δῆλον, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· καὶ οἱ παῖδες αὐτοῦ, ὅτι τοιοῦτος ἦν, οὐχ ὁρᾷς ὡς καὶ ἐν Τροίᾳ ἀγαθοὶ πρὸς τὸν πόλεμον ἐφάνησαν, καὶ τῇ ἰατρικῇ, ὡς ἐγὼ λέγω, ἐχρῶντο; ἢ οὐ μέμνησαι ὅτι καὶ τῷ Μενέλεῳ ἐκ τοῦ τραύματος οὗ ὁ Πάνδαρος ἔβαλεν— αἷμʼ ἐκμυζήσαντες ἐπʼ ἤπια φάρμακʼ ἔπασσον, / ὅτι δʼ ἐχρῆν μετὰ τοῦτο ἢ πιεῖν ἢ φαγεῖν οὐδὲν μᾶλλον ἢ τῷ Εὐρυπύλῳ προσέταττον, ὡς ἱκανῶν ὄντων τῶν φαρμάκων ἰάσασθαι ἄνδρας πρὸ τῶν τραυμάτων ὑγιεινούς τε καὶ κοσμίους ἐν διαίτῃ, κἂν εἰ τύχοιεν ἐν τῷ παραχρῆμα κυκεῶνα πιόντες, νοσώδη δὲ φύσει τε καὶ ἀκόλαστον οὔτε αὐτοῖς οὔτε τοῖς ἄλλοις ᾤοντο λυσιτελεῖν ζῆν, οὐδʼ ἐπὶ τούτοις τὴν τέχνην δεῖν εἶναι, οὐδὲ θεραπευτέον αὐτούς, οὐδʼ εἰ Μίδου πλουσιώτεροι εἶεν. πάνυ κομψούς, ἔφη, λέγεις Ἀσκληπιοῦ παῖδας. πρέπει, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καίτοι ἀπειθοῦντές γε ἡμῖν οἱ τραγῳδοποιοί τε καὶ Πίνδαρος Ἀπόλλωνος μέν φασιν Ἀσκληπιὸν εἶναι, ὑπὸ δὲ χρυσοῦ πεισθῆναι πλούσιον ἄνδρα θανάσιμον ἤδη ὄντα ἰάσασθαι, ὅθεν δὴ καὶ κεραυνωθῆναι αὐτόν. ἡμεῖς δὲ κατὰ τὰ προειρημένα οὐ πεισόμεθα αὐτοῖς ἀμφότερα, ἀλλʼ εἰ μὲν θεοῦ ἦν, οὐκ ἦν, φήσομεν, αἰσχροκερδής· εἰ δʼ αἰσχροκερδής, οὐκ ἦν θεοῦ. ὀρθότατα, ἦ δʼ ὅς, ταῦτά γε. ἀλλὰ περὶ τοῦδε τί λέγεις, ὦ Σώκρατες; ἆρʼ οὐκ ἀγαθοὺς δεῖ ἐν τῇ πόλει κεκτῆσθαι ἰατρούς; εἶεν δʼ ἄν που μάλιστα τοιοῦτοι ὅσοι πλείστους μὲν ὑγιεινούς, πλείστους δὲ νοσώδεις μετεχειρίσαντο, καὶ δικασταὶ αὖ ὡσαύτως οἱ παντοδαπαῖς φύσεσιν ὡμιληκότες. καὶ μάλα, εἶπον, ἀγαθοὺς λέγω. ἀλλʼ οἶσθα οὓς ἡγοῦμαι τοιούτους; ἂν εἴπῃς, ἔφη. ἀλλὰ πειράσομαι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· σὺ μέντοι οὐχ ὅμοιον πρᾶγμα τῷ αὐτῷ λόγῳ ἤρου. πῶς; ἔφη. ἰατροὶ μέν, εἶπον, δεινότατοι ἂν γένοιντο, εἰ ἐκ παίδων ἀρξάμενοι πρὸς τῷ μανθάνειν τὴν τέχνην ὡς πλείστοις τε καὶ πονηροτάτοις σώμασιν ὁμιλήσειαν καὶ αὐτοὶ πάσας νόσους κάμοιεν καὶ εἶεν μὴ πάνυ ὑγιεινοὶ φύσει. οὐ γὰρ οἶμαι σώματι σῶμα θεραπεύουσιν—οὐ γὰρ ἂν αὐτὰ ἐνεχώρει κακὰ εἶναί ποτε καὶ γενέσθαι—ἀλλὰ ψυχῇ σῶμα, ᾗ οὐκ ἐγχωρεῖ κακὴν γενομένην τε καὶ οὖσαν εὖ τι θεραπεύειν. ὀρθῶς, ἔφη.
