Chapter IX: Book III: Argument (2)

CHAP. XIII.—After music, then, our youths must be trained in gymnastics. What then? In this likewise they must needs be accurately trained, from infancy upwards through their whole life:—For the matter, methinks, stands somehow thus;—and do you also consider.—I do not think that any sound body can, by its own virtue, render the soul good; and contrariwise, that a good soul can, by its own virtue, render the body the best possible: what think you? I think so too, replied he. If then, after having sufficiently trained the intellect, we commit to it the careful management of what concerns the body, shall we not, as we are only laying down patterns, (that we may not be tedious,) act in a right manner? Entirely so. We say then, that they must abstain from drunkenness; for any one, rather than a guardian, might be allowed to get drunk, and not know where he is. It were ridiculous, said he, for a guardian to need a guardian himself. But what as respects meats;—for these men are wrestlers in most important combats;—are they not? Yes. Would not then the bodily state of the wrestlers suit such as these? Perhaps so. But, said I, they are a sluggish set, and of dubious health:—do you not observe, that they sleep out their life; and, that if they only ever so little depart from their regular diet, such wrestlers become extensively and deeply diseased? I do observe it. But a more elegant kind of exercise, said I, is required for our military wrestlers,—who, as dogs, ought to be wakeful, and see and hear most acutely, and endure, in their expeditions, many changes of water and food, of heat and cold, that so they may not fail in their health? I think so. Is not then the best kind of gymnastic exercise very like the simple music which we just before described? How mean you? That the gymnastics should be simple and moderate, and of that kind most especially which concern war. Of what kind? Even from Homer, said I, one may learn such things as these: for you know, that in their military expeditions, at their heroes’ banquets, he never feasts them with fish, not even while they were by the sea at the Hellespont, nor yet with boiled flesh, but only with roast meat, as what soldiers can most easily procure: for, in short, one can everywhere more easily use fire, than carry vessels about? Yes. Neither does Homer, I think, make any mention of seasonings: and this is what every wrestler knows,—that the body, to be in good condition, must abstain from these. They are right, said he, and do abstain. You do not then approve, friend, it would seem, of the Syracusan table, and the various Sicilian made-dishes, since you think the other right? It seems I do not. You will disapprove also of a Corinthian girl, as a mistress, for such as would be in good bodily condition? By all means. And likewise of those celebrated delicacies of Attic confections? Surely. As respects all such feeding and dieting, if we compare it to the melody and song produced in full harmony and universal rhythm, will not the comparison hold good? Of course. And does not that diversity cause insubordination in this case—disease in the other? But simplicity in music, engenders temperance in the soul,—and in gymnastics, bodily health. True, said he. And when insubordination and diseases multiply in a city, must not many law-courts and medicine-halls be opened; and will not the forensic and medicinal arts be in request, when many, even of the free, will earnestly apply to them? Of course.

