Neither must we forget that the Republic is but the third part of a still larger design which was to have included an ideal history of Athens, as well as a political and physical philosophy. The fragment of the Critias has given birth to a world-famous fiction, second only in importance to the tale of Troy and the legend of Arthur; and is said as a fact to have inspired some of the early navigators of the sixteenth century. This mythical14 tale, of which the subject was a history of the wars of the Athenians against the Island of Atlantis, is supposed to be founded upon an unfinished poem of Solon, to which it would have stood in the same relation as the writings of the logographers to the poems of Homer. It would have told of a struggle for Liberty (cp. Tim.), intended to represent the conflict of Persia and Hellas. We may judge from the noble commencement of the Timaeus, from the fragment of the Critias itself, and from the third book of the Laws, in what manner Plato would have treated this high argument. We can only guess why the great design was abandoned; perhaps because Plato became sensible of some incongruity15 in a fictitious16 history, or because he had lost his interest in it, or because advancing years forbade the completion of it; and we may please ourselves with the fancy that had this imaginary narrative17 ever been finished, we should have found Plato himself sympathising with the struggle for Hellenic independence (cp. Laws), singing a hymn18 of triumph over Marathon and Salamis, perhaps making the reflection of Herodotus where he contemplates19 the growth of the Athenian empire —‘How brave a thing is freedom of speech, which has made the Athenians so far exceed every other state of Hellas in greatness!’ or, more probably, attributing the victory to the ancient good order of Athens and to the favor of Apollo and Athene (cp. Introd. to Critias).
Again, Plato may be regarded as the ‘captain’ (‘arhchegoz’) or leader of a goodly band of followers20; for in the Republic is to be found the original of Cicero’s De Republica, of St. Augustine’s City of God, of the Utopia of Sir Thomas More, and of the numerous other imaginary States which are framed upon the same model. The extent to which Aristotle or the Aristotelian school were indebted to him in the Politics has been little recognised, and the recognition is the more necessary because it is not made by Aristotle himself. The two philosophers had more in common than they were conscious of; and probably some elements of Plato remain still undetected in Aristotle. In English philosophy too, many affinities21 may be traced, not only in the works of the Cambridge Platonists, but in great original writers like Berkeley or Coleridge, to Plato and his ideas. That there is a truth higher than experience, of which the mind bears witness to herself, is a conviction which in our own generation has been enthusiastically asserted, and is perhaps gaining ground. Of the Greek authors who at the Renaissance22 brought a new life into the world Plato has had the greatest influence. The Republic of Plato is also the first treatise23 upon education, of which the writings of Milton and Locke, Rousseau, Jean Paul, and Goethe are the legitimate24 descendants. Like Dante or Bunyan, he has a revelation of another life; like Bacon, he is profoundly impressed with the unity25 of knowledge; in the early Church he exercised a real influence on theology, and at the Revival26 of Literature on politics. Even the fragments of his words when ‘repeated at second-hand’ (Symp.) have in all ages ravished the hearts of men, who have seen reflected in them their own higher nature. He is the father of idealism in philosophy, in politics, in literature. And many of the latest conceptions of modern thinkers and statesmen, such as the unity of knowledge, the reign27 of law, and the equality of the sexes, have been anticipated in a dream by him.
The argument of the Republic is the search after Justice, the nature of which is first hinted at by Cephalus, the just and blameless old man — then discussed on the basis of proverbial morality by Socrates and Polemarchus — then caricatured by Thrasymachus and partially28 explained by Socrates — reduced to an abstraction by Glaucon and Adeimantus, and having become invisible in the individual reappears at length in the ideal State which is constructed by Socrates. The first care of the rulers is to be education, of which an outline is drawn after the old Hellenic model, providing only for an improved religion and morality, and more simplicity29 in music and gymnastic, a manlier30 strain of poetry, and greater harmony of the individual and the State. We are thus led on to the conception of a higher State, in which ‘no man calls anything his own,’ and in which there is neither ‘marrying nor giving in marriage,’ and ‘kings are philosophers’ and ‘philosophers are kings;’ and there is another and higher education, intellectual as well as moral and religious, of science as well as of art, and not of youth only but of the whole of life. Such a State is hardly to be realized in this world and quickly degenerates31. To the perfect ideal succeeds the government of the soldier and the lover of honour, this again declining into democracy, and democracy into tyranny, in an imaginary but regular order having not much resemblance to the actual facts. When ‘the wheel has come full circle’ we do not begin again with a new period of human life; but we have passed from the best to the worst, and there we end. The subject is then changed and the old quarrel of poetry and philosophy which had been more lightly treated in the earlier books of the Republic is now resumed and fought out to a conclusion. Poetry is discovered to be an imitation thrice removed from the truth, and Homer, as well as the dramatic poets, having been condemned32 as an imitator, is sent into banishment33 along with them. And the idea of the State is supplemented by the revelation of a future life.
