ἄνδρα δή, ὡς ἔοικε, δυνάμενον ὑπὸ σοφίας παντοδαπὸν γίγνεσθαι καὶ μιμεῖσθαι πάντα χρήματα, εἰ ἡμῖν ἀφίκοιτο εἰς τὴν πόλιν αὐτός τε καὶ τὰ ποιήματα βουλόμενος ἐπιδείξασθαι, προσκυνοῖμεν ἂν αὐτὸν ὡς ἱερὸν καὶ θαυμαστὸν καὶ ἡδύν, εἴποιμεν δʼ ἂν ὅτι οὐκ ἔστιν τοιοῦτος ἀνὴρ ἐν τῇ πόλει παρʼ ἡμῖν οὔτε θέμις ἐγγενέσθαι, ἀποπέμποιμέν τε εἰς ἄλλην πόλιν μύρον κατὰ τῆς κεφαλῆς καταχέαντες καὶ ἐρίῳ στέψαντες, αὐτοὶ δʼ ἂν τῷ αὐστηροτέρῳ καὶ ἀηδεστέρῳ ποιητῇ χρῴμεθα καὶ μυθολόγῳ ὠφελίας ἕνεκα, ὃς ἡμῖν τὴν τοῦ ἐπιεικοῦς λέξιν μιμοῖτο καὶ τὰ λεγόμενα λέγοι ἐν ἐκείνοις τοῖς τύποις οἷς κατʼ ἀρχὰς ἐνομοθετησάμεθα, ὅτε τοὺς στρατιώτας ἐπεχειροῦμεν παιδεύειν. καὶ μάλʼ, ἔφη, οὕτως ἂν ποιοῖμεν, εἰ ἐφʼ ἡμῖν εἴη. νῦν δή, εἶπον ἐγώ, ὦ φίλε, κινδυνεύει ἡμῖν τῆς μουσικῆς τὸ περὶ λόγους τε καὶ μύθους παντελῶς διαπεπεράνθαι· ἅ τε γὰρ λεκτέον καὶ ὡς λεκτέον εἴρηται. καὶ αὐτῷ μοι δοκεῖ, ἔφη. οὐκοῦν μετὰ τοῦτο, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τὸ περὶ ᾠδῆς τρόπου καὶ μελῶν λοιπόν; δῆλα δή. ἆρʼ οὖν οὐ πᾶς ἤδη ἂν εὕροι ἃ ἡμῖν λεκτέον περὶ αὐτῶν οἷα δεῖ εἶναι, εἴπερ μέλλομεν τοῖς προειρημένοις συμφωνήσειν; καὶ ὁ Γλαύκων ἐπιγελάσας, ἐγὼ τοίνυν, ἔφη, ὦ Σώκρατες, κινδυνεύω ἐκτὸς τῶν πάντων εἶναι· οὔκουν ἱκανῶς γε ἔχω ἐν τῷ παρόντι συμβαλέσθαι ποῖα ἄττα δεῖ ἡμᾶς λέγειν· ὑποπτεύω μέντοι. πάντως δήπου, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, πρῶτον μὲν τόδε ἱκανῶς ἔχεις λέγειν, ὅτι τὸ μέλος ἐκ τριῶν ἐστιν συγκείμενον, λόγου τε καὶ ἁρμονίας καὶ ῥυθμοῦ. ναί, ἔφη, τοῦτό γε. οὐκοῦν ὅσον γε αὐτοῦ λόγος ἐστίν, οὐδὲν δήπου διαφέρει τοῦ μὴ ᾀδομένου λόγου πρὸς τὸ ἐν τοῖς αὐτοῖς δεῖν τύποις λέγεσθαι οἷς ἄρτι προείπομεν καὶ ὡσαύτως; ἀληθῆ, ἔφη. καὶ μὴν τήν γε ἁρμονίαν καὶ ῥυθμὸν ἀκολουθεῖν δεῖ τῷ λόγῳ. πῶς δʼ οὔ; ἀλλὰ μέντοι θρήνων γε καὶ ὀδυρμῶν ἔφαμεν ἐν λόγοις οὐδὲν προσδεῖσθαι. οὐ γὰρ οὖν. τίνες οὖν θρηνώδεις ἁρμονίαι; λέγε μοι· σὺ γὰρ μουσικός. μειξολυδιστί, ἔφη, καὶ συντονολυδιστὶ καὶ τοιαῦταί τινες. οὐκοῦν αὗται, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἀφαιρετέαι; ἄχρηστοι γὰρ καὶ γυναιξὶν ἃς δεῖ ἐπιεικεῖς εἶναι, μὴ ὅτι ἀνδράσι. πάνυ γε. ἀλλὰ μὴν μέθη γε φύλαξιν ἀπρεπέστατον καὶ μαλακία καὶ ἀργία. πῶς γὰρ οὔ; τίνες οὖν μαλακαί τε καὶ συμποτικαὶ τῶν ἁρμονιῶν; ἰαστί, ἦ δʼ ὅς, καὶ λυδιστὶ αὖ τινες χαλαραὶ καλοῦνται.
