Chapter X: Book IV: Argument (1)

In the _fourth book_, after defining the true position and functions of
the φύλαξ and the arrangement of a model state,—which he further
conceives to comprise, as essentials, wisdom, temperance, fortitude,
and justice, the necessary union and coherence of which he
demonstrates by analogy with the numerous mental faculties, which,
like the members of a state, exist by mutual connexion and
dependence. This concord of faculties is at the bottom of Plato’s
notion of a state; and this constitutes justice, the benefits of
which are negatively proved by the exposure of injustice. This
justice, however, he proves to have numerous ramifications, just in
the same way as both himself and Aristotle conceive that under the
term politics is included everything that concerns civil
administration when placed in the hands of the people themselves,
both generically and in its specific departments.

CHAP. I.—Adimantus hereupon rejoining said: What answer will you make, Socrates, if one were to say that you do not make these men very happy,—and that owing to themselves, whose property the state really is,—yet they enjoy no advantage in the state, such as others do who possess lands, build beautiful and large houses, purchase suitable furniture, offer sacrifices to the gods at their own expense, entertain strangers, and, as you were just now saying, possess gold and silver, and everything generally supposed to contribute towards making men happy. Aye, doubtless, he may say, they seem, like hired auxiliaries, to be settled in the state for no other purpose than keeping guard. Yes, said I; and that too only for their maintenance, without receiving, like the rest, pay as well as rations;—so that they are not to be allowed so much as to travel abroad privately, though they wish it, nor bestow money on mistresses, nor spend it in such other ways as those do who are reputed to be happy. These and many such like things you leave out of the accusation. Well, let these charges too, said he, be made against them. What answer then, are we to make, you ask? I do. While travelling on the same road, we shall find, methinks, what is to be said: for we shall state, that it would be nothing strange, were these men, under these circumstances, to be the happiest possible:—yet it was not with an eye to this, that we are establishing our state,—to have any one tribe in it remarkably happy, but that the whole state might be so to the fullest extent; for we judged, that in such an one more particularly we should meet with justice, and again in that the worst established injustice; and that, on thoroughly examining these, we might determine what we have long been seeking. Now then, as we suppose, we are forming a happy state, not by selection, making some few only so in it, but the whole: and we will next consider one its reverse. Just as if, when we were painting human figures, a person should come and blame us, saying, that we do not place the most beautiful colours on the most beautiful parts of the creature,—inasmuch as the eyes, the most beautiful part, were not painted with purple, but black; we should seem perhaps to make a sufficient answer to him, by saying, Clever fellow, do not suppose that we ought to paint the eyes so beautifully, as that they should not appear to be eyes, and so with the other parts;—but consider, rather, whether, in giving each particular part its due, we make the whole beautiful. And especially now, do not oblige us to confer such happiness on our guardians as shall make them anything rather than guardians: for we know too, how to dress out the husbandmen in fine robes and gird them with gold, and bid them till the ground with a view to pleasure only,—and in like manner, those who make earthenware, to lie at their ease by the fire, drinking and feasting, and placing the wheel near them to work just so much as they like;—and so also how to confer happiness on every one in such a manner as to render the whole state happy. But do not advise us in this way; because, if we obey you, neither will the husbandman be really a husbandman, nor the potter a potter; nor will any one else be really of any of those professions of which the state is composed. As to all the rest, it is of less consequence:—for, when shoemakers become bad and corrupt, and profess to be shoemakers when they are not so, no great mischief befals the state; but when guardians of the laws and of the state are not so really, but only in appearance, you see how entirely they destroy the whole state, and, on the other hand, that they alone have the opportunity of managing it well and effecting its happiness. If then we would appoint men who shall be really guardians of the city, [let us choose] those who will be least hurtful to it; but he who says that they should be a kind of farmers, and as in a festival meeting, not in a state, jolly entertainers, must speak of something else rather than a city. We must consider, then, whether we establish guardians with this view, that they may enjoy the greatest happiness,—or, looking to the entire state, we regard whether it is to be found therein; and we must compel these allies and guardians to do this, and persuade them to become the best performers of their own particular work, and act also towards all others in the same manner; and thus, as the whole city becomes prosperous, and well constituted, we must permit its several classes to share in that degree of happiness which their nature admits.

