myth, of borrowed science, of
whimsical conjecture, often strangely prophetic. The one
point on which he will insist is the goodness of the creator
and his priority to the creation. The best analogy for the
Timaeus as a whole, many differences being recognized, would
be the opening chapters of the Book of Genesis.
The dialogue falls into three parts. The introduction (to
27) connects the work with Plato's other writings, and in-
troduces the famous myth of the island of Atlantis (doubt-
less Plato's own fiction). The next part (to 47e) considers
the creation especially from the point of view of the creator,
realizing a divine purpose; the rest of the dialogue considers
the creation more as it is conditioned by the stubborn material
in which it works and the limitations of space, and is markedly
tentative in its tone.
W. C. G.
De mens
24
TIMAEUS
Timaeus.
[Socrates, though wishing to know how his ideal state
would behave in some great struggle, feels incapable of in- CRITIAS
venting such a narrative. Critias is persuaded to relate a tale,
told by Solon to his great-grandfather, many years before;
Critias himself has it from his grandfather, whose name he
bears; originally Solon received it from an Egyptian priest,
who had exclaimed at the lack of ancient tradition among
the Greeks: 'O Solon, Solon, you Hellenes are never anything
but children.' The tale described 'the most famous action
in which the Athenian people were ever engaged, the know-
ledge of which had been lost to Athens because of a series
of deluges. Nine thousand years before Solon, Athene founded
a race in Attica 'which was first in war and in every way
the best governed of all cities;' it resembled the later
Egyptian civilization. The priest continues:]
of ancient
Athens was
the deliver-
ance of
Europe and
Libya from
the power
Many great and wonderful deeds are recorded of your The most
state in our histories. But one of them exceeds all the rest glorious act
in greatness and valour. For these histories tell of a mighty
power which unprovoked made an expedition against the
whole of Europe and Asia, and to which your city put an
end. This power came forth out of the Atlantic Ocean, for
in those days the Atlantic was navigable; and there was an of Atlantis.
island situated in front of the straits which are by you called
the pillars of Heracles; the island was larger than Libya and
25 Asia put together, and was the way to other islands, and from
these you might pass to the whole of the opposite continent
which surrounded the true ocean; for this sea which is
within the Straits of Heracles is only a harbour, having a
narrow entrance, but that other is a real sea, and the sur-
rounding land may be most truly called a boundless continent.
Now in this island of Atlantis there was a great and won-
derful empire which had rule over the whole island and
several others, and over parts of the continent, and, further-
505
500
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Timaeus.
CRITIAS,
TIMAEUS.
Soon after-
wards both
empires dis-
appeared.
more, the men of Atlantis had subjected the parts of Libya
within the columns of Heracles as far as Egypt, and of
Europe as far as Tyrrhenia. This vast power, gathered into
one, endeavoured to subdue at a blow our country and yours
and the whole of the region within the straits; and then,
Solon, your country shone forth, in the excellence of her
virtue and strength, among all mankind. She was pre-
eminent in courage and military skill, and was the leader of
the Hellenes. And when the rest fell off from her, being
compelled to stand alone, after having undergone the very
extremity of danger, she defeated and triumphed over the
invaders, and preserved from slavery those who were not yet
subjugated, and generously liberated all the rest of us who
dwell within the pillars. But afterwards there occurred
violent earthquakes and floods; and in a single day and
night of misfortune all your warlike men in a body sank into
the earth, and the island of Atlantis in like manner dis-
appeared in the depths of the sea. For which reason the sea
in those parts is impassable and impenetrable, because there
is a shoal of mud in the way; and this was caused by the
subsidence of the island.
[The foregoing tale, related by Critias, serves as preamble
to the longer discussion invited by Socrates about the ideal
state in conflict. The rest of the Timaeus, then, on the
creation of the world and of man, is interpolated before
Critias resumes his tale, in the later dialogue named for him,
on the war between Athens and Atlantis. But the Critias,
after presenting a highly imaginative picture both of an-
tediluvian Attica and its people and of their adversaries, the
inhabitants of the island of Atlantis, a singularly happy people
before their fall from virtue, breaks off in the middle of a
sentence. Even so, the brilliant fragment served to inspire
later navigators, as well as the Utopia of Sir Thomas More
and the New Atlantis of Bacon.
The Timaeus, after the preamble of Critias, now proceeds
on its stately way. Timaeus, being a natural philosopher, is
asked to speak of the creation, and begins by invoking the
gods.]
Timaeus. All men, Socrates, who have any degree of right 27
feeling, at the beginning of every enterprise, whether small or
TIMAEUS
507
Timaeus.
mencement
great, always call upon God. And we, too, who are going to
discourse of the nature of the universe, how created or how TIMAEUS.
existing without creation, if we be not altogether out of our
wits, must invoke the aid of Gods and Goddesses and pray At the com-
that our words may be acceptable to them and consistent Timaeus
with themselves. Let this, then, be our invocation of the invokes the
Gods, to which I add an exhortation of myself to speak in
such manner as will be most intelligible to you, and will most
accord with my own intent.
gods.
ated, and is
First then, in my judgment, we must make a distinction
and ask, What is that which always is and has no becoming;
and what is that which is always becoming and never is?
That which is apprehended by intelligence and reason is
28 always in the same state; but that which is conceived by
opinion with the help of sensation and without reason, is
always in a process of becoming and perishing and never
really is. Now everything that becomes or is created must
of necessity be created by some cause, for without a cause
nothing can be created. The work of the creator, whenever
he looks to the unchangeable and fashions the form and
nature of his work after an unchangeable pattern, must
necessarily be made fair and perfect; but when he looks to
the created only, and uses a created pattern, it is not fair or The world
perfect. Was the heaven then or the world, whether called was cre-
by this or by any other more appropriate name-assuming therefore
the name, I am asking a question which has to be asked at appre-
the beginning of an enquiry about anything-was the world, sense.
I say, always in existence and without beginning? or created,
and had it a beginning? Created, I reply, being visible and
tangible and having a body, and therefore sensible; and all
sensible things are apprehended by opinion and sense and
are in a process of creation and created. Now that which is
created must, as we affirm, of necessity be created by a cause.
But the father and maker of all this universe is hard to find God was
the cause
out; and even if we found him, to tell of him to all men
of it,
would be impossible. And there is still a question to be and he
asked about him: Which of the patterns had the artificer in
view when he made the world,-the pattern of the unchange- eternal
29 able, or of that which is created? If the world be indeed
[¹ J. has 'is past finding out.']
1
hended by
fashioned
it after the
pattern.
508
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Timaeus.
SOCRATES,
TIMAEUS.
pattern
fair and the artificer good, it is manifest that he must have
looked to that which is eternal; but if what cannot be said
without blasphemy is true, then to the created pattern.
Every one will see that he must have looked to the eternal;
for the world is the fairest of creations and he is the best of
causes. And having been created in this way, the world has
been framed in the likeness of that which is apprehended by
reason and mind and is unchangeable, and must therefore of
necessity, if this is admitted, be a copy of something. Now
it is all-important that the beginning of everything should be
The eternal according to nature. And in speaking of the copy and the
original we may assume that words are akin to the matter
which they describe; when they relate to the lasting and
permanent and intelligible, they ought to be lasting and un-
alterable, and, as far as their nature allows, irrefutable and
immovable-nothing less. But when they express only the
copy or likeness and not the eternal things themselves, they
need only be likely and analogous to the real words. As
being is to becoming, so is truth to belief. If then, Socrates,
amid the many opinions about the gods and the generation
of the universe, we are not able to give notions which are
altogether and in every respect exact and consistent with
one another, do not be surprised. Enough, if we adduce
probabilities as likely as any others; for we must remember
that I who am the speaker, and you who are the judges, are
only mortal men, and we ought to accept the tale which is
probable and enquire no further.
can be
spoken
of with
certainty;
the created
copy can
only be
described
in the
language of
probability.
