No More Learning

Those youths who
accompany him must carry with them bows and, in a sheath alongside
their quivers, a bill or scimitar; also a light shield, and two javelins
apiece, one to throw, the other to use, if necessary, at close quarters.
For this reason they make hunting a matter of public concern, and the
king, as in war, acts as their leader, hunts himself, and sees that the
others hunt, the Persians being of opinion that this is the best of all
preparations for war. And, indeed, it accustoms them to rise early, and
to bear heat and cold; it affords them exercise in marching and running,
and compels them to use their bows or their javelins upon wild animals,
wherever they happen to come upon them. They are often forced, moreover,
to sharpen their courage, when they find themselves face to face with
some powerful animal. They must, of course, wound the one that comes to
close quarters, and hold at bay the one that attacks them. Hence it is
difficult to find in war anything that is absent from the chase. When
they go out to hunt, the young men, of course, take with them a larger
luncheon than the boys are allowed to have; but this is the only
difference between the two. And while they are hunting, they sometimes
do not lunch at all; but, if they have to remain beyond their time on
account of some game, or otherwise, if they wish to prolong the chase,
they make a dinner of this lunch, and on the following day continue the
hunt till dinner-time, counting the two days one, because they consume
only one day's food. And they do this for the sake of practice, so that,
if ever they should run short of provisions in war, they may be able to
do the same thing. These youths have as a relish what game they capture
in the chase, otherwise they have nasturtium. And if any one thinks
that they eat without pleasure, when they have only nasturtium with
their food, or drink without pleasure, when they drink water, let him
remember how sweet barley-cake and wheaten bread are when he is hungry,
and how sweet water is when he is thirsty. The tribes that remain
behind, when the king goes hunting, spend their time in the same studies
which they pursued as boys, including shooting and javelin-casting, and
in these continual contests are going on. There are likewise public
exhibitions in them, at which prizes are offered; and whichever tribe
contains most young men exceptionally proficient, manly, and steady, is
commended by the citizens, who likewise honor, not only their present
governor, but also the governor who had charge of them as boys. The
young men who are left behind are also employed by the authorities, if
any such service is required as manning a guard-house, tracking out
malefactors, running down robbers, or anything demanding strength and
swiftness. Such are the studies of the young men. And when they have
passed ten years in these, they graduate into the class of mature men.

"From the date of this graduation, they spend five and twenty years more
in the following manner: In the first place, like the young men, they
place themselves at the disposal of the authorities for any public
service requiring at once sagacity and unimpaired strength. If they are
required to take the field in war, men proficient as they are go armed,
no longer with bows and javelins, but with what are called hand-to-hand
weapons, breast-plates, shields in their left hands, such as we see in
pictures of the Persians, and a sword or bill in their right. And all
the officials are drawn from this class, except the boys' teachers. And
when they have passed twenty-five years in this class, they are
something more than fifty years of age. At that age they graduate into
the class of elders, as, indeed, they are called.

"These elders no longer serve in war outside their own country, but,
remaining at home, act as judges in public and private cases. They do so
even in capital cases. They likewise choose all the officials, and if
any person belonging to either of the classes of young and mature men
neglects any of his lawful duties, the governor of his tribe, or any one
else who pleases, may report him to the elders, and these, if they find
the fact to be as reported, expel him from his tribe, and he who is
expelled remains dishonored all his life.

"To give a clearer notion of the polity of the Persians as a whole, I
will retrace my steps a little. After what has been said, this may be
done in a very few words: The Persians, then, are said to number about
one hundred and twenty thousand. Of these, none is excluded by law from
honors or offices; but all Persians are allowed to send their sons to
the public schools of justice. However, it is only those who are able to
maintain their sons without employment that send them there: the rest do
not. On the other hand, those that are educated by the public teachers
are permitted to spend their youth among the _eph? boi_, while those who
have not completed this education are not. Again those that pass their
youth among the _eph? boi_, and come up to the legal requirements, are
allowed to graduate into the class of mature men, and to participate in
honors and offices; whereas those who do not pass through the grade of
the _eph? boi_ do not rise to the class of mature men. Finally, those who
complete the curriculum of the mature men without reproach, pass into
the class of elders. Thus it is that this class of elders is composed of
men who have passed through all the grades of culture. Such is the
polity of the Persians, and such is the system of training whereby they
endeavor to secure the highest worth. "

This Utopian scheme of education has a peculiar interest, because it is
nothing more or less than the old ideal of Greek education become fully
conscious of itself, under the influence of the new ideal. Let us call
attention to the main points of it. (1) The education here set forth is
purely political: men are regarded simply and solely as citizens; all
honors are civic honors. (2) No provision is made for the education of
women, their range of activity being entirely confined to the family.
(3) Distinction is made to rest upon education and conduct. (4) The
poorer classes of the population, though not legally excluded from
education, position, and power, are virtually excluded by their poverty,
so that the government is altogether in the hands of the rich, and is,
in fact, an aristocracy, while pretending to be a democracy: hence, (5)
Social distinctions are distinctions of worth, which is just the Greek
ideal.

