But we are certain of this,--that no one will raise a similar claim as
against the herdsman, who is allowed on all hands to be the sole and
only feeder and physician of his herd; he is also their match-maker
and accoucheur; no one else knows that department of science. And he is
their merry-maker and musician, as far as their nature is susceptible of
such influences, and no one can console and soothe his own herd
better than he can, either with the natural tones of his voice or with
instruments. And the same may be said of tenders of animals in general.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very true.
STRANGER: But if this is as you say, can our argument about the king
be true and unimpeachable? Were we right in selecting him out of ten
thousand other claimants to be the shepherd and rearer of the human
flock?
YOUNG SOCRATES: Surely not.
STRANGER: Had we not reason just to now to apprehend, that although we
may have described a sort of royal form, we have not as yet accurately
worked out the true image of the Statesman? and that we cannot reveal
him as he truly is in his own nature, until we have disengaged and
separated him from those who hang about him and claim to share in his
prerogatives?
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very true.
STRANGER: And that, Socrates, is what we must do, if we do not mean to
bring disgrace upon the argument at its close.
YOUNG SOCRATES: We must certainly avoid that.
STRANGER: Then let us make a new beginning, and travel by a different
road.
YOUNG SOCRATES: What road?
STRANGER: I think that we may have a little amusement; there is a famous
tale, of which a good portion may with advantage be interwoven, and then
we may resume our series of divisions, and proceed in the old path until
we arrive at the desired summit. Shall we do as I say?
YOUNG SOCRATES: By all means.
STRANGER: Listen, then, to a tale which a child would love to hear; and
you are not too old for childish amusement.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Let me hear.
STRANGER: There did really happen, and will again happen, like many
other events of which ancient tradition has preserved the record, the
portent which is traditionally said to have occurred in the quarrel of
Atreus and Thyestes. You have heard, no doubt, and remember what they
say happened at that time?
YOUNG SOCRATES: I suppose you to mean the token of the birth of the
golden lamb.
STRANGER: No, not that; but another part of the story, which tells how
the sun and the stars once rose in the west, and set in the east, and
that the god reversed their motion, and gave them that which they now
have as a testimony to the right of Atreus.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Yes; there is that legend also.
STRANGER: Again, we have been often told of the reign of Cronos.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Yes, very often.
STRANGER: Did you ever hear that the men of former times were
earth-born, and not begotten of one another?
YOUNG SOCRATES: Yes, that is another old tradition.
STRANGER: All these stories, and ten thousand others which are still
more wonderful, have a common origin; many of them have been lost in
the lapse of ages, or are repeated only in a disconnected form; but the
origin of them is what no one has told, and may as well be told now; for
the tale is suited to throw light on the nature of the king.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very good; and I hope that you will give the whole
story, and leave out nothing.
STRANGER: Listen, then. There is a time when God himself guides and
helps to roll the world in its course; and there is a time, on the
completion of a certain cycle, when he lets go, and the world being a
living creature, and having originally received intelligence from its
author and creator, turns about and by an inherent necessity revolves in
the opposite direction.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Why is that?
STRANGER: Why, because only the most divine things of all remain ever
unchanged and the same, and body is not included in this class. Heaven
and the universe, as we have termed them, although they have been
endowed by the Creator with many glories, partake of a bodily nature,
and therefore cannot be entirely free from perturbation. But their
motion is, as far as possible, single and in the same place, and of the
same kind; and is therefore only subject to a reversal, which is the
least alteration possible. For the lord of all moving things is alone
able to move of himself; and to think that he moves them at one time in
one direction and at another time in another is blasphemy. Hence we must
not say that the world is either self-moved always, or all made to go
round by God in two opposite courses; or that two Gods, having opposite
purposes, make it move round. But as I have already said (and this is
the only remaining alternative) the world is guided at one time by an
external power which is divine and receives fresh life and immortality
from the renewing hand of the Creator, and again, when let go, moves
spontaneously, being set free at such a time as to have, during infinite
cycles of years, a reverse movement: this is due to its perfect balance,
to its vast size, and to the fact that it turns on the smallest pivot.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Your account of the world seems to be very reasonable
indeed.
