Book III, 395–402

395a “Then he could hardly practice any occupation worthy of note while also imitating many things and being an imitator, since even two forms of imitation that seem close to each other cannot be performed well by the same people at once—for example, composing comedy and tragedy. Did you not just call these two imitations?”

“I did; and you are right that the same people cannot do both.”

“Nor can the same people be rhapsodes and actors.”

“True.”

“Nor are the same actors suited to comedy and tragedy; 395b and all these are imitations, are they not?”

“Imitations.”

“Indeed, Adeimantus, human nature seems to me divided into pieces smaller still, so that a person cannot imitate many things well, or even perform well those very actions of which the imitations are likenesses.”

“Entirely true,” he said.

“Then if we are to preserve our original argument—that our guardians, released from all other crafts, must be highly skilled craftsmen of the city's freedom 395c and must practice nothing that does not lead to this—they should neither do nor imitate anything else. If they do imitate, they must imitate from childhood what befits them: courageous, self-controlled, pious, and free people, and everything of that kind. But they must neither perform servile acts nor become skilled at imitating them, or any other shameful thing, lest imitation give them a share in the reality. 395d Have you not noticed that imitations, if pursued continuously from youth onward, settle into habit and nature, in body, voice, and mind alike?”

“Very much so,” he said.

“Then,” I said, “we shall not allow the men we claim to care for, and who we say must become good men, to imitate a woman, whether young or old, quarreling with her husband, contending with the gods and boasting because she thinks herself happy, or caught in misfortune, mourning and lamenting. Still less should they imitate a woman who is sick, in love, or in labor. 395e”

“Certainly not,” he said.

“Nor female or male slaves doing the things slaves do.”

“Not that either.”

“Nor, it seems, wicked men and cowards acting contrary to everything we just named—abusing and mocking one another, speaking obscenely, whether drunk or sober, 396a and committing all the other offenses such people commit in word and deed, against themselves and others. Nor, I think, should they grow accustomed to representing mad people in word or action. They must know mad people and wicked men and women, but neither do nor imitate anything they do.”

“Entirely true,” he said.

“What then?” I said. “Should they imitate blacksmiths or other craftsmen at work, 396b or men rowing triremes or giving orders to the rowers, or anything else connected with such occupations?”

“How could they,” he said, “when they will not even be permitted to pay attention to any of these things?”

“And will they imitate neighing horses, bellowing bulls, rushing rivers, the crashing sea, thunder, and all such sounds?”

“But they have been forbidden,” he said, “both to be mad and to resemble mad people.”

“Then, if I understand you,” I said, “there is one manner of speech and narration that a truly noble and good man would use when he has something to tell, 396c and another manner unlike it, which a man reared and formed in the opposite way would always adopt in telling a story.”

“What are these manners?” he said.

“It seems to me,” I said, “that when a decent man reaches, in his narrative, the words or actions of a good man, he will be willing to tell them as if he himself were that man and will not be ashamed of such imitation. He will imitate most readily 396d the good man acting steadily and sensibly; less readily and to a lesser extent when illness, love, drunkenness, or some other misfortune makes that man falter. But when he encounters someone unworthy of himself, he will not want in earnest to fashion himself after a worse man, except briefly when that man is doing something worthwhile. He will feel shame, partly because he has had no practice in imitating such men, partly because he dislikes molding himself 396e into the patterns of inferior men and, in his heart, disdains to do so except in play.”

“That seems likely,” he said.

“Then he will use a narrative of the kind we described a little while ago in speaking of Homer's poetry. His style will contain both imitation and the other kind of narration, but imitation will be a small part of a long account. Is that not so?”

“Indeed,” he said, “that must be the pattern of such a speaker.”

397a “And the man who is not like him—the more base he is, the more eager he will be to recount everything. He will think nothing beneath him, and so will attempt to imitate everything in earnest, before a crowd: the thunder and the sounds of winds and hail, of axles and pulleys, of trumpets, flutes, reed pipes, and every instrument, and even the cries of dogs and sheep and birds, as we said just now. 397b So will his entire manner of speech be imitation by voice and gesture, with little narration?”

“It must be,” he said.

“These, then,” I said, “are the two manners of speech I meant.”

“And so they are,” he said.

