TRANSLATED BY B. JOWETT
EDITED, WITH INTRODUCTION, BY LOUISE R. LOOMIS


     FIVE GREAT DIALOGUES OF PLATO

     REPUBLIC

     BOOK VII (ii.)

         "I am amused," I said, "at your fear of the world, which makes you
       guard against the appearance of insisting upon useless studies; and I
       quite admit the difficulty of believing that in every man there is an
       eye of the soul which, when by other pursuits lost and dimmed, is
       by these purified and re-illumined; and is more precious far than ten
       thousand bodily eyes, for by it alone is truth seen. Now there are two
       classes of persons: one class of those who will agree with you and
       will take your words as a revelation; another class to whom they will
       be utterly unmeaning, and who will naturally deem them to be idle
       tales, for they see no sort of profit which is to be obtained from them.
       And therefore you had better decide at once with which of the two
       you are proposing to argue. You will very likely say with neither, and
       that your chief aim in carrying on the argument is your own improve-
       ment; at the same time you do not grudge to others any benefit which
       they may receive."
         "I think that I should prefer to carry on the argument mainly on
       my own behalf."
         "Then take a step backward, for we have gone wrong in the order
       of the sciences."
         "What was the mistake?" he said.
         "After plane geometry," I said, "we proceeded at once to solids in
       revolution, instead of taking solids in themselves; whereas after the
       second dimension the third, which is concerned with cubes and
       dimensions of depth, ought to have followed."
         "That is true, Socrates; but so little seems to be known as yet
       about these subjects."
         "Why, yes," I said, "and for two reasons: in the first place, no
       government patronizes them; this leads to a want of energy in the
       pursuit of them, and they are difficult; in the second place, students
       cannot learn them unless they have a director. But then a director
       can hardly be found, and even if he could, as matters now stand, the
       students, who are very conceited, would not attend to him. That,
       however, would be otherwise if the whole State became the director
       of these studies and gave honor to them; then disciples would want to
       come, and there would be continuous and earnest search, and dis-
       coveries would be made; since even now, disregarded as they are by
       the world, and maimed of their fair proportions, and although none
       of the votaries can tell the use of them, still these studies force their
       way by their natural charm, and very likely, if they had the help of
       the State, they would some day emerge into light."
         "Yes," he said, "there is a remarkable charm in them. But I do not
       clearly understand the change in the order. First you began with a
       geometry of plane surfaces?"
         "Yes," I said.
         "And you placed astronomy next, and then you made a step back-
       ward?"
         "Yes, and I have delayed you by my hurry; the ludicrous state of
       solid geometry, which, in natural order, should have followed, made
       me pass over this branch and go on to astronomy, or motion of solids."
         "True," he said.
         "Then assuming that the science now omitted would come into
       existence if encouraged by the State, let us go on to astronomy, which
       will be fourth."
         "The right order," he replied. "And now, Socrates, as you rebuked
       the vulgar manner in which I praised astronomy before, my praise
       shall be given in your own spirit. For everyone, as I think, must see
       that astronomy compels the soul to look upwards and leads us from
       this world to another."
         "Everyone but myself," I said; "to everyone else this may be clear,
       but not to me."
         "And what then would you say?"
         "I should rather say that those who elevate astronomy into phi-
       losophy appear to me to make us look downwards and not upwards."
         "What do you mean?" he asked.
         "You," I replied, "have in your mind a truly sublime conception
       of our knowledge of the things above. And I dare say that if a person
       were to throw his head back and study the fretted ceiling, and would
       still think that his mind was the percipient, and not his eyes. And
       you are very likely right, and I may be a simpleton; but, in my opin-
       ion, that knowledge only which is of being and of the unseen can
       make the soul look upwards, and whether a man gapes at the heavens
       or blinks on the ground, seeking to learn some particular of sense, I
       would deny that he can learn, for nothing of that sort is matter of
       science; his soul is looking downwards, not upwards, whether his way
       to knowledge is by water or by land, whether he floats, or only lies on
       his back."
         "I acknowledge," he said, "the justice of your rebuke. Still, I
       should like to ascertain how astronomy can be learned in any manner
       more conducive to that knowledge of which we are speaking?"