The division into books, like all similar divisions (Cp. Sir G.C. Lewis in the Classical Museum.), is probably later than the age of Plato. The natural divisions are five in number; —(1) Book I and the first half of Book II down to the paragraph beginning, ‘I had always admired the genius of Glaucon and Adeimantus,’ which is introductory; the first book containing a refutation of the popular and sophistical notions of justice, and concluding, like some of the earlier Dialogues, without arriving at any definite result. To this is appended a restatement of the nature of justice according to common opinion, and an answer is demanded to the question — What is justice, stripped of appearances? The second division (2) includes the remainder of the second and the whole of the third and fourth books, which are mainly occupied with the construction of the first State and the first education. The third division (3) consists of the fifth, sixth, and seventh books, in which philosophy rather than justice is the subject of enquiry, and the second State is constructed on principles of communism and ruled by philosophers, and the contemplation of the idea of good takes the place of the social and political virtues34. In the eighth and ninth books (4) the perversions35 of States and of the individuals who correspond to them are reviewed in succession; and the nature of pleasure and the principle of tyranny are further analysed in the individual man. The tenth book (5) is the conclusion of the whole, in which the relations of philosophy to poetry are finally determined36, and the happiness of the citizens in this life, which has now been assured, is crowned by the vision of another.
Or a more general division into two parts may be adopted; the first (Books I— IV) containing the description of a State framed generally in accordance with Hellenic notions of religion and morality, while in the second (Books V— X) the Hellenic State is transformed into an ideal kingdom of philosophy, of which all other governments are the perversions. These two points of view are really opposed, and the opposition37 is only veiled by the genius of Plato. The Republic, like the Phaedrus (see Introduction to Phaedrus), is an imperfect whole; the higher light of philosophy breaks through the regularity38 of the Hellenic temple, which at last fades away into the heavens. Whether this imperfection of structure arises from an enlargement of the plan; or from the imperfect reconcilement in the writer’s own mind of the struggling elements of thought which are now first brought together by him; or, perhaps, from the composition of the work at different times — are questions, like the similar question about the Iliad and the Odyssey39, which are worth asking, but which cannot have a distinct answer. In the age of Plato there was no regular mode of publication, and an author would have the less scruple40 in altering or adding to a work which was known only to a few of his friends. There is no absurdity41 in supposing that he may have laid his labours aside for a time, or turned from one work to another; and such interruptions would be more likely to occur in the case of a long than of a short writing. In all attempts to determine the chronological42 order of the Platonic43 writings on internal evidence, this uncertainty44 about any single Dialogue being composed at one time is a disturbing element, which must be admitted to affect longer works, such as the Republic and the Laws, more than shorter ones. But, on the other hand, the seeming discrepancies45 of the Republic may only arise out of the discordant46 elements which the philosopher has attempted to unite in a single whole, perhaps without being himself able to recognise the inconsistency which is obvious to us. For there is a judgment48 of after ages which few great writers have ever been able to anticipate for themselves. They do not perceive the want of connexion in their own writings, or the gaps in their systems which are visible enough to those who come after them. In the beginnings of literature and philosophy, amid the first efforts of thought and language, more inconsistencies occur than now, when the paths of speculation are well worn and the meaning of words precisely49 defined. For consistency47, too, is the growth of time; and some of the greatest creations of the human mind have been wanting in unity. Tried by this test, several of the Platonic Dialogues, according to our modern ideas, appear to be defective50, but the deficiency is no proof that they were composed at different times or by different hands. And the supposition that the Republic was written uninterruptedly and by a continuous effort is in some degree confirmed by the numerous references from one part of the work to another.