CHAP. XIV.—Can you then adduce any greater proof of bad and shameful training in a city, than the fact of their needing physicians and supreme magistrates, and these too, not only for base and low craftsmen, but for those also, who boast of having been liberally educated;—and again, does it not seem base, and a great proof of defective education, to be obliged to see justice pronounced on us by others, as our masters and judges, and yet to have no sense of it in ourselves? This, replied he, is of all things the most base. And deem you not this far more base, said I; when a person not only spends a great part of his life in courts of justice, as defendant or plaintiff,—but, from ignorance of the beautiful, thinks he is renowned for his very dexterity in doing injustice, and his cleverness at turning through all sorts of windings, and using every kind of subterfuge, with the idea of evading justice,—and all this for the sake of small and contemptible things,—ignorant how much better and more noble it were so to regulate life as not to need a sleepy judge? This, replied he, is still baser than the other. And to need the medicinal art, said I, not on account of wounds, or some incidental epidemic complaint, but through sloth, and such diet as we mentioned, being filled with rheums and wind, like lakes, and obliging the skilful sons of Æsculapius to invent new names for diseases,—such as dropsies and catarrhs:—do not you think this abominable? Truly, replied he, those are very new and strange names of diseases. Such, said I, as I think, existed not in the days of Æsculapius: and I guess so from this, that when Eurypylus was wounded at Troy, and was getting Pramnian wine to drink with much flour sprinkled in it, and cheese grated (all which seem to be of inflammatory tendency), the sons of Æsculapius neither blamed the woman who presented it, nor reproved Patroclus, for presenting the cure. Surely such a potion, said he, is absurdly improper for one in such a case. Not so, said I, if you consider, that the descendants of Æsculapius, as they tell us, did not, before the time of Herodicus, practise the method of cure now in use, which puts the patient on a regimen;—whereas Herodicus, being a teacher of youth, and in weak health too, confounded gymnastics and medicine, and made himself first very uncomfortable, and afterwards many others besides. How was that? said he. By procuring himself a lingering death, said I; for while he was constantly attending to his disease, which was mortal, he was not able, as I imagine, to cure himself; though, to the neglect of everything else, he was constantly using medicines, and thus passed his life, always most uneasy, if he departed in the least from his usual diet; and through this wisdom of his, struggling long with death, he arrived at old age. A mighty reward, said he, he reaped for his cleverness! Such as became one, said I, who was unconscious that it was not from ignorance or inexperience of this method of cure, that Æsculapius did not discover it to his descendants, but simply because he was aware, that in all well-regulated states there every one had a certain work enjoined him, necessary to be done, and no one could be permitted to have time or leisure to get sick throughout life, or busy himself with taking medicine;—a fact that we amusingly discover in the case of labouring people, but do not see it in that of the rich, and those reputed happy. How? said he.

CHAP. XV.—A builder, replied I, when he falls sick, gets from the physician some potion for throwing up his disease, or purging it downwards, or else, by means of caustic or amputation, for getting freed from trouble; but if any one prescribe him a system of regimen, putting caps on his head and so on, he quickly tells him that he has no leisure to lie sick, and it does not suit him to live in that manner, attending to his troubles, and neglecting his duty; and so, bidding the physician farewell, he returns to his ordinary diet, and, should he recover, he goes on managing his affairs, but should his body be unable to bear up against the disease, he dies, and gets rid of his troubles. Such an one, said he, ought to use the art of medicine just in this manner. Is it not, said I, because he has a certain business,—and which, if he does not do it, it is no profit for him to live? Plainly, replied he. But the rich man, as we say, has no such work allotted him, from which, when compelled to refrain, life is not worth the having? It is said so of him, at least. You do not mind, said I, what Phocylides says,—that one ought, throughout life, to practise virtue. I think, replied he, we attended to that formerly. We shall not differ on this point, said I. But let us learn, whether excessive attention to one’s disease is to be the business of the rich, and life is not worth keeping, if he does not give this attention; inasmuch, as such a life hinders the mind from attending to building and other arts,—but, as respects the exhortation of Phocylides, it is no hinderance. Yes, by Zeus, said he, it is, and that in the greatest degree, when this unusual care of the body goes beyond gymnastics. It agrees neither with attention to private economy, or military expeditions, or sedentary magistracies in the city. But what is of most importance is, that such application to health ill suits any sort of learning and inquiry and solitary study, because one is then perpetually dreading certain pains and swimmings of the head, and blaming philosophy as the cause thereof,—so that, where there is this attention to health, it greatly hinders the practice of virtue and improvement therein, as it makes us always imagine that we are ill and ailing. Very probably, said he. And shall we not say, that Æsculapius too understood these things, when to persons in health, and such as used a wholesome diet, but were afflicted by some particular disease, to these and such kind of constitution he prescribed medicine, resisting their ailments by drugs and incisions, but still ordering them their usual diet, that the public might not be injured; but he did not attempt, either by low or nourishing diet, to cure thoroughly diseased systems; and so to afford a long and miserable life to the man himself, and his descendants too, who would probably be of the same kind: for he did not think that a man ought to be cured, who could not live in the ordinary course, as in that case he would be of no service either to himself or the state. You make Æsculapius, a politician, observed he. Plainly so, said I; and his sons may evince that he was so.[136] See you not again, that at Troy they proved their bravery in war, and, as I say, practised medicine likewise? And do not you remember, that when Menelaus was wounded by Pandarus,—

