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“And truly,” I said, “many other considerations assure me that we were entirely right in our organization of the state, and especially, I think, in the matter of poetry.1” “What about it?” he said. “In refusing to admit2 at all so much of it as is imitative3; for that it is certainly not to be received is, I think, [595b] still more plainly apparent now that we have distinguished the several parts4 of the soul.” “What do you mean?” “Why, between ourselves5—for you will not betray me to the tragic poets and all other imitators—that kind of art seems to be a corruption6 of the mind of all listeners who do not possess, as an antidote7 a knowledge of its real nature.” “What is your idea in saying this?” he said. “I must speak out,” I said, “though a certain love and reverence for Homer8 that has possessed me from a boy would stay me from speaking. [595c] For he appears to have been the first teacher and beginner of all these beauties of tragedy. Yet all the same we must not honor a man above truth,9 but, as I say, speak our minds.” “By all means,” he said. “Listen, then, or rather, answer my question.” “Ask it,” he said. “Could you tell me in general what imitation is? For neither do I myself quite apprehend what it would be at.” “It is likely, then,10” he said, “that I should apprehend!” “It would be nothing strange,” said I, “since it often happens [596a] that the dimmer vision sees things in advance of the keener.11” “That is so,” he said; “but in your presence I could not even be eager to try to state anything that appears to me, but do you yourself consider it.” “Shall we, then, start the inquiry at this point by our customary procedure12? We are in the habit, I take it, of positing a single idea or form13 in the case of the various multiplicities to which we give the same name. Do you not understand?” “I do.” “In the present case, then, let us take any multiplicity you please; [596b] for example, there are many couches and tables.” “Of course.” “But these utensils imply, I suppose, only two ideas or forms, one of a couch and one of a table.” “Yes.” “And are we not also in the habit of saying that the craftsman who produces either of them fixes his eyes14 on the idea or form, and so makes in the one case the couches and in the other the tables that we use, and similarly of other things? For surely no craftsman makes the idea itself. How could he?” “By no means.” “But now consider [596c] what name you would give to this craftsman.” “What one?” “Him who makes all the things15 that all handicraftsmen severally produce.” “A truly clever and wondrous man you tell of.” “Ah, but wait,16 and you will say so indeed, for this same handicraftsman is not only able to make all implements, but he produces all plants and animals, including himself,17 and thereto earth and heaven and the gods and all things in heaven and in Hades under the earth.” “A most marvellous sophist,18“ [596d] he said. “Are you incredulous?” said I. “Tell me, do you deny altogether the possibility of such a craftsman, or do you admit that in a sense there could be such a creator of all these things, and in another sense not? Or do you not perceive that you yourself would be able to make all these things in a way?” “And in what way,19 I ask you,” he said. “There is no difficulty,” said I, “but it is something that the craftsman can make everywhere and quickly. You could do it most quickly if you should choose to take a mirror and carry it about everywhere. [596e] You will speedily produce the sun and all the things in the sky, and speedily the earth and yourself and the other animals and implements and plants and all the objects of which we just now spoke.” “Yes,” he said, “the appearance of them, but not the reality and the truth.” “Excellent,” said I, “and you come to the aid of the argument opportunely. For I take it that the painter too belongs to this class of producers, does he not?” “Of course.” “But you will say, I suppose, that his creations are not real and true. And yet, after a fashion, the painter20 too makes a couch, does he not?” “Yes,” he said, “the appearance of one, he too.” [597a] “What of the cabinet-maker? Were you not just now saying that he does not make the idea or form which we say is the real couch, the couch in itself,21 but only some particular couch?” “Yes, I was.” “Then if he does not make that which really is, he could not be said to make real being but something that resembles real being but is not that. But if anyone should say that being in the complete sense22 belongs to the work of the cabinet-maker or to that of any other handicraftsman, it seems that he would say what is not true.” “That would be the view,” he said, “of those who are versed23 in this kind of reasoning.” “We must not be surprised, then, if this too is only a dim adumbration in comparison with reality.” [597b] “No, we must not.” “Shall we, then, use these very examples in our quest for the true nature of this imitator?” “If you please,” he said. “We get, then, these three couches, one, that in nature24 which, I take it, we would say that God produces,25 or who else?” “No one, I think.” “And then there was one which the carpenter made.” “Yes,” he said. “And one which the painter. Is not that so?” “So be it.” “The painter, then, the cabinet-maker, and God, there are these three presiding over three kinds of couches.” “Yes,three.” [597c] “Now God,whether because he so willed or because some compulsion was laid upon him26 not to make more than one couch in nature, so wrought and created one only,27 the couch which really and in itself is. But two or more such were never created by God and never will come into being.” “How so?” he said. “Because,” said I, “if he should make only two, there would again appear one of which they both would possess the form or idea, and that would be the couch that really is in and of itself, and not the other two.” “Right,” he said. “God, then, I take it, knowing this and wishing [597d] to be the real author of the couch that has real being and not of some particular couch, nor yet a particular cabinet-maker, produced it in nature unique.” “So it seems.” “Shall we, then, call him its true and natural begetter, or something of the kind?” “That would certainly be right,” he said, “since it is by and in nature28 that he has made this and all other things.” “And what of the carpenter? Shall we not call him the creator of a couch?” “Yes.” “Shall we also say that the painter is the creator and maker of that sort of thing?” “By no means.” “What will you say he is in relation to the couch?” [597e] “This,” said he, “seems to me the most reasonable designation for him, that he is the imitator of the thing which those others produce.” “Very good,” said I; “the producer of the product three removes29 from nature you call the imitator?” “By all means,” he said. “This, then, will apply to the maker of tragedies also, if he is an imitator and is in his nature three removes from the king and the truth, as are all other imitators.” “It would seem so.” “We are in agreement, then, about the imitator. [598a] But tell me now this about the painter. Do you think that what he tries to imitate is in each case that thing itself in nature or the works of the craftsmen?” “The works of the craftsmen,” he said. “Is it the reality of them or the appearance? Define that further point.30” “What do you mean?” he said. “This: Does a couch differ from itself according as you view it from the side or the front or in any other way? Or does it differ not at all in fact though it appears different, and so of other things?” “That is the way of it,” he said: “it appears other but differs not at all.” [598b] “Consider, then, this very point. To which is painting directed in every case, to the imitation of reality as it is31 or of appearance as it appears? Is it an imitation of a phantasm or of the truth?” “Of a phantasm,32” he said. “Then the mimetic art is far removed33 from truth, and this, it seems, is the reason why it can produce everything, because it touches or lays hold of only a small part of the object and that a phantom34; as, for example, a painter, we say, will paint us a cobbler, a carpenter, and other craftsmen, [598c] though he himself has no expertness in any of these arts,35 but nevertheless if he were a good painter, by exhibiting at a distance his picture of a carpenter he would deceive children and foolish men,36 and make them believe it to be a real carpenter.” “Why not?” “But for all that, my friend, this, I take it, is what we ought to bear in mind in all such cases: When anyone reports to us of someone, that he has met a man who knows all the crafts and everything else37 that men severally know, [598d] and that there is nothing that he does not know38 more exactly than anybody else, our tacit rejoinder must be that he is a simple fellow, who apparently has met some magician or sleight-of-hand man and imitator and has been deceived by him into the belief that he is all-wise,39 because of his own inability to put to the proof and distinguish knowledge, ignorance40 and imitation.” “Most true,” he said.“Then,” said I, “have we not next to scrutinize tragedy and its leader Homer,41 since some people tell us that these poets know all the arts [598e] and all things human pertaining to virtue and vice, and all things divine? For the good poet, if he is to poetize things rightly, must, they argue, create with knowledge or else be unable to create. So we must consider whether these critics have not fallen in with such imitators and been deceived by them, so that looking upon their works [599a] they cannot perceive that these are three removes from reality, and easy to produce without knowledge of the truth. For it is phantoms,42 not realities, that they produce. Or is there something in their claim, and do good poets really know the things about which the multitude fancy they speak well?” “We certainly must examine the matter,” he said. “Do you suppose, then, that if a man were able to produce both the exemplar and the semblance, he would be eager to abandon himself to the fashioning of phantoms43 and set this in the forefront [599b] of his life as the best thing he had?” “I do not.” “But, I take it, if he had genuine knowledge of the things he imitates he would far rather devote himself to real things44 than to the imitation of them, and would endeavor to leave after him many noble deeds45 and works as memorials of himself, and would be more eager to be the theme of praise than the praiser.” “I think so,” he said; “for there is no parity in the honor and the gain.” “Let us not, then, demand a reckoning46 from Homer [599c] or any other of the poets on other matters by asking them, if any one of them was a physician and not merely an imitator of a physician's talk, what men any poet, old or new, is reported to have restored to health as Asclepius did, or what disciples of the medical art he left after him as Asclepius did his descendants; and let us dismiss the other arts and not question them about them; but concerning the greatest and finest things of which Homer undertakes to speak, wars and generalship47 [599d] and the administration of cities and the education of men, it surely is fair to question him and ask, ‘Friend Homer, if you are not at the third remove from truth and reality in human excellence, being merely that creator of phantoms whom we defined as the imitator, but if you are even in the second place and were capable of knowing what pursuits make men better or worse in private or public life, tell us what city was better governed owing to you,48 even as Lacedaemon was because of Lycurgus,49 and many other cities [599e] great and small because of other legislators. But what city credits you with having been a good legislator and having benefited them? Italy and Sicily say this of Charondas and we of Solon.50 But who says it of you?’ Will he be able to name any?” “I think not,” said Glaucon; “at any rate none is mentioned even by the Homerids themselves.” “Well, then, [600a] is there any tradition of a war in Homer's time that was well conducted by his command or counsel?” “None.” “Well, then, as might be expected of a man wise in practical affairs, are many and ingenious inventions51 for the arts and business of life reported of Homer as they are of Thales52 the Milesian and Anacharsis53 the Scythian?” “Nothing whatever of the sort.” “Well, then, if no public service is credited to him, is Homer reported while he lived to have been a guide in education to men who took pleasure in associating with him [600b] and transmitted to posterity a certain Homeric way of life54 just as Pythagoras55 was himself especially honored for this, and his successors, even to this day, denominating a certain way of life the Pythagorean,56 are distinguished among their contemporaries?” “No, nothing of this sort either is reported; for Creophylos,57 Socrates, the friend of Homer, would perhaps be even more ridiculous than his name58 as a representative of Homeric culture and education, if what is said about Homer is true. For the tradition is that Homer was completely neglected in his own lifetime by that friend of the flesh.” [600c] “Why, yes, that is the tradition,” said I; “but do you suppose, Glaucon, that, if Homer had really been able to educate men59 and make them better and had possessed not the art of imitation but real knowledge, he would not have acquired many companions and been honored and loved by them? But are we to believe that while Protagoras60 of Abdera and Prodicus61 of Ceos and many others are able by private teaching [600d] to impress upon their contemporaries the conviction that they will not be capable of governing their homes or the city62 unless they put them in charge of their education, and make themselves so beloved for this wisdom63 that their companions all but64 carry them about on their shoulders,65 yet, forsooth, that Homer's contemporaries, if he had been able to help men to achieve excellence,66 would have suffered him or Hesiod to roam about rhapsodizing and would not have clung to them far rather than to their gold,67 and constrained them to dwell with them68 in their homes, [600e] or failing to persuade them, would themselves have escorted them wheresoever they went until they should have sufficiently imbibed their culture?” “What you say seems to me to be altogether true, Socrates,” he said. “Shall we, then, lay it down that all the poetic tribe, beginning with Homer,69 are imitators of images of excellence and of the other things that they ‘create,70’ and do not lay hold on truth? but, as we were just now saying, the painter will fashion, [601a] himself knowing nothing of the cobbler's art, what appears to be a cobbler to him and likewise to those who know nothing but judge only by