ARGUMENT.
In the _second book_ he illustrates justice by a pretty long discourse
about injustice, its contrary, and the social evils thence arising.
From such a comprehensive view of society itself he is not
unnaturally led into his main argument, the subject of civil
government; carefully distinguishing between the head and the
members—the governors and the governed; but also bearing in mind
that society is the stage on which alone the virtues of the just man
can be seen in perfection. The governors, says he, should be
spirited and shrewd, so as to be able both to repel the violence of
the state’s enemies, and severely to punish wicked citizens, as well
as peaceably to maintain their own subjects or dependants under the
law’s protection, and to appoint proper rewards for virtuous and
deserving actions. The principal study then should, as respects a
state, be devoted jointly to _music_ and _gymnastics_—the former
referring to mental, the other to bodily training; but above all
these he places _religion_, which though he does not statedly define
it, yet he proves to be wholly distinct from the superstition of his
own time.
CHAP. I.—Having said these things, I thought to have been relieved from
the debate; but this it seems was only the introduction; for Glaucon is
on all occasions most courageous, and then especially did not approve of
Thrasymachus’s withdrawal from the debate, but said;—Socrates, have you
any desire of seeming to have persuaded us, or to succeed in really
persuading us that it is in every respect better to be just than unjust?
I, for my part, said I, would prefer to do so in reality, if it depended
on me. You are not doing then, said he, what you desire: for, tell me,
does there appear to you any good of this kind, such as we would accept
as a possession, without regard to its results, but embracing it
[simply] for its own sake; such as joy and all kinds of harmless
pleasures,[54] though for the future no other advantage springs from
them than the delight arising from their possession. To me, indeed, said
I, there does seem to be something of this kind. But what;—is there not
some species of good which we both love for its own sake, and also for
what springs from it,—as wisdom, sight, and health?—for such goods we
surely embrace on both accounts. Yes, said I. But do you see, said he, a
third species of good,—among which are bodily exercise, being healed
when sick, the practice of medicine, or any other lucrative
employment?—for these things, we should say, are laborious, yet
beneficial to us, and we should not choose them for their own sake, but
on account of the rewards and other advantages that spring from them.
There is, indeed, said I, this third species also: but what then? In
which of these species, said he, do you place justice? I think, indeed,
said I, in the most beautiful,—as being a good, which, both on its own
account and for what springs from it, is desired by a man bent on being
happy. It does not seem so, however, said he, to the multitude, but
rather to be of that laborious kind which is pursued on account of
rewards and honours [gained] through high repute, but on its own account
to be shunned, as fraught with trouble.
-----
Footnote 54:
ἀβλαβεῖς means not only _harmless_ pleasures, but those which are pure
and unalloyed with pain. We may remark here, that he divides goods (τὰ
ἀγαθά) into three classes,—one, to be pursued for its own sake only,
without reference to advantage.—another, which is to be loved both for
its own sake, and for the advantages thence accruing,—and a third,
which of itself perhaps is not worthy to be pursued, but only on
account of the advantages thence accruing. In the second or mixed
class Socrates places justice.
-----
CHAP. II.—I am aware, said I, that it seems so; and it was in this view,
that it was some time since condemned by Thrasymachus, but injustice
praised:—it seems, however, that I am one of those who are dull in
learning. Come now, said he, listen to me too, if you please; for
Thrasymachus seems to me to have been charmed by you just like a
snake,[55] more quickly than he ought; while, with respect to myself,
the proof has not yet been made to my satisfaction in either case, for I
desire to hear what each is, and what intrinsic power it has by itself,
when residing in the soul,—letting alone the rewards and what springs
from them. I will proceed, in this manner, therefore, if it be your
pleasure. I will take up Thrasymachus’s argument in another shape; and,
first of all, I will tell you what they say justice is, and whence it
arises,—and, secondly, that all who cultivate it, cultivate it
unwillingly, as necessary, but not as good,—and thirdly, that they do
this with reason, inasmuch as, according to their notion, the life of an
unjust man is much better than that of one that is just. Though, for my
own part, Socrates, it by no means appears so to me, still I am thrown
into a state of doubt, from having my ears stunned by hearing
Thrasymachus and innumerable others.—But as for the statement respecting
justice, that it is better than injustice, I have never yet heard it
explained as I wish. I wish, therefore, to hear it eulogized on its own
account, and am quite of opinion that I shall hear it from you:
wherefore, by way of opposition,[56] I shall speak in praise of an
unjust life, and in so speaking will show you in what manner I want to
hear you in turn condemn injustice and commend justice. But see if my
proposal be agreeable to you. Quite so, said I; for about what would any
man of intellect delight more frequently to speak and hear? You speak
excellently well, said he:—and now, as to what I said I would first
speak about, listen, both what justice is and whence it springs.
-----
Footnote 55:
Thrasymachus is here, on account of his passionate violence and
uncouth manners, aptly compared to a snake, which, as the ancients
believed, could be softened and subdued by music:—and we note
particularly the elegant use of the verb κηλεῖν, which primarily
signifies to _charm_, _sooth_, _subdue_, and then generally, _to
soften by persuasion_ or argument.
Footnote 56:
Respecting this use of the verb κατατείνειν, comp. ch. ix. p. 367 b.
p. 47 of this translation:—ὡς δύναμαι μάλιστα κατατείνας λέγω. See
also, Xen. Anab. ii. 5, s. 30, and Eurip. Hec. v. 132.
-----
They say, forsooth, that to do injustice is naturally good, and to
suffer injustice bad,—but that suffering injustice is attended with
greater evil than doing injustice with good; so that, when men do each
other injustice, and likewise suffer it, and have a taste of both, it
seems advantageous for those, who are not able to avoid the one and
choose the other, to agree among themselves neither to act unjustly nor
yet to be treated so; and also, that hence they began to form for
themselves laws and compacts, and to call what is enjoined by law lawful
and just.—This, then, is the origin and essence of justice,—a medium
between what is best, namely, when a man acts unjustly with impunity,
and what is worst, that is, when one injured is unable to obtain
redress;—and this justice being half-way between both these, is desired,
not as good, but as being held in honour, owing to an incapacity for
doing injustice; because the man who had ability to do so would never,
if really a man, agree with any one neither to injure nor be injured;
for he would be mad to do so. This, then, Socrates, and such like, is
the nature of justice; and such, as they say, is the source whence it
arises.
CHAP. III.—Again,—that those who cultivate it through an incapability of
doing injustice, cultivate it unwillingly, we shall best be made aware,
if we should mentally conceive such a case as follows:—Let us give full
liberty to each of them, both the just and the unjust, to do whatever
they please,—and then follow them, observing whither inclination will
lead each.—We should then detect[57] the just man going the same way
with the unjust, through a desire of having more than others,—which
every nature naturally pursues as good, but by law and compulsion is led
to respect equality.[58] And the liberty of which I speak may be chiefly
of such a kind, as if they possessed such a power, as they say once
belonged to Gyges (the progenitor of the Lydian king[59]); and of him,
forsooth, they say, that he was a hired shepherd with the then governor
of Lydia, but when a portion of ground was torn up by a prodigious rain
and earthquake, and an opening made in the place where he was grazing
[his flocks,]—that, in astonishment at the sight, he descended and saw
other wonders besides, which men hand down in fables, especially a
brazen horse, hollow, provided with doors, leaning against which, he
beheld inside a dead body, apparently larger than that of a man, and
that it had nothing else except that it wore a gold ring on its hand,
which he took off and came out. And when there was a meeting of the
shepherds, as usual, for making their monthly report to the king about
their flocks, he also came with the ring; and while sitting with the
rest, he happened to turn the stone of the ring towards himself into the
inner part of his hand; and when this was done, he became invisible to
those who sat beside him, and they talked of him as absent: and
astonished at this, he again handled his ring, turned the stone outward,
and on turning it became visible. On observing this, then, he made trial
of the ring, whether it had this power; and it always happened so, that,
when he turned the stone inward, he became invisible,—when outward,
visible. Perceiving this, he instantly contrived to be made one of the
embassy to the king; and on his arrival he debauched his wife, and, with
her, assaulted and killed the king,[60] and took possession of the
kingdom. If now, there were two such rings, and the just man had one,
and the unjust the other, no one, we should think, would be so
case-hardened as to persevere in justice, and dare to refrain from
others’ property and not touch it, when it was in his power both to take
fearlessly, even from the market-place, whatever he pleased, and to
enter houses, and embrace any one he pleased,—both to kill and loose
from chains whomever he pleased,—and to do anything else likewise, as a
god among men:—acting in this manner, he would in no respect differ from
the other, but both would go the same road. This, in truth, one may say,
is a strong proof, that no one is willingly just, but only by
constraint, as if it were not an intrinsic good, because every one,
where he thinks he can, does injustice. Every man, then, thinks that
injustice is intrinsically much more profitable than justice, thinking
truly, as he says, who argues on such a subject as this: inasmuch as, if
any one possessed of such a liberty were never to act unjustly, nor
touch others’ property, he would be deemed by men of sense to be most
wretched, and most void of understanding; yet would they praise him in
each others’ presence, mutually deceiving one another through fear of
being injured. Thus much, then, concerning these things.
