καὶ μήν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, πολλὰ μὲν καὶ ἄλλα περὶ αὐτῆς ἐννοῶ, ὡς παντὸς ἄρα μᾶλλον ὀρθῶς ᾠκίζομεν τὴν πόλιν, οὐχ ἥκιστα δὲ ἐνθυμηθεὶς περὶ ποιήσεως λέγω. τὸ ποῖον; ἔφη. τὸ μηδαμῇ παραδέχεσθαι αὐτῆς ὅση μιμητική· παντὸς γὰρ μᾶλλον οὐ παραδεκτέα νῦν καὶ ἐναργέστερον, ὡς ἐμοὶ δοκεῖ, φαίνεται, ἐπειδὴ χωρὶς ἕκαστα διῄρηται τὰ τῆς ψυχῆς εἴδη. πῶς λέγεις; ὡς μὲν πρὸς ὑμᾶς εἰρῆσθαι—οὐ γάρ μου κατερεῖτε πρὸς τοὺς τῆς τραγῳδίας ποιητὰς καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους ἅπαντας τοὺς μιμητικούς—λώβη ἔοικεν εἶναι πάντα τὰ τοιαῦτα τῆς τῶν ἀκουόντων διανοίας, ὅσοι μὴ ἔχουσι φάρμακον τὸ εἰδέναι αὐτὰ οἷα τυγχάνει ὄντα. πῇ δή, ἔφη, διανοούμενος λέγεις; ῥητέον, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· καίτοι φιλία γέ τίς με καὶ αἰδὼς ἐκ παιδὸς ἔχουσα περὶ Ὁμήρου ἀποκωλύει λέγειν. ἔοικε μὲν γὰρ τῶν καλῶν ἁπάντων τούτων τῶν τραγικῶν πρῶτος διδάσκαλός τε καὶ ἡγεμὼν γενέσθαι. ἀλλʼ οὐ γὰρ πρό γε τῆς ἀληθείας τιμητέος ἀνήρ, ἀλλʼ, ὃ λέγω, ῥητέον. πάνυ μὲν οὖν, ἔφη. ἄκουε δή, μᾶλλον δὲ ἀποκρίνου. Ἐρώτα. μίμησιν ὅλως ἔχοις ἄν μοι εἰπεῖν ὅτι ποτʼ ἐστίν; οὐδὲ γάρ τοι αὐτὸς πάνυ τι συννοῶ τί βούλεται εἶναι. ἦ που ἄρʼ, ἔφη, ἐγὼ συννοήσω.
“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.” “What about it?” he said. “In refusing to admit at all so much of it as is imitative; for that it is certainly not to be received is, I think, still more plainly apparent now that we have distinguished the several parts of the soul.” “What do you mean?” “Why, between ourselves—for you will not betray me to the tragic poets and all other imitators—that kind of art seems to be a corruption of the mind of all listeners who do not possess, as an antidote 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 Homer that has possessed me from a boy would stay me from speaking. 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, 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,” he said, “that I should apprehend!”
οὐδέν γε, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἄτοπον, ἐπεὶ πολλά τοι ὀξύτερον βλεπόντων ἀμβλύτερον ὁρῶντες πρότεροι εἶδον. ἔστιν, ἔφη, οὕτως· ἀλλὰ σοῦ παρόντος οὐδʼ ἂν προθυμηθῆναι οἷός τε εἴην εἰπεῖν, εἴ τί μοι καταφαίνεται, ἀλλʼ αὐτὸς ὅρα. βούλει οὖν ἐνθένδε ἀρξώμεθα ἐπισκοποῦντες, ἐκ τῆς εἰωθυίας μεθόδου; εἶδος γάρ πού τι ἓν ἕκαστον εἰώθαμεν τίθεσθαι περὶ ἕκαστα τὰ πολλά, οἷς ταὐτὸν ὄνομα ἐπιφέρομεν. ἢ οὐ μανθάνεις; μανθάνω. θῶμεν δὴ καὶ νῦν ὅτι βούλει τῶν πολλῶν. οἷον, εἰ ʼθʼέλεις, πολλαί πού εἰσι κλῖναι καὶ τράπεζαι. πῶς δʼ οὔ; ἀλλὰ ἰδέαι γέ που περὶ ταῦτα τὰ σκεύη δύο, μία μὲν κλίνης, μία δὲ τραπέζης. ναί. οὐκοῦν καὶ εἰώθαμεν λέγειν ὅτι ὁ δημιουργὸς ἑκατέρου τοῦ σκεύους πρὸς τὴν ἰδέαν βλέπων οὕτω ποιεῖ ὁ μὲν τὰς κλίνας, ὁ δὲ τὰς τραπέζας, αἷς ἡμεῖς χρώμεθα, καὶ τἆλλα κατὰ ταὐτά; οὐ γάρ που τήν γε ἰδέαν αὐτὴν δημιουργεῖ οὐδεὶς τῶν δημιουργῶν· πῶς γάρ; οὐδαμῶς. ἀλλʼ ὅρα δὴ καὶ τόνδε τίνα καλεῖς τὸν δημιουργόν. τὸν ποῖον; ὃς πάντα ποιεῖ, ὅσαπερ εἷς ἕκαστος τῶν χειροτεχνῶν. δεινόν τινα λέγεις καὶ θαυμαστὸν ἄνδρα. οὔπω γε, ἀλλὰ τάχα μᾶλλον φήσεις. ὁ αὐτὸς γὰρ οὗτος χειροτέχνης οὐ μόνον πάντα οἷός τε σκεύη ποιῆσαι, ἀλλὰ καὶ τὰ ἐκ τῆς γῆς φυόμενα ἅπαντα ποιεῖ καὶ ζῷα πάντα ἐργάζεται, τά τε ἄλλα καὶ ἑαυτόν, καὶ πρὸς τούτοις γῆν καὶ οὐρανὸν καὶ θεοὺς καὶ πάντα τὰ ἐν οὐρανῷ καὶ τὰ ἐν Ἅιδου ὑπὸ γῆς ἅπαντα ἐργάζεται. πάνυ θαυμαστόν, ἔφη, λέγεις σοφιστήν. ἀπιστεῖς; ἦν δʼ ἐγώ. καί μοι εἰπέ, τὸ παράπαν οὐκ ἄν σοι δοκεῖ εἶναι τοιοῦτος δημιουργός, ἢ τινὶ μὲν τρόπῳ γενέσθαι ἂν τούτων ἁπάντων ποιητής, τινὶ δὲ οὐκ ἄν; ἢ οὐκ αἰσθάνῃ ὅτι κἂν αὐτὸς οἷός τʼ εἴης πάντα ταῦτα ποιῆσαι τρόπῳ γέ τινι; καὶ τίς, ἔφη, ὁ τρόπος οὗτος; οὐ χαλεπός, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἀλλὰ πολλαχῇ καὶ ταχὺ δημιουργούμενος, τάχιστα δέ που, εἰ ʼθέλεις λαβὼν κάτοπτρον περιφέρειν πανταχῇ· ταχὺ μὲν ἥλιον ποιήσεις καὶ τὰ ἐν τῷ οὐρανῷ, ταχὺ δὲ γῆν, ταχὺ δὲ σαυτόν τε καὶ τἆλλα ζῷα καὶ σκεύη καὶ φυτὰ καὶ πάντα ὅσα νυνδὴ ἐλέγετο. ναί, ἔφη, φαινόμενα, οὐ μέντοι ὄντα γέ που τῇ ἀληθείᾳ. καλῶς, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καὶ εἰς δέον ἔρχῃ τῷ λόγῳ. τῶν τοιούτων γὰρ οἶμαι δημιουργῶν καὶ ὁ ζωγράφος ἐστίν. ἦ γάρ; πῶς γὰρ οὔ; ἀλλὰ φήσεις οὐκ ἀληθῆ οἶμαι αὐτὸν ποιεῖν ἃ ποιεῖ. καίτοι τρόπῳ γέ τινι καὶ ὁ ζωγράφος κλίνην ποιεῖ· ἢ οὔ; ναί, ἔφη, φαινομένην γε καὶ οὗτος.
“It would be nothing strange,” said I, “since it often happens that the dimmer vision sees things in advance of the keener.” “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 procedure? We are in the habit, I take it, of positing a single idea or form 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; 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 eyes 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 what name you would give to this craftsman.” “What one?” “Him who makes all the things that all handicraftsmen severally produce.” “A truly clever and wondrous man you tell of.” “Ah, but wait, 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, and thereto earth and heaven and the gods and all things in heaven and in Hades under the earth.” “A most marvellous sophist,” 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, 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. 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 painter too makes a couch, does he not?” “Yes,” he said, “the appearance of one, he too.”