God made
the world
good,
wishing
everything
to be like
himself.
To this
end he
brought
order into
it and
endowed
Soc. Excellent, Timaeus; and we will do precisely as you
bid us.
The prelude is charming, and is already accepted
by us may we beg of you to proceed to the strain?
Tim. Let me tell you then why the creator made this world
of generation. He was good, and the good can never have
any jealousy of anything. And being free from jealousy, he
desired that all things should be as like himself as they could
be. This is in the truest sense the origin of creation and of 30
the world, as we shall do well in believing on the testimony
of wise men: God desired that all things should be good and
nothing bad, so far as this was attainable. Wherefore also
finding the whole visible sphere not at rest, but moving in an
irregular and disorderly fashion, out of disorder he brought
TIMAEUS
509
Timaeus.
order, considering that this was in every way better than the
other. Now the deeds of the best could never be or have TIMAEUS.
been other than the fairest; and the creator, reflecting on
and in-
the things which are by nature visible, found that no un- it with soul
intelligent creature taken as a whole was fairer than the telligence.
intelligent taken as a whole; and that intelligence could not
be present in anything which was devoid of soul. For
which reason. when he was framing the universe, he put in-
telligence in soul, and soul in body, that he might be the
creator of a work which was by nature fairest and best.
Wherefore, using the language of probability, we may say
that the world became a living creature truly endowed with
soul and intelligence by the providence of God.
original of
the universe
animal,
which com-
all intelli-
gible
animals
just as the
copy con-
visible
This being supposed, let us proceed to the next stage: In The
the likeness of what animal did the creator make the world?
It would be an unworthy thing to liken it to any nature which is a perfect
exists as a part only; for nothing can be beautiful which is
like any imperfect thing; but let us suppose the world to prehends
be the very image of that whole of which all other animals
both individually and in their tribes are portions. For the
original of the universe contains in itself all intelligible
beings, just as this world comprehends us and all other tains all
visible creatures. For the Deity, intending to make this animals.
world like the fairest and most perfect of intelligible beings,
framed one visible animal comprehending within itself all
31 other animals of a kindred nature. Are we right in saying
that there is one world, or that they are many and infinite?
There must be one only, if the created copy is to accord with
the original. For that which includes all other intelligible
creatures cannot have a second or companion; in that case
there would be need of another living being which would
include both, and of which they would be parts, and the
likeness would be more truly said to resemble not them, but
that other which included them. In order then that the world
might be solitary, like the perfect animal, the creator made
not two worlds or an infinite number of them; but there is
and ever will be one only-begotten and created heaven.
[The world, the body of the universe, being visible and
tangible, is composed of fire and earth, united by water and
air; it thus includes all the four elements, and is not subject
510
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Timaeus.
TIMAEUS.
Though
posterior
to the
body in
the order
of our
exposition,
in the order
of creation
it is prior
to it.
It was
created
to decay. Being spherical, it is perfect and self-sufficient,
revolving within its own limits. In the centre God put the
soul, made out of the indivisible (i. e. the Same) and the
divisible (i. e. the Other).]
Now God did not make the soul after the body, although 34
we are speaking of them in this order; for having brought
them together he would never have allowed that the elder
should be ruled by the younger; but this is a random manner
of speaking which we have, because somehow we ourselves
too are very much under the dominion of chance. Whereas
he made the soul in origin and excellence prior to and older
than the body, to be the ruler and mistress, of whom the
body was to be the subject. And he made her out of the
following elements and on this wise: Out of the indivisible 35
and unchangeable, and also out of that which is divisible and
has to do with material bodies, he compounded a third and
intermediate kind of essence, partaking of the nature of the
same¹ and of the other, and this compound he placed accord-
Other) God ingly in a mean between the indivisible, and the divisible and
material. He took the three elements of the same, the other,
and the essence, and mingled them into one form, compressing
by force the reluctant and unsociable nature of the other into
the same. When he had mingled them with the essence
and out of three made one, he again divided this whole into
as many portions as was fitting, each portion being a com-
pound of the same, the other, and the essence.
thus. First
out of the
indivisible
(i. e. the
Same) and
the divisible
(i. e the
made
Essence.
He then
mingled
these three
elements,
and divided
the whole.
After
framing the
soul, God
formed
within her
the body
of the
universe.
[The division is in accordance with the proportions of
Pythagorean mathematics and of the diatonic scale. The
motion of the Other is divided into unequal circles (i. e. the
orbits of the seven planets).]
Now when the creator had framed the soul according to 36
his will, he formed within her the corporeal universe, and
brought the two together, and united them centre to centre.
The soul, inter fused everywhere from the centre to the
circumference of heaven, of which also she is the external
envelopment, herself turning in herself, began a divine
beginning of never-ceasing and rational life enduring through-
out all time. The body of heaven is visible, but the soul is 37
invisible, and partakes of reason and harmony, and being
1 Omitting av méρɩ.
TIMAEUS
511
Timaeus.
being com-
the Other,
and the
Essence, is
moved to
utter the
sameness
or other-
made by the best of intellectual and everlasting natures, is
the best of things created. And because she is composed of TIMAEUS.
the same and of the other and of the essence, these three,
and is divided and united in due proportion, and in her The soul,
revolutions returns upon herself, the soul, when touching pounded of
anything which has essence, whether dispersed in parts or the Same,
undivided, is stirred through all her powers, to declare the
sameness or difference of that thing and some other; and to
what individuals are related, and by what affected, and in
what way and how and when, both in the world of generation
and in the world of immutable being.
And when reason,
which works with equal truth, whether she be in the circle of
the diverse or of the same-in voiceless silence holding her
onward course in the sphere of the self-moved—when reason,
I say, is hovering around the sensible world and when the
circle of the diverse also moving truly imparts the intimations world, she
of sense to the whole soul, then arise opinions and beliefs
sure and certain. But when reason is concerned with the opinion;
rational, and the circle of the same moving smoothly declares
it, then intelligence and knowledge are necessarily perfected. knowledge.
And if any one affirms that in which these two are found to be
other than the soul, he will say the very opposite of the truth.
ness of any
essence
which she
touches.
When con-
templating
the sensible
attains to
true
when the
rational, to
make
creation
perfect,
endowed it
with the
immor-
tality of
which it is
capable.
To this
end he
When the father and creator saw the creature which he God, to
had made moving and living, the created image of the eternal
gods, he rejoiced, and in his joy determined to make the more
copy still more like the original; and as this was eternal, he
sought to make the universe eternal, so far as might be.
Now the nature of the ideal being was everlasting, but to
bestow this attribute in its fulness upon a creature was im-
possible. Wherefore he resolved to have a moving image
of eternity, and when he set in order the heaven, he made
this image eternal but moving according to number, while
eternity itself rests in unity; and this image we call time.
