BOOK VII. *514* And now I will describe in a figure the enlightenment or

unenlightenment of our nature:--Imagine human beings living in an

underground den which is open towards the light; they have been there from

childhood, having their necks and legs chained, and can only see into the

den. {xcix} At a distance there is a fire, and between the fire and the

prisoners a raised way, and a low wall is built along the way, like the

screen over which marionette players show their puppets. *515* Behind the

wall appear moving figures, who hold in their hands various works of art,

and among them images of men and animals, wood and stone, and some of the

passers-by are talking and others silent. 'A strange parable,' he said,

'and strange captives.' They are ourselves, I replied; and they see only

the shadows of the images which the fire throws on the wall of the den; to

these they give names, and if we add an echo which returns from the wall,

the voices of the passengers will seem to proceed from the shadows.

Suppose now that you suddenly turn them round and make them look with pain

and grief to themselves at the real images; will they believe them to be

real? Will not their eyes be dazzled, and will they not try to get away

from the light to something which they are able to behold without

blinking? *516* And suppose further, that they are dragged up a steep and

rugged ascent into the presence of the sun himself, will not their sight

be darkened with the excess of light? Some time will pass before they get

the habit of perceiving at all; and at first they will be able to perceive

only shadows and reflections in the water; then they will recognize the

moon and the stars, and will at length behold the sun in his own proper

place as he is. Last of all they will conclude:--This is he who gives us

the year and the seasons, and is the author of all that we see. How will

they rejoice in passing from darkness to light! How worthless to them will

seem the honours and glories of the den! But now imagine further, that

they descend into their old habitations;--in that underground dwelling

they will not see as well as their fellows, *517* and will not be able to

compete with them in the measurement of the shadows on the wall; there

will be many jokes about the man who went on a visit to the sun and lost

his eyes, and if they find anybody trying to set free and enlighten one of

their number, they will put him to death, if they can catch him. Now the

cave or den is the world of sight, the fire is the sun, the way upwards is

the way to knowledge, and in the world of knowledge the idea of good is

last seen and with difficulty, but when seen is inferred to be the author

of good and right--parent of the lord of light in this world, and of truth

and understanding in the other. {c} He who attains to the beatific vision

is always going upwards; he is unwilling to descend into political

assemblies and courts of law; for his eyes are apt to blink at the images

or shadows of images which they behold in them--he cannot enter into the

ideas of those who have never in their lives understood the relation of

the shadow to the substance. *518* But blindness is of two kinds, and may

be caused either by passing out of darkness into light or out of light

into darkness, and a man of sense will distinguish between them, and will

not laugh equally at both of them, but the blindness which arises from

fulness of light he will deem blessed, and pity the other; or if he laugh

at the puzzled soul looking at the sun, he will have more reason to laugh

than the inhabitants of the den at those who descend from above. There is

a further lesson taught by this parable of ours. Some persons fancy that

instruction is like giving eyes to the blind, but we say that the faculty

of sight was always there, and that the soul only requires to be turned

round towards the light. And this is conversion; other virtues are almost

like bodily habits, and may be acquired in the same manner, but

intelligence has a diviner life, and is indestructible, turning either to

good or evil according to the direction given. *519* Did you never observe

how the mind of a clever rogue peers out of his eyes, and the more clearly

he sees, the more evil he does? Now if you take such an one, and cut away

from him those leaden weights of pleasure and desire which bind his soul

to earth, his intelligence will be turned round, and he will behold the

truth as clearly as he now discerns his meaner ends. And have we not

decided that our rulers must neither be so uneducated as to have no fixed

rule of life, nor so over-educated as to be unwilling to leave their

paradise for the business of the world? We must choose out therefore the

natures who are most likely to ascend to the light and knowledge of the

good; but we must not allow them to remain in the region of light; they

must be forced down again among the captives in the den to partake of

their labours and honours. 'Will they not think this a hardship?' You

should remember that our purpose in framing the State was not that our

citizens should do what they like, but that they should serve the State