STRANGER: Let us now reflect and try to gather from what has been said
the nature of the phenomenon which we affirmed to be the cause of all
these wonders. It is this.
YOUNG SOCRATES: What?
STRANGER: The reversal which takes place from time to time of the motion
of the universe.
YOUNG SOCRATES: How is that the cause?
STRANGER: Of all changes of the heavenly motions, we may consider this
to be the greatest and most complete.
YOUNG SOCRATES: I should imagine so.
STRANGER: And it may be supposed to result in the greatest changes to
the human beings who are the inhabitants of the world at the time.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Such changes would naturally occur.
STRANGER: And animals, as we know, survive with difficulty great and
serious changes of many different kinds when they come upon them at
once.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very true.
STRANGER: Hence there necessarily occurs a great destruction of them,
which extends also to the life of man; few survivors of the race are
left, and those who remain become the subjects of several novel and
remarkable phenomena, and of one in particular, which takes place at the
time when the transition is made to the cycle opposite to that in which
we are now living.
YOUNG SOCRATES: What is it?
STRANGER: The life of all animals first came to a standstill, and the
mortal nature ceased to be or look older, and was then reversed and grew
young and delicate; the white locks of the aged darkened again, and the
cheeks the bearded man became smooth, and recovered their former bloom;
the bodies of youths in their prime grew softer and smaller, continually
by day and night returning and becoming assimilated to the nature of a
newly-born child in mind as well as body; in the succeeding stage they
wasted away and wholly disappeared. And the bodies of those who died by
violence at that time quickly passed through the like changes, and in a
few days were no more seen.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Then how, Stranger, were the animals created in those
days; and in what way were they begotten of one another?
STRANGER: It is evident, Socrates, that there was no such thing in the
then order of nature as the procreation of animals from one another; the
earth-born race, of which we hear in story, was the one which existed
in those days--they rose again from the ground; and of this tradition,
which is now-a-days often unduly discredited, our ancestors, who were
nearest in point of time to the end of the last period and came into
being at the beginning of this, are to us the heralds. And mark how
consistent the sequel of the tale is; after the return of age to youth,
follows the return of the dead, who are lying in the earth, to life;
simultaneously with the reversal of the world the wheel of their
generation has been turned back, and they are put together and rise and
live in the opposite order, unless God has carried any of them away to
some other lot. According to this tradition they of necessity sprang
from the earth and have the name of earth-born, and so the above legend
clings to them.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Certainly that is quite consistent with what has
preceded; but tell me, was the life which you said existed in the reign
of Cronos in that cycle of the world, or in this? For the change in the
course of the stars and the sun must have occurred in both.
STRANGER: I see that you enter into my meaning;--no, that blessed and
spontaneous life does not belong to the present cycle of the world, but
to the previous one, in which God superintended the whole revolution of
the universe; and the several parts the universe were distributed under
the rule of certain inferior deities, as is the way in some places
still. There were demigods, who were the shepherds of the various
species and herds of animals, and each one was in all respects
sufficient for those of whom he was the shepherd; neither was there any
violence, or devouring of one another, or war or quarrel among them;
and I might tell of ten thousand other blessings, which belonged to that
dispensation. The reason why the life of man was, as tradition says,
spontaneous, is as follows: In those days God himself was their
shepherd, and ruled over them, just as man, who is by comparison a
divine being, still rules over the lower animals. Under him there were
no forms of government or separate possession of women and children;
for all men rose again from the earth, having no memory of the past. And
although they had nothing of this sort, the earth gave them fruits in
abundance, which grew on trees and shrubs unbidden, and were not planted
by the hand of man. And they dwelt naked, and mostly in the open air,
for the temperature of their seasons was mild; and they had no beds, but
lay on soft couches of grass, which grew plentifully out of the earth.