There is, however, one point in the scheme which shows that it is
reactionary, directed against prevailing tendencies. Not one word is
said of the intellectual side of education, of music or letters. It is
evident that Xenophon, himself a man of no mean literary attainments,
clearly saw the dangers to Greek life and liberty involved in that
exaggerated devotion to literary and intellectual pursuits which
followed the teaching of the sophists and Socrates, and that, in order
to check this perilous tendency, he drew up a scheme of education from
which intellectual and literary pursuits are altogether excluded, in
which justice takes the place of letters, and music is not mentioned.

This suggests a curious inquiry in respect to his _Memoirs of Socrates_.
This work has generally been regarded as giving us a more correct notion
of the real, living Socrates than the manifestly idealizing works of
Plato. But was not Xenophon, who could not fail to see the future power
of Socrates' influence, as anxious as Plato to claim the prophet as the
champion of his own views, and does not this fact determine the whole
character of his work? Is it not a romance, in the same sense that the
_Cyropaedia_ is, with only this difference, that the facts of Socrates'
life, being fairly well known to those for whom Xenophon was writing,
could not be treated with the same freedom and disregard as those of
Cyrus' life?

Before we part with Xenophon, we must call attention to another treatise
of his, in which he deals with a subject that was then pressing for
consideration--the education of women. While, as we have seen, the
AEolian states and even Dorian Sparta provided, in some degree, for
women's education, Athens apparently, conceiving that woman had no
duties outside of the family, left her education entirely to the care of
that institution. The conservative Xenophon does not depart from this
view; but, seeing the moral evils that were springing from the neglect
of women and their inability to be, in any sense, companions to their
cultured, or over-cultured, husbands, he lays down in his _OEconomics_ a
scheme for the education of the young wife _by her husband_. As this
affords us an admirable insight into the lives of Athenian girls and
women, better, indeed, than can be found elsewhere, we cannot do better
than transcribe the first part of it. It takes the form of a
conversation between Socrates and a young husband, named Ischomachus
(Strong Fighter), and is reported by the former. Socrates tells how,
seeing Ischomachus sitting at leisure in a certain portico, he entered
into conversation with him, paid him an acceptable compliment, and
inquired how he came to be nearly always busy out of doors, seeing that
he evidently spent little time in the house. Ischomachus replies:--