for the common good of all. *520* May we not fairly say to our

philosopher,--Friend, we do you no wrong; for in other {ci} States

philosophy grows wild, and a wild plant owes nothing to the gardener, but

you have been trained by us to be the rulers and kings of our hive, and

therefore we must insist on your descending into the den. You must, each

of you, take your turn, and become able to use your eyes in the dark, and

with a little practice you will see far better than those who quarrel

about the shadows, whose knowledge is a dream only, whilst yours is a

waking reality. It may be that the saint or philosopher who is best

fitted, may also be the least inclined to rule, but necessity is laid upon

him, and he must no longer live in the heaven of ideas. *521* And this

will be the salvation of the State. For those who rule must not be those

who are desirous to rule; and, if you can offer to our citizens a better

life than that of rulers generally is, there will be a chance that the

rich, not only in this world's goods, but in virtue and wisdom, may bear

rule. And the only life which is better than the life of political

ambition is that of philosophy, which is also the best preparation for the

government of a State.

Then now comes the question,--How shall we create our rulers; what way is

there from darkness to light? The change is effected by philosophy; it is

not the turning over of an oyster-shell, but the conversion of a soul from

night to day, from becoming to being. And what training will draw the soul

upwards? Our former education had two branches, gymnastic, which was

occupied with the body, and music, the sister art, which infused *522* a

natural harmony into mind and literature; but neither of these sciences

gave any promise of doing what we want. Nothing remains to us but that

universal or primary science of which all the arts and sciences are

partakers, I mean number or calculation. 'Very true.' Including the art of

war? 'Yes, certainly.' Then there is something ludicrous about Palamedes

in the tragedy, coming in and saying that he had invented number, and had

counted the ranks and set them in order. For if Agamemnon could not count

his feet (and without number how could he?) he must have been a pretty

sort of general indeed. No man should be a soldier who cannot count, and

indeed he is hardly to be called a man. But I am not speaking of these

practical applications of arithmetic, *523* for number, in my view, is

rather to be regarded as a conductor to thought and being. I will explain

{cii} what I mean by the last expression:--Things sensible are of two

kinds; the one class invite or stimulate the mind, while in the other the

mind acquiesces. Now the stimulating class are the things which suggest

contrast and relation. For example, suppose that I hold up to the eyes

three fingers--a fore finger, a middle finger, a little finger--the sight

equally recognizes all three fingers, but without number cannot further

distinguish them. Or again, suppose two objects to be relatively great and

small, these ideas of greatness and smallness are supplied not by the

sense, but by the mind. *524* And the perception of their contrast or

relation quickens and sets in motion the mind, which is puzzled by the

confused intimations of sense, and has recourse to number in order to find

out whether the things indicated are one or more than one. Number replies

that they are two and not one, and are to be distinguished from one

another. Again, the sight beholds great and small, but only in a confused

chaos, and not until they are distinguished does the question arise of

their respective natures; we are thus led on to the distinction between

the visible and intelligible. That was what I meant when I spoke of

stimulants to the intellect; I was thinking of the contradictions which

arise in perception. The idea of unity, for example, like that of a

finger, does not arouse thought unless involving some conception of

plurality; *525* but when the one is also the opposite of one, the

contradiction gives rise to reflection; an example of this is afforded by

any object of sight. All number has also an elevating effect; it raises

the mind out of the foam and flux of generation to the contemplation of

being, having lesser military and retail uses also. The retail use is not

required by us; but as our guardian is to be a soldier as well as a

philosopher, the military one may be retained. And to our higher purpose

no science can be better adapted; but it must be pursued in the spirit of

a philosopher, not of a shopkeeper. It is concerned, not with visible

objects, but with abstract truth; for numbers are pure abstractions--the

true arithmetician indignantly denies that his unit is capable of

division. *526* When you divide, he insists that you are only multiplying;

his 'one' is not material or resolvable into fractions, but an unvarying

and absolute equality; and this proves the purely intellectual character

of his study. Note also the great power which arithmetic has of sharpening

the wits; no other discipline is equally {ciii} severe, or an equal test

of general ability, or equally improving to a stupid person.