For there were no days and nights and months and years
before the heaven was created, but when he constructed the
heaven he created them also. They are all parts of time,
and the past and future are created species of time, which
we unconsciously but wrongly transfer to the eternal essence;
for we say that he 'was,' he 'is,' he 'will be,' but the truth is
38 that 'is' alone is properly attributed to him, and that 'was'
made time,
-a moving
image of
which is
eternity,
immov-
able. The
modes of
time are
applied to
not to be
the eternal
essence.
512
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Timaeus.
TIMAEUS.
The creator
of the uni-
verse bids
the created
gods
fashion the
mortal
bodies of
man and
of the lower
animals;
he himself
will furnish
the im-
mortal
principle of
the soul.
and 'will be' are only to be spoken of becoming in time, for
they are motions, but that which is immovably the same
cannot become older or younger by time, nor ever did or has
become, or hereafter will be, older or younger, nor is subject
at all to any of those states which affect moving and sensible
things and of which generation is the cause. These are the
forms of time, which imitates eternity and revolves according
to a law of number.
[The seven planets preserve the numbers of time, each
in its orbit; the sun was created to afford a visible measure
of their swiftness. Other periods are measured by day and
night and by the revolutions of the moon; other and more
complex periods are seldom noticed; but there is a 'perfect
year at the completion of which all the periods coincide.
Next God created within the universal animal the other
animals in accordance with the patterns or species existing
within the divine original: the gods of heaven (i. e. fixed
stars and planets), birds, sea and land animals. Among the
heavenly bodies, the earth, our nurse, is 'first and eldest of
gods that are in the interior of heaven.' The other gods
of mythology must be accepted on the testimony of their chil-
dren.]
Now, when all of them, both those who visibly appear in 41
their revolutions as well as those other gods who are of
a more retiring nature, had come into being, the creator
of the universe addressed them in these words: 'Gods,
children of gods, who are my works, and of whom I am
the artificer and father, my creations are indissoluble, if so
I will. All that is bound may be undone, but only an evil
being would wish to undo that which is harmonious and
happy. Wherefore, since ye are but creatures, ye are not
altogether immortal and indissoluble, but ye shall certainly
not be dissolved, nor be liable to the fate of death, having in
my will a greater and mightier bond than those with which
ye were bound at the time of your birth. And now listen to
my instructions:-Three tribes of mortal beings remain to be
created-without them the universe will be incomplete, for it
will not contain every kind of animal which it ought to con-
tain, if it is to be perfect. On the other hand, if they were
created by me and received life at my hands, they would be
TIMAEUS
513
In order then that they
Timaeus.
the human
elements
soul of
the same
as the
universal;
And distributed
and
and
and having
equal in
it into souls
number to
the stars,
sets one
soul in each
star and
on an equality with the gods.
may be mortal, and that this universe may be truly universal, TIMAEUS.
do ye, according to your natures, betake yourselves to the
formation of animals, imitating the power which was shown He makes
by me in creating you. The part of them worthy of the
name immortal, which is called divine and is the guiding
principle of those who are willing to follow justice and you
of that divine part I will myself sow the seed, and having
made a beginning, I will hand the work over to you.
do ye then interweave the mortal with the immortal,
make and beget living creatures, and give them food,
make them to grow, and receive them again in death.'
Thus he spake, and once more into the cup in which he
had previously mingled the soul of the universe he poured
the remains of the elements, and mingled them in much the
same manner; they were not, however, pure as before, but
diluted to the second and third degree. And having made
it he divided the whole mixture into souls equal in number when they
to the stars, and assigned each soul to a star; and having mortal
there placed them as in a chariot, he showed them the nature
of the universe, and declared to them the laws of destiny,
according to which their first birth would be one and the
same for all, no one should suffer a disadvantage at his
hands; they were to be sown in the instruments of time
severally adapted to them, and to come forth the most re-
42 ligious of animals; and as human nature was of two kinds,
the superior race would hereafter be called man. Now,
when they should be implanted in bodies by necessity, and be
always gaining or losing some part of their bodily substance,
then in the first place it would be necessary that they should
all have in them one and the same faculty of sensation, arising
out of irresistible impressions; in the second place, they must
have love, in which pleasure and pain mingle; also fear and
anger, and the feelings which are akin or opposite to them;
if they conquered these they would live righteously, and if
they were conquered by them, unrighteously. He who lived
well during his appointed time was to return and dwell in his
native star, and there he would have a blessed and congenial
existence. But if he failed in attaining this, at the second
birth he would pass into a woman, and if, when in that state
reveals to
them their
future life
on the
planets,
will have
bodies.
Those who
then live
well will
return
to their
original
514
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Timaeus.
TIMAEUS.
star; those
who live
badly will
take a
lower form
at their
next birth.
The created
gods pro-
vide for the
human soul
bodies com-
pounded of
earth, air,
fire and
water.
of being, he did not desist from evil, he would continually be
changed into some brute who resembled him in the evil
nature which he had acquired, and would not cease from his
toils and transformations until he followed the revolution of
the same and the like within him, and overcame by the help
of reason the turbulent and irrational mob of later accretions
made up of fire and air and water and earth, and returned
to the form of his first and better state. Having given all
these laws to his creatures, that he might be guiltless of
future evil in any of them, the creator sowed some of them in
the earth, and some in the noon, and some in the other
instruments of time; and when he had sown them he com-
mitted to the younger gods the fashioning of their mortal
bodies, and desire them to furnish what was still lacking to
the human soul, and having made all the suitable additions,
to rule over them, and to pilot the mortal animal in the best
and wisest manner which they could, and avert from him all
but self-inflicted evils.
When the creator had made all these ordinances he re-
mained in his own accustomed nature, and his children heard
and were obedient to their father's word, and receiving from
him the immortal principle of a mortal creature, in imitation
of their own creator they borrowed portions of fire, and
earth, and water, and air from the world, which were hereafter
to be restored these they took and welded them together, 43
not with the indissoluble chains by which they were them-
selves bound, but with little pegs too small to be visible,
making up out of all the four elements each separate body, and
fastening the courses of the immortal soul in a body which
was in a state of perpetual influx and efflux. Now these
courses, detained as in a vast river, neither overcame nor
were overcome; but were hurrying and hurried to and fro,
so that the whole animal was moved and progressed, irre-
gularly, however, and irrationally, and anyhow, in all the six
directions of motion, wandering backwards and forwards,
of the soul, and right and left, and up and down, and in all the six
directions. For great as
was the advancing and retiring
flood which provided nourishment, the affections produced by
external contact caused still greater tumult-when the body
of any one met and came into collision with some external
The courses
when
placed
in them,
are
disturbed
by the
TIMAEUS
515
44
Timaeus.
flowing
stream of
fire, or with the solid earth or the gliding waters, or was
caught in the tempest borne on the air, and the motions TIMAEUS.
produced by any of these impulses were carried through the
body to the soul. All such motions have consequently re- ebbing and
ceived the general name of 'sensations,' which they still
retain. And they did in fact at that time create a very great nutriment
and mighty movement.
