THE REPUBLIC OF PLATO JOWETT HENRY FROWDE OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE AMEN CORNER, E.C. THE REPUBLIC OF PLATO TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH WITH INTRODUCTION, ANALYSIS MARGINAL ANALYSIS, AND INDEX BY B. JOWETT, M.A. MASTER OF BALL1OL COLLEGE REGIUS PROFESSOR OF GREEK IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD DOCTOR IN THEOLOGY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF LEYDEN THE THIRD EDITION REVISED AND CORRECTED THROUGHOUT Ojtfori AT THE CLARENDON PRESS M DCCC LXXXVIII [A!/ rights reserved} TO MY FORMER PUPILS IN BALLIOL COLLEGE AND IN THE UNIVERSlfY OF OXFORD, WHO DURING FORTY-SIX YEARS HAVE BEEN THE BEST OF FRIENDS TO ME, tHIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED, IN GRATEFUL RECOGNITION OF THEIR NEVER FAILING ATTACHMENT. PREFACE. IN publishing a third edition of the Republic of Plato (originally included in my edition of Plato's works), I have to acknowledge the assistance of several friends, especially of my secretary, Mr. Matthew Knight, now residing for his health at Davos, and of Mr. Frank Fletcher, Exhibitioner of Balliol College. To their accuracy and scholarship I am under great obligations. The excellent index, in which are contained references to the other dialogues as well as to the Republic, is entirely the work of Mr. Knight. I am also considerably indebted to Mr. J. W. Mackail, Fellow of Balliol College, who read over the whole book in the previous edition, and noted several inaccuracies. The additions and alterations both in the introduction and in the text, affect at least a third of the work. Having regard to the extent of these alterations, and to the annoyance which is felt by the owner of a book at the possession of it in an inferior form, and still more keenly by the writer himself, who must always desire to be read as he is at his best, I have thought that some persons might like to exchange for the new edition the separate edition of the Republic published in 1881, to which this present volume is the successor. I have therefore arranged that those who desire to make this exchange, on depositing a perfect copy of the former separate edition with any agent of the Clarendon Press, shall be entitled to receive the new edition at half-price. It is my hope to issue a revised edition of the remaining Dialogues in the course of a year. INTRODUCTION AND ANALYSIS. THE Republic of Plato is the longest of his works with the Republic. exception of the Laws, and is certainly the greatest of them. There are nearer approaches to modern metaphysics in the Philebus and in the Sophist ; the Politicus or Statesman is more ideal ; the form and institutions of the State are more clearly drawn out in the Laws ; as works of art, the Symposium and the Protagoras are of higher excellence. But no other Dialogue of Plato has the same largeness of view and the same perfection of style ; no other shows an equal knowledge of the world, or con- tains more of those thoughts which are new as well as old, and not of one age only but of all. Nowhere in Plato is there a deeper irony or a greater wealth of humour or imagery, or more dramatic power. Nor in any other of his writings is the attempt made to interweave life and speculation, or to connect politics with philosophy. The Republic is the centre around which the other Dialogues may be grouped ; here philosophy reaches the highest point (cp. especially in Books V, VI, VII) to which ancient thinkers ever attained. Plato among the Greeks, like Bacon among the moderns, was the first who conceived a method of knowledge, although neither of them always distinguished the bare outline or form from the substance of truth ; and both of them had to be content with an abstraction of science which was not yet realized. He was the greatest metaphysical genius whom the world has seen ; and in him, more than in any other ancient thinker, the germs of future knowledge are contained. The sciences of logic and psychology, which have supplied so many instruments of thought to after-ages, are based upon the analyses of Socrates and Plato. The principles of definition, the law of contradiction, the fallacy of arguing in a circle, the distinction between the essence and accidents of a thing or notion, between means and ends, between causes and conditions ; also the division of the mind into the rational, concupiscent, and irascible elements, or of pleasures and desires into necessary and unnecessary — these b ii The greatness of Plato. Republic, and other great forms of thought are all of them to be found in the Republic, and were probably first invented by Plato. The greatest of all logical truths, and the one of which writers on philosophy are most apt to lose sight, the difference between words and things, has been most strenuously insisted on by him (cp. Rep. 454 A ; Polit. 261 E; Cratyl. 435, 436 if.), although he has not always avoided the confusion of them in his own writings (e.g. Rep. 463 E). But he does not bind up truth in logical formulae, — logic is still veiled in metaphysics ; and the science which he imagines to ' contemplate all truth and all existence ' is very unlike the doctrine of the syllogism which Aristotle claims to have discovered (Soph. Elenchi, 33. 18). Neither must we forget that the Republic is but the third part of a still larger design which was to have included an ideal history of Athens, as well as a political and physical philosophy. The fragment of the Critias has given birth to a world-famous fiction, second only in importance to the tale of Troy and the legend of Arthur ; and is said as a fact to have inspired some of the early navigators of the sixteenth century. This mythical tale, of which the subject was a history of the wars of the Athenians against the island of Atlantis, is supposed to be founded upon an unfinished poem of Solon, to which it would have stood in the same relation as the writings of the logographers to the poems of Homer. It would have told of a struggle for Liberty (cp. Tim. 25 C), intended to represent the conflict of Persia and Hellas. We may judge from the noble commencement of the Timaeus, from the fragment of the Critias itself, and from the third book of the Laws, in what manner Plato would have treated this high argument. We can only guess why the great design was abandoned ; perhaps because Plato became sensible of some incongruity in a fictitious history, or because he had lost his interest in it, or because advancing years forbade the completion of it ; and we may please ourselves with the fancy that had this imaginary narrative ever been finished, we should have found Plato himself sympathising with the struggle for Hellenic in- dependence (cp. Laws, iii. 698 ff.), singing a hymn of triumph over Marathon and Salamis, perhaps making the reflection of Herodotus (v. 78) where he contemplates the growth of the Athenian empire — 'How brave a thing is freedom of speech, The greatness of Plato. in which has made the Athenians so far exceed every other state of Republic. Hellas in greatness !' or, more probably, attributing the victory to the ancient good order of Athens and to the favour of Apollo and Athene (cp. Introd. to Critias). Again, Plato may be regarded as the 'captain' (dpxwos) or leader of a goodly band of followers ; for in the Republic is to be found the original of Cicero's De Republica, of St. Augustine's City of God, of the Utopia of Sir Thomas More, and of the numerous other imaginary States which are framed upon the same model. The extent to which Aristotle or the Aristotelian school were indebted to him in the Politics has been little recognised, and the recognition is the more necessary because it is not made by Aristotle himself. The two philosophers had more in common than they were conscious of; and probably some elements of Plato remain still undetected in Aristotle. In English philosophy too, many affinities may be traced, not only in the works of the Cam- bridge Platonists, but in great original writers like Berkeley or Coleridge, to Plato and his ideas. That there is a truth higher than experience, of which the mind bears witness to herself, is a conviction which in our own generation has been enthusiastically asserted, and is perhaps gaining ground. Of the Greek authors who at the Renaissance brought a new life into the world Plato has had the greatest influence. The Republic of Plato is also the first treatise upon education, of which the writings of Milton and Locke, Rousseau, Jean Paul, and Goethe are the legitimate descendants. Like Dante or Bunyan, he has a revelation of another life ; like Bacon, he is profoundly impressed with the unity of knowledge ; in the early Church he exercised a real influence on theology, and at the Revival of Literature on politics. Even the fragments of his words when ' repeated at second-hand ' (Symp. 215 D) have in all ages ravished the hearts of men, who have seen reflected in them their own higher nature. He is the father of idealism in philosophy, in politics, in literature. And many of the latest conceptions of modern thinkers and statesmen, such as the unity of knowledge, the reign of law, and the equality of the sexes, have been anticipated in a dream by him. The argument of the Republic is the search after Justice, the nature of which is first hinted at by Cephalus, the just and blame- iv The argument of the Republic. Republic, less old man — then discussed on the basis of proverbial morality by Socrates and Polemarchus — then caricatured by Thrasymachus and partially explained by Socrates — reduced to an abstraction by Glaucon and Adeimantus, and having become invisible in the individual reappears at length in the ideal State which is con- structed by Socrates. The first care of the rulers is to be educa- tion, of which an outline is drawn after the old Hellenic model, providing only for an improved religion and morality, and more simplicity in music and gymnastic, a manlier strain of poetry, and greater harmony of the individual and the State. We are thus led on to the conception of a higher State, in which ' no man calls anything his own,' and in which there is neither 'marrying nor giving in marriage,' and 'kings are philosophers' and 'philoso- phers are kings ; ' and there is another and higher education, in- tellectual as well as moral and religious, of science as well as of art, and not of youth only but of the whole of life. Such a State is hardly to be realized in this world and quickly degenerates. To the perfect ideal succeeds the government of the soldier and the lover of honour, this again declining into democracy, and de- mocracy into tyranny, in an imaginary but regular order having not much resemblance to the actual facts. When ' the wheel has come full circle' we do not begin again with a new period of human life ; but we have passed from the best to the worst, and there we end. The subject is then changed and the old quarrel of poetry and philosophy which had been more lightly treated in the earlier books of the Republic is now resumed and fought out to a conclusion. Poetry is discovered to be an imitation thrice removed from the truth, and Homer, as well as the dramatic poets, having been condemned as an imitator, is sent into banish- ment along with them. And the idea of the State is supplemented by the revelation of a future life. The division into books, like all similar divisions \ is probably later than the age of Plato. The natural divisions are five in number ;— (i) Book I and the first half of Book II down to p. 368, which is introductory ; the first book containing a refutation of the popular and sophistical notions of justice, and concluding, like some of the earlier Dialogues, without arriving at any definite result. To this is appended a restatement of the nature of justice 1 Cp. Sir G. C. Lewis in the Classical Museum, vol. ii. p. i. The divisions. v according to common opinion, and an answer is demanded to the Republic. question — What is justice, stripped of appearances ? The second division (2) includes the remainder of the second and the whole of the third and fourth books, which are mainly occupied with the construction of the first State and the first education. The third division (3) consists of the fifth, sixth, and seventh books, in which philosophy rather than justice is the subject of enquiry, and the second State is constructed on principles of communism and ruled by philosophers, and the contemplation of the idea of good takes the place of the social and political virtues. In the eighth and ninth books (4) the perversions of States and of the individuals who correspond to them are reviewed in succession ; and the nature of pleasure and the principle of tyranny are further analysed in the individual man. The tenth book (5) is the conclusion of the whole, in which the relations of philosophy to poetry are finally determined, and the happiness of the citizens in this life, which has now been assured, is crowned by the vision of another. Or a more general division into two parts may be adopted ; the first (Books I-IV) containing the description of a State framed generally in accordance with Hellenic notions of religion and morality, while in the second (Books V-X) the Hellenic State is transformed into an ideal kingdom of philosophy, of which all other governments are the perversions. These two points of view are really opposed, and the opposition is only veiled by the genius of Plato. The Republic, like the Phaedrus (see Introduction to Phaedrus), is an imperfect whole ; the higher light of philosophy breaks through the regularity of the Hellenic temple, which at last fades away into the heavens (592 B). Whether this imperfection of structure arises from an enlargement of the plan ; or from the im- perfect reconcilement in the writer's own mind of the struggling elements of thought which are now first brought together by him ; or, perhaps, from the composition of the work at different times — are questions, like the similar question about the Iliad and the Odyssey, which are worth asking, but which cannot have a distinct answer. In the age of Plato there was no regular mode of publication, and an author would have the less scruple in altering or adding to a work which was known only to a few of his friends. There is no absurdity in supposing that he may have laid his labours aside for a time, or turned from one work to vi The second title. Republic, another ; and such interruptions would be more likely to occur m tne case °f a long tnan °f a short writing. In all attempts to determine the chronological order of the Platonic writings on internal evidence, this uncertainty about any single Dialogue being composed at one time is a disturbing element, which must be admitted to affect longer works, such as the Republic and the Laws, more than shorter ones. But, on the other hand, the seeming discrepancies of the Republic may only arise out of the discordant elements which the philosopher has attempted to unite in a single whole, perhaps without being himself able to recognise the inconsistency which is obvious to us. For there is a judgment of after ages which few great writers have ever been able to anticipate for themselves. They do not perceive the want of connexion in their own writings, or the gaps in their systems which are visible enough to those who come after them. In the beginnings of literature and philosophy, amid the first efforts of thought and language, more inconsistencies occur than now, when the paths of speculation are well worn and the meaning of words precisely defined. For consistency, too, is the growth of time ; and some of the greatest creations of the human mind have been wanting in unity. Tried by this test, several of the Platonic Dialogues, according to our modern ideas, appear to be defective, but the deficiency is no proof that they were composed at different times or by different hands. And the supposition that the Re- public was written uninterruptedly and by a continuous effort is in some degree confirmed by the numerous references from one part of the work to another. The second title, ' Concerning Justice,' is not the one by which the Republic is quoted, either by Aristotle or generally in antiquity, and, like the other second titles of the Platonic Dialogues, may therefore be assumed to be of later date. Morgenstern and others have asked whether the definition of justice, which is the professed aim, or the construction of the State is the principal argument of the work. The answer is, that the two blend in one, and are two faces of the same truth ; for justice is the order of the State, and the State is the visible embodiment of justice under the conditions of human society. The one is the soul and the other is the body, and the Greek ideal of the State, as of the individual, is a fair mind in a fair body. In Hegelian phraseology the state is the reality of Is there one argument or more ? vii which justice is the idea. Or, described in Christian language, the Republic. kingdom of God is within, and yet developes into a Church or ex- IN™°N.LC ternal kingdom ; ' the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens,' is reduced to the proportions of an earthly building. Or, to use a Platonic image, justice and the State are- the warp and the woof which run through the whole texture. And when the con- stitution of the State is completed, the conception of justice is not dismissed, but reappears under the same or different names throughout the work, both as the inner law of the individual soul, and finally as the principle of rewards and punishments in another life. The virtues are based on justice, of which common honesty in buying and selling is the shadow, and justice is based on the idea of good, which is the harmony of the world, and is reflected both in the institutions of states and in motions of the heavenly bodies (cp. Tim. 47). The Timaeus, which takes up the political rather than the ethical side of the Republic, and is chiefly occu- pied with hypotheses concerning the outward world, yet contains many indications that the same law is supposed to reign over the State, over nature, and over man. Too much, however, has been made of this question both in ancient and modern times. There is a stage of criticism in which all works, whether of nature or of art, are referred to design. Now in ancient writings, and indeed in literature generally, there remains often a large element which was not comprehended in the original design. For the plan grows under the author's hand ; new thoughts occur to him in the act of writing ; he has not worked out the argument to the end before he begins. The reader who seeks to find some one idea under which the whole may be conceived, must necessarily seize on the vaguest and most general. Thus Stallbaum, who is dissatisfied with the ordinary explanations of the argument of the Republic, imagines himself to have found the true argument ' in the representation of human life in a State perfected by justice, and governed according to the idea of good.' There may be some use in such general descriptions, but they can hardly be said to express the design of the writer. The truth is, that we may as well speak of many designs as of one ; nor need anything be excluded from the plan of a great work to which the mind is naturally led by the association of ideas, and which does not interfere with the general purpose. What kind or degree of viii The leading thoughts. Republic, unity is to be sought after in a building, in the plastic arts, in N™ON!UC" poetry, in prose, is a problem which has to be determined rela- tively \p the subject-matter. To Plato himself, the enquiry ' what was the intention of the writer,' or ' what was the principal argu- ment of the Republic ' would have been hardly intelligible, and therefore had better be at once dismissed (cp. the Introduction to the Phaedrus, vol. i.). Is not the Republic the vehicle of three or four great truths which, to Plato's own mind, are most naturally represented in the form of the State ? Just as in the Jewish prophets the reign of Messiah, or * the day of the Lord,' or the suffering