Prev
| Next
| Contents
BOOK IX.
Last of all comes the tyrannical man; about whom we have once more to ask,
how is he formed out of the democratical? and how does he live, in
happiness or in misery?
Yes, he said, he is the only one remaining.
There is, however, I said, a previous question which remains unanswered.
What question?
I do not think that we have adequately determined the nature and number of
the appetites, and until this is accomplished the enquiry will always be
confused.
Well, he said, it is not too late to supply the omission.
Very true, I said; and observe the point which I want to understand:
Certain of the unnecessary pleasures and appetites I conceive to be
unlawful; every one appears to have them, but in some persons they are
controlled by the laws and by reason, and the better desires prevail over
them--either they are wholly banished or they become few and weak; while in
the case of others they are stronger, and there are more of them.
Which appetites do you mean?
I mean those which are awake when the reasoning and human and ruling power
is asleep; then the wild beast within us, gorged with meat or drink, starts
up and having shaken off sleep, goes forth to satisfy his desires; and
there is no conceivable folly or crime--not excepting incest or any other
unnatural union, or parricide, or the eating of forbidden food--which at
such a time, when he has parted company with all shame and sense, a man may
not be ready to commit.
Most true, he said.
But when a man's pulse is healthy and temperate, and when before going to
sleep he has awakened his rational powers, and fed them on noble thoughts
and enquiries, collecting himself in meditation; after having first
indulged his appetites neither too much nor too little, but just enough to
lay them to sleep, and prevent them and their enjoyments and pains from
interfering with the higher principle--which he leaves in the solitude of
pure abstraction, free to contemplate and aspire to the knowledge of the
unknown, whether in past, present, or future: when again he has allayed
the passionate element, if he has a quarrel against any one--I say, when,
after pacifying the two irrational principles, he rouses up the third,
which is reason, before he takes his rest, then, as you know, he attains
truth most nearly, and is least likely to be the sport of fantastic and
lawless visions.
I quite agree.
In saying this I have been running into a digression; but the point which I
desire to note is that in all of us, even in good men, there is a lawless
wild-beast nature, which peers out in sleep. Pray, consider whether I am
right, and you agree with me.
Yes, I agree.
And now remember the character which we attributed to the democratic man.
He was supposed from his youth upwards to have been trained under a miserly
parent, who encouraged the saving appetites in him, but discountenanced the
unnecessary, which aim only at amusement and ornament?
True.
And then he got into the company of a more refined, licentious sort of
people, and taking to all their wanton ways rushed into the opposite
extreme from an abhorrence of his father's meanness. At last, being a
better man than his corruptors, he was drawn in both directions until he
halted midway and led a life, not of vulgar and slavish passion, but of
what he deemed moderate indulgence in various pleasures. After this manner
the democrat was generated out of the oligarch?
Yes, he said; that was our view of him, and is so still.
And now, I said, years will have passed away, and you must conceive this
man, such as he is, to have a son, who is brought up in his father's
principles.
I can imagine him.
Then you must further imagine the same thing to happen to the son which has
already happened to the father:--he is drawn into a perfectly lawless life,
which by his seducers is termed perfect liberty; and his father and friends
take part with his moderate desires, and the opposite party assist the
opposite ones. As soon as these dire magicians and tyrant-makers find that
they are losing their hold on him, they contrive to implant in him a master
passion, to be lord over his idle and spendthrift lusts--a sort of
monstrous winged drone--that is the only image which will adequately
describe him.
Yes, he said, that is the only adequate image of him.
And when his other lusts, amid clouds of incense and perfumes and garlands
and wines, and all the pleasures of a dissolute life, now let loose, come
buzzing around him, nourishing to the utmost the sting of desire which they
implant in his drone-like nature, then at last this lord of the soul,
having Madness for the captain of his guard, breaks out into a frenzy: and
if he finds in himself any good opinions or appetites in process of
formation, and there is in him any sense of shame remaining, to these
better principles he puts an end, and casts them forth until he has purged
away temperance and brought in madness to the full.
Yes, he said, that is the way in which the tyrannical man is generated.
And is not this the reason why of old love has been called a tyrant?
I should not wonder.
Further, I said, has not a drunken man also the spirit of a tyrant?
He has.
And you know that a man who is deranged and not right in his mind, will
fancy that he is able to rule, not only over men, but also over the gods?
That he will.