CHAP. II.—I think you say well, said he. Well then, said I, what is near akin to this, shall I be thought to say rightly. In what particularly? With respect to all other artificers again, consider whether these things corrupt them, so as to make them bad workmen. To what do you allude? Riches, said I, and poverty. As how? Thus:—Would the potter, think you, after he has become rich, have any desire still to mind his art? By no means, said he. But will he not become more idle and careless than he was before? Much more so. Will he not then become a worse potter? This too, much more so, said he. And, moreover, being unable through poverty to supply himself with tools, or other requisites of his art, his workmanship will be more imperfectly executed, and his sons, or others whom he instructs, will be inferior artists. Of course they will. Owing to both these causes, then, [namely] poverty and riches, the workmanship in the arts becomes inferior, and [the artists] themselves inferior too. It appears so. We have then, it seems, found out other things for our guardians, against which they must by all means watch, that they may not steal into the state without their knowledge. Of what sort are these? Riches, said I, and poverty;—the one engendering luxury, idleness, and a love of innovation;—the other, illiberality and mischief, as well as a love of innovation. Quite so, said he. But, Socrates, pray consider this;—how is our state to have the power of engaging in war, when she is possessed of no money, especially if compelled to wage war against a great and opulent one? It is plain, said I, that to fight against one is somewhat difficult; but against two such is more easy. How say you? replied he. First of all, now, said I, if there is any occasion for fighting, will they not, being practised warriors, fight against rich men? Yes, surely, said he. What then, said I, Adimantus, would not a single boxer, trained as highly as possible to this exercise, seem to you easily able to fight against two who are not boxers, but on the other hand, are rich and fat? Not perhaps with both at once, said he. Not even, said I, if he should be enabled to retire a little, and then turn back and give a blow to the furthest in advance, and repeat this frequently in the sun and heat?—would not a person of this kind easily defeat many such as these? Clearly so, and no wonder, said he. But think you not, that the rich have more science and experience in boxing than in the military art? I do, said he. In that case, according to appearances, our wrestlers will easily combat with double and threefold their number. I will agree with you, said he; for I believe you say right. But what,—supposing they were to send an embassy to another state, informing them of their true situation, telling them, We make no use either of gold or silver, neither is it lawful for us to use them, while for you it is so:—if then you become our allies in war, you shall receive the enemy’s spoils;—think you that any, on hearing this, would choose to fight against stanch and resolute dogs, rather than in alliance with the dogs to fight against fat and tender sheep? I think not; but, if the wealth of all the rest be accumulated in one single state, take care that it [the wealthy state] does not endanger that which is poor. How good you are, said I, to think that any other deserves to be called a state except such as we have established. Why not? said he. To those others, said I, we must give a more magnificent appellation; for each of them comprises very many states, and is not one, as was said in the game;[147] for there are always in them, however small they be, two parties hostile to each other,—the poor and the rich; and in each of these again there are very many;—to which, if you apply as to one, you would be entirely mistaken;—but if, as to many, giving one party the goods and power, or even persons, of the other, you will always have the many for your allies, and the few for enemies; and, so long as your state be managed temperately, as lately established, it will be the greatest,—not I mean in mere repute, but really the greatest, though its defenders were no more than one thousand; for a single state of such size you will not easily find, either among Greeks or barbarians, but many which have the repute of being many times larger than one such as this.[148] Are you of a different opinion? No, by Zeus, said he.

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Footnote 147:

The scholiast tells us, that “to play at cities” (πόλεις παίζειν) is a
kind of game at dice, in which the players cried,—“One city,” or “Many
cities;” and he informs us, moreover, that the expression was
proverbial.

Footnote 148:

These notions are severely commented on by Aristotle in his Pol. ii.
4.

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CHAP. III.—This, then, said I, will probably be the best boundary-mark for our rulers as to the size that a state should attain, and what extent of ground should be marked off for it in proportion to its bulk, without reference to anything further?[149] What boundary? said he. I suppose, said I, [it should be] this: So long as the city, as it increases, continues to be one, so far it may increase, but no further. Very right, said he. We will impose, then, this further injunction on our guardians, to take care by all means that the city be neither small nor great, but of moderate extent, and one only. This probably, said he, will be a trifling injunction. A more trifling one still, said I, is what we previously mentioned, when we observed, that if any descendant of the guardians be depraved, he should be dismissed to the other classes; and if one from the other classes be worthy, he should be promoted to that of the guardians;—by all which it was intended to show that all the other citizens should apply themselves each to that particular art for which he has a natural genius, that so, each minding his own proper work, should not become many, but one; and thus, consequently, the whole state would have the nature of unity;—not plurality. Well,—this, indeed, said he, is a still more trifling injunction than the other. We do not here, said I, good Adimantus, as any one might suppose, impose on them many and grave injunctions, but all of them rather trifling, if they take care of one grand point that we speak about, or rather not so much great as sufficient. What is that? said he. The education, said I, and nurture of children; for if, by being well educated, they become temperate men, they will easily see through all these things, and such other things as we pass by at present,—women, marriages, and the propagation of the species,—inasmuch as these things ought all, according to the proverb,[150] to be made entirely common among friends. Yes,—for that, said he, would be most right. And moreover, said I, if once a republic is set a-going, it proceeds as a circle, constantly on the increase. For nurture and good education, when maintained, engender good dispositions, and good dispositions, partaking of such education, turn out still better than the former, especially with reference to propagation, just as with all other animals. Probably, said he. To speak then in brief, this, particularly, the guardians of the state must guard against, that it may not be corrupted unawares,—nay, above all things, must they guard against this, not to make innovations in gymnastics and music, contrary to the established order of the state, but as far as possible maintain it, through fear that while a man adopts that poetical expression,