forms and colors71?” “Certainly.” “And similarly, I suppose, we shall say that the poet himself, knowing nothing but how to imitate, lays on with words and phrases72 the colors of the several arts in such fashion that others equally ignorant, who see things only through words,73 will deem his words most excellent, [601b] whether he speak in rhythm, meter and harmony about cobbling or generalship or anything whatever. So mighty is the spell74 that these adornments naturally exercise; though when they are stripped bare of their musical coloring and taken by themselves,75 I think you know what sort of a showing these sayings of the poets make. For you, I believe, have observed them.” “I have,” he said. “Do they not,” said I, “resemble the faces of adolescents, young but not really beautiful, when the bloom of youth abandons them?76” “By all means,” he said. “Come, then,” said I, “consider this point: The creator of the phantom, the imitator, we say, knows nothing of the reality but only the appearance. [601c] Is not that so?” “Yes.” “Let us not, then, leave it half said but consider it fully.” “Speak on,” he said. “The painter, we say, will paint both reins and a bit.” “Yes.” “But the maker77 will be the cobbler and the smith.” “Certainly.” “Does the painter, then, know the proper quality of reins and bit? Or does not even the maker, the cobbler and the smith, know that, but only the man who understands the use of these things, the horseman78?” “Most true.” “And shall we not say [601d] that the same holds true of everything?” “What do you mean?” “That there are some three arts concerned with everything, the user's art,79 the maker's, and the imitator's.” “Yes.” “Now do not the excellence, the beauty, the rightness80 of every implement, living thing, and action refer solely to the use81 for which each is made or by nature adapted?” “That is so.” “It quite necessarily follows, then, that the user of anything is the one who knows most of it by experience, and that he reports to the maker the good or bad effects in use of the thing he uses. [601e] As, for example, the flute-player reports to the flute-maker which flutes respond and serve rightly in flute-playing, and will order the kind that must be made, and the other will obey and serve him.” “Of course.” “The one, then, possessing knowledge, reports about the goodness or the badness of the flutes, and the other, believing, will make them.” “Yes.” “Then in respect of the same implement the maker will have right belief82 about its excellence and defects from association with the man who knows and being compelled to listen to him, [602a] but the user will have true knowledge.” “Certainly.” “And will the imitator from experience or use have knowledge whether the things he portrays are or are not beautiful and right, or will he, from compulsory association with the man who knows and taking orders from him for the right making of them, have right opinion83?” “Neither.” “Then the imitator will neither know nor opine rightly concerning the beauty or the badness of his imitations.” “It seems not.” “Most charming,84 then, would be the state of mind of the poetical imitator in respect of true wisdom about his creations.” “Not at all.” [602b] “Yet still he will none the less85 imitate, though in every case he does not know in what way the thing is bad or good. But, as it seems, the thing he will imitate will be the thing that appears beautiful to the ignorant multitude.” “Why, what else?” “On this, then, as it seems, we are fairly agreed, that the imitator knows nothing worth mentioning of the things he imitates, but that imitation is a form of play,86 not to be taken seriously,87 and that those who attempt tragic poetry, whether in iambics or heroic verse,88 are all altogether imitators.” “By all means.” [602c] “In heaven's name, then, this business of imitation is concerned with the third remove from truth, is it not?” “Yes.” “And now again, to what element89 in man is its function and potency related?” “Of what are you speaking?” “Of this: The same magnitude, I presume, viewed from near and from far90 does not appear equal.” “Why, no.” “And the same things appear bent and straight91 to those who view them in water and out, or concave and convex, owing to similar errors of vision about colors, and there is [602d] obviously every confusion of this sort in our souls. And so scene-painting in its exploitation92 of this weakness of our nature falls nothing short of witchcraft,93 and so do jugglery and many other such contrivances.” “True.” “And have not measuring and numbering and weighing94 proved to be most gracious aids to prevent the domination in our soul of the apparently95 greater or less or more or heavier, and to give the control to that which has reckoned96 and numbered or even weighed?” [602e] “Certainly.” “But this surely would be the function97 of the part of the soul that reasons and calculates.98” “Why, yes, of that.” “And often when this has measured99 and declares that certain things are larger or that some are smaller than the others or equal, there is at the same time an appearance of the contrary.” “Yes.” “And did we not say100 that it is impossible for the same thing at one time to hold contradictory opinions about the same thing?” [603a] “And we were right in affirming that.” “The part of the soul, then, that opines in contradiction of measurement could not be the same with that which conforms to it.” “Why, no.” “But, further, that which puts its trust in measurement and reckoning must be the best part of the soul.” “Surely.” “Then that which opposes it must belong to the inferior elements of the soul.” “Necessarily.” “This, then, was what I wished to have agreed upon when I said that poetry, and in general the mimetic art, produces a product that is far removed from truth in the accomplishment of its task, and associates with the part in us [603b] that is remote from intelligence, and is its companion and friend101 for no sound and true purpose.102” “By all means,” said he. “Mimetic art, then, is an inferior thing cohabiting with an inferior and engendering inferior offspring.103” “It seems so.” “Does that,” said I, “hold only for vision or does it apply also to hearing and to what we call poetry?” “Presumably,” he said, “to that also.” “Let us not, then, trust solely to the plausible analogy104 from painting, but let us approach in turn [603c] that part of the mind to which mimetic poetry appeals and see whether it is the inferior or the nobly serious part.” “So we must.” “Let us, then, put the question thus: Mimetic poetry, we say, imitates human beings acting under compulsion or voluntarily,105 and as a result of their actions supposing themselves to have fared well or ill and in all this feeling either grief or joy. Did we find anything else but this?” “Nothing.” “Is a man, then, in all this [603d] of one mind with himself, or just as in the domain of sight there was faction and strife and he held within himself contrary opinions at the same time about the same things,106 so also in our actions there is division and strife107 of the man with himself? But I recall that there is no need now of our seeking agreement on this point, for in our former discussion108 we were sufficiently agreed that our soul at any one moment teems with countless such self-contradictions.” “Rightly,” he said. “Yes, rightly,” said I; “but what we then omitted109 must now, I think, [603e] be set forth.” “What is that?” he said. “When a good and reasonable man,” said I, “experiences such a stroke of fortune as the loss of a son or anything else that he holds most dear, we said, I believe, then too,110 that he will bear it more easily than the other sort.” “Assuredly.” “But now let us consider this: Will he feel no pain, or, since that is impossible, shall we say that he will in some sort be moderate111 in his grief?” “That,” he said, “is rather the truth.” [604a] “Tell me now this about him: Do you think he will be more likely to resist and fight against his grief when he is observed by his equals or when he is in solitude alone by himself?” “He will be much more restrained,” he said, “when he is on view.” “But when left alone, I fancy, he will permit himself many utterances which, if heard by another, would put him to shame, and will do many things which he would not consent to have another see him doing.” “So it is,” he said.“Now is it not reason and law [604b] that exhorts him to resist, while that which urges him to give way to his grief is the bare feeling itself?” “True.” “And where there are two opposite impulses112 in a man at the same time about the same thing we say that there must needs be two things113 in him.” “Of course.” “And is not the one prepared to follow the guidance of the law as the law leads and directs?” “How so?” “The law, I suppose, declares that it is best to keep quiet as far as possible in calamity and not to chafe and repine, because we cannot know what is really good and evil in such things114 and it advantages us nothing to take them hard, [604c] and nothing in mortal life is worthy of great concern,115 and our grieving checks116 the very thing we need to come to our aid as quickly as possible in such case.” “What thing,” he said, “do you mean?” “To deliberate,”117 I said, “about what has happened to us, and, as it were in the fall of the dice,118 to determine the movements of our affairs with reference to the numbers that turn up, in the way that reason indicates119 would be the best, and, instead of stumbling like children, clapping one's hands to the stricken spot120 and wasting the time in wailing, [604d] ever to accustom the soul to devote itself at once to the curing of the hurt and the raising up of what has fallen, banishing threnody121 by therapy.” “That certainly,” he said, “would be the best way to face misfortune and deal with it.” “Then, we say, the best part of us is willing to conform to these precepts of reason.” “Obviously.” “And shall we not say that the part of us that leads us to dwell in memory on our suffering and impels us to lamentation, and cannot get enough of that sort of thing, is the irrational and idle part of us, the associate of cowardice122?” “Yes, we will say that.” “And does not [604e] the fretful part of us present123 many and varied occasions for imitation, while the intelligent and temperate disposition, always remaining approximately the same, is neither easy to imitate nor to be understood when imitated, especially by a nondescript mob assembled in the theater? For the representation imitates a type [605a] that is alien to them.” “By all means.” “And is it not obvious that the nature of the mimetic poet is not related to this better part of the soul and his cunning is not framed124 to please it, if he is to win favor with the multitude, but is devoted to the fretful and complicated type of character because it is easy to imitate?” “It is obvious.” “This consideration, then, makes it right for us to proceed to lay hold of him and set him down as the counterpart125 of the painter; for he resembles him in that his creations are inferior in respect of reality; and the fact that his appeal is to the inferior part of the soul [605b] and not to the best part is another point of resemblance. And so we may at last say that we should be justified in not admitting him into a well-ordered state, because he stimulates and fosters this element in the soul, and by strengthening it tends to destroy the rational part, just as when in a state126 one puts bad men in power and turns the city over to them and ruins the better sort. Precisely in the same manner we shall say that the mimetic poet sets up in each individual soul a vicious constitution by fashioning phantoms far removed from reality, and by currying favor with the senseless element [605c] that cannot distinguish the greater from the less, but calls the same thing now one, now the other.” “By all means.”“But we have not yet brought our chief accusation against it. Its power to corrupt, with rare exceptions, even the better sort is surely the chief cause for alarm.” “How could it be otherwise, if it really does that?” “ Listen and reflect. I think you know that the very best of us, when we hear Homer127 or some other of the makers of tragedy [605d] imitating one of the heroes who is in grief,128 and is delivering a long tirade in his lamentations or chanting and beating his breast, feel pleasure,129 and abandon ourselves and accompany the representation with sympathy and eagerness,130 and we praise as an excellent poet the one who most strongly affects us in this way.” “I do know it, of course.” “But when in our own lives some affliction comes to us, you are also aware that we plume ourselves upon the opposite, on our ability to remain calm and endure, [605e] in the belief that this is the conduct of a man, and what we were praising in the theatre that of a woman.131” “I do note that.” “Do you think, then,” said I, “that this praise is rightfully bestowed when, contemplating a character that we would not accept but would be ashamed of in ourselves, we do not abominate it but take pleasure and approve?” “No, by Zeus,” he said, “it does not seem reasonable.” [606a] “O yes,132” said I, “if you would consider it in this way.” “In what way?” “If you would reflect that the part of the soul that in the former case, in our own misfortunes,133 was forcibly restrained, and that has hungered for tears and a good cry134 and satisfaction, because it is its nature to desire these things, is the element in us that the poets satisfy and delight, and that the best element in our nature, since it has never been properly educated by reason or even by habit, then relaxes its guard135 over the plaintive part, [606b] inasmuch as this is contemplating the woes of others and it is no shame to it to praise and pity another who, claiming to be a good man, abandons himself to excess in his grief; but it thinks this vicarious pleasure is so much clear gain,136 and would not consent to forfeit it by disdaining the poem altogether. That is, I think, because few are capable of reflecting that what we enjoy in others will inevitably react upon ourselves.137 For after feeding fat138 the emotion of pity there, it is not easy to restrain it in our own sufferings.” [606c] “Most true,” he said. “Does not the same principle apply to the laughable,139 namely,that if in comic representations,140 or for that matter in private talk,141 you take intense pleasure in buffooneries that you would blush to practise yourself, and do not detest them as base, you are doing the same thing as in the case of the pathetic? For here again what your reason, for fear of the reputation of buffoonery, restrained in yourself when it fain would play the clown, you release in turn, and so, fostering its youthful impudence, let yourself go so far