And the tyrannical man in the true sense of the word comes into being when,
either under the influence of nature, or habit, or both, he becomes
drunken, lustful, passionate? O my friend, is not that so?
Assuredly.
Such is the man and such is his origin. And next, how does he live?
Suppose, as people facetiously say, you were to tell me.
I imagine, I said, at the next step in his progress, that there will be
feasts and carousals and revellings and courtezans, and all that sort of
thing; Love is the lord of the house within him, and orders all the
concerns of his soul.
That is certain.
Yes; and every day and every night desires grow up many and formidable, and
their demands are many.
They are indeed, he said.
His revenues, if he has any, are soon spent.
True.
Then comes debt and the cutting down of his property.
Of course.
When he has nothing left, must not his desires, crowding in the nest like
young ravens, be crying aloud for food; and he, goaded on by them, and
especially by love himself, who is in a manner the captain of them, is in a
frenzy, and would fain discover whom he can defraud or despoil of his
property, in order that he may gratify them?
Yes, that is sure to be the case.
He must have money, no matter how, if he is to escape horrid pains and
pangs.
He must.
And as in himself there was a succession of pleasures, and the new got the
better of the old and took away their rights, so he being younger will
claim to have more than his father and his mother, and if he has spent his
own share of the property, he will take a slice of theirs.
No doubt he will.
And if his parents will not give way, then he will try first of all to
cheat and deceive them.
Very true.
And if he fails, then he will use force and plunder them.
Yes, probably.
And if the old man and woman fight for their own, what then, my friend?
Will the creature feel any compunction at tyrannizing over them?
Nay, he said, I should not feel at all comfortable about his parents.
But, O heavens! Adeimantus, on account of some new-fangled love of a
harlot, who is anything but a necessary connection, can you believe that he
would strike the mother who is his ancient friend and necessary to his very
existence, and would place her under the authority of the other, when she
is brought under the same roof with her; or that, under like circumstances,
he would do the same to his withered old father, first and most
indispensable of friends, for the sake of some newly-found blooming youth
who is the reverse of indispensable?
Yes, indeed, he said; I believe that he would.
Truly, then, I said, a tyrannical son is a blessing to his father and
mother.
He is indeed, he replied.
He first takes their property, and when that fails, and pleasures are
beginning to swarm in the hive of his soul, then he breaks into a house, or
steals the garments of some nightly wayfarer; next he proceeds to clear a
temple. Meanwhile the old opinions which he had when a child, and which
gave judgment about good and evil, are overthrown by those others which
have just been emancipated, and are now the body-guard of love and share
his empire. These in his democratic days, when he was still subject to the
laws and to his father, were only let loose in the dreams of sleep. But
now that he is under the dominion of love, he becomes always and in waking
reality what he was then very rarely and in a dream only; he will commit
the foulest murder, or eat forbidden food, or be guilty of any other horrid
act. Love is his tyrant, and lives lordly in him and lawlessly, and being
himself a king, leads him on, as a tyrant leads a State, to the performance
of any reckless deed by which he can maintain himself and the rabble of his
associates, whether those whom evil communications have brought in from
without, or those whom he himself has allowed to break loose within him by
reason of a similar evil nature in himself. Have we not here a picture of
his way of life?
Yes, indeed, he said.
And if there are only a few of them in the State, and the rest of the
people are well disposed, they go away and become the body-guard or
mercenary soldiers of some other tyrant who may probably want them for a
war; and if there is no war, they stay at home and do many little pieces of
mischief in the city.
What sort of mischief?
For example, they are the thieves, burglars, cut-purses, foot-pads, robbers
of temples, man-stealers of the community; or if they are able to speak
they turn informers, and bear false witness, and take bribes.
A small catalogue of evils, even if the perpetrators of them are few in
number.
Yes, I said; but small and great are comparative terms, and all these
things, in the misery and evil which they inflict upon a State, do not come
within a thousand miles of the tyrant; when this noxious class and their
followers grow numerous and become conscious of their strength, assisted by
the infatuation of the people, they choose from among themselves the one
who has most of the tyrant in his own soul, and him they create their
tyrant.
Yes, he said, and he will be the most fit to be a tyrant.
If the people yield, well and good; but if they resist him, as he began by
beating his own father and mother, so now, if he has the power, he beats
them, and will keep his dear old fatherland or motherland, as the Cretans
say, in subjection to his young retainers whom he has introduced to be
their rulers and masters. This is the end of his passions and desires.
