As has been well paraphrased by the interpreters to whom we are indebted for the English version: “The possibilities of realising such a commonwealth in actual practice is quite a secondary consideration, which does not in the least affect the soundness of the method or the truth of the results. All that can fairly be demanded of him is to show how the imperfect politics at present existing may be brought most nearly into harmony with the perfect State which has just been described. To bring about this great result one fundamental change is necessary, and only one: the highest political power must, by some means or other, be vested in philosophers.” The next point to be determined is, What is, or ought to be, implied by the term philosopher, and what are the characteristics of the true philosophic disposition? “They are—(1) an eager desire for the knowledge of all real existence; (2) hatred of falsehood, and devoted love of truth; (3) contempt for the pleasures of the body; (4) indifference to money; (5) high-mindedness and liberality; (6) justice and gentleness; (7) a quick apprehension and a good memory; (8) a musical, regular, and harmonious disposition.” But how is this disposition to be secured? Under the present condition of things, and the corrupting influences of various kinds, where temptations abound to compromise truth and substitute expediency and self-interest, it would seem wellnigh impossible and Utopian to expect it.
“How is this evil to be remedied? The State itself must regulate the study of philosophy, and must take care that the students pursue it on right principles, and at a right age. And now, surely, we may expect to be believed when we assert that if a State is to prosper it must be governed by philosophers. If such a contingency should ever take place (and why should it not?), our ideal State will undoubtedly be realised. So that, upon the whole, we come to this conclusion: The constitution just described is the best, if it can be realised; and to realise it is difficult, but not impossible.” At this moment, when the question of compulsory education, under the immediate superintendence of the State, is being fought with so much fierceness—on one side, at least—to recur to Plato might not be without advantage.
In the most famous dialogue of Plato—the Republic, or, as it might be termed On Justice—the principal interlocutors, besides Sokrates, are Glaukon, Polymachus, and Adeimantus; and the whole piece originates in the chance question which rose between them, “What is Justice?” In the second Book, from which the following passage is taken, the discussion turns upon the origin of society, which gives opportunity to Sokrates to develop his opinions upon the diet best adapted for the community—at all events, for the great majority:—
“‘They [the artisans and work-people generally] will live, I suppose, on barley and wheat, baking cakes of the meal, and kneading loaves of the flour. And spreading these excellent cakes and loaves upon mats of straw or on clean leaves, and themselves reclining on rude beds of yew or myrtle-boughs, they will make merry, themselves and their children, drinking their wine, weaving garlands, and singing the praises of the gods, enjoying one another’s society, and not begetting children beyond their means, through a prudent fear of poverty or war.’
“Glaukon here interrupted me, remarking, ‘Apparently you describe your men feasting, without anything to relish their bread.’[16]
“‘True,’ I said, ‘I had forgotten. Of course they will have something to relish their food. Salt, no doubt, and olives, and cheese, together with the country fare of boiled onions and cabbage. We shall also set before them a dessert, I imagine, of figs, pease, and beans: they may roast myrtle-berries and beech-nuts at the fire, taking wine with their fruit in moderation. And thus, passing their days in tranquillity and sound health, they will, in all probability, live to an advanced age, and dying, bequeath to their children a life in which their own will be reproduced.’
“Upon this Glaukon exclaimed, ‘Why, Sokrates, if you were founding a community of swine, this is just the style in which you would feed them up!’
“‘How, then,’ said I, ‘would you have them live, Glaukon?’
“‘In a civilised manner,’ he replied. ‘They ought to recline on couches, I should think, if they are not to have a hard life of it, and dine off tables, and have the usual dishes and dessert of a modern dinner.’
“‘Very good: I understand. Apparently we are considering the growth, not of a city merely, but of a luxurious city. I dare say it is not a bad plan, for by this extension of our inquiry we shall perhaps discover how it is that justice and injustice take root in cities. Now, it appears to me that the city which we have described is the genuine and, so to speak, healthy city. But if you wish us also to contemplate a city that is suffering from inflammation, there is nothing to hinder us. Some people will not be satisfied, it seems, with the fare or the mode of life which we have described, but must have, in addition, couches and tables and every other article of furniture, as well as viands.... Swineherds again are among the additions we shall require—a class of persons not to be found, because not wanted, in our former city, but needed among the rest in this. We shall also need great quantities of all kinds of cattle for those who may wish to eat them, shall we not?’