that often ere you are aware you become yourself [606d] a comedian in private.” “Yes, indeed,” he said. “And so in regard to the emotions of sex and anger, and all the appetites and pains and pleasures of the soul which we say accompany all our actions,142 the effect of poetic imitation is the same. For it waters143 and fosters these feelings when what we ought to do is to dry them up, and it establishes them as our rulers when they ought to be ruled, to the end that we may be better and happier men instead of worse and more miserable.” “I cannot deny it,” said he. [606e] “Then, Glaucon,” said I, “when you meet encomiasts of Homer who tell us that this poet has been the educator of Hellas,144 and that for the conduct and refinement145 of human life he is worthy of our study and devotion, and that we should order our entire lives by the guidance of this poet, [607a] we must love146 and salute them as doing the best they can,147 and concede to them that Homer is the most poetic148 of poets and the first of tragedians,149 but we must know the truth, that we can admit no poetry into our city save only hymns to the gods and the praises of good men.150 For if you grant admission to the honeyed muse151 in lyric or epic, pleasure and pain will be lords of your city instead of law and that which shall from time to time have approved itself to the general reason as the best.” “Most true,” he said. [607b] “Let us, then, conclude our return to the topic of poetry and our apology, and affirm that we really had good grounds then for dismissing her from our city, since such was her character. For reason constrained us.152 And let us further say to her, lest she condemn us for harshness and rusticity, that there is from of old a quarrel153 between philosophy and poetry. For such expressions as “‘the yelping hound barking at her master and mighty in the idle babble”Unknown [607c] “of fools,’”154 and “‘the mob that masters those who are too wise for their own good,’” Unknown and the subtle thinkers who reason that after all they are poor, and countless others are tokens of this ancient enmity. But nevertheless let it be declared that, if the mimetic and dulcet poetry can show any reason for her existence in a well-governed state, we would gladly admit her, since we ourselves are very conscious of her spell. But all the same it would be impious to betray what we believe to be the truth.155 [607d] Is not that so, friend? Do not you yourself feel her magic156 and especially when Homer157 is her interpreter?” “Greatly.” “Then may she not justly return from this exile after she has pleaded her defence, whether in lyric or other measure?” “By all means.” “And we would allow her advocates who are not poets but lovers of poetry to plead her cause158 in prose without metre, and show that she is not only delightful but beneficial to orderly government and all the life of man. And we shall listen benevolently, [607e] for it will be clear gain for us if it can be shown that she bestows not only pleasure but benefit.” “How could we help being the gainers?” said he. “But if not, my friend, even as men who have fallen in love, if they think that the love is not good for them, hard though it be,159 nevertheless refrain, so we, owing to the love of this kind of poetry inbred in us by our education in these fine160 polities of ours, [608a] will gladly have the best possible case made out for her goodness and truth, but so long as she is unable to make good her defence we shall chant over to ourselves161 as we listen the reasons that we have given as a counter-charm to her spell, to preserve us from slipping back into the childish loves of the multitude; for we have come to see that we must not take such poetry seriously as a serious thing162 that lays hold on truth, but that he who lends an ear to it must be on his guard [608b] fearing for the polity in his soul163 and must believe what we have said about poetry.” “By all means,” he said, “I concur.” “Yes, for great is the struggle,164” I said, “dear Glaucon, a far greater contest than we think it, that determines whether a man prove good or bad, so that not the lure of honor or wealth or any office, no, nor of poetry either, should incite us165 to be careless of righteousness and all excellence.” “I agree with you,” he replied, “in view of what we have set forth, and I think that anyone else would do so too.” [608c] “And yet,” said I, “the greatest rewards of virtue and the prizes proposed for her we have not set forth.” “You must have in mind an inconceivable166 magnitude,” he replied, “if there are other things greater than those of which we have spoken.167? For surely the whole time from the boy to the old man would be small compared with all time.168” “Nay, it is nothing,” he said. “What then? Do you think that an immortal thing169 ought to be seriously concerned for such a little time, [608d] and not rather for all time?” “I think so,” he said; “but what is this that you have in mind?” “Have you never perceived,” said I, “that our soul is immortal and never perishes?” And he, looking me full in the face170 in amazement,171 said, “No, by Zeus, not I; but are you able to declare this?” “I certainly ought to be,172” said I, “and I think you too can, for it is nothing hard.” “It is for me,” he said; “and I would gladly hear from you this thing that is not hard.173” “Listen,” said I. “Just speak on,” he replied. “You speak of174 good [608e] and evil, do you not?” “I do.” “Is your notion of them the same as mine?” “What is it?” “That which destroys and corrupts in every case is the evil; that which preserves and benefits is the good.” “Yes, I think so,” he said. “How about this: Do you say that there is for everything its special good and evil, [609a] as for example for the eyes ophthalmia, for the entire body disease, for grain mildew, rotting for wood, rust for bronze and iron, and, as I say, for practically everything its congenital evil and disease175?” “I do,” he said. “Then when one of these evils comes to anything does it not make the thing to which it attaches itself bad, and finally disintegrate and destroy it?” “Of course.” “Then the congenital evil of each thing and its own vice destroys it, or if that is not going to destroy it, nothing else [609b] remains that could; for obviously176 the good will never destroy anything, nor yet again will that which is neutral and neither good nor evil177.” “How could it?” he said. “If, then, we discover178 anything that has an evil which vitiates it, yet is not able to dissolve and destroy it, shall we not thereupon know that of a thing so constituted there can be no destruction?” “That seems likely,” he said. “Well, then,” said I, “has not the soul something that makes it evil?” “Indeed it has,” he said, “all the things that we were just now enumerating, [609c] injustice and licentiousness and cowardice and ignorance.” “Does any one of these things dissolve and destroy it? And reflect, lest we be misled by supposing that when an unjust and foolish man is taken in his injustice he is then destroyed by the injustice, which is the vice of soul. But conceive it thus: Just as the vice of body which is disease wastes and destroys it so that it no longer is a body at all,179 in like manner in all the examples of which we spoke it is the specific evil which, [609d] by attaching itself to the thing and dwelling in it with power to corrupt, reduces it to nonentity. Is not that so?” “Yes.” “Come, then, and consider the soul in the same way.180 Do injustice and other wickedness dwelling in it, by their indwelling and attachment to it, corrupt and wither it till they bring it to death and separate it from the body?” “They certainly do not do that,” he said. “But surely,” said I, “it is unreasonable to suppose that the vice of something else destroys a thing while its own does not.” “Yes, unreasonable.” “For observe, Glaucon,” [609e] said I, “that we do not think it proper to say of the body either that it is destroyed by the badness of foods themselves, whether it be staleness or rottenness or whatever it is;181 but when the badness of the foods themselves engenders in the body the defect of body, then we shall say that it is destroyed owing to these foods, but by182 its own vice, which is disease. [610a] But the body being one thing and the foods something else, we shall never expect the body to be destroyed by their badness, that is by an alien evil that has not produced in it the evil that belongs to it by nature.” “You are entirely right,” he replied.“On the same principle,” said I, “if the badness of the body does not produce in the soul the soul's badness we shall never expect the soul to be destroyed by an alien evil apart from its own defect—one thing, that is, by the evil of another.” “That is reasonable,” he said. “Either, then, we must refute this [610b] and show that we are mistaken, or,183 so long as it remains unrefuted, we must never say that by fever or any other disease, or yet by the knife at the throat or the chopping to bits of the entire body, there is any more likelihood of the soul perishing because of these things, until it is proved that owing to these affections of the body the soul itself becomes more unjust and unholy. But when an evil of something else occurs in a different thing and the evil that belongs to the thing is not engendered in it, [610c] we must not suffer it to be said that the soul or anything else is in this way destroyed.” “But you may be sure,” he said, “that nobody will ever prove this, that the souls of the dying are made more unjust by death.” “But if anyone,” said I, “dares to come to grips with the argument184 and say, in order to avoid being forced to admit the soul's immortality, that a dying man does become more wicked and unjust,185 we will postulate that, if what he says is true, injustice must be fatal [610d] to its possessor as if it were a disease, and that those who catch it die because it kills them by its own inherent nature, those who have most of it quickest, and those who have less more slowly, and not, as now in fact happens, that the unjust die owing to this but by the action of others who inflict the penalty.” “Nay, by Zeus,” he said, “injustice will not appear a very terrible thing after all if it is going to be186 fatal to its possessor, for that would be a release from all troubles.187 But I rather think it will prove to be quite the contrary, [610e] something that kills others when it can, but renders its possessor very lively indeed,188 and not only lively but wakeful,189 so far, I ween, does it dwell190 from deadliness.” “You say well,” I replied; “for when the natural vice and the evil proper to it cannot kill and destroy the soul, still less191 will the evil appointed for the destruction of another thing destroy the soul or anything else, except that for which it is appointed.”192 “Still less indeed,” he said, “in all probability.” “Then since it is not destroyed by any evil whatever, [611a] either its own or alien, it is evident that it must necessarily exist always, and that if it always exists it is immortal.” “Necessarily,” he said.“Let this, then,” I said, “be assumed to be so. But if it is so, you will observe that these souls must always be the same. For if none perishes they could not, I suppose, become fewer nor yet more numerous.193 For if any class of immortal things increased you are aware that its increase would come from the mortal and all things would end by becoming immortal.194” “You say truly.” “But,” said I, “we must not suppose this, [611b] for reason will not suffer it nor yet must we think that in its truest nature the soul is the kind of thing that teems with infinite diversity and unlikeness and contradiction in and with itself.195” “How am I to understand that?” he said. “It is not easy,” said I, “for a thing to be immortal that is composed of many elements196 not put together in the best way, as now appeared to us197 to be the case with the soul.” “It is not likely.” “Well, then, that the soul is immortal our recent argument and our other198 proofs would constrain us to admit. But to know its true nature [611c] we must view it not marred by communion with the body199 and other miseries as we now contemplate it, but consider adequately in the light of reason what it is when it is purified, and then you will find it to be a far more beautiful thing and will more clearly distinguish justice and injustice and all the matters that we have now discussed. But though we have stated the truth of its present appearance, its condition as we have now contemplated it [611d] resembles that of the sea-god Glaucus200 whose first nature can hardly be made out by those who catch glimpses of him, because the original members of his body are broken off and mutilated and crushed and in every way marred by the waves, and other parts have attached themselves201 to him, accretions of shells202 and sea-weed and rocks, so that he is more like any wild creature than what he was by nature—even such, I say, is our vision of the soul marred by countless evils. But we must look elsewhere, Glaucon.” “Where?” said he. “To its love of wisdom. [611e] And we must note the things of which it has apprehensions, and the associations for which it yearns, as being itself akin to the divine203 and the immortal and to eternal being, and so consider what it might be if it followed the gleam unreservedly and were raised by this impulse out of the depths of this sea in which it is now sunk, and were cleansed and scraped free204 of the rocks and barnacles which, [612a] because it now feasts on earth, cling to it in wild profusion of earthy and stony accretion by reason of these feastings that are accounted happy.205 And then one might see whether in its real nature206 it is manifold207 or single in its simplicity, or what is the truth about it and how.208 But for the present we have, I think, fairly well described its sufferings and the forms it assumes in this human life of ours.” “We certainly have,” he said.