Exactly.
When such men are only private individuals and before they get power, this
is their character; they associate entirely with their own flatterers or
ready tools; or if they want anything from anybody, they in their turn are
equally ready to bow down before them: they profess every sort of
affection for them; but when they have gained their point they know them no
more.
Yes, truly.
They are always either the masters or servants and never the friends of
anybody; the tyrant never tastes of true freedom or friendship.
Certainly not.
And may we not rightly call such men treacherous?
No question.
Also they are utterly unjust, if we were right in our notion of justice?
Yes, he said, and we were perfectly right.
Let us then sum up in a word, I said, the character of the worst man: he
is the waking reality of what we dreamed.
Most true.
And this is he who being by nature most of a tyrant bears rule, and the
longer he lives the more of a tyrant he becomes.
That is certain, said Glaucon, taking his turn to answer.
And will not he who has been shown to be the wickedest, be also the most
miserable? and he who has tyrannized longest and most, most continually and
truly miserable; although this may not be the opinion of men in general?
Yes, he said, inevitably.
And must not the tyrannical man be like the tyrannical State, and the
democratical man like the democratical State; and the same of the others?
Certainly.
And as State is to State in virtue and happiness, so is man in relation to
man?
To be sure.
Then comparing our original city, which was under a king, and the city
which is under a tyrant, how do they stand as to virtue?
They are the opposite extremes, he said, for one is the very best and the
other is the very worst.
There can be no mistake, I said, as to which is which, and therefore I will
at once enquire whether you would arrive at a similar decision about their
relative happiness and misery. And here we must not allow ourselves to be
panic-stricken at the apparition of the tyrant, who is only a unit and may
perhaps have a few retainers about him; but let us go as we ought into
every corner of the city and look all about, and then we will give our
opinion.
A fair invitation, he replied; and I see, as every one must, that a tyranny
is the wretchedest form of government, and the rule of a king the happiest.
And in estimating the men too, may I not fairly make a like request, that I
should have a judge whose mind can enter into and see through human nature?
he must not be like a child who looks at the outside and is dazzled at the
pompous aspect which the tyrannical nature assumes to the beholder, but let
him be one who has a clear insight. May I suppose that the judgment is
given in the hearing of us all by one who is able to judge, and has dwelt
in the same place with him, and been present at his dally life and known
him in his family relations, where he may be seen stripped of his tragedy
attire, and again in the hour of public danger--he shall tell us about the
happiness and misery of the tyrant when compared with other men?
That again, he said, is a very fair proposal.
Shall I assume that we ourselves are able and experienced judges and have
before now met with such a person? We shall then have some one who will
answer our enquiries.
By all means.
Let me ask you not to forget the parallel of the individual and the State;
bearing this in mind, and glancing in turn from one to the other of them,
will you tell me their respective conditions?
What do you mean? he asked.
Beginning with the State, I replied, would you say that a city which is
governed by a tyrant is free or enslaved?
No city, he said, can be more completely enslaved.
And yet, as you see, there are freemen as well as masters in such a State?
Yes, he said, I see that there are--a few; but the people, speaking
generally, and the best of them are miserably degraded and enslaved.
Then if the man is like the State, I said, must not the same rule prevail?
his soul is full of meanness and vulgarity--the best elements in him are
enslaved; and there is a small ruling part, which is also the worst and
maddest.
Inevitably.
And would you say that the soul of such an one is the soul of a freeman, or
of a slave?
He has the soul of a slave, in my opinion.
And the State which is enslaved under a tyrant is utterly incapable of
acting voluntarily?
Utterly incapable.
And also the soul which is under a tyrant (I am speaking of the soul taken
as a whole) is least capable of doing what she desires; there is a gadfly
which goads her, and she is full of trouble and remorse?
Certainly.
And is the city which is under a tyrant rich or poor?
Poor.
And the tyrannical soul must be always poor and insatiable?
True.
And must not such a State and such a man be always full of fear?
Yes, indeed.
Is there any State in which you will find more of lamentation and sorrow
and groaning and pain?
Certainly not.
And is there any man in whom you will find more of this sort of misery than
in the tyrannical man, who is in a fury of passions and desires?
Impossible.
Reflecting upon these and similar evils, you held the tyrannical State to
be the most miserable of States?
And I was right, he said.
Certainly, I said. And when you see the same evils in the tyrannical man,
what do you say of him?