Servant or people of God, or the ' Sun of righteousness with healing in his wings ' only convey, to us at least, their great spiritual ideals, so through the Greek State Plato reveals to us his own thoughts about divine perfection, which is the idea of good — like the sun in the visible world ; — about human perfection, which is justice — about education beginning in youth and continuing in later years — about poets and sophists and tyrants who are the false teachers and evil rulers of mankind — about * the world ' which is the embodiment of them — about a kingdom which exists nowhere upon earth but is laid up in heaven to be the pattern and rule of human life. No such inspired creation is at unity with itself, any more than the clouds of heaven when the sun pierces through them. Every shade of light and dark, of truth, and of fiction which is the veil of truth, is allowable in a work of philo- sophical imagination. It is not all on the same plane ; it easily passes from ideas to myths and fancies, from facts to figures of speech. It is not prose but poetry, at least a great part of it, and ought not to be judged by the rules of logic or the probabilities of history. The writer is not fashioning his ideas into an artistic whole ; they take possession of him and are too much for him. We have no need therefore to discuss whether a State such as Plato has conceived is practicable or not, or whether the outward form or the inward life came first into the mind of the writer. For the practicability of his ideas has nothing to do with their truth (v. 472 D) ; and the highest thoughts to which he attains may be truly said to bear the greatest ' marks of design '—justice more than the external frame-work of the State, the idea of good more than justice. The great science of dialectic or the organisation of ideas has no real content ; but is only a type of the method or The imaginary date. ix spirit in which the higher knowledge is to be pursued by the Republic. spectator of all time and all existence. It is in the fifth, sixth, and IN™°£UC' seventh books that Plato reaches the * summit of speculation,' and these, although they fail to satisfy the requirements of a modern thinker, may therefore be regarded as the most important, as they are also the most original, portions of the work. It is not necessary to discuss at length a minor question which has been raised by Boeckh, respecting the imaginary date at which the conversation was held (the year 411 B.C. which is proposed by him will do as well as any other) ; for a writer of fiction, and especially a writer who, like Plato, is notoriously careless of chronology (cp. Rep. i. 336, Symp. 193 A, etc.), only aims at general probability. Whether all the persons mentioned in the Republic could ever have met at any one time is not a difficulty which would have occurred to an Athenian reading the work forty years later, or to Plato himself at the time of writing (any more than to Shakespeare respecting one of his own dramas) ; and need not greatly trouhjle us now. Yet this may be a question having no answer * which is still worth asking,5 because the investigation shows that we cannot argue historically from the dates in Plato ; it would be useless therefore to waste time in inventing far-fetched reconcile- ments of them in order to avoid chronological difficulties, such, for example, as the conjecture of C. F. Hermann, that Glaucon and Adeimantus are not the brothers but the uncles of Plato (cp. Apol. 34 A), or the fancy of Stallbaum that Plato intentionally left ana- chronisms indicating the dates at • which some of his Dialogues were written. The principal characters in the Republic are Cephalus, Pole- marchus, Thrasymachus, Socrates, Glaucon, and Adeimantus. Cephalus appears in the introduction only, Polemarchus drops at the end of the first argument, and Thrasymachus is reduced to silence at the close of the first book. The main discussion is carried on by Socrates, Glaucon, and Adeimantus. Among the company are Lysias (the orator) and Euthydemus, the sons of Cephalus and brothers of Polemarchus, an unknown Charmantides — these are mute auditors ; also there is Cleitophon, who once interrupts (340 A), where, as in the Dialogue which bears his name, he appears as the friend and ally of Thrasymachus. K The characters : Cephalus and Polemarchus : Republic. Cephalus, the patriarch of the house, has been appropriately IN™ON UC~ engaged in offering a sacrifice. He is the pattern of an old man who has almost done with life, and is at peace with himself and with all mankind. He feels that he is drawing nearer to the world below, and seems to linger around the memory of the past. He is eager that Socrates should come to visit him, fond of the poetry of the last generation, happy in the consciousness of a well-spent life, glad at having escaped from the tyranny of youth- ful lusts. His love of conversation, his affection, his indifference to riches, even his garrulity, are interesting traits of character. He is not one of those who have nothing to say, because their whole mind has been absorbed in making money. Yet he acknow- ledges that riches have the advantage of placing men above the temptation to dishonesty or falsehood. The respectful attention shown to him by Socrates, whose love of conversation, no less than the mission imposed upon him by the Oracle, leads him to ask questions of all men, young and old alike (cp., i. 328 A), should also be noted. Who better suited to raise the question of justice than Cephalus, whose life might seem to be the expression of it ? The moderation with which old age is pictured by Cephalus as a very tolerable portion of existence is characteristic, not only of him, but of Greek feeling generally, and contrasts with the exaggeration of Cicero in the De Senectute. The evening of life is described by Plato in the most expressive manner, yet with the fewest possible touches. As Cicero remarks (Ep. ad Attic, iv. 16), the aged Cephalus would have been out of place in the discussion which follows, and which he could neither have understood nor taken part in without a violation of dramatic propriety (cp. Lysimachus in the Laches, 89). His 'son and heir' Polemarchus has the frankness and im- petuousness of youth ; he is for detaining Socrates by force in the opening scene, and will not ' let him off' (v. 449 B) on the subject of women and children. Like Cephalus, he is limited in his point of view, and represents the proverbial stage of morality which has rules of life rather than principles ; and he quotes Simonides (cp. Aristoph. Clouds, 1355 ff.) as his father had quoted Pindar. But after this he has no more to say; the answers which he makes are only elicited from him by the dialectic of Socrates. He has not yet experienced the influence of the Sophists like Glaucon and Thrasymachus : xi Adeimantus, nor is he sensible of the necessity of refuting them ; he Republic. belongs to the pre-Socratic or pre-dialectical age. He is incapable of arguing, and is bewildered by Socrates to such a degree that he does not know what he is saying. He is made to admit that justice is a thief, and that the virtues follow the analogy of the arts (i. 333 E). From his brother Lysias (contra Eratosth. p. 121) we learn that he fell a victim to the Thirty Tyrants, but no allusion is here made to his fate, nor to the circumstance that Cephalus and his family were of Syracusan origin, and had migrated from Thurii to Athens. The ' Chalcedonian giant,' Thrasymachus, of whom we have already heard in the Phaedrus (267 D), is the personification of the Sophists, according to Plato's conception of them, in some of their worst characteristics. He is vain and blustering, refusing to discourse unless he is paid, fond of making an oration, and hoping thereby to escape the inevitable Socrates; but a mere child in argument, and unable to foresee that the next 'move' (to use a Platonic expression) will ' shut him up ' (vi. 487 B). He has reached the stage of framing general notions, and in this respect is in advance of Cephalus and Polemarchus. But he is incapable of defending them in a discussion, and vainly tries to cover his con- fusion with banter and insolence. Whether such doctrines as are attributed to him by Plato were really held either by him or by any other Sophist is uncertain ; in the infancy of philosophy serious errors about morality might easily grow up— they are certainly put into the mouths of speakers in Thucydides ; but we are concerned at present with Plato's description of him, and not with the historical reality. The inequality of the contest adds greatly to the humour of the scene. The pompous and empty Sophist is utterly helpless in the hands of the great master of dialectic, who knows how to touch all the springs of vanity and weakness in him. He is greatly irritated by the irony of Socrates, but his noisy and imbecile rage only lays him more and more open to the thrusts of his assailant. His determination to cram down their throats, or put ' bodily into their souls ' his own words, elicits a cry of horror from Socrates. The state of his temper is quite as worthy of remark as the process of the argument. Nothing is more amusing than his complete submission when he has been once thoroughly beaten. At first he seems to continue xii Glaucon and Adeimantus. Republic, the discussion with reluctance, but soon with apparent good-will, and he even testifies his interest at a later stage by one or two occasional remarks (v. 450 A, B). When attacked by Glaucon (vi. 498 C, D) he is humorously protected by Socrates * as one who has never been his enemy and is now his friend.' From Cicero and Quintilian and from Aristotle's Rhetoric (iii. i. 7 ; ii. 23. 29) we learn that the Sophist whom Plato has made so ridiculous was a man of note whose writings were preserved in later ages. The play on his name which was made by his contemporary Herodicus (Aris. Rhet. ii. 23, 29), ' thou wast ever bold in battle/ seems to show that the description of him is not devoid of verisimilitude. When Thrasymachus has been silenced, the two principal re- spondents, Glaucon and Adeimantus, appear on the scene : here, as in Greek tragedy (cp. Introd. to Phaedo), three actors are in- troduced. At first sight the two sons of Ariston may seem to wear a family likeness, like the two friends Simmias and Cebes in the Phaedo. But on a nearer examination of them the similarity vanishes, and they are seen to be distinct characters. Glaucon is the impetuous youth who can 'just never have enough of fechting' (cp. the character of him in Xen. Mem. iii. 6) ; the man of pleasure who is acquainted with the mysteries of love (v. 474 D) ; the 'juvenis qui gaudet canibus,' and who improves the breed of animals (v. 459 A) ; the lover of art and music (iii. 398 D, E) who has all the experiences of youthful life. He is full of quickness and penetration, piercing easily below the clumsy platitudes of Thrasymachus to the real difficulty; he turns out to the light the seamy side of human life, and yet does not lose faith in the just and true. It is Glaucon who seizes what may be termed the ludicrous relation of the philosopher to the world, to whom a state of simplicity is ' a city of pigs,' who is always prepared with a jest (iii. 398 C, 407 A ; v. 450, 451, 468 C ; vi. 509 C ; ix. 586) when the argument offers him an opportunity, and who is ever ready to second the humour of Socrates and to appreciate the ridiculous, whether in the connoisseurs of music (vii. 531 A), or in the lovers of theatricals (v. 475 D), or in the fantastic behaviour of the citizens of democracy (viii. 557 foil.). His weaknesses are several times alluded to by Socrates (iii. 402 E ; v. 474 D, 475 E), who, however, will not allow him to be attacked by his brother Adeimantus (viii. 548 D, E). He is a soldier, and, like Adeimantus, has been The difference between them. xiii distinguished at the battle of Megara (368 A, anno 456 ?). . . The Republic. character of Adeimantus is deeper and graver, and the profounder objections are commonly put into his mouth. Glaucon is more demonstrative, and generally opens the game ; Adeimantus pur- sues the argument further. Glaucon has more of the liveliness and quick sympathy of youth ; Adeimantus has the maturer judg- ment of a grown-up man of the world. In the second book, when Glaucon insists that justice and injustice shall be considered with- out regard to their consequences, Adeimantus remarks that they are regarded by mankind in general only for the sake of their consequences ; and in a similar vein of reflection he urges at the beginning of the fourth book that Socrates fails in making his citizens happy, and is answered that happiness is not the first but the second thing, not the direct aim but the indirect consequence of the good government of a State. In the discussion about re- ligion and mythology, Adeimantus is the respondent (iii. 376-398), but at p. 398 C, Glaucon breaks in with a slight jest, and carries on the conversation in a lighter tone about music and gymnastic to the end of the book. It is Adeimantus again who volunteers the criticism of common sense on the Socratic method of argument (vi. 487 B), and who refuses to let Socrates pass lightly over the ques- tion of women and children (v. 449). It is Adeimantus who is the re- spondent in the more argumentative, as Glaucon in the lighter and more imaginative portions of the Dialogue. For example, through- out the greater part of the sixth book, the causes of the corruption of philosophy and the conception of the idea of good are discussed with Adeimantus. At p. 506 C, Glaucon resumes his place of principal respondent ; but he has a difficulty in apprehending the higher education of Socrates, and makes some false hits in the course of the discussion (526 D, 527 D). Once more Adeimantus returns (viii. 548) with the allusion to his brother Glaucon whom he compares to the contentious State ; in the next book (ix. 576) he is again superseded, and Glaucon continues to the end (x. 621 B). Thus in a succession of characters Plato represents the succes- sive stages of morality, beginning with the Athenian gentleman of the olden time, who is followed by the practical man of that day regulating his life by proverbs and saws; to him succeeds the wild generalization of the Sophists, and lastly come the young disciples of the great teacher, who know the sophistical arguments xiv The real and the Platonic Socrates. Republic, but will not be convinced by them, and desire to go deeper into ~ the nature of things. These too, like Cephalus, Polemarchus, Thrasymachus, are clearly distinguished from one another. Neither in the Republic, nor in any other Dialogue of Plato, is a single character repeated. The delineation of Socrates in the Republic is not wholly con- sistent. In the first book we have more of the real Socrates, such as he is depicted in the Memorabilia of Xenophon, in the earliest Dialogues of Plato, and in the Apology. He is ironical, provoking, questioning, the old enemy of the Sophists, ready to put on the mask of Silenus as well as to argue seriously. But in the sixth book his enmity towards the Sophists abates ; he acknowledges that they are the representatives rather than the corrupters of the world (vi. 492 A). He also becomes more dogmatic and construc- tive, passing beyond the range either of the political or the specu- lative ideas of the real Socrates. In one passage (vi. 506 C) Plato himself seems to intimate that the time had now come for Socrates, who had passed his whole life in philosophy, to give his own opinion and not to be always repeating the notions of other men. There is no evidence that either the idea of good or the conception of a perfect state were comprehended in the Socratic teaching, though he certainly dwelt on the nature of the universal and of final causes (cp. Xen. Mem. i. 4 ; Phaedo 97) ; and a deep thinker like him, in his thirty or forty years of public teaching, could hardly have failed to touch on the nature of family relations, for which there is also some positive evidence in the Memorabilia (Mem. i. 2, 51 foil.). The Socratic method is nominally retained ; and every inference is either put into the mouth of the respondent or represented as the common discovery of him and Socrates. But any one can see that this is a mere form, of which the affec- tation grows wearisome as the work advances. The method of enquiry has passed into a method of teaching in which by the help of interlocutors the same thesis is looked at from various points of view. The nature of the process is truly characterized by Glaucon, when he describes himself as a companion who is not good for much in an investigation, but can see what he is shown (iv. 432 C), and may, perhaps, give the answer to a question more fluently than another (v. 474 A ; cp. 389 A). Neither can we be absolutely certain that Socrates himself Socrates. xv taught the immortality of the soul, which is unknown to his disciple Republic. Glaucon in the Republic (x. 608 D ; cp. vi. 498 D, E ; Apol. 40, 41) ; IN™O°£UC- nor is there any reason to suppose that he used myths or reve- lations of another world as a vehicle of instruction, or that he would have banished poetry or have denounced the Greek mythology. His favourite oath is retained, and a slight mention is made of the daemonium, or internal sign, which is alluded to by Socrates as a phenomenon peculiar to himself (vi. 496 C). A real element of Socratic teaching, which is more prominent in the Republic than in any of the other Dialogues of Plato, is the use of example and illustration (ra $opriKa avrcS irpoo-fyepovTfs, iv. 442 E) : * Let us apply the test of common instances.' ' You,' says Adei- mantus, ironically, in the sixth book, 'are so unaccustomed to speak in images.' And this use of examples or images, though truly Socratic in origin, is enlarged by the genius of Plato into the form of an allegory or parable, which embodies in the concrete what has been already described, or is about to be described, in the abstract. Thus the figure of the cave in Book VII is a re- capitulation of the divisions of knowledge in Book VI. The composite animal in Book IX is an allegory of the parts of the soul. The noble captain and the ship and the true pilot in Book VI are a figure of the relation of the people to the philosophers in the State which has been described. Other figures, such as the dog (ii. 375 A, D ; iii. 404 A, 416 A ; v. 451 D), or the marriage of the portionless maiden (vi. 495, 496), or the drones and wasps in the eighth and ninth books, also form links of connexion in long passages, or are used to recall previous discussions. Plato is most true to the character of his master when he describes him as ' not of this world.' And with this representation of him the ideal state and the other paradoxes of the Republic are quite in accordance, though they cannot be shown to have been speculations of Socrates. To him, as to other great teachers both philosophical and religious, when they looked upward, the world seemed to be the embodiment of error and evil. The common sense of mankind has revolted against this view, or has only partially ad- mitted it. And even in Socrates himself the sterner judgement of the multitude at times passes into a sort of ironical pity or love. Men in general are incapable of philosophy, and are therefore at enmity with the philosopher ; but their misunderstanding of him xvi Analysis 327. Republic, is unavoidable (vi. 494 foil. ; ix. 589 D) : for they have never seen lNr1oN.UC" mm as ne truly i§ m ms own image; they are only acquainted with artificial systems possessing no native force of truth — words which admit of many applications. Their leaders have nothing to measure with, and are therefore ignorant of their own stature. But they are to be pitied or laughed at, not to be quarrelled with ; they mean well with their nostrums, if they could only learn that they are cutting off a Hydra's head (iv. 426 D, E). This modera- tion towards those who are in error is one of the most charac- teristic features of Socrates in the Republic (vi. 499-502). In all the different representations of Socrates, whether of Xenophon or Plato, and amid the differences of the earlier or later Dialogues, he always retains the character of the unwearied and disinterested seeker after truth, without which he would have ceased to be Socrates. Leaving the characters we may now analyse the contents of the Republic, and then proceed to consider (i) The .general aspects of this Hellenic ideal of the State, (2) The modern lights in which the thoughts of Plato may be read. ANALYSIS. BOOK I. The Republic opens with a truly Greek scene— a festival in honour of the goddess Bendis which is held in the Piraeus ; to this is added the promise of an equestrian torch-race in the evening. The whole work is supposed to be recited by Socrates on the day after the festival to a small party, consisting of Critias, Timaeus, Hermocrates, and another ; this we learn from the first words of the Timaeus. When the rhetorical advantage of reciting the Dialogue has been gained, the attention is not distracted by any reference to the au- dience ; nor is the reader further reminded of the extraordinary length of the narrative. Of the numerous company, three only take any serious part in the discussion; nor are we informed whether in the evening they went to the torch-race, or talked, as in the Symposium, through the night. The manner in which the conversation has arisen is described as follows :- Socrates and his Steph. companion Glaucon are about to leave the festival when they are 3*7 detained by a message from Polemarchus, who speedily appears accompanied by Adeimantus, the brother of Glaucon, and with playful violence compels them to remain, promising them not only Analysis 328-331. xvii 328 the torch-race, but the pleasure of conversation with the young, Republic which to Socrates is a far greater attraction. They return to the ANALYSIS. house of Cephalus, Polemarchus' father, now in extreme old age, who is found sitting upon a cushioned seat crowned for a sacrifice. ' You" should come to me oftener, Socrates, for I am too old to go to you ; and at my time of life, having lost other pleasures, I care the more for conversation.' Socrates asks him what he thinks of 329 age, to which the old man replies, that the sorrows and discontents of age are to be attributed to the tempers of men, and that age is a time of peace in which the tyranny of the passions is no longer felt. Yes, replies Socrates, but the world will say, Cephalus, that you are happy in old age because you are rich. 