The dialogues of Plato

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THE

«# DIALOGUES OF PLATO

JOWETT

VOL. ITI.

wy

=i

THE

“DLA LOGUES OF PLATC

TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH
WITH ANALYSES AND INTRODUCTIONS

B. JOWETT, M.A.

MASTER OF BALLIOL COLLEOE; REGIUS PROFESSOR OF GREEK IN THM UNIVERSITY UF OXFORD
DOCTOR 16 THROLOGY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF LEYDEN: LL.D. OF THE UNIVERSITIES
OF ROMHEURGH AXD CAMBBIDGE

IN FIVE VOLUMES: VOL. IIL

‘Shir Eition
Revised and Correrted Chroughout

(WITH MARGINAL ANALYSES AND OTHER ADDITIONS, AND AN
INDEX OF SUBJECTS AMD PROPER NAMES

( Peto Pork
MACMILLAN AND CO.
AND LONDON
1892

AU rights reserved

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" LIBRARY.

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Pristed at the De Viane Prev.

CONTENTS.

REPUBLIC : —
INTRODUCTION AND ANALYSIS... le
Boox I . . . . . . . .

“on ee aE an) THT sida Cyd GS
“om ar Ge Ra Ce tel. ya
BV ya, Sep fee SES Mra

oth WV so ee Re

Saas {) eC Sey a a

SPEIRS van Se’ fee Man ee ae
TIMAEUS ee Bl Gr om GhEReD og
(cRITIAS Re ier fea Yay PR iia ee

THE REPUBLIC.

Cipees (@ lany 8 O) tooee
‘over Marathon and Salamis, perhaps making the reflection of

’ ‘The argument of the Republic.
less old man— then discussed on the basis of proverbial morality

by Socrates and Polemarchus—then caricatured by Thrasymachus
and partially explained by Socrates — reduced to an abstraction by
Glaucon and Adeimantus, and having become invisible in the
individual reappears at length in the ideal State which is con-
|| structed by Socrates. The first care of the rulers is to be educa-
tion, of which an outline is drawn after the old Hellenic model,
providing only for an improved religion and moratity, and more
simplicity in music and gymnastic, a manlier strain of poctry, and
|\ greater harmony of the individual and the State. We are thus
j Sodi90 to the conception of a higher State, in which ‘no man calls
anything his awn,’ and in which there is neither ‘marrying nor

‘giving in marriage,’ and ‘kings are philosophers’ and ‘ philoso
-phers are kings;’ and there is another and higher education, in-
_ tellectual as well as moral and religious, of science as well as of
‘art, and not of youth only but of the whole of life. Such a State
‘is hardly to be realized in this world and quickly degenerates.
‘To the perfect ideal succeeds the government of the soldier and
the lover of honour, this again declining into democracy, and de~
mocracy into tyraany, in an imaginary but regular order having
‘not much resemblance to the actual facts. When ‘the wheel has
come futl circle we do not begin again with a new period of
human Hfe; but we have passed from the best to the worst, and
therewe-end. The subject is then changed and the old quarrel of
poetry and philosophy which had been more lightly treated in
‘the carlicr books of the Republic is now resumed and fought out
te a conclusion. Poctry is discovered to be am imitation thrice
removed from the truth, and Homer, as well as the dramatic
poets, having been condemned as an imitator, is sent inte banish-
‘ment along with them. And the idea of the State is supplemented
by the revelation of a future life,

‘The division into books, like all similar divisions, is probably
later than the age of Plato. The natural divisions are five in
number; — (1) Book I and the first half of Book Il down to p, 368,
which is introductory; the first book containing a refutation of the
Popular and sophistical notions of justice, and concluding, Wee
some of the carlicr Dialogues, without arriving at any definite
result. To this is appended a restatement of the nature of justice

1 Cp. Sir G. C, Lowis in the Classical Museum, vol Hi. py.

j

another; and such interruptions would be more likely to occur
_ in the case of a long than of a short writing. In all attempts to
‘determine the chronological order of the Platonic writings on
internal evidence, this uncertainty about any single Dialogue being
“composed at one time is a disturbing clement, which must be
admitted to affect longer works, such as the, Republic and the
‘Laws, more than shorter ones. But, on the other hand, the
-weming discrepancies of the Republic may only arise out of the
discordant elements which the phi has attempted to unite
‘in a single whole, perhaps without himself able to recognise
the inconsistency which ts obvious to us. For thtre is a judgment
of after ages which few great writers have ever been able to
anticipate for themselves. They do not perceive the want of
connexion in their own writings, or the gaps in their systems
which are visible enough to those who come after them. In the
beginnings of literature and philosophy, amid the first efforts of
thought and language, more inconsistencies occur than now, when
‘the paths of speculation are well worn and the meaning of words
precisely defined. For consistency, 100, is the growth of time}
and some of the greatest creations of the human mind have been
‘wanting in unity. Tried by this test, several of the Platonic
Dialogues, according to our modern ideas, appear to be defective,
‘but the deficiency is no proof that they were composed at different
times or by different bands. And the supposition that the Re-
public was written uninterruptedly and by a continuous effort is
in some degree confirmed by the numerous references from one
part of the work to another.

‘The second title, ‘Concerning Justice,’ is not the one by which
the Republic is quoted, either by Aristotle or gencrally in antiquity,
and, like the other second titles of the Platonic Dialogues, may
therefore be assumed to be of later date. Morgenstern and others
have asked whether the definition of justice, which is the professed
‘aim, or the construction of the State is the principal argument of
the work, The answer is, that the two blend in one, and are two
faces of the same truth; for justice is the order of the State, and
the State is the visible embodiment of justice, under the conditions
of human society. The onc is the soul and the other is the body,
and the Greek ideal of the State, as of the individual, is a fair mind
in a fair body. In Hegelian phraseology the state is the reality of

‘unity isto be sought after in a building, in the plastic arts, in
poetry, in prose, is a problem which has to be determined rela-
tively to the subject-matter, To Plato himself, the enquiry ‘what
wae the intention of the writer,’ or *what was the principal argu-
‘ment of the Republic’ would bave been hardly intelligible, and
therefore had better be at once dismissed (cp. the Introduction to
the Phacdrus, yol. i.)

- In not the Republic the vehicle of three or four great truths which,
to Plato's own mind, are most naturally represented in the form of
‘the State? Just as in the Jewish prophets the reign of Messiah, or
‘the day of the Lord,’ or the suffering Servant or people of God, or
‘the *Sun of righteousness with healing in his wings’ only convey,
to usatleast, their great spiritual ideals, so through the Greek State
Plato reveals to us his own thoughts about divine perfcetion, which
ig the idea of good —like the sun in the visible world; —about human
perfection, which is justice—about education beginning in youth
and continuing in later years —about poets and sophists and tyrants
who are the false teachers and evil rulers of mankind —about | the
world’ which is the embodiment of them — about a kingdom which
exists nowhere upon earth but is laid up in heaven to be the
pattern and rule of human life. No such inspired creation is at
tunity with itself, any more than the clouds of heaven when the sun
pierces through them. Every shade of light and dark, of truth, and
of fiction which is the veil of truth, is allowable in « work of philo-
sophical imagination. {t is not all on the same plane; it casily
passes from ideas to myths and fancies, from facts to figures of
speech, It is not prose but poetry, at least a great part of it, and
ought not to be judged by the rules of logic or the probabilities
of history. The writer is not fashtoning his ideas into an artistic
whole; they take possession of him and are too much for him.
We have no need therefore to discuss whether # State such as
Plato has conceived is practicable or not, or whether the outward
form or the inward life came first igto the mind of the writer. For
the practicability of his ideas hing wo do with their truth:
(x. 472 D); and the highest thoughts to which he attains may be
‘truly said to boar the greatest “marks of design’— justice more
than the externa. frame-work of the State, the idea of good more
than justice. The great science of dialectic or the organisation off
ideas has no real content; but is only a type of the method or

oe eceaneriol eases nip sa ese ee |

—_

Glaucon and Adeimantus.

the discussion with reluctance, but soon with apparent good-will,
and he even testifies his interest at a later stage by one or two:
occasional remarks (v. 450 A,B). When attacked by Glaucon.
(vi. 498 C, D) he is humorously protected by Socrates ‘as one who
has never been his enemy and is now his friend.’ From Cicero
and Quintilian and from Aristotle's Rhetoric (ili. 1.75 i. 23. 29) we.
learn that the Sophist whom Plato has made so ridiculous was a
‘man of note whose writings were preserved in Jater ages. The
play on his name which was made by his contemporary Herodicus
(Aris. Rhet. ti. 23, 29), ‘thou wast ever bold in battle,’ seems to
show that the description of him is not devoid of verisimilitude, ”

When Thrasymachus has been silenced, the two principal re-
spondents, Glaucon and Adeimantus, appear on the scene: here,
as in Greek tragedy (ep. Introd, to Phacdo), three actors are ine
troduced. At first sight the two sons of Ariston may seem to
‘wear a family likeness, like the two friends Simmias and Cebes in
the Phaedo. But on a nearer examination of them the similarity
vanishes, and they are seen to be distinct characters. Glaucon is
the impetuous youth who can * just never have enough of fechting”
(op. the character of him in Xen. Mem. lif. 6); the man of pleasure
who is acquainted with the mysteries of love {v. 474 D); the
‘juvenis qui gaudet canibus,’ and who improves the breed of
animals (v. 439A); the lover of art and music (ili. 398 D, E) wha
has all the experiences of youthful life. He is full of quickness
and penetration, piercing casily below the clumsy platitudes of
‘Thrasymachus to the real difficulty ; he turns out to the light the
seamy side of human life, and yet does not lose faith in the just
and true. [t ia Glaucon who seizes what may be termed the
ludicrous relation of the philosopher to the world, to whom a state
of simplicity is ‘a city of pigs,’ who is always prepared with a jest
(iii. 398 C, go7 Aj ve 450, 451, 468C; vie S09 C; ix. $86) when the
argument offers him an opportunity, and who is ever ready to
second the humour of Socrates and to appreciate the ridiculous,
whether in the connoisseurs of music (vii, $31 A), or in the lovers
of theatricals (v. 475 D), or in the fantastic behaviour of the citizens
‘of democracy (viii 557 foll.). His weaknesses are several times
alluded to by Socrates (iii. 402 E; v. 474 D, 475 E)y who, however,
will not allow him to be attacked by his brother Adeimantus
(viii. 548 D,E). He is a soldier, and, like Adeimantus, has been

oct regard
‘ate regarded by mankind in general only for the sake of their
consequences; and ina similar vein of reflection he urges at the

(beginning of the fourth book that Socrates fails in making his.

citizens happy, and is answered that happiness is mot the first but
the second thing, not the direct aim but the indirect consequence
‘of the good government of a State. In the discussion about re-
ligion and mythology, Adcimantus is the respondent (iii. 376-398),
‘Bat at p. 998 C, Glaseom breaks in with a slight jest, and carries on
the conversation in a lighter tone about masic and gymnastic to
the end of the book. It is Adeimantus again who volunteers the
criticism of common sense on the Socratic method of argument
(et 487 B), and who refizses to let Socrates pass lightly over the ques-
‘tion of women and children (v. $49). It is Adeimantus who is the re-
spondent in the more argumentative, as Glaucon in the lighter and
‘more imaginative portions of the Dialogee, Forexample, through-
‘out the greater part of the sixth book, the causes of the cormiption
‘of phitosophy and the coaception of the idea of good are discussed
with Adcimantes. At p. 506 C, Glaucom resumes his place of
‘Principal respondent; bet be has a difficulty in apprehending the
higher education of Socrates, and makes some false hits in the
course of the discussion (526 D, 527 D). Once more Adeimantes
returns (viii. $48) with the allusion to his brother Glaucon whom he
compares to the contentious State; in the next book (ix. 575) be is
‘again superseded, and Glaucon continues to the end (x. 621 B),
‘Thus ina succession of characters Plato represents the sacces-
sive stages of morality, begining with the Athenian gentieman of
the olden time, who is followed by the practical man of that day
regulating his life by proverbs and saws; to him succeeds the
wild generalization of the Sophists, and lastly come the young
Gisciples of the great teacher, who know the sopbistical arguments

The real and the Platonic Socrates,
‘but will not be convinced by them, and desire to go deeper into
the nature of things. These too, ike Cephalus, Polensarchus,
rem ‘Thrasymachus, are clearly distinguished from one another.
Neither in the Republic, nor in any other Dialogue of Plato,
| a single character repeated.
| ‘The delineation of Socrates in the Republic is not wholly con-
sistent, In the first hook we have more of the real Socrates, such |
| ‘as he is depicted in the Memorabilia of Xenophon, in the earfiest
Dialogues of Plato, and in the Apology. He is ironical, provoking,
| questioning, the old enemy of the Sophists, ready to put on the
| mask of Silenus as well as to argue scriously. But in the sixth
| book his enmity towards the Sophists abates; he acknowledges
| that they are the representatives rather than the corupters of the
world (vi. 492A). He also becomes more dogmatic and construce
tive, passing beyond the range cither of the political or the specu-
| lative ideas of the real Socrates. In one passage (vi. 506 C)
Vial enn nat ta he ine ha to comer Socata |
who had passed his whole life in philosophy, to give his own
opinion and not to be always repeating the notions of other men,
| There is no evidence that-cither the idea of good or the conception
| of a perfect state were comprehended in the Socratic teaching,
| ‘ though he certainly dwelt on the nature of the universal and of
| final eauses (cp. Xen. Mem. i. 4; Phaedo 97); anda decp thinker
like him, in his thirty or forty years of public teaching, could
| hardly have failed to touch on the nature of family relations, for
which there is also some positive evidence in the Memorabilia
(Mem, i. 2, 51 foll.). ‘The Socratic method is nominally retained ;
and every inference is cither put into the mouth of the respondent
or represented as the common discovery of him and Socrates.
But any one can sec that this is a mere form, of which the affcc~
tation grows wearisome as the work advances. The method of
enquiry has passed into a method of teaching in which by the help
of interlocutors the same thesis fs looked at from various points of
view, ‘The nature of the process is truly characterized by Glaucon,
when he describes himself ae a companion who is not good for
much in an investigation, but can sec what he is shown (Iv..432 C),
and may, perhaps, give the answer to a question more fluently
than another (v. 474 A; ep, 389 A).
Neither can we be absolutely certain that Socrates himself

|
be

Sis apply she: fex of common instances. *You,’ says Adei-
y, in the sixth book, ‘are so unaccustomed to
sk in images,’ And this use of examples or images, though
ee one, is enlarged by the genius of Plato into the
form of an allegory or parable, which embodies in the concrete
‘what has been already described, or is about to be described, in
the abstract. Thus the figure of the cave in Book VII is a re-
capitulation of the divisions of knowledge in Book Vi. The
composite aninval in Book IX is an allegory of the parts of the
soul. ‘The noble captain and the ship and the truc pilot in Book VI
are a figure of the relation of the people to the philosophers in the
‘State which has been described. Other figures, such as the dog
ii 375A, Dj ili, goa A, 416 A; v. 461 D), or the marriage of the
portionless maiden (vi. 495, 496), or the drones and wasps in the
eighth and ninth books, also form links of connexion in long
passages, or are used to recall previous discussions.

Plato is most true to the character of his master when he
‘describes him as ‘not of this world.’ And with this representation
of him the ideal state and the other paradoxes of the Republic are
‘quite in accordance, though they cannot be shown to have been
speculations of Socrates, To him, as to other great teachers both
philosophical and religious, when they looked upward, the world
‘seemed to be the embodiment of error and evil. The common sense
of mankind has revolted against this view, or has only partially ad-
mitted 4. And even in Socrates himself the sterner judgment
of the multitude ar times passes into a sort of ironical pity or love.
‘Men in general are incapable of philosophy, and are therefore at }
enmity with the philosopher; but their misundorstanding of him

strong? Thrasymaches ts indignant st he Siete,

amd in pomposs words, apparently intended te rowers Egety

the argument, be explains ha meaning to be that the relers make
|) tees for their ews interests. But exppese, sayz Socrates that the 53}

waler or stronger makes a mistake—thea the Gere of Oe

Mronger is sot his interest. Thraymacho b&b saved Gem this
\ speedy downfall by his disciple Cieitophen, who imtrodaces Se 34)

‘thinks ;’— not the actual interes: of the ruler, bet what be

‘thinks or what sccom to be bis interest, & jatkx. The cocte-
dictiod is txcaped by the unmcaning cvamce : for though bo real,

insinustes, his adversary bas changed his misxL Is what hitless
‘Theasymachus docs in fact withdraw his admission that the ruler
may make a mistake, for be afirms that the ruber as = sper &
inGllibis. Socrates is quite ready to accept the wew position, 34)
which he equally. turns against Thrasymaches by the help of

persons which come-coder

Ages been eas oe ie oie aes
who come under his sway.
Thrasymachas is on the brink of the incritable conchasioo,
when he makes a bold diversion. ‘Tell me, Socrates,’ he says, 34:
*have you a nurse?’ What a question! Why do you ask?
* Because, if you hare, she neglects you and Its you go about
drivelling, and has not even ta to know the shepherd
from the sheep. For you fancy th: and rulers never
think of their own interest, but only of their sheep or subjects,

y—

possible,— there is no kingdom of evil in ts wud

Sarah that elie tan C8! and in the dissatisfaction which
‘Socrates expresses at the final result.

“The expression ‘an art of pay” (i. 346 B) which is described as
‘common to all the arts’ is not in accordance with the ordinary ues
of language. Nor is it employed elsewhere either by Plato or by
any other Greek writer. It is suggested by the argument, and
seems to extend the conception of art to doing as well as making.
“Another flaw or inaccuracy of language may be noted in the words
(i. 335 C) ‘men who are injured are made more unjust.' For
those who are injured are not necessarily made worse, but only
harmed or ill-treated.

‘The second of the three arguments, ‘that the just does not
aim at ' has a_real_meaning, thor 1 up in an
‘enigmatical form. “That the good is.of-the nature of the finite
is a peculiarly Hellenic sentiment, which may be compared with
the Tanguage of those modern writers who speak of virtue as
fitness, and of ftocdom as obedience to law. The mathematical
‘or logical notion of limit easily passes into an ethical one, and
even finds « mythological expression in the conception of envy
(@év;). Ideas of measure, equality, order, wnity, proportion, still
linger in the writings of moralists; and the true spirit of the fine
arts is better conveyed by such terms than by superlatives.

* When workmen strive to do better than well,
‘Thoy do confound thelr skill in covetousnors”
(King John, Act iv, Sea)
‘The harmony of the soul and body (iii. 402 D), and of the parts of the
soul with one another (iv. 442 C), a harmony ‘fairer than that of
musical notes,’ is the true Hellenic mode of conceiving the per-
fection of human nature.

In what may be called the epilogue of the discussion with
‘Thrasymachus, Plato argues that evil is not a principle of
strength, but of discord and dissolution, just touching the question
which has been often treated in modern times by theologians
and philosophers, of the negative nature of evil (ep. on the other
hand x. 610). In the last argument we trace the germ of the

“of fear for themselves, but they wil laugh at him inthe heats

(Cp. Gorgias, 483 B.)

“And now let us frame an ideal of the just and unjust. Imagine
‘the unjust man to be master of his craft, seldom making mistakes
and casily correcting them; having gifts of money, speech, 36
‘strength — the greatest villain bearing the highest character: and
at his side let us place the just in his nobleness and simplicity —
being, not seeming —without name or reward —clothed in his
justice only —the best of mon who is thought to be the worst,
and lot him die as he has lived. If might add (but 1 would rather
put the rest into the mouth of the panegyrists of injustice they
‘will tell you) that the just man will be scourged, racked, bound,
will have his eyes put out, and will at last be crucified [literally
impaled) —and all this because he ought to have preferred seeming
to being. How different is the case of the unjust who clings
to appearance as the true reality! His high character makes him
aruler; he cin marry where he likes, trade where he likes, help
his friends and hurt his enemies; having got rich by dishonesty
‘he can worship the gods better, and will therefore be more loved, —
by therm than the Just.’

1 was thinking what to answer, when Adcimantus joined in the
already unequal fray, He considered that the most important —
paint of all had been omitted: —‘ Men are taught to be just for
the sake of rewards; parents and guardians make reputation the
incentive to virtue. And other advantages are promised by them
of a more solid kind, such as wealthy marriages and high offices
‘There are the pictures in Homer and Hesiod of fat sheep and
heavy fleeces, rich corn-fields and trees toppling with fruit, which
the gods provide in this life for the just. And the Orphic poots
add a similar picture of anothér. ‘The heroes of Musacus and
Eumolpus lic on couches at a° festival, with garlands on thelr
heads, enjoying as the mecd of sirtue a paradise of immortal
drunkenness. Some go further, and speak of a fair posterity in the
third and fourth generation. But the wicked they bury in a slough
and make them carry water in a sicve; and in this life they

/ more than human virue is needed to save a mam, and that he only
praises justice who is incapable of injustice,
*The origin of the evil is that all men from the beginning, —
poets, instructors of youth, have always asserted *the
temporal dispensation,” the honours and profits of justice. Had
we been taught in easly youth the power of justice and injustice 34
inherent in the soul, and unseen by any human or divine eye, we
should not have needed others to be our guardians, but every one
would have been the guardian of himself. This is what T want
to show, Socrates; —other men use arguments which zather
tend to strengthen the position of Thrasymachus that ‘might is
right;" but from you I expect better things. And please, as
Glaucon said, to exclude reputation; let the just be thought unjust
and the unjust just, and do you still prove to us the superiority of
justice...
‘The thesis, which for the sake of argument has been maintained
by Glaucon, is the converse of that of Thrasymachus—not right
is the interest of the stronger, but right is the necessity of the
weaker. Starting from the same premises he carries the analysis
‘of society a step further back ; —might is still right, but the might
is the weakness of the many combined against the strength of the
fow.
‘There have been theories in modern as well as in ancient times
which have a family likeness to the speculations of Glaucon; & g
that power is the foundation of right; or that a monarch hasa
divine right to govern well or ill; or that virtue is self-love or the
love of power; or that war is the natural state of man; or that
private vices are public benefits, All such theories have a kind of
plausibility from their partial agreement with experience. For —
human nature oscillates between good and evil, and the motives of
actions and the origin of institutions may be explained to a certain:
‘extent on either hypothesis according to the character or point of
view of a particular thinker. ‘The obligation of maintaining
authority under all circumstances and sometimes by rather
questionable means is felt strongly and has become a sort of
instinct among civilized men. The divine right of kings, or more
generally of governments, is one of the forms under which this
natural feeling is expressed. Nor again is there any evil which
has not some accompaniment of good or pleasure; nor any good

ea |

“He is exhibiting Socrates for the first time undergoing the

" Glaucon has been drawing a picture of the misery of the just
and the happiness of the unjust, to which the misery of the tyrant
in Book IX is the answer and parallel. And still the unjust must
appear just; that is "the homage which vice pays te virwe.’ But
now Adcimantus, taking up the hint which had been already given”
by Glaucon (ii. 358 C), proceeds to show that in the epinion of
mankind justice is regarded only for the sake of rewards and
reputation, and points out the advantage which is given to such:
arguments as these of Thrasymachus and Glaucon by the conven-
tional morality of mankind, He seems to feel the difficelty of |
‘justifying the ways of God to man.’ Both the brothers touch
upon the question, whether the morality of actions is determined —
by their consequences (cp. iv. 420 foll.); and both of them go
beyond the position of Socrates, that justice belongs to the class of
Gado nce desirable br thiemestves batyy bor. deaec ola tea
selves and for their results, to which he recalls them. Ia
‘attempt to view justice as an internal principle, and in
condemnation of the poets, they anticipate him. ‘The common life
of Greece ls not enough for them; they must penetrute deeper into:
the nature of things.
“It has been objected that justice is honesty in the sense of —
Glaucon and Adeimantus, but is taken by Socrates to mean all
virtus. May we not more truly say that the old-fashioned notion —
of justice is enlarged by Socrates, and becomes equivalent te |
universal order or well-being, first in the State, and secondly
in the individual? He has found a new answerto his old ques
tion (Protag, 329), ‘ whether the virtues are one or many,’ viz that
one is the ordering principle of the three others. In secking —
to establish the purely internal nature of justice, he is met by
the fact that man is a social being, and he tries to harmonise
the two opposite theses as well as he can. There is no more —
inconsistency in this than was inevitable in his age and country;

al

Society arises out of the wants of man. His first want is food
his second a house; his third acoat. The sense of these n¢

‘of a State, which we take the liberty to invent, although

sity ts the real inventor. There must be first a =e
secondly a builder, thirdly a weaver, to which may be

a cobbler. Four or five citizens at least are required to |
acity. Now men have different natures, and one man will do.
‘thing better than many; and business waits for no man. H
there must be a diyision of Labour into different employments;
wholesale and retail trade; into workers, and makers of works

sophers or lovers of learning which will make them gentle.
‘how are they to be learned without education?

and gymuastic? Music includes literature, and literature is 0
kinds, truc and false. ‘What do you mean?" he said. 1 .
that children hear stories before they learn gymnastics, and that
the stories are either untrue, of have at most one or sins
of truth in a bushel of falsehood, Now carly life is
prestible, and children ought not to learn what they will

to unlear when they grow up; we must therefore have a 6

ship of nursery tales, banishing some and keeping others, 3
of them are very improper, as we may see in the great in

of Homer and Hesiod, who not only tell lies but bad lies;
about Uranus and Saturn, which are immoral as well as:
and which should never be spoken of to young pen
indeed at all; or, if at all, then in a mystery, after the
‘not of an Eleusinian pig, but of some unprocurable animal,
our youth be encouraged to beat their fathers by the example
-of Zeus, o our citizens be incited to quarrel by hearing or 2c
representations of strife among the gods? Shall they listen to
the narrative of Hephaestus binding his mother, and of Z
sending him flying for helping her when she was beaten?
tales may possibly have a mystical interpretation, but the
aré incapable of understanding allegory. If any one asks what —
tales are to be allowed, we will answer that we are legislators and.
not book-makers; we only lay down the principles accordin
to which books are to be written; to write them is the duty of
others, %

oe an maa coal ose
Gradually this community increases; the division of

“labour extends to countries; imports necessitate exports; &
and retailers sit in the market-

medium of exchange is required,

place to save the time of the producers. These are the steps
‘by which Plato constructs the first or primitive State, intmducing
the elements of political economy by the way. As he is going
to frame a sccond or civilized State, the simple naturally comes
before the complex. He indulges, like Rousseau, in a picture of
primitive life —an idea which has indeed often had a powerful ine
fluence on the imagination of mankind, but he does not seriously
mean to say that one is better than the other (cp. Statesman,
p. 272); nor can any inference be drawn from the description
of the first state taken apart from the second, such as Aristotle
appears to draw in the Politics, iv. 4, $ 13 (cp. again Statesman, 272).
We should not interpret a Platonic dialogue any more than a
poem or a parable in two literal or matter-of-fact a style. On
the other hand, when we compare the lively fancy of Plato with
the dried-up abstractions of modern treatises on philosophy, we
are compelled to say with Protagoras, that the ‘ mythus is more
Interesting (Protag. 320 D).

Several interesting remarks which in modern times would have
a place in a treatise on Political Economy are scattered up and
down the writings of Plato: cp. especially Laws, v. 740, Population;
viii. 847, Free Trade; xi. 916-7, Adulteration; 923~q, Wills and
Bequests; 930, Begging ; Eryxias, (though not Plato's), Value and
Demand; Republic, i, 369 ff,, Division of Labour. The last subject,
and also the origin of Retail Trade, is treated with admirable
lucidity in the second book of the Republic, But Plato never com-
bined his economic ideas into a system, and never seems to have
recognized that Trade is one of the great motive powers of the
State and of the world, He would make retail traders only of the
inferior sort of citizens (Rep. ii. 371; cp. Laws, vi'i, 847), though be
remarks, quaintly enough (Laws, xi, 918 D), thatif only the best
men and the best women everywhere were compelled to keep
taverns for a time or to carry on retail tmde, ete., then we should
know how pleasant and agreeable all these things are.’

‘The disappointment of Glaucon at the ‘city of pigs,’ the ludi-
¢rous description of the ministers of luxury in the more refined

za

|
|
|

a

_ but they are frequently uncertain, we only learn the ouc

He

‘of religious history are amongst the most important of all facts;

Jesson which is to be gathered from them when we place ox
selves abore them. These reflections tend to show that the
difference between Plato and ourselves, though not enimportant,
is not so great as might at first sight appear. For we should
‘agree with him in placing the moral before the historical truth
of religion; and, generally, in disregarding those errors of mis-
statements of fact which necessarily occur in the early stages of
all religions, We know also that changes in the traditions of a
country cannot be made in a day; and are therefore tolerant of
many things which science and criticism would condemn.

We note in passing that the allegorical interpretation of mytho-
logy, said to have been first introduced as carly ar the sixth
century before Christ by Theagenes of Rhegiurn, was well estab-
lished in the aye of Plato, and here, as in the Phaedrus (229-30),
though for a different reason, was rejected by him. That ana-
chronisms whether of religion or law, when men have reached
another stage af civilization, should be got rid of by fictions is in
accordance with universal experience. Great is the art of inter-
pretation ; and by a notural process, which when once discovered
was always going on, what could not be altered was explained
away, And so without any palpable inconsistency there existed
side by side two forms of religion, the tradition inherited or
invented by the poets and the customary worship of the temple;
‘on the other hand, there was the religion of the philosopher, who
was dwelling in the heaven of ideas, but did not therefore refuse
to offer m cock to Ausculapius, or to be seen saying his prayers
at the rising of the sun. At length the antagonism between the
popular and philosophical religion, never so great among the
Grecks as in our own age, disappeared, and was only felt like the
difference between the religion of the educated and uneducated
among ourselves. ‘The Zeus of Homer and Hesiod easily passed
into the ‘royal mind’ of Plato (Philebus, 28); the giant Heracles
became the knight-crrant and benefactor of mankind, ‘These and
still more wonderful transformations were readily effected by the
ingenuity of Stoics and neo-Platonists in the two or three centuries
before and after Christ, The Greek and Roman religions were
gradually permeated by the spirit of philosophy ; having lost their

“3.

consists in self-control and obedience to authority.

when reason arrives, then he who has been thus trained welcomes
her as the friend whom he always knew. As in learning to read,
first we acquire the elements or letters separately, and afterwards
thelr combinations, and cannot recognize reflections of them until

fairest object of a musical soul is the fair mind in the fair 7
‘Some defect in the latter may be excused, but not in the former,
‘True love Is the daughter of temperance, and temperance is 42
utterly opposed to the madness of bodily pleasure. Enough has
‘been said of music, which makes a fair onding with love, A
‘Next we pass on to gymnastics; about which 1 would remark,
that the soul és related to the body as a cause to an effect, and
therefore if we educate the mind we may leave the education of
the body in her charge, and need only give a general outing
of the course to be pursued. In the first place the guardians must
abstain from strong drink, for they should be the last persons to.
lose their wits. Whether the habits of the palacstra are
to them is more doubtful, for the ordinary gymnastic is a
sort of thing, and if left off suddenly is apt to endanger he:
But our warrior athletes must be wide-awake dogs, and
algo be inured to all changes of food and climate. Henee
will require a simpler kind of gymnastic, akin to their simple
music; and for their diet a rule may be found in Homer, who
feeds his heroes on roast meat only, and gives them no fish
although they are living at the sea-side, nor boiled meats which
involve an apparatus of pots and pans; and, if 1 am not mistaken,
he nowhere mentions swect sauces, Sicilian cookery and Attic
confections and Corinthian courtezans, which are to r

what Lydian and Ionian melodies are to music, must be j
Where gluttony and intemperance prevail the town quickly fills 4s

they declined to treat intemperate
podsee meee taper raalpeis
the story of Pindar, that Asclepius was slain |
‘restoring a rich man to life, that is a lie— following our old rule we
‘must say either that he did pot take bribes, or that he was net the
son of & god. a
Glaucon then asks Socrates whether the best physicians and'the
best judges will not be those who have had severally the greatest
experience of diseases and of crimes. Socrates draws a distinction:
‘between the two professions. The physician should have had —
‘experience of disease in his own body, for he cures with his mind
and not with his body, But the judge controls mind by mind;
and therefore his mind should not be corrupted by crime. Where
then is he to gain experience? How is he to be wise and also
innocent? When young a good man is apt to be deceived by
evil-docrs, because he has no pattern of evil in himself; and.
therefore the judge should be of a certain agey his youth
should have been innocent, and he should have acquired insight
‘into evil not by the practice of it, bus by the observation of it in
others. This is the ideal of a judge; the criminal tumed detective
is wonderfully suspicious, but when in company with good
who have experience, he is at fault, for he foolishly imagines —
that every one is as bad as himself, Vice may be known of virtue,
but cannot know virtue. This is the sort of medicine and this the —
sort of law which will prevail in our State; they will be ny
arts 40 betier natures; but the evil body will be left to die by
‘one, and the evil soul will be put to death bythe other, And
need of either will be greatly diminished by good music
will give harmony to the soul, and good gymnastic which will give
health to the body. Not that this division of music and gymnastic
sreally corresponds to soul and body; for they are both equally”
concerned with the soul, which is tamed by the one and aroused:
and sustained by the other, The two together supply ourguardians —
with their twofold nature. The passionate disposition when it hag
too much gymmastic is hardened and brutalized, the gentle or
philosophic temper which has too much music becomes enervated,
While a man jis allowing music to pour like water through the
funnel of his cars, the edge of his soul gradually wears away, and
the passionate or spirited element is melted out of him, Too little —

iil

“er ee First, the
‘elder must tule the younger; and the best of the elders will

‘be the best guardians Now they will be the best who lore their
subjects most, and think that they have a common interest with
them in the welfare of the state, These we must select; but

| saad Geiawtasend For time and persuasion and the love of
pleasure may enchant a man into a change of purpose, and the
force of grief and pain may compel him. And therefore our
must be men who have been tried by many tests,

(#4 receive the highest honours both in life and death.
pethaps be better to comfine the term ‘ guardians’ to this select
class: the younger men may be called ‘auxiliaries.")

‘And now for one magnificent fie, in the belief of which, Oh that
we could train our rulers !— at any rate let us make the attempt
with the rest of the world. What I am going to tell is only
another version of the legend of Cadmus; bat oar unbélicving
generation will be slow to accept such a story. The tale most
be iroparted, first to the nilers, then to the soldicrs, lastly to
the people. We will inform them that their youth was a dream,
and that during the time when they seemed to be undergoing
their education they were really being fashioned im the carth,
who sent them sp whee they were ready; and that they must
protect and cherish her wbose children they are, and regard

il agen ih (ioet bas ‘besa: a: Gad) jude vot hie en cael
(Apol. 22 B); for he docs not see that the word which is full of
associations to his own mind is difficult and unmeaning to that
of another; or that the sequence which {s clear to himself is
puzzling to others, There are many passages in some of our
greatest modem poets which are far too obscure; in which there
is no proportion between style and subject; in which any ball-
expressed figure, any harsh construction, any distorted collo-
cation of words, any remote sequence of ideas is admitted; and
there is no voice “coming sweetly from nature,’ or music adding
the expression of feeling to thought. As if there could be poetry
without beauty, or beauty without case and cleamess. The
obscurities of early Greek posts arose necessarily out of the state
of language and logic which existed in their age. “They are not
‘examples to be followed by us; for the use of language ought
in every generation to become clearer and clearer. Like Shake
spere, they were great in spite, not in consequence, of their
imperfections of expression. But there is no reason for returning,
to the necessary obscurity which prevailed in the infancy of
Iterature. The English poets of the last century were certainly
not obscure; and we have no excuse for losing what they had
gained, or for going back to the carlier or transitional age which
preceded them, ‘The thought of our own times has not out-
stripped language ; a want of Plato's ‘art of measuring’ {s the
real cause of the disproportion between them.

3. In the third book of the Republic a nearer approach is made
to a theory of art than anywhere else in Plato. His views may
be summed up as follows: —True art is not fanciful and imitative,
but simple and ideal,—the expression of the highest moral
energy, whether in action or repose. To live among works of ~
plastic art which are of this noble and simple character, or to
listen to such strains, is the best of influences,-—the true Greek
atmosphere, in which youth should be brought up, ‘That is the
way to create in them a natural good taste, which will haye a
feeling of truth and beauty in all things. For though the poets
are to be expelled, still art is recognized as another aspect of

aul

| ‘There &s hardly any mention in Plato of the creative arts; only
in two or three passages does he even allude to them (cp.
Rep. iv. 420; Sopl, 236 A). He is not lost in rapture at the
reat works of Phidias, the Parthenon, the Propylea, the
sete of Zeus or Athenc. He would probably have regarded
say abstract trath of number or figure (§29 E) as higher than
the greatest of them. Yet it is hard to suppose that some in-
fluener, such as he hopes to inspire in youth, did not pass into
his own mind from the works of art which he saw around him.
We are living upon the fragments of them, and find in a few
brokes stones the standard of truth and beauty. But in Plato
(Sis feeling has no. expression; he nowhere says that beauty is
the object of art; he scems to deny that wisdom can take an
txternal form (Phaedrus, 250 E); he does not distinguish the
fine fram the mechanical arts. Whether or no, like some writers,
he felt more than he expressed, it is at any rate remarkable
that the greatest perfection of the fine arts should coincide
‘with am almost entire silence about them. In one very striking
passage (iv. 420) he tells us that a work of art, like the State, is
2 whole; and this conception of a whole and the love of the
newly-born mathematical sciences may be regarded, if not as
the inspiring, at any rate as the regulating principles of Greek
‘art (op, Xen. Mem. iii, 10.6; and Sophist, 235, 236).

4 Plato makes the truc and subtle remark that the physician
had better not be in robust health; and should have known what
iliness i in his own person, But the judge ought to have had no
similar experience of evil; he is to be a good man who, having
passed his youth in innocence, became acquainted late in life
‘with the vices of others, And therefore, according to Plato, a
Judge should not be young, just as a young man according to
‘Aristotle & not fit to be o hearer of moral philosophy. The
bad, on the other hand, have a knowledge of vice, but no know-

The transpesition of ranks. —
“Bepabte att. Nedge of virtoe. It may be doubted, bowerer,

— of refection is weil foended. In a rematkable pasage of

‘Laws (xil 950 B) it is acknowledged that the evil may foom a
correct estimate of the good. The union of gentleness and
courage in Book i. at first seemed to be a paradox, yet was
afterwards ascertained to be a truth. And Plato might also have
found that the iatuition of cyil may be consistent with the
abhorrence of it (cp. infra, ix. $82). There ix a directness of aim
in virtue which gives aa insight into vice. And the knowledge
of character is in some degree a nateral sense independent of
any special experience of good or evil.

§- One of the most remarkable conceptions of Pinto, because
wn-Greek and also very different from anything which existed
ag all in his age of the world, is the transposition of ranks. In the
‘Spartan state there had been enfranchisement of Helots and
degradation of citizens under special circumstances. And in the
ancient Grock aristocracics, crit was certainly recognized as one
of the elemests on which government was based. ‘The founders
of states were supposed to be their benefactors, who were raised
by their great actions above the ordinary Ievel of humanity; ar
later period, the services of warriors and legislators were beld to
entitle them and their descendants to the privileges of

and to the first rank im the state. And although the existence
of an ideal aristocracy is slenderly proven from the remains of
early Greek history, and we have a difficulty in ascribing such
a character, however the idea may be defined, to any actual
Hellenic state—or indeed to any state which has ever existed
in the world —still the rule of the best was certainly the aspira-
tion of philosophers, who probably accommodated a good deal
their views of primitive history to their own notions of good
government, Plato further insists on applying to the guardians:
of his state a series of tests by which all those who fell short
of a fixed standard were either removed from the governing:
body, or not admitted to it; and this ‘academic’ discipline did
to a certain extent prevail in Greck states, especially in Sparta,
He also indicates that the system of caste, which existed in a
great part of the ancient, and is by no means extinct in the
modern European world, should be set aside from time to time in
favour of merit. He is aware how deeply the greater part of

liv

Remblietit, the secret of harmony, as well as of melody; secondly, the

Tnernab0e
TION,

indefinite and almost absolute control which the soul is supposed
to exercise aver the body.

In the first we suspect some degree of exaggeration, such as
we may also observe among certain masters of the art, not
unknown to us, at the present day. With this natural cathu-
siasm, which is felt by a few only, there seems to mingle in
Plato # sort of Pythagorean reverence for numbers and numerical
proportion to which Aristotle is a stranger. Intervals of sound
and number are to him sacred things which have a law of their
‘own, not dependent on the variations of sense. They rise above
sense, and become a connecting link with the world of ideas,
But it is evident that Plato is describing what to him appears
to be also a fact. The power of a simple and characteristic
melody on the impressible mind of the Greek is more than
we can easily appreciate. The effect of national airs may bear
some comparison with it. And, besides all this, there is a
confusion between the harmony of musical notes and the har-
mony of soul and body, which is so potently inspired by them.

‘The second paradox leads up to some curious and in-
teresting questions— How far can the mind control the body?
Is the relation between them one of mutual antagonism or of
mutual harmony? Are they two or one, and is either of them
the cause of the other? May we not at times drop the opposition
between them, and the mode of describing them, which is so
familiar to us, and yet hardly conveys any precise meaning, and try
to view this composite creature, man, in a more simple manner?
Must we not at any rate admit that there is in human nature a
higher and a lower principle, divided by no distinct line, which at
times break asunder and take up arms against one another? Or
again, they are reconciled and move together, either unconsciously
in the ordinary work of life, or consciously in the pursuit of some
noble aim, to be attained not without an effort, and for which
every thought and nerve are strained. And then the body be-
comes the good friend or ally, or servant or instrument of the
mind. And the mind has often a wonderful and almost super-
human power of banishing disease and weakness and calling out
a hidden strength. Reason and the desires, the intellect and the
senses are brought into harmony and obedience so as to form a

yo |

subject (416 E), and fhe aigpaar foal | the
(407), should not evcape notice.

BOOK IV. Adcimantus said: ‘Suppose a person to

their own free-will; they are the lorda of the city, and yet ine
‘stead of having, lke other men, lands and houses and money
of their own, they live as mercenaries and are always mounting —
guard’ You may add, I replied, that they receive no pay bet
only their food, and have no money to spend on a journey ora
mistress, ‘ Well, and what answer do you give?' My answer is,
that our guardians may or may not be the happiest of men,—I
should not be surprised to find in the long-run that they were,
—but this fs not the alm of our constitution, which was de
signed for the good of the whole and not of any one part. If
1 went to @ sculptor and blamed him for having painted the
eye, which is the noblest feature of the face, not purple but
black, he would reply: ‘The eye must be an eye, and you
should look at the statuc as a whole.’ “Now J can well imagine
a fool's paradise, in which everybody is eating and drinking,
clothed in purple and fine linen, and potters lie on sofis and
have their wheel at hand, that they may work « litte when
they please; and cobblers and all the other classes of a State
lose their distinctive character. And a State may get on with:
out cobblers; but when the guardians degenerate into boon
companions, then the ruin is complete. Remember that we
are not talking of peasants keeping holiday, but of a State in
which every man is expected to do his own work, The hap:

pines resides not in this or that class, bout tn the! State ages]
whole. I have another remark to make:—A middle com
dition is best for astisans; they should have money

to buy tools, and not enough to be independent of business.
And will not the same condition be best for our citizens? If $
they are poor, they will be mean; if rich, luxurious and Inty;

and in neither case contented. ‘Rut then how will our poor
city be able to go to war against an enemy who has money?!
There may be a difficulty in fighting against one enemy ; against
two there will be none. In the first place, the contest will be

|
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Wilt

— ANALran.

tereceve.
TON

‘Repebtic 1, particulars of legislation; let the guardians take care of education,

and education will take care of all other things.

But without education they may patch and mend as they please ;
‘they will make no progress, any more than a paticnt who thinks
to cure himself by some favourite remedy and will not give up
‘his luxurious mode of living. If you tell such persons that they 42)
must first alter their habits, then they grow angry; they are
charming people. ‘Charming,— nay, the very reverse. Evie
dently these gentlemen are not in your good graces, nor the
‘state whichis like them. And such states there are which first
ordain under penalty of death that no one shall alter the con-
stitution, and then suffer themselves to be flattered into and
out of anything; and he who indulges ther and fawns upon them,
is their Jeader and saviour. ‘Yes, the men are as bad as the
states.” But do you not admire their cleverness? ‘Nay, some
of them are stupid enough to believe what the people tell them.!
And when all the world is telling a man that he is six feet
high, and he has no measure, how can he believe anything else?
But don't get into a passion: to see our statesmen trying their
‘nostrums, and fancying that they can cut off at a blow the Hydra- 42
like rogueries of mankind, is as good as a play. Minute cnact-
ments are superfluous in good states, and are useless in bad
ones,

And now what remains of the work of legislation? Nothing for
us; but to Apollo the god of Delphi we leave the ordering of the
greatest of all things —that is to say, religion. Only our ancestral
deity sitting pon the centre and navel of the earth will be trusted
by us if we have any sense, in an affair of such magnitude, No
foreign god shall be supreme in our realms... .

Here, as Socrates would say, let us ‘reflect on? (oxordyuer) what
has preceded: thus far we have spoken not of the happiness of
the citizens, but only of the well-being of the State. They may be
the happiest of men, but our principal aim in founding the State
was not to make them happy. They were to be guardians, not
holiday-makers. In this pleasant manner is presented to us the
famous question both of ancient and modern philosophy, touching
the relation of duty to happiness, of right to utility.

First duty, then happiness, is the natural order of our moral
ideas. The utilitarian principle is valuable as a corrective of

7
Ripoblie
ee

Idvalisin in Politics,
right limited by the conditions of

human society. Right and truth —
are the highest aims of government as well as of individuals; and
we ought not to lose sight of them because we cannot directly
enforce them, ‘They appeal to the better mind of nations; and.
sometimes they arc too much for merely temporal interests to
resist. They are the watehwords which all men use in matters of
public policy, as well as in their private dealings; the peace of
Europe may be said to depend upon them. In the most com-
mercial and utilitarian states of society the power of ideas remains,
And all the higher class of statesmen have in them something of
‘that idealism which Pericles is said to have gathered from the
teaching of Anaxagoras. ‘They recognise that the true leader of
men must be above the motives of ambition, and that national:
character is of greater value than material comfort and prosperity,
And this is the order of thought in Plato; first, he expects
his citizens to do their duty, and then under favourable cireum-
stances, that is to say, in a wetlordered State, their happie
‘ness is assured. That he was far from excluding the modern
principle of utility in politics ic sufficiently evident from other
‘passages, in which ‘the most beneficial is affirmed to be the most.
honourable’ (v. 457 B), and alvo ‘the most sacred” (vy. 454 E).
We may note (t) The manner in which the objection of Adelx
‘mantus here, as in ii. 357 foll., 3635 vi. ad init. ete., is designed to
draw ont and deepen the argument of Socrates. (2) The cem-
ception of a whole as lying at the foundation both of politics and.
of art, in the latter supplying the only principle of criticism,
which, under the various names of harmony, symmetry, measure,
proportion, unity, the Greek seems to have applied to works of
art. (3) The requirement that the State should be limited in
size, after the traditional model of a Greek state; as in the
Politics of Aristotle (vil. 4, etc.), the fact that the cities of Hellas
were small is converted into a principle. (4) The humorous
pictures of the lean dogs and the fatted sheep, of the light active
boxer upsetting two stout gentlemen at least, of the "charming?
patients who are always making themselves worse; or again, the
playful assumption that there is no State but our own; or the
grave irony with which the statesman is excused who believes that
he is six feet high because he is told so, and having nothing to
measure with is to be pardoned for his ignorance —he fs too

ot

really means that the better principle in a man masters the worse.
There are in cities whole classes —women, slaves and the like —
who correspond to the worse, and a few only to the better; and in
our State the former class are held under control by the latter.
Now to which of these classes docs temperance belong? ‘To both
of them.’ And our State if any will be the abode of temperance ;
and we were right in describing this virtue as a harmony which
is diffused through the whole, making the dwellers in the city to
‘be of one mind, and attuning the upper and middle and lower
classes like the strings of an instrument, whether bene
them to differ in wisdom, strength or wealth.