Such was the life of man in the days of Cronos, Socrates; the character
of our present life, which is said to be under Zeus, you know from your
own experience. Can you, and will you, determine which of them you deem
the happier?
YOUNG SOCRATES: Impossible.
STRANGER: Then shall I determine for you as well as I can?
YOUNG SOCRATES: By all means.
STRANGER: Suppose that the nurslings of Cronos, having this boundless
leisure, and the power of holding intercourse, not only with men, but
with the brute creation, had used all these advantages with a view to
philosophy, conversing with the brutes as well as with one another, and
learning of every nature which was gifted with any special power, and
was able to contribute some special experience to the store of wisdom,
there would be no difficulty in deciding that they would be a thousand
times happier than the men of our own day. Or, again, if they had merely
eaten and drunk until they were full, and told stories to one another
and to the animals--such stories as are now attributed to them--in this
case also, as I should imagine, the answer would be easy. But until some
satisfactory witness can be found of the love of that age for knowledge
and discussion, we had better let the matter drop, and give the reason
why we have unearthed this tale, and then we shall be able to get on.
In the fulness of time, when the change was to take place, and the
earth-born race had all perished, and every soul had completed its
proper cycle of births and been sown in the earth her appointed number
of times, the pilot of the universe let the helm go, and retired to his
place of view; and then Fate and innate desire reversed the motion of
the world. Then also all the inferior deities who share the rule of the
supreme power, being informed of what was happening, let go the parts
of the world which were under their control. And the world turning
round with a sudden shock, being impelled in an opposite direction from
beginning to end, was shaken by a mighty earthquake, which wrought a new
destruction of all manner of animals. Afterwards, when sufficient time
had elapsed, the tumult and confusion and earthquake ceased, and the
universal creature, once more at peace, attained to a calm, and settled
down into his own orderly and accustomed course, having the charge and
rule of himself and of all the creatures which are contained in him, and
executing, as far as he remembered them, the instructions of his
Father and Creator, more precisely at first, but afterwords with less
exactness. The reason of the falling off was the admixture of matter in
him; this was inherent in the primal nature, which was full of disorder,
until attaining to the present order. From God, the constructor, the
world received all that is good in him, but from a previous state came
elements of evil and unrighteousness, which, thence derived, first of
all passed into the world, and were then transmitted to the animals.
While the world was aided by the pilot in nurturing the animals, the
evil was small, and great the good which he produced, but after the
separation, when the world was let go, at first all proceeded well
enough; but, as time went on, there was more and more forgetting, and
the old discord again held sway and burst forth in full glory; and at
last small was the good, and great was the admixture of evil, and there
was a danger of universal ruin to the world, and to the things contained
in him. Wherefore God, the orderer of all, in his tender care, seeing
that the world was in great straits, and fearing that all might be
dissolved in the storm and disappear in infinite chaos, again seated
himself at the helm; and bringing back the elements which had fallen
into dissolution and disorder to the motion which had prevailed under
his dispensation, he set them in order and restored them, and made the
world imperishable and immortal. And this is the whole tale, of which
the first part will suffice to illustrate the nature of the king. For
when the world turned towards the present cycle of generation, the age
of man again stood still, and a change opposite to the previous one was
the result. The small creatures which had almost disappeared grew in and
stature, and the newly-born children of the earth became grey and
died and sank into the earth again. All things changed, imitating and
following the condition of the universe, and of necessity agreeing with
that in their mode of conception and generation and nurture; for no
animal was any longer allowed to come into being in the earth through
the agency of other creative beings, but as the world was ordained to be
the lord of his own progress, in like manner the parts were ordained
to grow and generate and give nourishment, as far as they could, of
themselves, impelled by a similar movement. And so we have arrived at
the real end of this discourse; for although there might be much to tell
of the lower animals, and of the condition out of which they changed
and of the causes of the change, about men there is not much, and that
little is more to the purpose. Deprived of the care of God, who had
possessed and tended them, they were left helpless and defenceless, and
were torn in pieces by the beasts, who were naturally fierce and had
now grown wild. And in the first ages they were still without skill or
resource; the food which once grew spontaneously had failed, and as
yet they knew not how to procure it, because they had never felt the
pressure of necessity. For all these reasons they were in a great
strait; wherefore also the gifts spoken of in the old tradition
were imparted to man by the gods, together with so much teaching and
education as was indispensable; fire was given to them by Prometheus,
the arts by Hephaestus and his fellow-worker, Athene, seeds and plants
by others. From these is derived all that has helped to frame human
life; since the care of the Gods, as I was saying, had now failed men,
and they had to order their course of life for themselves, and were
their own masters, just like the universal creature whom they imitate
and follow, ever changing, as he changes, and ever living and growing,
at one time in one manner, and at another time in another. Enough of
the story, which may be of use in showing us how greatly we erred in the
delineation of the king and the statesman in our previous discourse.