[These violent perturbations of the soul, expressed in sensations.
mathematical ratios, at first impede the soul's attainment of
truth.]
and by
external
stream of
nutriment
abates, the
the soul
regain their
courses of
proper
And by reason of all these affections, the soul, when en- As the
cased in a mortal body, now, as in the beginning, is at first
without intelligence; but when the flood of growth and
nutriment abates, and the courses of the soul, calming down,
go their own way and become steadier as time goes on, then
the several circles return to their natural form, and their motions,
revolutions are corrected, and they call the same and the and the
other by their right names, and make the possessor of them
to become a rational being. And if these combine in him a rational
with any true nurture or education, he attains the fulness and
health of the perfect man, and escapes the worst disease of True
all; but if he neglects education he walks lame to the end of renders
his life, and returns imperfect and good for nothing to the him perfect.
world below.
[The principles of vision, including dreams and reflections,
are set forth; like seeks like.]
man
becomes
creature.
education
secondary
causes of
sight; the
telligent
cause is the
46 All these are to be reckoned among the second and co- Enough
operative causes which God, carrying into execution the idea of the
of the best as far as possible, uses as his ministers. They or irrational
are thought by most men not to be the second, but the prime
causes of all things, because they freeze and heat, and contract first or in-
and dilate, and the like. But they are not so, for they are
incapable of reason or intellect; the only being which can purpose for
properly have mind is the invisible soul, whereas fire and which God
water, and earth and air, are all of them visible bodies. The
lover of intellect and knowledge ought to explore causes of
intelligent nature first of all, and, secondly, of those things
which, being moved by others, are compelled to move others.
And this is what we too must do. Both kinds of causes
should be acknowledged by us, but a distinction should be
gave it.
516
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Timaeus.
TIMAEUS.
From sight
we derive
number
and philo-
sophy;
and the
observa-
tion of the
intelligent
motions of
the heavens
enables us
to correct
the erring
courses of
our souls.
Speech,
hearing,
harmony,
and rhythm
have the
same object
in view.
made between those which are endowed with mind and are
the workers of things fair and good, and those which are
deprived of intelligence and always produce chance effects
without order or design. Of the second or co-operative
causes of sight, which help to give to the eyes the power
which they now possess, enough has been said. I will there-
fore now proceed to speak of the higher use and purpose for
which God has given them to us. The sight in my opinion 47
is the source of the greatest benefit to us, for had we never
seen the stars, and the sun, and the heaven, none of the
words which we have spoken about the universe would ever
have been uttered. But now the sight of day and night, and
the months and the revolutions of the years, have created
number, and have given us a conception of time, and the
power of enquiring about the nature of the universe; and
from this source we have derived philosophy, than which no
greater good ever was or will be given by the gods to mortal
man. This is the greatest boon of sight: and of the lesser
benefits why should I speak? even the ordinary man if he
were deprived of them would bewail his loss, but in vain.
Thus much let me say, however: God invented and gave us
sight to the end that we might behold the courses of in-
telligence in the heaven, and apply them to the courses of
our own intelligence which are akin to them, the unperturbed
to the perturbed; and that we, learning them and partaking
of the natural truth of reason, might imitate the absolutely
unerring courses of God and regulate our own vagaries.
The same may be affirmed of speech and hearing: they have
been given by the gods to the same end and for a like
reason. For this is the principal end of speech, whereto it
most contributes. Moreover, so much of music as is adapted
to the sound of the voice and to the sense of hearing is
granted to us for the sake of harmony; and harmony, which
has motions akin to the revolutions of our souls, is not regarded
by the intelligent votary of the Muses as given by them with
a view to irrational pleasure, which is deemed to be the pur-
pose of it in our day, but as meant to correct any discord
which may have arisen in the courses of the soul, and to be
our ally in bringing her into harmony and agreement with
herself; and rhythm too was given by them for the same
TIMAEUS
517
Timaeus.
reason, on account of the irregular and graceless ways which
prevail among mankind generally, and to help us against TIMAEUS.
them.
[Thus far Timaeus has been setting forth the works of
mind; now he must tell of the works of necessity, the vari-
able cause. This is a difficult task, admitting only of prob-
ability. And in addition to the two natures hitherto assumed,
the intelligible pattern and the created copy, a third must now
be conceived, the receptacle or nurse of all generation, i.e.
space, which though itself formless can receive any form. As
there are two kinds of knowledge, mind and true opinion,
one implanted by instructions, the other by persuasion, they
must have different objects.]
We must acknowledge that there is one kind of being
which is always the same, uncreated and indestructible, never
52 receiving anything into itself from without, nor itself going
out to any other, but invisible and imperceptible by any sense,
and of which the contemplation is granted to intelligence only.
And there is another nature of the same name with it, and
like to it, perceived by sense, created, always in motion, becom-
ing in place and again vanishing out of place, which is appre-
hended by opinion and sense. And there is a third nature, Space is
which is space, and is eternal, and admits not of destruction
and provides a home for all created things, and is apprehended
without the help of sense, by a kind of spurious reason, and is
hardly real; which we beholding as in a dream, say of all
existence that it must of necessity be in some place and occupy
a space, but that what is neither in heaven nor in earth has no
existence.
[Timaeus now discourses at length on the various ways
in which the four elements came together in space, at first
aimlessly, till God 'fashioned them by form and number,
and 'made them as far as possible the fairest and best, out
of things which were not fair and good. In the succeed-
ing account he uses mathematical conceptions and other semi-
scientific ideas, as well as not a little ingenious reasoning and
happy conjecture, to account for the phenomena of physics
and the anatomy and physiology of man. But throughout
his account he emphasizes the subservience of the 'necessary
not per-
ceived by
sense, but
by a kind
of spurious
reason.
518
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Timaeus
TIMAEUS.
These are
the neces-
sary causes
which God
used in
creating the
universe.
They are
subservient
to the
divine,
which we
must seek,
if we wish
to attain
bliss.
Our task is
now com-
pleted.
causes (i. e. material conditions and impediments) to the
divine cause.]
These are the elements, thus of necessity then subsisting, 68
which the creator of the fairest and best of created things
associated with himself, when he made the self-sufficing and
most perfect God, using the necessary causes as his ministers
in the accomplishment of his work, but himself contriving the
good in all his creations. Wherefore we may distinguish two
sorts of causes, the one divine and the other necessary, and
may seek for the divine in all things, as far as our nature
admits, with a view to the blessed life; but the necessary 69
kind only for the sake of the divine, considering that without
them and when isolated from them, these higher things for
which we look cannot be apprehended or received or in any
way shared by us.
[The following passage is the conclusion of the dialogue.]
We may now say that our discourse about the nature of 92
the universe has an end. The world has received animals,
mortal and immortal, and is fulfilled with them, and has
become a visible animal containing the visible the sensible
God who is the image of the intellectual, the greatest, best,
fairest, most perfect-the one only-begotten heaven.
LAWS
In the Laws, the last work of Plato's pen, we find again
the persistent, if reluctant, effort of the philosopher who has
contemplated the intensity of reality to return to the less
real world of human vicissitudes. Yet Plato is in a less
visionary mood than in the Republic; he is more willing, at
least, to make terms with ordinary human nature. There
would be little value, to be sure, in a mere repetition of the
Republic, whose principles are not so much overruled as taken
for granted. But one is conscious of a reluctance on the part
of Plato to deal with such relatively trivial matters as human
affairs; metaphysics, or still more its sister, religion, is the
only occupation worthy of ardent pursuit (803-804). One
is reminded of Plato's reluctant visit to Syracuse, foredoomed
to failure, as he himself realized; for real reforms can be
made, he well knew, only by the thorough education of human
nature. And the state described in the Laws is not represented
as superseding the Republic, but as a 'second-best state,' the
best possible under existing conditions (739). From this point
of view the Laws is remarkable for the richness and maturity
of its thought and its comment on ordinary affairs.
