καὶ ὅς, ὦ Σώκρατες, ἔφη, τοιοῦτον ἐκβέβληκας ῥῆμά τε καὶ λόγον, ὃν εἰπὼν ἡγοῦ ἐπὶ σὲ πάνυ πολλούς τε καὶ οὐ φαύλους νῦν οὕτως, οἷον ῥίψαντας τὰ ἱμάτια, γυμνοὺς λαβόντας ὅτι ἑκάστῳ παρέτυχεν ὅπλον, θεῖν διατεταμένους ὡς θαυμάσια ἐργασομένους· οὓς εἰ μὴ ἀμυνῇ τῷ λόγῳ καὶ ἐκφεύξῃ, τῷ ὄντι τωθαζόμενος δώσεις δίκην. οὐκοῦν σύ μοι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τούτων αἴτιος; καλῶς γʼ, ἔφη, ἐγὼ ποιῶν. ἀλλά τοί σε οὐ προδώσω, ἀλλʼ ἀμυνῶ οἷς δύναμαι· δύναμαι δὲ εὐνοίᾳ τε καὶ τῷ παρακελεύεσθαι, καὶ ἴσως ἂν ἄλλου του ἐμμελέστερόν σοι ἀποκρινοίμην. ἀλλʼ ὡς ἔχων τοιοῦτον βοηθὸν πειρῶ τοῖς ἀπιστοῦσιν ἐνδείξασθαι ὅτι ἔχει ᾗ σὺ λέγεις. πειρατέον, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἐπειδὴ καὶ σὺ οὕτω μεγάλην συμμαχίαν παρέχῃ. ἀναγκαῖον οὖν μοι δοκεῖ, εἰ μέλλομέν πῃ ἐκφεύξεσθαι οὓς λέγεις, διορίσασθαι πρὸς αὐτοὺς τοὺς φιλοσόφους τίνας λέγοντες τολμῶμεν φάναι δεῖν ἄρχειν, ἵνα διαδήλων γενομένων δύνηταί τις ἀμύνεσθαι, ἐνδεικνύμενος ὅτι τοῖς μὲν προσήκει φύσει ἅπτεσθαί τε φιλοσοφίας ἡγεμονεύειν τʼ ἐν πόλει, τοῖς δʼ ἄλλοις μήτε ἅπτεσθαι ἀκολουθεῖν τε τῷ ἡγουμένῳ. ὥρα ἂν εἴη, ἔφη, ὁρίζεσθαι. ἴθι δή, ἀκολούθησόν μοι τῇδε, ἐὰν αὐτὸ ἁμῇ γέ πῃ ἱκανῶς ἐξηγησώμεθα. ἄγε, ἔφη. ἀναμιμνῄσκειν οὖν σε, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, δεήσει, ἢ μέμνησαι ὅτι ὃν ἂν φῶμεν φιλεῖν τι, δεῖ φανῆναι αὐτόν, ἐὰν ὀρθῶς λέγηται, οὐ τὸ μὲν φιλοῦντα ἐκείνου, τὸ δὲ μή, ἀλλὰ πᾶν στέργοντα; ἀναμιμνῄσκειν, ἔφη, ὡς ἔοικεν, δεῖ· οὐ γὰρ πάνυ γε ἐννοῶ. ἄλλῳ, εἶπον, ἔπρεπεν, ὦ Γλαύκων, λέγειν ἃ λέγεις· ἀνδρὶ δʼ ἐρωτικῷ οὐ πρέπει ἀμνημονεῖν ὅτι πάντες οἱ ἐν ὥρᾳ τὸν φιλόπαιδα καὶ ἐρωτικὸν ἁμῇ γέ πῃ δάκνουσί τε καὶ κινοῦσι, δοκοῦντες ἄξιοι εἶναι ἐπιμελείας τε καὶ τοῦ ἀσπάζεσθαι. ἢ οὐχ οὕτω ποιεῖτε πρὸς τοὺς καλούς; ὁ μέν, ὅτι σιμός, ἐπίχαρις κληθεὶς ἐπαινεθήσεται ὑφʼ ὑμῶν, τοῦ δὲ τὸ γρυπὸν βασιλικόν φατε εἶναι, τὸν δὲ δὴ διὰ μέσου τούτων ἐμμετρώτατα ἔχειν, μέλανας δὲ ἀνδρικοὺς ἰδεῖν, λευκοὺς δὲ θεῶν παῖδας εἶναι· μελιχλώρους δὲ καὶ τοὔνομα οἴει τινὸς ἄλλου ποίημα εἶναι ἢ ἐραστοῦ ὑποκοριζομένου τε καὶ εὐχερῶς φέροντος τὴν ὠχρότητα, ἐὰν ἐπὶ ὥρᾳ ᾖ;