-----
Footnote 57:
ἐπ’ αὐτοφώρῳ λαβεῖν, lit. _to catch in the fact_.
Footnote 58:
Euripides in his Phœn. v. 545, &c., elegantly expresses a similar
notion:—
——κεῖνο κάλλιον, τέκνον,
ἰσότητα τιμᾷν, ἣ φίλους ἀεὶ φίλοις
πόλεις τε πόλεσι, συμμάχους τε συμμάχοις
ξυνδεῖ· τὸ γὰρ ἴσον νόμιμον ἀνθρώποις ἔφυ.
τῷ πλέονι δ’ ἀεὶ πολέμιον καθίσταται
τοὔλασσον.
To honour justice, and to love the right,
Which friends to friends and state to state unite,
Be ours. We honour equal aims and ends;
But still the greater with the less contends,
And evil times begin.
Footnote 59:
The words between brackets are considered spurious by Stallbaum, but
admitted as genuine by Bekker and Schneider. The pretty generally
received opinion now is, that ὁ Λυδός alludes to Crœsus, who was
highly celebrated throughout Greece, and hence was emphatically termed
“The Lydian.” Comp., however, Herod. i. 8 (pp. 4, 5. Cary’s Transl.),
who tells a somewhat different story.
Footnote 60:
Gyges slew Candaules in the second year of the sixteenth Olympiad,
B.C. 614. See Cic. de Offic. iii. 9, where the story is given in
nearly the same form.
-----
CHAP. IV.—With respect, again, to the decision on the life of those of
whom we are speaking,—if we distinguish the supremely just and the
supremely unjust, we shall be able to come to a right judgment,—but not
otherwise; and what, then, is this distinction? It is this;—let us, from
the unjust man, take nothing of injustice, nor from the just man, of
justice; but let us make each of them perfect in his own pursuit. First,
then, let the unjust man act as clever artists [do]. For instance, a
skilful pilot or physician comprehends both the possible and impossible
in his art, the former of which he attempts, but relinquishes the
latter;—and again, if he meet with any failure, he is able to rectify
it:—so, in like manner, let the unjust man when he attempts clever acts
of injustice, remain concealed, if he intends to be exceedingly unjust;
but, as for him that is caught, he must be deemed worthless: for the
most complete injustice is—to seem just, when not so.[61] To the
completely unjust, then, we must ascribe the most complete injustice,
and not take it from him, but allow him, while doing the greatest
injustice, to win the highest reputation for justice; and, if he should
fail at all, he should be able to rectify it, and be capable of speaking
persuasively, if any report of his unjust deeds get abroad, and be able
also to effect by force what requires force, owing to his courage and
strength, and through the instrumentality of his friends and his wealth;
supposing him, then, to be such as this, let us for argument place in
contrast with him a just, simple-minded, and generous-hearted man, who,
according to Æschylus, desires less the seeming than the reality of
goodness:[62] let us take from him, then, the mere seeming of goodness;
for, should he seem just, honours and rewards will be his lot, because
he merely seems so:—and thus [it may be] uncertain whether he be such
for the sake of justice, or rewards and honours. Let him be stripped,
then, of everything but justice, and be placed in direct contrast to the
other;—without doing injustice too, let him have the reputation of doing
the greatest,—in order that he may be put to the test for justice, and
not be moved to reproach and its consequences, but rather be
unchangeable till death, seeming, indeed, to be unjust through life,
though really just; and that thus both arriving at the extreme,—one of
justice, the other of injustice, we may judge which of the two is the
happier.
-----
Footnote 61:
Comp. here Cicero de Off. i. c. 13. Totius autem injustitiæ nulla
capitalior est, quàm eorum, qui, quum maximè fallunt, id agunt, ut
viri boni esse videantur.
Footnote 62:
The entire passage here alluded to is from the Septem cont. Thebas, v.
577:—
Οὐ γὰρ δοκεῖν δίκαιος, ἀλλ’ εἶναι θέλων,
Βαθεῖαν ἄλοκα διὰ φρενὸς καρπούμενος,
Ἐξ ἧς τὰ κεδνὰ βλαστάνει βουλεύματα.
-----
CHAP. V.—Bah, bah, said I, dear Glaucon, how exceedingly anxious you are
to cleanse each of these men for trial, just as [you would] a statue! As
much, said he, as I can: but, as they are such, there will be no
difficulty, I suppose, in ascertaining what life will be the lot of
either. It shall be told, then:—and, even if it should be told with more
than usual bluntness, think not, that it is I who tell it, Socrates, but
those who praise injustice before justice.—This then will they say, that
the just man, thus situated, will be scourged, tortured, fettered, have
his eyes burnt out, and lastly, suffer all manner of evils, and be
crucified;[63] and he will know too, that a man should desire not to be,
but to appear just. As for that saying of Æschylus, too, it applied far
better against the unjust man: for in reality men will say, that the
unjust man, as being in pursuit of an object connected with truth, and
not living according to opinion, has no desire to appear, but to be
unjust,—
Reaping the hollow furrow of his mind,
Whence all his cherished councils blossom forth.
In the first place, he holds the magistracy in the state, because he is
thought just,—next, he marries out of whatever family he pleases, and
gives his children in marriage to whom he pleases, forms agreements and
joins in partnership with whom he likes,—and, besides all this, succeeds
in all his projects for gain, because he scruples not to commit
injustice. When he engages, therefore, in competitions, he both in
private and public surpasses and overreaches his adversaries; and by
this overreaching gets rich, serves his friends, hurts his foes; and to
the gods, as respects sacrifices and offerings, he not only sufficiently
but even magnificently both sacrifices and makes offerings, serving far
better than the just man, not only the gods, but of men also whomsoever
he pleases; so that it is very likely that he should be a greater
favourite of the gods than the just man. Thus, they say, Socrates, that
with gods and men a better life awaits the unjust than the just.
-----
Footnote 63:
A similar passage occurs in Cicero de Republ. iii. 17:—Proque hac
opinione bonus ille vir vexetur, rapiatur, manus ei denique
offerantur, effodiantur oculi, damnetur, vinciatur, uratur,
exterminetur, exeat, postremo jure etiam optimo omnibus miserrimus
esse videatur.
-----
CHAP. VI.—Glaucon having said this, I was thinking of saying something
in reply; but his brother Adimantus said—Do you not think, Socrates,
that enough has been already said on the matter? What then? said I. The
very point has not been mooted, said he, which ought most especially to
have been discussed. Why then, said I, as the saying is, let a brother
help a brother,—so that, if he fails at all, do you help him out:—yet,
as far as I am concerned, what he has alleged is quite sufficient to
defeat me, and disable me from defending justice.