"'As to your inquiry, Socrates, it is true that I never remain indoors.
Nor need I; for my wife is fully able by herself to manage everything in
the house. ' 'This again, Ischomachus,' said I, 'is something that I
should like to ask you about, whether it was you who taught your wife to
be a good wife, or whether she knew all her household duties when you
received her from her father and mother. ' 'Well, Socrates,' said he,
'what do you suppose she knew when I took her, since she was hardly
fifteen when she came to me, and, during the whole of her life before
that, special care had been taken that she should see, hear, and ask as
little as possible. Indeed, don't you think I ought to have been
satisfied if, when she came to me, she knew nothing but how to take wool
and turn it into a garment, and had seen nothing but how tasks in
spinning are assigned to maids? As regards matters connected with eating
and drinking, of course she was extremely well educated when she came,
and this seems to me the chief education, whether for a man or a woman. '
'In all other matters, Ischomachus,' said I, 'you yourself instructed
your wife, so as to make her an excellent housewife. ' 'To be sure,' said
he, 'but not until I had first sacrificed, and prayed that I might
succeed in teaching her, and she might succeed in learning, what was
best for both of us. ' 'Then,' said I, 'your wife took part in your
sacrifice and in these prayers, did she not? ' 'Certainly she did,' said
Ischomachus, 'and solemnly promised to the gods that she would be what
she ought to be, and showed every evidence of a disposition not to
neglect what was taught her. ' 'But do, I beseech you, Ischomachus,
explain to me,' said I, 'what was the first thing you set about teaching
her? I shall be more interested in hearing you tell that, than if you
told me all about the finest gymnastic or equestrian exhibition. ' And
Ischomachus replied: 'What _should_ I teach her? As soon as she could be
handled, and was tame enough to converse, I spoke to her in some such
way as this: Tell me, my dear, have you ever considered why I took _you_
as my wife, and why your parents gave you to me? That it was not because
I could not find any one else to share my bed, you know as well as I.
No, but because I was anxious to find for myself, and your parents were
anxious to find for you, the most suitable partner in home and
offspring, I selected you, and your parents, it seems, selected me, out
of all possible matches. If, then, God shall ever bless us with
children, then we will take the greatest care of them, and try to give
them the best possible education; for it will prove a blessing to both
of us to have the very best of helpers and supports in our old age. But
at present we have this as our common home. And all that I have, I pass
over to the common stock, and all that you have brought with you, you
have added to the same. Nor must we begin to count which of us has
contributed the larger number of things, but must realize that whichever
of us is the better partner contributes the more valuable things. Then,
Socrates, my wife replied, and said: In what way can I cooperate with
you? What power have I? Everything rests with you. My mother told me
that my only duty was to be dutiful. Assuredly, my dear, said I, and my
father told me the same thing. But it is surely the duty of a dutiful
husband and a dutiful wife to act so that what they have may be improved
to the utmost, and by every fair and lawful means increased to the
utmost. And what do you find, said my wife, that I can do towards
helping you to build up our house? Dear me! said I, whatever things the
gods have endowed you with the power to do, and the law permits, try to
do these to the best of your ability. And what _are_ these? said she. It
strikes me, said I, that they are by no means the least important
things, unless it be true that in the hive the queen-bee is entrusted
with the least important functions. Indeed, it seems to me, my dear, I
continued, that the very gods have yoked together this couple called
male and female with a very definite purpose, viz. to be the source of
the greatest mutual good to the yoke-fellows. In the first place, this
union exists in order that living species may not die out, but be
preserved by propagation; in the second, the partners in this union, at
least in the case of human beings, obtain through it the supports of
their old age. Moreover, human beings do not live, like animals, in the
open air, but obviously require roofs. And I am sure, people who are
going to have anything to bring under a roof must have some one to do
outdoor duties; for, you see, ploughing, sowing, planting, herding, are
all outdoor employments, and it is from them that we obtain all our
supplies. On the other hand, when the supplies have all been brought
under cover, there is needed some one to take care of them, and to
perform those duties which must be done indoors. Among these are the
rearing of children and the preparation of food from the produce of the
earth; likewise the making of cloth out of wool. And, since both these
classes of duties, the outdoor and the indoor, require labor and care,
it seems to me, I said, that God has constructed the nature of woman
with a special view to indoor employments and cares, and that of man
with a view to outdoor employments and cares. For he has made both the
body and the soul of the man better able than those of the woman to bear
cold, heat, travelling, military service, and so has assigned to him
the outdoor employments. And, since he has made the body of woman less
able to endure these things, he seems to me to have assigned to her the
indoor employments. Considering, moreover, that he had made it woman's
nature and duty to nourish young children, he imparted to her a greater
love for babies than he did to man. And, inasmuch as he had made it part
of woman's duty to take care of the income of the family, God, knowing
that for care-taking the soul is none the worse for being ready to fear,
bestowed upon woman a greater share of fear than upon a man. On the
other hand, knowing that he who attends to the outdoor employments will
have to protect the family from wrong-doers, he endowed him with a
greater share of courage. And, since both have to give and receive, he
divided memory and carefulness between them, so that it would be
difficult to determine which of the sexes, the male or the female, is
the better equipped with these. And the necessary self-denial he divided
between them, and made a decree that, whichever of the two, the husband
or the wife, was the superior, should be rewarded with the larger share
of this blessing. And just because the nature of man and the nature of
woman are not both equally fitted for all tasks, the two are the more
dependent upon each other, and their union is the more beneficial to
them, because the one is able to supply what the other lacks. And now,
said I, my dear, that we know the duties which God has assigned to us
respectively, it becomes each of us to do our best, in order to perform
these duties. And the law, I continued, coincides with the divine
intention, and unites man and woman. And, just as God has made them
partners in offspring, so the law makes them partners in the household.
And the law sets its approval upon that difference of function which God
has signified by the difference of ability which marks the sexes. For it
is more respectable for a woman to remain indoors than to spend her time
out of doors, and less respectable for a man to remain indoors than to
attend to outdoor concerns. And, if any one acts in a manner at variance
with this divine ordination, it may be that his transgression does not
escape the notice of the gods, and that he is punished for neglecting
his own duties or performing those of his wife. It appears to me, said
I, that the queen-bee also performs duties that are assigned to her by
God. And what duties, said my wife, does the queen-bee perform, that
have any resemblance to those incumbent upon me? This, said I, that she
remains in the hive and does not allow the other bees to be idle, but
sends out those that have to work to their business, and knows and
receives what each brings in, and takes care of it till it is needed for
use. And when the time for using comes, she distributes to each her just
share. Besides this, she attends to the construction of the honey-combs
that goes on indoors, and sees that it is done properly and rapidly, and
carefully sees that the young swarm is properly reared. And when it is
old enough, and the young bees are fit for work, she sends them out, as
a colony, under the leadership of one of the old ones. And will it be my
duty, said my wife, to do these things? Exactly so, said I, it will be
your duty to remain indoors, to send out together to their work those
whose duties lie out of doors, and to superintend those who have to work
indoors, to receive whatever is brought in, to dispense whatever has to
be paid out, while the necessary surplus you must provide for, and take
care that the year's allowance be not spent in a month. When wool is
brought in to you, you must see that it is turned into cloth; and when
dried grain comes, that it is properly prepared for food. There is,
however, one of your duties, said I, that will perhaps seem somewhat
disagreeable to you. Whenever any one of the slaves is sick, you will
have to see that he is properly nursed, no matter who he is. Indeed,
said my wife, that will be a most pleasant duty, if those who have been
carefully nursed are going to be grateful and kindlier than they were
before. And I,' said Ischomachus, 'admiring her answer, continued: Don't
you suppose, my dear, that by such examples of care on the part of the
queen of the hive the bees are so disposed to her that, when she leaves,
none of them are willing to remain behind, but all follow her? And my
wife replied: I should be surprised if the duties of headship did not
fall to you rather than to me. For my guardianship and disposal of
things in the house would be ridiculous, unless you saw to it that
something was brought in from without. And my bringing-in would be
ridiculous, said I, if there were no one to take care of what I brought?
Don't you see, I said, how those who pour water into a leaky barrel, as
the expression is, are pitied, as wasting their labour? And indeed, said
my wife, they are to be pitied, if they do that. There are other
special duties, said I, that are sure to become pleasant to you; for
example, when you take a raw hand at weaving and turn her into an adept,
and so double her value to you, or when you take a raw hand at managing
and waiting and make her capable, reliable, and serviceable, so that she
acquires untold value, or when you have it in your power to reward those
male slaves that are dutiful and useful to your family, or to punish one
who proves the opposite of this. But the pleasantest thing of all will
be, if you prove superior to me, and make me your knight, and if you
need not fear that, as you advance in years, you will forfeit respect in
the house, but are sure that, as you grow older, the better a partner
you are to me, and the better a mother to the children, the more highly
you will be respected in the house. For all that is fair and good, said
I, increases for men, as life advances, not through beauties, but
through virtues. Such, Socrates, to the best of my recollection, was the
first conversation I had with my wife. '"