And now we are near the spots, Jct us draw in and surround fi
cover and watch with all our eyes, lest justice should slip away
and escape. Tell me, if you see the thicket move first. “Nay, T
would have you lead," Well then, offer up a prayer and follow,
‘The way is dark and difficult; but we must push on. I begin to
see a track, ‘Good news!’ Why, Glaucon, our dulness of scent
is quite ludicrous! While we are straining our eyes into the
distance, justice is tumbling out at our feet, We are as
people looking for a thing which they have in their hands.
you forgotten our old principle of the division of labour, or of
man doing his own business, concerning which we spoke §
foundation of the State —what but this was justice? Is aay
ccprelpepreypipi
temperance and courage in the scale of political virtue? Far
“every one having his own? is the great objectof government; and.
the great object of trade is that every man should do his own
‘business. Not that there is much harm in a earpenter trying to
‘be a cobbler, ora cobbler transforming himself into a carpenter;
‘but great evil may arise from the cobbler leaving his last and
turning into a guardian or legislator, or when a single individual
is trainer, warrior, legislator, all in one. And this evil is
or every man doing another's business, I do not say that as yet
we are in a condition to arrive at a Gnat conclusion, For the

ana few ex Sar eee te Dougie ingle to

and one supreme over the rest, which is mot like Ai
conception of universal justice, virtue relative to others, b
whole of virtue relative to the parts. To this
“of justice or order in the firet education and in the moral nature of
‘man, the still more universal conception of the good in the second
educition and in the sphere of speculative knowledge seems to
succeed, Both might be equally described by the terms * law,"
‘order,’ ‘harmony;" but while the idea of good embraces ‘all
‘time and all existence,” the sanoepeesef Jemion la notion
Veyond man.

= Socrates’ ts. ncjwh going to identify the indhide] Ea
state: ‘But first he must prove that there are three parts of the
individual soul, His argument is as follows -— Quantity mi:
difference in quality, The word ‘just,’ whether applied to the
individual or to the State, has the same meaning. And the term
“justice” implied that the same three principles in the State and in
the individual were doing their own business, Bat are they really
three or one? The question is difficult, and one which can hardly
be solved by the methods which we are now using; but the truer
and longer way would take up too much of our time, “The —
shorter will satisfy me.' Well then, you would admit that the —
qualities of states mean the qualities of the individuals wha
compose them? The Scythians and Thracians are
our own race intellectual, and the Egyptians and

4

such a character; the difficulty is to determine whether the
several principles are one or three} whether, that i to say, we
reason with one part of our nature, desire with another, are
with another, or whether the whole soul comes inte play.
sort of action. This enquiry, however, requires a very exact |
definition of terms. The same thing in the same relation cannot
be affected in two opposite ways. But there is no impossibility fo
a man standing stil, yet moving bis arms, or in a top which |
is fixed on one spot going round upon its axis There
necessity to mention all the possible exceptions; let us
visionally assume that opposites cannot do or be or
opposites in the same relation. And to the class of opposites
belong assent and dissent, desire and avoidance, And one form |

and reason. ‘The virtue of tempenazee.is the & ip
ruling and the subject principles, bei osha
individual, Mo deat: easy alionsi arenas !

tebe gully of mpety to pds nod men? No." “And :
‘reason of this that the several principles, whether in the
so ecleiigaa depen omer andi

the soul, is the opposite of justice, and ts |
unnatural, being to the soul what disease is to the body
soul as well as in the body, good or bad actions p
‘bad habits. And virtue is the health and beauty and.
the soul, and vice is the discase and weakness and
the soul.

Again the old question returns upon us: Is justice |
the more profitable? The question has become ridict
injustice, like mortal diseasc, makes life not worth having,
up with me to the hill which overhangs the city and |
upon the single form of virtue, and the inf

‘Though irrational, it inclines to side with ie aise
be aroused by punishment when justly inflicted: it sometimes
takes the form of an enthusiasm which sustaiss a man in the per-
formance of great actions. It is the ‘tion heart’ with which the
reason makes a treaty (ix, §89B). On the other hand itisnega
tive rather than positive; itis indignant at wrong or faleechood, but |
does not, like Lave in the Symposium and Phaedrus, aspire to the
vision of Truth or Good. It is the peremptory military spirit |
which prevails in the government of honour. It differs from anger |
(épy4), this latter term having no accessory notion of righteous
indignation. Although Aristotle has retained the word, yer we
may observe that ‘passion’ (Yeudc) has with him lost its affinity
to the rational and has become indistinguishable from ‘anger’
(épy9). And to this vernacular use Plato himself in the Laws
seems to revere (ix. 836 B), though not always (v. 731A). By
modern philosophy too, as well as in our ordinary conversation,
the words anger ot passion are employed almost exclusively
in a bad sense; there is no connotation of a just or reasonable |
cause by which they are aroused. The feeling of * righteous in-
dignation ' is too partial and accidental to admit of our regarding
it as a separate virtue or habit. We are tempted also to doubt
whether Plato is right in supposing that an offender, however
justly condemned, could be expected to acknowledge the justice
of his sentence ; this is the spirit of a philosopher or martyr rather
than ofa criminal.

We may observe (p. 444 D, E) how nearly Plato approaches
Aristotle's famous thesis, that * good actions produce good habits.”
‘The words ‘as healthy practices (éxirpiriyiara) produce health, $6
do just practices produce justice," have a sound very Uke the
Nicomachean Ethics. But we note also that an incidental remark
in Plato has become a far-reaching principle in Aristotle, and an
inseparable part of a great Ethical system,

There is a difficulty in understanding what Plato meant by
“the longer way' (435 D; cp. dufra, vi. 504) he seems to intimate
some metaphysic of the future which will not be satisfied with
arguing from the principle of contradiction, In the sixth and
seventh books (compare Sophist and Parmenides) he bas given

=> al

ee chee eapiedd acide cyt ‘beconstructed in sorne

‘manner analogous to the construction of figures and numbers
fa the mathematical sciences. ‘The most certain and necessary
truth was to Pinto the universal; and to this he was always
seeking to refer all knowledge or opinion, just as in modern
times we seck to rest them on the opposite pole of induction
and experience. The aspirations of metaphysicians have always
teaded to pass beyond the limits of human thought and language:
they seem to have reached a height at which they are ‘moving
abowt in worlds unrealized,’ and their conceptions, although
profoundly affecting their own minds, become invisible or un-
intelligible to others. We are not therefore surprized to find
that Plato himself has nowhere clearly explained his doctrine
‘of ideas; or that his school in a later generation, Uke his con-
‘temporaries Glaucon and Adeimantus, were unable to follow
him in this region of speculation, In the Sophist, where he is
refuting the scepticism which maintained either that there was no
such thing as predication, or that all might be predicated of all, he
arrives at the conclusion that some ideas combine with some,
‘but not all with all But he makes only one or two steps forward
om this path; he nowhere attains to any connected system of
‘ideas, or even to a knowledge of the most elementary relations
of the sciences to one another (see infra).

hep, BOOK V. I was going to enumerate the four forms of vice Awarysis
449 or decline in states, when Polemarchus—he was sitting a little

farther from me than Adeimantus—~ taking him by the coat and

‘teasing towards him, suid something in an undertone, of which

1 only caught the words, ‘Shall we let him off?’ ‘Certainly

‘not,’ said Adeimantus, raising his voice. Whom, I said, are you

discourse?? Yes, 1 said; but the discourse should b
able length. Glaucon added, * Yes, Socrates, and there is n

‘in spending the whole of life in such discussions; |

‘What is possible? is the first question. What is d
the second, ‘ Fear not,’ he replied, * for you are speaki

Jaughter; but he who kills the truth is a murderer. *
Glaycon, laughing, ‘in case you should murder us we wil
you beforehand, and you shall be held free from th

watch-dogs, as we have already said, Now dogs are not

into hes and shes—we do not take the masculine ge

to hunt and leave the females at home to look after their,

‘They have the same cmployments— the only difference betm
them is that the one sex is stronger and the other weaker,
if women are to have the same employments as men, |
must have the same education—they must be taught
and gymnastics, and the art of war. I know that a.
will be made of their riding on horseback and carrying weay
the sight of the naked old wrinkled women showing their

our present gymnastics. All is habit;
‘out that the exposure is better than

to their usefulness, And here, Glaucon, 1 should ike
1 know that you are a breeder of birds and animals),
not take the greatest care in the mating? ‘Certainly." Anc
is no reason to suppose that less care is required in th
of human beings. But then oar rulers must be skilful physi
of the State, for they will often need a strong dose o
order to bring about desirable unions between th

The good must be paired with the good, and

bad, and the offspring of the one must be reared, :
lestroyed; in this way the flock; will: Velen
condition. Hymencal stivals will be celeb
with an eye to population, and the brides and _

Soh nda teal aber gRpae ele

but their bodies which they call Lepchesrts,' o
violence when every one is bound to | r
permission to strike when insulted will be
‘no younger man will strike an older; reveret
‘him from laying hands on his kindred, and he
‘rest of the family may retaliate. Moreo
tid of the leascr evil of life} there will be r
‘no sordid household cares, no | ing ar
pared with the citizens of other States,
victors, and crowned with Blessings greater
children having a better m uring |
an honourable burial. Nor has the
been sacrificed to the bappiness of the St

ic victor has not been turned into a:
oy eebepee Se At
conceited youth begins to dream o
‘aime; e must be reminded that “Bais be
‘1 should certainly advise him to stay where he ie whe
‘promise of such a brave life."

But is such a community possible?

roy

“war—a quarrel in a family, which is ever to |

and children, but only against a few guilty °
are punished peace will be restored. That is the way in
Hellenes should war against one another —and againstb
‘as they war against one another now.
_———~ "But, my dear Socrates, you are forgetting the main.
fs such a State possible? Tyrant all and more
about the blessedacss of being one family — fathers,
‘mothers, daughters, going out to war together; but Ts
ascertain the possibility of this ideal State.’ You
merciful. The first wave and the second wave I h
‘escaped, and now you will certainly drown mi
‘When you see the towering crest of the wave, 1 ey
take pity, ‘Not a whit.' .
| ‘Well, then, we were led to form our ideal polity in the
after justice, and the just man answered to the just Star
ideal at all the worse for being impracticable? Would:
‘of a perfectly beautiful man be any the worse b
| man ever lived? Can any reality come up to the |
will not allow words to be fully realized; bat if 1
realize the ideal of the State in a measure, I tl
‘approach may be made to the perfection of which I d
‘or two, T do not say slight, but possible changes in
constitution of States, I would reduce therm to a
great wave, as I call it. Untid, then, kings
Philosophers are kings, cities will mever conse

LerRooec-
Tm,

| powers unsoca

the one is Mable to exr, but the ccber is unerring and is the
mightiest of all our faculties If being is the object of knowledge,
aed not-being of ignorance, and these are the extremes, opinien
must Ee between thest, snd may be called darker than the oot
and brighter than the other. This intermediate or contingest
matter is and is mot at the same timc, and partakes both of
existence and of non-existence. Now I woald ask my good
friend, who denies abstract beaaty and jestice, and affirms a
many beautiful and a many just, whether everything be ses
is not im some point of view different —the beautiful ugly, the
Pious impéoas, the just unjust? Is not the double also the ball,
and are pot heary and light relative terms which pass into eae
another ?. Everything is and is not, as in the old riddle —‘A mas
and not a man shot and did not shoot a bird and not.a bird witha ||
stone and nota stone.’ The mind cannot be &xed on either alterna
tive; and theseambigeous, intermediate,erring. balf lighted objects,
which have a disorderly movement m the region between being
and not-being, are the proper matter of opinion, as the immutable
objects are the proper matter of knowledge. And he who grovel:
im the world of sense, and bas only this uncertain perception of
things, is not a philosopher, but 2 lover of opinion only... .

The fifth book is the new beginning of the Republic, im which
the community of property and of family are first maintained,
and the transition is made to the kingdom of philosophers
For both of these Phito, after bis manner, has been preparing in
some chance words of Book IV (424 A), which fall unpereeived om
the reader's mind, as they are supposed at first to have Gallen on
the car of Glaucon and Adcimantus. The ‘paradoxes,’ as Morgen
stern terms them, of this book of the Repablic will be reserved for
another place; a few remarks on the style, and some explanations
of difficulties, may be briefly added.

First, there is the image of the waves, which serves for a sort of
scheme or plan of the book. The first wave, the second wave, the
third and greatest wave come rolling in, and we hear the roar of
them. All that can bestid of the extravagance of Plato's proposals
is anticipated by himself, Nothing-is more admirable than. the

="
>

Sophist the second; and esha wets ee
both these dialogues are probably to be regarded as later tha
Republic.

BOOK Vi. Having determined that the many hay
ledge of true being, and have no clear patterns in their:
justice, beauty, truth, and that philosophers have such 5
have now to ask whether they or the many shall be
State. But who can doubt that philosophers should
they have the other qualities which are required in a
they are lovers of the knowledge of the eternal and.
they are haters of falshood their meaner desires are
the interests of knowledge ; they are spec! of f
existence y and in the magnificence of their contemp
of man is as nothing to them, nor is death fearful. Al x

ee eee
they learn and remember casily
natin wellregulated minds;ytruth flows to
nature. Can the god of Jealousy himself any
an assemblage of good qualities?
Here Adcimantus interposes:—'No man can at
Socrates; but every man feels that this is owing to
deficiency in argument. He is driven from one
another, until he has nothing more to say, just
skilful player at draughts is reduced to his last
more skilled opponent. And yet all the time he

courts, in the camp, in the applauses and hisses of the
echoed by the surrounding bills? Will not a young may
leap amid these discordant sounds? and will any education sa
him from being carried away by the torrent? Nor is this

if he will not yield to opinion, there follows the gentle

of exile or death, What principle of rival Sopbists or

else ean avercome in such an unequal contest ?

anay be more than human, who are exceptions — God
man, but not his own strength. Further, 1 would
consider that the bireling Sophist only gives back to.
their own opinions; he is the keeper of the monster, wh
how to flatter or anger him, and observes the meaning
‘inarticulate grunts, Good is what pleases hinaes

‘or in morals. The curse is laid upon them of being.
what it approves, and when they attempt first prin
failure is ludicrous. ‘Think of all this and ask yourself
‘world is more likely to be a believer in the unity of the
the multiplicity of phenomena, And the world if aot a

thow ar fargriat clad Site be
that he will listen? Or suppose a better

iy Jove of knowledge, no less than riches, mays
divert him? Men of this class [Critias] often become politicians —
they are the authors of great mischief in states, and sometimes
also of great good. And thus philosophy is deserted by her
satural protectors, and others enter in and dishonour her. Vulgar
Little minds sce the land open and rush from the prisos of the
arts into ber temple. A clever mechanic having a soul coarse as
this body, thinks that he will gain caste by becoming her suitor.
For philosophy, even in her fallen estate, has a dignity of her bw
—and hie, like a bald little blacksmith's apprentice as he is, having
made some money and got out of durance, washes and dresses
and marries his master's daughter. What
will be the issuc of such marriages? Will they not be vile and
bastard, devoid of truth and nature? ‘They will." Small, then, is
the remnant of genuine philosophers; there may be a few who
are citizens of small states, in which politics are not worth thinking
of, or whe have been detained by Theages' bridle of ill health ; for
‘my Own case of the oracular sign is almost unique, and too rare
to be worth mentioning. And these few when they have tasted
‘the pleasures of philosophy, and have taken a look at that den of
“thieves and place of wild beasts, which is human life, will stand
aside from the storm under the shelter of a wall, and try to
preserve their own innocence and to depart in peace. ‘A great
‘work, too, will have been accomplished by them.’ Great, yes, but
‘not the greatest; for man is a social being, and can only attain his
‘highest development in the society which is best suited to him,
7 Enough then, of the causes why philosophy has such an evil
name, Another question is, Which of existing states is suited
toher? Not one of them; at present she is like some exotic seed

meats

Analysis 497-499.
iain which degenerates in a strange soil; only in her proper state: will

she be shown to be of heavenly growth, ‘And is her proper state
‘ours or some other?’ Ours in all points but one, which was left
undetermined. You may remember our saying that some living
amind or witness of the legislator was needed in states. But we
were afraid to enter upon a subject of such difficulty, and now
the question recurs and has mot grown easier: — How may philo-
sophy be safely studied? Let us bring her into the light of day,
and make an end of the inquiry.

In the first place, 1 say boldly that nothing can be worse than
the present mode of study. Persons usually pick up a little —
philosophy in early youth, and in the intervals of business, but
they never master the real difficulty, which is dialectic, Later,
perhaps, they occasionally go to a lecture on philosophy. Years
advance, and the sun of philosophy, unlike that of Heracleitus,
sets never to rise again. This order of exlucation should be re>
versed; it should begin with gymnastics in youth, and as the|
man strengthens, he should increase the gymnastics of his soul.
‘Then, when active life is over, let him finally return to philosophy.
“You are in earnest, Socrates, but the world will be equally
earnest in withstanding you—no one more then Thrasymachus.’
Do not make a quarrel between Thrasymachus and me, who were
never chemiles and are now good friends enough. And E shall do
my best to convince him and all mankind of the truth of my words,
or at any rate to prepare for the future when, in another life, we
may again take part In similar discussions. ‘That will be a long
time hence.’ Not long in comparison with eternity. The many
will probably remain incredulous, for they have never scen the
natural unity of ideas, but only artificial juxtapositions; not
frce and generous thoughts, but tricks of controversy and quips
of law;—a perfect man ruling in a perfect state, even a single
‘one they have not known. And we foresaw that there was no
chance of perfection either in states or individuals uaul a ne-
cessity was laid upon philosophers— not the rogues, but thase
whom we called the useless class—of holding office; or until
the sons of kings were inspired with a tre love of philosoph
Whether in the infinity of past time there has been, or is in
some distant land, or ever will be hereafter, an ideal such as we
have described, we stoutly maintain that there has been, is, and

dictory elements, which met in the philosopher—how diffe
find them all in a single person! Intelligence and spirit a:

‘often combined with steadiness; the stolid, fearless, mati
averse to intellectual toil. And yet these opposite clemen
all necessary, and therefore, as we were saying before
Aspirant must be tested in pleasures and dangers; and al
we must now further add, in the highest branches of know!
You will remember, that when we son

“was made of a longer road, which you were satisfied to
unexplored. ‘Enough seemed to have been said.’
friend; but what is enough while anything remains:
‘Of all men the guardian must not faint in the search after |
be must be prepared to take the longer road, or he will
reach that higher region which Is above the four:

the virtucs too he must not only get an outline, but a
distinct vision. (Strange that we should be 20 precise
trifles, so careless about the highest truths!) ‘And )
the highest?’ You to pretend unconsclousness, when
20 often heard me speak of the idea of good, about whi¢
know so little, and without which though a man gain the
he has no profit of it! Some people imagine thar the
wisdom ; but this involves a cirele,— the good, they:
wisdom has to do with the good. According to others
pleasure ; but then comes the absurdity that good is
are bad pleasures as well as good. Again, the good
reality; a man may desire the appearance of virtue, but
not desire the appearance of good. Ought our
to be ignorant of this supreme prifciple, of which
‘has a presentiment, and without which no man bas
knowledge of anything? ‘But, Socrates, what is this
Principle, knowledge or pleasure, or what? You may
troublesome, but,1 say that you have no business to be

Analysis 509-511.
of a fine divided into two uncqual parts, and may again subdivide
cach part into two lesser segments representative of the stages of
kenowledge in either sphere. The lower portion of the lower or
visible sphere will consist of shadows and reflections, and its i
‘upper and smaller portion will contain real objects in the world
of nature or of art. The sphere of the intelligible will also
have two divisions,—one of mathematics, in which there is ‘no
ascent but all is descent; no inquiring into premises, but oaly
drawing of inferences, In this division the mind works with
figures and numbers, the images of which are taken not from
the shadows, but from the objects, although the truth of them is
seen only with the mind’s eye; and they are used as hypotheses
without being analysed. Whereas in the other division reason $1
uses the hypotheses ax stages or steps in the ascent to the idea of
good, to which she fastens them, and then again descends, walking
firmly in the region of ideas, and of ideas only, in her ascent as
well as descent, and finally resting in them. ‘I partly under-
stand,’ he replied; ‘you mean that the ideas of science are
superior to the hypothetical, metaphorical conceptions of geometry
and the other arts oF sciences, whichever is to be the name of
them; and the latter conceptions you refuse to make subjects of
pure intellect, because they have no first principle, although when
resting on a first principle, they pass into the higher sphere.
You understand me very well, I said, And now to those four
divisions of knowledge you may assign four corresponding
faculties — pure intelligence to the highest sphere; active intelli
gence to the second; to the third, faith; to the fourth, the
perception of shadows —and the clearness of the several ficulties
will be in the same ratio as the truth of the objects to which they
are related...»

—_—_—_—

Yernopve-
Ho.

Like Socrates, we may recapitulate the virtues of the philo-
sopher, In language which seems to reach beyond the horizon
of that age and country, he is described as ‘the spectator of all
time and all existence.’ He has the noblest gifts of nature, and
makes the highest use of them. All his desires are absorbed
in the love of wisdom, which is the love of truth, None of the
graces of a beautiful sont are wanting in him; neither can he
fear death, or think much of human life. ‘The ideal of modern

ee

considerable, Hence the failur

Pema rae eee
higher and more elastic n

iene ie clin clear boa oe Seehacicta
in language impairs the force of an argument wh

steps,
‘The objection, though fairly met by Socrates in this

instance, may be regarded as implying a reflection upc
‘Socratic mode of reasoning. Se eee
seems to intimate that the time had come when dl
and interrogative method of Socrates must be
positive and constructive one, of which |
some of the later dialogues, Adeimantus further
ideal is wholly at variance with facts; for
philosophers to be cither useless or rogues. C
expectation (cp. p. 497 for a similar surprise)
detain Laadilting ibe aA eee ee
in an allegory, first characteristically
ventive powers. In this allegory the people re is
from the professional politicians, and, as at pp.
spoken of in a tone of pity rather than of
image of ‘the noble captain who is not very qui
ceptions.”

‘The uselessness of philowophers is explained by
stance that mankind will not use them, The world i
has been divided between contempt and fear of those
the power of ideas and know no other weapons. Co
false philosopher, Socrates argues that the best is m
corruption; and that the finer nature is more
from alien conditions. We too observe that there are x

‘them; a [divine] person uttering the words of beauty and free-

dom, the friend of man holding communion with the Eternal, —
and seeking to frame the state in that Hemge; they hve aeee lll
known. The same double fecling respecting the mass of man-—
‘kind has always existed among men. ‘The first thought is that
the people are the enemies of truth and right; the second, that
this only arises out of an accidental error and confusion, and that
they do not really hate those who love them, if they could be
‘educated to know them.

In the latter part of the sixth book, three questions have to be
considered; 1st, the nature of the longer and more circuitous
way, which is contrasted with the shorter and more imperfect
method of Book IV; 2nd, the heavenly pattern or idea of the
state; 3rd, the relation of the divisions of knowledge to one
another and to the corresponding faculties of the soul.

1, Of the higher method of knowledge in Pl:ito we have only a
glimpse. Neither here nor in the Phaedrus or Symposium, nor
yet in the Philebus or Sophist, does he give any clear explanation
of his meaning. He would probably have described ‘his method
as proceeding by regular steps to a system of universal know-
ledge, which inferred the parts from the whole rather than the
whole from the parts. ‘This ideal logic is not practised by him

7

xciv

Repo VE.
Iereooee.
‘Tos.

The confusion of ideas and numbers.

2. Plato supposes that when the tablet has been made blank the
‘artist will fill in the lineaments of the ideal state, 1s this a pattern
Jaid wp in heaven, or mere vacancy on which he is supposed te
gaze with wondering eye? The answer is, that such ideale are
framed partly by the omission of particulars, partly by imagina-
tion perfecting the form which experience supplies (Phacdo, 74).
Plato represents these ideals in a figure as belonging to another
world; and in modern times the idea will sometimes seem to
precede, at other times to co-operate with the hand of the artist.
As in science, so also in creative art, there is a synthetical as well
as an analytical method. One man will have the whole in his
mind before he begins; to another the processes of mind and
hand will be simultancous.

3- There is no difficulty in seeing that Plato's divisions of
knowledge are based, first, on the fundamental antithesis. of
sensible and intellectual which pervades the whole pre-Socratic
philosophy; in which is implied also the opposition of the per-
‘manent and transient, of the universal and particular, But the
age of philosophy in which he lived seemed to require a further
distinction; —numbers and figures were beginning to separate
from ideas. The world could no longer regard justice as a cube,
and was learning to sec, though imperfectly, that the abstractions
of sense were distinct from the abstractions of mind. Between
the Eleatic being or essence and the shadows of phenomena,
the Pythagorean principle of number found a place, and was,
as Aristotle remarks, a conducting medium from one to the other.
Hence Plato is led to introduce a third term which had not
hitherto entered into the scheme of his philosophy. He had ob-
served the use of mathematics in education; they were the best
preparation for higher studies. The subjective relation between
them further suggested an objective one; although the passage
from one to the other is really imaginary (Metaph. 1, 6, 4). For
metaphysical and moral philosnphy has no connexion with mathe-
matics; number and figure are the abstractions of time and space,
not the expressions of purely intellectual conceptions. When
divested of metaphor, a straight line or a square has na more
to do with right and justice than a crooked line with vice. The
figurative association was mistaken for a real onc; and thus the
three latter divisions of the Platonic proportion were constructed.

decanse they are clothed in sense, hypotheses because they are
assumptions only, until they are brought into connexion with the

‘Whe general meaning of the passage 508-511, so far as the
thought contained in it admits of being translated into the terms af
modern philosophy,'may be described or explained as follows:—
‘There is a truth, one and self-existent, to which by the help of
‘a ladier let down from above, the human Intelligence may ascend.
This | the sun in the heavens, the light by which
al the being by which they arc created and
gustained. It ix the dolas of good. And the steps of the ladder
Teading up to this highest or universal existence are the mathe-

Aeputtsc vt. light of the world, all knowledge and all power were compre
ermaawe- tended in it, The way to it was through the mathematical

Asaurets

—

pies reference to this or any other passage in his extant writings |

sciences, and these too were dependent on it. To ask whether
God was the maker of it, or made by it, would be like asking
whether God could be conceived apart from goodness, or goodness
apart from God. ‘The God of the Timaeus is not really at variance
with the ides of good; they are aspects of the same, differing:
only as the personal from the impersonal, or the masculine from
the neuter, the one being the expression or language of mythology,
the other of philosophy.

sige scribing: Bk thay fo the meaning of the idea chgeed
‘as concelved by Plate. Ideas of number, order, harmony, de
velopment may also be said to enter into it, The
which has just been given of it goes Beyond the actwal words of,
Plato. We have perhaps arrived at the stage of philosophy which,
enables us to understand what he is aiming at, better than he did
himself. We are beginning to realize what he suw darkly and
atadistance, But if he could have been told that this, or some
conception of the same kind, but higher than this, was the truth
at which be was aiming, and the need which he sought to
he would gladly have recognized that more was contained in
own thoughts than he himself knew. As his words are few
his manner reticent and tentative, so must the style of his!
preter be. We should not approach his meaning more:
by attempting to define it further, Im translating bim
language of modern thought, we might inssnsibly love the :
of ancient philosophy. Te is remarkable that although
speaks of the idea af good as the first principle of truth ;
being, i is nowhere mentioned in his writings except in this
passage. Nor did it retain any hold upon the minds of
disciples in a later generation; it was probably
them. Nor does the mention of it in Aristotle appear to |

|
BOOK Vit, And now 1 will describe in a figure |

enlightenment or unenlightenment of our natures —}
human beings living in an underground den which
towards the light; they have been there from childhood, }
ing their necks and legs chained, and can only see into the ¢

fyssevit Ve who attains to the beatific vision is
“Asauves he is unwilling to descend into pete nied

of images which they behold in them —he cannot enter into the
ideas of those who have never in their lives understood the
Y relation of the shadow to the substance. But blindness is of §
two kinds, and may be ca:sod either by passing out of darkness
foto light or out of light into darkness, and a man of sense
will distinguish between them, and will not laugh equally at
both of them, but the blindness which arises from fulness of
Hight be will deem biessed, and pity the other; or if he laugh
at the puzzled soul looking at the sun, he will have more reason to
laugh than the inhabitants of the den at those who descend from
above. There is a further lesson taught by this parable of ours
Some persons fancy that instruction is like giving eyes to the
blind, but we say that the faculty of sight was always thére,
and that the soul only requires to be turned-round towards the
fight. And this is conversion; other virtues are almost like bodily
habits, and may be acquired in the same manner, but intelligence
‘has a diviner life, and is indestructible, turning either to good
‘or evil according to the direction given. Did-you never observe 51
how the mind of a clever rogue peers out of his cyes, and the
more clearly he sees, the more evil he docs? Now if you take:
such an one, and cut away from him those leaden: weights of ff
pleasure and desire which bind his soul to earth, his intelligese «
will be turned round, and he will behold the truth as clearly ag
he now discerns his meaner ends. And have we not decided
that our rulers must neither be so uneducated as to have no fixed
rule of life, nor so over-educated as to be unwilling to leavé
their paradise for the business of the world? We must choose
‘out therefore the natures who are mostflikely to ascend to the
ht and knowledge of the good; but we must not allow them: to
in in the region of light; they must be forced down again
1g the captives in the den to partake of their labours anv!
honours. *Will they not think this a hardship?” You should
remember that our purpose in framing the State was not thal
our citizens should do what they like, but that they should sqtve
the State for the common good of all. May we not fairly say 5:
to our philosopher,—Friend, we do you no wrong: for in other

y— _\ :

ad

cil

Analysis 523-526,

‘Kewitevtt, what L mean by the last expression: — Things sensible are of two

AmAcnals

‘kinds; the one class invite or stimulate the mind, while in the
other the mind acquiesces, Now the stimulating class are the
things which suggest contrast and relation, For example, suppose
that I hold up to the eyes three fingers—a fore finger, a middle
finger, a little finger—the sight equally recognizes all three
fingers, but without number cannot further distinguish them. Or
again, suppose two objects to be relatively great and small, these
ideas of greatness and smallness are supplied not by the sense,
but by the mind. And the perception of their contrast or relation
quickens and sets in motion the mind, which is puzled by the
‘confused intimations of sense, and has recourse to number in order
to find out whether the things indicated are one or more than
one, Number replies that they are two and not one, and are to
be distinguished from one another, Again, the sight beholds
great and small, but only in a confused chaos, and not until they
are distinguished does the question arise of their respective
natures; we are thus led on to the distinction between the visible
‘and intelligible, That was what I meant when f spoke of stimu-
Jante40.the-intellect ; I was thinking of the contradictions which
arise in perception. The idea of unity, for example, like that of a
finger, does not arouse thought unless involving some conception
of plurality; but when the one is alyo the opposite of one, the
contradiction gives rise to reflection; an example of this is
afforded by any object of sight. All number has also an elevating
effect ; it raises the mind out of the foam and flux of generation to
the contemplation of being, having tesser military and retail ses
also, The retail use is not required by us; but as our guardian is
to be a soldier as well as a philosopher, the military one may be
retained. And to our higher purpose no science can be better
adapted; but it must be pursued in the spirit of a phitosopher, not
of a shopkeeper. _It is concemed,-not With visible cbjects, but
Arath; for numbers are pure abstractions the true

tian indignantly denies that his unit Is capable of division.

you divide, be insists thar you are otly multiplying; his

‘one’ is mot material or resolvabic into fractions, bit an unvarying
and absolute equality; and this proves the parely intellecteal
character of his study. Note also the great power which arith.
metic has of sbarpening the wits; no other discipline is equally

>

$34

3}

Analysis 528-531.

“Very good, and now Ict us proceed to astronomy, about which
‘Lam willing to speak in your lofty strain. No one can fail to see
‘that the contemplation of the heavens draws the soul upwards.’ |
am an exception, then; astronomy as studied at present appears
to me to draw the soul not upwards, but downwards. Star-gaging
is just looking up at the ceiling—no better; a man may lie on
his back on Land or on water — he may look up or look down, but
there is no science in that. The vision of knowledge of which
J speak is seen not with the eyes, but with the mind. All the
magnificence of the heavens is but the embroidery of a copy which
falls far short of the divine Original, and teaches nothing about the
absolute harmonies or motions of things, Their beauty is like the
beauty of figures drawn by the hand of Daedalus or any other
great artist, which may be used for illustration, but no mathemati-
clan would seck to obtain from them true conceptions of equality
‘or numerjcal relations. How ridiculous then to look for these in
the map of the heavens, in which the imperfection of matter comes
in everywhere as a disturbing clement, marring the symmetry of
day and night, of months and years, of the sun and stars in their
courses. Only by problems can we place astronomy an a truly
scientific basis, Let the heavens alone, and exert the intellect.

Still, mathemati admit of other applitntions,-as-the Pytha-
goreans say, andwe agree. ‘There is a sister science of harmonical
motion, adapted to the ear as astronomyris to the eye, and there
may be other applications also. Let us inquire of the Pytha-
goreans about them, not forgetting that we have an aim higher
than theirs, which is the relation of these sciences to the idea
of good, The error which pervades astronomy also pervades
harmonics. The musicians put their cars in the place of their
minds. * Yes," replied Glaucon, * I Tike to see them laying their
ears alongside of their neighbours’ faces —some saying, “' That’s a
new note,” others declaring that the wo notesare the same." Yes,
I said; but you mean the empiries who are always twisting and
torturing the strings of the lyre, and quarrelling about the tempers
of the strings; Tam referring rather tothe Pythagorean harmonists,
who are almost equally in error. For they investigate only the
numbers of the consonances which are heard, and ascend no
higher,— of the true numerical harmony which is unheard, and is
only to be found in problems, they have not even a conception.

i

5

3

got taeperafemenieer |
: of;

—As before, they must be constant and valiant,
looking, and of noble manners, but now they must also’
natural ability which education will improve; that fs to say, th
‘emust be quick at learning, capable of mental toil, retentive,
diligent natures, who combine intellectual with moral
not lame and one-sided, diligent in bodily exercise and
mind, or conversely; not a maimed soul, which hates
and yet unintentionally is always wallowing in the
ignorance; not a bastard or feeble person, but sound in
limb, and in perfect condition for the Kreat gymnastic trial of
mind, Justice herself can find no fault with natures such as |
and they will be the saviours of our State; disciples of
sort would only make philosophy more ridiculous than
present. Forgive my enthusiasm; 1 am becoming exci
when | see her trampled under foot, Iam angry at the
her disgrace. 1 did not notice that you were more excit
you ought to have been.” But f felt that Iwas, Now
us forget another point in the selection of our di

must be young and not old. For Solon is mistaken in say
an old man can be always learning; youth is the time of stm
and here we must remember that the mind is free and dainty
unlike the body, must not be made to work against
Learning should be at first a sort of play, in which the

Justice ‘
first act will be dere eeepi aioe cava
‘more than ten years of age, and to proceed with

from darkness to light. "Tho sbiidons, the tia)
of the sun and stars in ie sansa

Se ncireen 2 ones of ich tee Roe
the type,— the fourth and last to the sameabstracti
in the unity of the idea, from which they derive =

vo

parent not only of |

divisions of knowledge the stages of education partly answer:—
first, there is the carly education of childhood and youth in the
fancies of the posts, and in the laws and customs of the State; —
then there is the training of the body to be a warrior athlete,
ind @ good servant of the mind; —and thirdly, after an interval
follows the education of later life, which begins with mathematics
and proceeds to philosophy in general.

‘There seem to be two great aims in the philosophy of Plato,—
first, to realize abstractions; secondly, to connect them. Ac-
cording to him, the true education is that which draws men from
becoming to being, and to a comprehensive survey of all being.
He desires to develop in the human mind the faculty of secing
the universal in all things; until at last the particulars of sense
drop away and the universal alone remains, He then seeks to
combine the universals which he has disengaged from sense, not
perceiving that the correlation of them has no other basis but
the common use of language. He never understands that ab-
seractions, as Hegel says, are ‘mere abstractions'—of use when
‘employed in the arrangement of facts, but adding nothing to the
sum of knowledge when pursued apart from them, or with
reference to an imaginary idea of good. Still the exercise of the
faculty of abstraction apart from facts has enlarged the mind,
‘and played a great partin the education of the human race, Plato
appreciated the Value of this faculty, and saw that it might be
quickened by the study of number and relation. All things in
which there is opposition or proportion are suggestive of re-
flection. ‘The mere impression of sense evokes no power of
thought or of mind, but when sensible objects ask to be compared
and distinguished, then philosophy begins. The science of arith-
metic first suggests such distinctions. There follow in order the
‘other sciences of plane and solid geometry, and of solids in
motion, one branch of which is astronomy or the harmony of
the spberes,—to this is appended the sister science of the har-
mony of sounds. Plato seems also to hint at the possibility of
other applications af arithmetical or mathematical proportions,
such as we employ in chemistry and natural philosophy, such
as the Pythagoreans and even Aristotle make use of in Ethics

a more general mode of analysis “Hee will remark

om the backward state of solid geometry, which,
encouraged by the aid of the State in the age of P
will recognize the grasp of Plato's mind in is:

‘of one science of solids in motion including the |

as the heavens,— not forgetting to notice the intimation t
allusion has been already made, that besides n
harmonics the science of solids in motion im; :
cations. Still more will he be struck with the co

of view which led Plato, at a time when these:
existed, to say that they must be studied in
another, and to the idea of good, oF common princi

and being. But he will also see (and perhaps without
that én that stage of physical and mathematical know

has fallen into the error of supposing that he can

heavens « prior? by mathematical problems, and dete
principles of harmony irrespective of the adaptation of sound
the human ear, ‘The illusion was a natural one in that
country, The simplicity and certainty of astronomy
monies seemed to contrast with the variation
of the world of sense; hence the circumstance that |
some “ementary beplitiis sien
oF time or vibrations on which they must.
overlooked by him. ‘The i riodeea Iprodacamsapiichis rs
imto errors equally great; and Plato cam hardly be
been very far wrong, or may even claim a sort
insight into the subject, when we consider that the |
of astronomy at the present day consists of abstr

ereate

the power of attention, developes the sense of order and’ the
faculty ef construction, and enables the mind to grasp under
simple formulae the quantitative differences of physical phe-
nomena, But while acknowledging their value in education, be
‘sees also that they have no connexion with our higher moral
and intellectual ideas, In the attempt which Plato makes to
connect them, we easily trace the influences of ancient Pytha-
gorean notions, There is no reason to suppose that be is speake
fing of the ideal numbers at p. 525 E; but he is describing numbers
which are pure abstractions, to which he assigns a real and
Separate existence, which, as ‘the teachers of the art’ (meaning
probably the Pythagereans) would have affirmed, repel all ate
tempts at subdivision, and in which unity and every other number
are conceived of as absolute. The truth and certainty of numbers,
when thus disengaged from phenomena, gave them a kind of
sacredness in the eyes of an ancient philosopher. Nor is it easy
‘to say how far ideas of order and fixedness may have had a moral
and elevating influence on the minds of men, ‘who,’ in the words
‘of the Timacus, ‘might learn to regulate their erring lives ac-
cording to them’ (47 C). It is worthy of remark that the old
Pythagorean ethical symbols still exist as figures of speech among
‘ourselves, And those who in moder times see the world per-
vaded by universal law, may also sce an anticipation of this last
sword of modern philosophy in the Platonic idea of good, which
is the source and measure of all things, and yet only an abstrac-
tion, (Cp, Philebus, sub fin.)

‘Two passages seem to require more particular explanations.
First, that which relates to the analysis of vision. The difficulty
in this passage may be explained, like many others, from dif-
ferences im the modes of conception prevailing among ancient
and modern thinkers. To us, the perceptions of sense are in-
separable from the act of the mind which accompanies them,
‘The consciousness of form, colour, distance, is indistinguishable
from the simple sensation, which is the medium of them.
Whereas to Plato sense is the Heraclitean flux of senso, not

daily life likely to be upset; and on the other hand will not many
‘of their old prejudices and narrownesses still adhere to them
Jong after they have begun to take a more comprehensive view
‘of human things? From. familiar examples like these we may,
Icarn what Plato meant by the eyesight which is liable to two
kinds of disorders.

Nor have we any difficulty in drawing a parallel between the
young Athenian in the fifth century before Christ who became
unsettled by new ideas, and the student of a modern University
who bas been the subject of a similar ‘aufklirung.’ We too
observe that when young men begin to criticise customary beliefs,
or to analyse the constitution of human nature, they are apt to
Jose hold of solid principle (av 19 BfSuov avec tfolyera:). They
are like trees which have been frequently transplanted. “The
earth about them is loose, and they have no roots reaching far
into the soil. They ‘light upon every flower,’ following their
‘own wayward wills, or because the wind blows them. They
catch opinions, as diseases are caught—when they are in the
air. Borne hither and thither, ‘they speedily fall into beliefs’
the opposite of those in which they were brought up. They
hardly rerain the distinction of right and wrong; they seem to think
‘one thing ts good as another. They suppose themselves to be
searching after truth when theyare playing the game of ‘follow my
leader.’ They fall in love ‘at first sight’ with paradoxes respecting
morality, some fancy about art, some novelty or eccentricity in
religion, and like lovers they are so absorbed for a time in their
new notion that they can think of nothing else. ‘The resolution of
some philosophical or theological question seems to them more
interesting and important than any substantial knowledge of

Analysis 543-548.

having all things in common; and they arc to be warrior athletes,
receiving no pay but only their food, from the other citizens.
Now fet us return to the point at which we digressed. ‘That is
easily done,’ he replied: * You were speaking of the State which
you had constructed, and of the individual who answered to this,
both of whom you affirmed to be good; and you said that of s4
inferior States there were four forms and four individuals cor-
responding to them, which although deficient in various degrees,
were all of them worth inspecting with a view to determining
the relative happiness or misery of the best or worst man. Then
Polemarchus and Adeimantus interrupted you, and this led to
another argument,—and so here we are.’ Suppose that we put
ourselves again in the same position, and do you repeat your
question. ‘I should like to know of what constitutions you were
speaking?’ Besides the perfect State there are only four of
any note in Hellas :— first, the famous Lacedaemonian or Cretan
commonwealth ; secondly, oligarchy, a State full of evils; thirdly,
democracy, which follows next in order; fourthly, tyranny, which
is the disease or death of all government, Now, States are not
made of ‘oak and rock,’ but of flesh and blood; and therefore as
there are five States there must be five human natures in ine
dividuals, which correspond to them. And first, there is the
ambitious nature, which answers to the Lacedaemonian State; $4!
secondly, the oligarchical nature; thirdly, the democratical; and
fourthly, the tyrannical. This last will have to be compared with
the perfectly just, which is the fifth, that we may know which is
the happier, and then we shall be able to determine whether
the argument of Thrasymachus or our own is the more convincing.
And as before we began with the State and went on to the
individual, 90 now, beginning with timocracy, let us go on to
the timocratical man, and then proceed to the other forms of
government, and the individuals who answer to them,

But how did timocracy arise out of the perfect State? Plainly,
like all changes of government, from division in the rulers, But
whence came division? ‘ Sing, heavenly Muses,’ as Homer says;
—let them condescend to answer us, as if we were children, to
whom they put on a solemn face in jest. ‘And what will they
say?’ They will say that human things are fated to decay, and 54
even the perfect State will not escape from this law of destiny,

L™

short or long. Plants
sterility, which the Intel

four deena iat intervals of numbers, increasing, waning,
assimilating, dissimilating, and yet perfectly commensurate with
each other. ‘The base of the number with a fourth added (or
which is 3:4), multiplied by five and cubed,. gives two har-
monies: —The first a square number, which is a hundred times
‘the base (or a hundred times « hundred); the second, an oblong,
being a bundred squares of the rational diameter of a figure the
‘side of which is five, subtracting one from each square or two
perfect squares from all, and adding a hundred cubes of three.
This entire number is geometrical and contains the rule or law of
generation. When this law is neglected marriages will be un-
propitious; the Infericr offspring who are then born will in time
become the rulers; the State will decline, and education fall into
decay; gymnastic will be preferred to music, and the gold and
$6) silver and brass and fron wit! form a chaotic mass —thus division
will arise. Such is the Muses’ answer to our question, ‘And

& true answer, of course:— but what more have they to say?’
‘They say that the two races, the fron and brass, and the silver and
gold, will draw the State different ways;—the one will take to
trade and moneymaking, and the others, having the true riches
and not caring for money, will resist them: the contest will end

in & compromise; they will agree to have private property, and
will enslave their fellow-citirens who were once their friends
and nurturers, But they will retain their warlike character, and
will be chiefly oceupied in fighting and exercising rule. Thus
azises timocracy, which is intermediate between aristocracy and
‘The new form of government resembles the ideal in obedience

to rulers and contempt for trade, in having common meals, and in
Gevotion to warlike and gymnastic exercises. But corruption has
rept into philosophy, and simplicity of character, which was once

{48 her note, ix now looked for only in the military class. Arts of war
begin to prevail over arts of peace; the ruler is no longer «

by sense will ot enable them to Aa"

pleasant, clare ‘there, springs wp. smang hem
an extravagant love of gain—get another man's and save your
own, is their principle; and they have dark places in which they
hoard their gold and silver, for the use of their women and others;
thoy take their pleasures by stealth, like boys who are running
away from their father—the law; and their education ts not
inspired by the Muse, but imposed by the strong arm of power,

a ae aS a
what manner of man answers to such a State? ‘In love

of contention,’ replied Adeimantus, ‘he will be like our friend
Glavcon.’ In that respect, pérhaps, but not in others He
is seléasserting and ill-educared, yet fond of literature, al 549
though not himself a speaker,— fierce with slaves, but obedient
to rulers, a lover of power and honour, which he hopes to
gain by deeds of arms,—fond, too, of gymnastics and of hunting.
‘As he advances in years he grows avaricious, for he has lost
philosophy, which is the only saviour and guardian of men. His
origin is as follows:—His father is a good man dwelling in an
ilLerdered State, who has retired from politics in order that he
may lead # quict life, His mother is angry at her loss of prece-
dence among other women} she is disgusted at her husband's
Selfishness, and she expatiates 10 her son on the wamanliness
and indolence of his father. The old family servant takes up the
tale, and says to the youth: —* When you grow up you must be
more of a man than your father,’ All the world are agreed that 53°
he who minds his own business is an idiot, while a busybody is
highly honoured and esteemed. The young man compares this
spirit with his father’s words and ways, and as he is naturally
well disposed, although he has suffered from evil influences, he
rests at a middle point and becomes ambitious and a lover of
honour,

And now let us set another city over against another man,
‘The next form of government is~eligarchy, in which the rule
is of the rich only’ nor is it difficult to see how such a State
arist&~ The dedine begins with the possession of gold and silver;
illegal modes of expenditure are invented; one draws another
on, and the multitude are infected; riches outweigh virtue;
lovers of money take the place of lovers of honour; misers of 5$

=

put

man is mean, saving, toiling, the slave of one passion which # |
the master of the rest: Is he not the very image of the State?
‘He ‘has had no education, or he would never have allowed the
blind god of riches to lead the dance within him, And being
uneducated he will have many slavish desires, some beggatly,
some knavish, breeding in his soul. If he is the trustee of an
orphan, and has the power to defraud, he will soon prove that he
is not without the will, and that his passions aro only restrained
by fear and not by reason. Hence he leads a divided existence;
in which the better desires mostly prevail. But when he i con- $5§
tending for prizes and other distinctions, he is afraid to incur a loss

which is to be repaid only by barren honour. time of war he

figghtssit his
money and loses the victory,

Next_comes somneageed the democratic man, out of oli-
garchy and the oligarchical man. a is the ruling

passion of an oligarchy; and they encourage expensive habits in
order that they may gain by the ruin of extravagant youth. Thus
men of family often lose their property or rights of citizenship;
but they remain in the city, full of hatred against the new owners
of their estates and ripe for revolution. ‘The usurer with stooping
walle pretends not to see them; he passes by, and leaves his
sting — that is, his money — {in some other victim; and manya
man has to pay the parent or principal sum multiplied into a
family of children, and is reduced into a state of dronage by him. $$!
The only way of diminishing the evil is either to limit a man in
his use of his property, or to insist that he shall lend at his own
risk, But the ruling class do not want romedies; they care
only for maney, and are aa careless of virtue as the poorest of the
citizens. Now there are occasions on which the governors and
the governed meet together,— at festivals, on a journcy, voyaging
or fighting. The sturdy pauper finds that in the hour of danger
he is not despised; he sees the rich man puffing and panting,
and draws the conclusion which he privately imparts to his com-
panions,—‘that our people are not good for much ;’ and as a
sickly frame is made ill by a mere touch from without, ar some-
times without external impulse is ready to fall to pieces of itself,
so from the least cause, or with none at all, the city falls ill and
fights a battle for life or death. And democracy comes into 5$

‘the manners of men, and there are many who, like women and
children, prefer this variety to real beauty and excellence, The
State is not one bat many, like a baraar at which you can buy
anything. ‘The great charm is, that you may do as you likey
you may govern if you like, Jet it alone if you like; go to war
58 and make peace if you feel disposed, and all quite irrespective
of anybody ee. Whea you condemn men to death they remain
alive all the same; a gentleman is desired to go into exile,
and be stalks about the streets like a hero; and nobody sees
him or cares for him, Observe, too, how grandly Democracy
‘sets her foot upon all our fine theories of education,— how little
she cares for the training of her statesmen! The only quali-
fication which she demands és the profession of patriotism, Such
is democracy ; —a pleasing, lawless, various sort of government,
distribsting equality to equals avd unequals alike.