“Now one of the two makes few changes. If someone gives the speech its proper mode and rhythm, a speaker who speaks rightly can stay in nearly the same mode throughout—for the changes are few—and likewise 397c in a fairly constant rhythm.”

“Exactly so,” he said.

“And what of the other manner? Does it not need the opposite—all modes and all rhythms—if it is to be performed fittingly, since its changes take so many forms?”

“That is very much the case.”

“Then do all poets and speakers make use of one of these two patterns of speech, or the other, or some mixture of both?”

“They must,” he said. 397d

“What, then, shall we do?” I said. “Shall we admit all these kinds into our city, or one of the unmixed kinds, or the mixed one?”

“If I prevail,” he said, “the unmixed imitation of a decent man.”

“But Adeimantus,” I said, “the mixed kind is pleasant too; and the kind opposite to your choice is by far the most delightful to children and their tutors, and to the great crowd.”

“It certainly is.”

“Yet perhaps,” I said, “you would say it does not suit 397e our constitution, because among us no man is twofold or many-sided: each does one thing.”

“It does not suit it.”

“And is this why only in a city such as ours shall we find the shoemaker a shoemaker, not also a pilot; the farmer a farmer, not also a judge; the soldier a soldier, not also a moneymaker; and everyone else the same?”

“True,” he said.

398a “Then if a man whose skill made him capable of becoming all sorts of people and imitating all sorts of things came to our city wishing to display himself and his poems, we would bow before him as a sacred, marvelous, delightful being. But we would tell him that no such man exists in our city, nor is it lawful for one to arise here; and we would send him on to another city, pouring perfume on his head and crowning him with wool. For our part, we would employ the more austere and less pleasing poet 398b and storyteller for the sake of his usefulness, one who would imitate for us the speech of a decent man and say what he has to say in accordance with those patterns we laid down at the beginning, when we undertook to educate our soldiers.”

“That is exactly what we would do,” he said, “if it were up to us.”

“Now, my friend,” I said, “we seem to have completed the part of musical education concerned with stories and narratives: we have discussed both what should be said and how to say it.”

“So it seems to me too,” he said. 398c

“Then what remains,” I said, “is the manner of song and melody?”

“Clearly.”

“Surely anyone could now discover what we must say of them, and what they must be like, if we are to remain in agreement with what has gone before.”

Glaucon laughed and said, “Then, Socrates, I must be an exception to ‘anyone.’ I cannot at present make out what it is we must say, though I have my suspicions.”

“You can surely tell us this much 398d to begin with,” I said: “a song is composed of three things—words, mode, and rhythm.”

“Yes,” he said, “that much I can tell.”

“And insofar as it consists of words, surely its words differ in no way from unsung speech as regards the patterns in which they must be expressed: they must follow the very ones we just set out.”

“True,” he said.

“And mode and rhythm must follow the words.”

“Of course.”

“But we said that we had no need of dirges and lamentations in our stories.”

“Indeed not. 398e”

“Which, then, are the mournful modes? Tell me, for you are a musician.”

“The mixed Lydian,” he said, “the tense Lydian, and others like them.”

“Then must we remove these? They are no use even to women who are to be decent, much less to men.”

“Certainly.”

“And drunkenness is particularly unbecoming in the guardians, as are softness and idleness.”

“Of course.”

“Which modes, then, are soft and suited to drinking parties?”

“Certain Ionian and Lydian modes,” he said, “called relaxed.”

399a “My friend, will these serve you at all for men at war?”

“Not at all,” he said. “It seems you are left with the Dorian and Phrygian.”

“I do not know the modes,” I said. “But leave me the one that would fittingly imitate the tones and inflections of a courageous man in battle or any other arduous task: one who, when his efforts fail, or he goes toward wounds or death, or falls into some other misfortune, 399b holds his ground in all these circumstances and steadfastly resists his fate. Leave another for a man engaged in peaceful and freely chosen rather than forced action: persuading someone or making a request, whether through prayer to a god or through teaching and admonition to another person; or, conversely, listening to someone who requests, teaches, or persuades him, and thereby succeeding as he wishes. In all these he acts without arrogance, but with self-control and moderation, 399c and accepts what follows. Leave me these two modes, the ones that best imitate the tones of people under constraint or acting freely, unfortunate or fortunate, self-controlled and courageous [modes].”