The second title, ‘Concerning Justice,’ is not the one by which the Republic is quoted, either by Aristotle or generally in antiquity51, and, like the other second titles of the Platonic Dialogues, may therefore be assumed to be of later date. Morgenstern and others have asked whether the definition of justice, which is the professed52 aim, or the construction of the State is the principal argument of the work. The answer is, that the two blend in one, and are two faces of the same truth; for justice is the order of the State, and the State is the visible embodiment of justice under the conditions of human society. The one is the soul and the other is the body, and the Greek ideal of the State, as of the individual, is a fair mind in a fair body. In Hegelian phraseology the state is the reality of which justice is the idea. Or, described in Christian53 language, the kingdom of God is within, and yet developes into a Church or external kingdom; ‘the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens,’ is reduced to the proportions of an earthly building. Or, to use a Platonic image, justice and the State are the warp54 and the woof which run through the whole texture55. And when the constitution of the State is completed, the conception of justice is not dismissed, but reappears under the same or different names throughout the work, both as the inner law of the individual soul, and finally as the principle of rewards and punishments in another life. The virtues are based on justice, of which common honesty in buying and selling is the shadow, and justice is based on the idea of good, which is the harmony of the world, and is reflected both in the institutions of states and in motions of the heavenly bodies (cp. Tim.). The Timaeus, which takes up the political rather than the ethical56 side of the Republic, and is chiefly occupied with hypotheses concerning the outward world, yet contains many indications that the same law is supposed to reign over the State, over nature, and over man.
Too much, however, has been made of this question both in ancient and modern times. There is a stage of criticism in which all works, whether of nature or of art, are referred to design. Now in ancient writings, and indeed in literature generally, there remains57 often a large element which was not comprehended in the original design. For the plan grows under the author’s hand; new thoughts occur to him in the act of writing; he has not worked out the argument to the end before he begins. The reader who seeks to find some one idea under which the whole may be conceived, must necessarily seize on the vaguest and most general. Thus Stallbaum, who is dissatisfied with the ordinary explanations of the argument of the Republic, imagines himself to have found the true argument ‘in the representation of human life in a State perfected by justice, and governed according to the idea of good.’ There may be some use in such general descriptions, but they can hardly be said to express the design of the writer. The truth is, that we may as well speak of many designs as of one; nor need anything be excluded from the plan of a great work to which the mind is naturally led by the association of ideas, and which does not interfere58 with the general purpose. What kind or degree of unity is to be sought after in a building, in the plastic arts, in poetry, in prose, is a problem which has to be determined relatively59 to the subject-matter. To Plato himself, the enquiry ‘what was the intention of the writer,’ or ‘what was the principal argument of the Republic’ would have been hardly intelligible60, and therefore had better be at once dismissed (cp. the Introduction to the Phaedrus).
Is not the Republic the vehicle of three or four great truths which, to Plato’s own mind, are most naturally represented in the form of the State? Just as in the Jewish prophets the reign of Messiah, or ‘the day of the Lord,’ or the suffering Servant or people of God, or the ‘Sun of righteousness with healing in his wings’ only convey, to us at least, their great spiritual ideals, so through the Greek State Plato reveals to us his own thoughts about divine perfection, which is the idea of good — like the sun in the visible world; — about human perfection, which is justice — about education beginning in youth and continuing in later years — about poets and sophists and tyrants61 who are the false teachers and evil rulers of mankind — about ‘the world’ which is the embodiment of them — about a kingdom which exists nowhere upon earth but is laid up in heaven to be the pattern and rule of human life. No such inspired creation is at unity with itself, any more than the clouds of heaven when the sun pierces through them. Every shade of light and dark, of truth, and of fiction which is the veil of truth, is allowable in a work of philosophical62 imagination. It is not all on the same plane; it easily passes from ideas to myths and fancies, from facts to figures of speech. It is not prose but poetry, at least a great part of it, and ought not to be judged by the rules of logic or the probabilities of history. The writer is not fashioning his ideas into an artistic63 whole; they take possession of him and are too much for him. We have no need therefore to discuss whether a State such as Plato has conceived is practicable or not, or whether the outward form or the inward life came first into the mind of the writer. For the practicability of his ideas has nothing to do with their truth; and the highest thoughts to which he attains64 may be truly said to bear the greatest ‘marks of design’— justice more than the external frame-work of the State, the idea of good more than justice. The great science of dialectic or the organisation65 of ideas has no real content; but is only a type of the method or spirit in which the higher knowledge is to be pursued by the spectator of all time and all existence. It is in the fifth, sixth, and seventh books that Plato reaches the ‘summit of speculation,’ and these, although they fail to satisfy the requirements of a modern thinker, may therefore be regarded as the most important, as they are also the most original, portions of the work.