... Men most admire that song
Which most partakes of novelty,[151]

one might often think that the poet means not new songs, but some new style of song, and so commends it: but such as this one ought neither to commend nor admit; for as to receiving a new kind of music one should be specially cautious, as endangering the whole: for never, as Damon says, and I quite agree with him, are the measures of music altered without affecting the most important laws of the state. And me too, you may place, said Adimantus, among those who are of that opinion.

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Footnote 149:

From the previous discussion respecting the unity and harmony of a
state, Socrates conceives that it may be inferred _also_ what decision
should be formed respecting its size and boundaries; and he wishes it
to be increased only in such way as may be consistent with moderate
bulk, and not endanger its unity and the harmony of its several parts.

Footnote 150:

Allusion is here made to the well-known Pythagorean adage,—τὰ τῶν
φίλων κοινά, all the property of friends should be held in common.

Footnote 151:

Hom. Odyss. i. v. 353; but with slight variation,—the original having
ἀκουόντεσσι, not ἀειδόντεσσι. Great stress is here laid on the
necessity of keeping up the severe old style of music, inasmuch as the
introduction of a new and more luxurious style would infallibly
produce a general corruption of national morals. The importance
attached to this point will be more truly seen from considering the
close relation which, in the opinion of the Greeks, subsisted between
all the liberal arts. Plato alludes to the subject at length in the
Laws, ii. pp. 656 c, 659 e, and iii. pp. 700 a, &c., and vii.
throughout.

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CHAP. IV.—We must erect then, said I, in music, as it seems, a kind of citadel for our guardians. Nevertheless, neglect of the laws even here, said he, easily and imperceptibly steals in. Yes, said I, in the way of diversion, and as if it were doing no mischief. No, for it does nothing else, said he, but by gradually insinuating itself into it, insensibly flow into their manners and pursuits; and afterwards in a greater degree it finds its way into their contracts with each other; and from contracts it enters with much boldness into the laws and political establishments, Socrates, till at last it overturns everything, privately as well as publicly. Well, then, said I, is this the case? It appears so to me, he replied. Ought not our children then, as I said at the beginning, even from infancy, to be allowed diversions more conformable to the laws? because, if their diversions are inconsistent with the laws, and the children such themselves, it is impossible that they should grow up men obedient to the laws and virtuous. How can it be otherwise? said he. When, therefore, children beginning well set about their diversions conformably to the laws, with music, quite the contrary to what happens in the former case attends them in everything, and grows up with them, and corrects in the state whatever was before neglected. True, indeed, said he. And regulations, even, said I, that seem but of little importance, these persons discover anew, which the others had allowed altogether to perish. What regulations? Such as these:—That the younger should keep silence before the elder, as is proper, and give them place, and rise up before them,[152] and show reverence to parents; likewise what shaving, what clothes and shoes are proper, with the whole bodily dress, and all similar matters. Do not you think so? I do. But to make laws about these things, would, I think, be silly; neither is it done anywhere; nor would it stand, though established both by word and writing. For how can it? It seems then, said I, Adimantus, that in whatever way a man sets out in his education, such accordingly will be its consequences; for does not the like always attract the like? Of course. And we may say, I suppose, that it results at last in something complete and vigorous, whether it be good or the contrary? Of course, said he. I would not then, said I, for these reasons, undertake as yet, to make laws about such matters as these. Very properly, said he. But what, by the gods, said I, as to those laws relative to matters of contract, and to the traffic which they severally transact with each other in the market, and, if you please, their traffic likewise among their handicrafts, their abusiveness and bodily assaults, their entering of actions at law, their institution of judges, and likewise such imposts and payments of taxes as might be expedient either in the markets or at the ports,—or generally as to laws commercial, municipal, or marine, or any other the like,—shall we venture to establish any of these? It is improper, said he, to prescribe them to good and worthy men; for the greater part of them, such as ought to be established by law, they will easily find out for themselves. Yes, said I, my friend, if at least God grant them security for those laws which we have above described. But if not so, said he, they will spend the whole of their life making and amending many such [regulations,] imagining that they will thus attain to what is best. You say that such as these, said I, will lead a life like that of sick persons, and such as are unwilling, through intemperance, to relinquish a bad mode of living? Quite so. And truly, these at least pass their time very pleasantly; for though they undergo remedial treatment, they do nothing but make their ailments greater and more complex; and they are ever in hopes, when any one recommends any medicine to them, that by these means they shall soon get well. Aye, that is just the case with diseased persons like these. But what, said I, is not this pleasant of them, to reckon that man the most hateful of all, who tells them the truth, namely, that, till one abandons drunkenness, gluttony, unchaste pleasures, and laziness, neither drugs nor caustics, nor the use of the knife, nor charms, nor amulets, nor any other such things as these, will be of any avail? That, said he, is not very pleasant; for to be angry with one who tells us what is right, has nothing in it that is pleasant. You seem to be no admirer, said I, of such men as these. No, truly.