Whereupon he, “Socrates,” said he, “after hurling at us such an utterance and statement as that, you must expect to be attacked by a great multitude of our men of light and leading, who forthwith will, so to speak, cast off their garments and strip and, snatching the first weapon that comes to hand, rush at you with might and main, prepared to do dreadful deeds. And if you don’t find words to defend yourself against them, and escape their assault, then to be scorned and flouted will in very truth be the penalty you will have to pay.” “And isn’t it you,” said I, “that have brought this upon me and are to blame?” “And a good thing, too,” said he; “but I won’t let you down, and will defend you with what I can. I can do so with my good will and my encouragement, and perhaps I might answer your questions more suitably than another. So, with such an aid to back you, try to make it plain to the doubters that the truth is as you say.” “I must try,” I replied, “since you proffer so strong an alliance. I think it requisite, then, if we are to escape the assailants you speak of, that we should define for them whom we mean by the philosophers, who we dare to say ought to be our rulers. When these are clearly discriminated it will be possible to defend ourselves by showing that to them by their very nature belong the study of philosophy and political leadership, while it befits the other sort to let philosophy alone and to follow their leader.” “It is high time,” he said, “to produce your definition.” “Come, then, follow me on this line, if we may in some fashion or other explain our meaning.” “Proceed,” he said. “Must I remind you, then,” said I, “or do you remember, that when we affirm that a man is a lover of something, it must be apparent that he is fond of all of it? It will not do to say that some of it he likes and some does not.” “I think you will have to remind me,” he said, “for I don’t apprehend at all.” “That reply, Glaucon,” said I, “befitted another rather than you. It does not become a lover to forget that all adolescents in some sort sting and stir the amorous lover of youth and appear to him deserving of his attention and desirable. Is not that your ‘reaction’ to the fair? One, because his nose is tip-tilted, you will praise as piquant, the beak of another you pronounce right-royal, the intermediate type you say strikes the harmonious mean, the swarthy are of manly aspect, the white are children of the gods divinely fair, and as for honey-hued, do you suppose the very word is anything but the euphemistic invention of some lover who can feel no distaste for sallowness when it accompanies the blooming time of youth?”
