Socratesτὰ μὲν δὴ περὶ θεούς, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τοιαῦτʼ ἄττα, ὡς ἔοικεν, ἀκουστέον τε καὶ οὐκ ἀκουστέον εὐθὺς ἐκ παίδων τοῖς θεούς τε τιμήσουσιν καὶ γονέας τήν τε ἀλλήλων φιλίαν μὴ περὶ σμικροῦ ποιησομένοις.
καὶ οἶμαί γʼ, ἔφη, ὀρθῶς ἡμῖν φαίνεσθαι.
τί δὲ δὴ εἰ μέλλουσιν εἶναι ἀνδρεῖοι; ἆρα οὐ ταῦτά τε λεκτέον καὶ οἷα αὐτοὺς ποιῆσαι ἥκιστα τὸν θάνατον δεδιέναι; 386b ἢ ἡγῇ τινά ποτʼ ἂν γενέσθαι ἀνδρεῖον ἔχοντα ἐν αὑτῷ τοῦτο τὸ δεῖμα;
μὰ Δία, ἦ δʼ ὅς, οὐκ ἔγωγε.
Socrates“So where the gods are concerned,” I said, “these, it seems, are the sorts of things that people should and shouldn’t hear from childhood on, if they’re going to honor the gods and their parents and not think lightly of their friendship with one another.”
“And I think,” he said, “we’re right about that.”
“What if they’re to be courageous? Mustn’t we tell them these things, and also things that will make them least afraid of death? 386b Or do you think anyone could ever become courageous with this terror inside him?”
“No, by Zeus,” he said, “I don’t.”
τί δέ; τἀν Ἅιδου ἡγούμενον εἶναί τε καὶ δεινὰ εἶναι οἴει τινὰ θανάτου ἀδεῆ ἔσεσθαι καὶ ἐν ταῖς μάχαις αἱρήσεσθαι πρὸ ἥττης τε καὶ δουλείας θάνατον;
οὐδαμῶς.
δεῖ δή, ὡς ἔοικεν, ἡμᾶς ἐπιστατεῖν καὶ περὶ τούτων τῶν μύθων τοῖς ἐπιχειροῦσιν λέγειν, καὶ δεῖσθαι μὴ λοιδορεῖν ἁπλῶς οὕτως τὰ ἐν Ἅιδου ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον ἐπαινεῖν, ὡς οὔτε ἀληθῆ 386c ἂν λέγοντας οὔτε ὠφέλιμα τοῖς μέλλουσιν μαχίμοις ἔσεσθαι.
δεῖ μέντοι, ἔφη.
“And what about this? If someone believes that the things in Hades are real and terrible, do you think he’ll be fearless of death and choose death in battle over defeat and slavery?”
“Not at all.”
“Then it seems we must supervise those who undertake to tell these stories too, and ask them not simply to disparage the things in Hades like this but rather to praise them, since what they say is 386c neither true nor beneficial to those who are going to be fighters.”
“Yes, we must,” he said.
ἐξαλείψομεν ἄρα, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἀπὸ τοῦδε τοῦ ἔπους ἀρξάμενοι πάντα τὰ τοιαῦτα— βουλοίμην κʼ ἐπάρουρος ἐὼν θητευέμεν ἄλλῳ ἀνδρὶ παρʼ ἀκλήρῳ, ᾧ μὴ βίοτος πολὺς εἴη ἢ πᾶσιν νεκύεσσι καταφθιμένοισιν ἀνάσσειν καὶ τὸ— 386d οἰκία δὲ θνητοῖσι καὶ ἀθανάτοισι φανείη σμερδαλέʼ, εὐρώεντα, τά τε στυγέουσι θεοί περ καὶ— ὢ πόποι, ἦ ῥά τις ἔστι καὶ εἰν Ἀΐδαο δόμοισιν ψυχὴ καὶ εἴδωλον, ἀτὰρ φρένες οὐκ ἔνι πάμπαν καὶ τὸ— οἴῳ πεπνῦσθαι, ταὶ δὲ σκιαὶ ἀΐσσουσι καὶ— ψυχὴ δʼ ἐκ ῥεθέων πταμένη Ἄϊδόσδε βεβήκει, ὃν πότμον γοόωσα, λιποῦσʼ ἀνδροτῆτα καὶ ἥβην
“Then we’ll strike out,” I said, “all passages like this, starting with this verse: ‘I would rather be a laborer on the land, serving another man, some man with no land and not much to live on, than be king over all the dead who have perished.’ And this: 386d ‘and lest his house be revealed to mortals and immortals, dreadful and moldering, which even the gods abhor.’ And: ‘Ah me, so there is something even in the house of Hades, a soul and a phantom, but no mind in it at all.’ And this: ‘He alone has his wits; the others flit about as shadows.’ And: ‘His soul flew from his limbs and went to Hades, bewailing its fate, leaving manhood and youth behind.’
καὶ τὸ— ψυχὴ δὲ κατὰ χθονός, ἠΰτε καπνός, ᾤχετο τετριγυῖα καὶ— ὡς δʼ ὅτε νυκτερίδες μυχῷ ἄντρου θεσπεσίοιο τρίζουσαι ποτέονται, ἐπεί κέ τις ἀποπέσῃσιν ὁρμαθοῦ ἐκ πέτρης, ἀνά τʼ ἀλλήλῃσιν ἔχονται, ὣς αἳ τετριγυῖαι ἅμʼ ᾔεσαν. 387b ταῦτα καὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα πάντα παραιτησόμεθα Ὅμηρόν τε καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους ποιητὰς μὴ χαλεπαίνειν ἂν διαγράφωμεν, οὐχ ὡς οὐ ποιητικὰ καὶ ἡδέα τοῖς πολλοῖς ἀκούειν, ἀλλʼ ὅσῳ ποιητικώτερα, τοσούτῳ ἧττον ἀκουστέον παισὶ καὶ ἀνδράσιν οὓς δεῖ ἐλευθέρους εἶναι, δουλείαν θανάτου μᾶλλον πεφοβημένους.
παντάπασι μὲν οὖν.
“And this: ‘His soul went beneath the earth like smoke, shrieking.’ And: ‘As when bats in the depths of an eerie cave flit about shrieking, when one has fallen from the cluster off the rock and they cling to one another, so they went together, shrieking.’ 387b We’ll ask Homer and the other poets not to be angry if we cross out these and all such passages—not because they aren’t poetic and pleasant for most people to hear, but because the more poetic they are, the less they should be heard by boys and men who are meant to be free and to fear slavery more than death.”
“Absolutely.”
οὐκοῦν ἔτι καὶ τὰ περὶ ταῦτα ὀνόματα πάντα τὰ δεινά τε καὶ φοβερὰ ἀποβλητέα, Κωκυτούς τε καὶ Στύγας καὶ 387c “νέρους” καὶ “ἀλίβαντας”, καὶ ἄλλα ὅσα τούτου τοῦ τύπου ὀνομαζόμενα φρίττειν δὴ ποιεῖ ὡς “οἴεται” πάντας τοὺς ἀκούοντας. καὶ ἴσως εὖ ἔχει πρὸς ἄλλο τι· ἡμεῖς δὲ ὑπὲρ τῶν φυλάκων φοβούμεθα μὴ ἐκ τῆς τοιαύτης φρίκης θερμότεροι καὶ μαλακώτεροι τοῦ δέοντος γένωνται ἡμῖν.
καὶ ὀρθῶς γʼ, ἔφη, φοβούμεθα.
ἀφαιρετέα ἄρα;
ναί.
τὸν δὲ ἐναντίον τύπον τούτοις λεκτέον τε καὶ ποιητέον;
δῆλα δή. 387d
“Then we must also throw out all the terrible and frightening names connected with these things—Cocytus and Styx, 387c ‘those below’ and ‘the withered dead,’ and all the other names of this sort which make everyone who hears them shudder—or so the poet supposes. Perhaps they’re fine for some other purpose. But we’re afraid for our guardians: that shudders like these will make them more heated and softer than they should be.”
“And we’re right to be afraid,” he said.
“So they must be removed?”
“Yes.”
“And the opposite pattern must be used in speaking and in poetry?”
“Obviously.” 387d
Heroes who lament and laugh
Socrates removes from poetry scenes of heroes lamenting, laughing or behaving intemperately.
καὶ τοὺς ὀδυρμοὺς ἄρα ἐξαιρήσομεν καὶ τοὺς οἴκτους τοὺς τῶν ἐλλογίμων ἀνδρῶν;
ἀνάγκη, ἔφη, εἴπερ καὶ τὰ πρότερα.
σκόπει δή, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, εἰ ὀρθῶς ἐξαιρήσομεν ἢ οὔ. φαμὲν δὲ δὴ ὅτι ὁ ἐπιεικὴς ἀνὴρ τῷ ἐπιεικεῖ, οὗπερ καὶ ἑταῖρός ἐστιν, τὸ τεθνάναι οὐ δεινὸν ἡγήσεται.
φαμὲν γάρ.
οὐκ ἄρα ὑπέρ γʼ ἐκείνου ὡς δεινόν τι πεπονθότος ὀδύροιτʼ ἄν.
οὐ δῆτα.
ἀλλὰ μὴν καὶ τόδε λέγομεν, ὡς ὁ τοιοῦτος μάλιστα αὐτὸς αὑτῷ αὐτάρκης πρὸς τὸ εὖ ζῆν καὶ διαφερόντως τῶν 387e ἄλλων ἥκιστα ἑτέρου προσδεῖται.
“Then we’ll also remove the wailing and lamentation of famous men?”
“We must,” he said, “if we removed the earlier things.”
“Consider, then,” I said, “whether we’ll be right to remove them or not. We say that a decent man won’t think death a terrible thing for another decent man whose friend he is.”
“We do say that.”
“Then he wouldn’t lament for him as though he had suffered something terrible.”
“Certainly not.”
“And we also say this: that such a man is, more than anyone, sufficient in himself for living well, and that he, above all 387e others, has the least need of anyone else.”
ἀληθῆ, ἔφη.
ἥκιστα ἄρʼ αὐτῷ δεινὸν στερηθῆναι ὑέος ἢ ἀδελφοῦ ἢ χρημάτων ἢ ἄλλου του τῶν τοιούτων.
ἥκιστα μέντοι.
ἥκιστʼ ἄρα καὶ ὀδύρεσθαι, φέρειν δὲ ὡς πρᾳότατα, ὅταν τις αὐτὸν τοιαύτη συμφορὰ καταλάβῃ.
πολύ γε.
ὀρθῶς ἄρʼ ἂν ἐξαιροῖμεν τοὺς θρήνους τῶν ὀνομαστῶν ἀνδρῶν, γυναιξὶ δὲ ἀποδιδοῖμεν, καὶ οὐδὲ ταύταις σπουδαίαις, 388a καὶ ὅσοι κακοὶ τῶν ἀνδρῶν, ἵνα ἡμῖν δυσχεραίνωσιν ὅμοια τούτοις ποιεῖν οὓς δή φαμεν ἐπὶ φυλακῇ τῆς χώρας τρέφειν.
ὀρθῶς, ἔφη.
“True,” he said.
“So for him it’s least terrible of all to be deprived of a son or a brother, or money, or anything else of that kind.”
“Least of all, certainly.”
“Then he laments least, too, and bears it as calmly as he can when some such misfortune overtakes him.”
“Very much so.”
“So we’d be right to remove the dirges of famous men and give them to women—and not to the serious ones at that— 388a and to men of poor character, so that those we say we’re raising to guard the country will be disgusted at the idea of behaving like them.”
“Right,” he said.
πάλιν δὴ Ὁμήρου τε δεησόμεθα καὶ τῶν ἄλλων ποιητῶν μὴ ποιεῖν Ἀχιλλέα θεᾶς παῖδα— ἄλλοτʼ ἐπὶ πλευρᾶς κατακείμενον, ἄλλοτε δʼ αὖτε ὕπτιον, ἄλλοτε δὲ πρηνῆ, τοτὲ δʼ ὀρθὸν ἀναστάντα πλωΐζοντʼ ἀλύοντʼ ἐπὶ 388b θῖνʼ ἁλὸς ἀτρυγέτοιο, μηδὲ ἀμφοτέραισιν χερσὶν ἑλόντα κόνιν αἰθαλόεσσαν χευάμενον κὰκ κεφαλῆς , μηδὲ ἄλλα κλαίοντά τε καὶ ὀδυρόμενον ὅσα καὶ οἷα ἐκεῖνος ἐποίησε, μηδὲ Πρίαμον ἐγγὺς θεῶν γεγονότα λιτανεύοντά τε καὶ— κυλινδόμενον κατὰ κόπρον, ἐξονομακλήδην ὀνομάζοντʼ ἄνδρα ἕκαστον.
“Once again, then, we’ll ask Homer and the other poets not to portray Achilles, the son of a goddess, ‘lying now on his side, now on his back, and now on his face, then getting up and wandering distraught along 388b the shore of the barren sea,’ nor ‘taking the sooty dust in both hands and pouring it over his head,’ nor weeping and lamenting in all the ways and as often as Homer made him do; nor Priam, a near descendant of the gods, begging and ‘rolling in the dung, calling on each man by name.’
πολὺ δʼ ἔτι τούτων μᾶλλον δεησόμεθα μήτοι θεούς γε ποιεῖν ὀδυρομένους καὶ λέγοντας— 388c ὤμοι ἐγὼ δειλή, ὤμοι δυσαριστοτόκεια· εἰ δʼ οὖν θεούς, μήτοι τόν γε μέγιστον τῶν θεῶν τολμῆσαι οὕτως ἀνομοίως μιμήσασθαι, ὥστε ὢ πόποι, φάναι, ἦ φίλον ἄνδρα διωκόμενον περὶ ἄστυ ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ὁρῶμαι, ἐμὸν δʼ ὀλοφύρεται ἦτορ· καὶ— αἲ αἲ ἐγών, ὅ τέ μοι Σαρπηδόνα φίλτατον ἀνδρῶν 388d μοῖρʼ ὑπὸ Πατρόκλοιο Μενοιτιάδαο δαμῆναι. εἰ γάρ, ὦ φίλε Ἀδείμαντε, τὰ τοιαῦτα ἡμῖν οἱ νέοι σπουδῇ ἀκούοιεν καὶ μὴ καταγελῷεν ὡς ἀναξίως λεγομένων, σχολῇ ἂν ἑαυτόν γέ τις ἄνθρωπον ὄντα ἀνάξιον ἡγήσαιτο τούτων καὶ ἐπιπλήξειεν, εἰ καὶ ἐπίοι αὐτῷ τι τοιοῦτον ἢ λέγειν ἢ ποιεῖν, ἀλλʼ οὐδὲν αἰσχυνόμενος οὐδὲ καρτερῶν πολλοὺς ἐπὶ σμικροῖσιν παθήμασιν θρήνους ἂν ᾄδοι καὶ ὀδυρμούς. 388e
“Much more still, we’ll ask them not to portray gods lamenting and saying, 388c ‘Ah me, poor wretch, ah me, unhappy mother of the best of men!’ And if they must portray gods, at least they mustn’t dare to represent the greatest of the gods so unlike himself as to say, ‘Alas, a man dear to me is being chased around the city, I see it with my own eyes, and my heart grieves,’ and, ‘Ah me, that it is fated for Sarpedon, dearest of men to me, 388d to be brought down by Patroclus, son of Menoetius!’ For, my dear Adeimantus, if our young people listened to things like this seriously and didn’t laugh at them as unworthy, they would hardly think such things beneath themselves, being merely human, or rebuke themselves if it occurred to them to say or do anything of the sort. Instead, without shame or endurance, they’d sing many dirges and laments over small misfortunes.” 388e
ἀληθέστατα, ἔφη, λέγεις.
δεῖ δέ γε οὔχ, ὡς ἄρτι ἡμῖν ὁ λόγος ἐσήμαινεν· ᾧ πειστέον, ἕως ἄν τις ἡμᾶς ἄλλῳ καλλίονι πείσῃ.
οὐ γὰρ οὖν δεῖ.
ἀλλὰ μὴν οὐδὲ φιλογέλωτάς γε δεῖ εἶναι. σχεδὸν γὰρ ὅταν τις ἐφιῇ ἰσχυρῷ γέλωτι, ἰσχυρὰν καὶ μεταβολὴν ζητεῖ τὸ τοιοῦτον.
δοκεῖ μοι, ἔφη.
οὔτε ἄρα ἀνθρώπους ἀξίους λόγου κρατουμένους ὑπὸ 389a γέλωτος ἄν τις ποιῇ, ἀποδεκτέον, πολὺ δὲ ἧττον, ἐὰν θεούς.
πολὺ μέντοι, ἦ δʼ ὅς.
“What you say is very true,” he said.
“But that mustn’t happen, as our argument just showed us—and we must be persuaded by it until someone persuades us with a better one.”
“No, it mustn’t.”
“Nor should they be fond of laughter. For when someone gives in to violent laughter, it tends to bring on a violent swing the other way.”
“So it seems to me,” he said.
“Then if anyone portrays people of any account overcome by 389a laughter, we mustn’t accept it—much less if it’s gods.”
“Much less,” he said.
οὐκοῦν Ὁμήρου οὐδὲ τὰ τοιαῦτα ἀποδεξόμεθα περὶ θεῶν— ἄσβεστος δʼ ἄρʼ ἐνῶρτο γέλως μακάρεσσι θεοῖσιν, ὡς ἴδον Ἥφαιστον διὰ δώματα ποιπνύοντα· οὐκ ἀποδεκτέον κατὰ τὸν σὸν λόγον.
εἰ σύ, ἔφη, βούλει ἐμὸν τιθέναι· οὐ γὰρ οὖν δὴ 389b ἀποδεκτέον.
ἀλλὰ μὴν καὶ ἀλήθειάν γε περὶ πολλοῦ ποιητέον. εἰ γὰρ ὀρθῶς ἐλέγομεν ἄρτι, καὶ τῷ ὄντι θεοῖσι μὲν ἄχρηστον ψεῦδος, ἀνθρώποις δὲ χρήσιμον ὡς ἐν φαρμάκου εἴδει, δῆλον ὅτι τό γε τοιοῦτον ἰατροῖς δοτέον, ἰδιώταις δὲ οὐχ ἁπτέον.
δῆλον, ἔφη.
“Then we won’t accept things like this from Homer about the gods either: ‘Unquenchable laughter arose among the blessed gods when they saw Hephaestus bustling through the hall.’ By your argument we mustn’t accept it.”
“If you want to call it mine,” he said. “Anyway, it mustn’t 389b be accepted.”
“But we must also value truth highly. If we were right just now, and falsehood really is useless to gods but useful to human beings as a kind of medicine, then clearly something like that must be left to doctors, and private individuals mustn’t touch it.”
“Clearly,” he said.
τοῖς ἄρχουσιν δὴ τῆς πόλεως, εἴπερ τισὶν ἄλλοις, προσήκει ψεύδεσθαι ἢ πολεμίων ἢ πολιτῶν ἕνεκα ἐπʼ ὠφελίᾳ τῆς πόλεως, τοῖς δὲ ἄλλοις πᾶσιν οὐχ ἁπτέον τοῦ τοιούτου· 389c ἀλλὰ πρός γε δὴ τοὺς τοιούτους ἄρχοντας ἰδιώτῃ ψεύσασθαι ταὐτὸν καὶ μεῖζον ἁμάρτημα φήσομεν ἢ κάμνοντι πρὸς ἰατρὸν ἢ ἀσκοῦντι πρὸς παιδοτρίβην περὶ τῶν τοῦ αὑτοῦ σώματος παθημάτων μὴ τἀληθῆ λέγειν, ἢ πρὸς κυβερνήτην περὶ τῆς νεώς τε καὶ τῶν ναυτῶν μὴ τὰ ὄντα λέγοντι ὅπως ἢ αὐτὸς ἤ τις τῶν συνναυτῶν πράξεως ἔχει.
ἀληθέστατα, ἔφη. 389d
“Then if anyone is entitled to lie, it’s the rulers of the city, in dealing with enemies or citizens for the city’s benefit; nobody else may touch such a thing. 389c For a private individual to lie to such rulers, we’ll say, is as great a mistake as—no, a greater one than—for a patient not to tell his doctor the truth about the condition of his own body, or an athlete his trainer, or for a sailor not to tell the captain the facts about the ship and the crew, and how he himself or one of his shipmates is doing.”
“Very true,” he said. 389d
ἂν ἄρʼ ἄλλον τινὰ λαμβάνῃ ψευδόμενον ἐν τῇ πόλει— τῶν οἳ δημιοεργοὶ ἔασι, μάντιν ἢ ἰητῆρα κακῶν ἢ τέκτονα δούρων, κολάσει ὡς ἐπιτήδευμα εἰσάγοντα πόλεως ὥσπερ νεὼς ἀνατρεπτικόν τε καὶ ὀλέθριον.
ἐάνπερ, ἦ δʼ ὅς, ἐπί γε λόγῳ ἔργα τελῆται.
τί δέ; σωφροσύνης ἆρα οὐ δεήσει ἡμῖν τοῖς νεανίαις;
πῶς δʼ οὔ;
σωφροσύνης δὲ ὡς πλήθει οὐ τὰ τοιάδε μέγιστα, ἀρχόντων 389e μὲν ὑπηκόους εἶναι, αὐτοὺς δὲ ἄρχοντας τῶν περὶ πότους καὶ ἀφροδίσια καὶ περὶ ἐδωδὰς ἡδονῶν;
ἔμοιγε δοκεῖ.
“So if the ruler catches anyone else in the city lying—‘any of those who are craftsmen, a prophet, or healer of ills, or joiner of timber’—he’ll punish him for introducing a practice that capsizes and destroys a city just as it would a ship.”
“He will,” he said, “if deeds are to follow words.”
“What next? Won’t our young people need moderation?”
“Of course.”
“And for most people, aren’t these the most important parts of moderation: to obey the rulers, 389e and themselves to rule over the pleasures of drink, sex and food?”
“I think so.”
τὰ δὴ τοιάδε φήσομεν οἶμαι καλῶς λέγεσθαι, οἷα καὶ Ὁμήρῳ Διομήδης λέγει— τέττα, σιωπῇ ἧσο, ἐμῷ δʼ ἐπιπείθεο μύθῳ, καὶ τὰ τούτων ἐχόμενα, τὰ— ἴσαν μένεα πνείοντες Ἀχαιοί, σιγῇ δειδιότες σημάντορας, καὶ ὅσα ἄλλα τοιαῦτα.
καλῶς.
τί δέ; τὰ τοιάδε— οἰνοβαρές, κυνὸς ὄμματʼ ἔχων, κραδίην δʼ ἐλάφοιο 390a καὶ τὰ τούτων ἑξῆς ἆρα καλῶς, καὶ ὅσα ἄλλα τις ἐν λόγῳ ἢ ἐν ποιήσει εἴρηκε νεανιεύματα ἰδιωτῶν εἰς ἄρχοντας;
οὐ καλῶς.
“Then we’ll say, I think, that things like what Diomedes says in Homer are well said: ‘Friend, sit in silence and do as I say,’ and the lines that go with it: ‘The Achaeans marched breathing fury, in silence, fearing their commanders,’ and everything else like that.”
“Well said.”
“What about things like this: ‘Heavy with wine, with a dog’s eyes and a deer’s heart,’ 390a and the lines after it? Are they well said—or any other insolence toward rulers from people under them that anyone has uttered in prose or verse?”
“No, they’re not.”
οὐ γὰρ οἶμαι εἴς γε σωφροσύνην νέοις ἐπιτήδεια ἀκούειν· εἰ δέ τινα ἄλλην ἡδονὴν παρέχεται, θαυμαστὸν οὐδέν. ἢ πῶς σοι φαίνεται;
οὕτως, ἔφη.
“No, because I don’t think they’re fit for young people to hear—not for the sake of moderation, anyway. That they provide some other pleasure is no surprise. How does it look to you?”
“Just so,” he said.
τί δέ; ποιεῖν ἄνδρα τὸν σοφώτατον λέγοντα ὡς δοκεῖ αὐτῷ κάλλιστον εἶναι πάντων, ὅταν— παρὰ πλεῖαι ὦσι τράπεζαι 390b σίτου καὶ κρειῶν, μέθυ δʼ ἐκ κρητῆρος ἀφύσσων οἰνοχόος φορέῃσι καὶ ἐγχείῃ δεπάεσσι, δοκεῖ σοι ἐπιτήδειον εἶναι πρὸς ἐγκράτειαν ἑαυτοῦ ἀκούειν νέῳ; ἢ τὸ— λιμῷ δʼ οἴκτιστον θανέειν καὶ πότμον ἐπισπεῖν; ἢ Δία, καθευδόντων τῶν ἄλλων θεῶν τε καὶ ἀνθρώπων ὡς, μόνος ἐγρηγορὼς ἃ ἐβουλεύσατο, τούτων πάντων ῥᾳδίως 390c ἐπιλανθανόμενον διὰ τὴν τῶν ἀφροδισίων ἐπιθυμίαν, καὶ οὕτως ἐκπλαγέντα ἰδόντα τὴν Ἥραν, ὥστε μηδʼ εἰς τὸ δωμάτιον ἐθέλειν ἐλθεῖν, ἀλλʼ αὐτοῦ βουλόμενον χαμαὶ συγγίγνεσθαι, λέγοντα ὡς οὕτως ὑπὸ ἐπιθυμίας ἔχεται, ὡς οὐδʼ ὅτε τὸ πρῶτον ἐφοίτων πρὸς ἀλλήλους φίλους λήθοντε τοκῆας · οὐδὲ Ἄρεώς τε καὶ ἀφροδίτης ὑπὸ Ἡφαίστου δεσμὸν διʼ ἕτερα τοιαῦτα.