“Then,” said I, “we have met all the other demands [612b] of the argument, and we have not invoked the rewards and reputes of justice as you said Homer and Hesiod209 do, but we have proved that justice in itself is the best thing for the soul itself, and that the soul ought to do justice whether it possess the ring of Gyges210 or not,211 or the helmet of Hades212 to boot.” “Most true,” he said. “Then,” said I, “Glaucon, there can no longer be any objection,213 can there, to our assigning to justice and [612c] virtue generally, in addition, all the various rewards and wages that they bring to the soul from men and gods, both while the man still lives and, after his death?” “There certainly can be none,” he said. “Will you, then, return to me what you borrowed214 in the argument?” “What, pray?” “I granted to you that the just man should seem and be thought to be unjust and the unjust just; for you thought that, even if the concealment of these things from gods and men was an impossibility in fact, nevertheless, it ought to be conceded for the sake of the argument,215 in order that the decision might be made [612d] between absolute justice and absolute injustice. Or do you not remember?” “It would be unjust of me,216” he said, “if I did not.” “Well, then, now that they have been compared and judged, I demand back from you in behalf of justice the repute that she in fact enjoys217 from gods and men, and I ask that we admit that she is thus esteemed in order that she may gather in the prizes218 which she wins from the seeming and bestows on her possessors, since she has been proved to bestow the blessings that come from the reality and not to deceive those who truly seek and win her.” “That is a just demand,” he said. [612e] “Then,” said I, “will not the first of these restorations be that the gods certainly219 are not unaware220 of the true character of each of the two, the just and the unjust?” “We will restore that,” he said. “And if they are not concealed, the one will be dear to the gods221 and the other hateful to them, as we agreed in the beginning.222” “That is so.” “And shall we not agree that all things that come from the gods [613a] work together for the best223 for him that is dear to the gods, apart from the inevitable evil caused by sin in a former life224?” “By all means.” “This, then, must be our conviction about the just man, that whether he fall into poverty or disease or any other supposed evil, for him all these things will finally prove good, both in life and in death. For by the gods assuredly that man will never be neglected who is willing and eager to be righteous, and by the practice of virtue to be likened unto god225 [613b] so far as that is possible for man.” “It is reasonable,” he said, “that such a one should not be neglected by his like.226” “And must we not think the opposite of the unjust man?” “Most emphatically.” “Such then are the prizes of victory which the gods bestow upon the just.” “So I think, at any rate,” he said. “But what,” said I, “does he receive from men? Is not this the case, if we are now to present the reality? Do not your smart but wicked men fare as those racers do who run well227 from the scratch but not back from the turn? They bound nimbly away at the start, but in the end [613c] are laughed to scorn and run off the field uncrowned and with their ears on their shoulders.228 But the true runners when they have come to the goal receive the prizes and bear away the crown. Is not this the usual outcome for the just also, that towards the end of every action and association and of life as a whole they have honor and bear away the prizes from men?” “So it is indeed.” “Will you, then, bear with me if I say of them [613d] all that you said229 of the unjust? For I am going to say that the just, when they become older, hold the offices in their own city if they choose, marry from what families they will, and give their children in marriage to what families they please, and everything that you said of the one I now repeat of the other; and in turn I will say of the unjust that the most of them, even if they escape detection in youth, at the end of their course are caught and derided, and their old age is made miserable by the contumelies of strangers and townsfolk. [613e] They are lashed and suffer all things230 which you truly said are unfit for ears polite.231 Suppose yourself to have heard from me a repetition of all that they suffer. But, as I say, consider whether you will bear with me.” “Assuredly,” he said, “for what you say is just.”“Such then while he lives are the prizes, the wages, and the gifts [614a] that the just man receives from gods and men in addition to those blessings which justice herself bestowed.” “And right fair and abiding rewards,” he said. “Well, these,” I said, “are nothing in number and magnitude compared with those that await both232 after death. And we must listen to the tale of them,” said I, “in order that each may have received in full233 what is due to be said of him by our argument.” “Tell me,” he said, [614b] “since there are not many things to which I would more gladly listen.” “It is not, let me tell you,” said I, “the tale234 to Alcinous told235 that I shall unfold, but the tale of a warrior bold,236 Er, the son of Armenius, by race a Pamphylian.237 He once upon a time was slain in battle, and when the corpses were taken up on the tenth day already decayed, was found intact, and having been brought home, at the moment of his funeral, on the twelfth day238 as he lay upon the pyre, revived,239 and after coming to life related what, he said, he had seen in the world beyond. He said that when his soul240 went forth from his body he journeyed with a great company [614c] and that they came to a mysterious region241 where there were two openings side by side in the earth, and above and over against them in the heaven two others, and that judges were sitting242 between these, and that after every judgement they bade the righteous journey to the right and upwards through the heaven with tokens attached243 to them in front of the judgement passed upon them, and the unjust to take the road to the left244 and downward, they too wearing behind signs [614d] of all that had befallen them, and that when he himself drew near they told him that he must be the messenger245 to mankind to tell them of that other world,246 and they charged him to give ear and to observe everything in the place. And so he said that here he saw, by each opening of heaven and earth, the souls departing after judgement had been passed upon them, while, by the other pair of openings, there came up from the one in the earth souls full of squalor and dust, and from the second there came down from heaven a second procession of souls clean and pure, [614e] and that those which arrived from time to time appeared to have come as it were from a long journey and gladly departed to the meadow247 and encamped248 there as at a festival,249 and acquaintances greeted one another, and those which came from the earth questioned the others about conditions up yonder, and those from heaven asked how it fared with those others. And they told their stories to one another, the one lamenting [615a] and wailing as they recalled how many and how dreadful things they had suffered and seen in their journey beneath the earth250—it lasted a thousand years251—while those from heaven related their delights and visions of a beauty beyond words. To tell it all, Glaucon, would take all our time, but the sum, he said, was this. For all the wrongs they had ever done to anyone and all whom they had severally wronged they had paid the penalty in turn tenfold for each, and the measure of this was by periods of a hundred years each,252 [615b] so that on the assumption that this was the length of human life the punishment might be ten times the crime; as for example that if anyone had been the cause of many deaths or had betrayed cities and armies and reduced them to slavery, or had been participant in any other iniquity, they might receive in requital pains tenfold for each of these wrongs, and again if any had done deeds of kindness and been just [615c] and holy men they might receive their due reward in the same measure; and other things not worthy of record he said of those who had just been born253 and lived but a short time; and he had still greater requitals to tell of piety and impiety towards the gods and parents254 and of self-slaughter. For he said that he stood by when one was questioned by another ‘Where is Ardiaeus255 the Great?’ Now this Ardiaeos had been tyrant in a certain city of Pamphylia just a thousand years before that time and had put to death his old father [615d] and his elder brother, and had done many other unholy deeds, as was the report. So he said that the one questioned replied, ‘He has not come,’ said he, ‘nor will he be likely to come here.“‘For indeed this was one of the dreadful sights we beheld; when we were near the mouth and about to issue forth and all our other sufferings were ended, we suddenly caught sight of him and of others, the most of them, I may say, tyrants.256 But there were some [615e] of private station, of those who had committed great crimes. And when these supposed that at last they were about to go up and out, the mouth would not receive them, but it bellowed when anyone of the incurably wicked257 or of those who had not completed their punishment tried to come up. And thereupon,’ he said, ‘savage men of fiery aspect258 who stood by and took note of the voice laid hold on them259 and bore them away. But Ardiaeus [616a] and others they bound hand and foot and head and flung down and flayed them and dragged them by the wayside, carding them on thorns and signifying to those who from time to time passed by for what cause they were borne away, and that they were to be hurled into Tartarus.260 And then, though many and manifold dread things had befallen them, this fear exceeded all—lest each one should hear the voice when he tried to go up, and each went up most gladly when it had kept silence. And the judgements and penalties were somewhat after this manner, [616b] and the blessings were their counterparts. But when seven days had elapsed for each group in the meadow, they were required to rise up on the eighth and journey on, and they came in four days to a spot whence they discerned, extended from above throughout the heaven and the earth, a straight light like a pillar, most nearly resembling the rainbow, but brighter and purer. To this they came [616c] after going forward a day's journey, and they saw there at the middle of the light the extremities of its fastenings stretched from heaven; for this light was the girdle of the heavens like the undergirders261 of triremes, holding together in like manner the entire revolving vault. And from the extremities was stretched the spindle of Necessity,262 through which all the orbits turned. Its staff and its hook were made of adamant, and the whorl of these and other kinds was commingled. And the nature of the whorl was this: [616d] Its shape was that of those in our world, but from his description we must conceive it to be as if in one great whorl, hollow and scooped out, there lay enclosed, right through, another like it but smaller, fitting into it as boxes that fit into one another,263 and in like manner another, a third, and a fourth, and four others, for there were eight of the whorls in all, lying within one another, [616e] showing their rims as circles from above and forming the continuous back of a single whorl about the shaft, which was driven home through the middle of the eighth. Now the first and outmost whorl had the broadest circular rim, that of the sixth was second, and third was that of the fourth, and fourth was that of the eighth, fifth that of the seventh, sixth that of the fifth, seventh that of the third, eighth that of the second; and that of the greatest was spangled, that of the seventh brightest, that of the eighth [617a] took its color from the seventh, which shone upon it. The colors of the second and fifth were like one another and more yellow than the two former. The third had the whitest color, and the fourth was of a slightly ruddy hue; the sixth was second in whiteness. The staff turned as a whole in a circle with the same movement, but within the whole as it revolved the seven inner circles revolved gently in the opposite direction to the whole,264 and of these seven the eighth moved most swiftly, [617b] and next and together with one another the seventh, sixth and fifth; and third265 in swiftness, as it appeared to them, moved the fourth with returns upon itself, and fourth the third and fifth the second. And the spindle turned on the knees of Necessity, and up above on each of the rims of the circles a Siren stood, borne around in its revolution and uttering one sound, one note, and from all the eight there was the concord of a single harmony.266 And there were another three [617c] who sat round about at equal intervals, each one on her throne, the Fates,267 daughters of Necessity, clad in white vestments with filleted heads, Lachesis, and Clotho, and Atropos, who sang in unison with the music of the Sirens, Lachesis singing the things that were, Clotho the things that are, and Atropos the things that are to be. And Clotho with the touch of her right hand helped to turn the outer circumference of the spindle, pausing from time to time. Atropos with her left hand in like manner helped to turn the inner circles, and Lachesis [617d] alternately with either hand lent a hand to each.“Now when they arrived they were straight-way bidden to go before Lachesis, and then a certain prophet268 first marshalled them in orderly intervals, and thereupon took from the lap of Lachesis lots and patterns of lives and went up to a lofty platform and spoke, ‘This is the word of Lachesis, the maiden daughter of Necessity, “Souls that live for a day,269 now is the beginning of another cycle of mortal generation where birth is the beacon of death. [617e] No divinity270 shall cast lots for you, but you shall choose your own deity. Let him to whom falls the first lot first select a life to which he shall cleave of necessity. But virtue has no master over her,271 and each shall have more or less of her as he honors her or does her despite. The blame is his who chooses: God is blameless.272“’ So saying, the prophet flung the lots out among them all, and each took up the lot that fell by his side, except himself; him they did not permit.273 And whoever took up a lot saw plainly what number he had drawn. [618a] And after this again the prophet placed the patterns of lives before them on the ground, far more numerous than the assembly. They were of every variety, for there were lives of all kinds of animals and all sorts of human lives, for there were tyrannies among them, some uninterrupted till the end274 and others destroyed midway and issuing in penuries and exiles and beggaries; and there were lives of men of repute for their forms and beauty and bodily strength otherwise [618b] and prowess and the high birth and the virtues of their ancestors, and others of ill repute in the same things, and similarly of women. But there was no determination of the quality of soul, because the choice of a different life inevitably275 determined a different character. But all other things were commingled with one another and with wealth and poverty and sickness and health and the intermediate276 conditions. —And there, dear Glaucon, it appears, is the supreme hazard277 for a man. [618c] And this is the chief reason why it should be our main concern that each of us, neglecting all other studies, should seek after and study this thing278—if in any way he may be able to learn of and discover the man who will give him the ability and the knowledge to distinguish the life that is good from that which is bad, and always and everywhere to choose the best that the conditions allow, and, taking into account all the things of which we have spoken and estimating the effect on the goodness of his life of their conjunction or their severance, to know how beauty commingled with poverty or wealth and combined with [618d] what habit of soul operates for good or for evil, and what are the effects of high and low birth and private station and office and strength and weakness and quickness of apprehension and dullness and all similar natural and acquired habits of the soul, when blended and combined with one another,279 so that with consideration of all these things he will be able to make a reasoned choice between the better and the worse life, [618e] with his eyes fixed on the nature of his soul, naming the worse life that which will tend to make it more unjust and the better that which will make it more just. But all other considerations he will dismiss, for we have seen that this is the best choice, [619a] both for life and death. And a man must take with him to the house of death an adamantine280 faith in this, that even there he may be undazzled281 by riches and similar trumpery, and may not precipitate himself into tyrannies and similar doings and so work many evils past cure and suffer still greater himself, but may know how always to choose in such things the life that is seated in the mean282 and shun the excess in either direction, both in this world so far as may be and in all the life to come; [619b] for this is the greatest happiness for man.