καὶ ἑνὶ λόγῳ πάσας προφάσεις προφασίζεσθέ τε καὶ πάσας φωνὰς ἀφίετε, ὥστε μηδένα ἀποβάλλειν τῶν ἀνθούντων ἐν ὥρᾳ. εἰ βούλει, ἔφη, ἐπʼ ἐμοῦ λέγειν περὶ τῶν ἐρωτικῶν ὅτι οὕτω ποιοῦσι, συγχωρῶ τοῦ λόγου χάριν. τί δέ; ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· τοὺς φιλοίνους οὐ τὰ αὐτὰ ταῦτα ποιοῦντας ὁρᾷς; πάντα οἶνον ἐπὶ πάσης προφάσεως ἀσπαζομένους; καὶ μάλα. καὶ μὴν φιλοτίμους γε, ὡς ἐγᾦμαι, καθορᾷς ὅτι, ἂν μὴ στρατηγῆσαι δύνωνται, τριττυαρχοῦσιν, κἂν μὴ ὑπὸ μειζόνων καὶ σεμνοτέρων τιμᾶσθαι, ὑπὸ σμικροτέρων καὶ φαυλοτέρων τιμώμενοι ἀγαπῶσιν, ὡς ὅλως τιμῆς ἐπιθυμηταὶ ὄντες. κομιδῇ μὲν οὖν. τοῦτο δὴ φάθι ἢ μή· ἆρα ὃν ἄν τινος ἐπιθυμητικὸν λέγωμεν, παντὸς τοῦ εἴδους τούτου φήσομεν ἐπιθυμεῖν, ἢ τοῦ μέν, τοῦ δὲ οὔ; παντός, ἔφη. οὐκοῦν καὶ τὸν φιλόσοφον σοφίας φήσομεν ἐπιθυμητὴν εἶναι, οὐ τῆς μέν, τῆς δʼ οὔ, ἀλλὰ πάσης; ἀληθῆ. τὸν ἄρα περὶ τὰ μαθήματα δυσχεραίνοντα, ἄλλως τε καὶ νέον ὄντα καὶ μήπω λόγον ἔχοντα τί τε χρηστὸν καὶ μή, οὐ φήσομεν φιλομαθῆ οὐδὲ φιλόσοφον εἶναι, ὥσπερ τὸν περὶ τὰ σιτία δυσχερῆ οὔτε πεινῆν φαμεν οὔτʼ ἐπιθυμεῖν σιτίων, οὐδὲ φιλόσιτον ἀλλὰ κακόσιτον εἶναι. καὶ ὀρθῶς γε φήσομεν. τὸν δὲ δὴ εὐχερῶς ἐθέλοντα παντὸς μαθήματος γεύεσθαι καὶ ἁσμένως ἐπὶ τὸ μανθάνειν ἰόντα καὶ ἀπλήστως ἔχοντα, τοῦτον δʼ ἐν δίκῃ φήσομεν φιλόσοφον· ἦ γάρ; καὶ ὁ Γλαύκων ἔφη· πολλοὶ ἄρα καὶ ἄτοποι ἔσονταί σοι τοιοῦτοι. οἵ τε γὰρ φιλοθεάμονες πάντες ἔμοιγε δοκοῦσι τῷ καταμανθάνειν χαίροντες τοιοῦτοι εἶναι, οἵ τε φιλήκοοι ἀτοπώτατοί τινές εἰσιν ὥς γʼ ἐν φιλοσόφοις τιθέναι, οἳ πρὸς μὲν λόγους καὶ τοιαύτην διατριβὴν ἑκόντες οὐκ ἂν ἐθέλοιεν ἐλθεῖν, ὥσπερ δὲ ἀπομεμισθωκότες τὰ ὦτα ἐπακοῦσαι πάντων χορῶν περιθέουσι τοῖς Διονυσίοις οὔτε τῶν κατὰ πόλεις οὔτε τῶν κατὰ κώμας ἀπολειπόμενοι. τούτους οὖν πάντας καὶ ἄλλους τοιούτων τινῶν μαθητικοὺς καὶ τοὺς τῶν τεχνυδρίων φιλοσόφους φήσομεν; οὐδαμῶς, εἶπον, ἀλλʼ ὁμοίους μὲν φιλοσόφοις. τοὺς δὲ ἀληθινούς, ἔφη, τίνας λέγεις; τοὺς τῆς ἀληθείας, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, φιλοθεάμονας. καὶ τοῦτο μέν γʼ, ἔφη, ὀρθῶς· ἀλλὰ πῶς αὐτὸ λέγεις; οὐδαμῶς, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ῥᾳδίως πρός γε ἄλλον· σὲ δὲ οἶμαι ὁμολογήσειν μοι τὸ τοιόνδε. τὸ ποῖον; ἐπειδή ἐστιν ἐναντίον καλὸν αἰσχρῷ, δύο αὐτὼ εἶναι.
