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That is certain, said Glaucon, taking his turn to answer.
And will not he who has been shown to be the wickedest, be also
the most miserable? and he who has tyrannized longest and most, most
continually and truly miserable; although this may not be the
opinion of men in general?
Yes, he said, inevitably.
And must not the tyrannical man be like the tyrannical, State, and
the democratical man like the democratical State; and the same of
the others?
Certainly.
And as State is to State in virtue and happiness, so is man in
relation to man?
To be sure.
Then comparing our original city, which was under a king, and the
city which is under a tyrant, how do they stand as to virtue?
They are the opposite extremes, he said, for one is the very best
and the other is the very worst.
There can be no mistake, I said, as to which is which, and therefore
I will at once enquire whether you would arrive at a similar
decision about their relative happiness and misery. And here we must
not allow ourselves to be panic-stricken at the apparition of the
tyrant, who is only a unit and may perhaps have a few retainers
about him; but let us go as we ought into every corner of the city and
look all about, and then we will give our opinion.
A fair invitation, he replied; and I see, as every one must, that
a tyranny is the wretchedest form of government, and the rule of a
king the happiest.
And in estimating the men too, may I not fairly make a like request,
that I should have a judge whose mind can enter into and see through
human nature? He must not be like a child who looks at the outside and
is dazzled at the pompous aspect which the tyrannical nature assumes
to the beholder, but let him be one who has a clear insight. May I
suppose that the judgment is given in the hearing of us all by one who
is able to judge, and has dwelt in the same place with him, and been
present at his dally life and known him in his family relations, where
he may be seen stripped of his tragedy attire, and again in the hour
of public danger --he shall tell us about the happiness and misery
of the tyrant when compared with other men?
That again, he said, is a very fair proposal.
Shall I assume that we ourselves are able and experienced judges and
have before now met with such a person? We shall then have some one
who will answer our enquiries.
By all means.
Let me ask you not to forget the parallel of the individual and
the State; bearing this in mind, and glancing in turn from one to
the other of them, will you tell me their respective conditions?
What do you mean? he asked.
Beginning with the State, I replied, would you say that a city which
is governed by a tyrant is free or enslaved?
No city, he said, can be more completely enslaved.
And yet, as you see, there are freemen as well as masters in such
a State?
Yes, he said, I see that there are --a few; but the people, speaking
generally, and the best of them, are miserably degraded and enslaved.
Then if the man is like the State, I said, must not the same rule
prevail? his soul is full of meanness and vulgarity --the best
elements in him are enslaved; and there is a small ruling part,
which is also the worst and maddest.
Inevitably.
And would you say that the soul of such an one is the soul of a
freeman, or of a slave?
He has the soul of a slave, in my opinion.
And the State which is enslaved under a tyrant is utterly
incapable of acting voluntarily?
Utterly incapable.
And also the soul which is under a tyrant (I am speaking of the soul
taken as a whole) is least capable of doing what she desires; there is
a gadfly which goads her, and she is full of trouble and remorse?
Certainly.
And is the city which is under a tyrant rich or poor?
Poor.
And the tyrannical soul must be always poor and insatiable?
True.
And must not such a State and such a man be always full of fear?
Yes, indeed.
Is there any State in which you will find more of lamentation and
sorrow and groaning and pain?
Certainly not.
And is there any man in whom you will find more of this sort of
misery than in the tyrannical man, who is in a fury of passions and
desires?
Impossible.
Reflecting upon these and similar evils, you held the tyrannical
State to be the most miserable of States?
And I was right, he said.
Certainly, I said. And when you see the same evils in the tyrannical
man, what do you say of him?
I say that he is by far the most miserable of all men.
There, I said, I think that you are beginning to go wrong.
What do you mean?
I do not think that he has as yet reached the utmost extreme of
misery.
Then who is more miserable?
One of whom I am about to speak.
Who is that?
He who is of a tyrannical nature, and instead of leading a private
life has been cursed with the further misfortune of being a public
tyrant.
From what has been said, I gather that you are right.
Yes, I replied, but in this high argument you should be a little
more certain, and should not conjecture only; for of all questions,
this respecting good and evil is the greatest.
Very true, he said.
Let me then offer you an illustration, which may, I think, throw a
light upon this subject.
What is your illustration?