I say that he is by far the most miserable of all men.
There, I said, I think that you are beginning to go wrong.
What do you mean?
I do not think that he has as yet reached the utmost extreme of misery.
Then who is more miserable?
One of whom I am about to speak.
Who is that?
He who is of a tyrannical nature, and instead of leading a private life has
been cursed with the further misfortune of being a public tyrant.
From what has been said, I gather that you are right.
Yes, I replied, but in this high argument you should be a little more
certain, and should not conjecture only; for of all questions, this
respecting good and evil is the greatest.
Very true, he said.
Let me then offer you an illustration, which may, I think, throw a light
upon this subject.
What is your illustration?
The case of rich individuals in cities who possess many slaves: from them
you may form an idea of the tyrant's condition, for they both have slaves;
the only difference is that he has more slaves.
Yes, that is the difference.
You know that they live securely and have nothing to apprehend from their
servants?
What should they fear?
Nothing. But do you observe the reason of this?
Yes; the reason is, that the whole city is leagued together for the
protection of each individual.
Very true, I said. But imagine one of these owners, the master say of some
fifty slaves, together with his family and property and slaves, carried off
by a god into the wilderness, where there are no freemen to help him--will
he not be in an agony of fear lest he and his wife and children should be
put to death by his slaves?
Yes, he said, he will be in the utmost fear.
The time has arrived when he will be compelled to flatter divers of his
slaves, and make many promises to them of freedom and other things, much
against his will--he will have to cajole his own servants.
Yes, he said, that will be the only way of saving himself.
And suppose the same god, who carried him away, to surround him with
neighbours who will not suffer one man to be the master of another, and
who, if they could catch the offender, would take his life?
His case will be still worse, if you suppose him to be everywhere
surrounded and watched by enemies.
And is not this the sort of prison in which the tyrant will be bound--he
who being by nature such as we have described, is full of all sorts of
fears and lusts? His soul is dainty and greedy, and yet alone, of all men
in the city, he is never allowed to go on a journey, or to see the things
which other freemen desire to see, but he lives in his hole like a woman
hidden in the house, and is jealous of any other citizen who goes into
foreign parts and sees anything of interest.
Very true, he said.
And amid evils such as these will not he who is ill-governed in his own
person--the tyrannical man, I mean--whom you just now decided to be the
most miserable of all--will not he be yet more miserable when, instead of
leading a private life, he is constrained by fortune to be a public tyrant?
He has to be master of others when he is not master of himself: he is like
a diseased or paralytic man who is compelled to pass his life, not in
retirement, but fighting and combating with other men.
Yes, he said, the similitude is most exact.
Is not his case utterly miserable? and does not the actual tyrant lead a
worse life than he whose life you determined to be the worst?
Certainly.
He who is the real tyrant, whatever men may think, is the real slave, and
is obliged to practise the greatest adulation and servility, and to be the
flatterer of the vilest of mankind. He has desires which he is utterly
unable to satisfy, and has more wants than any one, and is truly poor, if
you know how to inspect the whole soul of him: all his life long he is
beset with fear and is full of convulsions and distractions, even as the
State which he resembles: and surely the resemblance holds?
Very true, he said.
Moreover, as we were saying before, he grows worse from having power: he
becomes and is of necessity more jealous, more faithless, more unjust, more
friendless, more impious, than he was at first; he is the purveyor and
cherisher of every sort of vice, and the consequence is that he is
supremely miserable, and that he makes everybody else as miserable as
himself.
No man of any sense will dispute your words.
Come then, I said, and as the general umpire in theatrical contests
proclaims the result, do you also decide who in your opinion is first in
the scale of happiness, and who second, and in what order the others
follow: there are five of them in all--they are the royal, timocratical,
oligarchical, democratical, tyrannical.
The decision will be easily given, he replied; they shall be choruses
coming on the stage, and I must judge them in the order in which they
enter, by the criterion of virtue and vice, happiness and misery.
Need we hire a herald, or shall I announce, that the son of Ariston (the
best) has decided that the best and justest is also the happiest, and that
this is he who is the most royal man and king over himself; and that the
worst and most unjust man is also the most miserable, and that this is he
who being the greatest tyrant of himself is also the greatest tyrant of his
State?
Make the proclamation yourself, he said.
And shall I add, 'whether seen or unseen by gods and men'?
Let the words be added.