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Footnote 152:

Comp. here Aristot. Eth. ix. ch. 2:—παντὶ δὲ τῷ πρεσβυτέρῳ τιμὴν καθ’
ἡλικίαν ἀποδοτέον ὑπαναστάσεσι καὶ κατακλίσεσι.

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CHAP. V.—You cannot then surely approve of it, even though the entire city (as we were lately saying) should act so; or rather, do they not seem to be doing the same that is done by all those cities, which, however ill-governed, command their citizens not to alter any part of the constitution, for that death will be inflicted on all who do any such things; while, on the other hand, whoever most cheerfully serves those who thus govern, gratifying them with insinuating flattery, and exhibits great dexterity in anticipating and satisfying their desires, will be deemed both good and wise in matters of highest importance, and will be held by them also in the greatest honour? They seem to me at least, said he, to do the very same thing, and I cannot by any means commend them. But what again as to those who desire to manage such states, and are even fond of it, do you not admire their courage and dexterity? I do, said he; excepting, indeed, such as are imposed on by them, and fancy that they are really politicians, because they are praised by the multitude. How do you mean? Do you not pardon those men? said I. Do you think it even possible that a man ignorant of the art of measuring, supposing he should hear many other such men tell him that he is four cubits high, would not believe this of himself? Impossible, said he. Be not angry then; for such as these are of all the most ridiculous; because, as they are ever making laws about such things as we have just mentioned, and ever mending them, they conceive they shall find some end to the frauds respecting commerce, and what else I just now spoke about, through ignorance of the fact that they are in fact, as it were, trying to destroy a hydra. Nevertheless, it is nothing else, said he, that they are now attempting. I think, then, said I, that a true lawgiver ought not to give himself much trouble about such sorts of laws and police, either in an ill or well ordered state; in the one, because it is unprofitable and of no avail; in the other, because, as for some of the laws, any one whatever can find them out, while others flow quite of their own accord out of their former habits and pursuits.

What then, in the enactment of laws, said he, yet remains for us to consider? And I said: We have nothing, indeed, remaining: to the Delphian Apollo, however, there remains the greatest, noblest, and most important of legal institutions. Of what kind? said he. The erection of temples, sacrifices, and other services to the gods, demons, and heroes; likewise the rites of the dead, and what other ceremonies should be gone through, with a view to their propitiation. Such things as these, indeed, we neither know ourselves, nor, in founding the state, would we intrust them to any other, if we be wise; nor would we employ any other interpreter than that of the country: for surely this god, being the natural interpreter to all men about such matters, interprets to them sitting in the middle, and, as it were, navel of the earth. Aye, you say well, said he; and we must act accordingly.

CHAP. VI.—Thus then, son of Ariston, said I, is our state established. And, in the next place, having provided from some source or other sufficient light for it, do you yourself observe, and call on your brother and Polemarchus and these others also to do so also, whether we can at all perceive where justice lies, and where injustice, and in what respect they differ from each other; and likewise which of the two that man ought to possess, who proposes to be happy, whether with or without the knowledge of gods and men. You say nothing to the purpose, replied Glaucon; for you yourself promised to inquire into this, as it was unholy for you not to assist by all possible means the cause of justice. What you remind me of, said I, is true; and I must act accordingly; still it is proper, that you too should assist in the inquiry. Aye, that we will, said he. I hope then, said I, to be able to find what I want in the following manner:—I think that our city, if at least it has been rightly established, should be perfectly good. Necessarily so, said he. It is evident then, that it is wise, and brave, and temperate, and just. Manifestly so. Whatever then of these [virtues] we shall find in it, the remainder will be that which is not found? Of course. Supposing of any four things whatever, if we were in quest of one, were we to discover this one at first, we should be satisfied; and were we first to discover the other three, we should discover from this itself what we were inquiring after; for it would be manifestly no other than what was left behind. You say right, said he. Well then, since of the virtues above mentioned there happened to be four [in our state,] shall we not inquire about them in a similar manner? Plainly so.

