Republic

and when he had thus spoken the others were of reverent mind and approved, but Agamemnon was angry and bade him depart and not come again lest the scepter and the fillets of the god should not avail him. And ere his daughter should be released, he said, she would grow old in Argos with himself, and he ordered him to be off and not vex him if he wished to get home safe. And the old man on hearing this was frightened and departed in silence, and having gone apart from the camp he prayed at length to Apollo, invoking the appellations of the god, and reminding him of and asking requital for any of his gifts that had found favor whether in the building of temples or the sacrifice of victims. In return for these things he prayed that the Achaeans should suffer for his tears by the god’s shafts. It is in this way, my dear fellow, I said, that without imitation simple narration results. I understand, he said. Understand then, said I, that the opposite of this arises when one removes the words of the poet between and leaves the alternation of speeches. This too I understand, he said, —it is what happens in tragedy. You have conceived me most rightly, I said, and now I think I can make plain to you what I was unable to before, that there is one kind of poetry and tale-telling which works wholly through imitation, as you remarked, tragedy and comedy; and another which employs the recital of the poet himself, best exemplified, I presume, in the dithyramb[*](The dithyramb was technically a poem in honor of Bacchus. For its more or less conjectural history cf. Pickard-Cambridge, Dithyramb, Tragedy, and Comedy. Here, however, it is used broadly to designate the type of elaborate Greek lyric which like the odes of Pindar and Bacchylides narrates a myth or legend with little if any dialogue.); and there is again that which employs both, in epic poetry and in many other places, if you apprehend me. I understand now, he said, what you then meant. Recall then also the preceding statement that we were done with the what of speech and still had to consider the ’how.’ I remember. What I meant then was just this, that we must reach a decision whether we are to suffer our poets to narrate as imitators or in part as imitators and in part not, and what sort of things in each case, or not allow them to imitate[*](Again in the special limited sense.) at all. I divine, he said, that you are considering whether we shall admit tragedy and comedy into our city or not. Perhaps, said I, and perhaps even more than that.[*](This seems to imply that Plato already had in mind the extension of the discussion in the tenth book to the whole question of the moral effect of poetry and art.) For I certainly do not yet know myself, but whithersoever the wind, as it were, of the argument blows,[*](Cf. Theaetetus 172 D. But it is very naive to suppose that the sequence of Plato’s argument is not carefully planned in his own mind. Cf. Unity of Plato’s Thought, p. 5.) there lies our course. Well said, he replied. This then, Adeimantus, is the point we must keep in view, do we wish our guardians to be good mimics or not? Or is this also a consequence of what we said before, that each one could practise well only one pursuit and not many, but if he attempted the latter, dabbling in many things, he would fail of distinction in all? Of course it is. And does not the same rule hold for imitation, that the same man is not able to imitate many things well as he can one? No, he is not.

Still less, then, will he be able to combine the practice of any worthy pursuit with the imitation of many things and the quality of a mimic; since, unless I mistake, the same men cannot practise well at once even the two forms of imitation that appear most nearly akin, as the writing of tragedy and comedy[*](At the close of the Symposium Socrates constrains Agathon and Aristophanes to admit that one who has the science (τέχνη) of writing tragedy will also be able to write comedy. There is for Plato no contradiction, since poetry is for him not a science or art, but an inspiration.)? Did you not just now call these two imitations?I did, and you are right in saying that the same men are not able to succeed in both, nor yet to be at once good rhapsodists[*](The rhapsode Ion is a Homeric specialist who cannot interpret other poets. Cf. Ion 533 C.) and actors.True.But neither can the same men be actors for tragedies and comedies[*](Cf. Classical Review, vol. xiv. (1900), pp. 201 ff.)—and all these are imitations, are they not?Yes, imitations.And to still smaller coinage[*](Cf. Laws 846 E, Montaigne, Nostre suffisance est detaillée à menues pièces, Pope, Essay on Criticism, 60: One science only will one genius fit,So vast is art, so narrow human wit.) than this, in my opinion, Adeimantus, proceeds the fractioning of human faculty, so as to be incapable of imitating many things or of doing the things themselves of which the imitations are likenesses.Most true, he replied. If, then, we are to maintain our original principle, that our guardians, released from all other crafts, are to be expert craftsmen of civic liberty,[*](Cf. the fine passage in Laws 817 B ἡμεῖς ἐσμεν τραγωδίας αὐτοὶ ποιηταί, [Pindar] apud Plut. 807 C δημιουργὸς εὐνομίας καὶ δίκης.) and pursue nothing else that does not conduce to this, it would not be fitting for these to do nor yet to imitate anything else. But if they imitate they should from childhood up[*](Cf. 386 A.) imitate what is appropriate to them[*](i.e., δημιουργοῖς ἐλευθερίας )—men, that is, who are brave, sober, pious, free and all things of that kind; but things unbecoming the free man they should neither do nor be clever at imitating, nor yet any other shameful thing, lest from the imitation they imbibe the reality.[*](Cf. 606 B, Laws 656 B, 669 B-C, and Burke, Sublime and Beautiful iv. 4, anticipating James, Psychology ii. pp. 449, 451, and anticipated by Shakespeare’s (Cor. III. ii. 123) By my body’s action teach my mindA most inherent baseness.) Or have you not observed that imitations, if continued from youth far into life, settle down into habits and (second) nature[*](Cf. my paper on Φύσις, Μελέτη, Ἐπιστήμη, T.A.P.A. vol. xl. (1910) pp. 185 ff.) in the body, the speech, and the thought? Yes, indeed, said he. We will not then allow our charges, whom we expect to prove good men, being men, to play the parts of women and imitate a woman young or old wrangling with her husband, defying heaven, loudly boasting, fortunate in her own conceit, or involved in misfortune and possessed by grief and lamentation—still less a woman that is sick, in love, or in labor. Most certainly not, he replied. Nor may they imitate slaves, female and male, doing the offices of slaves. No, not that either.