The case of rich individuals in cities who possess many slaves: from
them you may form an idea of the tyrant's condition, for they both
have slaves; the only difference is that he has more slaves.
Yes, that is the difference.
You know that they live securely and have nothing to apprehend
from their servants?
What should they fear?
Nothing. But do you observe the reason of this?
Yes; the reason is, that the whole city is leagued together for
the protection of each individual.
Very true, I said. But imagine one of these owners, the master say
of some fifty slaves, together with his family and property and
slaves, carried off by a god into the wilderness, where there are no
freemen to help him --will he not be in an agony of fear lest he and
his wife and children should be put to death by his slaves?
Yes, he said, he will be in the utmost fear.
The time has arrived when he will be compelled to flatter divers
of his slaves, and make many promises to them of freedom and other
things, much against his will --he will have to cajole his own
servants.
Yes, he said, that will be the only way of saving himself.
And suppose the same god, who carried him away, to surround him with
neighbours who will not suffer one man to be the master of another,
and who, if they could catch the offender, would take his life?
His case will be still worse, if you suppose him to be everywhere
surrounded and watched by enemies.
And is not this the sort of prison in which the tyrant will be bound
--he who being by nature such as we have described, is full of all
sorts of fears and lusts? His soul is dainty and greedy, and yet
alone, of all men in the city, he is never allowed to go on a journey,
or to see the things which other freemen desire to see, but he lives
in his hole like a woman hidden in the house, and is jealous of any
other citizen who goes into foreign parts and sees anything of
interest.
Very true, he said.
And amid evils such as these will not he who is ill-governed in
his own person --the tyrannical man, I mean --whom you just now
decided to be the most miserable of all --will not he be yet more
miserable when, instead of leading a private life, he is constrained
by fortune to be a public tyrant? He has to be master of others when
he is not master of himself: he is like a diseased or paralytic man
who is compelled to pass his life, not in retirement, but fighting and
combating with other men.
Yes, he said, the similitude is most exact.
Is not his case utterly miserable? and does not the actual tyrant
lead a worse life than he whose life you determined to be the worst?
Certainly.
He who is the real tyrant, whatever men may think, is the real
slave, and is obliged to practise the greatest adulation and
servility, and to be the flatterer of the vilest of mankind. He has
desires which he is utterly unable to satisfy, and has more wants than
any one, and is truly poor, if you know how to inspect the whole
soul of him: all his life long he is beset with fear and is full of
convulsions, and distractions, even as the State which he resembles:
and surely the resemblance holds?
Very true, he said.
Moreover, as we were saying before, he grows worse from having
power: he becomes and is of necessity more jealous, more faithless,
more unjust, more friendless, more impious, than he was at first; he
is the purveyor and cherisher of every sort of vice, and the
consequence is that he is supremely miserable, and that he makes
everybody else as miserable as himself.
No man of any sense will dispute your words.
Come then, I said, and as the general umpire in theatrical
contests proclaims the result, do you also decide who in your
opinion is first in the scale of happiness, and who second, and in
what order the others follow: there are five of them in all --they are
the royal, timocratical, oligarchical, democratical, tyrannical.
The decision will be easily given, he replied; they shall be
choruses coming on the stage, and I must judge them in the order in
which they enter, by the criterion of virtue and vice, happiness and
misery.
Need we hire a herald, or shall I announce, that the son of
Ariston (the best) has decided that the best and justest is also the
happiest, and that this is he who is the most royal man and king
over himself; and that the worst and most unjust man is also the
most miserable, and that this is he who being the greatest tyrant of
himself is also the greatest tyrant of his State?
Make the proclamation yourself, he said.
And shall I add, 'whether seen or unseen by gods and men'?
Let the words be added.
Then this, I said, will be our first proof; and there is another,
which may also have some weight.
What is that?
The second proof is derived from the nature of the soul: seeing that
the individual soul, like the State, has been divided by us into three
principles, the division may, I think, furnish a new demonstration.
Of what nature?
It seems to me that to these three principles three pleasures
correspond; also three desires and governing powers.
How do you mean? he said.
There is one principle with which, as we were saying, a man
learns, another with which he is angry; the third, having many
forms, has no special name, but is denoted by the general term
appetitive, from the extraordinary strength and vehemence of the
desires of eating and drinking and the other sensual appetites which
are the main elements of it; also money-loving, because such desires
are generally satisfied by the help of money.
