BOOK VI.

484 AND thus, Glaucon, after the argument has gone a weary way, the true and the false philosophers have at length appeared in view.

I do not think, he said, that the way could have been shortened.

I suppose not, I said; and yet I believe that we might have a nearer view of both of them if there were not many other questions awaiting us, which he who desires to see in what the life of the just differs from that of the unjust must consider. And what question is next in order? he asked.

Surely, I said, there can be no doubt about that. Inasmuch. as philosophers only are able to grasp the eternal and unchangeable, and those who wander in the region of the many and variable are not philosophers, I must ask you which of the two kinds should be the rulers of our State?

And how can we truly answer that question?

Ask yourself, I replied, which of the two are better able to guard the laws and institutions of our State; and let them be our guardians.

Very good.

Neither, I said, can there be any question that the guardian who is to keep anything should have eyes rather than no eyes? There can be no question of that.

And are not those who are truly and indeed without the knowledge of the true being of each thing, and have in their souls no clear pattern, and are unable as with a painter's eye to look at the very truth and to that original to repair, and having perfect vision of the other world to order the laws about beauty, goodness, justice in this, if not already ordered, and to guard and preserve the order of them—are they not, I say, simply blind?

Assuredly, he replied, that is very much their condition.

And shall they be our guardians when there are others who, besides being their equals in experience and not inferior to them in any particular of virtue, have also the knowledge of the truth? There can be no reason, he said, for rejecting those who have this great and pre-eminent quality, if they do not fail in any 485 other respect.

Suppose then, I said, that we determine how far they can unite this and the other excellences.

By all means.

In the first place, as we began by observing, the nature of the philosopher was to be ascertained; about which, if we are agreed, then, if I am not mistaken, we shall also be agreed that such an union of qualities is possible, and that those in whom they are united, and those only, should be rulers in the State. Let us assume that philosophical minds always love knowledge of a sort which shows them the eternal nature not varying from generation and corruption.

Agreed.

And further, I said, let us admit that they are lovers of all true being; there is no part whether greater or less, or more or less honourable, which they are willing to renounce; as we said before of the lover and the man of ambition.

True.

There is another quality which they will also need if they are to be what we were saying.

What quality?

Truthfulness they will never intentionally receive falsehood, which is their detestation, and they will love the truth.

Yes, that may be affirmed of them.

'May be,' my friend, I replied, is not the word; say rather, 'must be affirmed:' for he whose nature is amorous of anything cannot help loving all that belongs or is akin to the object of his affections.

Right, he said.

And is there anything more akin to wisdom than truth?

How can there be?

Or can the same nature bé a lover of wisdom and a lover of falsehood?

486

Never.

The true lover of learning then must from his earliest youth, as far as in him lies, desire all truth?

Assuredly.

But then again, he whose desires are strong in one direction will have them weaker in others; they will be like a stream which has been drawn off into another channel.

True.

He whose desires are drawn towards knowledge in every form will be absorbed in the pleasures of the soul, and will hardly feel bodily pleasure-I mean, if he be a true philosopher and not a sham one.

That is most certain.

Such an one is sure to be temperate and the reverse of covetous; for the motives which make another man desirous to have and to spend, are no part of his character.

Very true.

Another criterion of the philosophical nature has also to be considered.

What is that?

There should be no secret corner of meanness; for littleness is the very opposite of a soul which is ever longing after the whole of things both divine and human.

Most true, he replied.

Then how can he who has magnificence of mind and is the spectator of all time and all existence, think much of human life?

He cannot.

Or can such an one account death fearful?

No indeed.

Then the cowardly and mean nature has no part in true philosophy?

Certainly not.

Or again can he who is harmoniously constituted, who is not covetous or mean, or a boaster, or a coward-can he, I say, ever be unjust or hard in his dealings?

Impossible.

Then you will note whether a man is just and gentle, or rude

and unsociable; these are the signs which distinguish even in youth the philosophical nature from the unphilosophical.

True.

And there is another point which should be remarked.
What point?

Whether he has or has not a pleasure in learning; for no one will love that which gives him pain, and in which after much toil he makes little progress.

Certainly not.

And again, if he is forgetful and retains nothing of what he learns, will he not be an empty vessel?

That is certain.

Labouring in vain, he must end in hating himself and his fruitless occupation?

Yes.

Then the forgetful soul cannot be ranked among philosophers; a philosopher ought to have a good memory?

Certainly.

Yet again, the inharmonious and unseemly nature can only tend to disproportion?

Undoubtedly.

And do you consider truth to be akin to proportion or to disproportion?

To proportion.

Then, besides other qualities, let us seek for a well-proportioned and gracious mind, whose own nature will move spontaneously towards the true being of everything.

Certainly.

Well, and do not all these qualities go together, and are they not necessary to a soul, which is to have a full and perfect participation of being?

They are absolutely necessary, he replied.

And must not that be a blameless study which he only can pursue who has a good memory, and is quick to learn, noble, gracious, the friend of truth, justice, courage, temperance, who are his brethren?

The god of jealousy himself, he said, could find no fault with such a study.

487

And to these, I said, when perfected by years and education, and to these only you will entrust the State.

Here Adeimantus interposed and said: To this, Socrates, no one can offer a reply; but there is a feeling which those who hear you talk as you are now doing often experience, and which I may describe in this way: they fancy that they are led astray a little at each step in the argument, owing to their own want of skill in asking and answering questions; these littles accumulate, and at the end of the discussion they are found to have sustained a mighty overthrow and reversal of their first notions. And as unskilful players of draughts are at last shut up by their skilled adversaries and have no piece to move, so they find themselves at last shut up and have no word to say in this new game of which words are the counters; and yet all the time they are in the right. The observation is suggested to me by what is now occurring. For any one of us might say, that although in words he is not able to meet you at each step in the argument, as a fact he sees that the votaries of philosophy who carry on the study, not only in youth with a view to education, but as the pursuit of their maturer years, for the most part grow into very strange beings, not to say utter rogues, and that those who may be considered the best of them, are made useless to the world by the very study which you extol.

Well, I said; and do you think that they are wrong?

I cannot tell, he replied; but I should like to know what is your opinion.

Hear my answer; I am of opinion that they are quite right.

Then how can you be justified in saying that cities will not cease from evil until philosophers rule in them, when philosophers are acknowledged by us to be of no use to them?

You ask a question, I said, to which I can only reply in a parable.

Yes, Socrates; and that is a way of speaking to which you are not at all accustomed, I suppose.

I perceive, I said, that you are vastly amused at having plunged me into such a hopeless discussion; and now you shall 488 hear the parable in order that you may judge better of the meagreness of my imagination for the treatment which the