It is not necessary to discuss at length a minor66 question which has been raised by Boeckh, respecting the imaginary date at which the conversation was held (the year 411 B.C. which is proposed by him will do as well as any other); for a writer of fiction, and especially a writer who, like Plato, is notoriously careless of chronology (cp. Rep., Symp., etc.), only aims at general probability. Whether all the persons mentioned in the Republic could ever have met at any one time is not a difficulty which would have occurred to an Athenian reading the work forty years later, or to Plato himself at the time of writing (any more than to Shakespeare respecting one of his own dramas); and need not greatly trouble us now. Yet this may be a question having no answer ‘which is still worth asking,’ because the investigation67 shows that we cannot argue historically from the dates in Plato; it would be useless therefore to waste time in inventing far-fetched reconcilements of them in order to avoid chronological difficulties, such, for example, as the conjecture68 of C.F. Hermann, that Glaucon and Adeimantus are not the brothers but the uncles of Plato (cp. Apol.), or the fancy of Stallbaum that Plato intentionally69 left anachronisms indicating the dates at which some of his Dialogues were written.
The principal characters in the Republic are Cephalus, Polemarchus, Thrasymachus, Socrates, Glaucon, and Adeimantus. Cephalus appears in the introduction only, Polemarchus drops at the end of the first argument, and Thrasymachus is reduced to silence at the close of the first book. The main discussion is carried on by Socrates, Glaucon, and Adeimantus. Among the company are Lysias (the orator) and Euthydemus, the sons of Cephalus and brothers of Polemarchus, an unknown Charmantides — these are mute auditors70; also there is Cleitophon, who once interrupts, where, as in the Dialogue which bears his name, he appears as the friend and ally of Thrasymachus.
Cephalus, the patriarch of the house, has been appropriately engaged in offering a sacrifice. He is the pattern of an old man who has almost done with life, and is at peace with himself and with all mankind. He feels that he is drawing nearer to the world below, and seems to linger around the memory of the past. He is eager that Socrates should come to visit him, fond of the poetry of the last generation, happy in the consciousness of a well-spent life, glad at having escaped from the tyranny of youthful lusts72. His love of conversation, his affection, his indifference73 to riches, even his garrulity74, are interesting traits of character. He is not one of those who have nothing to say, because their whole mind has been absorbed in making money. Yet he acknowledges that riches have the advantage of placing men above the temptation to dishonesty or falsehood. The respectful attention shown to him by Socrates, whose love of conversation, no less than the mission imposed upon him by the Oracle75, leads him to ask questions of all men, young and old alike, should also be noted76. Who better suited to raise the question of justice than Cephalus, whose life might seem to be the expression of it? The moderation with which old age is pictured by Cephalus as a very tolerable portion of existence is characteristic, not only of him, but of Greek feeling generally, and contrasts with the exaggeration of Cicero in the De Senectute. The evening of life is described by Plato in the most expressive77 manner, yet with the fewest possible touches. As Cicero remarks (Ep. ad Attic78.), the aged71 Cephalus would have been out of place in the discussion which follows, and which he could neither have understood nor taken part in without a violation79 of dramatic propriety80 (cp. Lysimachus in the Laches).