And he in reply said: Oh, it is a mere nothing you allege;—but still
hear this in addition;—for we must go through all the arguments in
opposition to what he has said, [those, namely,] which praise justice
and condemn injustice,—in order that it may be more clearly seen, what,
I think, Glaucon means: and perhaps parents tell and exhort their sons,
as all those do who care for them, that they ought to be just,—not
commending justice for itself, but for the reputation arising
therefrom;—and hence to a man reputed to be just, there may accrue from
that very repute both state-offices and marriage-connections, and
whatever Glaucon just now enumerated as the consequences of being
reputed just: these, however, carry this notion of repute too far;—for,
throwing in the approbation of the gods, they can speak of abundant
blessings, which, they say, the gods bestow on the holy. Just as noble
Hesiod and Homer say;—the former, that the gods make oaks produce for
just men
Acorns at top, and in the middle bees;
Their woolly sheep are laden thick with fleece;[64]
and a great many other good things of the same nature:—similarly, also,
the latter:—
[Unrivalled, like the praise] of some great king,
Who o’er a numerous people and renown’d
Presiding like a deity, maintains
Justice and truth. The earth under his sway
Her produce yields abundantly; the trees
Fruit-laden bend; the lusty flocks bring forth;
The ocean teems with finny swarms beneath
His joint control, and all the land is blest.[65]
Musæus, too, and his son [Eumolpus] tell us, that the gods give just men
far more splendid blessings than these;[66] for carrying them in his
poem into Hades, and placing them at table in company with holy men, at
a feast prepared for them, they crown them, and make them pass the whole
of their time drunken,—deeming eternal inebriation to be the best reward
of virtue.—Some, however, extend down still further than these the
rewards from the gods; for they say, that children’s children, and a
future generation of the holy and faithful, are left on earth. These,
then, and such as these, are their eulogies of justice. As for the
unholy and unjust, however, they bury them in Hades, in mud, and compel
them to carry water in a sieve;—and as for those that are yet living, if
they lead them into wrong notions, as Glaucon did in enumerating the
punishments of just persons, but reputed unjust,—this they can allege
about the unjust, but nothing else. The praise then or blame belongs to
either party [as they please].
-----
Footnote 64:
Hesiod. Op. et Di. v. 231. Comp. Virg. Eclog. iv. 30, and Hor. Epod.
xvi. 47.
Footnote 65:
Hom. Odyss. xix. 109-113.
Footnote 66:
Eumolpus, the son of Musæus, was a Thracian, who emigrated into
Attica, and founded the Eleusinian mysteries,—from whom also the
Athenians in charge of the rites were called Eumolpidæ. See Smith’s
Dict. of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology,—articles _Musæus_
and _Eumolpus_;—also Kreuzer’s Symbolik. vol. iv. p. 342, &c.
-----
CHAP. VII.—In addition to this, however, consider, Socrates, another
species of argument about justice and injustice, referred to both
privately and by poets; for all with one mouth celebrate temperance and
justice[67] as beautiful, but still difficult and laborious, but
intemperance and injustice as sweet and easy of attainment, though by
repute only and law disgraceful: and they mostly say, that unjust are
more profitable than just actions; and wicked rich men, and such as have
power of any kind, either public or private, they are quite willing to
pronounce happy and to honour both publicly and privately, but to
despise and overlook those who may be at all weak and poor, even though
they acknowledge them to be better than the others.—But of all these
arguments, the most marvellous are those concerning the gods and
virtue,—as if it were a matter of course, that the gods allot
misfortunes and an evil life to many good men, and to the opposite, an
opposite fate. Pedlar-priests[68] also, and prophets, frequenting the
gates of the rich, persuade them, that they possess a power granted them
by the gods, of expiating by sacrifices and incantations in the midst of
pleasures and feastings, whatever injustice has been committed by any
one, or his forefathers: and if he wishes to blast a foe, he can at
small expense injure the just, as well as the unjust, by certain
blandishments and magic ties, persuading the gods, as they say, to
succour them: and to all these discourses they bring the poets as
witnesses; who, mentioning man’s predisposition to vice, say,—
How vice at once and easily we choose;
The way so smooth, its dwelling too so nigh;
Toil before virtue, thus forewill’d the gods—[69]
and a certain road, both long and steep;—while others make Homer witness
as to the persuasive power of men over the gods, inasmuch as that poet
says,—
... the gods
In virtue thy superiors, are themselves
Yet placable; and if a mortal man
Offend by transgression of their laws.
Libation, incense, sacrifice, and prayers
In meekness offer’d turn their wrath away.[70]
They bring forward, too, a crowd of books of Musæus and Orpheus, the
offspring of the Moon and the Muses, as they say, in accordance with
which they perform their sacred rites, persuading not only private
individuals, but states likewise, that both absolutions and purgations
from iniquities are effected by sacrifices, and sportive pleasures,—and
this, too, for the benefit of the living as well as the dead;—which
purgations they call _mysteries_,[71] which absolve us from the evils of
another life,—whereas a dreadful fate awaits those who perform no
sacrifice.
-----
Footnote 67:
Comp. Hesiod. Op. et D. v. 287, &c., and Epicharmus, cited by
Xenophon, Mem. II. 1. § 20.
Footnote 68:
The ἀγύρται were a species of itinerant sacrificers, who went about
collecting money for the expense of sacrifices to certain gods or
goddesses, and contrived to eke out a subsistence by imposing on the
vulgar, whom they supplied also with nostrums, and cheated with lying
prophecies.
Footnote 69:
Hes. Op. et D. v. 285-288;—and they are cited also in the Laws, iv. p.
718, e.
-----
CHAP. VIII.—As respects all such and so much as has been said, dear
Socrates, about virtue and vice, and what reward both men and gods
attach thereto,—what do we suppose the souls of our youth do when they
hear them, such at least as are of good natural parts, and able to rush,
as it were, to all that is said, and thence infer in what sort of
character, and by what procedure one may best pass through life? He
might probably say to himself, according to Pindar,—
Shall I yon rampart, loftier far
Than justice, dare ascend,—or crooked fraud
Invite, to cheat the world, and thus
Myself live cased in guilt’s base panoply.[72]
For what is said happens to me, if I am just, though I am not reputed
so, they say it is no profit, but clearly, mere trouble and
punishment,—whereas the unjust man, who has procured for himself the
reputation of justice, is said to have a divine life. Since then, as the
sages tell me,[73] appearance both does violence to reality, and is the
arbiter of happiness, I ought surely to turn wholly thereto, drawing
round myself, as a covering and picture, an image of virtue, but still
dragging after me the cunning and versatile fox of that very clever
Archilochus.[74] Perhaps, however, some one will say,—it is not easy for
a bad man always to practise his wickedness in secret.—Neither is
anything else easy (will we say) of important matters: but still, would
we be happy, thither we must go where the tracks of reasoning lead us:
for, with a view to concealment, we shall form conspiracies and
associations; and there are masters of persuasion, who teach a popular
and forensic wisdom,—by which, partly though persuasion and partly by
force, we may escape punishment after all our over-reaching. However, it
is not possible either to escape the notice of the gods, or to overpower
them.
-----
Footnote 70:
Il. ix. 493.
Footnote 71:
Gr. τελετάς.
Footnote 72:
See _Boeckh_, _Pindari Fragm._ ccxxxii. p. 671.
Footnote 73:
_Simonidis Fragm._ cxxiii. ed. Gaisford, i. p. 394.