YOUNG SOCRATES: What was this great error of which you speak?
STRANGER: There were two; the first a lesser one, the other was an error
on a much larger and grander scale.
YOUNG SOCRATES: What do you mean?
STRANGER: I mean to say that when we were asked about a king and
statesman of the present cycle and generation, we told of a shepherd of
a human flock who belonged to the other cycle, and of one who was a
god when he ought to have been a man; and this a great error. Again,
we declared him to be the ruler of the entire State, without explaining
how: this was not the whole truth, nor very intelligible; but still it
was true, and therefore the second error was not so great as the first.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very good.
STRANGER: Before we can expect to have a perfect description of the
statesman we must define the nature of his office.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Certainly.
STRANGER: And the myth was introduced in order to show, not only that
all others are rivals of the true shepherd who is the object of our
search, but in order that we might have a clearer view of him who is
alone worthy to receive this appellation, because he alone of shepherds
and herdsmen, according to the image which we have employed, has the
care of human beings.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very true.
STRANGER: And I cannot help thinking, Socrates, that the form of
the divine shepherd is even higher than that of a king; whereas the
statesmen who are now on earth seem to be much more like their subjects
in character, and much more nearly to partake of their breeding and
education.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Certainly.
STRANGER: Still they must be investigated all the same, to see whether,
like the divine shepherd, they are above their subjects or on a level
with them.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Of course.
STRANGER: To resume:--Do you remember that we spoke of a
command-for-self exercised over animals, not singly but collectively,
which we called the art of rearing a herd?
YOUNG SOCRATES: Yes, I remember.
STRANGER: There, somewhere, lay our error; for we never included or
mentioned the Statesman; and we did not observe that he had no place in
our nomenclature.
YOUNG SOCRATES: How was that?
STRANGER: All other herdsmen 'rear' their herds, but this is not a
suitable term to apply to the Statesman; we should use a name which is
common to them all.
YOUNG SOCRATES: True, if there be such a name.
STRANGER: Why, is not 'care' of herds applicable to all? For this
implies no feeding, or any special duty; if we say either 'tending' the
herds, or 'managing' the herds, or 'having the care' of them, the same
word will include all, and then we may wrap up the Statesman with the
rest, as the argument seems to require.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Quite right; but how shall we take the next step in the
division?
STRANGER: As before we divided the art of 'rearing' herds accordingly as
they were land or water herds, winged and wingless, mixing or not
mixing the breed, horned and hornless, so we may divide by these same
differences the 'tending' of herds, comprehending in our definition the
kingship of to-day and the rule of Cronos.
YOUNG SOCRATES: That is clear; but I still ask, what is to follow.
STRANGER: If the word had been 'managing' herds, instead of feeding or
rearing them, no one would have argued that there was no care of men in
the case of the politician, although it was justly contended, that there
was no human art of feeding them which was worthy of the name, or at
least, if there were, many a man had a prior and greater right to share
in such an art than any king.
YOUNG SOCRATES: True.