Then this, I said, will be our first proof; and there is another, which may
also have some weight.
What is that?
The second proof is derived from the nature of the soul: seeing that the
individual soul, like the State, has been divided by us into three
principles, the division may, I think, furnish a new demonstration.
Of what nature?
It seems to me that to these three principles three pleasures correspond;
also three desires and governing powers.
How do you mean? he said.
There is one principle with which, as we were saying, a man learns, another
with which he is angry; the third, having many forms, has no special name,
but is denoted by the general term appetitive, from the extraordinary
strength and vehemence of the desires of eating and drinking and the other
sensual appetites which are the main elements of it; also money-loving,
because such desires are generally satisfied by the help of money.
That is true, he said.
If we were to say that the loves and pleasures of this third part were
concerned with gain, we should then be able to fall back on a single
notion; and might truly and intelligibly describe this part of the soul as
loving gain or money.
I agree with you.
Again, is not the passionate element wholly set on ruling and conquering
and getting fame?
True.
Suppose we call it the contentious or ambitious--would the term be
suitable?
Extremely suitable.
On the other hand, every one sees that the principle of knowledge is wholly
directed to the truth, and cares less than either of the others for gain or
fame.
Far less.
'Lover of wisdom,' 'lover of knowledge,' are titles which we may fitly
apply to that part of the soul?
Certainly.
One principle prevails in the souls of one class of men, another in others,
as may happen?
Yes.
Then we may begin by assuming that there are three classes of men--lovers
of wisdom, lovers of honour, lovers of gain?
Exactly.
And there are three kinds of pleasure, which are their several objects?
Very true.
Now, if you examine the three classes of men, and ask of them in turn which
of their lives is pleasantest, each will be found praising his own and
depreciating that of others: the money-maker will contrast the vanity of
honour or of learning if they bring no money with the solid advantages of
gold and silver?
True, he said.
And the lover of honour--what will be his opinion? Will he not think that
the pleasure of riches is vulgar, while the pleasure of learning, if it
brings no distinction, is all smoke and nonsense to him?
Very true.
And are we to suppose, I said, that the philosopher sets any value on other
pleasures in comparison with the pleasure of knowing the truth, and in that
pursuit abiding, ever learning, not so far indeed from the heaven of
pleasure? Does he not call the other pleasures necessary, under the idea
that if there were no necessity for them, he would rather not have them?
There can be no doubt of that, he replied.
Since, then, the pleasures of each class and the life of each are in
dispute, and the question is not which life is more or less honourable, or
better or worse, but which is the more pleasant or painless--how shall we
know who speaks truly?
I cannot myself tell, he said.
Well, but what ought to be the criterion? Is any better than experience
and wisdom and reason?
There cannot be a better, he said.
Then, I said, reflect. Of the three individuals, which has the greatest
experience of all the pleasures which we enumerated? Has the lover of
gain, in learning the nature of essential truth, greater experience of the
pleasure of knowledge than the philosopher has of the pleasure of gain?
The philosopher, he replied, has greatly the advantage; for he has of
necessity always known the taste of the other pleasures from his childhood
upwards: but the lover of gain in all his experience has not of necessity
tasted--or, I should rather say, even had he desired, could hardly have
tasted--the sweetness of learning and knowing truth.
Then the lover of wisdom has a great advantage over the lover of gain, for
he has a double experience?
Yes, very great.
Again, has he greater experience of the pleasures of honour, or the lover
of honour of the pleasures of wisdom?
Nay, he said, all three are honoured in proportion as they attain their
object; for the rich man and the brave man and the wise man alike have
their crowd of admirers, and as they all receive honour they all have
experience of the pleasures of honour; but the delight which is to be found
in the knowledge of true being is known to the philosopher only.
His experience, then, will enable him to judge better than any one?
Far better.
And he is the only one who has wisdom as well as experience?
Certainly.
Further, the very faculty which is the instrument of judgment is not
possessed by the covetous or ambitious man, but only by the philosopher?
What faculty?
Reason, with whom, as we were saying, the decision ought to rest.
Yes.
And reasoning is peculiarly his instrument?
Certainly.
If wealth and gain were the criterion, then the praise or blame of the
lover of gain would surely be the most trustworthy?
Assuredly.
Or if honour or victory or courage, in that case the judgment of the
ambitious or pugnacious would be the truest?
Clearly.