“But,” he said, “you are asking me to leave precisely the ones I named just now.”

“Then,” I said, “we shall have no need for many-stringed instruments or those capable of all modes in our songs and melodies.”

“I do not think so,” he said.

“Then we shall not support makers of triangular harps, pectides, or any instruments 399d with many strings and many modes.”

“It seems we shall not.”

“What then? Will you admit makers or players of auloi into the city? Is not that the instrument with the greatest range of sounds, and are not instruments capable of every mode themselves imitations of the aulos?”

“Clearly,” he said.

“So,” I said, “you are left with the lyre and the cithara [and] for use in the city; and in the fields the herdsmen might have a reed pipe.”

“That, at least,” he said, “is what our argument suggests. 399e”

“We are doing nothing new, my friend,” I said, “when we choose Apollo and his instruments over Marsyas and his.”

“By Zeus,” he said, “I think not.”

“And by the dog,” I said, “we have been cleansing once more, without noticing it, the city we said a moment ago had fallen into luxury.”

“A wise thing for us to do,” he said.

“Come then,” I said, “let us cleanse what remains. The question of rhythm follows that of modes. We must not seek intricate rhythms or every kind of measure, but discover which rhythms belong to an orderly and courageous life; once we find them, we must make the meter and melody follow the words of such a life, 400a not the words follow meter and melody. Which rhythms these are is for you to tell me, as with the modes.”

“By Zeus,” he said, “I cannot say. I have observed that there are three kinds of pattern from which measures are woven, just as there are four kinds of notes from which all modes come, and I could tell you that much. But which patterns imitate which kind of life, I cannot say. 400b”

“Then we shall consult Damon about which measures suit servility, insolence, madness, and other vices, and which rhythms we should leave for their opposites. I seem to recall hearing him, though not clearly, speak of a compound enoplian rhythm, a dactyl, and a heroic rhythm; I do not know how he arranged them, making the rise and fall equal and combining short and long syllables. I think he also named the iamb and another rhythm, the trochee, assigning them long and 400c short syllables. In some of these, I think he blamed or praised the movement of the foot no less than the rhythms themselves—or perhaps the two together; I cannot say. Let us leave these questions, as I said, to Damon: distinguishing them would take a long discussion. Or do you disagree?”

“By Zeus, I do not.”

“But you can distinguish this much: grace and gracelessness follow from good rhythm and bad rhythm?”

“Of course. 400d”

“And good rhythm follows fine speech, resembling it, while bad rhythm follows the opposite. Good and bad harmony do likewise, if rhythm and harmony follow speech, as we just said, rather than speech following them.”

“They must follow speech,” he said.

“And the manner of speaking,” I said, “and speech itself—do they not follow the character of the soul?”

“Of course.”

“And everything else follows the manner of speaking?”

“Yes.”

“Then fine speech, fine harmony, grace, and good rhythm 400e follow from goodness of character—not the simplicity we use as a fond name for foolishness, but a mind whose character is truly formed in a good and beautiful way.”

“Certainly,” he said.

“Must not our young men seek these things everywhere if they are to do their own work?”

“They must.”

401a “And surely painting is full of them, and so is every craft of that kind; weaving and embroidery, building and the making of every other artifact, and even the natural forms of bodies and of other growing things. Grace and gracelessness are present in all of these. Gracelessness, lack of rhythm, and disharmony are kin to bad speech and bad character; their opposites are kin to, and images of, the opposite character, self-controlled and good.”

“Absolutely,” he said. 401b

“Then must we supervise poets alone, compelling them either to put the image of good character into their poems or not to compose among us? Or must we also supervise the other craftsmen and prevent them from putting this vicious, undisciplined, servile, and ugly character into representations of living things, buildings, or any work of craft, and forbid those who cannot refrain from working among us? Otherwise our guardians, reared among images of vice 401c as in a sickly pasture, will gather and graze on countless small things each day from many places, unknowingly building up one great evil in their souls. Instead we must seek out craftsmen gifted at tracing the nature of beauty and grace, so that our young people, dwelling as if in a wholesome place, may benefit from everything that meets their eyes and ears in works of beauty, like a breeze bringing health from 401d a kindly region, and may from childhood be led unawares into likeness, friendship, and harmony with beautiful reason.”

“For that,” he said, “would be the finest way to raise them.”