Ischomachus goes on and tells how, in subsequent conversations, he
taught his wife the value of order, "how to have a place for everything,
and everything in its place," how to train a servant, and how to make
herself attractive without the use of cosmetics or fine clothes. But
enough has been quoted to show what the ideal family relation among the
Athenians was, and what education was thought fitting for girls and
women. Just as the man was merged in the citizen, so the woman was
merged in the housewife, and they each received the education and
training demanded by their respective duties. If Athenian husbands had
all been like Ischomachus, it is clear that the lives of wives might
have been very happy and useful, and that harmony might have reigned in
the family. But, unfortunately, that was not very often the case. Wives,
being neglected, became lazy, wasteful, self-indulgent, shrewish, and
useless, while their husbands, finding them so, sought in immoral
relations with brilliant and cultivated _hetaerae_, or in worse relations
still, a coarse substitute for that satisfaction which they ought to
have sought and found in their own homes. Thus there grew up a condition
of things which could not fail to sap the moral foundations of society,
and which made thoughtful men turn their attention to the question of
woman's education and sphere of duty.




CHAPTER III

PLATO

All human laws are nourished by the one divine law; for it
prevaileth as far as it listeth, and sufficeth for all and surviveth
all. --Heraclitus

Though reason is universal, the mass of men live as if they had each
a private wisdom of his own. --_Id. _

ANTIGONE. . . . But him will I inter;
And sweet 'twill be to die in such a deed,
And sweet will be my rest with him, the sweet,
When I have righteously offended here.
For longer time, methinks, have I to please
The dwellers in yon world than those in this;
For I shall rest forever there. But thou,
Dishonor still what's honored of the gods.
--Sophocles, _Antigone_.

The circle that gathered round Isaiah and his household in these
evil days, holding themselves apart from their countrymen,
treasuring the word of revelation, and waiting for Jehovah, were
indeed, as Isaiah describes them, "signs and tokens in Israel from
Jehovah of hosts that dwelleth in Mount Zion. " The formation of this
little community was a new thing in the history of religion. Till
then no one had dreamed of a fellowship of faith dissociated from
all national forms, maintained without the exercise of ritual
services, bound together by faith in the divine word alone. It was
the birth of a new era in the Old Testament religion, for it was the
birth of the conception of the _Church_, the first step in the
emancipation of spiritual religion from the forms of political
life,--a step not less significant that all its consequences were
not seen till centuries had passed away. --W. Robertson Smith,
_Prophets of Israel_.

Still at the prophets' feet the nations sit. --Lowell.

That which is to be known I shall declare, knowing which a man
attains immortality--the beginningless Supreme Brahma that is said
to be neither Aught nor Naught. --_Bhagavad Gita. _

The only Metaphysics which really and immediately sustains Ethics is
one which is itself primarily ethical, and made of the staff of
Ethics. --Schopenhauer.


