Declared theme of the Republic — Expansion and multiplication of the topics connected with it.

Personages of the dialogue.

The professed subject is — What is Justice? Is the just man happy in or by reason of his justice? whatever consequences may befall him? Is the unjust man unhappy by reason of his injustice? But the ground actually travelled over by Sokrates, from whose mouth the exposition proceeds, is far more extensive than could have been anticipated from this announced problem. An immense variety of topics, belonging to man and society, is adverted to more or less fully. A theory of psychology or phrenology generally, is laid down and advocated: likewise a theory of the Intellect, distributed into its two branches: 1. Science, with the Platonic Forms or Ideas as Realities corresponding to it; 2. Opinion, with the fluctuating semi-realities or pseudo-realities, which form its object. A sovereign rule, exercised by philosophy, is asserted as indispensable to human happiness. The fundamental conditions of a good society, as Plato conceived it, are set forth at considerable length, and contrasted with the social corruptions of various existing forms of government. The outline of a perfect education, intellectual and emotional, is drawn up and prescribed for the ruling class: with many accompanying remarks on the objectionable tendencies of the popular and consecrated poems. The post-existence, as well as the pre-existence of the soul, is affirmed in the concluding books. As the result of the whole, Plato emphatically proclaims his conviction, that the just man is happy in and through his justice, quite apart from all consideration of consequences — yet that the consequences also will be such as to add to his happiness, both during life as well as after death: and the unjust man unhappy in and through his injustice.1

Views of Kephalus about old age.

Definition of Justice by Simonides — It consists in rendering to every man what is owing to him.

Objections to it by Sokrates — There are cases in which it is not right to restore what is owing, or to tell the truth.

“Is that your explanation of justice (asks Sokrates): that it consists in telling truth, and rendering to every one what you have had from him?” The old man Kephalus here withdraws; Polemarchus and the others prosecute the discussion. “The poet Simonides (says Polemarchus) gives an explanation like to that which you have stated — when he affirms, That just dealing consists in rendering to every man what is owing to him.”

Explanation by Polemarchus — Farther interrogations by Sokrates — Justice renders what is proper and suitable: but how? in what cases, proper? Under what circumstances is Justice useful?

Explanation by Polemarchus — Farther interrogations by Sokrates — Justice renders what is proper and suitable: but how? in what cases, proper? Under what circumstances is Justice useful?

The just man, being good for keeping property guarded, must also be good for stealing property — Analogies cited.

S. — Simonides meant to say (you tell me) that Justice consists in rendering benefits to your friends, evil to your enemies: that is, in rendering to each what is proper and suitable. But we must ask him farther — Proper and suitable — how? in what cases? to whom? The medical art is that which renders what is proper and suitable, of nourishment and medicaments for the health of the body: the art of cookery is that which renders what is proper and suitable, of savoury ingredients for the satisfaction of the palate. In like manner, the cases must be specified in which justice renders what is proper and suitable — to whom, how, or what?5 P. — Justice consists in doing good to friends, evil to enemies. S. — Who is it that is most efficient in benefiting his friends and injuring his enemies, as to health or disease? P. — It is the physician. S. — Who, in reference to the dangers in navigation by sea? P. — The steersman. S. — In what matters is it that the just man shows his special efficiency, to benefit friends and hurt enemies?6 P. — In war: as a combatant for the one and against the other. S. — To men who are not sick, the physician is of no use nor the steersman, to men on dry land: Do you mean in like manner, that the just man is useless to those who are not at war? P. — No: I do not mean that. Justice is useful in peace also. S. — So also is husbandry, for raising food — shoemaking, for providing shoes. Tell me for what want or acquisition justice is useful during peace? P. — It is useful for the common dealings and joint transactions between man and man. S. — When we are engaged in playing at draughts, the good player is our useful co-operator: when in laying bricks and stones, the skilful mason: much more than the just man. Can you specify in what particular transactions the just man has any superior usefulness as a co-operator? P. — In affairs of money, I think. S. — Surely not in the employment of money. When you want to buy a horse, you must take for your assistant, not the just man, but one who knows horses: so also, if you are purchasing a ship. What are those modes of jointly employing money, in which the just man is more useful than others? P. — He is useful when you wish to have your money safely kept. S. — That is, when your money is not to be employed, but to lie idle: so that when your money is useless, then is the time when justice is useful for it. P. — So it seems. S. — In regard to other things also, a sickle, a shield, a lyre when you want to use them, the pruner, the hoplite, the musician, must be invoked as co-operators: justice is useful only when you are to keep them unused. In a word, justice is useless for the use of any thing, and useful merely for things not in use. Upon this showing, it is at least a matter of no great worth.7

Justice consists in doing good to friends, evil to enemies — But how, if a man mistakes who his friends are, and makes friends of bad men?

But let us pursue the investigation (continues Sokrates). In boxing or in battle, is not he who is best in striking, best also in defending himself? In regard to disease, is not he who can best guard himself against it, the most formidable for imparting it to others? Is not the general who watches best over his own camp, also the most effective in surprising and over-reaching the enemy? In a word, whenever a man is effective as a guard of any thing, is he not also effective as a thief of it? P. — Such seems the course of the discussion. S. — Well then, the just man turns out to be a sort of thief, like the Homeric Autolykus. According to the explanation of Simonides, justice is a mode of thieving, for the profit of friends and damage of enemies.8 P. — It cannot be so. I am in utter confusion. Yet I think still that justice is profitable to friends, and hurtful to enemies.

Justice consists in doing good to your friend, if really a good man: hurt to your enemy, with the like proviso. Sokrates affirms that the just man will do no hurt to any one. Definition of Simonides rejected.

Thrasymachus takes up the dialogue — Repulsive portrait drawn of him.

“We have misconceived the meaning of Simonides (replies Polemarchus). He must have meant that justice consists in benefiting your friend, assuming him to be a good man: and in hurting your enemy, assuming him to be an evil man.” Sokrates proceeds to impugn the definition in this new sense. He shows that justice does not admit of our hurting any man, either evil or good. By hurting the evil man, we only make him more evil than he was before. To do this belongs not to justice, but to injustice.10 The definition of justice — That it consists in rendering benefit to friends and hurt to enemies — is not suitable to a wise man like Simonides, but to some rich potentate like Periander or Xerxes, who thinks his own power irresistible.11

Violence of Thrasymachus — Subdued manner of Sokrates — Conditions of useful colloquy.

Definition given by Thrasymachus — Justice is that which is advantageous to the more powerful. Comments by Sokrates. What if the powerful man mistakes his own advantage?

In the contrast between Sokrates and Thrasymachus, Plato gives valuable hints as to the conditions of instructive colloquy. “What nonsense is all this!” (exclaims Thrasymachus). “Do not content yourself with asking questions, Sokrates, which you know is much easier than answering: but tell us yourself what Justice is: give us a plain answer: do not tell us that it is what is right — or profitable — or for our interest — or gainful — or advantageous: for I will not listen to any trash like this.” “Be not so harsh with us, Thrasymachus” (replies Sokrates, in a subdued tone). “If we have taken the wrong course of inquiry, it is against our own will. You ought to feel pity for us rather than anger.” “I thought” (rejoined Thrasymachus, with a scornful laugh) “that you would have recourse to your usual pretence of ignorance, and would decline answering.” S. — How can I possibly answer, when you prescribe beforehand what I am to say or not to say? If you ask men — How much is twelve? and at the same time say — Don’t tell me that it is twice six, or three times four, or four times three — how can any man answer your question? T. — As if the two cases were similar! S. — Why not similar? But even though they be not similar, yet if the respondent thinks them so, how can he help answering according as the matter appears to him, whether we forbid him or not? T. — Is that what you intend to do? Are you going to give me one of those answers which I forbade? S. — Very likely I may, if on consideration it appears to me the proper answer.13 T. — What will you say if I show you another answer better than all of them? What penalty will you then impose upon yourself? S. — What penalty? — why, that which properly falls upon the ignorant. It is their proper fate to learn from men wiser than themselves: that is the penalty which I am prepared for.14

Correction by Thrasymachus — if the Ruler mistakes, he is pro tanto no Ruler — The Ruler, quâ Ruler — quâ Craftsman — is infallible.

After a few more words, in the same offensive and insolent tone ascribed to him from the beginning, Thrasymachus produces his definition of Justice:— “Justice is that which is advantageous to the more powerful”. Some comments from Sokrates bring out a fuller explanation, whereby the definition stands amended:— “Justice is that which is advantageous to the constituted authority, or to that which holds power, in each different community: monarchy, oligarchy, or democracy, as the case may be. Each of these authorities makes laws and ordinances for its own interest: declares what is just and unjust: and punishes all citizens who infringe its commands. Justice consists in obeying these commands. In this sense, justice is everywhere that which is for the interest or advantage of the more powerful.”15 “I too believe” (says Sokrates) “that justice is something advantageous, in a certain sense. But whether you are right in adding these words — ‘to the more powerful’ — is a point for investigation.16 Assuming that the authorities in each state make ordinances for their own advantage, you will admit that they sometimes mistake, and enact ordinances tending to their own disadvantage. In so far as they do this, justice is not that which is advantageous, but that which is disadvantageous, to the more powerful.17 Your definition therefore will not hold.”

Reply by Sokrates — The Ruler, quâ infallible Craftsman, studies the interest of those whom he governs, and not his own interest.

Thrasymachus denies this — Justice is the good of another. The just many are worse off than the unjust One, and are forced to submit to his superior strength.

To this subtle distinction, Sokrates replies by saying (in substance), “If you take the craftsman in this strict meaning, as representing the abstraction Craft, it is not true that his proceedings are directed towards his own interest or advantage. What he studies is, the advantage of his subjects or clients, not his own. The physician, as such, has it in view to cure his patients: the steersman, to bring his passengers safely to harbour: the ruler, so far forth as craftsman, makes laws for the benefit of his subjects, and not for his own. If obedience to these laws constitutes justice, therefore, it is not true that justice consists in what is advantageous to the superior or governing power. It would rather consist in what is advantageous to the governed.”20

Position laid for the subsequent debate and exposition.

Thrasymachus is now represented as renouncing the abstraction above noted,21 and reverting to the actualities of life. “Such talk is childish!” (he exclaims, with the coarseness imputed to him in this dialogue). “Shepherds and herdsmen tend and fatten their flocks and herds, not for the benefit of the sheep and oxen, but for the profit of themselves and the proprietors. So too the genuine ruler in a city: he regards his subjects as so many sheep, looking only to the amount of profit which he can draw from them.22 Justice is, in real truth, the good of another; it is the profit of him who is more powerful and rules — the loss of those who are weaker and must obey. It is the unjust man who rules over the multitude of just and well-meaning men. They serve him because he is the stronger: they build up his happiness at the cost of their own. Everywhere, both in private dealing and in public function, the just man is worse off than the unjust. I mean by the unjust, one who has the power to commit wrongful seizure on a large scale. You may see this if you look at the greatest injustice of all — the case of the despot, who makes himself happy while the juster men over whom he rules are miserable. One who is detected in the commission of petty crimes is punished, and gets a bad name: but if a man has force enough to commit crime on the grand scale, to enslave the persons of the citizens, and to appropriate their goods — instead of being called by a bad name, he is envied and regarded as happy, not only by the citizens themselves, but by all who hear him named. Those who blame injustice, do so from the fear of suffering it, not from the fear of doing it. Thus then injustice, in its successful efficiency, is strong, free, and over-ruling, as compared with justice. Injustice is profitable to a man’s self: justice (as I said before) is what is profitable to some other man stronger than he.”23

Arguments of Sokrates — Injustice is a source of weakness — Every multitude must observe justice among themselves, in order to avoid perpetual quarrels. The same about any single individual: if he is unjust, he will be at war with himself, and perpetually weak.

Farther argument of Sokrates — The just man is happy, the unjust man miserable — Thrasymachus is confuted and silenced. Sokrates complains that he does not yet know what Justice is.

Glaukon intimates that he is not satisfied with the proof, though he agrees in the opinion expressed by Sokrates. Tripartite distribution of Good — To which of the three heads does Justice belong?

Having thus shown that justice is stronger than injustice, Sokrates next offers an argument to prove that it is happier or confers more happiness than injustice. The conclusion of this argument is — That the just man is happy, and the unjust miserable.27 Thrasymachus is confuted, and retires humiliated from the debate. Yet Sokrates himself is represented as dissatisfied with the result. “At the close of our debate” (he says) “I find that I know nothing about the matter. For as I do not know what justice is, I can hardly expect to know whether it is a virtue or not; nor whether the man who possesses it is happy or not happy.”28

Glaukon undertakes to set forth the case against Sokrates, though professing not to agree with it.

Pleading of Glaukon. Justice is in the nature of a compromise for all — a medium between what is best and what is worst.

Yet still I think that you have not made out your case against Thrasymachus, and that he has given up the game too readily. I will therefore re-state his argument, not at all adopting his opinion as my own, but simply in order to provoke a full refutation of it from you, such as I have never yet heard from any one. First, I shall show what his partisans say as to the nature and origin of justice. Next, I shall show that all who practise justice, practise it unwillingly; not as good per se, but as a necessity. Lastly, I shall prove that such conduct on their part is reasonable. If these points can be made out, it will follow that the life of the unjust man is much better than that of the just.30

Comparison of the happiness of the just man derived from his justice alone, when others are unjust to him with that of the unjust man under parallel circumstances.

“That men are just, only because they are too weak to be unjust, will appear if we imagine any of them, either the just or the unjust, armed with full power and impunity, such as would be conferred by the ring of Gyges, which rendered the wearer invisible at pleasure. If the just man could become thus privileged, he would act in the same manner as the unjust: his temper would never be adamantine enough to resist the temptations which naturally prompt every man to unlimited satisfaction of his desires. Such temptations are now counteracted by the force of law and opinion; but if these sanctions were nullified, every man, just or unjust, would seize every thing that he desired, without regard to others. When he is just, he is so not willingly, but by compulsion. He chooses that course not as being the best for him absolutely, but as the best which his circumstances will permit.

Pleading of Adeimantus on the same side. He cites advice given by fathers to their sons, recommending just behaviour by reason of its consequences.

Pleading of Adeimantus on the same side. He cites advice given by fathers to their sons, recommending just behaviour by reason of its consequences.

Nobody recommends Justice per se, but only by reason of its consequences.

“When we find that the case is thus stated respecting justice, both by its panegyrists and by its enemies — that the former extol it only from the reputation which it procures, and that the latter promise to the unjust man, if clever and energetic, a higher recompense than any such reputation can obtain for him — what effect can we expect to be produced on the minds of young men of ability, station, and ambition? What course of life are they likely to choose? Surely they will thus reason: A just life is admitted to be burdensome — and it will serve no purpose, unless I acquire, besides, the reputation of justice in the esteem of others. Now the unjust man, who can establish such reputation, enjoys the perfection of existence. My happiness turns not upon the reality, but upon the seeming: upon my reputation with others.36 Such reputation then it must be my aim to acquire. I must combine the real profit of injustice with the outside show and reputation of justice. Such combination is difficult: but all considerable enterprises are difficult: I must confederate with partisans to carry my point by force or fraud. If I succeed, I attain the greatest prize to which man can aspire. I may be told that the Gods will punish me; but the same poets, who declare the existence of the Gods, assure me also that they are placable by prayer and sacrifice: and the poets are as good authority on the one point as on the other.37 Such” (continues Adeimantus) “will be the natural reasoning of a powerful, energetic, aspiring, man. How can we expect that such a man should prefer justice, when the rewards of injustice on its largest scale are within his reach?38 Unless he be averse to injustice, from some divine peculiarity of disposition — or unless he has been taught to abstain from it by the acquisition of knowledge, — he will treat the current encomiums on justice as ridiculous. No man is just by his own impulse. Weak men or old men censure injustice, because they have not force enough to commit it with success: which is proved by the fact than any one of them who acquires power, immediately becomes unjust as far as his power reaches.

Adeimantus calls upon Sokrates to recommend and enforce Justice on its own grounds, and to explain how Justice in itself benefits the mind of the just man.

“The case as I set it forth” (pursues Adeimantus) “admits of no answer on the ground commonly taken by those who extol justice and blame injustice, from the earliest poets down to the present day.39 What they praise is not justice per se, but the reputation which the just man obtains, and the consequences flowing from it. What they blame is not injustice per se, but its results. They never commend, nor even mention, justice as it exists in and moulds the internal mind and character of the just man; even though he be unknown, misconceived and detested, by Gods as well as by men. Nor do they ever talk of the internal and intrinsic effects of injustice upon the mind of the unjust man, but merely of his ulterior prospects. They never attempt to show that injustice itself, in the mind of the unjust man, is the gravest intrinsic evil: and justice in the mind of the just man, the highest intrinsic good: apart from consequences on either side. If you had all held this language from the beginning, and had impressed upon us such persuasion from our childhood, there would have been no necessity for our keeping watch upon each other to prevent injustice. Every man would have been the best watch upon himself, through fear lest by becoming unjust he might take into his own bosom the gravest evil.40

Relation of Glaukon and Adeimantus to Thrasymachus.

“Here therefore is a deficiency in the argument on behalf of justice, which I call upon you,41 Sokrates, who have employed all your life in these meditations, to supply. You have declared justice to be good indeed for its consequences, but still more of a good from its own intrinsic nature. Explain how it is good, and how injustice is evil, in its own intrinsic nature: what effect each produces on the mind, so as to deserve such an appellation. Omit all notice of consequences accruing to the just or unjust man, from the opinion, favourable or otherwise, entertained towards him by others. You must even go farther: you must suppose that both of them are misconceived, and that the just man is disgraced and punished as if he were unjust — the unjust man honoured and rewarded as if he were just. This is the only way of testing the real intrinsic value of justice and injustice, considered in their effects upon the mind. If you expatiate on the consequences — if you regard justice as in itself indifferent, but valuable on account of the profitable reputation which it procures, and injustice as in itself profitable, but dangerous to the unjust man from the hostile sentiment and damage which it brings upon him — the real drift of your exhortation will be, to make us aspire to be unjust in reality, but to aim at maintaining a reputation of justice along with it. In that line of argument you will concede substantially the opinion of Thrasymachus — That justice is another man’s good, the advantage of the more powerful: and injustice the good or profit of the agent, but detrimental to the weaker.”42

Statement of the question as it stands after the speeches of Glaukon and Adeimantus. What Sokrates undertakes to prove.

Position to be proved by Sokrates — Justice makes the just man happy per se, whatever be its results.

If this last opinion be granted, Glaukon argues that Justice would indeed be good for weak and middling agents, but not for men of power and energy, who had a good chance of extorting the benefit without paying the antecedent price. And Thrasymachus, carrying this view still farther, assumes that there are in every society men of power who despotise over the rest; and maintains that Justice consists, for the society generally, in obeying the orders of these despots. It is all gain to the strong, all loss to the weak. These latter profit by it in no other way than by saving themselves from farther punishment or ill usage on the part of the strong.

Argument of Sokrates to show what Justice is — Assumed analogy between the city and the individual.

Fundamental principle, to which communities of mankind owe their origin — Reciprocity of want and service between individuals — No individual can suffice to himself.

Moderate equipment of a sound and healthy city — Few wants.

Moderate equipment of a sound and healthy city — Few wants.

Enlargement of the city — Multiplied wants and services. First origin of war and strife with neighbours — It arises out of these multiplied wants.

Separate class of soldiers or Guardians. One man cannot do well more than one business. Character required in the Guardians — Mildness at home with pugnacity against enemies.

I understand you (replies Sokrates): you are not satisfied with a city of genuine simplicity: you want a city luxurious and inflated. Well then — we will suppose it enlarged until it comprehends all the varieties of elegant and costly enjoyment: gold, silver, and ivory: musicians and painters in their various branches: physicians: and all the crowd of attendants required for a society thus enlarged. Such extension of consumption will carry with it a numerous population, who cannot be maintained from the lands belonging to the city. We shall be obliged to make war upon our neighbours and seize some of their lands. They too will do the same by us, if they have acquired luxurious habits. Here we see the first genesis of war, with all its consequent evils: springing from the acquisition of wealth, beyond the limit of necessity.50 Having war upon our hands, we need soldiers, and a considerable camp of them. Now war is essentially a separate craft and function, requiring to be carried on by persons devoted to it, who have nothing else to do. We laid down from the beginning, that every citizen ought to confine himself exclusively to that business for which he was naturally fit; and that no one could be allowed to engage in two distinct occupations. This rule is above all things essential for the business of war. The soldier must perform the duties of a soldier, and undertake no others.51

Peculiar education necessary, musical as well as gymnastical.

Musical education, by fictions as well as by truth. Fictions addressed to the young: the religious legends now circulating are often pernicious: censorship necessary.

Assuming children of these dispositions to be found, we must provide for them the best training and education. The training must be twofold: musical, addressed to the mind: gymnastical, addressed to the body — pursuant to the distribution dating from ancient times.54 Music includes all training by means of words or sounds: speech and song, recital and repetition, reading and writing, &c.

Orthodox type to be laid down: all poets are required to conform their legends to it. The Gods are causes of nothing but good: therefore they are causes of few things. Great preponderance of actual evil.

The Guardians must not fear death. No terrible descriptions of Hades must be presented to them: no intense sorrow, nor violent nor sensual passion, must be recounted either of Gods or Heroes.

I am no poet (continues the Platonic Sokrates), nor can I pretend to compose legends myself: but I shall lay down a type of theological orthodoxy, to which all the divine legends in our city must conform. Every poet must proclaim that the Gods are good, and therefore cannot be the cause of anything except good. No poet can be allowed to describe the Gods (according to what we now read in Homer and elsewhere) as dispensing both good and evil to mankind. The Gods must be announced as causes of all the good which exists, but other causes must be found for all the evil: the Gods therefore are causes of comparatively few things, since bad things are far more abundant among us than good.57 No poetical tale can be tolerated which represents the Gods as assuming the forms of different persons, and going about to deceive men into false beliefs.58 Falsehood is odious both to Gods and to men: though there are some cases in which it is necessary as a precaution against harm, towards enemies, or even towards friends during seasons of folly or derangement.59 But none of these exceptional circumstances can apply to the Gods.

Type for all narratives respecting men.

It is indispensable to inspire these youthful minds with courage, and to make them fear death as little as possible. But the terrific descriptions, given by the poets, of Hades and the underworld, are above all things likely to aggravate the fear of death. Such descriptions must therefore be interdicted, as neither true nor useful. Even if poetically striking, they are all the more pernicious to be listened to by youths whom we wish to train up as spirited free-men, fearing enslavement more than death.60 We must also prohibit the representations of intense grief and distress, imputed by Homer to Heroes or Gods, to Achilles, Priam, or Zeus, for the death of friends and relatives. A perfectly reasonable man will account death no great evil, either for himself or for his friend: he will be, in a peculiar degree, sufficient to himself for his own happiness, and will therefore endure with comparative equanimity the loss of friends, relatives, or fortune.61 We must teach youth to be ashamed of indulging in immoderate grief or in violent laughter.62 We must teach them also veracity and temperance, striking out all those passages in Homer which represent the Gods or Heroes as incontinent, sensual, furiously vindictive, reckless of obligation, or money-loving.63 The poets must either not recount such proceedings at all, or must not ascribe them to Gods and Heroes.

Style of narratives. The poet must not practise variety of imitation: he must not speak in the name of bad characters.

Rhythm and Melody regulated. None but simple and grave music allowed: only the Dorian and Phrygian moods, with the lyre and harp.

Effect of musical training of the mind — makes youth love the Beautiful and hate the Ugly.

We must farther regulate the style of the Odes and Songs, consistent with what has been already laid down. Having prescribed what the sense of the words must be, we must now give directions about melody and rhythm. We shall permit nothing but simple music, calculated less to please the ear, than to inspire grave, dignified, and resolute sentiment. We shall not allow either the wailing Lydian, or the soft and convivial Ionic mood: but only the Phrygian and Dorian moods. Nor shall we tolerate either the fife, or complicated stringed instruments: nothing except the lyre and harp, with the panspipe for rural abodes.66 The rhythm or measure must also be simple, suitable to the movements of a calm and moderate man. Both good rhythm, graceful and elegant speaking, and excellence of sense, flow from good and virtuous dispositions, tending to inspire the same dispositions in others:67 just as bad rhythm, ungraceful and indecorous demeanour, defective proportion, &c., are companions of bad speech and bad dispositions. Contrasts of this kind pervade not only speech and song, but also every branch of visible art: painting, architecture, weaving, embroidery, pottery, and even the natural bodies of animals and plants. In all of them we distinguish grace and beauty, the accompaniments of a good and sober disposition — from ungracefulness and deformity, visible signs of the contrary disposition. Now our youthful Guardians, if they are ever to become qualified for their functions, must be trained to recognise and copy such grace and beauty.68 For this purpose our poets, painters, architects, and artisans, must be prohibited from embodying in their works any ungraceful or unseemly type. None will be tolerated as artists, except such as can detect and embody the type of the beautiful. Our youth will thus insensibly contract exclusive familiarity, both through the eye and through the ear, with beauty in its various manifestations: so that their minds will be brought into harmonious preparation for the subsequent influence of beautiful discourse.69

Training of the body — simple and sober. No refined medical art allowed. Wounds or temporary ailments treated; but sickly frames cannot be kept alive.

This indeed (continues Sokrates) is the principal benefit arising from musical tuition, that the internal mind of a youth becomes imbued with rhythm and harmony. Hence he learns to commend and be delighted with the beautiful, and to hate and blame what is ugly; before he is able to render any reason for his sentiments: so that when mature age arrives, his sentiments are found in unison with what reason enjoins, and already predisposed to welcome it.70 He becomes qualified to recognise the Forms of Temperance, Courage, Liberality, Magnanimity, and their embodiments in particular persons. To a man brought up in such sentiments, no spectacle can be so lovely as that of youths combining beauty of mental disposition with beauty of exterior form. He may indeed tolerate some defects in the body, but none in the mind.71 His love, being genuine and growing out of musical and regulated contemplations, will attach itself to what is tempered and beautiful; not to the intense pleasures of sense, which are inconsistent with all temperance. Such will be the attachments subsisting in our city, and such is the final purpose of musical training — To generate love of the Beautiful.72

Value of Gymnastic in imparting courage to the mind — Gymnastic and Music necessary to correct each other.

We next proceed to gymnastic training, which must be simple, for the body — just as our musical training was simple for the mind. We cannot admit luxuries and refinements either in the one or in the other. Our gymnastics must impart health and strength to the body, as our music imparts sobriety to the mind.73 We shall require few courts of justice and few physicians. Where many of either are needed, this is a proof that ill-regulated minds and diseased bodies abound. It would be a disgrace to our Guardians if they could not agree on what is right and proper among themselves, without appealing to the decision of others. Physicians too are only needed for wounds or other temporary and special diseases. We cannot admit those refinements of the medical art, and that elaborate nomenclature and classification of diseases, which the clever sons of Æsculapius have invented, in times more recent than Æsculapius himself.74 He knew, but despised, such artifices; which, having been devised chiefly by Herodikus, serve only to keep alive sickly and suffering men — who are disqualified for all active duty through the necessity of perpetual attention to health, — and whose lives are worthless both to themselves and to the city. In our city, every man has his distinct and special function, which he is required to discharge. If he be disqualified by some temporary ailment, the medical art will be well employed in relieving and restoring him to activity: but he has no leisure to pass his life as a patient under cure, and if he be permanently unfit to fill his place in the established cycle of duties, his life ought not to be prolonged by art, since it is useless to himself and useless to the city also.75 Our medical treatment for evils of the body, and our judicial treatment for evils of the mind, must be governed by analogous principles. Where body and mind are sound at bottom, we must do our best to heal temporary derangements: but if a man has a body radically unsound, he must be suffered to die — and if he has a mind unsound and incurable, he must be put to death by ourselves.76

Out of the Guardians a few of the very best must be chosen as Elders or Rulers — highly educated and severely tested.

Fundamental creed required to be planted in the minds of all the citizens respecting their breed and relationship.

Such must be the training, from childhood upwards, of these Guardians and Auxiliaries of our city. We must now select from among these men themselves, a few to be Governors or chief Guardians; the rest serving as auxiliaries. The oldest and best of them must be chosen for this purpose, those who possess in the greatest perfection the qualities requisite for Guardians. They must be intelligent, capable, and solicitous for the welfare of the city. Now a man is solicitous for the welfare of that which he loves. He loves those whose interests he believes to be the same as his own; those whose well-being he believes to coincide with his own well-being79 — the contrary, with the contrary. The Guardians chosen for Chiefs must be those who are most thoroughly penetrated with such sympathy; who have preserved most tenaciously throughout all their lives the resolution to do every thing which they think best for the city, and nothing which they do not think to be best for it. They must be watched and tested in temptations pleasurable as well as painful, to see whether they depart from this resolution. The elders who have best stood such trial, must be named Governors.80 These few will be the chief Guardians or Rulers: the remaining Guardians will be their auxiliaries or soldiers, acting under their orders.

How is such a fiction to be accredited in the first instance? Difficulty extreme, of first beginning; but if once accredited, it will easily transmit itself by tradition.

Here then our city will take its start; the body of Guardians marching in arms under the orders of their Chiefs, and encamping in a convenient acropolis, from whence they may best be able to keep order in the interior and to repel foreign attack.81 But it is indispensable that both they and the remaining citizens should be made to believe a certain tale, — which yet is altogether fictitious and of our own invention. They must be told that they are all earthborn, sprung from the very soil which they inhabit: all therefore brethren, from the same mother Earth: the auxiliaries or soldiers, born with their arms and equipments. But there was this difference (we shall tell them) between the different brethren. Those fit for Chiefs or Rulers, were born with a certain mixture of gold in their constitution: those fit for soldiers or Guardians simply, with a like mixture of silver: the remainder, with brass or iron. In most individual cases, each of these classes will beget an offspring like themselves. But exceptions will sometimes happen, in which the golden man will have a child of silver, or brass, — or the brazen or iron man, a child of nobler metal than his own. Now it is of the last importance that the Rulers should keep watch to preserve the purity of these breeds. If any one of their own children should turn out to be of brass or iron, they must place him out among the husbandmen or artisans: if any of the brazen or iron men should chance to produce a child of gold, they must receive him among themselves, since he belongs to them by his natural constitution. Upon the maintenance of these distinct breeds, each in its appropriate function, depends the entire fate of the city: for an oracle has declared that it will perish, if ever iron or brazen men shall become its Guardians.82

Guardians to reside in barracks and mess together; to have no private property or home; to be maintained by contribution from the people.

It is indispensable (continues Sokrates) that this fiction should be circulated and accredited, as the fundamental, consecrated, unquestioned, creed of the whole city, from which the feeling of harmony and brotherhood among the citizens springs. But how can we implant such unanimous and unshaken belief, in a story altogether untrue? Similar fables have often obtained implicit credence in past times: but no such case has happened of late, and I question whether it could happen now.83 The postulate seems extravagant: do you see by what means it could be realised? — I see no means (replies Glaukon) by which the fiction could be first passed off and accredited, among these men themselves: but if it were once firmly implanted, in any one generation, I do not doubt that their children and descendants would inherit and perpetuate it.84 We must be satisfied with thus much (replies Sokrates): assuming the thing to be done, and leaving the process of implanting it to spontaneous and oracular inspiration.85 I now proceed with the description of the city.

If the Guardians fail in these precautions, and acquire private interests, the city will be ruined.

Complete unity of the city, every man performing his own special function.

If these precautions be maintained, the Guardians may be secure themselves, and may uphold in security the entire city. But if the precautions be relinquished — if the Guardians or Soldiers acquire separate property in lands, houses, and money — they will then become householders and husbandmen instead of Guardians or Soldiers: hostile masters, instead of allies and protectors to their fellow-citizens. They will hate their fellow-citizens, and be hated by them in return: they will conspire against them, and will be themselves conspired against. In this manner they will pass their lives, dreading their enemies within far more than their enemies without. They, and the whole city along with them, will be perpetually on the brink of destruction.87

The maintenance of the city depends upon that of the habits, character, and education of the Guardians.

The maintenance of the city depends upon that of the habits, character, and education of the Guardians.

Religious legislation — Consult the Delphian Apollo.

The city is now constituted as a good city — that is, wise, courageous, temperate, just. Where is its Justice?

First, where is the wisdom of the city? It resides in the few elder Rulers.

Where is the Courage? In the body of Guardians or Soldiers.

First, we can easily see where Wisdom resides. The city includes in itself a great variety of cognitions, corresponding to all the different functions in which its citizens are employed. But it is not called wise, from its knowledge of husbandry, or of brazier’s and carpenter’s craft: since these are specialties which cover only a small fraction of its total proceedings. It is called wise, or well-advised, from that variety of intelligence or cognition which directs it as a whole, in its entire affairs: that is, the intelligence possessed by the chief Guardians or Rulers. Now the number of persons possessing this variety of intelligence is smaller than the number of those who possess any other variety. The wisdom of the entire city resides in this very small presiding fraction, and in them alone.96

Where is the Temperance? It resides in all and each, Rulers, Guardians, and People. Superiors rule and Inferiors obey.

Where is the Justice? In all and each of them also. It consists in each performing his own special function, and not meddling with the function of the others.

Thirdly, wherein resides the Temperance of the city? Temperance implies a due relation, proportion, or accord, between different elements. The temperate man is called superior to himself: but this expression, on first hearing, seems unmeaning, since the man must also be inferior to himself. But the expression acquires a definite meaning, when we recognise it as implying that there are in the same man’s mind better and worse elements: and that when the better rules over the worse, he is called superior to himself, or temperate — when the worse rules over the better, he is called inferior to himself, or intemperate. Our city will be temperate, because the better part of it, though smaller in number, rules over the worse and inferior part, numerically greater. The pleasures, pains, and desires of our few Rulers, which are moderate and reasonable, are preponderant: controuling those of the Many, which are miscellaneous, irregular, and violent. And this command is exercised with the perfect consent and good-will of the subordinates. The Many are not less willing to obey than the Few to command. There is perfect unanimity between them as to the point — Who ought to command, and who ought to obey? It is this unanimity which constitutes the temperance of the city: which thus resides, not in any one section of the city, like Courage and Wisdom, but in all sections alike: each recognising and discharging its legitimate function.98

Injustice arises when any one part of the city interferes with the functions of the other part, or undertakes double functions.