Socrates is not present at the conversation contained in
the Laws; the chief speaker, an 'Athenian Stranger,' rep-
resents the views of Plato. Together with Cleinias, a Cretan,
and Megillus, a Lacedaemonian, he is walking from the
deserted site of the Cretan city Cnossos toward the Cave
and Temple of Zeus, stopping for repose in 'beautiful groves
of cypresses and green meadows.' They while away the time
in a discussion of the general principles of law (in the first
three books, to 702); and when it is discovered that Cleinias
is a member of a commission intrusted with the duty of draw-
ing up a constitution for an actual colony about to be founded,
according to a common Greek system of legislation, the three
friends, led by the Athenian, discuss during the remaining
nine books of the Laws the principles and the laws of the
new state. This code, then, has in view a particular state,
and shows something of the way in which Plato's pupils of the
Academy actually set about legislating for various states that
applied for expert advice, thus having no little influence on
Hellenistic Law and indirectly therefore on Roman Law.
No attempt will be made here to give a detailed analysis
of the Laws, the longest of the dialogues; nor will the divi-
sions of books be indicated between the passages that follow.
It may be observed, however, that a noble theology has in
general taken the place of metaphysics, a state religion supply-
ing the chief motive for morality. It is to be regretted, how-
ever, that the odium theologicum permits Plato to sanction
inquisitions in the interest of piety: so far has the dogmatic
method supplanted the Socratic. As in the Republic, the arts
are still considered chiefly from an ethical point of view;
poetry is to imitate universals, and, subject to censorship, the
poets are readmitted to the state (if they were ever really
banished). And the whole conception of the state, as in the
Republic, is founded on the conviction that education is the
chief social occupation of man; the minister of education is
the most important official in the state (765). But Plato
does not deal here, as before, with the higher education in
metaphysics and dialectic; he describes instead with a good
deal of penetrating common sense the principles of elementary
and secondary school education. It is not too much to claim
that in the Academy Plato founded the first university, and
that in the Laws he sketched what has actually become the
modern school system.
W. C. G.
631
LAWS
[The three friends have been discussing the aims of the Laws I.
Laws of Crete. Laws should aim not merely at military ATHENIAN.
supremacy, but at a union of all the virtues; the ideal of the
legislator might be expressed as follows:]
(1) the
human:
(2) the
divine
Athenian. You ought to have said, Stranger,-The Cretan
Laws are with reason famous among the Hellenes; for they
fulfil the object of laws, which is to make those who use them
happy; and they confer every sort of good. Now goods are Two kind
of goods,
of two kinds: there are human and there are divine goods,
and the human hang upon the divine; and the state which lesser or
attains the greater, at the same time acquires the less, or, not
having the greater, has neither. Of the lesser goods the first greater
is health, the second beauty, the third strength, including goods.
swiftness in running and bodily agility generally, and the
fourth is wealth, not the blind god [Pluto], but one who is
keen of sight, if only he has wisdom for his companion. For
wisdom is chief and leader of the divine class of goods, and
next follows temperance; and from the union of these two
with courage springs justice, and fourth in the scale of virtue
is courage. All these naturally take precedence of the other
goods, and this is the order in which the legislator must
place them, and after them he will enjoin the rest of his
ordinances on the citizens with a view to these, the human The legis
looking to the divine, and the divine looking to their leader
mind.
[Ways and means of attaining such virtues are considered;
the Spartan discipline, and other social institutions are weighed.
This leads to a more general consideration of education, in
which vocational training, aiming only at practical 'success,'
is clearly distinguished from a liberal education, 'the first
and finest thing that the best of men can ever have' (644);
for the latter fits men to rule and to obey. In a sense it
means training in self-control, in which various tests like
lator will
base the
first on the
second.
523
524
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Laws 11.
ATHENIAN,
CLEINIAS.
Education
the right
training of
these im-
pressions.
Egypt has
fixed forms
of art
which have
existed for
ten thou-
sand years.
the use of wine have a place. Education may therefore be
defined in terms of pleasure and pain.]
Now I mean by education that training which is given by 653
suitable habits to the first instincts of virtue in children;—
when pleasure, and friendship, and pain, and hatred, are
rightly implanted in souls not yet capable of understanding the
nature of them, and who find them, after they have attained
reason, to be in harmony with her. This harmony of the
soul, taken as a whole, is virtue; but the particular training
in respect of pleasure and pain, which leads you always to
hate what you ought to hate, and love what you ought to
love from the beginning of life to the end, may be separated
off; and, in my view, will be rightly called education.
[The discipline of pleasure and pain is greatly affected
by the kinds of music and dance that are allowed; they must
be fixed, as in Egypt.]
Athenian. Then in a city which has good laws, or in future 656
ages is to have them, bearing in mind the instruction and
amusement which are given by music, can we suppose that the
poets are to be allowed to teach in the dance anything which
they themselves like, in the way of rhythm, or melody, or
words, to the young children of any well-conditioned parents?
Is the poet to train his choruses as he pleases, without refer-
ence to virtue or vice?
Cleinias. That is surely quite unreasonable, and is not to be
thought of.
Ath. And yet he may do this in almost any state with the
exception of Egypt.
Cle. And what are the laws about music and dancing in
Egypt?
Ath. You will wonder when I tell you: Long ago they
appear to have recognized the very principle of which we are
now speaking that their young citizens must be habituated
to forms and strains of virtue. These they fixed, and ex-
hibited the patterns of them in their temples; and no painter
or artist is allowed to innovate upon them, or to leave the
traditional forms and invent new ones. To this day, no altera-
tion is allowed either in these arts, or in music at all.
[It follows that standards in the arts should be set by the
pleasure not of chance persons, but of trained critics.]
LAWS
525
658 Ath. There would be various exhibitions: one man, like Laws II.
Homer, will exhibit a rhapsody, another a performance on ATHENIAN,
the lute; one will have a tragedy, and another a comedy. Nor CLEINIAS.
would there be anything astonishing in some one imagining Suppose
that he could gain the prize by exhibiting a puppet-show.
Suppose these competitors to meet, and not these only, but exhibitions,
innumerable others as well-can you tell me who ought to be
the victor?
Cle. I do not see how any one can answer you, or pretend
to know, unless he has heard with his own ears the several
competitors; the question is absurd.
that there
are divers
an Homeric
rhapsody, a
perform.
ance on the
lute, a
tragedy, a
comedy, a
puppet-
Ath. Well, then, if neither of you can answer, shall I an- show.
swer this question which you deem so absurd?
Cle. By all means.
Ath. If very small children are to determine the question,
they will decide for the puppet-show.
Cle. Of course.
S.all
children
will decide
for the
puppet-
show: older
Ath. The older children will be advocates of comedy; children for
educated women, and young men, and people in general, will
favour tragedy.
Cle. Very likely.
Ath. And I believe that we old men would have the greatest
pleasure in hearing a rhapsodist recite well the Iliad and
Odyssey, or one of the Hesiodic poems, and would award
the victory to him. But, who would really be the victor?-
that is the question.
Cle. Yes.