In answer to the burning question, How can Athens be brought back to
moral life and strength? Socrates had answered, "By finding a new moral
sanction. " He had even gone further, and said: "This sanction is to be
found in correct thinking, in thinking whole thoughts, which, because
they are whole, are absolutely true, being the very principles according
to which God governs the world. " This is, obviously, a mere formal
answer. If it was to be of any real service, three further questions had
to be answered: (1) How can whole thoughts be reached? (2) What do they
prove to be when they are reached? (3) How can they be applied to the
moral reorganization of human life? Plato's philosophy is but an attempt
to answer these questions. It therefore naturally falls into three
divisions, (1) _Dialectics_, including Logic and Theory of Knowledge,
(2) _Theoretics_, including Metaphysics and Physics, (3) _Practics_,
including Ethics and Politics.

It is obvious that any attempt to reform society on Socratic principles
must proceed, not from society itself, but from some person or persons
in whom these principles are realized, and who act upon it from without.
These persons will be the philosophers or, rather, the sages. Two
distinct questions, therefore, present themselves at the outset: (1) How
does a man become a sage? (2) How can the sage organize human life, and
secure a succession of sages to continue his work after him? To the
first of these questions, dialectics gives the answer; to the second,
practics; while theoretics exhibits to us at once the origin and the
end, that is, the meaning, of all existence, the human included. In the
teaching of Plato we find, for the first time recognized and exhibited,
the extra-civic or super-civic man, the man who is not a mere fragment
of a social whole, completely subordinated to it, but who, standing
above society, moulds it in accordance with ideas derived from a higher
source. Forecasts of this man, indeed, we find in all Greek literature
from Homer down,--in Heraclitus, Sophocles, etc. , and especially, as we
have seen, in Pythagoras;--but it is now for the first time that he
finds full expression, and tries to play a conscious part. In him we
have the promise of the future Church.

But to return to the first of our two questions, How does a man become a
sage? We found the answer to be, By the dialectic method. Of this,
however, not all men have the inclination to avail themselves, but only
a chosen few, to whom the gods have granted the inspiration of Love
(? ? ? ? )--a longing akin to madness (? ? ? ? ? ), kindled by physical beauty,
but tending to the Supreme Good. This good, as we shall see, consists in
the vision (? ? ? ? ? ? ) of eternal truth, of being, as it is. The few men
who are blessed with this love are the divinely appointed reformers and
guides of mankind, the well-being of which depends upon submission to
them. The dialectic method is the process by which the inspired mind
rises from the beauty of physical things, which are always particulars,
to the beauty of spiritual things, which are always universals, and
finally to the beauty of the Supreme Good, which is _The Universal_.
The
man who has reached this last, and who sees its relation to all other
universals, so that they form together a correlated whole, sees all
truth, and is the sage. What we call universals Plato called "ideas"
(? ? ? ? ? = forms or species). These ideas he regards as genera, as
numbers, as active powers, and as substances, the highest of which is
God.

Two things are especially notable in connection with this theory: (1)
that it involves that Oriental ascetic view of life which makes men turn
away from the sensible world, and seek their end and happiness in the
colorless world of thought; (2) that it suggests a view of the nature of
God which comes perilously near to Oriental pantheism. Plato, indeed,
nowhere denies personality of God; but neither does he affirm it, and he
certainly leaves the impression that the Supreme Being is a force acting
according to a numerical ratio or law. It would be difficult to
overestimate the influence of these two views upon the subsequent course
of Greek education and life. The former suggested to the super-civic man
a sphere of activity which he could flatter himself was superior to the
civic, viz. a sphere of contemplation; while the second, by blurring, or
rather ignoring, the essential elements of personality in God, viz.
consciousness, choice, and will, left no place for a truly religious or
moral life. This explains why Platonism, while it has inspired no great
civic movement, has played such a determining part in ecclesiasticism,
and why, nevertheless, the Church for ages was compelled to fight the
tendencies of it, which it did in great measure under the aegis of
Plato's stern critic, Aristotle.

We are now ready to take up our second question: How can the sage
organize human life, and secure a succession of sages to continue his
work after him? Plato has given two widely different answers to this
question, in his two most extensive works, (1) the _Republic_, written
in his earlier life, when he was under the influence of Heraclitus,
Parmenides, and Socrates, and stood in a negative attitude toward the
real world of history, (2) the _Laws_, written toward the end of his
life, when he became reconciled, in part at least, to the real world and
its traditional beliefs, and found satisfaction and inspiration in the
teachings of Pythagoras. His change of allegiance is shown by the fact
that in the _Laws_, and in them alone, Socrates does not appear as a
character. We shall speak first of the _Republic_, and then point out
wherein the _Laws_ differs from it.

When Plato wrote his _Republic_, he was deeply impressed with the evils
and dangers of the social order in which he lived. This impression,
which was that of every serious man of the time, had in his case
probably been deepened by the teaching and the tragic death of Socrates.
The dangers were, obviously, the demoralization of Athenian men and
women, and the consequent weakening and dissolution of the social bonds.
The evils, as he saw them, were (1) the defective education of children,
(2) the neglect of women, (3) the general disorganization of the State
through individualism, which placed power in the hands of ignorance and
rapacity, instead of in those of wisdom and worth. The _Republic_ is a
scheme for removing these evils and averting the consequent dangers. It
is the Platonic sage's recipe for the healing of society, and it is but
fair to say that, of all the Utopian and aesthetic schemes ever proposed
for this end, it is incomparably the best. It proposes nothing less than
the complete transformation of society, without offering any hint as to
how a selfish and degraded people is to be induced to submit thereto. In
the transformed society, the State is all in all; the family is
abolished; women are emancipated and share in the education and duties
of men; the State attends to the procreation and education of children;
private property is forbidden. The State is but the individual writ
large, and the individual has three faculties, in the proper development
and coordination of which consists his well-being: the same, therefore,
must be true of the State. These faculties are (1) intellect or reason,
(? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? , ? ? ? ? ? , ? ? ? ? , etc. ), (2) spirit or courage (? ? ? ? ? ,
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ), (3) desire or appetite (? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? , ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ,
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ). The first resides in the head, the second in the heart,
the third in the abdomen. The first is peculiar to man, the second he
shares with the animals, and the third with both animals and plants. The
proper relation of these faculties exists when reason, with clear
insight, rules the whole man (Prudence); when spirit takes its
directions from reason in its attitude toward pleasure and pain
(Fortitude); when spirit and appetite together come to an understanding
with reason as to when the one, and when the other, shall act
(Temperance); and, finally, when each of the three strictly confines
itself to its proper function (Justice). Thus we obtain the four
"cardinal virtues. " As existing in the individual, they are relations
between his own faculties. It is only in the State that they are
relations between the individual and his fellows. Rather we ought to
say, they are relations between different classes of society; for
society is divided into three classes, marked by the predominance of one
or other of the three faculties of the soul. _First_, there is the
intelligent class,--the philosophers or sages; _second_, the spirited
class,--the military men or soldiers; _third_, the covetous class,--men
devoted to industry, trade, and money-making. The well-being of the
State, as of the individual, is secure only when the relations between
these classes are the four cardinal virtues; when the sages rule, and
the soldiers and money-makers accept this rule, and when each class
strictly confines itself to its own function, so, for example, that the
sages do not attempt to fight, the soldiers to make money, or the
money-makers to fight or rule. In the Platonic ideal State, accordingly,
the three classes dwell apart and have distinct functions. All the power
is in the hands of the philosophers, who dwell in lofty isolation,
devoted to the contemplation of divine ideas, and descending only
through grace to mingle with human affairs, as teachers and absolute
rulers, ruling without laws. Their will is enforced by the military
class, composed of both sexes, which lives outside the city, devoting
itself to physical exercises and the defence of the State. These two
classes together constitute the guardians (? ? ? ? ? ? ? ) of the State, and
stand to each other in the relation of head and hand. They produce
nothing, own nothing, live sparingly, and, indeed, cherish a sovereign
contempt for all producing and owning, as well as for those who produce
and own. They find their satisfaction in the performance of their
functions, and the maintenance of virtue in the State. What small amount
of material good they require is supplied to them by the industrial
class, which they protect in the enjoyment of the only good it strives
after or can appreciate, the good of the appetites. This class, of
course, has no power, either directive or executive, being incapable of
any. It is, nevertheless, entirely happy in its condition of tutelage,
and, as far as virtue can be predicated of sensuality, virtuous, the
excesses of sensuality being repressed by the other two classes. Indeed,
the great merit which Plato claims for his scheme is, that it secures
harmony, and therefore happiness, for all, by placing every individual
citizen in the class to which by nature he belongs, that is, in which
his nature can find the fullest and freest expression compatible with
the well-being of the whole. Such is Plato's political scheme, marked by
the two notorious Greek characteristics, love of harmony and contempt
for labor. It is curious to think that it foreshadowed three modern
institutions--the ecclesiastical hierarchy, the standing army, and the
industrial community, in which, however, the relations of power demanded
by Plato are almost reversed, with (it is only fair to say) the result
which he foresaw.

In trying to answer the question, By what means shall these classes be
sundered? Plato calmly assumes that his scheme is already in full
operation among grown people, so that the only difficulty remaining is
with regard to the children. And this is completely met by his scheme of
education. The State or, let us say at once, the philosophic class,
having abolished the family, and assumed its functions, determines what
number and kind of children it requires at any given time, and provides
for them as it would for sheep or kine. It brings together at festivals
the vigorous males and females, and allows them to choose their mates
for the occasion. As soon as the children are born, they are removed
from their mothers and taken charge of in State institutions, where the
feeble and deformed are at once destroyed. Any children begotten without
the authority of the State share the same fate, either before or after
birth. Those whose birth is authorized, and who prove vigorous, are
reared by the State, none of them knowing, or being known by, their
parents. But they by no means suffer any diminution of parentage on that
account; for every mature man regards himself as the father, and every
mature woman regards herself as the mother, of all the children born
within a certain time, so that every child has thousands of fathers and
mothers, all interested in his welfare; and the mothers, being relieved
from nearly all the duties of maternity, share equally with the men in
all the functions of the State.