“Then, Glaucon,” I said, “is not education in music of the greatest importance for these reasons: rhythm and harmony sink most deeply into the soul, seize it most powerfully, and bring it grace, making a person graceful 401e if properly raised, and the opposite if not? And someone raised as he should be in this art would perceive most sharply what has been left undone or fashioned poorly, or grown into a poor form. With just distaste he would praise beautiful things, delight in them and receive them into his soul, be nourished by them, and 402a become noble and good. But he would rightly condemn and hate ugly things while still young, before he could grasp a rational account; and when reason came, he would welcome it, recognizing it above all through his kinship with it.”

“That, at least, is why I think education in music matters,” he said.

“Consider how, in learning letters,” I said, “we knew them well only when we could recognize the few letters wherever they appeared, and did not dismiss them in anything small or 402b large as unworthy of notice, but made every effort to distinguish them everywhere, knowing that we could not read until we did.”

“True.”

“And if their images appear reflected in water or in mirrors, will we recognize them before we know the letters themselves? Is this not a matter for the same skill and study?”

“Certainly.”

“Then, by the gods, is it not the same with musical education? Neither we nor the guardians we say we must educate will be truly accomplished in it 402c until we recognize the forms of self-control, courage, generosity, and magnificence, all the qualities akin to them, and their opposites, wherever they appear; until we perceive them in whatever contains them, both the qualities themselves and their images, and never disregard them in things small or great, but believe that they belong to the same skill and study.”

“Necessarily,” he said. 402d

“Then,” I said, “when a person's soul contains a beautiful character and his outward form agrees and harmonizes with it, sharing the same pattern, would this not be the most beautiful sight for anyone capable of seeing?”

“By far.”

“And what is most beautiful is most lovable?”

“Of course.”

“Then the man educated in music would love those who most fully possess this harmony. But if someone were discordant, he would not love him.”

“Not if the defect were in his soul,” he said. “But if it were in his body, he might bear with it and be willing 402e to embrace him.”

“I understand,” I said. “You have or have had a beloved of that kind, and I grant you the point. But tell me this: is there any fellowship between self-control and excessive pleasure?”

“How could there be?” he said. “It drives a person out of his mind no less than pain does.”

“And does it have any fellowship with the other virtues?”

395a “So it would be hard for someone to work at a serious occupation and at the same time imitate many things and become an imitator. People cannot even make two forms of imitation well when they seem closely related, such as comedy and tragedy. Didn’t you just call them two forms of imitation?”“I did. And you’re right that the same people cannot do both.”“Nor can people be both reciters of poetry and actors.”“True.”“And comic and tragic actors are not even the same people. 395b Yet all these arts involve imitation, don’t they?”“They do.”“And I think, Adeimantus, human nature breaks down into even smaller parts than these. A person cannot imitate many things well, or do well all the things of which imitations are copies.”“That is quite true,” he said.“So if we keep to our original argument, the guardians must leave all other occupations alone. They must be expert workers at securing the city’s freedom, 395c and do nothing that does not serve that end. Then they must neither do nor imitate anything else. If they do imitate, they should imitate the qualities that suit them from childhood onward: brave, self-controlled, pious, and free people, and all similar qualities. They must neither behave in a servile way nor become good at imitating it, or at imitating any other shameful thing. Otherwise, imitation may lead them to become what they imitate. Haven’t you noticed that if people imitate things from childhood on, the imitations turn into habits 395d and become part of their nature, affecting their bodies, their voices, and their minds?”“Very much so,” he said.“Then we won’t let the men we care about, whom we want to become good men, imitate a woman, whether young or old. They should not imitate a woman quarreling with her husband, or arguing with the gods and boasting because she thinks herself happy. Nor should they imitate one caught up in disaster, mourning, and lamentation. 395e We would still more strongly object to their imitating a woman who is ill, in love, or in labor.”“Absolutely,” he said.“Nor should they imitate enslaved women and men doing the work of slaves.”“Not that either.”“Nor, it seems, should they imitate bad men or cowards, who do the opposite of what we just described: people who slander and mock one another and speak obscenely, whether drunk or