-----
Wherefore, if they have no existence, and have no care about human
affairs, neither need we care about concealment; and as respects their
existence and care for us, we neither know nor have heard of them
otherwise than from traditions, and from the poets who write their
genealogies;[75] and these very persons tell us, that they are to be
moved and persuaded by sacrifices and propitiatory vows, and
offerings,—both of which we are to believe, or neither. If, however, we
are to believe both, we may do injustice, and offer sacrifice from the
fruits of unjust deeds. For if we be just, we shall escape punishment
from the gods, and then deprive ourselves of the gains of injustice: but
if, on the other hand, we be unjust, we shall make gain, and after
transgressing and offending, shall appease them by prayers, and so
escape punishment. Nevertheless, we shall suffer in Hades the punishment
of our misdeeds here, either ourselves, or our children’s children. But
the reasoner may say, Friend, the mysteries again can do much, and the
gods who expiate,—as say the mightiest states, and those children of the
gods,—the poets and prophets, who declare that these things are so.
-----
Footnote 74:
That is, apparently, _virtue_; but, in reality, mere _cunning_.
Archilochus has written more than one piece, in which the fox plays
the part of a cunning and deceitful personage. See _Archil. Fragm._
ed. Gaisf. i. pp. 307, 308.
Footnote 75:
That the gods exercise no care over human affairs was a favourite
doctrine of the sophists, and especially of Protagoras. Comp. Theæt.
p. 162, d. with Cicero de Nat. Deor. i. ch. 23. See also De Legg. p.
885, d. e.—ἡμῶν μὲν γὰρ οἱ μὲν τὸ παράπαν θεοὺς οὐδαμῶς νομίζουσιν, οἱ
δὲ μηδὲν ἡμῶν φροντίζειν, οἱ δὲ εὐχαῖς παράγεσθαι ... νῦν μὲν γὰρ
ταῦτα ἀκούοντές τε καὶ τοιαῦθ’ ἕτερα τῶν λεγομένων ἀρίστων εἶναι
ποιητῶν τε καὶ ῥητόρων καὶ μαντέων καὶ ἱερέων καὶ ἄλλων
πολλακισμυρίων, οὐκ ἐπὶ τὸ μὴ δρᾷν τὰ ἄδικα τρεπόμεθα οἱ πλεῖστοι,
δράσαντες δὲ ἐξακεῖσθαι πειρώμεθα.
-----
CHAP. IX.—For what reason, then, should we prefer justice before the
greatest injustice?—Should we acquire it by any unfair pretences, we
shall, both with reference to gods and men, fare according to our wishes
both in life and death, as we are told by the sayings both of the
multitude and the learned too.—From all that has been said, then,
Socrates, how shall a man contrive to acquire a will for honouring
justice, who has any power of mind, or wealth, or body, or birth, and
not rather laugh at hearing its praises? Although, therefore, a man be
able even to show what we have said to be false, and fully knows that
justice is best, he will, perhaps, greatly excuse and not be angry with
the unjust, because he knows, that unless a man through a divine
instinct abhor injustice, or from knowledge abstain from it,—of all the
rest not one is willingly just, but either through cowardice, old age,
or some other weakness, condemns injustice, when unable to do it. That
it is so, is plain;—for the first of such persons, who arrives at the
power, is the first to commit injustice, as far as he is able.
The reason of all this, again, is no other than that, from whence all
this discussion set out between my brother and me and you, Socrates,
because, among all of you, my wonderful man, who call yourselves the
eulogists of justice, from these ancient heroes downwards, of all whose
arguments are left to the men of the present time, no one has ever yet
condemned injustice, nor praised justice, otherwise than as respects the
repute, honours, and emoluments arising therefrom; while, as respects
either of them in itself, and subsisting by its own power in the soul of
the possessor, and concealed both from gods and men, no one has yet
sufficiently investigated, either in poetry or prose-writing,—how,
namely, that the one is the greatest of all the evils that the soul has
within it, and justice the greatest good: for had it from the beginning
been thus stated by you all, and you had so persuaded us from our youth,
we should not need to guard against injustice from our fellows, but
every man would be the best guardian over himself, through fear, lest by
doing injustice he should dwell with the greatest evil. These things,
Socrates, and, perhaps also, yet more than these, Thrasymachus, and
others too, might say respecting justice and injustice, perverting their
power, disagreeably as I conceive:[76]—but, I, for I wish to conceal
nothing from you, am very anxious to hear your refutation, and so say
the most I can by way of opposition.—Do not, therefore, merely show us
in your reasoning, that justice is better than injustice, but in what
way each by itself affects the mind, the one as in itself evil, and the
other as good; and put out of the question mere opinion, as Glaucon
recommended; for if you do not set aside the true opinions on both
sides, and add those that are false, we will say you do not praise
justice, but its appearance, and do not condemn injustice, but its
appearance,—advising the unjust man to hide himself, and agreeing with
Thrasymachus that justice is a foreign good expedient for the more
powerful, while injustice is what is expedient and profitable for one’s
self, but inexpedient for the inferior. Since, then, you have granted
that justice is one of those greatest goods, which on account of their
results are worthy to be possessed, but yet far more in themselves for
their own sake,—such as sight, hearing, wisdom, health, and all other
genuine goods, such as are so in their own nature, and not merely in
opinion; for this very reason we may praise justice, as intrinsically,
in itself, profitable to its owner, and injustice harmful; but as for
rewards and repute, let others sing their praises.—I could endure,
perhaps, that the rest of the world should thus praise justice and
condemn injustice, complimenting and reviling the opinions and rewards
that concern them; but certainly [I could not endure] it in you (except
you absolutely require it), because you have passed the whole of life,
engaged in no other inquiry but this.—Show us, then, in course of the
discussion, not only that justice is better than injustice, but also
what either intrinsically by itself makes its owner, whether concealed
or not from gods and men, the one being good, and the other evil.
-----
Footnote 76:
φορτικῶς, ὥς γ’ ἐμοὶ δοκεῖ.
-----
CHAP. X.—On hearing this, pleased, as I always am, with the disposition
of Glaucon and Adimantus, I was then, in particular, perfectly
delighted, and replied: O sons of that worthy sire [the Sophist,[77]]
with good reason does the lover of Glaucon thus begin his elegies [which
he made] on you, when you distinguished yourselves in the battle of
Megara.[78]
Ariston’s sons! of sire renown’d afar,
That race divine....
-----
Footnote 77:
The phrase ἐκείνου τοῦ ἀνδρός does not refer to their father Cephalus,
but to some sophist of whom they were the disciples, and whose dogmas
they defended. The words are similarly used in the Philebus. Comp.
also παῖδες ζωγράφων in Legg. vi. p. 769, b.
Footnote 78:
A battle fought near Megara between the Athenians and Corinthians, in
which the former were victors; Ol. 80, 4 (B.C. 453). Comp. Thuc. i.
105; Diod. Sic. xi. 79.
-----
This, friends, seems well observed; for you must be under some influence
quite divine, if you are not persuaded that injustice is better than
justice, when you can thus speak in its defence. Still methinks, you are
not really persuaded; and I reason from the rest of your behaviour;
because, according to your mode of talking, I should certainly have
disbelieved you:—but the more I trust you, the more I am at a loss, as
to the kind of argument I should use. I know not, indeed, how I am to
defend it,—as I seem unable:—and the proof of it is, that, as respects
what I thought I had clearly shown in arguing with Thrasymachus, that
justice is better than injustice, you did not admit my proofs;—nor, on
the other hand, have I any excuse for not defending it; because I fear
it may be impious to abandon justice, and see it accused when I am
present, without defending it, so long as I have breath and am able to
speak. It is best then to assist it in such a manner as I can. Hereupon
Glaucon and the rest entreated me by all means to defend it, and not
relinquish the discussion, but rather investigate thoroughly the nature
of each, and what the truth is, as to their respective advantages. I
then stated what I thought,—that the inquiry we were attempting was no
trifling one, but one, as appears to me, suited for sharp-sighted
persons. Since then, said I, we are not very expert, it seems proper to
make such an investigation of it, as if a person should order persons
not very sharp-sighted to read small letters at a distance, and then
find out that the same letters are rather larger elsewhere, and in a
larger field;—it would then appear desirable, methinks, first to read
these, and then examine the lesser, whether they happen to be the same.