Nor yet, as it seems, bad men who are cowards and who do the opposite of the things we just now spoke of, reviling and lampooning one another, speaking foul words in their cups or when sober and in other ways sinning against themselves and others in word and deed after the fashion of such men. And I take it they must not form the habit of likening themselves to madmen either in words nor yet in deeds. For while knowledge they must have[*](Cf. Laws 816 D-E.) both of mad and bad men and women, they must do and imitate nothing of this kind.Most true, he said. What of this? I said, —are they to imitate smiths and other craftsmen or the rowers of triremes and those who call the time to them or other things connected therewith? How could they, he said, since it will be forbidden them even to pay any attention to such things? Well, then, neighing horses[*](For this rejection of violent realism Cf. Laws 669 C-D. Plato describes exactly what Verhaeren’s admirers approve: often in his rhythm can be heard the beat of hammers, the hard, edged, regular whizzing of wheels, the whirring of looms, the hissing of locomotives; often the wild, restless tumult of the streets, the humming and rumbling of dense masses of people. (Stefan Zweig). So another modern critic celebrates the cry of a baby in a Strauss symphony, the sneers and snarls of his critics in his Helden Leben, the contortions of the Dragon in Wagner’s Siegfried .) and lowing bulls, and the noise of rivers and the roar of the sea and the thunder and everything of that kind—will they imitate these? Nay, they have been forbidden, he said, to be mad or liken themselves to madmen. If, then, I understand your meaning, said I, there is a form of diction and narrative in which the really good and true man would narrate anything that he had to say, and another form unlike this to which the man of the opposite birth and breeding would cleave and which he would tell his story. What are these forms? he said. A man of the right sort, I think, when he comes in the course of his narrative to some word or act of a good man will be willing to impersonate the other in reporting it, and will feel no shame at that kind of mimicry, by preference imitating the good man when he acts steadfastly and sensibly, and less and more reluctantly when he is upset by sickness or love or drunkenness or any other mishap. But when he comes to someone unworthy of himself, he will not wish to liken himself in earnest to one who is inferior,[*](Chaucer drew from a misapplication of Timaeus 29 B or Boethius the opposite moral: Who shall telle a tale after a man,He most reherse, as neighe as ever he can,Everich word, if it be in his charge,All speke he never so rudely and so large;Eke Plato sayeth, who so can him rede,The words most ben cosin to the dede.) except in the few cases where he is doing something good, but will be embarrassed both because he is unpractised in the mimicry of such characters, and also because he shrinks in distaste from molding and fitting himself the types of baser things. His mind disdains them, unless it be for jest.[*](Plato, like Howells and some other modern novelists, would have thought somewhat gross comedy less harmful than the tragedy or romance that insidiously instils false ideals.) Naturally, he said. Then the narrative that he will employ will be the kind that we just now illustrated by the verses of Homer, and his diction will be one that partakes of both, of imitation and simple narration, but there will be a small portion of imitation in a long discourse—or is there nothing in what I say? Yes, indeed,[*](The respondent plays on the double meaning of οὐδὲν λέγεις and replies, Yes indeed you do say something, namely the type and pattern, etc.) he said, that is the type and pattern of such a speaker.