“And what about making the wisest of men say that the finest thing of all, in his view, is when ‘the tables beside them are loaded 390b with bread and meat, and the wine-server draws wine from the mixing bowl and carries it round and pours it into the cups’? Do you think that’s fit for a young man to hear, for his self-control? Or this: ‘To die of hunger and meet one’s fate is the most pitiful thing’? Or Zeus—while the other gods and men were asleep and he alone was awake—easily 390c forgetting everything he’d planned because of his sexual desire, and so overwhelmed at the sight of Hera that he isn’t even willing to go to their bedroom but wants to lie with her right there on the ground, saying he’s gripped by desire as never before—not even when they first went to each other ‘without their parents knowing’? Or Hephaestus binding Ares and Aphrodite for similar reasons?”
οὐ μὰ τὸν Δία, ἦ δʼ ὅς, οὔ μοι φαίνεται ἐπιτήδειον. 390d
ἀλλʼ εἴ πού τινες, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καρτερίαι πρὸς ἅπαντα καὶ λέγονται καὶ πράττονται ὑπὸ ἐλλογίμων ἀνδρῶν, θεατέον τε καὶ ἀκουστέον, οἷον καὶ τὸ— στῆθος δὲ πλήξας κραδίην ἠνίπαπε μύθῳ· τέτλαθι δή, κραδίη· καὶ κύντερον ἄλλο ποτʼ ἔτλης.
παντάπασι μὲν οὖν, ἔφη.
οὐ μὲν δὴ δωροδόκους γε ἐατέον εἶναι τοὺς ἄνδρας οὐδὲ φιλοχρημάτους. 390e
οὐδαμῶς.
“No, by Zeus,” he said, “it doesn’t seem fit to me.” 390d
“But where famous men show endurance in the face of everything, in word or deed,” I said, “that should be watched and heard—like this: ‘He struck his chest and rebuked his heart: Endure, my heart; you’ve endured worse before now.’”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“And we certainly mustn’t let our men take bribes or love money.” 390e
“Not at all.”
οὐδʼ ᾀστέον αὐτοῖς ὅτι— δῶρα θεοὺς πείθει, δῶρʼ αἰδοίους βασιλῆας· οὐδὲ τὸν τοῦ Ἀχιλλέως παιδαγωγὸν Φοίνικα ἐπαινετέον ὡς μετρίως ἔλεγε συμβουλεύων αὐτῷ δῶρα μὲν λαβόντι ἐπαμύνειν τοῖς Ἀχαιοῖς, ἄνευ δὲ δώρων μὴ ἀπαλλάττεσθαι τῆς μήνιος.
οὐδʼ αὐτὸν τὸν Ἀχιλλέα ἀξιώσομεν οὐδʼ ὁμολογήσομεν οὕτω φιλοχρήματον εἶναι, ὥστε παρὰ τοῦ Ἀγαμέμνονος δῶρα λαβεῖν, καὶ τιμὴν αὖ λαβόντα νεκροῦ 391a ἀπολύειν, ἄλλως δὲ μὴ ʼθέλειν.
οὔκουν δίκαιόν γε, ἔφη, ἐπαινεῖν τὰ τοιαῦτα.
“Nor must they sing to them, ‘Gifts persuade gods, gifts persuade revered kings.’ Nor must we praise Achilles’ tutor Phoenix as speaking sensibly when he advised him to take gifts and defend the Achaeans, but not to give up his wrath without gifts.
“Nor will we think it right, or agree, that Achilles himself was such a lover of money that he took gifts from Agamemnon, and again that he accepted payment for a corpse 391a and released it, but otherwise refused.”
“Well, it’s certainly not right,” he said, “to praise things like that.”
ὀκνῶ δέ γε, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, διʼ Ὅμηρον λέγειν ὅτι οὐδʼ ὅσιον ταῦτά γε κατὰ Ἀχιλλέως φάναι καὶ ἄλλων λεγόντων πείθεσθαι, καὶ αὖ ὡς πρὸς τὸν Ἀπόλλω εἶπεν— ἔβλαψάς μʼ ἑκάεργε, θεῶν ὀλοώτατε πάντων· ἦ σʼ ἂν τισαίμην, εἴ μοι δύναμίς γε παρείη· 391b καὶ ὡς πρὸς τὸν ποταμόν, θεὸν ὄντα, ἀπειθῶς εἶχεν καὶ μάχεσθαι ἕτοιμος ἦν, καὶ αὖ τὰς τοῦ ἑτέρου ποταμοῦ Σπερχειοῦ ἱερὰς τρίχας Πατρόκλῳ ἥρωϊ, ἔφη, κόμην ὀπάσαιμι φέρεσθαι , νεκρῷ ὄντι, καὶ ὡς ἔδρασεν τοῦτο, οὐ πειστέον· τάς τε αὖ Ἕκτορος ἕλξεις περὶ τὸ σῆμα τὸ Πατρόκλου καὶ τὰς τῶν ζωγρηθέντων σφαγὰς εἰς τὴν πυράν, σύμπαντα ταῦτα οὐ φήσομεν ἀληθῆ εἰρῆσθαι, οὐδʼ ἐάσομεν 391c πείθεσθαι τοὺς ἡμετέρους ὡς Ἀχιλλεύς, θεᾶς ὢν παῖς καὶ Πηλέως, σωφρονεστάτου τε καὶ τρίτου ἀπὸ Διός, καὶ ὑπὸ τῷ σοφωτάτῳ Χείρωνι τεθραμμένος, τοσαύτης ἦν ταραχῆς πλέως, ὥστʼ ἔχειν ἐν αὑτῷ νοσήματε δύο ἐναντίω ἀλλήλοιν, ἀνελευθερίαν μετὰ φιλοχρηματίας καὶ αὖ ὑπερηφανίαν θεῶν τε καὶ ἀνθρώπων.
“Out of respect for Homer,” I said, “I hesitate to say that it isn’t even pious to say these things against Achilles, or to believe others who say them. But these things mustn’t be believed either: that he said to Apollo, ‘You’ve thwarted me, Far-shooter, most destructive of all the gods; I’d pay you back, if only I had the power’; 391b that he defied the river, a god, and was ready to fight it; and that of the locks of hair consecrated to the other river, the Spercheus, he said, ‘Let me give my hair to the hero Patroclus to take with him’—who was a corpse—and that he did it. And Hector dragged around Patroclus’ tomb, and the captives slaughtered on the pyre: we’ll say that none of this is truly told, and we won’t let 391c our people believe that Achilles—son of a goddess and of Peleus, the most moderate of men and third in descent from Zeus, and brought up by the wise Chiron—was so full of turmoil that he had in him two diseases opposed to each other: a meanness that went with love of money, and at the same time arrogance toward gods and men.”
μὴ τοίνυν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, μηδὲ τάδε πειθώμεθα μηδʼ ἐῶμεν λέγειν, ὡς Θησεὺς Ποσειδῶνος ὑὸς Πειρίθους τε Διὸς 391d ὥρμησαν οὕτως ἐπὶ δεινὰς ἁρπαγάς, μηδέ τινʼ ἄλλον θεοῦ παῖδά τε καὶ ἥρω τολμῆσαι ἂν δεινὰ καὶ ἀσεβῆ ἐργάσασθαι, οἷα νῦν καταψεύδονται αὐτῶν· ἀλλὰ προσαναγκάζωμεν τοὺς ποιητὰς ἢ μὴ τούτων αὐτὰ ἔργα φάναι ἢ τούτους μὴ εἶναι θεῶν παῖδας, ἀμφότερα δὲ μὴ λέγειν, μηδὲ ἡμῖν ἐπιχειρεῖν πείθειν τοὺς νέους ὡς οἱ θεοὶ κακὰ γεννῶσιν, καὶ ἥρωες ἀνθρώπων οὐδὲν βελτίους· ὅπερ γὰρ ἐν τοῖς πρόσθεν ἐλέγομεν, 391e οὔθʼ ὅσια ταῦτα οὔτε ἀληθῆ· ἐπεδείξαμεν γάρ που ὅτι ἐκ θεῶν κακὰ γίγνεσθαι ἀδύνατον.
“Then let’s not believe this either,” I said, “or allow it to be said: that Theseus son of Poseidon and Pirithous son of Zeus 391d set out on terrible abductions, or that any other child of a god, any hero, would have dared to do the terrible and impious deeds people now falsely tell of them. Let’s compel the poets either to deny that these deeds were theirs or to deny that they were children of gods, and not to say both—and not to try to persuade our young people that the gods produce evil and that heroes are no better than human beings. As we said earlier, 391e these things are neither pious nor true; for we showed, I think, that evil can’t come from gods.”
πῶς γὰρ οὔ;
καὶ μὴν τοῖς γε ἀκούουσιν βλαβερά· πᾶς γὰρ ἑαυτῷ συγγνώμην ἕξει κακῷ ὄντι, πεισθεὶς ὡς ἄρα τοιαῦτα πράττουσίν τε καὶ ἔπραττον καὶ— οἱ θεῶν ἀγχίσποροι, οἱ Ζηνὸς ἐγγύς, ὧν κατʼ Ἰδαῖον πάγον Διὸς πατρῴου βωμός ἐστʼ ἐν αἰθέρι, καὶ— οὔ πώ σφιν ἐξίτηλον αἷμα δαιμόνων.
ὧν ἕνεκα παυστέον τοὺς τοιούτους μύθους, μὴ ἡμῖν πολλὴν 392a εὐχέρειαν ἐντίκτωσι τοῖς νέοις πονηρίας.
κομιδῇ μὲν οὖν, ἔφη.
“Of course not.”
“What’s more, they’re harmful to those who hear them. Everyone will excuse himself for being bad once he’s persuaded that such things are done, and were done, by ‘the gods’ close kin, near to Zeus, whose altar of ancestral Zeus stands high in the air on Ida’s peak,’ and ‘in whom the blood of divinities has not yet faded.’
“For these reasons such stories must be stopped, in case they breed in our young people a great 392a readiness for wickedness.”
“Absolutely,” he said.
τί οὖν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἡμῖν ἔτι λοιπὸν εἶδος λόγων πέρι ὁριζομένοις οἵους τε λεκτέον καὶ μή; περὶ γὰρ θεῶν ὡς δεῖ λέγεσθαι εἴρηται, καὶ περὶ δαιμόνων τε καὶ ἡρώων καὶ τῶν ἐν Ἅιδου.
πάνυ μὲν οὖν.
οὐκοῦν καὶ περὶ ἀνθρώπων τὸ λοιπὸν εἴη ἄν;
δῆλα δή.
ἀδύνατον δή, ὦ φίλε, ἡμῖν τοῦτό γε ἐν τῷ παρόντι τάξαι.
πῶς;
“Then what kind of speech is still left for us,” I said, “as we lay down what may and may not be said? We’ve said how gods should be spoken of, and divinities, heroes and the things in Hades.”
“Certainly.”
“Then what remains would be about human beings?”
“Obviously.”
“But we can’t settle that at present, my friend.”
“Why not?”
ὅτι οἶμαι ἡμᾶς ἐρεῖν ὡς ἄρα καὶ ποιηταὶ καὶ λογοποιοὶ 392b κακῶς λέγουσιν περὶ ἀνθρώπων τὰ μέγιστα, ὅτι εἰσὶν ἄδικοι μὲν εὐδαίμονες πολλοί, δίκαιοι δὲ ἄθλιοι, καὶ ὡς λυσιτελεῖ τὸ ἀδικεῖν, ἐὰν λανθάνῃ, ἡ δὲ δικαιοσύνη ἀλλότριον μὲν ἀγαθόν, οἰκεία δὲ ζημία· καὶ τὰ μὲν τοιαῦτα ἀπερεῖν λέγειν, τὰ δʼ ἐναντία τούτων προστάξειν ᾄδειν τε καὶ μυθολογεῖν. ἢ οὐκ οἴει;
εὖ μὲν οὖν, ἔφη, οἶδα.
οὐκοῦν ἐὰν ὁμολογῇς ὀρθῶς με λέγειν, φήσω σε ὡμολογηκέναι ἃ πάλαι ζητοῦμεν;
ὀρθῶς, ἔφη, ὑπέλαβες. 392c
“Because I think we’ll say that poets and prose writers alike 392b speak badly about human beings on the most important matters: that many unjust people are happy and many just people wretched, that injustice pays if it goes undetected, and that justice is someone else’s good and one’s own loss. We’ll forbid them to say such things and order them to sing and tell stories of the opposite. Don’t you think so?”
“I know it well,” he said.
“Then if you agree that I’m right, shall I say you’ve agreed to what we’ve been looking for all along?”
“You’ve understood rightly,” he said. 392c
Narration and imitation
Socrates distinguishes plain narration from imitation and limits what the guardians may imitate.
οὐκοῦν περί γε ἀνθρώπων ὅτι τοιούτους δεῖ λόγους λέγεσθαι, τότε διομολογησόμεθα, ὅταν εὕρωμεν οἷόν ἐστιν δικαιοσύνη καὶ ὡς φύσει λυσιτελοῦν τῷ ἔχοντι, ἐάντε δοκῇ ἐάντε μὴ τοιοῦτος εἶναι;
ἀληθέστατα, ἔφη.
τὰ μὲν δὴ λόγων πέρι ἐχέτω τέλος· τὸ δὲ λέξεως, ὡς ἐγὼ οἶμαι, μετὰ τοῦτο σκεπτέον, καὶ ἡμῖν ἅ τε λεκτέον καὶ ὡς λεκτέον παντελῶς ἐσκέψεται.
καὶ ὁ Ἀδείμαντος, τοῦτο, ἦ δʼ ὅς, οὐ μανθάνω ὅτι λέγεις. 392d
“So we’ll agree that such stories must be told about human beings only when we’ve discovered what justice is, and how by nature it benefits its possessor, whether he seems just or not?”
“Very true,” he said.
“Then let that be the end of what concerns content. Next, I think, we must examine style, and then we’ll have fully examined both what must be said and how.”
And Adeimantus said, “I don’t understand what you mean by that.” 392d
ἀλλὰ μέντοι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, δεῖ γε· ἴσως οὖν τῇδε μᾶλλον εἴσῃ. ἆρʼ οὐ πάντα ὅσα ὑπὸ μυθολόγων ἢ ποιητῶν λέγεται διήγησις οὖσα τυγχάνει ἢ γεγονότων ἢ ὄντων ἢ μελλόντων;
τί γάρ, ἔφη, ἄλλο;
ἆρʼ οὖν οὐχὶ ἤτοι ἁπλῇ διηγήσει ἢ διὰ μιμήσεως γιγνομένῃ ἢ διʼ ἀμφοτέρων περαίνουσιν;
καὶ τοῦτο, ἦ δʼ ὅς, ἔτι δέομαι σαφέστερον μαθεῖν.
γελοῖος, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἔοικα διδάσκαλος εἶναι καὶ ἀσαφής· ὥσπερ οὖν οἱ ἀδύνατοι λέγειν, οὐ κατὰ ὅλον ἀλλʼ ἀπολαβὼν 392e μέρος τι πειράσομαί σοι ἐν τούτῳ δηλῶσαι ὃ βούλομαι.
“Well, you should,” I said. “Maybe you’ll understand better this way. Isn’t everything told by storytellers or poets a narration of things past, present or future?”
“What else could it be?” he said.
“And don’t they carry it out by plain narration, or by narration that works through imitation, or by both?”
“This too,” he said, “I need to understand more clearly.”
“I seem to be a ridiculous and unclear teacher,” I said. “So, like people who are bad at explaining, I won’t take the whole thing, but I’ll take 392e one part and try to show you in it what I mean.
καί μοι εἰπέ· ἐπίστασαι τῆς Ἰλιάδος τὰ πρῶτα, ἐν οἷς ὁ ποιητής φησι τὸν μὲν Χρύσην δεῖσθαι τοῦ Ἀγαμέμνονος ἀπολῦσαι τὴν θυγατέρα, τὸν δὲ χαλεπαίνειν, τὸν δέ, ἐπειδὴ 393a οὐκ ἐτύγχανεν, κατεύχεσθαι τῶν Ἀχαιῶν πρὸς τὸν θεόν;
ἔγωγε.
“Tell me: do you know the beginning of the Iliad, where the poet says that Chryses begged Agamemnon to release his daughter, that Agamemnon was angry, and that Chryses, since 393a he didn’t get what he asked, prayed to the god against the Achaeans?”
“I do.”
οἶσθʼ οὖν ὅτι μέχρι μὲν τούτων τῶν ἐπῶν— καὶ ἐλίσσετο πάντας Ἀχαιούς, Ἀτρείδα δὲ μάλιστα δύω, κοσμήτορε λαῶν λέγει τε αὐτὸς ὁ ποιητὴς καὶ οὐδὲ ἐπιχειρεῖ ἡμῶν τὴν διάνοιαν ἄλλοσε τρέπειν ὡς ἄλλος τις ὁ λέγων ἢ αὐτός· τὰ δὲ μετὰ ταῦτα ὥσπερ αὐτὸς ὢν ὁ Χρύσης λέγει καὶ πειρᾶται 393b ἡμᾶς ὅτι μάλιστα ποιῆσαι μὴ Ὅμηρον δοκεῖν εἶναι τὸν λέγοντα ἀλλὰ τὸν ἱερέα, πρεσβύτην ὄντα. καὶ τὴν ἄλλην δὴ πᾶσαν σχεδόν τι οὕτω πεποίηται διήγησιν περί τε τῶν ἐν Ἰλίῳ καὶ περὶ τῶν ἐν Ἰθάκῃ καὶ ὅλῃ Ὀδυσσείᾳ παθημάτων.
“Then you know that up to these lines—‘and he begged all the Achaeans, and most of all the two sons of Atreus, marshals of the people’—the poet himself is speaking, and doesn’t even try to turn our minds elsewhere, as if the speaker were someone other than himself. But after that he speaks as though he himself were Chryses, and tries as hard as he can 393b to make us think that the speaker isn’t Homer but the priest, an old man. And he’s composed nearly all the rest of his narration this way, about what happened at Troy, and in Ithaca, and in the whole Odyssey.”
πάνυ μὲν οὖν, ἔφη.
οὐκοῦν διήγησις μέν ἐστιν καὶ ὅταν τὰς ῥήσεις ἑκάστοτε λέγῃ καὶ ὅταν τὰ μεταξὺ τῶν ῥήσεων;
πῶς γὰρ οὔ; 393c
ἀλλʼ ὅταν γέ τινα λέγῃ ῥῆσιν ὥς τις ἄλλος ὤν, ἆρʼ οὐ τότε ὁμοιοῦν αὐτὸν φήσομεν ὅτι μάλιστα τὴν αὑτοῦ λέξιν ἑκάστῳ ὃν ἂν προείπῃ ὡς ἐροῦντα;
φήσομεν· τί γάρ;
οὐκοῦν τό γε ὁμοιοῦν ἑαυτὸν ἄλλῳ ἢ κατὰ φωνὴν ἢ κατὰ σχῆμα μιμεῖσθαί ἐστιν ἐκεῖνον ᾧ ἄν τις ὁμοιοῖ;
τί μήν;
“Certainly,” he said.
“Now it’s narration both when he gives the speeches and when he gives what comes between the speeches?”
“Of course.” 393c
“But when he gives a speech as though he were someone else, won’t we say that he then makes his own style as much like each speaker he introduces as he can?”
“We will—what else?”
“And isn’t making oneself like someone else, in voice or in bearing, imitating the person one makes oneself like?”
“Of course.”
ἐν δὴ τῷ τοιούτῳ, ὡς ἔοικεν, οὗτός τε καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι ποιηταὶ διὰ μιμήσεως τὴν διήγησιν ποιοῦνται.
πάνυ μὲν οὖν.
“In a case like that, then, it seems, he and the other poets produce their narration through imitation.”
“Certainly.”
εἰ δέ γε μηδαμοῦ ἑαυτὸν ἀποκρύπτοιτο ὁ ποιητής, πᾶσα 393d ἂν αὐτῷ ἄνευ μιμήσεως ἡ ποίησίς τε καὶ διήγησις γεγονυῖα εἴη. ἵνα δὲ μὴ εἴπῃς ὅτι οὐκ αὖ μανθάνεις, ὅπως ἂν τοῦτο γένοιτο ἐγὼ φράσω. εἰ γὰρ Ὅμηρος εἰπὼν ὅτι ἦλθεν ὁ Χρύσης τῆς τε θυγατρὸς λύτρα φέρων καὶ ἱκέτης τῶν Ἀχαιῶν, μάλιστα δὲ τῶν βασιλέων, μετὰ τοῦτο μὴ ὡς Χρύσης γενόμενος ἔλεγεν ἀλλʼ ἔτι ὡς Ὅμηρος, οἶσθʼ ὅτι οὐκ ἂν μίμησις ἦν ἀλλὰ ἁπλῆ διήγησις. εἶχε δʼ ἂν ὧδε πως—φράσω δὲ ἄνευ μέτρου· οὐ γάρ εἰμι ποιητικός—ἐλθὼν 393e ὁ ἱερεὺς ηὔχετο ἐκείνοις μὲν τοὺς θεοὺς δοῦναι ἑλόντας τὴν Τροίαν αὐτοὺς σωθῆναι, τὴν δὲ θυγατέρα οἱ λῦσαι δεξαμένους ἄποινα καὶ τὸν θεὸν αἰδεσθέντας.
“But if the poet never hid himself anywhere, his whole poem and narration 393d would have come about without imitation. And so you won’t say again that you don’t understand, I’ll explain how that would happen. If Homer, after saying that Chryses came bringing a ransom for his daughter, as a suppliant to the Achaeans and especially the kings, had gone on speaking not as though he had become Chryses but still as Homer, you know it wouldn’t be imitation but plain narration. It would go something like this—I’ll put it without meter, since I’m no poet: The priest came 393e and prayed that the gods would grant that they capture Troy and come home safe themselves, and that they would release his daughter to him, accepting the ransom and respecting the god.
ταῦτα δὲ εἰπόντος αὐτοῦ οἱ μὲν ἄλλοι ἐσέβοντο καὶ συνῄνουν, ὁ δὲ Ἀγαμέμνων ἠγρίαινεν ἐντελλόμενος νῦν τε ἀπιέναι καὶ αὖθις μὴ ἐλθεῖν, μὴ αὐτῷ τό τε σκῆπτρον καὶ τὰ τοῦ θεοῦ στέμματα οὐκ ἐπαρκέσοι· πρὶν δὲ λυθῆναι αὐτοῦ τὴν θυγατέρα, ἐν Ἄργει ἔφη γηράσειν μετὰ οὗ· ἀπιέναι δʼ ἐκέλευεν καὶ μὴ ἐρεθίζειν, 394a >ἵνα σῶς οἴκαδε ἔλθοι. ὁ δὲ πρεσβύτης ἀκούσας ἔδεισέν τε καὶ ἀπῄει σιγῇ, ἀποχωρήσας δὲ ἐκ τοῦ στρατοπέδου πολλὰ τῷ Ἀπόλλωνι ηὔχετο, τάς τε ἐπωνυμίας τοῦ θεοῦ ἀνακαλῶν καὶ ὑπομιμνῄσκων καὶ ἀπαιτῶν, εἴ τι πώποτε ἢ ἐν ναῶν οἰκοδομήσεσιν ἢ ἐν ἱερῶν θυσίαις κεχαρισμένον δωρήσαιτο· ὧν δὴ χάριν κατηύχετο τεῖσαι τοὺς Ἀχαιοὺς τὰ ἃ δάκρυα τοῖς ἐκείνου βέλεσιν. οὕτως, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὦ ἑταῖρε, ἄνευ 394b μιμήσεως ἁπλῆ διήγησις γίγνεται.
“When he had said this, the others were respectful and agreed, but Agamemnon grew savage, ordering him to leave now and not come back, or the staff and the god’s wreaths would be no help to him. Before his daughter was set free, he said, she would grow old with him in Argos. He told him to go away and not provoke him, 394a if he wanted to get home safe. When the old man heard this he was afraid and left in silence. But once he had withdrawn from the camp he prayed at length to Apollo, calling on the god by his titles and reminding him, and asking for a return if he had ever given him a gift that pleased him, whether in building temples or in sacrificing victims. In return for these, he prayed, let the Achaeans pay for his tears with the god’s arrows. That, my friend,” I said, “is how plain narration without 394b imitation comes about.”
μανθάνω, ἔφη.
