BOOK VII. ARGUMENT. In the seventh book, which opens with a beautiful description of the nature of man confined in a dark cave, Plato proceeds to show the means and plan for learning true philosophy, and how we may attain to the serious and sober practice of social life and politics. That moral discipline, argues he, which I require in my guardian, is not mere vacant contemplation, but a profound and practical knowledge of all matters nearly or more remotely concerning the duties of life and the social relations of mankind,—that is, the state in its most broad and general sense: in fact, that he should be a philosophic ruler acquainted with divine and human things,-in other words, with true and primary philosophy. This he terms dialectic, the subordinates of which are physics, the science which considers the origin and formation of matter, and mathematics, which is halfway between the two others, engaged indeed in contemplating abstract and purely argumentative, but not on that higher eternal truth; emphatically, rò ov, that primarily exists in the mind of God: of these matters he treats, particularly the first, at very considerable length: which, as Ritter says, is a regulating superintendent, which, from the knowledge of the eternally true, may indicate to each special science its proper object. CHAP. I.-After this then, said I, compare our nature as respects education, or the want thereof, to a condition such as follows:-Behold men, as it were, in an underground cave-like dwelling, having its entrance open towards the light and extending through the whole cave,—and within it persons, who from childhood upwards have had chains on their legs and their necks, so as, while abiding there, to have the power of looking forward only, but not to turn round their heads by reason of their chains, their light coming from a fire that burns above and afar off, and behind them; and between the fire and those in chains is a road above, along which one may see a little wall built along, just as the stages of conjurers are built before the people in whose presence they show their tricks. I see, said he. Behold then by the side of this little wall men carrying all sorts of machines rising above the wall, and statues of men and other animals wrought in stone, wood, and other materials, some of the bearers probably speaking, others proceeding in silence.* You are proposing, said he, a most absurd comparison and absurd captives also. Such as resemble ourselves, said I;—for think you that such as these would have seen anything else of themselves or one another except the shadows that fall from the fire on the opposite side of the cave? How can they, said he, if indeed they be through life compelled to keep their heads unmoved? But what respecting the things carried by them :-is not this the same? Of course. If then they had been able to talk with each other, do you not suppose they would think it right to give names to what they saw before them? Of course they would. But if the prison had an echo on its opposite side, when any person present were to speak, think you they would imagine anything else addressed to them, except the shadow before them? No, by Zeus, not I, said he. At all events then, said I, such persons would deem truth to be nothing else but the shadows of exhibitions. Of course they would. Let us inquire then, said I, as to their liberation from captivity, and their cure from insanity, such as it may be, and whether such will naturally fall to their lot;-were a person let loose and obliged immediately to rise up, and turn round his neck and walk, and look upwards to the light, and doing all this still feel pained, and be disabled by the dazzling from seeing those things of which he formerly saw the shadows; -what would he say, think you, if any one were to tell him that he formerly saw mere empty visions, but now saw more correctly, as being nearer to the real thing, and turned towards what was more real, and then, specially pointing out to him every individual passing thing, should question him, and oblige him, to answer respecting its nature:-think you not he would be embarrassed, and consider that what he before saw was truer than what was just exhibited? Quite so, said be. CHAP. II. Therefore, even if a person should compel him to look to the light itself, would he not have pain in his eyes and shun it, and then, turning to what he really could behold, reckon these as really more clear than what had been previously pointed out? Just so, replied he. But if, * Allusion is here made to puppets which are made to perform on a moveable stage by means of strings pulled from behind. See Ruhnken's Lexicon to the Timæus, on the word lavuara, which he explains by the compound word νευροσπάσματα. said I, a person should forcibly drag him thence through a rugged and steep ascent without stopping, till he dragged him to the light of the sun, would he not while thus drawn be in pain and indignation, and when he came to the light, having his eyes dazzled with the splendour, be unable to behold even any one thing of what he had just alleged as true? No, he could not, at the moment at least, said he, He would require, at least then, to get some degree of practice, if he would see things above him :-and first, indeed, he would most easily perceive the shadows, and then the images of men and other animals in the water, and after that the things themselves; and after this he would more easily behold the things in heaven, and heaven itself, by night, looking to the light of the stars and the moon, than after daylight to the sun and the light of the sun. How else? Last of all, then, methinks, he might be able to perceive and contemplate the nature of the sun, not as respects its images in water or any other place, but itself by itself in its own proper station? Necessarily so, said