‘Let us now inspect the individual democrat; and first, as in
the case of the State, we will trace his antecedents. He is the
© don of a miserly oligarch, and has been taught by him to restrain

\he-toweof sane? pleasures Perhaps I ought to explain
$99 this: batter ry pleasures are those which are

geod, and which we cannot do without; unnecessary pleasures
are those which do no good, and of which the dosire might
be eradicated by early training. For example, the pleasures
pf eating and drinking are necessary and healthy, up to a certain
point; beyond that point they are alike hurtful to body and
tmind, and the excess may be avoided. When in excess, they
tay be rightly called expensive pleasures, in opposition to the
teefel ones. And the drone, as we called him, is the slave of
these unnecessary pleasures and desires, whereas the miserly
cligarch ts subject only to the necessary.

‘The oligarch changes into the democrat in the following
manner:—The youth who has had a miserly bringing up, gets

‘a tame of the drone’s honey: be

| Aste in the individaal, there ave allies om beth sides, temptations from

without and pesions fom within; there is reason cand
‘external mBocnces of parents and Eiends in alliance with |
oligarchical principle; and the two factions are in violent conflict sf
with one another. Sometimes the party of order prevails, bot
then again new desires and mew disorders arise, and the whole
mob of passioas gets possession of the Acropolis, that is to say,
the soul, which they fied wold and anguanied by troe words
and works. Fabehoods and ibssions ascend to take their place;
‘the prodigal goes back into the coestry of the Lotophagi or
drones, and openly dwells there. And if any offer of alliance
or parley of individual ekters comes from heme, the false spirits
shut the gates of the castle and permit po onc to enter,— there
ts a hattle, and they gain the victory; and straightway making |
alftiance with the desires, they banish modesty, which they call
folly, and the border. When the house
as been swept and garnisbed, up the exiled vices, and,
crowning them with gariands, bring them back ender new names,
Insolence they call good breeding, anarchy freedom, waste mag-
nificence, impadence courage. Such is the process by which the gf
youth passes from the-wtcestarx pleasures to_the uenecessary.
After a while he divides his time impartially between them; and
perhaps, when he gets older and the violence of passion has
abated, he restores some of the exiles and lives ina sort of equé
Ubriam, indulging first one pleasare and then another; and if
reason comes and tcils him that some pleassres are good and
honourabic, and others bad and vile, he shakes his bead and says
that he can make no distinction between them. ‘Thus he lives
in the fancy of the hour; sometimes be takes to drink, and then
he turns abstainer; he practises in the gymnasium or he does
nothing at all; then again be would be a philosopher or a
politician ; or again, he would be a warrior ora mam of business;
he is

‘Byery thing by dearts and nothing loa,

‘There remains still the finest and fairest of all mtn and all 3&
‘States—tyranny and the tyrant. ‘Tyranny springs from de-
mocracy much as democracy springs from oligarchy. Both arise

ix ¥

the law, not of the State only, but of private houses, and extends
63 even to theanimals, Father and son, citizen and foreigner, teacher
and pupil, old and young, are all on a level; fathers and teachers
fear their sons and pupils, and the wisdom of the young mas
isa match for the elder, and the old imitate the jaunty manners
‘of the young because they are afraid of being thought morose,
Slaves are on @ level with their masters and mistresses, and
there is no difference between men and women. Nay, the very
animals in a democratic State have a freedom which is unknown
im other places, The she-dogs are as good as their she-mistresses,
and horses and asses march along with dignity and run their
feoscs against anybody who comes in their way. * That has often
been my experience,’ At last the citizens become so sensitive
that they cannot endure the yoke of laws, written or unwsitten;
they would have no man call himself their master. Such is
the glorious beginning of things out of which tyranny springs.
| ‘Glorious, indeed; but what isto follow?' The ruin of oligarchy
(yoy the: ruin of democracy; for there is a law of contraries; the
excess of frecdom passes into the excess of slavery, and the
greater the freedom the greater the slavery. You will remember
that in the oligarchy were found two classes — rogues and paupers,
whom we compared to drones with and without stings. These
two classes are to the State what phlegm and bile are to the
human bedy; and the State-physician, or legislator, must get
id of them, just as the bee-master keeps the drones out of the
hive. Now in a democracy, too, there are drones, but they are
more numerous and more dangerous than in the oligarchy;
there they are inert and unpractised, here they are full of life
and animation; and the keener sort speak and act, while the
ethers busr about the bema and prevent their opponents from
‘being heard. And there is another class in democratic States,

thriving,
the drones have need of their possessions; there is

over a third class, who are the labourers and the artisans, and
they make up the mass of the people. When the people meet,
they are omnipotent, but they cannot be brought together un-
Jess they are attracted by a little honey; and the rich are
made to supply the honey, of which the demagogues keep the
yreater part themselves, giving a taste only to the mob. Their
victims attempt to resist; they are driven mad by the stings
of the drones, and so become downright oligarchs in self-befence.
‘Then follow informations and convictions for treason. The
people have some protector whom they nurse into greatness,
and from this root the tree of tyranny springs. The nature of
the change is indicated in the old fable of the temple of Zeus
Lycacus, which tells how he who tastes human fiesh mixed up
with the flesh of other victims will turn into a wolf. Even s0
the protector, who tastes human blood, and slays some and
‘exiles others with or without law, who hints at abolition of
debts and division of ands, must cither perish or become a
wolf — that is, a tyrant. Perhaps he is driven out, but he soon
comes back from exile; and then if his enemics cannot get rid
of him by lawful means, they plot his assassination, Thereupon
the friend of the people makes his well-known request to them
for a body-guard, which they readily grant, thinking only of his
danger and not of their own. Now let the rich man make to
himself wings, for he will never run away again if he does not
do so then. And the Great Protector, having crushed all his
rivals, stands proudly crect in the chariot of State, a full blown
tyrant: Let us enquire into the nature of his happiness.

In the early days of his tyranny he smiles and beams upon
everybody ; he is not a ‘dominus,’ no, not he: he has only come
to put an end to debt and the monopoly of land. Having got rid
‘of foreign enemies, he makes himself necessary to the State by
always going to war. He fs thus enabled to depress the poor
by heavy taxes, and so keep them at work; and he can get rid
of bolder spirits by handing them over to the enemy. Then
comes unpopularity; some of his old associates have the courage
to oppose him. The consequence is, that he has to make a
purgation of the State; but, unlike the physician who purges

le Davee deaterandt wc 6t
And the more hated he is, the more he

shame and dishonour,

Rate, but how will he obtain them? ‘They
‘will come flocking like birds —for pay? Will he not rather ob-
tain ther o= the spot? He will take the slaves from their owners.
and make them his body-guard; these are his trusted friends,
who admire and look up to him. Are not the tragic poets wise
who magnify and exalt the tyrant, and say that he is wise by
association with the wise? And are not their praises of tyranny
alone a sufficient reason why we should exclude them from our
State? They may go to other cities, and gather the mob about
them with fine words, and change commonwealths into tyrannics
and democracies, recelving honours and rewards for their
services; but the higher they and their friends ascend constitution
bill, the more their honour will fail and become ‘too asthmatic
to mount.’ To return to the tyrant — How will he support that
rare army of his? First, by robbing the temples of their treasures,
which will enable him to lighten the taxes; then he will take
ali his Gther’s property, and spend it on his companions, male
or female. Now his father Is the demus, and if the demus gets
‘angry, and says that a great hulking son ought not to be a burden
oa is parents, and bids him and his riotous crew begone, then
will the parent know what 2 monster he has been nurturing,
aed that the son whom he would fain expel is too strong for
hie. *¥ou do sot mean to say that he will beat his father?’
Yes, he will, after having taken away his arms. ‘Then he is
4 purricide and a cruel, unnatural son.’ And the people have
jumped from the fear of slavery into slavery, out of the smoke
into the fire. Thus liberty, when out of all order and reason,
passes into the worst form of servitude. . . .

In the previous books Plato has described the ideal State; now
he returns to the perverted or declining forms, on which he
had lightly touched at the end of Book iv. These he describes in
® succession of parallels between the individuals and the States,
tracing the origin of either in the State or individual which has
preceded them. He begins by asking the point at which he
Gigressed; and is thus led shortly to recapitulate the substance

Lerropoc
non.

of the three ecacibocta sich ao contain x par of
and the State.

OF the first decline he gives no Inteligible accounts he woedd
‘not have liked to admit the most probable causes of the fall of bis
ideal State, which to us would appear to be the impracticability ef
communism er the natural antagonism of the ruling and subject
classes. He throws a veil of mystery over the origin of the
dectine, which be attributes to ignorance of the law of population.
Of this law the famous geometrical figure or number és the
‘expression, Like the ancients in general, he had no idea of the
gradual perfectibility of man or of the education of the human
race. His ideal was not to be attained in the course of ages,
but was to spring in full armour from the head of the legislator.
When good laws had been given, he thought only of the snanner
in which they were likely to be corrupted, or of how they might
‘be filled up in detail or restored in accordance with their original
spirit. He appears not to have reflected upon the full meaning of
his own words, ‘In the brief space of human life, nothing great
tan be accomplished ' (x. 608 B); or again, as he afterwards says
inthe Laws (iii. 676), ‘Infinite time is the maker of cities." The
order of constitutions which is adopted by him represents ant
order of thought rather than a succession of time, and may be
considered as the first attempt to frame a philosophy of history.

The first of these declining States is timocracy, or the govern-
ment of soldiers and lovers of honour, which answers to the
Spartan State; this is a government of force, in which education
is not inspired by the Muses, but imposed by the law, and in
which all the finer elements of organization have disappeared.
‘The philosopher himself has lost the love of truth, and the soldier,
who is of a simpler and honester nature, rules in his stead. “The
individual who answers to timocracy has some noticeable qualities.
He is described as ill educated, but, like the Spartan, a lover of
literature; and although he is a harsh master to his servants he
has no natural superiority over them. His character is based
upon @ reaction against the circumstances of his father, who in
a troubled city has retired from polities; and his mother, who
is dissatisfied at her own position, is always urging him towards
the life of political ambition. Such a character may have had
this origin, and indeed Livy attributes the Licinian laws to a

- feminine jealousy of a similar kind (vil, 34). But there is obviously
go connection between the manner in which the timocratic State
springs out of the ideal, and the mere accident by. which the
timocratic man is the son of a retired statesman.

‘The two next stages in the decline of constitutions have even
less historical foundation. For there is no trace in Greek history
of a polity like the Spartan or Cretan passing into an oligarchy of
wealth, or of the oligarchy of wealth passing into a democracy,
‘The order of history appears to be different; first, in the Homeric
times there is the royal or patriarchal form of government, which
@ century or two later was succeeded by an oligarchy of birth
rather than of wealth, and in which wealth was only the accident
of the hereditary possession of land and power. Sometimes this
oligarchical government gave way to a government based upon a
qualification of property, which, according to Aristotle's mode of
using words, would have been called a timocracy; and this in
some cities, as at Athens, became the conducting medium to
democracy. But such was not the necessary order of guccession
im States; nor, indeed, can any order be discerned in the endless
Buctuation of Greek history (like the tides in the Euripus), except,
perhaps, in the almost uniform tendency from monarchy to
aristocracy in the earliest times. At first sight there appears to
be a similar inversion in the last step of the Platonic succession ;
for tyranny, instead of being the natural end of democracy, in
rarly Greek history appears rather as a stage leading to de-
mocracy; the reign of Peisistratus and his sons is an episode
which comes between the legislation of Solon and the constitution
of Cleisthenes; and some secret cause common to them all seems
to have led the greater part of Hellas at her first appearance in
the dawn of history, ¢. g- Athens, Argos, Corinth, Sicyon, and
hearly every State with the exception of Sparta, through a similar
stage of tyranny which ended either in oligarchy or democracy.
But them we must remember that Plato is describing rather the
contemporary governments of the Sicilian States, which alternated
betweem democracy and tyranny, than the ancient history of
Athens or Corinth.

‘The portrait of the tyrant himself is just such as the later Greck
delighted to draw of Phalaris and Dionysius, in which, as in the
lives of mediaeval saints or mythic heroes, the conduct and actions

ve

og

“There whe no enormity which the Greek was net

af thom) the tyrant was the negation of government and Laws his
eanination was glorious; there was no crime, however wn
witural, which might nut with probability be attwibated to him,
Ih thite Plato was only following the common thought of bis
ountryimen, which he embellished and exaggerated with all
the power of hip genius, ‘There is no need to suppose that he
drew fun life) oF that his knowledge of tyrants is derived from a
frerwonal poqualitance with Dionysius. ‘The manner in which
he speaks of thom would rather tend to render doubtful his ever
howling consorted ' with them, or entertained the schemes, which
due Altsiuyed fo bien in the Epistles, of regenerating Sicily by
Abele Brel,

Pate in a hyperbolical and seriocomic vein exaggerates the
fillivs of deurooracy which he also sees reflected in social life.
‘Te Mm democracy is a state of individualism or dissolution;
tm which every ame ix doing what is right in his own eyes, Of
& pewple animated by a common spirit of Bberty, rising as cee
Wan to repel the Persian ost, which is the leading idea of
democracy o Merodotes and Thacydides, he newer seems t0
Whink, Bat if be & wot & believer ix biderty, still leas & be @ lover
of tyywnny, Nis deeper and more serious condemnation is re
werved ie the tye, whe ik the ideal of wickedness and alo
vf weakens, and ede io ba enrr bcipienne amt saapiciomsness
i loons an abmost emgrandlc cuatcece, wuthoet that remeanst of
eed WDC, im Plans epinion, was required oo give power oo
guid (Wook kp 35th Ths ithead of wictentness lining: ime Reigns
winery, & whe arecese of thak ether permit of gertker lnjenier
walling a Daypuness and gikadvur, hich Ene of all Them
machen unt atcewanls. ihe sams of Acsane Dad deem, amt
ie abd, tie orwcme off Ube Rig wDuer oi of Bi is the godt of
Den madres

DAA hee gece iow indiewnais Yes. 2 crmepumding
Gatien’ yrmdncion the aie Soe oS mie ce oie a eM, SE
wenaingudheny Dus Qusrmemamny he yresees nf cnining che
wo wrme oo De tewces> ai ie Tecra Tee the crasip
Som, shotiner of tee Somers ar oof foe cmnitwadtaad, © Oma, Sees. apse
aug ant ocmndlyy, apwn ithe ve a Danmar te Mester ere

——

£>

Rega sacar tha varoas: fleas axe'alliwed to
have free play, and the virtues and vices are impartially culti-
vated. But this freedom, which leads to many curious extrava-
gances of character, is in reality only a state of weakness and
dissipation. At Jast, one monster passion takes possession of the
whole nature of man— this is tyranny. [n all of them excess —
the excess first of wealth and then of freedom, is the clement of

‘The cighth book of the Republic abounds in pictures of life and
fanciful allusions ; the use of metaphorical language is carried to a
greater extent than anywhere else in Plato. We may remark,
(2), the description of the two nations in one, which become more
and more divided in the Greck Republics, as in feudal times, and
portsaps also in our own; (2), the notion of democracy expressed
fn a sort of Pythagorean formula as equality among unequals;
(3), the free and easy ways of men and animals, which are charac-
‘teristic of liberty, a8 foreign mercenaries and universal mistrust
are of the tyrant; (4), the proposal that mere debts should not be
fecoverable by law is a speculation which bas often been enter-
tained by reformers of the law in modern times, and is in harmony
with the tendencies of modern legislation, Debt and land were
the two great difficulties of the ancient lawgiver: in modern times
we may be said to have almost, if not quite, solved the first of these
difficulties, but hardly the second.

Still more remarkable are the corresponding portraits of in-
dividuals: there is the family picture of the father and mother
and the old servant of the timocratical man, and the out-
ward respectability and inherent meanness of the oligarchical ;
the uncontrolled licence and freedom of the democrat, in which
the young Alcibiades scems to be depicted, doing right or wrong
as he pleases, and who at last, like the prodigal, goes into a far
country (note here the play of language by which the democratic
man {s himself represented under the image of a State having
@ citadel and receiving embassies); and there is the wild-beast
nature, which breaks loose in his successor, The hit about the
tyrant being a parricide; the representation of the tyrant's life as

VOL. 1—9

its

an obscene dicam; the rhetorical surprise of a mone miseable
tha the most miserable of men in Book ix; the bint to the posi
that if they are the friends of tyrants there is no place for them i=
a constitutional State, and that they are too clever not to sce the
Propriety of their own expulsion; the continuous image of the
drones who are of two kinds, swelling at last into the monster
drone having wings (see infra, Book ix),—are among Plates
happiest touches.

‘There remains to be considered the great difficulty of this book
of the Republic, the so-called number of the State, This is 2
puzzle almost as great as the Number of the Beast in the Book of
Revelation, and though apparently known to Aristotle, is referred
to by Ciceroas a proverb of obscarity (Ep. ad. Att. vii. 13, 5). And
some have imagined that there is no answer to the puzzle, and
that Plato has been practising upon his readers. But such a
deception as this [s inconsistent with the manner in which
Aristotle speaks of the number (Pol. v. 12, § 7), and would have
been ridiculous to any reader of the Republic who was ac-
quainted with Greek mathematics. As little reason is there for
supposing that Plato intentionally used obscure expressions; the
obscurity arises from our want of familiarity with the subject.
On the other hand, Plato himself indicates that he is not
altogether serious, and in describing his number as a solemn
jest of the Muses, he appears to imply some degree of satire
on the symbolical use of number, (Cp. Cratylus, passim; Protag.
342.)

Our hope of understanding the passage depends principally
on an accurate study of the words themselves; on whieh a faint
light is thrown by the parallel passage in the ninth book. Another
help is the allusion in Aristotle, who makes the important remark
that the latter part of the passage (from wv émirperoc miu, m1. 2.)
describes a solid figurel, Some further clue may be gathered
from the appearance of the Pythagorean triangle, which is denoted
hy the numbers 3, 4, 5, and in which, as in every right-angled

1 Pol. v, 19, § #:—' He only says that nothing is abiding, but that all things
change in a certain cycle; and that the origin of the change is « base of
numbers which are in the ratioof 4:3; and thls when combined with a figureot
five gives two harmonies : he means when the number of this figure becomes
solid.”

exxxil

tie

Innere.
on.

The Number of the State,

explained as follows. A perfect number |

‘ag already stated, is one which is equal to the sum of its divisors.
‘Thus 6, which is the first perfect or cyclical number, =1 + 243.
‘The words dpe, ‘terms’ or ‘notes,’ and areerdees, ‘intervals,’ am
applicable to music as well as to number and figure. Tparp is the
“hase’ on which the whole calculation depends, or the ‘lowest
term’ from which it can be worked out. The words duniqerai te
sal devaoreviperas have been variously translated —* squared and
cubed" (Donaldson), ‘ equalling and equalled in power’ (Weber),
*by involution and evolution," {. ¢. by raising the power and ex-
tracting the root (as in the translation). Numbers are called ‘like
and unlike” (jnowtorig re xo} avonoutwree) when the factors or the
sides of the planes and cubes which they represent are or are not
in the same ratio: ¢. g 8 and 27 = 24 and 3°; and conversely.
“Waxing (abfovres) numbers, called also * increasing’ (frepretely),
are those which are exceeded by the sum of their divisors: @. g
12. and 18 are less than 16 and 21. ‘ Waning * (gdiovrec) numbers,
called also ‘decreasing? (2A2ncic), are those which exceed the sum
of their divisors: ¢. g. 8 and 27 exceed 7 and 13. The words
translated ‘ commensurable and agreeable to one anather’ (=poeg-
yopa vai pyré) seem to be different ways of describing the same
relation, with more or less precision. They are equivalent to
‘expressible in terms having the same relation to one another,’
like the series 8, 12, 18, 27, each of which numbers is in the
relation of 1} to the preceding. The ‘base,' or ‘fundamental
number, which has } added to it’ (1}) = 4 or a musical fourth.
‘Apyovla is a * proportion’ of numbers as of musical notes, applied
cither to the parts or factors of a single number or to the relation
of one number to another. The first harmony is a ‘square’
number (ley induc) ; the second harmony is an * oblong” number
(xpoien), |. €. a number representing a figure of which the
opposite sides only are equal, ‘Apdo! drd dionérpuv = ‘ numbers
squared from’ or upon diameters’; jyrav = ‘rational,’ i.e. omitting
fractions, 4))#ruv, irrational,” i. e. including fractions; e. g. 49 isa
square of the rational diameter of a figure the side of which = 5;
50, of nn irrational diameter of the same. For several of
the explanations here given and for a good deal besides 1 am
indebted to an excellent article on the Platonic Number by
Dr. Donaldson (Proc, of the Philol. Society, vol. i. p. $1 fi).

scale : (6) tbat the number 216 is the product of the cubes of 2 and
3 which are the tro last the Platonic Tetractys: (7) that
the triangle is Phutarch (de Is, ¢t Osir,, 373 E),
Proclus Prima Euct iv, ptt), /and Quintilian (de om

iit p 1§2) to be contained in thisjBastage, so that the

the school seems to point in tle sume direction: (8)
Pythagorean trlatigle is called also the figure of marriage
edypanpe).

But though agreeing with Dr. Donaldson thus far, T see
reason for supposing, a3 he docs, that the first or ‘pélfcct timber
is the world, the human or imperfect number the state; por has
he given any proof that the second harmony is cube. Nor do
T think that é)Ajrur 8 dev can mean ‘two incommensurables,’
which he arbitrarily assumes to be 2 and 3, but rather, as the
preceding clause implies, dui» dpdtluciMamd appiprur duaukrpaw mee
‘médoc, i. €. two square numbers based upon irrational diameters of
a figure the side of which is 5 = 50x 2,

‘The greatest objection to the transiation is the sense given to
the words dnirprrog eulyy «7.2, ‘a base of three with a third
added to it, multiplied by 5.’ In this somewhat forced manner
Plato introduces once more the numbers of the Pythagorean
triangle. But the coincidences in the numbers whieh fallow are
in favour of the explanation, ‘The first harmony of 400, 3 has
been already remarked, probably represents the rulers; the
second and oblong harmony of 7600, the people.

And here we take leave of the difficulty. The discavery of
the riddle would be useless, and would throw no light on
ancient mathematics, The point of interest is that Plato should
have used such a symbol, and that so much of the Pythagorean
spirit should have prevailed in him. His general meaning is
that divine creation is perfect, and is represented or presided

Me.

a -
Analysis 572-574.
before going to rest, and has satisfied bis desires just |

prevent their perturbing his reason, which remains clear acd

which he bas on his bed are least
in good men there is such an wea
peers dut in sleep.

‘To retum:— You remember what was
that he was the son of a miserly father, who encouraged
saving desires and repressed the ornamental and expensive once
presently the youth got into fine company, and began to entertains?
dislike to hig father’s narrow ways; and being a better man tha===an
the corrupters of his youth, he came to a mean, and Ted a life, neeamet
of lawless passion, but of regular and successive indice
gencé Now imagine that the youth has become a father,
a1 Son who i exposed to the same temptations, and has
who lead him into every sort of iniquity, and parents and
who try to keep him right. * The counsellors of evil find
only chance of retaining him is to implant in his soul a monseammmter
drone, or love; while other desires buzz around him and myst= ty
him with sweet sounds and scents, this monster love takes p=
| session of him, and puts an end to every true or
or wish. Love, like drunkenness and madness, is
the tyrannical man, whether made by nature or hal
drinking, lusting, furious sort of animal.

And how does such an one live? ‘Nay, that you
Well then, Pfancy that he will live amid Fivelries and
and love will be the lord and diaater of the hébec. MaBy desires
require mich money, and so fe spends all that he has and
borrows more; and when he has aothing the young ravens are
still in the nest in which they were batched, crying for fond. Love
urges them on; and they mustiie gmtified by force or fraind, or if
not, they become painful and troubléeome; and as the new
pleasures succeed the old ones, $6 Will the son take possession of
the goods of his parents; if they show signs of refusing, be will
defraud and deorive them; and if they openly. resist, what then?
‘1can only say, that [ should not muh like to Deintheir place.” But, |
O heavens, Adcimantus, to think itt for hew-fangled
unnecessary love he will give up fils old and mother, bess;
and dearest of friends, or enslave to the fancies of the hour!

FP

EE

| 0 Seats lager exyend lids they are

Be ceeene, the joys at tiahis at
n. And they are utterly treacherous and unjust,
justice be at alt understood by us. They realize

the most of a tyrant by nature, and
for the longest time, will be the worst
worst of them, will also be the most

ee eagesonis! man vl page Bee
rel, royal State; for one is the

‘hich is the happier? Great

pear enthroned amid his satel-

and ask; and the answer is, that
and the tyrannical the most
nay we not ask the same question
esting some one to look into them
nature of man, and will not be
of tyranny? I will suppose chat he

—

| exexviil
bai oh et

or perhaps in the bour of trouble and danger. -
(Aaeeuing thakwe canara: uke thailngenst Saige terete
we seek, let us begin by comparing the individual and State, and
ask first of all, whether the State is Ekely to be free or enslaved—
‘Will there not be a little frecdom and a great deal of slavery? And
the freedom Is of the bad, and the slavery of the good; and this
applies to the man as well as to the State; for his soul is fall of
‘meanness and slavery, and the better part is enskiwed to the
worse. He cannot do what be would, and bis tied is full of cow
fasion; he is the very reverse of a freeman. The State will be 5)

be paor and full of sorrows, and he will be the most miserable of
ost miscrable, for there is yet a more miser-

able. "Who is that?” ‘The tyrannical man who has the misfortene
Seater spinon ‘There I suspect that you are
right.’ Say rather, ‘Iam sure;” conjecture is out of place in am
enquiry of this natere. He is like a wealthy owner of slaves,
ely he has more of them than any private individual. You will
say, ‘The owners of slaves are not generally in any fear of them.
But why? Because the whole city is in « league which protects
the individual. Suppose however that one of these owners and
his household is carried off by a god into a wilderness, where there
are no freemen to help him —will he not be in an agény of terebe?
— will he not be compelled to flatter his slaves and tojpromise them $7
many things sore against his will? And suppose the same god
who carried him off were to surround him with neighbours whe
declare that no man ought to have slaves, and that the owners of
them should be punished with death, ‘Still worse and worse!
He will be in the midst of his enemies.’ And {s not our tyrant
such a captive soul, who is tormented by a swarm of passions
which he cannot indulge; living indoors always like a woman, and
jealous of those who.can go out And See the world?

Having so many evils, will not he Biiost miscrable af men be
still more miserable in a public station? Master of others when
he is not master of himself; like a sick man who is compelled to be
an athlete ; the meanest of slaves andthe most abject of flatrerers;
wanting all things, and never able (@ satisfyhis desires ; always in
fear and distraction, like the State of which he is the representative.

“Axacim, — an Olympian contest, first offering upa prayer tow

et him try a fall. A wise man whispers to me th

of the wise are true and pure; all others are a shadow only.
‘us examine thie: [6 not pleasure opposed to pain, and is there |
a mean stare which is neither? When a man is sick,
more pleasant to him than health, But this he never found:
while he was well. In pain he desires only to cease from pain.
the other hand, when he is in an ecstasy of pleasure, rest is painfull
to him, Thus rest or cessation is both pleasure and pain.

can that which is neither become both? Agnin, pleasure and pain,
are motions, and the absence of them is rest; but if so, how cam
the absence of either of them be the other? Thus we are led to.
infer that the contradiction is an appearance only, and

the senses. And these are not the only pleasures, for

others which have no preceding pains, Pure pleasure then is
the absence of pain, nor pure pain the absence of if
although most of the pleasures which reach the mind through
the body are reliefs of pain, and have not only their reactions when
they depart, but their anticipations before they come. They cam

middle imagines that he is going up and is already in the
world; and if he were taken back again would think,

think, that he was descending, All this arises out of his!

of the true upper, middle, and lower regions. Anda like

sion happens with pleasure and pain, and with many other |

‘The man who compares grey with black, calls grey white;
the man who compares absence of pain with pain, calls the

of pain pleasure. Again, hunger and thirst are inanitions of the
body, ignorance and folly of the soul; and food is the

of the one, knowledge of the other. Now which is the
satisfaction —that of eating and drinking, or that of ken
Consider the matter thus: The satisfaction of that which:
existence is truer than of that which has less. The it
immortal has a more real existence than the variable and .
and has 2 corresponding measure of knowledge and truth, "The!
soul, again, has more existence and truth and knowledge than the)
body, and is therefore more really satisfied and has a more)

Ee ail

Gerster a: fell). ‘Their pleasures are mere
‘shadows of pleasure, unixed with pain, coloured and intensified by
contrast, and therefore intensely desired; and men go fighting
about them, as Stesichorus says that the Greeks fought about the
shadow of Helen at Troy, because they know not the truth.

‘The same may be said of the passionate clement:— the desires
(of the ambitious sop, as well as of the covetous, have an inferior
satisfaction, reason do either of
the other ‘do their own businessor attain the pleasure
which is-eatural to them, When not attain’ compel the

‘to pursue a shadow of pleasure which is not
theirs, And the more distant the} from philosophy and
reason, the more order, and
the ‘morevillsive-willbeWicir pleasures. The desires of love
and tyranny are the farthest from law, and those of the king
are nearest to it. There is one genuine pleasure, and two
spurious Gnes: the tyrant goes beyond even the latter; he has
‘uitt away altogether from law and reason, Nor can the measure
‘of his inferiority be told, except in a figure. ‘The tyrant is the
third removed from the oligarch, and has therefore, not a shadow
of his pleasure, but the shadow of a shadow only. The oligarch,
again, is thrice removed from the king, and thus we get the for-
mala 3 * 3, which is the number of a surface, representing the
Shadow which is the tyrant's pleasure, and if you like to cube
this ‘number of the beast,’ you will find that the measure of
the difference amounts to 729; the king is 729 times more happy
than the tyrant. And this extraordinary’ number is near/y cqual
to the number of days and nights in a year (365 x 2= 730); and
&& therefore concerned with human life. This is the interval
between 2 good and bad man in happiness only: what must
be the difference between them in comcliness of life and virtue!

Perhaps you may remember some one saying at the beginning
Of our discussion that the unjust man was profited if he had the

‘having a ring of heads of alt manner of animals, tame and 5
and able to produce and change them at pleasure. Supp
now another form of a lion, and apother of a man; the.
smaller than the first, the third than the sccond; join
together and cover them with a human skin, in which
completely conerled, When. this, has ‘been dome; lef ond
‘the supporter of injustice that he is feeding up the beasts
starving the man. ‘The maintainer of justice, on the other h
is trying to strengthen the man; he is nourishing the
principle within him, and making an alliance with the lion
‘in order that he may be able to keep down the many
hydra, and bring all into wnity with each other and with them
selves. Thus in every point of view, whether in relation t
pleasure, honour, or advantage, the just man is right, and th
unjust wrong. ¥
But now, Jet us reason with the unjust, who is not intentionally
inerror. Is not the noble that which subjects the beast tc

man, or rather to the God in man; the ignoble, that whiclr sub
jects the man to the beast? And if so, who would receive gold:
‘condition that he was to degrade the noblest part of himself:
the worst? — who would sell his son or daughter into the

‘of brutal and evil men, for any amount of money? And
he sell his own fairer and diviner part without any ¢
to the most godless and foul? Would he not be worse
Eriphylc, who sold her husband's life for necklace? L
temperance is the letting loose of the multiform monster, —
pride and sullenness are the growth and Increase of the |
and serpent clement, while luxury and effeminacy are &
by a too great relaxation of spirit, Flattery and meanness 3
arise when the spirited element is subjected to avarice, and.
lion is habituated to become a monkey. The real disgrace
handicraft arts is, that those who are-engaged in them hard
to flatter, instead of mastering their desires; therefore we

that they should be placed under the control of the better prin
ple in another because they have none in themselves; n o
‘Thrasymachus imagined, to the injury of the subjects, but |

in his treatment of pleasure, as in many o
Geli of Plata ecru ap ar Gee
the analysis which was originally made by him I
‘next generation the foundation of further technical
Both in Plato and Aristotle we note the {llusion un
the ancients fell of regarding the transcience of pleasu
‘of its unreality, and of confounding the permanence
tellectual pleasures with the unchangeableness of the J
from which they are derived. Neither do we like to
the pleasures of knowledge, though more elevatir
more lasting than other pleasures, and are almost:
pendent on the accidents of our bodily state (cp. tr
Philebus).
2. The number of the interval which separates the
the tyrant, and royal from tyrannical pleasures, is
of 9, which Plato characteristically designates as a m1
Corned with human Uf, becauon; seach; Saale aaa
of days and nights in the year, He is desirous.
that the interval between them is immeasurable, and
formula to give expression to his idea. Those who |
Justice ag a cube, of virtue asan art of measuring (Prot.
sw no inappropriateness in conceiving the soul und
of a line, or the pleasure of the tyrant as separated

Ierneovc-
To,

AMT

vy

Analysis 395-597.
‘Aupalte 1x, life in the following Book, But the future life is present stills the

‘ideal of politics is to be realized in the individual,

‘but there was nothing which I liked better than the regulation
about poctry. The division of the soul throws a acw light on
‘our exclusion of imitation, 1 do not mind telling you in con6-
dence that all poetry is an outrage on the understanding, unless
the hearers have that balm of knowledge which heals error
T have loved Homer ever since I was a boy, and even now he
‘@pptars to me to be the great master of tragic poetry. But
much as [ love the man, I love truth more, and therefore 1
must speak out: and first of all, will you explain what is imitae,
“Ttion, for really f do not understand? ‘How likely then that 1
should understand!’ That might very well be, for the duller often
sees better than the keener eye, ‘True, but in your presence
I con hardly venture to say what I think.’ Then suppose that |
we begin in our old fashion, with the doctrine of universals.
Let us assume the existence of beds and tables. There is ome
idea of a bed, or of a table, which the maker of each had in
his mind when making them; he did not make the ideas of |
and tables, but he made beds and tables according to the ideas, |

|
BOOK X. Many things pleased me in oe sein
|

And is there not a maker of the works of all workmen, whe
makes not only vessels but plants and animals, himself, the
earth and heaven, and things in heaven and under the earth?
He makes the Gods also, ‘He must be a wizard indeed!" But
do you not sce that there is a sense in which you could de
the same? You have only to take a mirror, and cateh the
reflection of the sun, and the earth, or anything ¢lse-— there now
you have made them, ‘Yes, but only in appearance,’ Exactly sagt
and the painter is such a creator as you are with the mizror, and
he is even more unreal than the carpenter; although neither
the carpenter nor any other artist can be supposed to make
the absolute bed, ‘Not if philosophers may be believed." Nor
need we wonder that his bed has but an imperfect relation to
the truth. Reflect: —Here are three beds; one in nature, whieh
is made by God; another, which is made by the carpenter;
the third, by the painter. God only made one, nor could he
have made more than one; for if there had been two, there

exlviii
Roenaeie ‘Homeric way of life, such as the

Awacents:

\ but only of appearance. ‘The painter paints, and the artificer

-dcacad ec
instructed men, and which is called after you? ‘No, indeed; —
and Creophylus (Flesh-child] was even more aofortunate in his
breeding than he was in his name, if, as tradition says, Homer in
his Lifetime was allowed by him and his other friends to starve."
‘Yes, but could this ever have happened if Homer had really
been the educator of Hellas? Would he not have had many
devoted followers? If Protagoras and Prodicus can persuade
their contemporaries that no one can manage house or State
without them, is it likely that Homer and Hesiod would have
‘been allowed to go about as begyars—I mean if they had really
‘been able to do the world any good?—would not men have
compelled them to stay where they were, or have followed
them about in order to get education? But they did not; and
therefore we may infer that Homer and all the pocts are only
imitators, who do but {imitate the appearances of things For 60
asa painter by a knowledge of figure and colour can paint a
cobbler without any practice in cobbling, s0 the poct can dee
lineate any art in the colours of language, and give harmony and
thythin to the cobbler and also to the general; and you know
how mere narration, when deprived of the ornaments of metre,
is like a face which has lost the beauty of youth and never had
any other, Once more, the imitator has no knowledge of reality

makes a bridle and reins, but neither understands the use of
them—the knowledge of this is confined to the horseman; and
so of other things. ‘Thus we have three arts: one of use, an-
other of invention, a third of imitation; and the user furnishes —
the rule to the two others, The flute-player will know the
good and bad flute, and the maker will put faith in him; but |
the imitator will neither know nor have faith— neither science 6
nor true opinion can be ascribed to him. Imitation, then, Is
devoid of knowledge, being only a kind of play or sport, and
the tragic and epic pocts are imitators in the highest degree,

» And now let us enquire, what is the faculty In man which —
answers to imitation, Allow me to explain my meaning: Ob-
jects are differently seen when in the water and when out of
the water, when near and when at a distance; and the painter
‘or juggler makes use of this variation to impose upon ms And

a
Répetle X. sorrows such an exhibition of feeling is regarded as effeminate

Amat,

(would control? —he is off his guard because the sorrow is an

(Poetry feods and waters the passions and desires; she lets

unmanly (cp. fon, §3§ E). Now, ought a man to feel pleasure
‘in seeing another do what he hates and abominates in himself?
Is he not giving way to a sentiment which in his own case he

other's; and he thinks that he may indulge his feelings without
disgrace, and will be the gainer by the pleasure. But the fn-
evitable consequence is that he who begins by weeping at the
sorrows of others, will end by weeping at his own, The same
ie true of comedy,—you may often laugh at buffoonery which —
you would be ashamed to utter, and the love of coarse merri-
ment on the stage will at last turn you into a buffoon at home.

\them rule instead of ruling them. And therefore, when we
hear the encomiasts of Homer affirming that he is the educator
of Hells, and that all life should be regulated by his precepts, 66}
we may allow the excellence of their intentions, and agree with
them in thinking Homer a great poet and tragedian. But we
shall continue to prohibit all poetry which goes beyond hymns
to the Gods and praises of famous men, Not pleasure and pain,
but law and reason shall rule in our State.

‘These are our grounds for expelling poetry; but Test she
should charge us with discourtesy, let us also make an apology
to her. We will remind her that there is an ancient quarrel
between poetry and philosophy, of which there are many traces
in the writings of the poets, such as the saying of ‘the she-dog,
yelping at her mistress,’ and ‘the philosophers who are ready
to circumvent Zeus,’ and ‘the philosophers who are paupers.”
Nevertheless we bear her no ill-will, and will gladly allow her to
return upon condition that she makes a defence of herself in
verse ; and her supporters who are not pocts may speak in prose.
‘We confess her charms; but if she eannot show that she is
useful as well as delightful, like rational lovers, we must re
nounce our love, though endeared to us by early associations.
Having come to years of discretion, we know that is not |
truth, and that a man should be careful how he introduces q
to that state or constitution which he himself is; for there is a
mighty issue at stake—no less than the good or evil of a human
soul, And it is not worth while to forsake justice and virtue

nature, she must be viewed by the light of reason pure as at
birth, or as she is reflected in philosophy when holding con-
verse with the divine and immortal and eternal. In her present:
condition we acc her only like the sea-god Glaucus, braised and
maimed in the sea which is the world, and covered with shells
and stones which are incrusted upon her from the entertain-
‘ments of earth.

Thus far, as the argument required, we have said nothing of
the rewards and honours which the poets attribute to justice;
we have contented ourselves with showing that justice in her
self is best for the soul in herself, even if a man should put om
‘a Gyges’ ring and haye the helmet of Hades toc. And now
you shall repay me what you borrowed; and 1 will enumerate
the rewards of justice in life and after death, J granted, for
the sake of argument, as you will remember, that evil might
perhaps escape the knowledge of Gods and men, althongh this
was really impossible. And since I have shown that justice
has reality, you must grant me also that she has the palm of
appearance, In the first place, the just man is known to the
Gods, and he is therefore the friend of the Gods, and he will
receive at their hands every good, always excepting such evil
as is the necessary consequence of former sins. All things end.
in good to him, either in life or after death, even what appears
to be evil; for the Gods have a care of him who desires to be
in their likeness. And what shall we say of men? Is net
honesty the best policy? The clever rogue makes a great stast
at first, but breaks down before he reaches the goal, and slinks:
away in dishonour; whereas the true runner perseveres to the
end, and receives the prize. And you must allow me to repeat
all the blessings which you attributed to the fortunate unjust —
they bear rule in the city, they marry and give in marriage to
whom they will; and the evils which you attributed to the un=
fortunate just, do really fall in the end on the unjust, although,
as you implied, their sufferings are better veiled in silence,

But all the blessings of this present life are as nothing when

——— sitar Fe ee eee

ey

‘ypoliex. meaning of the sound, seized him and several others,

Analysis 616, 617.

them hand and foot and threw them down, and dragged them
along at the side of the road, lacerating them and carding them
like wool, and explaining to the passers-by, that they were going:
Yo be cast into hell," The greatest terror of the pilgrims as-
conding was lest they should hear the voice, and when there
was silence one by one they passed up with joy. To these
sufferings there were corresponding delights.

On the eighth day the souls of the pilgrims resumed their
journey, and in four days came to a spot whence they looked
down upon a line of light, in colour like a rainbow, only brighter
and clearer. One day more brought them to the place, and they
saw that this was the column of light which binds together the
whole universe. The ends of the column were fastened to heaven,
and from them hung the distaff of Necessity, on which all the
heavenly bodies turned —the hook and spindle were of adamant,
and the whorl of a mixed substance. The whorl was in form
like a number of boxes fitting into one another with their edges
turned upwards, making together a single whorl which was:
pierced by the spindle, The outermost had the rim broadest, |
and the inner whorls were smaller and smaller, and had thelr
tims narrower. The largest (the fixed stars) was spangled — the
seventh (the sun) was brightest —the eighth (the moon) shone by
the light of the seventh — the second and fifth (Saturn and Mercury)
were most like one another and yellower than the eighth — the
third (Jupiter) had the whitest light — the fourth (Mars) was red —
the sixth (Venus) was in whiteness second. The whole had one
motion, but while this was revolving in one direction the seven
inner circles were moving in the opposite, with vafious degrees
of swiftness and slowness, The spindle turned on the knees of
Necessity, and a Siren stood hymning upon cach circle, while
Lachesis, Clotho, and Atropos, the daughters of Necessity, sat om
thrones at equal intervals, singing of past, present, and future,
responsive to the music of the Sirens; Clotho from time to time
guiding the outer circle with a touch of her right hand; Atropos
with her Jeft hand touching and guiding the inner circles; Lachesix
in turn putting forth her hand from time to time to guide both of
them. On their arrival the pilgrims went to Lachesis, and there
was an interpreter who arranged them, and taking from ber

|

choice, at once sad and laughable
and wonderful; most of aisaodk only secking to ayoid their own

into a swan because he would not be bors of a woman; there was
Thamyras becoming a nightingale; musical birds, like the swan,
choosing to be men; the twenticth soul, which was that of Ajax,
preferring the life of a lion to that of a man, in remembrance of the
injustice which was done to him in the judgment of the arms;
and Agamemnon, from a like enmity to huovan nature, passing:
intoancagle, About the middle was the soul of Atalanta choosing:
the honours of an athlete, and next to her Epeus taking the
nature of a workwoman; among the last was Thersites, who was
changing himsclf into a monkey. ‘Thither, the Inst of oll, came
Odysseus, and sought the Jot of a private man, which lay neglected
and despised, and when he found it he went away rejoicing, and
said that if be had been first instead of last, his choice would have
been the same. Men, too, were seen passing into animals, and
wild and tame animals changing into one another. cae |

When all the souls had chosen they went to Lachesis, who sent
with cach of them their genius or attendant to fulfil their fot. He
first of all brought them under the hand of Clotho, and drew them:
within the revolution of the spindle impelled by her hand; from
her they were carried to Atropes, who made the threads irre-
versible; whence, without turning round, they passed beneath 62
the throne of Necessity; and when they had all passed, they
moved on in scorching heat to the plain of Forgetfulness and
rested at evening by the river Unmnindful, whose water could not
be retained in any vessels of this they had all to drink @ certain:
quantity —some of them drank more than was required, and be
who drank forgot all things. Er himsclf was prevented from
drinking. When they had gone to rest, about the middle of the
night there were thunderstorms and earthquakes, and suddenty
they were all driven divers ways, shooting like stars to their
birth, Concerning his return to the body, he only knew that
awaking suddenly in the morning he found himeelflying on the
pyre.

Thus, Glaucon, the tale has been saved, and will beoursalvation,
if we believe that the soul is immortal, and hold fast to the

=— |

* expected to look with favour on the licence of Aristophanes, naw

(Frogs, 89 f
of tragedy-making ‘prattlers, whose Foe, 0
pares to the chirping of swallows; ‘their garrulity went far
beyond Euripides,’—‘they appeared once upon the stage, and
‘there was an end of them.’ To a man of genius who had a real

appreciation of the godlike A2schylus and the noble and gentle
Sophocles, though disagrecing with some parts of their ‘ theology’
(Rep. ii. 380), these ‘minor pocts’ must have been contemptible
and intolerable. There is no feeling stronger in the dialogues of
Plato than a sense of the decline and decay both In literature and
in politics which marked his own age. Nor can he have been

at the end of his career, who had begun by satirzing Socrates
in the Clouds, and in a similar spirit forty years afterwards bad.

or Female Parliament (cp, x. 606 C, and Laws ii. 658
There were other reasons for the antagonism of Plato t poetry.
‘The profession of an actor was regarded by him as a degradation
of human nature, for ‘one man in his life” cannot ‘play many
parts; ‘the characters which the actor performs seem to destroy
his own character, and to leave nothing which can be truly called
himself, Neither can any man live his life and act it, The actor
is the slave of his art, not the master of if, Taking this view
Plato Is more decided in his expulsion of the dramatic than of the
epic poets, though he must have known that the Greek tragedians
afforded noble lessons and examples of virtue and patriotism, to
which nothing in Homer con be compared. But grear dramatic
‘or even great rhetorical power Is hardly consistent with firmness
‘or strength of mind, and dramatic talent is often incidentally
associated with a weak or dissolute character.
In the Tenth Book Plato introduces a new series of objections.
© First, he says that the poet or painter is an imitator, and in
the third degree removed from the truth. His creations are
not tested by rule and measure; they are only appearances
In moder times we should say that art fs not merely imita-
tion, but rather the expression of the ideal in forms of sense.
Fven adopting the humble image of Plato, from which his
argument derives a colour, we should maintain that the artist

il

the higher faculties have to do with universals, the lower with
particulars of sense. The pocts arc on a level with their own
age, but not on a level with Socrates and Plato; and he was
well aware that Homer and Hesiod could not be made a rule
of life by any process of legitimate interpretation; his tronical
use of them is in fact a denial of their authority; he saw, too,
that the poets were not critics —as he says in the Apology, * Any
one was a better interpreter of their writings than they were
themselves’ (22 C). He himself ceased to be a poet when he
became a disciple of Socrates; though, as he tells us of Solon,
‘he might have been one of the greatest of them, if be had
not been deterred by other pursuits’ (Tim, 21 C). Thas from
many points of view there is an antagonism between Plato and
the poets, which was foreshadowed to him in the old quarrel
between philosophy and poetry, The poets as he says im the
Protagoras (316 E), were the Sophists of their day; and his
dislike of the one class is reflected on the other, He regards y
them both as the enemies of reasoning and abstraction, though
in the case of Euripides more with reference to his immoral
Sentiments about tyrants and the like, For Plato is the prophet
who ‘came into the world to convince men ’— first of the falltbility
of sense and opinion, and secondly of the reality of abstract ideas,
Whatever strangeness there may be in modem times in opposing
philosophy to poetry, which to us seem to have so many clements
in common, the strangeness will disappear If we conceive of
poetry as allied to sense, and of philosophy a5 equivalent to
thought and abstraction, Unfortunately the very word ‘idea,’ which
to Plato Is expressive of the most real of all things, is associated
in our minds with an clement of subjectiveness and unrealitys
We may note also how he differs from Aristotle who declares
poetry to be truer than history, for the opposite reason, because
it Is concerned with universal, not lke history, with particulars
(Poet. ¢. 95 3)

‘The things which are seen are opposed in Scripture to the
things which are unseen —they are equally oppased in Plato to
universals and ideas, To him all particulars appear to be floating:
about in a world of sense; they have a taint of error or even of
evil. There is no difficulty in seeing that this is an Mlusion; for
there is no more error or variation in an individual man, horse,

Why was Plato the enemy of |

“Ryeiti x. thetoricians, sophists, Poets, rales fio: Aecttve anciig treet

Inmmsove. — world,

a, "hi tier lgbfecgion, wich Pte. :na¥es. $a) postey sae

imitative arts is that they excite the emotions Here the
modern reader will be disposed to introduce # distinction which
appears to have escaped him. For the emotions are neither
bad nor good in themselves, and are not most likely to be
controlled by the attempt to eradicate them, but by the mode
rate indulgence of them. And the vocation of art is to preseat |
thought in the form of fecling, to enlist the feelings on the side

of reason, to inspire even for a moment courage or resignas

lion; perhaps to suggest a sense of infinity and eternity in a
way which mere language is incapable of attaining. Truc, the
same power which in the purer age of art embodies gods and
heroes only, may be made to express the voluptuous image of

4 Corinthian courteran, But this only shows that art, like other «
outward things, may be turned to good and also to evil, and

is not more closely connected with the higher than with the
lower part of the soul. All imitative art is subject to certam
Himitations, and therefore necessarily partakes of the mature
of a compromise, Something of ideal truth is sacrificed for
the sake of the representation, and something in the exactaess
‘ef the representation is sacrificed to the ideal. Still, works of
art have a permanent element; they idealize and detain the
passing thought, and are the intermediates between sense and)
ideas,

In the present stage of the human mind, poetry and other
forms of fiction may certainly be regarded as a good. But we
can also imagine the existence of an age in which @ severer
conception of truth has cither banished or transformed them,
At any rate we must admit that they hold a different place at
different periods of the world’s history. In the infancy of man<
Kind, poetry, with the exception of proverbs, is the whole of
literature, and the only instrument of intellectual cultures i
modem times she is the shadow or echo of her former self
and appears to have @ precarious existence. Milton in his day |
doubted whether an epic poem was any longer possible, At |
the same time we must remember, that what Plato woald
have called the charms of poetry have been partly transferred

tll

fewiis €—25.woll as impossible. For nature too is a form of art; and a
breath of the fresh air or a single glance at the varying land.
scape would in an instant revive and reillumine the extin-
guished spark of poetry in the human breast, In the lower
| | stages of civilization imagination more than reason distinguishes
man from the animals; and to banish ort would be to banish
— thought, to banish language, to banish the expression of all
truth. No religion i whelly devoid of external formas even
the Mahometan who renounces the use of pictures and images
has a temple in which he worships the Most High, as solemn
and beautiful as any Greek or Christian building. Feeling too
and thought are not really opposed; for he who thinks must
feel before he can execute. And the highest thoughts, when
they become familiarized to us, are always tending to pass into
the form of fecling.