“Obviously,” said I, “that was his character. And his sons too, don’t you in see that at Troy they approved themselves good fighting-men and practised medicine as I described it? Don’t you remember that in the case of Menelaus too from the wound that Pandarus inflicted They sucked the blood, and soothing simples sprinkled? But what he was to eat or drink thereafter they no more prescribed than for Eurypylus, taking it for granted that the remedies sufficed to heal men who before their wounds were healthy and temperate in diet even if they did happen for the nonce to drink a posset; but they thought that the life of a man constitutionally sickly and intemperate was of no use to himself or others, and that the art of medicine should not be for such nor should they be given treatment even if they were richer than Midas.” “Very ingenious fellows,” he said, “you make out these sons of Asclepius to be.” “’Tis fitting,” said I; “and yet in disregard of our principles the tragedians and Pindar affirm that Asclepius, though he was the son of Apollo, was bribed by gold to heal a man already at the point of death, and that for this cause he was struck by the lightning. But we in accordance with the aforesaid principles refuse to believe both statements, but if he was the son of a god he was not avaricious, we will insist, and if he was greedy of gain he was not the son of a god.” “That much,” said he, “is most certainly true. But what have you to say to this, Socrates, must we not have good physicians in our city? And they would be the most likely to be good who had treated the greatest number of healthy and diseased men, and so good judges would be those who had associated with all sorts and conditions of men.” “Most assuredly I want them good,” I said; “but do you know whom I regard as such?” “I’ll know if you tell,” he said. “Well, I will try,” said I. “You, however, have put unlike cases in one question.” “How so?” said he. “Physicians, it is true,” I said, “would prove most skilled if, from childhood up, in addition to learning the principles of the art they had familiarized themselves with the greatest possible number of the most sickly bodies, and if they themselves had suffered all diseases and were not of very healthy constitution. For you see they do not treat the body by the body. If they did, it would not be allowable for their bodies to be or to have been in evil condition. But they treat the body with the mind—and it is not competent for a mind that is or has been evil to treat anything well.” “Right,” he said.
δικαστὴς δέ γε, ὦ φίλε, ψυχῇ ψυχῆς ἄρχει, ᾗ οὐκ ἐγχωρεῖ ἐκ νέας ἐν πονηραῖς ψυχαῖς τεθράφθαι τε καὶ ὡμιληκέναι καὶ πάντα ἀδικήματα αὐτὴν ἠδικηκυῖαν διεξεληλυθέναι, ὥστε ὀξέως ἀφʼ αὑτῆς τεκμαίρεσθαι τὰ τῶν ἄλλων ἀδικήματα οἷον κατὰ σῶμα νόσους· ἀλλʼ ἄπειρον αὐτὴν καὶ ἀκέραιον δεῖ κακῶν ἠθῶν νέαν οὖσαν γεγονέναι, εἰ μέλλει καλὴ κἀγαθὴ οὖσα κρινεῖν ὑγιῶς τὰ δίκαια. διὸ δὴ καὶ εὐήθεις νέοι ὄντες οἱ ἐπιεικεῖς φαίνονται καὶ εὐεξαπάτητοι ὑπὸ τῶν ἀδίκων, ἅτε οὐκ ἔχοντες ἐν ἑαυτοῖς παραδείγματα ὁμοιοπαθῆ τοῖς πονηροῖς. καὶ μὲν δή, ἔφη, σφόδρα γε αὐτὸ πάσχουσι. τῷ τοι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, οὐ νέον ἀλλὰ γέροντα δεῖ τὸν ἀγαθὸν δικαστὴν εἶναι, ὀψιμαθῆ γεγονότα τῆς ἀδικίας οἷόν ἐστιν, οὐκ οἰκείαν ἐν τῇ αὑτοῦ ψυχῇ ἐνοῦσαν ᾐσθημένον, ἀλλʼ ἀλλοτρίαν ἐν ἀλλοτρίαις μεμελετηκότα ἐν πολλῷ χρόνῳ διαισθάνεσθαι οἷον πέφυκε