The works of Plato · Plato
ARGUMENT.
But what, said I; is there any science among any of the citizens in the state which we have just founded, which deliberates, not about any particular thing in the city, but about the whole, how it may best be conducted, both as regards itself and its intercourse with other cities? Yes, there is. What is it, said I, and among whom to be found? This very guardianship, said he; and [it may be found] among those very governors, whom we lately termed perfect guardians. On account then of this skill, what do you term the state? Well-advised, said he, and really wise. Whether then, said I, do you imagine that the braziers, or these true guardians, will be the more numerous in the state? The braziers, said he, far more so. And of all, said I, who owing to their skill are to be held in account, will not these guardians be the fewest in number? By far. By this smallest class and portion of the state then, and by the science that presides over and governs it, is the whole city wisely established on natural principles; and this class, as it seems, is by nature the smallest, whose business it is to have a share in that science, which of all others ought alone to be denominated wisdom.
Your remark, replied he, is perfectly true. We have found then, I know not how, one of the four, both as respects its nature and the part of the state in which it resides. And for my part, said he, I think it has been sufficiently described. CHAP. VIII.—But as to fortitude, both as respects itself, and the particular part of the state in which it resides, on account of which the state is termed brave, that can be no difficult matter to discover. How so? Who, said I, would call a state brave or cowardly, with relation to any other than that particular portion which makes war and fights in its defence? No one would, said he, with relation to any other. No, said I, for I do not think that the other classes therein, whether cowardly or brave, can have any influence to make it either the one or the other. No, indeed. The state then is brave in a certain part of itself, because it contains such a power as will constantly maintain its opinion about things dreadful, as to their being these very things, and such like, just as the lawgiver inculcated during training:—Do you not call this fortitude? I have not thoroughly comprehended, said he, what you say; so tell it over again. Fortitude, said I, I term a kind of preservative. What sort of preservative?
A preservative of opinion formed by law in a course of education about things dreadful, as to their nature and quality; and I called it a constant preservative, because one retains it both in pains and pleasures, desires and fears, and never casts it off; and, if you please, I will liken it to what I think it closely resembles. Pray do. Do not you know then, said I, that dyers, when they want to dye their wool, that it may be purple, choose out of ever so many colours only the white, and then prepare and manage it with no trifling pains, so that it may best take a bright hue, and then they dye it? And whatever is dyed in this manner is of an indelible dye; nor can any washing, either without or with soap, take away its hue; but as for wool not thus managed, you know of what sort it proves, whether one dye either this or other colours, without previous preparation.
I know, said he, that they are easily washed out, and get shabby.[153] Suppose then, that we, too, were to perform according to our ability a similar operation, when selecting our soldiers, and instructing them in music and gymnastics; and that we should attend to no other object, than that they should obediently and in the best manner receive the laws, as they would a colour, and so acquire indelible opinions about the dreadful, and other things as well, through having had a suitable temper and education; these leys then, however strongly detersive, could not wash away their dye, whether they be pleasure (which is more powerful in effecting this than any alkali[154] or ley whatever), or pain, fear, and desire, which exceed in power all other solvents.—Such a power then, and constant maintenance of right and legitimate opinion about what is dreadful or not so, I term and define to be fortitude, unless you offer some other meaning. No; I can offer none, said he; for you seem to me to hold, that when a right opinion about these matters arises without education, it is both savage and slavish, and not at all according to law; and you give it some other name besides fortitude. Your remark is quite true, said I. I admit, then, that this is fortitude.
CHAP. IX.—There yet remain, said I, two [virtues] in the state which we must consider,—namely, temperance, and that, for the sake of which we have been searching after all the rest,—that is justice. Certainly. How then can we find out justice, so as to trouble ourselves no further about temperance? I truly neither know, said he, nor do I wish it to be developed before the other, if at least we are on that account to dismiss altogether the consideration of temperance; but, pray oblige me, and consider this before the other. I for my part am quite willing, said I; for I should be acting wrongly not to do so.[155] Consider then, said he. We must consider, I replied; and as it appears from this point of view, it seems to resemble a sort of symphony and harmony more than the virtues formerly mentioned. How? Temperance, said I, is somehow a certain decorum, and a restraint, as one may say, exercised over certain pleasures and desires; and when one boasts of being superior to oneself, and many other such-like expressions, these are mentioned as indications of it; are they not? Yes,—they are its leading indications, said he.
