The Republic
necessity of Diomede will oblige him to produce whatever they praise.
And yet the reasons are utterly ludicrous which they give in
confirmation of their own notions about the honourable and good. Did
you ever hear any of them which were not?
No, nor am I likely to hear.
You recognise the truth of what I have been saying? Then let me ask you
to consider further whether the world will ever be induced to believe
in the existence of absolute beauty rather than of the many beautiful,
or of the absolute in each kind rather than of the many in each kind?
Certainly not.
Then the world cannot possibly be a philosopher?
Impossible.
And therefore philosophers must inevitably fall under the censure of
the world?
They must.
And of individuals who consort with the mob and seek to please them?
That is evident.
Then, do you see any way in which the philosopher can be preserved in
his calling to the end? and remember what we were saying of him, that
he was to have quickness and memory and courage and magnificence—these
were admitted by us to be the true philosopher’s gifts.
Yes.
Will not such an one from his early childhood be in all things first
among all, especially if his bodily endowments are like his mental
ones?
Certainly, he said.
And his friends and fellow-citizens will want to use him as he gets
older for their own purposes?
No question.
Falling at his feet, they will make requests to him and do him honour
and flatter him, because they want to get into their hands now, the
power which he will one day possess.
That often happens, he said.
And what will a man such as he is be likely to do under such
circumstances, especially if he be a citizen of a great city, rich and
noble, and a tall proper youth? Will he not be full of boundless
aspirations, and fancy himself able to manage the affairs of Hellenes
and of barbarians, and having got such notions into his head will he
not dilate and elevate himself in the fulness of vain pomp and
senseless pride?
To be sure he will.
Now, when he is in this state of mind, if some one gently comes to him
and tells him that he is a fool and must get understanding, which can
only be got by slaving for it, do you think that, under such adverse
circumstances, he will be easily induced to listen?
Far otherwise.
And even if there be some one who through inherent goodness or natural
reasonableness has had his eyes opened a little and is humbled and
taken captive by philosophy, how will his friends behave when they
think that they are likely to lose the advantage which they were hoping
to reap from his companionship? Will they not do and say anything to
prevent him from yielding to his better nature and to render his
teacher powerless, using to this end private intrigues as well as
public prosecutions?
There can be no doubt of it.
And how can one who is thus circumstanced ever become a philosopher?
Impossible.
Then were we not right in saying that even the very qualities which
make a man a philosopher may, if he be ill-educated, divert him from
philosophy, no less than riches and their accompaniments and the other
so-called goods of life?
We were quite right.
Thus, my excellent friend, is brought about all that ruin and failure
which I have been describing of the natures best adapted to the best of
all pursuits; they are natures which we maintain to be rare at any
time; this being the class out of which come the men who are the
authors of the greatest evil to States and individuals; and also of the
greatest good when the tide carries them in that direction; but a small
man never was the doer of any great thing either to individuals or to
States.
That is most true, he said.
And so philosophy is left desolate, with her marriage rite incomplete:
for her own have fallen away and forsaken her, and while they are
leading a false and unbecoming life, other unworthy persons, seeing
that she has no kinsmen to be her protectors, enter in and dishonour
her; and fasten upon her the reproaches which, as you say, her
reprovers utter, who affirm of her votaries that some are good for
nothing, and that the greater number deserve the severest punishment.
That is certainly what people say.
Yes; and what else would you expect, I said, when you think of the puny
creatures who, seeing this land open to them—a land well stocked with
fair names and showy titles—like prisoners running out of prison into a
sanctuary, take a leap out of their trades into philosophy; those who
do so being probably the cleverest hands at their own miserable crafts?
For, although philosophy be in this evil case, still there remains a
dignity about her which is not to be found in the arts. And many are
thus attracted by her whose natures are imperfect and whose souls are
maimed and disfigured by their meannesses, as their bodies are by their
trades and crafts. Is not this unavoidable?
Yes.
Are they not exactly like a bald little tinker who has just got out of
durance and come into a fortune; he takes a bath and puts on a new
coat, and is decked out as a bridegroom going to marry his master’s
daughter, who is left poor and desolate?
A most exact parallel.
What will be the issue of such marriages? Will they not be vile and
bastard?
There can be no question of it.
And when persons who are unworthy of education approach philosophy and
make an alliance with her who is in a rank above them what sort of
ideas and opinions are likely to be generated? Will they not be
sophisms captivating to the ear, having nothing in them genuine, or
worthy of or akin to true wisdom?
No doubt, he said.