Then, said I, the other kind speaker, the more debased he is the less will he shrink from imitating anything and everything. He will think nothing unworthy of himself, so that he will attempt, seriously and in the presence of many,[*](Cf. Gorgias 487 B, Euthydemus 305 B, Protagoras 323 B.) to imitate all things, including those we just now mentioned—claps of thunder, and the noise of wind and hail and axles and pulleys, and the notes of trumpets and flutes and pan-pipes, and the sounds of all instruments, and the cries of dogs, sheep, and birds; and so his style will depend wholly on imitation in voice and gesture, or will contain but a little of pure narration. That too follows of necessity, he said. These, then, said I, were the two types of diction of which I was aking. There are those two, he replied. Now does not one of the two involve slight variations,[*](Besides its suggestion of change and reaction the word is technical in music for the transition from one harmony to another.) and if we assign a suitable pitch and rhythm to the diction, is not the result that the right speaker speaks almost on the same note and in one cadence—for the changes are slight— and similarly in a rhythm of nearly the same kind? Quite so. But what of the other type? Does it not require the opposite, every kind of pitch and all rhythms, if it too is to have appropriate expression, since it involves manifold forms of variation? Emphatically so. And do all poets and speakers hit upon one type or the other of diction or some blend which they combine of both? They must, he said. What, then, said I, are we to do? Shall we admit all of these into the city, or one of the unmixed types, or the mixed type? If my vote prevails, he said, the unmixed imitator of the good. Nay, but the mixed type also is pleasing, Adeimantus, and far most pleasing to boys and their tutors and the great mob is the opposite of your choice. Most pleasing it is. But perhaps, said I, you would affirm it to be ill-suited to our polity, because there is no twofold or manifold man[*](The reverse of the Periclean ideal. Cf. Thucydides ii. 41.) among us, since every man does one thing. It is not suited. And is this not the reason why such a city is the only one in which we shall find the cobbler a cobbler and not a pilot in addition to his cobbling, and the farmer a farmer and not a judge added to his farming, and the soldier a soldier and not a money-maker in addition to his soldiery, and so of all the rest? True, he said.[*](The famous banishment of Homer, regarded as the prototype of the tragedian. Cf. 568 A-C, 595 B, 605 C, 607 D, Laws 656 C, 817 B)

If a man, then, it seems, who was capable by his cunning of assuming every kind of shape and imitating all things should arrive in our city, bringing with himself[*](Greek idiom achieves an effect impossible to English here, by the shift from the co-ordination of ποιήματα with αὐτός to the treatmnt of it as the object of ἐπιδείξασθαι and the possible double use of the latter as middle with αὐτός and transitive with ποιήματα. Cf. for a less striking example 427 D, Phaedrus 250 B-C.) the poems which he wished to exhibit, we should fall down and worship him as a holy and wondrous and delightful creature, but should say to him that there is no man of that kind among us in our city, nor is it lawful for such a man to arise among us, and we should send him away to another city, after pouring myrrh down over his head and crowning him with fillets of wool, but we ourselves, for our souls’ good, should continue to employ the more austere[*](Cf. from a different point of view Arnold’s The Austerity of Poetry.) and less delightful poet and tale-teller, who would imitate the diction of the good man and would tell his tale in the patterns which we prescribed in the beginning,[*](Cf. 379 A ff.) when we set out to educate our soldiers.We certainly should do that if it rested with us.And now, my friend, said I, we may say that we have completely finished the part of music that concerns speeches and tales. For we have set forth what is to be said and how it is to be said. I think so too, he replied. After this, then, said I, comes the manner of song and tunes? Obviously. And having gone thus far, could not everybody discover what we must say of their character in order to conform to what has already been said? I am afraid that everybody does not include me, laughed Glaucon[*](He laughs at his own mild joke, which Professor Wilamowitz (Platon ii. p. 192) does not understand. Cf. Laws 859 E, Hippias Major 293 A ἢ οὐχ εἷς τῶν ἁπάντων καὶ Ἡρακλῆς ἦν; and in a recent novel, I am afraid everybody does not include me, she smiled.); I cannot sufficiently divine off-hand what we ought to say, though I have a suspicion. You certainly, I presume, said I, have sufficient a understanding of this—that the song[*](The complete song includes words, rhythms, and harmony, that is, a pitch system of high and low notes. Harmony is also used technically of the peculiar Greek system of scales or modes. Cf. Monro, Modes of Ancient Greek Music.) is composed of three things, the words, the tune, and the rhythm? Yes, said he, that much. And so far as it is words, it surely in no manner differs from words not sung in the requirement of conformity to the patterns and manner that we have prescribed? True, he said. And again, the music and the rhythm must follow the speech.[*](The poets at first composed their own music to fit the words. When, with the further development of music, there arose the practice of distorting the words, as in a mere libretto, it provoked a storm of protest from conservatives in aesthetics and morals.) Of course. But we said we did not require dirges and lamentations in words. We do not. What, then, are the dirge-like modes of music? Tell me, for you are a musician. The mixed Lydian,[*](The modes of Greek music are known to the English reader only from Milton’s allusions, his Lap me in soft Lydian airs and, P. L. i. 549 f., his Anon they move in perfect phalanx to the Dorian moodOf flutes and soft recorders; such as rasiedTo highth of noblest temper heroes old. The adaptation of particualr modes, harmonies, or scales to the expression of particular feelings is something that we are obliged to accept on faith. Plato’s statements here were challenged by some later critics, but the majority believed that there was a connection between modes of music and modes of feeling, as Ruskin and many others have in our day. The hard-headed Epicureans and sceptics denied it, as well as the moral significance of music generally.) he said, and the tense or higher Lydian, and similar modes. These, then, said I, we must do away with. For they are useless even to women[*](Cf. 387 E.) who are to make the best of themselves, let alone to men. Assuredly. But again, drunkenness is a thing most unbefitting guardians, and so is softness and sloth. Yes. What, then, are the soft and convivial modes? There are certain Ionian and also Lydian modes that are called lax.

