“No, Hippodamus. But that makes appeal to Glaucon. He made application to states, and, inspired by Apollo, he laid down a principle. The true lover of man will have man free and noble wherever he be found. The true statesman wishes as much for every state.”
“Father Zeus!” cried Hippodamus, “would you have Sparta, who is already as brave, become as wise as we? This little, weak country does not matter, but Sparta—!”
“I am not speaking, Hippodamus, but Glaucon—Glaucon speaks. ‘The great friend, that is to say the great statesman, denies to none place and garlands! He says to none, “Lie forever on the mat at my door, be forever dog at my heels!”’ Says Glaucon, ‘Shall a state withdraw wisdom from another state, leaving it dark of knowledge so that that state no longer knows how best to help itself? Shall a state be jealous of wisdom in a fellow state? Shall a state turn aside from its fellow the rivers of wealth? Shall it say, “Mine are all the rivers! Not for you ease of your own!” Shall a state desire to soften the body of its fellow? Shall it say, “Not for you gymnastic nor the diet of the strong! So, if we come to battle, you will not see the glint of any god’s eye, standing in your ranks! No! But you shall shamefully flee, and I will have you in laughter, and my heart will swell with pride where I stand fast.” Shall a state work that, or wish to work that, toward its fellow? Shall a state say to its fellow, “Be fair for me, send me dancers and flute-players, send me grapes from your vineyards and wine from your wine presses, be for me rich views and pleasant ports, grow wheat for me, send me marble out of which I may carve the forms of the gods, but move not of yourself nor for yourself! Be much if you will, but be not free!”—O Apollo! O Apollo! Thy arrow that is drawn against that thus-speaking state was made by Justice in her deep cave at the head of the world! Turn—turn—turn, thus-speaking state! Make libations, pray for nobility!’”
Theodorus the sculptor looked again at the light upon Mount Lycabettus. “Something like that was what Glaucon said.”
Lycias spoke. “By Pallas, a good speech!—But now propound—Does Athens take into alliance the country that sent the envoys?”
Said suddenly Lysander the silent: “I came by the cross streets from the Agora and overtook an acquaintance who had been at the Prytaneum in the train of the Archon Timotheus. He said that he would stake his fortune that Athens would do no such thing!”
“Father Zeus! I should think not!” said Hippodamus.
“Oh, then,” said Lycias, “Glaucon spoke in a dream to dream-listeners!”
Glaucon looked at the light that was now but a thin crown upon the mountains. “I think that I was dreaming,” he said. “I have strange dreams sometimes!” He gathered his mantle about him.—“Theodorus, are you for home?”
The two left the porch and, the slaves attending, went away in the purple twilight toward the Diomean Gate. Lycias and the others followed them with their eyes.