That is true, he said.
If we were to say that the loves and pleasures of this third part
were concerned with gain, we should then be able to fall back on a
single notion; and might truly and intelligibly describe this part
of the soul as loving gain or money.
I agree with you.
Again, is not the passionate element wholly set on ruling and
conquering and getting fame?
True.
Suppose we call it the contentious or ambitious --would the term
be suitable?
Extremely suitable.
On the other hand, every one sees that the principle of knowledge is
wholly directed to the truth, and cares less than either of the others
for gain or fame.
Far less.
'Lover of wisdom,' 'lover of knowledge,' are titles which we may
fitly apply to that part of the soul?
Certainly.
One principle prevails in the souls of one class of men, another
in others, as may happen?
Yes.
Then we may begin by assuming that there are three classes of men
--lovers of wisdom, lovers of honour, lovers of gain?
Exactly.
And there are three kinds of pleasure, which are their several
objects?
Very true.
Now, if you examine the three classes of men, and ask of them in
turn which of their lives is pleasantest, each will be found
praising his own and depreciating that of others: the money-maker will
contrast the vanity of honour or of learning if they bring no money
with the solid advantages of gold and silver?
True, he said.
And the lover of honour --what will be his opinion? Will he not
think that the pleasure of riches is vulgar, while the pleasure of
learning, if it brings no distinction, is all smoke and nonsense to
him?
Very true.
And are we to suppose, I said, that the philosopher sets any value
on other pleasures in comparison with the pleasure of knowing the
truth, and in that pursuit abiding, ever learning, not so far indeed
from the heaven of pleasure? Does he not call the other pleasures
necessary, under the idea that if there were no necessity for them, he
would rather not have them?
There can be no doubt of that, he replied.
Since, then, the pleasures of each class and the life of each are in
dispute, and the question is not which life is more or less
honourable, or better or worse, but which is the more pleasant or
painless --how shall we know who speaks truly?
I cannot myself tell, he said.
Well, but what ought to be the criterion? Is any better than
experience and wisdom and reason?
There cannot be a better, he said.
Then, I said, reflect. Of the three individuals, which has the
greatest experience of all the pleasures which we enumerated? Has
the lover of gain, in learning the nature of essential truth,
greater experience of the pleasure of knowledge than the philosopher
has of the pleasure of gain?
The philosopher, he replied, has greatly the advantage; for he has
of necessity always known the taste of the other pleasures from his
childhood upwards: but the lover of gain in all his experience has not
of necessity tasted --or, I should rather say, even had he desired,
could hardly have tasted --the sweetness of learning and knowing
truth.
Then the lover of wisdom has a great advantage over the lover of
gain, for he has a double experience?
Yes, very great.
Again, has he greater experience of the pleasures of honour, or
the lover of honour of the pleasures of wisdom?
Nay, he said, all three are honoured in proportion as they attain
their object; for the rich man and the brave man and the wise man
alike have their crowd of admirers, and as they all receive honour
they all have experience of the pleasures of honour; but the delight
which is to be found in the knowledge of true being is known to the
philosopher only.
His experience, then, will enable him to judge better than any one?
Far better.
And he is the only one who has wisdom as well as experience?
Certainly.
Further, the very faculty which is the instrument of judgment is not
possessed by the covetous or ambitious man, but only by the
philosopher?
What faculty?
Reason, with whom, as we were saying, the decision ought to rest.
Yes.
And reasoning is peculiarly his instrument?
Certainly.
If wealth and gain were the criterion, then the praise or blame of
the lover of gain would surely be the most trustworthy?
Assuredly.
Or if honour or victory or courage, in that case the judgement of
the ambitious or pugnacious would be the truest?
Clearly.
But since experience and wisdom and reason are the judges--
The only inference possible, he replied, is that pleasures which are
approved by the lover of wisdom and reason are the truest.
And so we arrive at the result, that the pleasure of the intelligent
part of the soul is the pleasantest of the three, and that he of us in
whom this is the ruling principle has the pleasantest life.
Unquestionably, he said, the wise man speaks with authority when
he approves of his own life.
And what does the judge affirm to be the life which is next, and the
pleasure which is next?