But is not the expression, “superior to oneself,” ridiculous?—for he who is superior to himself must somehow also be inferior to himself; and the inferior be the superior,—for the same person is spoken of in all these cases. How otherwise? To me, however, said I, the expression seems to denote, that in the same man, as regards his soul, there is one part better, and another worse; and that when the better part of his nature governs the inferior, this is what is termed being superior to himself, and expresses a commendation; but when, owing to bad education or associations, that better and smaller part is swayed by the superior power of the worse part,—then one says, by way of reproach and blame, that the person thus affected is inferior to himself and altogether in disorder. Aye,—it would seem so, said he. Look then, said I, at our new state, and you will find one of these in it: for you will agree, that it may justly be addressed as superior to itself, if that state, in which the better part governs the worse, is called temperate and superior to itself. I do see it, said he;—and you say true.
And moreover one may find very many and various desires, and pleasures, and pains, especially among children, and women, and domestics, and likewise among the greatest and most depraved portion of those who are called free. Certainly. But as for the simple and moderate desires, which are led by the intellect, with judgment and right opinion, you will meet with them only in the few, those, namely, of the best temper and best educated. True, said he. And do not you see that these things are contained in our state, and that there too the desires of the many and the baser part are restrained by the desires and prudence of the smaller and more moderate part? I do, said he. ----- Footnote 155: The original is very elliptical:—Ἀλλὰ μέντοι, ἦν δ’ ἐγὼ, βούλομαί γε, εἰ μὴ ἀδικῶ. The form εἰ μὴ ἀδικῶ occurs again, x. ch. 9, p. 608 d, and ch. 12, p. 612 d. ----- CHAP. X.—If then, we are to call any state superior to pleasures and desires, and to itself also, this may be so called. Yes, by all means, said he. And is it not on all these accounts temperate? Quite so, said he. And if, again, in any other state, the governors and the governed agree in opinion on the point, as to the fit governing party, it is to be found in this:—do you not think so? I am strongly of that opinion. In whom then of the citizens will you say that temperance resides, when they are thus situated;—in the governors, or the governed? In both of them, probably, said he. Do you see then, said I, that we just now rightly guessed, that temperance resembles a kind of harmony? How so?
Because—not as fortitude and wisdom (each of which resides in a certain part, the latter making the state wise, and the former courageous), not after this manner does temperance render the state temperate; but it is naturally diffused through the whole, making the weakest and the strongest and the intermediate all to agree, either in prudence, if you will, or if you will, in strength, magnitude, or in substance, or anything else of the same kind; so that most justly may we say, that this concord is temperance, a natural consent between the worse and the better part, [with reference to the question] which of them ought to govern, either in the state or in each individual. I am quite of the same opinion, said he. Well then, said I, three qualities in our state, it would seem, have been clearly discovered: but with respect to the remaining species, owing to which the state has the quality of virtue; what can it be? It is plain that it is justice. It is plain. Ought we not then, Glaucon, like huntsmen, closely surrounding a thicket, to take great care that justice does not somehow or other escape, and vanish from our sight?—for it is clear that it is somewhere here.
Look earnestly, therefore, to spy it out, if you can any how see it sooner than me, and then point it out to me. Would that I could, said he; but if you will use me rather as an attendant, and one able only to perceive what is pointed out to him, you will then be treating me just as you ought. Call on the gods with me, said I, and follow. I will do so, said he; do you only lead the way. To me, said I, this seems a place somehow hard of access, and overcast with shadow:—it is indeed dark, and hard to penetrate;—but still we must go on. We must, said he. And I perceiving, said, Ho! Ho! Glaucon, we seem to have some track; and I think that it will not altogether escape us. You tell good news, said he. Verily, said I, our senses are somewhat blunted. As how? Long since, even from the first, my fine fellow, has it been rolling at our feet; and we perceived it not, but made the most ridiculous figure, like those who sometimes seek for what they already have in their hands:—so we did not perceive it, but were looking out to a distance; and thus perhaps it escaped us. How mean you? said he. Thus, said I;—that I think, although we have been long talking and hearing of it, we do not understand ourselves, as to the manner in which we expressed it. A long preamble, said he, to one who is eager to hear.