“And at that time also the messenger from that other world reported that the prophet spoke thus: ‘Even for him who comes forward last, if he make his choice wisely and live strenuously, there is reserved an acceptable life, no evil one. Let not the foremost in the choice be heedless nor the last be discouraged.’ When the prophet had thus spoken he said that the drawer of the first lot at once sprang to seize the greatest tyranny,283 and that in his folly and greed he chose it [619c] without sufficient examination, and failed to observe that it involved the fate of eating his own children, and other horrors, and that when he inspected it at leisure he beat his breast and bewailed his choice, not abiding by the forewarning of the prophet. For he did not blame himself284 for his woes, but fortune and the gods and anything except himself. He was one of those who had come down from heaven, a man who had lived in a well-ordered polity in his former existence, [619d] participating in virtue by habit285 and not by philosophy; and one may perhaps say that a majority of those who were thus caught were of the company that had come from heaven, inasmuch as they were unexercised in suffering. But the most of those who came up from the earth, since they had themselves suffered and seen the sufferings of others, did not make their choice precipitately. For which reason also there was an interchange of good and evil for most of the souls, as well as because of the chances of the lot. Yet if at each return to the life of this world [619e] a man loved wisdom sanely, and the lot of his choice did not fall out among the last, we may venture to affirm, from what was reported thence, that not only will he be happy here but that the path of his journey thither and the return to this world will not be underground and rough but smooth and through the heavens. For he said that it was a sight worth seeing to observe how the several souls selected their lives. [620a] He said it was a strange, pitiful, and ridiculous spectacle, as the choice was determined for the most part by the habits of their former lives.286 He saw the soul that had been Orpheus’, he said, selecting the life of a swan,287 because from hatred of the tribe of women, owing to his death at their hands, it was unwilling to be conceived and born of a woman. He saw the soul of Thamyras288 choosing the life of a nightingale; and he saw a swan changing to the choice of the life of man, and similarly other musical animals. [620b] The soul that drew the twentieth lot chose the life of a lion; it was the soul of Ajax, the son of Telamon, which, because it remembered the adjudication of the arms of Achilles, was unwilling to become a man. The next, the soul of Agamemnon, likewise from hatred of the human race because of its sufferings, substituted the life of an eagle.289 Drawing one of the middle lots the soul of Atalanta caught sight of the great honors attached to an athlete's life and could not pass them by but snatched at them. [620c] After her, he said, he saw the soul of Epeius,290 the son of Panopeus, entering into the nature of an arts and crafts woman. Far off in the rear he saw the soul of the buffoon Thersites291 clothing itself in the body of an ape. And it fell out that the soul of Odysseus drew the last lot of all and came to make its choice, and, from memory of its former toils having flung away ambition, went about for a long time in quest of the life of an ordinary citizen who minded his own business,292 and with difficulty found it lying in some corner disregarded by the others, [620d] and upon seeing it said that it would have done the same had it drawn the first lot, and chose it gladly. And in like manner, of the other beasts some entered into men293 and into one another, the unjust into wild creatures, the just transformed to tame, and there was every kind of mixture and combination. But when, to conclude, all the souls had chosen their lives in the order of their lots, they were marshalled and went before Lachesis. And she sent with each, [620e] as the guardian of his life and the fulfiller of his choice, the genius294 that he had chosen, and this divinity led the soul first to Clotho, under her hand and her turning295 of the spindle to ratify the destiny of his lot and choice; and after contact with her the genius again led the soul to the spinning of Atropos296 to make the web of its destiny297 irreversible, and then without a backward look it passed beneath the throne of Necessity. [621a] And after it had passed through that, when the others also had passed, they all journeyed to the Plain of Oblivion,298 through a terrible and stifling heat, for it was bare of trees and all plants, and there they camped at eventide by the River of Forgetfulness,299 whose waters no vessel can contain. They were all required to drink a measure of the water, and those who were not saved by their good sense drank more than the measure, and each one as he drank forgot all things. [621b] And after they had fallen asleep and it was the middle of the night, there was a sound of thunder and a quaking of the earth, and they were suddenly wafted thence, one this way, one that, upward to their birth like shooting stars.300 Er himself, he said, was not allowed to drink of the water, yet how and in what way he returned to the body he said he did not know, but suddenly recovering his sight301 he saw himself at dawn lying on the funeral pyre.—And so, Glaucon, the tale was saved,302 as the saying is, and was not lost. [621c] And it will save us303 if we believe it, and we shall safely cross the River of Lethe, and keep our soul unspotted from the world.304 But if we are guided by me we shall believe that the soul is immortal and capable of enduring all extremes of good and evil, and so we shall hold ever to the upward way and pursue righteousness with wisdom always and ever, that we may be dear to ourselves305 and to the gods both during our sojourn here and when we receive our reward, [621d] as the victors in the games306 go about to gather in theirs. And thus both here and in that journey of a thousand years, whereof I have told you, we shall fare well.307
1 In Book III. On the whole question see Introd. Max. Tyr. Diss. 23Εἰ καλῶς Πλάτων Ὅμηρον τῆς Πολιτείας παρῃτήσατο, and 32ἔστι καθ᾽ Ὅμηρον αἵρεσις. Strabo i. 2 3. Athenaeus v. 12. 187 says that Plato himself in the Symposium wrote worse things than the poets whom he banishes. Friedländer, Platon, i. p. 138, thinks that the return to the poets in Book X. is intended to justify the poetry of Plato's dialogues. On the banishment of the poets and Homer cf. also Minucius Felix (Halm), pp. 32-33, Tertullian (Oehler), lib. ii. c. 7, Olympiodorus, Hermann vi. p. 367, Augustine, De civ. Dei, ii. xiv.
2 Supra 394 D, 568 B, and on 398 A-B, 607 A.
3 In the narrower sense. Cf. Vol. I. p. 224, note c, on 392 D, and What Plato Said, p. 561.
4 Lit. “species.” Cf. 435 B ff., 445 C, 580 D, 588 B ff., Phaedr. 271 D, Unity of Plato's Thought, p. 42.
5 Cf. Gorg. 462 B, Protag. 309 A, 339 E.
6 Cf. 605 C, Meno 91 C, Laws 890 B.
8 Isoc. ii. 48-49 is perhaps imitating this. For Homer as a source of tragedy cf. also 598 D, 605 C-D, 607 A, 602 B, Theaet. 152 E, schol. Trendelenburg, pp. 75 ff.; Dryden, Discourse on Epic Poetry: “The origin of the stage was from the epic poem . . . those episodes of Homer which were proper for the state the poets amplifies each into an action,” etc. Cf. Aristot.Poet. 1448 b 35 f., Diog. Laert. iv. 40, and 393 A ff.
9 Cf. What Plato Said, p. 532, on Phaedo 91 C, Aristot.Eth. Nic. 1096 a 16ἄμφοιν γὰρ ὄντοιν φίλοιν ὅσιον προτιμᾶν τὴν ἀλήθειαν, Henri-Pierre Cazac, Polémique d’Aristote contre la théorie platonicienne des Idées, p. 11, n.: “Platon lui-même, critiquant Homère, . . . fait une semblabe réflexion, ‘On doit plus d’égards à la vérité qu'à un homme.’ Cousin croit, après Camérarius, que c'est là l'origine du mot célèbre d’Aristote.” Cf. St. Augustine, De civ. Dei. x. 30 “homini praeposuit veritatem.”
11 Perhaps a slight failure in Attic courtesy. Cf. Laws 715 D-E, and for ὀξύτερον βλεπόντων927 B, Euthydem. 281 D, Rep. 404 A, Themist.Orat. ii. p. 32 C. Cf. the saying πολλάκι καὶ κηποῦρος ἀνὴρ μάλα καίριον εἶπεν.
12 Cf. Phaedo 76 D, 100 B, Phileb. 16 D, 479 E, Thompson on Meno 72 D. See Zeller, Phil. d. Gr. ii. 1. p. 660. The intentional simplicity of Plato's positing of the concept here (cf. 597 A), and his transition from the concept to the “idea,” has been mistaken for a primitive aspect of his thought by many interpreters. It is quite uncritical to use Aristot.Met. 991 b 6 ff. to prove that Plato's “later” theory of ideas did not recognize ideas of artefacts, and therefore that this passage represents an earlier phase of the theory. He deliberately expresses the theory as simply as possible, and a manufactured object suits his purpose here as it does in Cratyl. 389. See also supra,Introd. pp. xxii-xxiii.
13 “Forms” with a capital letter is even more misleading than “ideas.”
14 Cf. Cratyl. 389 A-B. There is no contradiction, as many say, with 472 D.
15 Cf. Emerson, The Poet: “and therefore the rich poets—as Homer, Chaucer, Shakespeare and Raphael—have no limits to their riches except the limits of their lifetime, and resemble a mirror carried through the streets ready to render an image of every created thing.” (Cf. 596 D-Eκάτοπτρον περιφέρειν and Julian, Or. v. 163 D.) Empedocles, fr. 23 (Diels i.3 pp. 234-235): ὡς δ᾽ ὁπόταν γραφέες . . . δένδρεά τε κτίζοντε καὶ ἀνέρας ἠδὲ γυναῖκας . . .
16 Climax beyond climax. Cf. on 508 E p. 104, note c.
17 It is a tempting error to refer this to God, as I once did, and as Wilamowitz, Platon. i. p. 604 does. So Cudworth, True Intel. System of the Universe, vol. ii. p. 70: “Lastly, he is called ὃς πάντα τά τε ἄλλα ἐργάζεται, καὶ ἑαυτόν, ‘he that causeth or produceth both all other things, and even himself.'” But the producer of everything, including himself, is the imitator generalized and then exemplified by the painter and the poet. Cf. Soph. 234 A-B.
20 Art is deception. Diels ii.3 p. 339, Dialex. 3 (10)ἐν γὰρ τραγωιδοποιίᾳ καὶ ζωγραφίᾳ ὅστις <κε> πλεῖστα ἐξαπατῇ ὅμοια τοῖς ἀληθινοῖς ποιέων, οὗτος ἄριστος, Xen.Mem. iii. 10. 1γραφική ἐστιν εἰκασία τῶν ὁρωμένων. Cf. Plut.Quomodo adolescens 17 F-18 A on painting and poetry. There are many specious resemblances between Plato's ideas on art and morality and those of the “lunatic fringe” of Platonism. Cf. Jane Harrison, Ancient Art and Ritual, pp. 21-22, Charles F. Andrews, Mahatma Gandhi's Ideas, p. 332. William Temple, Plato and Christianity, p. 89: “In the tenth book of the Republic he says that, whereas the artificer in making any material object imitates the eternal idea, an artist only imitates the imitation (595 A-598 D); but in Book V he said that we do not blame an artist who depicts a face more beautiful than any actual human face either is or ever could be (472 D).” But this does not affect Plato's main point here, that the artist imitates the “real” world, not the world of ideas. The artist's imitation may fall short of or better its model. But the model is not the (Platonic) idea.
23 An indirect reference to Plato and his school like the “friends of ideas” in Soph. 248 A.
25 Proclus says that this is not seriously meant (apudBeckmann, Num Plato artifactorum Ideas statuerit, p. 12). Cf. Zeller, Phil. d. Gr. ii. 1, p. 666, who interprets the passage correctly; A. E. Taylor, in Mind, xii. p. 5 “Plato's meaning has been supposed to be adequately indicted by such half-jocular instances as that of the idea of a bed or table in RepublicX.,” etc.
26 In Tim. 31 A the same argument is used for the creation of one world ἵνα . . . κατὰ τὴν μόνωσιν ὅμοιον ᾖ τῷ παντελεῖ ζώῳ. See my De Plat. Idearum doct. p. 39. Cf. Renan, Dialogues Phil. p. 25: “Pour forger les premières tenailles, dit le Talmud, il fallut des tenailles. Dieu les créa.”
27 The famous argument of the third man. Cf. What Plato Said, p. 585, on Parmen. 132 A and Introd. p. xxiii.
28 Cf. Soph. 265 Eθήσω τὰ μὲν φύσει λεγόμενα ποιεῖσθαι θείᾳ τέχνῃ, Hooker, Eccles. Pol. i. 3. 4 “those things which Nature is said to do are by divine art preformed, using nature as an instrument,” Browne, apudJ. Texte, Etudes de littérature européenne, p. 65 “la nature est l'art de Dieu,” Cic.De nat. deor. ii. 13 “deoque tribuenda, id est mundo,”De leg. i. 7. 21, Seneca, De benef. iv. 7 “quid enim aliud est natura quam deus?” Höffding, Hist. of Mod. Philos. ii. 115 “Herder uses the word Nature in his book in order to avoid the frequent mention of the name of God.”
29 Cf. 587 C, Phaedr. 248 E, where the imitator is sixth in the scale.
30 Cf. Gorg. 488 D, Soph. 222 C.
31 Cf. Soph. 263 B, Cratyl. 385 B, Euthydem. 284 C.
32 Cf. 599 A, Soph. 232 A, 234 E, 236 B, Prot. 356 D.
33 Cf. 581 E.
35 Commentators sometimes miss the illogical idiom. So Adam once proposed to emend τεχνῶν to τεχνίτων, but later withdrew this suggestion in his note on the passage. Cf. 373 C, Critias 111 E, and my paper in T.A.P.A. xlvii. (1916) pp. 205-234.