Will you make any use of them for warriors?None at all, he said; but it would seem that you have left the Dorian and the Phrygian. I don’t know[*](Plato, like a lawyer or popular essayist, affects ignorance of the technical details; or perhaps rather he wishes to disengage his main principle from the specialists’ controversy about particular modes of music and their names.) the musical modes, I said, but leave us that mode[*](ἐκείνην may mean, but does not say, Dorian, which the Laches (188 D) pronounces the only true Greek harmony. This long anacoluthic sentence sums up the whole matter with impressive repetition and explicit enumeration of all types of conduct in peace and war, and implied reference to Plato’s doctrine of the two fundamental temperaments, the swift and the slow, the energetic and the mild. Cf. Unity of Plato’s Thought, nn. 59, 70, 481.) that would fittingly imitate the utterances and the accents of a brave man who is engaged in warfare or in any enforced business, and who, when he has failed, either meeting wounds or death or having fallen into some other mishap, in all these conditions confronts fortune with steadfast endurance and repels her strokes. And another for such a man engaged in works of peace, not enforced but voluntary,[*](Cf. Laws 814 E.) either trying to persuade somebody of something and imploring him—whether it be a god, through prayer, or a man, by teaching and admonition—or contrariwise yielding himself to another who petitioning or teaching him or trying to change his opinions, and in consequence faring according to his wish, and not bearing himself arrogantly, but in all this acting modestly and moderately and acquiescing in the outcome. Leave us these two modes—the forced and the voluntary—that will best imitate the utterances of men failing or succeeding, the temperate, the brave—leave us these. Well, said he, you are asking me to leave none other than those I just spoke of. Then, said I, we shall not need in our songs and airs instruments of many strings or whose compass includes all the harmonies. Not in my opinion, said he. Then we shall not maintain makers of triangles and harps and all other many stringed and poly-harmonic[*](Metaphorically. The many-toned instrumentation of the flutes, as Pindar calls it, Ol. vii. 12, can vie with the most complex and many-stringed lyre of musical innovation.) instruments. Apparently not. Well, will you admit to the city flute-makers and flute-players? Or is not the flute the most many-stringed of instruments and do not the pan-harmonics[*](Cf. 404 D, the only other occurrence of the word in Plato.) themselves imitate it? Clearly, he said. You have left, said I, the lyre and the cither. These are useful[*](Cf. my note on Timaeus 47 C, in A.J.P. vol. x. p. 61.) in the city, and in the fields the shepherds would have a little piccolo to pipe on.[*](Ancient critics noted this sentence as an adaptation of sound to sense. Cf. Demetr. Περὶ ἑρμ. 185. The sigmas and iotas may be fancied to suggest the whistling notes of the syrinx. So Lucretius v. 1385 tibia quas fundit digitis pulsata canentum. Cf. on Catullus 61. 13 voce carmina tinnula.) So our argument indicates, he said. We are not innovating, my friend, in preferring Apollo and the instruments of Apollo to Marsyas and his instruments. No, by heaven! he said, I think not. And by the dog,[*](The so-called Rhadamanthine oath to avoid taking the names of the gods in vain. Cf. 592 A, Apology 21 E, Blaydes on Aristophanes Wasps 83.) said I, we have all unawares purged the city which a little while ago we said was wanton.[*](Cf. 372 E. Dummler, Proleg. p. 62, strangely affirms that this is an express retraction of the ἀληθινὴ πόλις. This is to misapprehend Plato’s method. He starts with the indispensable minimum of a simple society, develops it by Herbert Spencer’s multiplication of effects into an ordinary Greek city, then reforms it by a reform of education and finally transforms it into his ideal state by the rule of the philosopher kings. Cf. Introduction p. xiv.) In that we show our good sense, he said. Come then, let us complete the purification.