he. And after this, he might reason with himself concerning the sun, that it is the body which gives us the seasons and years and administers everything in its stated place, being the cause also in a certain manner of all natural events. It is evident, said he, after what has been formerly stated, that one must arrive at this conclusion. What then,when a man remembers his first habitation and the wisdom therein residing, and his fellow captives also,-think you not, that he would congratulate himself on the change and pity the rest? Quite so. And whatever honours and praises and rewards were assigned by mutual consent to him that had the most acute perception of the present, and the best recollection both of long past and recent events, and from such observations was best able to conjecture the future,-think you that he would desire such honours, or envy those honoured by these, or possessing influence, or would not he rather experience what Homer says, and ardently desire As labourer, for some ignoble man and rather endure anything than entertain such opinions and live in such a manner? I think, said he, that he would choose to suffer anything rather than live in that * Comp. Hom. Odyss. x. 428. way. And consider this, said I, whether, in the case of such an one going down and again sitting in the same place, his eyes would not be blinded in consequence of coming so suddenly from the sun? Quite so, replied he. As for those shadows again, if he were compelled to split straws and dispute about them with those persons who had been in constant captivity, while yet he was in darkness before the establishment of his sight,-(and this time of getting habituated would not be short,)-would he not excite ridicule; and would it not be said of him, that after having once ascended he had come back with his eyesight destroyed, and should not even try to ascend again; and as for any one that attempted to liberate him and lead him up, they ought to put him to death, if they could get him into their hands? Especially so, said he. CHAP. III.-As respects this image then, we must apply the whole of it to our preceding discourse; comparing the region that is seen by the eyes to the prison-habitation, and the light of the fire therein to the power of the sun; -and if you were to consider the ascent above, and the contemplation of things above as the soul's ascent into the region of intellect, you would not disappoint my expectations, since this it is which you desire to hear;—but God knows whether it be true. As respects appearances then, it thus seems, that in the subjects of human knowledge the idea of the good is the last object of vision, and hard to be seen; and when beheld it must be inferred from reason to be the cause of what is right and beautiful in all things, generating in what is visible, both light and its parent also, [viz. the sun,] while in that which is intelligible, it is itself the sovereign producing truth and intelligence; and it must be seen too by him that would act with judgment, either privately or in public. I too, said he, am quite of your opinion, as far indeed as I can be. Come then, said I, agree on this point also ;and be not surprised that those who come here are unwilling to act in human affairs, but have their souls ever urged to dwell on things above; for it is surely reasonable it should be so, since these things take place according to the abovementioned image. Aye, quite reasonable, replied he. But what, said I;-think you it at all surprising, that a man coming from divine contemplations to mere human woes, should appear awkward and extremely ridiculous, while he is yet dazzled,*—and when, ere being used to the present darkness, he is obliged to contend in courts of law or elsewhere about the shadows of justice, or the statues of which they are the shadows, and then to dispute how these matters are apprehended by those who have never contemplated justice itself? No wonder this, replied he. Nay, said I, if a man has intelligence, he will be conscious, that there are two disturbances of vision arising from two causes,-viz., when we turn from light into darkness and from darkness into light ;and when a man thinks that the same takes place with reference to the soul likewise, when it beholds him disturbed and unable to realize its perceptions, he will not laugh immoderately, but rather consider whether the soul has come out of a more brilliant existence and is now darkened by ignorance, or else emerging out of gross ignorance into a more luminous existence, be overpowered by dazzling splendour; and thus he will congratulate the former on its life and destiny, while he pities the life and destiny of the other; and even if he wished to laugh at it, his laughter will be less ridiculous than if it were directed to the soul which comes from light into darkness. Your remark is perfectly reasonable, he replied. CHAP. IV. It is fit then, said I, if these things be true, that we form such an opinion as this respecting them,—that education is not of that character which some persons announce it to be, when they somehow assert that, there is no science in the soul, but that they can implant it just as if they implanted sight in the eyes of the blind. Aye, they say so, he replied. Our present argument however, said I, shows this power to reside in the soul of every person, and to be the organ by which every one learns.-Just as the eye cannot turn otherwise than with the whole body from darkness to the light, so also one must turn with the whole soul from *This refers to the reproach made to philosophers on the unpractical nature of their pursuits, and elsewhere alluded to in the preceding book, ch. 3, and likewise in the Gorgias, p. 484 c. Euripides alludes to the same false notion in the Hippolytus, v. 917. Pindar has a similar sentiment in Olymp. ix. 152-5. |