Let our second branch of education be geometry. 'I can easily see,'

replied Glaucon, 'that the skill of the general will be doubled by his

knowledge of geometry.' That is a small matter; the use of geometry, to

which I refer, is the assistance given by it in the contemplation of the

idea of good, and the compelling the mind to look at true being, and not

at generation only. Yet the present mode of pursuing these studies, as any

one who is the least of a mathematician is aware, is mean and ridiculous;

they are made to look downwards to the arts, and not upwards to eternal

existence. *527* The geometer is always talking of squaring, subtending,

apposing, as if he had in view action; whereas knowledge is the real

object of the study. It should elevate the soul, and create the mind of

philosophy; it should raise up what has fallen down, not to speak of

lesser uses in war and military tactics, and in the improvement of the

faculties.

Shall we propose, as a third branch of our education, astronomy? 'Very

good,' replied Glaucon; 'the knowledge of the heavens is necessary at once

for husbandry, navigation, military tactics.' I like your way of giving

useful reasons for everything in order to make friends of the world. And

there is a difficulty in proving to mankind that education is not only

useful information but a purification of the eye of the soul, which is

better than the bodily eye, for by this alone is truth seen. *528* Now,

will you appeal to mankind in general or to the philosopher? or would you

prefer to look to yourself only? 'Every man is his own best friend.' Then

take a step backward, for we are out of order, and insert the third

dimension which is of solids, after the second which is of planes, and

then you may proceed to solids in motion. But solid geometry is not

popular and has not the patronage of the State, nor is the use of it fully

recognized; the difficulty is great, and the votaries of the study are

conceited and impatient. Still the charm of the pursuit wins upon men,

and, if government would lend a little assistance, there might be great

progress made. 'Very true,' replied Glaucon; 'but do I understand you now

to begin with plane geometry, and to place next geometry of solids, and

thirdly, astronomy, or the motion of solids?' Yes, I said; my hastiness

has only hindered us.

{civ} 'Very good, and now let us proceed to astronomy, about which I am

willing to speak in your lofty strain. *529* No one can fail to see that

the contemplation of the heavens draws the soul upwards.' I am an

exception, then; astronomy as studied at present appears to me to draw the

soul not upwards, but downwards. Star-gazing is just looking up at the

ceiling--no better; a man may lie on his back on land or on water--he may

look up or look down, but there is no science in that. The vision of

knowledge of which I speak is seen not with the eyes, but with the mind.

All the magnificence of the heavens is but the embroidery of a copy which

falls far short of the divine Original, and teaches nothing about the

absolute harmonies or motions of things. Their beauty is like the beauty

of figures drawn by the hand of Daedalus or any other great artist, which

may be used for illustration, *530* but no mathematician would seek to

obtain from them true conceptions of equality or numerical relations. How

ridiculous then to look for these in the map of the heavens, in which the

imperfection of matter comes in everywhere as a disturbing element,

marring the symmetry of day and night, of months and years, of the sun and

stars in their courses. Only by problems can we place astronomy on a truly

scientific basis. Let the heavens alone, and exert the intellect.

Still, mathematics admit of other applications, as the Pythagoreans say,

and we agree. There is a sister science of harmonical motion, adapted to

the ear as astronomy is to the eye, and there may be other applications

also. Let us inquire of the Pythagoreans about them, not forgetting that

we have an aim higher than theirs, which is the relation of these sciences

to the idea of good. The error which pervades astronomy also pervades

harmonics. *531* The musicians put their ears in the place of their minds.

'Yes,' replied Glaucon, 'I like to see them laying their ears alongside of

their neighbours' faces--some saying, "That's a new note," others

declaring that the two notes are the same.' Yes, I said; but you mean the

empirics who are always twisting and torturing the strings of the lyre,

and quarrelling about the tempers of the strings; I am referring rather to

the Pythagorean harmonists, who are almost equally in error. For they

investigate only the numbers of the consonances which are heard, and

ascend no higher,--of the true numerical harmony which is unheard, and is

only to be found in problems, they have not even a conception. {cv} 'That

last,' he said, 'must be a marvellous thing.' A thing, I replied, which is

only useful if pursued with a view to the good.

All these sciences are the prelude of the strain, and are profitable if

they are regarded in their natural relations to one another. 'I dare say,

Socrates,' said Glaucon; 'but such a study will be an endless business.'

