The Republic
But, if he agree so far, we may ask him to answer another question:
‘Then how would a man profit if he received gold and silver on the
condition that he was to enslave the noblest part of him to the worst?
Who can imagine that a man who sold his son or daughter into slavery
for money, especially if he sold them into the hands of fierce and evil
men, would be the gainer, however large might be the sum which he
received? And will any one say that he is not a miserable caitiff who
remorselessly sells his own divine being to that which is most godless
and detestable? Eriphyle took the necklace as the price of her
husband’s life, but he is taking a bribe in order to compass a worse
ruin.’
Yes, said Glaucon, far worse—I will answer for him.
Has not the intemperate been censured of old, because in him the huge
multiform monster is allowed to be too much at large?
Clearly.
And men are blamed for pride and bad temper when the lion and serpent
element in them disproportionately grows and gains strength?
Yes.
And luxury and softness are blamed, because they relax and weaken this
same creature, and make a coward of him?
Very true.
And is not a man reproached for flattery and meanness who subordinates
the spirited animal to the unruly monster, and, for the sake of money,
of which he can never have enough, habituates him in the days of his
youth to be trampled in the mire, and from being a lion to become a
monkey?
True, he said.
And why are mean employments and manual arts a reproach? Only because
they imply a natural weakness of the higher principle; the individual
is unable to control the creatures within him, but has to court them,
and his great study is how to flatter them.
Such appears to be the reason.
And therefore, being desirous of placing him under a rule like that of
the best, we say that he ought to be the servant of the best, in whom
the Divine rules; not, as Thrasymachus supposed, to the injury of the
servant, but because every one had better be ruled by divine wisdom
dwelling within him; or, if this be impossible, then by an external
authority, in order that we may be all, as far as possible, under the
same government, friends and equals.
True, he said.
And this is clearly seen to be the intention of the law, which is the
ally of the whole city; and is seen also in the authority which we
exercise over children, and the refusal to let them be free until we
have established in them a principle analogous to the constitution of a
state, and by cultivation of this higher element have set up in their
hearts a guardian and ruler like our own, and when this is done they
may go their ways.
Yes, he said, the purpose of the law is manifest.
From what point of view, then, and on what ground can we say that a man
is profited by injustice or intemperance or other baseness, which will
make him a worse man, even though he acquire money or power by his
wickedness?
From no point of view at all.
What shall he profit, if his injustice be undetected and unpunished? He
who is undetected only gets worse, whereas he who is detected and
punished has the brutal part of his nature silenced and humanized; the
gentler element in him is liberated, and his whole soul is perfected
and ennobled by the acquirement of justice and temperance and wisdom,
more than the body ever is by receiving gifts of beauty, strength and
health, in proportion as the soul is more honourable than the body.
Certainly, he said.
To this nobler purpose the man of understanding will devote the
energies of his life. And in the first place, he will honour studies
which impress these qualities on his soul and will disregard others?
Clearly, he said.
In the next place, he will regulate his bodily habit and training, and
so far will he be from yielding to brutal and irrational pleasures,
that he will regard even health as quite a secondary matter; his first
object will be not that he may be fair or strong or well, unless he is
likely thereby to gain temperance, but he will always desire so to
attemper the body as to preserve the harmony of the soul?
Certainly he will, if he has true music in him.
And in the acquisition of wealth there is a principle of order and
harmony which he will also observe; he will not allow himself to be
dazzled by the foolish applause of the world, and heap up riches to his
own infinite harm?
Certainly not, he said.
He will look at the city which is within him, and take heed that no
disorder occur in it, such as might arise either from superfluity or
from want; and upon this principle he will regulate his property and
gain or spend according to his means.
Very true.
And, for the same reason, he will gladly accept and enjoy such honours
as he deems likely to make him a better man; but those, whether private
or public, which are likely to disorder his life, he will avoid?
Then, if that is his motive, he will not be a statesman.
By the dog of Egypt, he will! in the city which is his own he certainly
will, though in the land of his birth perhaps not, unless he have a
divine call.
I understand; you mean that he will be a ruler in the city of which we
are the founders, and which exists in idea only; for I do not believe
that there is such an one anywhere on earth?
In heaven, I replied, there is laid up a pattern of it, methinks, which
he who desires may behold, and beholding, may set his own house in
order. But whether such an one exists, or ever will exist in fact, is
no matter; for he will live after the manner of that city, having
nothing to do with any other.
I think so, he said.
BOOK X.
Of the many excellences which I perceive in the order of our State,
there is none which upon reflection pleases me better than the rule
about poetry.
To what do you refer?
To the rejection of imitative poetry, which certainly ought not to be
received; as I see far more clearly now that the parts of the soul have
been distinguished.