For upon harmonies would follow the consideration of rhythms: we must not pursue complexity nor great variety in the basic movements,[*](Practically the feet.) but must observe what are the rhythms of a life that is orderly and brave, and after observing them require the foot and the air to conform to that kind of man’s speech and not the speech to the foot and the tune. What those rhythms would be, it is for you to tell us as you did the musical modes.Nay, in faith, he said, I cannot tell. For that there are some three forms[*](According to the ancient musicians these are the equal as e.g. in dactyls (–⏑⏑), spondees (––) and anapests (⏑⏑–), where the foot divides into two equal quantities; the 3/2 ratio, as in the so-called cretic (⏑–⏑); the 2/1 as in the iamb (⏑–) and trochee (–⏑). Cf. Aristid. Quint. i. pp. 34-35.) from which the feet are combined, just as there are four[*](Possibly the four notes of the tetrachord, but there is no agreement among experts. Cf. Monro, Modes of Ancient Greek Music.) in the notes of the voice whence come all harmonies, is a thing that I have observed and could tell. But which are imitations of which sort of life, I am unable to say.[*](Modern psychologists are still debating the question.) Well, said I, on this point we will take counsel with Damon,[*](The Platonic Socrates frequently refers to Damon as his musical expert. Cf. Laches 200 B, 424 C, Alc. I. 118 C.) too, as to which are the feet appropriate to illiberality, and insolence or madness or other evils, and what rhythms we must leave for their opposites; and I believe I have heard him obscurely speaking[*](There is a hint of satire in this disclaimer of expert knowledge. Cf. 399 A. There is no agreement among modern experts with regard to the precise form of the so-called enoplios. Cf. my review of Herkenrath’s Der Enoplios, Class. Phil . vol. iii. p. 360, Goodell, Chapters on Greek Metric, pp. 185 and 189, Blaydes on Aristophanes Nubes 651.) of a foot that he called the enoplios, a composite foot, and a dactyl and an heroic[*](Possibly foot, possibly rhythm. δάκτυλον seems to mean the foot, while ἡρῷος is the measure based on dactyls but admitting spondees.) foot, which he arranged, I know not how, to be equal up and down[*](ἄνω καὶ κάτω is an untranslatable gibe meaning literally and technically the upper and lower half of the foot, the arsis and thesis, but idiomatically meaning topsy-turvy. There is a similar play on the idiom in Philebus 43 A and 43 B.) in the interchange of long and short,[*](Literally becoming or issuing in long and short, long, that is, when a spondee is used, short when a dactyl.) and unless I am mistaken he used the term iambic, and there was another foot that he called the trochaic, and he added the quantities long and short. And in some of these, I believe, he censured and commended the tempo of the foot no less than the rhythm itself, or else some combination of the two; I can’t say. But, as I said, let this matter be postponed for Damon’s consideration. For to determine the truth of these would require no little discourse. Do you think otherwise? No, by heaven, I do not. But this you are able to determine—that seemliness and unseemliness are attendant upon the good rhythm and the bad. Of course. And, further,[*](Plato, as often, employs the forms of an argument proceeding by minute links to accumulate synonyms in illustration of a moral or aesthetic analogy. He is working up to the Wordsworthian thought that order, harmony, and beauty in nature and art are akin to these qualities in the soul.) that good rhythm and bad rhythm accompany, the one fair diction, assimilating itself thereto, and the other the opposite, and so of the apt and the unapt, if, as we were just now saying, the rhythm and harmony follow the words and not the words these. They certainly must follow the speech, he said. And what of the manner of the diction, and the speech? said I. Do they not follow and conform to the disposition of the soul? Of course. And all the rest to the diction? Yes. Good speech, then, good accord, and good grace, and good rhythm wait upon good disposition, not that weakness of head which we euphemistically style goodness of heart, but the truly good and fair disposition of the character and the mind.[*](Plato recurs to the etymological meaning of εὐήθεια. Cf. on 343 C.) By all means, he said. And must not our youth pursue these everywhere[*](The Ruskinian and Wordsworthian generalization is extended from music to all the fine arts, including, by the way, architecture (οἰκοδομία), which Butcher (Aristotle’s Theory of Poetry, p. 138) says is ignored by Plato and Aristotle.) if they are to do what it is truly theirs to do[*](Their special task is to cultivate true εὐήθεια in their souls. For τὸ αὑτῶν πράττειν here Cf. 443 C-D.)? They must indeed.

And there is surely much of these qualities in painting and in all similar craftsmanship[*](The following page is Plato’s most eloquent statement of Wordsworth’s, Ruskin’s, and Tennyson’s gospel of beauty for the education of the young. He repeats it in Laws 668 B. Cf. my paper on Some Ideals of Education in Plato’s Republic, Educational Bi-monthly, vol. ii. (1907-1908) pp. 215 ff.)—weaving is full of them and embroidery and architecture and likewise the manufacture of household furnishings and thereto the natural bodies of animals and plants as well. For in all these there is grace or gracelessness. And gracelessness and evil rhythm and disharmony are akin to evil speaking and the evil temper but the opposites are the symbols and the kin of the opposites, the sober and good disposition.Entirely so, he said. Is it, then, only the poets that we must supervise and compel to embody in their poems the semblance of the good character or else not write poetry among us, or must we keep watch over the other craftsmen, and forbid them to represent the evil disposition, the licentious, the illiberal, the graceless, either in the likeness of living creatures or in buildings or in any other product of their art, on penalty, if unable to obey, of being forbidden to practise their art among us, that our guardians may not be bred among symbols of evil, as it were in a pasturage of poisonous herbs, lest grazing freely and cropping from many such day by day they little by little and all unawares accumulate and build up a huge mass of evil in their own souls. But we must look for those craftsmen who by the happy gift of nature are capable of following the trail of true beauty and grace, that our young men, dwelling as it were in a salubrious region, may receive benefit from all things about them, whence the influence that emanates from works of beauty may waft itself to eye or ear like a breeze that brings from wholesome places health, and so from earliest childhood insensibly guide them to likeness, to friendship, to harmony with beautiful reason. Yes, he said, that would be far the best education for them. And is it not for this reason, Glaucon, said I, that education in music is most sovereign,[*](Schopenhauer, following Plato, adds the further metaphysical reason that while the other arts imitate the external manifestations of the universal Will, music represents the Will itself.) because more than anything else rhythm and harmony find their way to the inmost soul and take strongest hold upon it, bringing with them and imparting grace, if one is rightly trained, and otherwise the contrary?

