The works of Plato · Plato
ARGUMENT.
CHAP. IX.—Does he not, in the first place, resemble it in valuing money above all things? Of course he does. And he does so surely in being sparing and laborious, satisfying only his necessary desires, and not allowing himself any other expenses, but subduing the other desires as foolish. Certainly. And in being, said I, a sordid kind of man, making gain of everything, intent on hoarding,—one, such as the multitude extols, will not this be the man that resembles such a form of government? Aye, I think so, he replied: wealth at least must be highly valued by the state, as well as by the individual of such a character. Aye,—for I do not think, said I, that such a man has attended to education. I do not think he has, said he; for he would not then have chosen a blind guide for his chorus.[230] But further still, consider this attentively, said I;—must we not say that, owing to his want of education, dronish desires springing in him, some of them beggarly, and some mischievous, forcibly kept under restraint by the rest of his pursuits? Just so, said he. Do you know, then, said I, where you will best observe their wickedness? Where? said he.
And these, I suppose, stand in our state both spurred, and in armour; some in debt, others in disgrace, others in both, hating and conspiring against those who have got what belonged to them, and against others also, for mere love of change. Aye, such is the case. These usurers, however, bent on their own interests, and apparently unobservant of these, wound all that ever yield to them by advancing them money, and so, by getting multiplied interest for the parent principal,[231] fill the state with many a drone and pauper. Aye, with many a one, he replied. And even when such an evil is raging in the state, said I, they are not willing to extinguish it, not even by restraining people from spending their property at pleasure, nor yet in this way by making another law to destroy such disorders. What law? One that shall follow the other, compelling the citizens to cultivate virtue; for if they were bidden to engage in voluntary contracts chiefly at their own hazard, their usurers would create less scandal in the state, and fewer also of the evils now mentioned would arise therein. Far fewer, said he.
At present, however, said I, it is by all these means that the governors in the state thus dispose of the governed; and both as to themselves and those belonging to them, do they not render the youths luxurious and idle as respects all bodily and mental exercises, effeminate in bearing pleasure and pains, and indolent likewise? What else? And as to themselves, they neglect everything but the acquisition of wealth, and pay no more regard to virtue than the poor? No, surely. Having then been thus trained up, when the governors and their subjects are thrown together, either on a journey along the road, or in other meetings, either at public spectacles, or on warlike expeditions, either as fellow-sailors or fellow-soldiers, or when they see one another in real dangers, the poor in this case are by no means despised by the rich;—but very often a robust fellow, poor and sunburnt, whose post in battle is by the side of a rich man bred up in the shade, and swoln with much unnecessary fat,[232] if he should see him panting for breath and in agony,—think you not, he will consider such persons to grow rich to their own injury, and will say to his fellow, when meeting in private, that our rich men are good for nothing?
CHAP. XI.—In what way then, said I, do these live,—and what will be the character of this government;—for it is plain, that a man of this kind will appear democratic? It is plain, said he. First, then, are they not free, and is not the state full of freedom of action, and speech, and each one at liberty to do what he pleases? So it is said, he replied. And where there is liberty, every one will evidently regulate his own plan of life just as he pleases? Plainly so. Under such a government especially, methinks, men of all characters will spring up. Of course. This, said I, seems likely to be the best of all governments;—just as a various-coloured robe, embroidered with flowers of all kinds,—so will this appear best, variegated as it is with all sorts of manners. Of course, said he. And perhaps too, said I, the multitude will reckon this the best, just as children and women looking at embroidered dresses. Very likely, said he. Aye, my excellent friend, here is a state in which we may fitly look for a government. How so?
Because it comprises all kinds of government on the score of its liberty; and it seems necessary for one that desires to establish a state, as we are now doing, to come to any democratic state, the form of which he likes, as to a general political fair, and establish that which he has chosen. Aye, said he, he would probably be in no want of models. Is not this, said I, a divine and pleasant kind of life for the present,—that there be no need of governing in this state, even though you be able to do so,—nor yet of being a subject, unless you please,—nor of engaging in war because others do,—nor of keeping peace when others keep it, unless you desire peace;—nor again, though there be a law that restrains you from governing or administering justice, yet you no less shall govern and administer justice, if so disposed? It is likely, said he;—in this particular at least. But what; is not their lenience towards some of those who are condemned very polite; and in such a government did you never yet see its lenity towards men condemned to death or banishment, who nevertheless remain there in open intercourse, the banished man, too, returning like a hero as if no one attended to or observed him?