What study do you mean--of the prelude, or what? For all these things are

only the prelude, and you surely do not suppose that a mere mathematician

is also a dialectician? 'Certainly not. *532* I have hardly ever known a

mathematician who could reason.' And yet, Glaucon, is not true reasoning

that hymn of dialectic which is the music of the intellectual world, and

which was by us compared to the effort of sight, when from beholding the

shadows on the wall we arrived at last at the images which gave the

shadows? Even so the dialectical faculty withdrawing from sense arrives by

the pure intellect at the contemplation of the idea of good, and never

rests but at the very end of the intellectual world. And the royal road

out of the cave into the light, and the blinking of the eyes at the sun

and turning to contemplate the shadows of reality, not the shadows of an

image only--this progress and gradual acquisition of a new faculty of

sight by the help of the mathematical sciences, is the elevation of the

soul to the contemplation of the highest ideal of being.

'So far, I agree with you. But now, leaving the prelude, let us proceed to

the hymn. What, then, is the nature of dialectic, and what are the paths

which lead thither?' *533* Dear Glaucon, you cannot follow me here. There

can be no revelation of the absolute truth to one who has not been

disciplined in the previous sciences. But that there is a science of

absolute truth, which is attained in some way very different from those

now practised, I am confident. For all other arts or sciences are relative

to human needs and opinions; and the mathematical sciences are but a dream

or hypothesis of true being, and never analyse their own principles.

Dialectic alone rises to the principle which is above hypotheses,

converting and gently leading the eye of the soul out of the barbarous

slough of ignorance into the light of the upper world, with the help of

the sciences which we have been describing--sciences, as they are often

termed, although they require some other name, implying greater clearness

than opinion and less clearness than science, and this in our previous

sketch {cvi} was understanding. And so we get four names--two for

intellect, and two for opinion,--reason or mind, understanding, faith,

perception of shadows-- *534* which make a proportion--being : becoming ::

intellect : opinion--and science : belief :: understanding: perception of

shadows. Dialectic may be further described as that science which defines

and explains the essence or being of each nature, which distinguishes and

abstracts the good, and is ready to do battle against all opponents in the

cause of good. To him who is not a dialectician life is but a sleepy dream;

and many a man is in his grave before his is well waked up. And would you

have the future rulers of your ideal State intelligent beings, or stupid

as posts? 'Certainly not the latter.' Then you must train them in

dialectic, which will teach them to ask and answer questions, and is the

coping-stone of the sciences.

*535* I dare say that you have not forgotten how our rulers were chosen;