Clearly that of the soldier and lover of honour; who is nearer to
himself than the money-maker.
Last comes the lover of gain?
Very true, he said.
Twice in succession, then, has the just man overthrown the unjust in
this conflict; and now comes the third trial, which is dedicated to
Olympian Zeus the saviour: a sage whispers in my ear that no
pleasure except that of the wise is quite true and pure --all others
are a shadow only; and surely this will prove the greatest and most
decisive of falls?
Yes, the greatest; but will you explain yourself?
I will work out the subject and you shall answer my questions.
Proceed.
Say, then, is not pleasure opposed to pain?
True.
And there is a neutral state which is neither pleasure nor pain?
There is.
A state which is intermediate, and a sort of repose of the soul
about either --that is what you mean?
Yes.
You remember what people say when they are sick?
What do they say?
That after all nothing is pleasanter than health. But then they
never knew this to be the greatest of pleasures until they were ill.
Yes, I know, he said.
And when persons are suffering from acute pain, you must. have heard
them say that there is nothing pleasanter than to get rid of their
pain?
I have.
And there are many other cases of suffering in which the mere rest
and cessation of pain, and not any positive enjoyment, is extolled
by them as the greatest pleasure?
Yes, he said; at the time they are pleased and well content to be at
rest.
Again, when pleasure ceases, that sort of rest or cessation will
be painful?
Doubtless, he said.
Then the intermediate state of rest will be pleasure and will also
be pain?
So it would seem.
But can that which is neither become both?
I should say not.
And both pleasure and pain are motions of the soul, are they not?
Yes.
But that which is neither was just now shown to be rest and not
motion, and in a mean between them?
Yes.
How, then, can we be right in supposing that the absence of pain
is pleasure, or that the absence of pleasure is pain?
Impossible.
This then is an appearance only and not a reality; that is tc say,
the rest is pleasure at the moment and in comparison of what is
painful, and painful in comparison of what is pleasant; but all
these representations, when tried by the test of true pleasure, are
not real but a sort of imposition?
That is the inference.
Look at the other class of pleasures which have no antecedent
pains and you will no longer suppose, as you perhaps may at present,
that pleasure is only the cessation of pain, or pain of pleasure.
What are they, he said, and where shall I find them?
There are many of them: take as an example the pleasures, of
smell, which are very great and have no antecedent pains; they come in
a moment, and when they depart leave no pain behind them.
Most true, he said.
Let us not, then, be induced to believe that pure pleasure is the
cessation of pain, or pain of pleasure.
No.
Still, the more numerous and violent pleasures which reach the
soul through the body are generally of this sort --they are reliefs of
pain.
That is true.
And the anticipations of future pleasures and pains are of a like
nature?
Yes.
Shall I give you an illustration of them?
Let me hear.
You would allow, I said, that there is in nature an upper and
lower and middle region?
I should.
And if a person were to go from the lower to the middle region,
would he not imagine that he is going up; and he who is standing in
the middle and sees whence he has come, would imagine that he is
already in the upper region, if he has never seen the true upper
world?
To be sure, he said; how can he think otherwise?
But if he were taken back again he would imagine, and truly imagine,
that he was descending?
No doubt.
All that would arise out of his ignorance of the true upper and
middle and lower regions?
Yes.
Then can you wonder that persons who are inexperienced in the truth,
as they have wrong ideas about many other things, should also have
wrong ideas about pleasure and pain and the intermediate state; so
that when they are only being drawn towards the painful they feel pain
and think the pain which they experience to be real, and in like
manner, when drawn away from pain to the neutral or intermediate
state, they firmly believe that they have reached the goal of
satiety and pleasure; they, not knowing pleasure, err in contrasting
pain with the absence of pain. which is like contrasting black with
grey instead of white --can you wonder, I say, at this?
No, indeed; I should be much more disposed to wonder at the
opposite.
Look at the matter thus: --Hunger, thirst, and the like, are
inanitions of the bodily state?
Yes.
And ignorance and folly are inanitions of the soul?
True.
And food and wisdom are the corresponding satisfactions of either?
Certainly.
And is the satisfaction derived from that which has less or from
that which has more existence the truer?
Clearly, from that which has more.
