Persons of the Dialogue: _Socrates_.
_Chærephon_.
_Megaphon_.
SCENE: At first a street in the Metropolis,[5] and afterward the house
of Megaphon.[6]
TIME: Year 4 of Olympiad 25 after American Independence.
The narrator and leading person of the dialogue is Socrates.
I. I had gone into the city on the Fourth day of the month to witness
how they would observe the Festival, and was returning at my leisure,
when Chærephon, catching sight of me at a distance, ordered his son to
run forward and bid me wait for him. And the boy, taking hold of me by
the cloak behind, said: “My father bids you wait for him.”
“By all means,” said I.
And not long afterward Chærephon came.
“Socrates,” he said, “you seem to be returning from the city.”
“You guess not badly,” I replied.
We continued on our way, and soon came near the crossing of two
streets. Here, a boy was standing at the curb, calling loudly to all
who passed.
“What are the words he cries?” I said to Chærephon.
“The _Republic_,” he answered. “It is the new paper, that will come
forth daily, and is to help the demos; for you know that until now it
has come but thrice a week, and has been for the few. Have you not
heard of it?”
“Yes,” I said, “and I have thought about it much. Henceforth we shall
have the news every day, and in a different way.”
We had now come to the boy, and were passing him.
“Here, boy,” I said, “give me your paper.”
He gave it to me, still crying as before.
“And how much must I pay you for it?” I asked.
“An obol,”[7] he replied.
“Very well,” said I, and gave him the obol.
“Is it not cheap?” said Chærephon. “And do you not think the demos has
great reason to rejoice? For now many more will be able to read of what
takes place.”
“It is indeed cheap,” I said, “and now the demos may indeed read all it
will. But I do not think it may rejoice.”
“Do I hear aright?” he asked. “Can it be you do not like the change?”
“You do hear aright,” I answered. “I do not like it.”
“But ’twill educate the demos,” he said.
“It will,” I said, “and that is why I do not like it. My thought is
that ’twill educate them wrongly, and we shall have trouble from it.
But let us discuss the matter, if that will please you.”[8]
* * * * *
II. “Most gladly,” he said. “But look, yonder is Megaphon’s house, and
I told him I would stop. Will you go with me, and there discuss in the
hearing of us both?”
“Yes,” I said, “most willingly.”
We drew near, and Chærephon beat gently upon the door with his
sandal,[9] and we waited until someone should come from within.
The son of Chærephon, first asking his sire’s permission, now joined
other boys who were vying one with another in a game of making noises.
Now the playing of the game was on this wise. Chærephon’s son would
take from the store in his pocket a crimson paper, tightly rolled,
containing an explosive. This he set off by means of a thread which
projected from the end of the roll, and contained the same explosive,
but not so much. The thread was called the fuse, and the roll a
“cracker.” When lighted with a match, the fuse would quickly carry fire
to the cracker, which, straightway bursting, made a loud report. But
first Chærephon’s son would send it flying through the air, lest it
harm his fingers. Yet there were lads of hardihood who boldly held the
cracker as it burst, and remained unharmed; and these were the winners
of the game.
This at that time was for young and old the manner of celebrating the
nation’s freedom. For the people had once been in thrall to the tyrant.
* * * * *
III. While we yet stood looking on at this sport, the daughter of
Megaphon opened to us.
“My sire is within,” she said; and pointed to the door of the megaron.
The door was open, and we entered. At first we saw no one, but after
some moments became aware of Megaphon’s legs, which alone could be
seen of all his body. For the rest of his body was hidden by a printed
sheet. This sheet, we saw, was the _Republic_; for the letters were
large.
“Hail, O Megaphon!” I cried in a loud voice.
Megaphon lowered the sheet until his face appeared, and then leaped up.
“A thousand pardons, Socrates and Chærephon!” he cried. “I was deep in
the paper, and did not notice. Pray seat yourselves.”
We seated ourselves in front of him, and not far off.
Megaphon laid aside the paper, as it seemed, unwillingly.
“What were you reading, O Megaphon?” Chærephon inquired, to start our
discussion. For he knew well, without the asking.
“The _Republic_,” Megaphon replied. “Ah, I see you have one, Socrates.
Is it not fine, and should we not rejoice? The demos will surely make
great progress now, and our nation will become much greater than ever,
for we shall have news every day, and nearly all will be rich enough to
read, and nearly all will thus become intelligent.”
Chærephon gazed at me.
“But Socrates does not approve,” he said.
“No,” I said, “by Zeus, no!”[10]
Megaphon was greatly astonished.
“I do not understand,” he said. “Will not knowledge be spread among our
people as never before, and will not our demos become well informed and
thinking citizens, no longer a prey to their own ignorance or to the
deceits of their enemies? For we shall now have the news at trifling
cost, I think. Is it not so, O Socrates?”
“At trifling cost, most certainly,” I answered. “To speak truly, the
cost is even too little. But shall we discuss the matter?”
“By all means,” he said.
“And will you listen to me with patience,” I said, “and answer what I
ask, and not grow angry?”
“We will do as you say,” he said. “Will we not, Chærephon?”
Chærephon agreed.
* * * * *
IV. “Well, then,” I began, “I suppose we may assume that the
_Republic_, and others--for without doubt there will in time be many
like it--will be taken daily into the homes of the demos, as well as of
the few. Is it not so?”