... they sucked the wound, then spread it o’er
With drugs of balmy power;[137]—

but as for what he wanted to eat or drink afterwards, they prescribed for him no more than for Eurypylus, because they deemed external applications sufficient to heal men, who, before they were wounded, had been healthy and moderate in their diet, whatever potion they might have drunk at the time, but conceived, that a diseased constitution and an intemperate life were beneficial neither to the men themselves nor to others, and that their art ought not to be employed on, nor minister to them, even were they richer than Midas.[138] How vastly clever, said he, you are making the sons of Æsculapius!

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Footnote 136:

Viz. Machaon and Podalirius.

Footnote 137:

Hom. Il. iv. 218, though somewhat modified by Plato.

Footnote 138:

Plato is here alluding to Tyrtæus, Eleg. iii. v. 6:—

Οὐδ’ εἰ Τιθωνοῖο φύην χαριέστερος εἴη
Πλουτοίη δὲ Μίδεω καὶ κινύρῳ βάθιον.

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CHAP. XVI.—It is quite right, replied I;—though in opposition to us, the tragedy-writers, and Pindar also, say that Æsculapius was the son of Apollo,[139] and was induced by gold to undertake the cure of a rich man, already in a dying state,—for which indeed he was struck with a thunderbolt:—but we, in accordance with what has been before said, will not believe them as to both these statements, but assert, that were he really a god’s son, he would not have been given to filthy lucre,—or else, if he were given to filthy lucre, he was not a god’s son. This at least, said he, is quite correct. But what say you to this, Socrates?—-Must we not provide good physicians for the state; and must not these probably be such as have been conversant with great numbers both of healthy and sick people; and judges also, who have had experience of all varieties of dispositions? I am speaking particularly, said I, of those who are good: but [tell me,]—are you aware who they are, that I deem such? [I shall be,] if you will tell me, replied he. I will try to do so, said I; but you are inquiring in one and the same question about two different things. As how? said he. Physicians, replied I, would become extremely skilled, if, from childhood upwards, they would, in course of learning their art, gain experience from a large number of bodies, and these too of a very sickly character,—especially if they should be themselves afflicted with all kinds of maladies, and not be altogether of a healthy constitution,—for it is not by the body, methinks, that they cure the body (else their own bodies would never be allowed to be diseased, or become so), but they cure the body by the soul, which, while in a diseased state, or becoming so, is incapable of properly performing any cure whatever. Right, said he. But as for the judge, friend, said I, he governs the soul by the soul; and if it has been bred up from childhood with depraved souls, has constantly associated with them, and has itself committed all sorts of crime, it cannot so far emancipate itself, as of itself to judge correctly about others’ ill deeds, just as happens with respect to bodily ailments:—no, it must even in youth be unacquainted with and unpolluted by bad habits, if it would be fair and honourable itself and judge correctly of what is just. Hence, therefore, the virtuous, even in youth, appear simple, and easily deceived by the unjust, because they have within them, forsooth, no dispositions corresponding in sentiment with those of the wicked. Aye, indeed, said he, this very often happens to them. For this reason, said I, the good judge must not be a youth, but old,—one who has been late in learning the nature of wickedness, which he apprehends not as a peculiar quality resident in his own soul, but from having, as a foreign one, long studied it in the souls of others, and from having ascertained the nature of its evil by positive science, rather than personal experience. Such an one as this, said he, is likely to be a very noble judge. And a good one too, said I; the very thing you required: for the man with a good soul is good;—while on the other hand, the clever, slyly suspicious man,—he, namely, who has himself committed much sin, and is deemed subtle and wise when in the society of his equals, has the repute of being a clever, wary kind of person, because he has constantly in his eye those models that reside within himself:—but whenever he approaches the good, who are his seniors, he appears mightily inferior, unseasonably suspicious, and wholly ignorant of moral integrity, having within him no models of any such quality; but, on the other hand, as he has more frequent intercourse with the wicked than with the wise, he appears, both to himself and others, unusually wise, rather than ignorant. Quite true, said he.