What classes of things have a greater share of pure existence in
your judgment --those of which food and drink and condiments and all
kinds of sustenance are examples, or the class which contains true
opinion and knowledge and mind and all the different kinds of
virtue? Put the question in this way: --Which has a more pure being
--that which is concerned with the invariable, the immortal, and the
true, and is of such a nature, and is found in such natures; or that
which is concerned with and found in the variable and mortal, and is
itself variable and mortal?
Far purer, he replied, is the being of that which is concerned
with the invariable.
And does the essence of the invariable partake of knowledge in the
same degree as of essence?
Yes, of knowledge in the same degree.
And of truth in the same degree?
Yes.
And, conversely, that which has less of truth will also have less of
essence?
Necessarily.
Then, in general, those kinds of things which are in the service
of the body have less of truth and essence than those which are in the
service of the soul?
Far less.
And has not the body itself less of truth and essence than the soul?
Yes.
What is filled with more real existence, and actually has a more
real existence, is more really filled than that which is filled with
less real existence and is less real?
Of course.
And if there be a pleasure in being filled with that which is
according to nature, that which is more really filled with more real
being will more really and truly enjoy true pleasure; whereas that
which participates in less real being will be less truly and surely
satisfied, and will participate in an illusory and less real pleasure?
Unquestionably.
Those then who know not wisdom and virtue, and are always busy
with gluttony and sensuality, go down and up again as far as the mean;
and in this region they move at random throughout life, but they never
pass into the true upper world; thither they neither look, nor do they
ever find their way, neither are they truly filled with true being,
nor do they taste of pure and abiding pleasure. Like cattle, with
their eyes always looking down and their heads stooping to the
earth, that is, to the dining-table, they fatten and feed and breed,
and, in their excessive love of these delights, they kick and butt
at one another with horns and hoofs which are made of iron; and they
kill one another by reason of their insatiable lust. For they fill
themselves with that which is not substantial, and the part of
themselves which they fill is also unsubstantial and incontinent.
Verily, Socrates, said Glaucon, you describe the life of the many
like an oracle.
Their pleasures are mixed with pains --how can they be otherwise?
For they are mere shadows and pictures of the true, and are coloured
by contrast, which exaggerates both light and shade, and so they
implant in the minds of fools insane desires of themselves; and they
are fought about as Stesichorus says that the Greeks fought about
the shadow of Helen at Troy in ignorance of the truth.
Something of that sort must inevitably happen.
And must not the like happen with the spirited or passionate element
of the soul? Will not the passionate man who carries his passion
into action, be in the like case, whether he is envious and ambitious,
or violent and contentious, or angry and discontented, if he be
seeking to attain honour and victory and the satisfaction of his anger
without reason or sense?
Yes, he said, the same will happen with the spirited element also.
Then may we not confidently assert that the lovers of money and
honour, when they seek their pleasures under the guidance and in the
company of reason and knowledge, and pursue after and win the
pleasures which wisdom shows them, will also have the truest pleasures
in the highest degree which is attainable to them, inasmuch as they
follow truth; and they will have the pleasures which are natural to
them, if that which is best for each one is also most natural to him?
Yes, certainly; the best is the most natural.
And when the whole soul follows the philosophical principle, and
there is no division, the several parts are just, and do each of
them their own business, and enjoy severally the best and truest
pleasures of which they are capable?
Exactly.
But when either of the two other principles prevails, it fails in
attaining its own pleasure, and compels the rest to pursue after a
pleasure which is a shadow only and which is not their own?
True.
And the greater the interval which separates them from philosophy
and reason, the more strange and illusive will be the pleasure?
Yes.
And is not that farthest from reason which is at the greatest
distance from law and order?
Clearly.
And the lustful and tyrannical desires are, as we saw, at the
greatest distance? Yes.
And the royal and orderly desires are nearest?
Yes.
Then the tyrant will live at the greatest distance from true or
natural pleasure, and the king at the least?
Certainly.
But if so, the tyrant will live most unpleasantly, and the king most
pleasantly?
Inevitably.
Would you know the measure of the interval which separates them?
Will you tell me?
There appear to be three pleasures, one genuine and two spurious:
now the transgression of the tyrant reaches a point beyond the
spurious; he has run away from the region of law and reason, and taken
up his abode with certain slave pleasures which are his satellites,
and the measure of his inferiority can only be expressed in a figure.
How do you mean?