But since experience and wisdom and reason are the judges--
The only inference possible, he replied, is that pleasures which are
approved by the lover of wisdom and reason are the truest.
And so we arrive at the result, that the pleasure of the intelligent part
of the soul is the pleasantest of the three, and that he of us in whom this
is the ruling principle has the pleasantest life.
Unquestionably, he said, the wise man speaks with authority when he
approves of his own life.
And what does the judge affirm to be the life which is next, and the
pleasure which is next?
Clearly that of the soldier and lover of honour; who is nearer to himself
than the money-maker.
Last comes the lover of gain?
Very true, he said.
Twice in succession, then, has the just man overthrown the unjust in this
conflict; and now comes the third trial, which is dedicated to Olympian
Zeus the saviour: a sage whispers in my ear that no pleasure except that
of the wise is quite true and pure--all others are a shadow only; and
surely this will prove the greatest and most decisive of falls?
Yes, the greatest; but will you explain yourself?
I will work out the subject and you shall answer my questions.
Proceed.
Say, then, is not pleasure opposed to pain?
True.
And there is a neutral state which is neither pleasure nor pain?
There is.
A state which is intermediate, and a sort of repose of the soul about
either--that is what you mean?
Yes.
You remember what people say when they are sick?
What do they say?
That after all nothing is pleasanter than health. But then they never knew
this to be the greatest of pleasures until they were ill.
Yes, I know, he said.
And when persons are suffering from acute pain, you must have heard them
say that there is nothing pleasanter than to get rid of their pain?
I have.
And there are many other cases of suffering in which the mere rest and
cessation of pain, and not any positive enjoyment, is extolled by them as
the greatest pleasure?
Yes, he said; at the time they are pleased and well content to be at rest.
Again, when pleasure ceases, that sort of rest or cessation will be
painful?
Doubtless, he said.
Then the intermediate state of rest will be pleasure and will also be pain?
So it would seem.
But can that which is neither become both?
I should say not.
And both pleasure and pain are motions of the soul, are they not?
Yes.
But that which is neither was just now shown to be rest and not motion, and
in a mean between them?
Yes.
How, then, can we be right in supposing that the absence of pain is
pleasure, or that the absence of pleasure is pain?
Impossible.
This then is an appearance only and not a reality; that is to say, the rest
is pleasure at the moment and in comparison of what is painful, and painful
in comparison of what is pleasant; but all these representations, when
tried by the test of true pleasure, are not real but a sort of imposition?
That is the inference.
Look at the other class of pleasures which have no antecedent pains and you
will no longer suppose, as you perhaps may at present, that pleasure is
only the cessation of pain, or pain of pleasure.
What are they, he said, and where shall I find them?
There are many of them: take as an example the pleasures of smell, which
are very great and have no antecedent pains; they come in a moment, and
when they depart leave no pain behind them.
Most true, he said.
Let us not, then, be induced to believe that pure pleasure is the cessation
of pain, or pain of pleasure.
No.
Still, the more numerous and violent pleasures which reach the soul through
the body are generally of this sort--they are reliefs of pain.
That is true.
And the anticipations of future pleasures and pains are of a like nature?
Yes.
Shall I give you an illustration of them?
Let me hear.
You would allow, I said, that there is in nature an upper and lower and
middle region?
I should.
And if a person were to go from the lower to the middle region, would he
not imagine that he is going up; and he who is standing in the middle and
sees whence he has come, would imagine that he is already in the upper
region, if he has never seen the true upper world?
To be sure, he said; how can he think otherwise?
But if he were taken back again he would imagine, and truly imagine, that
he was descending?
No doubt.
All that would arise out of his ignorance of the true upper and middle and
lower regions?
Yes.
Then can you wonder that persons who are inexperienced in the truth, as
they have wrong ideas about many other things, should also have wrong ideas
about pleasure and pain and the intermediate state; so that when they are
only being drawn towards the painful they feel pain and think the pain
which they experience to be real, and in like manner, when drawn away from
pain to the neutral or intermediate state, they firmly believe that they
have reached the goal of satiety and pleasure; they, not knowing pleasure,
err in contrasting pain with the absence of pain, which is like contrasting
black with grey instead of white--can you wonder, I say, at this?
No, indeed; I should be much more disposed to wonder at the opposite.
Look at the matter thus:--Hunger, thirst, and the like, are inanitions of
the bodily state?
Yes.
And ignorance and folly are inanitions of the soul?
True.