CHAP. XII.—Consider then, said I, what kind of man such an one is in private; or shall we first consider, as we did with respect to the government, in what manner he is formed? Yes, said he. Is he not then formed in this manner,—namely, from the parsimonious man who was under the oligarchy,—as a son, trained up under his father according to his habits? Of course. Such an one forcibly governs his own pleasures,—such as are expensive, but not tending to the acquisition of wealth, which are hence called unnecessary. It is plain, said he. That we may not argue in the dark then, said I, let us first, if you please, determine what desires are necessary, and what are not. Willingly, said he. May not such be justly called necessary, which we cannot get rid of, and the gratification of which does us service? For both these kinds our nature must necessarily seek after; must it not? Quite so. This then, we may justly say, is a necessary part to these desires? Justly. But what now? Such desires as a man may relinquish, if he try to do so from his youth, and which while they remain, do no good, if we say of these that they are not necessary, shall we not say right? Right, indeed.
Let us select a pattern of each, that we may understand from example what they are. Quite right. Is not the desire of eating necessary so far as is conducive to health and a good habit of body, and the desire of food and victuals? I think so. The desire of food, at least, is necessary on two accounts, as being advantageous in itself, and because the want of it must bring life to an end.[234] It is. And the desire of victuals is likewise necessary, as contributing towards a good habit of body. Certainly. But what?—even such desire as goes beyond these things, or any other sorts of meats, and yet can be curbed from youth, and trained to abstain from most things, and which is hurtful both to body and soul as regards the attainment of wisdom and temperance, may not that be rightly called unnecessary? Most rightly, indeed. May we not say then that these too are expensive, and the others frugal, as they conduce towards the actions of life? Of course. We may speak in the same manner, surely, of venereal, and the other desires? In the same manner. And did we not, by him whom we just now called the drone, indicate a person full of such desires and pleasures, and governed by those that are unnecessary; but one governed by those merely necessary, a parsimonious man, and disposed to an oligarchy? Without doubt.
This is sometimes the case, said he. And again, I suppose, when some desires retire, others allied to them secretly grow up, which through neglect of parental instruction, become both many and powerful. This is usually the case, said he. They draw them then towards the same intimacies as before, and through their connexions secretly generate a multitude? What else? And in the end, I think, they seize the citadel of the youth’s soul, because they find it empty, as regards virtuous pursuits and true reasoning,—the best guardians and preservers of the rational part of men dear to the gods. Just so, said he. And then, indeed false and arrogant reasonings and opinions rush up in their stead, and take their place in such people. Assuredly, said he.
And does he not then come once more, and dwell openly among those Lotophagi?[235]—And if any aid come from intimate friends to strengthen the parsimonious principle within him, these said arrogant reasonings, by shutting against it the gates of the royal wall, neither permit the alliance itself, nor allow the ambassadorial admonitions of individual old men, but struggle against them and maintain themselves in power;—and as for modesty, they call it stupidity, and thrust it out into disgraceful exile, while temperance they call unmanliness, load it with abuse, and then expel it;—and as for moderation and decent expense, they persuade themselves that they are nothing else but rusticity and illiberality, and banish them from their territories, with many other unprofitable desires. Assuredly, they do. Having emptied and purified from all these desires, the soul, thus held by them, and initiated in the great mysteries,[236] they next introduce with encomiums and false eulogies, indolence and anarchy, extravagance and shamelessness, shining with a great retinue, and wearing crowns,—calling insolence, good-breeding,—anarchy, liberty,—luxury, magnificence,—and impudence, manliness. Is it not, said I, somehow thus,—that a youth, after being bred up with necessary desires falls away into the license and dissoluteness induced by needless and unprofitable pleasures? Yes, plainly so, he replied.
Such an one, then, methinks, thenceforth passes his life, spending his property, labour, and time as much on necessary as unnecessary pleasures, but if he be fortunate and not unusually excited by passion, he, as he advances in years, and the sovereignty of the passions is subdued, re-admits part of those expelled, and does not deliver himself wholly up to mere intruders, but regulates his pleasures on the principle of equality, and so lives, giving himself up to each incidental desire that happens to rule him, till he is sated,—and then another, undervaluing none, but indulging all alike. Quite so, of course. And yet such an one, said I, will not listen to true reasoning, nor admit it into his stronghold,—should he be told that some pleasures are attached to honourable and virtuous desires, others to those that are depraved, and that he should pursue and honour the former, but chastise and hold captive the latter,—but in all these cases will dissent, and say that they are all alike, and to be held in equal honour. Assuredly, said he, one thus affected, does this.