CHAP. VII.—First of all, indeed, to my mind at least, wisdom appears to hold in it a very conspicuous place; and there appears to be something very peculiar about it. What is that? said he. The state which we have described appears to me to be really wise, for it is well advised; is it not? It is. And surely this very thing, the ability of advising well, is evidently a kind of science; for in no case do men advise well through ignorance, but only by means of science. Plainly so. But there are many and various kinds of science in the state? Of course there are. Is it then owing to the science of builders, that the state is to be termed wise and well-advised? By no means through this, said he; for it would only be clever in building. A state, then, is not to be called wise on account of its skill in advising the best methods of building? Surely not. And what, as respects skill in brass-work or anything else of a similar nature? For none of these, said he. Nor yet for its knowledge of the productions of the earth [is it said to be wise,] but only skilled in agriculture. I think so. But what, said I; is there any science among any of the citizens in the state which we have just founded, which deliberates, not about any particular thing in the city, but about the whole, how it may best be conducted, both as regards itself and its intercourse with other cities? Yes, there is. What is it, said I, and among whom to be found? This very guardianship, said he; and [it may be found] among those very governors, whom we lately termed perfect guardians. On account then of this skill, what do you term the state? Well-advised, said he, and really wise. Whether then, said I, do you imagine that the braziers, or these true guardians, will be the more numerous in the state? The braziers, said he, far more so. And of all, said I, who owing to their skill are to be held in account, will not these guardians be the fewest in number? By far. By this smallest class and portion of the state then, and by the science that presides over and governs it, is the whole city wisely established on natural principles; and this class, as it seems, is by nature the smallest, whose business it is to have a share in that science, which of all others ought alone to be denominated wisdom. Your remark, replied he, is perfectly true. We have found then, I know not how, one of the four, both as respects its nature and the part of the state in which it resides. And for my part, said he, I think it has been sufficiently described.

CHAP. VIII.—But as to fortitude, both as respects itself, and the particular part of the state in which it resides, on account of which the state is termed brave, that can be no difficult matter to discover. How so? Who, said I, would call a state brave or cowardly, with relation to any other than that particular portion which makes war and fights in its defence? No one would, said he, with relation to any other. No, said I, for I do not think that the other classes therein, whether cowardly or brave, can have any influence to make it either the one or the other. No, indeed. The state then is brave in a certain part of itself, because it contains such a power as will constantly maintain its opinion about things dreadful, as to their being these very things, and such like, just as the lawgiver inculcated during training:—Do you not call this fortitude? I have not thoroughly comprehended, said he, what you say; so tell it over again. Fortitude, said I, I term a kind of preservative. What sort of preservative? A preservative of opinion formed by law in a course of education about things dreadful, as to their nature and quality; and I called it a constant preservative, because one retains it both in pains and pleasures, desires and fears, and never casts it off; and, if you please, I will liken it to what I think it closely resembles. Pray do. Do not you know then, said I, that dyers, when they want to dye their wool, that it may be purple, choose out of ever so many colours only the white, and then prepare and manage it with no trifling pains, so that it may best take a bright hue, and then they dye it? And whatever is dyed in this manner is of an indelible dye; nor can any washing, either without or with soap, take away its hue; but as for wool not thus managed, you know of what sort it proves, whether one dye either this or other colours, without previous preparation. I know, said he, that they are easily washed out, and get shabby.[153] Suppose then, that we, too, were to perform according to our ability a similar operation, when selecting our soldiers, and instructing them in music and gymnastics; and that we should attend to no other object, than that they should obediently and in the best manner receive the laws, as they would a colour, and so acquire indelible opinions about the dreadful, and other things as well, through having had a suitable temper and education; these leys then, however strongly detersive, could not wash away their dye, whether they be pleasure (which is more powerful in effecting this than any alkali[154] or ley whatever), or pain, fear, and desire, which exceed in power all other solvents.—Such a power then, and constant maintenance of right and legitimate opinion about what is dreadful or not so, I term and define to be fortitude, unless you offer some other meaning. No; I can offer none, said he; for you seem to me to hold, that when a right opinion about these matters arises without education, it is both savage and slavish, and not at all according to law; and you give it some other name besides fortitude. Your remark is quite true, said I. I admit, then, that this is fortitude. Admit further, said I, that it is political fortitude, and you will admit rightly; but we will inquire about it, if you please, more perfectly some other time; for, at present, it is not this, but justice, that we are seeking; and with regard to the inquiry about the other, that has, in my opinion, been carried far enough. You say well, he rejoined.