His ‘son and heir’ Polemarchus has the frankness and impetuousness of youth; he is for detaining Socrates by force in the opening scene, and will not ‘let him off’ on the subject of women and children. Like Cephalus, he is limited in his point of view, and represents the proverbial stage of morality which has rules of life rather than principles; and he quotes Simonides (cp. Aristoph. Clouds) as his father had quoted Pindar. But after this he has no more to say; the answers which he makes are only elicited81 from him by the dialectic of Socrates. He has not yet experienced the influence of the Sophists like Glaucon and Adeimantus, nor is he sensible of the necessity of refuting them; he belongs to the pre-Socratic or pre-dialectical age. He is incapable82 of arguing, and is bewildered by Socrates to such a degree that he does not know what he is saying. He is made to admit that justice is a thief, and that the virtues follow the analogy of the arts. From his brother Lysias (contra Eratosth.) we learn that he fell a victim to the Thirty Tyrants, but no allusion83 is here made to his fate, nor to the circumstance that Cephalus and his family were of Syracusan origin, and had migrated from Thurii to Athens.
The ‘Chalcedonian giant,’ Thrasymachus, of whom we have already heard in the Phaedrus, is the personification of the Sophists, according to Plato’s conception of them, in some of their worst characteristics. He is vain and blustering84, refusing to discourse85 unless he is paid, fond of making an oration86, and hoping thereby87 to escape the inevitable88 Socrates; but a mere89 child in argument, and unable to foresee that the next ‘move’ (to use a Platonic expression) will ‘shut him up.’ He has reached the stage of framing general notions, and in this respect is in advance of Cephalus and Polemarchus. But he is incapable of defending them in a discussion, and vainly tries to cover his confusion with banter90 and insolence91. Whether such doctrines92 as are attributed to him by Plato were really held either by him or by any other Sophist is uncertain; in the infancy93 of philosophy serious errors about morality might easily grow up — they are certainly put into the mouths of speakers in Thucydides; but we are concerned at present with Plato’s description of him, and not with the historical reality. The inequality of the contest adds greatly to the humour of the scene. The pompous94 and empty Sophist is utterly95 helpless in the hands of the great master of dialectic, who knows how to touch all the springs of vanity and weakness in him. He is greatly irritated by the irony of Socrates, but his noisy and imbecile rage only lays him more and more open to the thrusts of his assailant. His determination to cram96 down their throats, or put ‘bodily into their souls’ his own words, elicits97 a cry of horror from Socrates. The state of his temper is quite as worthy98 of remark as the process of the argument. Nothing is more amusing than his complete submission99 when he has been once thoroughly100 beaten. At first he seems to continue the discussion with reluctance101, but soon with apparent good-will, and he even testifies his interest at a later stage by one or two occasional remarks. When attacked by Glaucon he is humorously protected by Socrates ‘as one who has never been his enemy and is now his friend.’ From Cicero and Quintilian and from Aristotle’s Rhetoric102 we learn that the Sophist whom Plato has made so ridiculous was a man of note whose writings were preserved in later ages. The play on his name which was made by his contemporary Herodicus (Aris. Rhet.), ‘thou wast ever bold in battle,’ seems to show that the description of him is not devoid103 of verisimilitude.