CHAP. XI.—Well now, said I, listen whether I say anything to the point:—for what we at first settled, when regulating the state, as what ought always to be done,—that, I think, or a species thereof, is justice:—this surely we settled, and frequently mentioned, if you remember;—that every one ought to apply himself to one thing, with reference to the state,—to that, namely, to which his genius most naturally inclines him? Yes, we did say so. And also, that attending to one’s own affairs, and not busying oneself about many things, is justice, and this we have not only heard from many others, but have frequently said ourselves. We have said so. This then, my friend, said I, somehow seems to be justice, to attend to one’s own business.—Do you know whence I infer this? No; pray tell me, said he. Besides what we have already considered in the state,—namely, temperance, fortitude, and wisdom,—this, said I, seems to remain, which enables all these both to have a being in the state and to afford safety to its indwellers as long as it continues therein; and we said likewise, that justice would be that remaining part, if we found the other three. It must be so, said he.
But if, said I, you want to judge, which of these, by its presence in the state, will do it the greatest proportionate good; it would be difficult to determine whether the coincidence of opinion between the governors and the governed, or the maintenance of legitimate opinion among the soldiers about what is dreadful, and what is not so,—or what is wisdom and guardianship in the rulers,—or whether this, by its existence in the state, makes it proportionably best,—namely, when child and woman, bond and free, artificer, magistrate, and subject, every one in short attends to his own business, and does not meddle. Yes, it is hard to decide, said he, of course. With reference, then, to the virtue of a state, that power which makes each person in it attend to his own business, rivals, as it seems, its wisdom, temperance, and courage. Undoubtedly so, said he. Will you not then constitute justice as a co-rival with these, with reference to the virtue of a state? By all means. Consider, then, whether you agree with me in this: will you enjoin the rulers to give just decisions in judgment? Of course. And in giving judgment, what else are they to aim at in preference to this,—namely, that no one shall have what belongs to others, or be deprived of his own? No; they [must aim] at this. And [do they not aim at it,] when acting justly? Yes. And thus justice is acknowledged to be the habitual practice of one’s own proper and special work? It is so. See then, if you agree with me:—suppose a carpenter to take in hand the work of a shoemaker, or a shoemaker the work of a carpenter, exchanging either their tools or wages; or if the same man undertake both, and make all the other exchanges; think you that the state would be much injured? Not very much, said he.
But methinks, if a craftsman, or one born to a money-getting employment, should afterwards, through being elated by wealth, popularity, strength, or any thing else of the kind, try to advance into the military class, or out of the military class into that of counsellor and guardian, when unworthy of it,—and these should exchange tools and rewards; or if the same man should undertake to do all these things at once; then, I suppose, you will be of opinion, that this interchange of things and this multiplicity of employments by a single person is the destruction of the state. By all means. A meddling spirit, then, in these three classes, and the change from one to another, is the greatest injury to the state, and may be most correctly called its depravity. Aye, truly so. But will not you say that injustice is the greatest ill a state can do itself? Of course. This then is injustice.
CHAP. XII.—Again we say, as follows: The peculiar occupation of the money-getting, the auxiliary, and the guardian class, when each of them does his own work in a state, will be the contrary of the other, that is justice, and will make the state just. The case appears to me, said he, to be no otherwise than thus. Let us not as yet, said I, affirm this for certain: but if it shall be conceded by us, that this kind enters into each individual, and that there is justice, we will then agree; for what shall we say? but if not, then we must push our inquiries further.—But now let us finish the inquiry on which we were engaged,—namely, whether, in judging, we should be better able, by first contemplating justice in some of the greater objects that possess it, to distinguish its nature in a single man, and that as a state appeared to us this very object; we thus therefore formed it as well as we possibly could, in the assurance that justice would be found in one that is good. As to what we have discovered in the state, then, let us now transfer and apply it to a single person; and if the two correspond, it will be well; but if there be any difference in the individual, we will go back again to the state, and put it to the test; and, perhaps, in considering them side by side, and by striking them, we shall make justice shine forth, like fire from flints; and when once clearly apparent, we can then firmly establish it among ourselves. Aye, you are speaking quite in the right way, said he; and thus, too, we must act.
With respect then, said I, to what may be termed the same, whether greater or less, does it happen to be dissimilar in that respect in which we call it the same, or is it similar? Similar, said he. The just man then, said I, will not at all differ from the just state, as respects the idea of justice, but will be similar to it. Aye, similar, said he. However a state appeared to be just, because three kinds of dispositions being in it, each performed its own work; but it appeared to be temperate, brave, and wise, on account of certain other affections and habits of these very same kinds. True, said he. And in that case, my friend, we shall deem it proper, that the individual, who has these very same principles in his soul (namely, temperance, fortitude, wisdom), should have a good right, from having the same affections with the state, to be called by the same names? He needs must, said he. Here again, my clever fellow, we have fallen into a trifling discussion[156] about the soul, whether it does or does not contain within itself these three principles. I do not think it is a trifling one, said he: for probably, Socrates, the common saying is true, that things excellent are difficult.