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Footnote 153:

The original is γελοῖα—a word not very easy to render.

Footnote 154:

The word χαλαστραῖον, lit. nitre (nitrate of potash), is derived from
Χαλάστρα, a town and lake of Macedonia, where this mineral was found
in great abundance.—Comp. Plin. Nat. Hist. xxxi. 10, 5, 46. The
rendering, _alkali_, may perhaps be thought an anachronism; but it
expresses the author’s meaning better than any one word in our
language.

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CHAP. IX.—There yet remain, said I, two [virtues] in the state which we must consider,—namely, temperance, and that, for the sake of which we have been searching after all the rest,—that is justice. Certainly. How then can we find out justice, so as to trouble ourselves no further about temperance? I truly neither know, said he, nor do I wish it to be developed before the other, if at least we are on that account to dismiss altogether the consideration of temperance; but, pray oblige me, and consider this before the other. I for my part am quite willing, said I; for I should be acting wrongly not to do so.[155] Consider then, said he. We must consider, I replied; and as it appears from this point of view, it seems to resemble a sort of symphony and harmony more than the virtues formerly mentioned. How? Temperance, said I, is somehow a certain decorum, and a restraint, as one may say, exercised over certain pleasures and desires; and when one boasts of being superior to oneself, and many other such-like expressions, these are mentioned as indications of it; are they not? Yes,—they are its leading indications, said he. But is not the expression, “superior to oneself,” ridiculous?—for he who is superior to himself must somehow also be inferior to himself; and the inferior be the superior,—for the same person is spoken of in all these cases. How otherwise? To me, however, said I, the expression seems to denote, that in the same man, as regards his soul, there is one part better, and another worse; and that when the better part of his nature governs the inferior, this is what is termed being superior to himself, and expresses a commendation; but when, owing to bad education or associations, that better and smaller part is swayed by the superior power of the worse part,—then one says, by way of reproach and blame, that the person thus affected is inferior to himself and altogether in disorder. Aye,—it would seem so, said he. Look then, said I, at our new state, and you will find one of these in it: for you will agree, that it may justly be addressed as superior to itself, if that state, in which the better part governs the worse, is called temperate and superior to itself. I do see it, said he;—and you say true. And moreover one may find very many and various desires, and pleasures, and pains, especially among children, and women, and domestics, and likewise among the greatest and most depraved portion of those who are called free. Certainly. But as for the simple and moderate desires, which are led by the intellect, with judgment and right opinion, you will meet with them only in the few, those, namely, of the best temper and best educated. True, said he. And do not you see that these things are contained in our state, and that there too the desires of the many and the baser part are restrained by the desires and prudence of the smaller and more moderate part? I do, said he.

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Footnote 155:

The original is very elliptical:—Ἀλλὰ μέντοι, ἦν δ’ ἐγὼ, βούλομαί γε,
εἰ μὴ ἀδικῶ. The form εἰ μὴ ἀδικῶ occurs again, x. ch. 9, p. 608 d,
and ch. 12, p. 612 d.

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CHAP. X.—If then, we are to call any state superior to pleasures and desires, and to itself also, this may be so called. Yes, by all means, said he. And is it not on all these accounts temperate? Quite so, said he. And if, again, in any other state, the governors and the governed agree in opinion on the point, as to the fit governing party, it is to be found in this:—do you not think so? I am strongly of that opinion. In whom then of the citizens will you say that temperance resides, when they are thus situated;—in the governors, or the governed? In both of them, probably, said he. Do you see then, said I, that we just now rightly guessed, that temperance resembles a kind of harmony? How so? Because—not as fortitude and wisdom (each of which resides in a certain part, the latter making the state wise, and the former courageous), not after this manner does temperance render the state temperate; but it is naturally diffused through the whole, making the weakest and the strongest and the intermediate all to agree, either in prudence, if you will, or if you will, in strength, magnitude, or in substance, or anything else of the same kind; so that most justly may we say, that this concord is temperance, a natural consent between the worse and the better part, [with reference to the question] which of them ought to govern, either in the state or in each individual. I am quite of the same opinion, said he. Well then, said I, three qualities in our state, it would seem, have been clearly discovered: but with respect to the remaining species, owing to which the state has the quality of virtue; what can it be? It is plain that it is justice. It is plain. Ought we not then, Glaucon, like huntsmen, closely surrounding a thicket, to take great care that justice does not somehow or other escape, and vanish from our sight?—for it is clear that it is somewhere here. Look earnestly, therefore, to spy it out, if you can any how see it sooner than me, and then point it out to me. Would that I could, said he; but if you will use me rather as an attendant, and one able only to perceive what is pointed out to him, you will then be treating me just as you ought. Call on the gods with me, said I, and follow. I will do so, said he; do you only lead the way. To me, said I, this seems a place somehow hard of access, and overcast with shadow:—it is indeed dark, and hard to penetrate;—but still we must go on. We must, said he. And I perceiving, said, Ho! Ho! Glaucon, we seem to have some track; and I think that it will not altogether escape us. You tell good news, said he. Verily, said I, our senses are somewhat blunted. As how? Long since, even from the first, my fine fellow, has it been rolling at our feet; and we perceived it not, but made the most ridiculous figure, like those who sometimes seek for what they already have in their hands:—so we did not perceive it, but were looking out to a distance; and thus perhaps it escaped us. How mean you? said he. Thus, said I;—that I think, although we have been long talking and hearing of it, we do not understand ourselves, as to the manner in which we expressed it. A long preamble, said he, to one who is eager to hear.