The system of education to which the children of the State are subjected
is, to a large extent, modelled after that of Sparta, especially in
respect to its rigor and its absolutely political character. It
contains, however, a strong Ionic or Athenian element, notably on the
intellectual and aesthetic side. It may fairly claim to be intensely
Hellenic. It accepts the time-honored division of education into Music
and Gymnastics, making no distinct place for Letters, but including them
under Music. It demands that these two branches shall be pursued as
parts of a whole, calculated to develop, as far as may be, the
harmonious human being, and fit him to become part of the harmonious
State. I have said "as far as may be," because Plato believes that only
a small number of persons at any given time can be reduced to complete
harmony. These are the born philosophers, who, when their nature is
fully realized, no longer require the State, but stand, as gods, above
it. In truth, the State is needed just because the mass of mankind
cannot attain inner harmony, but would perish, were it not for the outer
harmony imposed by the philosophers. This is a sad fact, and would be
altogether disheartening, were it not for the belief, which Plato seems
to have derived from Pythagoras and the Egyptians, that those human
beings who fail to attain harmony in one life, will have opportunities
to do so in other lives, so long as they do not, by some awful and
malignant crime or crimes, show that they are utterly incapable of
harmony. Plato's scheme of political education, therefore, requires, as
its complement, the doctrines of individual immortality, of probation
continued through as many lives as may be necessary, and of the
possibility of final and eternal blessedness or misery. In fact, Plato
has a fully-developed eschatology, with an "other world," consisting of
three well-defined parts,--Elysium, Acheron, and
Tartarus,--corresponding to the Paradise, Purgatory, and Hell of
Catholic Christianity; with one important difference, however, due to
the doctrine of metempsychosis. While the Christian purgatory is a place
or state of purgation for souls whose probation is over forever, Acheron
is merely a place where imperfect souls remain till the end of a
world-period, or aeon, of ten thousand years, when they are again allowed
to return to life and renew their struggle for that complete harmony
which is the condition of admission to the society of the gods.

It is from this eschatology that Plato derives the moral sanctions which
he employs in his State. It is true that no one has insisted with
greater force than he upon the truth that virtue is, in and for itself,
the highest human good; he believed, however, that this could be
appreciated only by the philosopher, who had experience of it, and that
for the lower orders of men a more powerful, though less noble, sanction
was necessary. Accordingly, he depicts the joys of Elysium in images
that could not but appeal to the Hellenic imagination, and paints
Tartarus in gruesome colors that would do honor to a St. Ignatius.

In order fully to understand the method of Plato's political education,
we must revert to Chapter III of Book I. There we saw that, according to
the Greeks, a complete education demanded three things, (1) a noble
nature, (2) training through habit, (3) instruction. For the first Plato
would do what can be done by artificial selection of parents; for the
second, he would depend upon music and gymnastics; for the third, upon
philosophy. In these last two divisions we have the root of the mediaeval
_trivium_ and _quadrivium_. The Platonic pedagogical system seeks to
separate the ignoble from the noble natures, and to place the former in
the lowest class. It then trains the noble natures in music and
gymnastics, and, while this is going on, it tries to distinguish those
natures which are capable of rising above mere training to reflective or
philosophic thought, from those which are not. The latter it assigns to
the military class, which always remains at the stage of training, while
the former are instructed in philosophy, and, if they prove themselves
adepts, are finally admitted to the ruling class, as sages. Any member
of either of the higher classes who proves himself unworthy of that
class, may at any time be degraded into the next below.

As soon as the children are accepted by the State, their education under
State nurses begins. The chief efforts of these for some time are
directed to the bodies of the children, to seeing that they are healthy
and strong. As soon as the young creatures can stand and walk, they are
taught to exert themselves in an orderly way and to play little games;
and as soon as they understand what is said to them, they are told
stories and sung to. Such is their first introduction to gymnastics and
music. What games are to be taught, what stories told, and what airs
sung to the children, the State determines, and indeed, since the
character of human beings depends, in great measure, upon the first
impression made upon them, this is one of its most sacred duties. Plato
altogether disapproves of leaving children without guidance to seek
exercise and amusement in their own way, and demands that their games
shall be such as call forth, in a gentle and harmonious way, all the
latent powers of body and mind, and develop the sense of order, beauty,
and fitness. He is still more earnest in insisting that the stories told
to children shall be exemplifications of the loftiest morality, and the
airs sung to them such as settle, strengthen, and solemnize the soul. He
follows Heraclitus in demanding that the Homeric poems, so long the
storehouse for children's stories, shall be entirely proscribed, on
account of the false ideals which they hold up both of gods and heroes,
and the intimidating descriptions which they give of the other world.
Virtue, he holds, cannot be furthered by fear, which is characteristic
only of slaves. He thinks that all early intellectual training should be
a sort of play. The truth is, the infant-school of Plato's _Republic_
comes as near as can well be imagined to the ideal of the modern
kindergarten.