By all means, said Adimantus. But what analogy do you perceive,
Socrates, in the inquiry about justice? I will tell you, said I:—do we
not say that justice affects an individual man and an entire state also?
Certainly, replied he. Is not a state a greater object than an
individual? Greater, said he. Perhaps, then, justice will be more fully
developed in what is greater, and also more easily intelligible:—we will
first, then, if you please, inquire what it is in states; and then, we
will in like manner examine it in the individual, searching for the
similitude of the greater in the idea of the less. Yes,—you seem to me,
said he, to speak rightly. If then, said I, we contemplate in argument
the rise of a state, shall we not also perceive the rise of justice and
injustice? Perhaps so, said he. Well then, if this be the case, is there
no ground for hoping that we shall more easily find the object of our
inquiry? Just so. Does it not seem, then, that we ought to try after
success? for I imagine this is a work of no small importance. Consider
then. We have considered, said Adimantus, and do you the same.
CHAP. XI.—A state then, said I, takes its rise, methinks,—because none
of us individually happens to be self-sufficient, but stands in need of
many things; do you think that there is any other origin of the
settlement of a state?[79] None, said he. Thus, then, one assisting one
person for the want of one thing, and another another for the want of
another, as we stand in need of many things, we collect into one
dwelling many companions and assistants, and to this joint dwelling we
give the name of city; do we not? Certainly. One then imparts to
another, if he does impart anything, or receives in exchange, thinking
it will be for his advantage? Certainly. Come then, said I, let us, for
argument’s sake, form a city from the beginning;—our necessity, as it
seems, will form it? Of course. But the first and the greatest of wants
is the provision of food, in order that we may subsist and live?
Assuredly. The second is of lodging, the third of clothing, and the
like? Just so. But come, said I, how will the city be able to make so
great a provision?—Shall not one be a husbandman, another a builder, a
third a weaver;—and must we not add to them a shoemaker, or some one
else of those that minister to our bodily wants? Certainly. The state
then, that is most in need, will consist of only four or five men?[80]
It appears so. What then? must each of these contribute his work for the
whole in common?—as, for instance, must the husbandman, though only one,
provide food for four, and spend fourfold time and labour in providing
food and sharing it with others; or is he, without any care for them, to
prepare for himself alone the fourth part of this food in the fourth
part of the time, while of the other three parts of his time, he employs
one in the providing a house, another clothing, the other shoes,—and not
trouble himself to share with others, but give his whole attention to
his own affairs? And Adimantus said—Aye, but perhaps the former way,
Socrates, is easier than the latter. By Zeus, that is not amiss, said
I:—for, while you are speaking, I am thinking that first of all we are
born not each perfectly alike to each, but differing in disposition,—one
fitted for doing one thing, and another for another;—does it not seem so
to you? It does. What then?—Will a man do better, when, as a single
individual, he works in many arts, or only in one? When one works in
one, said he. This, moreover, is also plain, methinks;—that if one miss
the seasonable time for any work, it is ruined? Clearly. Aye,—for the
work, methinks, will not wait on the leisure of the workman, but the
workman must necessarily attend closely on his work, not in the way of a
by-job? He must. And hence more will be done, and better, and with
greater ease, when every one does but one thing, according to his
genius, at the proper time, and when at leisure from all other pursuits.
Quite so, said he. Surely, Adimantus, we need more citizens than four
for the provisions that we mentioned: for the husbandman, it seems, will
not himself make his own plough, if it is to be good, nor yet a spade or
any other instruments of agriculture:—neither, again, will the
builder,—for he, likewise, needs many things; and in the same way, the
weaver also and the shoemaker:—is it not so? True. Carpenters, then, and
smiths, and many other such workmen, by becoming members of our little
city, make it throng? Certainly. Yet it would be no very great matter,
either, if we added to them herdsmen also, and shepherds, and all other
sorts of graziers,—in order that both the husbandmen may have oxen for
ploughing, and the builders by aid of the husbandmen may have cattle for
their carriages, and the weavers also, and shoemakers, hides and wool.
Yet it would be no very small city, said he, that had all these.
Moreover, said I, it is all but impossible to settle the city itself in
such a place that it will not require imported goods. Impossible.
Surely, then, it will require others in addition, to bring to it what it
needs from other cities. It will require them. And, moreover, if the
servant were to go empty, taking with him nothing that they need from
whom what they themselves require is imported, he will return empty;
will he not? I think so. It is necessary for them, then, not only to
produce what is sufficient for themselves, but such and as many things
also, as are required by those whose services they require. It ought.
Our city, then, certainly wants many more husbandmen and other kinds of
workmen. Aye, many more. And all other servants besides, to import and
export the several articles; and these are merchants, are they not? Yes.
We shall want merchants then, as well? Certainly. And if the traffic is
carried on by sea, it will want many others besides, skilled in
navigation. Many others, truly.
-----
Footnote 79:
Aristotle has made some unnecessarily severe strictures on this notion
in his Polit. iv. ch. 4, which are ingeniously refuted by Morgenstern,
Comment. de Plat. Rep. on this passage.
Footnote 80:
Comp. here the strictures in Aristotle’s Polit. iv. 3 and 4.
-----
CHAP. XII.—What then;—in the city itself, how will they exchange with
one another what each has produced, for the sake of which, we have
formed a city and established a community? It is plain, said he, that by
selling and buying [they will do so]. A market-place, therefore, and an
established coinage, as a symbol for the purposes of exchange, must
spring up from hence. Certainly. If then the husbandman, or any other
workman, bring any of his work to the market, but does not come at the
same time as those who want to make exchanges with him, will he not,
while sitting in the market, be unoccupied at his trade? By no means,
said he; for there are some, who, observing this, devote themselves to
this service; and, in well-regulated cities, they are chiefly such, as
are weakest in body and unfit for any other work;—these then should
attend about the market, to give money in exchange for what people wish
to sell, and goods in exchange for money to such as want to buy. It is
this want, said I, that provides our city with a race of shopkeepers;
for do we not call those shopkeepers, who sit in the market, and serve
both in selling and buying; whereas such as travel to other cities we
call merchants? Certainly. There are certain other servants still, I
conceive, who, though as regards intellectual power unworthy to be taken
into society, yet possess bodily strength adequate for labour; and these
selling the use of their strength, and calling the reward of it hire,
are called, I think, hired labourers;—are they not? Just so. Hired
labourers then, as it seems, form the complement of a city. Aye, it
seems so. Has our city then, Adimantus, so increased on us already, as
to be complete? Perhaps. Where, then, will justice and injustice be
placed in it; and, in which of the matters that we have considered is it
engendered? I do not know, said he, Socrates, unless it be somehow in a
certain use of these very things with one another. Perhaps, said I, you
are right:—but yet we must consider the point, and not avoid it. First,
then, let us consider how the persons thus procured are to be
supported.—In making bread and wine, and clothes, and shoes, and
building houses, will they not work in summer, chiefly without clothes
and shoes, but in winter, sufficiently clad and shod? and will they be
supported partly on barley made into meal, and partly on wheat made into
loaves, partly boiled and partly toasted, with fine loaves and cakes
placed over a fire of stubble or dried leaves, and will they feast, they
and their children, resting on couches strewed with smilax and
myrtle-leaves,—drinking wine, crowned, and singing to the gods,
pleasantly living together, begetting children not beyond their means,
and cautiously guarding against poverty or war?