CHAP. XI.—Well now, said I, listen whether I say anything to the point:—for what we at first settled, when regulating the state, as what ought always to be done,—that, I think, or a species thereof, is justice:—this surely we settled, and frequently mentioned, if you remember;—that every one ought to apply himself to one thing, with reference to the state,—to that, namely, to which his genius most naturally inclines him? Yes, we did say so. And also, that attending to one’s own affairs, and not busying oneself about many things, is justice, and this we have not only heard from many others, but have frequently said ourselves. We have said so. This then, my friend, said I, somehow seems to be justice, to attend to one’s own business.—Do you know whence I infer this? No; pray tell me, said he. Besides what we have already considered in the state,—namely, temperance, fortitude, and wisdom,—this, said I, seems to remain, which enables all these both to have a being in the state and to afford safety to its indwellers as long as it continues therein; and we said likewise, that justice would be that remaining part, if we found the other three. It must be so, said he. But if, said I, you want to judge, which of these, by its presence in the state, will do it the greatest proportionate good; it would be difficult to determine whether the coincidence of opinion between the governors and the governed, or the maintenance of legitimate opinion among the soldiers about what is dreadful, and what is not so,—or what is wisdom and guardianship in the rulers,—or whether this, by its existence in the state, makes it proportionably best,—namely, when child and woman, bond and free, artificer, magistrate, and subject, every one in short attends to his own business, and does not meddle. Yes, it is hard to decide, said he, of course. With reference, then, to the virtue of a state, that power which makes each person in it attend to his own business, rivals, as it seems, its wisdom, temperance, and courage. Undoubtedly so, said he. Will you not then constitute justice as a co-rival with these, with reference to the virtue of a state? By all means. Consider, then, whether you agree with me in this: will you enjoin the rulers to give just decisions in judgment? Of course. And in giving judgment, what else are they to aim at in preference to this,—namely, that no one shall have what belongs to others, or be deprived of his own? No; they [must aim] at this. And [do they not aim at it,] when acting justly? Yes. And thus justice is acknowledged to be the habitual practice of one’s own proper and special work? It is so. See then, if you agree with me:—suppose a carpenter to take in hand the work of a shoemaker, or a shoemaker the work of a carpenter, exchanging either their tools or wages; or if the same man undertake both, and make all the other exchanges; think you that the state would be much injured? Not very much, said he. But methinks, if a craftsman, or one born to a money-getting employment, should afterwards, through being elated by wealth, popularity, strength, or any thing else of the kind, try to advance into the military class, or out of the military class into that of counsellor and guardian, when unworthy of it,—and these should exchange tools and rewards; or if the same man should undertake to do all these things at once; then, I suppose, you will be of opinion, that this interchange of things and this multiplicity of employments by a single person is the destruction of the state. By all means. A meddling spirit, then, in these three classes, and the change from one to another, is the greatest injury to the state, and may be most correctly called its depravity. Aye, truly so. But will not you say that injustice is the greatest ill a state can do itself? Of course. This then is injustice.

CHAP. XII.—Again we say, as follows: The peculiar occupation of the money-getting, the auxiliary, and the guardian class, when each of them does his own work in a state, will be the contrary of the other, that is justice, and will make the state just. The case appears to me, said he, to be no otherwise than thus. Let us not as yet, said I, affirm this for certain: but if it shall be conceded by us, that this kind enters into each individual, and that there is justice, we will then agree; for what shall we say? but if not, then we must push our inquiries further.—But now let us finish the inquiry on which we were engaged,—namely, whether, in judging, we should be better able, by first contemplating justice in some of the greater objects that possess it, to distinguish its nature in a single man, and that as a state appeared to us this very object; we thus therefore formed it as well as we possibly could, in the assurance that justice would be found in one that is good. As to what we have discovered in the state, then, let us now transfer and apply it to a single person; and if the two correspond, it will be well; but if there be any difference in the individual, we will go back again to the state, and put it to the test; and, perhaps, in considering them side by side, and by striking them, we shall make justice shine forth, like fire from flints; and when once clearly apparent, we can then firmly establish it among ourselves. Aye, you are speaking quite in the right way, said he; and thus, too, we must act.