“If a man, then, it seems, who was capable by his cunning of assuming every kind of shape and imitating all things should arrive in our city, bringing with himself the poems which he wished to exhibit, we should fall down and worship him as a holy and wondrous and delightful creature, but should say to him that there is no man of that kind among us in our city, nor is it lawful for such a man to arise among us, and we should send him away to another city, after pouring myrrh down over his head and crowning him with fillets of wool, but we ourselves, for our souls’ good, should continue to employ the more austere and less delightful poet and tale-teller, who would imitate the diction of the good man and would tell his tale in the patterns which we prescribed in the beginning, when we set out to educate our soldiers.” “We certainly should do that if it rested with us.” “And now, my friend,” said I, “we may say that we have completely finished the part of music that concerns speeches and tales. For we have set forth what is to be said and how it is to be said.” “I think so too,” he replied. “After this, then,” said I, “comes the manner of song and tunes?” “Obviously.” “And having gone thus far, could not everybody discover what we must say of their character in order to conform to what has already been said?” “I am afraid that ‘everybody’ does not include me,” laughed Glaucon; “I cannot sufficiently divine off-hand what we ought to say, though I have a suspicion.” “You certainly, I presume,” said I, “have sufficient a understanding of this—that the song is composed of three things, the words, the tune, and the rhythm?” “Yes,” said he, “that much.” “And so far as it is words, it surely in no manner differs from words not sung in the requirement of conformity to the patterns and manner that we have prescribed?” “True,” he said. “And again, the music and the rhythm must follow the speech.” “Of course.” “But we said we did not require dirges and lamentations in words.” “We do not.” “What, then, are the dirge-like modes of music? Tell me, for you are a musician.” “The mixed Lydian,” he said, “and the tense or higher Lydian, and similar modes.” “These, then,” said I, “we must do away with. For they are useless even to women who are to make the best of themselves, let alone to men.” “Assuredly.” “But again, drunkenness is a thing most unbefitting guardians, and so is softness and sloth.” “Yes.” “What, then, are the soft and convivial modes?” “There are certain Ionian and also Lydian modes that are called lax.”
ταύταις οὖν, ὦ φίλε, ἐπὶ πολεμικῶν ἀνδρῶν ἔσθʼ ὅτι χρήσῃ; οὐδαμῶς, ἔφη· ἀλλὰ κινδυνεύει σοι δωριστὶ λείπεσθαι καὶ φρυγιστί. οὐκ οἶδα, ἔφην ἐγώ, τὰς ἁρμονίας, ἀλλὰ κατάλειπε ἐκείνην τὴν ἁρμονίαν, ἣ ἔν τε πολεμικῇ πράξει ὄντος ἀνδρείου καὶ ἐν πάσῃ βιαίῳ ἐργασίᾳ πρεπόντως ἂν μιμήσαιτο φθόγγους τε καὶ προσῳδίας, καὶ ἀποτυχόντος ἢ εἰς τραύματα ἢ εἰς θανάτους ἰόντος ἢ εἴς τινα ἄλλην συμφορὰν πεσόντος, ἐν πᾶσι τούτοις παρατεταγμένως καὶ καρτερούντως ἀμυνομένου τὴν τύχην· καὶ ἄλλην αὖ ἐν εἰρηνικῇ τε καὶ μὴ βιαίῳ ἀλλʼ ἐν ἑκουσίᾳ πράξει ὄντος, ἢ τινά τι πείθοντός τε καὶ δεομένου, ἢ εὐχῇ θεὸν ἢ διδαχῇ καὶ νουθετήσει ἄνθρωπον, ἢ τοὐναντίον ἄλλῳ δεομένῳ ἢ διδάσκοντι ἢ μεταπείθοντι ἑαυτὸν ἐπέχοντα, καὶ ἐκ τούτων πράξαντα κατὰ νοῦν, καὶ μὴ ὑπερηφάνως ἔχοντα, ἀλλὰ σωφρόνως τε καὶ μετρίως ἐν πᾶσι τούτοις πράττοντά τε καὶ τὰ ἀποβαίνοντα ἀγαπῶντα. ταύτας δύο ἁρμονίας, βίαιον, ἑκούσιον, δυστυχούντων, εὐτυχούντων, σωφρόνων, ἀνδρείων [ἁρμονίας] αἵτινες φθόγγους μιμήσονται κάλλιστα, ταύτας λεῖπε. ἀλλʼ, ἦ δʼ ὅς, οὐκ ἄλλας αἰτεῖς λείπειν ἢ ἃς νυνδὴ ἐγὼ ἔλεγον. οὐκ ἄρα, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, πολυχορδίας γε οὐδὲ παναρμονίου ἡμῖν δεήσει ἐν ταῖς ᾠδαῖς τε καὶ μέλεσιν. οὔ μοι, ἔφη, φαίνεται. τριγώνων ἄρα καὶ πηκτίδων καὶ πάντων ὀργάνων ὅσα πολύχορδα καὶ πολυαρμόνια, δημιουργοὺς οὐ θρέψομεν. οὐ φαινόμεθα. τί δέ; αὐλοποιοὺς ἢ αὐλητὰς παραδέξῃ εἰς τὴν πόλιν; ἢ οὐ τοῦτο πολυχορδότατον, καὶ αὐτὰ τὰ παναρμόνια αὐλοῦ τυγχάνει ὄντα μίμημα; δῆλα δή, ἦ δʼ ὅς. λύρα δή σοι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καὶ κιθάρα λείπεται [καὶ] κατὰ πόλιν χρήσιμα· καὶ αὖ κατʼ ἀγροὺς τοῖς νομεῦσι σῦριγξ ἄν τις εἴη. ὡς γοῦν, ἔφη, ὁ λόγος ἡμῖν σημαίνει. οὐδέν γε, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καινὸν ποιοῦμεν, ὦ φίλε, κρίνοντες τὸν Ἀπόλλω καὶ τὰ τοῦ Ἀπόλλωνος ὄργανα πρὸ Μαρσύου τε καὶ τῶν ἐκείνου ὀργάνων. μὰ Δία, ἦ δʼ ὅς, οὔ μοι φαινόμεθα. καὶ νὴ τὸν κύνα, εἶπον, λελήθαμέν γε διακαθαίροντες πάλιν ἣν ἄρτι τρυφᾶν ἔφαμεν πόλιν. σωφρονοῦντές γε ἡμεῖς, ἦ δʼ ὅς. ἴθι δή, ἔφην, καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ καθαίρωμεν.
“Will you make any use of them for warriors?” “None at all,” he said; “but it would seem that you have left the Dorian and the Phrygian.” “I don’t know the musical modes,” I said, “but leave us that mode that would fittingly imitate the utterances and the accents of a brave man who is engaged in warfare or in any enforced business, and who, when he has failed, either meeting wounds or death or having fallen into some other mishap, in all these conditions confronts fortune with steadfast endurance and repels her strokes. And another for such a man engaged in works of peace, not enforced but voluntary, either trying to persuade somebody of something and imploring him—whether it be a god, through prayer, or a man, by teaching and admonition—or contrariwise yielding himself to another who petitioning or teaching him or trying to change his opinions, and in consequence faring according to his wish, and not bearing himself arrogantly, but in all this acting modestly and moderately and acquiescing in the outcome. Leave us these two modes—the forced and the voluntary—that will best imitate the utterances of men failing or succeeding, the temperate, the brave—leave us these.” “Well,” said he, “you are asking me to leave none other than those I just spoke of.” “Then,” said I, “we shall not need in our songs and airs instruments of many strings or whose compass includes all the harmonies.” “Not in my opinion,” said he. “Then we shall not maintain makers of triangles and harps and all other many stringed and poly-harmonic instruments.” “Apparently not.” “Well, will you admit to the city flute-makers and flute-players? Or is not the flute the most ‘many-stringed’ of instruments and do not the pan-harmonics themselves imitate it?” “Clearly,” he said. “You have left,” said I, “the lyre and the cither. These are useful in the city, and in the fields the shepherds would have a little piccolo to pipe on.” “So our argument indicates,” he said. “We are not innovating, my friend, in preferring Apollo and the instruments of Apollo to Marsyas and his instruments.” “No, by heaven!” he said, “I think not.” “And by the dog,” said I, “we have all unawares purged the city which a little while ago we said was wanton.” “In that we show our good sense,” he said. “Come then, let us complete the purification.”