μάνθανε τοίνυν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὅτι ταύτης αὖ ἐναντία γίγνεται, ὅταν τις τὰ τοῦ ποιητοῦ τὰ μεταξὺ τῶν ῥήσεων ἐξαιρῶν τὰ ἀμοιβαῖα καταλείπῃ.
καὶ τοῦτο, ἔφη, μανθάνω, ὅτι ἔστιν τὸ περὶ τὰς τραγῳδίας τοιοῦτον.
“I understand,” he said.
“Then understand,” I said, “that the opposite of this comes about when someone takes out the poet’s words between the speeches and leaves only the exchanges.”
“I understand this too,” he said. “That’s the way it is with tragedy.”
ὀρθότατα, ἔφην, ὑπέλαβες, καὶ οἶμαί σοι ἤδη δηλοῦν ὃ ἔμπροσθεν οὐχ οἷός τʼ ἦ, ὅτι τῆς ποιήσεώς τε καὶ μυθολογίας 394c ἡ μὲν διὰ μιμήσεως ὅλη ἐστίν, ὥσπερ σὺ λέγεις, τραγῳδία τε καὶ κωμῳδία, ἡ δὲ διʼ ἀπαγγελίας αὐτοῦ τοῦ ποιητοῦ—εὕροις δʼ ἂν αὐτὴν μάλιστά που ἐν διθυράμβοις— ἡ δʼ αὖ διʼ ἀμφοτέρων ἔν τε τῇ τῶν ἐπῶν ποιήσει, πολλαχοῦ δὲ καὶ ἄλλοθι, εἴ μοι μανθάνεις.
ἀλλὰ συνίημι, ἔφη, ὃ τότε ἐβούλου λέγειν.
“You’ve taken it exactly right,” I said, “and I think I can now make clear to you what I couldn’t before: that one kind of poetry and storytelling 394c works entirely through imitation—tragedy and comedy, as you say; another through the report of the poet himself—you’d find it mostly, I suppose, in dithyrambs; and another through both, in epic poetry and in many other places too, if you follow me.”
“Yes, now I see,” he said, “what you meant then.”
καὶ τὸ πρὸ τούτου δὴ ἀναμνήσθητι, ὅτι ἔφαμεν ἃ μὲν λεκτέον ἤδη εἰρῆσθαι, ὡς δὲ λεκτέον ἔτι σκεπτέον εἶναι.
ἀλλὰ μέμνημαι. 394d
τοῦτο τοίνυν αὐτὸ ἦν ὃ ἔλεγον, ὅτι χρείη διομολογήσασθαι πότερον ἐάσομεν τοὺς ποιητὰς μιμουμένους ἡμῖν τὰς διηγήσεις ποιεῖσθαι ἢ τὰ μὲν μιμουμένους, τὰ δὲ μή, καὶ ὁποῖα ἑκάτερα, ἢ οὐδὲ μιμεῖσθαι.
μαντεύομαι, ἔφη, σκοπεῖσθαί σε εἴτε παραδεξόμεθα τραγῳδίαν τε καὶ κωμῳδίαν εἰς τὴν πόλιν, εἴτε καὶ οὔ.
“Then remember what came before this too: we said that what must be said had already been discussed, but how it must be said was still to be examined.”
“I remember.” 394d
“Well, this is exactly what I meant: that we have to come to an agreement whether we’ll let the poets produce their narrations for us by imitating, or by imitating in some parts and not in others—and which parts in each case—or not imitating at all.”
“I have a hunch,” he said, “you’re considering whether or not we’ll admit tragedy and comedy into the city.”
ἴσως, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἴσως δὲ καὶ πλείω ἔτι τούτων· οὐ γὰρ δὴ ἔγωγέ πω οἶδα, ἀλλʼ ὅπῃ ἂν ὁ λόγος ὥσπερ πνεῦμα φέρῃ, ταύτῃ ἰτέον.
καὶ καλῶς γʼ, ἔφη, λέγεις. 394e
τόδε τοίνυν, ὦ Ἀδείμαντε, ἄθρει, πότερον μιμητικοὺς ἡμῖν δεῖ εἶναι τοὺς φύλακας ἢ οὔ· ἢ καὶ τοῦτο τοῖς ἔμπροσθεν ἕπεται, ὅτι εἷς ἕκαστος ἓν μὲν ἂν ἐπιτήδευμα καλῶς ἐπιτηδεύοι, πολλὰ δʼ οὔ, ἀλλʼ εἰ τοῦτο ἐπιχειροῖ, πολλῶν ἐφαπτόμενος πάντων ἀποτυγχάνοι ἄν, ὥστʼ εἶναί που ἐλλόγιμος;
τί δʼ οὐ μέλλει;
“Perhaps,” I said, “and perhaps even more than that. I don’t know yet myself; but wherever the argument carries us, like a wind, that’s where we must go.”
“And you’re right,” he said. 394e
“Then consider this, Adeimantus: should our guardians be imitators or not? Or does this too follow from what we said before—that each person would practice one pursuit well, but not many, and if he tried, by dabbling in many he would fail at them all, and never make a name for himself in any?”
“Of course it follows.”
οὐκοῦν καὶ περὶ μιμήσεως ὁ αὐτὸς λόγος, ὅτι πολλὰ ὁ αὐτὸς μιμεῖσθαι εὖ ὥσπερ ἓν οὐ δυνατός;
οὐ γὰρ οὖν.
σχολῇ ἄρα ἐπιτηδεύσει γέ τι ἅμα τῶν ἀξίων λόγου ἐπιτηδευμάτων καὶ πολλὰ μιμήσεται καὶ ἔσται μιμητικός, ἐπεί που οὐδὲ τὰ δοκοῦντα ἐγγὺς ἀλλήλων εἶναι δύο μιμήματα δύνανται οἱ αὐτοὶ ἅμα εὖ μιμεῖσθαι, οἷον κωμῳδίαν καὶ τραγῳδίαν ποιοῦντες. ἢ οὐ μιμήματε ἄρτι τούτω ἐκάλεις;
ἔγωγε· καὶ ἀληθῆ γε λέγεις, ὅτι οὐ δύνανται οἱ αὐτοί.
οὐδὲ μὴν ῥαψῳδοί γε καὶ ὑποκριταὶ ἅμα.
ἀληθῆ.
“And doesn’t the same argument hold for imitation—that the same person can’t imitate many things as well as he can one?”
“No, he can’t.”
“Then he’ll hardly practice any pursuit worth mentioning while at the same time imitating many things and being an imitator. After all, even with two kinds of imitation that seem close to each other, the same people can’t do both well—writing comedy and tragedy, for instance. Didn’t you just call these two imitations?”
“I did. And you’re right that the same people can’t do both.”
“Nor can they be rhapsodes and actors at once.”
“True.”
ἀλλʼ οὐδέ τοι ὑποκριταὶ κωμῳδοῖς τε καὶ τραγῳδοῖς οἱ 395b αὐτοί· πάντα δὲ ταῦτα μιμήματα. ἢ οὔ;
μιμήματα.
καὶ ἔτι γε τούτων, ὦ Ἀδείμαντε, φαίνεταί μοι εἰς σμικρότερα κατακεκερματίσθαι ἡ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου φύσις, ὥστε ἀδύνατος εἶναι πολλὰ καλῶς μιμεῖσθαι ἢ αὐτὰ ἐκεῖνα πράττειν ὧν δὴ καὶ τὰ μιμήματά ἐστιν ἀφομοιώματα.
ἀληθέστατα, ἦ δʼ ὅς.
“And the same actors don’t even perform comedy and 395b tragedy. Yet all these are imitations, aren’t they?”
“Imitations.”
“And human nature, Adeimantus, seems to me to be minted into even smaller change than this, so that it can’t imitate many things well, or do the very things of which the imitations are likenesses.”
“Very true,” he said.
εἰ ἄρα τὸν πρῶτον λόγον διασώσομεν, τοὺς φύλακας ἡμῖν τῶν ἄλλων πασῶν δημιουργιῶν ἀφειμένους δεῖν εἶναι 395c δημιουργοὺς ἐλευθερίας τῆς πόλεως πάνυ ἀκριβεῖς καὶ μηδὲν ἄλλο ἐπιτηδεύειν ὅτι μὴ εἰς τοῦτο φέρει, οὐδὲν δὴ δέοι ἂν αὐτοὺς ἄλλο πράττειν οὐδὲ μιμεῖσθαι· ἐὰν δὲ μιμῶνται, μιμεῖσθαι τὰ τούτοις προσήκοντα εὐθὺς ἐκ παίδων, ἀνδρείους, σώφρονας, ὁσίους, ἐλευθέρους, καὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα πάντα, τὰ δὲ ἀνελεύθερα μήτε ποιεῖν μήτε δεινοὺς εἶναι μιμήσασθαι, μηδὲ ἄλλο μηδὲν τῶν αἰσχρῶν, ἵνα μὴ ἐκ τῆς μιμήσεως τοῦ εἶναι 395d ἀπολαύσωσιν. ἢ οὐκ ᾔσθησαι ὅτι αἱ μιμήσεις, ἐὰν ἐκ νέων πόρρω διατελέσωσιν, εἰς ἔθη τε καὶ φύσιν καθίστανται καὶ κατὰ σῶμα καὶ φωνὰς καὶ κατὰ τὴν διάνοιαν;
“Then if we’re to preserve our first argument—that our guardians must be released from all other crafts and be very exact 395c craftsmen of the city’s freedom, pursuing nothing that doesn’t contribute to it—then they shouldn’t do or imitate anything else. And if they do imitate, they should imitate from childhood what suits them—people who are courageous, moderate, pious, free, and everything of that kind. What is unfree they should neither do nor be clever at imitating, nor anything else shameful, so that they don’t get a taste of the real thing 395d from the imitation. Or haven’t you noticed that imitations, if they’re kept up from youth on for a long time, settle into habits and nature—in the body, the voice and the mind?”
καὶ μάλα, ἦ δʼ ὅς.
οὐ δὴ ἐπιτρέψομεν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὧν φαμὲν κήδεσθαι καὶ δεῖν αὐτοὺς ἄνδρας ἀγαθοὺς γενέσθαι, γυναῖκα μιμεῖσθαι ἄνδρας ὄντας, ἢ νέαν ἢ πρεσβυτέραν, ἢ ἀνδρὶ λοιδορουμένην ἢ πρὸς θεοὺς ἐρίζουσάν τε καὶ μεγαλαυχουμένην, οἰομένην 395e εὐδαίμονα εἶναι, ἢ ἐν συμφοραῖς τε καὶ πένθεσιν καὶ θρήνοις ἐχομένην· κάμνουσαν δὲ ἢ ἐρῶσαν ἢ ὠδίνουσαν, πολλοῦ καὶ δεήσομεν.
παντάπασι μὲν οὖν, ἦ δʼ ὅς.
οὐδέ γε δούλας τε καὶ δούλους πράττοντας ὅσα δούλων.
οὐδὲ τοῦτο.
“Very much so,” he said.
“Then we won’t allow those we say we care for,” I said, “and who must become good men, to imitate a woman, since they are men—whether young or older, whether railing at her husband, or quarreling with gods and boasting because she thinks 395e she’s happy, or caught up in misfortunes, grief and lamentation. Still less one who’s sick, or in love, or in labor.”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“Nor female and male slaves doing what slaves do.”
“Not that either.”
οὐδέ γε ἄνδρας κακούς, ὡς ἔοικεν, δειλούς τε καὶ τὰ ἐναντία πράττοντας ὧν νυνδὴ εἴπομεν, κακηγοροῦντάς τε καὶ κωμῳδοῦντας ἀλλήλους καὶ αἰσχρολογοῦντας, μεθύοντας ἢ 396a καὶ νήφοντας, ἢ καὶ ἄλλα ὅσα οἱ τοιοῦτοι καὶ ἐν λόγοις καὶ ἐν ἔργοις ἁμαρτάνουσιν εἰς αὑτούς τε καὶ εἰς ἄλλους, οἶμαι δὲ οὐδὲ μαινομένοις ἐθιστέον ἀφομοιοῦν αὑτοὺς ἐν λόγοις οὐδὲ ἐν ἔργοις· γνωστέον μὲν γὰρ καὶ μαινομένους καὶ πονηροὺς ἄνδρας τε καὶ γυναῖκας, ποιητέον δὲ οὐδὲν τούτων οὐδὲ μιμητέον.
ἀληθέστατα, ἔφη.
“Nor bad men, it seems, cowards who do the opposite of what we just described—insulting and mocking one another and using foul language, drunk or 396a even sober—or any of the other ways such people offend in word and deed against themselves and others. And I don’t think they should get used to making themselves like madmen in word or deed either. For one has to recognize madmen and wicked people, both men and women, but must not do or imitate anything of theirs.”
“Very true,” he said.
τί δέ; ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· χαλκεύοντας ἤ τι ἄλλο δημιουργοῦντας, 396b ἢ ἐλαύνοντας τριήρεις ἢ κελεύοντας τούτοις, ἤ τι ἄλλο τῶν περὶ ταῦτα μιμητέον;
καὶ πῶς; ἔφη, οἷς γε οὐδὲ προσέχειν τὸν νοῦν τούτων οὐδενὶ ἐξέσται;
τί δέ; ἵππους χρεμετίζοντας καὶ ταύρους μυκωμένους καὶ ποταμοὺς ψοφοῦντας καὶ θάλατταν κτυποῦσαν καὶ βροντὰς καὶ πάντα αὖ τὰ τοιαῦτα ἦ μιμήσονται;
ἀλλʼ ἀπείρηται αὐτοῖς, ἔφη, μήτε μαίνεσθαι μήτε μαινομένοις ἀφομοιοῦσθαι.
“What about this?” I said. “Should they imitate smiths or other craftsmen at work, 396b or men rowing triremes or calling the stroke for them, or anything else connected with these?”
“How could they,” he said, “when they won’t even be allowed to pay attention to any of these things?”
“And what about horses neighing and bulls bellowing, rivers roaring and the sea crashing, and thunder, and all such things—will they imitate them?”
“No,” he said. “They’ve been forbidden to be mad or to make themselves like madmen.”
εἰ ἄρα, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, μανθάνω ἃ σὺ λέγεις, ἔστιν τι εἶδος λέξεώς τε καὶ διηγήσεως ἐν ᾧ ἂν διηγοῖτο ὁ τῷ ὄντι καλὸς 396c κἀγαθός, ὁπότε τι δέοι αὐτὸν λέγειν, καὶ ἕτερον αὖ ἀνόμοιον τούτῳ εἶδος, οὗ ἂν ἔχοιτο ἀεὶ καὶ ἐν ᾧ διηγοῖτο ὁ ἐναντίως ἐκείνῳ φύς τε καὶ τραφείς.
ποῖα δή, ἔφη, ταῦτα;
“Then if I understand what you mean,” I said, “there is one kind of style and narration that a truly fine and good man 396c would use whenever he had to say something, and another kind, unlike it, that a man of the opposite nature and upbringing would always keep to and use in his narration.”
“What are they?” he said.
ὁ μέν μοι δοκεῖ, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, μέτριος ἀνήρ, ἐπειδὰν ἀφίκηται ἐν τῇ διηγήσει ἐπὶ λέξιν τινὰ ἢ πρᾶξιν ἀνδρὸς ἀγαθοῦ, ἐθελήσειν ὡς αὐτὸς ὢν ἐκεῖνος ἀπαγγέλλειν καὶ οὐκ αἰσχυνεῖσθαι ἐπὶ τῇ τοιαύτῃ μιμήσει, μάλιστα μὲν μιμούμενος 396d τὸν ἀγαθὸν ἀσφαλῶς τε καὶ ἐμφρόνως πράττοντα, ἐλάττω δὲ καὶ ἧττον ἢ ὑπὸ νόσων ἢ ὑπὸ ἐρώτων ἐσφαλμένον ἢ καὶ ὑπὸ μέθης ἤ τινος ἄλλης συμφορᾶς· ὅταν δὲ γίγνηται κατά τινα ἑαυτοῦ ἀνάξιον, οὐκ ἐθελήσειν σπουδῇ ἀπεικάζειν ἑαυτὸν τῷ χείρονι, εἰ μὴ ἄρα κατὰ βραχύ, ὅταν τι χρηστὸν ποιῇ, ἀλλʼ αἰσχυνεῖσθαι, ἅμα μὲν ἀγύμναστος ὢν τοῦ μιμεῖσθαι τοὺς τοιούτους, ἅμα δὲ καὶ δυσχεραίνων αὑτὸν ἐκμάττειν τε καὶ 396e ἐνιστάναι εἰς τοὺς τῶν κακιόνων τύπους, ἀτιμάζων τῇ διανοίᾳ, ὅτι μὴ παιδιᾶς χάριν.
“I think,” I said, “that when a moderate man comes in his narration to some speech or action of a good man, he’ll be willing to report it as if he himself were that man, and won’t be ashamed of that kind of imitation. He’ll imitate the good man most 396d when he is acting steadily and sensibly, and less, and less readily, when he’s been tripped up by illness or love, or by drink or some other misfortune. But when he comes to someone unworthy of himself, he won’t be willing to model himself seriously on someone worse than he is—except briefly, when that person does something good. Instead he’ll be ashamed, both because he has no practice in imitating such people and because he can’t stand molding himself on the patterns of worse men and 396e fitting himself into them. He holds it in contempt in his mind—except as play.”
εἰκός, ἔφη.
οὐκοῦν διηγήσει χρήσεται οἵᾳ ἡμεῖς ὀλίγον πρότερον διήλθομεν περὶ τὰ τοῦ Ὁμήρου ἔπη, καὶ ἔσται αὐτοῦ ἡ λέξις μετέχουσα μὲν ἀμφοτέρων, μιμήσεώς τε καὶ τῆς ἄλλης διηγήσεως, σμικρὸν δέ τι μέρος ἐν πολλῷ λόγῳ τῆς μιμήσεως; ἢ οὐδὲν λέγω;
καὶ μάλα, ἔφη, οἷόν γε ἀνάγκη τὸν τύπον εἶναι τοῦ τοιούτου ῥήτορος.
“Likely enough,” he said.
“So he’ll use the kind of narration we went through a little while ago in connection with Homer’s epics. His style will share in both, imitation and plain narration, but with only a small portion of imitation in a long stretch of speech. Or am I talking nonsense?”
“Not at all,” he said. “That’s exactly the pattern such a speaker must follow.”
οὐκοῦν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὁ μὴ τοιοῦτος αὖ, ὅσῳ ἂν φαυλότερος ᾖ, πάντα τε μᾶλλον διηγήσεται καὶ οὐδὲν ἑαυτοῦ ἀνάξιον οἰήσεται εἶναι, ὥστε πάντα ἐπιχειρήσει μιμεῖσθαι σπουδῇ τε καὶ ἐναντίον πολλῶν, καὶ ἃ νυνδὴ ἐλέγομεν, βροντάς τε καὶ ψόφους ἀνέμων τε καὶ χαλαζῶν καὶ ἀξόνων τε καὶ τροχιλιῶν, καὶ σαλπίγγων καὶ αὐλῶν καὶ συρίγγων καὶ πάντων ὀργάνων φωνάς, καὶ ἔτι κυνῶν καὶ προβάτων καὶ ὀρνέων φθόγγους· 397b καὶ ἔσται δὴ ἡ τούτου λέξις ἅπασα διὰ μιμήσεως φωναῖς τε καὶ σχήμασιν, ἢ σμικρόν τι διηγήσεως ἔχουσα;
ἀνάγκη, ἔφη, καὶ τοῦτο.
“And the one who isn’t like that,” I said, “will narrate anything at all, the more so the worse he is, and think nothing beneath him. So he’ll undertake to imitate everything, in earnest and in front of a crowd, including the things we were just mentioning: thunder, the noise of wind and hail, of axles and pulleys, the voices of trumpets and pipes and panpipes and every instrument, and even the cries of dogs, sheep and birds. 397b His whole style will be imitation, by voice and gesture, with perhaps a little narration in it?”
“That must follow too,” he said.
ταῦτα τοίνυν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἔλεγον τὰ δύο εἴδη τῆς λέξεως.
καὶ γὰρ ἔστιν, ἔφη.
οὐκοῦν αὐτοῖν τὸ μὲν σμικρὰς τὰς μεταβολὰς ἔχει, καὶ ἐάν τις ἀποδιδῷ πρέπουσαν ἁρμονίαν καὶ ῥυθμὸν τῇ λέξει, ὀλίγου πρὸς τὴν αὐτὴν γίγνεται λέγειν τῷ ὀρθῶς λέγοντι καὶ ἐν μιᾷ ἁρμονίᾳ—σμικραὶ γὰρ αἱ μεταβολαί—καὶ δὴ καὶ ἐν 397c ῥυθμῷ ὡσαύτως παραπλησίῳ τινί;
κομιδῇ μὲν οὖν, ἔφη, οὕτως ἔχει.
“These, then,” I said, “are the two kinds of style I meant.”
“Yes, they are,” he said.
“Now one of the two involves only small variations. If you give the style a fitting mode and rhythm, someone speaking it correctly ends up speaking in pretty much the same mode throughout—a single mode, since the variations are small—and likewise in 397c a rhythm that stays roughly the same. Isn’t that so?”
“That’s exactly how it is,” he said.
τί δὲ τὸ τοῦ ἑτέρου εἶδος; οὐ τῶν ἐναντίων δεῖται, πασῶν μὲν ἁρμονιῶν, πάντων δὲ ῥυθμῶν, εἰ μέλλει αὖ οἰκείως λέγεσθαι, διὰ τὸ παντοδαπὰς μορφὰς τῶν μεταβολῶν ἔχειν;
καὶ σφόδρα γε οὕτως ἔχει.
ἆρʼ οὖν πάντες οἱ ποιηταὶ καὶ οἵ τι λέγοντες ἢ τῷ ἑτέρῳ τούτων ἐπιτυγχάνουσιν τύπῳ τῆς λέξεως ἢ τῷ ἑτέρῳ ἢ ἐξ ἀμφοτέρων τινὶ συγκεραννύντες;
ἀνάγκη, ἔφη. 397d
τί οὖν ποιήσομεν; ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· πότερον εἰς τὴν πόλιν πάντας τούτους παραδεξόμεθα ἢ τῶν ἀκράτων τὸν ἕτερον ἢ τὸν κεκραμένον;
“What about the other kind? Doesn’t it need the opposite—every mode and every rhythm—if it’s to be delivered in a way that suits it, since it contains every sort of variation?”
“Very much so.”
“Then do all poets, and everyone who says anything, hit on one or the other of these patterns of style, or on some mixture of the two?”
“Necessarily,” he said. 397d
“So what shall we do?” I said. “Shall we admit all of these into the city, or one of the unmixed kinds, or the mixed one?”
ἐὰν ἡ ἐμή, ἔφη, νικᾷ, τὸν τοῦ ἐπιεικοῦς μιμητὴν ἄκρατον.
ἀλλὰ μήν, ὦ Ἀδείμαντε, ἡδύς γε καὶ ὁ κεκραμένος, πολὺ δὲ ἥδιστος παισί τε καὶ παιδαγωγοῖς ὁ ἐναντίος οὗ σὺ αἱρῇ καὶ τῷ πλείστῳ ὄχλῳ.
ἥδιστος γάρ.
ἀλλʼ ἴσως, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, οὐκ ἂν αὐτὸν ἁρμόττειν φαίης τῇ 397e ἡμετέρᾳ πολιτείᾳ, ὅτι οὐκ ἔστιν διπλοῦς ἀνὴρ παρʼ ἡμῖν οὐδὲ πολλαπλοῦς, ἐπειδὴ ἕκαστος ἓν πράττει.
οὐ γὰρ οὖν ἁρμόττει.
“If my vote wins,” he said, “the unmixed imitator of the decent man.”
“And yet, Adeimantus, the mixed kind is pleasant too. And by far the most pleasant, to children and their attendants and to the great mass of people, is the opposite of the one you choose.”
“Yes, it’s the most pleasant.”
“But perhaps,” I said, “you’d say it doesn’t suit our 397e constitution, because among us there’s no double man, nor a manifold one, since each person does one thing.”
“No, it doesn’t suit it.”
οὐκοῦν διὰ ταῦτα ἐν μόνῃ τῇ τοιαύτῃ πόλει τόν τε σκυτοτόμον σκυτοτόμον εὑρήσομεν καὶ οὐ κυβερνήτην πρὸς τῇ σκυτοτομίᾳ, καὶ τὸν γεωργὸν γεωργὸν καὶ οὐ δικαστὴν πρὸς τῇ γεωργίᾳ, καὶ τὸν πολεμικὸν πολεμικὸν καὶ οὐ χρηματιστὴν πρὸς τῇ πολεμικῇ, καὶ πάντας οὕτω;
ἀληθῆ, ἔφη.
“So that’s why it’s only in a city like ours that we’ll find the shoemaker a shoemaker, and not a ship’s pilot on top of his shoemaking; the farmer a farmer, and not a juror on top of his farming; the soldier a soldier, and not a moneymaker on top of his soldiering; and so with everyone?”
“True,” he said.