There remains only Justice for us to discover. Wherein does the Justice of the city reside? Not far off. Its justice consists in that which we pointed out at first as the fundamental characteristic of the city, when we required each citizen to discharge one function, and one alone — that for which he was best fitted by nature. That each citizen shall do his own work, and not meddle with others in their work — that each shall enjoy his own property, as well as do his own work — this is true Justice.99 It is the fundamental condition without which neither temperance, nor courage, nor wisdom could exist; and it fills up the good remaining after we have allowed for the effects of the preceding three.100 All the four are alike indispensable to make up the entire Good of the city: Justice, or each person (man, woman, freeman, slave, craftsman, guardian) doing his or her own work — Temperance, or unanimity as to command and obedience between Chiefs, Guardians, and the remaining citizens — Courage, or the adherence of the Guardians to right reason, respecting what is terrible and not terrible — Wisdom, or the tutelary superintendence of the Chiefs, who protect each person in the enjoyment of his own property.101

Analogy of the city to the individual — Each man is tripartite, having in his mind Reason, Energy, Appetite. These three elements are distinct, and often conflicting.

Reason, Energy, Appetite, in the individual — analogous to Rulers, Guardians, Craftsmen in the city. Reason is to rule Appetite. Energy assists Reason in ruling it.

To determine this question, we must consider that the same thing cannot at the same time do or suffer opposites, in the same respect and with reference to the same thing. The same thing or person cannot at the same time, and in the same respect, both stand still and move. This may be laid down as an universal truth: but since some may not admit it to be so, we will at any rate assume it as an hypothesis.105 Now in reference to the mind, we experience at the same time various movements or affections contrary to each other: assent and dissent — desire and aversion — the attracting any thing to ourselves, and the repelling it from ourselves: each of these is different from and contrary to the other. As a specimen of desires, we will take thirst. When a man is in this condition, his mind desires nothing else but to drink; and strains entirely towards that object. If there be any thing which drags back his mind when in this condition, it must be something different from that which pulls him forward and attracts him to drink. That which attracts him, and that which repels him, cannot be the same: just as when the archer at the same time pulls his bow towards him and pushes it away from him, it is one of his hands that pulls and another that pushes.106 Now it often happens that a man athirst refuses to drink: there is something within him that prompts him to drink, and something still more powerful that forbids him. These two cannot be the same: one of them is different from the other: that which prompts is appetite, that which forbids is reason. The rational element of the mind is in like manner something different or distinguishable from all the appetites, which tend towards repletion and pleasure.

A man is just when these different parts of his mind exercise their appropriate functions without hindrance.

Justice and Injustice in the mind — what health and disease are in the body.

These special functions of the separate parts being laid down, Justice as well as Temperance will appear analogous in the individual and in the city. Both Justice and Temperance reside in all the parts equally: not in one of them exclusively, as Wisdom and Courage reside. Justice and Temperance belong to the subordinate as well as to the dominant parts. Justice exists when each of the parts performs its own function, without encroaching on the function of the others: Temperance exists when all the parts are of one opinion as to the title of the higher or rational element to exercise command.111

Original question now resumed — Does Justice make a man happy, and Injustice make him miserable, apart from all consequences? Answer — Yes.

Glaukon requires farther explanation about the condition of the Guardians, in regard to sexual and family ties.

Having thus ascertained the nature of justice and injustice, we are now in a condition (continues Sokrates) to reply to the question proposed for investigation — Is it profitable to a man to be just and to do justice per se, even though he be not known as just either by Gods or men, and may thus be debarred from the consequences which would ensue if he were known? Or is it profitable to him to be unjust, if he can contrive to escape detection and punishment? We are enabled to answer the first question in the affirmative, and the second question in the negative. As health is the greatest good, and sickness the greatest evil, of body: so Justice is the greatest good, and injustice the greatest evil, of mind. No measure of luxury, wealth, or power, could render life tolerable, if we lost our bodily health: no amount of prosperity could make life tolerable, without mental health or justice. As bodily health is good per se, and sickness evil per se, even apart from its consequences: so justice also is good in itself, and injustice evil in itself, apart from its consequences.114

Men and women will live together and perform the duties of Guardians alike — They will receive the same gymnastic and musical training.

Nature does not prescribe any distribution of functions between men and women. Women are inferior to men in every thing. The best women are equal to second-best men.

In reply, Sokrates announces his intention to make such provision as will exclude separate family ties, as well as separate property, among these Guardians. The Guardians will consist both of men and women. The women will receive the same training, both musical and gymnastical, as the men.116 They will take part both in the bodily exercises of the palæstra, in the military drill, and in the combats of war. Those who deride these naked exercises as preposterous for the female sex, should be reminded (Sokrates says) that not long ago it was considered unseemly among the Greeks (as it still is among many of the barbari) for men to expose their naked bodies in the palæstra: but such repugnance has been overpowered by the marked usefulness of the practice: the Kretans first setting the example, next the Lacedæmonians; lastly all other Greeks doing the same.117 We maintain the principle which we laid down in the beginning, that one person should perform only one duty — that for which he is best qualified. But there is no one function, or class of functions, for which women as such are peculiarly qualified, or peculiarly disqualified. Between women generally, and men generally, in reference to the discharge of duties, there is no other difference, except that men are superior to women in every thing:118 the best women will be on a level only with the second-best men, but they will be superior to all men lower than the second best. But among women, as among men, there are great individual differences: one woman is fit for one duty, another for another: and in our city, each must be employed for the duty suitable to her individual disposition. Those who are best qualified by nature for the office of Guardians, must be allotted to that office: they must discharge it along with the men, and must be trained for it by the same education as the men, musical and gymnastical.

Community of life and relations between the male and female Guardians. Temporary marriages arranged by contrivance of the Elders. No separate families.

Regulations about age, for procreation — Children brought up under public authority.

These intermingled male and female Guardians, in the discharge of their joint functions, will live together in common barracks and at common mess-tables. There must be no separate houses or separate family-relations between them. All are wives or husbands of all: no youth must know his own father, no mature man must know his own son: all the mature men and women are fathers or mothers of all the younger: all of the same age are brothers and sisters.121 We do not intend, however, that the copulation between them shall take place in a promiscuous and arbitrary manner: we shall establish laws to regulate the intermarriages and breeding.122 We must copy the example of those who regulate the copulation of horses, dogs, and other animals: we must bring together those who will give existence to the best offspring.123 We must couple, as often as we can, the men who are best, with the women who are best, both in mind and body; and the men who are least good, with the women who are least good. We must bring up the offspring of the former couples — we must refuse to bring up the offspring of the latter.124 And such results must be accomplished by underhand arrangements of the Elder Chiefs; so as to be unknown to every one else, in order to prevent discontent and quarrel among the body of the Guardians. These Elders will celebrate periodical festivals, in which they will bring together the fitting brides and bridegrooms, under solemn hymns and sacrifices. They must regulate the number of marriages in such manner as to keep the total list of Guardians as much as possible without increase as well as without diminution.125 The Elders must make an artful use of the lot, so that these couplings shall appear to every one else the effect of chance. Distinguished warriors must be rewarded with a larger licence of copulation with different women, which will produce the farther advantage of having as many children as possible born from their procreation.126 All the children as soon as born must be consigned to the Chiefs or Elders, male and female, who will conceal in some convenient manner those who are born either from the worst couples or with any bodily imperfection: while they place the offspring of the best couples in special outbuildings under the charge of nurses. Those mothers who are full of milk will be brought here to give suck, but every precaution will be taken that none of them shall know her own child: wet-nurses will also be provided in addition, to ensure a full supply: but all the care of the children will devolve on the public nurses, not on the mothers.127

Perfect communion of sentiment and interest among the Guardians — Causes of pleasure and pain the same to all, like parts of the same organism.

Harmony — absence of conflicting interest — assured scale of equal comfort — consequent happiness — among the Guardians.

The main purpose of such regulations, in respect to family as in respect to property, is to establish the fullest communion between all the Guardians, male and female — and to eliminate as much as possible the feeling of separate interest in any fraction of them. The greatest evil to any city is, that which pulls it to pieces and makes it many instead of one: the greatest good to it is that which binds it together and makes it one. Now what is most efficacious in binding it together, is, community of the causes of pleasure and pain: when each individual feels pleasure from the same causes and on the same occasions as all the rest, and pain in like manner. On the other hand, when the causes of pleasure and pain are distinct, this tends to dissolution; and becomes fatal if the opposition is marked, so that some individuals are much delighted, and others much distressed, under the same circumstances. That city is the best arranged, wherein all the citizens pronounce the words Mine and Not Mine, with reference to the same things: when they coalesce into an unity like the organism of a single individual. To him a blow in the finger is a blow to the whole man: so also in the city, pleasure or pain to any one citizen ought to communicate itself by sympathy as pleasure and pain to all.131

In case of war both sexes will go together to battle — Rewards to distinguished warriors.

Now the Guardians under our regulations will present as much as possible this community of Mine and Not Mine, as well as of pleasures and pains — and this exclusion of the separate individual Mine and Not Mine, as well as of separate pleasures and pains. No individual among them will have either separate property or separate family relationship: each will have both one and the other in common with the rest.132 No one will have property of his own to be increased, nor a family of his own to be benefited, apart from the rest: all will be as much as possible common recipients of pleasure and pain.133 All the ordinary causes of dispute and litigation will thus be excluded. If two Guardians of the same age happen to quarrel, they must fight it out: this will discharge their wrath and prevent worse consequences — while at the same time it will encourage attention to gymnastic excellence.134 But no younger Guardian will raise his hand against an older Guardian, whom he is taught to reverence as his father, and whom every one else would protect if attacked. If the Guardians maintain harmony among themselves, they will easily ensure it among the remaining inhabitants. Assured of sufficient but modest comforts, the Guardians will be relieved from all struggles for the maintenance of a family, from the arts of trade, and from subservience to the rich.135 They will escape all these troubles, and will live a life happier than the envied Olympic victor: for they will gain the victory in an enterprise more illustrious than he undertakes, and they will receive from their fellow-citizens fuller maintenance and higher privilege than what is awarded to him, as well as honours after death.136 Their lives are not to be put in comparison with those of the farmer or the shoemaker. They must not indeed aspire to any happiness incompatible with their condition and duty as Guardians. But that condition will itself involve the highest happiness. And if any silly ambition prompts them to depart from it, they will assuredly change for the worse.137

War against Hellenic enemies to be carried on mildly — Hellens are all by nature kinsmen.

Such is the communion of sexes which must be kept up for the duties of Guardians, and for the exigencies of military defence. As in other races of animals, males and females must go out to fight, and each will inspire the other with bravery. The children must be taken out on horseback to see the encounters from a distance, so that they may be kept clear of danger, yet may nevertheless be gradually accustomed to the sight of it.138 If any one runs away from the field, he must be degraded from the rank of Guardian to that of husbandman or craftsman. If any man suffers himself to be taken prisoner, he is no loss: the enemy may do what they choose with him. When any one distinguishes himself in battle, he shall be received on his return by garlands and by an affectionate welcome from the youth.139 Should he be slain in battle, he shall be recognised as having become a Dæmon or Demigod (according to the Hesiodic doctrine), and his sepulchre shall be honoured by appropriate solemnities.140

Question — How is the scheme practicable? It is difficult, yet practicable on one condition — That philosophy and political power should come into the same hands.

Characteristic marks of the philosopher — He contemplates and knows Entia or unchangeable Forms, as distinguished from fluctuating particulars or Fientia.

The supremacy which you claim for philosophers (replies Glaukon), will be listened to with repugnance and scorn. But at least you must show who the philosophers are, on whose behalf you invoke such supremacy. You must show that it belongs to them by nature both to pursue philosophy, and to rule in the various cities: and that by nature also, other men ought to obey them as well as to abstain from philosophy.145

Ens alone can be known — Non-Ens is unknowable. That which is midway between Ens and Non-Ens (particulars) is matter only of opinion. Ordinary men attain nothing beyond opinion.

The first requisite for a philosopher (replies Sokrates) is, that he shall love and pursue eagerly every sort of knowledge or wisdom, without shrinking from labour for such purpose. But it is not sufficient that he should be eager about hearing tragedies or learning the minor arts. Other men, accomplished and curious, are fond of hearing beautiful sounds and discourses, or of seeing beautiful forms and colours. But the philosopher alone can see or distinguish truth.146 It is only he who can distinguish the genuine Form or Idea, in which truth consists, from the particular embodiments in which it occurs. These Forms or Ideas exist, eternal and unchangeable. Since Pulchrum is the opposite of Turpe, they must be two, and each of them must be One: the same about Just and Unjust, Good and Evil; each of these is a distinct Form or Idea, existing as One and Unchangeable by itself, but exhibiting itself in appearance as manifold, diverse, and frequently changing, through communion with different objects and events, and through communion of each Form with others.147 Now the accomplished, but unphilosophical, man cannot see or recognise this Form in itself. He can see only the different particular cases and complications in which it appears embodied.148 None but the philosopher can contemplate each Form by itself, and discriminate it from the various particulars in conjunction with which it appears. Such philosophers are few in number, but they are the only persons who can be said truly to live. Ordinary and even accomplished men — who recognise beautiful things, but cannot recognise Beauty in itself, nor even follow an instructor who points it out to them — pass their lives in a sort of dream or reverie: for the dreamer, whether asleep or awake, is one who believes what is similar to another thing to be not merely similar, but to be the actual thing itself.149 The philosopher alone, who embraces in his mind the one and unchangeable Form or Idea, along with, yet distinguished from, its particular embodiments, possesses knowledge or science. The unphilosophical man, whose mind embraces nothing higher than variable particulars, does not know — but only opines, or has opinions.150

Particulars fluctuate: they are sometimes just or beautiful, sometimes unjust or ugly. Forms or Entia alone remain constant.

This latter, the unphilosophical man, will not admit what we say. Accordingly, we must prove it to him. You cannot know without knowing Something: that is, Some Ens: for Non-Ens cannot be known. That which is completely and absolutely Ens, is completely and absolutely cognizable: that which is Non-Ens and nowhere, is in every way uncognizable. If then there be anything which is at once Ens and Non-Ens, it will lie midway between these two: it will be something neither absolutely and completely cognizable, nor absolutely and completely uncognizable: it belongs to something between ignorance and science. Now science or knowledge is one thing, its object is, complete Ens. Opinion is another thing, its object also is different. Knowing and Opining belong, like Sight and Hearing, to the class of Entia called Powers or Faculties, which we and others possess, and by means of which — that is, by means of one or other of them — we accomplish everything that we do accomplish. Now no one of these powers or faculties has either colour or figure, whereby it may be recognised or distinguished from others. Each is known and distinguished, not by what it is in itself, but by what it accomplishes, and by the object to which it has special relation. That which has the same object and accomplishes the same result, I call the same power or faculty: that which has a different object, and accomplishes a different result, I call a different power or faculty. Now Knowing, Cognition, Science, is one of our faculties or powers, and the strongest of all: Opining is another, and a different one. A marked distinction between the two is, that Knowing or Cognition is infallible — Opining is fallible. Since Cognition is one power or faculty, and Opining another — the object of one must be different from the object of the other. But the object of Cognition is, the Complete Ens: the object of Opining must therefore be, not the Complete Ens, but something different from it. What then is the object of Opining? It is not Complete Ens, but it is still Something. It is not Non-Ens, or Nothing; for Non-Ens or Nothing is not thinkable or opinable: you cannot think or opine, and yet think or opine nothing. Whoever opines or thinks, must opine or think something. Ens is the object of Cognition, Non-Ens is the object of non-Cognition or Ignorance: Opination or Opinion is midway between Cognition and Ignorance, darker than the former, but clearer than the latter. The object of opination is therefore something midway between Ens and Non-Ens.

The many cannot discern or admit the reality of Forms — Their minds are always fluctuating among particulars.

But what is this Something, midway between Ens and Particulars Non-Ens, and partaking of both — which is the object of Opination? To make out this, we must revert to the case of the unphilosophical man. We have described him, as not believing in the existence of the Form or Idea of Beauty, or Justice per se; not enduring to hear it spoken of as a real Ens and Unum; not knowing anything except of the many diverse particulars, beautiful and just. We must remind him that every one of these particular beautiful things will appear repulsive also: every one of these just and holy particulars, will appear unjust and unholy also. He cannot refuse to admit that each of them will appear under certain circumstances beautiful and ugly, just and unjust, holy and unholy. In like manner, every particular double will appear also a half: every light thing will appear heavy: every little thing great. Of each among these many particulars, if you can truly predicate any one quality about it, you may with equal truth predicate the opposite quality also. Each of them both is, and is not, the substratum of all these different and opposite qualities. You cannot pronounce them to be either one or the other, with fixity and permanence: they are at once both and neither.

The philosopher will be ardent for all varieties of knowledge — His excellent moral attributes — He will be trained to capacity for active life.

Adeimantus does not dispute the conclusion, but remarks that it is at variance with actual facts — Existing philosophers are either worthless pretenders, or when they are good, useless.

Here is the characteristic difference (continues Sokrates) which you required me to point out, between the philosopher and the unphilosophical man, however accomplished. The philosopher sees, knows, and contemplates, the One, Real, unchangeable, Form or Idea: the unphilosophical man knows nothing of this Form per se, and sees only its multifarious manifestations, each perpetually variable and different from all the rest. The philosopher, having present to his mind this type — and approximating to it, as far as may be, the real institutions and practices — will be the person most competent to rule our city: especially as his education will give him farthermore — besides such familiarity with the Form or Type — as large a measure of experience, and as much virtue, as can fall to the lot of the unphilosophical man.151 The nature and disposition of the true philosopher, if improved by education, will include all the virtue and competence of the practical man. The philosopher is bent on learning everything which can make him familiar with Universal Forms and Essences in their pure state, not floating amidst the confusion of generated and destroyed realities: and with Forms and Essences little as well as great, mean as well as sublime.152 Devoted to knowledge and truth — hating falsehood — he has little room in his mind for the ordinary desires: he is temperate, indifferent to money, free from all meanness or shabbiness. A man like him, whose contemplations stretch over all time and all essence, thinks human life a small affair, and has no fear of death. He will be just, mild in his demeanour, quick in apprehension, retentive in memory, elegant in his tastes and movements. All these excellences will be united in the philosophers to whom we confide the rule of our city.153

Sokrates admits the fact to be so — His simile of the able steersman on shipboard, among a disobedient crew.

It is impossible, Sokrates (remarks Adeimantus), to answer in the negative to your questions. Nevertheless we who hear and answer, are not convinced of the truth of your conclusion. Unskilled as we are in the interrogatory process, we feel ourselves led astray little by little at each successive question; until at length, through the accumulated effect of such small deviations, we are driven up into a corner without the power of moving, like a bad player at draughts defeated by one superior to himself.154 Here in this particular case your conclusion has been reached by steps to which we cannot refuse assent. Yet if we look at the facts, we see something quite the reverse as to the actual position of philosophers. Those who study philosophy, not simply as a branch of juvenile education but as a continued occupation throughout life, are in most cases strange creatures, not to say thoroughly unprincipled: while the few of them who are most reasonable, derive nothing from this pursuit which you so much extol, except that they become useless in their respective cities.155

The uselessness of the true philosopher is the fault of the citizen, who will not invoke his guidance.

The uselessness of the true philosopher is the fault of the citizen, who will not invoke his guidance.

The great qualities required to form a philosopher, become sources of perversion, under a misguiding public opinion.

Mistake of supposing that such perversion arises from the Sophists. Irresistible effect of the public opinion generally, in tempting or forcing a dissenter into orthodoxy.

You will remember the great combination of excellent dispositions, intellectual as well as moral, which I laid down as indispensable to form the fundamental character of the true philosopher. Such a combination is always rare. Even under the best circumstances philosophers must be very few. But these few stand exposed, in our existing cities, to such powerful causes of corruption, that they are prevented from reaching maturity, except by some happy accident. First, each one of those very qualities, which, when combined, constitute the true philosopher, — serves as a cause of corruption, if it exists by itself and apart from the rest. Next, what are called good things, or external advantages, act in the same manner — such as beauty, strength, wealth, powerful connections, &c. Again, the stronger a man’s natural aptitudes and the greater his external advantages, — the better will he become under favourable circumstances, the worse will he become, if circumstances are unfavourable. Heinous iniquity always springs from a powerful nature perverted by bad training: not from a feeble nature, which will produce no great effects either for good or evil. Thus the eminent predispositions, — which, if properly improved, would raise a man to the highest rank in virtue, — will, if planted in an unfavourable soil, produce a master-mind in deeds of iniquity, unless counteracted by some providential interposition.

The Sophists and other private teachers accept the prevalent orthodoxy, and conform their teaching to it.

The multitude treat these latter as men corrupted by the Sophists. But this is a mistake. Neither Sophists nor other private individuals produce mischief worth mentioning. It is the multitude themselves, utterers of these complaints, who are the most active Sophists and teachers: it is they who educate and mould every individual, man and woman, young and old, into such a character as they please.161 When they are assembled in the public assembly or the dikastery, in the theatre or the camp — when they praise some things and blame others, with vociferation and vehemence echoed from the rocks around — how irresistible will be the impression produced upon the mind of a youth who hears them! No private training which he may have previously received can hold out against it. All will be washed away by this impetuous current of multitudinous praise or blame, which carries him along with it. He will declare honourable or base the same things as they declare to be so: he will adopt the character, and follow the pursuits, which they enjoin. Moreover, if he resists such persuasive influence, these multitudinous teachers and Sophists have stronger pressure in store for him.162 They punish the disobedient with disgrace, fine, and even death. What other Sophist, or what private exhortation, can contend successfully against teachers such as these? Surely none. The attempt to do so is insane. There neither is, nor has been, nor will be, any individual human disposition educated to virtue in opposition to the training of the multitude:163 I say human, as distinguished from divine, of which I make exception: for in the existing state of society, any individual who is preserved from these ascendant influences to acquire philosophical excellence, owes his preservation to the divine favour.

The people generally hate philosophy — A youth who aspires to it will be hated by the people, and persecuted even by his own relatives.

Moreover, though the multitude complain of these professional teachers as rivals, and decry them as Sophists — yet we must recollect that such teachers inculcate only the opinions received among the multitude themselves, and extol these same opinions as wisdom.164 The teachers know nothing of what is really honourable and base, — good and evil, — just and unjust. They distribute all these names only with reference to the opinions of the multitude:— pronouncing those things which please the multitude to be good, and those which displease to be evil, — without furnishing any other rational account. They call things necessary by the name of just and honourable; not knowing the material difference between what is good and what is necessary, nor being able to point out that difference to others. Thus preposterous are the teachers, who count it wisdom to suit the taste and feelings of the multitude, whether in painting or in music or in social affairs. For whoever lives among them, publicly exhibiting either poetry or other performances private or official, thus making the multitude his masters beyond the strict limits of necessity — the consequence is infallible, that he must adapt his works to that which they praise. But whether the works which he executes are really good and honourable, he will be unable to render any tolerable account.165

The really great minds are thus driven away from the path of philosophy — which is left to empty pretenders.

It is therefore the multitude, or the general voice of society — not the Sophists or private teachers, mere echoes of that general voice — which works upon and moulds individuals. Now the multitude cannot tolerate or believe in the existence of those Universals or Forms which the philosopher contemplates. They know only the many particulars, not the One Universal. Incapable of becoming philosophers themselves, they look upon the philosopher with hatred: and this sentiment is adopted by all those so-called philosophers who seek to please them.166 Under these circumstances, what chance is there that those eminent predispositions, which we pointed out as the foundation of the future philosopher, can ever be matured to their proper result? A youth of such promise, especially if his body be on a par with his mind, will be at once foremost among all his fellows. His relatives and fellow-citizens, eager to make use of him for their own purposes, and anxious to appropriate to themselves his growing force, will besiege him betimes with solicitations and flatteries.167 Under these influences, if we assume him to be rich, well born, and in a powerful city, he will naturally become intoxicated with unlimited hopes and ambition; fancying himself competent to manage the affairs of all governments, and giving himself the empty airs of a lofty potentate.168 If there be any one to give him a quiet hint that he has not yet acquired intelligence, nor can acquire it without labour — he will turn a deaf ear. But suppose that such advice should by chance prevail, in one out of many cases, so that the youth alters his tendencies and devotes himself to philosophy — what will be the conduct of those who see, that they will thereby be deprived of his usefulness and party-service, towards their own views? They will leave no means untried to prevent him from following the advice, and even to ruin the adviser, by private conspiracy and judicial prosecution.169 It is impossible that the young man can really turn to philosophy, against obstructions thus powerful. You see that those very excellences and advantages, which form the initial point of the growing philosopher, become means and temptations for corrupting him. The best natures, rare as they always are, become thus not only ruined, but turned into instruments of evil. For the same men (as I have already said) who, under favourable training, would have done the greatest good, become perpetrators of the greatest evil, if they are badly placed. Small men will do nothing important, either in the one way or the other.170

Rare cases in which a highly qualified philosopher remains — Being at variance with public opinion, he can achieve nothing, and is lucky if he can obtain safety by silence.

The philosopher must have a community suitable to him, and worthy of him.

Amidst such general degradation of philosophy, some few and rare cases are left, in which the pre-eminent natures qualified for philosophy remain by some favourable accident uncorrupted. One of these is Theagês, who would have been long ago drawn away from philosophy to active politics, had he not been disqualified by bad health. The restraining Dæmon, peculiar to myself (says Sokrates), is another case.174 Such an exceptional man, having once tasted the sweetness and happiness of philosophy, embraces it as an exclusive profession. He sees that the mass of society are wrongheaded — that scarce any one takes wholesome views on social matters — that he can find no partisans to aid him in upholding justice175 — that while he will not take part in injustice, he is too weak to contend single-handed against the violence of all, and would only become a victim to it without doing any good either to the city or to his friends — like a man who has fallen among wild beasts. On these grounds he stands aloof in his own separate pursuit, like one sheltering himself under a wall against a hurricane of wind and dust. Witnessing the injustice committed by all around, he is content if he can keep himself clear and pure from it during his life here, so as to die with satisfaction and good hopes.

It must be such a community as Sokrates has been describing — But means must be taken to keep up a perpetual succession of philosophers as Rulers.

True (replies Sokrates) — yet nevertheless he can perform no great achievement, unless he meets with a community suited to him. Amidst such a community he will himself rise to greatness, and will preserve the public happiness as well as his own. But there exists no such community anywhere, at the present moment. Not one of those now existing is worthy of a philosophical disposition:177 which accordingly becomes perverted, and degenerates into a different type adapted to its actual abode, like exotic seed transported to a foreign soil. But if this philosophical disposition were planted in a worthy community, so as to be able to assert its own superior excellence, it would then prove itself truly divine, leaving other dispositions and pursuits behind as merely human.

Proper manner of teaching philosophy — Not to begin at a very early age.

If the multitude could once see a real, perfect, philosopher, they could not fail to love him: but this never happens.

The plan now pursued for imparting philosophy is bad. Some do not learn it at all: and even to those who learn it best, the most difficult part (that which relates to debate and discourse) is taught when they are youths just emerging from boyhood, in the intervals of practical business and money-getting.178 After that period, in their mature age, they abandon it altogether; they will scarcely so much as go to hear an occasional lecture on the subject, without any effort of their own: accordingly it has all died out within them, when they become mature in years. This manner of teaching philosophy ought to be reversed. In childhood and youth, instruction of an easy character and suitable to that age ought to be imparted; while the greatest care is taken to improve and strengthen the body during its period of growth, as a minister and instrument to philosophy. As age proceeds, and the mind advances to perfection, the mental exercises ought to become more difficult and absorbing. Lastly, when the age of bodily effort passes away, philosophy ought to become the main and principal pursuit.179

Course of training in the Platonic city, for imparting philosophy to the Rulers. They must be taught to ascend to the Idea of Good. But what is Good?

Ancient disputes upon this point, though every one yearns after Good. Some say Intelligence; some say Pleasure. Neither is satisfactory.

I must now (continues Sokrates) explain more in detail the studies and training through which these preservers Rulers of our city, the complete philosophers, must be created. The most perfect among the Guardians, after having been tested by years of exercises and temptations of various kinds, will occupy that distinguished place. Very few will be found uniting those distinct and almost incompatible excellences which qualify them for the post. They must give proof of self-command against pleasures as well as pains, and of competence to deal with the highest studies.186 But what are the highest studies? What is the supreme object of knowledge? It is the Idea of Good — the Form of Good: to the acquisition of which our philosophers must be trained to ascend, however laborious and difficult the process may be.187 Neither justice nor any thing else can be useful or profitable, unless we superadd to them a knowledge of the Idea of Good: without this, it would profit us nothing to possess all other knowledge.188

Adeimantus asks what Sokrates says. Sokrates says that he can not answer: but he compares it by a metaphor to the Sun.

Now as to the question, What Good is? there are great and long-standing disputes. Every mind pursues Good, and does every thing for the sake of it — yet without either knowledge or firm assurance what Good is, and consequently with perpetual failure in deriving benefit from other acquisitions.189 Most people say that Pleasure is the Good: an ingenious few identify Intelligence with the Good. But neither of these explanations is satisfactory. For when a man says that Intelligence is the Good, our next question to him must be, What sort of Intelligence do you mean? — Intelligence of what? To this he must reply, Intelligence of the Good: which is absurd, since it presumes us to know already what the Good is — the very point which he is pretending to elucidate. Again, he who contends that Pleasure is the Good, is forced in discussion to admit that there are such things as bad pleasures: in other words, that pleasure is sometimes good, sometimes bad.190 From these doubts and disputes about the real nature of good, we shall require our philosophical Guardians to have emancipated themselves, and to have attained a clear vision. They will be unfit for their post it they do not well know what the Good is, and in what manner just or honourable things come to be good.191 Our city will have received its final consummation, when it is placed under the superintendence of one who knows what the Good is.

The Idea of Good rules the ideal or intelligible world, as the Sun rules the sensible or visible world.

But tell me, Sokrates (asks Adeimantus), what do you conceive the Good to be — Intelligence or Pleasure, or any other thing different from these? I do not profess to know (replies Sokrates), and cannot tell you. We must decline the problem, What Good itself is? as more arduous than our present impetus will enable us to reach.192 Nevertheless I will partially supply the deficiency by describing to you the offspring of Good, very like its parent. You will recollect that we have distinguished the Many from the One: the many just particulars, beautiful particulars, from the One Universal Idea or Form, Just per se, Beautiful per se. The many particulars are seen but not conceived: the one Idea is conceived, but not seen.193 We see the many particulars through the auxiliary agency of light, which emanates from the Sun, the God of the visible world. Our organ and sense of vision are not the Sun itself, but they are akin to the Sun in a greater degree than any of our other senses. They imbibe their peculiar faculty from the influence of the Sun.194 The Sun furnishes to objects the power of being seen, and to our eyes the power of seeing: we can see no colour unless we turn to objects enlightened by its rays. Moreover it is the Sun which also brings about the generation, the growth, and the nourishment, of these objects, though it is itself out of the limits of generation: it generates and keeps them in existence, besides rendering them visible.195 Now the Sun is the offspring and representative of the Idea of Good: what the Sun is in the sensible and visible world, the Idea of Good is in the intelligible or conceivable world.196 As the Sun not only brings into being the objects of sense, but imparts to them the power of being seen so the Idea of Good brings into being the objects of conception or cognition, imparts to them the power of being known, and to the mind the power of knowing them.197 It is from the Idea of Good that all knowledge, all truth, and all real essence spring. Yet the Idea of Good is itself extra-essential; out of or beyond the limits of essence, and superior in beauty and dignity both to knowledge and to truth; which are not Good itself, but akin to Good, as vision is akin to the Sun.198

To the intelligible world there are applicable two distinct modes of procedure — the Geometrical — the Dialectic. Geometrical procedure assumes diagrams.

Here then we have two distinct regions or genera; one, the conceivable or intelligible, ruled by the Idea of Good — the other the visible, ruled by the Sun, which is the offspring of Good. Now let us subdivide each of these regions or genera, into two portions. The two portions of the visible will be — first, real objects, visible such as animals, plants, works of art, &c. — second, the images or representations of these, such as shadows, reflexions in water or in mirrors, &c. The first of these two subdivisions will be greatly superior in clearness to the second: it will be distinguished from the second as truth is distinguished from not-truth.199 Matter of knowledge is in the same relation to matter of opinion, as an original to its copy. Next, the conceivable or intelligible region must be subdivided into two portions, similarly related one to the other: the first of these portions will be analogous to the real objects of vision, the second to the images or representations of these objects: the first will thus be the Forms, Ideas, or Realities of Conception or Intellect — the second will be particular images or embodiments thereof.200

Dialectic procedure assumes nothing. It departs from the highest Form, and steps gradually down to the lowest, without meddling with any thing except Forms.

Now in regard to these two portions of the conceivable or intelligible region, two different procedures of the mind are employed: the pure Dialectic, and the Geometrical, procedure. The Geometer or the Arithmetician begins with certain visible images, lines, figures, or numbered objects, of sense: he takes his departure from certain hypotheses or assumptions, such as given numbers, odd and even — given figures and angles, of three different sorts.201 He assumes these as data without rendering account of them, or allowing them to be called in question, as if they were self-evident to every one. From these premisses he deduces his conclusions, carrying them down by uncontradicted steps to the solution of the problem which he is examining.202 But though he has before his eyes the visible parallelogram inscribed on the sand, with its visible diagonal, and though all his propositions are affirmed respecting these — yet what he has really in his mind is something quite different — the Parallelogram per se, or the Form of a Parallelogram — the Form of a Diagonal, &c. The visible figure before him is used only as an image or representative of this self-existent form; which last he can contemplate only in conception, though all his propositions are intended to apply to it.203 He is unable to take his departure directly from this Form, as from a first principle: he is forced to assume the visible figure as his point of departure, and cannot ascend above it: he treats it as something privileged and self-evident.204

Two distinct grades of Cognition — Direct or Superior — Noûs — Indirect or Inferior — Dianoia.

Two distinct grades of Opinion also in the Sensible World — Faith or Belief — Conjecture.

The distinction here indicated between the two different sections of the Intelligible Region, and the two different sections of the Region of Sense — we shall mark (continues Sokrates) by appropriate terms. The Dialectician alone has Noûs or Intellect, direct or the highest cognition: he alone grasps and comprehends directly the pure intelligible essence or absolute Form. The Geometer does not ascend to this direct contemplation or intuition of the Form: he knows it only through the medium of particular assumptions, by indirect Cognition or Dianoia; which is a lower faculty than Noûs or Intellect, yet nevertheless higher than Opinion.

Distinction between the philosopher and the unphilosophical public, illustrated by the simile of the Cave, and the captives imprisoned therein.

Daylight of philosophy contrasted with the firelight and shadows of the Cave.