“And, in short, there is no pretext you do not allege and there is nothing you shrink from saying to justify you in not rejecting any who are in the bloom of their prime.” “If it is your pleasure,” he said, “to take me as your example of this trait in lovers, I admit it for the sake of the argument.” “Again,” said I, “do you not observe the same thing in the lovers of wine? They welcome every wine on any pretext.” “They do, indeed.” “And so I take it you have observed that men who are covetous of honor, if they can’t get themselves elected generals, are captains of a company. And if they can’t be honored by great men and dignitaries, are satisfied with honor from little men and nobodies. But honor they desire and must have.” “Yes, indeed.” “Admit, then, or reject my proposition. When we say a man is keen about something, shall we say that he has an appetite for the whole class or that he desires only a part and a part not?” “The whole,” he said. “Then the lover of wisdom, too, we shall affirm, desires all wisdom, not a part and a part not.” “Certainly.” “The student, then, who is finical about his studies, especially when he is young and cannot yet know by reason what is useful and what is not, we shall say is not a lover of learning or a lover of wisdom, just as we say that one who is dainty about his food is not really hungry, has not an appetite for food, and is not a lover of food, but a poor feeder.” “We shall rightly say so.” “But the one who feels no distaste in sampling every study, and who attacks his task of learning gladly and cannot get enough of it, him we shall justly pronounce the lover of wisdom, the philosopher, shall we not?” To which Glaucon replied, “You will then be giving the name to a numerous and strange band, for all the lovers of spectacles are what they are, I fancy, by virtue of their delight in learning something. And those who always want to hear some new thing are a very queer lot to be reckoned among philosophers. You couldn’t induce them to attend a serious debate or any such entertainment, but as if they had farmed out their ears to listen to every chorus in the land, they run about to all the Dionysiac festivals, never missing one, either in the towns or in the country-villages. Are we to designate all these, then, and similar folk and all the practitioners of the minor arts as philosophers?” “Not at all,” I said; “but they do bear a certain likeness to philosophers.” “Whom do you mean, then, by the true philosophers?” “Those for whom the truth is the spectacle of which they are enamored,” said I. “Right again,” said he; “but in what sense do you mean it?” “It would be by no means easy to explain it to another,” I said, “but I think that you will grant me this.” “What?” “That since the fair and honorable is the opposite of the base and ugly, they are two.”
πῶς δʼ οὔ; οὐκοῦν ἐπειδὴ δύο, καὶ ἓν ἑκάτερον; καὶ τοῦτο. καὶ περὶ δὴ δικαίου καὶ ἀδίκου καὶ ἀγαθοῦ καὶ κακοῦ καὶ πάντων τῶν εἰδῶν πέρι ὁ αὐτὸς λόγος, αὐτὸ μὲν ἓν ἕκαστον εἶναι, τῇ δὲ τῶν πράξεων καὶ σωμάτων καὶ ἀλλήλων κοινωνίᾳ πανταχοῦ φανταζόμενα πολλὰ φαίνεσθαι ἕκαστον. ὀρθῶς, ἔφη, λέγεις. ταύτῃ τοίνυν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, διαιρῶ, χωρὶς μὲν οὓς νυνδὴ ἔλεγες φιλοθεάμονάς τε καὶ φιλοτέχνους καὶ πρακτικούς, καὶ χωρὶς αὖ περὶ ὧν ὁ λόγος, οὓς μόνους ἄν τις ὀρθῶς προσείποι φιλοσόφους. πῶς, ἔφη, λέγεις; οἱ μέν που, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, φιλήκοοι καὶ φιλοθεάμονες τάς τε καλὰς φωνὰς ἀσπάζονται καὶ χρόας καὶ σχήματα καὶ πάντα τὰ ἐκ τῶν τοιούτων δημιουργούμενα, αὐτοῦ δὲ τοῦ καλοῦ ἀδύνατος αὐτῶν ἡ διάνοια τὴν φύσιν ἰδεῖν τε καὶ ἀσπάσασθαι. ἔχει γὰρ οὖν δή, ἔφη, οὕτως. οἱ δὲ δὴ ἐπʼ αὐτὸ τὸ καλὸν δυνατοὶ ἰέναι τε καὶ ὁρᾶν καθʼ αὑτὸ ἆρα οὐ σπάνιοι ἂν εἶεν; καὶ μάλα. ὁ οὖν καλὰ μὲν πράγματα νομίζων, αὐτὸ δὲ κάλλος μήτε νομίζων μήτε, ἄν τις ἡγῆται ἐπὶ τὴν