36 Cf. Soph. 234 B.
37 So Dryden, Essay on Satire: “Shakespeare . . . Homer . . . in either of whom we find all arts and sciences, all moral and natural philosophy without knowing that they ever studied them,” and the beautiful rhapsody of Andrew Lang, Letters to Dead Authors, p. 238: “They believe not that one human soul has known every art, and all the thoughts of women as of men,” etc. Pope, pref. to his translation of the Iliad: “If we reflect upon those innumerable knowledges, those secrets of nature and physical philosophy which Homer is generally supposed to have wrapped up in his allegories, what a new and ample scene of wonder may this consideration afford us.” Cf. Xen.Symp. 4. 6. Brunetière, Epoques, p. 105, says: “Corneille . . . se piquait de connaître à fond l'art de la politique et celui de la guerre.” For the impossibility of universal knowledge Cf. Soph. 233 A, Charm. 170 B, Friedländer, Platon, ii. p. 146 on Hipp. Min. 366 C ff. Cf. also Ion 536 E, 541 B, 540 B, and Tim. 19 D. Tate, “Plato and Allegorical Interpretation,”Class. Quarterly,Jan. 1930, p. 2 says: “The true poet is for Plato philosopher as well as poet. He must know the truth.” This ignores the ἄρα in 598 E. Plato there is not stating his own opinion but giving the arguments of those who claim omniscience for the poet. Wilamowitz, Platon, ii. p. 313 n. 1 completely misunderstands and misinterprets the passage. Cf. Class. Phil. xxvii. (1932) p. 85. E.E. Sikes, The Greek View of Poetry, p. 175, says Rymer held that “a poet is obliged to know all arts and sciences.” Aristotle from a different point of view says we expect the wise man to know everything in the sense in which that is possible, Met. 982 a 8.
41 For Homer as tragedian cf. on 595 B-C, p. 420, note a.
42 Cf. on 598 B.
43 Cf. 598 B.
44 Cf. Petit de Julleville, Hist. lit. francaise vii. p. 233, on the poet Lamartine's desire to be a practical statesman, and ibid.: “Quand on m'apprendrait que le divin Homère a refusé les charges municipales de Smyrne ou de Colophon, je ne croirais jamais qu'il eût pu mieux mériter de la Grèce en administrant son bourg natal qu'en composant l’Iliade et l’Odyssée.“
45 But Cf. Symp. 209 D.
46 For the challenge to the poet to specify his knowledge Cf. Ion 536 E f.
47 Cf. Ion 541 A f.
48 Cf. Gorg. 515 B, Laches 186 B.
49 Cf. Laws 630 D, 632 D, 858 E, Symp. 209 D, Phaedr. 258 B, Minos 318 C, Herod. i. 65-66, Xen.Rep. Lac. 1. 2 and passim,Plutarch, Life of Lycurgus.
50 Cf. Symp. 209 D, Phaedr. 258 B, 278 C, Charm. 155 A, 157 E, Prot. 343 A, Tim. 20 E ff., Herod. i. 29 ff. and 86, ii. 177, v. 113, Aristot.Ath. Pol. v. ff., Diog. Laert. i. 45 ff., Plutarch, Life of Solon,Freeman, The Work and Life of Solon.
52 Diog. Laert. i. 23-27.
53 Diog. Laert. i. 105 says he was reported to be the inventor of the anchor and the potter's wheel.
55 Diels i3 pp. 27 f.
58 Modern Greeks also are often very sensitive to the etymology of proper names. Cf. also on 580 B, p. 369, note d.
59 See on 540 B, p. 230, note d.
60 Cf. Prot. 315 A-B, 316 C.
61 See What Plato Said, p. 486, on Laches 197 D.
63 See Thompson on Meno 70 B.
65 Stallbaum refers to Themist.Orat. xxii. p. 254 Aὃν ἡμεῖς διὰ ταύτην τὴν φαντασίαν μόνον οὐκ ἐπὶ ταῖς κεφαλαῖς περιφέρομεν, Erasmus, Chiliad iv. Cent. 7 n. 98 p. 794, and the German idiom “einen auf den Händen tragen.”
66 Cf. Protag. 328 B.
69 Cf. 366 E.Gorg. 471 C-D, Symp. 173 D.
72 Cf. Symp. 198 B, Apol. 17 C. The explicit discrimination of ὀνόματα as names of agents and ῥήματα as names of actions is peculiar to Soph. 262. But Cf. Cratyl. 431 B, 425 A, Theaet. 206 D. And in Soph. 257 Bῥήματι is used generally. See Unity of Plato's Thought, pp. 56-57. Cf. Euthydem. 304 E with Symp. 187 A, Phaedr. 228 D, 271 C and my note in Class. Phil. xvii. (1922) p. 262.
73 Cf. What Plato Said, p. 593 on Soph. 240 A.
74 Cf. 607 C, Laws 840 C, Protag. 315 A-B.
75 Cf. Gorg. 502 Cεἴ τις περιέλοι τῆς ποιήσεως πάσης τό τε μέλος καὶ τὸν ῥυθμόν, 392, Ion 530 b, Epicharmus apudDiog. Laert. iii. 17περιδύσας τὸ μέτρον ὃ νῦν ἔχει, Aeschines, In Ctes. 136περιελόντες τοῦ ποιητοῦ τὸ μέτρον, Isoc.Evag. 11τὸ δὲ μέτρον διαλύσῃ with Horace, Sat. i. 4. 62 “invenias etiam disiecti membra poetae,” Aristot.Rhet. 1404 a 24ἐπεὶ δ᾽ οἱ ποιηταὶ λέγοντες εὐήθη διὰ τὴν λέξιν ἐδόκουν πορίσασθαι τήνδε τὴν δόξαν. Sext. Empir., Bekker, pp. 665-666 (Adv. Math. ii. 288), says that the ideas of poets are inferior to those of the ordinary layman. Cf. also Julian, Or. ii. 78 D, Coleridge, Table Talk: “If you take from Virgil his diction and metre what do you leave him?”
76 Aristot.Rhet. 1406 b 36 f. refers to this. Cf. Tyrtaeus 8 (6). 28ὄφρ᾽ ἐρατῆς ἥβης ἀγλαὸν ἄνθος ἔχῃ, Mimnermus i. 4 ἥβης ἄνθη γίγνεται ἁρπαλέα; Theognis 1305: παιδείας πλουηράτου ἄνθος ὠκύτερον σταδίου Xen.Symp. 8. 14τὸ μὲν τῆς ὥρας ἄνθος ταχὺ δήπου παρακμάζει, Plato, Symp. 183 Eτῷ τοῦ σώματος ἄνθει λήγοντι
79 For the idea that the user knows best see Cratyl. 390 B, Euthydem. 289 B, Phaedr. 274 E. Zeller, Aristotle(Eng.) ii. p. 247, attributes this “pertinent observation” to Aristotle. Cf. Aristot.Pol. 1277 b 30αὐλητὴς ὁ χρώμενος. See 1282 a 21, 1289 a 17. Coleridge, Table Talk: “In general those who do things for others know more about them than those for whom they are done. A groom knows more about horses than his master.” But Hazlitt disagrees with Plato's view.
80 So in Laws 669 A-B, Plato says that the competent judge of a work of art must know three things, first, what it is, second, that it is true and right, and third, that it is good.
81 For the reference of beauty to use see Hipp. Maj. 295 C ff.
83 This does not contradict book V. 477-478. For right opinion and knowledge cf. 430 B and What Plato Said, p. 517, on Meno 98 A-B.
85 Note the accumulation of particles in the Greek. Similarly in 619 B, Phaedo 59 D, 61 E, 62 B, 64 A, Parmen. 127 D, Demosth. xxiii. 101, De cor. 282, Pind.Pyth. iv. 64 A, Isoc.Peace 1, Aristot.De gen. et corr. 332 a 3, Iliad vii. 360.
86 Cf. on 536 C, p. 214, note b.
87 Cf. 608 A.
90 Cf. Protag. 356 A, 523 C.
91 Cf. Tennyson (The Higher Pantheism) “For all we have power to see is a straight staff bent in a pool.” For the illusions of sense, and measurement as a means of correcting them Cf. Phileb. 41 E-42 A f., 55 E, Protag. 356 C-D, Euthyphro 7 C.
94 Cf. Xen.Mem. i. 1. 9.
97 Cf. Vol. I. p. 36, note a. Of course some of the modern connotations of “function” are unknown to Plato.
99 See p. 448, note c, and my Platonism and the History of Science, p. 176.
100 436 B, Vol. I. p. 383.
101 Cf. 604 D, Phaedr. 253 D and E.
103 Cf. 496 A, and on 489 D, p. 26, note b.
106 See What Plato Said, p. 505, on Gorg. 482 A-B.
107 Cf. 554 D, and p. 394, note e, on 586 E.
108 439 B ff.
109 Plato sometimes pretends to remedy an omission or to correct himself by an afterthought. So in Book V. 449 B-C ff., and Tim. 65 C.
110 387 D-E.
111 This suggests the doctrine of μετριοπάθεια as opposed to the Stoic ἀπάθεια. Joel ii. 161 thinks the passage a polemic against Antisthenes. Seneca, Epist. xcix. 15 seems to agree with Plato rather than with the Stoics: “inhumanitas est ista non virtus.” So Plutarch, Cons. ad Apol. 3 (102 cf.). See also ibid. 22 (112 E-F). Cf. Horace, Odes ii. 3. 1 “aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem,” and also Laws 732 C, 960 A.
112 Cf. Laws 645 A, Phaedr. 238 C, and for the conflict in the soul also Rep. 439 B ff.
113 The conflict proves that for practical purposes the soul has parts. Cf. 436 B ff.
114 Cf. Apology, in fine.
115 Cf. Laws 803 B and Class. Phil. ix. p. 353, n. 3, Friedländer, Platon, i. p. 143.
116 Höffding, Outlines of Psychology, p. 99, refers to Saxo's tale of the different effect which the news of the murder of Regner Lodbrog produced on his sons: he in whom the emotion was the weakest had the greatest energy for action.
119 Cf. 440 B, 607 B, Herod. i. 132.
122 Cf. on 603 B, p. 450, note a.
126 Cf. p. 412, note d.
127 Cf. p. 420, note a, on 595 B-C.
129 Cf. Phileb. 48 A.
130 See the description in Ion 535 E, and Laws 800 D.
132 Cf. Vol. I. p. 509, note b, on 473 E.
133 Cf. Isoc.Panegyr. 168 for a different application.
134 This contains a hint of one possible meaning of the Aristotelian doctrine of κάθαρσις, Poet. 1449 b 27-28. Cf.κουφίζεσθαι μεθ᾽ ἡδονῆςPol. 1342 a 14, and my review of Finsler, “Platon u. d. Aristot. Poetik,”Class. Phil. iii. p. 462. But the tone of the Platonic passage is more like that of Ruskin, Sesame and Lilies:“And the human nature of us imperatively requiring awe and sorrow of some kind, for the noble grief we should have borne with our fellows, and the pure tears we should have wept with them, we gloat over the pathos of the police court and gather the night dew of the grave.”
135 This anticipates the idea of the “censor” in modern psychology.
137 For the psychology Cf. Laws 656 B and on 385 C-D.
138 Cf. 442 A.
139 Cf. Vol. I. p. 211, note f, La Bruyère, Des Ouvrages de l'esprit(Oeuvres, ed. M. G. Servois, i. p. 137): “D’où vient que l'on rit si librement au théâtre, et que l'on a honte d'y pleurer?”
140 In the Laws 816 D-E Plato says that the citizens must witness such performances since the serious cannot be learned without the laughable, nor anything without its opposite; but they may not take part in them. That is left to slaves and foreigners. Cf. also Vol. I. p. 239, note B, on 396 E.
141 I.e. as opposed to public performances. Cf. Euthydem. 305 Dἐν δὲ ἰδίοις λόγοις, Theaet. 177 B, Soph. 232 Cἔν γε ταῖς ἰδίαις συνουσίαις, and Soph. 222 Cπροσομιλητικήν with Quintil. iii. 4. 4. Wilamowitz, Antigonos von Karystos, p. 285, fantastically says that it means prose and refers to Sophron. He compares 366 E. But see Laws 935 B-C.
142 Cf. 603 C.
143 Cf. 550 B.
144 Isocrates, Panegyr. 159, says Homer was given a place in education because he celebrated those who fought against the barbarians. Cf. also Aristoph.Frogs 1034 ff.
145 The same conjunction is implied in Protagoras's teaching, Protag. 318 E and 317 B.
147 The condescending tone is that of Euthydem. 306 C-D.
149 Cf. 605 C, 595 B-C.
150 Cf. Laws 801 D-E, 829 C-D, 397 C-D, 459 E, 468 D, Friedländer, Platon, i. p. 142, and my review of Pater, Plato and Platonism, in The Dial, 14 (1893) p. 211.
152 See on 604 C, p. 455, note h.
153 For the quarrel between philosophy and poetry Cf. Laws 967 C-D, Friedländer, Platon, ii. p. 136. It still goes on in modern times.
154 Wilamowitz, Platon, i. p. 252, conjectures that these quotations are from Sophron; cf. also ibid. ii. pp. 386-387.
155 Cf. p. 420, note b, on 595 C.
156 Cf. supra,Introd. p. lxiii.
157 In Laws 658 D Plato says that old men would prefer Homer and epic to any other literary entertainment.
158 This was taken up by Aristotle (Poetics), Plutarch (Quomodo adolescens), Sidney (Defense of Poesie), and many others.
159 βίᾳ μέν, ὅμως δέ: Cf. Epist. iii. 316 E, and vii. 325 A, and Raeder, Rhein. Mus. lxi. p. 470, Aristoph.Clouds 1363μόλις μὲν ἀλλ᾽ ὅμως, Eurip.Phoen. 1421μόλις μέν, ἐξέτεινε δ᾽, and also Soph.Antig. 1105, O.T. 998, Eurip.Bacch. 1027, Hec. 843, Or. 1023, El. 753, Phoen. 1069, I.A. 688, 904.
162 Cf. 602 B.
163 Cf. on 591 E, p. 412, note d.
164 Cf. Phaedo 114 C, 107 C, Phaedr. 247 B, Gorg. 526 E, Blaydes on Aristoph.Peace 276, and for the whole sentence Phaedo 83 B-C, 465 D, 618 B-C f. and p. 404, note d, on 589 E.
166 Cf. 404 C, 509 A, 548 B, 588 a, Apol. 41 C, Charm. 155 D.
168 Cf. on 496 A, p. 9, mote f and 498 D.
171 Glaucon is surprised in spite of 498 D. Many uncertain inferences have been drawn from the fact that in spite of the Phaedo and Phaedrus(245 C ff.) interlocutors in Plato are always surprised at the idea of immortality. Cf. supra,Introd. p. lxiv.
174 See Vol. I. p. 90, note a and What Plato Said, p. 567, on Cratyl. 385 B.
175 Ruskin, Time and Tide 52 (Brantwood ed. p. 68): “Every faculty of man's soul, and every instinct of it by which he is meant to live, is exposed to its own special form of corruption”; Boethius, Cons. iii. 11 (L.C.L. trans. p. 283), things are destroyed by what is hostile; Aristot.Top. 124 a 28εἰ γὰρ τὸ φθαρτικὸν διαλυτικόν.
177 See What Plato Said, p. 490, on Lysis 216 D.
178 Cf. Vol. I. p. 529, note a, on 478 D.
180 The argument that follows is strictly speaking a fallacy in that it confounds the soul with the physical principle of life. Cf. on 35 C and on 352 E, Gorg. 477 B-C, and supra,Introd. p. lxvii. But Dean Inge, “Platonism and Human Immortality” (Aristot. Soc., 1919, p. 288) says: “Plato's argument, in the tenth book of the Republic, for the immortality of the soul, has found a place in scholastic theology, but is supposed to have been discredited by Kant. I venture to think that his argument, that the soul can only be destroyed by an enemy (so to speak)in pari materia, is sound. Physical evils, including death, cannot touch the soul. And wickedness does not, in our experience, dissolve the soul, nor is wickedness specially apparent when the soul (if it perishes at death) would be approaching dissolution.” Cf. 610 C. Someone might object that wickedness does destroy the soul, conceived as a spiritual principle.
181 Plato generally disregards minor distinctions when they do not affect his point.
182 Cf. 610 D.
183 For the challenge to refute or accept the argument Cf. Soph. 259 A, 257 A, Gorg. 467 B-C, 482 B, 508 A-B, Phileb. 60 D-E.
185 Herbert Spencer nearly does this: “Death by starvation from inability to catch prey shows a falling short of conduct from its ideal.” It recalls the argument with which Socrates catches Callicles in Gorg. 498 E, that if all pleasures are alike those who feel pleasure are good and those who feel pain are bad.
187 Cf. Phaedo 107 C, 84 B, Blaydes on Aristoph.Acharn. 757.
189 Cf. Horace, Epist. i. 2. 32 “ut iugulent hominem surgunt de nocte latrones.”
190 For the metaphor Cf. Proverbs viii. 12σοφία κατεσκήνωσα βουλήν. Plato personifies injustice, as he does justice in 612 D,σκιαγραφία in 602 D, bravery in Laches 194 A,κολαστική in Soph. 229 A,κολακευτικήGorg. 464 C,σμικρότηςParmen. 150 AπονηρίαApol. 39 A-B, and many other abstract conceptions. See further Phileb. 63 A-B, 15 D, 24 A, Rep. 465 A-B, Laws 644 C, Cratyl. 438 D.
192 Cf. 345 D.
193 Cf. Carveth Read, Man and His Superstitions p. 104: “Plato thought that by a sort of law of psychic conservation there must always be the same number of souls in world. There must therefore be reincarnation. . . . ”
194 Cf. Phaedo 72 C-D.
195 The idea of self-contradiction is frequent in Plato. See What Plato said, p. 505, on Gorg. 482 B-C.
196 σύνθετον: Cf. Phaedo 78 C, Plotinus, Enneades i. 1. 12, Berkeley, Principles, 141: “We have shown that the soul is indivisible, incorporeal, unextended; and it is consequently incorruptible. . . . cannot possibly affect an active, simple, uncompounded substance.” See also Zeller, Ph. d. Gr. ii. 1, pp. 828-829.
197 603 D. see also Frutiger, Mythes de Platon, pp. 90 f.
198 Such as are given in the Phaedo, Phaedrus, and perhaps elsewhere.
199 Cf. also Phaedo 82 E, 83 D-E, 81 C, and Wisdom of Solomon ix 14φθαρτὸν γὰρ σῶμα βαρύνει ψυχήν, καὶ βρίθει τὸ γεῶδες σκῆνος νοῦν πολυφρόντιδα, “for the corruptible body presseth down the soul, and the earthly tabernacle weigheth down the mind that museth upon many things.”
200 See schol. Hermann vi. 362, Eurip.Or. 364 f., Apollonius, Argon. 1310 ff., Athenaeus 296 B and D, Anth. Pal. vi. 164, Frazer on Pausanias ix. 22. 7, Gädecker, Glaukos der Meeresgott,Göttingen, 1860.
206 Cf. Phaedo 246 A. In Tim. 72 D Plato says that only God knows the truth about the soul. See Laws 641 D, and Unity of Plato's Thought, p. 42.
207 Cf. Phaedr. 271 A.
209 363 B-C.
210 359 D f.
211 Cf. 367 E.
212 Iliad v. 845, Blaydes on Aristoph.Acharn. 390.
213 Cf. Soph. 243 A, Laws 801 Eἄνευ φθόνων, Eurip.Hippol. 497οὐκ ἐπίφθονον, Aeschines, De falsa legatione 167 (49). Friedländer, Platon, ii. p. 406 does object and finds the passage inconsistent with the idealism of 592 and with Laws 899 D ff. and 905 B. Cf. Renan, Averroes, pp. 156-157, Guyau, Esquisse d'une morale, pp. 140-141. See Unity of Plato's Thought, p. 80 and n. 612, Idea of Justice in Plato's Republic, pp. 197-198. Gomperz, ignoring this passage and interpreting the Republic wholly from 367 E, strangely argues that Phaedo 107 C proves that the Phaedo must have been composed at a time when Plato was less sure of the coincidence of justice and happiness. A religious thinker may in his theodicy justify the ways of God to man by arguing that worldly happiness is not the real happiness, and yet elsewhere remark that, as a rule, the righteous is not forsaken even in this world. Cf. Psalm 37.25 ff., Prov. 10.3 and passim. See Renan, Hist. du Peuple d'Israel, p. 376: “Il en est de ces passages comme de tant de préceptes de l’Evangile, insensés si on en fait des articles de code, excellents si on n'y voit, que l'expression hyperbolique de hauts sentiments moraux.”
214 Cf. Polit. 267 A.
218 Cf. Phileb. 22 B and E.
220 Cf. 365 D.
221 Cf. Phileb. 39 E.
222 Cf. 352 B.
223 This recalls the faith of Socrates in Apol. 41 C-D and Phaedo 63 B-C, and anticipates the theodicy of Laws 899 D ff., 904 D-E ff.
224 Besides obvious analogies with Buddhism, this recalls Empedocles fr. 115, Diels i3 p. 267.
226 Cf. Laws 716 C-D, 904 E.
227 For the order Cf. Laws 913 Bλεγόμενον εὖ, Thucyd. i. 71. 7, Vahlen, Op. acad. i. 495-496. for the figure of the race cf. Eurip.El. 955, 1Corinthians ix. 24 f., Heb. xii. 1, Gal. ii. 2, v. 7, Phil. ii. 16.
228 English idiom would say, “with their tails between their legs.” Cf. Horace, Sat. i. 9. 20 “dimitto auriculas.” For the idea cf. also Laws 730 C-D, Demosth. ii. 10, and for εἰς τέλος, Laws 899 Eπρὸς τέλος, Hesiod, Works and Days 216ἐς τέλος ἐξελθοῦσα, Eurip.Ion 1621εἰς τέλος γὰρ οἱ μὲν ἐσθλοὶ τυγχάνουσιν ἀξίων, “for the good at last shall overcome, at last attain their right.” (Way, Loeb tr.)
229 Cf. Vol. I. pp. 125-127, 362 B-C.
230 He turns the tables here as in Gorg. 527 A. The late punishment of the wicked became an ethical commonplace. Cf. Plutarch's De sera numinis vindicta 1, also Job and Psalms passim.
232 i.e. the just and unjust man.
234 See Proclus, In Remp.,Kroll ii. 96 ff., Macrob. in Somnium Scip. i. 2. The Epicurean Colotes highly disapproved of Plato's method of putting his beliefs in this form. See Chassang, Histoire du roman, p. 15. See also Dieterich, Nekyia, pp. 114 ff., and Adam ad loc.
236 Plato puns on the name Alcinous. For other puns on proper names see on 580 B. See Arthur Platt, “Plato's Republic, 614 B,” CIass. Review, 1911, pp. 13-14. For the ἀλλὰ μέν without a corresponding δέ he compares Aristoph.Acharn. 428οὐ Βελλεροφόντης: ἀλλὰ κἀκεῖνος μὲν ἦ χωλός . . .(which Blaydes changed to ἀλλὰ μήν), Odyssey xv. 405 and Eryxias 308 B.
237 Perhaps we might say, “of the tribe of Everyman.” For the question of his identity see Platt, loc. cit.
238 Thomas Browne, Urn Burial, ch. iii., “Plato's historian of the other world lies twelve days incorrupted, while his soul was viewing the large stations of the dead,” See also Rohde, Psyche ii.6 pp. 92-93.
239 Stories of persons restored to life are fairly common in ancient literature. There are Eurydice and Alcestis in Greek mythology, in the Old Testament the son of the widow revived by Elijah (1Kings xvii. 17 ff. Cf. 2Kings iv. 34 ff. and xiii. 21), in the New Testament the daughter of Jairus (Matt. ix. 23 f.), the son of the widow of Nain (Luke vii. 11 ff.), and Lazarus(John xi.). but none of these recount their adventures. Cf. also Luke xvi. 31 “If they hear not Moses and the prophets neither will they be persuaded through one rose from the dead.” But in that very parable Lazarus is shown in Abraham's bosom and the rich man in torment. See further, Proclus, In Remp. ii. pp. 113-116, Rohde, Psyche ii.6 p. 191.
240 For the indirect reflexive cf. p. 507, note f, on 617 E.
241 For the description of the place of judgement cf. also Gorg. 524 A. Cf. Phaedo 107 D, 113 D, where there is no description but simply the statement that the souls are brought to a place and judged. On the topography of the myth in general cf. Bréhier, La Philos. de Plot. pp. 28-29: “Voyez, par exemple, la manière dont Numénius . . . interprète le mythe du Xe livre de Ia République, et comment il précise, avec Ia lourdeur d'un théologien, les traits que la poésie de Platon avait abandonnés à l'imagination du lecteur. Le lieu du jugement devient le centre du monde; le ciel platonicien devient Ia sphère des fixes; le ‘lieu sonterrain’ où sont punies les âmes, ce sont les planètes; la ‘bouche du ciel,’ par laquelle les âmes descendront à la naissance, est le tropique du Cancer; et c'est par le Capricorne qu'elles remontent.”