ἄνδρα δή, ὡς ἔοικε, δυνάμενον ὑπὸ σοφίας παντοδαπὸν γίγνεσθαι καὶ μιμεῖσθαι πάντα χρήματα, εἰ ἡμῖν ἀφίκοιτο εἰς τὴν πόλιν αὐτός τε καὶ τὰ ποιήματα βουλόμενος ἐπιδείξασθαι, προσκυνοῖμεν ἂν αὐτὸν ὡς ἱερὸν καὶ θαυμαστὸν καὶ ἡδύν, εἴποιμεν δʼ ἂν ὅτι οὐκ ἔστιν τοιοῦτος ἀνὴρ ἐν τῇ πόλει παρʼ ἡμῖν οὔτε θέμις ἐγγενέσθαι, ἀποπέμποιμέν τε εἰς ἄλλην πόλιν μύρον κατὰ τῆς κεφαλῆς καταχέαντες καὶ ἐρίῳ στέψαντες, αὐτοὶ δʼ ἂν τῷ αὐστηροτέρῳ καὶ ἀηδεστέρῳ ποιητῇ 398b χρῴμεθα καὶ μυθολόγῳ ὠφελίας ἕνεκα, ὃς ἡμῖν τὴν τοῦ ἐπιεικοῦς λέξιν μιμοῖτο καὶ τὰ λεγόμενα λέγοι ἐν ἐκείνοις τοῖς τύποις οἷς κατʼ ἀρχὰς ἐνομοθετησάμεθα, ὅτε τοὺς στρατιώτας ἐπεχειροῦμεν παιδεύειν.
“So it seems that if a man whose wisdom let him become every sort of thing and imitate anything at all were to arrive in our city, wanting to put himself and his poems on show, we would bow down to him as someone holy, wonderful and delightful. But we’d tell him that there’s no such man in our city, and that it isn’t lawful for one to arise there; and we’d send him off to another city, after pouring myrrh over his head and crowning him with wool. For ourselves, for our own benefit, we’d employ a harsher and less pleasing poet 398b and storyteller, one who would imitate the style of the decent man and would say what he says in the patterns we laid down at the start, when we set out to educate our soldiers.”
Modes and rhythms
Socrates admits only modes and rhythms suited to a brave and orderly life.
καὶ μάλʼ, ἔφη, οὕτως ἂν ποιοῖμεν, εἰ ἐφʼ ἡμῖν εἴη.
νῦν δή, εἶπον ἐγώ, ὦ φίλε, κινδυνεύει ἡμῖν τῆς μουσικῆς τὸ περὶ λόγους τε καὶ μύθους παντελῶς διαπεπεράνθαι· ἅ τε γὰρ λεκτέον καὶ ὡς λεκτέον εἴρηται.
καὶ αὐτῷ μοι δοκεῖ, ἔφη. 398c
οὐκοῦν μετὰ τοῦτο, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τὸ περὶ ᾠδῆς τρόπου καὶ μελῶν λοιπόν;
δῆλα δή.
ἆρʼ οὖν οὐ πᾶς ἤδη ἂν εὕροι ἃ ἡμῖν λεκτέον περὶ αὐτῶν οἷα δεῖ εἶναι, εἴπερ μέλλομεν τοῖς προειρημένοις συμφωνήσειν;
“We certainly would,” he said, “if it were up to us.”
“And now, my friend,” I said, “it looks as though we’ve completely finished with the part of music that concerns speeches and stories. We’ve said both what must be said and how.”
“I think so too,” he said. 398c
“So what’s left after this is the manner of song and melody?”
“Obviously.”
“Couldn’t anyone at all work out by now what we have to say about them—what they must be like—if we’re going to be consistent with what we’ve said already?”
καὶ ὁ Γλαύκων ἐπιγελάσας, ἐγὼ τοίνυν, ἔφη, ὦ Σώκρατες, κινδυνεύω ἐκτὸς τῶν πάντων εἶναι· οὔκουν ἱκανῶς γε ἔχω ἐν τῷ παρόντι συμβαλέσθαι ποῖα ἄττα δεῖ ἡμᾶς λέγειν· ὑποπτεύω μέντοι.
πάντως δήπου, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, πρῶτον μὲν τόδε ἱκανῶς ἔχεις 398d λέγειν, ὅτι τὸ μέλος ἐκ τριῶν ἐστιν συγκείμενον, λόγου τε καὶ ἁρμονίας καὶ ῥυθμοῦ.
ναί, ἔφη, τοῦτό γε.
οὐκοῦν ὅσον γε αὐτοῦ λόγος ἐστίν, οὐδὲν δήπου διαφέρει τοῦ μὴ ᾀδομένου λόγου πρὸς τὸ ἐν τοῖς αὐτοῖς δεῖν τύποις λέγεσθαι οἷς ἄρτι προείπομεν καὶ ὡσαύτως;
ἀληθῆ, ἔφη.
Glaucon laughed and said, “Well, Socrates, I’m afraid your ‘anyone at all’ leaves me out. At the moment I can’t quite infer what sort of thing we ought to say—though I have my suspicions.”
“Well, at any rate,” I said, “you can surely say this much 398d to begin with: that a song is composed of three things—words, mode and rhythm.”
“Yes,” he said, “that much I can.”
“And as far as it’s words, it surely doesn’t differ at all from words that aren’t sung, in having to be spoken according to the same patterns we laid down just now, and in the same way?”
“True,” he said.
καὶ μὴν τήν γε ἁρμονίαν καὶ ῥυθμὸν ἀκολουθεῖν δεῖ τῷ λόγῳ.
πῶς δʼ οὔ;
ἀλλὰ μέντοι θρήνων γε καὶ ὀδυρμῶν ἔφαμεν ἐν λόγοις οὐδὲν προσδεῖσθαι.
οὐ γὰρ οὖν. 398e
τίνες οὖν θρηνώδεις ἁρμονίαι; λέγε μοι· σὺ γὰρ μουσικός.
μειξολυδιστί, ἔφη, καὶ συντονολυδιστὶ καὶ τοιαῦταί τινες.
οὐκοῦν αὗται, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἀφαιρετέαι; ἄχρηστοι γὰρ καὶ γυναιξὶν ἃς δεῖ ἐπιεικεῖς εἶναι, μὴ ὅτι ἀνδράσι.
πάνυ γε.
ἀλλὰ μὴν μέθη γε φύλαξιν ἀπρεπέστατον καὶ μαλακία καὶ ἀργία.
πῶς γὰρ οὔ;
“And the mode and the rhythm must follow the words.”
“Of course.”
“But we said we had no need of dirges and laments in our speeches.”
“No, we don’t.” 398e
“Which modes are the mournful ones, then? Tell me—you’re the musician.”
“Mixolydian,” he said, “and Tense Lydian, and others like them.”
“Then these must be removed?” I said. “They’re useless even for women who are meant to be decent, let alone for men.”
“Certainly.”
“And drunkenness is utterly unfitting for guardians, and so are softness and idleness.”
“Of course.”
τίνες οὖν μαλακαί τε καὶ συμποτικαὶ τῶν ἁρμονιῶν;
ἰαστί, ἦ δʼ ὅς, καὶ λυδιστὶ αὖ τινες χαλαραὶ καλοῦνται.
ταύταις οὖν, ὦ φίλε, ἐπὶ πολεμικῶν ἀνδρῶν ἔσθʼ ὅτι χρήσῃ;
οὐδαμῶς, ἔφη· ἀλλὰ κινδυνεύει σοι δωριστὶ λείπεσθαι καὶ φρυγιστί.
“Which of the modes are soft and suited to drinking parties?”
“Ionian,” he said, “and some Lydian ones, the kind called ‘slack.’”
“Then will you have any use for these, my friend, with men who are warriors?”
“None at all,” he said. “It looks as if you’re left with Dorian and Phrygian.”
οὐκ οἶδα, ἔφην ἐγώ, τὰς ἁρμονίας, ἀλλὰ κατάλειπε ἐκείνην τὴν ἁρμονίαν, ἣ ἔν τε πολεμικῇ πράξει ὄντος ἀνδρείου καὶ ἐν πάσῃ βιαίῳ ἐργασίᾳ πρεπόντως ἂν μιμήσαιτο φθόγγους τε καὶ προσῳδίας, καὶ ἀποτυχόντος ἢ εἰς τραύματα ἢ εἰς 399b θανάτους ἰόντος ἢ εἴς τινα ἄλλην συμφορὰν πεσόντος, ἐν πᾶσι τούτοις παρατεταγμένως καὶ καρτερούντως ἀμυνομένου τὴν τύχην· καὶ ἄλλην αὖ ἐν εἰρηνικῇ τε καὶ μὴ βιαίῳ ἀλλʼ ἐν ἑκουσίᾳ πράξει ὄντος, ἢ τινά τι πείθοντός τε καὶ δεομένου, ἢ εὐχῇ θεὸν ἢ διδαχῇ καὶ νουθετήσει ἄνθρωπον, ἢ τοὐναντίον ἄλλῳ δεομένῳ ἢ διδάσκοντι ἢ μεταπείθοντι ἑαυτὸν ἐπέχοντα, καὶ ἐκ τούτων πράξαντα κατὰ νοῦν, καὶ μὴ ὑπερηφάνως ἔχοντα, ἀλλὰ σωφρόνως τε καὶ μετρίως ἐν πᾶσι τούτοις 399c πράττοντά τε καὶ τὰ ἀποβαίνοντα ἀγαπῶντα.
“I don’t know the modes,” I said, “but leave that mode which would fittingly imitate the voice and the accents of a brave man engaged in warfare, or in any forced undertaking—a man who, when he fails, whether he’s going to meet wounds or 399b death or has fallen into some other misfortune, in all these cases wards off his fortune steadily and with endurance. And leave another for a man engaged in peaceful action, not forced but voluntary: persuading someone of something and making a request of them—a god in prayer, or a human being by teaching and advice—or, conversely, submitting himself to someone else who makes a request of him, or teaches him, or tries to change his mind; and who, having achieved what he intended as a result, doesn’t become arrogant, but in all this 399c acts with moderation and measure and is content with how things turn out.
ταύτας δύο ἁρμονίας, βίαιον, ἑκούσιον, δυστυχούντων, εὐτυχούντων, σωφρόνων, ἀνδρείων ἁρμονίας αἵτινες φθόγγους μιμήσονται κάλλιστα, ταύτας λεῖπε.
“These two modes, the forced and the voluntary, which will best imitate the voices of men in misfortune and in good fortune, of the moderate and of the brave: leave these.”
ἀλλʼ, ἦ δʼ ὅς, οὐκ ἄλλας αἰτεῖς λείπειν ἢ ἃς νυνδὴ ἐγὼ ἔλεγον.
οὐκ ἄρα, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, πολυχορδίας γε οὐδὲ παναρμονίου ἡμῖν δεήσει ἐν ταῖς ᾠδαῖς τε καὶ μέλεσιν.
οὔ μοι, ἔφη, φαίνεται.
τριγώνων ἄρα καὶ πηκτίδων καὶ πάντων ὀργάνων ὅσα 399d πολύχορδα καὶ πολυαρμόνια, δημιουργοὺς οὐ θρέψομεν.
οὐ φαινόμεθα.
τί δέ; αὐλοποιοὺς ἢ αὐλητὰς παραδέξῃ εἰς τὴν πόλιν; ἢ οὐ τοῦτο πολυχορδότατον, καὶ αὐτὰ τὰ παναρμόνια αὐλοῦ τυγχάνει ὄντα μίμημα;
δῆλα δή, ἦ δʼ ὅς.
“Well,” he said, “the ones you’re asking me to leave are none other than the ones I just mentioned.”
“Then,” I said, “we won’t need a multitude of strings, or instruments that play in every mode, for our songs and melodies.”
“It seems not to me,” he said.
“Then we won’t support craftsmen who make triangular harps and lutes and all the instruments that are 399d many-stringed and many-moded.”
“Apparently not.”
“Well then, will you admit pipe-makers or pipers into the city? Isn’t the pipe the most ‘many-stringed’ of all, and aren’t the all-mode instruments themselves really imitations of the pipe?”
“Clearly,” he said.
λύρα δή σοι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καὶ κιθάρα λείπεται καὶ κατὰ πόλιν χρήσιμα· καὶ αὖ κατʼ ἀγροὺς τοῖς νομεῦσι σῦριγξ ἄν τις εἴη.
ὡς γοῦν, ἔφη, ὁ λόγος ἡμῖν σημαίνει. 399e
οὐδέν γε, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καινὸν ποιοῦμεν, ὦ φίλε, κρίνοντες τὸν Ἀπόλλω καὶ τὰ τοῦ Ἀπόλλωνος ὄργανα πρὸ Μαρσύου τε καὶ τῶν ἐκείνου ὀργάνων.
μὰ Δία, ἦ δʼ ὅς, οὔ μοι φαινόμεθα.
καὶ νὴ τὸν κύνα, εἶπον, λελήθαμέν γε διακαθαίροντες πάλιν ἣν ἄρτι τρυφᾶν ἔφαμεν πόλιν.
σωφρονοῦντές γε ἡμεῖς, ἦ δʼ ὅς.
“So you’re left with the lyre and the cithara, for use in the city,” I said, “and in the countryside there might be some sort of panpipe for the shepherds.”
“That, at any rate, is what our argument indicates,” he said. 399e
“We’re doing nothing new, my friend,” I said, “in preferring Apollo and Apollo’s instruments to Marsyas and his.”
“No, by Zeus,” he said, “I don’t think we are.”
“And by the dog,” I said, “without noticing it we’ve been purging once again the city we called luxurious a little while ago.”
“That shows our moderation,” he said.
ἴθι δή, ἔφην, καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ καθαίρωμεν.
ἑπόμενον γὰρ δὴ ταῖς ἁρμονίαις ἂν ἡμῖν εἴη τὸ περὶ ῥυθμούς, μὴ ποικίλους αὐτοὺς διώκειν μηδὲ παντοδαπὰς βάσεις, ἀλλὰ βίου ῥυθμοὺς ἰδεῖν κοσμίου τε καὶ ἀνδρείου τίνες εἰσίν· οὓς ἰδόντα τὸν 400a πόδα τῷ τοῦ τοιούτου λόγῳ ἀναγκάζειν ἕπεσθαι καὶ τὸ μέλος, ἀλλὰ μὴ λόγον ποδί τε καὶ μέλει. οἵτινες δʼ ἂν εἶεν οὗτοι οἱ ῥυθμοί, σὸν ἔργον, ὥσπερ τὰς ἁρμονίας, φράσαι.
“Come on, then,” I said, “let’s purge the rest too.”
“Next after modes we’d have rhythms. We shouldn’t go after intricate ones, or every kind of metrical foot, but should see which rhythms belong to an orderly and courageous life. Once we’ve seen them, we must make the 400a foot and the melody follow the words of such a life, not make the words follow the foot and the melody. As for which rhythms these are, it’s your job to tell us, just as you did with the modes.”
ἀλλὰ μὰ Δίʼ, ἔφη, οὐκ ἔχω λέγειν. ὅτι μὲν γὰρ τρίʼ ἄττα ἐστὶν εἴδη ἐξ ὧν αἱ βάσεις πλέκονται, ὥσπερ ἐν τοῖς φθόγγοις τέτταρα, ὅθεν αἱ πᾶσαι ἁρμονίαι, τεθεαμένος ἂν εἴποιμι· ποῖα δὲ ὁποίου βίου μιμήματα, λέγειν οὐκ ἔχω. 400b
“No, by Zeus,” he said, “I can’t tell you. That there are some three kinds from which the feet are woven, just as there are four among the notes from which all the modes arise—that I could tell you, since I’ve studied it. But which are imitations of which sort of life, I can’t say.” 400b
ἀλλὰ ταῦτα μέν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καὶ μετὰ Δάμωνος βουλευσόμεθα, τίνες τε ἀνελευθερίας καὶ ὕβρεως ἢ μανίας καὶ ἄλλης κακίας πρέπουσαι βάσεις, καὶ τίνας τοῖς ἐναντίοις λειπτέον ῥυθμούς· οἶμαι δέ με ἀκηκοέναι οὐ σαφῶς ἐνόπλιόν τέ τινα ὀνομάζοντος αὐτοῦ σύνθετον καὶ δάκτυλον καὶ ἡρῷόν γε, οὐκ οἶδα ὅπως διακοσμοῦντος καὶ ἴσον ἄνω καὶ κάτω τιθέντος, εἰς βραχύ τε καὶ μακρὸν γιγνόμενον, καί, ὡς ἐγὼ οἶμαι, ἴαμβον καί τινʼ ἄλλον τροχαῖον ὠνόμαζε, μήκη δὲ καὶ 400c βραχύτητας προσῆπτε. καὶ τούτων τισὶν οἶμαι τὰς ἀγωγὰς τοῦ ποδὸς αὐτὸν οὐχ ἧττον ψέγειν τε καὶ ἐπαινεῖν ἢ τοὺς ῥυθμοὺς αὐτούς—ἤτοι συναμφότερόν τι· οὐ γὰρ ἔχω λέγειν —ἀλλὰ ταῦτα μέν, ὥσπερ εἶπον, εἰς Δάμωνα ἀναβεβλήσθω· διελέσθαι γὰρ οὐ σμικροῦ λόγου. ἢ σὺ οἴει;
“Well,” I said, “we’ll consult Damon about this too: which feet suit meanness and insolence, or madness and other badness, and which rhythms must be left for their opposites. I think I heard him—not clearly—naming a composite ‘enoplion,’ and a ‘dactyl,’ and a ‘heroic,’ arranging it in some way I don’t understand, making it equal up and down as it passes into short and long; and, I think, he named an ‘iamb,’ and another a ‘trochee,’ and attached longs and 400c shorts to them. And in some of these, I think, he blamed or praised the tempo of the foot no less than the rhythms themselves—or some combination of the two; I can’t say. But, as I said, let’s refer these matters to Damon. Sorting them out would take no small discussion. Or do you think otherwise?”
μὰ Δίʼ, οὐκ ἔγωγε.
ἀλλὰ τόδε γε, ὅτι τὸ τῆς εὐσχημοσύνης τε καὶ ἀσχημοσύνης τῷ εὐρύθμῳ τε καὶ ἀρρύθμῳ ἀκολουθεῖ, δύνασαι διελέσθαι;
πῶς δʼ οὔ; 400d
ἀλλὰ μὴν τὸ εὔρυθμόν γε καὶ τὸ ἄρρυθμον τὸ μὲν τῇ καλῇ λέξει ἕπεται ὁμοιούμενον, τὸ δὲ τῇ ἐναντίᾳ, καὶ τὸ εὐάρμοστον καὶ ἀνάρμοστον ὡσαύτως, εἴπερ ῥυθμός γε καὶ ἁρμονία λόγῳ, ὥσπερ ἄρτι ἐλέγετο, ἀλλὰ μὴ λόγος τούτοις.
ἀλλὰ μήν, ἦ δʼ ὅς, ταῦτά γε λόγῳ ἀκολουθητέον.
“By Zeus, not I.”
“But this much you can determine: that grace and gracelessness follow good rhythm and bad rhythm?”
“Of course.” 400d
“And good rhythm follows fine style and becomes like it, and bad rhythm the opposite; and likewise with being in tune and out of tune—if, that is, rhythm and mode follow the words, as we were saying just now, and not the words them.”
“Yes, certainly,” he said, “these must follow the words.”
τί δʼ ὁ τρόπος τῆς λέξεως, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καὶ ὁ λόγος; οὐ τῷ τῆς ψυχῆς ἤθει ἕπεται;
πῶς γὰρ οὔ;
τῇ δὲ λέξει τὰ ἄλλα;
ναί.
εὐλογία ἄρα καὶ εὐαρμοστία καὶ εὐσχημοσύνη καὶ εὐρυθμία 400e εὐηθείᾳ ἀκολουθεῖ, οὐχ ἣν ἄνοιαν οὖσαν ὑποκοριζόμενοι καλοῦμεν ὡς εὐήθειαν, ἀλλὰ τὴν ὡς ἀληθῶς εὖ τε καὶ καλῶς τὸ ἦθος κατεσκευασμένην διάνοιαν.
παντάπασι μὲν οὖν, ἔφη.
ἆρʼ οὖν οὐ πανταχοῦ ταῦτα διωκτέα τοῖς νέοις, εἰ μέλλουσι τὸ αὑτῶν πράττειν;
διωκτέα μὲν οὖν.
“What about the manner of the style,” I said, “and the words? Don’t they follow the character of the soul?”
“Of course.”
“And everything else follows the style?”
“Yes.”
“So good speech, being in tune, grace and good rhythm 400e follow good-heartedness—not the kind that’s really foolishness, which we politely call ‘good-hearted,’ but a mind that has truly been furnished with a good and fine character.”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“Then mustn’t the young pursue these qualities everywhere, if they’re to do their own work?”
“They must.”
ἔστιν δέ γέ που πλήρης μὲν γραφικὴ αὐτῶν καὶ πᾶσα ἡ τοιαύτη δημιουργία, πλήρης δὲ ὑφαντικὴ καὶ ποικιλία καὶ οἰκοδομία καὶ πᾶσα αὖ ἡ τῶν ἄλλων σκευῶν ἐργασία, ἔτι δὲ ἡ τῶν σωμάτων φύσις καὶ ἡ τῶν ἄλλων φυτῶν· ἐν πᾶσι γὰρ τούτοις ἔνεστιν εὐσχημοσύνη ἢ ἀσχημοσύνη. καὶ ἡ μὲν ἀσχημοσύνη καὶ ἀρρυθμία καὶ ἀναρμοστία κακολογίας καὶ κακοηθείας ἀδελφά, τὰ δʼ ἐναντία τοῦ ἐναντίου, σώφρονός τε καὶ ἀγαθοῦ ἤθους, ἀδελφά τε καὶ μιμήματα.
παντελῶς μὲν οὖν, ἔφη. 401b
“And surely painting is full of them, and every craft of that kind; so is weaving, and embroidery, and building, and all the manufacture of other furnishings; and so too is the nature of bodies and of other living things. In all of these there is grace or gracelessness. And gracelessness, bad rhythm and being out of tune are sisters of bad speech and bad character, while their opposites are sisters and imitations of the opposite—a moderate and good character.”
“Entirely so,” he said. 401b
ἆρʼ οὖν τοῖς ποιηταῖς ἡμῖν μόνον ἐπιστατητέον καὶ προσαναγκαστέον τὴν τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ εἰκόνα ἤθους ἐμποιεῖν τοῖς ποιήμασιν ἢ μὴ παρʼ ἡμῖν ποιεῖν, ἢ καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις δημιουργοῖς ἐπιστατητέον καὶ διακωλυτέον τὸ κακόηθες τοῦτο καὶ ἀκόλαστον καὶ ἀνελεύθερον καὶ ἄσχημον μήτε ἐν εἰκόσι ζῴων μήτε ἐν οἰκοδομήμασι μήτε ἐν ἄλλῳ μηδενὶ δημιουργουμένῳ ἐμποιεῖν, ἢ ὁ μὴ οἷός τε ὢν οὐκ ἐατέος παρʼ ἡμῖν δημιουργεῖν, ἵνα μὴ ἐν κακίας εἰκόσι τρεφόμενοι ἡμῖν οἱ 401c φύλακες ὥσπερ ἐν κακῇ βοτάνῃ,
“Then is it only the poets we must supervise, compelling them to put the image of good character into their poems or else not compose among us? Or must we supervise the other craftsmen too, and prevent them from putting this bad character—licentious, mean and graceless—into images of living things, or into buildings, or into anything else they make, and not allow anyone who can’t comply to practice his craft among us? That way our 401c guardians won’t be raised among images of badness, as if in bad pasture,
πολλὰ ἑκάστης ἡμέρας κατὰ σμικρὸν ἀπὸ πολλῶν δρεπόμενοί τε καὶ νεμόμενοι, ἕν τι συνιστάντες λανθάνωσιν κακὸν μέγα ἐν τῇ αὑτῶν ψυχῇ, ἀλλʼ ἐκείνους ζητητέον τοὺς δημιουργοὺς τοὺς εὐφυῶς δυναμένους ἰχνεύειν τὴν τοῦ καλοῦ τε καὶ εὐσχήμονος φύσιν, ἵνα ὥσπερ ἐν ὑγιεινῷ τόπῳ οἰκοῦντες οἱ νέοι ἀπὸ παντὸς ὠφελῶνται, ὁπόθεν ἂν αὐτοῖς ἀπὸ τῶν καλῶν ἔργων ἢ πρὸς ὄψιν ἢ πρὸς ἀκοήν τι προσβάλῃ, ὥσπερ αὔρα φέρουσα ἀπὸ 401d χρηστῶν τόπων ὑγίειαν, καὶ εὐθὺς ἐκ παίδων λανθάνῃ εἰς ὁμοιότητά τε καὶ φιλίαν καὶ συμφωνίαν τῷ καλῷ λόγῳ ἄγουσα;
every day cropping and grazing a little from many plants, until without realizing it they build up one great evil in their own souls. Mustn’t we seek out instead those craftsmen with a gift for tracking down the nature of what is fine and graceful, so that the young, as if living in a healthy place, will benefit from everything—from whatever part of fine works strikes their eyes or ears, like a breeze bringing health from 401d wholesome places—and from childhood on, without their noticing, it will lead them into likeness, friendship and harmony with the beauty of reason?”