ἑπόμενον γὰρ δὴ ταῖς ἁρμονίαις ἂν ἡμῖν εἴη τὸ περὶ ῥυθμούς, μὴ ποικίλους αὐτοὺς διώκειν μηδὲ παντοδαπὰς βάσεις, ἀλλὰ βίου ῥυθμοὺς ἰδεῖν κοσμίου τε καὶ ἀνδρείου τίνες εἰσίν· οὓς ἰδόντα τὸν πόδα τῷ τοῦ τοιούτου λόγῳ ἀναγκάζειν ἕπεσθαι καὶ τὸ μέλος, ἀλλὰ μὴ λόγον ποδί τε καὶ μέλει. οἵτινες δʼ ἂν εἶεν οὗτοι οἱ ῥυθμοί, σὸν ἔργον, ὥσπερ τὰς ἁρμονίας, φράσαι. ἀλλὰ μὰ Δίʼ, ἔφη, οὐκ ἔχω λέγειν. ὅτι μὲν γὰρ τρίʼ ἄττα ἐστὶν εἴδη ἐξ ὧν αἱ βάσεις πλέκονται, ὥσπερ ἐν τοῖς φθόγγοις τέτταρα, ὅθεν αἱ πᾶσαι ἁρμονίαι, τεθεαμένος ἂν εἴποιμι· ποῖα δὲ ὁποίου βίου μιμήματα, λέγειν οὐκ ἔχω. ἀλλὰ ταῦτα μέν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καὶ μετὰ Δάμωνος βουλευσόμεθα, τίνες τε ἀνελευθερίας καὶ ὕβρεως ἢ μανίας καὶ ἄλλης κακίας πρέπουσαι βάσεις, καὶ τίνας τοῖς ἐναντίοις λειπτέον ῥυθμούς· οἶμαι δέ με ἀκηκοέναι οὐ σαφῶς ἐνόπλιόν τέ τινα ὀνομάζοντος αὐτοῦ σύνθετον καὶ δάκτυλον καὶ ἡρῷόν γε, οὐκ οἶδα ὅπως διακοσμοῦντος καὶ ἴσον ἄνω καὶ κάτω τιθέντος, εἰς βραχύ τε καὶ μακρὸν γιγνόμενον, καί, ὡς ἐγὼ οἶμαι, ἴαμβον καί τινʼ ἄλλον τροχαῖον ὠνόμαζε, μήκη δὲ καὶ βραχύτητας προσῆπτε. καὶ τούτων τισὶν οἶμαι τὰς ἀγωγὰς τοῦ ποδὸς αὐτὸν οὐχ ἧττον ψέγειν τε καὶ ἐπαινεῖν ἢ τοὺς ῥυθμοὺς αὐτούς—ἤτοι συναμφότερόν τι· οὐ γὰρ ἔχω λέγειν —ἀλλὰ ταῦτα μέν, ὥσπερ εἶπον, εἰς Δάμωνα ἀναβεβλήσθω· διελέσθαι γὰρ οὐ σμικροῦ λόγου. ἢ σὺ οἴει; μὰ Δίʼ, οὐκ ἔγωγε. ἀλλὰ τόδε γε, ὅτι τὸ τῆς εὐσχημοσύνης τε καὶ ἀσχημοσύνης τῷ εὐρύθμῳ τε καὶ ἀρρύθμῳ ἀκολουθεῖ, δύνασαι διελέσθαι; πῶς δʼ οὔ; ἀλλὰ μὴν τὸ εὔρυθμόν γε καὶ τὸ ἄρρυθμον τὸ μὲν τῇ καλῇ λέξει ἕπεται ὁμοιούμενον, τὸ δὲ τῇ ἐναντίᾳ, καὶ τὸ εὐάρμοστον καὶ ἀνάρμοστον ὡσαύτως, εἴπερ ῥυθμός γε καὶ ἁρμονία λόγῳ, ὥσπερ ἄρτι ἐλέγετο, ἀλλὰ μὴ λόγος τούτοις. ἀλλὰ μήν, ἦ δʼ ὅς, ταῦτά γε λόγῳ ἀκολουθητέον. τί δʼ ὁ τρόπος τῆς λέξεως, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καὶ ὁ λόγος; οὐ τῷ τῆς ψυχῆς ἤθει ἕπεται; πῶς γὰρ οὔ; τῇ δὲ λέξει τὰ ἄλλα; ναί. εὐλογία ἄρα καὶ εὐαρμοστία καὶ εὐσχημοσύνη καὶ εὐρυθμία εὐηθείᾳ ἀκολουθεῖ, οὐχ ἣν ἄνοιαν οὖσαν ὑποκοριζόμενοι καλοῦμεν [ὡς εὐήθειαν], ἀλλὰ τὴν ὡς ἀληθῶς εὖ τε καὶ καλῶς τὸ ἦθος κατεσκευασμένην διάνοιαν. παντάπασι μὲν οὖν, ἔφη. ἆρʼ οὖν οὐ πανταχοῦ ταῦτα διωκτέα τοῖς νέοις, εἰ μέλλουσι τὸ αὑτῶν πράττειν; διωκτέα μὲν οὖν.