Ath. Clearly you and I will have to declare that those
whom we old men adjudge victors ought to win; for our ways
are far and away better than any which at present exist any-
where in the world.
Cle. Certainly.
Ath. Thus far I too should agree with the many, that the
excellence of music is to be measured by pleasure. But the
pleasure must not be that of chance persons; the fairest
music is that which delights the best and best educated, and
659 especially that which delights the one man who is pre-eminent
in virtue and education. And therefore the judges must be
men of character, for they will require both wisdom and
courage; the true judge must not draw his inspiration from
comedy;
educated
women and
young men
and people
in general
for tragedy:
older men
will say,
'Give us
Homer and
Hesiod.'
excellence
The cri-
terion of
should be
pleasure,
pleasure of
but not the
chance
persons.
526
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Laws II.
ATHENIAN,
CLEINIAS.
The judge
should be
the in-
structor,
not the dis-
ciple, of
the theatre.
Drinking
should only
be allowed
with a view
to the pro-
the theatre, nor ought he to be unnerved by the clamour of
the many and his own incapacity; nor again, knowing the
truth, ought he through cowardice and unmanliness carelessly
to deliver a lying judgment, with the very same lips which
have just appealed to the Gods before he judged. He is
sitting not as the disciple of the theatre, but, in his proper
place, as their instructor, and he ought to be the enemy of
all pandering to the pleasure of the spectators. The ancient
and common custom of Hellas, which still prevails in Italy
and Sicily, did certainly leave the judgment to the body of
spectators, who determined the victor by show of hands.
But this custom has been the destruction of the poets; for
they are now in the habit of composing with a view to please
the bad taste of their judges, and the result is that the spec-
tators instruct themselves;-and also it has been the ruin
of the theatre; they ought to be having characters put before
them better than their own, and so receiving a higher pleasure,
but now by their own act the opposite result follows.
[Singing, especially of such songs as imitate or suggest
good character, is to be encouraged. The older men, who
might otherwise be reluctant to sing, may be brought under
the mellowing influence of wine; but the use of wine, though
a genial social agency, and a promoter of frankness and gaiety,
is liable to abuse, and must be carefully regulated.]
Ath. If, then, drinking and amusement were regulated in
this way, would not the companions of our revels be im-
proved? they would part better friends than they were, and 672
not, as now, enemies. Their whole intercourse would be
regulated by law and observant of it, and the sober would be
the leaders of the drunken.
Cle. I think so too, if drinking were regulated as you
propose.
Ath. Let us not then simply censure the gift of Dionysus
as bad and unfit to be received into the State. For wine has
many excellences. . .
I should say that if a city seriously means to adopt 673
the practice of drinking under due regulation and with a view
to the enforcement of temperance, and in like manner, and
on the same principle, will allow of other pleasures, design-
ing to gain the victory over them-in this way all of them
LAWS
527
may be used. But if the State makes drinking an amusement Laws III.
only, and whoever likes may drink whenever he likes, and ATHENIAN,
674 with whom he likes, and add to this any other indulgences,
700
MEGILLUS.
I shall never agree or allow that this city or this man should motion of
practise drinking.
[The early phases of social organization are now discussed;
excess whether of despotism or of liberty has always been
disastrous. Important in setting men free from the earlier
rule of law in Athens has been the decay of manners and the
anarchy of the theatre.]
temper-
ance.
of misrule
introduced
poets.
And then, as time went on, the poets themselves introduced The reign
the reign of vulgar and lawless innovation. They were men
of genius, but they had no perception of what is just and law- by the
ful in music; raging like Bacchanals and possessed with inor-
dinate delights-mingling lamentations with hymns, and
paeans with dithyrambs; imitating the sounds of the flute on
the lyre, and making one general confusion; ignorantly affirm-
ing that music has no truth, and, whether good or bad, can
only be judged of rightly by the pleasure of the hearer. And
by composing such licentious works, and adding to them words
as licentious, they have inspired the multitude with lawless-
ness and boldness, and made them fancy that they can judge
701 for themselves about melody and song. And in this way
ceit of om-
niscience
the theatres from being mute have become vocal, as though
they had understanding of good and bad in music and poetry;
and instead of an aristocracy, an evil sort of theatrocracy has
grown up For if the democracy which judged had only
consisted of educated persons, no fatal harm would have been
done; but in music there first arose the universal conceit of The con-
omniscience and general lawlessness;—freedom came follow-
ing afterwards, and men, fancying that they knew what they led to law-
did not know, had no longer any fear, and the absence of
fear begets shamelessness. For what is this shamelessness,
which is so evil a thing, but the insolent refusal to regard
the opinion of the better by reason of an over-daring sort of
liberty?
Megillus. Very true.
Ath. Consequent upon this freedom comes the other free-
dom, of disobedience to rulers; and then the attempt to
escape the control and exhortation of father, mother, elders,
lessness.
528
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Laws IV.
ATHENIAN,
CLEINIAS.
and when near the end, the control of the laws also; and at
the very end there is the contempt of oaths and pledges, and
no regard at all for the Gods,-herein they exhibit and
imitate the old so-called Titanic nature, and come to the
same point as the Titans when they rebelled against God,
leading a life of endless evils.
[The speakers now proceed to legislate for the colony that
is to be, considering first its site and its natural advantages.
The most favorable chance for the immediate organization
of a good state would be the collusion of a tyrant and a wise
legislator, but the likelihood of such a combination is not
great. The projected state is to be as far as possible under
the rule of God; rulers and subjects will be urged to follow
the divine law. Human laws will regulate the several duties
of men, persuading as well as commanding, by the use of
prefaces explaining their reasons.]
These things, I say, the laws, as we proceed with them, 718
will accomplish, partly persuading, and partly when natures do
not yield to the persuasion of custom, chastising them by
might and right, and will thus render our state, if the Gods
co-operate with us, prosperous and happy. But of what
has to be said, and must be said by the legislator who is
of my way of thinking, and yet, if said in the form of
law, would be out of place-of this I think that he may
give a sample for the instruction of himself and of those
for whom he is legislating; and then when, as far as he
is able, he has gone through all the preliminaries, he may
proceed to the work of legislation. Now, what will be
the form of such prefaces? There may be a difficulty in
faces, which including or describing them all under a single form, but
I think that we may get some notion of them if we can
in a general guarantee one thing.
Cle. What is that?
And the
laws will
have pre-
may be
summed up
preface, or
preparation
for virtue;
Ath. I should wish the citizens to be as readily persuaded
to virtue as possible; this will surely be the aim of the legis-
lator in all his laws.
Cle. Certainly.
Ath. The proposal appears to me to be of some value;
and I think that a person will listen with more gentleness and
good-will to the precepts addressed to him by the legislator,
LAWS
529
when his soul is not altogether unprepared to receive them. Laws IV.