CHAP. XIII.—Glaucon then, in answer, said: You make the men feast, it
seems, without esculents.[81] You say true, said I: I forgot that they
were to have esculents too;—and they will clearly have salt, and olives,
and cheese, and will boil bulbous roots, and potherbs, such as are
cooked in the fields: and we will set before them desserts of figs,
peas, and beans; and they will toast at the fire myrtle-berries and
beech-nuts, drinking in moderation; and thus passing their life in peace
healthily, they will die in old age, probably, and leave a similar mode
of life to their children. Socrates, said he, if you had been making a
city of hogs, on what else but these would you have fed them? But what
ought we to do then, Glaucon? said I. What is usual, said he: let them
lie down on beds, I think, unless they are to live miserably, and take
their meals from tables, and have esculents, as the present men have,
and desserts. Be it so, said I:—I understand. We are considering, it
seems, not only how a city, but how a luxurious city may exist; and
perhaps it is not amiss: for, in considering one of this character, we
may probably see how justice and injustice arise in cities. But the true
city, which we have lately described, seems to me just like a person
that is in health; but if you are desirous that we should inspect, also,
a city that is inflated, there can be no objection to it: for these
things [that concern a merely simple mode of life] will not of course
suffice for some, nor will this sort of life satisfy them; but there
must be beds, tables, and all other articles of furniture,—seasonings,
unguents, and perfumes, mistresses, confections, and many miscellaneous
articles of this description. And especially as to what we before
mentioned, we must no longer consider these as alone necessary,—namely,
houses, and clothes, and shoes; but we must set in operation painting
too, and all the refined arts, and must possess gold, and ivory, and all
things of that kind; must we not? Yes, said he.
-----
Footnote 81:
The Greek ὄψον is not to be translated, except by a periphrasis. It
strictly means _boiled meat_, as opposed to bread,—but more generally,
as here, anything eaten with bread or other food to give it flavour
and relish.
-----
CHAP. XIV.—Must we not, then, increase the size of our city?—For that
healthy one is no longer sufficient, but already full of repletion and
abundance of such things as are in nowise requisite for cities,—such as
all kinds of sportsmen, and imitative artists, many of whom imitate in
figures and colours, and many in music: poets too, and their assistants,
rhapsodists, actors, dancers, contractors,[82] and manufacturers of all
sorts of trinkets, especially of those belonging to female attire; and
in that case, too, we shall require many more servants; and think you
not they will require teachers, nurses, tutors, hair-dressers, barbers,
confectioners, too, and cooks? Aye, and further still, we shall want
swine-herds. Of these, indeed, there were none in the other state (for
there needed none); but in this we shall need these also; and shall
require, too, many other sorts of cattle, if any one eats them; shall we
not? Of course. Shall we not, then, in this mode of life, require
physicians far more than in the former one? Much more.
-----
Footnote 82:
Gr. ἐργολάβοι, i. e. persons undertaking for a certain sum to complete
a house or any other given task.
-----
And the land, perhaps, which at first sufficed to support the
inhabitants, will, instead of being sufficient, become too little; or
how shall we say? Just so, said he. Must we not then cut off a part from
the neighbouring country, if we would have enough for arable and
pasture, and they in turn from ours, if they on their part devote
themselves to the accumulation of boundless wealth, going beyond the
limits of mere necessity?
We must, Socrates, said he. Shall we go to war afterwards, Glaucon, or
how shall we do? Certainly, said he. But let us not yet, said I,
consider the question, whether war produces harm or good,—but thus much
only, that we have found the origin of war, and whence especially arise
mischiefs to cities, both privately and publicly. Aye, indeed. We shall
require, then, friend, a still larger city,—not for a small, but for a
large army, which may go out and fight with those who assail it, for
their whole substance and everything that we have now mentioned. What,
said he, are not these sufficient to fight? No, said I;—not if you and
all of us were rightly agreed, when we formed our state: and we agreed,
if you remember, that it was impossible for a single person to practise
many arts well. True, said he. What then, said I, do not struggles in
war seem to require art? Very much so, said he. Ought we then to take
more care of the shoemaking art than of that of warfare? By no means.
But we charged the shoemaker not to attempt to be at the same time a
husbandman, or a weaver, or a builder, in order that the work of
shoemaking might be well done; and in like manner we allotted to each of
the others a single calling, to which each was adapted by nature, and at
which, each by abstaining from the rest, and applying to it the whole of
his life, and not neglecting the proper opportunities, he would be
likely to work well; but is it not of the greatest importance that what
concerns war should be well performed? or is it so easy that one who is
a husbandman may also be a soldier, and a shoemaker, and one who
practises any other art,—while no one could become a skilful chess or
dice player, who does not study it from childhood, but makes it a mere
by-work? and can a person who takes a spear or other warlike arms and
instruments, instantly become an expert combatant in an armed encounter
or aught else relating to war; while, as respects the tools of any other
art whatever, one cannot become a good artist, or even a wrestler to any
useful extent, without having correct knowledge and bestowing sufficient
attention? In that case, such tools, said he, would truly be very
valuable.
CHAP. XV.—Therefore, said I, by how much more important is the work of
the state-guardians, by so much will it require the greatest leisure
from other pursuits, and likewise the greatest art and study! I really
think so, replied he. And will it not also require natural talents
suited to this particular profession? Of course. I think, then, we
should make it our special business, if possible, to choose what men and
what talents are suited for the guardianship of a state. Aye, our
special business. By Zeus, said I, in that case we have undertaken no
trifling business; but, still we must not despair, as long, at least, as
we have any ability. Of course not, said he. Think you, then, said I,
that the genius of a high-bred whelp at all differs as respects
guardianship, from that of a high-bred youth? What do you mean? For
instance, must not each of them be acute in perception, swift in
pursuing what he perceives, and strong likewise, if he wants, when he
has taken, to overcome it? Of all these there is great need, said he.
And surely he must be brave also, if he is to fight well. Of course. But
is he likely to be brave, who has not a high spirit;[83] whether horse,
or dog, or any other animal? Have you not observed, how irresistible and
invincible is anger, and, when it is present, that every soul is
fearless of everything and indomitable? I have. It is plain, then, what
species of guardian we ought to have, as respects the body? Yes. And
with reference to his soul moreover, that he should be spirited. That is
clear, also. How then, said I, Glaucon, can they be otherwise than
savage towards each other and the other citizens, when of such a temper?
By Zeus, said he, not easily. Still it is necessary, that towards their
friends they should be mild, but towards their enemies fierce:—for
otherwise they would not wait for others to destroy them, but rather be
beforehand with them in doing it. True, said he. What shall we do, then,
said I;—whence shall we find a disposition at the same time mild and
magnanimous?—for the mild nature is surely opposed to the high-spirited?
It appears so. Nevertheless, if he be deprived of either of these, he
cannot be a good guardian; but this seems to be impossible:—and thus it
turns out that it is impossible there should be a good guardian. It
seems so, said he. Then I, being at a loss, and considering what had
passed, said:—We very justly hesitate, my friend, for we have departed
from the image that we first established. How say you? Did we not
observe that there are such kinds of tempers as we imagined did not
exist, having these opposite qualities? Where? One may see it also in
other animals, and not a little in that, to which we compared our
guardian; for you know it is the natural temper of generous dogs to be
as gentle as possible towards their intimates and their acquaintances,
but the reverse to those whom they know not. Aye,—I know it. This then,
said I, is quite possible; and we do not unnaturally require our
guardian to be so. It seems not.
-----
Footnote 83:
Gr. ἐθελήσει, in the sense of μέλλει or δύναται.
-----
CHAP. XVI.—Are you, further, of opinion, that he who is to be our
guardian should, besides being spirited, have a philosophic nature also?
How? said he:—for I do not understand. This too, said I, you will
observe in dogs, what is also well worthy of admiration in the brute.
What? He is angry at every unknown person that he sees, though he has
never suffered ill from him before; but one that is known he fawns upon,
even though he may never have received any good from him. Did you never
wonder at this? I never, said he, thought of it before; but he does so,
it is clear. Moreover, this affection of his nature appears elegant at
least, and truly philosophic. In what respect? Because, said I, it
distinguishes a friendly and unfriendly aspect by nothing else but
this,—that it knows the one, but not the other:—and how can we refuse to
consider that as the love of learning, which defines the friendly and
the foreign by intelligence and ignorance? By no means, said he:—it
cannot be otherwise. Nevertheless, said I, to be a lover of learning and
a philosopher, are the same. The same, said he. May we not then boldly
lay down [the principle,] that in man too, if any one be mild towards
his intimates and acquaintances, he must by nature be a philosopher and
a lover of learning? Let us so lay it down, said he.