'And there is something in what they say, Socrates, but not so much as they 330 imagine — as Themistocles replied to the Seriphian, " Neither you, if you had been an Athenian, nor I, if I had been a Seriphian, would ever have been famous," I might in like manner reply to you, Neither a good poor man can be happy in age, nor yet a bad rich man.' Socrates remarks that Cephalus appears not to care about riches, a quality which he ascribes to his having inherited, not acquired them, and would like to know what he considers to be the chief advantage of them. Cephalus answers that when you are old the belief in the world below grows upon you, and 331 then to have done justice and never to have been compelled to do injustice through poverty, and never to have deceived any one, are felt to be unspeakable blessings. Socrates, who is evidently preparing for an argument, next asks, What is the meaning of the word justice ? To tell the truth and pay your debts? No more than this? Or must we admit exceptions? Ought I, for example, to put back into the hands of my friend, who has gone mad, the sword which I borrowed of him when he was in his right mind ? ' There must be exceptions.' ' And yet/ says Polemarchus, ' the definition which has been given has the authority of Simonides.' Here Cephalus retires to look after the sacrifices, and bequeaths, as Socrates facetiously remarks, the possession of the argument to his heir, Polemarchus The description of old age is finished, and Plato, as his manner INTRODUC- is, has touched the key-note of the whole work in asking for the definition of justice, first suggesting the question which Glaucon afterwards pursues respecting external goods, and preparing for c xviii Analysis 332-335. Republic the concluding mythus of the world below in the slight allusion of Cephalus. The portrait of the just man is a natural frontispiece or introduction to the long discourse which follows, and may perhaps imply that in all our perplexity about the nature of justice, there is no difficulty in discerning * who is a just man.' The first ex- planation has been supported by a saying of Simonides ; and now Socrates has a mind to show that the resolution of justice into two unconnected precepts, which have no common principle, fails to satisfy the demands of dialectic. ANALYSIS. ..... He proceeds : What did Simonides mean by this saying of 332 his ? Did he mean that I was to give back arms to a madman ? * No, not in that case, not if the parties are friends, and evil would result. He meant that you were to do what was .proper, good to friends and harm to enemies.' Every act does something to somebody ; and following this analogy, Socrates asks, What is this due and proper thing which justice does, and to whom ? He is answered that justice does good to friends and harm to enemies. But in what way good or harm ? ' In making alliances with the one, and going to war with the other.' Then in time of peace what is the good of justice ? The answer is that justice is of use in contracts, 333 and contracts are money partnerships. Yes ; but how in such partnerships is the just man of more use than any other man ? ' When you want to have money safely kept and not used.' Then justice will be useful when money is useless. And there is another difficulty : justice, like the art of war or any other art, must be of opposites, good at attack as well as at defence, at stealing as well 334 as at guarding. But then justice is a thief, though a hero notwith- standing, like Autolycus, the Homeric hero, who was ' excellent above all men in theft and perjury ' — to such a pass have you and Homer and Simonides brought us ; though I do not forget that the thieving must be for the good of friends and the harm of enemies. And still there arises another question : Are friends to be in- terpreted as real or seeming ; enemies as real or seeming ? And 335 are our friends to be only the good, and our enemies to be the evil ? The answer is, that we must do good to our seeming and real good friends, and evil to our seeming and real evil enemies — good to the good, evil to the evil. But ought we to render evil for evil at all, when to do so will only make men more evil ? Can justice produce injustice any more than the art of horsemanship The early stages of morality. xix can make bad horsemen, or heat produce cold ? The final con- Republic I. ANALYSIS. elusion is, that no sage or poet ever said that the just return evil ' for evil ; this was a maxim of some rich and mighty man, Peri- 336 ander, Perdiccas, or Ismenias the Theban (about B.C. 398-381) Thus the first stage of aphoristic or unconscious morality is shown to be inadequate to the wants of the age ; the authority of the poets is set aside, and through the winding mazes of dialectic we make an approach to the Christian precept of for- giveness of injuries. Similar words are applied by the Persian mystic poet to the Divine being when the questioning spirit is stirred within him : — ' If because I do evil, Thou punishest me by evil, what is the difference between Thee and me ? ' In this both Plato and Kheyam rise above the level of many Christian (?) theologians. The first definition of justice easily passes into the second ; for the simple words 'to speak the truth and pay your debts1 is substituted the more abstract ' to do good to your friends and harm to your enemies.' Either of these explanations gives a sufficient rule of life for plain men, but they both fall short of the precision of philosophy. We may note in passing the antiquity of casuistry, which not only arises out of the conflict of established principles in particular cases, but also out of the effort to attain them, and is prior as well as posterior to our fundamental notions of morality. The ' interrogation * of moral ideas ; the appeal to the authority of Homer; the conclusion that the maxim, 'Do good to your friends and harm to your enemies,' being erroneous, could not have been the word of any great man (cp. ii. 380 A, B), are all of them very characteristic of the Platonic Socrates. . . . Here Thrasymachus, who has made several attempts to ANALYSIS. interrupt, but has hitherto been kept in order by the company, takes advantage of a pause and rushes into the arena, beginning, like a savage animal, with a roar. < Socrates,' he says, ' what folly is this? — Why do you agree to be vanquished by one another in a pretended argument ? ' He then prohibits all the 337 ordinary definitions of justice ; to which Socrates replies that he cannot tell how many twelve is, if he is forbidden to say 2 x 6, or 3 x 4, or 6 x 2, or 4 x 3. At first Thrasymachus is reluctant 338 to argue ; but at length, with a promise of payment on the part of C 2 xx Analysis 338-343. Republic the company and of praise from Socrates, he is induced to open ANALYSIS the §ame- ' Listen,' he says ; * my answer is that might is right, justice the interest of the stronger : now praise me.3 Let me understand you first. Do you mean that because Polydamas the wrestler, who is stronger than we are, finds the eating of beef for his interest, the eating of beef is also for our interest, who are not so strong ? Thrasymachus is indignant at the illustration, and in pompous words, apparently intended to restore dignity to the argument, he explains his meaning to be that the rulers make laws for their own interests. But suppose, says Socrates, that the 339 ruler or stronger makes a mistake — then the interest of the stronger is not his interest Thrasymachus is saved from this speedy downfall by his disciple Cleitophon, who introduces the 340 word ' thinks ; '—not the actual interest of the ruler, but what he thinks or what seems to be his interest, is justice. The contra- diction is escaped by the unmeaning evasion : for though his real and apparent interests may differ, what the ruler thinks to be his interest will always remain what he thinks to be his interest. Of course this was not the original assertion, nor is the new interpretation accepted by Thrasymachus himself. But Socrates is not disposed to quarrel about words, if, as he significantly insinuates, his adversary has changed his mind. In what follows Thrasymachus does in fact withdraw his admission that the ruler may make a mistake, for he affirms that the ruler as a ruler is infallible. Socrates is quite ready to accept the new position, 341 which he equally turns against Thrasymachus by the help of the analogy of the arts. Every art or science has an interest, but 342 this interest is to be distinguished from the accidental interest of the artist, and is only concerned with the good of the things or persons which come under the art. And justice has an interest which is the interest not of the ruler or judge, but of those who come under his sway. Thrasymachus is on the brink of the inevitable conclusion, when he makes a bold diversion. 'Tell me, Socrates,' he says, 343 ' have you a nurse ? ' What a question ! Why do you ask ? ' Because, if you have, she neglects you and lets you go about drivelling, and has not even taught you to know the shepherd from the' sheep. For you fancy that shepherds and rulers never think of their own interest, but only of their sheep or subjects, Analysis 343-347. xxi whereas the truth is that they fatten them for their use, sheep and Republic subjects alike. And experience proves that in every relation ANAL' of life the just man is the loser and the unjust the gainer, 344 especially where injustice is on the grand scale, which is quite another thing from the petty rogueries of swindlers and burglars and robbers of temples. The language of men proves this — our 'gracious' and 'blessed3 tyrant and the like — all which tends to show (i) that justice is the interest of the stronger ; and (2) that injustice is more profitable and also stronger than justice.' Thrasymachus, who is better at a speech than at a close argument, having deluged the company with words, has a mind 345 to escape. But the others will not let him go, and Socrates adds a humble but earnest request that he will not desert them at such a crisis of their fate. ' And what can I do more for you ? ' he says ; ' would you have me put the words bodily into your souls?' God forbid! replies Socrates; but we want you to be consistent in the use of terms, and not to employ * physician ' in an exact sense, and then again ' shepherd ' or ' ruler ' in an inexact, — if the words are strictly taken, the ruler and the shepherd look only to the good of their people or flocks and not to their own : whereas you insist that rulers are solely actuated by love of office. ' No doubt about it,' replies Thrasy- 346 machus. Then why are they paid ? Is not the reason, that their interest is not comprehended in their art, and is therefore the concern of another art, the art of pay, which is common to the arts in general, and therefore not identical with any one of them ? 347 Nor would any man be a ruler unless he were induced by the hope of reward or the fear of punishment ; — the reward is money or honour, the punishment is the necessity of being ruled by a man worse than himself. And if a State [or Church] were com- posed entirely of good men, they would be affected by the last motive only; and there would be as much 'nolo episcopari' as there is at present of the opposite. . . . The satire on existing governments is heightened by the simple INTRODUC- and apparently incidental manner in which the last remark is introduced. There is a similar irony in the argument that the governors of mankind do not like being in office, and that there- fore they demand pay. Enough of this : the other assertion of Thrasymachus is far ANALYSIS. xxii Analysis 348-352. Republic more important — that the unjust life is more gainful than the just. ANA YSIS N°w> as y°u an<* Ii Glaucon, are not convinced by him, we must 348 reply to him ; but if we try to compare their respective gains we shall want a judge to decide for us ; we had better therefore proceed by making mutual admissions of the truth to one another. Thrasymachus had asserted that perfect injustice was more gainful than perfect justice, and after a little hesitation he is induced by Socrates to admit the still greater paradox that in- 349 justice is virtue and justice vice. Socrates praises his frankness, and assumes the attitude of one whose only wish is to understand the meaning of his opponents. At the same time he is weaving a net in which Thrasymachus is finally enclosed. The admission is elicited from him that the just man seeks to gain an advantage over the unjust only, but not over the just, while the unjust would gain an advantage over either. Socrates, in order to test this statement, employs once more the favourite analogy of the arts. The musician, doctor, skilled artist of any sort, does not 350 seek to gain more than the skilled, but only more than the unskilled (that is to say, he works up to a rule, standard, law, and does not exceed it), whereas the unskilled makes random efforts at excess. Thus the skilled falls on the side of the good, and the unskilled on the side of the evil, and the just is the skilled, and the unjust is the unskilled. There was great difficulty in bringing Thrasymachus to the point ; the day was hot and he was streaming with perspiration, and for the first time in his life he was seen to blush. But his other thesis that injustice was stronger than justice has not yet been refuted, and Socrates now proceeds to the consideration of this, which, with the assistance of Thrasymachus, he hopes to clear up ; the latter is at first churlish, but in the judicious hands of Socrates is soon restored to good-humour : Is there not honour 35 1 among thieves ? Is not the strength of injustice only a remnant of justice ? Is not absolute injustice absolute weakness also ? A house that is divided against itself cannot stand ; two men who 35 * quarrel detract from one another's strength, and he who is at war with himself is -the enemy of himself and the gods. Not wickedness therefore, but semi-wickedness flourishes in states, — a remnant of good is needed in order to make union in action possible, — there is no kingdom of evil in this world. The three arguments respecting justice, xxiii Another question has not been answered : Is the just or the Republic 353 unjust the happier ? To this we reply, that every art has an ANALySIS end and an excellence or virtue by which the end is accomplished. And is not the end of the soul happiness, and justice the ex- cellence of the soul by which happiness is attained? Justice 354 and happiness being thus shown to be inseparable, the question whether the just or the unjust is the happier has disappeared. Thrasymachus replies : ' Let this be your entertainment,. Socrates, at the festival of Bendis.' Yes ; and a very good entertainment with which your kindness has supplied me, now that you have left off scolding. And yet not a good entertainment —but that was my own fault, for I tasted of too many things. First of all the nature of justice was the subject of our enquiry, and then whether justice is virtue and wisdom, or evil and folly ; and then the comparative advantages of just and unjust : and the sum of all is that I know not what justice is ; how then shall I know whether the just is happy or not ? . . . Thus the sophistical fabric has been demolished., chiefly by INTRODUC- appealing to the analogy of the arts. 