and the process of selection may be carried a step further:--As before,

they must be constant and valiant, good-looking, and of noble manners, but

now they must also have natural ability which education will improve; that

is to say, they must be quick at learning, capable of mental toil,

retentive, solid, diligent natures, who combine intellectual with moral

virtues; not lame and one-sided, diligent in bodily exercise and indolent

in mind, or conversely; not a maimed soul, which hates falsehood and yet

*536* unintentionally is always wallowing in the mire of ignorance; not a

bastard or feeble person, but sound in wind and limb, and in perfect

condition for the great gymnastic trial of the mind. Justice herself can

find no fault with natures such as these; and they will be the saviours of

our State; disciples of another sort would only make philosophy more

ridiculous than she is at present. Forgive my enthusiasm; I am becoming

excited; but when I see her trampled underfoot, I am angry at the authors

of her disgrace. 'I did not notice that you were more excited than you

ought to have been.' But I felt that I was. Now do not let us forget

another point in the selection of our disciples--that they must be young

and not old. For Solon is mistaken in saying that an old man can be always

learning; youth is the time of study, and here we must remember that the

mind is free and dainty, and, unlike the body, must not be made to work

against the grain. *537* Learning should be at first a sort of play, in

which the natural bent is {cvii} detected. As in training them for war,

the young dogs should at first only taste blood; but when the necessary

gymnastics are over which during two or three years divide life between

sleep and bodily exercise, then the education of the soul will become a

more serious matter. At twenty years of age, a selection must be made of

the more promising disciples, with whom a new epoch of education will

begin. The sciences which they have hitherto learned in fragments will now

be brought into relation with each other and with true being; for the

power of combining them is the test of speculative and dialectical

ability. And afterwards at thirty a further selection shall be made of

those who are able to withdraw from the world of sense into the

abstraction of ideas. But at this point, judging from present experience,

there is a danger that dialectic may be the source of many evils. The

danger may be illustrated by a parallel case:--Imagine a person who has

been brought up in wealth and luxury amid a crowd of flatterers, and who

is suddenly informed that he is a supposititious son. *538* He has

hitherto honoured his reputed parents and disregarded the flatterers, and

now he does the reverse. This is just what happens with a man's

principles. There are certain doctrines which he learnt at home and which

exercised a parental authority over him. Presently he finds that

imputations are cast upon them; a troublesome querist comes and asks,

'What is the just and good?' or proves that virtue is vice and vice

virtue, and his mind becomes unsettled, and he ceases to love, honour, and

obey them as he has hitherto done. *539* He is seduced into the life of

pleasure, and becomes a lawless person and a rogue. The case of such

speculators is very pitiable, and, in order that our thirty years' old

pupils may not require this pity, let us take every possible care that

young persons do not study philosophy too early. For a young man is a sort

of puppy who only plays with an argument; and is reasoned into and out of

his opinions every day; he soon begins to believe nothing, and brings

himself and philosophy into discredit. A man of thirty does not run on in

this way; he will argue and not merely contradict, and adds new honour to

philosophy by the sobriety of his conduct. What time shall we allow for

this second gymnastic training of the soul?--say, twice the time required

for the gymnastics of the body; six, or perhaps five years, to commence at

thirty, and then for fifteen {cviii} years let the student go down into

the den, and command armies, and gain experience of life. *540* At fifty

let him return to the end of all things, and have his eyes uplifted to the

idea of good, and order his life after that pattern; if necessary, taking

his turn at the helm of State, and training up others to be his

successors. When his time comes he shall depart in peace to the islands of

the blest. He shall be honoured with sacrifices, and receive such worship

as the Pythian oracle approves.

'You are a statuary, Socrates, and have made a perfect image of our

governors.' Yes, and of our governesses, for the women will share in all

things with the men. And you will admit that our State is not a mere

aspiration, but may really come into being when there shall arise

philosopher-kings, one or more, who will despise earthly vanities, and

will be the servants of justice only. 'And how will they begin their

work?' *541* Their first act will be to send away into the country all

those who are more than ten years of age, and to proceed with those who

are left....

* * * * *

[Sidenote: _Republic VII._ Introduction.]

At the commencement of the sixth book, Plato anticipated his explanation

of the relation of the philosopher to the world in an allegory, in this,

as in other passages, following the order which he prescribes in

education, and proceeding from the concrete to the abstract. At the

commencement of Book VII, under the figure of a cave having an opening

towards a fire and a way upwards to the true light, he returns to view the

divisions of knowledge, exhibiting familiarly, as in a picture, the result

which had been hardly won by a great effort of thought in the previous

discussion; at the same time casting a glance onward at the dialectical

process, which is represented by the way leading from darkness to light.

The shadows, the images, the reflection of the sun and stars in the water,

the stars and sun themselves, severally correspond,--the first, to the

realm of fancy and poetry,--the second, to the world of sense,--the third,

to the abstractions or universals of sense, of which the mathematical

sciences furnish the type,--the fourth and last to the same abstractions,

when seen in the unity of the idea, from which they derive a new meaning

and power. The true dialectical process begins with the contemplation of

the real stars, and not mere reflections of them, {cix} and ends with the

recognition of the sun, or idea of good, as the parent not only of light

but of warmth and growth. To the divisions of knowledge the stages of

education partly answer:--first, there is the early education of childhood

and youth in the fancies of the poets, and in the laws and customs of the

State;--then there is the training of the body to be a warrior athlete,

and a good servant of the mind;--and thirdly, after an interval follows

the education of later life, which begins with mathematics and proceeds to

philosophy in general.