And further, because omissions and the failure of beauty in things badly made or grown would be most quickly perceived by one who was properly educated in music, and so, feeling distaste[*](Cf. 362 B, 366 C, 388 A, 391 E, and Ruskin’s paradox that taste is the only morality.) rightly, he would praise beautiful things and take delight in them and receive them into his soul to foster its growth and become himself beautiful and good. The ugly he would rightly disapprove of and hate while still young and yet unable to apprehend the reason, but when reason came[*](Cf. Laws 653 B-C, where Plato defines education by this principle. Aristotle virtually accepts it (Ethics ii. 3. 2). The Stoics somewhat pedantically laid it down that reason entered into the youth at the age of fourteen.) the man thus nurtured would be the first to give her welcome, for by this affinity he would know her.I certainly think, he said, that such is the cause of education in music. It is, then, said I, as it was when we learned our letters and felt that we knew them sufficiently only when the separate letters did not elude us, appearing as few elements in all the combinations that convey them, and when we did not disregard them in small things or great[*](Plato often employs letters or elements (στοιχεῖα) to illustrate the acquisition of knowledge (Theaetetus 206 A), the relation of elements to compounds, the principles of classification (Philebus 18 C, Cratylus 393 D), and the theory of ideas (Politicus 278 A. Cf. Isocrates xiii. 13, Xenophon Memorabilia iv. 4. 7, Blass, Attische Beredsamkeit, ii. pp. 23 f., 348 f., Cicero De or. ii. 130).) and think it unnecessary to recognize them, but were eager to distinguish them everywhere, in the belief that we should never be literate and letter-perfect till we could do this. True. And is it not also true that if there are any likenesses[*](It is of course possible to contrast images with the things themselves, and to speak of forms or species without explicit allusion to the metaphysical doctrine of ideas. But on the other hand there is not the slightest reason to assume that the doctrine and its terminology were not familiar to Plato at the time when this part of the Republic was written. Cf. Unity of Plato’s Thought, pp. 31 ff., 35. Statistics of the use of εἶδος and ἰδέα (Peiper’s Ontologica Platonica, Taylor, Varia Socratica, Wilamowitz, Platon, ii. pp. 249-253), whatever their philological interest, contribute nothing to the interpretation of Plato’s thought. Cf. my De Platonis Idearum Doctrina, pp. 1, 30, and Class Phil . vol. vi. pp. 363-364. There is for common sense no contradiction or problem in the fact that Plato here says that we cannot be true musicians till we recognize both the forms and all copies of, or approximations to, them in art or nature, while in Book X (601) he argues that the poet and artist copy not the idea but its copy in the material world.) of letters reflected in water or mirrors, we shall never know them until we know the originals, but such knowledge belongs to the same art and discipline[*](Plato, like all intellectuals, habitually assumes that knowledge of principles helps practice. Cf. Phaedrus 259 E, 262 B, and 484 D, 520 C, 540 A.)? By all means. Then, by heaven, am I not right in saying that by the same token we shall never be true musicians, either— neither we nor the guardians that we have undertaken to educate—until we are able to recognize the forms of soberness, courage, liberality,[*](Liberality and high-mindedness, or rather, perhaps, magnificence, are among the virtues defined in Aristotle’s list (Eth. Nic. 1107 b 17), but are not among the four cardinal virtues which the Republic will use in Book IV. in the comparison of the indivdual with the state.) and high-mindedness and all their kindred and their opposites, too, in all the combinations that contain and convey them, and to apprehend them and their images wherever found, disregarding them neither in trifles nor in great things, but believing the knowledge of them to belong to the same art and discipline? The conclusion is inevitable, he said. Then, said I, when there is a coincidence[*](Symposium 209 B τὸ συναμφότερον, 210 C, Wilamowitz, vol. ii. p. 192.) of a beautiful disposition in the soul and corresponding and harmonious beauties of the same type in the bodily form—is not this the fairest spectacle for one who is capable of its contemplation[*](Music and beauty lead to the philosophy of love, more fully set forth in the Phaedrus and Symposium, and here dismissed in a page. Plato’s practical conclusion here may be summed up in the Virgilian line (Aeneid v. 344): Gratior et pulchro veniens in corpore virtus.)? Far the fairest. And surely the fairest is the most lovable. Of course. The true musician, then, would love by preference persons of this sort; but if there were disharmony he would not love this. No, he said, not if there was a defect in the soul; but if it were in the body he would bear with it and still be willing to bestow his love. I understand, I said, that you have or have had favorites of this sort and I grant your distinction. But tell me this—can there be any communion between soberness and extravagant pleasure[*](Extravagant pleasure is akin to madness. Cf. Philebus 47 A-C, Phaedo 83 C-D.)? How could there be, he said, since such pleasure puts a man beside himself no less than pain? Or between it and virtue generally?

