Socrates “There is no difference at all,” he said. “Of what sort will probably be the offspring of such parents?” “Will they not be bastard¹ and base?” “Inevitably.” “And so when men unfit for culture approach philosophy and consort with her unworthily, what sort of ideas and opinions shall we say they beget? Will they not produce what may in very deed be fairly called sophisms, and nothing that is genuine or that partakes of true intelligence²?” “Quite so,” he said.

“There is a very small remnant,³ then, Adeimantus,” I said, 496b “of those who consort worthily with philosophy, some well-born and well-bred nature, it may be, held in check⁴ by exile,⁵ and so in the absence of corrupters remaining true to philosophy, as its quality bids, or it may happen that a great soul born in a little town scorns⁶ and disregards its parochial affairs; and a small group perhaps might by natural affinity be drawn to it from other arts which they justly disdain; and the bridle of our companion Theages⁷ also might operate as a restraint. For in the case of Theages all other conditions were at hand 496c for his backsliding from philosophy, but his sickly habit of body keeping him out of politics holds him back. My own case, the divine sign,⁸ is hardly worth mentioning—for I suppose it has happened to few or none before me. And those who have been of this little company⁹ and have tasted the sweetness and blessedness of this possession and who have also come to understand the madness of the multitude sufficiently and have seen that there is nothing, if I may say so, sound or right in any present politics,¹⁰ and that there is no ally 496d with whose aid the champion of justice¹¹ could escape destruction, but that he would be as a man who has fallen among wild beasts,¹² unwilling to share their misdeeds¹³ and unable to hold out singly against the savagery of all, and that he would thus, before he could in any way benefit his friends or the state come to an untimely end without doing any good to himself or others,—for all these reasons I say the philosopher remains quiet, minds his own affair, and, as it were, standing aside under shelter of a wall¹⁴ in a storm and blast of dust and sleet and seeing others filled full of lawlessness, is content if in any way 496e he may keep himself free from iniquity and unholy deeds through this life and take his departure with fair hope,¹⁵ serene and well content when the end comes.”

“Well,” he said, “that is no very slight thing 497a to have achieved before taking his departure.” “He would not have accomplished any very great thing either,¹⁶” I replied, “if it were not his fortune to live in a state adapted to his nature. In such a state only will he himself rather attain his full stature¹⁷ and together with his own preserve the common weal.

The causes and the injustice of the calumniation of philosophy, I think, have been fairly set forth, unless you have something to add.¹⁸” “No,” he said, “I have nothing further to offer on that point. But which of our present governments do you think is suitable for philosophy?” 497b “None whatever,” I said; “but the very ground of my complaint is that no polity¹⁹ of today is worthy of the philosophic nature. This is just the cause of its perversion and alteration; as a foreign seed sown in an alien soil is wont to be overcome and die out²⁰ into the native growth,²¹ so this kind does not preserve its own quality but falls away and degenerates into an alien type. But if ever 497c it finds the best polity as it itself is the best, then will it be apparent²² that this was in truth divine and all the others human in their natures and practices. Obviously then you are next, going to ask what is this best form of government.” “Wrong,” he said²³ “I was going to ask not that but whether it is this one that we have described in our establishment of a state or another.” “In other respects it is this one,” said I; “but there is one special further point that we mentioned even then, namely that there would always have to be resident in such a state an element 497d having the same conception of its constitution that you the lawgiver had in framing its laws.²⁴” “That was said,” he replied. “But it was not sufficiently explained,” I said, “from fear of those objections on your part which have shown that the demonstration of it is long and difficult. And apart from that the remainder of the exposition is by no means easy.²⁵” “Just what do you mean?” “The manner in which a state that occupies itself with philosophy can escape destruction. For all great things are precarious and, as the proverb truly says, fine things are hard.²⁶” “All the same,” 497e he said, “our exposition must be completed by making this plain.” “It will be no lack of will,” I said, “but if anything,²⁷ a lack of ability, that would prevent that. But you shall observe for yourself my zeal. And note again how zealously and recklessly I am prepared to say that the state ought to take up this pursuit in just the reverse of our present fashion.²⁸” “In what way?”