242 Cf. Gorg. 523 E f., 524 E-525 B, 526 B-C.
243 Gorg. 526 B.
244 Cf. Gorg. 525 A-B, 526 B. For “right” and “left” cf. the story of the last judgement, Matt. xxv. 33-34 and 41.
245 Cf. the rich man's request that a messenger be sent to his brethren, Luke xvi. 27-31.
246 ἐκεῖ: so in 330 D, 365 A, 498 C, Phaedo 61 E, 64 A, 67 B, 68 E, Apol. 40 E, 41 C, Crito 54 B, Symp. 192 E. In 500 D and Phaedr. 250 A it refers to the world of the ideas, in 516 C and 520 C to the world of the cave.
247 Cf. Gorg. 524 A.
249 Cf. 421 B.
250 Cf. Phaedr. 256 D, Epist. vii. 335 B-C.
251 Phaedr. 249 A, Virgil, Aen. vi. 748.
252 The ideal Hindu length of life is said to be 100 years.
253 For the words Cf. Tim. 76 Eεὐθὺς γιγνομένοις. Plato does not take up the problem of infant damnation! Warburton says, “and I make no doubt but the things not worth to be remembered was the doctrine of infants in purgatory, which appears to have given Plato much scandal, who did not at that time at least reflect upon its original and use.” See also Mozley, Augustinian Doctrine of Predestination, p. 307, apudSeebohm.The Oxford Reformers(3rd ed.), p. 495: “Augustine had laid down that the punishment of such children was the mildest of all punishment in hell. . . . Aquinas laid down the further hypothesis that this punishment was not pain of body or mind, but want of the Divine vision.” Virgil, Aen. vi. 427, Anth. Pal. ix. 359. 10θανεῖν αὐτίκα τικτόμενον. Stallbaum and Ast think ἀποθανόντων dropped out of the text after γενομένων.
254 Cf. Phaedo 113 E-114 A, where there is a special penalty for murderers and parricides.
255 Cf. Archelaus in Gorg. 471.
256 Cf. Gorg. 525 D-526 A.
257 Cf. Gorg. 525 C, and What Plato Said, p. 536, on Phaedo 113 E. Biggs, Christian Platonists, ii. p. 147 “At the first assize there will be found those who like Ardiaeus are incurable.”
258 This naturally suggests the devils, of Dante (Inferno xxi. 25 ff.) and other mediaeval literature. See Dieterich, Nekyia, p.4 and pp. 60 f.
261 Cf. Blaydes on Aristoph.Knights 279, Acts xxvii. 17.
262 Plotinus, Enn. ii. 3 9, p. 35, vol. ii. Budé e. “Mais (dira-t-on) rappelons-nous ‘le fuseau’; pour les anciens, c’était un fuseau matériel que tournent en filant les Moires; pour Platon, il représente le ciel des fixes; or les Moires et la Nécessité, leur mère, en le faisant tourner, filent le destin de chaque être à sa naissance; par elle, les êtres engendrés arrivent â la naissance,” etc. St. Paulinus Nolanus calls it a deliramentum. Tannery, Science hellène, p. 238, thinks it alludes to the system of Parmenides. “Le fuseau central de la Nécessité l'indique suffisamment; si la présence des sirènes est une marque de pythagorisme, elle pent seulement signifier soit les relations de Parménide avec l’école soit plutôt l'origine des déterminations particulières que donne Platon et qui évidemment ne remontent pas à l’Eléate.” Cf. ibid. p. 246. For various details of the picture cf. Milton, the Genius's speech in “Arcades” (quoted and commented on in E.M.W. Tillyard, Milton, p. 376).
263 Cf. Burnet, Early Greek Philos. pp. 216-217 “In Plato's Myth of Er, which is certainly Pythagorean in its general character, we do not hear of spheres but of the ‘lips’ of concentric whorls fitted into one another like a nest of boxes . . . “ With 616-617 Cf. Laws 822 A-B, Tim. 36 D, Dante, Convivio, ii. 3. 5 ff. The names of the planets occur first in Epinomis 987 B-C.
264 Burnet, op. cit. p. 123, says; “This view that the planets had an orbital motion from west to east is attributed by Aetios ii. 16. 3 to Alkmaion (96), which certainly implies that Pythagoras did not hold it. As we shall see (152) it is far from clear that any of the Pythagoreans did. It seems rather to be Plato's discovery.” Cf. ibid. p. 352.
266 The music of the spheres. Cf. Cic.De nat. deor. iii. 9. 26, Mayor, vol. iii. p. 86, Macrob. on Somn. Scip. ii. 3, Ritter-Preller (9th ed.), pp. 69-70 ( 81-82), K. Gronau, Poseidonios und die jüdisch-christliche Genesisexegese, pp. 59-61. Aristotle's comment, De caelo 290 b 12 ff., is that the notion of a music of the spheres is pretty and ingenious, but not true. He reports the (Pythagorean?) explanation that we do not hear it because we have been accustomed to it from birth. see Carl v. Jan, “Die Harmonie der Sphären,”Philologus, lii. 13 ff.
267 Pictured in Michelangelo's Le Parche. Cf. Catullus 64. 306 ff.; Lowell, “Villa Franca”: “Spin, Clotho, spin, Lachesis twist and Atropos sever.”
268 See What Plato Said, p. 550, on Phaedr. 235 C.
269 Cf. Laws 923 A, Pindar, Pyth. viii. 95, Aesch.Prom. 83, 547, Aristot.Hist. an. 552 b 18 f., Cic.Tusc. i. 39. 94, Plut.Cons. ad Apol. 6 (104 A)ἀνθρώπων . . . ἐφήμερα τὰ σώματα, ibid. 27 (115 D)ἐφήμερον σπέρμα. See also Stallbaum ad loc., and for the thought Soph.Ajax 125-126, Iliad i. 146, Mimnermus ii. 1, Soph.fr. 12 and 859 (Nauck), Job vii. 6, viii. 9, ix. 25, xiv. 2, xxi. 17, etc.
270 Zeller-Nestle, p. 166, says that this looks like intentional correction of Phaedo 107 D. Cf. Phaedo 113 D and Lysias ii. 78ὅ τε δαίμων ὁ τὴν ἡμετέραν μοῖραν εἰληχὼς ἀπαραίτητος. Arnobius, Adversus gentes, ii. 64, says that similarly Christ offers us redemption but does not force it upon us.
271 Cf. Milton's “Love Virtue; she alone is free” (Comus).
272 Justin Martyr.Apol. xliv. 8, quotes this. Cf. Tim. 42 D, Dieterich, Nekyia, p. 115, Odyssey i. 32 f., Bacchylides xiv. 51 f. (Jebb, p. 366)Ζεὺς . . . οὐκ αἴτιος θνατοῖς μεγάλων ἀχέων, etc., Manitius, Gesch. d. lat. Lit. d. Mittelalters, ii. p. 169. For the problem of evil in Plato see What Plato Said, p. 578 on Theaet. 176 A, and for the freedom of the will ibid. pp. 644-645 on Laws 904 C.
277 Cf. Phaedo 107 C, 114 D, Gorg. 526 E, Eurip.Medea 235ἀγὼν μέγιστος, Thucyd. i. 32. 5μέγας ὁ κίνδυνος, Aristoph.Clouds 955νῦν γὰρ ἅπας . . . κίνδυνος ἀνεῖται, Frogs 882ἀγὼν . . . ὁ μέγας, Antiphon v. 43ἐν ᾦ μοι ὁ πᾶς κίνδυνος ἦν. For the expression Cf. Gorg. 470 Eἐν τούτῳ ἡ πᾶσα εὐδαιμονία ἐστιν.
278 Cf. 443-444, 591 E-592 A, Gorg. 527 B f., Laws 662 B f., 904 A ff.
279 The singular verb is used after plural subjects, because the subjects are united in the writer's mind into one general idea. Cf. Rep. 363 A, Laws 925 E, Symp. 188 B.
280 See Unity of Plato's Thought, p. 25, Laws 661-662, and for the word 360 B, Gorg. 509 A.
281 Cf. 576 D.
282 An anticipation of the Aristotelian doctrine, Eth. Nic. 1106 b 6 f. Cf. What Plato Said, p. 629, on Laws 691 C.
284 Cf. What Plato Said, p. 532, on Phaedo 90 D.
285 Phaedo 82 B.
286 Cf. Phaedo 81 E ff., Phaedr. 248-249, Tim. 42 A-D, 91 D ff. For the idea of reincarnation in Plato see What Plato Said, p. 529, on Phaedo 81 E-82 B.
287 Urwiek, The Message of Plato, p. 213, says: “If Plato knew anything at all of Indian allegory, he must have known that the swan (Hamsa) is in Hinduism the invariable symbol of the immortal Spirit; and to say, as he does, that Orpheus chose the life of a swan, refusing to be born again of a woman, is just an allegorical way of saying that he passed on into the spiritual life. . . . ”
288 Like Orpheus a singer. He contended with the Muses in song and was in consequence deprived by them of sight and of the gift of song. Cf. also Ion 533 B-C, Laws 829 D-E, Iliad ii. 595.
289 Cf. Aesch.Ag. 114 ff.
290 Who built the Trojan horse. See Hesychius s.v.
291 Cf. Iliad ii. 212 ff.
293 Phaedr. 249 specifies that only beasts who had once been men could return to human form.
294 Cf. 617 E, and for daemons in Plato What Plato Said, pp. 546-547, on Symp. 202 E, Dieterich, Nekyia, p. 59.
296 Cf. Laws 960 C.
298 Cf. Aristoph.Frogs 186.
299 In later literature it is the river that is called Lethe. Cf. Aeneid vi. 714 f.
300 In Tim. 41 D-E each soul is given a star as its vehicle. Cf. Aristoph.Peace 833 f.ὡς ἀστέρες γιγνόμεθ᾽ ὁταν τις ἀποθάνῃ . . . with the Platonic epigram to Ἄστηρ: . . νῦν δὲ θανὼν λάμπεις Ἕσπερος ἐν φθιμένοιςThere is an old superstition in European folklore to the effect that when a star falls a soul goes up to God. Cf. also Rohde, Psyche, ii.6 p. 131.
302 Cf. Phileb. 14 A, Laws 645 B, Theaet. 164 D.
303 Phaedo 58 Bἔσωσε τε καὶ αὐτὸς ἐσώθη. σώζειν is here used in its higher sense, approaching the idea of salvation, not as in Gorg. 511 C f., 512 D-E, Laws 707 D, where Plato uses it contemptuously in the tone of “whosoever shall seek to save his life shall lose it.”
304 Cf. James i. 27, Phaedo 81 B, 2Peter iii. 14, and the Emperor Julian's last speech “animum . . . immaculatum conservavi.” Cf. Marius the Epicurean, pp. 15-16: “A white bird, she told him once, looking at him gravely, a bird which he must carry in his bosom across a crowded public place his own soul was like that.”
305 Cf. Laws 693 Bἑαυτῇ φίλην, Rep. 589 B, Horace, Epist. i. 3. 29 “si nobis vivere cari.” Jowett's “dear to one another” misses the point. Cf. my review of Lemercier, Les Pensées de Marc-Aurèle, in Class. Phil. vii. p. 115: “In iii. 4, in fine, the words οἵγε οὐδὲ αὐτοὶ ἑαυτοῖς ἀρέσκονται are omitted because ‘le gens que méprise Marc-Aurèle sont loin de mépriser eux-mêmes.’ That is to forget that Seneca's ‘omnis stultitia fastidio laborat sui’ is good Stoic doctrine, and that the idea that only the wise and good man can be dear to himself is found in the last sentence of Plato's Republic.” Cf. also Soph. OC 309 τίς γὰρ ἐσθλὸς οὐχ αὑτῷ φίλος;.
306 Cf. Vol. I. p. 480, note c, on 465 D.
307 For the thought Cf. Gorg. 527 Cεὐδαιμονήσεις καὶ ζῶν καὶ τελευτήσας. Cf. Vol. I. p. 104, note b, on 353 E. The quiet solemnity of εὖ πράττωμεν illustrates the same characteristic of style that makes Plato begin his Laws with the word θεός, and Dante close each of the three sections of the Divine Comedy with “stelle.”
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