He, then, who intends to be a good and worthy state-guardian, should be
by nature a philosopher, spirited, swift, and strong. By all means, said
he. Let him, then, be just such as this, said I. In what manner, then,
shall they be trained and instructed? and will the consideration of this
at all aid us in perceiving the object, for the sake of which we are
considering all these things; that is to say, how justice and injustice
arise in a state? that we may not omit any necessary part of our
argument, or wade through what is superfluous? Then, said Glaucon’s
brother: I, for my part, quite expect, that this inquiry will conduce to
this end. By Zeus, said I, friend Adimantus, we must not dismiss it;
even though it be somewhat too long. No, truly. Come then, let us, as if
we were talking in the way of fable, and at our leisure, give some ideal
training to these men.[84] It is right to do so.
CHAP. XVII.—What then is the education?—Is it difficult to discover a
better than has been discovered for a long time? that is, surely,
gymnastics for the body, and music for the mind? It is. Must we not
first, then, begin by teaching music, rather than gymnastics? Of course.
When you say music, you mean arguments, do you not? I do. But of
arguments there are two kinds,—the one true, the other false. Yes. And
they must be instructed in both,—but first in the false. I do not
understand, said he, what you mean. Know you not, said I, that first of
all we tell children fables;—and this, [surely,] to speak generally, is
falsehood; though there is some truth in it; but we employ fables with
children before gymnastic exercises. We do. This was what I meant, then,
by saying that we must begin music before gymnastics. Right, said he.
And know you not, that the beginning of every work is most important,
especially to any one young and tender;—because then that particular
impression is most easily instilled and formed, which any one may wish
to imprint on each individual. Entirely so. Shall we then let children
hear any kind of fables composed by any kind of persons, and receive
into their minds opinions in a great measure contrary to those which we
think they should have when they are grown up? We should by no means
allow it. First of all, then, as it seems, we must exercise control over
the fable-makers; and whatever beautiful fable they may invent, we
should select, and what is not so, we should reject:—and we are to
prevail on nurses and mothers to repeat to the children such fables as
are selected, and fashion their minds by fables, much more than their
bodies by their hands. But very many of those that they now tell them
must be cast aside. What, for instance? said he. In the more important
fables, said I, we shall see the lesser likewise:—for the fashion of
them must be the same; and both the greater and the less must have the
same kind of influence:—do not you think so? I do, said he: but I do not
at all understand, which of them you call the greater. Those, said I,
which both Hesiod and Homer told us, and the other poets also:—for they
composed and related false fables for mankind, and do still relate them.
What class, said he, do you mean;—and what do you blame in them? That,
said I, which ought first and most of all to be blamed,—especially when
one does not falsify well. What is that? When a poet, in his
composition, exhibits bad representations of the nature of gods and
heroes,—just as a painter draws a picture not at all resembling what he
was intending to paint. Yes, it is quite right, said he, that such as
these should be blamed:—but how do we say, and in what respect? First of
all, said I, with reference to that greatest falsehood, in matters of
grave importance too, in saying which he did not falsify well, that
Uranus made what Hesiod says he did; and then again how Kronos punished
him, and what Kronos did, and suffered from his son:[85] for though
these things were true, yet I think they should not be so readily told
to the unwise and the young, but rather concealed from them;—and were
there need to tell them, they should be heard in secrecy, by as few as
possible, after sacrificing not a [valueless] hog,[86] but some great
and wonderful sacrifice, in order that it may fall to the lot of the
fewest possible to hear them. These fables, said he, are indeed
injurious. Neither are they to be told, Adimantus, said I, in our
state:—nor should it be said in the hearing of a youth, that he who
commits the most extreme injustice, or that he who punishes in every
possible way a father who commits injustice, does nothing strange, but
only does the same as the first and the greatest of the gods. No truly,
said he, nor do such things as these seem to me proper to be said.
Neither, generally, said I, must it be told, how gods war with gods, and
plot and fight against one another (for such assertions are not
true),—if, at least, it be the duty of those who are to guard the state
to esteem it most shameful to hate each other on slight grounds. As
little ought we to describe in fables, and with ornamental aids, the
battles of the giants, and other many and various feuds, both of gods
and heroes, with their own kindred and relations:—but if we would
persuade them that never at all should one citizen hate another, and
that it is not holy, such things as these are rather to be told them in
early childhood, by the old men and women and those well advanced in
life; and the poets should be obliged to compose consistently with these
views. And [the fables of] Hera fettered by her son,[87] and Hephæstus
hurled from heaven by his father for going to assist his mother when
beaten,[88] and all those battles of the gods which Homer has composed,
we must not admit into our state;—either in allegory or without
allegory; for young persons are not able to judge what is allegory and
what is not, but whatever opinions they receive at such an age are wont
to be obliterated with difficulty, and immovable. Hence, one would
think, we should of all things endeavour, that what they first hear be
composed in the best manner for exciting them to virtue.
-----
Footnote 84:
Gr. λόγῳ παιδεύωμεν. Comp. ch. iv. 361 b, and De Legg. iv. p. 712
a:—πλάττειν τῷ λόγῳ νόμους.
Footnote 85:
Comp. Hesiod. Theogon. v. 154-6, and 178-80.
Footnote 86:
Allusion is here made to the mysteries of Eleusis, in which all about
to be initiated sacrificed a hog,—a circumstance referred to by
Aristophanes, Pax, v. 373-5; Acharn. vv. 747 and 764. The verb ἀκοῦσαι
refers to the cabalistic oaths and secrets that were listened to
during the process of initiation.
Footnote 87:
Suidas tells us, under the word Ἥρα, that the myth here alluded to was
mentioned in a passage of Pindar, and that it was to be found also in
a comedy of Epicharmus, both now lost.
Footnote 88:
Comp. Hom. Il. i. v. 588.
-----
CHAP. XVIII.—There is reason for it, said he:—but, if any one should ask
us about these, what they are, and what kind of fables, which should we
name? Adimantus, I replied, you and I are not poets at present, but
founders of a city, and it is the founder’s business to know the models
on which the poets are to compose their fables, contrary to which they
are not to be tolerated; but it is not our province to make fables for
them. Right, said he. But as to this very thing,—namely, the models to
be taken in speaking about the gods, what must they be? Some such as
these, said I:—God is always to be represented such as he is, whether we
represent him in epic, in song, or in tragedy. Necessarily so. Is not
God essentially good, and is he not to be described as such? Without
doubt. But nothing that is good is hurtful, is it? I do not think so.
Does then what is not hurtful ever hurt? By no means. Does that, which
hurts not, do any evil? Nor this either. And what does no evil cannot be
the cause of any evil? Of course not. But what?—good is beneficial. Yes.
It is, therefore, the cause of prosperity? Yes. Good, therefore, is not
the cause of all things, but the cause of those things only which are in
a right state,—not the cause of those things which are in a wrong state.
Entirely so, said he. Neither, then, can God, said I, since he is good,
be the cause of all things, as the many say, but only the cause of a few
things to men, but of many things not the cause; for our blessings are
much fewer than our troubles: and no other must be assigned as the cause
of our blessings; whereas of our troubles we must seek some other
causes, and not God. You seem to me, said he, to speak most truly. We
must not admit, then, said I, that error of Homer or any other poet who
foolishly errs with respect to the gods, and says how—
Fast by the threshold of Jove’s courts are placed
Two casks; one stored with evil, one with good,
From which the God dispenses as he wills.
For whom the glorious Thund’rer mingles both,
He leads a life chequer’d with good and ill
Alternate; but to whom he gives unmix’d
The bitter cup, he makes that man a curse,
His name becomes a by-word of reproach,
His strength is hunger-bitten, and he walks
The blessed earth unblest, go where he may,—[89]
Nor, that Zeus—
Grants mortal man both happiness and woe.