πολὺ γὰρ ἄν, ἔφη, κάλλιστα οὕτω τραφεῖεν.
ἆρʼ οὖν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὦ Γλαύκων, τούτων ἕνεκα κυριωτάτη ἐν μουσικῇ τροφή, ὅτι μάλιστα καταδύεται εἰς τὸ ἐντὸς τῆς ψυχῆς ὅ τε ῥυθμὸς καὶ ἁρμονία, καὶ ἐρρωμενέστατα ἅπτεται αὐτῆς φέροντα τὴν εὐσχημοσύνην, καὶ ποιεῖ εὐσχήμονα, 401e ἐάν τις ὀρθῶς τραφῇ, εἰ δὲ μή, τοὐναντίον;
“Yes,” he said, “that would be by far the finest way to raise them.”
“Then isn’t that why, Glaucon,” I said, “upbringing in music is most decisive? Because rhythm and mode sink deepest into the inner part of the soul and take the strongest hold on it, bringing grace with them and making a person graceful, 401e if he’s brought up rightly, and if not, the opposite?
καὶ ὅτι αὖ τῶν παραλειπομένων καὶ μὴ καλῶς δημιουργηθέντων ἢ μὴ καλῶς φύντων ὀξύτατʼ ἂν αἰσθάνοιτο ὁ ἐκεῖ τραφεὶς ὡς ἔδει, καὶ ὀρθῶς δὴ δυσχεραίνων τὰ μὲν καλὰ ἐπαινοῖ καὶ χαίρων καὶ καταδεχόμενος εἰς τὴν ψυχὴν τρέφοιτʼ ἂν ἀπʼ αὐτῶν καὶ 402a γίγνοιτο καλός τε κἀγαθός, τὰ δʼ αἰσχρὰ ψέγοι τʼ ἂν ὀρθῶς καὶ μισοῖ ἔτι νέος ὤν, πρὶν λόγον δυνατὸς εἶναι λαβεῖν, ἐλθόντος δὲ τοῦ λόγου ἀσπάζοιτʼ ἂν αὐτὸν γνωρίζων διʼ οἰκειότητα μάλιστα ὁ οὕτω τραφείς;
ἐμοὶ γοῦν δοκεῖ, ἔφη, τῶν τοιούτων ἕνεκα ἐν μουσικῇ εἶναι ἡ τροφή.
“And also because someone brought up in it as he should be would be quickest to perceive what has been left out, or badly crafted, or has grown badly; and, feeling a proper distaste, he would praise fine things, and delight in them, and take them into his soul, and be nourished by them and 402a become fine and good himself; while ugly things he would rightly blame and hate while he’s still young, before he’s able to grasp the reason. And when reason comes, the person brought up this way would welcome it most of all, recognizing it through its kinship with him?”
“It seems to me, at least,” he said, “that it’s for reasons like these that upbringing is in music.”
ὥσπερ ἄρα, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, γραμμάτων πέρι τότε ἱκανῶς εἴχομεν, ὅτε τὰ στοιχεῖα μὴ λανθάνοι ἡμᾶς ὀλίγα ὄντα ἐν ἅπασιν οἷς ἔστιν περιφερόμενα, καὶ οὔτʼ ἐν σμικρῷ οὔτʼ ἐν 402b μεγάλῳ ἠτιμάζομεν αὐτά, ὡς οὐ δέοι αἰσθάνεσθαι, ἀλλὰ πανταχοῦ προυθυμούμεθα διαγιγνώσκειν, ὡς οὐ πρότερον ἐσόμενοι γραμματικοὶ πρὶν οὕτως ἔχοιμεν—
ἀληθῆ.
οὐκοῦν καὶ εἰκόνας γραμμάτων, εἴ που ἢ ἐν ὕδασιν ἢ ἐν κατόπτροις ἐμφαίνοιντο, οὐ πρότερον γνωσόμεθα, πρὶν ἂν αὐτὰ γνῶμεν, ἀλλʼ ἔστιν τῆς αὐτῆς τέχνης τε καὶ μελέτης;
παντάπασι μὲν οὖν.
“Well,” I said, “it’s just as it was with learning to read. We were competent only when the letters didn’t escape us—few as they are—in all the words where they turn up, and when we didn’t dismiss them, in small words 402b or large, as not needing to be noticed, but were eager to recognize them everywhere, knowing we’d never be literate until we could do that—”
“True.”
“And we won’t recognize images of letters, either, if they appear in water or in mirrors, until we know the letters themselves—doesn’t that belong to the same skill and practice?”
“Absolutely.”
ἆρʼ οὖν, ὃ λέγω, πρὸς θεῶν, οὕτως οὐδὲ μουσικοὶ πρότερον 402c ἐσόμεθα, οὔτε αὐτοὶ οὔτε οὕς φαμεν ἡμῖν παιδευτέον εἶναι τοὺς φύλακας, πρὶν ἂν τὰ τῆς σωφροσύνης εἴδη καὶ ἀνδρείας καὶ ἐλευθεριότητος καὶ μεγαλοπρεπείας καὶ ὅσα τούτων ἀδελφὰ καὶ τὰ τούτων αὖ ἐναντία πανταχοῦ περιφερόμενα γνωρίζωμεν καὶ ἐνόντα ἐν οἷς ἔνεστιν αἰσθανώμεθα καὶ αὐτὰ καὶ εἰκόνας αὐτῶν, καὶ μήτε ἐν σμικροῖς μήτε ἐν μεγάλοις ἀτιμάζωμεν, ἀλλὰ τῆς αὐτῆς οἰώμεθα τέχνης εἶναι καὶ μελέτης;
πολλὴ ἀνάγκη, ἔφη. 402d
“Then, by the gods, isn’t it as I say? In the same way we won’t be educated in music either, 402c neither we ourselves nor the guardians we say we must educate, until we recognize the forms of moderation, courage, generosity, magnificence, and all their kin, and their opposites too, turning up everywhere; and perceive them in whatever they’re present in, both the things themselves and their images; and don’t dismiss them in small things or in large, but believe it all belongs to the same skill and practice?”
“That’s absolutely necessary,” he said. 402d
οὐκοῦν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὅτου ἂν συμπίπτῃ ἔν τε τῇ ψυχῇ καλὰ ἤθη ἐνόντα καὶ ἐν τῷ εἴδει ὁμολογοῦντα ἐκείνοις καὶ συμφωνοῦντα, τοῦ αὐτοῦ μετέχοντα τύπου, τοῦτʼ ἂν εἴη κάλλιστον θέαμα τῷ δυναμένῳ θεᾶσθαι;
πολύ γε.
καὶ μὴν τό γε κάλλιστον ἐρασμιώτατον;
πῶς δʼ οὔ;
τῶν δὴ ὅτι μάλιστα τοιούτων ἀνθρώπων ὅ γε μουσικὸς ἐρῴη ἄν· εἰ δὲ ἀσύμφωνος εἴη, οὐκ ἂν ἐρῴη.
οὐκ ἄν, εἴ γέ τι, ἔφη, κατὰ τὴν ψυχὴν ἐλλείποι· εἰ μέντοι τι κατὰ τὸ σῶμα, ὑπομείνειεν ἂν ὥστε ἐθέλειν 402e ἀσπάζεσθαι.
“Then,” I said, “when someone has a fine character in his soul, and in his appearance features that agree and harmonize with it, sharing the same stamp, wouldn’t that be the most beautiful sight for anyone able to see it?”
“By far.”
“And what is most beautiful is most lovable?”
“Of course.”
“Then the person educated in music would love people of this kind above all; but if someone were out of harmony, he wouldn’t love him.”
“Not if he were lacking something in his soul,” he said. “But if it were something in his body, he’d put up with it and be willing 402e to embrace him.”
μανθάνω, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· ὅτι ἔστιν σοι ἢ γέγονεν παιδικὰ τοιαῦτα, καὶ συγχωρῶ. ἀλλὰ τόδε μοι εἰπέ· σωφροσύνῃ καὶ ἡδονῇ ὑπερβαλλούσῃ ἔστι τις κοινωνία;
καὶ πῶς; ἔφη, ἥ γε ἔκφρονα ποιεῖ οὐχ ἧττον ἢ λύπη;
ἀλλὰ τῇ ἄλλῃ ἀρετῇ;
οὐδαμῶς.
τί δέ; ὕβρει τε καὶ ἀκολασίᾳ;
πάντων μάλιστα.
μείζω δέ τινα καὶ ὀξυτέραν ἔχεις εἰπεῖν ἡδονὴν τῆς περὶ τὰ ἀφροδίσια;
οὐκ ἔχω, ἦ δʼ ὅς, οὐδέ γε μανικωτέραν.
ὁ δὲ ὀρθὸς ἔρως πέφυκε κοσμίου τε καὶ καλοῦ σωφρόνως τε καὶ μουσικῶς ἐρᾶν;
“I understand,” I said. “You have, or had, a beloved like that, and I’ll grant the point. But tell me this: does moderation have anything in common with excessive pleasure?”
“How could it,” he said, “when such pleasure drives people out of their minds no less than pain does?”
“With the rest of excellence, then?”
“Not at all.”
“Well, with wantonness and licentiousness?”
“More than anything.”
“Can you name any pleasure greater or keener than sexual pleasure?”
“No,” he said, “nor any more insane.”
“And isn’t right love, by its nature, a moderate and musical love of what is orderly and beautiful?”
καὶ μάλα, ἦ δʼ ὅς.
οὐδὲν ἄρα προσοιστέον μανικὸν οὐδὲ συγγενὲς ἀκολασίας τῷ ὀρθῷ ἔρωτι;
οὐ προσοιστέον. 403b
οὐ προσοιστέον ἄρα αὕτη ἡ ἡδονή, οὐδὲ κοινωνητέον αὐτῆς ἐραστῇ τε καὶ παιδικοῖς ὀρθῶς ἐρῶσί τε καὶ ἐρωμένοις;
οὐ μέντοι μὰ Δίʼ, ἔφη, ὦ Σώκρατες, προσοιστέον.
“Very much so,” he said.
“Then nothing mad or akin to licentiousness should come near right love?”
“It shouldn’t.” 403b
“Then this pleasure mustn’t come near it, and lover and beloved who love and are loved rightly must have no part in it?”
“No, by Zeus, Socrates,” he said, “it certainly mustn’t come near it.”
οὕτω δή, ὡς ἔοικε, νομοθετήσεις ἐν τῇ οἰκιζομένῃ πόλει φιλεῖν μὲν καὶ συνεῖναι καὶ ἅπτεσθαι ὥσπερ ὑέος παιδικῶν ἐραστήν, τῶν καλῶν χάριν, ἐὰν πείθῃ, τὰ δʼ ἄλλα οὕτως ὁμιλεῖν πρὸς ὅν τις σπουδάζοι, ὅπως μηδέποτε δόξει μακρότερα 403c τούτων συγγίγνεσθαι· εἰ δὲ μή, ψόγον ἀμουσίας καὶ ἀπειροκαλίας ὑφέξοντα.
οὕτως, ἔφη.
ἆρʼ οὖν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καὶ σοὶ φαίνεται τέλος ἡμῖν ἔχειν ὁ περὶ μουσικῆς λόγος; οἷ γοῦν δεῖ τελευτᾶν, τετελεύτηκεν· δεῖ δέ που τελευτᾶν τὰ μουσικὰ εἰς τὰ τοῦ καλοῦ ἐρωτικά.
σύμφημι, ἦ δʼ ὅς.
“So it seems you’ll lay down a law in the city we’re founding: a lover may kiss his beloved, spend time with him and touch him as he would a son, for the sake of what is fine, if the boy consents; but in all other respects he must associate with the one he cares for in such a way that he’ll never seem to go further 403c than this. Otherwise he’ll be open to reproach for being unmusical and lacking in taste.”
“Just so,” he said.
“Then does it seem to you as well,” I said, “that our discussion of music has reached its end? It has ended, at any rate, where it ought to end, since music surely ought to end in the love of the beautiful.”
“I agree,” he said.
Physical training and medicine
Socrates prescribes simple physical training and criticizes medicine that prolongs idle, sickly lives.
μετὰ δὴ μουσικὴν γυμναστικῇ θρεπτέοι οἱ νεανίαι.
τί μήν;
δεῖ μὲν δὴ καὶ ταύτῃ ἀκριβῶς τρέφεσθαι ἐκ παίδων διὰ 403d βίου. ἔχει δέ πως, ὡς ἐγᾦμαι, ὧδε· σκόπει δὲ καὶ σύ. ἐμοὶ μὲν γὰρ οὐ φαίνεται, ὃ ἂν χρηστὸν ᾖ σῶμα, τοῦτο τῇ αὑτοῦ ἀρετῇ ψυχὴν ἀγαθὴν ποιεῖν, ἀλλὰ τοὐναντίον ψυχὴ ἀγαθὴ τῇ αὑτῆς ἀρετῇ σῶμα παρέχειν ὡς οἷόν τε βέλτιστον· σοὶ δὲ πῶς φαίνεται;
καὶ ἐμοί, ἔφη, οὕτως.
“After music, the young men must be brought up on physical training.”
“Of course.”
“In this too they must be carefully trained, from childhood throughout 403d their lives. And here’s how it is, I think—but you consider it too. It doesn’t seem to me that a sound body, by its own excellence, makes the soul good; it’s the other way around: a good soul, by its own excellence, makes the body as good as it can be. How does it seem to you?”
“The same to me,” he said.
οὐκοῦν εἰ τὴν διάνοιαν ἱκανῶς θεραπεύσαντες παραδοῖμεν αὐτῇ τὰ περὶ τὸ σῶμα ἀκριβολογεῖσθαι, ἡμεῖς δὲ ὅσον τοὺς 403e τύπους ὑφηγησαίμεθα, ἵνα μὴ μακρολογῶμεν, ὀρθῶς ἂν ποιοῖμεν;
πάνυ μὲν οὖν.
μέθης μὲν δὴ εἴπομεν ὅτι ἀφεκτέον αὐτοῖς· παντὶ γάρ που μᾶλλον ἐγχωρεῖ ἢ φύλακι μεθυσθέντι μὴ εἰδέναι ὅπου γῆς ἐστιν.
γελοῖον γάρ, ἦ δʼ ὅς, τόν γε φύλακα φύλακος δεῖσθαι.
τί δὲ δὴ σίτων πέρι; ἀθληταὶ μὲν γὰρ οἱ ἄνδρες τοῦ μεγίστου ἀγῶνος. ἢ οὐχί;
ναί.
“Then if we took adequate care of the mind and handed over to it the detailed care of the body, while we ourselves only outlined the 403e patterns, so as not to talk at length, would we be doing right?”
“Certainly.”
“Now we said they must keep away from drunkenness. Anyone rather than a guardian can be allowed to get drunk and not know where on earth he is.”
“Yes,” he said, “it would be ridiculous for a guardian to need a guardian.”
“And what about food? These men are athletes in the greatest of contests, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
ἆρʼ οὖν ἡ τῶνδε τῶν ἀσκητῶν ἕξις προσήκουσʼ ἂν εἴη τούτοις;
ἴσως.
ἀλλʼ, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὑπνώδης αὕτη γέ τις καὶ σφαλερὰ πρὸς ὑγίειαν. ἢ οὐχ ὁρᾷς ὅτι καθεύδουσί τε τὸν βίον καί, ἐὰν σμικρὰ ἐκβῶσιν τῆς τεταγμένης διαίτης, μεγάλα καὶ σφόδρα νοσοῦσιν οὗτοι οἱ ἀσκηταί;
ὁρῶ.
“Then would the condition of today’s athletes be suitable for them?”
“Perhaps.”
“But,” I said, “it’s a sleepy sort of condition, and precarious for health. Don’t you see that these athletes sleep their lives away, and if they depart even a little from their prescribed regimen, they fall seriously and violently ill?”
“I do see that.”
κομψοτέρας δή τινος, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἀσκήσεως δεῖ τοῖς πολεμικοῖς ἀθληταῖς, οὕς γε ὥσπερ κύνας ἀγρύπνους τε ἀνάγκη εἶναι καὶ ὅτι μάλιστα ὀξὺ ὁρᾶν καὶ ἀκούειν καὶ πολλὰς μεταβολὰς ἐν ταῖς στρατείαις μεταβάλλοντας ὑδάτων 404b τε καὶ τῶν ἄλλων σίτων καὶ εἱλήσεων καὶ χειμώνων μὴ ἀκροσφαλεῖς εἶναι πρὸς ὑγίειαν.
φαίνεταί μοι.
ἆρʼ οὖν ἡ βελτίστη γυμναστικὴ ἀδελφή τις ἂν εἴη τῆς ἁπλῆς μουσικῆς ἣν ὀλίγον πρότερον διῇμεν;
πῶς λέγεις;
ἁπλῆ που καὶ ἐπιεικὴς γυμναστική, καὶ μάλιστα ἡ τῶν περὶ τὸν πόλεμον.
πῇ δή;
“Then our warrior-athletes need a more refined kind of training,” I said. “Like dogs, they must be wakeful and see and hear as sharply as possible; and on campaign, going through many changes of water 404b and other food, of summer heat and winter storms, they mustn’t be precariously balanced in their health.”
“So it seems to me.”
“Then would the best physical training be a sister of the simple music we described a little earlier?”
“What do you mean?”
“A simple and decent physical training, especially the kind for war.”
“How so?”
καὶ παρʼ Ὁμήρου, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τά γε τοιαῦτα μάθοι ἄν τις. οἶσθα γὰρ ὅτι ἐπὶ στρατιᾶς ἐν ταῖς τῶν ἡρώων ἑστιάσεσιν οὔτε ἰχθύσιν αὐτοὺς ἑστιᾷ, καὶ ταῦτα ἐπὶ 404c θαλάττῃ ἐν Ἑλλησπόντῳ ὄντας, οὔτε ἑφθοῖς κρέασιν ἀλλὰ μόνον ὀπτοῖς, ἃ δὴ μάλιστʼ ἂν εἴη στρατιώταις εὔπορα· πανταχοῦ γὰρ ὡς ἔπος εἰπεῖν αὐτῷ τῷ πυρὶ χρῆσθαι εὐπορώτερον ἢ ἀγγεῖα συμπεριφέρειν.
καὶ μάλα.
οὐδὲ μὴν ἡδυσμάτων, ὡς ἐγᾦμαι, Ὅμηρος πώποτε ἐμνήσθη. ἢ τοῦτο μὲν καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι ἀσκηταὶ ἴσασιν, ὅτι τῷ μέλλοντι σώματι εὖ ἕξειν ἀφεκτέον τῶν τοιούτων ἁπάντων;
“One could learn such things even from Homer,” I said. “You know that when his heroes feast on campaign he doesn’t treat them to fish, even though they’re 404c by the sea at the Hellespont, or to boiled meat, but only to roasted, which is what soldiers could most easily come by. Just about everywhere it’s easier to use the fire itself than to carry pots around.”
“Very much so.”
“Nor, I think, did Homer ever mention sauces. Or is this something even other athletes know, that a body meant to be in good condition must keep away from all such things?”
καὶ ὀρθῶς γε, ἔφη, ἴσασί τε καὶ ἀπέχονται. 404d
Συρακοσίαν δέ, ὦ φίλε, τράπεζαν καὶ Σικελικὴν ποικιλίαν ὄψου, ὡς ἔοικας, οὐκ αἰνεῖς, εἴπερ σοι ταῦτα δοκεῖ ὀρθῶς ἔχειν.
οὔ μοι δοκῶ.
ψέγεις ἄρα καὶ Κορινθίαν κόρην φίλην εἶναι ἀνδράσιν μέλλουσιν εὖ σώματος ἕξειν.
παντάπασι μὲν οὖν.
οὐκοῦν καὶ Ἀττικῶν πεμμάτων τὰς δοκούσας εἶναι εὐπαθείας;
ἀνάγκη.
ὅλην γὰρ οἶμαι τὴν τοιαύτην σίτησιν καὶ δίαιταν τῇ μελοποιίᾳ τε καὶ ᾠδῇ τῇ ἐν τῷ παναρμονίῳ καὶ ἐν πᾶσι 404e ῥυθμοῖς πεποιημένῃ ἀπεικάζοντες ὀρθῶς ἂν ἀπεικάζοιμεν.
“Yes,” he said, “and they’re right to know it and keep away.” 404d
“Then it seems you don’t approve, my friend, of a Syracusan table and the Sicilian variety of dishes, if you think this is right.”
“I don’t think I do.”
“Then you also disapprove of men who mean to be in good physical condition having a Corinthian girl as a mistress.”
“Absolutely.”
“And of the supposed delights of Attic pastries?”
“Necessarily.”
“Yes, for I think we’d be right to compare such food and such a way of life as a whole to melody and song composed in every mode and in every 404e rhythm.”
πῶς γὰρ οὔ;
οὐκοῦν ἐκεῖ μὲν ἀκολασίαν ἡ ποικιλία ἐνέτικτεν, ἐνταῦθα δὲ νόσον, ἡ δὲ ἁπλότης κατὰ μὲν μουσικὴν ἐν ψυχαῖς σωφροσύνην, κατὰ δὲ γυμναστικὴν ἐν σώμασιν ὑγίειαν;
ἀληθέστατα, ἔφη.
ἀκολασίας δὲ καὶ νόσων πληθυουσῶν ἐν πόλει ἆρʼ οὐ δικαστήριά τε καὶ ἰατρεῖα πολλὰ ἀνοίγεται, καὶ δικανική τε καὶ ἰατρικὴ σεμνύνονται, ὅταν δὴ καὶ ἐλεύθεροι πολλοὶ καὶ σφόδρα περὶ αὐτὰ σπουδάζωσιν;
τί γὰρ οὐ μέλλει;
“Of course.”
“There, variety bred licentiousness, and here it breeds disease; whereas simplicity in music produces moderation in souls, and in physical training, health in bodies?”
“Very true,” he said.
“And when licentiousness and diseases multiply in a city, don’t many law courts and doctors’ offices open up, and don’t the arts of the courtroom and of medicine give themselves airs, once even many free men take them very seriously?”
“How could they not?”
τῆς δὲ κακῆς τε καὶ αἰσχρᾶς παιδείας ἐν πόλει ἆρα μή τι μεῖζον ἕξεις λαβεῖν τεκμήριον ἢ τὸ δεῖσθαι ἰατρῶν καὶ δικαστῶν ἄκρων μὴ μόνον τοὺς φαύλους τε καὶ χειροτέχνας, ἀλλὰ καὶ τοὺς ἐν ἐλευθέρῳ σχήματι προσποιουμένους τεθράφθαι; 405b ἢ οὐκ αἰσχρὸν δοκεῖ καὶ ἀπαιδευσίας μέγα τεκμήριον τὸ ἐπακτῷ παρʼ ἄλλων, ὡς δεσποτῶν τε καὶ κριτῶν, τῷ δικαίῳ ἀναγκάζεσθαι χρῆσθαι, καὶ ἀπορίᾳ οἰκείων;
πάντων μὲν οὖν, ἔφη, αἴσχιστον.
“And could you find any greater proof of bad and shameful education in a city than the need for first-rate doctors and judges, not only among the lowly and the manual workers, but also among those who pretend to have been brought up as free men? 405b Don’t you think it shameful, and a great proof of lack of education, to be forced to rely on a justice imported from others, as if they were your masters and judges, for lack of any of your own?”
“That’s the most shameful thing of all,” he said.
ἦ δοκεῖ σοι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τούτου αἴσχιον εἶναι τοῦτο, ὅταν δή τις μὴ μόνον τὸ πολὺ τοῦ βίου ἐν δικαστηρίοις φεύγων τε καὶ διώκων κατατρίβηται, ἀλλὰ καὶ ὑπὸ ἀπειροκαλίας ἐπʼ αὐτῷ δὴ τούτῳ πεισθῇ καλλωπίζεσθαι, ὡς δεινὸς 405c ὢν περὶ τὸ ἀδικεῖν καὶ ἱκανὸς πάσας μὲν στροφὰς στρέφεσθαι, πάσας δὲ διεξόδους διεξελθὼν ἀποστραφῆναι λυγιζόμενος, ὥστε μὴ παρασχεῖν δίκην, καὶ ταῦτα σμικρῶν τε καὶ οὐδενὸς ἀξίων ἕνεκα, ἀγνοῶν ὅσῳ κάλλιον καὶ ἄμεινον τὸ παρασκευάζειν τὸν βίον αὑτῷ μηδὲν δεῖσθαι νυστάζοντος δικαστοῦ;
οὔκ, ἀλλὰ τοῦτʼ, ἔφη, ἐκείνου ἔτι αἴσχιον.
“Or do you think this is even more shameful,” I said, “when someone not only wears away the greater part of his life in the courts, as defendant and prosecutor, but through lack of taste is even persuaded to pride himself on this very thing—on being clever 405c at doing wrong and able to twist through every turn, slip out through every loophole and wriggle his way free, so as not to pay the penalty—and all for small and worthless things, not knowing how much finer and better it is to arrange his life so that he has no need of a drowsy juror?”