Even a little done in the way of conciliation gains his ear, ATHENIAN,
and is always worth having. For there is no great inclina- CLEINIAS.
tion or readiness on the part of mankind to be made as good,
or as quickly good, as possible. The case of the many proves
the wisdom of Hesiod, who says that the road to wickedness
is smooth and can be travelled without perspiring, because it
is so very short:—
'But before virtue the immortal Gods have placed the sweat of labour, for the way
and long and steep is the way thither, and rugged at first; but when is difficult,
719 you have reached the top, although difficult before, it is then easy.
as Hesiod
says.
taken from
assistants.
doctor a
very per-
Ath. And is our legislator to have no preface to his laws,
but to say at once Do this, avoid that—and then holding the
penalty in terrorem, to go on to another law; offering never
720 a word of advice or exhortation to those for whom he is
legislating, after the manner of some doctors? For of doctors, Illustration
as I
may remind you, some have a gentler, others a ruder doctors
method of cure; and as children ask the doctor to be gentle and their
with them, so we will ask the legislator to cure our disorders
with the gentlest remedies. What I mean to say is, that
besides doctors there are doctors' servants, who are also styled
doctors. . . . The slave-doctor prescribes what mere experi- The slave-
ence suggests, as if he had exact knowledge; and when he has
given his orders, like a tyrant, he rushes off with equal as-
surance to some other servant who is ill; and so he relieves
the master of the house of the care of his invalid slaves. But person;
the other doctor, who is a freeman, attends and practises upon
freemen; and he carries his enquiries far back, and goes into
the nature of the disorder; he enters into discourse with the
patient and with his friends, and is at once getting informa-
tion from the sick man, and also instructing him as far as he
is able. and he will not prescribe for him until he has first
convinced him; at last, when he has brought the patient more
and more under his persuasive influences and set him on the
road to health, he attempts to effect a cure.
[The principles already laid down about reverence to the
Gods and parents will serve as a general preamble. Next
comes the reverence of a man for his own soul. The fol-
emptory
and ty
rannical
the doctor
who attends
freemen is
courteous
and per-
suasive.
530
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Laws V.
ATHENIAN.
Next to the
Gods, a
man should
honour his
own soul.
False ways
of honour-
ing the
soul:-
(1) by
praise;
(2) by
excuse;
lowing passage is close to the thought of the Republic, but is
more religious in feeling. The conviction of the priority of
the soul to the body is several times reaffirmed (as in 891-
896, which describes the soul as self-moved and the source of
motion in all things); also the soul's responsibility for con-
duct (so 904; God assigns to souls their places in such a man-
ner as to procure the victory of good; 'But the formation of
qualities he left to the wills of individuals. For every one
of us is made pretty much what he is by the bent of his de-
sires and the nature of his soul.')]
Athenian Stranger. Listen, all ye who have just now heard 726
the laws about Gods, and about our dear forefathers:-Of
all the things which a man has, next to the Gods, his soul is
the most divine and most truly his own. Now in every man
there are two parts: the better and superior, which rules,
and the worse and inferior, which serves; and the ruling
part of him is always to be preferred to the subject. Where- 727
fore I am right in bidding every one next to the Gods, who
are our masters, and those who in order follow them [i.e.
the demons], to honour his own soul, which every one seems
to honour, but no one honours as he ought; for honour
is a divine good, and no evil thing is honourable; and he
who thinks that he can honour the soul by word or gift,
or any sort of compliance, without making her in any
way better, seems to honour her, but honours her not at
all. For example, every man, from his very boyhood,
fancies that he is able to know everything, and thinks that
he honours his soul by praising her, and he is very ready
to let her do whatever she may like. But I mean to say
that in acting thus he injures his soul, and is far from
honouring her; whereas, in our opinion, he ought to honour
her as second only to the Gods. Again, when a man thinks
that others are to be blamed, and not himself, for the errors
which he has committed from time to time, and the many and
great evils which befell him in consequence, and is always
fancying himself to be exempt and innocent, he is under the
idea that he is honouring his soul; whereas the very reverse
is the fact, for he is really injuring her. . . . In a
word, I may say that he who does not estimate the 728
base and evil, the good and noble, according to the standard
LAWS
531
of yielding
of the legislator, and abstain in every possible way from the Laws V.
one and practise the other to the utmost of his power, does АThenian.
not know that in all these respects he is most foully and dis-
gracefully abusing his soul, which is the divinest part of man; The penalty
for no one, as I may say, ever considers that which is declared
to be the greatest penalty of evil-doing-namely, to grow to grow
into the likeness of bad men, and growing like them to fly likeness.
from the conversation of the good, and be cut off from them,
and cleave to and follow after the company of the bad.
[Among the virtues to be inculcated in the new state are
modesty and unselfishness. Virtue is justified on utilitarian
grounds. In the discussion of economic matters which fol-
lows, the Athenian pauses to remark that the state now being
founded is not the ideal, but a second-best state.]
to evil is
into its
is that in
which there
community.
739 The first and highest form of the state and of the gov- The best
ernment and of the law is that in which there prevails most
widely the ancient saying, that 'Friends have all things in is absolute
common.' Whether there is anywhere now, or will ever be,
this communion of women and children and of property, in
which the private and individual is altogether banished from
life, and things which are by nature private, such as eyes
and ears and hands, have become common, and in some way
see and hear and act in common, and all men express praise
and blame and feel joy and sorrow on the same occasions,
and whatever laws there are unite the city to the utmost,
whether all this is possible or not, I say that no man, acting
upon any other principle, will ever constitute a state which
will be truer or better or more exalted in virtue. Whether
such a state is governed by Gods or sons of Gods, one, or
more than one, happy are the men who, living after this
manner, dwell there; and therefore to this we are to look
for the pattern of the state, and to cling to this, and to seek
with all our might for one which is like this. The state
which we have now in hand, when created, will be nearest
to immortality and the only one which takes the second
place; and after that, by the grace of God, we will complete
the third one.
[A somewhat similar remark is made later, after a long
and detailed discussion of economic arrangements, judicial
1 Cp. Rep. v. 462 foll.
This is our
pattern.
532
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Laws VI.
ATHENIAN,
CLEINIAS.
Human
affairs are
hardly
serious,
and yet we
must be
in earnest
about them.
The best of
man is that
he is the
plaything
of the Gods.
The life of
peace better
than the
life of war.
But what
is the life
of peace?-
The life of
dance and
song.
practices, the system of marriage, and early education. The
Athenian is speaking of kinds of music.]
Let us now speak of the manner of teaching and impart- 803
ing them, and the persons to whom, and the time when, they
are severally to be imparted. As the shipwright first lays
down the lines of the keel, and thus, as it were, draws the ship
in outline, so do I seek to distinguish the patterns of life, and
lay down their keels according to the nature of different
men's souls; seeking truly to consider by what means, and
in what ways, we may go through the voyage of life best.
Now human affairs are hardly worth considering in earnest,
and yet we must be in earnest about them,- -a sad necessity
constrains us. And having got thus far, there will be a
fitness in our completing the matter, if we can only find
some suitable method of doing so. But what do I mean?
Some one may ask this very question, and quite rightly, too.
Cle. Certainly.
Ath. I say that about serious matters a man should be
serious, and about a matter which is not serious he should
not be serious; and that God is the natural and worthy ob-
ject of our most serious and blessed endeavours, for man,
as I said before, is made to be the plaything of God, and
this, truly considered, is the best of him; wherefore also
every man and woman should walk seriously, and pass life
in the noblest of pastimes, and be of another mind from what
they are at present.
Cle. In what respect?