'Justice is like the arts (i) in having no external interest, and (2) in not aiming at excess, and (3) justice is to happiness what the implement of the work- man is to his work.' At this the modern reader is apt to stumble, because he forgets that Plato is writing in an age when the arts and the virtues, like the moral and intellectual faculties, were still undistinguished. Among early enquirers into the nature of human action the arts helped to fill up the void of speculation ; and at first the comparison of the arts and the virtues was not perceived by them to be fallacious. They only saw the points of agreement in them and not the points of difference. Virtue, like art, must take means to an end ; good manners are both an art and a virtue ; character is naturally described under the image of a statue (ii. 361 D ; vii. 540 C) ; and there are many other figures of speech which are readily transferred from art to morals. The next generation cleared up these perplexities ; or at least supplied after ages with a further analysis of them. The contemporaries of Plato • were in a state of transition, and had not yet fully realized the common-sense distinction of Aristotle, that 'virtue is concerned with action, art with production ' (Nic. Eth. vi. 4), or that 'virtue implies intention and constancy of purpose/ xxiv The just is of the nature of the finite. Republic whereas ' art requires knowledge only ' (Nic. Eth. ii. 3). And yet *' in the absurdities which follow from some uses of the analogy INTRODUC- TION, (cp. i. 333 E, 334 B), there seems to be an intimation conveyed that virtue is more than art. This is implied in the reductio ad ab- surdum that 'justice is a thief,' and in the dissatisfaction which Socrates expresses at the final result. The expression ' an art of pay ' (i. 346 B) which is described as 'common to all the arts' is not in accordance with the ordinary use of language. Nor is it employed elsewhere either by Plato or by any other Greek writer. It is suggested by the argument, and seems to extend the conception of art to doing as well as making. Another flaw or inaccuracy of language may be noted in the words (i. 335 C) 'men who are injured are made more unjust.' For those who are injured are not necessarily made worse, but only harmed or ill-treated. The second of the three arguments, 'that the just does not aim at excess,' has a real meaning, though wrapped up in an enigmatical form. That the good is of the nature of the finite is a peculiarly Hellenic sentiment, which may be compared with the language of those modern writers who speak of virtue as fitness, and of freedom as obedience to law. The mathematical or logical notion of limit easily passes into an ethical one, and even finds a mythological expression in the conception of envy (cuVrai, eotKei/, K.T.X. Plato, at- tempting to introduce order into the first chaos of human thought, seems to have confused perception and opinion, and to have failed to distinguish the contingent from the relative. In the Theaetetus the first of these difficulties begins to clear up ; in the Sophist the second ; and for this, as well as for other reasons, both these dialogues are probably to be regarded as later than the Republic. ANALYSIS. BOOK VI. Having determined that the many have no know- Steph. ledge of true being, and have no clear patterns in their minds of justice, beauty, truth, and that philosophers have such patterns, we have now to ask whether they or the many shall be rulers in our State. But who can doubt that philosophers should be chosen, if they have the other qualities which are required in a ruler ? For 485 they are lovers of the knowledge of the eternal and of all truth ; they are 'haters of falsehood ; their meaner desires are absorbed in the interests of knowledge ; they are spectators of all time and all existence ; and in the magnificence of their contemplation the life 486 of man is as nothing to them, nor is death fearful. Also they are of a social, gracious disposition, equally free from cowardice and arrogance. They learn and remember easily; they have har- monious, well-regulated minds ; truth flows to them sweetly by nature. Can the god of Jealousy himself find any fault with such 487 an assemblage of good qualities ? Here Adeimantus interposes : — ' No man can answer you, Socrates ; but every man feels that this is owing to his own deficiency in argument. He is driven from one position to another, until he has nothing more to say, just as an un- skilful player at draughts is reduced to his last move by a more skilled opponent. And yet all the time he may be right- Analysis 487-490. Ixxxi He may know, in this very instance, that those who make Republic philosophy the business of their lives, generally turn out rogues if they are bad men, and fools if they are good. What do you say ? ' I should say that he is quite right. 'Then how is such an ad- mission reconcileable with the doctrine that philosophers should be kings ? ' 488 I shall answer you in a parable which will also let you see how poor a hand I am at the invention of allegories. The relation of good men to their governments is so peculiar, that in order to defend them I must take an illustration from the world of fiction. Conceive the captain of a ship, taller by a head and shoulders than any of the crew, yet a little deaf, a little blind, and rather ignorant of the seaman's art. The sailors want to steer, although they » know nothing of the art ; and they have a theory that it cannot be learned. If the helm is refused them, they drug the captain's posset, bind him hand and foot, and take possession of the ship. He who joins in the mutiny is termed a good pilot and what not ; % they have no conception that the true pilot must observe the winds and the stars, and must be their master, whether they like it or not; — such an one would be called by them fool, prater, ^89 star-gazer. This is my parable ; which I will beg you to interpret for me to those gentlemen who ask why the philosopher has such an evil name, and to explain to them that not he, but those who will not use him, are to blame for his uselessness. The philosopher should not beg of mankind to be put in authority over them. The wise man should not seek the rich, as the proverb bids, but every man, whether rich or poor, must knock at the door of the physician when he has need of him. Now the pilot is the philosopher — he whom in the parable they call star-gazer, and the mutinous sailors are the mob of politicians by whom he is rendered useless. Not that these are the worst enemies of philosophy, who is far more dishonoured by her own professing sons when they are corrupted ^90 by the world. Need I recall the original image of the philosopher ? Did we not say of him just now, that he loved truth and hated falsehood, and that he could not rest in the multiplicity of pheno- mena, but was led by a sympathy in his own nature to the contemplation of the absolute ? All the virtues as well as truth, who is the leader of them, took up their abode in his soul. But as you were observing, ii we turn aside to view the reality, we see g Ixxxii Analysis 490-493. Republic that the persons who were thus described, with the exception of a VI. ANALYSIS. small and useless class, are utter rogues. The point which has to be considered, is the origin of this corruption in nature. Every one will admit that the philosopher, 491 in our description of him, is a rare being. But what numberless causes tend to destroy these rare beings ! There is no good thing which may not be a cause of evil — health, wealth, strength, rank, and the virtues themselves, when placed under unfavourable circumstances. For as in the animal or vegetable world the strongest seeds most need the accompaniment of good air and soil, so the best of human characters turn out the worst when they fall upon an unsuitable soil ; whereas weak natures hardly ever do any considerable good or harm ; they are not the stuff out of which either great criminals or great heroes are made. The philosopher 492 follows the same analogy : he is either the best or the worst of all men. Some persons say that the Sophists are the corrupters of youth ; but is not public opinion the real Sophist who is every- where present— in those very persons, in the assembly, in the courts, in the camp, in the applauses and hisses of the theatre re- echoed by the surrounding hills ? Will not a young man's heart leap amid these discordant sounds ? and will any education save him from being carried away by the torrent ? Nor is this all. For if he will not yield to opinion, there follows the gentle compulsion of exile or death. What principle of rival Sophists or anybody else can overcome in such an unequal contest ? Characters there may be more than human, who are exceptions — God may save a 493 man, but not his own strength. Further, I would have you consider that the hireling Sophist only gives back to the world their own opinions ; he is the keeper of the monster, who knows how to flatter or anger him, and observes the meaning of his inarticulate grunts. Good is what pleases him, evil what he dislikes ; truth and beauty are determined only by the taste of the brute. Such is the Sophist's wisdom, and such is the condition of those who make public opinion the test of truth, whether in art or in morals. The curse is laid upon them of being and doing what it approves, and when they attempt first principles the failure is ludicrous. Think of all this and ask yourself whether the world is more likely to be a believer in the unity of the idea, or in the multiplicity of phenomena. And the world if not a believer Analysis 494-497. Ixxxiii 194 in the idea cannot be a philosopher, and must therefore be a Republic persecutor of philosophers. There is another evil : — the world does not like to lose the gifted nature, and so they flatter the young [Alcibiades] into a magnificent opinion of his own capacity; the tall, proper youth begins to expand, and is dreaming of kingdoms and empires. If at this instant a friend whispers to him, ' Now the gods lighten thee ; thou art a great fool ' and must be educated— do you think that he will listen ? Or suppose a better^ sort of man who is attracted towards philosophy, will they not 1-95 make Herculean efforts to spoil and corrupt him? Are we not right in saying that the love of knowledge, no less than riches, may divert him ? Men of this class [Critias] often become politicians — they are the authors of great mischief in states, and sometimes also of great good. And thus philosophy is deserted by her natural protectors, and others enter in and dishonour her. Vulgar little minds see the land open and rush from the prisons of the arts into her temple. A clever mechanic having a soul coarse as his body, thinks that he will gain caste by becoming her suitor. For philosophy, even in her fallen estate, has a dignity of her own — and he, like a bald little blacksmith's apprentice as he is, having made some money and got out of durance, washes and dresses 196 himself as a bridegroom and marries his master's daughter. What will be the issue of such marriages ? Will they not be vile and bastard, devoid of truth and nature ? ' They will.' Small, then, is the remnant of genuine philosophers ; there may be a few who are citizens of small states, in which politics are not worth thinking of, or who have been detained by Theages' bridle of ill health ; for my own case of the oracular sign is almost unique, and too rare to be worth mentioning. And these few when they have tasted the pleasures of philosophy, and have taken a look at that den of thieves and place of wild beasts, which is human life, will stand aside from the storm under the shelter of a wall, and try to preserve their own innocence and to depart in peace. * A great work, too, will have been accomplished by them.' Great, yes, but not the greatest ; for man is a social being, and can only attain his highest development in the society which is best suited to him. 497 Enough, then, of the causes why philosophy has such an evil name. Another question is, Which of existing states is suited to her ? Not one of them ; at present she is like some exotic seed Ixxxiv Analysis 497-499. Republic which degenerates in a strange soil ; only in her proper state will ANALYSIS s^e ^e shown to be °f heavenly growth. ' And is her proper state ours or some other ? ' Ours in all points but one, which was left undetermined. You may remember our saying that some living mind or witness of the legislator was needed in states. But we were afraid to enter upon a subject of such difficulty, and now the question recurs and has not grown easier : — How may philo- ^sophy be safely studied ? Let us bring her into the light of day, and make an end of the inquiry. In the first place, I say boldly that nothing can be worse than the present mode of study. Persons usually pick up a little 498 philosophy in early youth, and in the intervals of business, but they never master the real difficulty, which is dialectic. Later, perhaps, they occasionally go to a lecture on philosophy. Years advance, and the sun of philosophy, unlike that of Heracleitus, sets never to rise again. This order of education should be re- versed; it should begin with gymnastics in youth, and as the man strengthens, he should increase the gymnastics of his soul. Then, when active life is over, let him finally return to philosophy. 'You are in earnest, Socrates, but the world will be equally earnest in withstanding you — no one more than Thrasymachus.' Do not make a quarrel between Thrasymachus and me, who were never enemies and are now good friends enough. And I shall do my best to convince him and all mankind of the truth of my words, or at any rate to prepare for the future when, in another life, we may again take part in similar discussions. * That will be a long time hence/ Not long in comparison with eternity. The many will probably remain incredulous, for they have never seen the natural unity of ideas, but only artificial juxtapositions; not free and generous thoughts, but tricks of controversy and quips of law ; — a perfect man ruling in a perfect state, even a single 499 one they have not known. And we foresaw that there was no chance of perfection either in states or individuals until a ne- cessity was laid upon philosophers — not the rogues, but those whom we called the useless class — of holding office ; or until the sons of kings were inspired with a true love of philosophy. Whether in the infinity of past time there has been, or is in some distant land, or ever will be hereafter, an ideal such as we have described, we stoutly maintain that there has been, is, and Analysis 499-502. Ixxxv will be such a state whenever the Muse of philosophy rules. Republic ANALYSIS. 500 Will you say that the world is of another mind ? O, my friend, do not revile the world ! They will soon change their opinion if they are gently entreated, and are taught the true nature of the philosopher. Who can hate a man who loves him ? or be jealous of one who has no jealousy? Consider, again, that the many hate not the true but the false philosophers— the pretenders who force their way in without invitation, and are always speaking of persons and not of principles, which is unlike the spirit of philosophy. For the true philosopher despises earthly strife ; his eye is fixed on the eternal order in accordance with which he moulds himself into the Divine image (and not himself only, but other men), and is the creator of the virtues private as well as public. When mankind see that the happiness of states is only to be found in that image, will they be angry with us for attempt- ing to delineate it ? ' Certainly not. But what will be the process ;oi of delineation ? ' The artist will do nothing until he has made a tabula rasa ; on this he will inscribe the constitution of a state, glancing often at the divine truth of nature, and from that deriving the godlike among men, mingling the two elements, rubbing out and painting in, until there is a perfect harmony or fusion of the divine and human. But perhaps the world will doubt the existence of such an artist. What will they doubt? That the philosopher is a lover of truth, having a nature akin to the best ? — and if they admit this will they still quarrel with us for making philosophers our kings ? ' They will be less disposed to quarrel.' ;o2 Let us assume then that they are pacified. Still, a person may hesitate about the probability of the son of a king being a philo- sopher. And we do not deny that they are very liable to be corrupted ; but yet surely in the course of ages there might be one exception — and one is enough. If one son of a king were a philosopher, and had obedient citizens, he might bring the ideal polity into being. Hence we conclude that our laws are not only the best, but that they are also possible, though not free from difficulty. I gained nothing by evading the troublesome questions which arose concerning women and children. I will be wiser now and acknowledge that we must go to the bottom of another question : What is to be the education of our guardians ? It was Ixxxvi Analysis 503-506. Republic agreed that they were to be lovers of their country, and were 503 ANALY* to ^e testec^ m tne refiner's fire of pleasures and pains, and those who came forth pure and remained fixed in their principles were to have honours and rewards in life and after death. But at this point, the argument put on her veil and turned into another path. I hesitated to make the assertion which I now hazard, — that our guardians must be philosophers. You remember all the contra- dictory elements, which met in the philosopher— how difficult to find them all in a single person ! Intelligence and spirit are not often combined with steadiness; the stolid, fearless, nature is averse to intellectual toil. And yet these opposite elements are all necessary, and therefore, as we were saying before, the aspirant must be tested in pleasures and dangers ; and also, as we must now further add, in the highest branches of knowledge. 504 You will remember, that when we spoke of the virtues mention was made of a longer road, which you were satisfied to leave unexplored. 'Enough seemed to have been said.' Enough, my friend ; but what is enough while anything remains wanting ? Of all men the guardian must not faint in the search after truth ; he must be prepared to take the longer road, or he will never reach that higher region which is above the four virtues ; and of the virtues too he must not only get an outline, but a clear and distinct vision. (Strange that we should be so precise about trifles, so careless about the highest truths!) 'And what are the highest ? ' You to pretend unconsciousness, when you have 505 so often heard me speak of the idea of good, about which we know so little, and without which though a man gain the world he has no profit of it ! Some people imagine that the good is wisdom ; but this involves a circle, — the good, they say, is wisdom, wisdom has to do with the good. According to others the good is pleasure ; but then comes the absurdity that good is bad, for there are bad pleasures as well as good. Again, the good must have reality ; a man may desire the appearance of virtue, but he will not desire the appearance of good. Ought our guardians then to be ignorant of this supreme principle, of which every man 506 has a presentiment, and without which no man has any real knowledge of anything? 'But, Socrates, what is this supreme principle, knowledge or pleasure, or what? You may think me troublesome, but I say that you have no business to be always Analysis 506-509. Ixxxvii repeating the doctrines of others instead of giving us your own.' Republic Can I say what I do not know? 'You may offer an opinion.' ANALYSIS. And will the blindness and crookedness of opinion content you when you might have the light and certainty of science ? ' I will only ask you to give such an explanation of the good as you have given already of temperance and justice.' I wish that I could, but in my present mood I cannot reach to the height of the knowledge 507 of the good. To the parent or principal I cannot introduce you, but to the child begotten in his image, which I may compare with the interest on the principal, I will. (Audit the account, and do not let me give you a false statement of the debt.) You remember our old distinction of the many beautiful and the one beautiful, the particular and the universal, the objects of sight and the objects of thought? Did you ever consider that the objects of sight imply a faculty of sight which is the most complex and costly of our senses, requiring not only objects of sense, but also a medium, which is light ; without which the sight will not distin- 508 guish between colours and all will be a blank ? For light is the noble bond between the perceiving faculty and the thing perceived, and the god who gives us light is the sun, who is the eye of the .day, but is not to be confounded with the eye of man. This eye of the day or sun is what I call the child of the good, standing in the same relation to the visible world as the good to the intellectual. When the sun shines the eye sees, and in the intellectual world where truth is, there is sight and light. Now that which is the sun of intelligent natures, is the idea of good, the cause of knowledge and truth, yet 509 other and fairer than they are, and standing in the same relation to them in which the sun stands to light. O inconceivable height of beauty, which is above knowledge and above truth ! ('You cannot surely mean pleasure,' he said. Peace, I replied.) And this idea of good, like the sun, is also the cause of growth, and the author not of knowledge only, but of being, yet greater far than either in dignity and power. ' That is a reach of thought more than human ; but, pray, go on with the image, for I suspect that there is more behind.' There is, I said ; and bearing in mind our two suns or principles, imagine further their corresponding worlds — one of the visible, the other of the intelligible ; you may assist your fancy by figuring the distinction under the image Ixxxviii Analysis 509-511. Republic of a line divided into two unequal parts, and may again subdivide ANA ' each part into two lesser segments representative of the stages of knowledge in either sphere. The lower portion of the lower or visible sphere will consist of shadows and reflections, and its 510 upper and smaller portion will contain real objects in the world of nature or of art. The sphere of the intelligible will also have two divisions,— one of mathematics, in which there is no ascent but all is descent ; no inquiring into premises, but only drawing of inferences. In this division the mind works with figures and numbers, the images of which are taken not from the shadows, but from the objects, although the truth of them is seen only with the mind's eye ; and they are used as hypotheses without being analysed. Whereas in the other division reason 511 uses the hypotheses as stages or steps in the ascent to the idea of good, to which she fastens them, and then again descends, walking firmly in the region of ideas, and of ideas only, in her ascent as well as descent, and finally resting in them,. 