What do you mean?
Speaking in confidence, for I should not like to have my words repeated
to the tragedians and the rest of the imitative tribe—but I do not mind
saying to you, that all poetical imitations are ruinous to the
understanding of the hearers, and that the knowledge of their true
nature is the only antidote to them.
Explain the purport of your remark.
Well, I will tell you, although I have always from my earliest youth
had an awe and love of Homer, which even now makes the words falter on
my lips, for he is the great captain and teacher of the whole of that
charming tragic company; but a man is not to be reverenced more than
the truth, and therefore I will speak out.
Very good, he said.
Listen to me then, or rather, answer me.
Put your question.
Can you tell me what imitation is? for I really do not know.
A likely thing, then, that I should know.
Why not? for the duller eye may often see a thing sooner than the
keener.
Very true, he said; but in your presence, even if I had any faint
notion, I could not muster courage to utter it. Will you enquire
yourself?
Well then, shall we begin the enquiry in our usual manner: Whenever a
number of individuals have a common name, we assume them to have also a
corresponding idea or form:—do you understand me?
I do.
Let us take any common instance; there are beds and tables in the
world—plenty of them, are there not?
Yes.
But there are only two ideas or forms of them—one the idea of a bed,
the other of a table.
True.
And the maker of either of them makes a bed or he makes a table for our
use, in accordance with the idea—that is our way of speaking in this
and similar instances—but no artificer makes the ideas themselves: how
could he?
Impossible.
And there is another artist,—I should like to know what you would say
of him.
Who is he?
One who is the maker of all the works of all other workmen.
What an extraordinary man!
Wait a little, and there will be more reason for your saying so. For
this is he who is able to make not only vessels of every kind, but
plants and animals, himself and all other things—the earth and heaven,
and the things which are in heaven or under the earth; he makes the
gods also.
He must be a wizard and no mistake.
Oh! you are incredulous, are you? Do you mean that there is no such
maker or creator, or that in one sense there might be a maker of all
these things but in another not? Do you see that there is a way in
which you could make them all yourself?
What way?
An easy way enough; or rather, there are many ways in which the feat
might be quickly and easily accomplished, none quicker than that of
turning a mirror round and round—you would soon enough make the sun and
the heavens, and the earth and yourself, and other animals and plants,
and all the other things of which we were just now speaking, in the
mirror.
Yes, he said; but they would be appearances only.
Very good, I said, you are coming to the point now. And the painter too
is, as I conceive, just such another—a creator of appearances, is he
not?
Of course.
But then I suppose you will say that what he creates is untrue. And yet
there is a sense in which the painter also creates a bed?
Yes, he said, but not a real bed.
And what of the maker of the bed? were you not saying that he too
makes, not the idea which, according to our view, is the essence of the
bed, but only a particular bed?
Yes, I did.
Then if he does not make that which exists he cannot make true
existence, but only some semblance of existence; and if any one were to
say that the work of the maker of the bed, or of any other workman, has
real existence, he could hardly be supposed to be speaking the truth.
At any rate, he replied, philosophers would say that he was not
speaking the truth.
No wonder, then, that his work too is an indistinct expression of
truth.
No wonder.
Suppose now that by the light of the examples just offered we enquire
who this imitator is?
If you please.
Well then, here are three beds: one existing in nature, which is made
by God, as I think that we may say—for no one else can be the maker?
No.
There is another which is the work of the carpenter?
Yes.
And the work of the painter is a third?
Yes.
Beds, then, are of three kinds, and there are three artists who
superintend them: God, the maker of the bed, and the painter?
Yes, there are three of them.
God, whether from choice or from necessity, made one bed in nature and
one only; two or more such ideal beds neither ever have been nor ever
will be made by God.
Why is that?
Because even if He had made but two, a third would still appear behind
them which both of them would have for their idea, and that would be
the ideal bed and not the two others.
Very true, he said.
God knew this, and He desired to be the real maker of a real bed, not a
particular maker of a particular bed, and therefore He created a bed
which is essentially and by nature one only.
So we believe.
Shall we, then, speak of Him as the natural author or maker of the bed?
Yes, he replied; inasmuch as by the natural process of creation He is
the author of this and of all other things.
And what shall we say of the carpenter—is not he also the maker of the
bed?
Yes.
But would you call the painter a creator and maker?
Certainly not.
Yet if he is not the maker, what is he in relation to the bed?
I think, he said, that we may fairly designate him as the imitator of
that which the others make.
Good, I said; then you call him who is third in the descent from nature
an imitator?
Certainly, he said.
And the tragic poet is an imitator, and therefore, like all other
imitators, he is thrice removed from the king and from the truth?
That appears to be so.