Sokrates now proceeds to illustrate the contrast between the philosopher and the unphilosophical or ordinary man, by the memorable simile of the cave and its shadows. Mankind live in a cave, with its aperture directed towards the light of the sun; but they are so chained, that their backs are constantly turned towards this aperture, so that they cannot see the sun and sunlight. What they do see is by means of a fire which is always burning behind them. Between them and this fire there is a wall; along the wall are posted men who carry backwards and forwards representations or images of all sorts of objects; so that the shadows of these objects by the firelight are projected from behind these chained men upon the ground in front of them, and pass to and fro before their vision. All the experience which such chained men acquire, consists in what they observe of the appearance and disappearance, the transition, sequences, and co-existences, of these shadows, which they mistake for truth and realities, having no no acquaintance with any other phenomena.208 If now we suppose any one of them to be liberated from his chains, turned round, and brought up to the light of the sun and to real objects — his eyesight would be at first altogether dazzled, confounded, and distressed. Distinguishing as yet nothing clearly, he would believe that the shadows which he had seen in his former state were true and distinct objects, and that the new mode of vision to which he had been suddenly introduced was illusory and unprofitable. He would require a long time to accustom him to daylight: at first his eyes would bear nothing but shadows — next images in the water — then the stars at night — lastly, the full brightness of the Sun. He would learn that it was the Sun which not only gave light, but was the cause of varying seasons, growth, and all the productions of the visible world. And when his mind had been thus opened, he would consider himself much to be envied for the change, looking back with pity on his companions still in the cave.209 He would think them all miserably ignorant, as being conversant not with realities, but only with the shadows which passed before their eyes. He would have no esteem even for the chosen few in the cave, who were honoured by their fellows as having best observed the co-existences and sequences among these shadows, so as to predict most exactly how the shadows would appear in future.210 Moreover if, after having become fully accustomed to daylight and the contemplation of realities, he were to descend again into the cave, his eyesight would be dim and confused in that comparative darkness; so that he would not well recognise the shadows, and would get into disputes about them with his companions. They on their side would deride him as having spoilt his sight as well as his judgment, and would point him out as an example to deter others from emerging out of the cave into daylight.211 Far from wishing to emerge themselves, they would kill, if they could, any one who tried to unchain them and assist them in escaping.212

Purpose of a philosophical training, to turn a man round from facing the bad light of the Cave to face the daylight of philosophy, and to see the eternal Forms.

Those who have emerged from the Cave into full daylight amidst eternal Forms, must be forced to come down again and undertake active duties — Their reluctance to do this.

The great purpose of education is to turn a man round from his natural position at the bottom of this dark cave, where he sees nothing but shadows: to fix his eyes in the other direction, and to induce him to ascend into clear daylight. Education does not, as some suppose, either pour knowledge into an empty mind, or impart visual power to blind persons. Men have good eyes, but these eyes are turned in the wrong direction. The clever among them see sharply enough what is before them: but they have nothing before them except shadows, and the sharper their vision the more mischief they do.216 What is required is to turn them round and draw them up so as to face the real objects of daylight. Their natural eyesight would then suffice to enable them to see these objects well.217 The task of our education must be, to turn round the men of superior natural aptitude, and to draw them up into the daylight of realities. Next, when they shall have become sufficiently initiated in truth and philosophy, we must not allow them to bury themselves permanently in such studies — as they will themselves be but too eager to do. We must compel them to come down again into the cave and exercise ascendancy among their companions, for whose benefit their superior mental condition will thus become available.218

Studies serving as introduction to philosophy — Arithmetic, its awakening power — shock to the mind by felt contradiction.

Perplexity arising from the One and Many, stimulates the mind to an intellectual effort for clearing it up.

The main purpose of education, I have said (continues Sokrates) is, to turn round the faces of the superior men, and to invite them upwards from darkness to light — from the region of perishable shadows to that of imperishable realities.221 Now what cognitions, calculated to aid such a purpose, can we find to teach?222 Gymnastic, music, the vulgar arts, are all useful to be taught: but they do not tend to that which we are here seeking. Arithmetic does so to a certain extent, if properly taught which at present it is not.223 It furnishes a stimulus to awaken the dormant intellectual and reflective capacity. Among the variety of sensible phenomena, there are some in which the senses yield a clear and satisfactory judgment, leaving no demand in the mind for anything beyond: there are others in which the senses land us in apparent equivocation, puzzle, and contradiction — so that the mind is stung by this apparent perplexity, and instigated to find a solution by some intellectual effort.224 Thus, if we see or feel the fingers of our hand, they always appear to the sense, fingers: in whatever order or manner they may be looked at, there is no contradiction or discrepancy in the judgment of sense. But if we see or feel them as great or small, thick or thin, hard or soft, &c., they then appear differently according as they are seen or felt in different order or under different circumstances. The same object which now appears great, will at another time appear small: it will seem to the sense hard or soft, light or heavy, according as it is seen under different comparisons and relations.225 Here then, sense is involved in an apparent contradiction, declaring the same object to be both hard and soft, great and small, light and heavy, &c. The mind, painfully confounded by such a contradiction, is obliged to invoke intellectual reflection to clear it up. Great and small are presented by the sense as inhering in the same object. Are they one thing, or two separate things? Intellectual reflection informs us that they are two: enabling us to conceive separately two things, which to our sense appeared confounded together. Intellectual (or abstract) conception is thus developed in our mind, as distinguished from sense, and as a refuge from the confusion and difficulties of sense, which furnish the stimulus whereby it is awakened.226

Geometry conducts the mind to wards Universal Ens.

Astronomy — how useful — not useful as now taught — must be studied by ideal figures, not by observation.

Geometrical teaching conducts the mind to the same order of contemplations; leading it away from variable particulars to unchangeable universal Essence. Some persons extol Geometry chiefly on the ground of its usefulness in applications to practice. But this is a mistake: its real value is in conducing to knowledge, and to elevated contemplations of the mind. It does, however, like Arithmetic, yield useful results in practice: and both of them are farther valuable as auxiliaries to other studies.231

Acoustics, in like manner — The student will be thus conducted to the highest of all studies — Dialectic: and to the region of pure intelligible Forms.

Certainly (remarks Glaukon) Astronomy, besides its usefulness in regard to the calendar, and the seasons, must be admitted by every one to carry the mind upwards, to the contemplation of things not below but on high. I do not admit this at all (replies Sokrates), as Astronomy is now cultivated: at least in my sense of the words, looking upwards and looking downwards. If a man lies on his back, contemplating the ornaments of the ceiling, he may carry his eyes upward, but not his mind.234 To look upwards, as I understand it, is to carry the mind away from the contemplation of sensible things, whereof no science is attainable — to the contemplation of intelligible things, entities invisible and unchangeable, which alone are the objects of science. Observation of the stars, such as astronomers now teach, does not fulfil any such condition. The heavenly bodies are the most beautiful of all visible bodies and the most regular of all visible movements, approximating most nearly, though still with a long interval of inferiority, to the ideal figures and movements of genuine and self-existent Forms — quickness, slowness, number, figure, &c., as they are in themselves, not visible to the eye, but conceivable only by reason and intellect.235 The movements of the heavenly bodies are exemplifications, approaching nearest to the perfection of these ideal movements, but still falling greatly short of them. They are like visible circles or triangles drawn by some very exact artist; which, however beautiful as works of art, are far from answering to the conditions of the idea and its definition, and from exhibiting exact equality and proportion.236 So about the movements of the sun and stars: they are comparatively regular, but they are yet bodily and visible, never attaining the perfect sameness and unchangeableness of the intelligible world and its forms. We cannot learn truth by observation of phenomena constantly fluctuating and varying. We must study astronomy, as we do geometry, not by observation, but by mathematical theorems and hypotheses: which is a far more arduous task than astronomy as taught at present. Only in this way can it be made available to improve and strengthen the intellectual organ of the mind.237

Question by Glaukon — What is the Dialectic Power? Sokrates declares that he cannot answer with certainty, and that Glaukon could not follow him if he did.

After going through all these different studies, the student will have his mind elevated so as to perceive the affinity of method239 and principle which pervades them all. In this state he will be prepared for entering on Dialectic, which is the final consummation of his intellectual career. He will then have ascended from the cave into daylight. He will have learnt to see real objects, and ultimately the Sun itself, instead of the dim and transitory shadows below. He will become qualified to grasp the pure Intelligible Form with his pure Intellect alone, without either aid or disturbance from sense. He will acquire that dialectical discursive power which deals exclusively with these Intelligible Forms, carrying on ratiocination by means of them only, with no reference to sensible objects. He will attain at length the last goal of the Dialectician — the contemplation of Bonum per se (the highest perfection and elevation of the Intelligible)240 with Intellect per se in its full purity: the best part of his mind will have been raised to the contemplation and knowledge of the best and purest entity.241

He answers partially — It is the consummation of all the sciences, raising the student to the contemplation of pure Forms, and especially to that of the highest Form — Good.

The Synoptic view peculiar to the Dialectician.

But I am sure that the dialectic power is something of the nature which I have described. It is the only force which can make plain the full truth to students who have gone through the preliminary studies that we have described. It is the only study which investigates rationally real forms and essences243 — what each thing is, truly in itself. Other branches of study are directed either towards the opinions and preferences of men — or towards generation and combination of particular results — or towards upholding of combinations already produced or naturally springing up: while even as to geometry and the other kindred studies, we have seen that as to real essence, they have nothing better than dreams244 — and that they cannot see it as it is, so long as they take for their principle or point of departure certain assumptions or hypotheses of which they can render no account. The principle being thus unknown, and the conclusion as well as the intermediate items being spun together out of that unknown, how can such a convention deserve the name of Science?245 Pursuant to custom, indeed, we call these by the name of Sciences. But they deserve no higher title than that of Intellectual Cognitions, lower than Science, yet higher than mere Opinion. It is the Dialectician alone who discards all assumptions, ascending at once to real essence as his principle and point of departure:246 defining, and discriminating by appropriate words, each variety of real essence — rendering account of it to others — and carrying it safely through the cross-examining process of question and answer.247 Whoever cannot discriminate in this way the Idea or Form of Good from every thing else, will have no proper cognition of Good itself, but only, at best, opinions respecting the various shadows of Good. Dialectic — the capacity of discriminating real Forms and maintaining them in cross-examining dialogue is thus the coping-stone, completion, or consummation, of all the other sciences.248

Scale and duration of various studies for the Guardians, from youth upwards.

All these studies, and this education, are common to females as well as males.

In these new studies they will continue until thirty years of age: after which a farther selection must be made, of those who have most distinguished themselves. The men selected will be enrolled in a class of yet higher honour, and will be tested by dialectic cross-examination: so that we may discover who among them are competent to apprehend true, pure, and real Essence, renouncing all visual and sensible perceptions.251 It is important that such Dialectic exercises should be deferred until this advanced age — and not imparted, as they are among us at present, to immature youths: who abuse the license of interrogation, find all their homegrown opinions uncertain, and end by losing all positive convictions.252 Our students will remain under such dialectic tuition for five years, until they are thirty-five years of age: after which they must be brought again down into the cave, and constrained to acquire practical experience by undertaking military and administrative functions. In such employments they will spend fifteen years: during which they will undergo still farther scrutiny, to ascertain whether they can act up to their previous training, in spite of all provocations and temptations.253 Those who well sustain all these trials will become, at fifty years of age, the finished Elders or Chiefs of the Republic. They will pass their remaining years partly in philosophical contemplations, partly in application of philosophy to the regulation of the city. It is these Elders whose mental eye will have been so trained as to contemplate the Real Essence of Good, and to copy it as an archetype in all their ordinances and administration. They will be the Moderators of the city: but they will perform this function as a matter of duty and necessity — not being at all ambitious of it as a matter of honour.254

First formation of the Platonic city — how brought about: difficult, but not impossible.

First formation of the Platonic city — how brought about: difficult, but not impossible.

The city thus formed will last long, but not for ever. After a certain time, it will begin to degenerate. Stages of its degeneracy.

1. Timocracy and the timocratical individual. 2 Oligarchy, and the oligarchical individual.

But even under the best possible administration, the city, though it will last long, will not last for ever. Eternal continuance belongs only to Ens; every thing generated must one day or other be destroyed.258 The fatal period will at length arrive, when the breed of Guardians will degenerate. A series of changes for the worse will then commence, whereby the Platonic city will pass successively into timocracy, oligarchy, democracy, despotism. The first change will be, that the love of individual wealth and landed property will get possession of the Guardians: who, having in themselves the force of the city, will divide the territory among themselves, and reduce the other citizens to dependence and slavery.259 They will at the same time retain a part of their former mental training. They will continue their warlike habits and drill: they will be ashamed of their wealth, and will enjoy it only in secret: they will repudiate money-getting occupations as disgraceful. They will devote themselves to the contests of war and political ambition — the rational soul becoming subordinate to the energetic and courageous.260 The system which thus obtains footing will be analogous to the Spartan and Kretan, which have many admirers.261 The change in individual character will correspond to this change in the city. Reason partially losing its ascendancy, while energy and appetite both gain ground — an intermediate character is formed in which energy or courage predominates. We have the haughty, domineering, contentious, man.262

3. Democracy, and the democratical individual.

3. Democracy, and the democratical individual.

4. Passage from democracy to despotism. Character of the despotic city.

So too the democratical individual. The son of one among these frugal and money-getting oligarchs, departing from the habits and disregarding the advice of his father, contracts a taste for expensive and varied indulgences. He loses sight of the distinction between what is necessary, and what is not necessary, in respect to desires and pleasures. If he be of a quiet temperament, not quite out of the reach of advice, he keeps clear of ruinous excess in any one direction; but he gives himself up to a great diversity of successive occupations and amusements, passing from one to the other without discrimination of good from bad, necessary from unnecessary.270 His life and character thus becomes an agreeable, unconstrained, changeful, comprehensive, miscellany, like the society to which he belongs.271

Despotic individual corresponding to that city.

The subversion of such a democracy arises from the men who rise to be popular leaders in it: violent, ambitious, extravagant, men, who gain the favour of the people by distributing among them confiscations from the property of the rich. The rich, resisting these injustices, become enemies to the constitution: the people, in order to put them down, range themselves under the banners of the most energetic popular leader, who takes advantage of such a position to render himself a despot.273 He begins his rule by some acceptable measures, such as abolition of debts, and assignment of lands to the poorer citizens, until he has expelled or destroyed the parties opposed to him. He seeks pretences for foreign war, in order that the people may stand in need of a leader, and may be kept poor by the contributions necessary to sustain war. But presently he finds, or suspects, dissatisfaction among the more liberal spirits. He kills or banishes them as enemies: and to ensure the continuance of his rule, he is under the necessity of dispatching in like manner every citizen prominent either for magnanimity, intelligence, or wealth.274 Becoming thus odious to all the better citizens, he is obliged to seek support by enlisting a guard of mercenary foreigners and manumitted slaves. He cannot pay his guards, without plundering the temples, extorting perpetual contributions from the people, and grinding them down by severe oppression and suffering.275 Such is the government of the despot, which Euripides and other poets employ their genius in extolling.276

The city has thus passed by four stages, from best to worse. Question — How are Happiness and Misery apportioned among them?

Misery of the despotised city.

We have thus gone through the four successive depravations which our perfect city will undergo — timocracy, oligarchy, democracy, despotism. Step by step we have passed from the best to the worst — from one extreme to the other. As is the city, so is the individual citizen — good or bad: the despotic city is like the despotic individual, — and so about the rest. Now it remains to decide whether in each case happiness and misery is proportioned to good and evil: whether the best is the happiest, the worst the most miserable, — and so proportionally about the intermediate.280 On this point there is much difference of opinion.281

Supreme Misery of the despotising individual.

Conclusion — The Model city and the individual corresponding to it, are the happiest of all — That which is farthest removed from it, is the most miserable of all.

What is true of the despotised city, is true also of the despotising individual.283 The best parts of his mind are under subjection to the worst: the rational mind is trampled down by the appetitive mind, with its insane and unsatisfied cravings. He is full of perpetual perturbation, anxiety, and fear; grief when he fails, repentance even after he has succeeded. Speaking of his mind as a whole, he never does what he really wishes for the rational element, which alone can ensure satisfaction to the whole mind, and guide to the attainment of his real wishes, is enslaved by furious momentary impulses.284 The man of despotical mind is thus miserable; and most of all miserable, the more completely he succeeds in subjugating his fellow-citizens and becoming a despot in reality. Knowing himself to be hated by everyone, he lives in constant fear of enemies within as well as enemies without, against whom he can obtain support only by courting the vilest of men as partisans.285 Though greedy of all sorts of enjoyment, he cannot venture to leave his city, or visit any of the frequented public festivals. He lives indoors like a woman, envying those who can go abroad and enjoy these spectacles.286 He is in reality the poorest and most destitute of men, having the most vehement desires, which he can never satisfy.287 Such is the despot who, not being master even of himself, becomes master of others: in reality, the most wretched of men, though he may appear happy to superficial judges who look only at external show.288

The Just Man is happy in and through his Justice, however he may be treated by others. The Unjust Man, miserable.

Other arguments proving the same conclusion — Pleasures of Intelligence are the best of all pleasures.

They are the only pleasures completely true and pure. Comparison of pleasure and pain with neutrality. Prevalent illusions.

1. We have seen that both the collective city and the individual mind are distributed into three portions: Reason, Energy, Appetite. Each of these portions has its own peculiar pleasures and pains, desires and aversions, beginnings or principles of action: Love of Knowledge: Love of Honour: Love of Gain. If you question men in whom these three varieties of temper respectively preponderate, each of them will extol the pleasures of his own department above those belonging to the other two. The lover of wealth will declare the pleasures of acquisition and appetite to be far greater than those of honour or of knowledge: each of the other two will say the same for himself, and for the pleasures of his own department. Here then the question is opened, Which of the three is in the right? Which of the three varieties of pleasure and modes of life is the more honourable or base, the better or worse, the more pleasurable or painful?290 By what criterion, or by whose judgment, is this question to be decided? It must be decided by experience, intelligence and rational discourse.291 Now it is certain that the lover of knowledge, or the philosopher, has greater experience of all the three varieties of pleasure than is possessed by either of the other two men. He must in his younger days have tasted and tried the pleasures of both; but the other two have never tasted his.292 Moreover, each of the three acquires more or less of honour, if he succeeds in his own pursuits: accordingly the pleasures belonging to the love of honour are shared, and may be appreciated, by the philosopher; while the lover of honour as such, has no sense for the pleasures of philosophy. In the range of personal experience, therefore, the philosopher surpasses the other two: he surpasses them no less in exercised intelligence, and in rational discourse, which is his own principal instrument.293 If wealth and profit furnished the proper means of judgment, the money-lover would have been the best judge of the three: if honour and victory furnished the proper means, we should consult the lover of honour: but experience, intelligence, and rational discourse, have been shown to be the means — and therefore it is plain that the philosopher is a better authority than either of the other two. His verdict must be considered as final. He will assuredly tell us, that the pleasures belonging to the love of knowledge are the greatest: those belonging to the love of honour and power, the next: those belonging to the love of money and to appetite, the least.294

Most men know nothing of true and pure pleasure. Simile of the Kosmos — Absolute height and depth.

2. The second argument, establishing the same conclusion, is as follows:— No pleasures, except those belonging to philosophy or the love of wisdom, are completely true and pure. All the other pleasures are mere shadowy outlines, looking like pleasure at a distance, but not really pleasures when you contemplate them closely.295 Pleasure and pain are two conditions opposite to each other. Between them both is another state, neither one nor the other, called neutrality or indifference. Now a man who has been sick and is convalescent, will tell you that nothing is more pleasurable than being in health, but that he did not know what the pleasure of it was, until he became sick. So too men in pain affirm that nothing is more pleasurable than relief from pain. When a man is grieving, it is exemption or indifference, not enjoyment, which he extols as the greatest pleasure. Again, when a man has been in a state of enjoyment, and the enjoyment ceases, this cessation is painful. We thus see that the intermediate state — cessation, neutrality, indifference — will be some times pain, sometimes pleasure, according to circumstances. Now that which is neither pleasure nor pain cannot possibly be both.296 Pleasure is a positive movement or mutation of the mind: so also is pain. Neutrality or indifference is a negative condition, intermediate between the two: no movement, but absence of movement: non-pain, non-pleasure. But non-pain is not really pleasure: non-pleasure is not really pain. When therefore neutrality or non-pain, succeeding immediately after pain, appears to be a pleasure — this is a mere appearance or illusion, not a reality. When neutrality or non-pleasure, succeeding immediately after pleasure, appears to be pain — this also is a mere appearance or illusion, not a reality. There is nothing sound or trustworthy in such appearances. Pleasure is not cessation of pain, but something essentially different: pain is not cessation of pleasure, but something essentially different.

Nourishment of the mind partakes more of real essence than nourishment of the body — Replenishment of the mind imparts fuller pleasure than replenishment of the body.

Take, for example, the pleasures of smell, which are true and genuine pleasures, of great intensity: they spring up instantaneously without presupposing any anterior pain — they depart without leaving any subsequent pain.297 These are true and pure pleasures, radically different from cessation of pain: so also true and pure pains are different from cessation of pleasure. Most of the so-called pleasures, especially the more intense, which reach the mind through the body, are in reality not pleasures at all, but only cessations or reliefs from pain. The same may be said about the pleasures and pains of anticipation belonging to these so-called bodily pleasures.298 They may be represented by the following simile:— There is in nature a real Absolute Up and uppermost point — a real Absolute Down and lowest point — and a centre between them.299 A man borne from the lowest point to the centre will think himself moving upwards, and will be moving upwards relatively. If his course be stopped in the centre, he will think himself at the absolute summit — on looking to the point from which he came, and ignorant as he is of any thing higher. If he be forced to return from the centre to the point from whence he came, he will think himself moving downwards, and will be really moving downwards, absolutely as well as relatively. Such misapprehension arises from his not knowing the portion of the Kosmos above the centre — the true and absolute Up or summit. Now the case of pleasure and pain is analogous to this. Pain is the absolute lowest — Pleasure the absolute highest — non-pleasure, non-pain, the centre intermediate between them. But most men know nothing of the region above the centre, or the absolute highest — the region of true and pure pleasure: they know only the centre and what is below it, or the region of pain. When they fall from the centre to the point of pain, they conceive the situation truly, and they really are pained: but when they rise from the lowest point to the centre, they misconceive the change, and imagine themselves to be in a process of replenishment and acquisition of pleasure. They mistake the painless condition for pleasure, not knowing what true pleasure is: just as a man who has seen only black and not white, will fancy, if dun be shown to him, that he is looking on white.300

Comparative worthlessness of the pleasures of Appetite and Ambition, when measured against those of Intelligence.

Hunger and thirst are states of emptiness in the body: ignorance and folly are states of emptiness in the mind. A hungry man in eating or drinking obtains replenishment: an ignorant man becoming instructed obtains replenishment also. Now replenishment derived from that which exists more fully and perfectly is truer and more real than replenishment from that which exists less fully and perfectly.301 Let us then compare the food which serves for replenishment of the body, with that which serves for replenishment of the mind. Which of the two is most existent? Which of the two partakes most of pure essence? Meat and drink — or true opinions, knowledge, intelligence, and virtue? Which of the two exists most perfectly? That which embraces the true, eternal, and unchangeable — and which is itself of similar nature? Or that which embraces the mortal, the transient, and the ever variable — being itself of kindred nature? Assuredly the former. It is clear that what is necessary for the sustenance of the body partakes less of truth and real essence, than what is necessary for the sustenance of the mind. The mind is replenished with nourishment more real and essential: the body with nourishment less so: the mind itself is also more real and essential than the body. The mind therefore is more, and more thoroughly, replenished than the body. Accordingly, if pleasure consists in being replenished with what suits its peculiar nature, the mind will enjoy more pleasure and truer pleasure than the body.302 Those who are destitute of intelligence and virtue, passing their lives in sensual pursuits, have never tasted any pure or lasting pleasure, nor ever carried their looks upwards to the higher region in which alone it resides. Their pleasures, though seeming intense, and raising vehement desires in their uninstructed minds, are yet only phantoms deriving a semblance of pleasure from contrast with pains:303 they are like the phantom of Helen, for which (as Stesichorus says) the Greeks and Trojans fought so many battles, knowing nothing about the true Helen, who was never in Troy.

The Just Man will be happy from his justice — He will look only to the good order of his own mind — He will stand aloof from public affairs, in cities as now constituted.

The pleasures belonging to the Love of Honour (Energy or Passion) are no better than those belonging to the Love of Money (Appetite). In so far as the desires belonging to both these departments of mind are under the controul of the third or best department (Love of Wisdom, or Reason), the nearest approach to true pleasure, which it is in the nature of either of them to bestow, will be realised. But in so far as either of them throws off the controul of Reason, it will neither obtain its own truest pleasures, nor allow the other departments of mind to obtain theirs.304 The desires connected with love, and with despotic power, stand out more than the others, as recusant to Reason. Law, and Regulation. The kingly and moderate desires are most obedient to this authority. The lover and the despot, therefore, will enjoy the least pleasure: the kindly-minded man will enjoy the most. Of the three sorts of pleasure, one true and legitimate, two bastard, the despot goes most away from the legitimate, and to the farthest limit of the bastard. His condition is the most miserable, that of the kingly-minded man is the happiest: between the two come the oligarchical and the democratical man. The difference between the two extremes is as 1: 729.305

Tenth Book — Censure of the poets is renewed — Mischiefs of imitation generally, as deceptive — Imitation from imitation.

I have thus refuted (continues Sokrates) the case of those who contend — That the unjust man is a gainer by his injustice, provided he could carry it on successfully, and with the reputation of being just. I have shown that injustice is the greatest possible mischief, intrinsically and in itself, apart from consequences and apart from public reputation: inasmuch as it enslaves the better part of the mind to the worse. Justice, on the other hand, is the greatest possible good, intrinsically and in itself, apart from consequences and reputation, because it keeps the worse parts of the mind under due controul and subordination to the better.306 Vice and infirmity of every kind is pernicious, because it puts the best parts of the mind under subjection to the worst.307 No success in the acquisition of wealth, aggrandisement, or any other undue object, can compensate a man for the internal disorder which he introduces into his own mind by becoming unjust. A well-ordered mind, just and temperate, with the better part governing the worse, is the first of all objects: greater even than a healthy, strong, and beautiful body.308 To put his mind into this condition, and to acquire all the knowledge thereunto conducing, will be the purpose of a wise man’s life. Even in the management of his body, he will look not so much to the health and strength of his body, as to the harmony and fit regulation of his mind. In the acquisition of money, he will keep the same end in view: he will not be tempted by the admiration and envy of people around him to seek great wealth, which will disturb the mental polity within him:309 he will, on the other hand, avoid depressing poverty, which might produce the same effect. He will take as little part as possible in public life, and will aspire to no political honours, in cities as at present constituted — nor in any other than the model-city which we have described.310

Censure of Homer — He is falsely extolled as educator of the Hellenic world. He and other poets only deceive their hearers.

The tenth and last book of the Republic commences with an argument of considerable length, repeating and confirming by farther reasons the sentence of expulsion which Plato had already pronounced against the poets in his second and third books.311 The Platonic Sokrates here not only animadverts upon poetry, but extends his disapprobation to other imitative arts, such as painting. He attacks the process of imitation generally, as false and deceptive; pleasing to ignorant people, but perverting their minds by phantasms which they mistake for realities. The work of the imitator is not merely not reality, but is removed from it by two degrees. What is real is the Form or Idea: the one conceived object denoted by each appellative name common to many particulars. There is one Form or Idea, and only one, known by the name of Bed; another by the name of Table.312 When the carpenter constructs a bed or a table, he fixes his contemplation on this Form or Idea, and tries to copy it. What he constructs, however, is not the true, real, existent, table, which alone exists in nature, and may be presumed to be made by the Gods313 — but a something like the real existent table: not true Ens, but only quasi-Ens:314 dim and indistinct, as compared with the truth, and standing far off from the truth. Next to the carpenter comes the painter, who copies not the real existent table, but the copy of that table made by the carpenter. The painter fixes his contemplation upon it, not as it really exists, but simply as it appears: he copies an appearance or phantasm, not a reality. Thus the table will have a different appearance, according as you look at it from near or far — from one side or the other: yet in reality it never differs from itself. It is one of these appearances that the painter copies, not the reality itself. He can in like manner paint any thing and every thing, since he hardly touches any thing at all — and nothing whatever except in appearance. He can paint all sorts of craftsmen and their works — carpenters, shoemakers, &c. without knowledge of any one of their arts.315

The poet chiefly appeals to emotions — Mischiefs of such eloquent appeals, as disturbing the rational government of the mind.

Ancient quarrel between philosophy and poetry — Plato fights for philosophy, though his feelings are strongly enlisted for poetry.

In the various acts and situations of life a man is full of contradictions. He is swayed by manifold impulses, often directly contradicting each other. Hence we have affirmed that there are in his mind two distinct principles, one contradicting the other: the emotional and the rational.320 When a man suffers misfortune, emotion prompts him to indulge in extreme grief, and to abandon himself like a child to the momentary tide. Reason, on the contrary, exhorts him to resist, and to exert himself immediately in counsel to rectify or alleviate what has happened, adapting his conduct as well as he can to the actual throw of the dice which has befallen him.321 Now it is these vehement bursts of emotion which lend themselves most effectively to the genius of the poet, and which he must work up to please the multitude in the theatre: the state of rational self-command can hardly be described so as to touch their feelings. We see thus that the poet, like the painter, addresses himself to the lower department of the mind, exalting the emotional into preponderance over the rational — the foolish over the wise — the false over the true.322 He introduces bad government into the mind, giving to pleasure and pain the sceptre over reason. Hence we cannot tolerate the poet, in spite of all his sweets and captivations. We can only permit him to compose hymns for the Gods and encomiums for good men.323

Immortality of the soul affirmed and sustained by argument — Total number of souls always the same.

Recapitulation — The Just Man will be happy, both from his justice and from its consequences, both here and hereafter.

To maintain the right government and good condition of the soul or mind, is the first of all considerations: and will be seen yet farther to be such, when we consider that it is immortal and imperishable. Of this Plato proceeds to give a proof,326 concluding with a mythical sketch of the destiny of the soul after death. The soul being immortal (he says), the total number of souls is and always has been the same — neither increasing nor diminishing.327

Summary of the preceding chapter.

Title of the Republic, of ancient date, but only a partial indication of its contents.

The title borne by this dialogue — the Republic or Polity — whether affixed by Plato himself or not, dates at least from his immediate disciples, Aristotle among them.1 This title hardly presents a clear idea either of its proclaimed purpose or of its total contents.

Parallelism between the Commonwealth and the Individual.

Each of them a whole, composed of parts distinct in function and unequal in merit.

The Republic, or Commonwealth, is introduced by Plato as being the individual man “writ large,” and therefore more clearly discernible and legible to an observer.3 To illustrate the individual man, he begins by describing (to use Hobbes’s language) the great Leviathan called a “Commonwealth or State, in Latin Civitas, which is but an artificial man, though of greater stature and strength than the natural, for whose protection and defence it was intended”.4 He pursues in much detail this parallel between the individual and the commonwealth, as well as between the component parts and forces of the one, and those of the other. The perfection of the commonwealth (he represents) consists in its being One:5 an integer or unit, of which the constituent individuals are merely functions, each having only a fractional, dependent, relative existence. As the commonwealth is an individual on a large scale, so the individual is a commonwealth on a small scale; in which the constituent fractions, Reason, — Energy or Courage, — and many-headed Appetite, — act each for itself and oppose each other. It is the tendency of Plato’s imagination to bestow vivid reality on abstractions, and to reason upon metaphorical analogy as if it were close parallelism. His language exaggerates both the unity of the commonwealth, and the partibility of the individual, in illustrating the one by comparison with the other. The commonwealth is treated as capable of happiness or misery as an entire Person, apart from its component individuals:6 while on the other hand, Reason, Energy, Appetite, are described as distinct and conflicting Persons, packed up in the same wrapper and therefore looking like One from the outside, yet really distinct, each acting and suffering by and for itself: like the charioteer and his two horses, which form the conspicuous metaphor in the Phædrus.7 We are thus told, that though the man is apparently One, he is in reality Many or multipartite: though the perfect Commonwealth is apparently Many, it is in reality One.

End proposed by Plato. Happiness of the Commonwealth. Happiness of the individual. Conditions of happiness.

Of the parts composing a man, as well as of the parts composing a commonwealth, some are better, others worse. A few are good and excellent; the greater number are low and bad; while there are intermediate gradations between the two. The perfection of a commonwealth, and the perfection of an individual man, is attained when each part performs its own appropriate function and no more, — not interfering with the rest. In the commonwealth there are a small number of wise Elders or philosophers, whose appropriate function it is to look out for the good or happiness of the whole; and to controul the ordinary commonplace multitude, with a view to that end. Each of the multitude has his own special duty or aptitude, to which he confines himself, and which he executes in subordination to the wise or governing Few. And to ensure such subordination, there are an intermediate number of trained, or disciplined Guardians; who employ their force under the orders of the ruling Few, to controul the multitude within, as well as to repel enemies without. So too in the perfect man. Reason is the small but excellent organ whose appropriate function is, to controul the multitude of desires and to watch over the good of the whole: the function of Energy or Courage is, while itself obeying the Reason, to assist Reason in maintaining this controul over the Desires: the function of each several desire is to obey, pursuing its own special end in due harmony with the rest.

Peculiar view of Justice taken by Plato.

The End to be accomplished, and with reference to which Plato tests the perfection of the means, is, the happiness of the entire commonwealth, — the happiness of the entire individual man. In order to be happy, a commonwealth or an individual man must be at once wise, brave, temperate, just. There is however this difference between the four qualities. Though all four are essential, yet wisdom and bravery belong only to separate fractions of the commonwealth and separate fractions of the individual: while justice and temperance belong equally to all the fractions of the commonwealth and all the fractions of the individual. In the perfect commonwealth, Wisdom or Reason is found only in the One or Few Ruling Elders:— Energy or Courage only in the Soldiers or Guardians: but Elders, Guardians, and the working multitude, alike exhibit Justice and Temperance. All are just, inasmuch as each performs his appropriate business: all are temperate, inasmuch as all agree in recognising what is the appropriate business of each fraction — that of the Elders is, to rule — that of the others is, to obey. So too the individual: he is wise only in his Reason, brave only in his Energy or Courage: but he is just and temperate in his Reason, Courage, and Appetites alike — each of these Fractions acting in its own sphere under proper relations to the rest. In fact, according to the definitions given by Plato in the Republic, justice and temperance are scarce at all distinguishable from each other — and must at any rate be inseparable.

Pleadings of Glaukon and Adeimantus.

The arguments which they enforce were not invented by the Sophists, but were the received views anterior to Plato.

Suppose (we have seen it urged by Glaukon and Adeimantus) that a man is just, but is mis-esteemed by the society among whom he lives, and believed to be unjust. He will certainly be hated and ill-used by others, and may be ill-used to the greatest possible extent — impoverishment, scourging, torture, crucifixion. Again, suppose a man to be unjust, but to be in like manner misconceived, and treated as if he were just. He will receive from others golden opinions, just dealing, and goodwill, producing to him comfortable consequences: and he will obtain, besides, the profits of injustice. Evidently, under these supposed circumstances, the just man will be miserable, in spite of his justice: the unjust man will, to say the least, be the happier of the two.