'I partly under- stand,' he replied ; ' you mean that the ideas of science are superior to the hypothetical, metaphorical conceptions of geometry and the other arts or sciences, whichever is to be the name of them ; and the latter conceptions you refuse to make subjects of pure intellect, because they have no first principle, although when resting on a first principle, they pass into the higher sphere.' You understand me very well, I said. And now to those four divisions of knowledge you may assign four corresponding faculties — pure intelligence to the highest sphere ; active intelli- gence to the second ; to the third, faith ; to the fourth, the perception of shadows — and the clearness of the several faculties will be in the same ratio as the truth of the objects to which they are related INTRODUC- Like Socrates, we may recapitulate the virtues of the philo- sopher. In language which seems to reach beyond the horizon of that age and country, he is described as * the spectator of all time and all existence.' He has the noblest gifts of nature, and makes the highest use of them. All his desires are absorbed in the love of wisdom, which is the love of truth. None of the graces of a beautiful soul are wanting in him ; neither can he fear death, or think much of human life. The ideal of modern Portrait of the Philosopher, Ixxxix times hardly retains the simplicity of the antique ; there is not the Republic same originality either in truth or error which characterized the INTBOD'UC. Greeks. The philosopher is no longer living in the unseen, nor TION- is he sent by an oracle to convince mankind of ignorance ; nor does he regard knowledge as a system of ideas leading upwards by regular stages to the idea of good. The eagerness of the pursuit has abated ; there is more division of labour and less of comprehensive reflection upon nature and human life as a whole ; more of exact observation and less of anticipation and inspiration. Still, in the altered conditions of knowledge, the parallel is not wholly lost ; and there may be a use in translating the conception of Plato into the language of our own age. The philosopher in modern times is one who fixes his mind on the laws of nature in their sequence and connexion, not on fragments or pictures of nature ; on history, not on controversy; on the truths which are acknowledged by the few, not on the opinions of the many. He is aware of the importance of ' classifying according to nature,' and will try to ' separate the limbs of science without breaking them ' (Phaedr. 265 E). There is no part of truth, whether great or small, which he will dishonour ; and in the least things he will discern the greatest (Parmen. 130 C). Like the ancient philoso- pher he sees the world pervaded by analogies, but he can also tell 'why in some cases a single instance is sufficient for an induction ' (Mill's Logic, 3, 3, 3), while in other cases a thousand examples would prove nothing. He inquires into a portion of knowledge only, because the whole has grown too vast to be embraced by a single mind or life. He has a clearer concep- tion of the divisions of science and of their relation to the mind of man than was possible to the ancients. Like Plato, he has a vision of the unity of knowledge, not as the beginning of philo- sophy to be attained by a study of elementary mathematics, but as the far-off result of the working of many minds in many ages. He is aware that mathematical studies are preliminary to almost every other ; at the same time, he will not reduce all varieties of knowledge to the type of mathematics. He too must have a nobility of character, without which genius loses the better half of greatness. Regarding the world as a point in immensity, and each individual as a link in a never-ending chain of existence, he will not think much of his own life, or be greatly afraid of death. xc The Criticism of Adeimantus. Republic Adeimantus objects first of all to the form of the Socratic INTRODUC- reasonmg> thus showing that Plato is aware of the imperfection TION. Of his own method. He brings the accusation against himself which might be brought against him by a modern logician— that he extracts the answer because he knows how to put the ques- tion. In a long argument words are apt to change their meaning slightly, or premises may be assumed or conclusions inferred with rather too much certainty or universality; the variation at each step may be unobserved, and yet at last the divergence becomes considerable. Hence the failure of attempts to apply arithmetical or algebraic formulae to logic. The imperfection, or rather the higher and more elastic nature of language, does not allow words to have the precision of numbers or of symbols. And this quality in language impairs the force of an argument which has many steps. The objection, though fairly met by Socrates in this particular instance, may be regarded as implying a reflection upon the Socratic mode of reasoning. And here, as at p. 506 B, Plato seems to intimate that the time had come when the negative and interrogative method of Socrates must be superseded by a positive and constructive one, of which examples are given in some of the later dialogues. Adeimantus further argues that the ideal is wholly at variance with facts ; for experience proves philosophers to be either useless or rogues. Contrary to all expectation (cp. p. 497 for a similar surprise) Socrates has no hesitation in admitting the truth of this, and explains the anomaly in an allegory, first characteristically depreciating his own in- ventive powers. In this allegory the people are distinguished from the professional politicians, and, as at pp. 499, 500, are spoken of in a tone of pity rather than of censure under the image of 'the noble captain who is not very quick in his per- ceptions.' The uselessness of philosophers is explained by the circum- stance that mankind will not use them. The world in all ages has been divided between contempt and fear of those who employ the power of ideas and know no other weapons. Concerning the false philosopher, Socrates argues that the best is most liable to corruption ; and that the finer nature is more likely to suffer from alien conditions. We too observe that there are some kinds The paradoxical reply of Socrates. xci of excellence which spring from a peculiar delicacy of consti- Republic tution ; as is evidently true of the poetical and imaginative tern- perament, which often seems to depend on impressions, and hence can only breathe or live in a certain atmosphere. The man of genius has greater pains and greater pleasures, greater powers and greater weaknesses, and often a greater play of character than is to be found in ordinary men. He can assume the disguise of virtue or disinterestedness without having them, or veil personal enmity in the language of patriotism and philo- sophy,—he can say the word which all men are thinking, he has an insight which is terrible into the follies and weaknesses of his fellow-men. An Alcibiades, a Mirabeau, or a Napoleon the First, are born either to be the authors of great evils in states, or * of great good, when they are drawn in that direction.' Yet the thesis, ' corruptio optimi pessima,' cannot be maintained generally or without regard to the kind of excellence which is corrupted. The alien conditions which are corrupting to one nature, may be the elements of culture to another. In general a man can only receive his highest development in a congenial state or family, among friends or fellow-workers. But also he may sometimes be stirred by adverse circumstances to such a degree that he rises up against them and reforms them. And while weaker or coarser characters will extract good out of evil, say in a corrupt state of the church or of society, and live on happily, allowing the evil to remain, the finer or stronger natures may be crushed or spoiled by surrounding influences — may be- come misanthrope and philanthrope by turns ; or in a few instances, like the founders of the monastic orders, or the Re- formers, owing to some peculiarity in themselves or in their age, may break away entirely from the world and from the church, sometimes into great good, sometimes into great evil, sometimes into both. And the same holds in the lesser sphere of a convent, a school, a family. Plato would have us consider how easily the best natures are overpowered by public opinion, and what efforts the rest of man- kind will make to get possession of them. The world, the church, their own profession, any political or party organization, are always carrying them off their legs and teaching them to apply high and holy names to their own prejudices and interests. xcu The better mind of the many. Republic The 'monster' corporation to which they belong judges right and truth to be the pleasure of the community. The individual INTRODUC- TION, becomes one with his order ; or, if he resists, the world is too much for him, and will sooner or later be revenged on him. This is, perhaps, a one-sided but not wholly untrue picture of the maxims and practice of mankind when they 'sit down together at an assembly,' either in ancient or modern times. When the higher natures are corrupted by politics, the lower take possession of the vacant place of philosophy. This is de- scribed in one of those continuous images in which the argument, to use a Platonic expression, ' veils herself,' and which is dropped and reappears at intervals. The question is asked, — Why are the citizens of states so hostile to philosophy ? The answer is, that they do not know her. And. yet there is also a better mind of the many; they would believe if they were taught. But hitherto they have only known a conventional imitation of philo- sophy, words without thoughts, systems which have no life in them ; a [divine] person uttering the words of beauty and free- dom, the friend of man holding communion with the Eternal, and seeking to frame the state in that image, they have never known. The same double feeling respecting the mass of man* kind has always existed among men. The first thought is that the people are the enemies of truth and right ; the second, that this only arises out of an accidental error and confusion, and that they do not really hate those who love them, if they could be educated to know them. In the latter part of the sixth book, three questions have to be considered : ist, the nature of the longer and more circuitous way, which is contrasted with the shorter and more imperfect method of Book IV; and, the heavenly pattern or idea of the state ; 3rd, the relation of the divisions of knowledge to one another and to the corresponding faculties of the soul. i. Of the higher method of knowledge in Plato we have only a glimpse. Neither here nor in the Phaedrus or Symposium, nor yet in the Philebus or Sophist, does he give any clear explanation of his meaning. He would probably have described his method as proceeding by regular steps to a system of universal know- ledge, which inferred the parts from the whole rather than the whole from the parts. This ideal logic is not practised by him The better and longer way. xciii in the search after justice, or in the analysis of the parts of the Republic soul ; there, like Aristotle in the Nicomachean Ethics, he argues from experience and the common use of language. But at the end of the sixth book he conceives another and more perfect method, in which all ideas are only steps or grades or moments of thought, forming a connected whole which is self-supporting, and in which consistency is the test of truth. He does not explain to us in detail the nature of the process. Like many other thinkers both in ancient and modern times his mind seems to be filled with a vacant form which he is unable to realize. He supposes the sciences to have a natural order and connexion in an age when they can hardly be said to exist. He is hastening on to the ' end of the intellectual world ' without even making a beginning of them. In modern times we hardly need to be reminded that the process of acquiring knowledge is here confused with the con- templation of absolute knowledge. In all science a priori and a posteriori truths mingle in various proportions. The a priori part is that which is derived from the most universal experience of men, or is universally accepted by them ; the a posteriori is that which grows up around the more general principles and becomes imperceptibly one with them. But Plato erroneously imagines that the synthesis is separable from the analysis, and that the method of science can anticipate science. In entertaining such a vision of a priori knowledge he is sufficiently justified, or at least his meaning may be sufficiently explained by the similar attempts of Descartes, Kant, Hegel, and even of Bacon himself, in modern philosophy. Anticipations or divinations, or prophetic glimpses of truths whether concerning man or nature, seem to stand in the same relation to ancient philosophy which hypotheses bear to modern inductive science. These ( guesses at truth ' were not made at random ; they arose from a superficial impression of uniformities and first principles in nature which the genius of the Greek, contemplating the expanse of heaven and earth, seemed to recognize in the distance. Nor can we deny that in ancient times knowledge must have stood still, and the human mind been deprived of the very instruments of thought, if philosophy had been strictly confined to the results of ex- perience. xciv The confusion of ideas and numbers. Republic 2. Plato supposes that when the tablet has been made blank the artist will fill in the lineaments of the ideal state. Is this a pattern INTRODUC- TION, laid up in heaven, or mere vacancy on which he is supposed to gaze with wondering eye? The answer is, that such ideals are framed partly by the omission of particulars, partly by imagina- tion perfecting the form which experience supplies (Phaedo, 74). Plato represents these ideals in a figure as belonging to another world ; and in modern times the idea will sometimes seem to precede, at other times to co-operate with the hand of the artist. As in science, so also in creative art, there is a synthetical as well as an analytical method. One man will have the whole in his mind before he begins; to another the processes of mind and hand will be simultaneous. 3. There is no difficulty in seeing that Plato's divisions of knowledge are based, first, on the fundamental antithesis of sensible and intellectual which pervades the whole pre-Socratic philosophy ; in which is implied also the opposition of the per- manent and transient, of the universal and particular. But the age of philosophy in which he lived seemed to require a further distinction ; — numbers and figures were beginning to separate from ideas. The world could no longer regard justice as a cube, and was learning to see, though imperfectly, that the abstractions of sense were distinct from the abstractions of mind. Between the Eleatic being or essence and the shadows of phenomena, the Pythagorean principle of number found a place, and was, as Aristotle remarks, a conducting medium from one to the other. Hence Plato is led to introduce a third term which had not hitherto entered into the scheme of his philosophy. He had ob- served the use of mathematics in education ; they were the best preparation for higher studies. The subjective relation between them further suggested an objective one; although the passage from one to the other is really imaginary (Metaph. i, 6, 4). For metaphysical and moral philosophy has no connexion with mathe- matics ; number and figure are the abstractions of time and space, not the expressions of purely intellectual conceptions. When divested of metaphor, a straight line or a square has no more to do with right and justice than a crooked line with vice. The figurative association was mistaken for a real one ; and thus the three latter divisions of the Platonic proportion were constructed. The correlation of the faculties. xcv There is more difficulty in comprehending how he arrived at Republic the first term of the series, which is nowhere else mentioned, INTROOUC and has no reference to any other part of his system. Nor indeed TION- does the relation of shadows to objects correspond to the relation of numbers to ideas. Probably Plato has been led by the love of analogy (cp. Timaeus, p. 32 B) to make four terms instead of three, although the objects perceived in both divisions of the lower sphere are equally objects of sense. He is also preparing the way, as his manner is, for the shadows of images at the begin- ning of the seventh book, and the imitation of an imitation in the tenth. The line may be regarded as reaching from unity to infinity, and is divided into two unequal parts, and subdivided into two more; each lower sphere is the multiplication of the preceding. Of the four faculties, faith in the lower division has an intermediate position (cp. for the use of the word faith or belief, Tn'o-ris, Timaeus, 29 C, 37 B), contrasting equally with the vagueness of the perception of shadows (ei/cao-t'a) and the higher certainty of understanding (dtavoia) and reason (i/ous). The difference between understanding and mind or reason (vovs) is analogous to the difference between acquiring know- ledge in the parts and the contemplation of the whole. True knowledge is a whole, and is at rest ; consistency and universality are the tests of truth. To this self-evidencing knowledge of the whole the faculty of mind is supposed to correspond. But there is a knowledge of the understanding which is incomplete and in motion always, because unable to rest in the subordinate ideas. Those ideas are called both images and hypotheses — images because they are clothed in sense, hypotheses because they are assumptions only, until they are brought into connexion with the idea of good. The general meaning of the passage 508-511, so far as the thought contained in it admits of being translated into the terms of modern philosophy, may be described or explained as follows : — There is a truth, one and self-existent, to which by the help of a ladder let down from above, the human intelligence may ascend. This unity is like the sun in the heavens, the light by which all things are seen, the being by which they are created and sustained. It is the idea of good. And the steps of the ladder leading up to this highest or universal existence are the mathe- xcvi The idea of good, etc. Republic matical sciences, which also contain in themselves an element INTRODUC- °^ ^ universal. These, too, we see in a new manner when we no*, connect them with the idea of good. They then cease to be hypotheses or pictures, and become essential parts of a higher truth which is at once their first principle and their final cause. We cannot give any more precise meaning to this remarkable passage, but we may trace in it several rudiments or vestiges of thought which are common to us and to Plato : such as (i) the unity and correlation of the sciences, or rather of science, for in Plato's time they were not yet parted off or distinguished ; (2) the existence of a Divine Power, or life or idea or cause or reason, not yet conceived or no longer conceived as in the Timaeus and elsewhere under the form of