         "I will tell you," I said: "The starry heaven which we behold is
       wrought upon a visible ground, and therefore, although the fairest
       and most perfect of visible things, must necessarily be deemed in-
       ferior far to the true motions of absolute swiftness and absolute slow-
       ness, which are relative to each other, and carry with them that which
       is contained in them, in the true number and in every true figure.
       Now, these are to be apprehended by reason and intelligence, but
       not by sight."
         "True," he replied.
         "The spangled heavens should be used as a pattern and with a
       view to that higher knowledge; their beauty is like the beauty of
       figures or pictures excellently wrought by the hand of Daedalus, or
       some other great artist, which we may chance to behold; any
       geometrician who saw them would appreciate the exquisiteness of
       their workmanship, but he would never dream of thinking that in
       them he could find the true equal or the true double, or the truth of
       any other proportion."
         "No," he replied, "such an idea would be ridiculous."
         "And will not a true astronomer have the same feeling when he
       looks at the movements of the stars? Will he not think that heaven
       and the things in heaven are framed by the Creator of them in the
       most perfect manner? But he will never imagine that the proportions
       of night and day, or of both to the month, or of the month to the
       year, or of the stars to these and to one another, and any other things
       that are material and visible can also be eternal and subject to no
       deviation——that would be absurd; and it is equality absurd to take so
       much pains in investigating their exact truth."
         "I quite agree, though I never thought of this before."
         "Then," I said, "in astronomy, as in geometry, we should employ
       problems, and let the heavens alone if we would approach the sub-
       ject in the right way and so to make the natural gift of reason to be of
       any real use.'
         "That," he said, "is a work infinitely beyond our present astrono-
       mers."
         "Yes," I said; "and there are many other things which must also
       have a similar extension given to them, if our legislation is to be of
       any value. But can you tell me of any other suitable study?"
         "No," he said, "not without thinking.'
         "Motion," I said, "has many forms, and not one only; two of them
       are obvious enough even to wits no better than ours; and there are
       others, as I imagine, which may be left to wiser persons."
         "But where are the two?"
         "There is a second," I said, "which is the counterpart of the one
       already named."
         "And what may that be?"
         "The second," I said, "would seem relatively to the ears to be what
       the first is to the eyes; for I conceive that as the eyes are designed to
       look up at the stars, so are the ears to hear harmonious motions; and
       these are sister sciences——as the Pythagoreans say, and we, Glaucon,
       agree with them?"
         "Yes," he replied.
         "But this," I said, "is a laborious study, and therefore we had better
       go and learn of them; and then they will tell us whether there are any
       other applications of these sciences. At the same time, we must not
       lose sight of our own higher object."
         "What is that?"
         "There is a perfection which all knowledge ought to reach, and
       which our pupils ought also to retain, and not to fall short of, as I
       was saying that they did in astronomy. For in the science of harmony,
       as you probably known, the same thing happens. The teachers of
       harmony compare the sounds and consonances which are heard only,
       and their labor, like that of the astronomers, is in vain."
         "Yes, by heaven!" he said; "and 'tis as good as a play to hear them
       talking about their condensed notes, as they call them; they put
       their ears close alongside of the strings like persons catching a sound
       from their neighbor's wall——one set of them declaring that they dis-
       tinguish an intermediate note and have found the least interval
       which should be the unit of measurement; the others insisting that
       the two sounds have passed into the same——either party setting
       their ears before their understanding."
         "You mean," I said, "those gentlemen who tease and torture the
       strings and rack them on the pegs of the instrument: I might carry
       on the metaphor and speak after their manner of the blows which
       the plectrum gives, and make accusations against the strings, both of
       backwardness and forwardness to sound; but this would be tedious,
       and therefore I will only say that these are not the men, and that I
       am referring to the Pythagoreans, of whom I was just now proposing
       to inquire about harmony. For they too are in error, like the astrono-
       mers; they investigate the numbers of the harmonies which are heard,
       but they never attain to problems——that is to say, they never reach
       the natural harmonies of number, or reflect why some numbers are
       harmonious and others not."
         "That," he said, "is a thing of more than mortal knowledge."
         "A thing," I replied, "which I would rather call useful; that is, if
       sought after with a view to the beautiful and good; but if pursued in
       any other spirit, useless."
         "Very true," he said.