“At present,” 498a said I, “those who do take it up are youths, just out of boyhood,²⁹ who in the interval³⁰ before they engage in business and money-making approach the most difficult part of it, and then drop it—and these are regarded forsooth as the best exemplars of philosophy. By the most difficult part I mean discussion. In later life they think they have done much if, when invited, they deign to listen³¹ to the philosophic discussions of others. That sort of thing they think should be by-work. And towards old age,³² with few exceptions, their light is quenched more completely 498b than the sun of Heracleitus,³³ inasmuch as it is never rekindled.” “And what should they do?” he said. “Just the reverse. While they are lads and boys they should occupy themselves with an education and a culture suitable to youth, and while their bodies are growing to manhood take right good care of them, thus securing a basis and a support³⁴ for the intellectual life. But with the advance of age, when the soul begins to attain its maturity, they should make its exercises more severe, and when 498c the bodily strength declines and they are past the age of political and military service, then at last they should be given free range of the pasture³⁵ and do nothing but philosophize,³⁶ except incidentally, if they are to live happily, and, when the end has come, crown the life they have lived with a consonant destiny in that other world.”

“You really seem to be very much in earnest, Socrates,” he said; “yet I think most of your hearers are even more earnest in their opposition and will not be in the least convinced, beginning with Thrasymachus.” “Do not try to breed a quarrel between me and Thrasymachus, 498d who have just become friends and were not enemies before either. For we will spare no effort until we either convince him and the rest or achieve something that will profit them when they come to that life in which they will be born gain³⁷ and meet with such discussions as these.” “A brief time³⁸ your forecast contemplates,” he said. “Nay, nothing at all,” I replied, “as compared with eternity.³⁹ However, the unwillingness of the multitude to believe what you say is nothing surprising. For of the thing here spoken they have never beheld a token,⁴⁰ 498e but only the forced and artificial chiming of word and phrase, not spontaneous and accidental as has happened here.”

“But the figure of a man “equilibrated” and “assimilated” to virtue’s self perfectly, so far as may be, in word and deed, and holding rule in a city of like quality, that is a thing they have never seen 499a in one case or in many. Do you think they have?” “By no means.” “Neither, my dear fellow, have they ever seriously inclined to hearken to fair and free discussions whose sole endeavor was to search out the truth⁴¹ at any cost for knowledge’s sake, and which dwell apart and salute from afar⁴² all the subtleties and cavils that lead to naught but opinion⁴³ and strife in court-room and in private talk.” “They have not,” he said. 499b “For this cause and foreseeing this, we then despite our fears⁴⁴ declared under compulsion of the truth⁴⁵ that neither city nor polity nor man either will ever be perfected until some chance compels this uncorrupted remnant of philosophers, who now bear the stigma of uselessness, to take charge of the state whether they wish it or not, and constrains the citizens to obey them, or else until by some divine inspiration⁴⁶ a genuine passion for true philosophy takes possession⁴⁷ 499c either of the sons of the men now in power and sovereignty or of themselves. To affirm that either or both of these things cannot possibly come to pass is, I say, quite unreasonable. Only in that case could we be justly ridiculed as uttering things as futile as day-dreams are.⁴⁸ Is not that so?” “It is.” “If, then, the best philosophical natures have ever been constrained to take charge of the state in infinite time past,⁴⁹ or now are in some barbaric region⁵⁰ 499d far beyond our ken, or shall hereafter be, we are prepared to maintain our contention⁵¹ that the constitution we have described has been, is, or will be⁵² realized⁵³ when this philosophic Muse has taken control of the state.⁵⁴ It is not a thing impossible to happen, nor are we speaking of impossibilities. That it is difficult we too admit.” “I also think so,” he said. “But the multitude—are you going to say?—does not think so,” said I. “That may be,” he said. “My dear fellow,” 499e said I, “do not thus absolutely condemn the multitude.⁵⁵ They will surely be of another mind if in no spirit of contention but soothingly and endeavoring to do away with the dispraise of learning you point out to them whom you mean by philosophers, and define as we recently did their nature 500a and their pursuits so that the people may not suppose you to mean those of whom they are thinking.”