a person ; (3) the recognition of the hypothetical and conditional character of the mathematical sciences, and in a measure of every science when isolated from the rest; (4) the conviction of a truth which is invisible, and of a law, though hardly a law of nature, which permeates the intellectual rather than the visible world. The method of Socrates is hesitating and tentative, awaiting the fuller explanation of the idea of good, and of the nature of dialectic in the seventh book. The imperfect intelligence of Glaucon, and the reluctance of Socrates to make a beginning, mark the difficulty of the subject. The allusion to Theages' bridle, and to the internal oracle, or demonic sign, of Socrates, which here, as always in Plato, is only prohibitory ; the remark that the salva- tion of any remnant of good in the present evil state of the world is due to God only; the reference to a future state of existence, 498 D, which is unknown to Glaucon in the tenth book, 608 D, and in which the discussions of Socrates and his disciples would be resumed ; the surprise in the answers at 487 E and 497 B ; the fanciful irony of Socrates, where he pretends that he can only describe the strange position of the philo- sopher in a figure of speech ; the original observation that the Sophists, after all, are only the representatives and not the leaders of public opinion ; the picture of the philosopher standing aside in the shower of sleet under a wall; the figure of 'the great beast ' followed by the expression of good-will towards the common people who would not have rejected the philosopher if they had known him ; the 'right noble thought' that the highest The Idea of Good. xcvii truths demand the greatest exactness ; the hesitation of Socrates Republic in returning once more to his well-worn theme of the idea of t • INTRODUC- good ; the ludicrous earnestness of Glaucon ; the comparison of «ON. philosophy to a deserted maiden who marries beneath her — are some of the most interesting characteristics of the sixth book. Yet a few more words may be added, on the old theme, which was so oft discussed in the Socratic circle, of which we, like Glaucon and Adeimantus, would fain, if possible, have a clearer notion. Like them, we are dissatisfied when we are told that the idea of good can only be revealed to a student of the mathe- matical sciences, and we are inclined to think that neither we nor they could have been led along that path to any satisfactory goal. For we have learned that differences of quantity cannot pass into differences of quality, and that the mathematical sciences can never rise above themselves into the sphere of our higher thoughts, although they may sometimes furnish symbols and expressions of them, and may train the mind in habits of abstrac- tion and self-concentration. The illusion which was natural to an ancient philosopher has ceased to be an illusion to us. But if the process by which we are supposed to arrive at the idea of good be really imaginary, may not the idea itself be also a mere abstraction? We remark, first, that in all ages, and especially in primitive philosophy, words such as being, essence, unity, good, have exerted an extraordinary influence over the minds of men. The meagreness or negativeness of their content has been in an inverse ratio to their power. They have become the forms under which all things were comprehended. There was a need or instinct in the human soul which they satisfied; they were not ideas, but gods, and to this new mythology the men of a later generation began to attach the powers and associations of the elder deities. The idea of good is one of those sacred words or forms of thought, which were beginning to take the place of the old mythology. It meant unity, in which all time and all existence were gathered up. It was the truth of all things, and also the light in which they shone forth, and became evident to intelligences human and divine. It was the cause of all things, the power by which they were brought into being. It was the universal reason divested of a human personality. It was the life as well as the h xcviii The Idea of Good. Republic light of the world, all knowledge and all power were compre- INTR<>DUC Bended *n **• The way to ^ was through the mathematical "ON. sciences, and these too were dependent on it. To ask whether God was the maker of it, or made by it, would be like asking whether God could be conceived apart from goodness, or goodness apart from God. The God of the Timaeus is not really at variance with the idea of good ; they are aspects of the same, differing only as the personal from the impersonal, or the masculine from the neuter, the one being the expression or language of mythology, the other of philosophy. This, or something like this, is the meaning of the idea of good as conceived by Plato. Ideas of number, order, harmony, de- velopment may also be said to enter into it. The paraphrase which has just been given of it goes beyond the actual words of Plato. We have perhaps arrived at the stage of philosophy which enables us to understand what he is aiming at, better than he did himself. We are beginning to realize what he saw darkly and at a distance. But if he could have been told that this, or some conception of the same kind, but higher than this, was the truth at which he was aiming, and the need which he sought to supply, he would gladly have recognized that more was contained in his own thoughts than he himself knew. As his words are few and his manner reticent and tentative, so must the style of his inter- preter be. We should not approach his meaning more nearly by attempting to define it further. In translating him into the language of modern thought, we might insensibly lose the spirit of ancient philosophy. It is remarkable that although Plato speaks of the idea of good as the first principle of truth and being, it is nowhere mentioned in his writings except in this passage. Nor did it retain any hold upon the minds of his disciples in a later generation ; it was probably unintelligible to them. Nor does the mention of it in Aristotle appear to have any reference to this or any other passage in his extant writings. ANALYSIS. BOOK VII. And now I will describe in a figure the Steph. enlightenment or unenlightenment of our nature : — Imagine * human beings living in an underground den which is open towards the light ; they have been there from childhood, hav- ing their necks and legs chained, and can only see into the den. Analysis 514-517. xcix At a distance there is a fire, and between the fire and the Republic VII prisoners a raised way, and a low wall is built along the way, ANALVS'JS like the screen over which marionette players show their 515 puppets. Behind the wall appear moving figures, who hold in their hands various works of art, and among them images of men and animals, wood and stone, and some of the passers-by are talking and others silent. ' A strange parable,' he said, ' and strange captives.' They are ourselves, I replied ; and they see only the shadows of the images which the fire throws on the wall of the den ; to these they give names, and if we add an echo which returns from the wall, the voices of the passengers will seem to proceed from the shadows. Suppose now that you suddenly turn them round and make them look with pain and grief to them- selves at the real images; will they believe them to be real.? Will not their eyes be dazzled, and will they not try to get away from the light to something which they are able to behold without 516 blinking ? And suppose further, that they are dragged up a steep and rugged ascent into the presence of the sun himself, will not their sight be darkened with the excess of light ? Some time will pass before they get the habit of perceiving at all ; and at first they will be able to perceive only shadows and reflections in the water ; then they will recognize the moon and the stars, and will at length behold the sun in his own proper place as he is. Last of all they will conclude : — This is he who gives us the year and the seasons, and is the author of all that we see. How will they rejoice in passing from darkness to light ! How worthless to them will seem the honours and glories of the den ! But now imagine further, that they descend into their old habitations ; — in that underground dwelling they will not see as well as their 517 fellows, and will not be able to compete with them in the measure- ment of the shadows on the wall ; there will be many jokes about the man who went on a visit to the sun and lost his eyes, and if they find anybody trying to set free and enlighten one of their number, they will put him to death, if they can catch him. Now- the cave or den is the world of sight, the fire is the sun, the way upwards is the way to knowledge, and in the world of knowledge the idea of good is last seen and with difficulty, but when seen . is inferred to be the author of good and right — parent of the lord of light in this world, and of truth and understanding in the other. ha : Analysis 517-520. Republic He who attains to the beatific vision is always going upwards ; ANALYSIS. he is unwilling to descend into political assemblies and courts of law ; for his eyes are apt to blink at the images or shadows of images which they behold in them — he cannot enter into the ideas of those who have never in their lives understood the relation of the shadow to the substance. But blindness is of 518 two kinds, and may be caused either by passing out of darkness into light or out of light into darkness, and a man of sense will distinguish between them, and will not laugh equally at both of them, but the blindness which arises from fulness of light he will deem blessed, and pity the other; or if he laugh at the puzzled soul looking at the sun, he will have more reason to laugh than the inhabitants of the den at those who descend from above. There is a further lesson taught by this parable of ours. Some persons fancy that instruction is like giving eyes to the blind, but we say that the faculty of sight was always there, and that the soul only requires to be turned round towards the light. And this is conversion ; other virtues are almost like bodily habits, and may be acquired in the same manner, but intelligence has a diviner life, and is indestructible, turning either to good or evil according to the direction given. Did you never observe 519 how the mind of a clever rogue peers out of his eyes, and the more clearly he sees, the more evil he does ? Now if you take such an one, and cut away from him those leaden weights of pleasure and desire which bind his soul to earth, his intelligence will be turned round, and he will behold the truth as clearly as he now discerns his meaner ends. And have we not decided that our rulers must neither be so uneducated as to have no fixed rule of life, nor so over-educated as to be unwilling to leave their paradise for the business of the world ? We must choose out therefore the natures who are most likely to ascend to the light and knowledge of the good ; but we must not allow them to remain in the region of light ; they must be forced down again among the captives in the den to partake of their labours and honours. ' Will they not think this a hardship ? ' You should remember that our purpose in framing the State was not that our citizens should do what they like, but that they should serve the State for the common good of all. May we not fairly say 520 to our philosopher, — Friend, we do you no wrong ; for in other Analysis 520-523. ci States philosophy grows wild, and a wild plant owes nothing Republic to the gardener, but you have been trained by us to be the rulers VI1' ANALYSIS. and kings of our hive, and therefore we must insist on your descending into the den. You must, each of you, take your turn, and become able to use your eyes in the dark, and with a little practice you will see far better than those who quarrel about the shadows, whose knowledge is a dream only, whilst yours is a waking reality. It may be that the saint or philosopher who is best fitted, may also be the least inclined to rule, but necessity is laid upon him, and he must no longer live in the heaven of |2i ideas. And this will be the salvation of the State. For those who rule must not be those who are desirous to rule ; and, if you can oifer to our citizens a better life than that of rulers generally is, there will be a chance that the rich, not only in this world's goods, but in virtue and wisdom, may bear rule. And the only life which is better than the life of political ambition is that of philo- sophy, which is also the best preparation for the government of a State. Then now comes the question, — How shall we create our rulers ; what way is there from darkness to light ? The change is effected by philosophy ; it is not the turning over of an oyster-shell, but the conversion of a soul from night to day, from becoming to being. And what training will draw the soul upwards? Our former education had two branches, gymnastic, which was occupied with the body, and music, the sister art, which infused a 22 natural harmony into mind and literature ; but neither of these sciences gave any promise of doing what we want. Nothing re- mains to us but that universal or primary science of which all the arts and sciences are partakers, I mean number or calculation. * Very true.' Including the art of war ? * Yes, certainly.' Then there is something ludicrous about Palamedes in the tragedy, coming in and saying that he had invented number, and had counted the ranks and set them in order. For if Agamemnon could not count his feet (and without number how could he ?) he must have been a pretty sort of general indeed. No man should be a soldier who cannot count, and indeed he is hardly to be called a man. But I am not speaking of these practical applica-* 23 tions of arithmetic, for number, in my view, is rather to be regarded as a conductor to thought and being. I will explain cii Analysis 525-526. Republic what I mean by the last expression :— Things sensible are of two ANALYSIS kinc^s 5 tne one class invite or stimulate the mind, while in the other the mind acquiesces. Now the stimulating class are the things which suggest contrast and relation. For example, suppose that I hold up to the eyes three fingers — a fore finger, a middle finger, a little finger — the sight equally recognizes all three fingers, but without number cannot further distinguish them. Or again, suppose two objects to be relatively great and small, these ideas of greatness and smallness are supplied not by the sense, but by the mind. And the perception of their contrast or relation 524 quickens and sets in motion the mind, which is puzzled by the confused intimations of sense, and has recourse to number in order to find out whether the things indicated are one or more than one. Number replies that they are two and not one, and are to be distinguished from one another. Again, the sight beholds great and small, but only in a confused chaos, and not until they are distinguished does the question arise of their respective natures ; we are thus led on to the distinction between the visible and intelligible. That was what I meant when I spoke of stimu- lants to the intellect ; I was thinking of the contradictions which arise in perception. The idea of unity, for example, like that of a finger, does not arouse thought unless involving some conception of plurality ; but when the one is also the opposite of one, the 525 contradiction gives rise to reflection ; an example of this is afforded by any object of sight. All number has also an elevating effect ; it raises the mind out of the foam and flux of generation to the contemplation of being, having lesser military and retail uses also. The retail use is not required by us ; but as our guardian is to be a soldier as well as a philosopher, the military one may be retained. And to our higher purpose no science can be better adapted ; but it must be pursued in the spirit of a philosopher, not of a shopkeeper. It is concerned, not with visible objects, but with abstract truth ; for numbers are pure abstractions— the true arithmetician indignantly denies that his unit is capable of division. When you divide, he insists that you are only multiplying ; his 526 ' one ' is not material or resolvable into fractions, but an unvarying and absolute equality; and this proves the purely intellectual character of his study. Note also the great power which arith- metic has of sharpening the wits ; no other discipline is equally Analysis 526—528. ciii severe, or an equal test of general ability, or equally improving to Republic a stupid person. Let our second branch of education be geometry. * I can easily see,' replied Glaucon, * that the skill of the general will be doubled by his knowledge of geometry.' That is a small matter ; the use of geometry, to which I refer, is the assistance given by it in the contemplation of the idea of good, and the compelling the mind to look at true being, and not at generation only. Yet the present mode of pursuing these studies, as any one who is the least of a mathematician is aware, is mean and ridiculous ; they are made to look downwards to the arts, and not upwards to eternal existence. 527 The geometer is always talking of squaring, subtending, apposing, as if he had in view action ; whereas knowledge is the real object of the study. It should elevate the soul, and create the mind of philosophy ; it should raise up what has fallen down, not to speak of lesser uses in war and military tactics, and in the improvement of the faculties. Shall we propose, as a third branch of our education, astronomy ? * Very good,' replied Glaucon ; ' the knowledge of the heavens is necessary at once for husbandry, navigation, military tactics.' I like your way of giving useful reasons for everything in order to make friends of the world. And there is a difficulty in proving to mankind that education is not only useful information but a purification of the eye of the soul, which is better than the bodily 528 eye, for by this alone is truth seen. Now, will you appeal to man- kind in general or to the philosopher ? or would you prefer to look to yourself only? 