shows it intends such a thing, being an ally to all in the city; as does likewise the government of children, in not allowing them to be free till we establish in them a proper government, as in a city; and having cultivated that in them which is best, by that which is best in ourselves, we establish a similar guardian and governor for youth, and then at length we set it free. It shows it indeed, said he. In what way then shall we say, Glaucon, and according to what reasoning, that it is profitable to do injustice, to be intemperate, or to do anything base, by which a man shall indeed become more wicked, but yet shall acquire more wealth, or any kind of power? In no way, said he. But how shall we say it is profitable for the unjust to be concealed, and not to suffer punishment? or does he not indeed, who is concealed, still become more wicked? but he who is not concealed, and is punished, has the brutal part quieted, and made mild, and the mild part set at liberty. And the whole soul being settled in the best temper, in possessing temperance and justice, with wisdom, acquires a more valuable habit than the body does, in acquiring vigour and beauty, with a sound constitution; in as far as the soul is more valuable than the body. Entirely so, said he. Will not everybody then, who possesses intellect, regulate his life, first by extending hither the whole of his powers, honouring those branches of science which will render his soul of this kind, and despising all other things? It is plain, said he. And next, said I, with regard to a good habit of body and its nourishment, he will spend his life in attention to these, not that he may indulge the brutal and irrational pleasure; nor yet with a view to health, nor principally with reference to becoming strong, healthy, and beautiful, unless by these means he is to become temperate likewise: but he always appears to adjust the harmony of the body for the sake of the symphony which is in the soul. By all means, said he, if indeed he is to be truly musical. Will he not then, in acquiring wealth, maintain accord and symphony? nor moved by the congratulations of the multitude will he increase the bulk of his treasures to an infinite amount, occasioning thereby infinite evils? I think not, said he. But looking, said I, to the government of it himself, and taking care that nothing there be moved out of its place, through the greatness or smallness of his property, thus governing as far

as he is able, he will add to his property, and spend out of it. Entirely so, said he. He will regard honours, likewise, in the same manner; of some he will willingly take a share, and taste of those which he judges will render him a better man, but as for those which he thinks would dissolve that habit of soul which subsists within him, he will fly from both those privately and in public. He will not be willing, then, said he, to act the politician, if he takes care of this. Yes, truly, said I, in his own state, and greatly too; but not probably in his country, unless some divine fortune befal him. I understand, said he. You mean in the state we have now established, which exists only in our reasoning, but I think has no existence on earth. But in heaven, probably,—said I, there is a model of it, for any one who inclines to contemplate it, and on contemplating to regulate himself accordingly; and to him it matters not whether it does exist anywhere, or will ever exist here:-for he would perform the duties of this city alone, and of no other. It is reasonable, said he.

THE END OF THE NINTH BOOK.

BOOK X.

ARGUMENT.

The concluding book of the Republic comprises two main subjects of inquiry. First, he explains more fully than he had done in the third book, the reason for excluding from his pattern state the accomplishment of poetry, so highly prized by the Athenians, but nevertheless he allows the admission of that chaste and harmless kind of it; such as hymns to the gods and odes in honour of celebrated men ;-and, lastly, he treats of the rewards both present and to come, resulting from the practice of justice,-and of the punishments on the other which attend on injustice, which is totally opposed to state-happiness.

CHAP. I. Moreover, remarked I, both in many other respects, I observe that we have been rightly establishing our state, better indeed than all others; and not least so do I say, as regards our sentiments concerning poetry. What are they? said he. That no part of it which is imitative should by any means be admitted;-for that it must not be admitted appears now, methinks, exceedingly clear, since the several forms of the soul have been distinguished apart from one another. How do you mean? That I may tell it to you,-(for you will not denounce me to the composers of tragedy, and the rest of the imitative class),—all such things as these seem to be the ruin of the intellect of the hearers, that is, of such of them as have not a test to enable them to discern their peculiar nature. What consideration, said he, leads you to say this? It must be stated, said I; although a certain friendship, at least, and reverence for Homer, which I have had from my childhood, almost restrains me from telling it; for he seems truly both to have been the first leader and teacher of all the good composers of tragedy; but still the man must not be honoured in preference to truth. But what I mean must be spoken. By all means, said he. Hear me then, or rather answer me. Put Can you your question then. tell me perfectly, what is the nature of imitation ?—for I do not myself altogether understand its meaning. Is it possible then,