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Footnote 139:

Respecting this power of Æsculapius to raise the dead, comp. Pind.
Pyth. iii. v. 96, &c. Euripides, also, in the opening lines of the
Alcestis, remarks, that Æsculapius was struck with lightning, but
without assigning any reason.

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CHAP. XVII.—We must not then, said I, in such a man as this, look for a wise and good judge, but in the former one. Vice, indeed, can never know both itself and virtue; but virtue, where the moral temper is gradually instructed, will attain to a scientific knowledge both of itself and depravity also:—this man, then, and not the wicked one, is, as I think, wise. I, too, said he, am of the same opinion. You will establish, then, in your state a science of medicine such as we have described, and along with it a corresponding system of judicature, both of which together may carefully provide for such of your citizens as are naturally well disposed both in body and in mind; while, as regards the opposite, such as are diseased in their bodies, they should let die; but as for those who are thoroughly evil and incurable as to the soul, these they are themselves to put to death? It seems, at any rate, the best, said he, that can happen, both for those who are thus afflicted and for the state itself. As respects your youths, however, it is quite plain, said I, that they will be cautious in calling in the aid of judicial science, so long as they are employed on that simple music, which, we said, generates temperance. Of course, said he. Will not then, the musician who pursues gymnastics, on the very same principles as his own art, prefer doing so in such a way as not to want medicine except when absolutely necessary? I think so. His exercises too, and his labours, he will perform with reference more to the spirited portion[140] of his nature thus stirred into action, than to mere physical strength,—differently, indeed, from all other wrestlers, who take food and undergo toil with a view to the promotion of bodily strength? Most true, said he. In that case, said I, Glaucon, they who propose to teach music and gymnastics, propose them, not for what some imagine, namely, to cure the body by the one, and the soul by the other. If not, what is their motive? asked he. They seem to propose them both, said I, chiefly on the soul’s account. As how? Perceive you not, said I, how those persons have regulated their intellect itself, who have all their life been conversant with gymnastics, yet never studied music,—or how those are affected who have lived in a manner quite the reverse of this? What are you speaking about? said he. Of savageness and fierceness, said I, and again of effeminacy and mildness. Yes, I understand, said he;—that is, persons who apply themselves to unmixed gymnastics become more savage than they ought; and those again [who attend] to music alone, are softer than becomes them. And moreover, said I, this very savageness imparts probably a certain spirit to the disposition, and, if rightly disciplined, will become fortitude; but when stretched too far, it will probably become indecently fierce and troublesome. So I think, said he. But what;—will not the philosophic nature partake of the mild also; and when this disposition is carried to excess, may it not prove softer than it ought, and if rightly disciplined, both mild and modest? Just so. We say also, that our guardians ought naturally to be possessed of both. They ought. Ought they not, then, to be made to suit one another? Of course. And the soul of the person thus suited is temperate and brave? Certainly. But the soul of a person not so suited is cowardly and savage? Especially so.

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Footnote 140:

Τὸ θυμοειδές. This refers to Plato’s division of the mental faculties
into τὸ λογιστικόν and τὸ ἄλογον, the latter of which is again divided
into τὸ θυμικόν and τὸ ἐπιθυμητικόν. The art of gymnastics, he
conceives then, has for its object—not so much the promotion of the
bodily strength as the excitement of the spirited part of our
nature,—τὸ θυμοειδές.