And food and wisdom are the corresponding satisfactions of either?
Certainly.
And is the satisfaction derived from that which has less or from that which
has more existence the truer?
Clearly, from that which has more.
What classes of things have a greater share of pure existence in your
judgment--those of which food and drink and condiments and all kinds of
sustenance are examples, or the class which contains true opinion and
knowledge and mind and all the different kinds of virtue? Put the question
in this way:--Which has a more pure being--that which is concerned with the
invariable, the immortal, and the true, and is of such a nature, and is
found in such natures; or that which is concerned with and found in the
variable and mortal, and is itself variable and mortal?
Far purer, he replied, is the being of that which is concerned with the
invariable.
And does the essence of the invariable partake of knowledge in the same
degree as of essence?
Yes, of knowledge in the same degree.
And of truth in the same degree?
Yes.
And, conversely, that which has less of truth will also have less of
essence?
Necessarily.
Then, in general, those kinds of things which are in the service of the
body have less of truth and essence than those which are in the service of
the soul?
Far less.
And has not the body itself less of truth and essence than the soul?
Yes.
What is filled with more real existence, and actually has a more real
existence, is more really filled than that which is filled with less real
existence and is less real?
Of course.
And if there be a pleasure in being filled with that which is according to
nature, that which is more really filled with more real being will more
really and truly enjoy true pleasure; whereas that which participates in
less real being will be less truly and surely satisfied, and will
participate in an illusory and less real pleasure?
Unquestionably.
Those then who know not wisdom and virtue, and are always busy with
gluttony and sensuality, go down and up again as far as the mean; and in
this region they move at random throughout life, but they never pass into
the true upper world; thither they neither look, nor do they ever find
their way, neither are they truly filled with true being, nor do they taste
of pure and abiding pleasure. Like cattle, with their eyes always looking
down and their heads stooping to the earth, that is, to the dining-table,
they fatten and feed and breed, and, in their excessive love of these
delights, they kick and butt at one another with horns and hoofs which are
made of iron; and they kill one another by reason of their insatiable lust.
For they fill themselves with that which is not substantial, and the part
of themselves which they fill is also unsubstantial and incontinent.
Verily, Socrates, said Glaucon, you describe the life of the many like an
oracle.
Their pleasures are mixed with pains--how can they be otherwise? For they
are mere shadows and pictures of the true, and are coloured by contrast,
which exaggerates both light and shade, and so they implant in the minds of
fools insane desires of themselves; and they are fought about as
Stesichorus says that the Greeks fought about the shadow of Helen at Troy
in ignorance of the truth.
Something of that sort must inevitably happen.
And must not the like happen with the spirited or passionate element of the
soul? Will not the passionate man who carries his passion into action, be
in the like case, whether he is envious and ambitious, or violent and
contentious, or angry and discontented, if he be seeking to attain honour
and victory and the satisfaction of his anger without reason or sense?
Yes, he said, the same will happen with the spirited element also.
Then may we not confidently assert that the lovers of money and honour,
when they seek their pleasures under the guidance and in the company of
reason and knowledge, and pursue after and win the pleasures which wisdom
shows them, will also have the truest pleasures in the highest degree which
is attainable to them, inasmuch as they follow truth; and they will have
the pleasures which are natural to them, if that which is best for each one
is also most natural to him?
Yes, certainly; the best is the most natural.
And when the whole soul follows the philosophical principle, and there is
no division, the several parts are just, and do each of them their own
business, and enjoy severally the best and truest pleasures of which they
are capable?
Exactly.
But when either of the two other principles prevails, it fails in attaining
its own pleasure, and compels the rest to pursue after a pleasure which is
a shadow only and which is not their own?
True.
And the greater the interval which separates them from philosophy and
reason, the more strange and illusive will be the pleasure?
Yes.
And is not that farthest from reason which is at the greatest distance from
law and order?
Clearly.
And the lustful and tyrannical desires are, as we saw, at the greatest
distance? Yes.
And the royal and orderly desires are nearest?
Yes.
Then the tyrant will live at the greatest distance from true or natural
pleasure, and the king at the least?
Certainly.
But if so, the tyrant will live most unpleasantly, and the king most
pleasantly?
Inevitably.
Would you know the measure of the interval which separates them?
Will you tell me?