'Every man is his own best friend.' Then take a step backward, for we are out of order, and insert the third dimension which is of solids, after the second which is of planes, and then you may proceed to solids in motion. But solid geometry is not popular and has not the patronage of the State, nor is the use of it fully recognized ; the difficulty is great, and the votaries of the study are conceited and impatient. Still the charm of the pursuit wins upon men, and, if government would lend a little assistance, there might be great progress made. ' Very true,' replied Glaucon ; 'but do I understand you now to begin with plane geometry, and to place next geometry of solids, and thirdly, astronomy, or the motion of solids?' Yes, I said; my hastiness has only hindered us. civ Analysis 528-531. Republic ' Very good, and now let us proceed to astronomy, about which ANALYSIS ^ am wiping to speak in your lofty strain. No one can fail to see 529 that the contemplation of the heavens draws the soul upwards.' I am an exception, then ; astronomy as studied at present appears to me to draw the soul not upwards, but downwards. Star-gazing is just looking up at the ceiling — no better; a man may lie on his back on land or on water — he may look up or look down, but there is no science in that. The vision of knowledge of which I speak is seen not with the eyes, but with the mind. All the magnificence of the heavens is but the embroidery of a copy which falls far short of the divine Original, and teaches nothing about the absolute harmonies or motions of things. Their beauty is like the beauty of figures drawn by the hand of Daedalus or any other great artist, which may be used for illustration, but no mathemati- 530 cian would seek to obtain from them true conceptions of equality or numerical relations. How ridiculous then to look for these in the map of the heavens, in which the imperfection of matter comes in everywhere as a disturbing element, marring the symmetry of day and night, of months and years, of the sun and stars in their courses. Only by problems can we place astronomy on a truly scientific basis. Let the heavens alone, and exert the intellect. Still, mathematics admit of other applications, as the Pytha- goreans say, and we agree. There is a sister science of harmonical motion, adapted to the ear as astronomy is to the eye, and there may be other applications also. Let us inquire of the Pytha- goreans about them, not forgetting that we have an aim higher than theirs, which is the relation of these sciences to the idea of good. The error which pervades astronomy also pervades harmonics. The musicians put their ears in the place of their 531 minds. ' Yes,3 replied Glaucon, ' I like to see them laying their ears alongside of their neighbours' faces — some saying, " That 's a new note," others declaring that the two notes are the same.' Yes, I said ; but you mean the empirics who are always twisting and torturing the strings of the lyre, and quarrelling about the tempers of the strings ; I am referring rather to the Pythagorean harmonists, who are almost equally in error. For they investigate only the numbers of the consonances which are heard, and ascend no higher, — of the true numerical harmony which is unheard, and is only to be found in problems, they have not even a conception. Analysis 531-533- cv 'That last,' he said, 'must be a marvellous thing.' A thing, I RepiMic replied, which is only useful if pursued with a view to the good. ANALYSIS All these sciences are the prelude of the strain, and are profit- able if they are regarded in their natural relations to one another. ' I dare say, Socrates,' said Glaucon ; ' but such a study will be an endless business.' What study do you mean — of the prelude, or what ? For all these things are only the prelude, and you surely do not suppose that a mere mathematician is also a dialectician ? 532 ' Certainly not. I have hardly ever known a mathematician who could reason.' And yet, Glaucon, is not true reasoning that hymn of dialectic which is the music of the intellectual world, and which was by us compared to the effort of sight, when from beholding the shadows on the wall we arrived at last at the images which gave the shadows ? Even so the dialectical faculty withdrawing from sense arrives by the pure intellect at the contemplation of the idea of good, and never rests but at the very end of the intellectual world. And the royal road out of the cave into the light, and the blinking of the eyes at the sun and turning to contemplate the shadows of reality, not the shadows of an image only — this progress and gradual acquisition of a new faculty of sight by the help of the mathematical sciences, is the elevation of the soul to the contemplation of the highest ideal of being. ' So far, I agree with you. But now, leaving the prelude, let us proceed to the hymn. What, then, is the nature of dialectic, and 533 what are the paths which lead thither ? ' Dear Glaucon, you cannot follow me here. There can be no revelation of the absolute truth to one who has not been disciplined in the previous sciences. But that there is a science of absolute truth, which is attained in some way very different from those now practised, I am confident. For all other arts or sciences are relative to human needs and opinions ; and the mathematical sciences are but a dream or hypothesis of true being, and never analyse their own principles. Dialectic alone rises to the principle which is above hypotheses, converting and gently leading the eye of the soul out of the barbarous slough of ignorance into the light of the upper world, with the help of the sciences which we have been describing — sciences, as they are often termed, although they require some other name, implying greater clearness than opinion and less clearness than science, and this in our previous sketch cvi Analysis 533-537. Republic was understanding. And so we get four names — two for intellect, and two for opinion, — reason or mind, understanding, faith, per- ception of shadows — which make a proportion — being : becoming : : 534 intellect : opinion — and science : belief: : understanding : perception of shadows. Dialectic may be further described as that science which defines and explains the essence or being of each nature, which distinguishes and abstracts the good, and is ready to do battle against all opponents in the cause of good. To him who is not a dialectician life is but a sleepy dream ; and many a man is in his grave before he is well waked up. And would you have the future rulers of your ideal State intelligent beings, or stupid as posts ? ' Certainly not the latter.' Then you must train them in dialectic, which will teach them to ask and answer questions, and is the coping-stone of the sciences. I dare say that you have not forgotten how our rulers were 535 chosen ; and the process of selection may be carried a step further:— As before, they must be constant and valiant, good- looking, and of noble manners, but now they must also have natural ability which education will improve ; that is to say, they must be quick at learning, capable of mental toil, retentive, solid, diligent natures, who combine intellectual with moral virtues; not lame and one-sided, diligent in bodily exercise and indolent in mind, or conversely ; not a maimed soul, which hates falsehood and yet unintentionally is always wallowing in the mire of 5 36 ignorance ; not a bastard or feeble person, but sound in wind and limb, and in perfect condition for the great gymnastic trial of the mind. Justice herself can find no fault with natures such as these ; and they will be the saviours of our State ; disciples of another sort would only make philosophy more ridiculous than she is at present. Forgive my enthusiasm ; I am becoming excited ; but when I see her trampled under foot, I am angry at the authors of her disgrace. ' I did not notice that you were more excited than you ought to have been.' But I felt that I was. Now do not let us forget another point in the selection of our disciples— that they must be young and not old. For Solon is mistaken in saying that an old man can be always learning ; youth is the time of study, and here we must remember that the mind is free and dainty, and, unlike the body, must not be made to work against the grain. Learning should be at first a sort of play, in which the natural bent 537 Analysis 537-539. cvii is detected. As in training them for war, the young dogs should Republic at first only taste blood ; but when the necessary gymnastics are ANALYS'IS over which during two or three years divide life between sleep and bodily exercise, then the education of the soul will become a more serious matter. At twenty years of age, a selection must be made of the more promising disciples, with whom a new epoch of education will begin. The sciences which they have hitherto learned in fragments will now be brought into relation with each other and with true being; for the power of combining them is the test of speculative and dialectical ability. And afterwards at thirty a further selection shall be made of those who are able to withdraw from the world of sense into the abstraction of ideas. But at this point, judging from present experience, there is a danger that dialectic may be the source of many evils. The danger may be illustrated by a parallel case : — Imagine a person who has been brought up in wealth and luxury amid a crowd of flatterers, and who is suddenly informed that he is a supposititious 538 son. He has hitherto honoured his reputed parents and dis- regarded the flatterers, and now he does the reverse. This is just what happens with a man's principles. There are certain doctrines which he learnt at home and which exercised a parental authority over him. Presently he finds that imputations are cast upon them ; a troublesome querist comes and asks, * What is the just and good ? ' or proves that virtue is vice and vice virtue, and his mind becomes unsettled, and he ceases to love, honour, and 539 obey them as he has hitherto done. He is seduced into the life of pleasure, and becomes a lawless person and a rogue. The case of such speculators is very pitiable, and, in order that our thirty years' old pupils may not require this pity, let us take every possible care that young persons do not study philosophy too early. For a young man is a sort of puppy who only plays with an argument ; and is reasoned into and out of his opinions every day ; he soon begins to believe nothing, and brings himself and philosophy into discredit. A man of thirty does not run on in this way; he will argue and not merely contradict, and adds new honour to philosophy by the sobriety of his conduct. What time shall we allow for this second gymnastic training of the soul ? — say, twice the time required for the gymnastics of the body ; six, or perhaps five years, to commence at thirty, and then for fifteen cviii The Divisions of Knowledge. Republic years let the student go down into the den, and command armies, ANALYSIS *^ gain exPerience of life. At fifty let him return to the end of 540 all things, and have his eyes uplifted to the idea of good, and order his life after that pattern ; if necessary, taking his turn at the helm of State, and training up others to be his successors. When his time comes he shall depart in peace to the islands of the blest. He shall be honoured with sacrifices, and receive such worship as the Pythian oracle approves. ' You are a statuary, Socrates, and have made a perfect image of our governors.' Yes, and of our governesses, for the women will share in all things with the men. And you will admit that our State is not a mere aspiration, but may really come into being when there shall arise philosopher-kings, one or more, who will despise earthly vanities, and will be the servants of justice only. 'And how will they begin their work?' Their 541 first act will be to send away into the country all those who are more than ten years of age, and to proceed with those who are left. . . . INTRODUC- At the commencement of the sixth book, Plato anticipated TION. his explanation of the relation of the philosopher to the world in an allegory, in this, as in other passages, following the order which he prescribes in education, and proceeding from the con- crete to the abstract. At the commencement of Book VII, under the figure of a cave having an opening towards a fire and a way upwards to the true light, he returns to view the divisions of knowledge, exhibiting familiarly, as in a picture, the result which had been hardly won by a great effort of thought in the previous discussion ; at the same time casting a glance onward at the dialectical process, which is represented by the way leading from darkness to light. The shadows, the images, the reflection of the sun and stars in the water, the stars and sun themselves, severally correspond, — the first, to the realm of fancy and poetry, — the second, to the world of sense, — the third, to the abstractions or universals of sense, of which the mathematical sciences furnish the type, — the fourth and last to the same abstractions, when seen in the unity of the idea, from which they derive a new meaning and power. The true dialectical process begins with the con- templation of the real stars, and not mere reflections of them, The growth of Abstractions. cix and ends with the recognition of the sun, or idea of good, as the Republic parent not only of light but of warmth and growth. To the INTROD'UC. divisions of knowledge the stages of education partly answer : — TION- first, there is the early education of childhood and youth in the fancies of the poets, and in the laws and customs of the State ;— then there is the training of the body to be a warrior athlete, and a good servant of the mind ; — and thirdly, after an interval follows the education of later life, which begins with mathematics and proceeds to philosophy in general. There seem to be two great aims in the philosophy of Plato, — first, to realize abstractions; secondly, to connect them. Ac- cording to him, the true education is that which draws men from becoming to being, and to a comprehensive survey of all being. He desires to develop in the human mind the faculty of seeing the universal in all things ; until at last the particulars of sense drop away and the universal alone remains. He then seeks to combine the universals which he has disengaged from sense, not perceiving that the correlation of them has no other basis but the common use of language. He never understands that ab- stractions, as Hegel says, are ' mere abstractions ' — of use when employed in the arrangement of facts, but adding nothing to the sum of knowledge when pursued apart from them, or with reference to an imaginary idea of good. Still the exercise of the faculty of abstraction apart from facts has enlarged the mind, and played a great part in the education of the human race. Plato appreciated the value of this faculty, and saw that it might be quickened by the study of number and relation. All things in which there is opposition or proportion are suggestive of re- flection. The mere impression of sense evokes no power of thought or of mind, but when sensible objects ask to be compared and distinguished, then philosophy begins. The science of arith- metic first suggests such distinctions. There follow in order the other sciences of plain and solid geometry, and of solids in motion, one branch of which is astronomy or the harmony of the spheres, — to this is appended the sister science of the har- mony of sounds. Plato seems also to hint at the possibility of other applications of arithmetical or mathematical proportions, such as we employ in chemistry and natural philosophy, such as the Pythagoreans and even Aristotle make use of in Ethics ex A priori Astronomy. Republic and Politics, e.g. his distinction between arithmetical and geo- INTRODUC- metr^ca^ proportion in the Ethics (Book V), or between numerical TION. ancj proportional equality in the Politics (iii. 8, iv. 12, &c.). The modern mathematician will readily sympathise with Plato's delight in the properties of pure mathematics. He will not be disinclined to say with him :— Let alone the heavens, and study the beauties of number and figure in themselves. He too will be apt to depreciate their application to the arts. He will observe that Plato has a conception of geometry, in which figures are to be dispensed with ; thus in a distant and shadowy way seeming to anticipate the possibility of working geometrical problems by a more general mode of analysis. He will remark with interest on the backward state of solid geometry, which, alas ! was not encouraged by the aid of the State in the age of Plato ; and he will recognize the grasp of Plato's mind in his ability to conceive of one science of solids in motion including the earth as well as the heavens, — not forgetting to notice the intimation to which allusion has been already made, that besides astronomy and harmonics the science of solids in motion may have other appli- cations. Still more will he be struck with the comprehensiveness of view which led Plato, at a time when these sciences hardly existed, to say that they must be studied in relation to one another, and to the idea of good, or common principle of truth and being. But he will also see (and perhaps without surprise) that in that stage of physical and mathematical knowledge, Plato has fallen into the error of supposing that he can construct the heavens a priori by mathematical problems, and determine the principles of harmony irrespective of the adaptation of sounds to the human ear. The illusion was a natural one in that age and country. The simplicity and certainty of astronomy and har- monics seemed to contrast with the variation and complexity of the world of sense ; hence the circumstance that there was some elementary basis of fact, some measurement of distance or time or vibrations on which they must ultimately rest, was overlooked by him. The modern predecessors of Newton fell into errors equally great ; and Plato can hardly be said to have .been very far wrong, or may even claim a sort of prophetic insight into the subject, when we consider that the greater part of astronomy at the present day consists of abstract dynamics, Mystical applications of Mathematics. cxi by the help of which most astronomical discoveries have been Republic made. , "»• INTHODUC- The metaphysical philosopher from his point of view recognizes ™>N. mathematics as an instrument of education, — which strengthens the power of attention, developes the sense of order and the faculty of construction, and enables the mind to grasp under simple formulae the quantitative differences of physical phe- nomena. But while acknowledging their value in education, he sees also that they have no connexion with our higher moral and intellectual ideas. In the attempt which Plato makes to connect them, we easily trace the influences of ancient Pytha- gorean notions. There is no reason to suppose that he is speak- ing of the ideal numbers at p. 525 E ; but he is describing numbers which are pure abstractions, to which he assigns a real and separate existence, which, as ' the teachers of the art ' (meaning probably the Pythagoreans) would have affirmed, repel all at- tempts at subdivision, and in which unity and every other number are conceived of as absolute. The truth and certainty of numbers, when thus disengaged from phenomena, gave them a kind of sacredness in the eyes of an ancient philosopher. Nor is it easy to say how far ideas of order and fixedness may have had a moral and elevating influence on the minds of men, * who,' in the words of the Timaeus, 'might learn to regulate their erring lives ac- cording to them' (47 C). It is worthy of remark that the old Pythagorean ethical symbols still exist as figures of speech among ourselves. And those who in modern times see the world per- vaded by universal law, may also see an anticipation of this last word of modern philosophy in the Platonic idea of good, which is the source and measure of all things, and yet only an abstrac- tion. (Cp. Philebus, sub fin.) Two passages seem to require more particular explanations. First, that which relates to the analysis of vision. The difficulty in this passage may be explained, like many others, from dif- ferences in the modes of conception prevailing among ancient and modern thinkers. To us, the perceptions of sense are in- separable from the act of the mind which accompanies them. The consciousness of form, colour, distance, is indistinguishable from the simple sensation, which is the medium of them. Whereas to Plato sense is the Heraclitean flux of sense, not cxii A priori Harmonics. Republic the vision of objects in the order in which they actually present INTRODUC- tnemselves to the experienced sight, but as they may be imagined TION. fO appear confused and blurred to the half-awakened eye of the infant. The first action of the mind is aroused by the attempt to set in order this chaos, and the reason is required to frame distinct conceptions under which the confused impressions of sense may be arranged. Hence arises the question, * What is great, what is small ?' and thus begins the distinction of the visible and the intelligible. The second difficulty relates to Plato's conception of harmonics. Three classes of harmonists are distinguished by him : — first, the Pythagoreans, whom he proposes to consult as in the previous discussion on music he was to consult Damon — they are acknow- ledged to be masters in the art, but are altogether deficient in the knowledge of its higher import and relation to the good ; secondly, the mere empirics, whom Glaucon appears to confuse with them, and whom both he and Socrates .ludicrously describe as experimenting by mere auscultation on the intervals of sounds. Both of these fall short in different degrees of the Platonic idea of harmony, which must be studied in a purely abstract way, first by the method of problems, and secondly as a part of universal