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CHAP. XVIII.—As a matter of course, then, when one consents to be soothed with the charms of music, and to have poured into his soul through his ears (as through a pipe) those lately called the sweet, effeminate, and doleful harmonies, and spends the whole of his life humming ditties and charmed with melody,[141]—such an one, first of all,—should he possess any spirit,—softens it like iron, and makes it serviceable, instead of useless and harsh. When, however, he positively declines desisting, and becomes the victim of a kind of fascination,—after this, he is melted and dissolved, till his spirit is quite spent, and the nerves are, as it were, cut out from his soul, making him an effeminate warrior.[142] Quite so indeed, said he. Aye,—said I; if he had originally possessed a nature devoid of spirit, he would quickly have done thus; but, if [he possesses] one of high spirit, it makes the mind weak, and causes it to be quickly overbalanced, speedily either excited and overcome; and hence men become outrageous and ill-tempered, rather than high-spirited. Quite so, indeed. But what;—if a man labour much in gymnastics and live on extremely good diet, but pay no attention to music and philosophy; is he not first of all, from having his body in good condition, abundantly filled with prudence and spirit, and does he not become braver than he was before? Surely. But what;—supposing he does nothing else, and has no commerce with the Muses, not even if he had any love of learning in his soul, as neither having a taste for investigation, nor sharing in any inquiry or reasoning, or other musical pursuit whatever, does it not become feeble, deaf, and blind, as being neither awakened, nor nurtured, nor his perceptions purified? Just so. Such an one then becomes, I suppose, a hater of argument, and indisposed to music,—one who cannot at all be reasoned into anything, but conducts himself in all matters with violence and ferocity, like a wild beast; and thus he lives in ignorance and barbarity, out of measure, and unpolished? Quite so, said he. Corresponding then to these two tempers, it seems, I would say, that some deity has furnished men with two arts,—music and gymnastics,—relating respectively to the high-spirited and the philosophic nature,—not indeed, for the soul and body, otherwise than as a by-work and accessory, but with a view to those two tempers, that they may be mutually suitable to each other by being tightened and loosened at pleasure. Aye,—it seems so. Whoever then can most cleverly mingle gymnastics with music, and introduce them in justest measure into the soul, this person we may most properly call completely musical, and most harmoniously disposed,—far more, indeed, than the man who puts in tune the strings of an instrument. Very likely, Socrates, said he. Shall we not then, always need, Glaucon, such a president in our city, if its government is to be kept entire? It will indeed be quite needful, as far at least as we can.

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Footnote 141:

Gr. ὅταν μέν τις μουσικῇ παρεχῇ καταυλεῖν καὶ καταχεῖν διὰ τῶν ὤτων,
ὥσπερ διὰ χώνης, ἃς νῦν δὴ ἡμεῖς ἐλέγομεν τὰς γλυκείας τε καὶ μαλακὰς
καὶ θρηνώδεις ἁρμονίας καὶ μινυρίζων τε καὶ γεγανωμένος ὑπὸ τῆς ᾠδῆς
διατελῇ τὸν βίον ὅλον, &c. The verb μινυρίζειν signifies _to sing in a
high and plaintive key_,—sometimes, also, _to whine_; γανοῦν is
derived from γάνος, _splendour_, _joy_, and hence means _to be radiant
with pleasure, to be of joyful countenance_.