When Thrasymachus has been silenced, the two principal respondents, Glaucon and Adeimantus, appear on the scene: here, as in Greek tragedy (cp. Introd. to Phaedo), three actors are introduced. At first sight the two sons of Ariston may seem to wear a family likeness104, like the two friends Simmias and Cebes in the Phaedo. But on a nearer examination of them the similarity vanishes, and they are seen to be distinct characters. Glaucon is the impetuous youth who can ‘just never have enough of fechting’ (cp. the character of him in Xen. Mem. iii. 6); the man of pleasure who is acquainted with the mysteries of love; the ‘juvenis qui gaudet canibus,’ and who improves the breed of animals; the lover of art and music who has all the experiences of youthful life. He is full of quickness and penetration105, piercing easily below the clumsy platitudes106 of Thrasymachus to the real difficulty; he turns out to the light the seamy side of human life, and yet does not lose faith in the just and true. It is Glaucon who seizes what may be termed the ludicrous relation of the philosopher to the world, to whom a state of simplicity is ‘a city of pigs,’ who is always prepared with a jest when the argument offers him an opportunity, and who is ever ready to second the humour of Socrates and to appreciate the ridiculous, whether in the connoisseurs107 of music, or in the lovers of theatricals108, or in the fantastic behaviour of the citizens of democracy. His weaknesses are several times alluded109 to by Socrates, who, however, will not allow him to be attacked by his brother Adeimantus. He is a soldier, and, like Adeimantus, has been distinguished at the battle of Megara (anno 456?) . . . The character of Adeimantus is deeper and graver, and the profounder objections are commonly put into his mouth. Glaucon is more demonstrative, and generally opens the game. Adeimantus pursues the argument further. Glaucon has more of the liveliness and quick sympathy of youth; Adeimantus has the maturer judgment of a grown-up man of the world. In the second book, when Glaucon insists that justice and injustice110 shall be considered without regard to their consequences, Adeimantus remarks that they are regarded by mankind in general only for the sake of their consequences; and in a similar vein111 of reflection he urges at the beginning of the fourth book that Socrates fails in making his citizens happy, and is answered that happiness is not the first but the second thing, not the direct aim but the indirect consequence of the good government of a State. In the discussion about religion and mythology112, Adeimantus is the respondent, but Glaucon breaks in with a slight jest, and carries on the conversation in a lighter113 tone about music and gymnastic to the end of the book. It is Adeimantus again who volunteers the criticism of common sense on the Socratic method of argument, and who refuses to let Socrates pass lightly over the question of women and children. It is Adeimantus who is the respondent in the more argumentative, as Glaucon in the lighter and more imaginative portions of the Dialogue. For example, throughout the greater part of the sixth book, the causes of the corruption114 of philosophy and the conception of the idea of good are discussed with Adeimantus. Glaucon resumes his place of principal respondent; but he has a difficulty in apprehending115 the higher education of Socrates, and makes some false hits in the course of the discussion. Once more Adeimantus returns with the allusion to his brother Glaucon whom he compares to the contentious116 State; in the next book he is again superseded117, and Glaucon continues to the end.
Thus in a succession of characters Plato represents the successive stages of morality, beginning with the Athenian gentleman of the olden time, who is followed by the practical man of that day regulating his life by proverbs and saws; to him succeeds the wild generalization118 of the Sophists, and lastly come the young disciples119 of the great teacher, who know the sophistical arguments but will not be convinced by them, and desire to go deeper into the nature of things. These too, like Cephalus, Polemarchus, Thrasymachus, are clearly distinguished from one another. Neither in the Republic, nor in any other Dialogue of Plato, is a single character repeated.
The delineation121 of Socrates in the Republic is not wholly consistent. In the first book we have more of the real Socrates, such as he is depicted122 in the Memorabilia of Xenophon, in the earliest Dialogues of Plato, and in the Apology. He is ironical123, provoking, questioning, the old enemy of the Sophists, ready to put on the mask of Silenus as well as to argue seriously. But in the sixth book his enmity towards the Sophists abates124; he acknowledges that they are the representatives rather than the corrupters of the world. He also becomes more dogmatic and constructive125, passing beyond the range either of the political or the speculative126 ideas of the real Socrates. In one passage Plato himself seems to intimate that the time had now come for Socrates, who had passed his whole life in philosophy, to give his own opinion and not to be always repeating the notions of other men. There is no evidence that either the idea of good or the conception of a perfect state were comprehended in the Socratic teaching, though he certainly dwelt on the nature of the universal and of final causes (cp. Xen. Mem.; Phaedo); and a deep thinker like him, in his thirty or forty years of public teaching, could hardly have failed to touch on the nature of family relations, for which there is also some positive evidence in the Memorabilia (Mem.) The Socratic method is nominally127 retained; and every inference is either put into the mouth of the respondent or represented as the common discovery of him and Socrates. But any one can see that this is a mere form, of which the affectation grows wearisome as the work advances. The method of enquiry has passed into a method of teaching in which by the help of interlocutors the same thesis is looked at from various points of view. The nature of the process is truly characterized by Glaucon, when he describes himself as a companion who is not good for much in an investigation, but can see what he is shown, and may, perhaps, give the answer to a question more fluently than another.