Plato does not seriously intend to expel poets from life and

Y society, But he feels strongly the unreality of their writings ; he
is protesting against the degeneracy of poetry in his own day as
we might protest against the want of serious purpose in modern
fiction, against the unscemliness or extravagance of some of our
poets or novelists, against the timeserving of preachers or public
writers, against the regardicssness of truth which to the eye of
the philosopher seems to characterize the greater part of the
world. For we too have reason to complain that our poets and
novelists ‘paint inferior truth’ and ‘are concerned with the
inferior part of the soul’; that the readers of them become
what they read and are injuriously affected by them. And we
look in vain for that healthy atmosphere of which Plato speaks,—
“the beauty which meets the sense like a breeze and imperceptibly
draws the soul, even in childhood, into harmony with the beauty
of reason.’ ,

For there might be a poctry which would be the hymn of
divine perfection, the harmony of goodness and truth among
men: astrain which should renew the youth of the world, and bring
back the ages in which the poet was man’s only teacher and best
friend, —which would find materials in the living present as well
as in the romance of the past, and might subdue to the fairest
forms of speech and verse the intractable materials of modern
civilization, — which might elicit the simple principles, or, as Plato

i

Homer, if he had been able to teach mankind anything worth
‘knowing, would not have been allowed by them to go about
begging as a rhapsodist, is both false and contrary to the spirit
of Plato (cp. Rep. vi 489 A fol), It may be compared with
those other paradoxes of the Gorgias, that “No statesman was
evee unjustly put to death by the city of which he was the
head'; and that ‘No Sophist was ever defrauded by bis pupils*
(Gorge 519 fol.) 5s» .

‘The argument for immortality scems to rest on the absolute

is her own proper evil; and ae comnts
that, she cannot be destroyed by any other. Plato has
Gens moriianed nora es cree era
crustations of earth as to lose her original form; and in the
Timacus he recognizes more strongly than in the Republic
the influence which the body has over the mind, denying even
‘the voluntariness of human actions, on the ground that they
proceed from physical states (Tim, 86, 87), In the Republic, as
elsewhere, he wavers between the original soul which has to
be restored, and the character which is developed by training
and education, «5. ++

‘The vision of another world is ascribed to Er, the son of Arme~
nius, who is said by Clement of Alexandria to have been
Zoroaster, The tale has certainly an oriental character, and
may be compared with the pilgrimages of the soul in the Zend
Avesta (cp. Haug, Avesta, p. 197). But no trace of acquaintance
with Zoroaster is found elsewhere in Plato's writings, and there
is no reason for giving him the name of Er the Pamphylian.
The philosophy of Herackitus cannot be shown to. be borrowed
from Zoroaster, and still less the myths of Plato.

‘The local arrangement of the vision is less distinct than that
of the Phacdrus and Phacdo. Astronomy is mingled with sym-
bolism and mythology; the great sphere of heaven is represented
under the symbol of a cylinder or box, containing the seven or
bits of the planets and the fixed stars; this is suspended from
4m axis or spindle which turns on the knecs of Necessity; the
revolutions of the seven orbits contained in the cylinder are
guided by the fates, and their harmonious motion produces

lll

The choice of the lots.
al acta to look at a heavenly”

equator and the ecliptic, But Plato is no doubt led to imagine
that the planets have an opposite motion to that of the fixed

‘stars, in order to account for their appearances in the heavens.

In the description of the meadow, and the retribution of the

good and evil after death, there are traces of Homer.

‘The description of the axis asa spindle, and of the heavenly
bodies as forming a whole, partly arises out of the attempt to
connect the motions of the heavenly bodies with the mytho-

logical image of the web, or weaving of the Fates. The

of the lots, the weaving of them, and the making of them irrever-

sible, which are ascribed to the three Fates —Lachesis, Clotho,

Atropos, are obviously derived from their names, The element

of chance in human life is indicated by the order of the fots.

But chance, however adverse, may be overcome by the wisdom

of man, if he knows how to choose aright; there is a worse

enemy to man than chance; this enemy is himself He who

was moderately fortunate in the number of the lot—even the

very last comer — might have a good life if he chose with wisdom.
* And as Plato does not like to make an assertion which is un-
proven, he more than confirms this statement a few sentences
afterwards by the example of Odysseus, who chose last. But
the virtue which is founded on habit is not sufficient to enable
aman to choose; he must add to virtue knowledge, if he is to
act rightly when placed in new circumstances. The routine
of good actions and good habits is an inferior sort of goodness; |
and, as Coleridge says, ‘Common sense is intolerable which is
not based on metaphysics,’ so Plato would have said, * Habit is
worthless which is not based upon philosophy.*

The freedom of the will to refuse the evil and to choose the
good is distinetly asserted. * Virtue is free, and asa man honours |
or dishonours her he will have more or fess of her.’ The life
of man is ‘rounded ' by necessity; there are circumstances prior |
to birth which affect him (cp. Pol, 273 B). But within the walls of
necessity there is an open space in which he is his own master, —

al

and (VIi1) of religious ideals.

2) Myer coven; ya ial he ng iain ae
State (Book v, 470 E). Many of his regulations are character
iotically Spartan; such as the prohibition of gold and silver, the
common meals of the men, the military training of the youth,
the gymnastic exercises of the women. The life of Sparta was
the life of a camp (Laws il. 666 E), enforced even more rigidly in
time of peace than in war; the citizens of Sparta, like Plato's,
were forbidden to trade—they were to be soldiers and not shop-
keepers. Nowhere else in Greece was the individual so com=
pletely subjected to the State; the time when he was to marry,
the education of his children, the clothes which he was to wear,
the food which he was to eat, were all prescribed by law. Some
‘of the best cnactments in the Republic, such as the reverence
to be paid to parents and elders, and some of the worst, such
as the exposure of deformed children, are borrowed from the
practice of Sparta. The encouragement of friendships between
men and youths, or of men with one another, as affording in-
centives to bravery, is also Spartan; in Sparta too a nearer
approach was made than in any other Greek State to equality of
the sexes, and to community of property; and while there was
probably less of licentiousness in the sense of immorality, the
tie of marriage was regarded more lightly than im the rest of
Greece. The ‘suprema lex* was the preservation of the family,
and the interest of the State, The coarse strength of a military
gorernment was not favourable to purity and refinement; and
the excessive strictness of some regulations scems to have pro-
duced a reaction. Of all Hellenes the Spartans were most acces
sible to bribery} several of the greatest of them might be
described in the words of Piato as having a ‘ fierce secret longing
after gold and silver.’ Though not is the strict sense com-
munists, the principle of communism was maintained among
them in their division of lands, in their common meals, in their
slaves, and in the free use of ome another's goods. Marriage was
a peblic institution: and the women were educated by the State,
and sang and danced in peblic with the men.

and beauty of life, which ore the reverse of Spartan. Plato
wishes to give his citizens a taste of Athenian freedom as well
as of Lacedaemonian discipline. His individual genius is purely
Athenian, although in theory he is « lover of Sparta; and he
is something more than cither —he has also a truc Hellenic
feeling. He is desirous of humanizing the wars of Hellencs
against one another; he acknowledges that the Delphian God
ia the grand hereditary interpreter of all Hellas. The spirit of
harmony and the Dorian mode are to prevail, and the whole
State is to have an external beauty which is the reflex of the
harmony within, But he bas not yet found out the truth which
he afterwards enunciated in the Laws (i. 628 D) —that he was a
better legislator who made men to be of one mind, than he who
trained them for war, The citizens, as in other Hellenic States,
democratic as well as aristocratic, are really an upper class;
for, although no mention is made of claves, the lower classes
are allowed to fade away into the distance, and are represented
in the individual by the passions. Plato has no idea cither of
a social State in which all classes are harmonized, or of a federa~
tion of Hellas or the world in which different nations or States
have a place, His city is equipped for war rather than for peace,
and this would scem to be justified by the ordinary condition of
Hellenic States. The myth of the earth-born men is an embodi-
ment of the orthodox tradition of Hellas, and the allusion to the
four ages of the world is also sanctioned by the authority of
Hesiod and the poets. ‘Thus we see that the Republic is partly
founded on the ideal of the old Greck folis, partly on the actual
circumstances of Hellas in that age. Pluto, like the old painters,
retains a traditional form, and like them he has alto a vision of
acity in the clouds.

There is yet another thread which is interwoven in the texture
‘of the work; for the Republic is not only a Dorian State, but a
Pythagorean league. The way of life ' which was connected with
the,name of Pythagoras, like the Catholic monastic orders, showed
the power which the mind of an individual might exercise aver
his contemporaries, and may have naturally suggested to Plato the
possibility of reviving such ‘mediaeval institutions.’ “The Pytha
goreans, like Plato, enforced a rule of life and a moral and in-
tellectual training. The influence ascribed to music, which to

‘Was Plato a good citicen?

jin the chorus of laughter, which like a breaking wave will
he anticipates, grect the mention of his proposals; though
ike other writers of fiction, he uses all his art to give reality W
Tis inventions. When asked how the ideal polity can come into
being, he answers ironically, ‘When one son of a king become
a philosopher’; he designates the fiction of the earth-born men
as *a noble lie’; and when the structure is finally complete, be
fairly tells you that his Republic is a vision only, which in, some
sense may have reality, but not in the vulgar one of a reign of
philosophers upon earth, It has been said that Plato flies 28
well as walks, but this falls short of the truth; for he flies and
walks at the same time, and is in the air and on firm ground in
successive instants,

Niebuhr has asked a trifling question, which may be briefly
noticed in this place— Was Plalo a yood citizen? If by this is
meant, Was he loyal to Athenian institutions? — he can hardly be
said to be the friend of democracy: but neither is he the friend
of any other existing form of government; all of them he re
garded as ‘states of faction’ (Laws vill, 832 C); none attained to
his ideal ofa voluntary rule over voluntary subjects, which seems
indeed more nearly to describe democracy than any other; and
the worst of them is tyranny, The truth is, that the question has
hardly any meaning when applied to a great philosopher whose
writings are not meant for a particular age and country, but for
all time and all mankind. The decline of Athenian politics was
probably the motive which led Plato to frame an ideal State, and
the Republic may be regarded as reflecting the departing glory
of Hellas, As well might we complain of St. Augustine, whose
great work ‘ The City of God’ originated in a similar motive, for
not being loyal to the Roman Empire. Even a nearer parallel
might be afforded by the first Christians, who cannot fairly
be charged with being bad citizens because, though ‘subject to
the higher powers,' they were looking forward to a city which is
in heaven.

I. The idea of the perfect State is full of paradox when
judged of according to the ordinary notions of mankind. The
paradoxes of one age have been said to become the common-
places of the next; but the paradoxes of Plato are at least ac
paradoxical to us as they were to his contemporaries. The

and sacred character. The early Christians are believed to have
held their property in common, and the principle is sanctioned
by the words of Christ himself, and has been maintained as =
‘counsel of perfection in almost all ages of the Church, Nor have
there been wanting instances of modern enthusiasts who have
made a religion of communism; in every age of religious excite-
ment notions like Wycliffe’s ‘inheritance of grace’ have tended
to prevail. A like spirit, but fiercer and more violent, has ap-
peared in politics,‘ The preparation of the Gospel of peace’ soon
becomes the red flag of Republicanism.

We can hardly judge what effect Plato's views would have
upon his own contemporaries; they would perhaps have seemed
to them only an exaggeration of the Spartan commonwealth.
Even modern writers would acknowledge that the right of private
property is based on expediency, and may be interfered with in
avvariety of ways for the public good. Any other mode of vesting
property which was found to be more advantageous, would in
time acquire the same basis of right; ‘the most useful,’ in Plato's
words, ‘would be the most sacred.’ The lawyers and ecclesi-
astics of former ages would have spoken of property as a sacred.
institution. But they only meant by such language to oppese the
greatest’ amount of resistance to any invasion of the rights oF in-
dividuals and of the Church,

‘When we consider the question, without any fear of immediate
application to practice, in the spirit of Plato's Republic, are we
quite sure that the received notions of property are che best?
Is the distribution of wealth which is customary in civilised
countries the most favourable that can be conceived for the
education and developmedt of the mass of mankind? Can ‘the
spectator of all time and all existence’ be quite convinced that
one or two thousand ycars hence, great changes will not have
taken place in the rights of property, or even that the very potion
of property, beyond what is necessary for personal maintenance,
may not have disappeared? ‘This was a distinction familiar to
Aristotle, though likely to be laughed at among ourselves. Such
a change would not be greater than some other ebanges through

il

a little and consume as much as be liked.

civilized nations has hitherto been adverse to

effort is too great for hurnan nature; men try to live in common,

‘ut the personal feeling is always breaking in. On the other

hand it may be doubted whether our present notions of property,
are not conventional, for they differ in different countries and

in different states of society. We boast of an individualism

which is not freedom, but rather an artificial result ef the tine

dustrial state of modern Europe. The individual & nominally
free, but he is also powerless in a world bound hand and foot
in the chains of economic necessity. Even if we cannot expect
the mass of mankind to become disinterested, at any rate we
observe in them a power of organization which fifty years ago.
would never have been suspected. ‘The same forces which have
revolutionized the political system of Europe, may effect a similar
change in the social and industrial relations of mankinds And

if we suppose the influence of some good as well as neutral

motives working in the community, there will be no absurdity
in expecting that the mass of mankind having power, and

‘becoming enlightened about the higher possibilities of humam

life, when they learn how much more is attainable for all than

is at present the possession of a favoured few, may pursue the

common interest with an intelligence and persistency which man—

kind have hitherto never seen.

Now that the world has once been set in motion, and is no-
longer held fast under the tyranny of custom and ignorance; now™
that criticism has pierced the veil of tradition and the past no
longer overpowers the present,—the progress of civilization may
be expected to be far greater and swifter than heretofore, yen
at our present rate of speed the point at which we may arrive
in two or three generations is beyond the power of imagination
w foresee. There are forces in the world which work, not in an
arithmetical, but in a geometrical ratio of increase. Education, to
use the expression of Plato, moves like a wheel with an ever
multiplying rapidity, Nor can we say how great may be its
influence, when it becomes universal,—when it has been ine
herited by many generations, — when it is freed from the trammels-

‘on the part of the men, ‘The objection on the score of decency
to their taking part in the same gymnastic exercises, is met by
Plato's assertion that the existing feeling is a matter of habit.

‘That Plato should have emancipated himself from the ideas of
‘his own country and from the example of the East, shows a
wonderful independence of mind. He is conscious that women
are half the human race, in some respects the more insportant half
(Laws vi 781 B); and for the sake both of men and women he
desires to raise the woman to a higher level of existence. He
brings, not sentiment, but philosophy to bear upon a question
which both in ancient and modern times has been chiefly re-
garded in the light of custom or feeling. The Greeks had noble
eonceptions of womanhood in the goddesses Athene and Artemis,
and in the heroines Antigone and Andromache. But these ideals
had no counterpart inactual life. The Athenian woman was inno
way the equal of her husband; she was not the entertainer of his
guests or the mistress of his house, but only his housekeeper and
the mother of hischildren, She took no part in military or politi-
cal matters; nor is there any instance in the later ages of Greece
of a woman becoming fanous in literature, ‘Hers is the greatest
glory who has the least renown among men," is the historian’s
conception of feminine excellence. A very different ideal of
womanhood is held. up by Plato to the world; she is to be the
companion of the man, and to share with him in the toils of war
and in the cares of government. She js to be similarly trained
both in bodily and mental exercises. She is to lose as far as
possible the incidents of maternity and the characteristics of the
female sex.

‘The modern antagonist of the equality of the sexes would argue
that the differences between men and women are not confined to"
the single point urged by Plato; that sensibility, gentleness, gracteee
are the qualities of women, while energy, strength, higher intelli——
gence, are to be looked for in men. And the criticism is just ==
the differences affect the whole nature, and are not, a5 Plate"
supposes, confined to a single point, Bue neither can we say howe
far these differences are due to education and the opinions of
mankind, or physically inherited from the habits and opinions of
former generations, Women have been always taught, not
exactly that they are slaves, but that they are in an inferior

minunity of wives and children.

position, which is also supposed to have compensating advantages;
‘and to this position they have conformed. It is also true that the
physical form may easily change in the course of generations
through the mode of life; and the weakness or delicacy, which
‘was once a matter of apinion, may become a physical fact. The
characteristics of sex vary greatly in different countries and ranks
of society, and at different ages in the same individuals. Plato
may have been right in denying that there was any ultimate
difference in the s@xes of man other than that which exists in
animals, because all other differences may be conceived to dis-
appear in other states of society, or under different circumstances
of life and training.

‘The first wave having been passed, we proceed to the second —
community of wives and children, ‘Js it possible? Is it desir-
able?’ For, as Glaucon intimates, and as we far more strongly
insist, ‘Great doubts may be entertained about both these points."
‘Ang free discussion of the question is impossible, and mankind
are perhaps right in not allowing the ultimate bases of social life
to be examined. Few of us can safely enquire into the things
which nature hides, any more than we can dissect our own bodies,
Still, the manner in which Plato arrived at his conclusions should
be considered. For here, as Mr. Grote has remarked, is a
wonderful thing, that one of the wisest and best of men should
have entertained ideas of morality which are wholly at variance
with our own. And if we would do Plato justice, we must
‘examine carefully the character of his proposals, First, we may
observe that the relations of the sexes supposed by him are the
reverse of licentious: he seems rather to aim at an impossible
strictness. Secondly, he conceives the family to be the natural
‘enemy of the state; and he entertains the serious hope that an
universal brotherhood may take the place of private interests —
an aspiration which, although not justified by experience, has
possessed many noble minds. On the other hand, there is no
sentiment or imagination in the connections which men and
women are supposed by him to form; human beings return to
the level of the animals, neither exalting to heaven, nor yet
abusing the natural instincts. All that world of poetry and fancy
which the passion of love has called forth in modern literature
and romance would have been banished by Plato. ‘The arrange>

a

aa lepeteame ot teseeat ince i

development both of bodily and mental qualities might be pos
sible. The analogy of animals tends to show that mankind can
within certain limits receive a change of nature. And as in
animals we should commonly choose the best for breeding, and
destroy the others, so there must be a selection made of the
human beings whose lives are worthy to be preserved.

‘We start back horrified from this Platonictideal, in the belief,
first, that the higher feelings of humanity are far too atrong to be
crushed out; secondly, that if the plan could be carried into
execution we should be poorly recompensed by improvements in
the breed for the Joss of the best things in life, The greatest
regard for the weakest and meanest of human beings — the infant,
‘the criminal, the insane, the idiot, truly seems to us one of the
noblest results of Christianity. We have learned, though as yet
imperfectly, that the individual man has an endless valac in the
sight of God, and that we honour Him when we honour the
darkened and disfigured image of Him (cp, Laws xi. 931A). ‘This
is the lesson which Christ taught in a parable when He said,
‘Their angels do always behold the face of My Father which is
in beaven.' Such lessons are only partially realized in any age}
they were foreign to the age of Plato, as they have very different
degrecs of strength in different countries or ages of the Christian
world, To the Greek the family was a religious and customary
institution binding the members together by a te inferior in
strength to that of friendship, and having a less solemn and
sacred sound than that of country, The rvlationship which
‘existed on the lower level of custom, Plato imagined that he veas
raising to the higher level of nature and reason; while from the
modern and Christian point of view we regard him as sanctioning
murder and destroying the first principles of morality.

‘The great error in these and similar speculations is that the
difference between man and the animals is forgotten in them, The
human being is regarded with the cye of a dog- or bird-fncier
(¥ 459A), or at best of a slave-owner; the higher or human
qualities are left out. The breeder of animals aims chiefly at sire
or speed or strength; in a few cases at courage or temper; most
often the fitness of the animal for food is the great desideratum,

The community of wives a

‘about marriage have fallen into the on eee
‘mind, docs indeed appear surprising. Yet the

20 much that Plato should have palit
which to our own age are revolting, but that he should have con-
tradicted himself to an extent which is hardly credible, falling:
in an instant from the heaven of idealism into the crudest
animalism. Rejoicing in the newly found gift of reflection, he
appears to have thought out a subject about which he had
better have followed the enlightened feeling of his ownage. The
general sentiment of Hellas was opposed to his monstrous fancy.
‘The old poets, and in later time the tragedians, showed no want of
respect for the family, on which much of their religion was based.
But the example of Sparta, and perhaps in some degree the
tendency to defy public opinion, seems to have misled hirn, He
will make one family out of all the famitles of the state, He will
select the finest specimens of men and women and breed from
theve only,

‘Yet because the illusion is always returning (for the animal part,
of human nature will from time to time assert itself in the disguise
of philosophy as well as of poetry), and also because any departure
from established morality, even where thig is not intended, i apt
to be unsettling, it may be worth while to draw out a little more
at length the objections to the Platonic marriage. In the first
place, history shows that wherever polygamy has been largely
allowed the race has deteriorated. One man to one woman is the
law of God and nature. Nearly all the civilized peoples of the
world at some period before the age of written records, hare
become monogamists; and the step when once taken has never
been retraced. The exceptions occurring among Brahmins or
Mahometans or the ancient Persians, are of that sort which may be
said to prove the rule. The connexians formed between superior
and inferior races hardly ever produce a noble offspring, because
they are licentious; and because the children in such cases:
usually despise the mother and are neglected by the father who
is ashamed of them. Barbarous nations when they are introduced
by Europeans to vice die out; polygamist peoples either
and adopt children from other countries, or dwindle in numbers,’
or both, Dynasties and aristoceacies which have disregarded the
Jaws of nature have decreased in numbers and degenerated is

The community

Sansa. dc is pelioe-tueorj of meeege nT aS
to an imaginary state in which men were almost animals and
the companions of them, we have as much right to argue from
what is animal to what is human as from the barbarous to the
civilised man. ‘The record of aninial life on the globe is frag-
‘mentary,— the connecting links are wanting and cannot be sup-
plied; the record of social life is still more frngmentary and
precarious. Even if we admit that our first ancestors had so
such institution as marriage, still the stages by which men passed
from outer barbarism to the comparative civilization of China,

Renrsini nee: Ses, 06 eves E mnciens Cera aE
unknown to us.

Such speculations are apt to be unsettling, because ‘het ee
to show that an institution which was thought to be a revelation
from heaven, is only the growth of history and experience. We
ask what is the origin of marriage, and we are told that Tike
the right of property, after many wars and contests, it has
gradually arisen out of the selfishness of barbarians, We stand
face to face with human nature in its primitive nakedness We
are compelled to accept, not the highest, but the lowest account
of the origin af human society, But on the other hand we may
truly say that every step in human progress has been in the
same direction, and that in the course of ages the idea of marriage
and of the family has been more and more defined and conse
crated, The civilized East is immeasurably in advance of any
savage tribes; the Greeks and Romans have improved upon the
East; the Christian nations have bech stricter in their views
of the marriage relation than any of the ancients. In this a=
in so many other things, instead of looking back with regret t%
the past, we should look forward with hope to the future, We
must consecrate that which we believe to be the mdst holy, and
that “which is the most holy will be the most useful.’ There is
mare reason for maintaining the sacredness of the marriage tie,
when we see the benefit of it, than when we only felt a vague
religious horror about the violation of it; But in all times of
transition, when established beliefs are being undermined, there”
is a danger that in the passage from the old to the new we may
insensibly let go the moral principle, finding an excuse for listen=
ing to the voice of passion in the uncertainty of knowledge, or the

sb Peck nly Sr lope’ (and hee ac lence tate
position of a child), there are commonly thirty progenitors to

be taken into account. Many curious facts, rarely admitting of

proof, are told us respecting the inheritance of disease or character
from a remote ancestor, We can trace the physical resemblances
of parents aud children in the same family —
"Sie oowlos, sic ile manus, sic ora ferebat'y

‘but scarcely less often the differences which distinguish children
both from their parents and from one another. We are told
of similar mental peculiaritics running in families, and again
of a tendency, as in the animals, to revert to a common or
original stock, But we have a difficulty in distinguishing what
is a true inheritance of genius or other qualities, and what is
mere imitation or the result of similar circumstances, Great
men and great women have rarely had great fathers and mothers.
Nothing that we know of in the circumstances of their birth or
lineage will explain their appearance. OF the English poets of
the last and two preceding centuries scarcely a descendant
remains,—none have ever been distinguished. So deeply has
nature hidden her sceret, and so ridiculous is the fancy which
has been entertained by some that we might in time by suitable
marriage arrangements or, as Plato would have said, ‘by an
ingenious system of lots,” produce a Shakespeare or a Milton.
Even supposing that we could breed men having the tenacity
of bulldogs, or, like the Spartans, ‘lacking the wit to run away
in battle,’ would the world be any the better? Many of the
noblest specimens of the human race have been among the
weakest physically, Tyrtacus or Aesop, or our own Newton,
would have been exposed at Sparta; and some of the fairest
and strongest men and women have been among the wickedest
and worst, Not by the Platonic device of uniting the strong
and fair with the strong and fair, regardless of sentiment and
morality, nor yet by his other device of combining dissimilnr
natures (Statesman 310 A), have mankind gradually passed from
the brutality and liccatiousness of primitive marriage to marriage
Christian and civilized.

Few persons would deny that we bring into the world an
inheritance of mental and physical qualities derived first from
our parents, or through them from some remoter ancestor,

atl

died of theemelves. So emphatically dots nature protest against:
the destruction of the family. a

‘What Plato had heard or seen of Sparta was applied by bim-
in @ mistaken way to his ideal commonwealth. He probably
in form and strength to the other Grecks; and this superiority
he was disposed to attribute to the laws and customs relating
to marriage, He did not consider that the desire of a noble
offspring was a passion among the Spartans, of that their
physical superiority was to be attributed chiefly, not to their
marriage customs, but to their temperance and training. He
did not reflect that Sparta was great, not in consequence of the
relaxation of morality, but in spite of it, by virtue of a political
principle stronger far than existed in any other Grecian state.
Least of all did he observe that Sparta did not really produce
the finest specimens of the Greek race, The genius, the political
inspiration of Athens, the love of liberty—all that has made
Greece famous with posterity, were wanting among the Spartans.
‘They had no Themistocles, or Pericles, or Aeschylus, or Sopho:
cles, or Socrates, or Plato, The individual was not allowed
to appear above the state; the laws were fixed, and he had no
business to alter or reform them: Yet whence has the progress
of cities and natians arisen, if not from remarkable individuals,
coming into the world we know not how, and from causes over
which we have no control? Something too much may have
‘been said in modern times of the value of individuality. But
wo can hardly condemn too strongly a system which, instead of
fostering the scattered seeds or sparks of genius and character,
tends to smother and extinguish them.

Still, while condemning Plato, we must acknowledge that
neither Christianity, nor any other form of religion and society,
has hitherto been able to cope with this most difficult of social
problems, and that the side from which Plato regarded it is that
from which we turn away. Population is the most untameable
force in the political and social world. Do we not find, especi<
ally in large cities, that the greatest hindrance to the amelioration
of the poor is their improvidence in marriage?—a small fault
tuly, if not involving endless consequences. ‘There are whole
countries too, such as India, or, nearer home, Ireland, in which «

very few persons have done from a sense of duty what the rest of
mankind ought to have done under like circumstances, if they had
allowed themselves to think of all the misery which they were
about to bring into the world. If we could prevent such mar-
riayes without any violation of feeling or propriety, we clearly
ought; and the prohibition in the course of time would be pro-
tected bya ‘horror naturalis ' similar to that which, in all civilized
ages and countries, bas prevented the marriage of near relations
by blood, Mankind would have been the happier, if some things
which are now allowed had from the beginning been denied to
them ; if the sanction of religion could have prohibited practices
inimical to health; if sanitary principles could in early ages have
been invested with @ superstitious awe. But, living as we do far
‘on in the world’s history, we are no longer able to stamp at once
with the impress of religion a new prohibition, A free agent can+
not have his fancies regulated by law; and the exccution of the
law would be rendered impossible, owing to the uncertainty of
the cases in which marriage was to be forbidden, Who can
weigh virtue, or even fortune against health, or moral and mental
qualities against bodily? Who can measure probabilities against
certainties? ‘There has been some good as well as evil in the
discipline of suffering; and there are diseases, such as con-
sumption, which have exercised a refining and softening in~
fluence on the character. Youth is too inexperienced to balance
such nice considerations; parents do not often think of them, or
think of them too late. They are at # distance aad may probably
be averted; change of place, a new state of life, the interests of
a home may be the cure of them, So persons vainly reason when
their minds are already made up and their fortunes irrevocably
linked together. Nor is there any ground for suppesing that
marriages are to any great extent influenced by reflections of
this sort, which seem unable to make any head against the
irresistible impulse of individual attachment,

Lastly, no.one can have observed the first rising food of the
passions in youth, the difficulty of regulating them, and the
effects on the whole mind and nature which follow from them,
the stimulus which is given to them by the imagination, without
feeling that there is something unsatisfactory in our method of

sl

ite

The government of philosophers.

is only a disturbing Influence which, instead of filling up, tends
to disarrange the higher unity of the State. No organization
is needed except’a political, which, regarded from another point
of view, isa military one. The State is all-sufficing for the wants
of man, and, like the idea of the Church in later ages, absorbs all
other desires and affections, In time of war the thousand citizens
ure to stand like a rampart impregnable against the world or the
Persian host; in time of peace the preparation for war and thelr
duties to the State, which are also their duties to one another,
take up their whole life and time, The only other interest which
is allowed to them besides that of war, is the interest of philo-
sophy. When they are too old to be soldiers they are to retire
from active life and to have a second novitiate of study and
contemplation. ‘There is an clement of monasticism even in
Plato's communism. {f be could have done without children,
he might have converted his Republic into a religious order.
Neither in the Laws (v. 739 B), when the daylight of common
sense breaks in upon him, does he retract his error. In the
state of which he would be the founder, there is no marrying
or giving in marriage ; but because of the infirmity of mankind,
he condescends to allow the law of nature to prevail.

() But Plato bas an equal, or, in his own estimation, even
greater paradox in reserve, which is summed up in the famous
text, ‘Until kings are philosophers or philosophers are kings,
cities will never cease from ill.’ And by philosophers he explains
himself to mean those who are capable of apprehending ideas,
capecially the idea of good. ‘To the attainment of this higher
knowledge the second education is directed. Through a process
of training which has already made them good citizens they
are now to be made good legislators. We find with some sur-
prise (not unlike the feeling which Aristotle in a well-known
passage describes the hearers of Plato's lectures as experiencing,
when they went to a discourse on the idea of good, expecting
to be instructed in moral truths, and received instead of them
arithmetical and mathematical formulae) that Plato does not
propose for his future legislators any study of finance or law
or military tactics, but only of abstract mathematics, as a pre-
paration for the still more abstract conception of good. We ask,
with Aristotle, What is the use of a man knowing the ilea of

The government of philosophers,
everywhere, and to apply them in the most remote sphere,

oer Acti abaparm repeats
to enable them to fill up ‘the intermediate axioms.’ Plato him=

self-scems to have imagined that the truths of gaychology, like

those of astronomy and harmonics, would be arrived at by a

process of deduction, and that the method which he has pur+
sued in the Fourth Book, of inferring them from experience
and the use of language, was imperfect and only provisional.
But when, after having arrived at the idea of good, which is the
end of the science of dialectic, he is asked, What is the nature, and
what are the divisions of the science? he refuses to answer, as
Wf intending by the refusal to intimate that the state of knowledge
which then existed was not such as would allow the phile-
‘sopher to enter into his final rest. The previous sciences must
first be studied, and will, we may add, continue to be studied
tll the end of time, although in a sense different from any
which Plato could have conceived. But we may observe,
that while he is aware of the vacancy of his own ideal, he is
fall of enthusiasm in the contemplation of it, Looking into the
orb of light, he sces nothing, but he is warmed and elevated,
‘The Hebrew prophet believed that faith tn God would enable
him to govern the world; the Greek philosopher imagined
‘that contemplation of the good would make a legislator, There
is ag much to be filled up in the one case as in the other, and
the one mode of conception is to the Israclite what the other
is to the Greck. Both find a repose in a divine perfection,
which, whether in a more personal or impersonal form, exists
without them and independently of them, as well as within
them.

There is no mention of the idea of good in the Timacus, nor
of the divine Creator of the world in the Republic; and we are
naturally led to ask in what relation they stand to one another.
Is God above or below the idea of good? Or is the Idea of
Good another mode of concciving God? The latter appears to be
the truer answer, To the Greek philosopher the perfection
and unity of God was a far higher conception than his person-
ality, which he hardly found a word to express, and which to
him would have scemed to be borrowed from mythology. To
the Christian, on the other hand, or to the modern thinker in

r

The goverument of philosophers,
the luxury of holding liberal opinions, but was never kaown to
perform a liberal action, No wonder that mankind have been in
the habit of calling statesmen of this class pedants, sophisters,
doctrinaires, visionaries. For, as we may be allowed to say, a
little parodying the words of Plato, ‘they have seen bad imitations
of the philosopher-statesman,’ But @ man in whom the power
of thought and action are perfectly balanced, equal to the pre-
sent, reaching forward to the future, ‘such a one,’ ruling in a
constitutional state, ‘they have never seen,”

But as the philosopher is apt to fail in the routine of political
life, so the ordinary statesman is also apt to fail in extraordinary
crises. When the face of the world is beginning to alter, and
thunder ix heard in the distance, he is still guided by his old
maxims, and is the slave of his inveterate party prejudices; he
cannot perceive the signs of the times; Instead of looking for-
ward he looks backs he learns nothing and forgets nothings
with ‘wise saws and modern instances’ be would stem the
rising tide of revolution. He lives more and more within the
sirele of his own party, as the world without him becomes
stronger. This seems to be the reason why the old order of
things makes sq poor a figure when confronted with the new,
why churches can never reform, why most political changes
are mado blindly and convulsively. The great crises in the
history of nations have often been met by an ceclesiastical
positiveness, and a more obstinate reassertion of principles
which have lost their hold upon a nation, The fixed ideas of
@ reactionary statesman may be compared to madness; they grow
upon him, and he becomes possessed by them; no judgment of
others is ever admitted by him to be weighed in the balance
against his own,

(4) Plato, Jabouring under what, to modern readers, appears
to have been a confusion of ideas, assimilates the state to the
individual, and fails to distinguish Ethics from Politics, He
thinks that to be most of a state which is most like one
man, and in which the citizens have the greatest uniformity of
character. He does not see that the analogy is partly fale
lacious, and that the will or character of a state or nation i
really the balance or rather the surplus of individual wills,
which are limited by the condition of having to act in common.

notions of the aims of government and of the duties of citizens 5
for ethics from one paint of view may be conceived as an idealized
law and polities; and politics, as ethics reduced to the conditions
of human society. There have been evils which have arisen
out of the attempt to identify them, and this has led to the
separation or antagonism of them, which has been introduced
‘by modern political writers, But we may likewise fecl that
something has been lost in their separation, and that the
ancient philosophers who estimated the moral and intellectual
wellbeing of mankind first, and the wealth of nations and indi
‘viduals second, may have a salutary influence on the speculations
of modern times. Many political maxims originate in a reaction
against an opposite errar; and when the errors against which
they were directed have passed away, they in tum become
errors.

TIL. Plato's views of education are in several respects ro-
markable; lke the rest of the Republic they are partly Greek
and partly ideal, beginning with the ordinary curriculum of the
Greck youth, and extending to after-life. Plato is the first writer
who distinctly saya that education is to comprehend the whole
of life, and to be a preparation for another in which education
begins again (vi. 498 D). This is the continuous thread which
suns through the Republic, and which more than any other of
his ideas admits of an application to modern life.

‘He has long given up the notion that virtue cannot be taught;
and he is disposed to modify the thesis of the Protagoras, that
the virtues are one and not many. He is not unwilling to
admit the sensible world into his scheme of truth. Nor docs
he assert in the Republic the involuntariness of vice, which
is maintained by him in the Timacus, Sophist, and Laws
(cp. Protag. 345 foll., 352, 355; Apol. 25 E; Gorg. 468, 509 ).
Nor do the so-called Platonic ideas recovered from a former
state of existence affect his theory of mental improvement. Still
we observe in him the remains of the old Socratic doctrine, that
true kaowledge must be elicited from within, and is to be sought
for in ideas, not In particulars of sense, Education, as he says,
will implant a principle of intelligence which i better than ten

‘would make an entire reformation. ofvihe old auyeholegyy ike
Xcnophanes and Heracleitus he is sensible of the deep chasm
which separates his own age from Homer and Hesiod, whom he
quotes and invests with an imaginary authority, but only for his
‘own purposes. The lusts and treacheries of the gods are to be
banished; the terrors of the world below arc to be dispelled; the
misbehaviour of the Homeric heroes is not to be a model for
youth. But there is another strain beard in Homer which may
teach our youth endurance; and something may be learot im
medicine from the simple practice of the Homeric age. The
principles on which religion is to be based are two only: first, that
God is true; secondly, that he is good. Modern and Christian
writers have often fallen short of these; they can hardly be said
to have gone beyond them.

‘The young are to be brought up in happy surroundings, out of
the way of sights or sounds which may hurt the character or
vitiate the taste. They are to live in an atmosphere of health; the
breeze is always to be wafting to them the impressions of trath
and goodness. Could such am education be realized, or if our
modern religious education could be bound up with truth and
virtue and good manners and good taste, that would be the best
hope of human improvement. Plato, like ourselves, is looking:
forward to changes in the moral and religious world, and is pre~
paring for them, He recognizes the danger of unsettling young
men’s minds by sudden changes of laws and principles, by destroy-
ing the sacredness of one set of ideas when there is nothing else to
take their place. He is afraid too of the influence of the drama,
‘on the ground that it encourages false sentiment, and therefore he
would not have his children taken to the theatre; he thinks that
the effect on the spectators is bad, and on the actors still worss.
His idea of education is that of harmonious growth, in which are
insensibly learnt the lessons of temperance and endurance, and
the body and mind develope ia equal proportions. The first prin=
ciple which runs through all art and nature is simplicity; this
also is to be the rule of human life.

‘The second stage of education is gymnastic, which answers to
the period of muscular growth and development. The simplicity
which is enforced in music is extended to gymnastic; Plato is
aware that the training of the body may be inconsistent with the

lll

‘are as many opinions in medicine as in theology, and am equal
degree of scepticism and some want of toleration about both, Plato
‘has severnl good notions about medicine; according to him *the
eye cannot be cured without the rest of the body, nor the body
without the mind’ (Charm, 156E), No man of sense, he stys in

the Timacus, would take physic; and we heartily sympathize with
him in the Laws when he declares that ‘the limbs of the rustic
worn with toil will derive more benefit from warm baths than from
the prescriptions of a aot over wise doctor’ (vi. 761 C). But we
can hardly praige him when, in obedience to the authority of
Homer, he depreciates diet, or approve of the inhuman spirit in
which he would get rid of invalid and useless lives by leaving
them todic. Hedoes not seem to have considered that the ‘bridle
of Theages! might be accompanied by qualities which were of far
more value to the State than the health or strength of the citizens;
or that the duty of taking care of the helpless might bean important
‘element of education ina State. The physician himself (thiy is
a delicate and subtle observation) should not be # man in robust
health; he should have, in modern phrascology, & nervous tem:
perament; he should have experience of disease in his own persom,
in order that his powers of observation may be quickened in the
case of others,

‘The perplexity of medicine is paralleled by the perplexity of
Jaw; in whieh, again, Plato would have men follow the golden rule
of simplicity, Greater matters are to be determined by the
legislator or by the oracle of Delphi, lesser matters are to be left
to the temporary regulation of the citizens themselves. Plato is
aware that Jassie friry ig an important element of government.
The diseases of a State are like the heads of a hydra; they
multiply when they are cut off. ‘The true remedy for them is pet
extirpation but prevention. And the way to prevent them is te
take care of education, and education will take care of all the rest.
‘So in modern times men have often felt that the only political
‘measure worth haying —the only one which would produce any
certain or lasting effect, was a measure of national education. And
in our own more than in any previous age the necessity has been

The Tdea of Good.

531 E). The one, the selfproving, the good which is the higher
Sphere of dialectic, is the perfect truth to which all things ascend,
and in which they finally repose.

‘This self-proving unity or idea of good is a mere vision of
which no distinct explanation can be given, relative only to a
particular stage in Greek philosophy, It is an abstraction under
which no individuals are comprehended, a whole which has
no parts (cf Arist., Nic. Eth., i 4). ‘The vacancy of such = form
was perceived by Aristotle, but not by Plato, Nordid he recognize
that in the dialectical process are included two or more methods
of investigation which are at varinnce with each other. He did
‘not see that whether he took the longer or the shorter road, no
‘advance could be made in this way, And yet such visions often
have an immense effect; for although the method of science
cannot anticipate science, the iden of science, not as it is, but
as it will be in the future, is a great and inspiring principle, In
the pursuit of knowledge we are always pressing forward to
something beyond us; and as a false conception of knowledge,
for example the scholastic philosophy, may lead men astray during
many ages, so the true ideal, though vacant, may draw all
their thoughts in a right direction. It makes a great difference
whether the general expectation of knowledge, as thie indefinite
feeling may be termed, is based upon a sound judgment, For
mankind may often entertain a true conception of what knowledge
ought to be when they have but a slender experience of facts
‘The correlation of the sciences, the consciousness of the unity
of nature, the idea of classification, the sense of proportion,
the unwillingness to stop short of certainty or to confound pro-
bability with truth, are important principles of the higher edux
cation. Although Plato could cell us nothing, and perhaps keew
that he could tell us nothing, of the absolute truth, he has exercised
an influence on the human mind which even at the present day
is not exhausted; and political and social questions may yet arise
in which the thoughts of Plato may be read anew and receive
a fresh meaning.

‘The Idea of good is so called only in the Republic, but there
are traces of it in other dialogues of Plato, It is @ cause as
well as an idea, and from this point of view may be compared
with the creator of the Timacus, who out of hit goodness created

The Science of Dialectic.
both of them is contained in the Platonic ‘dialectic; all_ meta
physicians have something in common with the ideas of Plato;
all logicians have derived something from the method of Plato.
‘The nearest approach in modern philosophy to the universal
‘sclence of Plato, is to be found in the Hegelian ‘succession of
‘moments in the unity of the idea.’ Plato and Hegel alike seem
to have conceived the world as the correlation of abstractions;
and not impossibly they would have understood one another
better than any of their commentators understand them (cp. Swift's
Voyage to Laputa, c, 8), There is, however, a difference between
them: for whereas Hegel is thinking of all the minds of men
as one mind, which developes the stages of the idea in different
countries or at different times in the same country, with Plato
these gradations are regarded only as an order of thought or
ideas; the history of the human mind had not yet dawned
upon him.

Many criticisms may be made on Plato's theory of education.
While in some respects he unavoidably falls short of modern
thinkers, in athers he is in advance of them. He is oppased to
the modes of education which prevailed in his own time; but
he can hardly be said to have discovered new ones. He does

1+ Having a desire to ute those ancients who were most renowned for wit
‘and learning, I set spart onc day on purpose. 1 propased that Homer and
“Aristotle might appear at the head of all their commentators; but dhese were
‘so numerous that ome hundreds were forced to attend in the court and
‘outward rooms of the palace. I knew, and could distinguish these two
“heroes, at first aight, not only from the crowd, but from each other. Homer
“was the taller and camelter person of the Wo, walked very erect for one of
‘his og, and his eyos ware the most quick and pierving 1 ever beheld. Arie
‘totle steoped much, and mado use of a staff. His visage was inengre, his
“hair lank and thin, and his rolce hollow. I soon discovered that both of
* them wore perfect strangers to the rest of the company, and had never seen Or
“heard of them before. And I had a whisper from a gheal, who shall be
“nameless, " That these commentators always kept in the most distant quseters |
‘from their prine(pals, tn the lower world, through a consciousness of shame
‘and quilt, because they had so herribly misrepresented the meaning of chete
“authors to postcrity.'* I introduced Didyius and Eustathius to Homer, and
* prevafled on him to treat them better than pethaps they deservert for he sna |
“found they wanted a genius t0 enter into the spirit of a poet. Hlut Aristothe
“was out of all patience with the account f gaye him of Scotus and Rarnisy as
“1 presented them to him : and he asked them “ whether the rest of the tribe
“wore as great dunces as themselves ?"**

tt

The Education of later life.
of their ordinary occupation or profession. It is the best form
under which we can conceive the whole of life. Nevertheless the
Idea of Plato is not easily put into practice, For the education
of after life is necessarily the education which each one gives
himself. Men and women cannot be brought together in schools:
or colleges at forty or fifty years of age; and if they could the
result would be disappointing. The destination of most men is
what Plato would call *the Den’ for the whole of life, and with
‘that they are content. Neither have they teachers or advisers
with whom they can take counsel in riper years. There is no
‘schoolmaster abroad’ who will tell them of their faults, or in-
spire them with the higher sense of duty, or with the ambition
of a true success in life; no Socrates who will convict them of
‘ignorance; no Christ, or follower of Christ, who will reprove them
ofsin. Hence they have a difficulty in receiving the first element
of improvement, which is self-knowledge. ‘The hopes of youth no
Jongerstir them; they rather wish to rest than to pursue high objects.
A few only who have come across great men and women, or eminent
teachers of religion and morality, have received a second life from
them, and have lighted a candle from the fire of their genius.
‘The want of energy is one of the main reasons why 40 few
persons continue to improve in later years. They have mot the
will, and do not know the way. They ‘never try an experiment,”
or look up # point of intere$t for'themselves ; théy make no sacri-
ficos for the take of ‘ledge; their minds, like their bodies,
at a.certain age becamie fixed. Genius has been defined as *the
power of taking pais’; but hardly any one keeps up his interest
in knowledge throughout a whole life. The troubles of a family,
the business of making money, the demands of a. profession de-
stroy the elasticity of the mind. ‘The waxen tablet of the memory
which was once capable of receiving ‘true thoughts and clear
impressions’ becomes hard and crowded; there is mot room for
the accumulations of a long life (Theaet. 194 ff). ‘The student, ax
years advance, rather makes an exchange of knowledge than
adds to his stores. There is no pressing necessity to Jearny
the stock of Classics or History or Natural Science which was
enough for a man at twenty-five is enough for him at fifty.
Neither is it easy to give a definite answer to any one who
asks how he is to improve, For self-education consists in a

ecxii

kcaigres!

erecous
Tm.