Footnote 142:

Allusion is here made to Hom. Il. xvii. v. 586:—

Ἕκτορ, τίς κέ σ’ ἔτ’ ἄλλος Ἀχαιῶν ταρβήσειεν;
Οἷον δὴ Μενέλαον ὑπέτρεσας, ὃς τὸ πάρος περ
Μαλθακὸς αἰχμητής·

What chiefs of all the Grecians shall henceforth
Fear Hector, who from Menelaus shrinks
Once deemed effeminate. _Cowper._

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CHAP. XIX.—The above then are probably the true models both of education and discipline:—for why should one go through the dances, the hunts of wild beasts with dogs and nets, the wrestlings and the horse-races expedient for such persons?—for it is almost manifest that they follow as a matter of course, nor are they at all hard to discover. Well, said he, perhaps they are not difficult. Granted, said I:—but after this, what had we next to determine?—Is it not, which of these shall govern, and be governed? What else? Is it not plain that the governors should be the elder, and the governed the younger? Plain. And also, that the best of them [should govern?] Aye,—that too. And the best husbandmen;—are they not the cleverest in tillage? Yes. Now, if it be fit that our guardians be the best, will they not be most strictly watchful over the city? Yes. With this view should we not make them prudent, and able, and careful also of the city? It is the fact. At any rate a man would be most careful of what he happens to love? Necessarily so. And this at least one must especially love,—namely, what he deems to have a community of interest with himself, especially when he conceives, that in another’s good fortune he may find good fortune too,—but if otherwise, the reverse? Just so, said he. We must choose then, from the rest of the guardians such men, as on inquiry most of all seem to perform with all cheerfulness through an entire life whatever they deem expedient for the state,—while, as to the inexpedient, they will not do it by any means at all. These are just the proper persons, said he. I really think that they ought to be observed at all stages of life, whether they act consistently with this opinion, without either being reduced or forcibly compelled inconsiderately to throw up the opinion, of its being a duty to do what is best for the state. What throwing up do you mean? said he. I will tell you, said I. Opinion seems to me to come from the intellect either voluntarily or involuntarily,—voluntarily indeed as regards false opinion, [when it comes] from him who unlearns it,—but involuntarily, as regards every true one. The case of the voluntary one, replied he, I understand; but that of the involuntary I want to learn. What;—are not even you of opinion, said I, that men are deprived of good things involuntarily, but of evil things voluntarily? Is being deceived respecting the truth no evil, and the attainment of truth no good? and think you not, that to form opinions respecting things as they really exist is attaining the truth? Aye, said he, you speak correctly:—they do indeed seem to me to be deprived unwillingly of true opinion. Are they then thus affected by being robbed, or enchanted, or forced? Now, at any rate, said he, I do not understand you. I am probably expressing myself, said I, just like the tragedians:[143] for, I say, that those [have their opinions] stolen, who change them through persuasion, or else forget them; because, in the one case, they are imperceptibly removed by time, and in the other by reasoning:—now perhaps you understand? Yes. And those, I say, are forced out of their opinions, whom grief or agony obliges to change them? This too, said he, I understand, and you are right in saying so. Those, moreover, methinks, you will say, are enchanted out of their opinions, who change them, either bewitched by pleasure or appalled by fear. For whatever deceives, said he, seems to exercise a kind of magical enchantment.

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Footnote 143:

Plato here alludes to the obscure style sometimes adopted by them to
mystify the hearers. Comp. viii. ch. 3, where they are spoken of as
πρὸς παῖδας ἡμᾶς παιζούσας καὶ ἐρεσχελούσας ὑψηλολογουμένας.
Aristophanes all through “the Frogs” caricatures this mystifying,
bombastic tendency.

