cannot turn even their necks, but with their heads fixed so that they can look only towards the lower end of the cave. Suppose, further, that there is a great fire lit opposite to the mouth of the cavern (so as to throw the shadows of objects on the lower end of the cave), and that there is a road which runs past the cavern between the fire and the captives. Suppose, too, that along this road runs a low wall, like the partition over which puppet-showmen exhibit their figures. And now suppose that along this wall, and so as to be shown above it, pass men and other figures, some silent, some speaking. You think this is a strange imagination. Yet these captives exactly represent the condition of us men who see nothing but the shadows of realities. And these captives, in talking with one, would give names to the shadows as if they were realities. And if, further, this prison-house had an echo opposite to it, so that when the passers-by spoke the sound was reflected (from the same wall on which the shadows were seen), they would, of course, think that the shadows spoke. And, in short, in every way they would be led to think there were no realities except these shadows.
"Now consider how these captives might be freed from these illusions. If one of them were loosed from his bonds, and made to turn round and to walk towards the light and look at it; at first he would be pained and dazzled by the glare, and unable to see clearly. He would be perplexed if he