“No, the other isn’t the most shameful,” he said. “This is more shameful still.”
τὸ δὲ ἰατρικῆς, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, δεῖσθαι ὅτι μὴ τραυμάτων ἕνεκα ἤ τινων ἐπετείων νοσημάτων ἐπιπεσόντων, ἀλλὰ διʼ 405d ἀργίαν τε καὶ δίαιταν οἵαν διήλθομεν, ῥευμάτων τε καὶ πνευμάτων ὥσπερ λίμνας ἐμπιμπλαμένους φύσας τε καὶ κατάρρους νοσήμασιν ὀνόματα τίθεσθαι ἀναγκάζειν τοὺς κομψοὺς Ἀσκληπιάδας, οὐκ αἰσχρὸν δοκεῖ;
καὶ μάλʼ, ἔφη· ὡς ἀληθῶς καινὰ ταῦτα καὶ ἄτοπα νοσημάτων ὀνόματα.
“And needing medicine,” I said, “not for wounds, or because some seasonal illness has come along, but because of 405d idleness and the sort of regimen we described, filling up with fluids and gases like a marsh, and forcing the clever sons of Asclepius to give diseases names like ‘flatulence’ and ‘catarrh’—don’t you think that’s shameful?”
“Very,” he said. “Those really are strange, newfangled names for diseases.”
οἷα, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὡς οἶμαι, οὐκ ἦν ἐπʼ Ἀσκληπιοῦ. 405e τεκμαίρομαι δέ, ὅτι αὐτοῦ οἱ ὑεῖς ἐν Τροίᾳ Εὐρυπύλῳ τετρωμένῳ ἐπʼ οἶνον Πράμνειον ἄλφιτα πολλὰ ἐπιπασθέντα 406a καὶ τυρὸν ἐπιξυσθέντα, ἃ δὴ δοκεῖ φλεγματώδη εἶναι, οὐκ ἐμέμψαντο τῇ δούσῃ πιεῖν, οὐδὲ Πατρόκλῳ τῷ ἰωμένῳ ἐπετίμησαν.
καὶ μὲν δή, ἔφη, ἄτοπόν γε τὸ πῶμα οὕτως ἔχοντι.
“The kind that didn’t exist in Asclepius’ day, I think,” I said. 405e “My evidence is that at Troy his sons didn’t find fault with the woman who gave the wounded Eurypylus Pramnian wine to drink, with plenty of barley meal sprinkled on it 406a and cheese grated over it—things thought to produce phlegm—nor did they criticize Patroclus, who was treating him.”
“It certainly is a strange drink for someone in that state,” he said.
οὔκ, εἴ γʼ ἐννοεῖς, εἶπον, ὅτι τῇ παιδαγωγικῇ τῶν νοσημάτων ταύτῃ τῇ νῦν ἰατρικῇ πρὸ τοῦ Ἀσκληπιάδαι οὐκ ἐχρῶντο, ὥς φασι, πρὶν Ἡρόδικον γενέσθαι· Ἡρόδικος δὲ παιδοτρίβης ὢν καὶ νοσώδης γενόμενος, μείξας γυμναστικὴν 406b ἰατρικῇ, ἀπέκναισε πρῶτον μὲν καὶ μάλιστα ἑαυτόν, ἔπειτʼ ἄλλους ὕστερον πολλούς.
πῇ δή; ἔφη.
“Not if you bear in mind,” I said, “that before Herodicus came along, the sons of Asclepius, so they say, made no use of today’s medicine, which tends diseases like a child’s attendant. Herodicus was a physical trainer who became sickly, and by mixing physical training 406b with medicine he wore out first and foremost himself, and later many others as well.”
“How so?” he said.
μακρόν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τὸν θάνατον αὑτῷ ποιήσας. παρακολουθῶν γὰρ τῷ νοσήματι θανασίμῳ ὄντι οὔτε ἰάσασθαι οἶμαι οἷός τʼ ἦν ἑαυτόν, ἐν ἀσχολίᾳ τε πάντων ἰατρευόμενος διὰ βίου ἔζη, ἀποκναιόμενος εἴ τι τῆς εἰωθυίας διαίτης ἐκβαίη, δυσθανατῶν δὲ ὑπὸ σοφίας εἰς γῆρας ἀφίκετο.
καλὸν ἄρα τὸ γέρας, ἔφη, τῆς τέχνης ἠνέγκατο. 406c
“By making his death a long one,” I said. “He dogged his disease, which was fatal, but I don’t think he was able to cure himself. So he spent his whole life doctoring himself, with no time for anything else, in torment whenever he departed at all from his usual regimen; and, finding it hard to die thanks to his wisdom, he reached old age.”
“A fine prize his skill won him, then,” he said. 406c
οἷον εἰκός, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τὸν μὴ εἰδότα ὅτι Ἀσκληπιὸς οὐκ ἀγνοίᾳ οὐδὲ ἀπειρίᾳ τούτου τοῦ εἴδους τῆς ἰατρικῆς τοῖς ἐκγόνοις οὐ κατέδειξεν αὐτό, ἀλλʼ εἰδὼς ὅτι πᾶσι τοῖς εὐνομουμένοις ἔργον τι ἑκάστῳ ἐν τῇ πόλει προστέτακται, ὃ ἀναγκαῖον ἐργάζεσθαι, καὶ οὐδενὶ σχολὴ διὰ βίου κάμνειν ἰατρευομένῳ. ὃ ἡμεῖς γελοίως ἐπὶ μὲν τῶν δημιουργῶν αἰσθανόμεθα, ἐπὶ δὲ τῶν πλουσίων τε καὶ εὐδαιμόνων δοκούντων εἶναι οὐκ αἰσθανόμεθα.
πῶς; ἔφη. 406d
“A fitting one,” I said, “for someone who didn’t know that it wasn’t out of ignorance or inexperience of this kind of medicine that Asclepius didn’t reveal it to his descendants. It was because he knew that among all well-governed peoples each person has been assigned a particular task in the city, which he has to do, and nobody has the leisure to spend his life being ill and doctoring himself. Ridiculously, we recognize this in the case of craftsmen, but don’t recognize it in the case of the rich and supposedly happy.”
“How so?” he said. 406d
τέκτων μέν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, κάμνων ἀξιοῖ παρὰ τοῦ ἰατροῦ φάρμακον πιὼν ἐξεμέσαι τὸ νόσημα, ἢ κάτω καθαρθεὶς ἢ καύσει ἢ τομῇ χρησάμενος ἀπηλλάχθαι· ἐὰν δέ τις αὐτῷ μακρὰν δίαιταν προστάττῃ, πιλίδιά τε περὶ τὴν κεφαλὴν περιτιθεὶς καὶ τὰ τούτοις ἑπόμενα, ταχὺ εἶπεν ὅτι οὐ σχολὴ κάμνειν οὐδὲ λυσιτελεῖ οὕτω ζῆν, νοσήματι τὸν νοῦν προσέχοντα, τῆς δὲ προκειμένης ἐργασίας ἀμελοῦντα. καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα χαίρειν 406e εἰπὼν τῷ τοιούτῳ ἰατρῷ, εἰς τὴν εἰωθυῖαν δίαιταν ἐμβάς, ὑγιὴς γενόμενος ζῇ τὰ ἑαυτοῦ πράττων· ἐὰν δὲ μὴ ἱκανὸν ᾖ τὸ σῶμα ὑπενεγκεῖν, τελευτήσας πραγμάτων ἀπηλλάγη.
“A carpenter,” I said, “when he’s ill, expects the doctor to give him a drug to drink so he can vomit up the illness, or else to be purged from below, or to be rid of it by cautery or surgery. But if someone prescribes a long regimen for him, putting little felt caps on his head and all that goes with them, he quickly says he has no time to be ill, and that it doesn’t pay to live like that, paying attention to an illness and neglecting the work in front of him. And after that he says goodbye 406e to that sort of doctor, goes back to his usual regimen, gets healthy and lives doing his own work. Or if his body can’t bear up, he dies and is rid of his troubles.”
καὶ τῷ τοιούτῳ μέν γʼ, ἔφη, δοκεῖ πρέπειν οὕτω ἰατρικῇ χρῆσθαι.
ἆρα, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὅτι ἦν τι αὐτῷ ἔργον, ὃ εἰ μὴ πράττοι, οὐκ ἐλυσιτέλει ζῆν;
δῆλον, ἔφη.
ὁ δὲ δὴ πλούσιος, ὥς φαμεν, οὐδὲν ἔχει τοιοῦτον ἔργον προκείμενον, οὗ ἀναγκαζομένῳ ἀπέχεσθαι ἀβίωτον.
οὔκουν δὴ λέγεταί γε.
Φωκυλίδου γάρ, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, οὐκ ἀκούεις πῶς φησι δεῖν, ὅταν τῳ ἤδη βίος ᾖ, ἀρετὴν ἀσκεῖν.
οἶμαι δέ γε, ἔφη, καὶ πρότερον.
“Yes,” he said, “and for a person like that it seems fitting to use medicine in this way.”
“Is that because,” I said, “he had some work to do, and if he didn’t do it, life wasn’t worth living?”
“Obviously,” he said.
“But the rich man, we say, has no such work set before him that would make life unlivable if he were forced to keep away from it.”
“So it’s said, at any rate.”
“That’s because you haven’t been listening to Phocylides,” I said, “who says that once a person has a livelihood, he ought to practice excellence.”
“I think he ought to before that too,” he said.
μηδέν, εἶπον, περὶ τούτου αὐτῷ μαχώμεθα, ἀλλʼ ἡμᾶς αὐτοὺς διδάξωμεν πότερον μελετητέον τοῦτο τῷ πλουσίῳ 407b καὶ ἀβίωτον τῷ μὴ μελετῶντι, ἢ νοσοτροφία τεκτονικῇ μὲν καὶ ταῖς ἄλλαις τέχναις ἐμπόδιον τῇ προσέξει τοῦ νοῦ, τὸ δὲ Φωκυλίδου παρακέλευμα οὐδὲν ἐμποδίζει.
ναὶ μὰ τὸν Δία, ἦ δʼ ὅς. σχεδόν γέ τι πάντων μάλιστα ἥ γε περαιτέρω γυμναστικῆς ἡ περιττὴ αὕτη ἐπιμέλεια τοῦ σώματος· καὶ γὰρ πρὸς οἰκονομίας καὶ πρὸς στρατείας καὶ πρὸς ἑδραίους ἐν πόλει ἀρχὰς δύσκολος.
“Let’s not fight with him about that,” I said, “but let’s teach ourselves whether the rich man must practice this, and whether life is unlivable for one who doesn’t, 407b or whether nursing illness is a hindrance to attending to carpentry and the other crafts, but no hindrance at all to following Phocylides’ advice.”
“Yes, by Zeus,” he said. “Just about the greatest hindrance of all is this excessive care of the body that goes beyond physical training. It’s a nuisance for running a household, for going on campaign, and for holding a settled office in the city.”
τὸ δὲ δὴ μέγιστον, ὅτι καὶ πρὸς μαθήσεις ἁστινασοῦν καὶ 407c ἐννοήσεις τε καὶ μελέτας πρὸς ἑαυτὸν χαλεπή, κεφαλῆς τινας ἀεὶ διατάσεις καὶ ἰλίγγους ὑποπτεύουσα καὶ αἰτιωμένη ἐκ φιλοσοφίας ἐγγίγνεσθαι, ὥστε, ὅπῃ ταύτῃ ἀρετὴ ἀσκεῖται καὶ δοκιμάζεται, πάντῃ ἐμπόδιος· κάμνειν γὰρ οἴεσθαι ποιεῖ ἀεὶ καὶ ὠδίνοντα μήποτε λήγειν περὶ τοῦ σώματος.
εἰκός γε, ἔφη.
“And most important of all, it makes any kind of learning, 407c reflection or private study difficult. It’s always suspecting headaches and dizziness and blaming philosophy for them, so that wherever excellence is practiced and tested in this way, it’s a hindrance in every respect. It makes a person always think he’s ill, and never stop agonizing over his body.”
“Likely enough,” he said.
οὐκοῦν ταῦτα γιγνώσκοντα φῶμεν καὶ Ἀσκληπιὸν τοὺς μὲν φύσει τε καὶ διαίτῃ ὑγιεινῶς ἔχοντας τὰ σώματα, 407d νόσημα δέ τι ἀποκεκριμένον ἴσχοντας ἐν αὑτοῖς, τούτοις μὲν καὶ ταύτῃ τῇ ἕξει καταδεῖξαι ἰατρικήν, φαρμάκοις τε καὶ τομαῖς τὰ νοσήματα ἐκβάλλοντα αὐτῶν τὴν εἰωθυῖαν προστάττειν δίαιταν, ἵνα μὴ τὰ πολιτικὰ βλάπτοι, τὰ δʼ εἴσω διὰ παντὸς νενοσηκότα σώματα οὐκ ἐπιχειρεῖν διαίταις κατὰ σμικρὸν ἀπαντλοῦντα καὶ ἐπιχέοντα μακρὸν καὶ κακὸν βίον ἀνθρώπῳ ποιεῖν, καὶ ἔκγονα αὐτῶν, ὡς τὸ εἰκός, ἕτερα τοιαῦτα φυτεύειν, ἀλλὰ τὸν μὴ δυνάμενον ἐν τῇ καθεστηκυίᾳ 407e περιόδῳ ζῆν μὴ οἴεσθαι δεῖν θεραπεύειν, ὡς οὔτε αὑτῷ οὔτε πόλει λυσιτελῆ;
“Then shall we say that Asclepius knew this too? For people whose bodies were healthy by nature and regimen, 407d but who had some specific disease in them—for them and for this condition he revealed the art of medicine, driving out their diseases with drugs and surgery and prescribing their usual regimen, so as not to harm their life as citizens. But with bodies diseased through and through inside, he didn’t try, by regimens that drain off and pour in a little at a time, to make a long and miserable life for the person, and to let him father offspring likely to be the same. Instead, he thought that someone unable to live in the established 407e course of life shouldn’t be treated, since he’s of no use either to himself or to the city?”
δῆλον, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· καὶ οἱ παῖδες αὐτοῦ, ὅτι τοιοῦτος ἦν, 408a οὐχ ὁρᾷς ὡς καὶ ἐν Τροίᾳ ἀγαθοὶ πρὸς τὸν πόλεμον ἐφάνησαν, καὶ τῇ ἰατρικῇ, ὡς ἐγὼ λέγω, ἐχρῶντο; ἢ οὐ μέμνησαι ὅτι καὶ τῷ Μενέλεῳ ἐκ τοῦ τραύματος οὗ ὁ Πάνδαρος ἔβαλεν— αἷμʼ ἐκμυζήσαντες ἐπʼ ἤπια φάρμακʼ ἔπασσον, ὅτι δʼ ἐχρῆν μετὰ τοῦτο ἢ πιεῖν ἢ φαγεῖν οὐδὲν μᾶλλον ἢ τῷ Εὐρυπύλῳ προσέταττον, ὡς ἱκανῶν ὄντων τῶν φαρμάκων ἰάσασθαι ἄνδρας πρὸ τῶν τραυμάτων ὑγιεινούς τε καὶ 408b κοσμίους ἐν διαίτῃ, κἂν εἰ τύχοιεν ἐν τῷ παραχρῆμα κυκεῶνα πιόντες, νοσώδη δὲ φύσει τε καὶ ἀκόλαστον οὔτε αὐτοῖς οὔτε τοῖς ἄλλοις ᾤοντο λυσιτελεῖν ζῆν, οὐδʼ ἐπὶ τούτοις τὴν τέχνην δεῖν εἶναι, οὐδὲ θεραπευτέον αὐτούς, οὐδʼ εἰ Μίδου πλουσιώτεροι εἶεν.
“Clearly,” I said. “And his sons, because he was that kind of man— 408a don’t you see how they too proved good at war at Troy, and practiced medicine the way I describe? Don’t you remember how, with the wound Pandarus gave Menelaus, ‘they sucked out the blood and sprinkled soothing drugs on it’? But what he should drink or eat afterward they no more prescribed for him than for Eurypylus, since they thought drugs were enough to heal men who before their wounds had been healthy and 408b orderly in their way of life, even if they happened to drink a heavy mixed drink on the spot. But a man sickly by nature and undisciplined, they thought, profited neither himself nor anyone else by living. Their art wasn’t meant for such people, and they shouldn’t be treated, not even if they were richer than Midas.”
πάνυ κομψούς, ἔφη, λέγεις Ἀσκληπιοῦ παῖδας.
πρέπει, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καίτοι ἀπειθοῦντές γε ἡμῖν οἱ τραγῳδοποιοί τε καὶ Πίνδαρος Ἀπόλλωνος μέν φασιν Ἀσκληπιὸν εἶναι, ὑπὸ δὲ χρυσοῦ πεισθῆναι πλούσιον ἄνδρα θανάσιμον 408c ἤδη ὄντα ἰάσασθαι, ὅθεν δὴ καὶ κεραυνωθῆναι αὐτόν. ἡμεῖς δὲ κατὰ τὰ προειρημένα οὐ πεισόμεθα αὐτοῖς ἀμφότερα, ἀλλʼ εἰ μὲν θεοῦ ἦν, οὐκ ἦν, φήσομεν, αἰσχροκερδής· εἰ δʼ αἰσχροκερδής, οὐκ ἦν θεοῦ.
“They were very sophisticated, these sons of Asclepius you describe,” he said.
“As was fitting,” I said. “And yet the tragic poets and Pindar, refusing to obey us, say that Asclepius was the son of Apollo, and that he was bribed with gold to heal a rich man who was already 408c dying, and that this is why he was struck by lightning. But we, in keeping with what we said before, won’t believe them on both counts. If he was the son of a god, we’ll say, he wasn’t greedy for gain; and if he was greedy for gain, he wasn’t the son of a god.”
ὀρθότατα, ἦ δʼ ὅς, ταῦτά γε. ἀλλὰ περὶ τοῦδε τί λέγεις, ὦ Σώκρατες; ἆρʼ οὐκ ἀγαθοὺς δεῖ ἐν τῇ πόλει κεκτῆσθαι ἰατρούς; εἶεν δʼ ἄν που μάλιστα τοιοῦτοι ὅσοι 408d πλείστους μὲν ὑγιεινούς, πλείστους δὲ νοσώδεις μετεχειρίσαντο, καὶ δικασταὶ αὖ ὡσαύτως οἱ παντοδαπαῖς φύσεσιν ὡμιληκότες.
καὶ μάλα, εἶπον, ἀγαθοὺς λέγω. ἀλλʼ οἶσθα οὓς ἡγοῦμαι τοιούτους;
ἂν εἴπῃς, ἔφη.
ἀλλὰ πειράσομαι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· σὺ μέντοι οὐχ ὅμοιον πρᾶγμα τῷ αὐτῷ λόγῳ ἤρου.
πῶς; ἔφη.
“That much is quite right,” he said. “But what do you say about this, Socrates? Don’t we need to have good doctors in our city? And the best would presumably be those who 408d have handled the most healthy people and the most sick ones; and likewise with judges, those who have dealt with every sort of nature.”
“Good ones, certainly,” I said. “But do you know whom I consider such?”
“If you tell me,” he said.
“I’ll try,” I said. “But you asked about two dissimilar things in the same question.”
“How so?” he said.
ἰατροὶ μέν, εἶπον, δεινότατοι ἂν γένοιντο, εἰ ἐκ παίδων ἀρξάμενοι πρὸς τῷ μανθάνειν τὴν τέχνην ὡς πλείστοις τε καὶ πονηροτάτοις σώμασιν ὁμιλήσειαν καὶ αὐτοὶ πάσας 408e νόσους κάμοιεν καὶ εἶεν μὴ πάνυ ὑγιεινοὶ φύσει. οὐ γὰρ οἶμαι σώματι σῶμα θεραπεύουσιν—οὐ γὰρ ἂν αὐτὰ ἐνεχώρει κακὰ εἶναί ποτε καὶ γενέσθαι—ἀλλὰ ψυχῇ σῶμα, ᾗ οὐκ ἐγχωρεῖ κακὴν γενομένην τε καὶ οὖσαν εὖ τι θεραπεύειν.
ὀρθῶς, ἔφη.
“Doctors,” I said, “would become most skilled if, starting from childhood, besides learning their art, they had dealings with as many bodies as possible, and the most unhealthy ones, and if they themselves suffered every 408e disease and weren’t very healthy by nature. For it’s not with the body, I think, that they treat the body—if it were, their own bodies could never be allowed to be or become bad—but with the soul; and a soul that has become bad, and is bad, can’t treat anything well.”
“Right,” he said.
δικαστὴς δέ γε, ὦ φίλε, ψυχῇ ψυχῆς ἄρχει, ᾗ οὐκ ἐγχωρεῖ ἐκ νέας ἐν πονηραῖς ψυχαῖς τεθράφθαι τε καὶ ὡμιληκέναι καὶ πάντα ἀδικήματα αὐτὴν ἠδικηκυῖαν διεξεληλυθέναι, ὥστε ὀξέως ἀφʼ αὑτῆς τεκμαίρεσθαι τὰ τῶν ἄλλων ἀδικήματα οἷον κατὰ σῶμα νόσους· ἀλλʼ ἄπειρον αὐτὴν καὶ ἀκέραιον δεῖ κακῶν ἠθῶν νέαν οὖσαν γεγονέναι, εἰ μέλλει καλὴ κἀγαθὴ οὖσα κρινεῖν ὑγιῶς τὰ δίκαια. διὸ δὴ καὶ εὐήθεις νέοι ὄντες οἱ ἐπιεικεῖς φαίνονται καὶ εὐεξαπάτητοι 409b ὑπὸ τῶν ἀδίκων, ἅτε οὐκ ἔχοντες ἐν ἑαυτοῖς παραδείγματα ὁμοιοπαθῆ τοῖς πονηροῖς.
“But a judge, my friend, rules soul with soul. And it won’t do for his soul to have been brought up from youth among wicked souls, to have kept company with them, and to have gone through every kind of wrongdoing itself, so that it can sharply infer other people’s wrongdoings from its own, as one infers diseases in the body. No: if it’s to be fine and good and judge soundly what is just, it must have been inexperienced in bad characters and untouched by them while young. That’s why decent people seem simple when they’re young, and are easily deceived 409b by the unjust: they have no models within themselves of what the wicked feel.”
καὶ μὲν δή, ἔφη, σφόδρα γε αὐτὸ πάσχουσι.
τῷ τοι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, οὐ νέον ἀλλὰ γέροντα δεῖ τὸν ἀγαθὸν δικαστὴν εἶναι, ὀψιμαθῆ γεγονότα τῆς ἀδικίας οἷόν ἐστιν, οὐκ οἰκείαν ἐν τῇ αὑτοῦ ψυχῇ ἐνοῦσαν ᾐσθημένον, ἀλλʼ ἀλλοτρίαν ἐν ἀλλοτρίαις μεμελετηκότα ἐν πολλῷ χρόνῳ διαισθάνεσθαι οἷον πέφυκε κακόν, ἐπιστήμῃ, οὐκ 409c ἐμπειρίᾳ οἰκείᾳ κεχρημένον.
γενναιότατος γοῦν, ἔφη, ἔοικεν εἶναι ὁ τοιοῦτος δικαστής.
“Yes,” he said, “that’s certainly what happens to them.”
“That’s why,” I said, “a good judge must be not young but old. He must have learned late what injustice is like, not perceiving it as something of his own, present in his own soul, but having studied it for a long time as something alien in the souls of others, so as to discern what sort of evil it naturally is—using knowledge, not 409c his own experience.”
“Such a judge, at any rate, seems the most noble,” he said.
καὶ ἀγαθός γε, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὃ σὺ ἠρώτας· ὁ γὰρ ἔχων ψυχὴν ἀγαθὴν ἀγαθός. ὁ δὲ δεινὸς ἐκεῖνος καὶ καχύποπτος, ὁ πολλὰ αὐτὸς ἠδικηκὼς καὶ πανοῦργός τε καὶ σοφὸς οἰόμενος εἶναι, ὅταν μὲν ὁμοίοις ὁμιλῇ, δεινὸς φαίνεται ἐξευλαβούμενος, πρὸς τὰ ἐν αὑτῷ παραδείγματα ἀποσκοπῶν· ὅταν δὲ ἀγαθοῖς καὶ πρεσβυτέροις ἤδη πλησιάσῃ, ἀβέλτερος 409d αὖ φαίνεται, ἀπιστῶν παρὰ καιρὸν καὶ ἀγνοῶν ὑγιὲς ἦθος, ἅτε οὐκ ἔχων παράδειγμα τοῦ τοιούτου. πλεονάκις δὲ πονηροῖς ἢ χρηστοῖς ἐντυγχάνων σοφώτερος ἢ ἀμαθέστερος δοκεῖ εἶναι αὑτῷ τε καὶ ἄλλοις.
παντάπασι μὲν οὖν, ἔφη, ἀληθῆ.