κακόν, ἐπιστήμῃ, οὐκ ἐμπειρίᾳ οἰκείᾳ κεχρημένον. γενναιότατος γοῦν, ἔφη, ἔοικεν εἶναι ὁ τοιοῦτος δικαστής. καὶ ἀγαθός γε, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὃ σὺ ἠρώτας· ὁ γὰρ ἔχων ψυχὴν ἀγαθὴν ἀγαθός. ὁ δὲ δεινὸς ἐκεῖνος καὶ καχύποπτος, ὁ πολλὰ αὐτὸς ἠδικηκὼς καὶ πανοῦργός τε καὶ σοφὸς οἰόμενος εἶναι, ὅταν μὲν ὁμοίοις ὁμιλῇ, δεινὸς φαίνεται ἐξευλαβούμενος, πρὸς τὰ ἐν αὑτῷ παραδείγματα ἀποσκοπῶν· ὅταν δὲ ἀγαθοῖς καὶ πρεσβυτέροις ἤδη πλησιάσῃ, ἀβέλτερος αὖ φαίνεται, ἀπιστῶν παρὰ καιρὸν καὶ ἀγνοῶν ὑγιὲς ἦθος, ἅτε οὐκ ἔχων παράδειγμα τοῦ τοιούτου. πλεονάκις δὲ πονηροῖς ἢ χρηστοῖς ἐντυγχάνων σοφώτερος ἢ ἀμαθέστερος δοκεῖ εἶναι αὑτῷ τε καὶ ἄλλοις. παντάπασι μὲν οὖν, ἔφη, ἀληθῆ. οὐ τοίνυν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τοιοῦτον χρὴ τὸν δικαστὴν ζητεῖν τὸν ἀγαθόν τε καὶ σοφόν, ἀλλὰ τὸν πρότερον· πονηρία μὲν γὰρ ἀρετήν τε καὶ αὑτὴν οὔποτʼ ἂν γνοίη, ἀρετὴ δὲ φύσεως παιδευομένης χρόνῳ ἅμα αὑτῆς τε καὶ πονηρίας ἐπιστήμην λήψεται. σοφὸς οὖν οὗτος, ὥς μοι δοκεῖ, ἀλλʼ οὐχ ὁ κακὸς γίγνεται. καὶ ἐμοί, ἔφη, συνδοκεῖ.
“But a judge, mark you, my friend, rules soul with soul and it is not allowable for a soul to have been bred from youth up among evil souls and to have grown familiar with them, and itself to have run the gauntlet of every kind of wrong-doing and injustice so as quickly to infer from itself the misdeeds of others as it might diseases in the body, but it must have been inexperienced in evil natures and uncontaminated by them while young, if it is to be truly fair and good and judge soundly of justice. For which cause the better sort seem to be simple-minded in youth and are easily deceived by the wicked, since they do not have within themselves patterns answering to the affections of the bad.” “That is indeed their experience,” he said. “Therefore it is,” said I, “that the good judge must not be a youth but an old man, a late learner of the nature of injustice, one who has not become aware of it as a property in his own soul, but one who has through the long years trained himself to understand it as an alien thing in alien souls, and to discern how great an evil it is by the instrument of mere knowledge and not by experience of his own.” “That at any rate,” he said, “appears to be the noblest kind of judge.” “And what is more, a good one,” I said, “which was the gist of your question. For he who has a good soul is good. But that cunning fellow quick to suspect evil, and who has himself done many unjust acts and who thinks himself a smart trickster, when he associates with his like does appear to be clever, being on his guard and fixing his eyes on the patterns within himself. But when the time comes for him to mingle with the good and his elders, then on the contrary he appears stupid. He is unseasonably distrustful and he cannot recognize a sound character because he has no such pattern in himself. But since he more often meets with the bad than the good, he seems to himself and to others to be rather wise than foolish.” “That is quite true,” he said. “Well then,” said I, “such a one must not be our ideal of the good and wise judge but the former. For while badness could never come to know both virtue and itself, native virtue through education will at last acquire the science both of itself and badness. This one, then, as I think, is the man who proves to be wise and not the bad man.” “And I concur,” he said.