Neither can we be absolutely certain that Socrates himself taught the immortality128 of the soul, which is unknown to his disciple120 Glaucon in the Republic (cp. Apol.); nor is there any reason to suppose that he used myths or revelations of another world as a vehicle of instruction, or that he would have banished129 poetry or have denounced the Greek mythology. His favorite oath is retained, and a slight mention is made of the daemonium, or internal sign, which is alluded to by Socrates as a phenomenon peculiar130 to himself. A real element of Socratic teaching, which is more prominent in the Republic than in any of the other Dialogues of Plato, is the use of example and illustration (Greek): ‘Let us apply the test of common instances.’ ‘You,’ says Adeimantus, ironically, in the sixth book, ‘are so unaccustomed to speak in images.’ And this use of examples or images, though truly Socratic in origin, is enlarged by the genius of Plato into the form of an allegory or parable131, which embodies132 in the concrete what has been already described, or is about to be described, in the abstract. Thus the figure of the cave in Book VII is a recapitulation of the divisions of knowledge in Book VI. The composite animal in Book IX is an allegory of the parts of the soul. The noble captain and the ship and the true pilot in Book VI are a figure of the relation of the people to the philosophers in the State which has been described. Other figures, such as the dog, or the marriage of the portionless maiden133, or the drones and wasps134 in the eighth and ninth books, also form links of connexion in long passages, or are used to recall previous discussions.
Plato is most true to the character of his master when he describes him as ‘not of this world.’ And with this representation of him the ideal state and the other paradoxes135 of the Republic are quite in accordance, though they cannot be shown to have been speculations136 of Socrates. To him, as to other great teachers both philosophical and religious, when they looked upward, the world seemed to be the embodiment of error and evil. The common sense of mankind has revolted against this view, or has only partially admitted it. And even in Socrates himself the sterner judgement of the multitude at times passes into a sort of ironical pity or love. Men in general are incapable of philosophy, and are therefore at enmity with the philosopher; but their misunderstanding of him is unavoidable: for they have never seen him as he truly is in his own image; they are only acquainted with artificial systems possessing no native force of truth — words which admit of many applications. Their leaders have nothing to measure with, and are therefore ignorant of their own stature137. But they are to be pitied or laughed at, not to be quarrelled with; they mean well with their nostrums138, if they could only learn that they are cutting off a Hydra’s head. This moderation towards those who are in error is one of the most characteristic features of Socrates in the Republic. In all the different representations of Socrates, whether of Xenophon or Plato, and amid the differences of the earlier or later Dialogues, he always retains the character of the unwearied and disinterested139 seeker after truth, without which he would have ceased to be Socrates.
Leaving the characters we may now analyse the contents of the Republic, and then proceed to consider (1) The general aspects of this Hellenic ideal of the State, (2) The modern lights in which the thoughts of Plato may be read.