Argument of Sokrates to refute them. Sentiments in which it originates. Panegyric on Justice.

It is against this doctrine that the Platonic Sokrates in the Republic professes to contend. To refute it, he sets forth his own explanation, wherein justice consists. How far, or with what qualifications, the Sophists inculcated the doctrine (as various commentators tell us) we do not know. But Plato himself informs us that it was current and received in society, before Protagoras and Prodikus were born: taught by parents to their children, and by poets in their compositions generally circulated.8 Moreover, Sokrates himself (in the Platonic Apology) recommends virtue on the ground of its remunerative consequences to the agent in the shape of wealth and other good things.9 Again, the Xenophontic Sokrates, as well as Xenophon himself, agree in the same general doctrine: presenting virtue as laborious and troublesome in itself, but as being fully requited by its remunerative consequences in the form of esteem and honour, to the attainment of which it is indispensable. In the memorable Choice of Heraklês, that youth is represented as choosing a life of toil and painful self-denial, crowned ultimately by the attainment of honourable and beneficial results — in preference to a life of easy and inactive enjoyment.10

Different senses of justice — wider and narrower sense.

Let us note the sentiment in which Plato’s creed here originates. He desires, above every thing, to stand forward as the champion and panegyrist of justice — as the enemy and denouncer of injustice. To praise justice, not in itself, but for its consequences — and to blame injustice in like manner — appears to him disparaging and insulting to justice.11 He is not satisfied with showing that the just man benefits others by his justice, and that the unjust man hurts others by his injustice: he admits nothing into his calculation, except happiness or misery to the agent himself: and happiness, moreover, inherent in the process of just behaviour — misery inherent in the process of unjust behaviour — whatever be the treatment which the agent may receive from either Gods or men. Justice per se (affirms Plato) is the cause of happiness to the just agent, absolutely and unconditionally: injustice, in like manner, of misery to the unjust — quand même — whatever the consequences may be either from men or Gods. This is the extreme strain of panegyric suggested by Plato’s feeling, and announced as a conclusion substantiated by his reasons. Nothing more thoroughgoing can be advanced in eulogy of justice. “Neither the eastern star nor the western star is so admirable” — to borrow a phrase from Aristotle.12

Plato’s sense of the word Justice or Virtue — self-regarding.

The ambiguous meaning of the word justice is known to Plato himself (as it is also to Aristotle). One professed purpose of the dialogue called the Republic is to remove such ambiguity. Apart from the many other differences of meaning (arising from dissentient sentiments of different men and different ages), there is one duplicity of meaning which Aristotle particularly dwells upon.13 In the stricter and narrower sense, justice comprehends only those obligations which each individual agent owes to others, and for the omission of which he becomes punishable as unjust — though the performance of them, under ordinary circumstances, carries little positive merit: in another and a larger sense, justice comprehends these and a great deal more, becoming co-extensive with wise, virtuous, and meritorious character generally. The narrower sense is that which is in more common use; and it is that which Plato assumes provisionally when he puts forward the case of opponents in the speeches of Glaukon and Adeimantus. But when he comes to set forth his own explanation, and to draw up his own case, we see that he uses the term justice in its larger sense, as the condition of a mind perfectly well-balanced and well-regulated: as if a man could not be just, without being at the same time wise, courageous, and temperate. The just man described in the counter-pleadings of Glaukon and Adeimantus, would be a person like the Athenian Aristeides: the unjust man whom they contrast with him, would be one who maltreats, plunders, or deceives others, or usurps power over them. But the just man, when Sokrates replies to them and unfolds his own thesis, is made to include a great deal more: he is a person in whose mind each of the three constituent elements is in proper relation of controul or obedience to the others, so that the whole mind is perfect: a person whose Reason, being illuminated by contemplation of the Universals or self-existent Ideas of Goodness, Justice, Virtue, has become qualified to exercise controul over the two inferior elements: one of which (Energy) is its willing subordinate and auxiliary — while the lowest of the three (Appetite) is kept in regulation by the joint action of the two. The just man, so described, becomes identical with the true philosopher: no man who is not a philosopher can be just.14 Aristeides would not at all correspond to the Platonic ideal of justice. He would be a stranger to the pleasure extolled by Plato as the exclusive privilege of the just and virtuous — the pleasure of contemplating universal Ideas and acquiring extended knowledge.15

He represents the motives to it, as arising from the internal happiness of the just agents.

The Platonic conception of justice or Virtue on the one side, and of Injustice or Vice on the other, is self-regarding and prudential. Justice is in the mind a condition analogous to good health and strength in the body — (mens sana in corpore sano) — Injustice is a condition analogous to sickness, corruption, impotence, in the body.16 The body is healthy, when each of its constituent parts performs its appropriate function: it is unhealthy, when there is failure in this respect, either defective working of any part, or interference of one part with the rest. So too in the just mind, each of its tripartite constituents performs its appropriate function — the rational mind directing and controuling, the energetic and appetitive minds obeying such controul. In the unjust mind, the case is opposite: Reason exercises no supremacy: Passion and Appetite, acting each for itself, are disorderly, reckless, exorbitant. To possess a healthy body is desirable for its consequences as a means towards other constituents of happiness; but it is still more desirable in itself, as an essential element of happiness per se, i.e., the negation of sickness, which would of itself make us miserable. On the other hand, an unhealthy or corrupt body is miserable by reason of its consequences, but still more miserable per se, even apart from consequences. In like manner, the just mind blesses the possessor twice: first and chiefly, as bringing to him happiness in itself — next also, as it leads to ulterior happy results:17 the unjust mind is a curse to its possessor in itself, and apart from results — though it also leads to ulterior results which render it still more a curse to him.

His theory departs more widely from the truth than that which he opposes. Argument of Adeimantus discussed.

The Platonic theory, or something substantially equivalent to it under various forms of words, has been ever since upheld by various ethical theorists, from the time of Plato downward.19 Every one would be glad if it could be made out as true: Glaukon and Adeimantus are already enlisted in its favour, and only demand from Sokrates a decent justification for their belief. Moreover, those who deny its truth incur the reproach of being deficient in love of virtue or in hatred of vice. What is still more remarkable — Plato has been complimented as if his theory had been the first antithesis to what is called the “selfish theory of morals” — a compliment which is certainly noway merited: for Plato’s theory is essentially self-regarding.20 He does not indeed lay his main stress on the retribution and punishments which follow injustice, because he represents injustice as being itself a state of misery to the unjust agent: nor upon the rewards attached to justice, because he represents justice itself as a state of intrinsic happiness to the just agent. Nevertheless the motive to performance of justice, and to avoidance of injustice, is derived in his theory (as it is in what is called the selfish theory) entirely from the happiness or misery of the agent himself. The just man is not called upon for any self-denial or self-sacrifice, since by the mere fact of being just, he acquires a large amount of happiness: it is the unjust man who, from ignorance or perversion, sacrifices that happiness which just behaviour would have ensured to him. Thus the Platonic theory is entirely self-regarding; looking to the conduct of each separate agent as it affects his own happiness, not as it affects the happiness of others.

A Reciprocity of rights and duties between men in social life — different feelings towards one and towards the other.

The opponents whom the Platonic Sokrates here seeks to confute held — That Justice is an obligation in itself onerous to the agent, but indispensable in order to ensure to him just dealing and estimation from others — That injustice is a path in itself easy and inviting to the agent, but necessary to be avoided, because he forfeits his chance of receiving justice from others, and draws upon himself hatred and other evil consequences. This doctrine (argues Plato) represents the advantages of justice to the just agent as arising, not from his actually being just, but from his seeming to be so, and being reputed by others to be so: in like manner, it represents the misery of injustice to the unjust agent as arising not from his actually being unjust, but from his being reputed to be so by others. The inference which a man will naturally draw from hence (adds Plato) is, That he must aim only at seeming to be just, not at being just in reality: that he must seek to avoid the reputation of injustice, not injustice in reality: that the mode of life most enviable is, to be unjust in reality, but just in seeming — to study the means either of deceiving others into a belief that you are just, or of coercing others into submission to your injustice.23 This indeed cannot be done unless you are strong or artful: it you are weak or simple-minded, the best thing which you can do is to be just. The weak alone are gainers by justice: the strong are losers by it, and gainers by injustice.24

Plato’s own theory, respecting the genesis of society, is based on reciprocity.

Plato’s own theory, respecting the genesis of society, is based on reciprocity.

Antithesis and correlation of obligation and right. Necessity of keeping the two ideas together, as the basis of any theory respecting society.

This is the primitive, constant, indispensable, bond whereby society is brought and held together. Doubtless it is not the only bond, nor does Plato say that it is. There are other auxiliary social principles besides, of great value and importance: but they presuppose and are built upon the fundamental principle — reciprocity of need and service — which remains when we reduce society to its lowest terms; and which is not the less real as underlying groundwork, though it is seldom enunciated separately, but appears overlaid, disguised, and adorned, by numerous additions and refinements. Plato correctly announces the reciprocity of need and service as one indivisible, though complex fact, when looked at with reference to the social communion. Neither of the two parts of that fact, without the other part, would serve as adequate groundwork. Each man must act, not for himself alone, but for others also: he must keep in view the requirements of others, to a certain extent, as well as his own. In his purposes and scheme of life, the two must be steadily combined.

Characteristic feature of the Platonic Commonwealth — specialization of services to that function for which each man is fit — will not apply to one individual separately.

We see therefore that Plato contradicts his own fundamental principle, when he denies the doing of justice to be an onerous duty, and when he maintains that it is in itself happiness-giving to the just agent, whether other men account him just and do justice to him in return — or not. By this latter doctrine he sets aside that reciprocity of want and service, upon which he had affirmed the social union to rest. The fathers, whom he blames, gave advice in full conformity with his own principle of reciprocity — when they exhorted their sons to the practice of justice, not as self-inviting, but as an onerous service towards others, to be requited by corresponding services and goodwill from others towards them. If (as he urges) such advice operates as an encouragement to crime, because it admits that the successful tyrant or impostor, who gets the services of others for nothing, is better off than the just man who gets them only in exchange for an onerous equivalent — this inference equally flows from that proclaimed reciprocity of need and service, which he himself affirms to be the generating cause of human society. If it be true (as Plato states) that each individual is full of wants, and stands in need of the services of others — then it cannot be true, that payment without receipt, as a systematic practice, is self-inviting and self-satisfying. That there are temptations for strong or cunning men to evade obligation and to usurp wrongful power, is an undeniable fact. We may wish that it were not a fact: but we gain nothing by denying or ignoring it. The more clearly the fact is stated, the better; in order that society may take precaution against such dangers — a task which has always been found necessary and often difficult. In reviewing the Gorgias,30 we found Sokrates declaring, that Archelaus, the energetic and powerful king of Macedonia, who had usurped the throne by means of crime and bloodshed, was thoroughly miserable: far more miserable than he would have been, had he been defeated in his enterprise and suffered cruel punishment. Such a declaration represents the genuine sentiment of Sokrates as to what he himself would feel, and what ought to be (in his conviction) the feeling of every one, after having perpetrated such nefarious acts. But it does not represent the feeling of Archelaus himself, nor that of the large majority of bystanders: both to these latter, and to himself, Archelaus appears an object of envy and admiration.31 And it would be a fatal mistake, if the peculiar sentiment of Sokrates were accepted as common to others besides, and as forming a sound presumption to act upon: that is, if, under the belief that no ambitious man will voluntarily bring upon himself so much misery, it were supposed that precautions against his designs were unnecessary. The rational and tutelary purpose of punishment is, to make the proposition true and obvious to all — That the wrong-doer will draw upon himself a large preponderance of mischief by his wrong-doing. But to proclaim the proposition by voice of herald (which Plato here proposes) as if it were already an established fact of human nature, independent of all such precautions — would be only an unhappy delusion.32

Plato has not made good his refutation — the thesis which he impugns is true.

Thus much to show that the parallel between the community and the individual, which Plato pursues through the larger portion of the Republic, is fallacious. His affirmation — That the just man is happy in his justice, quand même — in his own mental perfection, whatever supposition may be made as to the community among whom he lives — implies that the just man is self-sufficing: and Plato himself expressly declares that no individual is self-sufficing. Indeed, no author can set forth more powerfully than Plato himself in this very dialogue — the uncomfortable and perilous position of a philosophical individual, when standing singly as a dissenter among a community with fixed habits and sentiments — unphilosophical and anti-philosophical. Such a person (Plato says) is like a man who has fallen into a den of wild beasts: he may think himself fortunate, if by careful retirement and absence from public manifestation, he can preserve himself secure and uncorrupted: but his characteristic and superior qualities can obtain no manifestation. The philosopher requires a community suited to his character. Nowhere does any such community (so Plato says) exist at present.35

Statement of the real issue between him and his opponents.

I cannot think, therefore, that the main thesis which Sokrates professes to have established, against the difficulties raised by Glaukon, is either proved or provable. Plato has fallen into error, partly by exaggerating the parallelism between the individual man and the commonwealth: partly by attempting to reason on justice and injustice in abstract isolation, without regard to the natural consequences of either — while yet those consequences cannot be really excluded from consideration, when we come to apply to these terms, predicates either favourable or unfavourable. That justice, taken along with its ordinary and natural consequences, tends materially to the happiness of the just agent — that injustice, looked at in the same manner, tends to destroy or impair the happiness of the unjust — these are propositions true and valuable to be inculcated. But this was the very case embodied in the exhortations of the ordinary moralists and counsellors, whom Plato intends to refute. He is not satisfied to hear them praise justice taken along with its natural consequences: he stands forward to panegyrise justice abstractedly, and without its natural consequences: nay, even if followed by consequences the very reverse of those which are ordinary and natural.36 He insists that justice is eligible and pleasing per se, self-recommending: that among the three varieties of Bona (1. That which we choose for itself and from its own immediate attractions. 2. That which is in itself indifferent or even painful, but which we choose from regard to its ulterior consequences. 3. That which we choose on both grounds, both as immediately attractive and as ultimately beneficial), it belongs to the last variety: whereas the opponents whom he impugns referred it to the second.

He himself misrepresents this issue — he describes his opponents as enemies of justice.

Farther arguments of Plato in support of his thesis. Comparison of three different characters of men.

Such is the issue as here announced by Plato himself: and the announcement deserves particular notice because the Platonic Sokrates afterwards, in the course of his argument, widens and misrepresents the issue: ascribing to his opponents the invidious post of enemies who defamed justice and recommended injustice, while he himself undertakes to counterwork the advocates of injustice, and to preserve justice from unfair calumny37 — thus professing to be counsel for Justice versus Injustice. Now this is not a fair statement of the argument against which Sokrates is contending. In that argument, justice was admitted to be a Good, but was declared to be a Good of that sort which is laborious and irksome to the agent in the primary proceedings required from him — though highly beneficial and indispensable to him by reason of its ulterior results: like medicine, gymnastic discipline, industry,38 &c. Whether this doctrine be correct or not, those who hold it cannot be fairly described as advocates of injustice and enemies of Justice:39 any more than they are enemies of medicine, gymnastic discipline, industry, &c., which they recommend as good and indispensable, on the same grounds as they recommend justice.

His arguments do not go to the point which he professes to aim at.

But elsewhere Plato puts his thesis in another way. He compares the pleasures of the philosopher, arising from intellectual contemplation and the acquisition of knowledge — with the pleasures of the ambitious man and the money-lover, in compassing their respective ends, the attainment of power and wealth. If you ask (says Plato) each of these three persons which is the best and most pleasurable mode of life, each will commend his own: each will tell you that the pleasures of his own mode of life are the greatest, and that those of the other two are comparatively worthless.42 But though each thus commends his own, the judgment of the philosopher is decidedly the most trustworthy of the three. For the necessities of life constrain the philosopher to have some experience of the pleasures of the other two, while they two are altogether ignorant of his: moreover, the comparative estimate must be made by reason and intelligent discussion, which is his exclusive prerogative. Therefore, the philosopher is to be taken as the best judge, when he affirms that his pleasures are the greatest, in preference to the other two.43 To establish this same conclusion, Plato even goes a step farther. No pleasures, except those peculiar to the philosopher, are perfectly true and genuine, pure from any alloy or mixture of pain. The pleasures of the ambitious man, and of the money-lover, are untrue, spurious, alloyed with pain and for the most part mere riddances from pain — appearing falsely to be pleasures by contrast with the antecedent pains to which they are consequent. The pleasures of the philosophic life are not preceded by any pains. They are mental pleasures, having in them closer affinity with truth and reality than the corporeal: the matter of knowledge, with which the philosophising mind is filled and satisfied, comes from the everlasting and unchangeable Ideas and is thus more akin to true essence and reality, than the perishable substances which relieve bodily hunger and thirst.44

Exaggerated parallelism between the Commonwealth and the individual man.

Nor indeed is Plato’s conclusion proved, even in his own sense of the words. He identifies the just man with the philosopher or man of reason — the unjust man with the pursuer of power or wealth. Now, even in this Platonic meaning, the just man or philosopher cannot be called happy quand même: he requires, as one condition of his happiness, a certain amount of service, forbearance, and estimation, on the part of his fellows. He is not completely self-sufficing, nor can any human being be so.

Second Argument of Plato to prove the happiness of the just man — He now recalls his previous concession, and assumes that the just man will receive just treatment and esteem from others.

Dependence of the happiness of the individual on the society in which he is placed.

It will be recollected that this second line of argument is the same as that which Glaukon described as adopted by parents and by other monitors, in discourse with pupils. Plato therefore here admits that their exhortations were founded on solid grounds; though he blames them for denying or omitting the announcement, that just behaviour conferred happiness upon the agent by its own efficacy, apart from all consequences. He regards the happiness attained by the just man, through the consequent treatment by men and Gods, as real indeed, — but as only supplemental and secondary, inferior in value to the happiness involved in the just behaviour per se.

Inconsistency of affirming general positions respecting the happiness of the just man, in all societies without distinction.

Plato appears so anxious to make out a triumphant case in favour of justice and against injustice, that he forgets not only the reality of things, but the main drift of his own previous reasonings. Nothing can stand out more strikingly, throughout this long and eloquent treatise, than the difference between one society and another: the necessary dependence of every one’s lot, partly indeed upon his own character, but also most materially upon the society to which he belongs: the impossibility of affirming any thing generally respecting the result of such and such dispositions in the individual, until you know the society of which he is a member, as well as his place therein. Hence arises the motive for Plato’s own elaborate construction — a new society upon philosophical principles. This essentially relative point of view pervades the greater part of his premisses, and constitutes the most valuable part of them.

Qualified sense in which only this can be done.

After thus forcibly insisting upon the necessary correlation between the individual and the society, as well as upon the variability and uncertainty of justice and injustice in different existing societies55 — Plato is inconsistent with himself in affirming, as an universal position, that the just man receives the favour and good treatment of society, the unjust man, hatred and punishment.56 You cannot decide this until you know in what society the just man is placed. In order to make him comfortable, Plato is obliged to construct an imaginary society suited to him: which would have been unnecessary, if you can affirm that he is sure to be well treated in every society.

Question — Whether the just man is orthodox or dissenter in his society? — important in discussing whether he is happy.

There is a sense indeed (different from what Plato intended), in which the proposition is both true, and consistent with his own doctrine about the correlation between the individual and the society. When Plato speaks of the just or the unjust man, to whose judgment does he make appeal? To his own judgment? or to which of the numerous other dissentient judgments? For that there were numerous dissentient opinions on this point, Plato himself testifies: a person regarded as just or unjust in one community, would not be so regarded in another. All this ethical and intellectual discord is fully recognised as a fact, by Plato himself: who moreover keenly felt it, when comparing his own judgment with that of the Athenians his countrymen. Such being the ambiguity of the terms, we can affirm nothing respecting the just or the unjust man absolutely and generally — respecting justice or injustice in the abstract: We cannot affirm any thing respecting the happiness or misery of either, except with reference to the sentiments of the community wherein each is placed. Assuming their sentiments to be known, we may pronounce that any individual citizen who is unjust relatively to them (i.e., who behaves in a manner which they account unjust), will be punished by their superior force, and rendered miserable: while any one who abstains from such behaviour, and conducts himself in a manner which they account just, will receive from them just dealing, with a certain measure of trust, and esteem: Taken in this relative sense, we may truly say of the unjust man, that he will be unhappy; because displeasure, hatred, and punitory infliction from his countrymen will be quite sufficient to make him so, without any other causes of unhappiness. Respecting the just man, we can only say that he will be happy, so far as exemption from this cause of misery is concerned: but we cannot make sure that he will be happy on the whole, because happiness is a product to which many different conditions, positive and negative, must concur — while the serious causes of misery are efficacious, each taken singly, in producing their result.

Comparison of the position of Sokrates at Athens, with that of his accusers.

Imperfect ethical basis on which Plato has conducted the discussion in the Republic.

This is a question essentially necessary to be answered, when we are called upon to affirm the general principle — “That the just man is happy, and that the unjust man is unhappy”. Antipathy and ill-treatment will be the lot of any citizen who challenges opinions which his society cherish as consecrated, or professes such as they dislike. Such was the fate of Sokrates himself at Athens. He was indicted as unjust and criminal (Ἀδικεῖ Σωκράτης), while his accusers, Anytus and Melêtus, carried away the esteem and sympathy of their fellow-citizens generally, as not simply just men, but zealous champions of justice — as resisting the assailants of morality and religion, of the political constitution, and of parental authority. How vehement was the odium and reprobation which Sokrates incurred from the majority of his fellow-citizens, we are assured by his own Apology60 before the Dikasts. Now it is to every one a serious and powerful cause of unhappiness, to feel himself the object of such a sentiment. Most men dread it so much, like the Platonic Euthyphron, that they refrain from uttering, or at least are most reserved in communicating, opinions which are accounted heretical among their countrymen or companions.61 The resolute and free-spoken Sokrates braved that odium; which, aggravated by particular circumstances, as well as by the character of his own defence, attained at last such a height as to bring about his condemnation to death. That he was sustained in this unthankful task by native force of character, conscientious persuasion, and belief in the approbation of the Gods — is a fact which we should believe, even if he himself had not expressly told us so. But to call him happy, would be a misapplication of the term, which no one would agree with Plato in making — least of all the friends of Sokrates in the last months of his life. Besides, if we are to call Sokrates happy on these grounds, his accusers would be still happier: for they had the same conscientious conviction, and the same belief in the approbation of the Gods: while they enjoyed besides the sympathy of their country men as champions of religion and morality.

Plato in Republic is preacher, inculcating useful beliefs — not philosopher, establishing scientific theory. State of Just and Unjust Man in the Platonic Commonwealth.

In spite of all the charm and eloquence, therefore, which abounds in the Republic, we are compelled to declare that the Platonic Sokrates has not furnished the solution required from him by Glaukon and Adeimantus: and that neither the first point (ix. p. 580 D) nor the second point of his conclusion (x. p. 613) is adequately made out. The very grave ethical problem, respecting the connexion between individual just behaviour and individual happiness, is discussed in a manner too exclusively self-regarding, and inconsistent with that reciprocity which Plato himself sets forth as the fundamental, generating, sustaining, principle of human society. If that principle of reciprocity is to be taken as the starting-point, you cannot discuss the behaviour of any individual towards society, considered in reference to his own happiness, without at the same time including the behaviour of society towards him. Now Plato, in the conditions that he expressly prescribes for the discussion,62 insists on keeping the two apart; and on establishing a positive conclusion about the first, without at all including the second. He rejects peremptorily the doctrine — “That just behaviour is performed for the good of others, apart from the agent”. Yet if society be, in the last analysis (as Plato says that it is), an exchange of services, rendered indispensable by the need which every one has of others — the services which each man renders are rendered for the good of others, as the services which they render to him are rendered for his good. The just dealing of each man is, in the first instance, beneficial to others: in its secondary results, it is for the most part beneficial to himself.63 His unjust dealing, in like manner, is, in the first instance, injurious to others: in its secondary results, it is for the most part injurious to himself. Particular acts of injustice may, under certain circumstances, be not injurious, nay even beneficial, to the unjust agent: but they are certain to be hurtful to others: were it not so, they would not deserve to be branded as injustice. I am required to pay a debt, for the benefit of my creditor, and for the maintenance of a feeling of security among other creditors though the payment may impose upon myself severe privation: indirectly, indeed, I am benefited, because the same law which compels me, compels others also to perform their contracts towards me. The law (to use a phrase of Aristotle) guarantees just dealing by and towards each.64 The Platonic Thrasymachus, therefore, is right in so far as he affirms — That injustice is Malum Alienum, and justice Bonum Alienum,65 meaning that such is the direct and primary characteristic of each. The unjust man is one who does wrong to others, or omits to render to others a service which they have a right to exact, with a view to some undue profit or escape of inconvenience for himself: the just man is one who abstains from wrong to others, and renders to others the full service which they have a right to require, whatever hardship it may impose upon himself. A man is called just or unjust, according to his conduct towards others.

Comparative happiness of the two in actual communities. Plato is dissatisfied with it — This is his motive for recasting society on his own principles.

In considering the main thesis of the Republic, we must look upon Plato as preacher — inculcating a belief which he thinks useful to be diffused; rather than as philosopher, announcing general truths of human nature, and laying down a consistent, scientific, theory of Ethics. There are occasions on which even he himself seems to accept this character. “If the fable of Kadmus and the dragon’s teeth” (he maintains) “with a great many other stories equally improbable, can be made matters of established faith, surely a doctrine so plausible as mine, about justice and injustice, can be easily taught and accredited.”66 To ensure unanimous acquiescence, Plato would constrain all poets to proclaim and illustrate his thesis — and would prohibit them from uttering anything inconsistent with it.67 But these or similar official prohibitions may be employed for the upholding of any creed, whatever it be: and have been always employed, more or less, in every society, for the upholding of the prevalent creed. Even in the best society conceivable under the conditions of human life, assuming an ideal commonwealth in which the sentiments of just and unjust have received the most systematic, beneficent, and rational embodiments, and have become engraven on all the leading minds — even then Plato’s first assertion — That the just man is happy quand même — could not be admitted without numerous reserves and qualifications. Justice must still be done by each agent, not as a self-inviting process, but as an obligation entailing more or less of sacrifice made by him to the security and comfort of others. Plato’s second assertion — That the unjust man is miserable — would be more near the truth; because the ideal commonwealth is assumed to be one in which the governing body has both the disposition and the power to punish injustice — and the discriminating equanimity, or absence of antipathies, which secures them against punishing anything else. The power of society to inflict misery is far more extensive than its power of imparting happiness. But even thus, we have to recollect that the misery of the unjust person arises not from his in justice per se, but from consequent treatment at the hands of others.

Confusion between the preacher and the philosopher in the Platonic Republic.

Thus much for the Platonic or ideal commonwealth. But when we pass from that hypothesis into the actual world, the case becomes far stronger against the truth of both Plato’s assertions. Of actual societies, even the best have many imperfections — the less good, many attributes worse than imperfections:— “ob virtutes certissimum exitium”. The dissenter for the better, is liable to be crucified alongside of the dissenter for the worse: King Nomos will tolerate neither.

Remarks on the contrast between ethical theory and ethical precepts.

Double purpose of the Platonic Republic — ethical and political.

Plato recognises the generating principle of human society — reciprocity of need and service. Particular direction which he gives to this principle.

The four cardinal virtues are assumed as constituting the whole of Good or Virtue, where each of these virtues resides.

The Platonic Sokrates (as I remarked above) lays down as the fundamental, generating, principle of human society, the reciprocity of need and service, essentially belonging to human beings: exchange of services is indispensable, because each man has many wants more than he can himself supply, and thus needs the services of others: while each also can contribute something to supply the wants of others. To this general principle Plato gives a peculiar direction. He apportions the services among the various citizens; and he provides that each man shall be specialised for the service to which he is peculiarly adapted, and confined to that alone. No double man1 is tolerated. How such specialisation is to be applied in detail among the multitude of cultivators and other producers, Plato does not tell us. Each is to have his own employment: we know no more. But in regard to the two highest functions, he gives more information: first, the small cabinet of philosophical Elders,2 Chiefs, or Rulers — artists in the craft of governing, who supply professionally that necessity of the Commonwealth, and from whom all orders emanate: next, the body of Guardians, Soldiers, Policemen, who execute the orders of this cabinet, and defend the territory against all enemies. Respecting both of these, Plato carefully prescribes both the education which they are to receive, and the circumstances under which they are to live. They are to be of both sexes intermingled, but to know neither family nor property: they live together in barrack, and with common mess, receiving subsistence and the means of decent comfort, but no more, from the producers: respecting sexual relations and births, I shall say more presently.

First mention of these, as an exhaustive classification, in ethical theory. Plato effaces the distinction between Temperance and Justice.

When Plato has provided thus much, he treats his city as already planted and brought to consummation. He thinks himself farther entitled to proclaim it as perfectly good, and therefore as including the four constituent elements of Good: that is, as being wise, brave, temperate, just.3 He then looks to find wherein each of these four elements resides: wisdom resides specially in the cabinet of Rulers — courage specially in the Guardians — temperance and justice, in these two, but in the producing multitude also. The two last virtues are universal in the Commonwealth. Temperance consists in the harmony of opinion between the multitude and the two higher classes as to obedience: the Guardians are as ready to obey as the Chiefs to command: the multitude are also for the most part ready to obey — but should they ever fail in obedience, the Guardians are prepared to lend their constraining force to the authority of the Chiefs. Having thus settled three out of the four elements of Good, which enumeration he assumes to be exhaustive — Plato assumes that what remains must be Justice. This remainder he declares to be — That each of the three portions of the Commonwealth performs its own work and nothing else: and this is Justice. Justice and Temperance are thus common to all the three portions of the Commonwealth: while Wisdom and Prudence belong entirely to the Chiefs, and Courage entirely to the Guardians.

All the four are here assumed as certain and determinate, though in former dialogues they appear indeterminate and full of unsolved difficulties.

From whomsoever Plato may have derived this ethical classification — Virtue as a whole, distributed into four varieties — 1. Prudence or Knowledge — 2. Courage or Energy — 3. Temperance — 4. Justice — we find it here placed in the foreground of his doctrine, respecting both the collective Commonwealth and the individual man.9 He professes to understand and explain what they are — to reason upon them all with confidence — and to apply them to very important conclusions.

Difficulties left unsolved, but overleaped by Plato.

But let us pause for a moment to ask, how these professions harmonise with the dialogues reviewed in my preceding volumes. No reader will have forgotten the doubts and difficulties, exposed by the Sokratic Elenchus throughout the Dialogues of Search: the confessed inability of Sokrates himself to elucidate them, while at the same time his contempt for the false persuasion of knowledge — for those who talk confidently about matters which they can neither explain nor defend — is expressed without reserve. Now, when we turn to the Hippias Major, we find Sokrates declaring, that no man can affirm, and that a man ought to be ashamed to pretend to affirm, what particular matters are beautiful (fine, honourable) or ugly (mean, base), unless he knows and can explain what Beauty is.10 A similar declaration appears in the Menon, where Sokrates treats it as absurd to affirm or deny any predicate respecting a Subject, until you have satisfied yourself that you know what the Subject itself is: and where he farther proclaims, that as to Virtue, he does not know what it is, and that he has never yet found any one who did know.11 Such ignorance is stated at the end of the dialogue not less emphatically than at the beginning. Again, respecting the four varieties or parts of Virtue. The first of the four, Prudence — (Wisdom — Knowledge) — has been investigated in the Theætêtus — one of the most elaborate of all the Platonic dialogues: several different explanations of it are proposed by Theætêtus, and each is shown by Sokrates to be untenable; the problem remains unsolved at last. As to Courage and Temperance, we have not been more fortunate. The Lachês and Charmidês exhibit nothing but a fruitless search both for one and for the other. And here the case is more remarkable; because in the Lachês, one of the several definitions of Courage, tendered to Sokrates and refuted by him, is, the very definition of Courage delivered by him in the Republic as complete and satisfactory: while in the Charmidês, one of the definitions of Temperance, refuted, and even treated as scarcely intelligible, by Sokrates (τὸ πράττειν τὰ ἑαυτοῦ) is the same as that which Sokrates in the Republic relies on as a valid definition of Justice.12 Lastly, every one who has read the Parmenidês, will remember the acute objections there urged against the Platonic hypothesis of substantive Ideas, participated in by particulars: of which objections no notice is taken in the Republic, though so much is said therein about these Ideas, in regard to the training of the philosophical Chiefs.

Ethical and political theory combined by Plato, treated apart by Aristotle.

Platonic Commonwealth — only an outline — partially filled up.

In remarking upon the Platonic Republic as a political scheme only, we pass from the Platonic point of view to the Aristotelian: that is, to the discussion of Ethics and Politics as separate subjects, though adjoining and partially overlapping each other. Plato conceives the two in intimate union, and even employs violent metaphors to exaggerate the intimacy. Xenophon also conceives them in close conjunction. Aristotle goes farther in separating the two: a great improvement in regard to the speculative dealing with both of them.13

Absolute rule of a few philosophers — Careful and peculiar training of the Guardians.

Comparison of Plato with Xenophon — Cyropædia — Œconomicus.

Everything in the Platonic Republic turns upon this elaborate training of the superior class: most of all, the Chiefs or Rulers — next, the Soldiers or Guardians. Besides this training, they are required to be placed in circumstances which will prevent them from feeling any private or separate interest of their own, apart from or adverse to that of the multitude. “Every man” (says Plato) “will best love those whose advantage he believes to coincide with his own, and when he is most convinced that if they do well, he himself will do well also: if not, not.”18 “The Rulers must be wise, powerful, and affectionately solicitous for the city.”

Both of them combine polity with education — temporal with spiritual.

On this point we may usefully compare him with his contemporary Xenophon. He, like Plato, presents himself to mankind as a preceptor or schoolmaster, rather than as a lawgiver. Most Grecian cities (he remarks) left the education of youth in the hands of parents, and permitted adults to choose their own mode of life, subject only to the necessity of obeying the laws: that is, of abstaining from certain defined offences, and of performing certain defined obligations — under penalties if such obedience were not rendered. From this mode of proceeding Xenophon dissents, and commends the Spartan Lawgiver Lykurgus for departing from it.19 To regulate public matters, without regulating the private life of the citizens, appeared to him impossible.20 At Sparta, the citizen was subject to authoritative regulation, from childhood to old age. In the public education, or in the public drill, he was constantly under supervision, going through prescribed exercises. This produced, according to Xenophon, “a city of pre-eminent happiness”. He proclaims and follows out the same peculiar principle, in his ideal scheme of society called the Persian laws. He embodies in the Cyropædia the biography of a model chief, trained up from his youth in (what Xenophon calls) the Persian system, and applying the virtues acquired therein to military exploits and to the government of mankind. The Persian polity, in which the hero Cyrus receives his training, is described. Instead of leaving individuals to their own free will, except as to certain acts or abstinences specifically enjoined, this polity placed every one under a regimental training: which both shaped his character beforehand, so as to make sure that he should have no disposition to commit offences21 — and subjected him to perpetual supervision afterwards, commencing with boyhood and continued to old age, through the four successive stages of boys, youths, mature men, and elders.