Ath. At present they think that their serious pursuits
should be for the sake of their sports, for they deem war
a serious pursuit, which must be managed well for the sake
of peace; but the truth is, that there neither is, nor has
been, nor ever will be, either amusement or instruction in
any degree worth speaking of in war, which is nevertheless
deemed by us to be the most serious of our pursuits. And
therefore, as we say, every one of us should live the life of
peace as long and as well as he can. And what is the
right way of living? Are we to live in sports always? If
so, in what kind of sports? We ought to live sacrificing,
and singing, and dancing, and then a man will be able to
propitiate the Gods, and to defend himself against his
(
LAWS
533
enemies and conquer them in battle. The type of
Laws VII.
MEGILLUS.
song
or dance by which he will propitiate them has been de- ATHENIAN,
scribed, and the paths along which he is to proceed have
804 been cut for him. He will go forward in the spirit of the
poet: 1
817
'Telemachus, some things thou wilt thyself find in thy heart, but other
things God will suggest; for I deem that thou wast not born or brought
up without the will of the Gods.'
And this ought to be the view of our alumni; they ought to
think that what has been said is enough for them, and that
any other things their Genius and God will suggest to them
-he will tell them to whom, and when, and to what Gods
severally they are to sacrifice and perform dances, and how
they may propitiate the deities, and live according to the ap-
pointment of nature; being for the most part puppets, but
having some little share of reality.
Meg. You have a low opinion of mankind, Stranger.
Ath. Nay, Megillus, be not amazed, but forgive me:-[
was comparing them with the Gods; and under that feeling
I spoke.
Let us grant, if you wish, that the human race is
not to be despised, but is worthy of some consideration.
[In the continued discussion of education, the subject of
poetry presently recurs. Comedy, if performed by slaves and
hirelings, may suggest the kind of conduct that is to be
avoided, and may give an understanding of serious things;
freemen, of course, will not engage in performances.
Tragedy then presents itself for admission.]
And, if any of the serious poets, as they are termed,
who write tragedy, come to us and say 'O strangers, may
we go to your city and country or may we not, and shall we
bring with us our poetry-what is your will about these
matters?'--how shall we answer the divine men? I think
that our answer should be as follows ¹:-Best of strangers,
we will say to them, we also according to our ability are
tragic poets, and our tragedy is the best and noblest; for The serious
our whole state is an imitation of the best and noblest
which we affirm to be indeed the very truth of tragedy.
are poets and we are poets, both makers of the same strains,
rivals and antagonists in the noblest of dramas, which true
1 Homer, Odyss. iii. 26 foll.
life,
poet too is
required to
You
conform to
our models.
534
THE DIALOGUES OF PLATO
Laws VII.
ATHENIAN,
MEGILLUS.
law can alone perfect, as our hope is. Do not then sup-
pose that we shall all in a moment allow you to erect your
stage in the agora, or introduce the fair voices of your actors,
speaking above our own, and permit you to harangue our
women and children, and the common people, about our
institutions, in language other than our own, and very often
the opposite of our own. For a state would be mad which
gave you this license, until the magistrates had determined
whether your poetry might be recited, and was fit for pub-
lication or not. Wherefore, O ye sons and scions of the
softer Muses, first of all show your songs to the magistrates,
and let them compare them with our own, and if they are the
same or better we will give you a chorus; but if not, then, my
friends, we cannot.
[The remainder of the Laws consists chiefly of detailed
regulations for education, gymnastic, festivals, games, mili-
tary exercises, and the relations of the sexes, etc.; the last three
books deal chiefly with criminal offences against the gods or
against the state.
Two notable passages deserve special mention. The whole
of the tenth book (884-910) is devoted to showing that all
acts of violence, including sacrilege, are committed only be-
cause the offenders do not believe in the gods. Unbelief, the
speaker reasons, comes from bad myths, from the shallow-
ness of the new physical philosophers; and from a general
failure to observe the reward of the good and the punishment
of the bad. Unbelief is therefore refuted by a triple appeal
to the common opinion of mankind, to the priority of the self-
moved soul, and to the (not wholly valid) presumption that
a god (once granted) who cares for great things will a fortiori
care for small. Provision is then made for the reform, or
if that is impossible for the punishment, of the unbeliever.
Free-thinking and sectarianism are to be suppressed.
The supervision of these matters and of the constitution
generally is to rest with the Nocturnal Council (960-969),
an august body not unlike the Athenian Areopagus. Its older
members will be the mind, the younger members the eyes of the
state; they must comprehend the unity, as well as the plurality
of virtue, and the connection of the sciences. Everything must
be staked on the successful establishment of the Council.]
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LIST OF BOOKS
PLATO, The Dialogues, translated by Benjamin Jowett, third edition,
1892; new impression, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1924.
ADAM, A. M., Plato, Moral and Political Ideals, Cambridge, England,
1913.
ADAM, JAMES, The Religious Teachers of Greece, Aberdeen, 1909.
ADAM, JAMES, The Vitality of Platonism, Cambridge, England, 1911.
BARKER, E., Greek Political Theory: Plato and His Predecessors, London,
1918.
BENN, A. W., The Greek Philosophers, London, 1914.
BURNET, J., Greek Philosophy, Part I, Thales to Plato, London and New
York, 1914.
Greene, W. C., "Plato's View of Poetry," in Harvard Studies in Classi-
cal Philology, Cambridge, Mass., 1918.
GREENE, W. C., "The Spirit of Comedy in Plato," in Harvard Studies in
Classical Philology, Cambridge, Mass., 1920.
HARRISON, J. S., Platonism in English Poetry of the 16th and 17th Cen-
turies. New York, 1903.
LINDSAY, A. D., The Republic of Plato, translated, with an introduction,
London, 1908.
MORE, P. E., Platonism, Princeton, 1917.
MORE, P. E., The Religion of Plato, Princeton, 1921.
NETTLESHIP, R. L., Lectures on the "Republic" of Plato, London, 1897.
PARKER, C. P., "Plato and Pragmatism," in Harvard Essays on Classical
Subjects, ed. H. W. Smyth, Boston, 1912.
PATER, W., Plato and Platonism, London and New York, 1894.
POST, L. A., Thirteen Epistles of Plato, translated, Oxford, 1925.
SHOREY, P., Review of the third edition of Jowett's Translation of
Plato, in American Journal of Philology, Vol. XIII (1892), pp. 349-
372.
SHOREY, P., "The Unity of Plato's Thought," in The Decennial Publica-
tions of the University of Chicago, Chicago, 1904.
STEWART, J. A., The Myths of Plato, London and New York, 1905.
STEWART, J. A., Plato's Doctrine of Ideas, Oxford, 1909.
STEWART, J. A., "Platonism in English Poetry," in English Literature
and the Classics (ed. G. S. Gordon), Oxford, 1912.
TAYLOR, A. E., Plato, London and New York, 1911.
TAYLOR, A. E., Platonism and its Influence, Boston, 1924.
TAYLOR, A. E., Plato: The Man and His Work, New York, 1927.
535
DATE DUE
SEP 27 198FEB 24 1993
OCT 15 198UL 12 1901
Z
LOB+218 MAR 1-8-1885-
APR. 24
APR. 2 4 1987
NOV 1905
DEC. 1919Y 31 2000
OCT. 11088
OCT 13 2000
OCT. 3188
APR. 1398 APR 1 2002
OCT. 23 1989 5/14/2002
SEP
5/14/2002
1990 FEB 18 2003
OCT. 24 1990
NOV. O 1990
R. 1 7 1991
APR. 22 1992
NOY, 11902
GAYLORD
COOZ LAUN
PRINTED IN U.S.A.
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