knowledge in relation to the idea of good. . The allegory has a political as well as a philosophical meaning. The den or cave represents the narrow sphere of politics or law (cp. the description of the philosopher and lawyer in the Theae- tetus, 172-176), and the light of the eternal ideas is supposed to exercise a disturbing influence on the minds of those who return to this lower world. In other words, their principles are too wide for practical application ; they are looking far away into the past and future, when their business is with the present. The ideal is not easily reduced to the conditions of actual life, and may often be at variance with them. And at first, those who return are unable to compete with the inhabitants of the den in the measurement of the shadows, and are derided and persecuted by them ; but after a while they see the things below in far truer proportions than those who have never ascended into the upper world. The difference between the politician turned into a philosopher and the philosopher turned into a politician, is symbolized by the two kinds of disordered eyesight, T1ON. The effects of Political Ideals. cxiii the one which is experienced by the captive who is transferred Republic from darkness to day, the other, of the heavenly messenger who INTROD^.C. voluntarily for the good of his fellow-men descends into the den. In what way the brighter light is to dawn on the inhabitants of the lower world, or how the idea of good is to become the guiding principle of politics, is left unexplained by Plato. Like the nature and divisions of dialectic, of which Glaucon impatiently demands to be informed, perhaps he would have said that the explanation could not be given except to a disciple ^ of the previous sciences. (Compare Symposium 210 A.) Many illustrations of this part of the Republic may be found in modern Politics and in daily life. For among ourselves, too, there have been two sorts of Politicians or Statesmen, whose eyesight has become disordered in two different ways. First, there have been great men who, in the language of Burke, * have been too much given to general maxims,' who, like J. S. Mill or Burke himself, have been theorists or philosophers before they were politicians, or who, having been students of history, have allowed some great historical parallel, such as the English Revo- lution of 1688, or possibly Athenian democracy or Roman Imperialism, to be the medium through which they viewed contemporary events. Or perhaps the long projecting shadow of some existing institution may have darkened their vision. The Church of the future, the Commonwealth of the future, the Society of the future, have so absorbed their minds, that they are unable to see in their true proportions the Politics of to-day. They have been intoxicated with great ideas, such as liberty, or equality, or the greatest happiness of the greatest number, or the brotherhood of humanity, and they no longer care to consider how these ideas must be limited in practice or harmonized with the conditions of human life. They are full of light, but the light to them has become only a sort of luminous mist or blindness. Almost every one has known some enthusiastic half-educated person, who sees everything at false distances, and in erroneous proportions. With this disorder of eyesight may be contrasted another— of those who see not far into the distance, but what is near only ; who have been engaged all their lives in a trade or a profession ; who are limited to a set or sect of their own. Men of this kind cxiv The dangers which beset youth Republic have no universal except their own interests or the interests of their class, no principle but the opinion of persons like them- selves, no knowledge of affairs beyond what they pick up in the streets or at their club. Suppose them to be sent into a larger world, to undertake some higher calling, from being tradesmen to turn generals or politicians, from being school- masters to become philosophers : — or imagine them on a sudden to receive an inward light which reveals to them for the first time in their lives a higher idea of God and the existence of a spiritual world, by this sudden conversion or change is not their daily life likely to be upset ; and on the other hand will not many of their old prejudices and narrownesses still adhere to them long after they have begun to take a more comprehensive view of human things? From familiar examples like these we may learn what Plato meant by the eyesight which is liable to two kinds of disorders. Nor have we any difficulty in drawing a parallel between the young Athenian in the fifth century before Christ who became unsettled by new ideas, and the student of a modern University who has been the subject of a similar ' aufklarung.' We too observe that when young men begin to criticise customary beliefs, or to analyse the constitution of human nature, they are apt to lose hold of solid principle (dnav TO fifftaiov avrav e'£ot'xcrat). They are like trees which have been frequently transplanted. The earth about them is loose, and they have no roots reaching far into the soil. They Might upon every flower,' following their own wayward wills, or because the wind blows them. They catch opinions, as diseases are caught— when they are in the air. Borne hither and thither, 'they speedily fall into beliefs' the opposite of those in which they were brought up. They hardly retain the distinction of right and wrong ; they seem to think one thing as good as another. They suppose themselves to be searching after truth when they are playing the game of ' follow my leader.* They fall in love ' at first sight ' with paradoxes respecting morality, some fancy about art, some novelty or eccentricity in religion, and like lovers they are so absorbed for a time in their new notion that they can think of nothing else. The resolution of some philosophical or theological question seems to them more interesting and important than any substantial knowledge of in times of transition. cxv literature or science or even than a good life. Like the youth Republic in the Philebus, they are ready to discourse to any one about a INTROD"UC. new philosophy. They are generally the disciples of some TION> eminent professor or sophist, whom they rather imitate than understand. They may be counted happy if in later years they retain some of the simple truths which they acquired in early education, and which they may, perhaps, find to be worth all the rest. Such is the picture which Plato draws and which we only reproduce, partly in his own words, of the dangers which beset youth in times of transition, when old opinions are fading away and the new are not yet firmly established. Their condition is ingeniously compared by him to that of a supposititious son, who has made the discovery that his reputed parents are not his real ones, and, in consequence, they have lost their authority over him. The distinction between the mathematician and the dialectician is also noticeable. Plato is very well aware that the faculty of the mathematician is quite distinct from the higher philosophical sense which recognizes and combines first principles (531 E). The contempt which he expresses at p. 533 for distinctions of words, the danger of involuntary falsehood, the apology which Socrates makes for his earnestness of speech, are highly charac- teristic of the Platonic style and mode of thought. The quaint notion that if Palamedes was the inventor of number Agamemnon could not have counted his feet ; the art by which we are made to believe that this State of ours is not a dream only ; the gravity with which the first step is taken in the actual creation of the State, namely, the sending out of the city all who had arrived at ten years of age, in order to expedite the business of education by a generation, are also truly Platonic. (For the last, compare the passage at the end of the third book (415 D), in which he expects the lie about the earthborn men to be believed in the second generation.) eph. BOOK VTII. And so we have arrived at the conclusion, that ANALYSIS. * in the perfect State wives and children are to be in common ; and the education and pursuits of men and women, both in war and peace, are to be common, and kings are to be philosophers an There remains to be considered the great difficulty of this book of the Republic, the so-called number of the State. This is a puzzle almost as great as the Number of the Beast in the Book of Revelation, and though apparently known to Aristotle, is referred to by Cicero as a proverb of obscurity (Ep. ad Att. vii. 13, 5). And some have imagined that there is no answer to the puzzle, and that Plato has been practising upon his readers. But such a deception as this is inconsistent with the manner in which Aristotle speaks of the number (Pol. v. 12, § 7), and would have been ridiculous to any reader of the Republic who was ac- quainted with Greek mathematics. As little reason is there for supposing that Plato intentionally used obscure expressions ; the obscurity arises from our want of familiarity with the subject. On the other hand, Plato himself indicates that he is not altogether serious, and in describing his number as a solemn jest of the Muses, he appears to imply some degree of satire on the symbolical use of number. (Cp. Cratylus, passim ; Protag. 342 ff.) Our hope of understanding the passage depends principally on an accurate study of the words themselves ; on which a faint light is thrown by the parallel passage in the ninth book. Another help is the allusion in Aristotle, who makes the important remark that the latter part of the passage (from kv «nVpiro? irv6fj.rjvt K.T.X.) describes a solid figure1. Some further clue may be gathered from the appearance of the Pythagorean triangle, which is denoted by the numbers 3, 4, 5, and in which, as in every right-angled 1 Pol. v. 12, § 8 : — ' He only says that nothing is abiding, but that all things change in a certain cycle ; and that the origin of the change is a base of numbers which are in the ratio of 4 : 3 ; and this when combined with a figure of five gives two harmonies ; he means when the number of this figure becomes solid/ The Number of the State. cxxxi triangle, the squares of the two lesser sides equal the square of the Republic hypotenuse (32 + 42 = 52, or 9+ 16 = 25). Plato begins by speaking of a perfect or cyclical number (cp. Tim. 39 D), i. e. a number in which the sum of the divisors equals the whole ; this is the divine or perfect number in which all lesser cycles or revolutions are complete. He also speaks of a human or imperfect number, having four terms and three intervals of numbers which are related to one another in certain proportions ; these he converts into figures, and finds in them when they have been raised to the third power certain elements of number, which give two 'harmonies,' the one square, the other oblong; but he does not say that the square number answers to the divine, or the oblong number to the human cycle ; nor is any intimation given that the first or divine number represents the period of the world, the second the period of the state, or of the human race as Zeller supposes ; nor is the divine number afterwards mentioned (cp. Arist.). The second is the number of generations or births, and presides over them in the same mysterious manner in which the stars preside over them, or in which, according to the Pythagoreans, opportunity, justice, marriage, are repre- sented by some number or figure. This is probably the number 216. The explanation given in the text supposes the two harmonies to make up the number 8000. This explanation derives a certain plausibility from the circumstance that 8000 is the ancient number of the Spartan citizens (Herod, vii. 34), and would be what Plato might have called ' a number which nearly concerns the popula- tion of a city ' (588 A) ; the mysterious disappearance of the Spartan population may possibly have suggested to him the first cause of his decline of States. The lesser or square ' harmony,' of 400, might be a symbol of the guardians, — the larger or oblong ' harmony,' of the people, and the numbers 3, 4, 5 might refer re- spectively to the three orders in the State or parts of the soul, the four virtues, the five forms of government. The harmony of the musical scale, which is elsewhere used as a symbol of the harmony of the state (Rep. iv. 443 D), is also indicated. For the numbers 3, 4, 5, which represent the sides of the Pythagorean triangle, also denote the intervals of the scale. The terms used in the statement of the problem may be k2 cxxxii The Number of the State. Republic explained as follows. A perfect number (reXeio? VIII. as aireacjy stated, is one which is equal to the sum of its INTRODUC- TION. Thus 6, which is the first perfect or cyclical number, = The words opot, ' terms ' or ' notes,' and aTroorao-cis, ' intervals,' are applicable to music as well as to number and figure. IIpa>Ta> is the 'base' on which the whole calculation depends, or the 'lowest term ' from which it can be worked out. The words dwdpevai rf KOI dvvav = ' numbers squared from ' or 'upon diameters ' ; farS* = ' rational,' i.e. omitting fractions, appqrw*', ' irrational,' i. e. including fractions ; e. g. 49 is a square of the rational diameter of a figure the side of which = 5 : 50, of an irrational diameter of the same. For several of the explanations here given and for a good deal besides I am indebted to an excellent article on the Platonic Number by Dr. Donaldson (Proc. of the Philol. Society, vol. i. p. 81 ff. ). The Number of the State. cxxxiii The conclusions which he draws from these data are summed Republic up by him as follows. Having assumed that the number of the VIIL INTRODUC- perfect or divine cycle is the number of the world, and the ™>N- number of the imperfect cycle the number of the state, he proceeds: 'The period of the world is defined by the perfect number 6, that of the state by the cube of that number or 216, which is the product of the last pair of terms in the Platonic Tetractys * ; and if we take this as the basis of our computation, we shall have two cube numbers (avgrjo-eis BwdpevaL re KCU dwa- orevo/Ltewu), viz. 8 and 27; and the mean proportionals between these, viz. 12 and 18, will furnish three intervals and four terms, and these terms and intervals stand related to one another in the sesqui-altera ratio, i. e. each term is to the preceding as f . Now if we remember that the number 216 = 8 x 27 = 3* + 4s + 53, and that 32 + 42 = 52, we must admit that this number implies the numbers 3, 4, 5, to which musicians attach so much importance. And if we combine the ratio f with the number 5, or multiply the ratios of the sides by the hypotenuse, we shall by first squaring and then cubing obtain two expressions, which denote the ratio of the two last pairs of terms in the Platonic Tetractys, the former multiplied by the square, the latter by the cube of the number 10, the sum of the first four digits which constitute the Platonic Tetractys.' The two dpnoviat he elsewhere explains as follows : ' The first dppovia is "IOTJV tVa/as- IKCLTOV roo-avraW, in other words (£ x s)2 = loo x §f. The second Appovia, a cube of the same root, is described as 100 multipjied (a) by the rational diameter of 5 diminished by unity, i. e., as shown above, 48 : (/3) by two in- commensurable diameters, i. e. the two first irrationals, or 2 and 3 : and (y) by the cube of 3, or 27. Thus we have (48 + 5 + 27) 100 = loco x 23. This second harmony is to be the cube of the number of which the former harmony is the square, and therefore must be divided by the cube of 3. In other words, the whole expression will be: (i), for the first harmony, ^-: (2), for the second harmony, ^^.' The reasons which have inclined me to agree with Dr. Donaldson and also with Schleiermacher in supposing that 216 is the Platonic number of births are : (i) that it coincides with the description of the number given in the first part of the passage (eV o> irpa>T<* . . . 1 The Platonic Tetractys consisted of a series of seven terms, i, 2, 3, 4, 9, 8, 27. cxxxiv The Niimber of the State. Republic dire^vav) : (2) that the number 216 with its permutations would III. have been familiar to a Greek mathematician, though unfamiliar to INTRODUC- TION. us : (3) that 216 is the cube of 6, and also the sum of 33, 4', 53, the numbers 3, 4, 5 representing the Pythagorean triangle, of which the sides when squared equal the square of the hypotenuse (32 + 4* = 52) : (4) that it is also the period of the Pythagorean Metempsy- chosis : (5) the three ultimate terms or bases (3, 4, 5) of which 216 is composed answer to the third, fourth, fifth in the musical scale : (6) that the number 216 is the product of the cubes of 2 and 3, which are the two last terms in the Platonic Tetractys : (7) that the Pythagorean triangle is said by Plutarch (de Is. et Osir., 373 E), Proclus (super prima Eucl. iv. p. in), and Quintilian (de Musica iii. p. 152) to be contained in this passage, so that the tradition of the school seems to point in the same direction : (8) that the Pythagorean triangle is called also the figure of marriage (ya/^Xtoi/ fitaypa/i/xa). But though agreeing with Dr. Donaldson thus far, I see no reason for supposing, as he does, that the first or perfect number is the world, the human or imperfect number the state ; nor has he given any proof that the second harmony is a cube. Nor do I think that dpp^rwi/ Se §v*lv can mean 'two incommensurables,' which he arbitrarily assumes to be 2 and 3, but rather, as the preceding clause implies, dvelv dptdnolv OTTO dpprjrav Sia/ieVpooi/ TTffj.- TrdSos, i. e. two square numbers based upon irrational diameters of a figure the side of which is 5 = 50 x 2. The greatest objection to the translation is the sense given to the words eV/rpiroff irvdfjLT]v K.T.A., 'a base of three with a third added to it, multiplied by 5.' In this somewhat forced manner Plato introduces once more the numbers of the Pythagorean triangle. But the coincidences in the numbers which follow are in favour of the explanation. The first harmony of 400, as has been already remarked, probably represents the rulers; the second and oblong harmony of 7600, the people. And here we take leave of the difficulty. The discovery of the riddle would be useless, and would throw no light on ancient mathematics. The point of interest is that Plato should have used such a symbol, and that so much of the Pythagorean spirit should have prevailed in him. His general meaning is that divine creation is perfect, and is represented or presided The Number of the State. cxxxv over by a perfect or cyclical number; human generation is im- Republic perfect, and represented or presided over by an imperfect number or series of numbers. The number 5040, which is the number of the citizens in the Laws, is expressly based by him on utilitarian grounds, namely, the convenience of the number for division ; it is also made up of the first seven digits multiplied by one another. The contrast of the perfect and imperfect number may have been easily suggested by the corrections of the cycle, which were made first by Meton and secondly by Callippus ; (the latter is said to have been a pupil of Plato). Of the degree of importance or of exactness to be attributed to the problem, the number of the tyrant in Book ix. (729 = 365 x 2), and the slight correction of the error in the number 5040^12 (Laws, 771 C), may furnish a criterion. There is nothing surprising in the circumstance that those who were seeking for order in nature and had found order in number, should have imagined one to give law to the other. Plato believes in a power of number far beyond what he could see realized in the world around him, and he knows the great influence which ' the little matter of i, 2, 3 ' (vii. 522 C) exercises upon education. He may even be thought to have a prophetic anticipation of the dis- coveries of Quetelet and others, that numbers depend upon num- bers; e.g. — in population, the numbers of births and the respective numbers of chi

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