Megaphon assented.
“Then let us speak of the matter in this fashion,” I said. “Suppose
you had an acquaintance who came to visit you every day in the year,
and was admitted not only to yourself, but freely to your wife and
your sons and daughters. On entering, he first makes a great show of
importance and a great deal of noise by calling out in an exceedingly
loud voice that a cruel murder has been done, or a savage battle has
been fought, or a shocking accident has happened, or a great robbery
has been attempted, and comes up quite close to all of you and points
out in every detail just how the accident or the crime took place.
After this, he tells you of lesser crimes and mishaps--of thefts,
adulteries, and murders among the poor and vicious, and the like;
and then he tells with great exactness of many brutal contests--of
the pancration,[11] of boxing with the cestus,[12] and of the fights
of cocks and dogs. He tells you also of the life of the idle, who do
nothing but eat and drink, passing the nights in waking and the days
in sleep, consuming in pleasures they do not need the substance they
have not earned. And suppose he counsels you to hate not only them, but
all who possess greater store of goods than you. And then suppose he
will tell you of various things which he says you should not lack, now
screaming loudly that these goods will be sold for less than they cost,
and now whispering other things of the sort with equal earnestness, and
with equal intent to deceive you. Suppose he not only tried to sell
you good and necessary wares, but that which he knew you did not need,
or was worthless. And suppose he told you much that was true of your
neighbors but was no concern of his, and repeated much that was false
and harmful. And suppose his words were often vulgar and many times
profane, and that his jests were coarse, and even obscene, and you
should come upon him murmuring to your wife and children such things as
the tongue should in no wise repeat.”[13]
Megaphon seemed not quite content with my words.
“Suppose,” I said, “that he did and said such things in your house, not
twice or thrice in the year, but daily, ever boasting of his virtues,
and telling you all that he was your true and faithful friend. Would
you not think the advantage of his presence doubtful?”
“I should,” said Megaphon, “if he were all you say he would be; and I
should not let him remain, but kick him out of doors without delay, and
forbid him to enter again. But surely there are other matters he would
relate, such as we should be glad to hear of, and we should not need to
listen to all he said, nor buy all he would have us buy.”
“No,” I said, “doubtless not; but his company would be unpleasant, even
if you neither bought nor heeded. For he would offend you often, and
waste your time.”
“And the _Republic_, I think, is not wholly like the acquaintance you
describe,” Megaphon said. For he bore ill what I said.
“But it will be so in no long time,” I said.
“Will you tell us why?” he asked.
* * * * *
V. “I will, assuredly,” I said. “Let us inquire farther. Just now I
paid for the _Republic_ one obol, did I not? and heretofore it cost
two? The price is now but half, and soon it will be still less. For so
at least they promise. Is it not true?”
“It is,” Megaphon said. “And justly, as I think. For the demos should
be encouraged to read.”
“Very well,” I said, “when the former price is cut in half, will it
not be impossible to gain as much? For gain is the purpose of the
newspaper, and its owners will not publish it unless they receive gain,
and the greatest possible amount. If they cut the price in half, they
will of a surety use other means to bring them the money thus lost.
Will it not be so?”
“But more people will buy and read,” he said.
“Yes,” I said, “they will. But more men and better machines will be
needed, and the paper will be much larger, as you already see. Without
doubt, they will not be able to give for so small a sum a paper so
large.”
“You seem to speak truly,” he said.
“Then whence will come the gain I speak of?” I said. “Will it not come
perforce from advertisements? At least, so I have read, for you see I
know what is being talked. And how shall they increase the number of
those who advertise, and make the price greater? For both, I think,
will be necessary. Will it not be by having more who purchase and read?
For those who buy and sell goods will pay a higher price only if more
are to read their advertisements. Do you think I am right, Megaphon?”
“So it appears to me,” he said.
“Then,” I said, “is it not clear that we shall have a change in
the newspaper’s ways? Until now, the newspaper has had its gains
mostly from those who read, and but little from those who advertise;
but henceforth it will be contrariwise. It will not enrich itself
from readers--except as their number brings more and better-paying
advertisements.”
“And there is another thing,” Chærephon said. “The character of the
readers will also change. There will henceforth be more of them
untaught and unthinking than before, because of the cheapness of the
paper. Will it not be so?”
“Most certainly,” I said; “you have anticipated my thought.”
* * * * *
VI. “Then,” I continued, “if this is as I say, will it not of necessity
follow that henceforth the paper will be so ordered as to suit the
tastes of the many rather than of the few?”
“I do not disagree,” said Megaphon.
“For,” Chærephon said, “you cannot suit at once the tastes of both the
ignorant and the intelligent.”
“And what are the tastes of the demos?” I said. “Does not the demos
like excitement, and will not the newspaper set forth in detail every
manner of accident and crime and gossip? Doubtless you have seen the
demos, how it behaves when the dead are to be seen, or when the
wedding of some rich person takes place, or evildoers are being led by
the Eleven to be punished.”
“Yes,” he said, “I have. The demos has but poor taste in many matters.
The demos likes above all to be entertained, and it delights in things
that are strange and horrible.”
“True,” I answered, “and the demos does not like to think; for that
is a difficult sort of labor. It will be necessary to omit that which
would please the few, and put in its place that which is amusing and
easy to understand. And there will doubtless also be much that is
unseemly and shameful to read.”