The Progress of the World,

the natural growth of institutions which fill modern treatises on
political philosophy seem hardly ever to have attracted the atten
tion of Plato and Aristotle, The ancients were familiar with the
mutability of human affairs; they could moralize aver the ruins of
cities and the fall of empires (cp. Plato, Statesman 301, 302, and
Sulpicius’ Letter to Cicero, Ad Fam. iv. 5); by them fate and
chance were deemed to be real powers, almost persons, and to
have had a great share In political events. The wiser of them
like Thucydides believed that * what had been would be again,’
and that a tolerable idea of the future could be gathered from the
past. Also they had dreams of a Golden Age which existed once
upon a time and might still exist in some unknown land, or might
retum again in the remote future. But the regular growth of a
state enlightened by experience, progressing in knowledge, im-
proving in the arts, of which the citizens were educated by the
falfilment of political duties, appears never to have come within
the rangé of their hopes and aspirations. Such a state had never ~
been seen, and therefore could not be conceived by them, Their
experience (cp. Aristot. Metaph. xi. 21; Plato, Laws, ili. 676-9)
led them to conclude that there had been cycles of civilization in
which the arts had been discovered and lost many times over,
and citics had been overthrown and rebuilt again and again, and
deluges and volcanoes and other natural convulsions had altered
the face of the earth, Tradition told them of many destructions
of mankind and of the preservation of a remnant. The world
began again after a deluge and was reconstructed out of the
fragments of itself, Also they were acquainted with empires of
unknown antiquity, like the Egyptian or Assyrian; but they had
never scen them grow, and could not imagine, any more than
we ean, the state of man which preceded them. They were
puweled and awestricken by the Egyptian monuments, of which
the forms, ax Plato says, not in a figure, but literally, were ten
thousand years old (Laws ii, 656 E), and they contrasted the an-
tiquity of Egypt with their own short memories,

‘The early legends of Hellas have no real connection with the
later history: they are at a distance, and the intermediate region
is concealed from view; there is no road or path which leads from
one to the other. At the beginning of Greek history, in the
vestibule of the temple, is seen standing first of all the figure of

‘to the two latter; a few general points of —

“Eemmparison may.be touched upon in ths place.
And first of the Laws. (1) The Republic, though

written at intervals, yet speaking generally and j atin
indications of thought and style, may be reasonably ascribed to
‘the middle period of Plato's life: the Laws are certainly the work
of his declining years, and some portions of them at any rate seem
to have been written in extreme old age. (2) The Republic is
full of hope and aspiration: the Laws bear the stamp of failure
and disappointment. The one is a finished work which received
the last touches of the author: the other is imperfectly executed,
and apparently unfinished. The one has the grace and beauty of
‘youth: the other has lost the poetical form, but has more of the
severity and knowledge of life which is characteristic of old age.
(3) The most conspicuous defect of the Laws is the failure of
dramatic power, whereas the Republic is full of striking contrasts
of ideas and oppositions of character. (3) The Laws may be said
to have more the nature of a sermon, the Republic of a poem;
the one is more religious, the other more intellectual. (5) Many
theories of Plato, such as the doctrine of ideas, the government
‘of the world by philosophers, are not found in the Laws; the
immortality of the soul is first mentioned in xii. 959, 9673 the
person of Socrates has altogether disappeared. The community
of women and children is renounced: the institution of common
or public meals for wornen (Laws vi. 781) is for the first time intro-

duced (Ar. Poli 6,4 5). (6) There remains in 0
enmity to the poets (vii. 817), who are ironically saluted in high-
flown terms, and, at the same time, are peremptorily ordered out
‘of the city, if they are not willing to submit their poems to the
censorship of the magistrates (cp. Rep. iii, 398). (7) Though the
work is in most respects inferior, there arc = few passages in the
‘Laws, such as v. 727 ff. (the honour due to the soul), vill. 835 4.
(the evils of ticentious or unnatural Jove), the whole of Book x.
(religion), xi. 918 ff. (the dishonesty of retail trade), and g23 ff.
(bequests), which come more home to us, and contain more of
what may be termed the modern clement in Plato than almost
anything in the Republic.

‘The relation of the two works to one another is very well giver
{i) by Aristotle in the Politics (ii. 6, 9§ 1-5) from the side of
the Laws:—

*The same, or nearly the same, objections apply to Plato's
“later work, the Laws, and therefore we had better examine briefly
*the constitution which is therein described. In the Republic,
“Socrates has definitely settled in all a few questions only; such
“as the community of women and children, the community of
‘property, and the constitution of the state. The population is
* divided Into two classes —one of husbandmen, and the other of
“warriors; from this latter is taken a third class of counsellors
*and rulers of the state. But Socrates has not cletermined whether

“the husbandmen and artists are to have a share in the govern- ,

*ment, and whether they too are to carry arms and share in
“military service or not, He certainly thinks that the women
ought to share in the education of the guardians, and to fight
*by their side. The remainder of the work is filled up with
* digressions foreign to the main subject, and with discussions
‘about the education of the guardians. In the Laws there is
* hardly anything but laws; not much is said about the constitution.
* This, which he had intended to make more of the ordinary type,
“he gradually brings round to the other or ideal form, For with
‘the exception of the community of women and property, he
“supposes everything to be the same in both states; there is to be
‘the same education; the citizens of both are to live free from
* servile occupations, and there are to be common meals in both.
‘The only difference is that in the Laws the common meals are

The Republic and the Laws,

a
{seseoted be samen snd toe varios Sembee Seay Emel
‘the Republic only 1000,"

(ii) by Plato in the Laws (Book v. 739 B-E), fom he eof
the Republic ;—

ihe fire and pteec dora ef he ace anioN tiger
‘and of the law is that in which there prevails most widely the
“ancient saying that * Friends haveall thingsin common.” Whether
‘there is now, or ever will be, this communion of women and
‘children and of property, in which the private and individual
‘is altogether banished from life, and things which are by nature
“private, such as eyes and ears and hands, have become common,
‘and all men express praise and blame, and fecl joy and sorrow,
“on the same occasions, and the laws unite the city to the utmest,—
‘whether all this is possible or not, I say that no man, acting upon
‘any other principle, will ever constitute a state more exalted én
‘virtue, or truer or better than this. Such a state, whether in-
“habited by Gods er sons of Gods, will make them blessed who
“dwell therein; and therefore to this we are to look for the pattern
‘of the state, and to cling to this, and, a faras possible, to seek
“for one which is like this, The state which we have now ia hand,
“when created, will be nearest to immortality and unity in the
“next degree; and after that, by the grace of God, we will com-
“plete the third one. And we will begin by speaking of the nature
“and origin of the second.”

‘The comparatively short work called the Statesman or Politicus
in its style and manner is more akin to the Laws, while in its
idealism it rather resembles the Republic. As far as we can
judge by various indications of language and thought, it must
be later than the one and of course earlier than the other. In
both the Republic and Statesman a clase connection is maintained
between Politics and Dialectic. In the Statesman, enquiries into
the principles of Method are interspersed with discussions about
Politics. The comparative advantages of the tule of law and of
@ person are considered, and the decision given in favour of a
person (Avist. Pol. ili. 5, 16). But much may be said on the other
side, nor is the opposition necessary ; fora person may rule by law,
and law may be so applied as to be the living voice of the legit
Jator. As in the Republic, there is a myth, describing, however,
not a future, but a former existence of mankind. The question is

idee ses ‘eb
ASE eras hei

Repose

ee

St. Augustine's De Civitate

from Plato; like him he denounces the drama.

‘that if his life were to be twice as long he would have ne time
to read the lyric poets, ‘The picture of democracy is translated
by him word for word, though he has hardly showa himself able
to ‘carry the jest’ of Plato. He converts into a stately sentence
the humorous fancy about the animals, who ‘are so imbued with
the spirit of democracy that they make the passersby get out
of thelr way! (i. 42) His description of the tyrant is imitated
from Plato, but is far inferior, The second book is historical,
and claims for the Roman constitation (which is to him the ideal)
@ foundation of fact such as Plato probably intended to have given:
to the Republic in the Critias. His most remarkable imitation
of Plato is the adaptation of the vision of Ex, which is converted
by Cicero into the ‘Somalum Scipionis’; he has ‘romanized?
the myth of the Republic, adding an argument for the immortality
of the soul taken from the Phaedrus, and some other touches
derived from the Phaedo and the Timaeus. Though a beasitifel
tale and containing splendid passages, the ‘ Somnium Sciplonis" is
very inferior to the vision of Er; it is only a dream, and hardly.
allows the reader to suppose that the writer believes in his own
creation, Whether his dialogues were framed on the model of
the lost dialogues of Aristotle, as he himself tells us, or of Plato,
to which they bear many superficial resemblances, he is still the
Roman orator; be is not conversing, but making speeches, and
is never able to mould the intractable Latin to the grace and
case of the Grock Platonic dialogue. But if he is defective in
form, much more is he inferior to the Greek in matter; he no
where in bis philosophical writings leaves upon our minds the
impression of an ariginal thinker,

Plato's Republic has been said to be a church and not a states
and such an ideal of a city in the heavens has always hovered
‘over the Christian world, and is embodied in St. Augustine’s “De
Civitate Dei,’ which is suggested by the decay and fall of the
Roman Empire, much in the samme manner in which we may
imagine the Republic of Plato to have been influenced by the
decline of Greck politics in the writer’s own age. The difference
is that in the time of Plato the degeneracy, though certain, was
gradual and insensible: whereas the taking of Rome by the
Goths stirred like an carthquake the age of St. Augustine. Men

Dante's De Monarchia,
‘is the lover of God,’ and the words of the Book of Exodus
in which God reveals himself to Moses (Exod. ill. 14). He
dwells at length on miracles performed in his own day, of whieh
the evidence is regarded by him as irresistible. He speaks in a
very interesting manner of the beauty and utility of nature and
of the human frame, which he conceives to afford a foretaste
of the heavenly state and of the resurrection of the body. ‘The
book is not really what to most persons the title of it would
imply, and belongs to an age which has passed away. But it
contains many fine passages and thoughts which are for all
time.

‘The short treatise de Monarchia of Dante isby far the most
remarkable of medimval ideals, and bears the impress of the
great genius in whom Italy and the Middle Ages are so vividly:
reflected. It is the vision of an Universal Empire, which is
supposed to be the natural and necessary government of the
world, having a divine authority distinct fram the Papacy, yet
coextensive with it, It is not ‘the ghost of the dead Roman
Empire sitting crowned upon the grave thereof,’ butthe legitimate
heir and successor of it, justified by the ancient virtues of the
Romans and the beneficence of their rale. Their right to be
the governors of the world is also confirmed by the testimony
of miracles, and acknowledged by St. Paul when he appealed
to Cusar, and even more emphatically by Christ Himself, Who
could not have made atonement for the sins of men if He had
not been condemned by a divinely authorized tribunal. The
necessity for the establishment of an Universal Empire is proved
partly by a prior? arguments such as the unity of God and the
unity of the family or nation; partly by perversions of Scripture
and history, by false analogies of nature, by misapplied quotations
from the classics, and by odd scraps and commonplaces of logic,
showing a familiar but by no means exact knowledge of Aristotle
{of Plato there is none). But a more convincing argument still
is the miserable state of the world, which he touchingly deseribes.
He secs no hope of happiness or peace for mankind until all
nations of the earth are comprehended in a single empire. "The
whole treatise shows how deeply the idea of the Roman Empire
was fixed in the minds of his contemporaries. Not much argument
was needed to maintain the truth of a theory which to his own

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Ate

Sir Thomas: More's Utopia.

Property is a fixed idea with him, though be is aware of the
arguments which may be urged on the ether side. We wonder
how in the reign of Heary VIII, though veiled in another language
and published in a foreign country, such speculations could /have
‘been endured,

He is gifted with far greater dramatic invention than any one
who succecded him, with the exception of Swift, In the art of
feigning he is a worthy disciple of Plato. Like him, starting from
4 small portion of fact, he founds his tale with admirable skill ona
few lines in the Latin narrative of tlie voynges of Amerigo
Vespucci. He is very precise about dates and facts, and has the
power of making us believe that the narrator of the tale must hare
been an eyewitness. We are fairly puztled by his manner of
mixing up real and imaginary persons; his boy John Clement and
Peter Giles, the citizen of Antwerp, with whom he disputes about
the precise words which are supposed t have been used by the
(imaginary) Portuguese traveller, Raphacl Hythloday, 1 have
the more cause,’ says Hythloday, ‘to fear that my words shall not
be believed, for that | know how difficultly and hardly 1 myself
would have believed another man telling the same, if 1 had not
myself seen it with mine own eyes. Or again: “If you bad been
with me in Utopia, and had presently seen their fashions and laws
its 1 did which lived there five years or more, and would never
have come thence, but only to make the new land known here,’
ete. More greatly regrets that he forgot to ask Hythloday in what
part of the world Utopia is situated; he ‘would have spent no
small sum of money rather than it should have escaped him," and
he begs Peter Giles to see Hythloday or write to him and obtain
an answer to the question. After this we are not surprised to
hear that a Professor of Divinity (perhaps ‘a late famous vicar of
Croydon in Surrey,’ as the translator thinks) is desirous of being
sent thither as a missionary by the High Bishop, ‘ yea, and that he
may himself be made Bishop of Utopia, nothing doubting that he
must obtain this Bishopric with suit; and he counteth that a godly

4 'These things (I say), when I consider with myself, 1 held well with Plato,
and do nothing marvel that he would make nolawsfor them that refused thove
laws, whereby all men should have and enjoy equal portions of riches and
commodities, For the wise man did easily foresee this to be the one and only
way to the wealth of a community. if equality of all things should be brought
{in and established’ (Utopia, English Reprints, pp. 67, 68).

ings, the changes, and the ends of all:

any divine honours to any other than him.”

BUSI wie ae of thi ayn eid, and eeer hag ae
the veil behind which he has been pleased to conceal himself.
‘Nor is he Jess in advanee of popular opinion in his political and
moral speculations. He would like to bring military glory into
contempt; he would set all sorts of idle people t profitable
‘occupation, including in the same class, priests, women, noblemen,
gentlemen, and ‘sturdy and valiant beggars," that the labour of all
may be reduced to six hours a day. His dislike of eapital punish»
ment, and plans for the reformation of offenders; his detestation of
Priests and Jawyers!; his remark that ‘although every one may
hear of ravenous dogs and wolves and cruel man-taters, it is net
‘easy to find states that are well and wisely governed,’ are curiously
at variance with the notions of his age and indeed with his own life,
‘There are many points in which he shows a modern feeling and a
prophetic insight like Plato, He is a sanitary reformer; he main-
tains that civilized states have a right to the soil of waste countries :
he is inclined to the opinion which places happiness in virtuous
pleasures, but herein, as he thinks, not disagreeing from those
other philosophers who define virtue to be a life according to-
nature. He extends the idea of happiness so as to include the”
happiness of others; and he argues ingeniously, ‘All men agree
that we ought to make others happy; but if others, how much
more ourselves!" And still be thinks that there may be a more
‘excellent way, but to this no man’s reason can attain unless heaven
should inspire bim with a higher truth. His ceremonies before
marriage; his /wnmane proposal that war should be carried on
by assassinating the leaders of the enemy, may be compared to
some of the paradoxes of Plato, He has a charming fancy, like
the affinities of Greeks and barbarians ia the Timaeus, that the
Utopians learnt the language of the Greeks with the more readi-
ness because they were originally pf the same race with them. He
is penetrated with the spirit of Plato, and quotes er adapts many
4 Compare his satirical observation : * They (the Utpians) have priests of
‘eaceeding holiness, and therefore very few * (p. tse):

Tinea: lett Tafeaitenss iat aoe
touch of satire which strikes deeper than his quiet

the lives of ordinary Christians than the discourse
‘The ‘New Atlantis! is only a fragment, and far inferior &
merit to the ‘ Utopia.’ ‘The work is full of ingenuity, but wanting
in creative fancy, and by no means impresses the reader with
‘& sense of credibility,- In some places Lord Bacon is character:
istically different from Sir Thomas More, as, for example, in the
f external state which he attributes to the governor of Solomon's _
House, whose dress he minutely describes, while to Sir Thomas
More such trappings appear simply ridiculous. Yet, after this
programme of dress, Bacon adds the beautifal trait, ‘that he hada
look as though he pitied men,’ Several things are borrowed by
him from the Timacus; but he has injured the unity of style by
adding thoughts and passages which are taken from the Hebrew
‘Scriptures.
The ‘City of the Sun,’ written by Campanella (15681639),
a Dominican friar, several years after the ‘New Atlantis! of
Bacon, has many reserablances to the Republic of Plato. The
citizens have wives and children in common; their marriages
are of the same temporary sort, and are arranged by the magie-
trates from time to time. They do not, however, adapt his
system of lots, but bring together the best natures, male and
female, ‘according to philosophical rules.’ ‘The infants until.
two years of age are brought up by their mothers in public
temples; and since individuals for the most part educate their
children badly, at the beginning of their third year they are
committed to the care of the State, and are taught at first, not out
of books, but from paintings of all kinds, which are emblazoned
on the walls of the city. The city has six interior circuits of
walls, and an outer wall which is the seventh. On this outer
wall are painted the figures of legislators and philosophers, and

1’ And yet the most part of them is more dissident from the manners of the
world now a days, than my communication was. But preachers, sly and wily.
men, following your counsel as I suppose) because they saw men evilewiling
to frame their manners to Christ's rule, they have wrested and wried bis
doctrine, and, like a ruleof lead, have applied it to men's manners, that by
some means at the Icast way, they might agree together *(p. G5).

Z ==

Plato is secking to fix the eye of mankind.

‘VItI. Two other ideals, which never appeared above the horizon
in Greek Philosophy, float before the minds of men in our own
day: one seen more clearly than formerly, as though each year
and cach generation brought us nearer to some great change; the
other almost in the same degree retiring from view behind the
laws of nature, a8 if oppressed by them, but still remaining a
silent hope of we know not what hidden in the heart of man. The
first ideal is the future of the human race in this world; the
second the future of the individual in another, The first is the
more perfect realization of our own present life; the second, the
abnegation of it: the one, limited by experience, the ather,
transcending it, Both of them*have been and are powerful
motives of action; there area few in whom they have taken the
place of all earthly interests. The hope of a future for the human
race at first sight scems to be the more disinterested, the hope
of individual existence the more egotistical, of the two motives.
But when men have learned to resolve thelr hope of a fisture
either for thernselves or for the world into the will of God = * not
‘my will but Thine,’ the difference between them falls away; and |
they may be allowed to make either of them the basis of their
lives, according to their own individual character or temperament.
There is as much faith in the willingness to work for an unseen |
future in this world as in another. Neither is it inconceivable _
that some rare nature may feel his duty to another generation, —
or to another century, almost as strongly as to his own, or that
living always in the presence of God, he may realize another
world as vividly 28 he does this,

The greatest of all ideals may, or rather must be conceived by
us under similitudes derived from human qualities; although
sometimes, like the Jewish prophets, we may dash away these
figures of speech and describe the nature of God only in negatives.
These again by degrees acquire a positive meaning. Trt would
be well, if when meditating on the higher truths either of

|

A paradoy
sul evore
etter,

truly? And which sort of life, Glaucon, do you prefer?
I for my part deem the life of the just to be the more
advantageous, he answered.

Did you hear all the advantages of the unjust which 4
‘Thrasymachus was rehearsing?

Yes, I heard him, he replied, but he has not convinced me.

Then shall we try to find some way of convincing him, if
we can, that he is saying what is not true?

Most certainly, he replied.

Tf, 1 said, he makes a set speech and we make another
recounting all the advantages of being just, and he answers
and we rejoin, there must be a numbering and measuring of
the goods which are claimed on either side, and in the
end we shall want judges to decide; but if we proceed is
our enquiry as we lately did, by making admissions to one
another, we shall unite the offices of judge and aclvocate
in our own persons.

Very good, he said,

And which method do I understand you to prefer? I said.

‘That which you propose.

Well, then, Thrasymachus, T said, suppose you begin
at the beginning and answer me. You say that perfect
injustice is more gainful than perfect justice?

Yes, that is what I say, and I have given you my reasons.

And what is your view about them? Would you call one
of them virtue and the other vice?

Certainly.

T suppose that you would call justice virtue and injustice vice?

What a charming notion! So likely too, seeing that I
affirm injustice to be profitable and justice not,

—*

Mhustration,

No art aims at excess.

And would he try to go beyond just action?

He would not.

And how would he regard the attempt to gain an advantage
‘over the unjust; would that be considered by him as just or
‘unjust?

Hewould think it just, and would try to gain the advantage ;
‘but he would not be able.
Whether he would’ or would not be able, 1 aid, is not

, to the point. My question is only whether the just man,

while refusing to have more than another just man, would
wish and claim to have more than the unjust?

Yes, he would.

And what of the unjust —does he claim to have more than
the just man and to do more than is just?

Of course, he said, for he claims to have more than all men.

And the unjust man will strive and struggle to obtain mare
than the unjust man or action, in order that he may have
more than al]?

‘True,

We may put the matter thus, I said—the just does. not
desire more than his like but more than his unlike, whereas
the unjust desires more than both his like and his unlike?

Nothing, he said, can be better than that statement.

And the unjust is good and wise, and the just is neither?

Good again, he said

And is not the unjust like the wise and good and the
just unlike them?

Of course, he said, he who is of a certain nature, is like
those who are of a certain nature; he who is not, not.

Each of them, I said, is such as his like is?

Certainly, he replied.

Very good, Thrasymachus, I said; and naw to take the
case of the arts: you would admit that one man is a musician
and another not a musician?

Yes.

And which is wise and which is foolish?

Clearly the musician is wise, and he who is not a musician
is foolish,

And he is good in as far as he is wise, and bad in as far as
he is foolish?

‘Then the just is like the wise and good, and the unjust like
the evil and ignorant?

‘That is the inference. >

And each of them is such as his like is?

‘That was admitted,

‘Then the just has turned out to be wise and good and the
unjust evil and ignorant.

‘Thrasymachus made all these admissions, not fluently, as
I repeat them, but with extreme reluctance; it was a hot
summer's day, and the perspiration poured from him in
torrents; and then I saw what I had never seen before,
‘Thrasymachus blushing. As we were now agreed that
justice was virtue and wisdom, and injustice vice and ignor-
ance, I proceeded to another point:

Well, I said, ‘Thrasymachus, that matter is now settled;
but were we not also saying that injustice had strength;
do you remember?

Yes, | remember, he said, but do not suppose that I
approve of what you are saying or have no answer; if
however I were to answer, you would be quite certain 1
accuse me of haranguing; therefore either permit me to have
my say out, or if you would rather ask, do so, and I will
answer ‘Very good,’ as they sty to story-telling ald women,
and will nod ‘ Yes’ and ‘No.'

Certainly not, I said, if contrary to your real opinion.

Yes, he said, I will, to please you, since you will not let
me speak. What else would you have?

Nothing in the world, I said; and if you are 80 disposed 1
will ask and you shall answer,

Proceed.

Then I will repeat the question which I asked before, in

order that our examination of the relative nature of justice ;

and injustice may be carried on regularly. A statement was
made that injustice is stronger and more powerful than
justice, but now justice, having been identified with wisdom
and virtue, is easily shown to be stronger than injustice, if
injustice is ignorance; this can no longer be questioned by
any oné. But I want to view the matter, Thrasymachus, in
a different way; You would not deny that a state may be

Necapitata.

ly.
not injustice equally fatal when existing in a simgle
the first place rendering him incapable of action
is not at unity with himself, and in the second
making him an enemy to himself and the just? Is not

that true, Thrasymachus?

Yes,

And O my friend, I said, surely the gods are just?
Granted that they are.

But if so, the unjust will be the enemy of the gods, and the
just will be their friend?

Feast away in triumph, and take your fill of the argu-
ment; I will not oppose you, lest I should displease the
company.

Well then, proceed with your answers, and let me have the
remainder of my repast. For we have already shown that
the just are clearly wiser and better and abler than the
unjust, and that the unjust are incapable of common action ;
nay more, that to speak as we did of men who are evil
acting at any time vigorously together, is not strictly true,
for if they had been perfectly evil, they would have laid
hands upon one another; but it is evident that there must
have been some remnant of justice in them, which enabled
them to combine; if there had not been they would have
injured one another as well as their victims; they were but
half-villains in their enterprises; for had they been whole
villains, and utterly unjust, they would have been utterly
incapable of action. That, as I believe, is the truth of the
matter, and not what you said at first, But whether the just
have a better and happier life than the unjust is a further
question which we also proposed to consider. I think that
they have, and for the reasons which I have given; but still

= *

tae this the hou of deaths,
‘be unjust. When both have reached

plentifully
| does, on thing which {s natural, 16. i
Fight ine, and Teaves other things

‘more than four citizens
husbandman will not make his own p

‘Much greater.
inhabitants will be too small now, and not:
true. ; fi

‘But may he not change and tr F
Cle be ht ms Be he rir

Sry eEaAScinta ‘but then, wo -
God or man, desire to make himself worse?

Impossible.

‘Then it is impossible that God sh

BOOK IIL

Keak it = Suen i Be I said, are our principles of theology — some ste

tales are to be told, and others are not to be told to our 38!
BRR GGIS fen thee’ porch cpwads, if we wakes "Wants
Teediwew honour the gods and their parents, and to value friendship
Sotuingy. with one another.

Yes; and I think that our principles are right, be said.

But if they are to be courageous, must they not learn other
lessons besides these, and lessons of such a kind as will take
away the fear of death? Can any man be courageous who
has the fear of death in him?

Certainly not, he said.

And can he be fearless of death, or will he choose death in
battle rather than defeat and slavery, who believes the world

' below to be real and terrible?

Impossible.
Thedewlp ‘Then we must assume a control over the narrators of this
eae, class of tales as well as over the others, and beg them not

Mitewer” simply to revile, but rather to commend the world below,
fntimating to them that their descriptions are umtrue, and
will do harm to our future warriors.

That will be our duty, he said.

‘Then, I said, we shal! have to obliterate many obnoxious
passages, beginning with the verses,

“T would rather be a serf on the land of a poor and portionless man
than rule over all the dead who have come to nought.”
We must also expunge the Verse, which tells us how Pluto
feared,

“Loxt the mansions grim and squalid which the gods abhor should be
seen both ef mortals and immortals *,”

"Ord ab. 489. * TL an. 64

‘0 heavens! verily in the house of Hades there is soul and ghostly fons .
form bat so mid alt

Again of Tiresias ;—

* [Te him oven after death did Persephone grant mind,] that he alone
shoald be wise; bat che other souls are Aitting shades *,”

Again:—
“The soul fying from the limbs had gone to Hades, lamenting her
fate, leaving manhood and youth?"
Again: — |
487 ‘And the soul, with shrilling cry, passed like emoke beneath the
earth!

And,—

"As bate in hollow of mystic cavern, whenever any of them has
dropped out of the string and falls from the rock, fly shilling and
cling to ene another, so did they with sbrilling cry hold together as they
moved *."

And we must beg Homer and the other pocts not to be Such titer
angry if we strike out these and similar passages, not because "ected
they are unpoctical, or unattractive to the popular ear, but
because the greater the poctical charm of them, the less are
they meet for the ears of boys and men who are meant to be
free, and who should fear slavery more than death,

Undoubtedly.

Also we shall have to reject all the’terrible and appalling
names which describe the world below — Cocytus and Styx,
ghosts under the earth, and sapless shades, and any similar
jwords of which the very mention causes a shudder to pass -
through the inmost soul of him who hears them. I do not
say that these horrible stories may not have a use of some
kkind ; but there is a danger that the nerves of our guardians
may be rendered too excitable and effeminate by them,

There is a real danger, he said.

‘Then we must have no more of them.

‘True.

Another and a nobler strain must be composed and sung
by us.

FIL xxiii 103. 204. x 495: 1. xvi. 8g6.
#1 xxiii. 169, # Od. xxiv. 6

heeeenti toy tea cor his

Od. viii, 266,
* Quoted by Saidas as attributed to |
¥ Ch tapi, x. 595 "Mle xnlle

© Will you tell me? ©
—Ewill, FT can,

scebed:for them, in which they, wil b
proof of the same qualities.

‘Very right, he replied.

And then, I said, we must try then
that is the third sort of test—and see
behaviour: like those who take colts an
to see if they’ are of a timid nature, so
youth amid terrors of some kind, and

aii guava ibs “Sia, tet des

ght
Ht

tion made,
intact. And when any one says |
“The newest song which the
they will be afraid that he may b
but a new kind of song; and this

Ido not deny that I said so; and
“be as good as my word; but you

We will, he replied.

Well, then, I hope tomake the dis

engaged ; we should have argued, for
pea peappani ee er

(ORR. alot de Sat ane

a man may begin at fi

Z ez Drcmapln fe
sain rar tee

-O my friend, 1 said, do not
change their minds, if, not in. an.

+ Reading aarynde:

1p. 18. sas 0.
FOr, separating «at udda |
thought’: or dfiow 1 diavéqua may be a.

eee nas le wee ee

And you placed astronomy next, and then you made a step
backward?

I Yes, and I have delayed you by my hurry; the ludicrous The mation

"state of solid geometry, which, in natural order, should have“
followed, made me pass over this branch and go on to

astronomy, or motion of solids.

‘True, he said.

‘Then assuming that the science now omitted would come

into existence if encouraged by the State, let us go on to

astronomy, which will be fourth.

The right order, he replied. And now, Socrates, as you Glaucon
rebuked the vulgar manner in which I praised astronomy Pry uy

[pobre raecees Seal be) given in. your own. spit For about

kate I think, must see that astronomy compels “°° —
Jook upwards and leads us from this world to

Every one but myself, I said; to every one else this may
be clear, but not to me,
‘And what then would you say?
1 should rather say that those who elevate astronomy

into philosophy appear to me to make us look downwards
and not
What do you mean? he asked.

“better able to find out the
‘That is a very rational notion, he s

246 The end.

Resic vit. Enough then of the perfect State, and of the man who
Socearss, bears its image — there is no difficulty in seeing how we shall
Gtaveon. describe him.
There is no difficulty, he replied; and I agree with you in
thinking that nothing more need be said.

Yes.
‘Yes,
‘money,

rn
il

‘The early days of his power. 275

‘making the life of man to disappear, and with unholy tongue Rigel
‘and lips tasting the blood of his fellow citizens; some he kills
and others he banishes, at the same time hinting at the S2ssrm
abolition of debts and partition of lands: and after this, what
will be his destiny? Must he not cither perish at the hands
‘of his enemies, or from being a man become a wolf —that is,
a tyrant?
Inevitably,
pes Teale =
tich?

=

‘The same. ,,
After a while he is driven out, but comes back, in spite of Afters time
his enemies, a tyrant full grown. ———
‘That is clear, comes back
And if they are unable to expel him, or to get him Sflsen

condemned to death by a public accusation, they conspire to
assassinate him,

Yes, he said, that is their usual way.

Then comes the famous request for a body-guard, which is The body-
the device of all those who have got thus far in their *™%
tyrannical career —‘ Let not the people's friend,’ as they say,

“be last to them.”

Exactly.

‘The people readily assent ; all their fears are for him —they
have none for themselves.

Very trac.

And when a man who is wealthy and is also accused
‘of being an enemy of the people sees this. then, my friend, as
the oracle said to Crocsus,

* By pebbly Mermus' shore he flees and rests not, and is not ashamed
to be a coward |"

And quite right too, said he, for if he were, he would never
be ashamed again.

Bus if he is caught he dies.

Of course.

And he, the protector af whom we spoke, is to be seen, not The prowcier
“larding the plain’ with his bulk, but himself the oyerthrower snding up
‘of many, standing up in the chariot of State with the reins in. of Ste
‘his hand, no longer protector, but tyrant absolute.

1 Herod. b $5.

O my friend, is not that 50?
1 Or, ‘ opinions or appetites

The picture of the tyrannical man.

Assuredly.

Such is the man and such is his origin. And next, how
does he live?

Suppose, as people facetiously say, you were to tell me,

1 imagine, 1 eaid, at the next step in his progress, that there
will be feasts and carousals and revellings and courtezans,
and all that sort of thing; Love is the lord of the house
within him, and orders all the concerns of his soul.

‘That is certain.

Yes; and every day and every night desires grow up
many and formidable, and their demands are many,

‘They are indeed, he said.

His revenues, if he has any, are soon spent.

‘Truc.

‘Then comes debt and the cutting down of his property.

‘Of course,

When he has nothing left, must not his desires, crowding
jn the nest like young ravens, be crying aloud for food; and

fa he, goaded on by them, and especially by love himself, who
is in a manner the captain of them, is in a frenzy, and would
fain discover whom he can defraud or despoil of his property,
in order that he may gratify them?

Yes, that is sure to be the case.

He must have money, no matter how, if he is to escape
horrid pains and pangs.

He must.

And as in himself there was a succession of pleasures, and
the new got the better of the old and took away their rights,
so he being younger will claim to have more than his father
and his mother, and if he has spent his own share of the
property, he will take a slice of theirs.

No doubt he will.

And if his parents will not give way, then he will try first
of all to cheat and deceive them.

Very true.

‘And if he fails, then he will use force and plunder them.

Yes, probably.

And if the old man and woman fight for their own, what
then, my friend? Will the creature feel any compunction
at tyrannizing over them?

.

ba

283
Repatte 1X.
‘Socnares,
Apia,

is dentro
become
preater and

hie means
tem

then we will give our opinion.
A fair invitation, he replied ;

that « tyranny is the : h

the rule of a king the happiest,

Yes; the reason is, that the whole city is leagued together
for the protection of each individual,

‘Very true, I said. Bur imagine one of these owners, the tut supp
“master say of some fifty slaves, together with his family and “ygowo
prop and slaves, carried off by a god into the wilderness, carried of
‘where there are no freemen to help him —will he not be in an (ite
agony of fear lest he and his wife and children should be put il myer
to death by his slaves? olen
Yes, he said, he will be in the utmost fear. ition of the
‘The time has arrived when he will be compelled to flatter """*
divers of his slaves, and make many promises to them of
freedom and other things, much against his will—he will
have to cajole his own servants.

‘Yes, he said, that will be the only way of saving himself.

And suppose the same god, who carried him away, to sur-
round him with neighbours who will not suffer one man to
be the master of another, and who, if they could catch the
offender, would take his life? é
His case will be still worse, if you suppose him to be ‘>
everywhere surrounded and watched by enemics,

And is not this the sort of prison in which the tyrant will Movie
be bound —he who being by nature such as we have described, Sine
is full of all sorts of fears and lusts? His soul is dainty and bs
greedy, and yet alone, of all men in the city, he is never of

YOU. 134

“

il
aifiles is

multitude?

Just so,

‘Thus far then we are pretty well agreed that the imitatee
has no knowledge worth mentioning of what be imitates
Imitation is only a kind of play or sport, and the tragic
poets, whether they write in Iambic or in Heroic verse, are
imitators in the highest degree?

Very*true.

And now tell me, I conjure you, has not imitation bees
shown by us to be concerned with that which is thrice
removed from the truth?

Certainly.

And what is the faculty in man to which imitation &
addressed?

What do you mean?

T will explain; The body which is large when seen near,
appears small when seen at a distance?

True.

And the same objects appear straight when looked at out
of the water, and crooked when in the water; and the
concave becomes convex, owing to the illusion about colour
to which the sight is liable. Thus every sort of confusion is
revealed within us; and this is that weakness of the human
mind on which the art of conjuring and of deceiving by light
and shadow and other ingenious devices imposes, having an
effect upon us like magic.

True,

And the arts of measuring and numbering and) weighing
come to the rescue of the human understanding —there

H
he

aL

reeriigy
i
i

said Ex, were the penalties |
blessings as great.

* Reading sind geipor-

|
|
|

INTRODUCTION AND ANALYSIS.

OF ail the writings of Plato the Timaeus is the most obscure Fimare,
and repulsive to the modern reader, and has nevertheless had teescouce
the greatest influence over the ancient and mediaeval world,

‘The obscurity arises in the infancy of physical science, out of >
the confusion of theological, mathematical, and physiological
notions, out of the desire to conceive the whole of nature without
‘any adequate knowledge of the parts, and from a greater percep-
tion of similarities which lie on the surface than of differences
which are hidden from view. To bring sense under the control
‘of reason; to find some way through the mist or labyrinth of
appearances, either the highway of mathematics, or mere devious
paths suggested by the analogy of man with the world, and of the
world with man; to see that all things have a cause and are =
tending towards an end —this is the spirit of the ancient physical
philosopher. He has no notion of trying an experiment and is.
hardly capable of observing the curiosities of nature which are
* tumbling out at his fect,” or of interpreting even the most obvious
of them. He ia driven back from the nearer to the more distant,
from particulars to generalities, from the earth to the stars. He
Wifts up his eyes to the heavens and seeks to guide by their
motions his erring footsteps. But we neither appreciate the con-
ditions of knowledge to which he was subjected, nor have the
idess which fastened upon his imagination the same hold upon
us. For he is hanging between matter and mind; he is under the
dominion at the same time both of sense and of abstractions; his
impressions are taken almost at random from the outside of
nature; he sees the light, but not the objects which are revealed
‘by the light; and he brings into juxtaposition things which to us

ha.

|

-

“The Timaeus—not the centre of Plato's system.

overlaid and partly reduced to order the chaos of Orientalism. Tiwana
‘And Hindred spirits, lke St. Augustine, even though they were tyrmare

‘acquainted with his writings only through the medium of a Latin
translation, were profoundly affected by them, seeming to find
“God and his word everywhere insinuated’ in them (August,
‘Confess, viii. c. 2).

‘There is no danger of the modern commentators on the Timacus
falling into the absurdities of the Neo-Platonists, In the present
ay we are well aware that an ancient philosopher is to be inter-
preted from himself and by the contemporary history of thought.
We know that mysticism is not criticism, ‘The fancies of the
Neo-Piatonists are only interesting to us because they exhibit
phase of the human mind which prevailed widely in the first
centuries of the Christian era, and is not wholly extinct in our
own day, But they have nothing to do with the interpretation of
Plato, and in spirit they are opposed to him. ‘They are the feeble
‘expression of an age which has lost the power not only of creating
great works, but of understanding them, They are the spurious
birth of a marriage between philosophy and tradition, between
Hellas and the East— clade peoviv wile nai gatdx (Rep. vi. 496 A).
‘Whereas the so-called mysticism of Plato is purely Greck, arising:
‘out of his imperfect knowledge and high aspirations, and is the
growth of an age in which philosophy is not wholly separated
from poetry and mythology.

‘A greater danger with modem interpreters of Plato is the
tendency to regard the Timaeus as the centre of his system.
We do not know how Plato would have arranged his own dia-
Jogues, or whether the thought of arranging any of them, besides
the two ‘Trilogies’ which he has expressly connected, was ever
present to his mind. But, if he had arranged them, there are
many indications that this is not the place which he would have
‘Assigned to the Timacus, We observe, first of all, that the dialogue
is put into the mouth of a Pythagorean philosopher, and not of
Socrates. And this Is required by dramatic propriety; for the
investigation of nature was expressly renounced by Socrates its
the Phaedo (96 ff). Nor does Plato himself attribute any import-
ance to his guesses at science. He is not at all absorbed by
them, as he is by the die of good. He is modest and hesitating,
‘and confesses that his words partake of the uncertainty of the

Analysis 24-26.

and another of artisans; also castes of shepherds,
and husbandmen, and lastly of warriors, who, like the
rs of Egypt, were separated from the rest, and curried
d spears, a custom which the goddess first taught you,
then the Asiatics, and we among Asiatics first received from
Observe again, what care the law took in the pursuit of
dom, searching out the deep things of the world, and applying

to the use of man. The spot of earth which the goddess
c had the best of climates, and produced the wisest men; in
no other was she herself, the philosopher and warrior goddess, 20
ly to have votaries. And there you dwelt as became the
n of the gods, excelling all men fn virtue, and many famous
ons are recorded of you. The mast famous of them all was
y¢ overthrow of the island of Atlantis, This great island lay
against the Pillars of Heracles, in extent greater than Libya
| Asia put together, and was the passage to other islands and
‘great ocean of which the Mediterranean sea was only the
j and within the Pillars the empire of Atlantis reached in
irope to Tyrrhenia and in Libya to Egypt. This mighty power
arrayed against Egypt and Hellas and all the countries

ing on the Mediterrancan, Then your city did bravely,
renown over the whole earth. For at the peril of her
existence, and when the other Hellenes had deserted her,
ghe repelled the invader, and of her own accord gave liberty to all
“the nations within the Pillars. A little while afterwards there

r earthquakes and floods, and your warrior race all sank

them at your leisure in the sacred registers. In the Tiewnme
400 a See Aa

ce was between your city and citizens and the ancient
) State. But I would not speak at the time, because
nted to refresh my memory. 1 had heard the old man when
‘child, and though I could not remember the whole of our

ret, 1 was able to recall every word of this,
‘branded into my mind; and { am prepared, Socrates, to

Analysis 39-41.

Thus far the universal animal was made in the divine image, imams
‘the other animals were not as yet included in him. And Aysunos

created them according to the patterns or species of them
existed in the divine original. There are four of them:

‘of gods, another of birds, a third of fishes, and a fourth of
‘The gods were made in the form of a circle, which is

‘most perfect figure and the figure of the universe. They
created chiefly of fire, that they might be bright, and were
“made to know and follow the Best, and to be scattered over the
“heavens, of which they were to be the glory. Two kinds of
motion were assigned to them — first, the revolution in the same
“and around the same, in peaceful unchanging thought of the
“game; and to this was added a forward motion which was under
the control of the same. Thus then the fixed stars were created,

“already described. The earth, which is our nurse, clinging around
“the pole extended through the universe, he made to be the
guardian and artificer of night and day, first and eldest of gods
“that are in the interior of heaven. Vain would be the labour
"of telling all the figures of them, moving as fn dance, and their
Jexta-positions and approximations, and when and where and
| what other stars they appear or disappear —to tell of all
without looking at a plan of them would be Jabour in vain.
_ ‘The knowledge of the other gods is beyond us, and we can
the traditions of the ancients, who were the children
“of the gods, as they said; for surely they must have known their
ancestors Although they give no proof, we must believe
n as is customary, They tell us that Oceanus and Tethys
“were the children of Earth and Heaven; that Phoreys, Cronos,
ani! Rhea came in the next generation, and were followed by Zeus
‘and Hert, whose brothers and children are known to everybody.
‘When all of them, both those who show themselves in the
“sky, and those who retire from view, had come into being, the
"Creator addressed them thus: —* Gods, sons of gods, my works, if
‘I Will, are indissoluble, That which is bound may be dissolved,
“but only an evil being would dissolve that which is harmonious
and happy. And although you are not immortal you shall not
die, for T will hold you together, Hear me, then ; —Three tribes

elements, subject to influx and
of the soul, These swellin;
irregularly and irrationally in all

earth, or gliding waters, or the stormy wind; the motions pro-
di | by these impulses pass through the body to the soul and
have the name of sensations. Uniting with the ever-flowing
current, they shake the courses of the soul, stopping the revo-
lution of the same and twisting in all sorts of ways the nature
of the other, and the harmonical ratios of twos and threes and
‘the mean terms which connect them, until the, circles are bent
and disordered and their motion becomes irregular. You may
‘imagine a position of the body in which the head is resting upon
the ground, and the legs arc in the air, and the top is bottom
and the left right. And something similar happens when the
| disordered motions of the soul come into contact with any external
ff things they say the same or the other in a manner which is the
| very opposite of the truth, and they are false and foolish, and
| have no guiding principle in them. And when external im-
| pressions enter in, they are really conquered, though they seem
i to conquer.
By reason of these affections the soul is at first without intelli-
gence, but as time goes on the stream of nutriment abates, und the
_ courses of the soul regain their proper motion, and apprehend the
game and the other rightly, and become rational. The soul of him
who has education is whole and perfect and escapes the worst
disease, but, if a man’s cducation be neglected, he walks lamely
through life and returns good for nothing to the world below.
| This, however, is an afterstage—at present, we are only con
__ cerned with the creation of the body and soul,
‘The two divine courses were encased by the gods in a sphere
| whieh is called the head, and is the god and lord of us, And to
Ss

-igstruments, having the power of flexion and extcasion. Such
was the origin of legs and arms, In the next place, the gods
gave a forward motion to the human body, because the front part
‘of tuan was the more honourable and had authority, And they
"put im a face in which they inserted organs to minister in all
_ things to the providence of the soul. They first contrived the

‘eyes, into which they conveyed a light akin to the light of day,

he

\

Analysis 47-51.

necessity as far as possible to work out good. Before the
there existed fire, air, water, earth, which we suppose
‘men to know, though no one has explained their nature, and we
_efroncously maintain them to be the letters or elements of the
whole, although they cannot reasonably be compared even to
‘or first compounds. [ am not now speaking of the
first principles of things, because | cannot discover them by
eur present mode of enquiry, But as I observed the rule of
‘probability at first, I will begin anew, secking by the grace of

God to observe it still,

Tm our former discussion I distinguished two kinds of being —
the unchanging or invisible, and the visible or changing. But
pow a third kind i¢ required, which | shall call the receptacle
or nurse of generation. There is a difficulty in arriving at an
exact notion of this third kind, because the four elements them-
“selves are of inexact natures and casily pass into one another, and
re too transient to be detained by any one name; wherefore we
are compelled to speak of water or fire, not as substances, but as
“qualitics. ‘They may be compared to images made of gold, which
“are continually assuming new forms, Somebody asks what they
are; if you do not know, the safest answer is to reply that they
are gold. In like manner there is a universal nature out of which
all things are made, and which is like none of them; but they
“enter into and pass out of her, and are made after patterns of the
‘true in a wonderful and inexplicable manner, ‘The contalning
principle may be likened to a mother, the source or spring to
@ father, the intermediate nature to a child; and we may also
remark that the matter which receives every variety of form must
“be formless, like the inodorous liquids which are prepared to
-feeeive scents, or the smooth and soft materials on which figures
“are intpressed. In the same way space or matter is neither earth
nor fire nor alr nor water, but an invisible and formless being
which receives all things, and in an incomprehensible manner
‘Partakes of the intelligible. But we may say, speaking generally,
that fire is thar part of this nature which is teamed, water that
which is moistened, und the like.

‘Let me ask a question in which a great principle is involved:

works done from necessity, which we must now place 7imecu
them; for the creation is made up of both, mind per- Avauvem

bya method with which your sci
you familiar, Fire, air, earth

Analysis 53-56.

oe

solids, and solids are contained in planes, and plane rectilinear Timecm
figures are made up of triangles. Of triangles there are twO Axacven

kinds; one having the opposite sides equal (isosceles), the other
with unequal sides (scalene). These we may fairly assume to be
the original clements of fire and the other bodies; what principles
‘are prior to these God only knows, and he of men whom God
loves. Newt, we must determine what are the four most beautiful
figures which are unlike one another and yet sometimes capable
4 of resolution into one another. Of the two kinds of triangles the
equal-sided has but one form, the unequal-sided hus an infinite
variety of forms; and there is none more beautiful than that
|) which forms the half of an equilateral triangle. Let us then
choose two triangles; one, the isosceles, the other, that form of

‘scalene which has the square of the longer side three times as

great as the square of the lesser side; and affirm that, out of

these, fire and the other elements have been constructed.
Iwas wrong in imagining that all the four clements could be
generated into and out of one another. Foras they are formed,
three of them from the triangle which has the sides unequal, the
fourth from the triangle which has equal sides, three can be re-
‘solved Into one another, but the fourth cannot be resolved into
| them nor they into it, So much for their passage into one

another: I must now speak of their construction. From the tri-

angle ef which the hypothenuse is twice thte lesser side the three
{§ first regular solids are formed — first, the equilateral pyramid or
tetrahedron; secondly, the octahedron; thirdly, the icosahedron;
and from the isosceles triangle is formed the cube. And
‘there is a fifth figure [which (x made out of twelve pentagons),
the dedecahedron— this God used as a model for the twelvefold
division of the Zodiac.

Let us now assign the geometrical forms to their respective
elements. The cube is the most stable of them because resting
on # quadrangular plane surface, and composed of isosceles
‘‘wiangles. To the earth then, which ts the most stable of bodies
{6 and the most easily modelled of them, may be assigned the farm
of acebe; and the remaining forms to the other elements,—to fire
the pyramid, to air the octahedron, and to water the icosahedron,
according to their degrees of lightness or heaviness or power, or
want of power, of penetration, The single particles of any of the

{

SS

Analysis 39-61.

365

“substance cools, the fire passes into the air, which ix displaced, 7imanw.
and forces together and condenses the liquid mass, This process Axawns

‘is called cooling and congcalment, Of the fusile kinds the fairest
and heaviest is gold; this is hardened by filtration through rock,
and is of a bright yellow colour. A shoot of gold which is darker
and denser than the rest is called adamant. Another kind is
called copper, which is harder and yet lighter because the inter-
‘stices are larger than in gold. “There is mingled with it a fine and
mall portion of earth which comes out in the form of rust.
These are a few of the conjectures which philosophy forms,
when, leaving the eternal nature, she turns for innocent recreation,
‘to consider the truths of generation.