τί δὲ ὁ κλινοποιός; οὐκ ἄρτι μέντοι ἔλεγες ὅτι οὐ τὸ εἶδος ποιεῖ, ὃ δή φαμεν εἶναι ὃ ἔστι κλίνη, ἀλλὰ κλίνην τινά; ἔλεγον γάρ. οὐκοῦν εἰ μὴ ὃ ἔστιν ποιεῖ, οὐκ ἂν τὸ ὂν ποιοῖ, ἀλλά τι τοιοῦτον οἷον τὸ ὄν, ὂν δὲ οὔ· τελέως δὲ εἶναι ὂν τὸ τοῦ κλινουργοῦ ἔργον ἢ ἄλλου τινὸς χειροτέχνου εἴ τις φαίη, κινδυνεύει οὐκ ἂν ἀληθῆ λέγειν; οὔκουν, ἔφη, ὥς γʼ ἂν δόξειεν τοῖς περὶ τοὺς τοιούσδε λόγους διατρίβουσιν. μηδὲν ἄρα θαυμάζωμεν εἰ καὶ τοῦτο ἀμυδρόν τι τυγχάνει ὂν πρὸς ἀλήθειαν. μὴ γάρ. βούλει οὖν, ἔφην, ἐπʼ αὐτῶν τούτων ζητήσωμεν τὸν μιμητὴν τοῦτον, τίς ποτʼ ἐστίν; εἰ βούλει, ἔφη. οὐκοῦν τριτταί τινες κλῖναι αὗται γίγνονται· μία μὲν ἡ ἐν τῇ φύσει οὖσα, ἣν φαῖμεν ἄν, ὡς ἐγᾦμαι, θεὸν ἐργάσασθαι. ἢ τίνʼ ἄλλον; οὐδένα, οἶμαι. μία δέ γε ἣν ὁ τέκτων. ναί, ἔφη. μία δὲ ἣν ὁ ζωγράφος. ἦ γάρ; ἔστω. ζωγράφος δή, κλινοποιός, θεός, τρεῖς οὗτοι ἐπιστάται τρισὶν εἴδεσι κλινῶν. ναὶ τρεῖς. ὁ μὲν δὴ θεός, εἴτε οὐκ ἐβούλετο, εἴτε τις ἀνάγκη ἐπῆν μὴ πλέον ἢ μίαν ἐν τῇ φύσει ἀπεργάσασθαι αὐτὸν κλίνην, οὕτως ἐποίησεν μίαν μόνον αὐτὴν ἐκείνην ὃ ἔστιν κλίνη· δύο δὲ τοιαῦται ἢ πλείους οὔτε ἐφυτεύθησαν ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ οὔτε μὴ φυῶσιν. πῶς δή; ἔφη. ὅτι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, εἰ δύο μόνας ποιήσειεν, πάλιν ἂν μία ἀναφανείη ἧς ἐκεῖναι ἂν αὖ ἀμφότεραι τὸ εἶδος ἔχοιεν, καὶ εἴη ἂν ὃ ἔστιν κλίνη ἐκείνη ἀλλʼ οὐχ αἱ δύο. ὀρθῶς, ἔφη. ταῦτα δὴ οἶμαι εἰδὼς ὁ θεός, βουλόμενος εἶναι ὄντως κλίνης ποιητὴς ὄντως οὔσης, ἀλλὰ μὴ κλίνης τινὸς μηδὲ κλινοποιός τις, μίαν φύσει αὐτὴν ἔφυσεν. ἔοικεν. βούλει οὖν τοῦτον μὲν φυτουργὸν τούτου προσαγορεύωμεν, ἤ τι τοιοῦτον; δίκαιον γοῦν, ἔφη, ἐπειδήπερ φύσει γε καὶ τοῦτο καὶ τἆλλα πάντα πεποίηκεν. τί δὲ τὸν τέκτονα; ἆρʼ οὐ δημιουργὸν κλίνης; ναί. ἦ καὶ τὸν ζωγράφον δημιουργὸν καὶ ποιητὴν τοῦ τοιούτου; οὐδαμῶς. ἀλλὰ τί αὐτὸν κλίνης φήσεις εἶναι; τοῦτο, ἦ δʼ ὅς, ἔμοιγε δοκεῖ μετριώτατʼ ἂν προσαγορεύεσθαι, μιμητὴς οὗ ἐκεῖνοι δημιουργοί. εἶεν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· τὸν τοῦ τρίτου ἄρα γεννήματος ἀπὸ τῆς φύσεως μιμητὴν καλεῖς; πάνυ μὲν οὖν, ἔφη. τοῦτʼ ἄρα ἔσται καὶ ὁ τραγῳδοποιός, εἴπερ μιμητής ἐστι, τρίτος τις ἀπὸ βασιλέως καὶ τῆς ἀληθείας πεφυκώς, καὶ πάντες οἱ ἄλλοι μιμηταί. κινδυνεύει.
“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, 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 sense 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 versed in this kind of reasoning.” “We must not be surprised, then, if this too is only a dim adumbration in comparison with reality.” “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 nature which, I take it, we would say that God produces, 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.” “Now God, whether because he so willed or because some compulsion was laid upon him not to make more than one couch in nature, so wrought and created one only, 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 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 nature 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?” “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 removes 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.”
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