STRANGER: But no other art or science will have a prior or better right
than the royal science to care for human society and to rule over men in
general.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Quite true.
STRANGER: In the next place, Socrates, we must surely notice that a
great error was committed at the end of our analysis.
YOUNG SOCRATES: What was it?
STRANGER: Why, supposing we were ever so sure that there is such an
art as the art of rearing or feeding bipeds, there was no reason why
we should call this the royal or political art, as though there were no
more to be said.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Certainly not.
STRANGER: Our first duty, as we were saying, was to remodel the name,
so as to have the notion of care rather than of feeding, and then to
divide, for there may be still considerable divisions.
YOUNG SOCRATES: How can they be made?
STRANGER: First, by separating the divine shepherd from the human
guardian or manager.
YOUNG SOCRATES: True.
STRANGER: And the art of management which is assigned to man would again
have to be subdivided.
YOUNG SOCRATES: On what principle?
STRANGER: On the principle of voluntary and compulsory.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Why?
STRANGER: Because, if I am not mistaken, there has been an error here;
for our simplicity led us to rank king and tyrant together, whereas they
are utterly distinct, like their modes of government.
YOUNG SOCRATES: True.
STRANGER: Then, now, as I said, let us make the correction and divide
human care into two parts, on the principle of voluntary and compulsory.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Certainly.
STRANGER: And if we call the management of violent rulers tyranny, and
the voluntary management of herds of voluntary bipeds politics, may we
not further assert that he who has this latter art of management is the
true king and statesman?
YOUNG SOCRATES: I think, Stranger, that we have now completed the
account of the Statesman.
STRANGER: Would that we had, Socrates, but I have to satisfy myself
as well as you; and in my judgment the figure of the king is not
yet perfected; like statuaries who, in their too great haste, having
overdone the several parts of their work, lose time in cutting them
down, so too we, partly out of haste, partly out of a magnanimous desire
to expose our former error, and also because we imagined that a king
required grand illustrations, have taken up a marvellous lump of fable,
and have been obliged to use more than was necessary. This made us
discourse at large, and, nevertheless, the story never came to an end.
And our discussion might be compared to a picture of some living being
which had been fairly drawn in outline, but had not yet attained the
life and clearness which is given by the blending of colours. Now to
intelligent persons a living being had better be delineated by language
and discourse than by any painting or work of art: to the duller sort by
works of art.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very true; but what is the imperfection which still
remains? I wish that you would tell me.
STRANGER: The higher ideas, my dear friend, can hardly be set forth
except through the medium of examples; every man seems to know all
things in a dreamy sort of way, and then again to wake up and to know
nothing.
YOUNG SOCRATES: What do you mean?
STRANGER: I fear that I have been unfortunate in raising a question
about our experience of knowledge.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Why so?
STRANGER: Why, because my 'example' requires the assistance of another
example.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Proceed; you need not fear that I shall tire.
STRANGER: I will proceed, finding, as I do, such a ready listener in
you: when children are beginning to know their letters--
YOUNG SOCRATES: What are you going to say?
STRANGER: That they distinguish the several letters well enough in very
short and easy syllables, and are able to tell them correctly.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Certainly.
STRANGER: Whereas in other syllables they do not recognize them, and
think and speak falsely of them.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Very true.
STRANGER: Will not the best and easiest way of bringing them to a
knowledge of what they do not as yet know be--
YOUNG SOCRATES: Be what?
STRANGER: To refer them first of all to cases in which they judge
correctly about the letters in question, and then to compare these with
the cases in which they do not as yet know, and to show them that the
letters are the same, and have the same character in both combinations,
until all cases in which they are right have been placed side by side
with all cases in which they are wrong. In this way they have examples,
and are made to learn that each letter in every combination is always
the same and not another, and is always called by the same name.
YOUNG SOCRATES: Certainly.
STRANGER: Are not examples formed in this manner? We take a thing and
compare it with another distinct instance of the same thing, of which we
have a right conception, and out of the comparison there arises one true
notion, which includes both of them.