Differences between them — Character of Cyrus.

Xenophontic genius for command — Practical training — Sokratic principles applied in Persian training.

Thus far the general conception of Xenophon and Plato is similar: yet there are material differences between them. In Xenophon, the ultimate purpose is, to set forth the personal qualities of Cyrus: to which purpose the description of the general training of the citizens is preparatory, occupying only a small portion of the Cyropædia, and serving to explain the system out of which Cyrus sprang. And the character of Cyrus is looked at in reference to the government of mankind. Xenophon had seen governments, of all sorts, resisted and overthrown — despotisms, oligarchies, democracies. His first inference from these facts is, that man is a very difficult animal to govern:— much more difficult than sheep or oxen. But on farther reflection he recognises that the problem is noway insoluble: that a ruler may make sure of ruling mankind with their own consent, and of obtaining hearty obedience — provided that he goes to work in an intelligent manner.23 Such a ruler is described in Cyrus; who both conquered many distant and unconnected nations, — and governed them, when conquered, skilfully, so as to ensure complete obedience without any active discontent. The abilities and exploits of Cyrus thus step far beyond the range of the systematic Persian discipline, though that discipline is represented as having first formed both his character and that of his immediate companions. He is a despot responsible to no one, but acting with so much sagacity, justice, and benevolence, that his subjects obey him willingly. His military orders are arranged with the utmost prudence and calculation of consequences. He promotes the friends who have gone through the same discipline with himself, to be satraps of the conquered provinces, exacting from them submission, and tribute-collection for himself, together with just dealing towards the subjects. Each satrap is required to maintain his ministers, officers, and soldiers around him under constant personal inspection, with habits of temperance and constant exercise in hunting.24 These men and the Persians generally, constitute the privileged class and the military force of the empire:25 the other mass of subjects are not only kept disarmed, but governed as “gens tailleables et corvéables”. Moreover, besides combining justice and personal activity with generosity and winning manners, Cyrus does not neglect such ceremonial artifices and pomp as may impose on the imagination of spectators.26 He keeps up designedly not merely competition but mutual jealousy and ill-will among those around him. And he is careful that the most faithful among them shall be placed on his left hand at the banquet, because that side is the most exposed to treachery.27

Plato does not build upon an individual hero. Platonic training compared with Xenophontic.

What is chiefly present to the mind of Xenophon is, a select fraction of citizens passing their whole lives in a regimental training like that of Lacedæmon: uniformity of habits, exact obedience, the strongest bodily exercise combined with the simplest nutritive diet, perfect command of the physical appetites and necessities, so that no such thing as spitting or blowing the nose is seen.28 The grand purpose of the system, as at Sparta,29 is warlike efficiency: war being regarded as the natural state of man. The younger citizens learn the use of the bow and javelin, the older that of the sword and shield. As war requires not merely perfectly trained soldiers, but also the initiative of a superior individual chief, so Xenophon assumes in the chief of these men (like Agesilaus at Sparta) an unrivalled genius for command. The Xenophontic Cyrus is altogether a practical man. We are not told that he learnt anything except in common with the rest. Neither he nor they receive any musical or literary training. The course which they go through is altogether ethical, gymnastical, and military. Their boyhood is passed in learning justice and temperance,30 which are made express subjects of teaching by Xenophon and under express masters: Xenophon thus supplies the deficiency so often lamented by the Platonic Sokrates, who remarks that neither at Athens nor elsewhere can he find either teaching or teacher of justice. Cyrus learns justice and temperance along with the rest,31 but he does not learn more than the rest: nor does Xenophon perform his promise of explaining by what education such extraordinary genius for command is brought about.32 The superior character of Cyrus is assumed and described, but noway accounted for: indeed his rank and position at the court of Astyages (in which he stands distinguished from the other Persians) present nothing but temptations to indulgence, partially countervailed by wise counsel from his father Kambyses. We must therefore consider Cyrus to be a king by nature, like the chief bee in each hive33 — an untaught or self-taught genius, in his excellence as general and emperor. He obtains only one adventitious aid peculiar to himself. Being of divine progeny, he receives the special favour and revelations of the Gods, who, in doubtful emergencies, communicate to him by signs, omens, dreams, and sacrifices, what he ought to do and what he ought to leave undone.34 Such privileged communications are represented as indispensable to the success of a leader: for though it was his duty to learn all that could be learnt, yet even after he had done this, so much uncertainty remained behind, that his decisions were little better than a lottery.35 The Gods arranged the sequences of events partly in a regular and decypherable manner, so that a man by diligent study might come to understand them: but they reserved many important events for their own free-will, so as not to be intelligible by any amount of human study. Here the wisest man was at fault no less than the most ignorant: nor could he obtain the knowledge of them except by special revelation solicited or obtained. The Gods communicated such peculiar knowledge to their favourites, but not to every one indiscriminately: for they were under no necessity to take care of men towards whom they felt no inclination.36 Cyrus was one of the men thus specially privileged: but he was diligent in cultivating the favour of the Gods by constant worship, not merely at times when he stood in need of their revelations, but at other times also: just as in regard to human friends or patrons, assiduous attentions were requisite to keep up their goodwill.37

Platonic type of character compared with Xenophontic, is like the Athenian compared with the Spartan.

In Plato’s Republic, on the contrary, the theory predominates. He does not build upon any individual hero: he constructs a social and educational system, capable of self-perpetuation at least for a considerable time.39 He describes the generating and sustaining principles of his system, but he does not exhibit it in action, by any pseudo-historical narrative: we learn indeed, that he had intended to subjoin such a narrative, in the dialogue called Kritias, of which only the commencement was ever written.40 He aims at forming a certain type of character, common to all the Guardians: superadding new features so as to form a still more exalted type, peculiar to those few Elders selected from among them to exercise the directorial function. He not only lays down the process of training in greater detail than Xenophon, but he also gives explanatory reasons for most of his recommendations.

Professional soldiers are the proper modern standard of comparison with the regulations of Plato and Xenophon.

The type of character here contemplated by Plato deserves particular notice, as contrasted with that of Xenophon. It is the Athenian type against the Spartan. Periklês in his funeral oration, delivered at Athens in the first year of the Peloponnesian war, boasts that the Athenians had already reached a type similar to this — and that too, without any special individual discipline, legally enforced: that they combined courage, ready energy, and combined action — with developed intelligence, the love of discourse, accessibility to persuasion, and taste for the Beautiful. That which Plato aims at accomplishing in his Guardians, by means of a state-education at once musical and gymnastical — Periklês declares to have been already realised at Athens without any state-education, through the spontaneous tendencies of individuals called forth and seconded by the general working of the political system.44 He compliments his countrymen as having accomplished this object without the unnecessary rigour of a positive state-discipline, and without any other restraints than the special injunctions and prohibitions of a known law. It is this absence of state-discipline to which both Xenophon and Plato are opposed. Both of them follow Lykurgus in proclaiming the insufficiency of mere prohibitions; and in demanding a positive routine of duty to be prescribed by authority, and enforced upon individuals through life. In regard to end, Plato is more in harmony with Periklês: in regard to means, with Xenophon.

Music and Gymnastic — multifarious and varied effects of music.

It is to be remembered that these propositions of Plato have reference, not to an entire and miscellaneous community, but to a select body called the Guardians, required to possess the bodily and mental attributes of soldiers, policemen, and superintendents. The standard of comparison in modern times, for the Lykurgean, Xenophontic or Platonic, training, is to be sought in the stringent discipline of professional soldiers; not in the general liberty, subject only to definite restrictions, enjoyed by non-military persons. In regard to soldiers, the Platonic principle is now usually admitted — that it is not sufficient to enact articles of war, defining what a soldier ought to do, and threatening him with punishment in case of infraction — but that, besides this, it is indispensable to exact from him a continued routine of positive performances, under constant professional supervision. Without this preparation, few now expect that soldiers should behave effectively when the moment of action arrives. This is the doctrine applied by Plato and Xenophon to the whole life of the citizen.

Great influence of the poets and their works on education.

Plato’s idea of the purpose which poetry and music ought to serve in education.

Plato’s idea of the purpose which poetry and music ought to serve in education.

He declares war against most of the traditional and consecrated poetry, as mischievous.

Strict limits imposed by Plato on poets.

It is in this spirit that he deals with the traditional, popular, almost consecrated, poetical literature which prevailed around him. He undertakes to revise and recast the whole of it. Repudiating avowedly the purpose of the authors, he sets up a different point of view by which they are to be judged. The contest of principle, into which he now enters, subsisted (he tells us) long before his time: a standing discord between the philosophers and the poets.52 The poet is an artist53 whose aim is to give immediate pleasure and satisfaction: appealing to æsthetical sentiment, feeding imagination and belief, and finding embodiment for emotions, religious or patriotic, which he shares with his hearers: the philosopher is a critic, who lays down authoritatively deeper and more distant ends which he considers that poetry ought to serve, judging the poets according as they promote, neglect, or frustrate those ends. Plato declares the end which he requires poetry to serve in the training of his Guardians. It must contribute to form the ethical character which he approves: in so far as it thus contributes, he will tolerate it, but no farther. The charm and interest especially, belonging to beautiful poems, is not only no reason for admitting them, but is rather a reason (in his view) for excluding them.54 The more beautiful a poem is, the more effectively does it awaken, stimulate, and amplify, the emotional forces of the mind: the stronger is its efficacy in giving empire to pleasure and pain, and in resisting or overpowering the rightful authority of Reason. It thus directly contravenes the purpose of the Platonic education — the formation of characters wherein Reason shall effectively controul all the emotions and desires.55 Hence he excludes all the varieties of imitative poetry:— that is, narrative, descriptive, or dramatic poetry. He admits only hymns to the Gods and panegyrics upon good citizens:— probably also didactic, gnomic, or hortative, poetry of approved tone. Imitative poetry is declared objectionable farther, not only as it exaggerates the emotions, but on another ground — that it fills the mind with false and unreal representations; being composed by men who have no real knowledge of their subject, though they pretend to a sort of fallacious omniscience, and talk boldly about every thing.56

His view of the purposes of fiction — little distinction between fiction and truth. His censures upon Homer and the tragedians.

Even hymns to the Gods, however, may be composed in many different strains, according to the conception which the poet entertains of their character and attributes. The Homeric Hymns which we now possess could not be acceptable to Plato. While denouncing much of the current theological poetry, he assumes a censorial authority, in his joint character of Lykurgus and Sokrates,57 to dictate what sort of poetical compositions shall be tolerated among his Guardians. He pronounces many of the tales in Homer and Hesiod to be not merely fictions, but mischievous fictions: not fit to be circulated, even if they had been true.

Type of character prescribed by Plato, to which all poets must conform, in tales about Gods and Heroes.

Plato admits fiction, indeed, along with truth as an instrument for forming the character. Nay, he draws little distinction between the two, as regards particular narratives. But the point upon which he specially insists, is, that all the narratives in circulation, true or false, respecting Gods and Heroes, shall ascribe to them none but qualities ethically estimable and venerable. He condemns Homer and Hesiod as having misrepresented the Gods and Heroes, and as having attributed to them acts inconsistent with their true character, like a painter painting a portrait unlike to the original.58 He rejects in this manner various tales told in these poems respecting Zeus, Hêrê, Hephæstus — the fraudulent rupture of the treaty between the Greeks and Trojans by Pandarus, at the instigation of Zeus and Athênê — the final battle of the Gods, in the Iliad59 — the transformations of Proteus and Thetis, and the general declaration in the Odyssey that the Gods under the likeness of various strangers visit human cities as inspectors of good and bad behaviour60 — the dream sent by Zeus to deceive Agamemnon (in the second book of the Iliad), and the charge made by Thetis in Æschylus against Apollo, of having deceived her and killed her son Achilles61 — the violent amorous impulse of Zeus, in the fourteenth book of the Iliad — the immoderate laughter among the Gods, when they saw the lame Hephæstus busying himself in the service of the banquet. Plato will not permit the realm of Hades to be described as odious and full of terrors, because the Guardians will thereby learn to fear death.62 Nor will he tolerate the Homeric pictures of heroes or semi-divine persons, like Priam or Achilles, plunged in violent sorrow for the death of friends and relatives:— since a thoroughly right-minded man, while he regards death as no serious evil to the deceased, is at the same time most self-sufficing in character, and least in need of extraneous sympathy.63

Position of Plato as an innovator on the received faith and traditions. Fictions indispensable to the Platonic Commonwealth.

Applying such a principle of criticism, Plato had little difficulty in finding portions of the current mythology offensive to his ideal type of goodness. Indeed he might have found many others, yet more offensive to it than some of those which he has selected.65 But the extent of his variance with the current views reveals itself still more emphatically, when he says that the Gods are not to be represented as the cause of evil things to us, but only of good things. Most persons (he says) consider the Gods as causes of all things, evil as well as good: but this is untrue:66 the Gods dispense only the good things, not the evil; and the good things are few in number compared with the evil. Plato therefore requires the poet to ascribe all good things to the Gods and to no one else; but to find other causes, apart from the Gods, for sufferings and evils. But if the poet chooses to describe sufferings as inflicted by the Gods, he must at the same time represent these sufferings as a healing penalty or real benefit to the sufferers.67

Difficulty of procuring first admission for fictions. Ease with which they perpetuate themselves after having been once admitted.

That which he proposes for his commonwealth is hardly less than a new religious creed, retaining merely old names of the Gods and old ceremonies. He intends it to consist of a body of premeditated fictitious stories, prepared by poets under his inspection and controul. He does not set up any pretence of historical truth for these stories, when first promulgated: he claims no traditionary evidence, no divine inspiration, such as were associated more or less with the received legends, in the minds both of those who recited and of those who heard them. He rejects these legends, because they are inconsistent with his belief and sentiment as to the character of the Gods. Such rejection we can understand:— but he goes a step farther, and directs the coinage of a new body of legends, which have no other title to credence, except that they are to be in harmony with his belief about the general character of the Gods, and that they will produce a salutary ethical effect upon the minds of his Guardians. They are deliberate fictions, the difference between fact and fiction being altogether neglected: they are pious frauds, constructed upon an authoritative type, and intended for an orthodox purpose. The exclusive monopoly of coining and circulating fictions is a privilege which Plato exacts for himself as founder, and for the Rulers, after his commonwealth is founded.68 All the narrative matter circulating in his community is to be prepared with reference to his views, and stamped at his mint. He considers it not merely a privilege, but a duty of the Rulers, to provide and circulate fictions for the benefit of the community, like physicians administering wholesome medicines.69 This is a part of the machinery essential to his purpose. He remarks that it had already been often worked successfully by others, for the establishment of cities present or past. There had been no recent example of it, indeed, nor will he guarantee the practicability of it among his own contemporaries. Yet, unless certain fundamental fictions can be accredited among his citizens, the scheme of his commonwealth must fail. They must be made to believe that they are all earthborn and all brethren; that the earth which they inhabit is also their mother: but that there is this difference among them — the Rulers have gold mingled with their constitution, the other Guardians have silver, the remaining citizens have brass or iron. This bold fiction must be planted as a fundamental dogma, as an article of unquestioned faith, in the minds of all the citizens, in order that they may be animated with the proper sentiments of reverence towards the local soil as their common mother — of universal mutual affection among themselves as brothers — and of deference, on the part of the iron and brazen variety, towards the gold and silver. At least such must be the established creed of all the other citizens except the few Rulers. It ought also to be imparted, if possible, to the Rulers themselves; but they might be more difficult to persuade.70

Views entertained by Kritias and others, that the religious doctrines generally believed had originated with law-givers, for useful purposes.

We learn hence to appreciate the estimate which Plato formed of the ethical and religious faith, prevalent in the various societies around him. He regards as fictions the accredited stories respecting Gods and Heroes, which constituted the matter of religious belief among his contemporaries; being familiarised to all through the works of poets, painters, and sculptors, as well as through votive offerings, such as the robe annually worked by the women of Athens for the Goddess Athênê. These fictions he supposes to have originally obtained credence either through the charm of poets and narrators, or through the deliberate coinage of an authoritative lawgiver; presupposing in the community a vague emotional belief in the Gods — invisible, quasi-human agents, of whom they knew nothing distinct — and an entire ignorance of recorded history, past as well as present. Once received into the general belief, which is much more an act of emotion than of reason, such narratives retain their hold both by positive teaching and by the self-operating transmission of this emotional faith to each new member of the community, as well as by the almost entire absence of criticism: especially in earlier days, when men were less intelligent but more virtuous than they are now (in Plato’s time) — when among their other virtues, that of unsuspecting faith stood conspicuous, no one having yet become clever enough to suspect falsehood.72 This is what Plato assumes as the natural mental condition of society, to which he adapts his improvements. He disapproves of the received fictions, not because they are fictions, but because they tend to produce a mischievous ethical effect, from the acts which they ascribe to the Gods and Heroes. These acts were such, that many of them (he says), even if they had been true, ought never to be promulgated. Plato does not pretend to substitute truth in place of fiction; but to furnish a better class of fictions in place of a worse.73 The religion of the Commonwealth, in his view, is to furnish fictions and sanctions to assist the moral and political views of the lawgiver, whose duty it is to employ religion for this purpose.74

Main points of dissent between Plato and his countrymen, in respect to religious doctrine.

Plato lays down his own individual preconception respecting the characters of the Gods, as orthodoxy for his Republic: directing that the poets shall provide new narratives conformable to that type. What is more, he establishes a peremptory censorship to prevent the circulation of any narratives dissenting from it. As to truth or falsehood, all that he himself claims is that his general preconception of the character of the Gods is true, and worthy of their dignity; while those entertained by his contemporaries are false; the particular narratives are alike fictitious in both cases. Fictitious as they are, however, Plato has fair reason for his confident assertion, that if they could once be imprinted on the minds of his citizens, as portions of an established creed, they would maintain themselves for a long time in unimpaired force and credit. He guards them by the artificial protection of a censorship, stricter than any real Grecian city exhibited: over and above the self-supporting efficacy, usually sufficient without farther aid, which inheres in every established religious creed.

Theology of Plato compared with that of Epikurus — Neither of them satisfied the exigencies of a believing religious mind of that day.

Plato conceives the Gods according to the exigencies of his own mind — complete discord with those of the popular mind.

Comparing the two doctrines, we see that Plato, though he did not reject altogether, as Epikurus did, the agency of the Gods in the universe, — restricted it here nevertheless so as to suit the ethical exigencies of his own mind. He thus discarded so large a portion of it, as to place himself, or rather his spokesman Sokrates, in marked hostility with the received religious faith. If Melêtus and Anytus lived to read the Platonic Republic (we may add, also the dialogue called Euthyphron), they would probably have felt increased persuasion that their indictment against Sokrates was well-grounded:81 since he stood proclaimed by the most eminent of his companions as an innovator in matters of religion, and as disbelieving a very large portion of what was commonly received by pious Athenians. With many persons, it was considered a species of sacrilege to disbelieve any narrative which had once been impressed upon them respecting the Gods or the divine agency: the later Pythagoreans laid it down as a canon, that this was never to be done.82

Repugnance of ordinary Athenians in regard to the criticism of Sokrates on the religious legends.

Repugnance of ordinary Athenians in regard to the criticism of Sokrates on the religious legends.

Aristophanes connects the idea of immorality with the freethinkers and their wicked misinterpretations.

Heresies ascribed to Sokrates by his own friends — Unpopularity of his name from this circumstance.

Though the Platonic Sokrates, repudiating most of the narratives believed respecting Gods and Heroes, as being immoral and suggesting bad examples to the hearers, proposes to construct a body of new fictions in place of them — yet, if we turn to the Clouds of Aristophanes, we shall find that the old-fashioned and unphilosophical Athenian took quite the opposite view. He connected immoral conduct with the new teaching, not with the old: he regarded the narratives respecting the Gods as realities of an unrecorded past, not as fictions for the purposes of the training-school: he did not imagine that the conduct of Zeus, in chaining up his father Kronus, was a proper model to be copied by himself or any other man: nay, he denounced all such disposition to copy, and to seek excuse for human misconduct in the example of the Gods, as abuse and profanation introduced by the sophistry of the freethinkers.88 In his eyes, the religious traditions were part and parcel of the established faith, customs and laws of the state; and Sokrates, in discrediting the traditions, set himself up as a thinker above the laws. As to this feature, the Aristophanic Sokrates in the Clouds, and the Platonic Sokrates in the Republic, perfectly agree — however much they differ in other respects.

Restrictions imposed by Plato upon musical modes and reciters.

All these restrictions intended for the emotional training of the Guardians.

To all the above mentioned restrictions imposed by Plato upon the manifestation of the poet, both as to thoughts, words, and manner of recital — we must add those which he provides for music in its limited sense: the musical modes and instruments, the varieties of rhythm. He allows only the lyre and the harp, with the panspipe for shepherds tending their flocks. He forbids both the flute and all complicated stringed instruments. Interdicting the lugubrious, passionate, soft, and convivial, modes of music, he tolerates none but the Dorian and Phrygian, suitable to a sober, resolute, courageous, frame of mind: to which also all the rhythm and movement of the body is to be adapted.89 Each particular manifestation of speech, music, poetry, and painting, having a natural affinity with some particular emotional and volitional state — emanating from it in the mind of the author and suggesting it in other minds — nothing is to be tolerated except what exhibits goodness and temperance of disposition, — grace, proportion, and decency of external form.90 Artisans are to observe the like rules in their constructions: presenting to the eye nothing but what is symmetrical. The youthful Guardians, brought up among such representations, will have their minds imbued with correct æsthetical sentiment; they will learn even in their youngest years, before they are competent to give reasons, to love what is beautiful and honourable to hate what is ugly and mean.91

Regulations for the life of the Guardians, especially the prohibition of separate property and family.

Purpose of Plato in these regulations.

Common life, education, drill, collective life, and duties, for Guardians of both sexes. Views of Plato respecting the female character and aptitudes.

The directions of Plato on these two points not only hang together, but are founded on the same reason and considerations. He is resolved to prevent the growth of any separate interest, affections, or aspirations, in the mind of any individual Guardian. Each Guardian is to perform his military and civil duties to the Commonwealth, and to do nothing else. He must find his happiness in the performance of his duty: no double functions or occupations are tolerated. This principle, important in Plato’s view as regards every one, is of supreme importance as applying to the Guardians,93 in whom resides the whole armed force of the Commonwealth and by whom the orders of the Chiefs or Elders are enforced. If the Guardians aspire to private ends of their own, and employ their force for the attainment of such ends, nothing but oppression and ruin of the remaining community can ensue. A man having land of his own to cultivate, or a wife and family of his own to provide with comforts, may be a good economist, but he will never be a tolerable Guardian.94 To be competent for this latter function, he must neither covet wealth nor be exposed to the fear of poverty: he must desire neither enjoyments nor power, except what are common to his entire regiment. He must indulge neither private sympathies nor private antipathies: he must be inaccessible to all motives which could lead him to despoil or hurt his fellow-citizens the producers. Accordingly the hopes and fears involved in self-maintenance — the feelings of buyer, seller, donor, or receiver — the ideas of separate property, house, wife, or family — must never be allowed to enter into his mind. The Guardians will receive from the productive part of the community a constant provision, sufficient, but not more than sufficient, for their reasonable maintenance. Their residence will be in public barracks and their meals at a common mess: they must be taught to regard it as a disgrace to meddle in any way with gold and silver.95 Men and women will live all together, or distributed in a few fractional companies, but always in companionship, and under perpetual drill; beginning from the earliest years with both sexes. Boys and girls will be placed from the beginning under the same superintendence; and will receive the same training, as well in gymnastic as in music. The characters of both will be exposed to the same influences and formed in the same mould. Upon the maintenance of such early, equal, and collective training, especially in music, under the orders of the Elders, — Plato declares the stability of the Commonwealth to depend.96

His arguments against the ordinary doctrine.

The purpose being, to form good and competent Guardians the same training which will be best for the boys will also be best for the girls. But is it true that women are competent to the function of Guardians? Is the female nature endued with the same aptitudes for such duties as the male? Men will ridicule the suggestion (says Plato) and will maintain the negative. They will say that there are some functions for which men are more competent, others for which women are more competent than men: and that women are unfit for any such duty as that of Guardians. Plato dissents from this opinion altogether. There is no point on which he speaks in terms of more decided conviction. Men and women (he says) can perform this duty conjointly, just as dogs of both sexes take part in guarding the flock. It is not true that the female, by reason of the characteristic properties of sex — parturition and suckling — is disqualified for out-door occupations and restricted to the interior of the house.97 As in the remaining animals generally, so also in the human race. There is no fundamental difference between the two sexes, other than that of the sexual attributes themselves. From that difference no consequences flow, in respect to aptitude for some occupations, inaptitude for others. There are great individual differences between one woman and another, as there are between one man and another: this woman is peculiarly fit for one task, that woman for something else. But speaking of women generally and collectively, there is not a single profession for which they are peculiarly fit, or more fit than men. Men are superior to women in every thing; in one occupation as well as in another. Yet among both sexes, there are serious individual differences, so that many women, individually estimated, will be superior to many men; no women will equal the best men, but the best women will equal the second-best men, and will be superior to the men below them.98 Accordingly, in order to obtain the best Guardians, selection must be made from both sexes indiscriminately. For ordinary duties, both will be found equally fit: but the heaviest and most difficult duties, those which require the maximum of competence to perform, will usually devolve upon men.99

Opponents appealed to nature as an authority against Plato. He invokes Nature on his own side against them.

Those who maintain (continues Plato) that because women are different from men, therefore the occupations of the two ought to be different — argue like vexatious disputants who mistake verbal distinctions for real: who do not enquire what is the formal or specific distinction indicated by a name, or whether it has any essential bearing on the matter under discussion.100 Long-haired men are different from bald-heads: but shall we conclude, that if the former are fit to make shoes, the latter are unfit? Certainly not: for when we inquire into the formal distinction connoted by these words, we find that it has no bearing upon such handicraft processes. So again the formal distinction implied by the terms male, female, in the human race as in other animals, lies altogether in the functions of sex and procreation.101 Now this has no essential bearing on the occupations of the adult; nor does it confer on the male fitness for one set of occupations — on the female, fitness for another. Each sex is fit for all, but the male is most fit for all: in each sex there are individuals better and worse, and differing one from another in special aptitudes. Men are competent for the duties of Guardians, only on condition of having gone through a complete musical and gymnastical education. Women are competent also, under the like condition; and are equally capable of profiting by the complete education. Moreover, the chiefs must select for those duties the best natural subjects. The total number of such is very limited: and they must select the best that both sexes afford.102

Collective family relations and denominations among the Guardians.

The strong objections, generally entertained against thus assigning to women equal participation in the education and functions of the Guardians, were enforced by saying — That it was a proceeding contrary to Nature. But Plato not only denies the validity of this argument: he even retorts it upon the objectors, and affirms that the existing separation of functions between the two sexes is contrary to Nature, and that his proposition alone is conformable thereunto.103 He has shown that the specific or formal distinction of the two has no essential bearing on the question, and therefore that no argument can be founded upon it. The specific or formal characteristic, in the case of males, is doubtless superior, taken abstractedly: yet in particular men it is embodied or manifested with various degrees of perfection, from very good to very bad. In the case of females, though inferior abstractedly, it is in its best particular embodiments equal to all except the best males, and superior to all such as are inferior to the best. Accordingly, the true dictate of Nature is, not merely that females may be taken, but that they ought to be taken, conjointly with males, under the selection of the Rulers, to fulfil the most important duties in the Commonwealth. The select females must go through the same musical and gymnastic training as the males. He who ridicules them for such bodily exercises, prosecuted with a view to the best objects, does not know what he is laughing at. “For this is the most valuable maxim which is now, or ever has been, proclaimed — What is useful, is honourable. What is hurtful, is base.”104

Restrictions upon sexual intercourse — Purposes of such restrictions.

Plato now proceeds to unfold the relations of the sexes as intended to prevail among the mature Guardians, after all have undergone the public and common training from their earliest infancy. He conceives them as one thousand in total number, composed of both sexes in nearly equal proportion: since they are to be the best individuals of both sexes, the male sex, superior in formal characteristic, will probably furnish rather a greater number than the female. It has already been stated that they are all required to live together in barracks, dining at a common mess-table, with clothing and furniture alike for all. There is no individual property or separate house among them: the collective expense, in a comfortable but moderate way, is defrayed by contributions from the producing class. Separate families are unknown: all the Guardians, male and female, form one family, and one only: the older are fathers and mothers of all the younger, the younger are sons and daughters of all the older: those of the same age are all alike brothers and sisters of each other: those who, besides being of the same age, are within the limits of the nuptial age and of different sexes, are all alike husbands and wives of each other.105 It is the principle of the Platonic Commonwealth that the affections implied in these family-words, instead of being confined to one or a few exclusively, shall be expanded so as to embrace all of appropriate age.

Regulations about marriages and family.

Regulations about marriages and family.

Procreative powers of individual Guardians required to be held at the disposal of the rulers, for purity of breed.

In the seventh month, or in the tenth month, after the ceremonial day, offspring will be born, from these unions. But the children, immediately on being born, will be taken away from their mothers, and confided to nurses in an appropriate lodgment. The mothers will be admitted to suckle them, and wet-nurses will also be provided, as far as necessary: but the period for the mother to suckle will be abridged as much as possible, and all other trouble required for the care of infancy will be undertaken, not by her, but by the nurses. Moreover the greatest precautions will be taken that no mother shall know her own child: which is considered to be practicable, since many children will be born at nearly the same time.113 The children in infancy will be examined by the Rulers and other good judges, who will determine how many of them are sufficiently well constituted to promise fitness for the duties of Guardians. The children of the good and vigorous couples, except in any case of bodily deformity, will be brought up and placed under the public training for Guardians: the unpromising children, and those of the inferior couples, being regarded as not fit subjects for the public training, will be secretly got rid of, or placed among the producing class of the Commonwealth.114

Purpose to create an intimate and equal sympathy among all the Guardians, but to prevent exclusive sympathy of particular members.

What Plato here understands by marriage, is a special, solemn, consecrated, coupling for the occasion, with a view to breed for the public. It constitutes no permanent bond between the two persons coupled: who are brought together by the authorities under a delusive sortition, but who may perhaps never be brought together at any future sortition, unless it shall please the same authorities. The case resembles that of a breeding stud of horses and mares, to which Plato compares it: nothing else is wanted but the finest progeny attainable. But this, in Plato’s judgment, is the most important of all purposes: his commonwealth cannot maintain itself except under a superior breed of Guardians. Accordingly, he invests his marriages with the greatest possible sanctity. The religious solemnities accompanying them are essential to furnish security for the goodness of the offspring. Any proceeding, either of man or woman, which contravenes the provisions of the rulers on this point, is peremptorily forbidden: and any child, born from unauthorised intercourse without the requisite prayers and sacrifices, is considered as an outcast. Within the limits of the connubial age, all persons of both sexes hold their procreative powers exclusively at the disposition of the lawgiver. But after that age is past, both men and women may indulge in intercourse with whomsoever they please, since they are no longer in condition to procreate for the public. They are subject only to this one condition: not to produce any children, or, if perchance they do, not to bring them up.115 There is moreover one restriction upon the personal liberty of intercourse, after the connubial limits of age. No intercourse is permitted between father and daughter, or between mother and son. But how can such restriction be enforced, since no individual paternity or maternity is recognised in the Commonwealth? Plato answers by admitting a collective paternity and maternity. Every child born in the seventh month or in the tenth month after a couple have been solemnly wedded will be considered by them as their son or daughter, and will consider himself as such.116

Platonic scheme — partial communism.

It is in this manner that Plato constitutes his body of Guardians; one thousand adult persons of both sexes,117 in nearly equal numbers, together with a small proportion of children — the proportion of these latter must be very small since the total number is not allowed to increase. His end here is to create an intimate and equal sympathy among them all, like that between all the members of the same bodily organism: to abolish all independent and exclusive sympathies of particular parts: to make the city One and Indivisible — a single organism, instead of many distinct conterminous organisms: to provide that the causes of pleasure and pain shall be the same to all, so that a man shall have no feeling of mine or thine, except in reference to his own body and that of another, which Plato notes as the greatest good — instead of each individual struggling apart for his own objects and rejoicing on occasions when his neighbour sorrows, which Plato regards as the greatest evil.118 All standing causes of disagreement or antipathy among the Guardians are assumed to be thus removed. But if any two hot-headed youths get into a quarrel, they must fight it out on the spot. This will serve as a lesson in gymnastics:— subject however to the interference of any old man as by-stander, whom they as well as all other young men are bound implicitly to obey.119 Moreover all the miseries, privations, anxiety, and dependence, inseparable from the life of a poor man under the system of private property, will disappear entirely.120

Soldiership as a separate profession has acquired greater development in modern times.

The Platonic scheme is communism, so far as concerns the Guardians: but not communism in reference to the entire Commonwealth. In this it falls short of his own ideal, and is only a second best: the best of all would be, in his view, a communion that should pervade all persons and all acts and sentiments, effacing altogether the separate self.121 Not venturing to soar so high, he confined his perfect communion to the Guardians. Moreover his communism differs from modern theories in this. They contemplate individual producers and labourers, handing over the produce to be distributed among themselves by official authority; they contemplate also a regulation not merely of distribution, but of reserved capital and productive agency, under the same authority. But the Platonic Guardians are not producers at all. Everything which they consume is found for them. They are in the nature of paid functionaries, exempted from all cares and anxiety of self-maintenance, either present or future. They are all comfortably provided, without hopes of wealth or fear of poverty: moreover they are all equally comfortable, so that no sentiment can grow up among them, arising from comparison of each other’s possessions or enjoyments. Among such men and women, brought up from infancy as Plato directs, the sentiment of property, with all the multifarious associations derived from it, would be unknown. No man’s self-esteem, no man’s esteem of others, would turn upon it.

Spartan institutions — great impression which they produced upon speculative Greek minds.

The enlistment of soldiers, apart from civilians, and the holding of them under distinct laws and stricter discipline, is a practice familiar to modern ideas, though it had little place among the Greeks of Plato’s day. There prevailed also in Egypt123 and in parts of Eastern Asia, from time immemorial, a distinction of castes: one caste being soldiers, invested with the defence of the country, and enjoying certain lands by the tenure of such military service: but in other respects, private proprietors like the rest — and receiving no special discipline, training, or education. In Grecian Ideas, military duties were a part, but only a part, of the duties of a citizen. This was the case even at Sparta. Though in practice, the discipline of that city tended in a preponderant degree towards military aptitude, yet the Spartan was still a citizen, not exclusively a soldier.