“For upon harmonies would follow the consideration of rhythms: we must not pursue complexity nor great variety in the basic movements, but must observe what are the rhythms of a life that is orderly and brave, and after observing them require the foot and the air to conform to that kind of man’s speech and not the speech to the foot and the tune. What those rhythms would be, it is for you to tell us as you did the musical modes.” “Nay, in faith,” he said, “I cannot tell. For that there are some three forms from which the feet are combined, just as there are four in the notes of the voice whence come all harmonies, is a thing that I have observed and could tell. But which are imitations of which sort of life, I am unable to say.” “Well,” said I, “on this point we will take counsel with Damon, too, as to which are the feet appropriate to illiberality, and insolence or madness or other evils, and what rhythms we must leave for their opposites; and I believe I have heard him obscurely speaking of a foot that he called the enoplios, a composite foot, and a dactyl and an heroic foot, which he arranged, I know not how, to be equal up and down in the interchange of long and short, and unless I am mistaken he used the term iambic, and there was another foot that he called the trochaic, and he added the quantities long and short. And in some of these, I believe, he censured and commended the tempo of the foot no less than the rhythm itself, or else some combination of the two; I can’t say. But, as I said, let this matter be postponed for Damon’s consideration. For to determine the truth of these would require no little discourse. Do you think otherwise?” “No, by heaven, I do not.” “But this you are able to determine—that seemliness and unseemliness are attendant upon the good rhythm and the bad.” “Of course.” “And, further, that good rhythm and bad rhythm accompany, the one fair diction, assimilating itself thereto, and the other the opposite, and so of the apt and the unapt, if, as we were just now saying, the rhythm and harmony follow the words and not the words these.” “They certainly must follow the speech,” he said. “And what of the manner of the diction, and the speech?” said I. “Do they not follow and conform to the disposition of the soul?” “Of course.” “And all the rest to the diction?” “Yes.” “Good speech, then, good accord, and good grace, and good rhythm wait upon good disposition, not that weakness of head which we euphemistically style goodness of heart, but the truly good and fair disposition of the character and the mind.” “By all means,” he said. “And must not our youth pursue these everywhere if they are to do what it is truly theirs to do?” “They must indeed.”