οὐκοῦν καὶ ἰατρικήν, οἵαν εἴπομεν, μετὰ τῆς τοιαύτης δικαστικῆς κατὰ πόλιν νομοθετήσεις, αἳ τῶν πολιτῶν σοι τοὺς μὲν εὐφυεῖς τὰ σώματα καὶ τὰς ψυχὰς θεραπεύσουσι, τοὺς δὲ μή, ὅσοι μὲν κατὰ σῶμα τοιοῦτοι, ἀποθνῄσκειν ἐάσουσιν, τοὺς δὲ κατὰ τὴν ψυχὴν κακοφυεῖς καὶ ἀνιάτους αὐτοὶ ἀποκτενοῦσιν; τὸ γοῦν ἄριστον, ἔφη, αὐτοῖς τε τοῖς πάσχουσιν καὶ τῇ πόλει οὕτω πέφανται. οἱ δὲ δὴ νέοι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, δῆλον ὅτι εὐλαβήσονταί σοι δικαστικῆς εἰς χρείαν ἰέναι, τῇ ἁπλῇ ἐκείνῃ μουσικῇ χρώμενοι ἣν δὴ ἔφαμεν σωφροσύνην ἐντίκτειν. τί μήν; ἔφη. ἆρʼ οὖν οὐ κατὰ ταὐτὰ ἴχνη ταῦτα ὁ μουσικὸς γυμναστικὴν διώκων, ἐὰν ἐθέλῃ, αἱρήσει, ὥστε μηδὲν ἰατρικῆς δεῖσθαι ὅτι μὴ ἀνάγκη; ἔμοιγε δοκεῖ. αὐτά γε μὴν τὰ γυμνάσια καὶ τοὺς πόνους πρὸς τὸ θυμοειδὲς τῆς φύσεως βλέπων κἀκεῖνο ἐγείρων πονήσει μᾶλλον ἢ πρὸς ἰσχύν, οὐχ ὥσπερ οἱ ἄλλοι ἀθληταὶ ῥώμης ἕνεκα σιτία καὶ πόνους μεταχειριεῖται. ὀρθότατα, ἦ δʼ ὅς. ἆρʼ οὖν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὦ Γλαύκων, καὶ οἱ καθιστάντες μουσικῇ καὶ γυμναστικῇ παιδεύειν οὐχ οὗ ἕνεκά τινες οἴονται καθιστᾶσιν, ἵνα τῇ μὲν τὸ σῶμα θεραπεύοιντο, τῇ δὲ τὴν ψυχήν; ἀλλὰ τί μήν; ἔφη. κινδυνεύουσιν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἀμφότερα τῆς ψυχῆς ἕνεκα τὸ μέγιστον καθιστάναι. πῶς δή; οὐκ ἐννοεῖς, εἶπον, ὡς διατίθενται αὐτὴν τὴν διάνοιαν οἳ ἂν γυμναστικῇ μὲν διὰ βίου ὁμιλήσωσιν, μουσικῆς δὲ μὴ ἅψωνται; ἢ αὖ ὅσοι ἂν τοὐναντίον διατεθῶσιν; τίνος δέ, ἦ δʼ ὅς, πέρι λέγεις; ἀγριότητός τε καὶ σκληρότητος, καὶ αὖ μαλακίας τε καὶ ἡμερότητος, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ— ἔγωγε, ἔφη· ὅτι οἱ μὲν γυμναστικῇ ἀκράτῳ χρησάμενοι ἀγριώτεροι τοῦ δέοντος ἀποβαίνουσιν, οἱ δὲ μουσικῇ μαλακώτεροι αὖ γίγνονται ἢ ὡς κάλλιον αὐτοῖς. καὶ μήν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τό γε ἄγριον τὸ θυμοειδὲς ἂν τῆς φύσεως παρέχοιτο, καὶ ὀρθῶς μὲν τραφὲν ἀνδρεῖον ἂν εἴη, μᾶλλον δʼ ἐπιταθὲν τοῦ δέοντος σκληρόν τε καὶ χαλεπὸν γίγνοιτʼ ἄν, ὡς τὸ εἰκός. δοκεῖ μοι, ἔφη. τί δέ; τὸ ἥμερον οὐχ ἡ φιλόσοφος ἂν ἔχοι φύσις, καὶ μᾶλλον μὲν ἀνεθέντος αὐτοῦ μαλακώτερον εἴη τοῦ δέοντος, καλῶς δὲ τραφέντος ἥμερόν τε καὶ κόσμιον; ἔστι ταῦτα. δεῖν δέ γέ φαμεν τοὺς φύλακας ἀμφοτέρα ἔχειν τούτω τὼ φύσει. δεῖ γάρ. οὐκοῦν ἡρμόσθαι δεῖ αὐτὰς πρὸς ἀλλήλας; πῶς δʼ οὔ;
“Then will you not establish by law in your city such an art of medicine as we have described in conjunction with this kind of justice? And these arts will care for the bodies and souls of such of your citizens as are truly well born, but of those who are not, such as are defective in body they will suffer to die and those who are evil-natured and incurable in soul they will themselves put to death.” “This certainly,” he said, “has been shown to be the best thing for the sufferers themselves and for the state.” “And so your youths,” said I, “employing that simple music which we said engendered sobriety will, it is clear, guard themselves against falling into the need of the justice of the