396a sober. They must not imitate the other ways such people go wrong in speech and action toward themselves and others. Nor, I think, should they get used to making themselves like people who have lost their minds, in either speech or action. They must know what such people are like, just as they must know bad men and women, but they must not do or imitate any of these things.”“That is quite true,” he said.“What about imitating people working at a forge,” I asked, “or practicing some other craft? 396b What about rowing warships, giving orders to their crews, or doing any related work?”“How could they,” he said, “when they will not even be allowed to pay attention to any of it?”“And will they imitate neighing horses, bellowing bulls, noisy rivers, pounding seas, thunder, and the like?”“They are forbidden to go mad,” he said, “or to act like people who are mad.”“If I understand you, then,” I said, “there is a kind of speaking and storytelling in which a truly good and honorable person would tell a story when he needed to. And there is another, unlike it, that someone raised with the opposite character would always favor when telling a story.” 396c“What are these kinds?” he asked.“I think that when a reasonable man reaches a point in his story where a good man speaks or acts, he will want to tell it as though he were that man. He will not be ashamed to imitate him, especially when he is acting with steadiness and good sense. 396d He will imitate him less often and less fully when illness, love, drunkenness, or some other misfortune has led him to stumble. But when he comes to someone beneath him, he will not want to take on the part of the worse man in earnest. He might do so briefly when that man does something good. Otherwise he will be ashamed. For one thing, he has had no practice imitating such people. For another, he dislikes taking on 396e and fitting himself into the roles of worse people. Deep down he has no respect for them, except as a joke.”“That seems likely,” he said.“So he will tell stories in the way we described a little earlier when discussing Homer’s poetry. His style will use both imitation and the other kind of narration, but imitation will form only a small part of a long account. Does that make sense?”“Yes,” he said. “That is how such a speaker would have to speak.”

397a “But a man who is not like that will be more willing to tell every kind of story the worse he is. He will think nothing beneath him. So he will try seriously to imitate everything, and do it in front of a crowd: the thunder, the sounds of winds, hail, axles, and pulleys we mentioned a moment ago; the sounds of trumpets, flutes, pipes, and all kinds of instruments; and even the voices of dogs, sheep, and birds. 397b Then his whole style will consist of imitation in voice and gesture, with little narration, if any.”“That must be so too,” he said.“Those are the two kinds of style I meant,” I said.“Yes, they are.”“Now one of them changes very little. If you give it music and rhythm suited to the words, a person using it correctly can say almost everything in the same musical mode, since the changes are small, 397c and use a rhythm that is much the same throughout.”“That is just how it is,” he said.“And the other kind? Doesn’t it need the opposite—all musical modes and all rhythms—if it is to be performed properly, since it changes in so many different ways?”“Yes, exactly.”“So every poet and everyone who tells a story uses one of these styles or the other, or blends the two?”“They must,” he said. 397d“What shall we do, then?” I asked. “Shall we admit all these styles into our city, or one of the unmixed styles, or the mixed one?”“If I have my way,” he said, “we will admit the unmixed style that imitates a decent person.”“But the mixed style is pleasant too, Adeimantus. Children, their teachers, and the great majority of people find the style opposite to your choice far more pleasant.”“They certainly do.”“But perhaps,” I said, “you would say that it does not suit 397e our city’s way of life. No one here plays two roles, let alone many, because each person does one job.”“It certainly does not suit it.”“So in this city alone, we will find a shoemaker who is just a shoemaker, not also a ship’s captain; a farmer who is just a farmer, not also a judge; a soldier who is just a soldier, not also a businessman. It will be the same for everyone.”“True,” he said.