ἔστιν δέ γέ που πλήρης μὲν γραφικὴ αὐτῶν καὶ πᾶσα ἡ τοιαύτη δημιουργία, πλήρης δὲ ὑφαντικὴ καὶ ποικιλία καὶ οἰκοδομία καὶ πᾶσα αὖ ἡ τῶν ἄλλων σκευῶν ἐργασία, ἔτι δὲ ἡ τῶν σωμάτων φύσις καὶ ἡ τῶν ἄλλων φυτῶν· ἐν πᾶσι γὰρ τούτοις ἔνεστιν εὐσχημοσύνη ἢ ἀσχημοσύνη. καὶ ἡ μὲν ἀσχημοσύνη καὶ ἀρρυθμία καὶ ἀναρμοστία κακολογίας καὶ κακοηθείας ἀδελφά, τὰ δʼ ἐναντία τοῦ ἐναντίου, σώφρονός τε καὶ ἀγαθοῦ ἤθους, ἀδελφά τε καὶ μιμήματα. παντελῶς μὲν οὖν, ἔφη. ἆρʼ οὖν τοῖς ποιηταῖς ἡμῖν μόνον ἐπιστατητέον καὶ προσαναγκαστέον τὴν τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ εἰκόνα ἤθους ἐμποιεῖν τοῖς ποιήμασιν ἢ μὴ παρʼ ἡμῖν ποιεῖν, ἢ καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις δημιουργοῖς ἐπιστατητέον καὶ διακωλυτέον τὸ κακόηθες τοῦτο καὶ ἀκόλαστον καὶ ἀνελεύθερον καὶ ἄσχημον μήτε ἐν εἰκόσι ζῴων μήτε ἐν οἰκοδομήμασι μήτε ἐν ἄλλῳ μηδενὶ δημιουργουμένῳ ἐμποιεῖν, ἢ ὁ μὴ οἷός τε ὢν οὐκ ἐατέος παρʼ ἡμῖν δημιουργεῖν, ἵνα μὴ ἐν κακίας εἰκόσι τρεφόμενοι ἡμῖν οἱ φύλακες ὥσπερ ἐν κακῇ βοτάνῃ, πολλὰ ἑκάστης ἡμέρας κατὰ σμικρὸν ἀπὸ πολλῶν δρεπόμενοί τε καὶ νεμόμενοι, ἕν τι συνιστάντες λανθάνωσιν κακὸν μέγα ἐν τῇ αὑτῶν ψυχῇ, ἀλλʼ ἐκείνους ζητητέον τοὺς δημιουργοὺς τοὺς εὐφυῶς δυναμένους ἰχνεύειν τὴν τοῦ καλοῦ τε καὶ εὐσχήμονος φύσιν, ἵνα ὥσπερ ἐν ὑγιεινῷ τόπῳ οἰκοῦντες οἱ νέοι ἀπὸ παντὸς ὠφελῶνται, ὁπόθεν ἂν αὐτοῖς ἀπὸ τῶν καλῶν ἔργων ἢ πρὸς ὄψιν ἢ πρὸς ἀκοήν τι προσβάλῃ, ὥσπερ αὔρα φέρουσα ἀπὸ χρηστῶν τόπων ὑγίειαν, καὶ εὐθὺς ἐκ παίδων λανθάνῃ εἰς ὁμοιότητά τε καὶ φιλίαν καὶ συμφωνίαν τῷ καλῷ λόγῳ ἄγουσα; πολὺ γὰρ ἄν, ἔφη, κάλλιστα οὕτω τραφεῖεν. ἆρʼ οὖν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὦ Γλαύκων, τούτων ἕνεκα κυριωτάτη ἐν μουσικῇ τροφή, ὅτι μάλιστα καταδύεται εἰς τὸ ἐντὸς τῆς ψυχῆς ὅ τε ῥυθμὸς καὶ ἁρμονία, καὶ ἐρρωμενέστατα ἅπτεται αὐτῆς φέροντα τὴν εὐσχημοσύνην, καὶ ποιεῖ εὐσχήμονα, ἐάν τις ὀρθῶς τραφῇ, εἰ δὲ μή, τοὐναντίον;
“And there is surely much of these qualities in painting and in all similar craftsmanship—weaving is full of them and embroidery and architecture and likewise the manufacture of household furnishings and thereto the natural bodies of animals and plants as well. For in all these there is grace or gracelessness. And gracelessness and evil rhythm and disharmony are akin to evil speaking and the evil temper but the opposites are the symbols and the kin of the opposites, the sober and good disposition.” “Entirely so,” he said. “Is it, then, only the poets that we must supervise and compel to embody in their poems the semblance of the good character or else not write poetry among us, or must we keep watch over the other craftsmen, and forbid them to represent the evil disposition, the licentious, the illiberal, the graceless, either in the likeness of living creatures or in buildings or in any other product of their art, on penalty, if unable to obey, of being forbidden to practise their art among us, that our guardians may not be bred among symbols of evil, as it were in a pasturage of poisonous herbs, lest grazing freely and cropping from many such day by day they little by little and all unawares accumulate and build up a huge mass of evil in their own souls. But we must look for those craftsmen who by the happy gift of nature are capable of following the trail of true beauty and grace, that our young men, dwelling as it were in a salubrious region, may receive benefit from all things about them, whence the influence that emanates from works of beauty may waft itself to eye or ear like a breeze that brings from wholesome places health, and so from earliest childhood insensibly guide them to likeness, to friendship, to harmony with beautiful reason.” “Yes,” he said, “that would be far the best education for them.” “And is it not for this reason, Glaucon,” said I, “that education in music is most sovereign, because more than anything else rhythm and harmony find their way to the inmost soul and take strongest hold upon it, bringing with them and imparting grace, if one is rightly trained, and otherwise the contrary?”