Plans of these speculative minds compared with Spartan — Different types of character contemplated.

It was from the Spartan institutions (and the Kretan, in many respects analogous) that the speculative political philosophers in Greece usually took the point of departure for their theories. Not only Plato did so, but Xenophon and Aristotle likewise. The most material fact which they saw before them at Sparta was, a public discipline both strict and continued, which directed the movements of the citizens, and guided their thoughts and feelings, from infancy to old age. To this supreme controul the private feelings, both of family and property, though not wholly suppressed, were made to bend: and occasionally in a way quite as remarkable as any restrictions proposed by either Plato or Xenophon.124 Moreover, the Spartan institutions were of immemorial antiquity; believed to have been suggested or sanctioned originally by Apollo and the Delphian oracle, as the Kretan institutions were by Zeus.125 They had lasted longer than other Hellenic institutions without forcible subversion: they obtained universal notice, admiration, and deference, throughout Greece. It was this conspicuous fact which emboldened the Grecian theorists to postulate for the lawgiver that unbounded controul, over the life and habits of citizens, which we read not merely in the Republic of Plato but in the Cyropædia of Xenophon, and to a great degree even in the Politica of Aristotle. To an objector, who asked them how they could possibly expect that individuals would submit to such unlimited interference, they would have replied — “Look at Sparta. You see there interference, as constant and rigorous as that which I propose, endured by the citizens not only without resistance, but with a tenacity and long continuance such as is not found among other communities with more lax regulations. The habits and sentiments of the Spartan citizen are fashioned to these institutions. Far from being anxious to shake them off, he accounts them a necessity as well as an honour.” This reply would have appeared valid and reasonable, in the fourth century before the Christian era. And it explains — what, after all, is the most surprising circumstance to a modern reader — the extreme boldness of speculation, the ideal omnipotence, assumed by the leading Grecian political theorists: much even by Aristotle, though his aspirations were more limited and practical — far more by Xenophon — most of all by Plato. Any theorist, proceeding avowedly κατ’ εὐχὴν, considered himself within bounds when he assumed to himself no greater influence than had actually been exercised by Lykurgus.

Plato carries abstraction farther than Xenophon or Aristotle.

Assuming such influence, however, he intended to employ it for ends approved by himself: agreeing with Lykurgus in the general principle of forming the citizen’s character by public and compulsory discipline, but not agreeing with him in the type of character proper to be aimed at. Xenophon departs least from the Spartan type: Aristotle and Plato greatly more, though in different directions. Each of them applies to a certain extent the process of abstraction and analysis both to the individual and to the community: considering both of them as made up of component elements working simultaneously either in co-operation or conflict. But in Plato the abstraction is carried farthest: the wholeness of the individual Guardian is completely effaced, so that each constitutes a small fraction or wheel of the real Platonic whole — the commonwealth. The fundamental Platonic principle is, that each man shall have one function, and one only: an extreme application of that which political economists call the division of labour. Among these many different functions, one, and doubtless the most difficult as well as important, is that of directing, administering, and defending the community: which is done by the Guardians and Rulers. It is to this one function that all Plato’s treatise is devoted: he tells us how such persons are to be trained and circumstanced. What he describes, therefore, is not properly citizens administering their own affairs, but commanders and officers watching over the interests of others: a sort of military bureaucracy, with chiefs at its head, directing as well as guarding a multitude beneath them. And what mainly distinguishes the Platonic system, is the extreme abstraction with which this public and official character is conceived: the degree to which the whole man is merged in the performance of his official duties: the entire extinction within him of the old individual Adam — of all private feelings and interests.

Anxiety shown by Plato for the good treatment of the Demos, greater than that shown by Xenophon and Aristotle.

In Aristotle’s theory, the Demos are not considered as members of the Commonwealth, but as adjuncts.

Looking to ideal perfection, I think Plato is right. If the Rulers and Guardians have private interests of their own, those interests will corrupt more or less the discharge of their public duties. The evil may be mitigated, by forms of government (representative and other arrangements), which make the continuance of power dependent upon popular estimation of the functionaries: but it cannot be abolished. Neither Xenophon, nor Aristotle, nor the Spartan system, provided any remedy for this difficulty. They scarcely even recognise the difficulty as real. In all the three, the proportion of trained citizens to the rest of the people, would be about the same (so far as we can judge) as the proportion of the Platonic Guardians to the Demos or rest of the people. But when we look to see what security either of the three systems provide for good behaviour on the part of citizens towards non-citizens, we find no satisfaction; nor do they make it, as Plato does, one prominent object of their public training. Plato shows extreme anxiety for the object: as is proved by his sacrificing, in order to ensure it, all the private sources of pleasure to his Guardians. Aristotle reproaches him with doing this, so as to reduce the happiness of his Guardians to nothing: but Plato, from his own point of view, would not admit the justice of such reproach, since he considers happiness to be derived from, and proportional to, the performance of duty.

Objection urged by Aristotle against the Platonic Republic, that it will be two cities. Spiritual pride of the Guardians, contempt for the Demos.

Plato’s scheme fails, mainly because he provides no training for the Demos.

There is however another objection, which seems grave and well founded, advanced by Aristotle against the Platonic Republic. He remarks that it will be not one city, but two cities, with tendencies more or less adverse to each other:130 that the Guardians, educated under the very peculiar training and placed under the peculiar relations prescribed to them, will form one city — while the remaining people, who have no part either in the one or the other, but are private proprietors with separate families — will form another city. I do not see what reply the Platonic Republic furnishes to this objection. Granting full success to Plato in his endeavours to make the Guardians One among themselves, we find nothing to make them One with the remaining people, nor to make the remaining people One with them.131 On the contrary, we observe such an extreme divergence of sentiment, character, pursuit, and education, as to render mutual sympathy very difficult, and to open fatal probabilities of mutual alienation: probabilities hardly less, than if separate proprietary interests had been left to subsist among the Guardians. This is a source of mischief which Plato has not taken into his account. The entire body of Guardians cannot fail to carry in their bosoms a sense of extreme pride in their own training, and a proportionally mean estimate of the untrained multitude alongside of them. The sentiment of the gold and silver men, towards the brass and iron men, will have in it too much of contempt to be consistent with civic fraternity: like the pride of the Twice-Born Hindoo Brahmin, when comparing himself with the lower Hindoo castes: or like that of the Pythagorean brotherhood, who “regarded the brethren as equal to the blessed Gods, but held all the rest to be unworthy of any account”.132 The Spartan training appears to have produced a similar effect upon the minds of the citizens who went through it. And indeed such an effect appears scarcely avoidable, under the circumstances assumed by Plato. He himself is proud of his own ideal training, so as to ascribe to those who receive it a sentiment akin to that of the Olympic victors: while he employs degrading analogies to signify the pursuits and enjoyments of the untrained multitude, who are assimilated to the appetite or lower element in the organism, existing only as a mutinous crew necessary to be kept down.133 That spiritual pride, coupled with spiritual contempt, should be felt by the Guardians, is the natural result; as it is indeed the essential reimbursement to their feelings, for the life of drill and self-denial which Plato imposes upon them. And how, under such a sentiment, the two constituent elements in his system are to be competent to work out his promised result of mutual happiness, he has not shown.134

Principle of Aristotle — That every citizen belongs to the city, not to himself — applied by Plato to women.

In explanation of the foregoing remarks, I will add that Plato fails in his purpose not from the goodness of the training which he provides for his select Few, but from leaving the rest of his people without any training — without even so much as would enable them properly to appreciate superior training in the few who obtain it — without any powers of self-defence or self-helpfulness. His fundamental postulate — That every man shall do only one thing — when applied to the Guardians, realises itself in something great and considerable: but when applied to the ordinary pursuits of life, reduces every man to a special machine, unfit for any other purpose than its own. Though it is reasonable that a man should get his living by one trade, and should therefore qualify himself peculiarly and effectively for that trade — it is not reasonable that he should be altogether impotent as to every thing else: nor that his happiness should consist, as Plato declares that it ought, exclusively in the performance of this one service to the commonwealth. In the Platonic Republic, the body of the people are represented not only as without training, but as machines rather than individual men. They exist partly as producers to maintain, partly as governable matter to obey, the Guardians; and to be cared for by them.

Aristotle declares the Platonic Commonwealth impossible — In what sense this is true.

Plato clearly perceives that it cannot be applied with consistency and effect, unless women are brought under its application as well as men. And to a great extent, Aristotle holds the same opinion too. While commending the Spartan principle, that the character of the citizen must be formed and upheld by continued public training and discipline — Aristotle blames Lykurgus for leaving the women (that is, a numerical half of the city) without training or discipline; which omission produced (he says) very mischievous effects, especially in corrupting the character of the men. He pronounces this to be a serious fault, making the constitution inconsistent and self-contradictory, and indeed contrary to the intentions of Lykurgus himself; who had tried to bring the women under public discipline as well as the men, but was forced to desist by their strenuous opposition.136 Such remarks from Aristotle are the more remarkable, since it appears as matter of history, that the maidens at Sparta (though not the married women) did to a great extent go through gymnastic exercises along with the young men.137 These exercises, though almost a singular exception in Greece, must have appeared to Aristotle very insufficient. What amount or kind of regulation he himself would propose for women, he has not defined. In his own ideal commonwealth, he lays it down as alike essential for men and women to have their bodies trained and exercised so as to be adequate to the active duties of free persons (as contrasted with the harder preparation requisite for the athletic contests, which he disapproves), but he does not go into farther particulars.138 The regulations which he proposes, too, with reference to marriage generally and to the maintenance of a vigorous breed of citizens, show, that he considered it an important part of the lawgiver’s duty to keep up by positive interference the physical condition both of males and females.139

The real impossibility of the Platonic Commonwealth, arises from the fact that discordant sentiments are already established.

If we go through the separate objections which Aristotle advances as justifying his verdict, we shall find them altogether inadequate for the purpose. He shows certain inconveniences and difficulties as belonging to it, — which are by no means all real, but which, even conceding them in full force, would have to be set against the objections admitted by himself to bear against other actual societies before we can determine whether they are sufficiently weighty to render the scheme to which they belong impossible. The Platonic commonwealth, and the Aristotelian commonwealth, are both of them impossible, in my judgment, for the same reason: that all the various communities of mankind exist under established customs, beliefs, and sentiments, in complete discordance with them: and that we cannot understand from whence the force is to come, tending and competent to generate either of these two new systematic projects. Both of them require a simultaneous production of many reciprocally adapted elements: both therefore require an express initiative force, exceptional and belonging to some peculiar crisis — something analogous to Zeus in Krete, and to Apollo at Sparta. This is alike true of both: though the Platonic Republic, departing more widely from received principles and sentiments than the Aristotelian, would of course require a more potent initiative.142 In the treatises of the two philosophers, each explains and vindicates the principles of his system, without including in the hypothesis any specification of a probable source from whence it was to acquire its first start. Where is the motive, operative, demiurgic force, ready to translate such an idea into reality?143 But if we assume that either of them had once begun, there is no reason why it might not have continued. The causes which first brought about the Spartan constitution and discipline must have been very peculiar, though we have no historical account what they were. At any rate they never occurred a second time; for no second Sparta was ever formed, in spite of the admiration inspired by the first. If Sparta had never been actually established, and if Aristotle had read a description of it as a mere project, he would probably have pronounced it impracticable:144 though when once brought into reality, it proved eminently durable. In like manner, the laws, customs, beliefs, and feelings, prevalent in Egypt, — which astonished so vehemently Herodotus and other observing Greeks — would have been declared to be impossible, if described simply in project: yet, when once established, they were found to last longer without change than those of other nations.

Plato has strong feelings of right and wrong about sexual intercourse, but referring to different objects.

The Platonic project is submitted, however, not to impartial judges comparing different views on matters yet undetermined, but to hearers with a canon of criticism already fixed and anti-Platonic “animis consuetudine imbutis”. It appears impossible, because it contradicts sentiments conceived as fundamental and consecrated, respecting the sexual and family relations. The supposed impossibility is the mode of expressing strong disapprobation and repugnance: like that which Herodotus describes as manifested by the Greeks on one side and by the Indians on the other — when Darius, having asked each of them at what price they would consent to adopt the practice of the other respecting the mode of treating the bodies of deceased parents, was answered by a loud cry of horror at the mere proposition.145 The reasons offered to prove the Platonic project impossible, are principally founded upon the very sentiment above adverted to, and derive all their force from being associated with it. Such is the character of many among the Aristotelian objections.146 The real, and the truly forcible, objection consists in the sentiment itself. If that be deeply rooted in the mind, it is decisive. To those who feel thus, the Platonic project would be both intolerable and impossible.

Different sentiment which would grow up in the Platonic Commonwealth respecting the sexual relations.

But we must recollect that it is these very sentiments which Plato impugns and declares to be inapplicable to his Guardians: so that an opponent who, not breaking off at once with the cry of horror uttered by the Indians to Darius, begins to discuss the question with him, is bound to forego objections and repugnances springing as corollaries from a basis avowedly denied. Plato has earnest feelings of right and wrong, in regard both to the functions of women and to the sexual intercourse: but his feelings dissent entirely from those of readers generally. That is right, in his opinion, which tends to keep up the excellence of the breed and the proper number of Guardians, as well as to ensure the exact and constant fulfilment of their mission: that is wrong, which tends to defeat or abridge such fulfilment, or to impair the breed, or to multiply the number beyond its proper limit. Of these ends the Rulers are the proper judges, not the individual person. All the Guardians are enjoined to leave the sexual power absolutely unexercised until the age of thirty for men, of twenty for women — and then only to exercise it under express sanction and authorisation, according as the Rulers may consider that children are needed to keep up the legitimate number.

What Nature prescribes in regard to the relations of the two sexes — Direct contradiction between Plato and Aristotle.

It is clear that among such a regiment as that which Plato describes in his Guardians, a sentiment would grow up, respecting the intercourse of the sexes, totally different from that which prevailed elsewhere around him. The Platonic restriction upon that intercourse up in the (until the ulterior limits of age) would be far more severe: but it would be applied with reference to different objects. Instead of being applied to enforce the exclusive consecration of one woman to one man, choosing each other or chosen by fathers, without any limit on the multiplication of children, — and without any attention to the maintenance or deterioration of the breed — it would be directed to the obtaining of the most perfect breed and of the appropriate number, leaving the Guardians, female as well as male, free from all permanent distracting influences to interfere with the discharge of their public duties. In appreciating the details of the Platonic community, we must look at it with reference to this form of sexual morality; which would generate in the Guardians an appreciation of details consistent with itself both as to the women and as to the children. The sentiment of obligation, of right and wrong, respecting the relations of the sexes, is everywhere very strong; but it does not everywhere attach to the same acts or objects. The important obligation for a woman never to show her face in public, which is held sacred through so large a portion of the Oriental world, is noway recognised in the Occidental: and in Plato’s time, when mankind were more disseminated among small independent communities, the divergence was yet greater than it is now. The Spartans were not induced, by the censures or mockery of persons in other Grecian cities,147 to suppress the gymnastic exercises practised by their maidens in conjunction with the young men: nor is Plato deterred by the ridicule or blame which others may express, from proclaiming his conviction, that the virtue of his female Guardians is the same as that of the male — consisting in the faithful performance of their duty as Guardians, after going through all the requisite training, gymnastic and musical. And he follows this up by the general declaration, one of the most emphatic in all his writings, “The best thing which is now said or ever has been said, is, that what is profitable is honourable — and what is hurtful, is base”.148

Opinion of Plato respecting the capacities of women, and the training proper for women, are maintained in the Leges, as well as in the Republic. Ancient legends harmonising with this opinion.

Plato in truth reduces the distinction between the two sexes to its lowest terms: to the physical difference in regard to procreation — and to the general fact, that the female is every way weaker and inferior to the male; while yet, individually taken, many women are superior to many men, and both sexes are alike improvable by training. He maintains that this similarity of training and function is the real order of Nature, and that the opposite practice, which insists on a separation of life and functions between the sexes, is unnatural:149 which doctrine he partly enforces by the analogy of the two sexes in other animals.150 Aristotle disputes this reasoning altogether: declaring that Nature prescribes a separation of life and functions between the two sexes — that the relation of man to woman is that of superiority and command on one side, inferiority and obedience on the other, like the relation between father and child, master and slave, though with a difference less in degree — that virtue in a man, and virtue in a woman, are quite different, imposing diverse obligations.151 It shows how little stress can be laid on arguments based on the word Nature, when we see two such distinguished thinkers completely at issue as to the question, what Nature indicates, in this important case. Each of them decorates by that name the rule which he himself approves; whether actually realised anywhere, or merely recommended as a reform of something really existing. In this controversy, Aristotle had in his favour the actualities around him, against Plato: but Aristotle himself is far from always recognising experience and practice as authoritative interpreters of the dictates of Nature, as we may see by his own ideal commonwealth.

In a Commonwealth like the Platonic, the influence of Aphroditê would probably have been reduced to a minimum.

How strongly Plato was attached to his doctrines about the capacity of women — how unchanged his opinion continued about the mischief of separating the training and functions of the two sexes, and of confining women to indoor occupations, or to what he calls “a life of darkness and fear”152 — may be seen farther by his Treatise De Legibus. Although in that treatise he recedes (perforce and without retracting) from the principles of his Republic, so far as to admit separate properties and families for all his citizens — yet he still continues to enjoin public gymnastic and military training, for women and men alike: and he still opens, to both sexes alike, superintending social functions to a great extent, as well as the privilege of being honoured by public hymns after death, in case of distinguished merit.153 Respecting military matters, he speaks with peculiar earnestness. That women are perfectly capable of efficient military service, if properly trained, he proves not only by the ancient legends, but also by facts actual and contemporary, the known valour of the Scythian and Sarmatian women. Whatever doubts persons may have hitherto cherished (says Plato), this is now established matter of fact:154 the cowardice and impotence of women is not less disgraceful in itself than detrimental to the city, as robbing it of one-half of its possible force.155 He complains bitterly of the repugnance felt even to the discussion of this proposition.156 Most undoubtedly, there were ancient legends which tended much to countenance his opinion. The warlike Amazons, daughters of Arês, were among the most formidable forces that had ever appeared on earth; they had shown their power once by invading Attica and bringing such peril on Athens, that it required all the energy of the great Athenian hero Theseus to repel them. We must remember that these stories were not only familiarised to the public eye in conspicuous painting and sculpture, but were also fully believed as matters of past history.157 Moreover the Goddess Athênê, patroness of Athens, was the very impersonation of intelligent terror-striking might — constraining and subduing Arês158 himself: the Goddess Enŷo presided over war, no less than the God Arês:159 lastly Artemis, though making war only on wild beasts, was hardly less formidable in her way — indefatigable as well as rapid in her movements and unerring with her bow, as Athênê was irresistible with her spear. Here were abundant examples in Grecian legend, to embolden Plato in his affirmations respecting the capacity of the female sex for warlike enterprise and laborious endurance.

Other purposes of Plato — limitation of number of Guardians — common to Aristotle also.

the indiscriminate companionship, with perfect identity of treatment and manners, between the two sexes from the earliest infancy — the training of both together for the same public duties, the constant occupation of both throughout life in the performance of those duties, under unceasing official supervision — the strict regulation of exercise and diet, together with the monastic censorship on all poetry and literature — the self-restraint, equal and universal, enforced as the characteristic feature and pride of the regiment, and seconded by the jealous espionage of all over all, the more potent because privacy was unknown — such an assemblage of circumstances would do as much as circumstances could do to starve the sexual appetite, to prevent it from becoming the root of emotional or imaginative associations, and to place it under the full controul of the lawgiver for purposes altogether public. Such was probably Plato’s intention: since he more generally regards the appetites as enemies to be combated and extirpated so far as practicable — rather than as sources of pleasure, yet liable to accompaniments of pain, requiring to be regulated so as to exclude the latter and retain the former.

Law of population expounded by Malthus — Three distinct checks to population — alternative open between preventive and positive.

Plato and Aristotle saw the same law as Malthus, but arranged the facts under a different point of view.

The paramount necessity of limiting the number of children born in each family, here enforced by Plato and Aristotle, rests upon that great social fact which Malthus so instructively expounded at the close of the last century. Malthus, enquiring specially into the law of population, showed upon what conditions the increase of population depends, and what were the causes constantly at work to hold it back — checks to population. He ranged these causes under three different heads, though the two last are multiform in detail. 1. Moral or prudential restraint — the preventive check. 2. Vice, and 3. Misery — the two positive checks. He farther showed that though the aggregate repressive effect of these three causes is infallible and inevitable, determined by the circumstances of each given society — yet that mankind might exercise an option through which of the three the check should be applied: that the effect of the two last causes was in inverse proportion to that of the first — in other words, that the less there was of prudential restraint limiting the number of births, the more there must be of vice or misery, under some of their thousand forms, to shorten the lives of many of the children born — and é converso, the more there was of prudential restraint, the less would be the operation of the other checks tending to shorten life.

Regulations of Plato and Aristotle as to number of births and newborn children.

Such regulations disapproved and forbidden by modern sentiment — Variability of ethical sentiment as to objects approved or disapproved.

But these two Greek philosophers ordain something yet more remarkable. Having prescribed both the age of marriage and the number of permitted births, so as to ensure both vigorous citizens and a total compatible with the absence of corrupting poverty — they direct what shall be done if the result does not correspond to their orders. Plato in his Republic (as I have already stated) commands that all the children born to his wedded couples shall be immediately consigned to the care of public nurses — that the offspring of the well-constituted parents shall be brought up, that of the ill-constituted parents not brought up — and that no children born of parents after the legitimate age shall be brought up.171 Aristotle forbids the exposure of children, wherever the habits of the community are adverse to it: but if after any married couple have had the number of children allowed by law, the wife should again become pregnant, he directs that abortion shall be procured before the commencement of life or sense in the fœtus: after such commencement, he pronounces abortion to be wrong.172 On another point Plato and Aristotle agree: both of them command that no child born crippled or deformed shall be brought up:173 a practice actually adopted at Sparta under the Lykurgean institutions, and even carried farther, since no child was allowed to be brought up until it had been inspected and approved by the public nurses.174

Plato and Aristotle required subordination of impulse to reason and duty — they applied this to the procreative impulse, as to others.

We here find both these philosophers not merely permitting, but enjoining — and the Spartan legislation, more admired than any in Greece, systematically realising — practices which modern sentiment repudiates and punishes. Nothing can more strikingly illustrate — what Plato and Aristotle have themselves repeatedly observed175 — how variable and indeterminate is the matter of ethical sentiment, in different ages and communities, while the form of ethical sentiment is the same universally: how all men agree subjectively, in that which they feel — disapprobation and hatred of wrong and vice, approbation and esteem of right and virtue — yet how much they differ objectively, as to the acts or persons which they designate by these names and towards which their feelings are directed. It is with these emotions as with the other emotions of human nature: all men are moved in the same manner, though in different degree, by love and hatred — hope and fear — desire and aversion — sympathy and antipathy — the emotions of the beautiful, the sublime, the ludicrous: but when we compare the objects, acts, or persons, which so move them, we find only a very partial agreement, amidst wide discrepancy and occasionally strong opposition.176 The present case is one of the strongest opposition. Practices now abhorred as wrong, are here directly commanded by Plato and Aristotle, the two greatest authorities of the Hellenic world: men differing on many points from each other, but agreeing in this: men not only of lofty personal character, but also of first-rate intellectual force, in whom the ideas of virtue and vice had been as much developed by reflection as they ever have been in any mind: lastly, men who are extolled by the commentators as the champions of religion and sound morality, against what are styled the unprincipled cavils of the Sophists.

Training of the few select philosophers to act as chiefs.

It is, in my judgment, both curious and interesting to study the manner in which these two illustrious men — Plato and Aristotle — dealt with the problem of population. Grave as that problem is in all times, it was peculiarly grave among the small republics of antiquity. Neither of them were disposed to ignore or overlook it: nor to impute to other causes the consequences which it produces: nor to treat as indifferent the question, whether poor couples had a greater or less family, to share subsistence already scanty for themselves. Still less were these philosophers disposed to sanction the short-sighted policy of some Hellenic statesmen, who under a mistaken view of increasing the power of the state, proclaimed encouragement and premium simply to the multiplication of male births, without any regard to the comfort and means of families. Both Plato and Aristotle saw plainly, that a married couple, by multiplying their offspring, produced serious effects not merely upon their own happiness but upon that of others besides: up to a certain limit, for good — beyond that limit, for evil. Hence they laid it down, that procreation ought to be a rational and advised act, governed by a forecast of those consequences — not a casual and unforeseen result of present impulse. The same preponderance of reason over impulse as they prescribed in other cases, they endeavoured to enforce in this. They regarded it too, not simply as a branch of prudence, but as a branch of duty; a debt due by each citizen to others and to the commonwealth. It was the main purpose of their elaborate political schemes, to produce a steady habit and course of virtue in all the citizens: and they considered every one as greatly deficient in virtue, who refused to look forward to the consequences of his own procreative acts — thereby contributing to bring upon the state an aggravated measure of poverty, which was the sure parent of discord, sedition, and crime. That the rate of total increase should not be so great as to produce these last-mentioned effects — and that the limit of virtue and prudence should be made operative on all the separate families — was in their judgment one of the most important cares of the lawgiver.

Comprehensive curriculum for aspirants to philosophy — consummation by means of Dialectic.

I pass from Plato’s picture of the entire regiment of Guardians, under the regulations above described — to his description of the special training whereby the few most distinguished persons in the regiment (male or female, as the case may be) are to be improved, tested, and exalted to the capacity of philosophers: qualified to act as Rulers or Chiefs.177 These are the two marked peculiarities of Plato’s Republic. The Guardians are admirable as instruments, but have no initiative of their own: we have now to find the chiefs from whom they will receive it. How are philosophers to be formed? None but a chosen Few have the precious gold born with them, empowering them to attain this elevation. To those Few, if properly trained, the privilege and right to exercise command belongs, by Nature. For the rest, obedience is the duty prescribed by Nature.178

Valuable remarks on the effects of these preparatory studies.

I have already given, in Chap. XXXV., a short summary of the peculiar scientific training which Sokrates prescribes for ripening these heroic aspirants into complete philosophers. They pass years of intellectual labour, all by their own spontaneous impulse, over and above the full training of Guardians. They study Arithmetic, Geometry, Stereometry, Astronomy, Acoustics, &c., until the age of thirty: they then continue in the exercise of Dialectic, with all the test of question and answer, for five years longer: after which they enter upon the duties of practice and administration, succeeding ultimately to the position of chiefs if found competent. It is assumed that this long course of study, consummated by Dialectic, has operated within them that great mental revolution which Plato calls, turning the eye from the shadows in the cave to the realities of clear daylight: that they will no longer be absorbed in the sensible world or in passing phenomena, but will become familiar with the unchangeable Ideas or Forms of the Intelligible world, knowable only by intellectual intuition. Reason has with them been exalted to its highest power: not only strengthening them to surmount all intellectual difficulties and to deal with the most complicated conjectures of practice — but also ennobling their dispositions, so as to overcome all the disturbing temptations and narrow misguiding prejudices inherent in the unregenerate man. Upon the perfection of character, emotional and intellectual, imparted to these few philosophers, depends the Platonic Commonwealth.

Differences between the Republic and other dialogues — no mention of reminiscence nor of the Elenchus.

Different view taken by Plato in the Republic about Dialectic — and different place assigned to it.

First, The scientific and long-continued Quadrivium, through which Plato here conducts the student to philosophy, is very different from the road to philosophy as indicated elsewhere. Nothing is here said about reminiscence — which in the Menon, Phædon, Phædrus, and elsewhere, stands in the foreground of his theory, as the engine for reviving in the mind Forms or Ideas. With these Forms it had been familiar during a prior state of existence, but they had become buried under the sensible impressions arising from its conjunction with the body. Nor do we find in the Republic any mention of that electric shock of the negative Elenchus, which (in the Theætêtus, Sophistês, and several other dialogues) is declared indispensable for stirring up the natural mind not merely from ignorance and torpor, but even from a state positively distempered — the false persuasion of knowledge.

Contradiction with the spirit of other dialogues — Parmenidês, &c.

Secondly, following out this last observation, we perceive another discrepancy yet more striking, in the directions given by Plato respecting the study of Dialectic. He prescribes that it shall upon no account be taught to young men: and that it shall come last of all in teaching, only after the full preceding Quadrivium. He censures severely the prevalent practice of applying it to young men, as pregnant with mischief. Young men (he says) brought up in certain opinions inculcated by the lawgiver, as to what is just and honourable, are interrogated on these subjects, and have questions put to them. When asked What is the just and the honourable, they reply in the manner which they have learnt from authority: but this reply, being exposed to farther interrogatories, is shown to be untenable and inconsistent, such as they cannot defend to their own satisfaction. Hence they lose all respect for the established ethical creed, which however stands opposed in their minds to the seductions of immediate enjoyment: yet they acquire no new or better conviction in its place. Instead of following an established law, they thus come to live without any law.180 Besides, young men when initiated in dialectic debate, take great delight in the process, as a means of exposing and puzzling the respondent. Copying the skilful interrogators whom they have found themselves unable to answer, they interrogate others in their turn, dispute everything, and pride themselves on exhibiting all the negative force of the Elenchus. Instead of employing dialectic debate for the discovery of truth, they use it merely as a disputatious pastime, and thus bring themselves as well as philosophy into discredit.181

Contradiction with the character and declarations of Sokrates.

Now the doctrine thus proclaimed, with the grounds upon which it rests — That dialectic debate is unsuitable and prejudicial to young men — distinctly contradict both the principles laid down by himself elsewhere, and the frequent indications of his own dialogues: not to mention the practice of Sokrates as described by Xenophon. In the Platonic Parmenidês, and Theætêtus, the season of youth is expressly pronounced to be that in which dialectic exercise is not merely appropriate, but indispensable to the subsequent attainment of truth.183 Moreover, Plato puts into the mouth of Parmenides a specimen intentionally given to represent that dialectic exercise which will be profitable to youth. The specimen is one full of perplexing, though ingenious, subtleties: ending in establishing, by different trains of reasoning, the affirmative, as well as the negative, of several distinct conclusions. Not only it supplies no new positive certainty, but it appears to render any such consummation more distant and less attainable than ever.184 It is therefore eminently open to the censure which Plato pronounces, in the passage just cited from his Republic, against dialectic as addressed to young men. The like remark may be made upon the numerous other dialogues (though less extreme in negative subtlety than the Parmenidês), wherein the Platonic Sokrates interrogates youths (or interrogates others, in the presence of youths) without any positive result: as in the Theætêtus, Charmidês, Lysis, Alkibiadês, Hippias, &c., to which we may add the conversations of the Xenophontic Sokrates with Euthydemus and others.185

The remarks here made upon the effect of Dialectic upon youth coincide with the accusation of Melêtus against Sokrates.

In fact, the Platonic Sokrates expressly proclaims himself (in the Apology as well as in the other dialogues just named) to be ignorant and incapable of teaching anything. His mission was to expose the ignorance of those, who fancy that they know without really knowing: he taught no one anything, but he cross-examined every one who would submit to it, before all the world, and in a manner especially interesting to young men. Sokrates mentions that these young men not only listened with delight, but tried to imitate him as well as they could, by cross-examining others in the same manner:186 and in mentioning the fact, he expresses neither censure nor regret, but satisfaction in the thought that the chance would be thereby increased, of exposing that false persuasion of knowledge which prevailed so widely everywhere. Now Plato, in the passage just cited from the Republic, blames this contagious spirit of cross-examination on the part of young men, as a vice which proved the mischief of dialectic debate addressed to them at that age. He farther deprecates the disturbance of “those opinions which they have heard from the lawgiver respecting what is just and honourable”. But it is precisely these opinions which, in the Alkibiadês, Menon, Protagoras, and other dialogues, the Platonic Sokrates treats as untaught, if not unteachable:— as having been acquired, no man knew how, without the lessons of any assignable master and without any known period of study:— lastly, as constituting that very illusion of false knowledge without real knowledge, of which Sokrates undertakes to purge the youthful mind, and which must be dispelled before any improvement can be effected in it.187

Contrast between the real Sokrates, as a dissenter at Athens, and the Platonic Sokrates, framer and dictator of the Platonic Republic.

Idea of Good — The Chiefs alone know what it is — If they did not they would be unfit for their functions.

The matter to which I here advert, illustrates a material distinction between some writings of Plato as compared with others, and between different points of view which his mind took on at different times. In the Platonic Apology, we find Sokrates confessing his own ignorance, and proclaiming himself to be isolated among an uncongenial public falsely persuaded of their own knowledge. In several other dialogues, he is the same: he cannot teach anything, but can only cross-examine, test, and apply the spur to respondents. But the Republic presents him in a new character. He is no longer a dissenter amidst a community of fixed, inherited, convictions.190 He is himself on the throne of King Nomos: the infallible authority, temporal as well as spiritual, from whom all public sentiment emanates, and by whom orthodoxy is determined. Hence we now find him passing to the opposite pole; taking up the orthodox, conservative, point of view, the same as Melêtus and Anytus maintained in their accusation against Sokrates at Athens. He now expects every individual to fall into the place, and contract the opinions, prescribed by authority: including among those opinions deliberate ethical and political fictions, such as that about the gold and silver earthborn men. Free-thinking minds, who take views of their own, and enquire into the evidence of these beliefs, become inconvenient and dangerous. Neither the Sokrates of the Platonic Apology, nor his negative Dialectic, could be allowed to exist in the Platonic Republic.

What is the Good? Plato does not know; but he requires the Chiefs to know it. Without this the Republic would be a failure.

What is the Good? Plato does not know; but he requires the Chiefs to know it. Without this the Republic would be a failure.

Persons and scheme of the Timæus and Kritias.

The Timæus is the earliest ancient physical theory, which we possess in the words of its author.

Though the Republic of Plato appears as a substantive composition, not including in itself any promise of an intended sequel — yet the Timæus and Kritias are introduced by Plato as constituting a sequel to the Republic. Timæus the Pythagorean philosopher of Lokri, the Athenian Kritias, and Hermokrates, are now introduced, as having been the listeners while Sokrates was recounting his long conversation of ten Books, first with Thrasymachus, next with Glaukon and Adeimantus. The portion of that conversation, which described the theory of a model commonwealth, is recapitulated in its main characteristics: and Sokrates now claims from the two listeners some requital for the treat which he has afforded to them. He desires to see the citizens, whose training he has described at length, and whom he has brought up to the stage of mature capacity — exhibited by some one else as living, acting, and affording some brilliant evidence of courage and military discipline.1 Kritias undertakes to satisfy his demand, by recounting a glorious achievement of the ancient citizens of Attica, who had once rescued Europe from an inroad of countless and almost irresistible invaders, pouring in from the vast island of Atlantis in the Western Ocean. This exploit is supposed to have been performed nearly 10,000 years before; and though lost out of the memory of the Athenians themselves, to have been commemorated and still preserved in the more ancient records of Sais in Egypt, and handed down through Solon by a family tradition to Kritias. But it is agreed between Kritias and Timæus,2 that before the former enters upon his quasi-historical or mythical recital about the invasion from Atlantis, the latter shall deliver an expository discourse, upon a subject very different and of far greater magnitude. Unfortunately the narrative promised by Kritias stands before us only as a fragment. There is reason to believe that Plato never completed it.3 But the discourse assigned to Timæus was finished, and still remains, as a valuable record of ancient philosophy.