398a “Then if a man comes to our city who is so skilled that he can become all kinds of people and imitate everything, and if he wants to show us his poems, we will bow to him as a remarkable, delightful, sacred man. But we will tell him that there is no one like him in our city and that our laws do not allow such a man to live among us. We will pour perfume on his head, crown him with wool, and send him off to another city. For our own good, we will use a more austere and less entertaining poet 398b and storyteller. He will imitate the speech of a decent person and tell his stories within the rules we laid down at the start when we undertook to educate the soldiers.”“Yes,” he said. “That is what we would do if it were up to us.”“Well, my friend,” I said, “we have probably completed the part of education in music and poetry that concerns stories and speech. We have said what to tell and how to tell it.”“I think so too,” he said. 398c“So next,” I said, “the way a song is sung and its melodies remain to be discussed.”“Clearly.”“If we are to be consistent with what we have said, isn’t it already clear to everyone what these things ought to be like?”Glaucon laughed. “Then I must be the exception to everyone, Socrates,” he said. “Right now I can’t quite work out what we should say they ought to be like. I have a suspicion, though.”“At least,” I said, “you can certainly say this much: 398d a song is made up of three things—words, musical mode, and rhythm.”“Yes, that much I can say,” he replied.“And the words of a song are no different from words that are not sung when it comes to the rules for what may be said. They must follow the same rules we just laid down, in the same way.”“True,” he said.“And the music and rhythm must follow the words.”“Of course.”“But we said we had no need for laments and cries of grief in our stories.”“We have no need for them.” 398e“So tell me, since you know music: which modes are used for laments?”“The mixed Lydian and the high Lydian,” he said, “and others like them.”“Then should we remove them?” I asked. “They are no use even to women who should be decent, much less to men.”“Certainly.”“And drunkenness, softness, and idleness are completely unsuitable for guardians.”“Of course.”“So which modes are soft and fit for drinking parties?”“The Ionian,” he said, “and some varieties of the Lydian called relaxed.”

399a “Could you make any use of those among soldiers, my friend?”“None at all,” he said. “It seems that leaves you with the Dorian and Phrygian.”“I don’t know the modes by name,” I said. “Keep the mode that properly imitates the voice and tone of a brave man in war or any other dangerous task. When he fails, is wounded, 399b faces death, or suffers some other misfortune, he holds his position and endures what happens. Keep another mode for a man engaged in peaceful activity that he chooses freely, rather than being forced into it. He may be persuading someone or asking for something, praying to a god or teaching and advising a person. Or he may be listening to another person’s request, lesson, or persuasion. He gets what he wants through this approach. He does not behave arrogantly but acts with self-control and moderation in all these situations, 399c and accepts the outcome. Keep these two modes, the one for hardship and the one for chosen action. Let them represent as well as possible the voices of people who face bad or good fortune, who have self-control and are brave.”“The two you ask to keep,” he said, “are exactly the ones I just named.”“So our songs and melodies will need neither a great number of strings nor instruments that play in every mode,” I said.“I don’t think so,” he said.“Then we will not support makers of triangular harps, pectides, and all other instruments with 399d many strings and many modes.”“It seems not.”“What about flute makers and flute players? Will you admit them into the city? Isn’t the flute the instrument with the greatest range, and aren’t the instruments that can play in every mode really copies of it?”“Clearly,” he said.“So the lyre and cithara are left for use in the city,” I said, “and in the countryside the shepherds may have the pipe.”“That, at any rate, is where our argument leads,” he said. 399e“We are doing nothing new, my friend, when we choose Apollo and his instruments instead of Marsyas and his instruments.”“By Zeus, I don’t think we are,” he said.“And, by the dog,” I said, “without noticing it, we have once again been cleansing the city that we recently called luxurious.”“We are showing good sense,” he said.“Come on, then,” I said, “let us cleanse the rest. After modes, we should discuss rhythms. We should not pursue complicated rhythms and patterns of every kind. Instead, we should find out which rhythms belong to an orderly, brave life. Once we know them, we must make the musical beat and tune follow the words of a person who lives that way,

400a rather than making his words follow the beat and tune. As with the modes, it is your job to tell us which rhythms these are.”“By Zeus, I can’t,” he said. “From what I have observed, I can say that there are three kinds of patterns from which beats are woven, just as there are four kinds of sounds from which all the modes come. But I cannot say what sort of life each pattern imitates.” 400b“Then we will discuss with Damon which patterns suit slavishness, arrogance, madness, and other forms of vice, and which rhythms we should keep for their opposites,” I said. “I vaguely remember hearing him name a certain compound march rhythm, a dactyl and a heroic rhythm. I don’t know how he arranged it, giving equal parts to the rise and fall of the beat, which became short and long. I think he also mentioned an iamb and another beat, a trochee, and assigned them lengths 400c and shortnesses. I believe that with some of these he was as ready to praise or criticize the speed of the beat as the rhythm itself—or perhaps the two together. I cannot say for sure. But, as I said, let us leave that to Damon. Sorting it out would take a long discussion. Don’t you think?”“By Zeus, I do.”“But you can tell the difference between good form and bad form, and see how these go with good and bad rhythm, can’t you?”“Of course.” 400d“And good rhythm follows and resembles good speech, while bad rhythm follows bad speech. The same goes for good and bad musical modes, if rhythm and music must follow the words, as we just said, rather than the words following them.”“They certainly must follow the words,” he said.“And doesn’t the way someone speaks, and what he says,” I asked, “follow the character of his soul?”“Of course.”“And everything else follows his speech?”“Yes.”“Then good speech, good music, good form, and good rhythm 400e follow from a good character. I do not mean the lack of understanding that we politely call simplicity. I mean a mind genuinely formed with a good and fine character.”“Absolutely,” he said.“Then shouldn’t young people pursue these qualities everywhere, if they are to do their own work?”“They should.”