said he, that I shall any how understand it? That would be no way strange, said I; since those who are dim-sighted perceive many things sooner than those who see more clearly. The case is so, said he; but while you are present, I would not venture to tell, even though I had some inkling of it, but consider it yourself. Do you wish then, that we hence begin our inquiry in our usual method? for we used to suppose a certain idea relating to many individuals, to which we give the same name;-do you not understand? I do understand. Let us suppose now any one you please among the many, as for example, if you will, there are many beds and tables. Of course. But the ideas, at least respecting these pieces of furniture, are two, one of bed, and one of table. Yes. And do we not usually say, that the workman of each of these pieces of furniture, looking towards the idea, makes them thus-one of them the beds, and the other the tables which we use; and all other things in like manner?-for surely not one of the artificers makes the idea itself; for how can he? By no means. See now then, what kind of an artificer do you call this? Which? He who makes all things which each several artificer makes. You are alluding to some skilful and wonderful person. Not yet, at least; but you will much more say so presently; for this same mechanic is not only able to make all sorts of utensils, but makes everything also which springs from the earth, and he makes all sorts of animals, himself as well as others; and besides these things, he makes the earth, the heaven and the gods, and all things in heaven, and in Hades under the earth. You are speaking, said he, of a perfectly wonderful sophist. Do you disbelieve me? said I; but tell me, do you not think that there is such an artificer; or that in one respect, he is the maker of all these things, and in another not so?-or do you not perceive, that even you yourself might be able to make all these things, in a certain manner at least? And what, said he, is this manner? It is not difficult, said

I, but is done in many ways, and quickly too; but in the quickest way of all, if I mistake not, if you please to make a mirror, and carry it round everywhere; for then you will very quickly make the sun, and the heavenly bodies, the earth, yourself, and the other animals and utensils and plants, and all that we have just now mentioned. Yes, said he, the appearances, but not surely the realities. You come in,

not.

said I, both well and seasonably, with your remark; for the painter too, methinks, is an artificer of this kind;—is he not? He cannot possibly be otherwise. You will say then, I suppose, that he does not make what he makes real and true, although the painter too, in a certain manner at least, makes a bed, does he not? Aye, said he; but he too makes only the appearance. CHAP. II.—But what as to the bed-maker?-did you not just now say, that he does not make the idea which we say exists, and is a bed, but only a particular bed? I did say so. If then he does not make that which really exists, he does not make real being, but something resembling being, though not being itself but if any one should say that the work of the bed-maker, or any other craftsman, were real being, it seems he would not say what is true. He would not, said he, as it should seem to those who are acquainted with such discussions. We must not then be surprised if this likewise should seem somewhat obscure compared with the truth. Certainly Are you willing then, said I, that as regards these very things we inquire concerning the real nature of their imitator? If you please, he replied. Are there not then these three sorts of beds: one existing in nature, and which we may say, suppose, God made, or who else? No one, I think. And another which the joiner makes? Yes, said he. And a third which the painter makes:-is it not so? Granted. Now the painter, the bed-maker, God, these three are the masters of three species of beds? They are three indeed. But God, whether it were that he was unwilling, or whether there was some necessity that he should only make one bed in nature, made this one only, which is really a bed; while two or more of such other species have never been produced, nor ever will be produced by God. How so? said he. Because, said I, if he had made but two, one again would have appeared, the idea of which both these two would have possessed, and that idea would be that of a bed, and not those two. Right, said he. God then, methinks, being aware of these things, and willing to be the maker of a bed really, and having real being, though of no one particular bed, and not to be any particular bedmaker, produced but one in nature? It seems so. Are you willing then that we should call him the producer of this, or of something of a similar nature? It is just, said he, since he has in their essential nature created this, as well as all other things. But what as to the joiner?-is not he