-----
Footnote 89:
Hom. Il. xxiv. v. 527-31.
-----
CHAP. XIX.—As regards the violation of oaths and treaties which Pandarus
effected, if any should say it was done by the agency of Athena and
Zeus, we cannot approve;—neither [if he were to relate] the dissension
among the gods, and the judgment by Themis and Zeus; nor yet must we
suffer the youth to hear what Æschylus says; how,
Forthwith to mortals God invents a cause,
Whene’er he wills their dwellings to destroy;—
and, besides, if any one is making poetical compositions, in which are
these iambics, the sufferings of Niobe, of the Pelopides, or the
Trojans, or others of a like nature, we must either not suffer him to
say, that they are the works of God,—or, if of God, we must discover
that principle of action which we now require, and say, that God did
what was just and good, and that they were benefited by being chastised:
and we must not let a poet say, that those are miserable who are
punished, and that it is God who does these things. If they say,
however, that the wicked, as being miserable, need correction, and that,
in being punished, they are benefited by God, we may suffer the
assertion.—To say, however, that God, who is good, is the cause of ill
to any one, this we must by all means oppose, and suffer no one to say
so in our state; if at any rate we wish it well governed;—neither must
we allow any one, young or old, to hear such things told in fable,
either in verse or prose,—as their relation is neither consistent with
holiness, nor profitable to us, nor consistent with themselves.
I vote along with you, said he, as respects this law,—for it quite
pleases me. This, then, said I, is probably one of the laws and models
as respects the gods, by which it will be necessary for those who speak
to speak and for those who compose to compose, that God is not the cause
of all things, but of good. Yes, said he, of course. But what as to this
second law?—Think you that God is a sorcerer, and appears designedly, at
different times, in different shapes,—sometimes like himself,—and, at
other times, changing his form into many shapes,—sometimes deceiving us
and making us conceive false opinions of him;—or, that he is simple, and
that he by no means quits his proper form? I cannot, now, at least, say
so, replied he. But what as to this;—if anything be changed from its
proper form, must it not be necessarily changed by itself, or by
another? Undoubtedly. Are not those things which are in the best state,
changed and moved least of all other by another;—as the body, by meats
and drinks, and labours, and all kinds of plants by droughts and winds,
and such like accidents? Is not the most healthy and vigorous least of
all changed? Surely. And as to the soul itself, will not external
accidents least of all disorder and change the bravest and wisest? Yes.
And surely all manufactured vessels, and buildings, and vestments, such
as are properly made and in a right state, are according to the same
reasoning least of all changed by time, or other accidents? Such is the
case. Everything then, which is in a good state, either by nature or
art, or both, receives the smallest change from another. It seems so.
But God, and all that belongs to divinity, are in the best state? Of
course. In this way, then, God should least of all have many shapes?
Least of all, truly.
CHAP. XX.—Again,—should he change and alter himself? Clearly so, said
he, if he be changed at all. Does he then change himself to what is
better, and fairer, or to the worse, and more deformed? To the worse,
surely, replied he,—if he be changed at all; for we can never say, that
God is at all deficient in beauty or excellence. You speak most
correctly, said I. And this being so, think you, Adimantus, that any
one, either of gods or men, would willingly make himself any way worse?
Impossible, said he. It is impossible, then, said I, for a god to desire
to change himself; but, as it seems, each being most beautiful and
excellent, continues always to the utmost of his power invariably in his
own form. This seems a necessary conclusion, said he. Well then, said I,
most excellent Adimantus, let not any of the poets tell us, how
... in similitude of strangers oft
The gods, who can with ease all shapes assume,
Repair to populous cities....[90]
Neither let any one belie Proteus and Thetis, nor introduce Hera in
tragedies or other poems, as having transformed herself into a
priestess, collecting for
Those life-sustaining sons
Of Inachus, the Argive streams;—
nor let them tell us many other such falsehoods:—nor again, let mothers,
persuaded by them, terrify their children, telling the stories
wrong,—as, that certain gods wander by night,
Resembling various guests, in various forms,—
lest they should, at one and the same time, blaspheme against the gods,
and make their children cowards. Surely not, said he. But do the gods,
said I, who in themselves never change, still make us imagine that they
appear in various forms, deceiving us, and playing the sorcerer? Perhaps
they do, said he. What, said I;—can a god wish to deceive,—holding up a
mere phantom, either in word or deed? I know not, said he. Know you not,
said I, that a real falsehood (if we be allowed to say so), both all the
gods and men abhor? How mean you? replied he. Thus, said I: that to be
deceived in the most excellent part of oneself, and that about one’s
highest interests, is what no one wishes of his own accord; but, of all
things, every one is most afraid of this happening to him. Even yet,
said he, I do not understand you. Because, said I, you think I am saying
something awful:—but I am saying, that for the soul to be deceived with
respect to realities, and to be so deceived and ignorant, and in that to
have obtained and to maintain a falsehood, is what every one would least
of all choose; and would most hate it in the soul. Most especially, said
he. But this, as I was now saying, might very correctly be termed a real
falsehood—ignorance in the soul of the deceived person; for imitation in
words is a kind of image of the affection the soul feels, and springs up
afterwards, and is not altogether a pure falsehood:—is it not so?
Assuredly.
-----
Footnote 90:
Odyss. xvii. v. 485, 6.
-----
CHAP. XXI.—But a real falsehood is not only hated by the gods, but also
by men. It appears so to me. But what as to a falsehood in words? when
is it of such service, so as not to deserve hatred?—Is it not when
employed towards enemies, and some even of those called friends,—when
during madness, or other folly, they attempt to do some mischief;—in
that case, is it not useful for dissuasion as a drug;—and in the fables
we just mentioned, because we know not how the truth stands about
ancient things, do we not forge a falsehood resembling the truth as much
as possible, and so make it useful? It certainly is so, said he. In
which of these cases, then, is a falsehood useful to God?—Does he invent
a falsehood resembling the truth, because he is ignorant of ancient
things? That were ridiculous, said he. In God, then, there is not a
lying poet? I think not. But would he invent a falsehood through fear of
his enemies? Far from it. Or on account of the folly or madness of his
friends? No, said he, none of the foolish and mad are beloved of God.
There is no occasion at all, then, for a god to invent a falsehood?
None. The divine and godlike nature, then, is altogether free from
falsehood? Entirely so, said he. God, then, is quite simple and true,
both in word and deed; neither is he changed himself, nor does he
deceive others,—neither by visions, nor discourse, nor the pomp of
signs, neither when we are awake nor when we sleep? So it appears to me,
said he, just as you say. You agree then, said I, that this shall be the
second principle which we are to lay down both in speaking and composing
concerning the gods,[91]—namely, that they are neither sorcerers and
change themselves, nor mislead us by falsehoods, either in word or deed?
I agree. While, then, we commend many other things in Homer, this we
shall not commend,—namely, the dream sent by Jupiter to Agamemnon; nor
that in Æschylus, when he makes Thetis say that Apollo had sung at her
marriage, that
... her happy lot should be
To bear an offspring fair, from ailment free,
And blest with lengthen’d days; and then the God,
Unfolding all, with pæans high proclaim’d
Thy heaven-blest fortunes, welcome to my soul
I hoped that all was true that Phœbus sang!
So sweetly tuned with high prophetic art;—
But he who at my nuptials joy foretold,
The same is he, who now hath slain my child.
When any one alleges such things as these about the gods, we must show
disapproval, and not grant them the privilege of a chorus; neither
should we suffer teachers to employ them in the training of youth,—if at
least our guardians are to be pious and divine men, as far as man can
be. As to all these models, I entirely agree with you, said he, and I
should adopt them as laws.
-----
Footnote 91:
Gr. τοῦτον δεύτερον τύπον εἶναι ἐν ᾧ δεῖ περὶ θεῶν καὶ λέγειν καὶ
ποιεῖν.
-----
THE END OF THE SECOND BOOK.