401a “Painting and every craft like it are full of such qualities, as are weaving, embroidery, building, and making every other kind of object. The shapes of bodies and growing plants are full of them too. In all these things we find good form or bad form. Bad form, bad rhythm, and discord go hand in hand with poor speech and bad character. Their opposites go hand in hand with, and represent, a character that is self-controlled and good.”“Absolutely,” he said. 401b“Must we supervise only the poets and require them either to put the image of a good character into their poems or not write among us? Or must we supervise other craftspeople as well? Must we stop them from putting bad character, lack of self-control, servility, and bad form into images of living things, into buildings, or into anything else they make? Anyone who cannot meet this rule must not practice a craft among us. Otherwise, our guardians will grow up surrounded by images of vice, like animals feeding on bad pasture. 401c Every day they will pick and feed on little pieces from many sources, without noticing the great evil they are putting together in their souls. Instead, we must look for craftspeople gifted at tracing the nature of beauty and good form. Then young people will live as if in a healthy place, and everything will benefit them. Beautiful works will reach their eyes and ears like a breeze bringing health from good places. 401d From childhood on, it will quietly guide them toward likeness, friendship, and harmony with fine reasoning.”“That would give them the best possible upbringing,” he said.“And that is why,” I said, “training in music and poetry is so important, Glaucon. Rhythm and melody sink deep into the soul and take the strongest hold on it. They bring good form and make a person well formed 401e if he has been educated correctly, and the opposite if he has not. And someone properly brought up this way will be very quick to notice anything neglected or badly made, or anything badly formed by nature. His distaste will be justified. He will praise beautiful things, enjoy them, take them into his soul, and be nourished by them,

402a becoming a good and honorable person. While still young, before he can grasp a reasoned explanation, he will rightly condemn and hate ugly things. Then, when reason comes, he will welcome it and recognize it, especially because his upbringing has made it familiar to him.”“That, at any rate, is why I think education in music and poetry matters,” he said.“Think of how we learned to read,” I said. “We knew the small number of letters wherever they appeared. We did not treat them as beneath notice, 402b whether they appeared in something small or large. We made an effort to recognize them everywhere. We would not know how to read until we could do that.”“True.”“And if the images of letters appear in water or in mirrors, we won’t recognize them before we know the letters themselves. Both things belong to the same skill and practice.”“Absolutely.”“Then, by the gods, isn’t it the same with education in music and poetry? 402c Neither we nor the guardians we say we must educate will really be trained until we can recognize all the forms of self-control, courage, generosity, and greatness of spirit, and all related qualities, as well as their opposites. We must spot them wherever they appear and see them, and their images, in whatever contains them. We must not dismiss them in anything small or large, but treat recognizing them all as part of the same skill and practice.”“We certainly must,” he said. 402d“Then if a person has fine qualities in his soul and matching qualities in his appearance, with both sharing the same pattern, wouldn’t he be the finest sight for anyone able to see it?”“By far.”“And the finest thing is the most lovable, isn’t it?”“Of course.”“Then a person trained in music and poetry would love people like that most. But he would not love anyone whose outward and inward qualities did not match.”“He would not, if the defect were in the soul,” he said. “But if it were in the body, he might put up with it and still want to love that person.” 402e“I understand,” I said. “You have, or have had, someone you love like that, and I will allow it. But tell me: is there anything in common between self-control and excessive pleasure?”“How could there be,” he said, “when pleasure can drive a person out of his mind as much as pain can?”“And what about pleasure and the other virtues?”