καὶ ὅτι αὖ τῶν παραλειπομένων καὶ μὴ καλῶς δημιουργηθέντων ἢ μὴ καλῶς φύντων ὀξύτατʼ ἂν αἰσθάνοιτο ὁ ἐκεῖ τραφεὶς ὡς ἔδει, καὶ ὀρθῶς δὴ δυσχεραίνων τὰ μὲν καλὰ ἐπαινοῖ καὶ χαίρων καὶ καταδεχόμενος εἰς τὴν ψυχὴν τρέφοιτʼ ἂν ἀπʼ αὐτῶν καὶ γίγνοιτο καλός τε κἀγαθός, τὰ δʼ αἰσχρὰ ψέγοι τʼ ἂν ὀρθῶς καὶ μισοῖ ἔτι νέος ὤν, πρὶν λόγον δυνατὸς εἶναι λαβεῖν, ἐλθόντος δὲ τοῦ λόγου ἀσπάζοιτʼ ἂν αὐτὸν γνωρίζων διʼ οἰκειότητα μάλιστα ὁ οὕτω τραφείς; ἐμοὶ γοῦν δοκεῖ, ἔφη, τῶν τοιούτων ἕνεκα ἐν μουσικῇ εἶναι ἡ τροφή. ὥσπερ ἄρα, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, γραμμάτων πέρι τότε ἱκανῶς εἴχομεν, ὅτε τὰ στοιχεῖα μὴ λανθάνοι ἡμᾶς ὀλίγα ὄντα ἐν ἅπασιν οἷς ἔστιν περιφερόμενα, καὶ οὔτʼ ἐν σμικρῷ οὔτʼ ἐν μεγάλῳ ἠτιμάζομεν αὐτά, ὡς οὐ δέοι αἰσθάνεσθαι, ἀλλὰ πανταχοῦ προυθυμούμεθα διαγιγνώσκειν, ὡς οὐ πρότερον ἐσόμενοι γραμματικοὶ πρὶν οὕτως ἔχοιμεν— ἀληθῆ. οὐκοῦν καὶ εἰκόνας γραμμάτων, εἴ που ἢ ἐν ὕδασιν ἢ ἐν κατόπτροις ἐμφαίνοιντο, οὐ πρότερον γνωσόμεθα, πρὶν ἂν αὐτὰ γνῶμεν, ἀλλʼ ἔστιν τῆς αὐτῆς τέχνης τε καὶ μελέτης; παντάπασι μὲν οὖν. ἆρʼ οὖν, ὃ λέγω, πρὸς θεῶν, οὕτως οὐδὲ μουσικοὶ πρότερον ἐσόμεθα, οὔτε αὐτοὶ οὔτε οὕς φαμεν ἡμῖν παιδευτέον εἶναι τοὺς φύλακας, πρὶν ἂν τὰ τῆς σωφροσύνης εἴδη καὶ ἀνδρείας καὶ ἐλευθεριότητος καὶ μεγαλοπρεπείας καὶ ὅσα τούτων ἀδελφὰ καὶ τὰ τούτων αὖ ἐναντία πανταχοῦ περιφερόμενα γνωρίζωμεν καὶ ἐνόντα ἐν οἷς ἔνεστιν αἰσθανώμεθα καὶ αὐτὰ καὶ εἰκόνας αὐτῶν, καὶ μήτε ἐν σμικροῖς μήτε ἐν μεγάλοις ἀτιμάζωμεν, ἀλλὰ τῆς αὐτῆς οἰώμεθα τέχνης εἶναι καὶ μελέτης; πολλὴ ἀνάγκη, ἔφη. οὐκοῦν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὅτου ἂν συμπίπτῃ ἔν τε τῇ ψυχῇ καλὰ ἤθη ἐνόντα καὶ ἐν τῷ εἴδει ὁμολογοῦντα ἐκείνοις καὶ συμφωνοῦντα, τοῦ αὐτοῦ μετέχοντα τύπου, τοῦτʼ ἂν εἴη κάλλιστον θέαμα τῷ δυναμένῳ θεᾶσθαι; πολύ γε. καὶ μὴν τό γε κάλλιστον ἐρασμιώτατον; πῶς δʼ οὔ; τῶν δὴ ὅτι μάλιστα τοιούτων ἀνθρώπων ὅ γε μουσικὸς ἐρῴη ἄν· εἰ δὲ ἀσύμφωνος εἴη, οὐκ ἂν ἐρῴη. οὐκ ἄν, εἴ γέ τι, ἔφη, κατὰ τὴν ψυχὴν ἐλλείποι· εἰ μέντοι τι κατὰ τὸ σῶμα, ὑπομείνειεν ἂν ὥστε ἐθέλειν ἀσπάζεσθαι. μανθάνω, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· ὅτι ἔστιν σοι ἢ γέγονεν παιδικὰ τοιαῦτα, καὶ συγχωρῶ. ἀλλὰ τόδε μοι εἰπέ· σωφροσύνῃ καὶ ἡδονῇ ὑπερβαλλούσῃ ἔστι τις κοινωνία; καὶ πῶς; ἔφη, ἥ γε ἔκφρονα ποιεῖ οὐχ ἧττον ἢ λύπη; ἀλλὰ τῇ ἄλλῃ ἀρετῇ;