I assume, I said, that the tyrant is in the third place from the
oligarch; the democrat was in the middle?
Yes.
And if there is truth in what has preceded, he will be wedded to
an image of pleasure which is thrice removed as to truth from the
pleasure of the oligarch?
He will.
And the oligarch is third from the royal; since we count as one
royal and aristocratical?
Yes, he is third.
Then the tyrant is removed from true pleasure by the space of a
number which is three times three?
Manifestly.
The shadow then of tyrannical pleasure determined by the number of
length will be a plane figure.
Certainly.
And if you raise the power and make the plane a solid, there is no
difficulty in seeing how vast is the interval by which the tyrant is
parted from the king.
Yes; the arithmetician will easily do the sum.
Or if some person begins at the other end and measures the
interval by which the king is parted from the tyrant in truth of
pleasure, he will find him, when the multiplication is complete,
living 729 times more pleasantly, and the tyrant more painfully by
this same interval.
What a wonderful calculation! And how enormous is the distance which
separates the just from the unjust in regard to pleasure and pain!
Yet a true calculation, I said, and a number which nearly concerns
human life, if human beings are concerned with days and nights and
months and years.
Yes, he said, human life is certainly concerned with them.
Then if the good and just man be thus superior in pleasure to the
evil and unjust, his superiority will be infinitely greater in
propriety of life and in beauty and virtue?
Immeasurably greater.
Well, I said, and now having arrived at this stage of the
argument, we may revert to the words which brought us hither: Was
not some one saying that injustice was a gain to the perfectly
unjust who was reputed to be just?
Yes, that was said.
Now then, having determined the power and quality of justice and
injustice, let us have a little conversation with him.
What shall we say to him?
Let us make an image of the soul, that he may have his own words
presented before his eyes.
Of what sort?
An ideal image of the soul, like the composite creations of
ancient mythology, such as the Chimera or Scylla or Cerberus, and
there are many others in which two or more different natures are
said to grow into one.
There are said of have been such unions.
Then do you now model the form of a multitudinous, many-headed
monster, having a ring of heads of all manner of beasts, tame and
wild, which he is able to generate and metamorphose at will.
You suppose marvellous powers in the artist; but, as language is
more pliable than wax or any similar substance, let there be such a
model as you propose.
Suppose now that you make a second form as of a lion, and a third of
a man, the second smaller than the first, and the third smaller than
the second.
That, he said, is an easier task; and I have made them as you say.
And now join them, and let the three grow into one.
That has been accomplished.
Next fashion the outside of them into a single image, as of a man,
so that he who is not able to look within, and sees only the outer
hull, may believe the beast to be a single human creature. I have done
so, he said.
And now, to him who maintains that it is profitable for the human
creature to be unjust, and unprofitable to be just, let us reply that,
if he be right, it is profitable for this creature to feast the
multitudinous monster and strengthen the lion and the lion-like
qualities, but to starve and weaken the man, who is consequently
liable to be dragged about at the mercy of either of the other two;
and he is not to attempt to familiarize or harmonize them with one
another --he ought rather to suffer them to fight and bite and
devour one another.
Certainly, he said; that is what the approver of injustice says.
To him the supporter of justice makes answer that he should ever
so speak and act as to give the man within him in some way or other
the most complete mastery over the entire human creature.
He should watch over the many-headed monster like a good husbandman,
fostering and cultivating the gentle qualities, and preventing the
wild ones from growing; he should be making the lion-heart his ally,
and in common care of them all should be uniting the several parts
with one another and with himself.
Yes, he said, that is quite what the maintainer of justice say.
And so from every point of view, whether of pleasure, honour, or
advantage, the approver of justice is right and speaks the truth,
and the disapprover is wrong and false and ignorant.
Yes, from every point of view.
Come, now, and let us gently reason with the unjust, who is not
intentionally in error. 'Sweet Sir,' we will say to him, what think
you of things esteemed noble and ignoble? Is not the noble that
which subjects the beast to the man, or rather to the god in man;
and the ignoble that which subjects the man to the beast?' He can
hardly avoid saying yes --can he now?
Not if he has any regard for my opinion.