Position and character of the Pythagorean Timæus.

Poetical imagination displayed by Plato. He pretends to nothing more than probability. Contrast with Sokrates, Isokrates, Xenophon.

Timæus is extolled by Sokrates as combining the character of a statesman with that of a philosopher: as being of distinguished wealth and family in his native city (the Epizephyrian Lokri), where he had exercised the leading political functions:— and as having attained besides, the highest excellence in science, astronomical as well as physical.4 We know from other sources (though Plato omits to tell us so, according to his usual undefined manner of designating contemporaries) that he was of the Pythagorean school. Much of the exposition assigned to him is founded on Pythagorean principles, though blended by Plato with other doctrines, either his own or borrowed elsewhere. Timæus undertakes to requite Sokrates by giving a discourse respecting “The Nature of the Universe”; beginning at the genesis of the Kosmos, and ending with the constitution of man.5 This is to serve as an historical or mythical introduction to the Platonic Republic recently described; wherein Sokrates had set forth the education and discipline proper for man when located as an inhabitant of the earth. Neither during the exposition of Timæus, nor after it, does Sokrates make any remark. But the commencement of the Kritias (which is evidently intended as a second part or continuation of the Timæus) contains, first, a prayer from Timæus that the Gods will pardon the defects of his preceding discourse and help him to amend them — next an emphatic commendation bestowed by Sokrates upon the discourse: thus supplying that recognition which is not found in the first part.6

Fundamental distinction between Ens and Fientia.

In this Hymn of the Universe (to use a phrase of the rhetor Menander7 respecting the Platonic Timæus) the prose of Plato is quite as much the vehicle of poetical imagination as the hexameters of Hesiod, Empedokles, or Parmenides. The Gods and Goddesses, whom Timæus invokes at the commencement,8 supply him with superhuman revelations, like the Muses to Hesiod, or the Goddess of Wisdom to Parmenides. Plato expressly recognises the multiplicity of different statements current, respecting the Gods and the generation of the Universe. He claims no superior credibility for his own. He professes to give us a new doctrine, not less probable than the numerous dissentient opinions already advanced by others, and more acceptable to his own mind. He bids us be content with such a measure of probability, because the limits of our human nature preclude any fuller approach to certainty.9 It is important to note the modest pretensions here unreservedly announced by Plato as to the conviction and assent of hearers:— so different from the confidence manifested in the Republic, where he hires a herald to proclaim his conclusion — and from the overbearing dogmatism which we read in his Treatise De Legibus, where he is providing a catechism for the schooling of citizens, rather than proofs to be sifted by opponents. He delivers, respecting matters which he admits to be unfathomable, the theory most in harmony with his own religious and poetical predispositions, which he declares to be as probable as any other yet proclaimed. The Xenophontic Sokrates, who disapproved all speculation respecting the origin and structure of the Kosmos, would probably have granted this equal probability, and equal absence of any satisfactory grounds of preferential belief — both to Plato on one side and to the opposing theorists on the other. And another intelligent contemporary, Isokrates, would probably have considered the Platonic Timæus as one among the same class of unprofitable extravagancies, to which he assigns the theories of Herakleitus, Empedokles, Alkmæon, Parmenides, and others.10 Plato himself (in the Sophistês)11 characterises the theories of these philosophers as fables recited to an audience of children, without any care to ensure a rational comprehension and assent. They would probably have made the like criticism upon his Timæus. While he treats it as fable to apply to the Gods the human analogy of generation and parentage — they would have considered it only another variety of fable, to apply to them the equally human analogy of constructive fabrication or mixture of ingredients. The language of Xenophon shows that he agreed with his master Sokrates in considering such speculations as not merely unprofitable, but impious.12 And if the mission from the Gods — constituting Sokrates Cross-Examiner General against the prevailing fancy of knowledge without the reality of knowledge — drove him to court perpetual controversy with the statesmen, poets, and Sophists of Athens; the same mission would have compelled him, on hearing the sweeping affirmations of Timæus, to apply the test of his Elenchus, and to appear in his well-known character of confessed13 but inquisitive ignorance. The Platonic Timæus is positively anti-Sokratic. It places us at the opposite or dogmatic pole of Plato’s character.14

Postulates of Plato. The Demiurgus — The Eternal Ideas — Chaotic Materia or Fundamentum. The Kosmos is a living being and a God.

Timæus begins by laying down the capital distinction between — 1. Ens or the Existent, the eternal and unchangeable, the world of Ideas or Forms, apprehended only by mental conception or Reason, but the object of infallible cognition. 2. The Generated and Perishable — the sensible, phenomenal, material world — which never really exists, but is always appearing and disappearing; apprehended by sense, yet not capable of becoming the object of cognition, nor of anything better than opinion or conjecture. The Kosmos, being a visible and tangible body, belongs to this last category. Accordingly, it can never be really known: no true or incontestable propositions can be affirmed respecting it: you can arrive at nothing higher than opinion and probability.

The Demiurgus not a Creator — The Kosmos arises from his operating upon the random movements of Necessity. He cannot controul necessity — he only persuades.

Meaning of Necessity in Plato.

The Demiurgus of Plato is not conceived as a Creator,16 but as a Constructor or Artist. He is the God Promêtheus, conceived as pre-kosmical, and elevated to the primacy of the Gods: instead of being subordinate to Zeus, as depicted by Æschylus and others. He represents provident intelligence or art, and beneficent purpose, contending with a force superior and irresistible, so as to improve it as far as it will allow itself to be improved.17 This pre-existing superior force Plato denominates Necessity — “the erratic, irregular, random causality,” subsisting prior to the intervention of the Demiurgus; who can only work upon it by persuasion, but cannot coerce or subdue it.18 The genesis of the Kosmos thus results from a combination of intelligent force with the original, primordial Necessity; which was persuaded, and consented, to have its irregular agency regularised up to a certain point, but no farther. Beyond this limit the systematising arrangements of the Demiurgus could not be carried; but all that is good or beautiful in the Kosmos was owing to them.19

Process of demiurgic construction — The total Kosmos comes logically first, constructed on the model of the Αὐτοζῶον.

We ought here to note the sense in which Plato uses the word Necessity. This word is now usually understood as denoting what is fixed, permanent, unalterable, knowable beforehand. In the Platonic Timæus it means the very reverse:— the indeterminate, the inconstant, the anomalous, that which can neither be understood nor predicted. It is Force, Movement, or Change, with the negative attribute of not being regular, or intelligible, or determined by any knowable antecedent or condition — Vis consili expers. It coincides, in fact, with that which is meant by Freewill, in the modern metaphysical argument between Freewill and Necessity: it is the undetermined or self-determining, as contrasted with that which depends upon some given determining conditions, known or knowable. The Platonic Necessity20 is identical with the primeval Chaos, recognised in the Theogony or Kosmogony of Hesiod. That poet tells us that Chaos was the primordial Something: and that afterwards came Gæa, Eros, Uranus, Nyx, Erebus, &c., who intermarried, males with females, and thus gave birth to numerous divine persons or kosmical agents — each with more or less of definite character and attributes. By these supervening agencies, the primeval Chaos was modified and regulated, to a greater or less extent. The Platonic Timæus starts in the same manner as Hesiod, from an original Chaos. But then he assumes also, as coæval with it, but apart from it, his eternal Forms or Ideas: while, in order to obtain his kosmical agents, he does not have recourse, like Hesiod, to the analogy of intermarriages and births, but employs another analogy equally human and equally borrowed from experience — that of a Demiurgus or constructive professional artist, architect, or carpenter; who works upon the model of these Forms, and introduces regular constructions into the Chaos. The antithesis present to the mind of Plato is that between disorder or absence of order, announced as Necessity, — and order or regularity, represented by the Ideas.21 As the mediator between these two primeval opposites, Plato assumes Nous, or Reason, or artistic skill personified in his Demiurgus: whom he calls essentially good — meaning thereby that he is the regularising agent by whom order, method, and symmetry, are copied from the Ideas and partially realised among the intractable data of Necessity. Good is something which Plato in other works often talks about, but never determines: his language implies sometimes that he knows what it is, sometimes that he does not know. But so far as we can understand him, it means order, regularity, symmetry, proportion — by consequence, what is ascertainable and predictable.22 I will not say that Plato means this always and exclusively, by Good: but he seems to mean so in the Timæus. Evil is the reverse. Good or regularity is associated in his mind exclusively with rational agency. It can be produced, he assumes, only by a reason, or by some personal agent analogous to a reasonable and intelligent man. Whatever is not so produced, must be irregular or bad.

Body of the Kosmos, perfectly spherical — its rotations.

Body of the Kosmos, perfectly spherical — its rotations.

Soul of the Kosmos — its component ingredients — stretched from centre to circumference.

Regular or measured Time — began with the Kosmos.

The Kosmos, one and only-begotten, was thus perfect as to its body, including all existent bodily material, — smooth, even, round, and equidistant from its centre to all points of the circumference.32 The Demiurgus put together at the same time its soul or mind; which he planted in the centre and stretched throughout its body in every direction, — so as not only to reach the circumference, but also to enclose and wrap it round externally. The soul, being intended to guide and govern the body, was formed of appropriate ingredients, three distinct ingredients mixed together: 1. The Same — The Identical — The indivisible, and unchangeable essence of Ideas. 2. The Different — The Plural — The divisible essence of bodies or of the elements. 3. A third compound, formed of both these ingredients melted into one. — These three ingredients — Same, Different, Same and Different in one, — were blended together in one compound, to form the soul of the Kosmos: though the Different was found intractable and hard to conciliate.33 The mixture was divided, and the portions blended together, according to a scale of harmonic numerical proportion complicated and difficult to follow.34 The soul of the Kosmos was thus harmonically constituted. Among its constituent elements, the Same, or Identity, is placed in an even and undivided rotation of the outer or sidereal sphere of the Kosmos, — while the Different, or Diversity, is distributed among the rotations, all oblique, of the seven interior or planetary spheres — that is, the five planets, Sun, and Moon. The outer sphere revolved towards the right: the interior spheres in an opposite direction towards the left. The rotatory force of the Same (of the outer Sphere) being not only one and undivided, but connected with and dependent upon the solid revolving axis which traverses the diameter of the Kosmos — is far greater than that of the divided spheres of the Different; which, while striving to revolve in an opposite direction, each by a movement of its own — are overpowered and carried along with the outer sphere, though the time of revolution, in the case of each, is more or less modified by its own inherent counter-moving force.35

Divine tenants of the Kosmos. Primary and Visible Gods — Stars and Heavenly Bodies.

Divine tenants of the Kosmos. Primary and Visible Gods — Stars and Heavenly Bodies.

Secondary and generated Gods — Plato’s dictum respecting them. His acquiescence in tradition.

Secondary and generated Gods — Plato’s dictum respecting them. His acquiescence in tradition.

Remarks on Plato’s Canon of Belief.

Respecting these remaining Gods, however, the Platonic Timæus holds a different language. Instead of speaking in his own name and delivering his own convictions, as he had done about the Demiurgus and the cosmical Gods — with the simple reservation, that such convictions could be proclaimed only as probable and not as demonstratively certain — he now descends to the Sokratic platform of confessed ignorance and incapacity. “The generation of these remaining Gods (he says) is a matter too great for me to understand and declare. I must trust to those who have spoken upon the subject before me — who were, as they themselves said, offspring of the Gods, and must therefore have well known their own fathers. It is impossible to mistrust the sons of the Gods. Their statements indeed are unsupported either by probabilities or by necessary demonstration; but since they here profess to be declaring family traditions, we must obey the law and believe.45 Thus then let it stand and be proclaimed, upon their authority, respecting the generation of the remaining Gods. The offspring of Uranus and Gæa were, Okeanus and Tethys: from whom sprang Phorkys, Kronus, Rhea, and those along with them. Kronus and Rhea had for offspring Zeus, Hêrê, and all these who are termed their brethren: from whom too, besides, we hear of other offspring. Thus were generated all the Gods, both those who always conspicuously revolve, and those who show themselves only when they please.”46

Address and order of the Demiurgus to the generated Gods.

But while the feeling of spontaneous belief thus readily arises in Plato’s mind, following in the wake of his own constructive imagination and ethical or æsthetical sentiment (fingunt simul creduntque) — it does not so readily cleave to the theological dogmas in actual circulation around him. In the generation of Gods from Uranus and Gæa — which he as well as other Athenian youths must have learnt when they recited Hesiod with their schoolmasters — he can see neither proof nor probability: he can find no internal ground for belief.48 He declares himself incompetent: he will not undertake to affirm any thing upon his own judgment: the mystery is too dark for him to penetrate. Yet on the other hand, though it would be rash to affirm, it would be equally rash to deny. Nearly all around him are believers, at least as well satisfied with their creed as he was with the uncertified affirmations of his own Timæus. He cannot prove them to be wrong, except by appealing to an ethical or æsthetical sentiment which they do not share. Among the Gods said to be descended from Uranus and Gæa, were all those to whom public worship was paid in Greece, — to whom the genealogies of the heroic and sacred families were traced, — and by whom cities as well as individuals believed themselves to be protected in dangers, healed in epidemics, and enlightened on critical emergencies through seasonable revelations and prophecies. Against an established creed thus avouched, it was dangerous to raise any doubts. Moreover Plato could not have forgotten the fate of his master Sokrates;49 who was indicted both for not acknowledging the Gods whom the city acknowledged, and for introducing other new divine matters and persons. There could be no doubt that Plato was guilty on this latter count: prudence therefore rendered it the more incumbent on him to guard against being implicated in the former count also. Here then Plato formally abnegates his own self-judging power, and submits himself to orthodox authority. “It is impossible to doubt what we have learnt from witnesses, who declared themselves to be the offspring of the Gods, and who must of course have known their own family affairs. We must obey the law and believe.” In what proportion such submission, of reason to authority, embodied the sincere feeling of Pascal and Malebranche, or the irony of Bayle and Voltaire, we are unable to determine.50

Preparations for the construction of man. Conjunction of three souls and one body.

Proceedings of the generated Gods — they fabricate the cranium, as miniature of the Kosmos, with the rational soul rotating within it.

Proceedings of the generated Gods — they fabricate the cranium, as miniature of the Kosmos, with the rational soul rotating within it.

The cranium is mounted on a tall body — six varieties of motion — organs of sense. Vision — Light.

Accordingly the Gods, sons of the Demiurgus, entered upon the task, trying to imitate their father. Borrowing from the Kosmos portions of the four elements, with engagement that what was borrowed should one day be paid back, they glued them together, and fastened them by numerous minute invisible pegs into one body. Into this body, always decaying and requiring renovation, they introduced the immortal soul, with its double circular rotations — the Circles of the Same and of the Diverse: embodying it in the cranium, which was made spherical in exterior form like the Kosmos, and admitting within it no other motion but the rotatory. The head, the most divine portion of the human system, was made master; while the body was admitted only as subject and ministerial. The body was endowed with all the six varieties of motive power, forward, backwards — upward, downward — to the right, to the left.55 The phenomena of nutrition and sensation began. But all these irregular movements, and violent multifarious agitations, checked or disturbed the regular rotations of the immortal soul in the cranium, perverting the arithmetical proportion, and harmony belonging to them. The rotations of the Circles of Same and Diverse were made to convey false and foolish affirmation. The soul became utterly destitute of intelligence, on being first joined to the body, and for some time afterwards.56 But in the course of time the violence of these disturbing currents abates, so that the rotations of the Circles in the head can take place with more quiet and regularity. The man then becomes more and more intelligent. If subjected to good education and discipline, he will be made gradually sound and whole, free from corruption: but if he neglect this precaution, his life remains a lame one, and he returns back to Hades incomplete and unprofitable.57

Principal advantages of sight and hearing. Observations of the rotation of the Kosmos.

The Gods, when they undertook the fabrication of the body, foresaw the inconvenience of allowing the head — with its intelligent rotations, and with the immortal soul enclosed in it — to roll along the ground, unable to get over a height, or out of a hollow.58 Accordingly they mounted it upon a tall body; with arms and legs as instruments of movement, support, and defence. They caused the movements to be generally directed forward and not backward; since front is more honourable and more commanding than rear. For the same reason, they placed the face, with the organs of sense, in the fore part of the head. Within the eyes, they planted that variety of fire which does not burn, but is called light, homogeneous with the light without. We are enabled to see in the daytime, because the light within our eyes pours out through the centre of them, and commingles with the light without. The two, being thus confounded together, transmit movements from every object which they touch, through the eye inward to the soul; and thus bring about the sensation of sight. At night no vision takes place: because the light from the interior of our eyes, even when it still comes out, finds no cognate light in the air without, and thus becomes extinguished in the darkness. All the light within the eye would thus have been lost, if the Gods had not provided a protection: they contrived the eyelids which drop and shut up the interior light within. This light, being prevented from egress, diffuses itself throughout the interior system, and tranquillises the movements within so as to bring on sleep: without dreams, if all the movements are quenched — with dreams, corresponding to the movements which remain if there are any such.59

The Kosmos is product of joint action of Reason and Necessity. The four visible and tangible elements are not primitive.

Such are the auxiliary causes (continues Plato), often mistaken by others for principal causes, which the Gods employed to bring about sight. In themselves, they have no regularity of action: for nothing can be regular in action without mind and intelligence.60 But the most important among all the advantages of sight is, that it enables us to observe and study the rotations of the Kosmos and of the sidereal and planetary bodies. It is the observed rotations of days, months, and years, which impart to us the ideas of time and number, and enable us to investigate the universe. Hence we derive philosophy, the greatest of all blessings. Hence too we learn to apply the celestial rotations as a rule and model to amend the rotations of intelligence in our own cranium — since the first are regular and unerring, while the second are disorderly and changeful.61 It was for the like purpose, in view to the promotion of philosophy, that the Gods gave us voice and hearing. Both discourse and musical harmony are essential for this purpose. Harmony and rhythm are presents to us, from the Muses, not, as men now employ them, for unreflecting pleasure and recreation — but for the same purpose of regulating and attuning the disorderly rotations of the soul, and of correcting the ungraceful and unmeasured movements natural to the body.62

Forms or Ideas and Materia Prima — Forms of the Elements — Place, or Receptivity.

Primordial Chaos — Effect of intervention by the Demiurgus.

We must assume (says Plato, after a certain brief argument which he himself does not regard as quite complete) the Forms or Ideas of Fire, Air, Water, Earth, as distinct and self-existent, eternal, indestructible, unchangeable — neither visible nor tangible, but apprehended by Reason or Intellect alone — neither receiving anything else from without, nor themselves moving to anything else. Distinct from these — images of these, and bearing the same name — are the sensible objects called Fire, Water, &c. — objects of sense and opinion — always in a state of transition — generated and destroyed, but always generated in some place and destroyed out of some place. There is to be assumed, besides, distinct from the two preceding — as a third fundamentum — the place or receptacle in which these images are localised, generated, and nursed up. This place, or formless primitive receptivity, is indestructible, but out of all reach of sense, and difficult to believe in, inasmuch as it is only accessible by a spurious sort of ratiocination.68

Geometrical theory of the elements — fundamental triangles — regular solids.

Varieties of each element.

Respecting such proportions, the theory which Plato here lays out is admitted by himself to be a novel one; but it is doubtless borrowed, with more or less modification, from the Pythagoreans. Every solid body is circumscribed by plane surfaces: every plane surface is composed of triangles: all triangles are generated out of two — the right-angled isoskeles triangle — and the right-angled scalene or oblong triangle. Of this oblong there are infinite varieties: but the most beautiful is a right-angled triangle, having the hypotenuse twice as long as the lesser of the two other sides.71 From this sort of oblong triangle are generated the tetrahedron or pyramid — the octahedron — and the eikosihedron: from the equilateral triangle is generated the cube. The cube, as the most stable and solid, was assigned by the Demiurgus for the fundamental structure of earth: the pyramid for that of fire: the octahedron for that of air: the eikosihedron for that of water. The purpose was that the four should be in continuous geometrical proportion: as Fire to Air, so Air to Water: as Air to Water, so Water to Earth. Lastly, the Dodekahedron was assigned as the basis of structure for the spherical Kosmos itself or universe.72 Upon this arrangement each of the three elements — fire, water, air — passes into the other; being generated from the same radical triangle. But earth does not pass into either of the three (nor either of these into earth), being generated from a different radical triangle. The pyramid, as thin, sharp, and cutting, was assigned to fire as the quickest and most piercing of the four elements: the cube as most solid and difficult to move, was allotted to earth, the stationary element. Fire was composed of pyramids of different size, yet each too small to be visible by itself, and becoming visible only when grouped together in masses: the earth was composed of cubes of different size, each invisible from smallness: the other elements in like manner, each from its respective solid,73 in exact proportion and harmony, as far as Necessity could be persuaded to tolerate. All the five regular solids were thus employed in the configuration and structure of the Kosmos.74

Construction of man imposed by the Demiurgus upon the secondary Gods. Triple Soul. Distribution thereof in the body.

Plato next enumerates the several varieties of each element — fire, water, earth.77 He then proceeds to mention the attributes, properties, affections, &c., of each: which he characterises as essentially relative to a sentient Subject: nothing being absolute except the constituent geometrical figures. You cannot describe these attributes (he says) without assuming (what has not yet been described) the sensitive or mortal soul, to which they are relative.78 Assuming this provisionally, Plato gives account of Hot and Cold, Hard and Soft, Heavy and Light, Rough and Smooth, &c.79 Then he describes, first, the sensations of pleasure and pain, common to the whole body — next those of the special senses, sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch.80 These descriptions are very curious and interesting. I am compelled to pass them over by want of space, and shall proceed to the statements respecting the two mortal souls and the containing organism — which belong to a vein more analogous to that of the other Platonic dialogues.

Functions of the heart and lungs. Thoracic soul.

The Demiurgus, after having constructed the entire Kosmos, together with the generated Gods, as well as Necessity would permit — imposed upon these Gods the task of constructing Man: the second best of the four varieties of animals whom he considered it necessary to include in the Kosmos. He furnished to them as a basis an immortal rational soul (diluted remnant from the soul of the Kosmos); with which they were directed to combine two mortal souls and a body.81 They executed their task as well as the conditions of the problem admitted. They were obliged to include in the mortal souls pleasure and pain, audacity and fear, anger, hope, appetite, sensation, &c., with all the concomitant mischiefs. By such uncongenial adjuncts the immortal rational soul was unavoidably defiled. The constructing Gods however took care to defile it as little as possible.82 They reserved the head as a separate abode for the immortal soul: planting the mortal soul apart from it in the trunk, and establishing the neck as an isthmus of separation between the two. Again the mortal soul was itself not single but double: including two divisions, a better and a worse. The Gods kept the two parts separate; placing the better portion in the thoracic cavity nearer to the head, and the worse portion lower down, in the abdominal cavity: the two being divided from each other by the diaphragm, built across the body as a wall of partition: just as in a dwelling-house, the apartments of the women are separated from those of the men. Above the diaphragm and near to the neck, was planted the energetic, courageous, contentious, soul; so placed as to receive orders easily from the head, and to aid the rational soul in keeping under constraint the mutinous soul of appetite, which was planted below the diaphragm.83 The immortal soul84 was fastened or anchored in the brain, the two mortal souls in the line of the spinal marrow continuous with the brain: which line thus formed the thread of connection between the three. The heart was established as an outer fortress for the exercise of influence by the immortal soul over the other two. It was at the same time made the initial point of the veins, the fountain from whence the current of blood proceeded to pass forcibly through the veins round to all parts of the body. The purpose of this arrangement is, that when the rational soul denounces some proceeding as wrong (either on the part of others without, or in the appetitive soul within), it may stimulate an ebullition of anger in the heart, and may transmit from thence its exhortations and threats through the many small blood channels to all the sensitive parts of the body: which may thus be rendered obedient everywhere to the orders of our better nature.85

Abdominal Soul — difficulty of controuling it — functions of the liver.

The liver is made the seat of the prophetic agency. Function of the spleen.

The third or lowest soul, of appetite and nutrition, was placed between the diaphragm and the navel. This region of the body was set apart like a manger for containing necessary food: and the appetitive soul was tied up to it like a wild beast; indispensable indeed for the continuance of the race, yet a troublesome adjunct, and therefore placed afar off, in order that its bellowings might disturb as little as possible the deliberations of the rational soul in the cranium, for the good of the whole. The Gods knew that this appetitive soul would never listen to reason, and that it must be kept under subjection altogether by the influence of phantoms and imagery. They provided an agency for this purpose in the liver, which they placed close upon the abode of the appetitive soul.88 They made the liver compact, smooth, and brilliant, like a mirror reflecting images:— moreover, both sweet and bitter on occasions. The thoughts of the rational soul were thus brought within view of the appetitive soul, in the form of phantoms or images exhibited on the mirror of the liver. When the rational soul is displeased, not only images corresponding to this feeling are impressed, but the bitter properties of the liver are all called forth. It becomes crumpled, discoloured, dark and rough; the gall bladder is compressed; the veins carrying the blood are blocked up, and pain as well as sickness arise. On the contrary, when the rational soul is satisfied, so as to send forth mild and complacent inspirations, — all this bitterness of the liver is tranquillised, and all its native sweetness called forth. The whole structure becomes straight and smooth; and the images impressed upon it are rendered propitious. It is thus through the liver, and by means of these images, that the rational soul maintains its ascendancy over the appetitive soul; either to terrify and subdue, or to comfort and encourage it.89

Length of the intestinal canal, in order that food might not be frequently needed.

Moreover, the liver was made to serve another purpose. It was selected as the seat of the prophetic agency; which the Gods considered to be indispensable, as a refuge and aid for the irrational department of man. Though this portion of the soul had no concern with sense or reason, they would not shut it out altogether from some glimpse of truth. The revelations of prophecy were accordingly signified on the liver, for the instruction and within the easy view of the appetitive soul: and chiefly at periods when the functions of the rational soul are suspended — either during sleep, or disease, or fits of temporary ecstasy. For no man in his perfect senses comes under the influence of a genuine prophetic inspiration. Sense and intelligence are often required to interpret prophecies, and to determine what is meant by dreams or signs or prognostics of other kinds: but such revelations are received by men destitute of sense. To receive them, is the business of one class of men: to interpret them, that of another. It is a grave mistake, though often committed, to confound the two. It was in order to furnish prophecy to man, therefore, that the Gods devised both the structure and the place of the liver. During life, the prophetic indications are clearly marked upon it: but after death they become obscure and hard to decipher.90

Bone — Flesh — Marrow.

Nails — Mouth — Teeth. Plants produced for nutrition of man.

Bone and flesh come next to be explained. Both of them derive their origin from the spinal marrow: in which the bonds of life are fastened, and soul is linked with body — the root of the human race. The origin of the spinal marrow itself is special and exceptional. Among the triangles employed in the construction of all the four elements, the Gods singled out the very best of each sort. Those selected were combined harmoniously with each other, and employed in the formation of the spinal marrow, as the universal seed ground (πανσπερμίαν) for all the human race. In this marrow the Gods planted the different sorts of souls; distributing and accommodating the figure of each portion of marrow to the requirements of each different soul. For that portion (called the encephalon, as being contained in the head) which was destined to receive the immortal soul, they employed the spherical figure and none other: for the remaining portion, wherein the mortal soul was to be received, they employed a mixture of the spherical and the oblong. All of it together was called by the same name marrow, covered and protected by one continuous bony case, and established as the holding ground to fasten the whole extent of soul with the whole extent of body.94

General view of Diseases and their Causes.

Plato next explains the construction of ligaments and flesh — of the mouth, tongue, teeth, and lips: of hair and nails.95 These last were produced with a long-sighted providence: for the Gods foresaw that the lower animals would be produced from the degeneration of man, and that to them nails and claws would be absolutely indispensable: accordingly, a sketch or rudiment of nails was introduced into the earliest organisation of man.96 Nutrition being indispensable to man, the Gods produced for this purpose plants (trees, shrubs, herbs, &c.) — with a nature cognate to that of man, but having only the lowest of the three human souls.97 They then cut ducts and veins throughout the human body, in directions appropriate for distributing the nutriment everywhere. They provided proper structures (here curiously described) for digestion, inspiration, and expiration.98 The constituent triangles within the body, when young and fresh, overpower the triangles, older and weaker, contained in the nutritive matters swallowed, and then appropriate part of them to the support and growth of the body: in old age, the triangles within are themselves overpowered, and the body decays. When the fastenings, whereby the triangles in the spinal marrow have been fitted together, are worn out and give way, they let go the fastenings of the soul also. The soul, when thus released in a natural way, flies away with delight. Death in this manner is pleasurable: though it is distressing, when brought on violently, by disease or wounds.99

Diseases of mind — wickedness is a disease — no man is voluntarily wicked.

Badness of mind arises from body.

Having dwelt at considerable length on the distempers of the body, the Platonic Timæus next examines those of the soul, which proceed from the condition of the body.102 The generic expression for all distemper of the soul is, irrationality — unreason — absence of reason or intelligence. Of this there are two sorts — madness and ignorance. Intense pleasures and pains are the gravest cause of madness.103 A man under either of these two influences — either grasping at the former, or running away from the latter, out of season — can neither see nor hear any thing rightly. He is at that moment mad and incapable of using his reason. When the flow of sperm round his marrow is overcharged and violent, so as to produce desires with intense throes of uneasiness beforehand and intense pleasure when satisfaction arrives, — his soul is really distempered and irrational, through the ascendancy of his body. Yet such a man is erroneously looked upon in general not as distempered, but as wicked voluntarily, of his own accord. The truth is, that sexual intemperance is a disorder of the soul arising from an abundant flow of one kind of liquid in the body, combined with thin bones or deficiency in the solids. And nearly all those intemperate habits which are urged as matters of reproach against a man — as if he were bad willingly, — are urged only from the assumption of an erroneous hypothesis. No man is bad willingly, but only from some evil habit of body and from wrong or perverting treatment in youth; which is hostile to his nature, and comes upon him against his own will.104

Preservative and healing agencies against disease — well-regulated exercise, of mind and body proportionally.

Treatment proper for mind alone, apart from body — supremacy of the rational soul must be cultivated.

After thus describing the causes of corruption, both in body and mind, Plato adverts to the preservative and corrective agencies applicable to them. Between the one and the other, constant proportion and symmetry must be imperatively maintained. When the one is strong, and the other weak, nothing but mischief can ensue.106 Mind must not be exercised alone, to the exclusion of body; nor body alone, without mind. Each must be exercised, so as to maintain adequate reaction and equilibrium against the other.107 We ought never to let the body be at rest: we must keep up within it a perpetual succession of moderate shocks, so that it may make suitable resistance against foreign causes of movement, internal and external.108 The best of all movements is, that which is both in itself and made by itself: analogous to the self-continuing rotation both of the Kosmos and of the rational soul in our cranium.109 Movement in itself, but by an external agent, is less good. The worst of all is, movement neither in itself nor by itself. Among these three sorts of movement, the first is, Gymnastic: the second, propulsion backwards and forwards in a swing, gestation in a carriage: the third is, purgation or medicinal disturbance.110 This last is never to be employed, except in extreme emergencies.

We must study and understand the rotations of the Kosmos — this is the way to amend the rotations of the rational soul.

We must now indicate the treatment necessary for mind alone, apart from body. It has been already stated, that there are in each of us three souls, or three distinct varieties of soul; each having its own separate place and special movements. Of these three, that which is most exercised must necessarily become the strongest: that which is left unexercised, unmoved, at rest or in indolence, — will become the weakest. The object to be aimed at is, that all three shall be exercised in harmony or proportion with each other. Respecting the soul in our head, the grandest and most commanding of the three, we must bear in mind that it is this which the Gods have assigned to each man as his own special Dæmon or presiding Genius. Dwelling as it does in the highest region of the body, it marks us and links us as akin with heaven — as a celestial and not a terrestrial plant, having root in heaven and not in earth. It is this encephalic or head-soul, which, connected with and suspended from the divine soul of the Kosmos, keeps our whole body in its erect attitude. Now if a man neglects this soul, directing all his favour and development towards the two others (the energetic or the appetitive), — all his judgments will infallibly become mortal and transient, and he himself will be degraded into a mortal being, as far as it is possible for man to become so. But if he devotes himself to study and meditation on truth, exercising the encephalic soul more than the other two — he will assuredly, if he seizes truth,111 have his mind filled with immortal and divine judgments, and will become himself immortal, as far as human nature admits of it. Cultivating as he does systematically the divine element within him, and having his in-dwelling Genius decorated as perfectly as possible, he will be eminently well-inspired or happy.112

Construction of women, birds, quadrupeds, fishes, &c., all from the degradation of primitive man.

Large range of topics introduced in the Timæus.

Out of the most stupid and senseless of mankind, by still greater degeneracy, the Gods formed Fishes or Aquatic Animals:— the fourth and lowest genus, after Men, Birds, Land-Animals. This race of beings, from their extreme want of mind, were not considered worthy to live on earth, or to respire thin and pure air. They were condemned to respire nothing but deep and turbid water, many of them, as oysters, and other descriptions of shellfish, being fixed down at the lowest depth or bottom.117

The Demiurgus of the Platonic Timæus — how conceived by other philosophers of the same century.

Adopted and welcomed by the Alexandrine Jews, as a parallel to the Mosaic Genesis.

The position and functions of the Demiurgus, in the Timæus, form a peculiar phase in Grecian Philosophy, and even in the doctrine of Plato himself: for the theology and kosmology of the Timæus differ considerably from what we read in the Phædrus, Politikus, Republic, Leges, &c. The Demiurgus is presented in Timæus as a personal agent, pre-kosmical and extra-kosmical: but he appears only as initiating; he begets or fabricates, once for all, a most beautiful Kosmos (employing all the available material, so that nothing more could afterwards be added). The Kosmos having body and soul, is itself a God, but with many separate Gods resident within it, or attached to it. The Demiurgus then retires, leaving it to be peopled and administered by the Gods thus generated, or by its own soul. His acting and speaking is recounted in the manner of the ancient mythes: and many critics, ancient as well as modern, have supposed that he is intended by Plato only as a mythical personification of the Idea Boni: the construction described being only an ideal process, like the generation of a geometrical figure.119 Whatever may have been Plato’s own intention, in this last sense his hypothesis was interpreted by his immediate successors, Speusippus and Xenokrates, as well as by Eudêmus.120 Aristotle in his comments upon Plato takes little notice of the Demiurgus: the hypothesis (of a distinct personal constructive agent) did not fit into his principia of the Kosmos, and he probably ranked it among those mythical modes of philosophising which he expressly pronounces to be unworthy of serious criticism.121 Various succeeding philosophers also, especially the Stoics, while they insisted much upon Providence, conceived this as residing in the Kosmos itself, and in the divine intra-kosmical agencies.