Well then, said I, thus does he daily live, gratifying every incidental desire, sometimes getting drunk to the sound of the flute, at others temperately drinking water,—at others, again exercising gymnastics; sometimes indolent and wholly careless; then again applying, as it were, to philosophy,—often too acting the politician, saying and doing by skips and jumps whatever comes first:—and if he would imitate any of the military tribe, thither he is carried; if the mercantile, then again thither; nor is his life regulated by any plan or law, but, deeming this particular life pleasant, and free, and blessed, he follows it throughout. You have most fully described, said he, the life of the man who places all laws on a level. I at least am of opinion, said I, that he is multiform, and filled with different habits; like the state, too, he is handsome and of varied complexion, a man whose life many men and women would emulate, because he contains within himself numerous patterns both of forms of government and moral habits. He does, said he. What then? Have we then so described and arranged such an one on the principles of democracy, as that he may be truly called one of democratic character. We will allow that it has, said he. ----- Footnote 235: These Lotophagi are described by Homer, Odyss. ix. 94, &c.
Footnote 236: Allusion is here made to the Eleusinian mysteries, which after certain lustrations and sacrifices, were successively communicated to those in course of initiation,—first, the lesser mysteries (μικρὰ τέλη), and six months subsequently, the greater (τὰ μεγάλα τέλη). ----- CHAP. XIV.[237]—It still remains, however, that we discuss, said I, that most excellent form of government and that most excellent man,—tyranny and the tyrant. Surely, said he. Come then, my dear fellow;—what is the manner in which tyranny arises?—for it is almost plain, that it is a change from democracy. Plain. Does not tyranny arise in the same manner from democracy, as democracy does from oligarchy? How—as respects the good then, which oligarchy proposed to itself, and according to which it was constituted; was it not with a view of becoming extremely rich? Yes. An insatiable desire then for riches, and a neglect of all besides, through attention to the acquisition of wealth, destroys it. True, said he. And with reference to what democracy denominates good, an insatiable thirst for it destroys it likewise? But what say you, it denominates as good? Liberty, said I:—for this, you are told, is best found in a state under democratic rule, and hence any one naturally free would choose to dwell in this alone. This word liberty, said he, is vastly much talked about. Well then, observed I, as I was just going to say, does not the insatiable desire for this, and the neglect of other things, change even the form of government, and prepare it to need a tyrant?
How? said he. When a state, said I, is under democratic rule, thirsts after liberty, and happens to have bad cupbearers appointed it, and gets immoderately drunk with an unmixed draught thereof, it punishes even the governors, unless they be quite tame-spirited, and allow them excessive liberty, by accusing them of being corrupt and oligarchical. They do so, said he. But such as obey the magistrates, said I, it abuses as willing and good-for-nothing slaves; both publicly and in private they commending and honouring magistrates who resemble subjects, and subjects who resemble magistrates: must it not happen in such a state, that we must necessarily arrive at the acme of liberty? Of course. And must it not descend, too, my friend, said I, into private families, and at last reach even the brutes? How, said he, can we assert aught like this? For instance, said I, when a father gets used to become like his child, and fears his sons, and the son [in like manner] his father, and has neither respect nor fear of his parents, in order, forsooth, that he may be free;—and thus a mere resident is placed on a level with a citizen, and a resident with a stranger, and so likewise a foreigner. Just so, said he.
Aye, these indeed happen, said I, and other similar little things also:—and in such cases a teacher fears and flatters his scholars, and the scholars despise their teachers, and so also their tutors; and on the whole the youths resemble those more advanced in years, and rival them both in speech and action: while the old men sit down with the young, and imitate them in their love of merriment and pleasantry, for fear of appearing morose and despotic. Quite so, of course, replied he. But as to this extreme liberty of the multitude, said I, what a height it attains in a state like this, where purchased slaves, male or female, are no less free than their purchasers, and how much equality and liberty wives enjoy with their husbands, and husbands with their wives,—this we have almost forgotten to mention. Are we not then to say, according to Æschylus, he observed, whatever now comes into our mouth?
By all means, said I; and accordingly I thus speak:—with reference even to brutes, such as are under the care of men, how much more free they are in such a state; he who has no experience thereof will not easily believe—for according to the proverb, even dogs resemble their mistresses;[238] and horses and asses are used to run about at large, surlily driving against whomsoever they meet, unless they get out of their way; and many other such-like things happen, that indicate an abundance of liberty. You are just telling me my dream, said he, for this has often happened to me when going into the country. But do you observe, said I, when all these things are collected together in a whole, that they make the soul of the citizens so sensitive, that if they were any how to be brought into slavery, they would be indignant and not endure it;—for in the end, you know, they regard laws neither written nor unwritten, and hence no one will by any means become their master? I know it well, said he. ----- Footnote 237: A large portion of this and the following chapter will be found rendered into Latin in Cicero de Republ. i. ch. 43, 44. Footnote 238: The proverb here alluded to runs thus, according to the scholiast:—οἱάπερ ἡ δέσποινα, τοία χἁ κύων. The adage from Æschylus, somewhat above, is of an origin equally unknown.