“And good as well,” I said, “which is what you were asking, since the man with a good soul is good. But that clever, suspicious man, who has done much wrong himself and thinks himself cunning and wise, seems clever when he associates with his own kind, because he’s on his guard, looking to the models within himself. But when he comes among good people and his elders, he looks foolish 409d in his turn, distrusting them at the wrong moment and failing to recognize a sound character, since he has no model of one. Yet because he meets the wicked more often than the decent, he seems wise rather than ignorant, both to himself and to others.”
“That’s entirely true,” he said.
οὐ τοίνυν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τοιοῦτον χρὴ τὸν δικαστὴν ζητεῖν τὸν ἀγαθόν τε καὶ σοφόν, ἀλλὰ τὸν πρότερον· πονηρία μὲν γὰρ ἀρετήν τε καὶ αὑτὴν οὔποτʼ ἂν γνοίη, ἀρετὴ δὲ φύσεως παιδευομένης χρόνῳ ἅμα αὑτῆς τε καὶ πονηρίας ἐπιστήμην 409e λήψεται. σοφὸς οὖν οὗτος, ὥς μοι δοκεῖ, ἀλλʼ οὐχ ὁ κακὸς γίγνεται.
καὶ ἐμοί, ἔφη, συνδοκεῖ.
“Then it’s not this sort of man,” I said, “that we should look for as the good and wise judge, but the earlier one. For wickedness could never know both excellence and itself, whereas excellence, in a nature educated over time, will come to have knowledge 409e of both itself and wickedness. So it’s this man, in my view, who becomes wise, and not the bad one.”
“I agree,” he said.
οὐκοῦν καὶ ἰατρικήν, οἵαν εἴπομεν, μετὰ τῆς τοιαύτης δικαστικῆς κατὰ πόλιν νομοθετήσεις, αἳ τῶν πολιτῶν σοι 410a τοὺς μὲν εὐφυεῖς τὰ σώματα καὶ τὰς ψυχὰς θεραπεύσουσι, τοὺς δὲ μή, ὅσοι μὲν κατὰ σῶμα τοιοῦτοι, ἀποθνῄσκειν ἐάσουσιν, τοὺς δὲ κατὰ τὴν ψυχὴν κακοφυεῖς καὶ ἀνιάτους αὐτοὶ ἀποκτενοῦσιν;
τὸ γοῦν ἄριστον, ἔφη, αὐτοῖς τε τοῖς πάσχουσιν καὶ τῇ πόλει οὕτω πέφανται.
οἱ δὲ δὴ νέοι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, δῆλον ὅτι εὐλαβήσονταί σοι δικαστικῆς εἰς χρείαν ἰέναι, τῇ ἁπλῇ ἐκείνῃ μουσικῇ χρώμενοι ἣν δὴ ἔφαμεν σωφροσύνην ἐντίκτειν.
τί μήν; ἔφη. 410b
“Then will you establish by law in the city both medicine of the kind we described and judging of this kind? They will care for 410a those of your citizens whose bodies and souls are naturally good; as for those who aren’t, they’ll let die those whose bodies are that way, while those whose souls are naturally bad and incurable they’ll put to death themselves.”
“That at least has been shown to be best,” he said, “both for those who suffer it and for the city.”
“And your young people,” I said, “will obviously be careful not to need the law courts, since they’ll practice that simple music which, we said, engenders moderation.”
“Of course,” he said. 410b
ἆρʼ οὖν οὐ κατὰ ταὐτὰ ἴχνη ταῦτα ὁ μουσικὸς γυμναστικὴν διώκων, ἐὰν ἐθέλῃ, αἱρήσει, ὥστε μηδὲν ἰατρικῆς δεῖσθαι ὅτι μὴ ἀνάγκη;
ἔμοιγε δοκεῖ.
αὐτά γε μὴν τὰ γυμνάσια καὶ τοὺς πόνους πρὸς τὸ θυμοειδὲς τῆς φύσεως βλέπων κἀκεῖνο ἐγείρων πονήσει μᾶλλον ἢ πρὸς ἰσχύν, οὐχ ὥσπερ οἱ ἄλλοι ἀθληταὶ ῥώμης ἕνεκα σιτία καὶ πόνους μεταχειριεῖται.
ὀρθότατα, ἦ δʼ ὅς.
“And won’t the musical man, following these same tracks, pursue physical training and catch it, if he wants to, so that he won’t need medicine except when he must?”
“I think so.”
“And in his exercises and exertions themselves he’ll look to the spirited part of his nature and work to rouse it, rather than to strength. He won’t manage his diet and his exertions for the sake of strength, as other athletes do.”
“Quite right,” he said.
ἆρʼ οὖν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὦ Γλαύκων, καὶ οἱ καθιστάντες 410c μουσικῇ καὶ γυμναστικῇ παιδεύειν οὐχ οὗ ἕνεκά τινες οἴονται καθιστᾶσιν, ἵνα τῇ μὲν τὸ σῶμα θεραπεύοιντο, τῇ δὲ τὴν ψυχήν;
ἀλλὰ τί μήν; ἔφη.
κινδυνεύουσιν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἀμφότερα τῆς ψυχῆς ἕνεκα τὸ μέγιστον καθιστάναι.
πῶς δή;
οὐκ ἐννοεῖς, εἶπον, ὡς διατίθενται αὐτὴν τὴν διάνοιαν οἳ ἂν γυμναστικῇ μὲν διὰ βίου ὁμιλήσωσιν, μουσικῆς δὲ μὴ ἅψωνται; ἢ αὖ ὅσοι ἂν τοὐναντίον διατεθῶσιν;
τίνος δέ, ἦ δʼ ὅς, πέρι λέγεις; 410d
“Then, Glaucon,” I said, “those who established 410c education in music and physical training didn’t do it for the reason some people suppose, did they—to care for the body with the one and the soul with the other?”
“What was it for, then?” he said.
“It looks as if they established both mainly for the sake of the soul,” I said.
“How so?”
“Haven’t you noticed,” I said, “the cast of mind of those who spend their lives in physical training and never touch music? Or of those who are disposed the opposite way?”
“What are you talking about?” he said. 410d
ἀγριότητός τε καὶ σκληρότητος, καὶ αὖ μαλακίας τε καὶ ἡμερότητος, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ—
ἔγωγε, ἔφη· ὅτι οἱ μὲν γυμναστικῇ ἀκράτῳ χρησάμενοι ἀγριώτεροι τοῦ δέοντος ἀποβαίνουσιν, οἱ δὲ μουσικῇ μαλακώτεροι αὖ γίγνονται ἢ ὡς κάλλιον αὐτοῖς.
καὶ μήν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τό γε ἄγριον τὸ θυμοειδὲς ἂν τῆς φύσεως παρέχοιτο, καὶ ὀρθῶς μὲν τραφὲν ἀνδρεῖον ἂν εἴη, μᾶλλον δʼ ἐπιταθὲν τοῦ δέοντος σκληρόν τε καὶ χαλεπὸν γίγνοιτʼ ἄν, ὡς τὸ εἰκός.
δοκεῖ μοι, ἔφη. 410e
“Savagery and harshness,” I said, “and on the other side softness and gentleness—”
“I have noticed,” he said. “Those who practice physical training unmixed turn out more savage than they should, while those who practice only music become softer than is good for them.”
“And yet,” I said, “the savagery would come from the spirited part of their nature. Rightly nurtured, it would be courage; but strung tighter than it should be, it would likely become harsh and difficult.”
“I think so,” he said. 410e
τί δέ; τὸ ἥμερον οὐχ ἡ φιλόσοφος ἂν ἔχοι φύσις, καὶ μᾶλλον μὲν ἀνεθέντος αὐτοῦ μαλακώτερον εἴη τοῦ δέοντος, καλῶς δὲ τραφέντος ἥμερόν τε καὶ κόσμιον;
ἔστι ταῦτα.
δεῖν δέ γέ φαμεν τοὺς φύλακας ἀμφοτέρα ἔχειν τούτω τὼ φύσει.
δεῖ γάρ.
οὐκοῦν ἡρμόσθαι δεῖ αὐτὰς πρὸς ἀλλήλας;
πῶς δʼ οὔ;
καὶ τοῦ μὲν ἡρμοσμένου σώφρων τε καὶ ἀνδρεία ἡ 411a ψυχή;
πάνυ γε.
τοῦ δὲ ἀναρμόστου δειλὴ καὶ ἄγροικος;
καὶ μάλα.
“And what about gentleness? Wouldn’t the philosophic nature have it? If it were relaxed too much it would be softer than it should be, but if well nurtured it would be gentle and orderly.”
“That’s so.”
“And we say the guardians must have both these natures.”
“They must.”
“Then mustn’t the two be harmonized with each other?”
“Of course.”
“And when they’re harmonized, the 411a soul is moderate and courageous?”
“Certainly.”
“And when they aren’t, it’s cowardly and boorish?”
“Very much so.”
οὐκοῦν ὅταν μέν τις μουσικῇ παρέχῃ καταυλεῖν καὶ καταχεῖν τῆς ψυχῆς διὰ τῶν ὤτων ὥσπερ διὰ χώνης ἃς νυνδὴ ἡμεῖς ἐλέγομεν τὰς γλυκείας τε καὶ μαλακὰς καὶ θρηνώδεις ἁρμονίας, καὶ μινυρίζων τε καὶ γεγανωμένος ὑπὸ τῆς ᾠδῆς διατελῇ τὸν βίον ὅλον, οὗτος τὸ μὲν πρῶτον, εἴ τι θυμοειδὲς εἶχεν, ὥσπερ σίδηρον ἐμάλαξεν καὶ χρήσιμον 411b ἐξ ἀχρήστου καὶ σκληροῦ ἐποίησεν· ὅταν δʼ ἐπέχων μὴ ἀνιῇ ἀλλὰ κηλῇ, τὸ δὴ μετὰ τοῦτο ἤδη τήκει καὶ λείβει, ἕως ἂν ἐκτήξῃ τὸν θυμὸν καὶ ἐκτέμῃ ὥσπερ νεῦρα ἐκ τῆς ψυχῆς καὶ ποιήσῃ “μαλθακὸν αἰχμητήν.”
“Now when someone lets music play the pipe over him and pour into his soul through his ears, as through a funnel, those sweet, soft, mournful modes we were just speaking of, and he spends his whole life humming and bright with the delight of song, at first, if he had any spirit, he softens it like iron and makes it useful 411b instead of useless and brittle. But when he keeps at it without letting up and is spellbound, then he begins to melt and dissolve it, until he has melted his spirit away, cut it out of his soul like a sinew, and made himself ‘a feeble spearman.’”
πάνυ μὲν οὖν, ἔφη.
καὶ ἐὰν μέν γε, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἐξ ἀρχῆς φύσει ἄθυμον λάβῃ, ταχὺ τοῦτο διεπράξατο· ἐὰν δὲ θυμοειδῆ, ἀσθενῆ ποιήσας τὸν θυμὸν ὀξύρροπον ἀπηργάσατο, ἀπὸ σμικρῶν ταχὺ ἐρεθιζόμενόν 411c τε καὶ κατασβεννύμενον. ἀκράχολοι οὖν καὶ ὀργίλοι ἀντὶ θυμοειδοῦς γεγένηνται, δυσκολίας ἔμπλεῳ.
κομιδῇ μὲν οὖν.
τί δὲ ἂν αὖ γυμναστικῇ πολλὰ πονῇ καὶ εὐωχῆται εὖ μάλα, μουσικῆς δὲ καὶ φιλοσοφίας μὴ ἅπτηται; οὐ πρῶτον μὲν εὖ ἴσχων τὸ σῶμα φρονήματός τε καὶ θυμοῦ ἐμπίμπλαται καὶ ἀνδρειότερος γίγνεται αὐτὸς αὑτοῦ;
καὶ μάλα γε.
“Certainly,” he said.
“And if,” I said, “he was spiritless by nature from the start, this happens quickly. But if he was spirited, it weakens his spirit and makes it volatile, quickly roused by small things 411c and quickly quenched. Such people become irritable and quick-tempered instead of spirited, full of bad temper.”
“Exactly.”
“And what if, instead, he works hard at physical training and eats very well, but never touches music or philosophy? First, being in good bodily condition, won’t he be filled with confidence and spirit, and become braver than he was?”
“Very much so.”
τί δὲ ἐπειδὰν ἄλλο μηδὲν πράττῃ μηδὲ κοινωνῇ Μούσης 411d μηδαμῇ; οὐκ εἴ τι καὶ ἐνῆν αὐτοῦ φιλομαθὲς ἐν τῇ ψυχῇ, ἅτε οὔτε μαθήματος γευόμενον οὐδενὸς οὔτε ζητήματος, οὔτε λόγου μετίσχον οὔτε τῆς ἄλλης μουσικῆς, ἀσθενές τε καὶ κωφὸν καὶ τυφλὸν γίγνεται, ἅτε οὐκ ἐγειρόμενον οὐδὲ τρεφόμενον οὐδὲ διακαθαιρομένων τῶν αἰσθήσεων αὐτοῦ;
οὕτως, ἔφη.
“And what if he does nothing else and has nothing to do with the Muse 411d at all? Even if there was some love of learning in his soul, since it never tastes any learning or inquiry, and never takes part in discussion or the rest of music, doesn’t it become weak, deaf and blind, because it’s never awakened or nourished and its perceptions are never purified?”
“Just so,” he said.
μισόλογος δὴ οἶμαι ὁ τοιοῦτος γίγνεται καὶ ἄμουσος, καὶ πειθοῖ μὲν διὰ λόγων οὐδὲν ἔτι χρῆται, βίᾳ δὲ καὶ 411e ἀγριότητι ὥσπερ θηρίον πρὸς πάντα διαπράττεται, καὶ ἐν ἀμαθίᾳ καὶ σκαιότητι μετὰ ἀρρυθμίας τε καὶ ἀχαριστίας ζῇ.
παντάπασιν, ἦ δʼ ὅς, οὕτως ἔχει.
“Such a man, I think, becomes a hater of argument and unmusical. He no longer makes any use of persuasion through words, but gets everything done by force and 411e savagery, like a wild beast, and lives in ignorance and clumsiness, without rhythm or grace.”
“That’s exactly how it is,” he said.
ἐπὶ δὴ δύʼ ὄντε τούτω, ὡς ἔοικε, δύο τέχνα θεὸν ἔγωγʼ ἄν τινα φαίην δεδωκέναι τοῖς ἀνθρώποις, μουσικήν τε καὶ γυμναστικὴν ἐπὶ τὸ θυμοειδὲς καὶ τὸ φιλόσοφον, οὐκ ἐπὶ ψυχὴν καὶ σῶμα, εἰ μὴ εἰ πάρεργον, ἀλλʼ ἐπʼ ἐκείνω, ὅπως 412a ἂν ἀλλήλοιν συναρμοσθῆτον ἐπιτεινομένω καὶ ἀνιεμένω μέχρι τοῦ προσήκοντος.
καὶ γὰρ ἔοικεν, ἔφη.
τὸν κάλλιστʼ ἄρα μουσικῇ γυμναστικὴν κεραννύντα καὶ μετριώτατα τῇ ψυχῇ προσφέροντα, τοῦτον ὀρθότατʼ ἂν φαῖμεν εἶναι τελέως μουσικώτατον καὶ εὐαρμοστότατον, πολὺ μᾶλλον ἢ τὸν τὰς χορδὰς ἀλλήλαις συνιστάντα.
εἰκότως γʼ, ἔφη, ὦ Σώκρατες.
“So it seems that for these two things, I for one would say, some god has given human beings two arts, music and physical training—for the spirited part and the philosophic part, not for the soul and the body, except incidentally, but for those two, so that 412a they may be harmonized with each other, tightened and relaxed to the proper degree.”
“So it seems,” he said.
“Then the one who blends physical training with music most finely and applies them to the soul in the best measure is the one we’d most rightly call perfectly musical and well harmonized—far more than the man who tunes strings to one another.”
“Reasonably so, Socrates,” he said.
οὐκοῦν καὶ ἐν τῇ πόλει ἡμῖν, ὦ Γλαύκων, δεήσει τοῦ τοιούτου τινὸς ἀεὶ ἐπιστάτου, εἰ μέλλει ἡ πολιτεία σῴζεσθαι; 412b
δεήσει μέντοι ὡς οἷόν τέ γε μάλιστα.
οἱ μὲν δὴ τύποι τῆς παιδείας τε καὶ τροφῆς οὗτοι ἂν εἶεν. χορείας γὰρ τί ἄν τις διεξίοι τῶν τοιούτων καὶ θήρας τε καὶ κυνηγέσια καὶ γυμνικοὺς ἀγῶνας καὶ ἱππικούς; σχεδὸν γάρ τι δῆλα δὴ ὅτι τούτοις ἑπόμενα δεῖ αὐτὰ εἶναι, καὶ οὐκέτι χαλεπὰ εὑρεῖν.
ἴσως, ἦ δʼ ὅς, οὐ χαλεπά.
“Then in our city too, Glaucon, won’t we always need some such overseer, if the constitution is to be preserved?” 412b
“We certainly will, as much as possible.”
“These, then, would be the outlines of their education and upbringing. Why go through their dances, their hunting, their chasing with hounds, their athletic contests and horse races? It’s pretty clear that these must follow the outlines, and they’re no longer hard to discover.”
“Perhaps,” he said, “they aren’t hard.”
Choosing the rulers
Socrates selects rulers from the most devoted guardians and proposes the myth of the metals.
εἶεν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· τὸ δὴ μετὰ τοῦτο τί ἂν ἡμῖν διαιρετέον εἴη; ἆρʼ οὐκ αὐτῶν τούτων οἵτινες ἄρξουσί τε καὶ ἄρξονται; 412c
τί μήν;
οὐκοῦν ὅτι μὲν πρεσβυτέρους τοὺς ἄρχοντας δεῖ εἶναι, νεωτέρους δὲ τοὺς ἀρχομένους, δῆλον;
δῆλον.
καὶ ὅτι γε τοὺς ἀρίστους αὐτῶν;
καὶ τοῦτο.
οἱ δὲ γεωργῶν ἄριστοι ἆρʼ οὐ γεωργικώτατοι γίγνονται;
ναί.
νῦν δʼ, ἐπειδὴ φυλάκων αὐτοὺς ἀρίστους δεῖ εἶναι, ἆρʼ οὐ φυλακικωτάτους πόλεως;
ναί.
“Very well,” I said. “What’s the next thing we must determine? Isn’t it which of these people will rule and which be ruled?” 412c
“Of course.”
“Isn’t it clear that the rulers must be older and the ruled younger?”
“It’s clear.”
“And that they must be the best of them?”
“That too.”
“And the best farmers are the ones most skilled at farming, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“And now, since they must be the best of the guardians, mustn’t they be the most skilled at guarding the city?”
“Yes.”
οὐκοῦν φρονίμους τε εἰς τοῦτο δεῖ ὑπάρχειν καὶ δυνατοὺς καὶ ἔτι κηδεμόνας τῆς πόλεως; 412d
ἔστι ταῦτα.
κήδοιτο δέ γʼ ἄν τις μάλιστα τούτου ὃ τυγχάνοι φιλῶν.
ἀνάγκη.
καὶ μὴν τοῦτό γʼ ἂν μάλιστα φιλοῖ, ᾧ συμφέρειν ἡγοῖτο τὰ αὐτὰ καὶ ἑαυτῷ καὶ ὅταν μάλιστα ἐκείνου μὲν εὖ πράττοντος οἴοιτο συμβαίνειν καὶ ἑαυτῷ εὖ πράττειν, μὴ δέ, τοὐναντίον.
οὕτως, ἔφη.
“Then for this they must be sensible and capable, and must also care for the city?” 412d
“That’s so.”
“And one cares most for what one happens to love.”
“Necessarily.”
“And one would love something most when one believes that the same things benefit it and oneself, and thinks that when it does well one does well oneself, and when it doesn’t, the opposite.”
“Just so,” he said.
ἐκλεκτέον ἄρʼ ἐκ τῶν ἄλλων φυλάκων τοιούτους ἄνδρας, οἳ ἂν σκοποῦσιν ἡμῖν μάλιστα φαίνωνται παρὰ πάντα τὸν 412e βίον, ὃ μὲν ἂν τῇ πόλει ἡγήσωνται συμφέρειν, πάσῃ προθυμίᾳ ποιεῖν, ὃ δʼ ἂν μή, μηδενὶ τρόπῳ πρᾶξαι ἂν ἐθέλειν.
ἐπιτήδειοι γάρ, ἔφη.
δοκεῖ δή μοι τηρητέον αὐτοὺς εἶναι ἐν ἁπάσαις ταῖς ἡλικίαις, εἰ φυλακικοί εἰσι τούτου τοῦ δόγματος καὶ μήτε γοητευόμενοι μήτε βιαζόμενοι ἐκβάλλουσιν ἐπιλανθανόμενοι δόξαν τὴν τοῦ ποιεῖν δεῖν ἃ τῇ πόλει βέλτιστα.
τίνα, ἔφη, λέγεις τὴν ἐκβολήν;
“Then we must select from among the other guardians men of this sort: men who, when we examine them, appear most of all, throughout their 412e lives, to do with complete eagerness whatever they think benefits the city, and to be unwilling by any means to do what doesn’t.”
“Yes, they’d be the suitable ones,” he said.
“Then I think they must be watched at every age, to see whether they guard this conviction, and never, under bewitchment or force, forget and cast out the opinion that they must do what is best for the city.”
“What do you mean by casting out?” he said.
ἐγώ σοι, ἔφην, ἐρῶ. φαίνεταί μοι δόξα ἐξιέναι ἐκ διανοίας ἢ ἑκουσίως ἢ ἀκουσίως, ἑκουσίως μὲν ἡ ψευδὴς 413a τοῦ μεταμανθάνοντος, ἀκουσίως δὲ πᾶσα ἡ ἀληθής.
τὸ μὲν τῆς ἑκουσίου, ἔφη, μανθάνω, τὸ δὲ τῆς ἀκουσίου δέομαι μαθεῖν.
τί δέ; οὐ καὶ σὺ ἡγῇ, ἔφην ἐγώ, τῶν μὲν ἀγαθῶν ἀκουσίως στέρεσθαι τοὺς ἀνθρώπους, τῶν δὲ κακῶν ἑκουσίως; ἢ οὐ τὸ μὲν ἐψεῦσθαι τῆς ἀληθείας κακόν, τὸ δὲ ἀληθεύειν ἀγαθόν; ἢ οὐ τὸ τὰ ὄντα δοξάζειν ἀληθεύειν δοκεῖ σοι εἶναι;
“I’ll tell you,” I said. “It seems to me that an opinion departs from the mind either willingly or unwillingly: willingly, when it’s a false one 413a and a person learns better; unwillingly, whenever it’s a true one.”
“I understand the willing case,” he said, “but I need to learn about the unwilling one.”
“What? Don’t you too believe,” I said, “that people are deprived of good things unwillingly and of bad things willingly? Isn’t being deceived about the truth a bad thing, and having the truth a good one? Or don’t you think that believing what is, is having the truth?”
ἀλλʼ, ἦ δʼ ὅς, ὀρθῶς λέγεις, καί μοι δοκοῦσιν ἄκοντες ἀληθοῦς δόξης στερίσκεσθαι. 413b
οὐκοῦν κλαπέντες ἢ γοητευθέντες ἢ βιασθέντες τοῦτο πάσχουσιν;
οὐδὲ νῦν, ἔφη, μανθάνω.
τραγικῶς, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, κινδυνεύω λέγειν. κλαπέντας μὲν γὰρ τοὺς μεταπεισθέντας λέγω καὶ τοὺς ἐπιλανθανομένους, ὅτι τῶν μὲν χρόνος, τῶν δὲ λόγος ἐξαιρούμενος λανθάνει· νῦν γάρ που μανθάνεις;
ναί.
τοὺς τοίνυν βιασθέντας λέγω οὓς ἂν ὀδύνη τις ἢ ἀλγηδὼν μεταδοξάσαι ποιήσῃ.
καὶ τοῦτʼ, ἔφη, ἔμαθον, καὶ ὀρθῶς λέγεις. 413c
“You’re right,” he said, “and I do think people are deprived of true opinion unwillingly.” 413b
“And don’t they suffer this by being robbed, bewitched, or forced?”
“I don’t understand this either,” he said.
“I’m afraid I’m talking like a tragedian,” I said. “By ‘robbed’ I mean those who are talked out of their opinions and those who forget: in the one case argument, in the other time, takes the opinion away without their noticing. Now I take it you understand?”
“Yes.”
“And by ‘forced’ I mean those whom some pain or suffering makes change their opinion.”
“I understand that too,” he said, “and you’re right.” 413c
τοὺς μὴν γοητευθέντας, ὡς ἐγᾦμαι, κἂν σὺ φαίης εἶναι οἳ ἂν μεταδοξάσωσιν ἢ ὑφʼ ἡδονῆς κηληθέντες ἢ ὑπὸ φόβου τι δείσαντες.
ἔοικε γάρ, ἦ δʼ ὅς, γοητεύειν πάντα ὅσα ἀπατᾷ.