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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symposium
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| n.讨论会，专题报告会；专题论文集 | |
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excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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strenuously
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| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
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11
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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13
syllogism
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| n.演绎法，三段论法 | |
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14
mythical
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| adj.神话的；虚构的；想像的 | |
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15
incongruity
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| n.不协调，不一致 | |
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16
fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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17
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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18
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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19
contemplates
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的第三人称单数 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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21
affinities
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| n.密切关系( affinity的名词复数 )；亲近；（生性）喜爱；类同 | |
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22
renaissance
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| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
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23
treatise
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| n.专著；(专题)论文 | |
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24
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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25
unity
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| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
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26
revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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27
reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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28
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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29
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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30
manlier
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| manly（有男子气概的）的比较级形式 | |
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31
degenerates
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| 衰退，堕落，退化( degenerate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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33
banishment
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| n.放逐，驱逐 | |
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34
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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35
perversions
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| n.歪曲( perversion的名词复数 )；变坏；变态心理 | |
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36
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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37
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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38
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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39
odyssey
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| n.长途冒险旅行；一连串的冒险 | |
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40
scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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41
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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42
chronological
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| adj.按年月顺序排列的，年代学的 | |
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43
platonic
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| adj.精神的；柏拉图（哲学）的 | |
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44
uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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45
discrepancies
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| n.差异，不符合（之处），不一致（之处）( discrepancy的名词复数 ) | |
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46
discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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47
consistency
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| n.一贯性，前后一致，稳定性；(液体的)浓度 | |
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48
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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49
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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50
defective
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| adj.有毛病的，有问题的，有瑕疵的 | |
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51
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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52
professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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53
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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54
warp
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| vt.弄歪，使翘曲，使不正常，歪曲，使有偏见 | |
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55
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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56
ethical
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| adj.伦理的，道德的，合乎道德的 | |
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57
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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58
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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59
relatively
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| adv.比较...地，相对地 | |
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60
intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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61
tyrants
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| 专制统治者( tyrant的名词复数 )； 暴君似的人； （古希腊的）僭主； 严酷的事物 | |
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62
philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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63
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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64
attains
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的第三人称单数 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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65
organisation
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| n.组织，安排，团体，有机休 | |
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66
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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67
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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68
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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69
intentionally
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| ad.故意地，有意地 | |
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70
auditors
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| n.审计员，稽核员( auditor的名词复数 )；（大学课程的）旁听生 | |
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71
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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72
lusts
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| 贪求（lust的第三人称单数形式） | |
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73
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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74
garrulity
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| n.饶舌，多嘴 | |
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75
oracle
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| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
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76
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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77
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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78
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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79
violation
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| n.违反(行为)，违背(行为)，侵犯 | |
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80
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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81
elicited
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| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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83
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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84
blustering
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| adj.狂风大作的，狂暴的v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的现在分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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85
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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86
oration
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| n.演说，致辞，叙述法 | |
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87
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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88
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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89
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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90
banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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91
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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92
doctrines
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| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
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93
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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94
pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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95
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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96
cram
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| v.填塞，塞满，临时抱佛脚，为考试而学习 | |
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97
elicits
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| 引出，探出( elicit的第三人称单数 ) | |
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98
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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99
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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100
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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101
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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102
rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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103
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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104
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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105
penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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106
platitudes
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| n.平常的话，老生常谈，陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 )；滥套子 | |
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107
connoisseurs
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| n.鉴赏家，鉴定家，行家( connoisseur的名词复数 ) | |
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108
theatricals
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| n.（业余性的）戏剧演出，舞台表演艺术；职业演员；戏剧的( theatrical的名词复数 )；剧场的；炫耀的；戏剧性的 | |
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109
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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111
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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112
mythology
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| n.神话，神话学，神话集 | |
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113
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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114
corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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115
apprehending
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的现在分词 )； 理解 | |
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116
contentious
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| adj.好辩的，善争吵的 | |
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117
superseded
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| [医]被代替的，废弃的 | |
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118
generalization
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| n.普遍性，一般性，概括 | |
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119
disciples
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| n.信徒( disciple的名词复数 )；门徒；耶稣的信徒；（尤指）耶稣十二门徒之一 | |
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120
disciple
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| n.信徒，门徒，追随者 | |
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121
delineation
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| n.记述；描写 | |
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122
depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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123
ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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124
abates
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| 减少( abate的第三人称单数 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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125
constructive
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| adj.建设的，建设性的 | |
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126
speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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127
nominally
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| 在名义上，表面地； 应名儿 | |
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128
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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129
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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130
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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131
parable
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| n.寓言，比喻 | |
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132
embodies
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| v.表现( embody的第三人称单数 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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133
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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134
wasps
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| 黄蜂( wasp的名词复数 )； 胡蜂； 易动怒的人； 刻毒的人 | |
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135
paradoxes
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| n.似非而是的隽语，看似矛盾而实际却可能正确的说法( paradox的名词复数 )；用于语言文学中的上述隽语；有矛盾特点的人[事物，情况] | |
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136
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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137
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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138
nostrums
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| n.骗人的疗法，有专利权的药品( nostrum的名词复数 )；妙策 | |
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139
disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
参考例句： |
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