By no means.But is there between pleasure and insolence and licence?Most assuredly.Do you know of greater or keener pleasure than that associated with Aphrodite?I don’t, he said, nor yet of any more insane. But is not the right love a sober and harmonious love of the orderly and the beautiful? It is indeed, said he. Then nothing of madness, nothing akin to licence, must be allowed to come nigh the right love? No. Then this kind of pleasure may not come nigh, nor may lover and beloved who rightly love and are loved have anything to do with it? No, by heaven, Socrates, he said, it must not come nigh them. Thus, then, as it seems, you will lay down the law in the city that we are founding, that the lover may kiss[*](Cf. 468 B-C.) and pass the time with and touch the beloved as a father would a son, for honorable ends, if he persuade him. But otherwise he must so associate with the objects of his care that there should never be any suspicion of anything further, on penalty of being stigmatized for want of taste and true musical culture. Even so, he said. Do you not agree, then, that our discourse on music has come to an end? It has certainly made a fitting end, for surely the end and consummation of culture be love of the beautiful. I concur, he said. After music our youth are to be educated by gymnastics? Certainly. In this too they must be carefully trained from boyhood through life, and the way of it is this, I believe; but consider it yourself too. For I, for my part, do not believe that a sound body by its excellence makes the soul good, but on the contrary that a good soul by its virtue renders the body the best that is possible.[*](The dependence of body on soul, whether in a mystical, a moral, or a medical sense, is a favorite doctrine of Plato and the Platonists. Cf. Charmides 156-157, Spenser, An Hymn in Honour of Beauty: For of the soul the body form doth take,For soul is form, and doth the body make, and Shelley, The Sensitive Plant: A lady, the wonder of her kind,Whose form was upborne by a lovely mind,Which dilating had moulded her mien and her motionLike a sea-flower unfolded beneath the ocean. Cf. also Democr. fr. B. 187 Diels.) What is your opinion? I think so too. Then if we should sufficiently train the mind and turn over to it the minutiae of the care of the body, and content ourselves with merely indicating the norms or patterns, not to make a long story of it, we should acting rightly? By all means. From intoxication[*](Cf. 398 E. There is no contradiction between this and the half-serious proposal of the Laws to use supervised drinking-bouts as a safe test of character (Laws 641).) we said that they must abstain. For a guardian is surely the last person in the world to whom it is allowable to get drunk and not know where on earth he is. Yes, he said, it would absurd that a guardian[*](γε emphasizes what follows from the very meaning of the word. Cf. 379 B, 389 B, 435 A.) should need a guard. What next about their food? These men are athletes in the greatest of contests,[*](Cf. 543 B, 621 D, Laches 182 A, Laws 830 A, Demosthenes xxv. 97 ἀθληταὶ τῶν καλῶν ἔργων.) are they not? Yes.

Is, then, the bodily habit of the athletes we see about us suitable for such?Perhaps.Nay, said I, that is a drowsy habit and precarious for health. Don’t you observe that they sleep away their lives,[*](Cf. Ἐράσται 132 C καθεύδων πάντα τὸν βίον. Xenophanes, Euripides, Aristotle, and the medical writers, like Plato, protest against the exaggerated honor paid to athletes and the heavy sluggishness induced by overfeeeding and overtraining.) and that if they depart ever so little from their prescribed regimen these athletes are liable to great and violent diseases? I do. Then, said I, we need some more ingenious form of training for our athletes of war, since these must be as it were sleepless hounds, and have the keenest possible perceptions of sight and hearing, and in their campaigns undergo many changes[*](Laws 797 D. Cf. 380 E. Aristotle’s comment on μεταβολή, Eth. Nic. 1154 b 28 ff., is curiously reminiscent of Plato, including the phrase ἁπλῆ οὐδ’ ἐπιεικής.) in their drinking water, their food, and in exposure to the heat of the sun and to storms,[*](Perhaps in the context cold.) without disturbance of their health. I think so. Would not, then, the best gymnastics be akin to the music that we were just now describing? What do you mean? It would be a simple and flexible[*](Literally equitable, if we translate ἐπιεικής by its later meaning, that is, not over-precise or rigid in conformity to rule. Adam is mistaken in saying that ἐπιεικής is practically synonymous with ἀγαθή. It sometimes is, but not here. Cf. Plutarch, De san. 13 ἀκριβὴς . . . καὶ δι’ ὄνυχος.) gymnastic, and especially so in the training for war. In what way? One could learn that, said I, even from Homer.