ὃ τοίνυν ἄρτι ἔλεγον, ζητητέον τίνες ἄριστοι φύλακες τοῦ παρʼ αὑτοῖς δόγματος, τοῦτο ὡς ποιητέον ὃ ἂν τῇ πόλει ἀεὶ δοκῶσι βέλτιστον εἶναι αὑτοῖς ποιεῖν. τηρητέον δὴ εὐθὺς ἐκ παίδων προθεμένοις ἔργα ἐν οἷς ἄν τις τὸ τοιοῦτον μάλιστα ἐπιλανθάνοιτο καὶ ἐξαπατῷτο, καὶ τὸν μὲν μνήμονα 413d καὶ δυσεξαπάτητον ἐγκριτέον, τὸν δὲ μὴ ἀποκριτέον. ἦ γάρ;
ναί.
“And the ‘bewitched,’ I think you’d agree, are those who change their opinion because they’re charmed by pleasure or frightened by some fear.”
“Yes,” he said, “everything that deceives seems to bewitch.”
“Well then, as I was saying just now, we must look for those who are the best guardians of their own conviction that they must do whatever they think, at any time, is best for the city. We must watch them right from childhood, setting them tasks in which a person would be most likely to forget such a conviction or be deceived out of it. The one who remembers 413d and is hard to deceive we must select; the one who isn’t, we must reject. Isn’t that so?”
“Yes.”
καὶ πόνους γε αὖ καὶ ἀλγηδόνας καὶ ἀγῶνας αὐτοῖς θετέον, ἐν οἷς ταὐτὰ ταῦτα τηρητέον.
ὀρθῶς, ἔφη.
“And again, we must set them labors, pains and contests, and watch for these same things in them.”
“Right,” he said.
οὐκοῦν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καὶ τρίτου εἴδους τούτοις γοητείας ἅμιλλαν ποιητέον, καὶ θεατέον—ὥσπερ τοὺς πώλους ἐπὶ τοὺς ψόφους τε καὶ θορύβους ἄγοντες σκοποῦσιν εἰ φοβεροί, οὕτω νέους ὄντας εἰς δείματʼ ἄττα κομιστέον καὶ εἰς ἡδονὰς 413e αὖ μεταβλητέον, βασανίζοντας πολὺ μᾶλλον ἢ χρυσὸν ἐν πυρί—εἰ δυσγοήτευτος καὶ εὐσχήμων ἐν πᾶσι φαίνεται, φύλαξ αὑτοῦ ὢν ἀγαθὸς καὶ μουσικῆς ἧς ἐμάνθανεν, εὔρυθμόν τε καὶ εὐάρμοστον ἑαυτὸν ἐν πᾶσι τούτοις παρέχων, οἷος δὴ ἂν ὢν καὶ ἑαυτῷ καὶ πόλει χρησιμώτατος εἴη.
“Then,” I said, “we must also hold a contest for them in the third kind, bewitchment, and watch them. Just as people lead colts into noise and commotion to see whether they’re skittish, so we must bring these while they’re young among terrors, and then switch 413e them to pleasures, testing them much more thoroughly than gold is tested in fire, to see whether someone proves hard to bewitch and graceful in everything, a good guardian of himself and of the music he learned, showing himself rhythmical and harmonious in all these things—the kind of man who would be most useful both to himself and to the city.
καὶ τὸν ἀεὶ ἔν τε παισὶ καὶ νεανίσκοις καὶ ἐν ἀνδράσι βασανιζόμενον 414a καὶ ἀκήρατον ἐκβαίνοντα καταστατέον ἄρχοντα τῆς πόλεως καὶ φύλακα, καὶ τιμὰς δοτέον καὶ ζῶντι καὶ τελευτήσαντι, τάφων τε καὶ τῶν ἄλλων μνημείων μέγιστα γέρα λαγχάνοντα· τὸν δὲ μὴ τοιοῦτον ἀποκριτέον. τοιαύτη τις, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, δοκεῖ μοι, ὦ Γλαύκων, ἡ ἐκλογὴ εἶναι καὶ κατάστασις τῶν ἀρχόντων τε καὶ φυλάκων, ὡς ἐν τύπῳ, μὴ διʼ ἀκριβείας, εἰρῆσθαι.
καὶ ἐμοί, ἦ δʼ ὅς, οὕτως πῃ φαίνεται. 414b
“And the one who is tested again and again, as a child, as a youth and as a man, 414a and comes through unblemished, must be appointed ruler and guardian of the city and be given honors both in life and after death, receiving the greatest privileges of tombs and other memorials. The one who isn’t like that must be rejected. Something like this, Glaucon,” I said, “seems to me to be how the rulers and guardians are to be selected and appointed—described in outline, not in precise detail.”
“It seems that way to me too, more or less,” he said. 414b
ἆρʼ οὖν ὡς ἀληθῶς ὀρθότατον καλεῖν τούτους μὲν φύλακας παντελεῖς τῶν τε ἔξωθεν πολεμίων τῶν τε ἐντὸς φιλίων, ὅπως οἱ μὲν μὴ βουλήσονται, οἱ δὲ μὴ δυνήσονται κακουργεῖν, τοὺς δὲ νέους, οὓς δὴ νῦν φύλακας ἐκαλοῦμεν, ἐπικούρους τε καὶ βοηθοὺς τοῖς τῶν ἀρχόντων δόγμασιν;
ἔμοιγε δοκεῖ, ἔφη.
τίς ἂν οὖν ἡμῖν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, μηχανὴ γένοιτο τῶν ψευδῶν τῶν ἐν δέοντι γιγνομένων, ὧν δὴ νῦν ἐλέγομεν, γενναῖόν 414c τι ἓν ψευδομένους πεῖσαι μάλιστα μὲν καὶ αὐτοὺς τοὺς ἄρχοντας, εἰ δὲ μή, τὴν ἄλλην πόλιν;
ποῖόν τι; ἔφη.
“Then wouldn’t it truly be most correct to call these people complete guardians—against enemies outside and friends within, so that the friends won’t want to do harm and the enemies won’t be able to—and to call the young, whom we were just now calling guardians, auxiliaries and supporters of the rulers’ convictions?”
“I think so,” he said.
“Then how,” I said, “might we devise one of those falsehoods that come about in case of need, which we were talking about just now—one noble 414c falsehood—to persuade above all the rulers themselves, or failing that, the rest of the city?”
“What sort of thing?” he said.
μηδὲν καινόν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἀλλὰ Φοινικικόν τι, πρότερον μὲν ἤδη πολλαχοῦ γεγονός, ὥς φασιν οἱ ποιηταὶ καὶ πεπείκασιν, ἐφʼ ἡμῶν δὲ οὐ γεγονὸς οὐδʼ οἶδα εἰ γενόμενον ἄν, πεῖσαι δὲ συχνῆς πειθοῦς.
ὡς ἔοικας, ἔφη, ὀκνοῦντι λέγειν.
δόξω δέ σοι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καὶ μάλʼ εἰκότως ὀκνεῖν, ἐπειδὰν εἴπω.
λέγʼ, ἔφη, καὶ μὴ φοβοῦ. 414d
“Nothing new,” I said, “but a sort of Phoenician tale—something that has happened in many places before, as the poets say, and they’ve made people believe it; but it hasn’t happened in our time, and I don’t know if it could, and it would take a lot of persuasion to make it believed.”
“You seem reluctant to tell it,” he said.
“You’ll think my reluctance quite reasonable,” I said, “once I’ve told it.”
“Tell it,” he said, “and don’t be afraid.” 414d
λέγω δή—καίτοι οὐκ οἶδα ὁποίᾳ τόλμῃ ἢ ποίοις λόγοις χρώμενος ἐρῶ—καὶ ἐπιχειρήσω πρῶτον μὲν αὐτοὺς τοὺς ἄρχοντας πείθειν καὶ τοὺς στρατιώτας, ἔπειτα δὲ καὶ τὴν ἄλλην πόλιν, ὡς ἄρʼ ἃ ἡμεῖς αὐτοὺς ἐτρέφομέν τε καὶ ἐπαιδεύομεν, ὥσπερ ὀνείρατα ἐδόκουν ταῦτα πάντα πάσχειν τε καὶ γίγνεσθαι περὶ αὐτούς, ἦσαν δὲ τότε τῇ ἀληθείᾳ ὑπὸ γῆς ἐντὸς πλαττόμενοι καὶ τρεφόμενοι καὶ αὐτοὶ καὶ τὰ 414e ὅπλα αὐτῶν καὶ ἡ ἄλλη σκευὴ δημιουργουμένη, ἐπειδὴ δὲ παντελῶς ἐξειργασμένοι ἦσαν, καὶ ἡ γῆ αὐτοὺς μήτηρ οὖσα ἀνῆκεν, καὶ νῦν δεῖ ὡς περὶ μητρὸς καὶ τροφοῦ τῆς χώρας ἐν ᾗ εἰσι βουλεύεσθαί τε καὶ ἀμύνειν αὐτούς, ἐάν τις ἐπʼ αὐτὴν ἴῃ, καὶ ὑπὲρ τῶν ἄλλων πολιτῶν ὡς ἀδελφῶν ὄντων καὶ γηγενῶν διανοεῖσθαι.
“I’ll tell it, then—though I don’t know what daring or what words I’ll use in the telling. I’ll try to persuade first the rulers themselves and the soldiers, and then the rest of the city, that the upbringing and education we gave them—all of it—they only seemed to experience and undergo, as in dreams; that in truth they were at that time under the earth, being formed and nurtured within it, themselves and their 414e weapons, and the rest of their equipment being crafted; and that when they were completely finished, the earth, being their mother, sent them up. And now they must plan for and defend the land they live in as their mother and nurse, if anyone attacks it, and think of the other citizens as their brothers, born of the earth.”
οὐκ ἐτός, ἔφη, πάλαι ᾐσχύνου τὸ ψεῦδος λέγειν.
“No wonder,” he said, “you were so ashamed all this time to tell the falsehood.”
πάνυ, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, εἰκότως· ἀλλʼ ὅμως ἄκουε καὶ τὸ λοιπὸν τοῦ μύθου. ἐστὲ μὲν γὰρ δὴ πάντες οἱ ἐν τῇ πόλει ἀδελφοί, ὡς φήσομεν πρὸς αὐτοὺς μυθολογοῦντες, ἀλλʼ ὁ θεὸς πλάττων, ὅσοι μὲν ὑμῶν ἱκανοὶ ἄρχειν, χρυσὸν ἐν τῇ γενέσει συνέμειξεν αὐτοῖς, διὸ τιμιώτατοί εἰσιν· ὅσοι δʼ ἐπίκουροι, ἄργυρον· σίδηρον δὲ καὶ χαλκὸν τοῖς τε γεωργοῖς καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις δημιουργοῖς. ἅτε οὖν συγγενεῖς ὄντες πάντες τὸ μὲν πολὺ ὁμοίους ἂν ὑμῖν αὐτοῖς γεννῷτε, 415b ἔστι δʼ ὅτε ἐκ χρυσοῦ γεννηθείη ἂν ἀργυροῦν καὶ ἐξ ἀργύρου χρυσοῦν ἔκγονον καὶ τἆλλα πάντα οὕτως ἐξ ἀλλήλων.
“With good reason,” I said. “But still, hear the rest of the story. ‘All of you in the city are brothers,’ we’ll tell them in our tale, ‘but the god, when he formed you, mixed gold into the making of those of you who are fit to rule, which is why they are the most honored; silver into the auxiliaries; and iron and bronze into the farmers and the other craftsmen. Since you’re all related, you’ll mostly beget children like yourselves, 415b but sometimes a silver child may be born from gold, or a golden one from silver, and so on, all of them from one another.
τοῖς οὖν ἄρχουσι καὶ πρῶτον καὶ μάλιστα παραγγέλλει ὁ θεός, ὅπως μηδενὸς οὕτω φύλακες ἀγαθοὶ ἔσονται μηδʼ οὕτω σφόδρα φυλάξουσι μηδὲν ὡς τοὺς ἐκγόνους, ὅτι αὐτοῖς τούτων ἐν ταῖς ψυχαῖς παραμέμεικται, καὶ ἐάν τε σφέτερος ἔκγονος ὑπόχαλκος ἢ ὑποσίδηρος γένηται, μηδενὶ 415c τρόπῳ κατελεήσουσιν, ἀλλὰ τὴν τῇ φύσει προσήκουσαν τιμὴν ἀποδόντες ὤσουσιν εἰς δημιουργοὺς ἢ εἰς γεωργούς, καὶ ἂν αὖ ἐκ τούτων τις ὑπόχρυσος ἢ ὑπάργυρος φυῇ, τιμήσαντες ἀνάξουσι τοὺς μὲν εἰς φυλακήν, τοὺς δὲ εἰς ἐπικουρίαν, ὡς χρησμοῦ ὄντος τότε τὴν πόλιν διαφθαρῆναι, ὅταν αὐτὴν ὁ σιδηροῦς φύλαξ ἢ ὁ χαλκοῦς φυλάξῃ. τοῦτον οὖν τὸν μῦθον ὅπως ἂν πεισθεῖεν, ἔχεις τινὰ μηχανήν; 415d
“‘So upon the rulers, first and above all, the god lays this command: there is nothing they are to guard so well, or watch so closely, as their offspring, to see which of these metals has been mixed into their souls. And if a child of their own is born with bronze or iron in it, they must by no 415c means pity it, but give it the rank proper to its nature and thrust it out among the craftsmen or farmers. And if, again, a child with gold or silver in it is born among these, they must honor it and raise it up, some to guardianship and others to the auxiliaries, since there is an oracle that the city will be destroyed when an iron or bronze guardian guards it.’ So do you have any way of getting them to believe this tale?” 415d
οὐδαμῶς, ἔφη, ὅπως γʼ ἂν αὐτοὶ οὗτοι· ὅπως μεντἂν οἱ τούτων ὑεῖς καὶ οἱ ἔπειτα οἵ τʼ ἄλλοι ἄνθρωποι οἱ ὕστερον.
ἀλλὰ καὶ τοῦτο, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, εὖ ἂν ἔχοι πρὸς τὸ μᾶλλον αὐτοὺς τῆς πόλεώς τε καὶ ἀλλήλων κήδεσθαι· σχεδὸν γάρ τι μανθάνω ὃ λέγεις.
“None,” he said, “for these people themselves; but for their sons, and those who come after, and the rest of humanity later on, perhaps.”
“Well, even that,” I said, “would do some good in making them care more for the city and for one another. I think I pretty much understand what you mean.
How the guardians are to live
The guardians live in common without private property, and Adeimantus asks if they will be happy.
καὶ τοῦτο μὲν δὴ ἕξει ὅπῃ ἂν αὐτὸ ἡ φήμη ἀγάγῃ· ἡμεῖς δὲ τούτους τοὺς γηγενεῖς ὁπλίσαντες προάγωμεν ἡγουμένων τῶν ἀρχόντων. ἐλθόντες δὲ θεασάσθων τῆς πόλεως ὅπου κάλλιστον στρατοπεδεύσασθαι, ὅθεν τούς τε 415e ἔνδον μάλιστʼ ἂν κατέχοιεν, εἴ τις μὴ ἐθέλοι τοῖς νόμοις πείθεσθαι, τούς τε ἔξωθεν ἀπαμύνοιεν, εἰ πολέμιος ὥσπερ λύκος ἐπὶ ποίμνην τις ἴοι· στρατοπεδευσάμενοι δέ, θύσαντες οἷς χρή, εὐνὰς ποιησάσθων. ἢ πῶς;
οὕτως, ἔφη.
οὐκοῦν τοιαύτας, οἵας χειμῶνός τε στέγειν καὶ θέρους ἱκανὰς εἶναι;
πῶς γὰρ οὐχί; οἰκήσεις γάρ, ἔφη, δοκεῖς μοι λέγειν.
“Now this will go wherever rumor carries it. But let’s arm these earthborn men and lead them forward, with the rulers at their head. When they get there, let them look for the best place in the city to make camp, from which they could best 415e restrain those within, if anyone refused to obey the laws, and ward off those without, if an enemy should come like a wolf upon the flock. And when they’ve made camp and sacrificed to the proper gods, let them make their beds. Or how should it be?”
“Like that,” he said.
“And these must be adequate to shelter them in winter and summer?”
“Of course. You seem to me to mean dwellings,” he said.
ναί, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, στρατιωτικάς γε, ἀλλʼ οὐ χρηματιστικάς.
πῶς, ἔφη, αὖ τοῦτο λέγεις διαφέρειν ἐκείνου;
ἐγώ σοι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, πειράσομαι εἰπεῖν. δεινότατον γάρ που πάντων καὶ αἴσχιστον ποιμέσι τοιούτους γε καὶ οὕτω τρέφειν κύνας ἐπικούρους ποιμνίων, ὥστε ὑπὸ ἀκολασίας ἢ λιμοῦ ἤ τινος ἄλλου κακοῦ ἔθους αὐτοὺς τοὺς κύνας ἐπιχειρῆσαι τοῖς προβάτοις κακουργεῖν καὶ ἀντὶ κυνῶν λύκοις ὁμοιωθῆναι.
δεινόν, ἦ δʼ ὅς· πῶς δʼ οὔ; 416b
“Yes,” I said, “soldiers’ dwellings, not moneymakers’.”
“And what difference do you mean between them?” he said.
“I’ll try to tell you,” I said. “Surely the most terrible and shameful thing of all is for shepherds to rear dogs to help guard their flocks in such a way, and of such a kind, that from lack of discipline, or hunger, or some other bad habit, the dogs themselves set about harming the sheep and become like wolves instead of dogs.”
“Terrible,” he said. “Of course it is.” 416b
οὐκοῦν φυλακτέον παντὶ τρόπῳ μὴ τοιοῦτον ἡμῖν οἱ ἐπίκουροι ποιήσωσι πρὸς τοὺς πολίτας, ἐπειδὴ αὐτῶν κρείττους εἰσίν, ἀντὶ συμμάχων εὐμενῶν δεσπόταις ἀγρίοις ἀφομοιωθῶσιν;
φυλακτέον, ἔφη.
οὐκοῦν τὴν μεγίστην τῆς εὐλαβείας παρεσκευασμένοι ἂν εἶεν, εἰ τῷ ὄντι καλῶς πεπαιδευμένοι εἰσίν;
ἀλλὰ μὴν εἰσίν γʼ, ἔφη.
καὶ ἐγὼ εἶπον· τοῦτο μὲν οὐκ ἄξιον διισχυρίζεσθαι, ὦ φίλε Γλαύκων· ὃ μέντοι ἄρτι ἐλέγομεν, ἄξιον, ὅτι δεῖ 416c αὐτοὺς τῆς ὀρθῆς τυχεῖν παιδείας, ἥτις ποτέ ἐστιν, εἰ μέλλουσι τὸ μέγιστον ἔχειν πρὸς τὸ ἥμεροι εἶναι αὑτοῖς τε καὶ τοῖς φυλαττομένοις ὑπʼ αὐτῶν.
“Then mustn’t we guard in every way against our auxiliaries doing anything like that to the citizens, since they’re stronger than them, and becoming like savage masters instead of kindly allies?”
“We must,” he said.
“And wouldn’t they have the greatest safeguard in place, if they’ve really been finely educated?”
“But they have been,” he said.
And I said, “That’s not worth insisting on, my dear Glaucon. What is worth insisting on is what we were saying just now: that they must 416c get the right education, whatever it is, if they’re to have what matters most for being gentle toward one another and toward those they guard.”
καὶ ὀρθῶς γε, ἦ δʼ ὅς.
πρὸς τοίνυν τῇ παιδείᾳ ταύτῃ φαίη ἄν τις νοῦν ἔχων δεῖν καὶ τὰς οἰκήσεις καὶ τὴν ἄλλην οὐσίαν τοιαύτην αὐτοῖς παρεσκευάσθαι, ἥτις μήτε τοῦ φύλακας ὡς ἀρίστους εἶναι παύσει 416d αὐτούς, κακουργεῖν τε μὴ ἐπαρεῖ περὶ τοὺς ἄλλους πολίτας.
καὶ ἀληθῶς γε φήσει.
“Quite right,” he said.
“Now anyone with sense would say that, besides this education, their dwellings and other property must be arranged so as not to stop them from being the best possible guardians 416d or provoke them to do harm to the other citizens.”
“And he’d be right to say so.”
ὅρα δή, εἶπον ἐγώ, εἰ τοιόνδε τινὰ τρόπον δεῖ αὐτοὺς ζῆν τε καὶ οἰκεῖν, εἰ μέλλουσι τοιοῦτοι ἔσεσθαι· πρῶτον μὲν οὐσίαν κεκτημένον μηδεμίαν μηδένα ἰδίαν, ἂν μὴ πᾶσα ἀνάγκη· ἔπειτα οἴκησιν καὶ ταμιεῖον μηδενὶ εἶναι μηδὲν τοιοῦτον, εἰς ὃ οὐ πᾶς ὁ βουλόμενος εἴσεισι· τὰ δʼ ἐπιτήδεια, ὅσων δέονται ἄνδρες ἀθληταὶ πολέμου σώφρονές τε καὶ 416e ἀνδρεῖοι, ταξαμένους παρὰ τῶν ἄλλων πολιτῶν δέχεσθαι μισθὸν τῆς φυλακῆς τοσοῦτον ὅσον μήτε περιεῖναι αὐτοῖς εἰς τὸν ἐνιαυτὸν μήτε ἐνδεῖν· φοιτῶντας δὲ εἰς συσσίτια ὥσπερ ἐστρατοπεδευμένους κοινῇ ζῆν·
“Then see,” I said, “whether they should live and dwell in some such way as this, if they’re to be the kind of people we said. First, none of them is to own any private property unless it’s absolutely necessary. Next, no one is to have any dwelling or storeroom that anyone who wishes can’t enter. As for provisions—whatever moderate and 416e courageous athletes of war need—they are to receive them from the other citizens by agreed assessment, as wages for their guardianship, in such amount that they have neither surplus at the end of the year nor shortfall. They are to go to common meals and live together, like soldiers in camp.
χρυσίον δὲ καὶ ἀργύριον εἰπεῖν αὐτοῖς ὅτι θεῖον παρὰ θεῶν ἀεὶ ἐν τῇ ψυχῇ ἔχουσι καὶ οὐδὲν προσδέονται τοῦ ἀνθρωπείου, οὐδὲ ὅσια τὴν ἐκείνου κτῆσιν τῇ τοῦ θνητοῦ χρυσοῦ κτήσει συμμειγνύντας μιαίνειν, διότι πολλὰ καὶ ἀνόσια περὶ τὸ τῶν 417a πολλῶν νόμισμα γέγονεν, τὸ παρʼ ἐκείνοις δὲ ἀκήρατον· ἀλλὰ μόνοις αὐτοῖς τῶν ἐν τῇ πόλει μεταχειρίζεσθαι καὶ ἅπτεσθαι χρυσοῦ καὶ ἀργύρου οὐ θέμις, οὐδʼ ὑπὸ τὸν αὐτὸν ὄροφον ἰέναι οὐδὲ περιάψασθαι οὐδὲ πίνειν ἐξ ἀργύρου ἢ χρυσοῦ.
“As for gold and silver, we’ll tell them that they have divine gold and silver from the gods always in their souls and have no further need of the human kind; and that it isn’t holy to pollute their possession of the divine by mixing it with the possession of mortal gold, because many unholy deeds have been done over the 417a currency of the many, while theirs is pure. For them alone of all in the city it is forbidden to handle or touch gold and silver, or to go under the same roof with it, or wear it as an ornament, or drink from silver or gold.
καὶ οὕτω μὲν σῴζοιντό τʼ ἂν καὶ σῴζοιεν τὴν πόλιν· ὁπότε δʼ αὐτοὶ γῆν τε ἰδίαν καὶ οἰκίας καὶ νομίσματα κτήσονται, οἰκονόμοι μὲν καὶ γεωργοὶ ἀντὶ φυλάκων ἔσονται, 417b δεσπόται δʼ ἐχθροὶ ἀντὶ συμμάχων τῶν ἄλλων πολιτῶν γενήσονται, μισοῦντες δὲ δὴ καὶ μισούμενοι καὶ ἐπιβουλεύοντες καὶ ἐπιβουλευόμενοι διάξουσι πάντα τὸν βίον, πολὺ πλείω καὶ μᾶλλον δεδιότες τοὺς ἔνδον ἢ τοὺς ἔξωθεν πολεμίους, θέοντες ἤδη τότε ἐγγύτατα ὀλέθρου αὐτοί τε καὶ ἡ ἄλλη πόλις. τούτων οὖν πάντων ἕνεκα, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, φῶμεν οὕτω δεῖν κατεσκευάσθαι τοὺς φύλακας οἰκήσεώς τε πέρι καὶ τῶν ἄλλων, καὶ ταῦτα νομοθετήσωμεν, ἢ μή;
“In this way they would be saved and would save the city. But whenever they acquire private land, houses and money, they’ll be householders and farmers instead of guardians, 417b and hostile masters instead of allies of the other citizens. They’ll spend their whole lives hating and being hated, plotting and being plotted against, far more afraid, and more often, of the enemies within than of those outside; and by then they and the rest of the city will be racing very close to ruin. So for all these reasons,” I said, “shall we say that the guardians must be provided for in this way, with regard to housing and the rest, and shall we make these our laws, or not?”