CHAP. XVI.—Let us thus then conceive the matter, said I, that we may more distinctly see what we want. How? Let us ideally divide a democratic state into three parts, as it in fact is; for some such classification is natural to it, owing to its liberty, no less than to an oligarchy. It is so. Yet it is much more fierce at least in this than in the former. How? In an oligarchy, from not being held in honour, but excluded from the magisterial office, it is unexercised and gains no strength;—but in a democracy it is, with a few exceptions, the presiding party, the fiercest of them ever talking and agitating, while the rest bustle about at the law-courts, and cannot endure any one else to speak differently from itself; and thus all things, with only a few exceptions, under such a government, are managed by a party. Very much the case, said he. Some other party, then, is always separated from the multitude. Which? While the general body are engaged in the pursuit of gain, such as are naturally the most temperate generally become the wealthiest. Very probably. And hence is it, methinks, that the greatest quantity of honey, and what comes with the greatest ease, is pressed out of these by the drones.
Yes,—for how, said he, can any one press it from those who have but little? Such wealthy people, I think, are called the pasture of the drones. Nearly so, replied he. And the people will be a sort of third species,—such as mind their own affairs, without meddling with others, who have little property, but are yet the most numerous, and most prevailing in a democracy, whenever it is densely populated. It is so; but this it will not often consent to do without getting some share of the honey. This class, of course, always obtains a share, said I, as far as their leaders are able, by robbing those that have property, and giving it to the people, in order that they may eat most themselves. Aye, said he, that is the way in which these become sharers. These, then, are obliged to defend themselves. Those thus despoiled are compelled to defend themselves, saying and doing all they can among the people. Of course. And though they have no inclination to introduce a change of government, they are charged with forming plots and plans against the common people, and being oligarchally disposed. What next?
After seeing that the people, not willingly, but through ignorance and the impositions of these slanderers, attempt to injure them, do they not then, indeed, even against their wills, become truly oligarchic?—though not spontaneously, for this very mischief is generated by the drone that stings them. Quite so. And so they lay informations, make lawsuits, and have contests one with another. Very much so. And are not the people always used to place some one in special presidency over themselves, and to cherish him, and promote him to great power? They are. And this, said I, is plain, that whenever a tyrant rises, it is from the fact of thus presiding, and nothing else, that he flourishes. This is very clear. How, then, begins the change from a president into a tyrant?—is it not clearly when the president begins to do the same as is told in the fable, about the temple of the Lycean Zeus, to whom the wolf was dedicated in Arcadia? What is that? said he. That whoever tastes human entrails mixed with those of other offerings, must necessarily become a wolf:—have you not heard the story? I have.
And methinks, if he suspects that any of a free spirit will not allow him to govern,—in order that he may have some pretext for destroying them, he exposes them to the enemy; for all these reasons a tyrant must necessarily be always raising war. Necessarily so. And, while he is doing these things, he will necessarily become more hateful to the citizens. Of course. And, therefore, some of those who have been promoted along with him and are in power, use great plainness of speech, towards him and among themselves, finding fault with what is done,—such at least, as are of a more manly spirit. Aye, probably so. The tyrant, therefore, if he means to govern, must cut off all these, till he leave no one, either friend or foe, worth anything. It is plain. He must carefully notice them,—who is courageous, who is magnanimous, who wise, who rich; and in this manner is he happy, that, willing or unwilling, he is under a necessity of being an enemy to all like these; and to form plots against them, till he has purged the state. A fine purging indeed! said he. Yes, said I, the reverse of what the physicians do with regard to animal bodies; for they take away the worst and leave the best; but he does the contrary. Because it seems, said he, if he is to govern, he must necessarily do so.
CHAP. XVIII.—By a blessed necessity, then truly, is he bound, said I; which compels him either to live with a depraved multitude,—hated by them too, or not live at all. In such necessity he is, he replied. And the more he is hated by the citizens whilst he does these things, will he not so much the more require a greater number of guards, and those more faithful? It is impossible he should not. Who then are the faithful, and whence shall he procure them? Many, said he, will come flying to him of their own accord, if he give them pay. By the dog, said I, you seem again to be talking of certain drones, both foreign and multiform. Aye, you think right, replied he. But those of the state itself,—would he not desire to have them also as guards? How? After he has taken away the slaves from the citizens, would he not give them their liberty, and make of them guards about his person? By all means, said he; for these are the most faithful to him. What a blessed possession of the tyrants, said I, is this which you mention, if he employ such friends and faithful men, after having destroyed the former ones! But at any rate, said he, such he surely does employ.
Ideas discussed in this chapter
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