“And further, because omissions and the failure of beauty in things badly made or grown would be most quickly perceived by one who was properly educated in music, and so, feeling distaste rightly, he would praise beautiful things and take delight in them and receive them into his soul to foster its growth and become himself beautiful and good. The ugly he would rightly disapprove of and hate while still young and yet unable to apprehend the reason, but when reason came the man thus nurtured would be the first to give her welcome, for by this affinity he would know her.” “I certainly think,” he said, “that such is the cause of education in music.” “It is, then,” said I, “as it was when we learned our letters and felt that we knew them sufficiently only when the separate letters did not elude us, appearing as few elements in all the combinations that convey them, and when we did not disregard them in small things or great and think it unnecessary to recognize them, but were eager to distinguish them everywhere, in the belief that we should never be literate and letter-perfect till we could do this.” “True.” “And is it not also true that if there are any likenesses of letters reflected in water or mirrors, we shall never know them until we know the originals, but such knowledge belongs to the same art and discipline?” “By all means.” “Then, by heaven, am I not right in saying that by the same token we shall never be true musicians, either— neither we nor the guardians that we have undertaken to educate—until we are able to recognize the forms of soberness, courage, liberality, and high-mindedness and all their kindred and their opposites, too, in all the combinations that contain and convey them, and to apprehend them and their images wherever found, disregarding them neither in trifles nor in great things, but believing the knowledge of them to belong to the same art and discipline?” “The conclusion is inevitable,” he said. “Then,” said I, “when there is a coincidence of a beautiful disposition in the soul and corresponding and harmonious beauties of the same type in the bodily form—is not this the fairest spectacle for one who is capable of its contemplation?” “Far the fairest.” “And surely the fairest is the most lovable.” “Of course.” “The true musician, then, would love by preference persons of this sort; but if there were disharmony he would not love this.” “No,” he said, “not if there was a defect in the soul; but if it were in the body he would bear with it and still be willing to bestow his love.” “I understand,” I said, “that you have or have had favorites of this sort and I grant your distinction. But tell me this—can there be any communion between soberness and extravagant pleasure?” “How could there be,” he said, “since such pleasure puts a man beside himself no less than pain?” “Or between it and virtue generally?”
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