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 newfangled 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 falls, 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 bodyguard 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, the rest of the people are well disposed, they go away
and become the bodyguard 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, cutpurses, footpads, 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.
SOCRATES - GLAUCON
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 judgement 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 tc 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
complete, 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.
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
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 's his own he certainly will, though in the land of his
birth perhaps not, unless he have a divine call.
I understand; you mean
that he will be a ruler in the city of which we are the founders, and which
exists in idea only; for I do not believe that there is such an one anywhere on
earth?
In heaven, I replied,
there is laid up a pattern of it, methinks, which he who desires may behold, and
beholding, may set his own house in order. But whether such an one exists, or
ever will exist in fact, is no matter; for he will live after the manner of that
city, having nothing to do with any other.
I think so, he said.
Book
9: On Wrong or Right Government, and the Pleasures of Each