There seem to be two great aims in the philosophy of Plato,--first, to

realize abstractions; secondly, to connect them. According to him, the

true education is that which draws men from becoming to being, and to a

comprehensive survey of all being. He desires to develop in the human mind

the faculty of seeing the universal in all things; until at last the

particulars of sense drop away and the universal alone remains. He then

seeks to combine the universals which he has disengaged from sense, not

perceiving that the correlation of them has no other basis but the common

use of language. He never understands that abstractions, as Hegel says,

are 'mere abstractions'--of use when employed in the arrangement of facts,

but adding nothing to the sum of knowledge when pursued apart from them,

or with reference to an imaginary idea of good. Still the exercise of the

faculty of abstraction apart from facts has enlarged the mind, and played

a great part in the education of the human race. Plato appreciated the

value of this faculty, and saw that it might be quickened by the study of

number and relation. All things in which there is opposition or proportion

are suggestive of reflection. The mere impression of sense evokes no power

of thought or of mind, but when sensible objects ask to be compared and

distinguished, then philosophy begins. The science of arithmetic first

suggests such distinctions. There follow in order the other sciences of

plain and solid geometry, and of solids in motion, one branch of which is

astronomy or the harmony of the spheres,--to this is appended the sister

science of the harmony of sounds. Plato seems also to hint at the

possibility of other applications of arithmetical or mathematical

proportions, such as we employ in chemistry and natural philosophy, such

as the Pythagoreans and even Aristotle make use of in Ethics {cx} and

Politics, e.g. his distinction between arithmetical and geometrical

proportion in the Ethics (Book V), or between numerical and proportional

equality in the Politics (iii. 8, iv. 12, &c.).

The modern mathematician will readily sympathise with Plato's delight in

the properties of pure mathematics. He will not be disinclined to say with

him:--Let alone the heavens, and study the beauties of number and figure

in themselves. He too will be apt to depreciate their application to the

arts. He will observe that Plato has a conception of geometry, in which

figures are to be dispensed with; thus in a distant and shadowy way

seeming to anticipate the possibility of working geometrical problems by a

more general mode of analysis. He will remark with interest on the

backward state of solid geometry, which, alas! was not encouraged by the

aid of the State in the age of Plato; and he will recognize the grasp of

Plato's mind in his ability to conceive of one science of solids in motion

including the earth as well as the heavens,--not forgetting to notice the

intimation to which allusion has been already made, that besides astronomy

and harmonics the science of solids in motion may have other applications.

Still more will he be struck with the comprehensiveness of view which led

Plato, at a time when these sciences hardly existed, to say that they must

be studied in relation to one another, and to the idea of good, or common

principle of truth and being. But he will also see (and perhaps without

surprise) that in that stage of physical and mathematical knowledge, Plato

has fallen into the error of supposing that he can construct the heavens

_a priori_ by mathematical problems, and determine the principles of

harmony irrespective of the adaptation of sounds to the human ear. The

illusion was a natural one in that age and country. The simplicity and

certainty of astronomy and harmonics seemed to contrast with the variation

and complexity of the world of sense; hence the circumstance that there

was some elementary basis of fact, some measurement of distance or time or

vibrations on which they must ultimately rest, was overlooked by him. The

modern predecessors of Newton fell into errors equally great; and Plato

can hardly be said to have been very far wrong, or may even claim a sort

of prophetic insight into the subject, when we consider that the greater

part of astronomy at the present day consists of abstract dynamics, {cxi}

by the help of which most astronomical discoveries have been made.

The metaphysical philosopher from his point of view recognizes mathematics

as an instrument of education,--which strengthens the power of attention,

developes the sense of order and the faculty of construction, and enables

the mind to grasp under simple formulae the quantitative differences of

physical phenomena. But while acknowledging their value in education, he

sees also that they have no connexion with our higher moral and

intellectual ideas. In the attempt which Plato makes to connect them, we

easily trace the influences of ancient Pythagorean notions. There is no

reason to suppose that he is speaking of the ideal numbers at p. 525 E;

but he is describing numbers which are pure abstractions, to which he

assigns a real and separate existence, which, as 'the teachers of the art'

(meaning probably the Pythagoreans) would have affirmed, repel all

attempts at subdivision, and in which unity and every other number are

conceived of as absolute. The truth and certainty of numbers, when thus

disengaged from phenomena, gave them a kind of sacredness in the eyes of

an ancient philosopher. Nor is it easy to say how far ideas of order and

fixedness may have had a moral and elevating influence on the minds of

men, 'who,' in the words of the Timaeus, 'might learn to regulate their

erring lives according to them' (47 C). It is worthy of remark that the

old Pythagorean ethical symbols still exist as figures of speech among

ourselves. And those who in modern times see the world pervaded by

universal law, may also see an anticipation of this last word of modern

philosophy in the Platonic idea of good, which is the source and measure

of all things, and yet only an abstraction. (Cp. Philebus sub fin.).