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CHAP. XX.—We must now then inquire,—as I was saying before,—who are the best guardians of their own particular maxim, that they should do whatever they deem to be best for the state; and they should observe them too quite from childhood, setting before them such work, as may lead them most readily to forget such a matter and delude themselves; and we should choose one who is mindful and hard to be deluded, while one who is not so we should reject:—is that it? Yes. And we must appoint them labours and pains and contests, in which we must observe these very same things. Right, said he. Should we not, also, said I, appoint a third contest, that of the mountebank kind; and look to see, just as persons lead young colts amidst noises and tumults, to find out whether they are frightened?—and thus, while yet young, they must be led into various fearful situations, and again be thrown back into pleasures, trying them far more than gold in the fire, whether a person appears hard to be beguiled by mountebank tricks, and is of composed demeanour amidst all, because he is a good guardian of himself, and of that music in which he had been instructed, proving himself in all these respects to be in just rhythm and harmony. Being of such character, he would truly be most useful both to himself and the state. And he who in childhood, youth, and manhood, has been thus tried, and come out pure, may be appointed governor and guardian of the state; honours are to be paid him while he lives, and at his death he should receive the highest rewards of public burial and other memorials:—while one that is not such we must reject. Somewhat like this, methinks, Glaucon, said I,—for we have only drawn it in outline, not defined it accurately,[144]—should be the mode of choosing and establishing our governors and guardians. I think so too, rejoined he. Is it not then really most correct to call these the perfect guardians, both as to what relates to enemies abroad and friends at home, for taking from one party the will, and from the other the power of doing mischief, while the youth (whom we just now called guardians) will be allies and auxiliaries to the decrees of the governors? Yes, I think so, replied he.

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Footnote 144:

Gr. ὡς ἐν τύπῳ, μὴ δι’ ἀκριβείας, εἰρῆσθαι. Comp. vi. ch. 6—ἔχεις γὰρ
τὸν τύπον ὧν λέγω, where τύπον, as here means _a general notion_ or
_sketch_, like ὑπογραφὴν in ch. 16 of the same book.

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CHAP. XXI.—What then, said I, should be our plan, when we are falsifying by one of the well-intentioned and necessary untruths, such as we just mentioned, with a view to persuade chiefly the governors themselves;—but, if not these, the rest of the state? What kind of untruth do you mean? Nothing new, said I, but something like the Phœnician fable,[145] which has often taken place heretofore, as the poets say and have persuaded us, but which has not happened in our times, nor do I know whether it is likely to happen,—to persuade one of which indeed requires great suasive power. You seem to me, said he, to hesitate to tell it! I shall appear to you, said I, to hesitate with very good reason, whenever I shall tell it. Speak, said he, and be not afraid. I will tell you then, though I know not with what courage, or what words I am to use in telling you;—and I will attempt, first of all to persuade the governors themselves, and the soldiers, and then also the rest of the state, that, whatever training or education we gave them, all these particulars seemed to affect and befal them like dreams, while really they were in course of formation and development beneath the earth, where are fabricated not only themselves, but also their armour and other equipments:—but after they were completely fashioned, the earth, who is their mother, brought them forth; and now they ought to consult the interests of the country in which they reside as for a mother and nurse, and to defend her in case of invasion, and to look upon the rest of the citizens as their brethren, and sprung from the same soil. It is not without reason, said he, that some time back, you were ashamed to tell this falsehood. Quite so, said I:—but still hear the remainder of the fable. All of you in the state truly are brethren (as we shall tell them by way of fable); but the God, in forming you, mixed gold in the formation of such of you as are able to govern;—on which account they are the most honourable;—in such as are auxiliaries, silver;—and in the husbandmen and other craftsmen, iron and brass. Since then you are all of the same kindred, you would for the most part beget children resembling yourselves; and sometimes perhaps silver will be generated out of gold, and out of silver there might be a golden offspring; and thus in all other ways [are they generated] out of one another.[146] Governors then, first and chiefly, the God charges, that over nothing are they to be such good guardians, or to keep such vigilant watch, as over their children;—[to know] with which of these principles their souls are imbued;—and should their descendants be of brass or iron, they will show them no indulgence whatever, but assigning them honour just proportioned to their natural temper, will thrust them down to the rank of craftsmen or husbandmen. And if again any from among these latter shall exhibit a golden or silver sort of nature, they are to pay them honour and elevate them;—some to the guardianship, others to the rank of auxiliaries,—the oracle having declared that the state shall perish whenever iron or brass shall hold its guardianship. With respect to this fable then, have you any means of persuading them of its truth? None, said he, of persuading these men themselves; but I have as respects their sons and posterity, and the rest of mankind afterwards. Even this, said I, would act well in making them more anxious about the state’s welfare, and for one another; for I almost understand what you mean;—and this truly will lead the same way as the oracle.