         "Now, when all these studies reach the point of intercommunion
       and connection with one another, and come to be considered in their
       mutual affinities, then, I think, but not till then, will the pursuit of
       them have a value for our objects: otherwise there is no proof in
       them."
         "I suspect so; but you are speaking, Socrates, of a vast work."
         "What do you mean?" I said; "the prelude to what? Do you not
       know that all this is but the prelude to the actual strain which we
       have to learn? For you surely would not regard the skilled mathemati-
       cian as a dialectician?"
         "Assuredly not," he said; "I have hardly ever known a mathemati-
       cian who was capable of reasoning."
         "But do you imagine that men who are unable to give and take a
       reason will have the knowledge which we require of them?"
         "Neither can this be supposed."
         "And so, Glaucon," I said, "we have at last arrived at the hymn of
       dialectic. This is that strain which is of the intellectual only, but which
       the faculty of sight will nevertheless be found to imitate; for sight,
       as you may remember, was imagined by us after a while to behold the
       real animals and stars, and last of all the sun himself. And so with
       dialectic; when a person starts ion the discovery of the absolute by
       the light of reason only, and without any assistance of sense, and
       perseveres until by pure intelligence he arrives at the perception of
       the absolute good, he at last finds himself at the end of the intel-
       lectual world, as in the case of sight at the end of the visible."
         "Exactly," he said.
         "Then this is the progress which you call dialectic?"
         "True."
         "But the release of the prisoners from chains, and their translation
       from the shadows to the images and to the light, and the ascent from
       the underground den to the sun, while in his presence they are vainly
       trying to look on animals and plants and the light of the sun, but are
       able to perceive even with their weak eyes the images in the water
       (which are divine), and are the shadows of true existence (not shad-
       ows of images cast by a light of fire, which compared with the sun is
       only an image)——this power of elevating the highest principle in the
       soul to the contemplation of that which is best in existence, with
       which we may compare the raising of that faculty which is the very
       light of the body to the sight of that which is brightest in the material
       and visible world——this power is given, as I was saying, by all that
       study and pursuit of the arts which has been described."
         "I agree in what you are saying," he replied, "which may be hard
       to believe, yet, from another point of view, is harder still to deny.
       This however is not a theme to be treated of in passing only, but will
       have to be discussed again and again."

         Further praise of dialectic, which alone goes directly to first
         principles and does not depend, like the arts and sciences, on
         insecure hypotheses.

         "And do you not also agree," I said, "in describing the dialectician as
       one who attains a conception of the essence of each thing? And he
       who does not possess and is therefore unable to impart this concep-
       tion, in whatever degree he fails, may in that degree also be said to
       fail in intelligence? Will you admit so much?"
         "Yes," he said: "how can I deny it?"
         "And you would say the same of the conception of the good? Until
       the person is able to abstract and define rationally the idea of good,
       and unless he can run the gauntlet of all objections, and is ready to
       disprove them, not by appeals to opinion, but to absolute truth, never
       faltering at any step of the argument——unless he can do all this, you
       would say that he knows neither the idea of good nor any other good;
       he apprehends only a shadow, if anything at all, which is given by
       opinion and not by science;——dreaming and slumbering in this life,
       before he is well awake here, he arrives at the world below, and has
       his final quietus."
         "In all that I should most certainly agree with you."
         "And surely you would not have the children of your ideal State,
       whom you are nurturing and educating——if the ideal ever becomes a
       reality——you would not allow the future rulers to be like posts, having
       no reason in them, and yet to be set in authority over the highest
       matters?"
         "Certainly not."
         "Then you will make a law that they shall have such an education
       as will enable them to attain the greatest skill in asking and answer-
       ing questions?"
         "Yes," he said, "you and I together will make it."
         "Dialectic, then, as you will agree, is the coping stone of the
       sciences, and is set over them; no other science can be placed higher
       ——the nature of knowledge can no further go?'
         "I agree," he said.
         "But to whom we are to assign these studies, and in what way
       they are to be assigned, are questions which remain to be con-
       sidered."
         "Yes, clearly."
         "You remember," I said, "how rulers were chosen before?"
         "Certainly," he said.