They seem so, said I. And be assured of this at least, Glaucon, that, in my opinion, we shall never comprehend this matter accurately by such methods as we are now using in our conversation, because the road which really leads to it is longer and of greater extent: still we will consider it in a manner consistent with our former disquisitions and inquiries. Ought we not to acquiesce in this? said he: for to me at least, and for the present, it would be satisfactory enough. Aye, and for me too, said I, it will be quite sufficient. Do not get tired then, said he; but pursue the inquiry. Is it then necessary, said I, that we should acknowledge the very same characters and manners to exist in every individual that are found in the state? because there is no other source whence they arrived thither. It were ridiculous, indeed, to imagine that the high spirit for which the Thracians, Scythians, and nearly all the northern nations are reputed, does not arise from individual personages; and the same may be said respecting the love of learning, which one may especially deem natural to the people of this country,—or, with reference to the love of riches, which we may say prevailed especially among the Phœnicians and the people of Egypt.
Quite so, said he. It is so, of course, said I; and it is not hard of recognition. No, indeed. ----- Footnote 156: Stallbaum reads—εἰς φαῦλόν γε σκέμμα, which is the reading of the best MSS., though the old editions read—οὐκ εἰς φαῦλόν γε. The words are spoken ironically. ----- CHAP. XIII.—This, however, is truly hard [to decide,] whether we perform our separate acts by one and the same power, or whether, as they are three, we perform one by one, and another by another; that is, learn by one, get angry by another, and by a third covet the pleasures of nutrition and propagation, and others akin to these; or whether, when we devote ourselves to them, we act on each with the whole soul: these matters are difficult adequately to determine. I think so too, said he. Let us try to define these things, whether they are the same with one another, or different. How can we? It is plain that the same thing evidently cannot at the same time produce or experience contrary effects in the same respect, and relatively to the same object; so that, if we ever find anything thus occurring, we shall know that it was not one and the same thing, but several. Granted. Attend now to what I am saying. Proceed, replied he. Is it possible for the same thing, considered in the same relation, to be both at rest and in motion? By no means.
Let us define this more accurately still, lest, as we proceed, we be inclined to waver:—for, if one were to say that, when a man stands, though yet moving his hands and head, the same person is at once still and in motion; we should not, I conceive, reckon this a correct mode of speaking, but that one part of him is at rest, and another part in motion:—is it not so? Just so. But if a person arguing thus were to proceed jestingly and facetiously allege that tops are wholly at rest, but yet are at the same time in motion, when, fixed on the same point, they are whirled about their centre,—or that anything else going round in a circle in the same position does the same,—we should not admit it, as it is not in the same respect that they both stand still and are in motion; but we should say that they have in them the straight line [_i. e._ the axis ] and the circumference; and that, with relation to the axis they are at rest (because it inclines to neither side); but with relation to the circumference, they move in a circle:—and again, if, while it is whirling round, its perpendicularity inclines either to the right or the left, forwards or backwards, then it is by no means at rest. Very right, said he. No assertion then of this kind will frighten us; nor shall any one persuade us, that anything, being one and the same, can do and suffer contraries at one and the same time, in the same respect, and relatively to the same object. Me, at any rate, he shall not, said he.
But once more, said I, not to be tedious in going over and refuting all these quibbles, let us proceed on the supposition, that this is really the case, acknowledging, also, that if at any time these things are found to be different from what they now are, all that we have gained will be lost. This then, said he, is what we must do. CHAP. XIV.—Well then,—nodding an assent, said I, and making a sign of dissent, desiring to take a thing and refusing it, attracting or repelling—will you reckon all such things contraries respectively, whether actions or passions;—for it matters not which? Contraries, certainly, said he. What then, said I,—thirst, hunger, and the desires generally,—and further, to wish and to will, may not all these be considered as of the same kind with the species just mentioned?—As for instance, will you not always say of a man who desires, that his soul aims after what it desires, or attracts to itself what it wishes to have?—-Or again, so far as the soul wishes something to be given to it, does it not make a sign for it, as if a person were asking for it, through desire of acquiring its possession? I should say so. But what?—to be unwilling, not to wish, and not to desire,—shall we not deem them synonymous with repelling and driving off from the soul, and so all things else that are contrary of the former? Of course. This being the case, shall we say that there is a certain species of desires, and that the most conspicuous are those which we call thirst and hunger? We shall say so, he replied.
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