let them off. But how
can we make them sing? For a discreet elderly man is ashamed to hear the
sound of his own voice in private, and still more in public. The only
way is to give them drink; this will mellow the sourness of age. No one
should be allowed to taste wine until they are eighteen; from eighteen
to thirty they may take a little; but when they have reached forty
years, they may be initiated into the mystery of drinking. Thus they
will become softer and more impressible; and when a man's heart is warm
within him, he will be more ready to charm himself and others with song.
And what songs shall he sing? 'At Crete and Lacedaemon we only know
choral songs.' Yes; that is because your way of life is military. Your
young men are like wild colts feeding in a herd together; no one takes
the individual colt and trains him apart, and tries to give him the
qualities of a statesman as well as of a soldier. He who was thus
trained would be a greater warrior than those of whom Tyrtaeus speaks,
for he would be courageous, and yet he would know that courage was only
fourth in the scale of virtue. 'Once more, I must say, Stranger, that
you run down our lawgivers.' Not intentionally, my good friend, but
whither the argument leads I follow; and I am trying to find some style
of poetry suitable for those who dislike the common sort. 'Very good.'
In all things which have a charm, either this charm is their good, or
they have some accompanying truth or advantage. For example, in eating
and drinking there is pleasure and also profit, that is to say, health;
and in learning there is a pleasure and also truth. There is a pleasure
or charm, too, in the imitative arts, as well as a law of proportion or
equality; but the pleasure which they afford, however innocent, is not
the criterion of their truth. The test of pleasure cannot be applied
except to that which has no other good or evil, no truth or falsehood.
But that which has truth must be judged of by the standard of truth, and
therefore imitation and proportion are to be judged of by their truth
alone. 'Certainly.' And as music is imitative, it is not to be judged by
the criterion of pleasure, and the Muse whom we seek is the muse not of
pleasure but of truth, for imitation has a truth. 'Doubtless.' And if
so, the judge must know what is being imitated before he decides on the
quality of the imitation, and he who does not know what is true will not
know what is good. 'He will not.' Wil