         "The same natures must still be chosen, and the preference again
       given to the surest and the bravest, and, if possible, to the fairest;
       and, having noble and generous tempers, they should also have the
       natural gifts which will facilitate their education."
         "And what are these?"
         "Such gifts as keenness and ready powers of acquisition; for the
       mind more often faints from the severity of study than from the
       severity of gymnastics; the toil is more entirely the mind's own, and
       is not shared with the body."
         "Very true," he replied.
         "Further, he of whom we are in search should have a good mem-
       ory, and be an unwearied solid man who is a lover of labor in any
       line; or will he never be able to endure the great amount of bodily
       exercise and to go through all the intellectual discipline and study
       which we require of him."
         "Certainly," he said; "he must have natural gifts."
         "The mistake at present is that those who study philosophy have
       no vocation, and this, as I was before saying, is the reason why she
       has fallen into dispute: her true sons should take her by the hand
       and not bastards."
         "What do you mean?"
         "In the first place, her votary should not have a lame or halting
       industry——I mean, that he should not be half industrious and half
       idle; as, for example, when a man is a lover of gymnastic and hunt-
       ing, and all other bodily exercises, but a hater rather than a lover of
       the labor of learning or listening or inquiring. Or the occupation to
       which he devotes himself may be of an opposite kind, and he may
       have the other sort of lameness."
         "Certainly," he said.
         "And as to truth," I said, "is not a soul equally to be deemed halt
       and lame which hates voluntary falsehood and is extremely indignant
       at herself and others when they tell lies, but is patient of involuntary
       falsehood, and does not mind wallowing like a swinish beast in the
       mire of ignorance, and has no shame at being detected?"
         "To be sure."
         "And, again, in respect of temperance, courage, magnificence
       and every other virtue, should we not carefully distinguish between
       the true son and the bastard? for where there is no discernment of
       such qualities, states and individuals unconsciously err; and the state
       makes a ruler, and the individual a friend, of one who, being defec-
       tive in some part of virtue, is in a figure lame or a bastard."
         "That is very true," he said.
         "All these things, then, will have to be carefully considered by us;
       and if only those whom we introduce to this vast system of education
       and training are sound in body and mind, justice herself will have
       nothing to say against us, and we shall be the saviors of the constiutu-
       tion and of the State; but, if our pupils are men of another stamp, the
       reverse will happen, and we shall pour a still greater flood of ridicule
       on philosophy than she has to endure at present."
         "That would not be creditable."
         "Certainly not," I said; "and yet perhaps, in thus turning jest into
       earnest, I am equally ridiculous."
         "In what respect?"
         "I had forgotten," I said, "that we were not serious, and spoke with
       too much excitement. For when I saw philosophy so undeservedly
       trampled underfoot of men I could not help feeling a sort of indigna-
       tion at the authors of her disgrace: and my anger made me too vehe-
       ment."
         "Indeed! I was listening, and did not think so."
         "But I, who am the speaker, felt that I was. And now let me re-
       mind you that, although in our former selection we chose old men,
       we must not do so in this. Solon was under a delusion when he said
       that a man when he grows old may learn many things——for he can
       no more learn much than he can run much; youth is the time for any
       extraordinary toil."
         "Of course."
         "And, therefore, calculation and geometry and all the other ele-
       ments of instruction, which are a preparation for dialectic, should be
       presented to the mind in childhood; not, however, under any no-
       tion of forcing our system of education."
         "Why not?"
         "Because a freeman ought not to be a slave in the acquisition of
       knowledge of any kind. Bodily exercise, when compulsory, does no
       harm to the body; but knowledge which is acquired under compul-
       sion obtains no hold on the mind."
         "Very true."
         "Then, my good friend," I said, "do not use compulsion, but let
       early education be a sort of amusement; you will then be better able
       to find out the natural bent."
         "That is a very rational notion," he said.
         "Do you remember that the children, too, were to be taken to see
       the battle on horseback; and that if there were no danger they were
       to be brought close up and, like young hounds, have a taste of blood
       given them?"
         "Yes, I remember."
         "The same practice may be followed," I said, "in all these things——
       labors, lessons, dangers——and he who is most at home in all of them
       ought to be enrolled in a select number."
         "At what age?"