Water which is mingled with fire is called Yquid because it
‘rolls upon the carth, and soft because its bases give way. This
becomes more equable when separated from fire and air, and
then congeals into hail or ice, or the looser forms of hoar frost or
‘snow. There are other waters which are called juices and are
distilled through plants. Of these we may mention, first, wine,

which warms the soul as well as the body; secondly, cily sub-

‘stances, as for example, oll or pitch; thirdly, honey, which
‘relaxes the contracted parts of the mouth and 30 produces sweet-
ness; fourthly, vegetable acid, which is frothy and has a burning
“quality and dissolves the flesh. Of the kinds of earth, that which
is filtered through water passes into stone; the water is broken
up by the earth and escapes in the form of air—this in turn
presses upon the mass of earth, and the earth, compressed into
‘an indissoluble union with the remaining water, becomes rock.
Rock, when it is made up of cqual particles, is fair and trans-
parent, but the reverse when of unequal. Earth is converted into
potrery when the watery part is suddenly drawn away; or if
moisture remains, the earth, when fused by fire, becomes, on
cooling, a stone of a black colour. When the earth is finer and of
& briny nature then two half-solid bodies are formed by sepa-
‘ating the water,—soda.and salt. The strong compounds of carth
and water are not soluble by water, but only by fire. Earth
itself, when not consolidated, is dissolved by water; when con-
solidated, by fire only. ‘The cohesion of water, when strong, is
dissolved by fire only; when weak, either by air or fire, the
former entering the interstices, the latter penetrating even the

Analysis 64-67.

transmit the mation to the mind; but parts which are not easily Tivsaamai

are neither pleasant nor painful. The impressions of
afford an example of these, and are neither violent nor

From sensations common to the whole body, we proceed to
ose of particular parts. The affections of the tongue appear
o be caused by contraction and dilation, but they have more
ef roughness or smoothness than is found in other affections.
thy particles, entering into the small veins of the tongue
reach to the heart, when they melt into and dry up the
tle veins are astringent if they are rough; or if not so rough,
they are only harsh, and if excessively abstergent, like potash
soda, bitter. Purgatives of a weaker sort are called salt and,
ing no bitterness, are rather agreeable, Inflammatory bodies,
which by their lightness are carried up inta the head, cutting all
that comes in their way, are termed pungent. But when these
refined by putrefaction, and enter the narrow veins of the
“tongue, and meet there particles of earth and air, two kinds of
globules are formed —one of carthy and impure liquid, which
boils and forments, the other of pure and transparent water,
which are called bubbles; of all these affections the cause is
‘termed acid. When, on the other hand, the composition of the
deliquescent particles is congenial to tlre tongue, and disposes the
‘parts according to their nature, this remedial power in them is
called sweet,

‘Smells arc not divided into kinds; all of them are transitional,
‘and arise out of the decomposition of one clement into another,
for the simple air or water is without smell. ‘They are vapours or
mists, thinner than water and thicker than air: and hence in
drawing in the breath, when there is an obstruction, the air
passes, but there is no smell, They have no names, but are
‘Mistinguished as pleasant and unpleasant, and their influence
‘extends over the whole region from the head to the navel.

Hearing is the effect of @ stroke which is transmitted through
‘the cars by means of the air, brain, and blood to the soul, beginning

: Analysis 68-70.

309

‘If fashioning the good in all things, For there arc two sorts 7imarnn
causes, the one divine, the other necessary; and we should Axaure.

(seek to discover the divine above all, and, for their sake, the

necessary, because without them the higher cannot be attained
by us.

© Having now before us the causes out of which the rest of our

§ discourse is to be framed, let us go back to the point at which we

| Began, and add a fair ending to our tale, As 1 said at first, all

[eehings were originally a chaos in which there was no’ order oF

proportion. ‘The clements of this chaos were arranged by the“

Crestor, and out of them he made the world. Of the divine he
[eiimsctl was tlic author, but he committed to his offspring the
¢reation of the mortal From him they received the immortal
soul, but themselves made the body to be its vehicle, and con-
structed within another soul which was mortal, and subject to
terrible affoctions— pleasure, the inciter of evil; pain, which
deters from good ; rashness and fear, foolish counsellors; anger
hard to be appeased; hope easily led astray. ‘These they
mingled with irrational sense and all-daring love acconding to
necessary laws and so framed man. And, fearing to pollute the
divine element, they gave the mortal soul a separate habitation in
fo the breast, parted off from the head by a narrow isthmus, And
as in a house the women’s apartments are divided from the
men's, the cavity of the thorax was divided into two parts, a
higher and a lower, The higher of the two, which is the seat of
courage and anger, lies nearer to the head, between the midriff
and the neck, and assists reason in restraining the desires. The
heart is the house of guard in which all the veins meet, and
through them reason sends her commands to the extremity of her
kingdom. When the passions are in revolt, or danger approaches
from without, then the heart beats and swells; and the creating
powers, knowing this, implanted in the body the soft and blood.
Jess substance of the Tung, having porous and springy nature
like a sponge, and being kept cool by drink and air which enters
through the trachea.
‘The part of the soul which desires meat and drink was placed
between the midriff and navel, where they made a sort of manger;

and here they bound it down, like a wild animal, away from the ~

council-chamber, and leaving the better principle undisturbed to
VoL. 11.39

Analysis 73-75.
are adapted by their perfection to produce all the four elements. Times.
God took and mingled them in due proportion, making a8 Axauvsn

kinds of marrow as there were hereafter to be kinds of

“The receptacle of the divine soul he made round, and

that portion of the marrow brain, intending that the vessel.

ig this substance should be the head, The remaining

‘he divided into long and round figures, and to these as to

chors, fastening the mortal soul, he proceeded to make the rest

was formed by sifting pore smooth earth and wetting it with
ow. [¢ was then thrust alternately into fire and water, and
rendered insoluble by cither. Of bone he made a globe
‘he placed around the brain, leaving a narrow opening, and
ound the marrow of the neck and spine he formed the vertebrae,
‘hinges, which extended from the head through the whole of
trunk, And as the bone was brittle and liable to mortify and
oy the marrow by too great rigidity and susceptibility to

it and cold, he contrived sinews and flesh the first to give
the second to guard against heat and cold, and to be a
n against falls, containing a warm moisture, which in
exudes and cools the body, and in winter is a defence
nat cold. [laving this in view, the Creator mingled earth with

nd water and mixed with them a ferment of acid and salt, #0

38 to form pulpy fesh. But the sinews he made of a mixture of
mye and unfermented flesh, giving them a mean nature between
two, and a yellow colour. Hence they were more glutinous
but softer than bone. The bones which have most of
tiving soul within them he covered with the thinnest film of
ih, those which have least of it, he lodged deeper, At the joints
Limi the flesh in order not to impede the flexure of the
and also to avoid clogging the perceptions of the mind.
the thighs and arms, which have no sense because there is
in the marrow, and about the inner. bones, he laid the
thicker. For where the flesh is thicker there is less feeling,
‘in certain parts which the Creator has made solely of
for example, the tongue, Had the combination of solid
| thick flesh been consistent with acute perceptions, the
have given man a sinewy and fleshy head, and
ld have lived twice as Jong. But our creators were of

Pusework: Ie spread ‘around the hollows of the body, making
he entire receptacle to flow into and out of the lesser nets and the
esser nets into and out of it, while the outer net found a way into
d out of the pores of the body, and the internal heat followed
air to and fro. These, as we affirm, are the phenomena of re-

ti And all this process takes place in order that the body

be watered and cooled and nourished, and the meat and
drink digested and liquefied and carried into the veins.

‘The causes of respiration have now to be considered, The
exhalation of the breath through the mouth and nostrils displaces
the external air, and at the same time leaves a vacuum into which

igh the pores the air which is displaced enters, Also the

‘vacuum which is made when the air is exhaled through the pores
is filled up by the inhalation of breath through the mouth and
nostrils. The explanation of this double phenomenon is as
follows:— Elements move towards their natural places, Now as
every animal has within him a fountain of fire, the air which is
inhaled through the mouth and nostrils, on coming into contact
with this, is heated; and when heated, in accordance with the
Jaw of attraction, it escapes by the way it entered toward the
place of fire. On leaving the body it is cooled and drives round

“the air which it displaces through the pores into the empty lungs.

‘This again is in turn heated by the internal fire and escapes, as it

‘entered, through the pores.

80 The phenomena of medical cupping-glaswes, of swallowing, and

‘of the hurling of bodies, are to be explained on a similar prin-

ciple; as also sounds, which are sometimes discordant on account

84

n of them, but the worst of all owe their severity to the fol-
Towing causes: There is a natural order in the burman frame
according to which the flesh and sinews are made of blood, the
‘Sinews out of the fibres, and the flesh out of the congealed sub-
Stance which is formed by separation from the fibres. The
glutinous matter which comes away from the sinews and the
flesh, not only binds the flesh to the bones, but nourishes the
ones and waters the marrow. When these processes take place
in regular order the body is in health.

But when the flesh wastes and returns into the veins there is
discoloured blood as well as air in the veins, having acid and salt
qualities, from which is generated every sort of phlegm and bile,
All things go the wrong way and ccase to give nourishment to
the body, no longer preserving their natural courses, but at war
with themselves and destructive to the constitution of the body,
‘The oldest part of the flesh which is hard to decompose blackens
from long burning, and from being corroded grows bitter, and as
the bitter clement refines away, becomes acid. When tinged
with blood the bitter substance has a red colour, and this when
mixed with black takes the hue of grass; or again, the bitter sub-
stance has an auburn colour, when new flesh is decomposed by
the internal flame. To all which phenomena some physician
or philosopher who was able to see the one in tnany has given
the name of bile, The various kinds of bile have names answer-
ing to their colours. Lymph or scrum is of two kinds: first, the
whey of blood, which is gentle; secondly, the secretion of dark
and bitter bile, which, when mingled under the influence of heat
with salt, is malignant and is called acid phlegm. There is also
white phlegm, formed by the decomposition of young and tender
flesh, and covered with litle bubbles, separately invisible, but
becoming visible when collected. ‘The water of tears and per-
spiration and similar substances is also the watery part of fresh
phlegm, All these humours become sources of disease when the
blood is replenished in irregular ways aad not by food or drink.
The danger, however, is not so great when the foundation re-
mains, for then there is a possibility of recovery, But when the
substance which unites the flesh and bones is diseased, and is no

tbe occasioned by the disarrangement or disproportion of the J7imuesn
elements out of which the body is framed, This is the origin of asmusex

ile

Analysis 85-87.

a

cables of the soul sets her free from the body, When on the Timsmn
‘other hand the body, though wasted, stil! holds out, then the bile Asuras,

‘is expelled, like an exile from a factious state, causing diarrhocas

and dysenteries and similar disorders, The body which is dis-
‘eased from the effects of fire is in a continual fever; when air is
the agent, the fever is quotidian; when water, the fever intermits
a day; when earth, which is the most sluggish clement, the fever
‘intermits three days and is with difficulty shaken off.

Of mental disorders there are two sorts, one madness, the
‘other ignorance, and they may be justly attributed to disease.
Excessive pleasures or pains arc among the greatest disenses,

and deprive men of their senses. When the seed about the spinal

‘marrow [s too abundant, the body has too great pleasures and

pains; and during a great part of his life he who is the subject of

them is more or less mad. He is often thought bad, but this is

a mistake; for the truth is that the intemperance of lust is due to

the fluidity of the marrow produced by the loose consistency of

the bones, And this is true of vice in general, which is commonly
regarded as disgraceful, whereas it Is really involuntary and arises
from a bad habit of the body and evil education. In like manner
the soul is often made vicious by the influence of bodily pain; the

Driny phlegm and other bitter and bilious humours wander over

the body and find no exit, but are compressed within, and mingle

their own vapours with the motions of the soul, and are curried
to the three places of the soul, creating infinite varicties of trouble
and melancholy, of rashness and cowardice, of forgetfulness and

| stupidity. When men are in this evil plight of body, and evil

forms of government and evil discourses are superadded, and
there is no education to save ther, they are corrupted through
‘two causes; hut of neither of them are they really the authors. Fer
the planters are to blame rather than the plants, the educators and
not the educated. Still, we should endeavour to attain virtue and
avoid vice; but this is part of another subject.
Enough of discase —1 have now to speak of the means by which
the mind and body are to be preserved, a higher theme than the
other. The good is the beautiful, and the beautiful is the sym-
metrical, and there is no greater or fairer symmetry than that of
body and soul, a5 the contrary is the greatest of deformities. A
Jeg or an arm teo long or too short is at once ugly and unservice-

Analysis 9o~92. 379

which are not of earthly origin, to our kindred; for the head Tivewss
fs nearest to heaven. He who is intent upon the
of his desires and cherishes the mortal soul, has all his ideas

| mortal, and is bimeelf mortal in the truest sense, But he who
seeks after knowledge and exercises the divine part of himself

| i godly and immortal thoughts, attains to truth and immor-
tality, a9 far as is possible to man, and also to happiness, while he

| és training up within him the divine principle and indwelling
power of order. There is only one way in which one person can
ae aberdeen tects) |
nurture and motion. To the motions of the soul answer the
motions of the universe, and by the study of these the individual
is restored tw his original nature.

‘Thus we have finished the discussion of the universe, which,
‘according to our original intention, has now been brought down
to the creation of man. Completeness seems to require that
something should be briefly said about other animals: first of

| women, who are probably deyenerate and cowardly men, And
le when they degenerated, the gods implanted in men the desire 4
| of anion with them, creating in man one animate substance
| and in woman another in the following manner: — The outlet
for liquids they connected with the living principle of the spinal
marrow, which the man has the desire to emit into the fruitful
| womb of the woman; this & like a fertile ficld in which the seed
is quickened and matured, and at last brought to light. When
| this desire is unsatistied the man is aver-mastered by the power
| of the generative organs, and the woman is subjected to disorders
from the obstruction of the passages of the breath, until the two
| meet and pluck the fruit of the tree,
| ‘The race of birds was created out of innocent, light-minded
men, who thought ta pursue the study of the heavens by sight;
these were transformed into birds, and grew feathers instead of
Bair. ‘The race of wild animals were men who had no philosophy,
and never looked up to heaven or used the courses of the head,
but followed only the influences of passion, Naturally they
turned to their kindred earth, and put their forelegs to the ground,
and their heads were crushed into strange oblong forms. Some
‘of them have four feet, and some of them more than four,— the
Tatter, who are the more senseless, drawing closer to their native

From mythology to philosophy.

38)

wotld has been subjected. He was always tending to argue from Tima
what was near to what was remote, from what was known to Inrsaowe:

what was unknown, from man to the universe, and back again
| from the universe to man. While he was arranging the warld, he
| was arranging the forms of thought in his own mind; and the
| light from within and the light from without often crossed and
| Belped to confuse one another, He might be compared to
| a builder engaged in some great design, who could only dig with
his hands because he was unprovided with common tools; or to
| Some poet or musician, like Tynnichus (lon 534 D), obliged to
accommodate his lyric raptures to the limits of the tetrachord
or of the flute.
‘The Hesiodic and Orphic cosmogonies were a phase of thought
intermediate between mythology and philosophy and had a great
| influence on the beginnings of knowledge. There was nothing
| behind them; they were to physical science what the poems of
| Homer were to early Greek history, They made men think of
| the world as a whole; they carried the mind back into the infinity
| of past time; they suggested the first observation of the effects of
| fire and water on the earth’s surface. To the ancient physics
they stood much in the same relation which yeology does to
_ modern science. But the Grock was not, like the enquirer of the
last generation, confined to a period of six thousand years; he was
| able to speculate freely on the effects of infinite ages in the pro~
| duction of physical phenomena. He could imagine cities which
thad existed time out of mind (Statesm. 302A; Laws ili. 676), laws or
forms of art and music which had lasted, ‘ not in word only, but in
very truth, for ten thousand years’ (Laws ii, 656 E; ep. also vii.
| 799A); he was aware that natural phenomena like the Delta of the
| Nile might have slowly accumulated in long periods of time (ep.
Hat. fi. 5, 10). But he seems to have supposed that the course of
‘Events was recurring rather than progressive. To this he was
probably fed by the fixedness of Egyptian customs and the general
‘observation that there were other civilizations in the world more
ancient than that of Hellas.
| The ancient philosophers found in mythology many ideas
which, if not originally derived from nature, were easily trans-
ferred to her — such, for example, as love or hate, corresponding to
attraction or repulsion; or the conception of necessity allied both

|

influence of analogy.

modem times, who are accused of making a theory first and rimame
finding their facts afterwards, the advocates of cither opinion Tema.
never thought of applying either to themselves or to their adver-

saries the criterion of fact. They were mastered by their ideas
and not masters of them. Like the Heraclitean: fanatics whom
Plato has ridiculed in the ‘Theététus (179 E, 180), they were in-
capable of giving a reason of the faith that was in them, and had
all the animositics of a religious sect. Yet, doubtless, there was
some first impression derived from external nature, which, as in
mythology, 90 also in philosophy, worked upon the minds of the
first thinkers. Though incapable of induction or generalization in
the modern sense, they caught an inspiration from the external
world. The most general facts or appearances of nature, the circle
‘of the universe, the nutritive power of water, the air which is the
breath of life, the destructive force of fire, the seeming regularity
‘of the greater part of nature and the irregularity of a remnant, the
recurrence of day and night and of the seasons, the solid earth
and the impalpable acther, were always present to them.

‘The great source of error and also the beginning of truth to
them was reasoning from analogy; they could sce resemblances,
but not differences; and they were incapable of distinguishing
illustration from argument. Analogy in modern times only points
the way, and is immediately verified by experiment, The dreams
and visions, which pass through the philosopher's mind, of resem:
‘Dlances between different classes of substances, or between the
animal and vegetable world, arc put into the refiner’s fire, and the
dross and other elements which adhere to them are purged away,
‘Bur the contemporary of Plato and Socrates was incapable of re-
sisting the power of any analogy which occurred to him, and was
drawn into any consequences which seemed to follow. He had
no methods of difference or of concomitant variations, by the use
of which he could distinguish the accidental from the essential.
He conild not isolate phenomena, and he was helpless against
the influence of any word which had an equivocal or double
sense.

“Yet without this crude use of analogy the ancient physical
philosopher would have stood still; he could not have made even
“ome guess among many ' without comparison, The course of
‘natural phenomena would have passed unheeded before his cyes,

|

a

thinkers to extreme abstraction,

‘There was one more illusion to which the ancient philosophers
were subject, and against which Plato in his tater dialogues seems
to be struggling —the tendency to mere abstractions; not per
| ceiving that pure abstraction is only negation, they thought that

the greater the abstraction the greater the truth. Behind any
pair of ideas a new idea which comprehended them —the spiroc
GwWpuro, a8 it was technically termed — began at once to appear.
‘Two are truer than three, one than two, The words ‘being,’ or
“unity,” or ‘essence,’ or ‘ good,’ became sacred to them. They did
not see that they had a word only, and in one sense the most un+
meaning of words, They did not understand that the content of
‘notions isin inverse proportion to their universality — the element
which i the most widely diffused is also the thinnest; of, in the
| language of the common logic, the greater the extension the leas
| the comprehension, But this vacant idea of a whole without
| parts, of a subject without predicates, a rest without motion, has
| Been also the most fruitful of all ideas. It is the beginning of
a prieri thought, and indeed of thinking at all, Men were led to
conceive ft, not by a love of hasty generalization, but by 4 divine
Tnstinct, @ dialectical enthusiasm, in which the human faculties
Seemed to yearn for enlargement, We know that ‘ being’ is only
the werb oF existence, the copula, the most general symbol of re-
lation, the first and most meagre of abstractions; but to some of
the ancient philosophers this little word appeared to attain divine
proportions, and to comprehend all truth, Being or essence, and
similar words, represented to them a supreme or divine being, in
which they thought that they found the containing and continuing
principle of the universe, In a few years the human mind was
peopled with abstractions; a new world was called into existence
{0 give lawand order to the old. But between them there was still
‘@ gulf, and no one could pass from the one to the other.

‘Number and figure were the greatest instruments of thought
‘which were possessed by the Greek philosopher; having the
same power over the mind which was exerted by abstract ideas,
they were also capable of practical application, Many curious. and,
to the carly thinker, mysterious properties of them came to light
“when they were compared with onc another. They admitted of
VOL. IL—4o

385

facts, for which the time had not yet come, Timarwe

‘sophers made of numbers. First, they applied to.external nature
the relations of them which they found in their own minds; and
where nature seemed to be at variance with number, as for
example in the case of fractions, they protested against her (Rep,
vil 525; Arist. Metaph. {. 6). Having long meditated on the pro
porties of 2: 4: 8, ort: 3:9: 27, or of 4, 4, §, they discoyered
in them many curious correspondences and were disposed to find
dn them the secret of the universe. Secondly, they applied num-
_ berand figure equally to those parts of physics, such as astronomy

‘or mechanics, in which the modern philosopher expects to find
them, and to those in which he would never think of looking for

them, such as physiology and psychology. For the sciences were
| not yet divided, and there was nothing really irrational in arguing

that the same laws which regulated the heavenly bodies were
partially applied to the erring Kimbs or brain of man. Astrology
was the form which the lively fancy of ancient thinkers almost
necessarily gave to astronomy, The observation that the lower
principle, e. y- mechanics, is always seen in the higher, ¢. g. in the
phenomens of life, further tended to perplex them. Plato's doctrine

‘of the same and the other ruling the courses of the heavens and
‘of the human body is not a mere vagary, but is a natural result of
‘the state of knowledge and thought at which he had arrived.

_ When in modern times we contemplate the heavens, a certain
amount of scientific truth imperceptibly blends, even with the
‘eursory glance of an unscientific person. He knows that the earth
‘& revolving round the sun, and not the sun around the earth,
‘He does not imagine the earth to be the centre of the uni-
‘verse, and he has some conception of chemistry and the cognate
‘sciences. A very different aspect of nature would have been
“present to the mind of the carly Greek philosopher. He would
have beheld the earth a surface only, not mirrored, however faintly,

im the glass of science, but indissolubly connected with some
‘theory of one, two, or more elements. He would have seen the
“world pervaded. by number and figure, animated by a principle of
“motion, immanent in 2 principle of rest. He would have tried to
“construct the universe on a quantitative principle, seeming to find
‘in endless combinations of geometrical figures or in the infinite
“variety of their sizes a sufficiont account of the multiplicity of

Twrnoses
Tos,

eect jin wen became eee Timea.
‘may we not observe also that there have been and may be again termonvc
periods in the history of modern philosophy which have been
‘barren and unproductive? We might as well maintain that Greek
art was not real or great, because it had wisi simile awd secundnm,
‘as say that Greek physics were a failure because they made no
subsequent progress.
‘The charge of premature generalization which is often urged
‘against ancient philosophers is really an anachronism, For they
‘can hardly be said to have generalized at all. ‘They may be sald
more truly io have cleared up and defined by the help of ex:
perience ideas which they already possessed. The beginnings of
thought about nature must always have this character. A true
method is the result of many ages of experiment and observation,
and is ever going on and enlarging with the progress of science
and knowledge. At first men personify nature, then they form
impressions of nature, at last they conceive ‘ measure’ or laws of
mature. ‘They pass out of mythology into philosophy. Early
‘Seience is not a process of discovery in the modern sense; but
rather a process of correcting by observation, and to a certain
‘extent only, the first impressions of nature, which mankind, when
they began to think, had received from poetry or language or un-
sense. Of all scientific truths the greatest and simplest
is the uniformity of nature ; this was expressed by the ancients in
many ways, as fate, or necessity, or measure, or limit. Un-
“expected events, of which the cause was unknown to them, they
attributed to chance (cp. Thucyd. i. 40). But their conception of
matuce was never that of law interrupted by exceptions,— a some-
what unfortunate metaphysical invention of modern times, which
‘tg at variance with facts and has failed to satisfy the requirements
of thought.

$3
Plate’s account of the soul is partly mythical or figurative, and
partly literal. Not that either he or we can draw a line between
‘them, or say, * This is poctry, this is philosophy’; for the transition
from the one to the other is imperceptible. Neither must we
‘expect to find in him absolute consistency. He is apt to pass from
| ‘one level or staye of thought to another without always making it

Pe sin

‘a disorderly manner before the work of creation begins (30 A);
and there is an eternal pattern of the world, which, like the ‘idea
of good,’ is not the Creator himself, but not separable from him.
The pattern too, though cternal, is a creation, a world of thought
prior to the world of sense, which may be compared to the wisdom
of God in the book of Eeclesiasticus, or to the ‘God in the form
of a globe’ of the old Eleatic philosophers. ‘The visible, which
already exists, is fashioned in the likeness of this cternal pattern,
‘Oa the other hand, there is no truth of which Plato is more firmly
‘convinced than of the priority of the soul to the body, both in
the sniverse and in man, So inconsistent are the forms in which
he describes the works which no tongue can utter —his language,
| ashe himself says (29 C), partaking of his own uncertainty about
the things of which he is speaking.

We may remark in passing, that the Platonic compared with
the Jewith description of the process of creation has less of
freedom or spontaneity. The Creator in Plato is still subject
to a remnant of necessity which he cannot wholly overcome
{ep. 35 A). When his work is accomplished he remains in his
ows nature. Plato is more sensible than the Hebrew prophet
Of the existence of evil, which he secks to put as far as possible
‘out of the way of God (ep. 42 D). And he can only suppose this
to be accomplished by God retiring into himself and committing
the lesser works of creation to inferior powers. (Compare, how.
tver, Laws x. 903 for another solution of the difficulty.)

Nor ean we attach any intelligible meaning to his words when
be speaks of the visible being in the image of the invisible (28).
‘For how can that which is divided be like that which is undivided?
or that which is changing be the copy of that which is un-
changing? All the old difficulties about the ideas come back upon
| ws ivan altered form. We can imagine two worlds, one of which
|
i

is the mere double of the other, or one of which is an imperfect
eopy of the other, or one of which is the vanishing ideal of the
‘other; but we cannot imagine an intellectual world which has no
qualities —‘a thing in itself'—a point which has no parts or
magnitude, which is nowhere, and nothing. This cannot be
the archetype according to which God made the world, and is

‘material universe, The elements are moving in temo

mind of Plato subject and object were not yet pethidine
that he supposes the process of creation to take place in accor®
ance with his own theory of ideas; and as we cannot give acon
sistent account of the one, neither can we of the other. He meas
(3) to say that the creation of the world is not a material proces
of working mith legs and arms, but ideal and intellectual ; accom.
ing to his own fine expression, ‘ the thought of God made the God
that was to be* (34 A), He means (4) to draw an absolute distin
tion between the invisible or unchangeable which is or is the place
of mind or being, and the world of sense or becoming which &
visible and changing. He means (5) that the idea of the worlds
prior to the world, just as the other ideas are prior to sensible
objects; and like them may be regarded as ctemnal and self-existest,
and also, like the idew of good, may be viewed apart from the divine
mind.

‘There are several other questions which we might ask and which
can receive no answer, or at least only an answer of the same kind
as the preceding. How can matter be conceived to exist without
form? Or, how can the essences or forms of things be distin-
guished from the eternal ideas, or essence itself from the soul?
Or, how could there have been motion in the ehaos when as yet |
time was not? Or, how did chaos come into existence, if mot by
the will of the Creator? Or, how could there have been a time
when the world was not, if time was not? Or, how could the
Creator have taken portions of an indivisible same? Or, bow
could space or anything else bave been eternal when time is only
created? Or, how could the surfaces of geometrical figures bare
formed solids? We must reply again that we cannot follow Plate
in all his inconsistencies, but that the gaps of thought are probably
more apparent to us than to him. He would, perhaps, have said
that ‘the first things are known only to God and to him of men
whom God loves.’ How often have the gaps in Theology been

m=

Plato from his own pointof view; we must net ask for consistency,
Everywhere we find traces of the Platonic theory of knowledge
expressed in an objective form, which by us has to be translated
into the subjective, before we can attach any meaning to it. And
this theory is exhibited in so many different points of view, that
we cannot with any certainty interpret one dialogue by another;
@. g. the Timacus by the Parmenides or Phaedrus or Philebus.
‘The soul of the world may also be conceived as the personi-
fication of the numbers and figures in which the heavenly bodies
move, Imagine these as in a Pythagorean dream, stripped of
‘qualitative difference and reduced to mathematical abstractions.
‘They too conform to the principle of the same, and may be com-
pared with the modern conception of laws of nature, They are
im space, but not in time, and they are the makers of time. They
are represented as constantly thinking of the same; for thought in
the view of Plato is equivalent to truth or law, and need not imply
@ human consciousness, a conception which is familiar enough
10 ws, but has no place, hardly even a name, in ancient Greek
philesophy. To this principle of the same is opposed the prin-
ciple of the other —the principle of irregularity and disorder, of
necessity and chance, which is only partially impressed by
mathematical laws and figures. (We may observe by the way,
that the principle of the other, which is the principle of plurality
and variation in the Timacus, has nothing in common with the
‘other’ of the Sophist, which is the principle of determination.)
‘The clement of the same dominates to a certain extent over the
other — the fixed stars keep the ‘wanderers’ of the inner circle in
‘their courses (36C), and a similar principle of fixedness or order
‘Appears to regulate the bodily constitution of man (89 A, 90 D).
‘Bus there still remains a rebellious seed of evil derived from the
| original chaos, which is the source of disorder in the world, and of
vice and disease in man.

| But what did Plato mean by essence, ofoiay which is the inter-
mediate nature compounded of the Same and the Other, and out
‘of which, together with these two, the soul of the world is created?
Tt is difficult to explain a process of thought so strange and unac-
‘ctistomed to us, in which modern distinctions run into onc another

ie

eateceglirt el the byw of Gsth ! And oe my my tat only by ae Thame
effort of metaphysical imagination can we hope to understand foresees:

{ Raiedtils eterna ce and comer; bal moviegwician a
uniform motion around a centre, the outer circle containing the brraove.

| Fixed, the inner the wandering stars. ‘The soul of the world was
diffused everywhere from the centre to the circumference, To
this Ged gave a body, consisting at first of fire and earth, and
afterwards receiving an addition of air and water; because solid
bodies, like the world, are always connected by two middle terms
and not by one. The world was made in the form of a globe, and
‘all the material elements were exhausted in the work of creation.
‘The proportions in which the soul of the world as well as the
| human soul is divided answer to a series of numbers 1, 2, 3, 4,.%
__-8,27, composed of the two Pythagorean progressions 1, 2, 4, 8, and
3/309) 27, of which the number 1 represents @ point, 2 and 3 lines,
4. and 8, 9 an@'a7 the equares and cubes respectively of 2 and 3.
This series, of which the intervals are afterwards filled up, prob-
ably represents (1) the diatonic scale according to the Pytha~
goreans and Plato; (3) the order and distances of the heavenly
| bodies; and (3) may possibly contain an allusion to the music of
the spheres, which is referred to in the myth at the end of
| the Republic. The meaning of the words that ‘ solid bodies are
J) Sleaze connected by two middle terms’ or mean proportionals
‘has been mach disputed. ‘The most received explanation is that
| ef Martin, who supposes that Plato is only speaking of surfaces
| and solids compounded of prime numbers (i. ¢, of numbers not
made up of two factors, or, in other words, only measurable by
| amity). ‘The square of any such number represents a surface, the
| cube solid. The squares of any two such numbers (c. g- 2" 3°=
| 479); have alwayea single mean proportional (0, g. 4 and 9 have
| the single mean 6), whercas the cubes of primes (c. g. 3? and
| 5%) have always two mean’ proportionals (c. g. 27: 45 = 75 = 125).
| But to this explanation of Martin’s it may be objected, (2) that
{ Plato nowhere says that his proportion is to be limited to prime
| auumberss (2) that the limitation of surfaces to squares is also not
| tobe found in his words; nor (3) is there any evidence to show
| that the distinction of primo from other numbers was known to
| him. What Plato chiefly intends to express is that a solid re-
| ‘quires a stronger bond than a surface; and that the double bond
‘which is given by two means is stronger than the single bond
| given by one. Having reflected on the singular numerical phe-

|

Che com Riadictions of Timevand Space.

objections which may be urged against Kant's doctrine of the 7imens.
ideality of space and time at once press upon us. F the , omeweees

unreal, then all which is contained in time is unreal —the suc-
‘cession of human thoughts as well as the flux of sensations; there
is no connecting link between puivera and Sera, Yet, on the
‘other hand, we are conscious that knowledge is independent of
time, that truth is not a thing of yesterday or to-morrow, but an
‘eternal now.’ ‘To the ‘spectator of all time and all existence’
the universe remains at rest. The truths of geometry and arith-
metic in all their combinations are always the same. The genera:
tions of men, like the leaves of the forest, come and go, but the
mathematical laws by which the world is governed remain, and
seem as if they could never change, ‘The ever-present image of
‘space is transferred to time — succession is conceived as extension.
(We remark that Plato does away with the above and below in
space, as he has done away with the absolute existence of past
and future.) The course of time, unless regularly marked by
divisions of number, partakes of the indefiniteness of the Hera-
clitean flux. By such reflections we may conceive the Greck to
hhave attained the metaphysical conception of eternity, which to
the Hebrew was gained by meditation on the Divine Being. No
‘one saw that this objective was really a subjective, and involved
the subjectivity of all knowledge. ‘Non in tempore sed cum tem-
pore finxit Deus mundum,’ says St. Augustine, repeating a thought
derived from the Timacus, but apparently unconscious of the
results to which his doctrine would have led.

‘The contradictions involved in the conception of time or motion,
ke the infinitesimal in space, were a source of perplexity to the
mind of the Greck, who was driven to find a point of view above
or beyond them, They had sprung up in the decline of the Eleatic
philosophy and were very familiar to Plato, as we gather from the
Parmenides. The consciousness of them had led the great Eleatic
philosopher to describe the nature of God or Being under nega-
tives. He sings of ‘ Being unbegotten and imperishable, unmoved
and never-ending, which never was nor will be, but always is, one
and continuous, which cannot spring fromany other; for it cannot
be said or imagined not to be.’ The idea of eternity was for a
great part a negation. ‘There are regions of speculation in which
the negative is hardly separable from the positive, and even seems

as Democritus (Hippoly!. Ref. Hacr. 1. 13) had said, would be, as Trans.
he satirically observes, ‘the characteristic of a very indefinite and terncoue-

ignorant mind’ (55 C, D).

‘The twenty triangular faces of an icosahedron form the faces
or sides of two regular octahedrons and of a regular pyramid
(20=8 x 2-44); and therefore, according to Plato, a particle of
‘water when decomposed is supposed to give two particles of air
and one of fire. So because an octahedron gives the sides of two
pyramids (8 = 4 x 2), a particle of airis resolved into two particles
of fire.

‘The transformation Is effected by the superior power or number
of the conquering elements. The manner of the change is (1)
‘@ separation of portions of the elements from the masses in which
they are collected; (2) a resolution of them {nto their original
triangles; and (3) a reunion of them in new forms. Plato him-
self proposes the question, Why docs motion continue at all when
tlie elements are settled in their places? He answers that
although the force of attraction is continually drawing similar
clements to the same spot, still the revolution of the universe
exercises a condensing power, and thrusts them again out of their
natural places, Thus want of uniformity, the condition of motion,
is produced (57D f£), In all such disturbances of matter there
is an alternative for the weaker element: it may escape to its
kindred, or take the form of the stronger—becoming denser, if it
he denser, or rarer, if rarer. This is true of fire, air, and water,
which, being composed of similar triangles, are interchange-
able; earth, however, which has triangles peculiar to itself, is
capable of dissolution, but not of change (56 D ff.). Of the inter«
changeable clements, fire, the rarest, can only become a denser,
and water, the densest, only a rarer: but air may become adenser
or @ rarer. No single particle of the elements is visible, but
only the aggregates of them are seen, ‘The subordinate species
depend, not upon differences of form in the original triangles,
ut upon differences of site. The obvious physical pheno-
mena from which Plato has gathered his views of the relations
of the clements scem to be the effect of fire upon air, water,
and earth, and the effect of water upon carth. The particles
are supposed by him to be in a perpetual process of circu-
Tation caused by inequality. This process of circulation docs

‘YOL. 11.—4r

Wieerventatort With Hila Aimarion ememjur Inhny

‘The anvil yilipelieal doetriniee of tlie ‘Thneens rany be mei
WOE Filton CH) Mladen sappunee ( yreator mames of the ele
Wee 1 Hekew Lew altendly wetted in hele places at the creation :
(A) Hey ate Que He Hien and) ate formed of rectungeler
Whip les CAHWUSLY CHa Lt vOgNlAr voll figures: (3) three
WELK, Ave aly and water, adil Of trimiiemation ito ome
WHihhod ) Ue Maat eats Oapwot tee siuniiaety teamafierned> (4)
WHEL Slee ot (he ene Hagin Rain the Messer species off
Qh ROMO (AY Ueto tom ateepetion of Ble to Ril somali
Wunvuen vl lhe aly Kel Deeng Uieaee femmes greater: (6) ethene ie
Won Vth al Ube pave ten Af Gnaitoe aire eee pcihiing me amet
\omMh kA glia (ieennome RR Ue: mani, ER settee
Ve MIR Nees We totais oe diifiteomces it geumetrme
Sys ke tee es eniint: he greene Mgr wil saree
Se HO SSE Mem aerteallte onbecadie Dimemeestm i
Se Se ec er

ve
SO ene Mane mee oa ina ey att
Ne ON GN ened te SE TIE
VR SB enantio
NR 8 ee ek mete a i

Same and Other: the fixed stars and planets.

403

of the heavens. We speak of a soul of the universe; but more Timann

| truly regarded, the universe of the Timacus is a soul, governed re

by mind, and holding in solution a residuum of matter or evil,
which the author of the world it unable to expel, and of which
Plato cannot tell us the origin. The creation, in Plato's sense, i
really the creation of order; and the first step in giving order is
the division of the heavens into an inner and outer circle of the
other and the same, of the divisible and the indivisible, answering
| w the two spheres, of the planets and of the world beyond them,
all together moving around the earth, which is their centre, To
‘us there is a difficulty in apprehending how that which is at rest
| ean also be in motion, or that which is indivisible exist in space.
But the whole description is so ideal and imaginative, that
we can hardly venture to attribute to many of Plato's words in
the Timaeus any more meaning than to his mythical account
‘of the heavens in the Republic and in the Phaedrus. (Cp, his
denial of the ‘blasphemous opinion’ that there are planets or
wandering stars; all alike move in circles—Laws vii. 821, 822.)
‘The stars are the habitations of the souls of men, from which they
come and to which they return. In attributing to the fixed stars
‘only the most perfect motion —that which is on the same spot or
circling around the same—he might perhaps have said that to
‘the spectator of all time and all existence,” to borrew once more
| his own grand expression, or viewed, in the language of Spinoza,
‘sub specie aeternitatis,’ they were still at rest, but appeared to
move in order to teach men the periods of time. Although
‘absolutely in motion, they are relatively at rest; or we may
conceive of them as resting, while the space in which they are
contained, or the whole anime mundi, revolves.

‘The gniverse revolves around a centre once in twenty-four
hours, but the orbits of the fixed stars take a different direction
from those of the planets, The outer and the inner sphere cross
‘one another and meet again at a point opposite to that of their
fizst contact; the first moving in a circle from left to right along
the side of a parallelogram which is supposed to be inscribed in
it, the second also moving in 2 circle along the diagonal of the
same parallelogram from right to left; or, in other words, the
first describing the path of the equator, the second, the path of
the ecliptic. The motion of the second is controlled by the first,

|

centre of the system,

405,

| occultations of the stars, which, if the outer heaven is supposed 7imarar
to be moving around the centre once in twenty-four hours, must terecoue
| be confined to the effects produced by the seven planet, Plato

| seems to confuse the actual observation of the heavens with his
| desire to find in them mathematical perfection. The same spirit
‘is-carried yet further by him in the passage already quoted from
the Laws, in which he affirms their wanderings to be an appears
ance only, which a little knowledge of mathematics would enable
‘men to correct.

‘We have now to consider the much discussed question of the
rotation or immobility of the carth. Plato's doctrine on this
subject is contained in the following words:—* The earth, which is
‘our nurse, compacted [or revolving] around the pole which is
extended through the universe, he made to be the guardian and
artificer of night and day, first and eldest of gods that are in the
interior of heaven’ (40B, C), There is an unfortunate doubt in this
passage (1) about the meaning of the word D2oulum, which is
translated cither ‘compacted’ or ‘revolving,’ and is equally
capable of both explanations, A doubt (2) may also be raised as
to whether the words ‘artificer of day and night’ are consistent
with the mere passive causation of them, produced by the
| immobility of the carth in the midst of the circling universe.

‘We must admit, further, (3) that Aristotle attributed to Plato the

doctrine of the rotation of the earth on its axis. On the other

hand it bas been urged that if the earth goes round with the
outer hewen and sun in twenty-four hours, there is no way of
accounting for the alternation of day and night; since the equal

‘motion of the earth and sun would have the effect of absolute

immobility, To which it may be replied that Plato never says

that the earth goes round with the outer heaven and sun;
although the whole question depends on the relation of earth and
sun, their movements are nowhere precisely described. But if

‘we suppose, with Mr. Grote, that the diurnal rotation of the

‘earth on ‘its axis and the revolution of the sun and outer heaven

Precisely coincide, it would be difficult to imagine that Plato was

unaware of the consequence. For though he was ignorant of

‘many things which are familiar to us, and often confused in his

ideas where we have become clear, we have no right to attribute

to him a childish want of reasoning about very simple facts, or an

Ai

Plato, Aristotle, and Mr. Grote.

might be expected to speak of the rotation of the earth, is more Tiare
favourable to the doctrine of its immobility than to the opposite, txresor

If he had meant to say that the carth revolves on its axis, he
would have said so in distinct words, and have explained tho
relation af its movements to those of the other heavenly bodies,
(5) The meaning of the words ‘artificer of day and night’ is
liserally true according to Plato’s view. For the alternation of day
and night is not produced by the motion of the heavens alone,
or by the immobility of the earth alone, but by both together;
and that which has the inherent force or energy to remain at
rest when all other bodies are moving, may be truly said to
act, equally with them. (6) We should not lay too much stress
on Aristotle having adopted the other interpretation of the words,
although Alexander of Aphrodisias thinks that he could not
have been ignorant either of the doctrine of Plato or of the
sense which he intended to give to the word iiouhyy, For the
citations of Plato in Aristotle are frequently misinterpreted by
him; and he seems hardly ever to have had in his mind the
connection in which they occur, In this instance the allusion is
very alight, and there is no reason to suppose that the diurnal
revolution of the heavens was present to his mind. Hence we
‘peed not attribute to him the error from which we are defending
Plato.

After weighing one against the other all these complicated
Probabilities, the final conclusion at which we arrive is that there
is nearly as much to be said on the one side of the question as on
the other, and that we are not perfectly certain, whethor, as Bockh
and the majority of commentators, ancient as well as modern, are
Inclined to believe, Plato thought that the earth was at rest in the
centre of the universe, or, as Aristotle and Mr. Grote suppose,
that it revolved on its axis. Whether we assume the carth to be
stationary in the centre of the universe, or to revolve with the
heavens, no explanation is given of the variation in the length of
days and nights at different times of the year. The relations
of the carth and heavens are so indistinct in the ‘Timacus and
so figurative in the Phaedo, Phacdrus and Republic, that we
‘must gire up the hope of ascertaining how they were imagined
by Plato, if he had any fixed or scientific conception of them
at all.

407

Ie at Rese e cena seis which te tet tins weg Foose
and which is akin to the soul of the universe. This alone thinks Serapeved

sand knows and is the ruler of the whole. Secondly, there is the
higher mortal soul which, though liable to perturbations of her
‘own, takes the side of reason against the lower appetites. The
‘seat of this is the heart, in which courage, anger, and all the nobler
affections are supposed to reside. There the veins all meet; it is
their centre or house of guard whence they carry the orders of the
‘thinking being to the extremities of his kingdom. There is also
a third or appetitive soul, which receives the commands of the
immortal part, not immediately but mediately, through the liver,
whiels reflects on its surface the admonitions and threats ef the
‘reason.

‘The liver is imagined by Plato to be a smooth and bright sub-
stance, having a store of sweetness and also of bitterness, which
reason freely uses in the execution of her mandates. In this
region, as ancient superstition told, were to be found intimations
"of the future. But Plato is careful to observe that although such

knowledge is given to the inferior parts of man, it requires to be
| interpreted by the superior. Reason, and not enthusiasm, is the
| true guide of man; he is only inspired when he is demented by

some distemper or possesion. The ancient saying, that ‘only
| aman in his senses can judge of his own actions,' is approved

‘by modern philosophy too. The same irony which appears in
| Plato's remnrk, that ‘the men of old time must surely have known
| ‘the gods who were their ancestors, and we should believe them as

‘custom requires,’ is also manifest in his account of divination.
‘The appetitive soul is seated in the belly, and there imprisoned
‘ike a wild beast, far away from the council chamber, as Plato
graphically calls the head, in order that the animal passions may
not interfere with the deliberations of reason. Though the soul is
sald by him to be prior to the body, yet we cannot help secing

_ that it is constructed on the model of the body —the threefold
‘ivision into the rational, passionate, and appetitive correspondiny:

| to the head, heart and belly. The human soul differs from the
‘soul of the world in this respect, that it is enveloped and finds
its expression in matter, whereas the soul of the world is not
only enveloped or diffused in matter, but is the element in which
‘matter mores, The breath of man is within him, but the air

hee

5 of respiration and digestion,

i erscah htc nach ocbir: ‘The whole description is Sgurative, a5 Timsess.
‘Plato himself implies (79 D) when he speaks of a ‘fountain of fire Eerseonc,

swhich we compere to the network of a creel.’ He really means by
‘this what we should describe as a state of heat or temperature in

interior of the body, The ‘fountain of fire’ or heat is also in
‘2 figure the circulation of the blood. The passage is partly
_ imagination, partly fact.

He has a singular theory of respiration for which he accounts
wlely by the movement of the air in and out of the body; he does
‘mot attribute any part of the process to the action of the body
itself. ‘The air bas a double ingress and a double exit, through
the mouth or nostrils, and through the skin. When exhaled
through the mouth or nostrils, it leayes a vacuum which is filled
‘up by other air finding a way in through the pores, this air being
thrust out of its place by the exhalation from the mouth and
nostrils. There is also a corresponding process of inhalation
through the mouth or nostrils, and of exhalation through the
“pores, The inhalation through the pores appears to take place
‘pearly at the same time as the exhalation through the mouth;
‘and conversély. The internal fire is in cither case the propelling
camse outwards —the inhaled air, when heated by it, having
| a matural tendency to move out of the body to the place of fire
while the impossibility of a vacuum is the propelling cause
esa
‘Thus we soe that this singular theory is dependent on two

————

principles largely employed by Plato in explaining the operations
‘of nature, the impossibility of a vacuum and the attraction of like
| to like, To these there has to be added a third principle, which is
the condition of the action of the other two,— the interpenetration
| of particles in proportion to their density or rarity. It is this
| which enables fire and air to permeate the flesh.
Plato's account of digestion and the circulation of the blood
| ‘¥s closely connected with his theory of respiration. Digestion
is supposed to be effected by the action of the internal fire,
| which in the process of respiration moves into the stomach and
| miinces the food. As the fire returns to its place, it takes with
| dt the minced food or blood; and in this way the veins are
| replenished Plato does not enquire how the blood is separated
| fram the freces,

Plato and modern doctors. 413

“of food The freshest and acutest forms of triangles are those that Timares.
arc found in children, but they become more obtuse with ad- teracnoe-
vancing years; and when they finally wear out and fall to pices,
‘old age and death supervene.

As in the Republic, Plato is still the enemy of the purgative
treatment of physicians, which, except in extreme cases, no man
‘of sense will ever adopt. For, as he adds, with an insight into
the truth, * every disease is akin to the nature of the living being
and is only irritated by stimulants.’ He is of opinion that nature
should be left to herself, and is inclined to think that physicians

| fare in vain (cp. Laws vi. 761 C—where he says that warm baths
would be more beneficial to the limbs of the aged rustic than
the prescriptions of a not over-wise doctor), If he seems to be
‘extreme in hit condemnation of medicine and to rely too much
on diet and exercise, he might appeal to nearly all the best
physicians of our own age in support of his opinions, who often
speak to their patients of the worthlessness of drugs. For
| we onrselves are sceptical about medicine, and very unwilling to
submit to the purgative treatment of physicians. May we not
claim for Plato an anticipation of modern ideas as about some
questions of astronomy and physics, so also about medicine? As
in the Charmides (156, 157) he tells us that the body cannot be
cured without the soul, so in the Timacus he strongly asserts
the sympathy of soul and body; any defect of cither is the
‘occasion of the greatest discord and disproportion in the other.
] Here too may be a presentiment that in the medicine of the
future the interdependence of mind and body will be more fully
recognized, and that the influence of the one over the other may
‘be exerted in a manner which is not now thought possible.