Two passages seem to require more particular explanations. First, that

which relates to the analysis of vision. The difficulty in this passage

may be explained, like many others, from differences in the modes of

conception prevailing among ancient and modern thinkers. To us, the

perceptions of sense are inseparable from the act of the mind which

accompanies them. The consciousness of form, colour, distance, is

indistinguishable from the simple sensation, which is the medium of them.

Whereas to Plato sense is the Heraclitean flux of sense, not {cxii} the

vision of objects in the order in which they actually present themselves

to the experienced sight, but as they may be imagined to appear confused

and blurred to the half-awakened eye of the infant. The first action of

the mind is aroused by the attempt to set in order this chaos, and the

reason is required to frame distinct conceptions under which the confused

impressions of sense may be arranged. Hence arises the question, 'What is

great, what is small?' and thus begins the distinction of the visible and

the intelligible.

The second difficulty relates to Plato's conception of harmonics. Three

classes of harmonists are distinguished by him:--first, the Pythagoreans,

whom he proposes to consult as in the previous discussion on music he was

to consult Damon--they are acknowledged to be masters in the art, but are

altogether deficient in the knowledge of its higher import and relation to

the good; secondly, the mere empirics, whom Glaucon appears to confuse

with them, and whom both he and Socrates ludicrously describe as

experimenting by mere auscultation on the intervals of sounds. Both of

these fall short in different degrees of the Platonic idea of harmony,

which must be studied in a purely abstract way, first by the method of

problems, and secondly as a part of universal knowledge in relation to the

idea of good.

The allegory has a political as well as a philosophical meaning. The den

or cave represents the narrow sphere of politics or law (cp. the

description of the philosopher and lawyer in the Theaetetus, 172-176), and

the light of the eternal ideas is supposed to exercise a disturbing

influence on the minds of those who return to this lower world. In other

words, their principles are too wide for practical application; they are

looking far away into the past and future, when their business is with the

present. The ideal is not easily reduced to the conditions of actual life,

and may often be at variance with them. And at first, those who return are

unable to compete with the inhabitants of the den in the measurement of

the shadows, and are derided and persecuted by them; but after a while

they see the things below in far truer proportions than those who have

never ascended into the upper world. The difference between the politician

turned into a philosopher and the philosopher turned into a politician, is

symbolized by the two kinds of disordered eyesight, {cxiii} the one which

is experienced by the captive who is transferred from darkness to day, the

other, of the heavenly messenger who voluntarily for the good of his

fellow-men descends into the den. In what way the brighter light is to

dawn on the inhabitants of the lower world, or how the idea of good is to

become the guiding principle of politics, is left unexplained by Plato.

Like the nature and divisions of dialectic, of which Glaucon impatiently

demands to be informed, perhaps he would have said that the explanation

could not be given except to a disciple of the previous sciences. (Compare

Symposium 210 A.)

Many illustrations of this part of the Republic may be found in modern

Politics and in daily life. For among ourselves, too, there have been two

sorts of Politicians or Statesmen, whose eyesight has become disordered in

two different ways. First, there have been great men who, in the language

of Burke, 'have been too much given to general maxims,' who, like J. S.

Mill or Burke himself, have been theorists or philosophers before they

were politicians, or who, having been students of history, have allowed

some great historical parallel, such as the English Revolution of 1688, or

possibly Athenian democracy or Roman Imperialism, to be the medium through

which they viewed contemporary events. Or perhaps the long projecting

shadow of some existing institution may have darkened their vision. The

Church of the future, the Commonwealth of the future, the Society of the

future, have so absorbed their minds, that they are unable to see in their

true proportions the Politics of to-day. They have been intoxicated with

great ideas, such as liberty, or equality, or the greatest happiness of

the greatest number, or the brotherhood of humanity, and they no longer

care to consider how these ideas must be limited in practice or harmonized

with the conditions of human life. They are full of light, but the light

to them has become only a sort of luminous mist or blindness. Almost every

one has known some enthusiastic half-educated person, who sees everything

at false distances, and in erroneous proportions.