Then, Adeimantus, I said, the worthy disciples of philosophy will be
but a small remnant: perchance some noble and well-educated person,
detained by exile in her service, who in the absence of corrupting
influences remains devoted to her; or some lofty soul born in a mean
city, the politics of which he contemns and neglects; and there may be
a gifted few who leave the arts, which they justly despise, and come to
her;—or peradventure there are some who are restrained by our friend
Theages’ bridle; for everything in the life of Theages conspired to
divert him from philosophy; but ill-health kept him away from politics.
My own case of the internal sign is hardly worth mentioning, for
rarely, if ever, has such a monitor been given to any other man. Those
who belong to this small class have tasted how sweet and blessed a
possession philosophy is, and have also seen enough of the madness of
the multitude; and they know that no politician is honest, nor is there
any champion of justice at whose side they may fight and be saved. Such
an one may be compared to a man who has fallen among wild beasts—he
will not join in the wickedness of his fellows, but neither is he able
singly to resist all their fierce natures, and therefore seeing that he
would be of no use to the State or to his friends, and reflecting that
he would have to throw away his life without doing any good either to
himself or others, he holds his peace, and goes his own way. He is like
one who, in the storm of dust and sleet which the driving wind hurries
along, retires under the shelter of a wall; and seeing the rest of
mankind full of wickedness, he is content, if only he can live his own
life and be pure from evil or unrighteousness, and depart in peace and
good-will, with bright hopes.
Yes, he said, and he will have done a great work before he departs.
A great work—yes; but not the greatest, unless he find a State suitable
to him; for in a State which is suitable to him, he will have a larger
growth and be the saviour of his country, as well as of himself.
The causes why philosophy is in such an evil name have now been
sufficiently explained: the injustice of the charges against her has
been shown—is there anything more which you wish to say?
Nothing more on that subject, he replied; but I should like to know
which of the governments now existing is in your opinion the one
adapted to her.
Not any of them, I said; and that is precisely the accusation which I
bring against them—not one of them is worthy of the philosophic nature,
and hence that nature is warped and estranged;—as the exotic seed which
is sown in a foreign land becomes denaturalized, and is wont to be
overpowered and to lose itself in the new soil, even so this growth of
philosophy, instead of persisting, degenerates and receives another
character. But if philosophy ever finds in the State that perfection
which she herself is, then will be seen that she is in truth divine,
and that all other things, whether natures of men or institutions, are
but human;—and now, I know, that you are going to ask, What that State
is:
No, he said; there you are wrong, for I was going to ask another
question—whether it is the State of which we are the founders and
inventors, or some other?
Yes, I replied, ours in most respects; but you may remember my saying
before, that some living authority would always be required in the
State having the same idea of the constitution which guided you when as
legislator you were laying down the laws.
That was said, he replied.
Yes, but not in a satisfactory manner; you frightened us by interposing
objections, which certainly showed that the discussion would be long
and difficult; and what still remains is the reverse of easy.
What is there remaining?
The question how the study of philosophy may be so ordered as not to be
the ruin of the State: All great attempts are attended with risk; ‘hard
is the good,’ as men say.
Still, he said, let the point be cleared up, and the enquiry will then
be complete.
I shall not be hindered, I said, by any want of will, but, if at all,
by a want of power: my zeal you may see for yourselves; and please to
remark in what I am about to say how boldly and unhesitatingly I
declare that States should pursue philosophy, not as they do now, but
in a different spirit.
In what manner?
At present, I said, the students of philosophy are quite young;
beginning when they are hardly past childhood, they devote only the
time saved from moneymaking and housekeeping to such pursuits; and even
those of them who are reputed to have most of the philosophic spirit,
when they come within sight of the great difficulty of the subject, I
mean dialectic, take themselves off. In after life when invited by some
one else, they may, perhaps, go and hear a lecture, and about this they
make much ado, for philosophy is not considered by them to be their
proper business: at last, when they grow old, in most cases they are
extinguished more truly than Heracleitus’ sun, inasmuch as they never
light up again. (Heraclitus said that the sun was extinguished every
evening and relighted every morning.)
But what ought to be their course?
Just the opposite. In childhood and youth their study, and what
philosophy they learn, should be suited to their tender years: during
this period while they are growing up towards manhood, the chief and
special care should be given to their bodies that they may have them to
use in the service of philosophy; as life advances and the intellect
begins to mature, let them increase the gymnastics of the soul; but
when the strength of our citizens fails and is past civil and military
duties, then let them range at will and engage in no serious labour, as
we intend them to live happily here, and to crown this life with a
similar happiness in another.
How truly in earnest you are, Socrates! he said; I am sure of that; and
yet most of your hearers, if I am not mistaken, are likely to be still
more earnest in their opposition to you, and will never be convinced;
Thrasymachus least of all.
Do not make a quarrel, I said, between Thrasymachus and me, who have