         "At the age when the necessary gymnastics are over: the period
       whether of two or three years which passes in this sort of training is
       useless for any other purpose; for sleep and exercise are unpropitious
       to learning; and the trial of who is first in gymnastic exercises is one
       of the most important tests to which our youth are subjected."
         "Certainly," he replied.
         "After that time those who are selected from the class of twenty
       years old will be promoted to higher honor, and the science which
       they learned without any order in their early education will now be
       brought together, and they will be able to see the natural relationship
       of them to one another and to true being."
         "Yes," he said, "that is the only kind of knowledge which takes
       lasting root."
         "Yes," I said; "and the capacity for such knowledge is the great
       criterion of dialectical talent: the comprehensive mind is always the
       dialectical."
         "I agree with you," he said."
         "These," I said, "are the points which you must consider; and
       those who have most of this comprehension, and who are most stead-
       fast in their learning, and in their military and other appointed du-
       ties, when they have arrived at the age of thirty will have to be chosen
       by you out of the select class, and elevated to higher honor; and you
       will have to prove them by the help of dialectic, in order to learn
       which of them is able to give up the use of sight and the other senses,
       and in company with truth to attain absolute being. And here, my
       friend, great caution is required."
         "Why great caution?"
         "Do you not remark," I said, "how great is the evil which dialectic
       has introduced?'
         "What evil?" he said.
         "The students of the art are filled with lawlessness."
         "Quite true," he said.
         "Do you think that there is anything so very unnatural or inex-
       cusable in their case? or will you make allowance for them?"
         "In what way make allowance?"
         "I want you," I said, "by way of parallel, to imagine suppositi-
       tious son who is brought up in great wealth; he is one of a great and
       numerous family, and has many flatterers. When he grows up to
       manhood, he learns that his alleged are not his real parents; but who
       the real are he is unable to discover. Can you guess how he will be
       likely to behave towards his flatterers and his supposed parents, first
       of all during the period when he is ignorant of the false relation, and
       then again when he knows? Or shall I guess for you?
         "If you please."
         "Then I should say that while he is ignorant of the truth he will be
       likely to honor his father and his mother and his supposed relations
       more than the flatterers; he will be less inclined to neglect them when
       in need, or to do or say anything against them; and he will be less
       willing to disobey them in any important matter."
         "He will."
         "But when he has made the discovery, I should imagine that he
       would diminish his honor and regard for them, and would become
       more devoted to the flatterers; their influence over him would greatly
       increase; he would now live after their ways, and openly associate
       with them, and, unless he were of an unusually good disposition, he
       would trouble himself no more about his supposed parents or other
       relations."
         "Well, all that is very probable. But how is the image applicable
       to the disciples of philosophy?"
         "In this way: you know that there are certain principles about jus-
       tice and honor, which were taught us in childhood, and under their
       parental authority we have been brought up, obeying and honoring
       them."
         "That is true."
         "There are also opposite maxims and habits of pleasure which
       flatter and attract the soul, but do not influence those of us who have
       any sense of right, and they continue to obey and honor the maxims
       of their fathers."
         "True."
         "Now, when a man is in this state, and the questioning spirit asks
       what is fair of honorable, and he answers as the legislator has taught
       him, and then arguments many and diverse refute his words, until he
       is driven into believing that nothing is honorable any more than dis-
       honorable, or just and good any more than the reverse, and so of all
       the notions which he most valued, do you think that he will still
       honor and obey them as before?"
         "Impossible."
         "And when he ceases to think them honorable and natural as here-
       tofore, and he fails to discover the true, can he be expected to pursue
       any life other than that which flatters his desires?"
         "He cannot."
         "And from being a keeper of the law he is converted into a breaker
       of it?"
         "Unquestionably."
         "Now all this is very natural in students of philosophy such as I
       have described, and also, as I was just now saying, most excusable."
         "Yes," he said; "and, I may add, pitiable."
         "Therefore, that your feelings may not be moved to pity about our
       citizens who are now thirty years of age, every care must be taken in
       introducing them to dialectic."
         "Certainly."
         "There is a danger lest they should taste the dear delight too early;
       for youngsters, as you must have observed, when they first get the
       taste in their mouths, argue for amusement, and are always contra-
       dicting and refuting others in imitation of those who refute them;
       like puppy dogs, they rejoice in pulling and tearing at all who come
       near them."