With this disorder of eyesight may be contrasted another--of those who see

not far into the distance, but what is near only; who have been engaged

all their lives in a trade or a profession; who are limited to a set or

sect of their own. Men of this kind {cxiv} have no universal except their

own interests or the interests of their class, no principle but the

opinion of persons like themselves, no knowledge of affairs beyond what

they pick up in the streets or at their club. Suppose them to be sent into

a larger world, to undertake some higher calling, from being tradesmen to

turn generals or politicians, from being schoolmasters to become

philosophers:--or imagine them on a sudden to receive an inward light

which reveals to them for the first time in their lives a higher idea of

God and the existence of a spiritual world, by this sudden conversion or

change is not their daily life likely to be upset; and on the other hand

will not many of their old prejudices and narrownesses still adhere to

them long after they have begun to take a more comprehensive view of human

things? From familiar examples like these we may learn what Plato meant by

the eyesight which is liable to two kinds of disorders.

Nor have we any difficulty in drawing a parallel between the young

Athenian in the fifth century before Christ who became unsettled by new

ideas, and the student of a modern University who has been the subject of

a similar 'aufklärung.' We too observe that when young men begin to

criticise customary beliefs, or to analyse the constitution of human

nature, they are apt to lose hold of solid principle ([Greek: a(/pan to\

be/baion au)tô=n e)xoi/chetai]). They are like trees which have been

frequently transplanted. The earth about them is loose, and they have no

roots reaching far into the soil. They 'light upon every flower,'

following their own wayward wills, or because the wind blows them. They

catch opinions, as diseases are caught--when they are in the air. Borne

hither and thither, 'they speedily fall into beliefs' the opposite of

those in which they were brought up. They hardly retain the distinction of

right and wrong; they seem to think one thing as good as another. They

suppose themselves to be searching after truth when they are playing the

game of 'follow my leader.' They fall in love 'at first sight' with

paradoxes respecting morality, some fancy about art, some novelty or

eccentricity in religion, and like lovers they are so absorbed for a time

in their new notion that they can think of nothing else. The resolution of

some philosophical or theological question seems to them more interesting

and important than any substantial knowledge of {cxv} literature or

science or even than a good life. Like the youth in the Philebus, they are

ready to discourse to any one about a new philosophy. They are generally

the disciples of some eminent professor or sophist, whom they rather

imitate than understand. They may be counted happy if in later years they

retain some of the simple truths which they acquired in early education,

and which they may, perhaps, find to be worth all the rest. Such is the

picture which Plato draws and which we only reproduce, partly in his own

words, of the dangers which beset youth in times of transition, when old

opinions are fading away and the new are not yet firmly established. Their

condition is ingeniously compared by him to that of a supposititious son,

who has made the discovery that his reputed parents are not his real ones,

and, in consequence, they have lost their authority over him.

The distinction between the mathematician and the dialectician is also

noticeable. Plato is very well aware that the faculty of the mathematician

is quite distinct from the higher philosophical sense which recognizes and

combines first principles (531 E). The contempt which he expresses at p.

533 for distinctions of words, the danger of involuntary falsehood, the

apology which Socrates makes for his earnestness of speech, are highly

characteristic of the Platonic style and mode of thought. The quaint

notion that if Palamedes was the inventor of number Agamemnon could not

have counted his feet; the art by which we are made to believe that this

State of ours is not a dream only; the gravity with which the first step

is taken in the actual creation of the State, namely, the sending out of

the city all who had arrived at ten years of age, in order to expedite the

business of education by a generation, are also truly Platonic. (For the

last, compare the passage at the end of the third book (415 D), in which

he expects the lie about the earthborn men to be believed in the second

generation.)

* * * * *

[Sidenote: _Republic VIII._ Analysis.]