[*](So Laws 706 D. The καί is perhaps merely idiomatic in quotation.) For you are aware that in the banqueting of the heroes on campaign he does not feast them on fish,[*](Homer’s ignoring of fish diet, except in stress of starvation, has been much and idly discussed both in antiquity and by modern scholars. Modern pseudo-science has even inferred from this passage that Plato placed a taboo on fish, though they are at the sea-side on the Hellespont, which Homer calls fish-teeming, Iliad ix. 360.) nor on boiled meat, but only on roast, which is what soldiers could most easily procure. For everywhere, one may say, it is of easier provision to use the bare fire than to convey pots and pans[*](Cf. Green, History of English People, Book II. chap. ii., an old description of the Scotch army: They have therefore no occasion for pots and pans, for they dress the flesh of the cattle in their skins after they have flayed them, etc. But cf. Athenaeus, i. 8-9 (vol. i. p. 36 L.C.L.), Diogenes Laertius viii. 13 ὥστε εὐπορίστους αὐτοῖς εἶναι τὰς τροφάς.) along. Indeed it is. Neither, as I believe, does Homer ever make mention of sweet meats. Is not that something which all men in training understand—that if one is to keep his body in good condition he must abstain from such things altogether? They are right, he said, in that they know it and do abstain. Then, my friend, if you think this is the right way, you apparently do not approve of a Syracusan table[*](Proverbial, like the Corinthian maid and the Attic pastry. Cf. Otto, Sprichw. d. Rom. p. 321, Newman, Introduction to Aristotle’s Politics, p. 302. Cf. also Phaedrus 240 B.) and Sicilian variety of made dishes. I think not. You would frown, then, on a little Corinthian maid as the chère amie of men who were to keep themselves fit? Most certainly. And also on the seeming delights of Attic pastry? Inevitably. In general, I take it, if we likened that kind of food and regimen to music and song expressed in the pan-harmonic mode and in every variety of rhythm it would be a fair comparison. Quite so. And here variety engendered licentiousness, did it not, but here disease? While simplicity in music begets sobriety in the souls, and in gymnastic training it begets health in bodies. Most true, he said.

And when licentiousness and disease multiply in a city, are not many courts of law and dispensaries opened, and the arts of chicane[*](δικανική: more contemptuous than δικαστική.) and medicine give themselves airs when even free men in great numbers take them very seriously?How can they help it? he said. Will you be able to find a surer proof of an evil and shameful state of education in a city than the necessity of first-rate physicians and judges, not only for the base and mechanical, but for those who claim to have been bred in the fashion of free men? Do you not think it disgraceful and a notable mark of bad breeding to have to make use of a justice imported from others, who thus become your masters and judges, from lack of such qualities in yourself[*](I have given the sense. The contruction is debated accordingly as we read ἀπορία or ἀπορίᾳ. Cf. Phaedrus 239 D, of the use of cosmetics, χήτει οἰκείων. The καί with ἀπορίᾳ is awkward or expresses the carelessness of conversation.)? The most shameful thing in the world. Is it? said I, or is this still more shameful[*](Plato likes to emphasize by pointing to a lower depth or a higher height beyond the superlative.)—when a man only wears out the better part of his days in the courts of law as defendant or accuser, but from the lack of all true sense of values[*](There is no exact English equivalent for ἀπειροκαλία, the insensitiveness to the καλόν of the banausic, the nouveau riche and the Philistine.) is led to plume himself on this very thing, as being a smart fellow to put over an unjust act and cunningly to try every dodge and practice,[*](The phrasing of this passage recalls passages of Aristophanes’ Clouds, and the description of the pettifogging lawyer and politician in the Theaetetus 172 E. Cf. 519, also Euthydemus 302 B, and Porphyry, De abstinentia, i. 34. The metaphors are partly from wrestling.) every evasion, and wriggle[*](Cf. Blaydes on Aristophanes Knights 263.) out of every hold in defeating justice, and that too for trifles and worthless things, because he does not know how much nobler and better it is to arrange his life so as to have no need[*](Cf. Gorgias 507 D, Thucydides iii. 82, Isocrates Antidosis 238, Antiphanes, fr. 288 Kock ὁ μηδὲν ἀδικῶν οὐδενὸς δεῖται νόμου.) of a nodding juryman? That is, said he, still more shameful than the other. And to require medicine, said I, not merely for wounds or the incidence of some seasonal maladies, but, because of sloth and such a regimen as we described, to fill one’s body up with winds and humors like a marsh and compel the ingenious sons of Aesculapius to invent for diseases such names as fluxes and flatulences—don’t you think that disgraceful?[*](Plato ridicules the unsavory metaphors required to describe the effects of auto-intoxication. There is a similar bit of somewhat heavier satire in Spencer’s Social Statics, 1868, p. 32: Carbuncled noses, cadaverous faces, foetid breaths, and plethoric bodies meet us at every turn; and our condolences are prepetually asked for headaches, flatulences, nightmare, heartburn, and endless other dyspeptic symptoms.) Those surely are, he said, new-fangled and monstrous strange names of diseases. There was nothing of the kind, I fancy, said I, in the days of Aesculapius. I infer this from the fact that at Troy his sons did not find fault with the damsel who gave to the wounded Eurypylus[*](Plato is probably quoting from memory. In our text, Iliad xi. 624, Hecamede gives the draught to Machaon and Nestor as the Ion (538 B) correctly states.) to drink a posset of Pramnian wine plentifully sprinkled with barley and gratings of cheese, inflammatory ingredients of a surety, nor did they censure Patroclus, who was in charge of the case.