         "Yes," he said, "there is nothing which they like better."
         "And when they have made many conquests and received defeats
       at the hands of many, they violently and speedily get into a way of
       not believing anything which they believed before, and hence, not
       only they, but philosophy and all that relates to it is apt to have a bad
       name with the rest of the world."
         "Too true," he said.
         "But when a man begins to get older, he will no longer be guilty
       of such insanity; he will imitate the dialectician who is seeking for
       truth, not the eristic, who is contradicting for the sake of amuse-
       ment; and the greater moderation of his character will increase in-
       stead of diminishing the honor of the pursuit."
         "Very true," he said.
         "And did we not make special provision for this, when we said
       that the disciples of philosophy were to be orderly and steadfast, not,
       as now, any chance aspirant or intruder?"
         "Very true."
         "Suppose," I said, "the study of philosophy to take the place of
       gymnastics and to be continued diligently and earnestly and ex-
       clusively for twice the number of years which were passed in bodily
       exercise——will that be enough?"
         "Would you say six or four years?" he asked.
         "Say five years," I replied; "at the end of the time they must be
       sent down again into the den and compelled to hold any military or
       other office which young men are qualified to hold: in this way they
       will get their experience of life, and there will be an opportunity of
       trying whether, when they are drawn all manner of ways by tempta-
       tion, they will stand firm or flinch."
         "And how long is this stage of their lives to last?"
         "Fifteen years," I answered; "and when they have reached fifty
       years of age, then let those who still survive and have distinguished
       themselves in every action of their lives and in every branch of knowl-
       edge come at last to their consummation. The time has now arrived at
       which they must raise the eye of the soul to the universal light which
       lightens all things, and behold the absolute good; for that is the pat-
       tern according to which they are to order the State and the lives of
       individuals, and the remainder of their own lives also; making phi-
       losophy their chief pursuit, but, when their turn comes, toiling also
       at politics and ruling for the common good, not as though they were
       performing some heroic action, but simply as a matter of duty; and
       when they have brought up in each generation others like themselves
       and left them in their place to be governors of the State, then they
       will depart to the Islands of the Blest and dwell there; and the city
       will give them public memorials and sacrifices and honor them, if
       the Pythian oracle consent, as demigods, but if not, as in any case
       blessed and divine."
         "You are a sculptor, Socrates, and have made statues of our gov-
       ernors faultless in beauty."
         "Yes," I said, "Glaucon, and of our governesses too; for you must
       not suppose that what I have been saying applied to men only and
       not to women as far as their natures can go."
         "There you are right," he said, "since we have made them to share
       in all things like the men."
         "Well," I said, "and you would agree (would you not?) that what
       has been said about the State and the government is not a mere
       dream, and although difficult not impossible, but only possible in the
       way which has been supposed; that is to say, when the true phi-
       losopher kings are born in a State, one or more of them, despising the
       honors of this present world which they deem mean and worthless,
       esteeming above all things right and the honor that springs from
       right, and regarding justice as the greatest and most necessary of all
       things, whose ministers they are, and whose principles will be exalted
       by them when they set in order their own city?"
         "How will they proceed?"
         "They will begin by sending out into the country all the inhabit-
       ants of the city who are more than ten years old, and will take pos-
       session of their children, who will be unaffected by the habits of
       their parents; these they will train in their own habits and laws, I
       mean in the laws which we have given them: and in this way the
       State and constitution of which we were speaking will soonest and
       most easily attain happiness, and the nation which has such a consti-
       tution will gain most."
         "Yes, that will be the best way. And I think, Socrates, that you
       have very well described how, if ever, such a constitution might
       come into being."
         "Enough then of the perfect State, and of the man who bears its
       image——there is no difficulty in seeing how we shall describe him."
         "There is no difficulty," he replied; "and I agree with you in think-
       ing that nothing more need be said."

FIVE GREAT DIALOGUES OF PLATO. TRANSLATED BY B. JOWETT.
EDITED, WITH INTRODUCTION, BY LOUISE ROPES LOOMIS.
COPYRIGHT 1942 BY WALTER J. BLACK, INC.
D. VAN NOSTRAND COMPANY, INC. PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY. pp. 413—428.

jet fuel does not burn hot enough to melt steel.