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Footnote 145:

The scholiast tells us that the Phœnician fable had reference to the
myths related about the dragon and the sown men that arose at the
bidding of Cadmus, the son of Agenor, and grandson of Poseidon and
Libya, whose native country was Phœnicia.

Footnote 146:

Aristotle makes some rather strong remarks on these views in his
Polit. ch. 2, § 15, ed. Schneid.

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CHAP. XXII.—As for ourselves, having armed these earth-born sons, let us lead them forward under the conduct of their leaders; and when they are come into the city, let them consider where they may best pitch their camp, so as best to keep in order those within it, should any one be unwilling to obey the laws; and likewise how they may defend it against those without, should any enemy come, like a wolf, on the fold. And when they have pitched their camp, and sacrificed to the proper divinities, let them erect their tents: is that the way? Just so, said he. They should be such then as may suffice to defend them, both from winter’s cold and summer-heat? Of course; for I think, said he, you are alluding to houses. Yes, said I, those of the military class, not those of the money-makers. How, replied he, do you say that the latter differs from the former? I will try to tell you, said I; for, of all things, it is the most dreadful, and disgraceful to shepherds, to breed, as guardians of the flocks, such kind of dogs, and in such a manner, as that, either through want of discipline, or hunger, or some other ill habit, the dogs should themselves attempt to hurt the sheep, and so resemble wolves rather than dogs. It is dreadful, of course, said he. Must we not then take all care, lest our allies act thus towards our citizens, as being the more powerful, and, instead of generous allies, resemble savage masters? We must take care, said he. Would they not be prepared to exercise the greatest caution, if they were really well educated? They are so, moreover, replied he. I then, for my part, observed: that you cannot properly insist on, friend Glaucon; but what we were just now saying is proper; namely, that they should have a good education, whatever its nature, if they are to possess what is most important towards rendering them mild, both among themselves and towards those under their guardianship. Right, said he. In addition then to this training, any intelligent person would say, that their houses and all other effects ought to be so contrived, as neither to impede their guardians in becoming the very best possible, nor to excite them to the injury of the other citizens. Aye, and he will say true. If then they intend to be such, consider, said I, whether they ought to live and arrange their household in some such manner, as follows: First, let none possess any private property unless it be absolutely necessary: next, let none have any dwelling, or store-house, into which any one that pleases may not enter: then, as for necessaries, let them be such as both temperate and brave champions in war may require; making for themselves this law, not to receive such a reward of their guardianship from the other citizens, as to have either surplus or deficiency at the year’s end. Let them also frequent public meals, as in camps, and live in common; and we must tell them, that they have ever in their souls from the gods a divine gold and silver, and therefore have no need of that which is human; and that it were profane to pollute the possession of the divine ore, by mixing it with the alloy of the mortal metal; because the money of the vulgar has produced many impious deeds, while that which they have is pure; and that of all men in the city, they alone should not be allowed to handle or touch gold or silver, or harbour it under their roof, or carry it about, nor to drink out of silver or gold. By such means they will be likely to preserve both themselves and the state; but whenever they shall possess private lands and houses, and money, they will become stewards and farmers instead of guardians, and hateful masters instead of allies to the other citizens; in hating indeed, and being hated, in plotting, and being plotted against, they will pass the whole of their life; much more frequently and more really terrified by the enemies from within than by those from without, as they and the rest of the state are hastening very near to destruction. For all these reasons, said I, we must say, that our guardians should be thus regulated, both as to their houses and all other matters. And let us consider these things as law; shall we not? By all means, said Glaucon.