With respect then, said I, to what may be termed the same, whether greater or less, does it happen to be dissimilar in that respect in which we call it the same, or is it similar? Similar, said he. The just man then, said I, will not at all differ from the just state, as respects the idea of justice, but will be similar to it. Aye, similar, said he. However a state appeared to be just, because three kinds of dispositions being in it, each performed its own work; but it appeared to be temperate, brave, and wise, on account of certain other affections and habits of these very same kinds. True, said he. And in that case, my friend, we shall deem it proper, that the individual, who has these very same principles in his soul (namely, temperance, fortitude, wisdom), should have a good right, from having the same affections with the state, to be called by the same names? He needs must, said he. Here again, my clever fellow, we have fallen into a trifling discussion[156] about the soul, whether it does or does not contain within itself these three principles. I do not think it is a trifling one, said he: for probably, Socrates, the common saying is true, that things excellent are difficult. They seem so, said I. And be assured of this at least, Glaucon, that, in my opinion, we shall never comprehend this matter accurately by such methods as we are now using in our conversation, because the road which really leads to it is longer and of greater extent: still we will consider it in a manner consistent with our former disquisitions and inquiries. Ought we not to acquiesce in this? said he: for to me at least, and for the present, it would be satisfactory enough. Aye, and for me too, said I, it will be quite sufficient. Do not get tired then, said he; but pursue the inquiry. Is it then necessary, said I, that we should acknowledge the very same characters and manners to exist in every individual that are found in the state? because there is no other source whence they arrived thither. It were ridiculous, indeed, to imagine that the high spirit for which the Thracians, Scythians, and nearly all the northern nations are reputed, does not arise from individual personages; and the same may be said respecting the love of learning, which one may especially deem natural to the people of this country,—or, with reference to the love of riches, which we may say prevailed especially among the Phœnicians and the people of Egypt. Quite so, said he. It is so, of course, said I; and it is not hard of recognition. No, indeed.

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Footnote 156:

Stallbaum reads—εἰς φαῦλόν γε σκέμμα, which is the reading of the best
MSS., though the old editions read—οὐκ εἰς φαῦλόν γε. The words are
spoken ironically.

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CHAP. XIII.—This, however, is truly hard [to decide,] whether we perform our separate acts by one and the same power, or whether, as they are three, we perform one by one, and another by another; that is, learn by one, get angry by another, and by a third covet the pleasures of nutrition and propagation, and others akin to these; or whether, when we devote ourselves to them, we act on each with the whole soul: these matters are difficult adequately to determine. I think so too, said he. Let us try to define these things, whether they are the same with one another, or different. How can we? It is plain that the same thing evidently cannot at the same time produce or experience contrary effects in the same respect, and relatively to the same object; so that, if we ever find anything thus occurring, we shall know that it was not one and the same thing, but several. Granted. Attend now to what I am saying. Proceed, replied he. Is it possible for the same thing, considered in the same relation, to be both at rest and in motion? By no means. Let us define this more accurately still, lest, as we proceed, we be inclined to waver:—for, if one were to say that, when a man stands, though yet moving his hands and head, the same person is at once still and in motion; we should not, I conceive, reckon this a correct mode of speaking, but that one part of him is at rest, and another part in motion:—is it not so? Just so. But if a person arguing thus were to proceed jestingly and facetiously allege that tops are wholly at rest, but yet are at the same time in motion, when, fixed on the same point, they are whirled about their centre,—or that anything else going round in a circle in the same position does the same,—we should not admit it, as it is not in the same respect that they both stand still and are in motion; but we should say that they have in them the straight line [_i. e._ the axis ] and the circumference; and that, with relation to the axis they are at rest (because it inclines to neither side); but with relation to the circumference, they move in a circle:—and again, if, while it is whirling round, its perpendicularity inclines either to the right or the left, forwards or backwards, then it is by no means at rest. Very right, said he. No assertion then of this kind will frighten us; nor shall any one persuade us, that anything, being one and the same, can do and suffer contraries at one and the same time, in the same respect, and relatively to the same object. Me, at any rate, he shall not, said he. But once more, said I, not to be tedious in going over and refuting all these quibbles, let us proceed on the supposition, that this is really the case, acknowledging, also, that if at any time these things are found to be different from what they now are, all that we have gained will be lost. This then, said he, is what we must do.