There appear to be three pleasures, one genuine and two spurious: now the
transgression of the tyrant reaches a point beyond the spurious; he has run
away from the region of law and reason, and taken up his abode with certain
slave pleasures which are his satellites, and the measure of his
inferiority can only be expressed in a figure.
How do you mean?
I assume, I said, that the tyrant is in the third place from the oligarch;
the democrat was in the middle?
Yes.
And if there is truth in what has preceded, he will be wedded to an image
of pleasure which is thrice removed as to truth from the pleasure of the
oligarch?
He will.
And the oligarch is third from the royal; since we count as one royal and
aristocratical?
Yes, he is third.
Then the tyrant is removed from true pleasure by the space of a number
which is three times three?
Manifestly.
The shadow then of tyrannical pleasure determined by the number of length
will be a plane figure.
Certainly.
And if you raise the power and make the plane a solid, there is no
difficulty in seeing how vast is the interval by which the tyrant is parted
from the king.
Yes; the arithmetician will easily do the sum.
Or if some person begins at the other end and measures the interval by
which the king is parted from the tyrant in truth of pleasure, he will find
him, when the multiplication is completed, living 729 times more
pleasantly, and the tyrant more painfully by this same interval.
What a wonderful calculation! And how enormous is the distance which
separates the just from the unjust in regard to pleasure and pain!
Yet a true calculation, I said, and a number which nearly concerns human
life, if human beings are concerned with days and nights and months and
years. (729 NEARLY equals the number of days and nights in the year.)
Yes, he said, human life is certainly concerned with them.
Then if the good and just man be thus superior in pleasure to the evil and
unjust, his superiority will be infinitely greater in propriety of life and
in beauty and virtue?
Immeasurably greater.
Well, I said, and now having arrived at this stage of the argument, we may
revert to the words which brought us hither: Was not some one saying that
injustice was a gain to the perfectly unjust who was reputed to be just?
Yes, that was said.
Now then, having determined the power and quality of justice and injustice,
let us have a little conversation with him.
What shall we say to him?
Let us make an image of the soul, that he may have his own words presented
before his eyes.
Of what sort?
An ideal image of the soul, like the composite creations of ancient
mythology, such as the Chimera or Scylla or Cerberus, and there are many
others in which two or more different natures are said to grow into one.
There are said of have been such unions.
Then do you now model the form of a multitudinous, many-headed monster,
having a ring of heads of all manner of beasts, tame and wild, which he is
able to generate and metamorphose at will.
You suppose marvellous powers in the artist; but, as language is more
pliable than wax or any similar substance, let there be such a model as you
propose.
Suppose now that you make a second form as of a lion, and a third of a man,
the second smaller than the first, and the third smaller than the second.
That, he said, is an easier task; and I have made them as you say.
And now join them, and let the three grow into one.
That has been accomplished.
Next fashion the outside of them into a single image, as of a man, so that
he who is not able to look within, and sees only the outer hull, may
believe the beast to be a single human creature.
I have done so, he said.
And now, to him who maintains that it is profitable for the human creature
to be unjust, and unprofitable to be just, let us reply that, if he be
right, it is profitable for this creature to feast the multitudinous
monster and strengthen the lion and the lion-like qualities, but to starve
and weaken the man, who is consequently liable to be dragged about at the
mercy of either of the other two; and he is not to attempt to familiarize
or harmonize them with one another--he ought rather to suffer them to fight
and bite and devour one another.
Certainly, he said; that is what the approver of injustice says.
To him the supporter of justice makes answer that he should ever so speak
and act as to give the man within him in some way or other the most
complete mastery over the entire human creature. He should watch over the
many-headed monster like a good husbandman, fostering and cultivating the
gentle qualities, and preventing the wild ones from growing; he should be
making the lion-heart his ally, and in common care of them all should be
uniting the several parts with one another and with himself.
Yes, he said, that is quite what the maintainer of justice say.
And so from every point of view, whether of pleasure, honour, or advantage,
the approver of justice is right and speaks the truth, and the disapprover
is wrong and false and ignorant?
Yes, from every point of view.
Come, now, and let us gently reason with the unjust, who is not
intentionally in error. 'Sweet Sir,' we will say to him, 'what think you
of things esteemed noble and ignoble? Is not the noble that which subjects
the beast to the man, or rather to the god in man; and the ignoble that
which subjects the man to the beast?' He can hardly avoid saying Yes--can
he now?
Not if he has any regard for my opinion.
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.
Prev
| Next
| Contents
|