sery to many
good men, and good and happiness to the wicked. And mendicant prophets
go to rich men's doors and persuade them that they have a power
committed to them by the gods of making an atonement for a man's own or
his ancestor's sins by sacrifices or charms, with rejoicings and
feasts; and they promise to harm an enemy, whether just or unjust, at a
small cost; with magic arts and incantations binding heaven, as they
say, to execute their will. And the poets are the authorities to whom
they appeal, now smoothing the path of vice with the words of Hesiod;--

Vice may be had in abundance without trouble; the way is smooth
and her dwelling-place is near. But before virtue the gods have
set toil,

and a tedious and uphill road: then citing Homer as a witness that the
gods may be influenced by men; for he also says:

The gods, too, may he turned from their purpose; and men pray to
them and avert their wrath by sacrifices and soothing entreaties,
and by libations and the odour of fat, when they have sinned and
transgressed.

And they produce a host of books written by Musaeus and Orpheus, who
were children of the Moon and the Muses--that is what they
say--according to which they perform their ritual, and persuade not
only individuals, but whole cities, that expiations and atonements for
sin may be made by sacrifices and amusements which fill a vacant hour,
and are equally at the service of the living and the dead; the latter
sort they call mysteries, and they redeem us from the pains of hell,
but if we neglect them no one knows what awaits us.

He proceeded: And now when the young hear all this said about virtue
and vice, and the way in which gods and men regard them, how are their
minds likely to be affected, my dear Socrates,--those of them, I mean,
who are quickwitted, and, like bees on the wing, light on every flower,
and from all that they hear are prone to draw conclusions as to what
manner of persons they should be and in what way they should walk if
they would make the best of life? Probably the youth will say to
himself in the words of Pindar--

Can I by justice or by crooked ways of deceit ascend a loftier
tower which may he a fortress to me all my days?

For what men say is that, if I am really just and am not also thought
just profit there is none, but the pain and loss on the other hand are
unmistakable. But if, though unjust, I acquire the reputation of
jus