$7.

In Plato’s explanation of sensation we are struck by the fact

_ that he has not the same distinct conception of organs of sense
which is familiar to ourselves, The senses are not instruments,
‘but rather passages, through which external objects strike upon
the mind. The eye is the aperture through which the stream of
vision passes, the car is the aperture through which the vibrations
of sound pass. But that the complex structure of the eye or the

al philosophy despised by the moderns.

tion and motion are communicated from one part of the body
the other, though he confuses the affections with the organs.
‘Hearing i a blow which parses through the car and ends in the
region of the liver, being transmitted by means of the air, the
‘brain, and the blood to the soul. The swifter sound is acute, the
jound which moves slowly is grave. A great body of sound is
oud, the opposite is low, Discord is produced by the swifter and
slower motions of two sounds, and is converted into harmony
‘when the swifter motions begin to pause and are overtaken by the

‘The general phenomena of sensation are partly internal, but
the more violent are caused by conflict with external objects.
‘Proceeding by a method of superficial observation, Plato remarks
"that the more sensitive parts of the human frame are those which
are least covered by flesh, as is the case with the head and the

elbows, Man, if his head had been covered with a thicker pulp of
“lesb, might have been a longer-lived animal than he is, but could
" mot have had as quick perceptions. On the other hand, the
“tongue Is one of the most sensitive of organs; but then this is
made, not to be a covering to the bones which contain the marrow
F source of life, but with an express purpose, and ina separate
mass (75 A).

We have now to consider how far in any of these speculations

approximated to the discoveries of modern science. The
dem physical philosopher is apt to dwell exclusively on the
rtdities of ancient ideas about science, on the hap-hazard
penis and a Prior! assumptions of ancient teachers, on their

jion of facts and ideas, on their inconsistency and blindness
‘the most obvious phenomena, He measures them not by what
_prsceded. them, dot by what has followed them,
R ‘that ancient physical philosophy was not a free enquiry,
a growth, in which the mind was passive rather than active,
| was incapable of resisting the impressions which flowed in
4 it, He hardly allows to the notions of the ancients the
“merit of | being the stepping-stones by which be has himself risen

a h ‘The instruments of taste reach from the tongue Yiercnn
‘to the heart. Plato has a lively sense of the manner in which Ixrmeoco

The value of Plato's physical speculations.

417

Philosophy and metaphysical too have been guilty of similar) 7imarse
fallacies in quite recent times. We Ty ee apenas CUR Rite

clearly between mind and body, between Ideas and facts. Have.
‘mot many discussions arisen about the Atomic theory in which
'@ point has been confused with a material atom? Have not the
natures of things heen explained by imaginary entities, such as
life or phlogiston, which exist in the mind only? Has not diseaye
been regarded, like sin, sometimes as a negative and necessary,
sometimes asa positive or malignant principle? The ‘idols’ of
Bacon are nearly as common now as ever; they are inherent in
‘the human mind, and when they have the most complete dominion
‘over us, we are least able to perceive them. We recognize them
‘in the ancients, but we fail to see them in ourselves.

Such reflections, although this is not the place in which to
‘dwell upon them at length, Icad us to take a favourable view of
the speculations of the Timacus. We should consider not how
much Plato actually knew, but how far he has contributed to the
general ideas of physics, or supplicd the notions which, whether
‘truc or false, have stimulated the minds of later generations in
‘the path of discovery. Some of them may seem old-fashioned,
‘but may nevertheless have had a great influence in promoting
system and assisting enquiry, while in others we hear the latest
“word of physical or’ metaphysical philosophy. ‘There is also an
‘intermediate class, in which Plato falls short of the truths of
‘modern science, though he is not wholly unacquainted with them.
{t) To the firat class belongs the teleological theory of creation.
‘Whether all things in the world can be explained as the result of
‘natural laws, or whether we must not admit of tendencies and
taarks of design also, has been a question much disputed of late
years. Even if all phenomena are the result of natural forces, we
‘must admit that there are many things in heaven and earth which
are as well expressed under the image of mind or design as
under any other. At any rate, the language of Plato has been the
Janguage of natural theology down to our own time, nor can any
description of the world wholly dispense with it. The notion of
fest and second or co-operative causes, which originally appears
in the Timacus, has likewise survived to our own day, and has
‘been a great peace-maker between theology and science. Plato
also approaches very near to our doctrine of the primary and

VOL, Mt—42

Plato's ‘doctrine of equipoise.
‘instances, they applied them everywhere; and in the complexity, 7ireweat.

419

of which they were capable, found the explanation of the equally Ieracoes

complex phenomena of the universe. They seemed to see them
in the least things as well as in the greatest; in atoms, as well as
in suns and stars; in the human body as well as in externa)
nature And now a favourite speculation of modern chemistry is
the explanation of qualitative difference by quantitative, which
& at prescot verified to a certain extent and may hereafter be
‘of far more universal application. What is this but the atoma of
Democritus and the triangles of Plato? The ancients should not
be wholly deprived of the credit of their guesses because they
were unable to prove them. May they not have had, like the
‘animals, an instinct of something more than they knew?

Besides general notions we seem to find in the Timaeus some
more precise approximations to the discoveries of modern
physical science. First, the doctrine of equipoise. Plato\a(firms,
almost in so many words, that nature abhors a vacuum. When-
ever a particle is displaced, the rest push and thrust one another
‘until equality is restored. We must remember that these ideas
were not derived from any definite experiment, but were the
‘original reflections of man, fresh from the first observation of
nature, The latest word of modern philosophy is continuity and
development, but to Plato this is the beginning and foundation of
sclence; there is nothing that he is so strongly persuaded of as
‘that the world is one, and that all the various existences which
are contained in it are only the transformations of the same soul
‘of the world acting on the same matter. He would have readily
admitted that out of the protoplasm all things were formed by the
gradual process of creation; but he would have insisted that
hind and intelligence — not meaning by this, however, a conscious
‘mind or person — were prior to them, and could alone have created
‘them. Into the workings of this cternal mind or intelligence he
does not enter furthers nor would there have been any use in
attempting to investigate the things which no eye has scen nor
any human Language can express.

‘Lastly, there remain two points in which he sccms to touch
great discoveries of modern times — the law of gravitation, and the
cireulation of the blood.

41) The law of gravitation, according to Plato, isa law, not only

The relation of the Timaeus to the other dialogues.

4ar

Pythagorean philosopher, and therefore here, as in the Par- Timscw.

sentiments. Hence the connexion with the other dialogues is
comparatively alight. We may fill up the lacunac of the Timacus
by the help of the Republic or Phacdrus: we may identify the
same and other with the xépac and drepor of the Philebus. We
may find in the Laws or in the Statesman parallels with the
account of ereation and of the first origin of man. It would be
possible to frame a scheme in which all these various elements
might have a place. But such a mode of proceeding would be
unsatisfactory, because we have no reason to suppose that Plato
intended his scattered thoughts to be collected in a system.
‘There is a common spirit in his writings, and there are certain
general principles, such as the opposition of the sensible and
intellectual, and the priority of mind, which run through all of
them; but he has no definite forms of words in which he con-
sistently expresses himself. While the determinations of human
thought are in process of creation he is necessarily tentative and
| uncertain. And there is Teast of definiteness, whenever either in
describing the beginning or the end of the world, he has recourse
to myths. These are not the fixed modes in which spiritual
truths are revealed to him, but the efforts of imagination, by
which as different times and in various manners he seeks to
‘embody his conceptions. The clouds of mythology are still
resting upon him, and he has not yet pierced ‘to the heaven of
the fixed stars’ which is beyond them. It is safer then to admit
the Inconsistencies of the Timacus, or to endeavour to fill up
what is wanting from our own imagination, inspired by a study of
the dialogue, than to refer to other Platonic writings, — and still less
should we refer to the successors of Plato,— for the elucidation of it.
| More light is thrown upon the Timaeus by a comparison of the
| previous philosophies. For the physical science of the ancients
was traditional, descending through many generations of Ionian
and Pythagorean philosophers. Plato does not took out upon the
heavens and describe what he sees in them, but he builds upon
the foundations of others, adding something out of the * depths of
his own self-comsciousness.’ Socrates had already spoken of God
the creator, who made all things for the best. While he ridiculed
the Superficial explanations of phenomena which were current in

Ma

menides, we are in doubt how far Plato is expressing his own termoee

up of opposites or to be in

“The fragments of Philolaus.

certain limits which are controlled by what he calls the principle Timea
ofthe same, “Unlike the Eleatics, who relegated the world to the trrmovce

sphere of not-being, he admits creation to have an existence
which is real and even eternal, although dependent on the will of
the creator (gr A, B), Instead of maintaining the doctrine that
the void has a necessary place in the existence of the world, he
rather «firms the modern thesis that nature abhors a vacuum, as
in the Sophist he also denies the reality of not-being (cp, Aristot.
‘Metaph. i. 4, $9), But though in these respects he differs from
them, he is deeply penetrated by the spirit of their philosophy;
he differs from them with reluctance, and gladly recognizes the
*gencrous depth ' of Parmenides (Theact. 183 E).

‘There is a similarity between the Timacus and the fragments
of Philolaus, which by some has been thought to be so great
a to create a suspicion that they are derived from it, Philo~
laus is known to us from the Phaedo of Plato asa Pythagorean
philosopher residing at Thebes in the latter half of the fifth
century B. C., after the dispersion of the original Pythagorean
society, He was the teacher of Simmias and Cebes, who became
disciples of Socrates. We have hardly any other information
about him. The story that Plato had purchased three books of
his writings from a relation is not worth repeating; it is only a
fanciful way ia which an ancient biographer dresses up the fact
that there was supposed to be a resemblance between the two
writers, Similar gossiping stories are told about the sources of
the Republic and the Phacdo, ‘That there really existed in
‘antiquity a work passing under the name of Philolaus there can
be no doubt. Fragments of this work are preserved to us, chiefly
im Stobacus, a few in Bocthius and other writers. They remind
us of the Timaeus, as well as of the Phoedrus and Philebus.
When the writer says (Stob, Eclog. i. 22, 7) that all things are
either finite (definite) of infinite (indefinite), or a union af the two,
and that this antithesis and synthesis pervades all art and nature,
we are reminded of the Philebus (23 ff.). When he calls the
centre of the world feria, we have a parallel to the Phaedrus
{247 A). His distinction between the world of order, to which
the sun and moon and the stars belong, and the world of disorder,
which lies in the region between the moon and the earth, ap-
proximates to Plato's sphere of the Same and of the Other. Like

Contradictery aspects of Plato's philosophy. 425

+ These pairs of opposites are so many aspects of the great apposl- Tiweeras
tion between ideas and phenomena —they easily pass into one Iyraaine
another; and sometimes the two members of the relation differ
in kind, sometimes only in degree. As in Aristotle's matter and
form, the connexion between them is really inseparable; for if we
attempt to scparate them they become devoid of content and
therefore indistinguishable; there is no difference between, the
idea of which nothing can be predicated, and the chaos or matter
which has no perceptible qualities — between Being in the abstract
and Nothing. Yet we are frequently told that the one class of
them is the reality and the other appearance; and one is often

| spoken af as the double or reflection of the other. For Plato

| never clearly saw that both elements had an equal place in mind
and in nature; and hence, especially when we argue from isolated
passages in his writings, or attempt to draw what appear to us to
‘be the natural inferences from them, we are full of perplexity.
‘There is a similar corifusion about necessity and free-will, and
about the state of the soul after death. Also he sometimes sup-
poses that God is immanent in the world, sometimes that he is
transcendent. And having no distinction of objective and sub-
| jective, he passes imperceptibly from one to the other; from
intelligence to soul, from eternity to time. These contradictions
may be softened or concealed by a judicious use of language, but
| they cannot be wholly got rid of. That an age of intellectual
transition must also be one of inconsistency; that the creative is
opposed to the critical or defining habit of mind or time, has been

‘often repeated by us, But, as Plato would say, ‘there is no harm

4m repeating twice or thrice’ (Laws vi. 754 C) what is important

for the understanding of a great author.

Tt has not, however, been observed, that the confusion partly
arses out of the elements of opposing philosophies which are
‘preserved in him. He holds these in solution, he brings them
into relation with one another, but he does not perfectly harmonize
them. They are part of his own mind, and he is incapable of
Placing himself outside of them and criticizing them, They grow
‘as he grows; they are a kind of composition with which his
‘own philosophy is overlaid. In early life he fancies that he
|) fans mastered them: but he is also mastered by them; and in
language (ep. Sophist, 243 8) which may be compared with the

a

than is found in any
Laws x. got, 992) ©

person, and speaks and is spoken of as God. Yet his personality Zimaran
‘ems to appear only in the actaf creation. In so far as he works Uerwooes:
with his cye fixed upon an eternal pattern he is like the human
artificer in the Republic (vi, 501 By x. $97). Here the theory of
Platonic ideas intrudes upon us. God, like man, is supposed to
have an ideal of which Plato is unable to tell us the origin. He
| may be sid, in the language of modern philesophy, to resolve the
i divine mind into subject and object.
| ‘The first work of creation is perfected, the second begins under
the direction of inferior ministers, The supreme God is with~
drawn from the world and returns to his own accustomed nature
{Tim. 42 E). Asin the Statesman (272 E), he retires to his place
of view, So early did the Epicurean doctrine take possession of
ibe Greek mind, and so natural is it to the heart of man, when he
has ence passed out of the stage of mythology into that of rational
| religion. For he sees the marks of design in the world; but he
‘no longer sees or fancies that he sees God walking in the garden
or hawating stream or mountain. He feels also that he must put
God. as far as possible out of the way of evil, and therefore he
j banishes him from an evil world. Plato is sensible of the diffi-
culty; and he ofien shows that he is desirous of justifying the
ways of God to man, Yct on the other hand, i the Tenth Book
‘of the Laws (899, 900 ff.) he passes a censure on those who say
that the Gods have no care of human things.
| The creation of the world is the impression of order om a pre-
| viously existing chaos. ‘The formula of Anaxagoras —‘all things
were in chaos or confusion, and then mind came and disposed
them '—is 4 summary of the first part of the Timacus, It is true
that of a chaos without differences no idea could be formed. All
was not mixed but one; and therefore it was not difficult for the
Jater Platonists to draw inferences by which they were enabled to
reconcile the narrative of the Timacus with the Mosaic account of
the creation. Neither when we speak of mind or intelligence, do
we seem to get much further in our conception than cireular
motion, which was deemed to be the most perfect. Plato, like
Anaxagoras, while commencing his theory of the universe with
‘ideas of mind and of the best, is compelled in the execution of his
design to candescend to the crudest physics.
(ce) The morality of the Timacus is singular, and it is difficult to

The legend of Atlantis.

429

of ‘taw." To feel habitually that he is part of the order of the rimesr,
universe, is one of the highest ethical motives of which man is trmmore

‘capable. Something like this is what Plato means when he
speaks of the soul ‘moving about the same in unchanging thought
ofthe same.’ He does not explain how man is acted upon by the
Jesser influences of custom or of opinion; or how the commands
‘of the sou} watching in the citadel are conveyed to the bodily
organs. But this perhaps, to use once more expressions of his
‘own, ‘ia part of another subject’ (87 B) or ‘may be more suitably
‘discussed on some other occasion” (38 B).
‘There is no difficulty, by the help of Aristotle and later writers,
im criticizing the Timacus of Plato, in pointing out the incon-
| sistencies of the work, in dwelling on the ignorance of anatomy
displayed by the author, in showing the fancifuiness or unmean-
ingness of some of his reasons. But the Timacus still remains
the greatest effort of the human mind to conceive the world as
a whole which the genius of antiquity has bequeathed to us

One more aspect of the Timacus remains to be considered —
the mythological or geographical. Is it not a wonderful thing
that a few pages of one of Plato's dialogues haye grown into
a great legend, not confined to Greece only, but spreading far and
wide over the nations of Europe and reaching even to Egypt and
Asia? Like the tale of Troy, or the legend of the Ten Tribes (cp.
Ewald, Hist. of Isr., vol. v), which perhaps originated in a few
| verses of II Esdras, s. xiii, it has become famous, because it has
coincided with a great historical fact, Like the romance of King
Arthur, which has had so great a charm, it has found a way
over the seas from one country and language to another. It
inspired the navigators of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries; it
foreshadowed the discovery of America. It realized the fiction so
atural to the human mind, because it answered the enquiry
about the origin of the arts, that there had somewhere existed
an ancient primitive civilization. It might find a place wherever
fen chose to Jook for it; in North, South, East, or West; in the
Islands of the Beat; before the entrance of the Straits of Gibraltar,
in Sweden or in Palestine, It mattered little whether the descrip-
tion in Plato agreed with the locality assigned to it or not. Te

| a aa

human mind is liable to be imposed upon by the iuslons of 7amaras
the past, which aro ever assuming some new form.

When we have shaken off the rubbish of ages, there remain
| one or two questions of which the investigation has a permanent
| value :—
| i. Did Plato derive the legend of Atlantis from an Egyptian
| source?’ It may be replied that there is no such legend in any
| writer previous to Plato; neither in Homer, nor in Pindar, nor in
| Herodotus is there any mention of an Island of Atlantis, nor any
| reference to it in Aristotle, nor any citation of an earlier writer by
| a later one in which it is to be found. Nor have any traces been

discovered hitherto in Egyptian monuments of a connexion be-
| tween Greece and Egypt older than the cighth or ninth century
| RG Ie is true that Proclus, writing in the fifth century after
Christ, tells us of stones and columns in Egypt on which the
history of the Island of Auantis was engraved. The statement
may be false—there are similar tales about columns set up ‘by
the Canaanites whom Joshua drove out’ (Procop.); but even if
true, it would only show that the legend, 800 years after the time
of Plato, had been transferred to Egypt, and inscribed, not, like
other forgeries, in books, but on stone. Probably in the Alexan-
drian age, when Egypt had ceased to have a history and began to
appropriate the legends of other nations, many such monuments
were to be found of events which had become famous in that or
other countries. The oldest witness to the story is said to be
‘Crantor, a Stoic philosopher who lived a generation Iater than
Plato, and therefore may have borrowed it from him. The
‘Statement is found in Proclus; but we require better assurance
than Proclus can give us before we accept this or any other state-
ment which he makes.

Secondly, passing from the external to the internal evidence,
we may remark that the story is far more likely to have been
fovented by Plato than to have been brought by Solon from
Egypt. That is another part of his legend which Plato also secks
to impose upon us, The verisimilitude which he has given to the
tale is @ further reason for suspecting it; for he could casily
‘invent Egyptian or any other tales’ (Phaedrus 275 B). Are not
the words, *The truth of the story is a great advantage,’ if we
read between the lines, an indication of the fiction? It is only a

Le

43

| erneaecs
Tem,

A

Did the legend influence early voyagers?

433

‘been terrified if he could have foreseen the endless fancies to Timaene
which his Island of Atlantis has given occasion, Rather he would kerio

have been infinitely amused if he could have known that his
gift of invention would have deceived M. Martin himself into the
belief that the tradition was brought from Egypt by Solon and
‘made the subject of a poem by him (Tome i. p, 323). M. Martin
may also be gently censured for citing without sufficient dis
‘crimination ancient authors having very different degrees of
‘authority and value,

il. It Is an interesting and not unimportant question which is
touched upon by Martin, whether the Atlantis of Plato in any
degree held out a guiding light to the early navigators, He is
faclined to think that there is no real connexion between them.
Bat surely the discovery of the New World was preceded by
‘a prophetic anticipation of it, which, like the hope of a Messiah,
‘was entering into the hearts of men? And this hope was nursed
by ancient tradition, which had found expression from time to
time in the celebrated lines of Seneca and in many other places.
“This tradition was sustained by the great authority of Plato, and
therefore the legend of the Island of Atlantis, though not closely
connected with the voyages of the early navigators, may be truly
‘ss2id to have contributed indirectly to the great discovery.

‘The Timacus of Plato, like the Protagoras and several portions
‘of the Phaedrus and Republic, was translated by Cicero into
Latin. About a fourth, comprehending with lacunae the first
portion of the dialogue, is preserved in several MSS. These
generally agree, and therefore may be supposed to be derived
from a single original. The version is very faithful, and is a
remarkable monument of Cicero's skill in managing the difficult
and intractable Greek. In his treatise De Naturi Deorum, i. 8.
42, ii. 12, he also refers to the Timaeus, which, speaking in the
person of Velleius the Epicurean, he severely criticises,

‘The commentary of Proclus (fl. c. 440 A.D.) on the Timaeus is

a wonderful monument of the silliness and prolixity of the Alex

andrian Age. It extends to about thirty pages of the book, and is

thirty times the length of the original. It is surprising that this
VOL. HL—43

From the garden of the Timaeus, as from the other dialogues 7iwans
‘of Plato, we may still gather a few flowers and present them at ieee"
parting to the reader. There is nothing in Plato grander and
simpler than the conversation between Solon and the Egyptian
priest, in which the youthfulness of Hellas is contrasted with the
antiquity of Egypt. Here are to be found the famous words,
+0 Solan, Solon, you Hellencs are ever young, and there is not
an old man among you'—which may be compared to the lively
saying of Hegel, that “Greek history began with the youth Achilles
I and left off with the youth Alexander.’ The numerous arts of
verisimilitude by which Plato insinuates into the mind of the
reader the truth of his narrative have been already referred to,
‘Here occur a sentence or two not wanting in Platonic irony
(feriare cwveroies—a. word to the wise). 40D fh: ‘To know or
tell the origin of the other divinities is beyond us, and we must
accept the traditions of the men of old tine who affirm themselves
‘40 be the offspring of the Gods— that is what they say—and they
‘must surely have known their own ancestors. How can we doubt
the word of the children of the Gods? Although they give no pro-
able or certain proofs, still, as they declare that they are speaking:
‘of what took place in their own family, we must conform to custom
and believe them.’ 76 E: ‘Our creators well knew that women
and other animals would some day be framed out of men, and
they farther knew that many animals would require the use of
nails for many purposes; wherefore they fashioned in men at
their first creation the rudiments of nails." Or once more, let us
reflect on two serious passages in which the order of the world is
__ supposed to find a place in the human sou! and to infuse harmony
‘into it. 37 A ffi: ‘The soul, when touching anything that has
‘essence, whether dispersed in parts or undivided, is stirred through
‘all her powers to declare the sameness or difference of that thing
‘and some other; and to what individuals are related, and by what
affected, and in what way and how and when, both in the world
generation and in the world of immutable being. And when
‘reason, which works with equal truth, whether she be in the circle
of the diverse or of the same,—in voiceless silence holding her
‘onward course in the sphere of the selfmoved,— when reason,
Tsay, is hovering around the sensible world, and when the circle
of the diverse also moving truly imparts the intimations of sense

all wives and children were to be in common, to the intent aman:

to imagine that they were all one family; those who were *™\=*

within a suitable limit of age were to be brothers and sisters,
those who were of an elder generation parents and grand-
parents, and those of a younger, children and grandchildren.

Tim. Yes, and the proposal is easy to remember, as you
‘say.

Sec, And do you also remember how, with a view of
securing as far as we could the best breed, we said that the
chicf magistrates, male and female, should contrive secretly,
by the use of certain lots, so to arrange the nuptial meeting,
that the bad of either sex and the good of either sex might
pair with their like; and there was to be no quarreling on
this account, for they would imagine that the union was a
mere accident, and was to be attributed to the lot?

Tie. 1 remember.

Se, And you remember how we said that the children of ©) Tmne
| eee moma and the children of Puen,
the bad secretly dispersed among the inferior citizens; and cuss
while they were all growing up the rulers were to be on the
fook-out, and to bring up from below in their turn those who.
were worthy, and those among themselves who were um

worthy were to take the places of those who came up?

Tim, True,

Ser. Then have I now given you all the heads of our
yesterday's discussion? Or is there anything more, my
dear Timacus, which has been omitted?

‘Tim. Nothing, Socrates; it was just as you have said.

Soe. I should like, before proceeding further, to tell you Socrates
‘how I feel about the State which we have described. I might {olnst
‘compare myself to a person who, on bebolding beautiful inw his save:
animals cither created by the painter's art, or, better still, beyreslt le
‘alive but at rest, is seized with a desire of seeing them itinom
fm motion or engaged in some struggle or conflict to which Jwehs |
‘their forms appear suited; this is my feeling about the State she gift
“which we have been describing. ‘There are conflicts which {over
‘alll cities undergo, and [ should like to hear some one tell of snd de finds

‘city carrying on a struggle against her neighbours, ™?
she went out to war in a becoming manner, and

A
¥

sty erp os er

the name, I am asking a question which has
the beginning of an enquiry about anything.

original of the universe contains in itself all
beings, just as this world comprehends us and all other

‘There must be one only, if the created copy is to mccord with |

a Sul

might be solitary, like the perfect animal, the creator made
not two worlds or an infinite number of them; but there is
and ever will be one only-begotten and created heaven.

| Now that which is created is of necessity corporeal, and

nothing is solid without earth, Wherefore also God in the
beginning of creation made the body of the universe to con-
sist of fire and earth. But two things cannot be rightly put
together without a third; there must be some bond of union
‘between them. And the fairest bond is that which makes the
‘most complete fusion of itself and the things which it com-
“bines; and proportion is best adapted to effect such a union.
| For whenever in any three numbers, whether cube or square,
_ there i 2 mean, which is to the last term what the first term
2 ixto it; and again, when the mean is to the first term as the
‘Tast term is to the mean,—then the mean becoming first and
‘Fast, and the first and last Voth becoming means, they will all
of them of necessity come to be the same, and having become
‘the same with one another wil! be all one. If the universal
frame had been created a surface only and having no depth,
single mean would*have sufficed to bind together itself and
the other terms; but now, as the world must be solid, and

‘two, God placed water and air in the mean between fire and

x andl A Rb Re tienen which ‘ere in umber foun

ody of the world was created, and it was harmonized by
on, and therefore has the spirit of friendship; and
ing been reconciled to itself, it was indissoluble by the
d of any other than the framer,

him or came into him: for there was:
Ot design he wes created tes Se al
|

ee ee eee
by himself. For the Creator conceived that

was self-sufficient would be far
lacked anything ; and, as he had no need to take
Gefend humself against any one, the Creator did mot think @
necessary to bestow upon him hands: nor had be any nest

=~

ee eerrasiions of the universal soul. 453
p of feet; nor of the whole apparatus of walking ; but shemaves Tinea
Tian

intelligence; ‘and he was made to move in the same manner
and on the same spot, within his own limits revolving in a
circle, All the other six motions were taken away from him,
and he was made not to partake of their deviations, And as
this circular movement required no feet, the universe was
‘ereated without legs and without feet.

‘Such was the whole plan of the eternal God about the god
that was to be, to whom for this reason he gave a body,
stnooth and even, having a surface in every direction equi-
distant from the centre, a body entire and perfect, and formed
‘out of perfect bodies. And in the centre he pur the soul, pm
‘which he diffused throughout the body, making it also to be ye,
the exterior environment of it; and \he-made'the universe sta yor
‘a circle moving in a circle, one and solitary, yet by reason of (War,
‘its excellence able to converse with itself, and needing no even sur
‘other friendship or acquaintance. Having these purposes in“! ™
view he created the world a blessed god.

‘Now God did not make the soul after the body, although
“we are speaking of them in this order; for having brought
‘them together he would never have allowed that the elder
Should be riled hy the younger; bur this is a random manner ou
‘of speaking which we have, because somehow we ourselves omerof
“too are very much under the dominion of chance. Whereas nt"
the made the soul in origin and excellence prior to and older
than the body, to be the ruler and mistress, of whom the
“body was'to be the subject. And he made her out of the

‘elements and on this wise: Out of the indivisible 3: war crested

and also out of that which is divisible and ‘hint
material bodies, he compounded a third and tnciviible
; ite kind of essence, partaking of the nature of the &= ihe

other, and this compound he placed accord ihe diviable
yx mean between the indivisible, and the divisible and (55,
He took the three elements of the same, the other,

1¢ essence, and mingled them into one form, compressing jy.
reluctant and unsociable nature of the other into mingled

1 Omitting 0b mp.

portions from the mixture and placing them in the interval,
ae canding sal cocotad Op pel pas et

guer cies motion of the outer circle he called the motion of the samme,

force of the ‘<ELtESetEs el

~ Thad ov
— eng. 243: 2862: 8: de: HEE Arse sc. 3s AMER
sogoaally (Maera.)

¢dxvbs having their intervals in ratios of two and three, coe

| of each, and bade the orbits proceed in a direction opposite (rey or
to one another; and three (Sun, Mercury, Venus] he mace theseven
‘to move with equal swiftness, and the remaining four (Moon, "4

i oe peal lnreteslichin meee

made by
the best of things created. .-And because she is composed of Thesonl,
the same and of the other and of the essence, these three, Sinks,
‘and is divided and united in due proportion, and in her te the
revolutions xeturns upon herself, the soul, when touching }))”
“anything which hus essence, whether dispersed in parts or Sioa?
undivided, is stirred through all her powers, to declare the 8%
sameness or difference of that thing and some other; and to othenesof
“what individuals are related, and by what affected, and in {Roi
_ what way and how and when, both in the world of generation wuches
fand in the world of immutable being. And when reason, (san
which works with equal truth, whether she be in the circle of thesensible
“the diverse or of the same—in voiceless silence holding her [mea
‘onward course in the sphete of the self-mowed — when reason, epinions

"1 say, is hovering around the sensible world and when the fmt‘.
‘circle of the diverse also moving truly imparts the intimations Cooma

4 Le, of the rectangular figure supposed to be inscribed in the circle of
the
= ¥{. e. across the rectangular figure {rom corner to corner.

f4
a

ir wrongly
say that he ‘was,’ he ‘is,’ he ‘will
is’ alone is properly attributed |

a

os the

ca seat iaeaing having been created together, if ever

there was to be a dissolution of them, they might be dis-

solved together, It was framed: after the pattern of the

eternal nature, that it might resemble thix ax far as was
possible; for the pattern exists from eternity, and the
created heaven has been, and is, and will be, in all time.

Such was the mind and thought of God in the creation of

time. The gun and moon and five other stars, which are Thesevm
called the planets, were created by him in order to dis. Pameres

i

cand preserve the numbers of time; and when he preserve the

their several bodies, he placed them in the orbits 3am’
the circle of the other was revolving (cp, 36 D),—in

orbits seven stars, First, there was the moon in the

orbit nearest the carth, and next the sun, in the second orbit

above the earth; then came the morning star and the star

sacred to Hermes, moving in orbits which have an equal

swiftness with the sun, but in an opposite direction; and this

fs the reason why the sun and Hermes and Lucifer overtake.

and are overtaken by each other. To enumerate the places

which be assigned to the other stars, and to give all the reasons

why he assigned them, although a sccondary matter, would

give more trouble than the primary. ‘These things at some

future time, when we are at Icisure, may have the consider-

ation which they deserve, but not at present,

Now, when all the stars which were necessary to the (a crt

creation of time had attained a motion suitable to them, and ' pon

become living creatures having bodies fastened by vital ciweofthe

chains, and learnt their appointed task, moving. in the motion pas

of the diverse, which is diagonal, and passes through and is say 9

it

HE

“govemed by the motion of the same, they revolved, some in fis"
a larger and some in a lesser orbit,— those which had the Seacharlan’

those which moved slower although they really overtook faxes
them; for the motion of the same made them all turn in a
‘and, because some went one way and some another,
which receded most slowly from the sphere of the same,
which was the swiftest, appeared to follow it most nearly,

of the motions of the stars.

with them all over. And he gave to each of them two
movements: the first, a movement on the same spot after
the same manner, whereby they ever continue to think
consistently the same thoughts about the same things; the
second, a forward movement, in which they are controlled
by the revolution of the same and the like; but by the other
five motions they were unaffected (cp. 43 B), in order that

manner and on the same spot; and the other stars which
teverse their motion and are subject to deviations of this
kind, were created in the manner already described. The
earth, which is our nurse, clinging ' around the pole which is
extended through the universe, he framed to be the guardian

439

and autificer of night and day, first and eldest of gods that “U"™*

are in the interior of heaven. Vain would be the attempt to
tell all the figures of them circling as in dance, and their
juxtapositions, and the return of them in their revolutions
upon themselves, and their approximations, and to say which
of these deities in their conjunctions meet, and which of
them are in opposition, and in what order they get behind
and before one another, and when they are severally
eclipsed to our sight and again reappear, sending terrors
and intimations of the future to those who cannot calculate
‘oily Movements—to attempt to tell of all this without a
of the heavenly system? would be
ve ae Enough on this head; and now let what we
have said about the nature of the created and visible gods
have an end.
‘To know or tell the origin of the other divinities is beyond.

As for the

485, and we must accept the traditions of the men of old time Gof

‘who affirm themselves to be the offspring of the gods—that

* Or * circling.” * Reading rolr ob dev. and robruy airéy.

we r8uet

‘Yhus he spake, and* once more into the cup in which
: i irene he poured Nama sod
the remains ofthe elements and mingled them in much the sean

same for all,—no one should suffer a disadvantage at his fuuwre tie on
hands; they wére to be sown in the instruments of time {SNe 9,
sererally adapted to them, and to come forth the most re- have monul
ligious of animals; and as human nature was of two kinds, ““*

when they should be implanted in bodies by necessity, and be

pe. But if he failed in attaining this, at the second "bru

birth he would pass into a woman, and if, when in that state sar; shoe
) ie did not desist from evil, he would continually be "Wy {stadly

anged into some brute who resembled him in the evil lower form

the same and the like within him, and overcame by the help
of reason the turbulent and irrational mob of later accretions,
made up of fire and air and water and earth, and returned
to the form of his first‘and better state. Having given all
‘these laws to his creatures, that he might be guiltless of

——

tumak—when the hedy
come! of any one met and came into collision with some external
pris dre, or with the solid carth or the gliding waters, or was
<==" caught in the tempest borne om the air, and the motions
frenme” produced by any of these impulses were cattied hrough the
=i" body to the soul AB soch motions have consequently re
Sas ceived the general mame of ‘sencations’ which they stil
Soeme=t retain. And they did in fact at thet time create a very preat
tte and mighty movement; =eniting with the
Sor." in stirring up and violently shaking the courses of the soul,
err. they completely stopped the revolution of the same by thar

tn infancy overcome by the body.

opposing current, and hindered’ it from predominating and Timarsn,

advancing; and they so disturbed the nature of the other or Tauxos,

Giverse, that the three double intervals [i. e. between 3, 2; 4, andihe man

8), antl the three triple intervals [i. e. between ent 36 9 27 ee

together with the mean terms and connecting links which arc shee of the

expressed by the ratios of 3 :2,and 4:3, and of g:8— Siaedie

these, although they cannot be wholly undone except by him fan

who united them, were twisted by them in all sorts of ways, ‘side

smdlthe circles were broken and disordered in every. postible tumaad

‘manner, so that when they moved they were tumbling to ™“!™

Pieces, and moved irrationally, at one time in a reverse

direction, and then again obliquely, and then upside down,

as you might imagine a person who is upside down and has

his head leaning upon the ground and his feet up against

something in the air; and when he is in such a position, both

he and the spectator fancy that the right of either is his left,

and the left right. If, when powerfully experiencing these

and similar effects, the revolutions of the soul come in contact 4
4 with some external thing, either of the class of the same or of

the other, they speak of the same or of the other in a manner

the very opposite of the truth; and they become false and

foolish, and there is no course or revolution in them which

has a guiding or directing power; and if again any sensations

‘enter in violently from without and drag after them the whole

‘vessel of the soul, then the courses of the soul, though they

seem to conquer, are really conquered:

And by reason of all these affections, the soul, when en- As the seam
cased in a mortal body, now, as in the beginning, is at first ¢fnvrwout
without intelligence; but when the flood of growth and courses ofthe
nutriment abates, and the courses of the soul, calming down, jy",
go their own way and become steadier as time goes on, then moris,and
the several circles return to their natural form, and their fonea
revolutions arc corrected, and they call the same and the =#lonal

‘their right names, and make the possessor of them
to become a rational being. And if these combine in him
‘with any truc nurture or education, he attains the fulness and ‘Truc
health of the perfect man, and escapes the worst disease af Svetion
all; Spears taibecraicnension be walks Jame to the end of tim perfect.
his life, returns imperfect and good for nothing to the
world below, This, however, i a later stage; at present we

of day and night, and

the months and the revolutions of the years, have created

number, and have given us a conception of time, amd the

power of enquiring about the natere of the universe; and

from this source we have derived philosophy, than which se

greater good ever was or will be given by the gods to moral

man. This is the greatest boon of sight: and of the leer
benefits why should I speak? even the ordinary man if be

were deprived of them would bewail his loss, but in vain

settess ‘Thus much let me say however: God invented and gave ms
serwéeef sight to the end that we might behold the courses of in-
wc telligence in the heaven, and apply them to the courses of
vs heres our own intelligence which are akin to them, the unperturbed

YY, Se

Dihes Bpsces
PNR RR Rat aR Se ME
SSS espinal

=
er tine
=
semi
=
need
— ke
eae
ee
oe

A el
nd
st

for to say, with ee

} Petting the comma after miler &i ——
omitting the comma, ' or rather, before
Sov et om edu sons en y 0 pa

the medal is ty mals every Sica ee
which the model is fashioned will not be |
unless it is formless, and free from the r

For if the matter were like any of the super
then whenever any opposite or
stamped upon its surface, it would take the
because it would intrude its own shape.
which is to receive all forms should have no form; as in

making perfumes they first contrive that peter eal
which is to receive the scent shall be as inodorows as pos
sible; or as those who wish to impress figures am soft sub
stances do not allow any previous impression to remain, bat
begin by making the surface as even and smooth 3
In the same way that which is to receive perpetually and

LI —

ait

tain to be the most beautiful of all the many triangles (and.
we need not speak of the others) is that of which the doable
forms a third triangie which is equilateral; the reason of
this would be long to tell; he who disproves what we are
saying, and shows that we are mistaken, may claim:
victory. Then let us choose two triangles, out of which
and the other elements have been constructed, one isosceles,
the other having the square of the longer side equal to three
times the square of the lesser side,
‘wer ofthem Now is the time to explain what was before obscurely
smgeomie’ said: there was’an error in imagining that all the foer
lanier: the elements might be generated by and into one another; this,
erewes Tsay, was an erroneous supposition, for there are generated —
former, from the triangles which we have seleséed four Eide —Sieeetl
‘Thaefre from the one which has- the sides unequal; the fourth alone
san yaseiow is framed out of the isosceles triangle. Henee they cannot
mhoe, ail be resolved into one another, a great number of small
bodies being combined into a few large ones, or the converse.
But three of them can be thus resolved and compounded, for
they all spring from one, and when the greater bodies are
broken up, many small bodies will spring up out of them
and take their own proper figures; or, again, when many
small bodies are dissolved into their triangles, # they become

= avail

all these to be so small that no single particle of 3

four kinds is seen by us on account of their smallness: bet
when many of them are collected together their agaregates
are seen, And the ratios of their numbers, motions, and
other properties, everywhere God, as far as necessity
allowed or gave consent, has exactly perfected, and Bar
monized in due proportion.

~~ a

to uniformity and mation 10 the want of usiformity. Now 5
inequality is the cause of the nature which is wanting
uniformity; and of this we have already described th
But there still remains the further point — why.
divided after their kinds a rh
another and to change their place—which now
fauic" Proceed to explain, In the revolution of the universe are
comprehended all the four elements, and this being circalar
and having a tendency to come together, compresses every- |
which thrusts thing and will not allow any place to be left void. Wherefore,
also, fire above all things penetrates everywhere, and |
other. next, as being next in rarity of the elements; and the two
other elements in ike manner penetrate according to ther
degrees of rarity. For those things which are composed of
the largest particles have the largest void left im thea com-
positions, and those which are composed of the smallest
particles have the least. And the contraction caused by the
compression thrusts the smaller particles into the interstices

ss

Hada

The cause of heat and cold, hardness and softness.

and yet to explain them together is hardly possible; for which
Teason we must assume first ane or the other and afterwards
examine the nature of our hypothesis', In order, then, that
the affections may follow regularly after the elements, let us
presuppose the existence of body and soul.

First, let us enquire what we mean by saying that fire is
hot; and about this we may reason from the dividing or
eutting power which it exercises on our bodies. We all of
us feel that fire is sharp; and we may further consider the {})
fineness of the sides, and the sharpness of the angles, and the
smaliness of the particles, and the swiftness of the motion;
—all this makes the action of fire violent and sharp, so that
‘it cuts whatever it mects, And we must not forget that the
original figure of fire [i. ¢. the pyramid], more than any other
form, has a dividing power which cuts our bodies into small

sipua). Now, the opposite of this is sufficiently manifest;
nevertheless we will not fail to describe it. For the larger
particles of moisture which surround the body, entering in
and driving out the lesser, but not being able to take
their places, compress the moist principle in us; and this
from being unequal and disturbed, is forced by them into a
‘state of rest, which is due to equability and compression.
‘But things which are contracted contrary to nature are by
“mature at war, and force themselves apart; and to this war
“am! convulsion the name of shivering and trembling is
given; and the whole affection and the cause of the affection
termed cold. That is called hard to which our
fl and soft which yields to our flesh; and things
re also termed hard and soft relatively to one another,
hat which yields has a small base; but that which rests on
d ee oe to the class
the greatest resistance; so too does that which
tt compact and therefore most repellent. The
re of the light and the heavy will be best understood
ex examined in connexion with our notions of above and
+ for it is quite a mistake to suppose that the universe

1 Omitting dorepa.

483

Tienaowe.
‘Dune

| Sensations
‘Soman 10
to wba
oe
male

whieh curs
‘he flesh,

tocontraction.

were to draw the fire by force towards the
tie weight ment of the air, it would be very evident that he:
the smaller mass more readily than the larger; for when twe |

the smaller body must necessarily yield to
with less reluctance than the larger; and
called heavy and said to tend downwards, and

occasion no pain, but the greatest pleasure, to the mortal part
of the soul, as is manifest in the case of perfumes. But things
which are changed all of a sudden, and only gradually and
with difficulty retumm to their own nature, have effects in
¢very way opposite to the former, es is evident in the ease of
burnings and cuttings of the body.

‘Thus have we discussed the general affections of the whole

~~ a

OTe affections of the tongues “487
LT Sate tele kee rail erage And Yiveres

now I will endeavour to speak of the affections of particular theses
parts, and the cayses and agents of them, as far as 1 amable. o Afsctoas
Tn the first place let us set forth what was omitted when we orenielar
were speaking of juices, concerning the affections peculiar to Gy otthe,
the tongue. These too, like most of the other affections, MENT),
appear to be caused by certain contractions and dilations, but contraction
they have besides more of roughness and smoothness than is satiation
found in other affections; for whenever earthy particles enter hey area»
into the small veins which are the testing instruments of the Slow:
tongue, reaching to the heart, and falf upon the moist, delicate gency.
portions of flesh —when, as they are dissolved, they contract
and dry up the little veins, they are astringent if they are 4 Hanhnew
rougher, but if not so rough, then only harsh. ‘Those of ¢ niuermes
them which are of an abstergent nature, and purge the
whole surface of the tongue, if they do it in excess, and so
encroach as to consume some part of the flesh itself, like
potash and soda, are all termed bitter. But the particles « sanmen
which are deficient in the alkaline quality, and which cleanse
only moderately, are called salt, and having no bitterness or
roughness, are regarded as rather agreeable than otherwise.
Bodies which share in and are made smooth by the heat of « Pungeney:
the mouth, and which are inflamed, and again in tum inflame
that which heats them, and which are so light that they are
carried upwards to the sensations of the head, and cut all

fi that comes in their way, by reason of these qualities in them,
are all termed pungent. But when these same particles, # Acidliy.
refined by putrefaction, enter into the narrow yeins, and are
duly proportioned to the particles of earth and air which are
there, they set them whirling about one another, and while
they are in a whirl cause them to dash against and enter into
‘one another, and s0 form hollows surrounding the particles
that enter—which watery vessels of air (for a film of
moisture, sometimes earthy, sometimes pure, is spread around
the air) are hollow spheres of water; and those of them which
Are pure, are transparent, and are called bubbles, while those

| composed of the earthy liquid, which is in a state of general

| agitation and effervescence, are said to boil or ferment ;—of

| all these affections the cause is termed acid. And there is ¢ Sweetwess.
the opposite affection arising from an opposite cause, when

tha’.

ditty Hi
Hd

The creation of the mortal soni.

‘As I said at first, when all things were in disorder God
created in each thing in relation to itself, and in all things in
relation to each other, all the measures and harmonies which
they could possibly receive, For in those days nothing had
any proportion except by accident; nor did any of the things
which now have names deserve to be named at all—as, for
example, fire, water, and the rest of the elements. All these
the creator first-set in order, and out of them he constructed
the universe, which was a single animal comprehending in
itself all other animals, mortal and immortal. Now of the
divine, he himself was the creator, but the creation of the
mortal he committed to his offspring. And they, imitating
him, received from him the immortal principle of the soul;
and around this they proceeded to fashion a mortal body,
and made it to be the vehicle of the soul, and constructed
within the body a soul of another nature which was mortal,
subject to terrible and irresistible affections,— first of all,

491
Tima,
Taney,

As we hae
seen, Ged,

pleasure, the greatest incitement to evil; then, pain, which "“”"™

deters from good; also rashness and fear, two foolish coun-
sellors, anger hard to be appeased, and hope easily led
astray ;— these they mingled with irrational sense and with
all-daring love! according to necessary laws, and so framed
man. Wherefore, fearing to pollute the divine any more than
was absolutely unavoidable, they gave to the mortal nature
@ separate habitation in another part of the body, placing

the neck between them to be the isthmus and boundary, .

which they constructed between the head and breast, to
‘keep them apart. And in the breast, and in what is termed
the thorax, they encased the mortal soul; and as the one part
of this was superior and the other inferior they divided the
, cavity of the thorax into two parts, as the women’s and men's
Apartments are divided in houses, and placed the midriff to
be a wall of partition between them, That part of the in-
ferior soul which is endowed with courage and passion and
loves-contention they settled nearer the head, midway be-
tween the midriff and the neck, in order that it might be
| under the rule of reason and might join with it in controlling
N and restraining the desires when they are no longer willing

| Patting a colon alter eimapdyayor and reading alodijors & d2byy.

thus become more ready to join with passion in the service

‘of reason. ——~
‘The part of the soul which desires meats and drinks and

the other things of which it has need by reason of the bodily

‘nature, they placed between the midriff atl the | Of

the navel, contriving in all this region a mang

the food of the body; and there they bound it)

wild animal which was chained up with man, amd! mmst be

nourished if man was to exist,

feeding at the manger, and have his dwelling as far as
might be from the council-chamber, making as little noise
and disturbance as possible, and permitting the best part to
advise quietly for the good of the whole. And knowing thst
‘this lower principle in man would not comprehend reason,
and even if attaining to conse. degree oP SaSSeAn w

' Reading dana.

~~

| be solid and smooth, and bright and sweet, and al the tirer with
have a bitter quality, in order that the power of thought, We alawite
| proceeds from the mind, might be reflected as in a which are

diffusing
produces colours like bile, and contracting every part makes
it wrinkled and rough ; and twisting out of its right place and
contorting the lobe and closing and shutting up the vessels
and gates, causes pain and loathing. And the converse
happens when some gentle inspiration of the
pictures images of an opposite character, and allays the bile
and bitterness by refusing to stir or touch the nature opposed
by making use of the natural sweetness of the
liver, corrects all things and makes them to be right and
smooth and free, and renders the portion of the soul which
resides about the liver happy and joyful, enabling it to pass
the night in peace, and to practise divination in sleep, in-
asmuch as it has no share in mind and reason. For the
authors of our being, remembering the command of their
he bade them create the human race as good as
could, that they might correct our inferior parts and
them to attain a measure of truth, placed inthe liver
seat of divination. And herein is a proof that God has thee int
given the art of divination not to the wisdom, but to the "alow.
of man. No man, when in his wits, attains pro- when mlep-
photic truth and inspiration; but when he receives the erated
inspired word, either his intelligence is enthralled in sleep, be interpreted
or he is demented by some distemper or possession. And {these
he who would understand what he remembers to have been swike
said, whether in a dream or when he was awake, by the pro-
phetic and inspired nature, or would determine by reason the
‘meaning of the apparitions which he has seen, and what
indications they afford to this man or that, of past, present or

i
=

’

Spinal marrow, bone.