While this elementary education is going on, the officers of the State
have abundant opportunity for observing the different characters of the
children, and distinguishing the noble from the ignoble. As soon as a
child shows plainly that it belongs by nature to the lowest class, they
consign it to that class, and its education by the State practically
ceases. Of course these officers know from what class each child came,
and they make use of this knowledge in determining its future destiny.
At the same time, they are not to be entirely guided by it, but to act
impartially. The education of the lowest class after childhood the
State leaves to take care of itself, persuaded that appetite will always
find means for its own satisfaction. The nobler natures it continues to
educate, without any break, until they reach the age of twenty. And this
education is distinctly a military training. As time goes on, the
gymnastic exercises become more violent, more complex, and more
sustained, but always have for their subject the soul, rather than the
body, and never degenerate into mere athletic brutality. Special
attention is directed to the musical and literary exercises, as the
means whereby the soul is directly trained and harmonized. Plato holds
that no change can be made in the "music" of a State, without a
corresponding change in the whole organization; in other words, that the
social and political condition of a people is determined by the
literature and music which it produces and enjoys. He virtually says,
Let me make the songs of a people, and he who will may make their laws.
Of the character of the music which he recommends we have already
spoken. From literature he would exclude all that we are in the habit of
calling by that name, all that is mimetic, poetic, or creative, and
confine the term to what is scientific, didactic, and edifying. He sends
the poets out of the State with mock-reverent politeness, as creatures
too divine for human use. He is particularly severe upon the dramatists,
not sparing even the sublime AEschylus. In fact, he would banish from his
State all art not directly edifying. The literature which he recommends
is plainly of the nature of AEsop's _Fables_, the Pythagorean _Golden
Words_, and the Parmenidean or Heraclitean work _On Nature_. If we
wished to express his intent in strictly modern language, we should have
to say that he desired to replace literary training by ethical and
scientific, and the poetical mode of presenting ideals by the prosaic.
The true music, he held, is in the human being. "If we find," he says,
"a man who perfectly combines gymnastics with music, and in exact
proportion applies them to the soul, we shall be entirely justified in
calling him the perfect musician and the perfect trainer, far superior
to the man who arranges strings alongside each other. "

There are many matters of detail in Plato's scheme of military training
that well deserve consideration, but cannot be even touched upon here.
Before we leave it, however, we may give the dates at which the
different branches of education are to begin. Care of the body begins at
birth, story-telling with the third year, gymnastics with the seventh,
writing and reading with the tenth, letters and music with the
fourteenth, mathematics with the sixteenth, military drill, which for
the time supplants all other training, with the eighteenth. When the
young people reach the age of twenty, those who show no great capacity
for science, but are manly and courageous, are assigned to the soldier
class, and start on a course of higher education in military training,
while those who evince great intellectual ability become novices in the
ruling class, and begin a curriculum in science, which lasts till the
close of their thirtieth year. This course includes arithmetic,
geometry, and astronomy, the only sciences at that time cultivated, and
aims at impressing upon the youthful mind the unity and harmony of the
physical or phenomenal universe. At the age of thirty, those students
who do not show any particular aptitude for higher studies are drafted
off into the lower public offices, while those who do, pass five years
in the study of dialectics, whereby they rise to pure ideas. They are
then, from their thirty-fifth to their fiftieth year, made to fill the
higher public offices, in which they take their orders directly from the
sages. During this period they put their acquirements to a practical
test, and so come really and fully into possession of them. At the end
of their fiftieth year, after half a century of continuous education of
body, mind, and will, they are reckoned to have reached the vision of
the supreme good, and therefore to be fit to enter the contemplative
ruling class. They are now free men; they have reached the goal of
existence; their life is hidden with God; they are free from the prison
of the body, and only remain in it voluntarily, and out of gratitude to
the State which has educated them, in order to direct it, in accordance
with absolute truth and right, toward the Supreme Good.

Such, in its outlines, is Plato's theory of education, as set forth in
the _Republic_. It is easy to point out its defects and its errors,
which are neither small nor few, but fundamental and all-pervasive. But
it is equally easy to see how it came to have these defects and errors,
since they are simply those of every aesthetic social scheme which
ignores the nature of the material with which it presumes to deal, and
takes no account of the actual history of social institutions or of the
forces by which they are evolved. It is emphatically the product of a
youthful intellect, carried away by an artistic ideal.