γνῶσιν αὐτοῦ, δυνάμενος ἕπεσθαι, ὄναρ ἢ ὕπαρ δοκεῖ σοι ζῆν; σκόπει δέ. τὸ ὀνειρώττειν ἆρα οὐ τόδε ἐστίν, ἐάντε ἐν ὕπνῳ τις ἐάντʼ ἐγρηγορὼς τὸ ὅμοιόν τῳ μὴ ὅμοιον ἀλλʼ αὐτὸ ἡγῆται εἶναι ᾧ ἔοικεν; ἐγὼ γοῦν ἄν, ἦ δʼ ὅς, φαίην ὀνειρώττειν τὸν τοιοῦτον. τί δέ; ὁ τἀναντία τούτων ἡγούμενός τέ τι αὐτὸ καλὸν καὶ δυνάμενος καθορᾶν καὶ αὐτὸ καὶ τὰ ἐκείνου μετέχοντα, καὶ οὔτε τὰ μετέχοντα αὐτὸ οὔτε αὐτὸ τὰ μετέχοντα ἡγούμενος, ὕπαρ ἢ ὄναρ αὖ καὶ οὗτος δοκεῖ σοι ζῆν; καὶ μάλα, ἔφη, ὕπαρ. οὐκοῦν τούτου μὲν τὴν διάνοιαν ὡς γιγνώσκοντος γνώμην ἂν ὀρθῶς φαῖμεν εἶναι, τοῦ δὲ δόξαν ὡς δοξάζοντος; πάνυ μὲν οὖν. τί οὖν ἐὰν ἡμῖν χαλεπαίνῃ οὗτος, ὅν φαμεν δοξάζειν ἀλλʼ οὐ γιγνώσκειν, καὶ ἀμφισβητῇ ὡς οὐκ ἀληθῆ λέγομεν; ἕξομέν τι παραμυθεῖσθαι αὐτὸν καὶ πείθειν ἠρέμα, ἐπικρυπτόμενοι ὅτι οὐχ ὑγιαίνει; δεῖ γέ τοι δή, ἔφη. ἴθι δή, σκόπει τί ἐροῦμεν πρὸς αὐτόν. ἢ βούλει ὧδε πυνθανώμεθα παρʼ αὐτοῦ, λέγοντες ὡς εἴ τι οἶδεν οὐδεὶς αὐτῷ φθόνος, ἀλλʼ ἅσμενοι ἂν ἴδοιμεν εἰδότα τι. ἀλλʼ ἡμῖν εἰπὲ τόδε· ὁ γιγνώσκων γιγνώσκει τὶ ἢ οὐδέν; σὺ οὖν μοι ὑπὲρ ἐκείνου ἀποκρίνου. ἀποκρινοῦμαι, ἔφη, ὅτι γιγνώσκει τί. πότερον ὂν ἢ οὐκ ὄν;
“Of course.” “And since they are two, each is one.” “That also.” “And in respect of the just and the unjust, the good and the bad, and all the ideas or forms, the same statement holds, that in itself each is one, but that by virtue of their communion with actions and bodies and with one another they present themselves everywhere, each as a multiplicity of aspects.” “Right,” he said. “This, then,” said I, “is my division. I set apart and distinguish those of whom you were just speaking, the lovers of spectacles and the arts, and men of action, and separate from them again those with whom our argument is concerned and who alone deserve the appellation of philosophers or lovers of wisdom.” “What do you mean?” he said. “The lovers of sounds and sights,” I said, “delight in beautiful tones and colors and shapes and in everything that art fashions out of these, but their thought is incapable of apprehending and taking delight in the nature of the beautiful in itself.” “Why, yes,” he said, “that is so.” “And on the other hand, will not those be few who would be able to approach beauty itself and contemplate it in and by itself?” “They would, indeed.” “He, then, who believes in beautiful things, but neither believes in beauty itself nor is able to follow when someone tries to guide him to the knowledge of it—do you think that his life is a dream or a waking? Just consider. Is not the dream state, whether the man is asleep or awake, just this: the mistaking of resemblance for identity?” “I should certainly call that dreaming,” he said. “Well, then, take the opposite case: the man whose thought recognizes a beauty in itself, and is able to distinguish that self-beautiful and the things that participate in it, and neither supposes the participants to be it nor it the participants—is his life, in your opinion, a waking or a dream state?” “He is very much awake,” he replied. “Could we not rightly, then, call the mental state of the one as knowing, knowledge, and that of the other as opining, opinion?” “Assuredly.” “Suppose, now, he who we say opines but does not know should be angry and challenge our statement as not true. Can we find any way of soothing him and gently winning him over, without telling him too plainly that he is not in his right mind?” “We must try,” he said. “Come, then, consider what we are to say to him, or would you have us question him in this fashion—premising that if he knows anything, nobody grudges it him, but we should be very glad to see him knowing something—but tell us this: Does he who knows know something or nothing? Do you reply in his behalf.” “I will reply,” he said, “that he knows something.” “Is it something that is or is not?”
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