(3 our mortal race should perish without fulfilling its end—in- Tew.
tending to provide against this, the gods made what is called tous.
the lower belly, to be a receptacle for the superfluous meat
and drink, and formed the cnvolation of the bowels, so that iy we
the food might be prevented from passing quickly through not be per-
and compelling the body to require more food, thus pro- Fee
ducing insatiable gluttony, and making the whole race an inesingand
‘enemy to philosophy and music, and rebellious against the ‘skint

Aivinest element within us,

‘The bones and flesh, and other similar parts of us, were Marow i
made as follows, The first principle of all of them was the jiupit
‘of the marrow. For the bonds of life which unite fect ofthe
the soul with the body are made fast there, and they are the

root and foundation of the human race, The marrow itself is

i& created ont of other materials: God took such of the {yeP™e"

Primary triangles as were straight and smooth, and wete the munow

adapted by their perfection to produce fire and water, and air (rims hent

and earth —these, I say, he separated from their kinds, and sane

‘mingling them in due proportions with one another, made the {ari

tarrow out of them to be a universal seed of the whole race othe spine

of mankind; and in this seed he then planted and enclosed jo),

the souls, and in the original distribution gave to the marrow

#5 many and yarious forms as the different kinds of souls

owere hereafter to receive. That which, like a field, was to

receive the divine seed, he made round every way, and called

that portion of the marrow, brain, intending that, when an

animal was perfected, the yessel containing this substance

‘Should be the head; bur that which was intended to contain

the remaining and mortal past of the soul he distributed into

figures at once round and elongated, and he called them all
‘the name ‘ marrow ;" and to these, as to anchors, fastening

the bonds of the whole soul, he proceeded to fashion around

them the entire framework of our body, constructing for the

murrow, fist of all, x complete covering of bone.

Bone was composed by him in the following manner. Boreis mde

Having sifted pure and smooth carth he kneaded it and wetted fre

‘it with marrow, and after that he put it into fire and then into msm, ond

‘water, and once more into fire and again into water —in this

‘way by frequent transfers from one to the other he made it

insoluble by either: Out of this he fashioned, as in a lathe,

enshrouded them in
The more hing a anae
the thinnest film of flesh,

aaif fil ii

The wnt
sensitive oe
omen, an well
mathe janes,
are whinly

Incompatibility of length and excellence of life.

_ make them unwieldy because difficult to move; and also that
| might not, by being crowded! and pressed and matted to-
| gether, destroy sensation by reason of its hardness, and
5 impair the memory and dull the edge of intelligence, Where-
fore also the thighs and the shanks and the hips, and the
bones of the arms and the forearms, and other parts which
| Baye no joints, and the inner bones, which on account of the
| tarity of the soul in the marrow are destitute of reason—all
these are abundantly provided with flesh; but such as have
| mind in them are in general less fleshy, except where the

ereator has made some part solely of flesh in order to give
sensation,—as, for example, the tongue. But commonly this
| not the case, For the nature which comes into being and
grows up in us by a law of necessity, does not admit of the
cambination of solid bone and much flesh with acute per-
ceptions. More than any other part the framework of the
head would have had them, if they could have co-existed,
and the human race, having a strong and fleshy and sinewy
head, would have had a life twice or many times as long as it

now has, and also more healthy and free from pain. But our jarionst
creators, considering whether they should make a longer me

lived race which was worse, or a shorter-lived race which
‘was better, came to the conclusion that every one ought to
prefer a shorter span of life, which was betrer, to a longer one,
which was worse; and therefore they covered the head with
thin bone, but not with flesh and sinews, since it had no
Joints; and thus the head was added, having more wisdom
and sensation than the rest of the body, but also being in
every man for weaker, For these reasons and after this
manner God placed the sinews at the extremity of the head,
in a circle round the neck, and glued them together by the
| principle of likeness and fastened the extremities of the jaw:
‘bones to them below the face, and the other sinews he dispersed
‘throughout the body, fastening limb to limb, ‘The framers of
‘us framed the mouth, as now arranged, having teeth and

Timacot
Drasem
cowered with
Mex

‘the lent
sensitive
“are thickly
ervered.
‘Fresh, how:

ever, wiibout
bow, ix

‘coniriving the way in for necessary purposes, the way out for ‘he eeeary

tongue and lips, with a view to the necessary and the good,

I the best purposes; for that is necessary which enters in and

Bives food to the body; but the river of speech, which flows

| out of a man and ministers to the intelligence, is the fairest
VOL. 1147

he

“Trees and plants created to be man's food.

‘use of nails for many purposes; wherefore they fashioned in
‘men at their first creation the rudiments of nails. For this
purpose and for these reasons they caused skin, hair, and
| nails to grow at the extremitics of the limbs.
And now that all the parts and members of the mortal
97 animal had come together, since its life of necessity consisted
of fire and breath, and it therefore wasted away by dissolu-
| tion and depletion, the gods contrived the following remedy =
‘They mingled a nature akin to that of man with other forms
| and perceptions, and thus created another kind of animal.
‘These are the trees and plants and seeds which have been
improved by cultivation and are now domesticated among
| us; anciently there were only the wild kinds, which are older
than the cultivated. For everything that partakes of life
may be tuly called a living being, and the animal of which
we are now speaking partakes of the third kind of soul,
| Which is said to be seated between the midriff and the navel,
having no part in opinion or reason or mind, but only in
| feelings of pleasure and pain and the desires which accom-
pany them. For this nature is always in a passive state,
| revolving in and about itself, repelling the motion from
without and using its own, and accordingly is not endowed
by nature with the power of observing or reflecting on its
Wherefore it lives and does not differ from
a living being, but is fixed and rooted in the same spot,
haying no power of self-motion.
‘Now after the superior powers had created all these
natures to be food for us who are of the inferior nature,
[insects be onan x fee eating sca,
I

Tee gestapenlbet patience Bakes aa
the first place, they cut hidden channels or veins

two

down the back where the skin and the flesh join, which
‘answered! severally to the right and left side of the body.

| ‘Phese they let down along the backbone, so as to have the
‘aurow of generation between them, where it was most
Hikely to flourish, and in order that the stream coming down
from abaye might flow frecly to the other parts, and equalize
the irrigation. In the next place, they divided the veins
about the head, and interlacing them, they sent them in
opposite directions; those coming from the right side they

—

Theses
Tena
soning from
un.

Sening thet
mankind
‘woul need
find, Gees 40nd
*
‘These ane
ania
Ia fies
Deingren:
dowed witty
‘the lower
ceaseta mol

Avomaidy lesser weels and their cavity, of air, ‘The network he took
foe een and spread over the newly-formed animal in the following —
luleti ™anner:— He let the lesser weels pass into the mouth;
there were two of them, and one he let down by the air-pipes
into the lungs, the other by the side of the “into the
belly. ‘The former he divided into two
which he made to meet at the channels of the nose, so that
when the way through the mouth did not act, the streams of
the mouth as well were replenished through the nose. With
(eewwhie the other cavity (i. ¢. of the greater weel) he enveloped the
hollow parts of the body, and at one time he made all this to

flow into the lesser weels, quite gently, for they are composed

of air, and at another time he caused the lesser weels to flow

back again; and the net he made to find a way in and out
through the pores of the body, and the rays of fire which are
bound fast within followed the passage of the air either way,

ae mai

The formation of blood: digestion.

‘originated, For the fire cuts the food and following the
breath surges up within, fre and breath rising together and
filling the veins by drawing up out of the belly and pouring
into them the cut portions of the food; and so the streams of
food are kept flowing through the whole body in all animals.
And fresh cuttings from kindred substances, whether the
fruits of the earth or herb’of the ficld, which God planted to
be our daily food, acquire all sorts of colours by their inter-
mixture; but red is the most pervading of them, being
created by the cutting action of fire and by the impression
which it makes on a moist substance; and hence the liquid
which circulates in the body has a colour such as we have
described. The liquid itself we call blood, which nourishes

Ss the flesh and the whole body, whence all parts are watered
and empty places filled.

Now the process of repletion and evacuation is effected
after the manner of the universal motion by which all kin-
red substances are drawn towards one another. For the
external elements which surround us are always causing us
to consume away, and distributing and sending off like to
Hike; the particles of blood, too, which are divided and
contained within the frame of the animal as in a sort of
heaven, are compelled to imitate the motion of the universe.
Each, therefore, of the divided parts within us, being carried
to its kindred nature, replenishes the void. When more is
taken away than flows in, then we decay, and when less, we
grow and increase,

‘The frame of the entire creature when young has the
triangles of cach kind’ new, and may be compared to the
‘keel of 2 Wessel which is just off thé stocks; they are locked
firmly together and yet the whole mass is soft and delicate,
being fresbly formed of marrow and nurtured on milk. Now
when the triangles out of which meats and drinks are com-
posed come in from without, and are comprehended in the
‘body, being older and weaker than the triangles already
there, the frame of the body gets the better of them and its
ewer triangles cur them up, and so the animal grows great,
‘being nourished by a multitude of similar particles. Burt
when the roots of the triangles are loosened by having
Undergone many conflicts with many things in the course

_

Tinaenr,
Tours

the same manner and in due proportion; and whatever comes
or goes away in violation af these laws causes all manner of

blood, though after another manner, is Weewine formed out of |
them, most diseases originate in the way which I have de
scribed ; bet the worst of all owe their severity to the fact that
the generation of these substances proceeds in a wrong order;
they are then destroyed. For the natural order is that the flea

and sinews should be made of blood, the sinews out of the fibres
to which they are akin, and the flesh out of the clots which
are formed when the fibres are separated, And the glutinous
and rich matter which comes away from the sinews and the
flesh, not only glues the flesh to the bones, but nourishes

and imparts growth to the bone which surrounds the marrow; ™

and by reason of the solidity of the bones, that which filters
| ‘of triangles, dropping like dew from the bones and watering
|
|
|
|

order, health commonly results; when in the opposite order,
disease. For when the flesh becomes decomposed and
sends back the wasting substance into the veins, then an over-
supply of blood of diverse kinds, mingling with air in the veins,
having variegated colours and bitter properties, a3 well as
acid and saline qualities, contains all sorts of bile and serum
and phlegm. For all things go the wrong way, and having
‘3 become corrupted, first they taint the blood itself, and then
ceasing to give nourishment to the body they are carried
along the veins in all directions, no longer preserving the
order of their natural courses, but at war with themselves,
| because they receive no good from one another, and are
hostile to the abiding constitution of the body, which they
corrupt and dissolve. The oldest part of the flesh which is
corrupted, being hard to decompose, from long burning
grows black, and from being everywhere corroded becomes
bitter, and is injurious to every part of the body which ix
‘still uncorrupted. Sometimes, when the bitter element is
refined away, the black part axsumes an acidity which takes
the place of the bitterness; at other times the bitterness
being tinged with blood has a redder colour; and this, when
mixed with black, takes the hue of grass?; and again, an

=

Timarar
Te
The proper
‘coder is thaw
ech and
dnew heel
Kom tod,
floats from the

| Reading airy for ai ré and des for alee.

— =

| Disorders produced by wind and phlegm. 507
‘al! maladies that may occur more virulent than those already 7iewes
montioned. But the worst case of all is when the marrow is ‘Tous
diseased, cither from excess or defect; and is. the cause
of the very greatest and most fatal disorders, in which the
whole course of the body is reversed.
‘There isa third class of diseases which may be SRST, ee Ae
‘of a5 arising in three ways; for they are produced sometimes wn,
by wind, and sometimes by phlegm, and sometimes by bile. prduert
When the lung, which is the dispenser of the air to the body, “P""in"
is obstructed by rhcums and its passages are not free, some ovler of
‘of them not acting, while through others too much air enters, "™*"™®
then the parts which are enrefreshed by air corrode, while in
‘other parts the extess of air forcing its way through the veins:
distorts them and decomposing the body is enclosed in the
midst of it and: occupies the midriff; thus numberless painful
diseases are produced, accompanied by copious sweats. And unos and
‘oftentimes when the Mesh is disgolved in the body, wind, “*'srs
generated within and unable to escape, is the source of quite
as much pain as the air coming in from without; but the
‘@rentest pain is felt when the wind gets about the sinews and
‘the veins of the shoulders, and swells them up, and so twists
back the great tendons and the sinews which are con-
nected with them. These disorders are called tetanus and
| opisthotonus, by reason of the tension which accompanies
them. The cure of them is dificult; relief is in most cases
fg given by fever supervening. The white phlegm, though
dangerous when detained within by reason of the air-bubbles,
yet if itean communicate with the outside air, is less severe,
and only discolours the body, gencrating leprous eruptions
and similar diseases. When it is mingled with black bile
and dispersed about the courses of the head, which are the
divinest part of us, the attack if coming on in slecp, is not
s0 severe; but when assailing those who are awake it is hard
to be got rid of, and being an affection of a sacred part, is
most justly called sacred, An acid and salt phlegm, again, snd oanh;
is the source of all those diseases which take the form of
eatarrh, but they have many names because the places into
which they flow are manifold.
Inflammations of the body come from burnings and in- ¢¥™tle—

ie. tumours

flamings, and all of them originate in bile, When bile finds and

| 4

there is not so much of it, and the |
holds out, the bile is itself mastered, and
banished, or is thrust through the el
upper belly, and is driven out of the body like an exile from
a state in which there has been civil war; whence arise ¥
diarrhoeas and dysenteries, and all such disorders. When the
constitution is disordered by excess of fire, continuows heat
"and fever are the result; when excess of air i the camse,
ty then the fever is quotidian; when of water, which is @ more
Seqars. sluggish element than either'fre or! ied helkeses laa
tertian; when of earth, which is the most sluggish of the
four, and is only purged away in a four-fold period, the result
is a quartan fever, which can with difficulty be shaken off.
Such is the manner in which diseases of the body arise;
EAL" the disorders of the soul, which depend upon the bedy,
originate as follows. We must acknowledge disease of the
mind to be a want of intelligence; and of this there are two

—S=_—<—~C—C—C—CS™ _ "|

regarded as the greatest diseases t6 which the soul is fable, {gerne
For a man who is in great joy or in great pain, in his un- anil-dispod-

seasonable eagerness to attain the one and to avoid the

ton of the

other, is not able to see or to hear anything rightly; but he

is mad, and is at the time utterly incapable of any participa.
tion in reason. He who has the seed about the spinal
‘marrow too plentiful and overflowing, like a tree overladen
with fruit, has many throes, and also obtains many pleasures

great; his soul is rendered foolish and disordered by his
body; yet he is regarded not as one diseased, but as one
who is voluntarily bad, which is a mistake. ‘The truth is
that the intemperance of love is a disease of the soul due
chiefly to the moisture and fluidity which is produced in one
‘of the elements by the loose consistency of the bones. And
in general, all that which is termed the incontinence of plea-
sure arid is deemed a reproach under the idea that the wicked
voluntarily do wrong is not justly a matter for reproach, For
no man is voluntarily bad; but the bad become bad by reason
of an ill disposition of the body and bad education, things
which are hateful to every man and happen to him against
his will, And in the case of pain too in like manner the soul
| suffers much evil from the body. For where the acid and
| briny phlegm and other bitter and bilious humours wander
about in the body, and find no exit or escape, but are pent
up within and mingle their own vapours with the motions of
$7 the soul, and are blended with them, they produce all sorts
of diseases, more or fewer, and in every degree of intensity;
and being carried to the three places of the soul, whichever
they may severally assail, they create infinite varicties of ill-
temper and melancholy, of rashness and cowardice, and also
‘of forgetfulness and stupidity. Further, when to this evil
constitution of body evil forms of government are added and
evil discourses are uttered in private as well as in public, and
‘no sort of instruction is given in youth to cure these evils,
then all of us who are bad become bad from two causes which

and fa ino!
untary.

and strifes and controversies arise, inflames and dissolves the
composite frame of man and introduces rheums; and the
nature of this phenomenon is not understood by most pro:
fessors of medicine, who ascribe it to. the opposité of the teal
cause. And once more, when a body large and too strong

which is the greatest of diseases, There is one

ignorance,
protection against both kinds of disproportion;—that we
should not move the body without the soul or the soul with-

‘each other, and be healthy and well balanced. And therefore

mastered and perishes; but if any one, in imitation of that
which we call the foster-mother and nurse of the universe,
will not allow the body ever to be inactive, but is always pro-

| are wandering about the body, as we have already said when
| speaking of the universe, he will not allow enemy placed
Dy the side of enemy to stir up wars and disorders in the
body, but he will place friend by the side of friend, so as
to create health. Now of all motions that is the best which
folie rodtuced fs a thing by itl, for it is most akin to the
motion of thought and of the universe; but that motion
| which is caused by is not so good, and worst-of all is
4 Supra, 33 A.

a

beat
echie and
‘purification is
pont
‘neous

art of the human soul to be the divinity of each one, being that

The divine life the life of knowledge.

part which, as we say, dwells at the top of the body, and
inasmuch as we are a plant not of an earthly but of
theavenly growth, raises us from earth to our kindred who
arein heaven. And in this we say truly; for the divine power
‘suspended the head and root of us from that place where the dare:
generation of the soul first began, and: thus made the whole

© body upright. When a man is always occupied with the
‘cravings of, desire and ambition, and is eagerly striving to
satisfy them, all his thoughts must be mortal, and, as far as it
is possible altogether to become such, he must be mortal every
whit, because he has cherished his mortal part. But he who
has been earnest in the love of knowledge and of true wisdom,
and has exercised his intellect more than any other part of
him, must have thoughts immortal and divine, if he attain
truth, and in 60 far as human nature is capable of sharing in
immortality, he must altogether be immortal; and since he is
ever cherishing the divine power, and has the divinity within
him in perfect order, he will be perfectly happy. Now there
is only one way of taking care of things, and this is to give
to each the food and motion which are natural toit. And the
motions which are naturally akin to the divine principle
‘within us are the thoughts and revolutions of the universe.
‘These cach man should follow, and correct the courses of the
head which were corrupted at our birth, and by learning the
harmonies and revolutions of the universe, should assimilate
the thinking being to the thought, renewing his original
nature, and having assimilated them should attain to that
pertect life which the gods have set before mankind, both for
the present and the future.

(© ‘Thus our original design of discoursing about the universe
down to the creation of man is nearly completed. A brief
mention may be made of the generation of other animals,

$0 faras the subject admits of brevity; in this manner our fay

‘argument will best attain a due proportion. Qn the subject of
animals, then, the following remarks may be offered. Of the
men who came into the world, those who were cowards or
led unrighteous lives may with reason be supposed to have
changed into the nature of women in the second generation.
o ‘And this was the reason why at that time the gods created in
ws the desire of sexual intercourse, contriving in man one
VoL. 11n—48

513
Tian.

Tonnes

WhO Yor ifa man
neglecta
eee we
ome,

seals to hee

ahs
Feces caatar Nowh dhe deacon Upaehs cae
woman, bringing them together! and | as it were plucking the
fruit from the tree, sow in the womb, ; r

finally brought out into the light, and! Ubi the) generation |
of animals is completed.

‘Thus were created women and the female sex in general.
But the race of birds was created out of innocent Hight —
minded men, who, although their minds were directed toward®
heaven, imagined, in their simplicity, that the clearest de-
monstration of the things above was to be obtained by sight;
these were remodelled and transformed into birds, and they
grew feathers instead of hair. ‘The race of wild pedestrian
animals, again, came from those who had no philosophy in any
of their thoughts, and never considered at all about the nature
of the heavens, because they had ceased t use the courses

* Reading vvdudCovrer (conj. Hermann).

Degrees of intelligence in animals.

‘of the head, but followed the guidance of those parts of the
soul which are in the breast, In consequence of these habits
of theirs they had their front-legs and their heads resting
upon the earth to which they were drawn by natural affinity;
and the crowns of their heads were elongated and of all sorts
‘of shapes, into which the courses of the soul were crushed by
reason of disuse. And this was the reason why they were
created quadrupeds and polypods: God gave the more sense-
Jess of them the more support that they might be more
attracted to the earth, And the most foolish of them, who
trail their bodies entirely upon the ground and have no longer
any need of feet, he made without feet to craw! upon the
earth, The fourth class were the inhabitants of the water:
these were made out of the most entirely senseless and

515

Tlemeewe.
Trews,

ve et fo
‘ah into
reptiles:

the mast
pent in

ignorant of all, whom the transformers did not think any oi”

longer worthy of pure respiration, because they possessed
@ soul which was made impure by all sorts of transgression;
and instead of the subtle and pure medium of air, they gave
them the deep and muddy sea to be their clement of respira-
tion; and hence arose the race of fishes and oysters, and
other aquatic animals, which have received the most remote
habitations as a punishment of their outlandish ignorance.
‘These are the laws by which animals pass into one another,
mow, as ever, changing as they lose or gain wisdom and
folly.

We may now say that our discourse about the nature of
the universe has an end. The world has received animals,
mortal and immortal, and is fulfilled with them, and has
become « visible animal containing the visible —the sensible
God who is the image of the intellectual !, the greatest,

= best, fairest, most perfect — the one only-begotten heaven.

1 Or reading woorro — of his maker.'

Ow sash

CRITIAS.

INTRODUCTION AND ANALYSIS.

‘Tux, Critias is a fragment which breaks off in the middle of rina.
sentence. It was designed to be the second part of a trilogy, Trracons
which, like the other great Platonic trilogy of the Sophist,
Statesman, Philosopher, was never completed. Timacus had
brought down the origin of the world to the creation of man,
and the dawn of history was now to succeed the philosophy of
ature. The Critias is also connected with the Republic. Plato,
as he has already told us (Tim. 19, 20), intended to represent
the ideal state engaged in a patriotic conflict. This mythical
conflict is prophetic or symbolical of the struggle of Athens and
Persia, perhaps in some degree also of the wars of the Greeks
and Carthaginians, in the same way that the Persian is prefigured
by the Trojan war to the mind of Herodotus, or as the narrative
of the first part of the Acnei intended by Virgil to foreshadow
the wars of Carthage and Rome, The small number of the
primitive Athenian citizens (20,000), * which is about thelr present
number’ (Crit. 112 D), is evidently designed to contrast with the
myriads and barbaric array of the Atlantic hosts, The passing
remark in the Timacus (25 C) that Athens was left alone in the
struggle, in which she conquered and became the liberator of
Greece, is also an allusion to the later history. Hence we may
safely conclude that the entire narrative is due to the imagination
‘of Plato, who has used the name of Solon and introduced the
Egyptian priests to give verisimilitude to his story. To the Greek
such a tale, like that of the carth-born men, would have seemed
perfectly accordant with the character of his mythology, and
Not more marvellous than the wonders of the East narrated
by Herodotus and others: he might have been deceived into

and not of gods whom we do not ‘know.

his request, and anticipating that Hermocrates:

petition, extends by anticipation a like indulgence to him.
Critias returns to his story, professing only to repeat what

Solon was told by the priests. The war of which he was about

to speak had occurred 9000 years ago!. One of the combatants

was the city af Athens, the other was the great island of Atlantis

Critias proposes to speak of these rival powers first of all, giving 109

to Athens the precedence; the various tribes of Greeks amd

barbarians wha took part in the war will be dealt with as they

successively appear on the scene.
In the beginning the gods agreed to divide the earth by lot
in a friendly manner, and when they had made the allotment
they settled their several countries, and were the shepherds or
rather the pilots of mankind, whom they guided by persuasion,
and not by force, Hephaestus and Athene, brother and sister
deities, in mind and art united, obtained as their lot the land of

4 Attica, a land suited to the growth of virtue and wisdom; and there
they settled a brave race of children of the soil, and taught them
how to order the state. Some of their names, such as Cecrops,
Erechtheus, Erichthonius, and Exysichthon, were preserved and
adopted in later times, but the memory of thelr deeds has passed
away; for there have since been many deluges, and the remnant
who survived in the mountains were ignorant of the anoceneks

1 Cp. ampra, p. 444, footnote, “

5 Analysis 109-113. sab
and during many generations were wholly devoted to acquiring crimes.

to the means of life... . And the armed image of the goddess which Awauvas.

was dedicated by the ancient Athenians is an evidence to other
‘ages that men and women bad in those days, as they ought
always to have, common virtues and pursuits, There were
<Avarious classes of citirens, including handicraftemen and hus-
bandmen and a superior class of warriors who dwelt apart, and
were educated, and had all things in common, like our guardians
+ Attica in those days extended southwards to the Isthmus, and

tx inland to the heights of Parnes and Cithaeron, and between

them and the sea included the district of Oropus, The country

SB was then, as what remains of it still is, the most fertile in the

world, and abounded in rich plains and pastures. But in the
course of ages much of the soil was washed away and disap-
peared in the deep sca, And the inhabitants of this fair land
were endowed with intelligence and the love of beauty.

2 The Acropolis of the ancient Athens extended to the Tlissus
and Eridanus, and included the Payx, and the Lycabettus on the
opposite side to the Pnyx, having a level surface and deep soil:
“The side of the hill was inhabited by craftsmen and husbandmen ;
and the warrions dwelt by themselves on the summit, around the
temples of Hephaestus and Athene, in an enclosure which had
like the garden of a single house. {n winter they retired into
houses on the north of the hill, in which they held their ©
‘syssitia. These were modest dwellings, which they bequeathed
unaltered to thelr children’s children. In summer time the south
side was inhabited by them, and then they left their gardens
and dining-halls. In the midst of the Acropolis was a fountain,
which gave an abundant supply of cool water in summer and
warm in winter; of this there are still some traces. They were
‘Garefitl to preserve the number of fighting men and women at
20,000, which is equal to that of the present military force.
‘And so they passed their lives as guardians of the citizens

"and leaders of the Hellenes. They were a just and famous race,
celebrated for their beauty and virtue all over Europe and Asi

And now I will speak to you of their adversaries, but first I
‘ought to explain that the Greek names were given to Solon in an
Egyptian form, and he enquired their meaning and translated
them, His manuscript was left with my grandfather Dropides,

=

from the royal palace which they built'in the centre istand! This
ancient palace was ornamented by successive generations; and
they dug a canal which passed through the zones of land from the
island to the sea. The tones of earth were surrounded by walls 11
made of stone of divers colours, black and white and red, which
they sometimes intermingled for the sake of ornameat; and as they
quarried they hollowed out beneath the edges of the somes double
docks having roofs of rock. The outermost of the walls was
coated with brass, the second with tin and the third, which was
the wall of the citadel, flashed with the red light of orichaleuss.

In the interior of the citadel was a holy temple, dedicated te

Cleito and Poseidon, and surrounded by an enclosure of gold,

Analysis 116-119.

523

silver, and the pinnacles with gold. The roof was of ivory, Anaursen.

adormed with gold and silver and orichalcum, and the rest of the
Enterior was lined with orichaleum. Within was an image of the
god standing in a chariot drawn by six winged horses, and touching
the roof with his head; around him were a hundred Nereids,
riding on dolphins. Outside the temple were placed golden
statues of all the descendants of the ten kings and of their wives;
17 there was an altar too, and there were palaces, corresponding to
the greatness and glory both of the kingdom and of the temple,
Also there were fountains of hot and cold water, and suitable
‘buildings surrounding them, and trees, and there were baths both
‘of the kings and of private individuals, and separate baths for
women, and also for cattle. The water from the baths was carried
to the grove of Poseidon, and by aqueducts over the bridges to
‘outer circles, And there were temples in the zones, and in
the larger of the two there was a racecourse for horses, which ran
all round the island. The guards were distributed in the tones
according to the trust reposed in them; the most trusted of them
were stationed in the citadel. The docks were full of triremes
and stores. The land between the harbour and the sea was
surrounded by a wall, and was crowded with dwellings, and the
& and canal resounded with the din of human voices,
1S / The plain around the city was highly cultivated and sheltered
from the north by mountains; it was oblong, and where falling
out of the straight line followed the circular ditch, which was of
am incredible depth, This depth received the streams which
came down from the mountains, as well as the canals of the
1g interior, and found a way to the sea, The entire country was
N divided into sixty thousand lots, each of which was a square of
| ten stadia;*and the owner of a lot was bound to furnish the sixth
part of a war-chariot, so as to make up ten thousand chariots, twe
horses and riders upon them, a pair of chariot-horses without
‘@ seat, and an attendant and chariotcer, two hoplites, two archers,
| two slingers, three stone-shooters, three javelin-men, and four
_ tailors to make up the complement of twelve hundred ships.
‘Fach of the ten kings was absolute in his own city and kingdom.
‘The relations of the different governments to one another were
determined by the injunctions of Poscidon, which had been

|

‘vaso obedient tol ihe’ hws -enil to tl god atl Seaciaoet

‘ness and wisdom in their intercourse with onc another. They
knew that they could only have the true use of riches by not
. _ Caring about them. But gradually the divine portion of their 12)
souls became diluted with too much of the mortal admixture, ad
they began to degenerate, though to the outward cye they ap
peared glorious as ever at the very time when they were filled
with all iniquity. The all-seeing Zeus, wanting to punish them,
held a council of the gods, and when he had called them together,
he spoke as follows :—

Santino No one knew better than Plato how to invent a ‘moble lic.’

‘ros. Observe (1) the innocent declaration of Socrates, that the truth
of the story is a great advantage: (2) the manper in which
traditional names and indications of geography are intermingled
{‘Why, here be truths!"): (3) the extreme minutences with |
which the numbers are given, as in the Old Epic poetry: (4)
She ingenious reasoa assigned for the Greek names occurring
in the Egyptian tale (r13 A): (5) the remark that the aracd
statue of Athene indicated the common warrior Hie of men and
women (10 B): (6) the particularity with which the third deluge
before that of Deucalion is affirmed to have been the great destrec-
tion (112 A): (7) the happy guess that great geological changes
have been effected by water: (8) the indulgence of the prejudice

Aw

-

The island of Atlantis,

|

against sailing beyond the Columns, and the popular belief of the crise.

BB erpeess oie poees Gi thal past (9) We enaepioe UND: toreane |

‘the depth of the ditch in the Island of Atlantis was not to be
believed, and ‘yet he could only repeat what he had heard”
ie C), compared with the statement made in an earlier passage

that Poseidon, being a God, found no difficulty in contriving
the water-supply of the centre island (113 E): (10) the mention
of the old rivalry of Poscidon and Athene, and the creation of
the first inhabitants out of the soil. Plato hore, as elsewhere,
ingeniously gives the impression that he is telling the truth which
mythology had corrupted.

‘The world, like a child, has readily, and for the most part
unhesitatingly, accepted the tale of the Island of Atlantis, In
modern times we hardly seek for traces of the submerged con-
tinent; but even Mr. Grote is inclined to believe in the Egyptian
poem of Solon of which there is no evidence in antiquity; while
others, like Martin, discuss the Egyptian origin of the legend, or
like M. de Humboldt, whom he quotes, are disposed to find in it
a vestige of a widely-spread tradition. Others, adopting a dif-
ferent vein of reflection, regard the Island of Atlantis as the
anticipation of a still greater island —the Continent of America.
“The tale,’ says M, Martin, ‘rests upon the authority of the
Egyptian priests; and the Egyptian priests took a pleasure in
deceiving the Greeks.’ He never appears to suspect that there is
a greater deceiver or magician than the Egyptian priests, that
is to say, Plato himself, from the dominion of whose genius the
critic and natural philosopher of modern times are not wholly
emancipated. Although worthless in respect of any result which
can be attained by them, discussions like those of M. Martin
(Timée, tome i, pp. 257-332) havean interest of theirown, and may
be compared to the similar discussions regarding the Lost Tribes
(2 Esdras xiii. 40), as showing how the chance word of some poct
‘or philosopher has given birth to endless religious or historical
enquiries. (See Introduction to the Timaeus, pp. 429-33.)

Tn contrasting the small Greek city numbering about twenty
thousand inhabitants with the barbaric greatness of the island of
Atlantis, Plato probably intended to show that a state, such as
the {deal Athens, was invincible, though matched against any
number of opponents (cp. Rep. iv. 423 B). Even ina great empire

(11 E), a8 well as the warriors who are his sale concern in the
Republic; and that though he speaks of the common purseits of
men and women, he says nothing of the community of wives and
children.

It is singular that Plato should have prefixed the most detesied
‘of Athenian names to this disloguc, and even more singralar that
he should have put into the mouth of Socrates a panegyric on bim
(Tim, 20 A). Yet we know that his character was accounted
infamous by Xenophon, and that the mero acquaintance with
him was made a subject of accusation against Socrates. We cas
only infer that in this, and perhaps in some other cases, Plato's
wcheracters have no reference to the actual facts. The desire to
do honour to his own family, and the connexion with Solos,

advancing ope, of from a.senst of the artic dilicaly’ of i
design, cannot be determined.

~

CRITIAS.

PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE.

Crrrias. Timares,
HERMOCRATES, ‘Socrates.

Timaews, Yow thankful I am, Socrates, that T have arrived
PAE RE od, ke a weary traveller after a long journey, may
be at rest! And I pray the being who always was of old,
and has now been by me revealed, to grant that my words
may endure in so far as they have been spoken truly and

acceptably to him; but if unintentionally 1 have said any-

thing wrong, I pray that he will impose upon me a just

retribution, and the just retribution of him who errs is that oe

he should be set right, Wishing, then, to speak truly in
future concerning the generation of the gods, I pray him
to give me knowledge, which of all medicines is the most
perfect and best. And now having offered my prayer J
deliver up the argument to Critias, who is to speak next
according to our agreement §.

Critias. And I, Timacus, accept the trust, and a5 you at
first said that you were going to speak of high matters, and
‘begged that some forbearance might be shown to you, I too
ask the same or greater forbearance for what I am about to
7 say. And although I very well know that my request may

appear to be somewhat ambitious and discourteous, £ must

make it nevertheless. For will any man of sense deny that
you have spoken well? 1 can only attempt to show that

T ought to have more indulgence than you, because my

‘Pim. a7 A.

Critiar.
‘Trmares,

~ a

severe judges of any one who does not render every port of
similarity. And we may observe the same thing ta happen is
discourse; we are satisfed with a picture of divine and
heavenly things which has very little likeness to them; but
we are more precise in our criticism of mortal and humas
things. Wherefore if at the moment of speaking I camnot
mad to form approved. p-paattnape posaerlac lr 72
reverse of easy, This is what I want to 0 and
at the same time to beg, Socrates, that I may have not lex,
but more indulgence conceded to me in what I am about to
say. Which favour, if I am right in asking, I hope that you
will be ready to grant.

Scerates. Certainly, Critias, we will grant your request,
and we will grant the same by anticipation to Hen |
as well as to you and Timacus; for I have no doubt that
when his turn comes.a little while hence, he will make the
same request which you have made. In order, them, that
he may provide himself with a fresh beginning, and net
be compelled to say the same things over again, let him

Exordium.
understand that the indulgence is already extended by anti-

wonderfully
you will need a great deal of indulgence before you will be
able to take his place,

Hermocrates. The warning, Socrates, which you have ad-
dressed to him, I must also take to myself. But remember,
Critias, that faint heart never yet raised a trophy; and there-
fore you must go and attack the argument like aman. First
invoke Apollo and the Muses, and then let us hear you
sound the praises and show forth the virtues of your ancient
citizens.

Crit, Friend Hermocrates, you, who are stationed last and
have another in front of you, have not lost heart a3 yet; the
gravity of the situation will soon be revealed to you; mean-
while I accept your exhortations and encouragements. But
besides the gods and goddesses whom you have mentioned,
T would specially invoke Mnemosyne; for all the important
part of my discourse is dependent on her favour, and if I can
recollect and recite enough of what was said by the pricsts
and brought hither by Solon, I doubt not that I shall satisfy
the requirements of this theatre. And now, making no more
‘excuses, I will proceed,

Let me begin by observing first of all, that nine thousand

them; this war Iam going to describe. Of the combatants
‘on the one side, the city of Athens was reported to have
‘been the leader and to have fought out the war; the com-
batants on the other side were commanded by the kings of
Adantis, which, as I was saying, was an island greater in
‘extent than Libya and Asia, and when afterwards sunk by

first of all the Athenians of that day, and their enemies who
VOL, 1149

Cris.

bere

the order of government; their names are preserved, but
their actions have disappeared by reason of the destruction
of those who received the tradition, and the lapse of a
For when there were any survivors, as 1 have already
they were men who dwelt in the mountains; and they were
ignorant of the art of writing, and had heard only the names:
of the chiefs of the land, but very little about their actions.
‘The names they were willing enough to give to their
children; but the virtues and the laws of their predecessors,
they knew only by obscure traditions; and as they
selves and their children lacked for many generations the
necessaries of life, they directed their attention to the supply
of their wants, and of them they conversed, to the neglect of
events that had happened in times long past; for mythology 2
+ Cp. Poli. azz &

ra -

and the enquiry into antiquity are first introduced into cities
when they begin to have Ieisure', and when they see that
‘of life have already been prorided, but not

And this is the reason why the names of the
ancients have been preserved to us and not their actions.
‘This I infer because Solon said that the priests in their nar-
rative of that war mentioned most of the names which are

tary pursuits were then common to men and women, the
mien of those days in accordance with the custom of the time
set up a figure and image of the goddess in full armour, to
be a testimony that all animals which associate together,
male as well as female, may, if they please, practise in
common the virtue which belongs to them without distinction
of sex.

Now the country was inhabited in those days by various
classes of citizens;—there were artisans, and there were
husbandmen, and there was also a warrior class originally set
apart by divine men. The latter dwelt by themselves, and had
all things suitable for nurture and education; neither had
any of them anything of their own, but they regarded all that
they had as common property; nor did they claim to receive
‘of the other citizens anything more than their necessary
food, And they practised all the pursuits which we yester-
day described as those of our imaginary guardians. Con-
cerning the country the Egyptian priests said what is not
only probable but manifestly true, that the boundaries were
im those days fixed by the Isthmus, and that in the direction
of the continent they extended as far as the heights of
Cithaeron and Parnes; the boundary line came down in
the direction of the sea, having the district of Oropus on the
right, and with the river Asopus as the limit on the left.
The land was the best in the world, and was therefore
able in tHose days to support a vast army, raised from the
surrounding people. Even the remnant of Attica which now
exists may compare with any region in the world for the

531
Critias
Corse

‘The prediue-
dremeas of
‘the soil il

‘br variety and excellence of its fruits and the suitableness of its equal 10

2.Gp. Arist. Metaphys: 1. 1, § 16.

of the mountains now only afford sustenance to bees, not 50
very long ago there were still to be seen roofs of timber eut

earth into the sea, but, having an abundant 3
places, and receiving it into herself and treasuring it uy
the close clay soil, it let off into the hollows | re
which it absorbed from the heights, providing
abundant fountains and rivers, of
be observed sacred memorials in a
once existed; and this proves the truth of what [
saying.

am
Such was the natural state of the country, which was cul-

~ |

The arrangement of the Acropolis.
‘tivated, as we may well believe, by true hushandmen, who
made husbandry their business, and were lovers of honour,
and of a noble nature, and had a soil the best in the world,
and abundance of water, and in the heaven above an ex-
cellently attempered climate, Now the city in those days was
‘arranged on this wise, In the first place the Acropolis was
‘not as now. For the fact is that a single night of excessive
rain washed away the carth and laid bare the rock; at the
‘ime time there were earthquakes, and then occurred the
‘extraordinary inundation, which was the third before the
great destruction of Deucalion. But in primitive times the
hill of the Acropolis extended to the Eridanus and Iliswus,
and included the Pnyx on one side, and the Lycabettus as a
boundary on the opposite side to the Pnyx, and was all well
covered with soil, and level at the top, except in one of two
places, Outside the Acropolis and under the sides of the
hill there dwelt artisans, and such of the husbandmen as
were tilling the ground near; the warrior class dwelt by
themselves around the temples of Athene and Hephaestus at
the summit, which moreover they had enclosed with a single
fence like the garden of a single house. On the north side
they had dwellings in common and had erected halls for
dining in winter, and had all the buildings which they
needed for their eammon life, besides temples, but there was
no adorning of them with gold and silver, for they made no
tse of these for any purpose; they took a middle course
between meanness and ostentation, and built modest houses
in which they and their children's children grew old, and
‘they handed them down to others who were like themselves,
always thesame. Bot in summer-time they left their gardens
and gymnasia and dining halls, and then the southern side of
the hill was made use of by them for the same purpose.
Where the Acropolis now is there was fountain, which was
choked by the earthquake, and has left only the few small
‘streams which still exist in the vicinity, but in those days the
fountain gave an abundant supply of water for all and of
Suitable temperature in summer and in winter. ‘This is how
they dwelt, being the guardians of their own citizens and the
‘Meaders of the Hellenes, who were their willing followers.
And they took care to preserve the same number af men and

“338

i.

‘The number

instituted sacrifices, And Poseidon, receiving for his tor the
island of Atlantis, begat children by a woman, and
settled them in a part of the island, which I will describe,
Looking towards the sea, but in the centre of the whole
island, there was a plain which is said to have been the fairest
of all plains and very fertile.

that country, whose name was Evenor, and he had a wife

(4

Atlas, son of Poseidon, first king of the island.

named Lencippe, and they had an only daughter who was
called Cleito. ‘The maiden had already reached womanhood,
when her father and mother died; Poseidon fell in love with
her and had intercourse with her, and breaking the ground,
enclosed the hill in which she dwelt all round, making alter~
nate zones Of sea and land larger and smaller, encircling one
another; there were two of land and three of water, which
fhe tumed as with a lathe, cach having its circumference equi- {fy

himself, being a god, found no difficulty in making special
arrangements for the centre island, bringing up two springs
of water from beneath the earth, one of warm water and the
other of cold, and making every variety of food to spring up
abundantly from the soil, He also begat and brought up
five pairs of twin male children; and dividing the island of
Atlantis into ten portions, he gave to the first-bom of the
eldest pair his mother’s dwelling and the surrounding allot-
perc, Seen ree ie egies eee ae
over the rest; the others he made princes, and gave them
rule over many men, and a large territory, And he named
them all; the eldest, who was the first king, he named Atlas,
and after him the whole island and the ocean were called
Atlantic, “To his twin brother, who was born after him, and
obtained as his lot the extremity of the island towards the

rita,
Cortes
Bis ove for
Gait He
Surreanded
the il
swt he
ved sith
Alena
oon oom

pillars of Heracles, facing the country which is now called Sunt"

the region of Gades in that part of the world, he gave the
name which in the Hellenic language is Eumelus, in the lan-
guage of the country which is named after him, Gadeirus.
Of the second pair of twins he called one Ampheres, and the
other Evacmon, To the elder of the third pair of twins he
gave the name Mneseus, and Autochthon to the one who
followed him. Of the fourth pair of twins he called the
elder Elasippus, and the younger Mestor. And of the fifth
pair he gave to the elder the name of Azaes, and to the
younger that of Disprepes. All these and their descendants
for many generations were the inhabitants and rulers of
divers islands in the open sea; and also, as has been already
said, they held sway in our direction over the country within
the pillars as far as Egypt and Tyrrhenia. Now Atlas had a

li

Great works: bridges, walls, ete.

surrounded the ancient metropolis, making a road to and Critén —
from the royal palace, And at the very beginning they built Cems
the palace in the habitation of the god and of their ancestors, “The twiees
which they continued to ornament in successive generations, ste
every king surpassing the one who went before him to the
utmost of his power, until they made the building @ marvel to. The wyat
behold. for size and for beauty. And beginning from the sea
they bored a canal of three hundred feet in width and one ‘The grest
hundred feet in depth and fifty stadia in length, which they **
enrried through to the outermost zone, making a passage
from the sea up to this, which became a harbour, and leaving The harbour.
an opening sufficient to enable the largest’ vessels to. find
ingress. Moreover, they divided at the bridges the zones of
land which parted the zones of sea, leaving room for a single
trireme to pass out of one zone into another, and they covered
over the channels so as to leave a way underneath for the
ships; for the banks were raised’ considerably above the
water. Now the largest of the zones into which a passage Sire ofthe
was cut from the sea was three stadia in breadth, and the zone “"™
of Jand which came next of equal breadth; but the next two
zones, the one of water, the other of land, were two stadia,
and the one which surrounded the central island was a

(26 stadium only in width, The island in which the palace sdotme
was situated had a diameter of five stadia. All this in “"""
cluding the zones and the bridge, which was the sixth part
of a stadium in width, they surrounded by a stone wall
on every side, placing towers and gates on the bridges
where the sea passed in. The stone which was used in the
work they quarricd from underneath the centre island, and
from underneath the zones, on the outer as well as the inner
side, One kind was white, another black, and a third red,
and as they quarried, they at the same time hollowed out
double docks, having roofs formed out of the native rock.
Some of their buildings were simple, but in others they put
together different stones, varying the colour to please the
eye, and to be a natural source of delight. The entire Thewslleaur
cireait of the wall, which went round the outermost zone, "anding ihe
they covered with a coating of brass, and the circuit of vurieested
the next wall they coated with tin, and the third, which “”™"""*
encompassed the citadel, Aashed with the red light of

all round; this was everywhere distant fifty stadia from the pee

largest zone or harbour, and enclosed the whole, the ends '«mesaniile

and din and clatter of all sorts night and day.
I haye described the city and the environs of the ancient ‘The diy ly

palace nearly in the words of Solon, and now f must Wardle
+48 endeavour to represent to you the nature and arrangement rounded by

of the rest of the land, ‘The whole country was said by him movetsinn

to! be very lofty and precipitous on the side of the sea, but scended sb-

the country immediately about and surrounding the city was [Oly jae

a level plain, itself surrounded by mountains which descended

towards the sea; it was smooth and even, and of an oblong

shape, extending in one direction three thousand stadia, but

the inhabitants of the mountains and of the rest |
country there was also a vast multitude, which was:
tributed among the lots and had leaders
according to their districts and villages. The leader

j

The meeting of the kings every fifth and sixth year.
required to furnish for the war the sixth portion of a war- Crites.
chariot, so as to make up a total of ten thousand chariots; Carma,
lua bee onses sand dees toils eee AERIS Sc
horses without a seat, accompanied by a horseman who could ire os
fight on foot carrying a small shield, and having a charioteer chariots, +00
who stood behind the man-at-arms to guide the two horses; 5%
also, he was bound to furnish two heavy-armed soldiers, two
archers, two slingers, three stone-shooters and three javelin~
men, who were light-armed, and four sailors 1o make up the
complement of twelve hundred ships. Such was the military
onder of the royal city—the onder of the other nine govern-
ments varied, and it would be wearisome to recount their
several differences,

As to offices and honours, the following was the arrange tawameting
ment from the first. Each of the ten kings in his own “6,
division and in his own city had the absolute control of the columa of
citizens, and, in most cases, of the laws, punishing and slaying Ml.
whomsoever he would. Now the order of precedence among
them and their mutual relations were régulated by the
commands of Poseidon which the law had handed down.

‘These were inscribed by the first kings on a pillar of
orichaleum, which was situated in the middle of the island, at
the temple of Poseidon, whither the kings were gathered
together every fifth and every sixth year alternately, thus
giving equal honour to the odd and to the even number.
And when they were gathered together they consulted about Adminias-
their common interests, and enquired if any one had trans- eae
greased in anything, and passed judgment, and before they cu kings in
passed judgment they gave their pledges to one another on }/anhleet
this wise:— There were bulls who had the range of the after sevitice
temple of Poscidon; and the ten kings, being left alone in “™{¥™9%
the temple, after they had offered prayers to the god that
they might capture the victim which was acceptable to him,
hunted the bulls, without weapons, but with staves and
nooses; and the bull which they caught they led up to the
pillar and cut its throat over the top of it so that the
blood fell upon the sacred inscription. Now on the pillar,
besides the laws, there was inscribed an oath invoking
mighty curses on the disobedient. When therefore, after
slaying the bull in the accustomed manner, they had burnt

tat

true and in every way great spirits, uniting gentleness with
wisdom in the various chances of life, and in their intercourse
with one another. ‘They despised everything but virtue,
cing Bile for de prem ate of i and inking

seemed only a burden to them; neither were they intoxicated
by luxury; nor did wealth deprive them of their self-control;
but they were sober, and saw clearly that all these goods are
increased by virtue and friendship with one another, whereas
by too great regard and respect for them, they are lost and
friendship with them. By such reflections and by the con-
nuance in them of a divine nature, the qualities which we
have described grew and increased among them; but when
the divine portion began to fade away, and became diluted
too often and too much with the mortal admixture, and
the human nature got the upper hand, they then, being
unable to bear their fortune, behaved unseemly, and to him
who had an eye to see, grew visibly debased, for they were
losing the fairest of their precious gifts; but to those who
had nd eye to see the true happiness, they appeared glorious
and blessed at the very time when they were full of avarice
and unrighteous power, Zeus, the god of gods, who rules
according to law, and is able to see into such things,
perceiving that an honourable race was in a woeful plight,
and wanting to inflict punishment on them, that they might
‘be chastened and improve, collected all the gods into their*
‘most holy habitation, which, being placed in the cenwe of the
world, beholds all created ae And when he had called
them together, he spake as follo

* Reading airém

Critins,
Camas,

bape

erated,

Intimation of
‘of Adanti,

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