When the morning dawns, let the boy go to school.  As the sheep need the shepherd, so the boy needs a master; for he is at once the most cunning and the most insubordinate of creatures.  Let him be taken away from mothers and nurses, and tamed with bit and bridle, being treated as a freeman in that he learns and is taught, but as a slave in that he may be chastised by all other freemen; and the freeman who neglects to chastise him shall be disgraced.  All these matters will be under the supervision of the Director of Education.

Him we will address as follows:  We have spoken to you, O illustrious teacher of youth, of the song, the time, and the dance, and of martial strains; but of the learning of letters and of prose writings, and of music, and of the use of calculation for military and domestic purposes we have not spoken, nor yet of the higher use of numbers in reckoning divine things—­such as the revolutions of the stars, or the arrangements of days, months, and years, of which the true calculation is necessary in order that seasons and festivals may proceed in regular course, and arouse and enliven the city, rendering to the Gods their due, and making men know them better.  There are, we say, many things about which we have not as yet instructed you—­and first, as to reading and music:  Shall the pupil be a perfect scholar and musician, or not even enter on these studies?  He should certainly enter on both:—­to letters he will apply himself from the age of ten to thirteen, and at thirteen he will begin to handle the lyre, and continue to learn music until he is sixteen; no shorter and no longer time will be allowed, however fond he or his parents may be of the pursuit.  The study of letters he should carry to the extent of simple reading and writing, but he need not care for calligraphy and tachygraphy, if his natural gifts do not enable him to acquire them in the three years.  And here arises a question as to the learning of compositions when unaccompanied with music, I mean, prose compositions.  They are a dangerous species of literature.  Speak then, O guardians of the law, and tell us what we shall do about them.  ‘You seem to be in a difficulty.’  Yes; it is difficult to go against the opinion of all the world.  ’But have we not often already done so?’ Very true.  And you imply that the road which we are taking, though disagreeable to many, is approved by those whose judgment is most worth having.  ‘Certainly.’  Then I would first observe that we have many poets, comic as well as tragic, with whose compositions, as people say, youth are to be imbued and saturated.  Some would have them learn by heart entire poets; others prefer extracts.  Now I believe, and the general opinion is, that some of the things which they learn are good, and some bad.  ‘Then how shall we reject some and select others?’ A happy thought occurs to me; this long discourse of ours is a sample of what we want, and is moreover an inspired work and a kind of poem.  I am naturally pleased in