But, if he agree so far, we may ask him to answer another
question: 'Then how would a man profit if he received gold and
silver on the condition that he was to enslave the noblest part of him
to the worst? Who can imagine that a man who sold his son or
daughter into slavery for money, especially if he sold them into the
hands of fierce and evil men, would be the gainer, however large might
be the sum which he received? And will any one say that he is not a
miserable caitiff who remorselessly sells his own divine being to that
which is most godless and detestable? Eriphyle took the necklace as
the price of her husband's life, but he is taking a bribe in order
to compass a worse ruin.'
Yes, said Glaucon, far worse --I will answer for him.
Has not the intemperate been censured of old, because in him the
huge multiform monster is allowed to be too much at large?
Clearly.
And men are blamed for pride and bad temper when the lion and
serpent element in them disproportionately grows and gains strength?
Yes.
And luxury and softness are blamed, because they relax and weaken
this same creature, and make a coward of him?
Very true.
And is not a man reproached for flattery and meanness who
subordinates the spirited animal to the unruly monster, and, for the
sake of money, of which he can never have enough, habituates him in
the days of his youth to be trampled in the mire, and from being a
lion to become a monkey?
True, he said.
And why are mean employments and manual arts a reproach Only because
they imply a natural weakness of the higher principle; the
individual is unable to control the creatures within him, but has to
court them, and his great study is how to flatter them.
Such appears to be the reason.
And therefore, being desirous of placing him under a rule like
that of the best, we say that he ought to be the servant of the
best, in whom the Divine rules; not, as Thrasymachus supposed, to
the injury of the servant, but because every one had better be ruled
by divine wisdom dwelling within him; or, if this be impossible,
then by an external authority, in order that we may be all, as far
as possible, under the same government, friends and equals.
True, he said.
And this is clearly seen to be the intention of the law, which is
the ally of the whole city; and is seen also in the authority which we
exercise over children, and the refusal to let them be free until we
have established in them a principle analogous to the constitution
of a state, and by cultivation of this higher element have set up in
their hearts a guardian and ruler like our own, and when this is
done they may go their ways.
Yes, he said, the purpose of the law is manifest.
From what point of view, then, and on what ground can we say that
a man is profited by injustice or intemperance or other baseness,
which will make him a worse man, even though he acquire money or power
by his wickedness?
From no point of view at all.
What shall he profit, if his injustice be undetected and unpunished?
He who is undetected only gets worse, whereas he who is detected and
punished has the brutal part of his nature silenced and humanized; the
gentler element in him is liberated, and his whole soul is perfected
and ennobled by the acquirement of justice and temperance and
wisdom, more than the body ever is by receiving gifts of beauty,
strength and health, in proportion as the soul is more honourable than
the body.
Certainly, he said.
To this nobler purpose the man of understanding will devote the
energies of his life. And in the first place, he will honour studies
which impress these qualities on his soul and disregard others?
Clearly, he said.
In the next place, he will regulate his bodily habit and training,
and so far will he be from yielding to brutal and irrational
pleasures, that he will regard even health as quite a secondary
matter; his first object will be not that he may be fair or strong
or well, unless he is likely thereby to gain temperance, but he will
always desire so to attemper the body as to preserve the harmony of
the soul?
Certainly he will, if he has true music in him.
And in the acquisition of wealth there is a principle of order and
harmony which he will also observe; he will not allow himself to be
dazzled by the foolish applause of the world, and heap up riches to
his own infinite harm?
Certainly not, he said.
He will look at the city which is within him, and take heed that
no disorder occur in it, such as might arise either from superfluity
or from want; and upon this principle he will regulate his property
and gain or spend according to his means.
Very true.
And, for the same reason, he will gladly accept and enjoy such
honours as he deems likely to make him a better man; but those,
whether private or public, which are likely to disorder his life, he
will avoid?
Then, if that is his motive, he will not be a statesman.
By the dog of Egypt, he will! in the city which 's his own he
certainly will, though in the land of his birth perhaps not, unless he
have a divine call.
I understand; you mean that he will be a ruler in the city of
which we are the founders, and which exists in idea only; for I do not
believe that there is such an one anywhere on earth?
In heaven, I replied, there is laid up a pattern of it, methinks,
which he who desires may behold, and beholding, may set his own
house in order. But whether such an one exists, or ever will exist
in fact, is no matter; for he will live after the manner of that city,
having nothing to do with any other.
I think so, he said.
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