court-room.” “Yes,” he said. “And will not our musician, pursuing the same trail in his use of gymnastics, if he please, get to have no need of medicine save when indispensable?” “I think so.” “And even the exercises and toils of gymnastics he will undertake with a view to the spirited part of his nature to arouse that rather than for mere strength, unlike ordinary athletes, who treat diet and exercise only as a means to muscle.” “Nothing could be truer,” he said. “Then may we not say, Glaucon,” said I, “that those who established an education in music and gymnastics had not the purpose in view that some attribute to them in so instituting, namely to treat the body by one and the soul by the other?” “But what?” he said. “It seems likely,” I said, “that they ordained both chiefly for the soul’s sake.” “How so?” “Have you not observed,” said I, “the effect on the disposition of the mind itself of lifelong devotion to gymnastics with total neglect of music? Or the disposition of those of the opposite habit?” “In what respect do you mean?” he said. “In respect of savagery and hardness or, on the other hand, of softness and gentleness?” “I have observed,” he said, “that the devotees of unmitigated gymnastics turn out more brutal than they should be and those of music softer than is good for them.” “And surely,” said I, “this savagery is a quality derived from the high-spirited element in our nature, which, if rightly trained, becomes brave, but if overstrained, would naturally become hard and harsh.” “I think so,” he said. “And again, is not the gentleness a quality which the philosophic nature would yield? This if relaxed too far would be softer than is desirable but if rightly trained gentle and orderly?” “That is so.” “But our requirement, we say, is that the guardians should possess both natures.” “It is.” “And must they not be harmoniously adjusted to one another?” “Of course.”
καὶ τοῦ μὲν ἡρμοσμένου σώφρων τε καὶ ἀνδρεία ἡ ψυχή; πάνυ γε. τοῦ δὲ ἀναρμόστου δειλὴ καὶ ἄγροικος; καὶ μάλα. οὐκοῦν ὅταν μέν τις μουσικῇ παρέχῃ καταυλεῖν καὶ καταχεῖν τῆς ψυχῆς διὰ τῶν ὤτων ὥσπερ διὰ χώνης ἃς νυνδὴ ἡμεῖς ἐλέγομεν τὰς γλυκείας τε καὶ μαλακὰς καὶ θρηνώδεις ἁρμονίας, καὶ μινυρίζων τε καὶ γεγανωμένος ὑπὸ τῆς ᾠδῆς διατελῇ τὸν βίον ὅλον, οὗτος τὸ μὲν πρῶτον, εἴ τι θυμοειδὲς εἶχεν, ὥσπερ σίδηρον ἐμάλαξεν καὶ χρήσιμον ἐξ ἀχρήστου καὶ σκληροῦ ἐποίησεν· ὅταν δʼ ἐπέχων μὴ ἀνιῇ ἀλλὰ κηλῇ, τὸ δὴ μετὰ τοῦτο ἤδη τήκει καὶ λείβει, ἕως ἂν ἐκτήξῃ τὸν θυμὸν καὶ ἐκτέμῃ ὥσπερ νεῦρα ἐκ τῆς ψυχῆς καὶ ποιήσῃ «μαλθακὸν αἰχμητήν.» πάνυ μὲν οὖν, ἔφη. καὶ ἐὰν μέν γε, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἐξ ἀρχῆς φύσει ἄθυμον λάβῃ, ταχὺ τοῦτο διεπράξατο· ἐὰν δὲ θυμοειδῆ, ἀσθενῆ ποιήσας τὸν θυμὸν ὀξύρροπον ἀπηργάσατο, ἀπὸ σμικρῶν ταχὺ ἐρεθιζόμενόν τε καὶ κατασβεννύμενον. ἀκράχολοι οὖν καὶ ὀργίλοι ἀντὶ θυμοειδοῦς γεγένηνται, δυσκολίας ἔμπλεῳ. κομιδῇ μὲν οὖν. τί δὲ ἂν αὖ γυμναστικῇ πολλὰ πονῇ καὶ εὐωχῆται εὖ μάλα, μουσικῆς δὲ καὶ φιλοσοφίας μὴ ἅπτηται; οὐ πρῶτον μὲν εὖ ἴσχων τὸ σῶμα φρονήματός τε καὶ θυμοῦ ἐμπίμπλαται καὶ ἀνδρειότερος γίγνεται αὐτὸς αὑτοῦ; καὶ μάλα γε. τί δὲ ἐπειδὰν ἄλλο μηδὲν πράττῃ μηδὲ κοινωνῇ Μούσης μηδαμῇ; οὐκ εἴ τι καὶ ἐνῆν αὐτοῦ φιλομαθὲς ἐν τῇ ψυχῇ, ἅτε οὔτε μαθήματος γευόμενον οὐδενὸς οὔτε ζητήματος, οὔτε λόγου μετίσχον οὔτε τῆς ἄλλης μουσικῆς, ἀσθενές τε καὶ κωφὸν καὶ τυφλὸν γίγνεται, ἅτε οὐκ ἐγειρόμενον οὐδὲ τρεφόμενον οὐδὲ διακαθαιρομένων τῶν αἰσθήσεων αὐτοῦ; οὕτως, ἔφη. μισόλογος δὴ οἶμαι ὁ τοιοῦτος γίγνεται καὶ ἄμουσος, καὶ πειθοῖ μὲν διὰ λόγων οὐδὲν ἔτι χρῆται, βίᾳ δὲ καὶ ἀγριότητι ὥσπερ θηρίον πρὸς πάντα διαπράττεται, καὶ ἐν ἀμαθίᾳ καὶ σκαιότητι μετὰ ἀρρυθμίας τε καὶ ἀχαριστίας ζῇ. παντάπασιν, ἦ δʼ ὅς, οὕτως ἔχει.
“And the soul of the man thus attuned is sober and brave?” “Certainly.” “And that of the ill adjusted is cowardiy and rude?” “It surely is.” “Now when a man abandons himself to music to play upon him and pour into his soul as it were through the funnel of his ears those sweet, soft, and dirge-like airs of which we were just now speaking, and gives his entire time to the warblings and blandishments of song, the first result is that the principle of high spirit, if he had it, is softened like iron and is made useful instead of useless and brittle. But when he continues the practice without remission and is spellbound, the effect begins to be that he melts and liquefies till he completely dissolves away his spirit, cuts out as it were the very sinews of his soul and makes of himself a ‘feeble warrior.’” “Assuredly,” he said. “And if,” said I, “he has to begin with a spiritless nature he reaches this result quickly, but if high-spirited, by weakening the spirit he makes it unstable, quickly irritated by slight stimuli, and as quickly quelled. The outcome is that such men are choleric and irascible instead of high-spirited, and are peevish and discontented.” “Precisely so.” “On the other hand, if a man toils hard at gymnastics and eats right lustily and holds no truck with music and philosophy, does he not at first get very fit and full of pride and high spirit and become more brave and bold than he was?” “He does indeed.” “But what if he does nothing but this and has no contact with the Muse in any way, is not the result that even if there was some principle of the love of knowledge in his soul, since it tastes of no instruction nor of any inquiry and does not participate in any discussion or any other form of culture, it becomes feeble, deaf, and blind, because it is not aroused or fed nor are its perceptions purified and quickened?” “That is so,” he said. “And so such a man, I take it, becomes a misologist and stranger to the Muses. He no longer makes any use of persuasion by speech but achieves all his ends like a beast by violence and savagery, and in his brute ignorance and ineptitude lives a life of disharmony and gracelessness.” “That is entirely true,” he said.
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