Physiology of the Platonic Timæus — subordinate to Plato’s views of ethical teleology. Triple soul — each soul at once material and mental.

But though the idea of a pre-kosmic Demiurgus found little favour among the Grecian schools of philosophy, before the Christian era — it was greatly welcomed among the Hellenising Jews at Alexandria, from Aristobulus (about B. C. 150) down to Philo. It formed the suitable point of conjunction, between Hellenic and Judaic speculation. The marked distinction drawn by Plato between the Demiurgus, and the constructed or generated Kosmos, with its in-dwelling Gods — provided a suitable place for the Supreme God of the Jews, degrading the Pagan Gods in comparison. The Timæus was compared with the book of Genesis, from which it was even affirmed that Plato had copied. He received the denomination of the atticising Moses: Moses writing in Attic Greek.122 It was thus that the Platonic Timæus became the medium of transition, from the Polytheistic theology which served as philosophy among the early ages of Greece, to the omnipotent Monotheism to which philosophy became subordinated after the Christian era.

Triplicity of the soul — espoused afterwards by Galen.

Of the vast outline sketched in the Timæus, no part illustrates better the point of view of the author, than what is said about human anatomy and physiology. The human body is conceived altogether as subservient to an ethical and æsthetical teleology: it is (like the Praxitelean statue of Eros123) a work adapted to an archetypal model in Plato’s own heart — his emotions, preferences, antipathies.124 The leading idea in his mind is, What purposes would be most suitable to the presumed character of the Demiurgus, and to those generated Gods who are assumed to act as his ministers? The purposes which Plato ascribes, both to the one and to the others, emanate from his own feelings: they are such as he would himself have aimed at accomplishing, if he had possessed demiurgic power: just as the Republic describes the principles on which he would have constituted a Commonwealth, had he been lawgiver or Oekist. His inventive fancy depicts the interior structure, both of the great Kosmos and of its little human miniature, in a way corresponding to these sublime purposes. The three souls, each with its appropriate place and functions, form the cardinal principle of the organism:125 the unity of which is maintained by the spinal marrow in continuity with, the brain; all the three souls having their roots in different parts of this continuous line. Neither of these three souls is immaterial, in the sense which that word now bears: even the encephalic rational soul — the most exalted in function, and commander of the other two — has its own extension and rotatory motion: as the kosmical soul has also, though yet more exalted in its endowments. All these souls have material properties, and are implicated essentially with other material agents:126 all are at once material and mental. The encephalic or rational soul has its share in material properties, while the abdominal or appetitive soul also has its share in mental properties: even the liver has for its function to exhibit images impressed by the rational soul, and to serve as the theatre of prophetic representations.127

Admiration of Galen for Plato — his agreement with Plato, and his dissension from Plato — his improved physiology.

The Platonic doctrine, of three souls in one organism, derives a peculiar interest from the earnest way in which it is espoused afterwards by Galen. This last author represents Plato as agreeing in main doctrines with Hippokrates. He has composed nine distinct Dissertations or Books, for the purpose of upholding their joint doctrines. But the agreement which he shows between Hippokrates and Plato is very vague, and his own agreement with Plato is rather ethical than physiological. What is the essence of the three souls, and whether they are immortal or not, Galen leaves undecided:128 but that there must be three distinct souls in each human body, and that the supposition of one soul only is an absurdity — he considers Plato to have positively demonstrated. He rejects the doctrine of Aristotle, Theophrastus, Poseidonius, and others, who acknowledged only one soul, lodged in the heart, but with distinct co-existent powers.129

Physiology and pathology of Plato — compared with that of Aristotle and the Hippokratic treatises.

The Galenian theory here propounded (which held its place in physiology until Harvey’s great discovery of the circulation of the blood in the seventeenth century), though proved by fuller investigation to be altogether erroneous as to the liver — and partially erroneous as to the heart — is nevertheless made by its author to rest upon plausible reasons, as well as upon many anatomical facts, and results of experiments on the animal body, by tying or cutting nerves and arteries.131 Its resemblance with the Platonic theory is altogether superficial: while the Galenian reasoning, so far from resembling the Platonic, stands in striking contrast with it. Anxious as Galen is to extol Plato, his manner of expounding and defending the Platonic thesis is such as to mark the scientific progress realised during the five centuries intervening between the two. Plato himself, in the Timæus, displays little interest or curiosity about the facts of physiology: the connecting principles, whereby he explains to himself the mechanism of the organs as known by ordinary experience, are altogether psychological, ethical, teleological. In the praise which Galen, with his very superior knowledge of the human organism, bestows upon the Timæus, he unconsciously substitutes a new doctrine of his own, differing materially from that of Plato.

Contrast between the admiration of Plato for the constructors of the Kosmos, and the defective results which he describes.

I have no space here to touch on the interesting comparisons which might be made between the physiology and pathology of the Timæus — and that which we read in other authors of the same century — Aristotle and the Hippokratic treatises. More than one allusion is made in the Timæus to physicians: and Plato cites Hippokrates in other dialogues with respect.132 The study and practice of medicine was at that time greatly affected by the current speculations respecting Nature as a whole: accomplished physicians combined both lines of study, implicating kosmical and biological theories:133 and in the Platonic Timæus, the former might properly be comprised in the latter, since the entire Kosmos is regarded as one animated and rational being. Among the sixty treatises in the Hippokratic collection, composed by different authors, there are material differences — sometimes even positive opposition — both of doctrine and spirit. Some of them are the work of practitioners, familiar with the details of sickness and bodily injuries, as well as with the various modes of treatment: others again proceed from pure theorists, following out some speculative dogmas more or less plausible, but usually vague and indeterminate. It is to one of this last class of treatises that Galen chiefly refers, when he dwells upon the agreement between Plato and Hippokrates.134 This is the point which the Platonic Timæus has in common with both Hippokrates and Aristotle. But on the other hand, Timæus appears entirely wanting in that element of observation, and special care about matters of fact, which these two last-mentioned authors very frequently display, even while confusing themselves by much vagueness of dogmatising theory. The Timæus evinces no special study of matters of fact: it contains ingenious and fanciful combinations, dictated chiefly from the ethical and theological point of view, but brought to bear upon such limited amount of knowledge as an accomplished man of Plato’s day could hardly fail to acquire without special study. In the extreme importance which it assigns to diet, regimen, and bodily discipline, it agrees generally with Hippokrates: but for the most part, the points of contrast are more notable than those of agreement.

Degeneration of the real tenants of Earth from their primitive type.

Degeneration of the real tenants of Earth from their primitive type.

Close of the Timæus. Plato turns away from the shameful results, and reverts to the glorification of the primitive types.

When Plato tells us that most part of the tenants of earth, air, and water — all women, birds, quadrupeds, reptiles, and fishes — are the deteriorated representatives of primitive men, constructed at the beginning with the most provident skill, but debased by degeneracy in various directions — this doctrine (something analogous to the theory of Darwin with its steps inverted) indicates that the original scheme of the Demiurgus, though magnificent in its ensemble with reference to the entire Kosmos, was certain from the beginning to fail in its details. For we are told that the introduction of birds, quadrupeds, &c., as among the constituents of the Auto-zôon, was an essential part of the original scheme.138 The constructing Gods, while forming men upon a pure non-sexual type (such as that invoked by the austere Hippolytus) exempt from the temptations of the most violent appetite,139 foresaw that such an angelic type could not maintain itself:— that they would be obliged to reconstruct the whole human organism upon the bi-sexual principle, introducing the comparatively lower type of woman:— and that they must make preparation for the still more degenerate varieties of birds and quadrupeds, into which the corrupt and stupid portion of mankind would sink.140 Plato does indeed tell us, that the primitive non-sexual type had the option of maintaining itself; and that it perished by its own fault alone.141 But since we find that not one representative of it has been able to hold his ground:— and since we also read in Plato, that no man is willingly corrupt, but that corruption and stupidity of mind are like fevers and other diseases, under which a man suffers against his own consent142:— we see that the option was surrounded with insurmountable difficulties: and that the steady and continued degradation, under which the human race has sunk from its original perfection into the lower endowments of the animal world, can be ascribed only to the impracticability of the original scheme: that is, in other words, to the obstacles interposed by implacable Necessity, frustrating the benevolent purposes of the Constructors.

Kritias: a fragment.

Proœmium to Timæus. Intended Tetralogy for the Republic. The Kritias was third piece in that Tetralogy.

Subject of the Kritias. Solon and the Egyptian priests. Citizens of Platonic Republic are identified with ancient Athenians.

The proœmium to the Timæus introduces us to three persons146: Kritias and Hermokrates, along with Sokrates. It is to them (as we now learn) that Sokrates had on the preceding day recited the Republic: a fourth hearer having been present besides, whom Sokrates expects to see now, but does not see — and who is said to be absent from illness. In requital for the intellectual treat received from Sokrates, Timæus delivers the discourse which we have just passed in review: Kritias next enters upon his narrative or exposition, now lying before us as a fragment: and Hermokrates was intended to follow it up with a fourth discourse, upon some other topic not specified. It appears as if Plato, after having finished the Republic as a distinct dialogue, conceived subsequently the idea of making it the basis of a Tetralogy, to be composed as follows: 1. Timæus: describing the construction of the divine Kosmos, soul and body — with its tenants divine and human; “the diapason ending full in man” — but having its harmony spoiled by the degeneration of man, and the partial substitution of inferior animals. 2. Republic: Man in a constituted society, administered by a few skilful professional Rulers, subject to perfect ethical training, and fortified by the most tutelary habits. 3. Kritias: this perfect society, exhibited in energetic action, and under pressure of terrible enemies. 4. Hermokrates — subject unknown: perhaps the same society, exhibited under circumstances calculated to try their justice and temperance, rather than their courage. Of this intended tetralogy the first two members alone exist: the third was left unfinished: and the fourth was never commenced. But the Republic appears to me to have been originally a distinct composition. An afterthought of Plato induced him to rank it as second piece in a projected tetralogy.147

Plato professes that what he is about to recount is matter of history, recorded by Egyptian priests.

The subject embraced by the Kritias is traced back to an unfinished epic poem of Solon, intended by that poet and lawgiver to celebrate a memorable exploit of Athenian antiquity, which he had heard from the Priests of the Goddess Neith or Athênê at Sais in Egypt. These priests (Plato tells us) treated the Greeks as children, compared with the venerable antiquity of their own ancestors; they despised the short backward reckoning of the heroic genealogies at Athens or Argos. There were in the temple of Athênê at Sais records of past time for 9000 years back: and among these records was one, of that date, commemorating a glorious exploit, of the Athenians as they then had been, unknown to Solon or any of his countrymen.148 The Athens, of 9000 years anterior to Solon, had been great, powerful, courageous, admirably governed, and distinguished for every kind of virtue.149 Athênê, the presiding Goddess both of Athens and of Sais, had bestowed upon the Athenians a salubrious climate, fertile soil, a healthy breed of citizens, and highly endowed intelligence. Under her auspices, they were excellent alike in war and in philosophy.150 The separation of professions was fully realised among them, according to the principle laid down in the Republic as the only foundation for a good commonwealth. The military class, composed of both sexes, was quartered in barrack on the akropolis; which was at that time more spacious than it had since become — and which possessed then, in common with the whole surface of Attica, a rich soil covering that rocky bottom to which it had been reduced in the Platonic age, through successive deluges.151 These soldiers, male and female, were maintained by contributions from the remaining community: they lived in perpetual drill, having neither separate property, nor separate families, nor gold nor silver: lastly, their procreation was strictly regulated, and their numbers kept from either increase or diminution.152 The husbandmen and the artizans were alike excellent in their respective professions, to which they were exclusively confined:153 Hephæstus being the partner of Athênê in joint tutelary presidency, and joint occupation of the central temple on the akropolis. Thus admirably administered, the Athenians were not only powerful at home, but also chiefs or leaders of all the cities comprised under the Hellenic name: chiefs by the voluntary choice and consent of the subordinates. But the old Attic race by whom these achievements had been performed, belonged to a former geological period: they had perished, nearly all, by violent catastrophe — leaving the actual Athenians as imperfect representatives.

Description of the vast island of Atlantis and its powerful kings.

Corruption and wickedness of the Atlantid people.

Accordingly, Kritias proceeds to describe, in some detail, the formidable invaders against whom these old Athenians had successfully contended: the inhabitants of the vast island Atlantis (larger than Libya and Asia united), which once occupied most of the space now filled by the great ocean westward of Gades and the pillars of Heraklês. This prodigious island was governed by ten kings of a common ancestry: descending respectively from ten sons (among whom Atlas was first-born and chief) of the God Poseidon by the indigenous Nymph Kleito.156 We read an imposing description of its large population and abundant produce of every kind: grain for man, pasture for animals, elephants being abundant among them:157 timber and metals of all varieties: besides which the central city, with its works for defence, and its artificial canals, bridges, and harbour, is depicted as a wonder to behold.158 The temple of Poseidon was magnificent and of vast dimensions, though in barbaric style.159 The harbour, surrounded by a dense and industrious population, was full of trading vessels arriving with merchandise from all quarters.160

Conjectures as to what the Platonic Kritias would have been — an ethical epic in prose.

Plato represents the epic Kritias as matter of recorded history.

At this critical moment the fragment called Kritias breaks off. We do not know what was the plan which Plato (in the true spirit of the ancient epic) was about to put into the mouth of Zeus, for the information of the divine agora. We learn only that Plato intended to recount an invasion of Attica, by an army of Atlantids almost irresistible: and the glorious repulse thereof by Athens and her allies, with very inferior forces. The tale would have borne much resemblance to the Persian invasion of Greece, as recounted by Herodotus: but Plato, while employing the same religious agencies which that historian puts in the foreground, would probably have invested them with a more ethical character, and would have arranged the narrative so as to illustrate the triumph of philosophical Reason and disciplined Energy, over gigantic, impetuous, and reckless Strength. He would have described in detail the heroic valour and endurance of the trained Athenian Soldiers, women as well as men: and he would have embodied the superior Reason of the philosophical Chiefs not merely in prudent orders given to subordinates, but also in wise discourses162 and deliberations such as we read in the Cyropædia of Xenophon. We should have had an edifying epic in prose, if Plato had completed his project. Unfortunately we know only two small fractions of it: first the introductory prologue (which I have already noticed) — lastly, the concluding catastrophe. The conclusion was, that both the victors and the vanquished disappeared altogether, and became extinct. Terrific earthquakes, and not less terrific deluges, shook and overspread the earth. The whole military caste of Attica were, in one day and night, swallowed up into the bowels of the earth (the same release as Zeus granted to the just Amphiaraus)163 and no more heard of: while not only the population of Atlantis, but that entire island itself, was submerged beneath the ocean. The subsidence of this vast island has rendered navigation impossible; there is nothing in the Atlantic Ocean but shallow water and mud.164

Leges, the longest of Plato’s works — Persons of the dialogue.

Abandonment of Plato’s philosophical projects prior to the Leges.

Abandonment of Plato’s philosophical projects prior to the Leges.

Untoward circumstances of Plato’s later life — His altered tone in regard to philosophy.

General comparison of Leges with Plato’s earlier works.

To what extent such change of project was brought about by external circumstances in Plato’s life, we cannot with certainty determine. But we know that there really occurred circumstances, well calculated to produce a material change in his intellectual character and point of view. His personal adventures and experience, after his sixty-first year, and after the death of the elder Dionysius (B.C. 367), were of an eventful and melancholy character. Among them were included his two visits to the younger Dionysius at Syracuse; together with the earnest sympathy and counsel which he bestowed on his friend Dion; whose chequered career terminated, after an interval of brilliant promise, in disappointment, disgrace, and violent death. Plato not only suffered much distress, but incurred more or less of censure, from the share which he had taken, or was at least supposed to have taken, in the tragedy. His own letters remain to attest the fact.3 Considering the numerous enemies which philosophy has had at all times, we may be sure that such enemies would be furnished with abundant materials for invidious remark — by the entire failure of Plato himself at Syracuse as well as by the disgraceful proceedings first of Dion, next, of his assassin Kallippus: both of them pupils, and the former a favourite pupil, of Plato in the Academy. The prospect, which accident had opened, of exalting philosophy into active influence over mankind, had been closed in a way no less mournful than dishonourable. Plato must have felt this keenly enough, even apart from the taunts of opponents. We might naturally expect that his latest written compositions would be coloured by such a temper of mind: that he would contract, if not an alienation from philosophy, at least a comparative mistrust of any practical good to come from it: and that if his senile fancy still continued to throw out any schemes of social construction, they would be made to rest upon other foundations, eliminating or reducing to a minimum that ascendancy of the philosophical mind, which he had once held to be omnipotent and indispensable.

Scene of the Leges, not in Athens, but in Krete. Persons Kretan and Spartan, comparatively illiterate.

In the Timæus, Plato recommended the study of astronomy, in order that the rotations of man’s soul in his cranium, which were from the beginning disturbed and irregular, might become regularised, and assimilated by continued contemplation to the perfect uniformity of the celestial and cosmical movements.7 In the Leges, he recommends astronomy to be studied, because without it we fall into blasphemous errors respecting the cosmical movements, and because such cosmical errors are among the three varieties of heresy, to one or other of which the commission of all crimes against society may be traced.8 Hence we find Plato, in the city here described, consecrating his astronomical views as a part of the state-religion, and prohibiting dissent from them under the most stringent penalties. In the general spirit of the Treatise de Legibus, Plato approximates to Xenophon and the Spartan model. He keeps his eye fixed on the perpetual coercive discipline of the average citizen. This discipline, prescribed in all its details by the lawgiver, includes a modicum of literary teaching equal to all; small in quantity, and rigorously sifted as to quality, through the censorial sieve. The intellectual and speculative genius of the community, which other Platonic dialogues bring into the foreground, has disappeared from the Treatise de Legibus. We find here no youths pregnant with undisclosed original thought, which Sokrates assists them in bringing forth: such as Theætêtus, Charmidês, Kleinias, and others — pictures among the most interesting which the ancient world presents, and lending peculiar charm to the earlier dialogues. Not only no provision is made for them, but severe precautions are taken against them. Even in the Republic, Plato had banished poets, or had at least forbidden them to follow the free inspirations of the Muse, and had subjected them to censorial controul. But such controul was presumed to be exercised by highly trained speculative and philosophical minds, for the perpetual succession of whom express provision was made. In the Treatise De Legibus, such speculative minds are no longer admitted. Philosophy is interdicted or put in chains as well as poetry. An orthodox religious creed is exalted into exclusive ascendancy. All crime or immorality is ascribed to a departure from this creed.9 The early communities (Plato tells us10), who were simple and ignorant, destitute of arts and letters, but who at the same time believed implicitly all that they heard from their seniors respecting Gods and men, and adopted the dicta of their seniors respecting good and evil, without enquiry or suspicion — were decidedly superior to his contemporaries in all the departments of virtue — justice, temperance, and courage. This antithesis, between virtue and religious faith on the one side, and arts and letters with an inquisitive spirit on the other, presenting the latter as a depraving influence, antagonistic to the former — is analogous to the Bacchæ of Euripides — the work of that poet’s old age11 — and analogous also to the Nubes of Aristophanes, wherein the literary and philosophical teaching of Sokrates is represented as withdrawing youth from the received religious creed, and as leading them by consequence to the commission of fraud and crime.12

Gymnastic training, military drill, and public mess, in Krete and Sparta.

The submergence and discredit of letters and philosophy, which pervades the Dialogue De Legibus, is farther indicated by the personages introduced as conversing. In all the other Platonic dialogues, the scene is laid at Athens, and the speakers are educated citizens of Athens; sometimes visitors, equally or better educated, from other Grecian cities. Generally, they are either adults who have already acquired some intellectual eminence, or youths anxious to acquire it. Nikias and Laches, Melesias and Lysimachus (in the Lachês), are among the leaders (past or present) of the Athenian public assembly. Anytus (in the Menon) is a man not so much ignorant of letters as despising letters.13 Moreover Sokrates himself formally disclaims positive knowledge, professing to be only a searcher for truth along with the rest.14 But the scene of the Laws is laid in Krete, not at Athens: the three speakers are not merely all old men, but frequently allude to their old age. One of them only is an Athenian, to whom the positive and expository duty is assigned: the other two are Megillus, a Spartan, and Kleinias, a Kretan of Knossus. Now both Sparta, and the communities of Krete, were among the most unlettered portions of the Hellenic name. They were not only strangers to that impulse of rhetoric, dialectic, and philosophical speculation which, having its chief domicile at Athens, had become diffused more or less over a large portion of Greece since the Persian war — but they were sparingly conversant even with that old poetical culture, epic and lyric, which belonged to the age of Solon and the Seven Wise Men. The public training of youth at Sparta, equal for all the citizens, included nothing of letters and music, which in other cities were considered to be the characteristics of an educated Greek:15 though probably individual Spartans, more or fewer, acquired these accomplishments for themselves. Gymnastics, with a slight admixture of simple chronic music and a still slighter admixture of poetry and letters, formed the characteristic culture of Sparta and Krete.16 In the Leges, Plato not only notes the fact, but treats it as indicating a better social condition, compared with Athens and other Greeks — that both Spartans and Kretans were alike unacquainted with the old epic or theological poems (Hesiod, Orpheus, &c.), and with the modern philosophical speculations.17

Difference between Leges and Republic, illustrated by reference to the Politikus.

Not simply on this negative ground, but on another positive ground also, Sparta and Krête were well suited to furnish listeners for the Laws.18 Their gymnastic discipline and military drill, especially the Spartan, were stricter and more continuous than anywhere else in Greece: including toilsome fatigue, endurance of pain, heat, and cold, and frequent conflicts with and without arms between different factions of citizens. The individual and the family were more thoroughly merged in the community: the citizens were trained for war, interdicted from industry, and forbidden to go abroad without permission: attendance on the public mess-table was compulsory on all citizens: the training of youth was uniform, under official authority: the two systems were instituted, both of them, by divine authority — the Spartan by Apollo, the Kretan by Zeus — Lykurgus and Minos, semi-divine persons, being the respective instruments and mediators. In neither of them was any public criticism tolerated upon the laws and institutions (this is a point capital in Plato’s view19). No voice was allowed among the young men except that of constant eulogy, extolling the system as not merely excellent but of divine origin, and resenting all contradiction: none but an old man was permitted to suggest doubts, and he only in private whisper to the Archon, when no young man was near. Both in Sparta and Krete the public authorities stood forward as the conspicuous, positive, constant, agents; enforcing upon each individual a known type of character and habits. There was thus an intelligible purpose, political and social, as contrasted with other neighbouring societies, in which no special purpose revealed itself.20 Both Sparta and Krete, moreover, had continued in the main unchanged from a time immemorial. In this, as in numerous other points, the two systems were cognate and similar.21

Large proportion of preliminary discussions and didactic exhortation in the Leges.

Comparing the Platonic Leges with the Platonic Republic the difference between them will be illustrated by the theory laid down in the Politikus. We read therein,22 that the process of governing mankind well is an art, depending upon scientific principles; like the art of the physician, the general, the steersman: that it aims at the attainment of a given End, the well-being of the governed — and that none except the scientific or artistic Ruler know either the end or the means of attaining it: that such rulers are the rarest of all artists, never more than one or a very few, combining philosophical aptitude with philosophical training: but that when they are found, society ought to trust and obey their directions without any fixed law: that no peremptory law can be made to fit all contingencies, and that their art is the only law which they ought to follow in each particular conjuncture. If no such persons can be found, good government is an impossibility: but the next best thing to be done is, to establish fixed laws, as good as you can, and to ensure that they shall be obeyed by every one. Now the Platonic Republic aims at realising the first of these two ideal projects: everything in it turns upon the discretionary orders of the philosophical King or Oligarchy, and even the elaborate training of the Guardians serves only to make them perfect instruments for the execution of those orders. But the Platonic Leges or Treatise on Laws corresponds only to the second or less ambitious project — a tolerable imitation of the first and best.23 Instead of philosophical rulers, one or a few invested with discretionary power, we have a scheme of political constitution — an alternation of powers temporary and responsible, an apportionment of functions and duties — a variety of laws enacted, with magistrates and dikasteries provided to apply them. Plato, or his Athenian spokesman, appears as adviser and as persuader; but the laws must be such as the body of citizens can be persuaded to adopt. There is moreover a scheme of education embodied in the laws: the individual citizen is placed under dominion at once spiritual and temporal: but the infallibility resides in the laws, and authority is exercised over him only by periodical magistrates who enforce them and determine in their name. It is the Laws which govern — not philosophical Artists of King-Craft.

Scope of the discussion laid down by the Athenian speaker — The Spartan institutions are framed only for war — This is narrow and erroneous.

The three first books of the Leges are occupied with general preliminary discussions on the ends at which laws and political institutions ought to aim — on the means which they ought to employ — and on the ethical effects of various institutions in moulding the character of the citizens. “For private citizens” (the Athenian says), “it is enough to say, in reply to the criticism of strangers, This is the law or custom with us. But what I propose to examine is, the wisdom of the lawgiver from whom the law proceeds.”24 At the end of book three, Kleinias announces that the Kretans are about to found a new colony on a deserted site at one end of the island, and that they have confided to a committee of ten Knossians (himself among the number), the task of establishing a constitution and laws for the colony. He invites the Athenian to advise and co-operate with this committee. In the fourth book, we enter upon the special conditions of this colonial project, to which the constitution and laws must conform. It is not until the fifth book that the Athenian speaker begins to declare what constitutional provisions, and what legal enactments, he recommends. His recommendations are continued throughout all the remaining Treatise — from the fifth book, to the twelfth or last. They are however largely interspersed with persuasive addresses, expositions, homilies, and comminations, sometimes of extreme prolixity and vehemence,25 on various topics of ethics and religion: which indeed occupy a much larger space than the laws themselves.

Principles on which the institutions of a state ought to be defended — You must show that its ethical purpose and working is good.

If you wish (says the Athenian to Kleinias) to make out a plenary defence and advocacy of the Kretan system, you ought to do it in the following way:

Religious and ethical character postulated by Plato for a community.

Endurance of pain enforced as a part of the public discipline at Sparta.

This passage is of some value, because it gives us, thus early in the Treatise, a brief summary of that which Plato desiderates in the two systems here noted — and of that which he intends to supply in his own. We see that he looks upon a political constitution and laws as merely secondary and instrumental: that he postulates as the primary and fundamental fabric, a given religious and ethical character implanted in the citizens: that the lawgiver, in his view, combines the spiritual and temporal authority, making the latter subordinate to the former, and determining not merely what laws the citizens shall obey, but how they shall distribute their approval and aversion — religious, ethical, and æsthetical. It is the lawgiver alone who is responsible and who is open to praise or censure: for to the people, of each different community and different system, established custom is always a valid authority.35

Why are not the citizens tested in like manner, in regard to resistance against the seductions of pleasure?

Drunkenness forbidden at Sparta, and blamed by the Spartan converser. The Athenian proceeds to inquire how far such unqualified prohibition is justifiable.

How is it (says the Athenian) that you deal so differently with pains and pleasures? To make your citizens firm against pain, you expose them designedly to severe pains: if they were kept free from pains, you would have no confidence in their firmness against painful actualities, when any such shall occur. But in regard to pleasures, you are content with simple prohibition. You provide no means for strengthening your citizens against the temptations of pleasure. Are you satisfied that their courage (or self-command) shall be lame or one-sided — good against pains, but not good against pleasures?37 In determining about laws, the whole enquiry turns upon pleasures and pains, both in the city and in individual dispositions. These are the two natural fountains, from which he who draws such draughts as is proper, obtains happiness: while every one who draws unwisely and out of season, will fail of obtaining happiness.38

Description of Sokrates in the Symposion — his self-command under abundant potations.

Description of Sokrates in the Symposion — his self-command under abundant potations.

Sokrates — an ideal of self-command, both as to pain and as to pleasure.

To illustrate his peculiar views42 on the subject of drunkenness, we may refer to the picture of Sokrates which he presents in the Symposion, more especially in the latter half of that dialogue, after the appearance of Alkibiades. In this dialogue the occasion is supposed to be festive and joyous. Eros is in the ascendant, and is made the subject of a panegyric by each of the guests in succession. Sokrates partakes in the temper of the society, proclaiming himself to be ignorant of all other matters except those relating to Love.43 In all the Platonic writings there is hardly anything more striking than the panegyric upon Eros there pronounced by Sokrates, blending the idea of love with that of philosophical dialectics, and refining the erotic impulse into an enthusiastic aspiration for that generation of new contemplative power, by the colloquial intercourse of two minds reciprocally stimulating each other, which brings them at last into a clear view of the objects of the ideal or intelligible world. Until the appearance of Alkibiades, little wine is swallowed, and the guests are perfectly sober. But Alkibiades, being intoxicated when he first comes in, becomes at once the prominent character of the piece. He is represented as directing the large wine-cooler to be filled with wine (about four pints), first swallowing the whole himself then ordering it to be filled again for Sokrates, who does the like: Alkibiades observing, “Whatever quantity of wine you prescribe to Sokrates, he will drink it without becoming drunk”.44 Alkibiades then, instead of panegyrising Eros, undertakes to pronounce a panegyric on Sokrates: proclaiming that nothing shall be said but what is true, and being relieved from all reserve by his drunken condition.45 In this panegyric he describes emphatically the playful irony of Sokrates, and the magical influence exercised by his conversation over young men. But though Sokrates thus acquired irresistible ascendancy over others, himself (Alkibiades) included, no one else acquired the least hold over Sokrates. His will and character, under a playful exterior, were self-sufficing and self-determining; independent of influences from without, to such a degree as was almost insulting to any one who sought either to captivate or oblige him.46 The self-command of Sokrates was unshaken either by seduction on one side, or by pain and hardship on the other. He faced danger with a courage never surpassed; he endured hunger, fatigue, the extremities of heat and cold, in a manner such as none of his comrades in the army could parallel.47 He was indifferent to the gratifications of love, even when they were presented to him in a manner the most irresistible to Grecian imagination; while at festive banquets, though he did not drink of his own accord, yet if the society imposed obligation to do so, he outdid all in respect to quantity of wine. No one ever saw Sokrates intoxicated.48 Such is the tenor of the panegyric pronounced by Alkibiades upon Sokrates. A general drinking-bout closes the Symposion, in which Sokrates swallows large draughts of wine along with the rest, but persists all the while in his dialectic cross-examination, with unabated clearness of head. One by one the guests drop asleep, and at daybreak Sokrates alone is left awake. He rises and departs, goes forthwith to the Lykeum, and there passes the whole day in his usual colloquial occupation, without being at all affected by the potations of the preceding night.49

Trials for testing the self-controul of the citizen, under the influence of wine. Dionysiac banquets, under a sober president.

Trials for testing the self-controul of the citizen, under the influence of wine. Dionysiac banquets, under a sober president.

The gifts of Dionysus may, by precautions, be rendered useful — Desultory manner of Plato.

Theory of ethical and æsthetical education — Training of the emotions of youth through the influence of the Muses, Apollo, and Dionysus. Choric practice and ceremonies.

In developing this second topic, he is led into a general theory of ethical and æsthetical education for his city. This happens frequently enough in the desultory manner of the Platonic dialogues. We are sometimes conducted from an incidental and outlying corollary, without warning and through a side door, into the central theory from which it ramifies. The practice is noway favourable to facility of comprehension, but it flows naturally from the unsystematic and spontaneous sequence of the dialogue.

Music and dancing — imitation of the voice and movements of brave and virtuous men. Youth must be taught to take delight in this.

Education of youth consists mainly in giving proper direction to their pleasures and pains — their love and their hatred. Young persons are capable only of emotions, well or ill directed: in this consists their virtue or vice. At that age they cannot bear serious teaching: they are incapable of acquiring reason, or true, firm opinions, which constitute the perfection of the mature man; indeed, if a man acquires these even when old, he may be looked on as fortunate.53 The young can only have their emotions cultivated so as to conform to reason: they may thus be made to love what reason, personified in and enforced by the lawgiver, enjoins — and to hate what reason forbids — but without knowing wherefore. Unfortunately the hard realities of life are perpetually giving a wrong turn to the emotions. To counteract and correct this, the influence of the Muses, of Apollo, and of Dionysus, are indispensable: together with the periodical festivals of which these Deities are respectively presidents and auxiliaries. Their influence is exercised through the choric ceremony — music, singing, dancing, blended together. Every young man is spontaneously disposed to constant indeterminate movement and exercise of various kinds — running, jumping, speaking, &c. This belongs to man in common with the young of other animals: but what is peculiar to man exclusively is, the sense of rhythm and harmony, as well as of the contrary, in these movements and sounds. Such rhythm and harmony, in song and dance united, is expressed by the chorus at the festivals, in which the Muses and Apollo take part along with the assembled youth. Here we find the only way of properly schooling the emotions.54 The unschooled man is he who has not gone through a good choric practice; which will require that the matter which he sings shall be good and honourable, while the movements of his frame and the tones of his voice must be rhythmical and graceful. Such choric practice must be universal among the citizens, distributed into three classes: youths, mature men, elders.55

Bad musical exhibitions and poetry forbidden by the lawgiver. Songs and dances must be consecrated by public authority. Prizes at the musical festivals to be awarded by select judges.

But what is the good and honourable — or the bad and dishonourable? We must be able to settle this point:— otherwise we cannot know how far the chorus complies with the conditions above-named. Suppose a brave man and a coward in the face of danger: the gestures and speech of the former will be strikingly different from those of the latter. So with other virtues and vices. Now the manifestations, bodily and mental, of the virtuous man, are beautiful and honourable: those of the vicious man, are ugly and base. These are the really beautiful, — the same universally, or what ought to be beautiful to all: this is the standard of rectitude in music. But they do not always appear beautiful to all. There is great diversity in the tastes and sentiments of different persons: what appears to one man agreeable and pleasurable, appears to another disgusting or indifferent.56 Such diversity is either in the natural disposition, or in the habits acquired. A man’s pleasure depends upon the former, his judgment of approbation on the latter. If both his nature and his acquired habits coincide with the standard of rectitude, he will both delight in what is really beautiful, and will approve it as beautiful. But if his nature be in discordance with the standard, while his habits coincide with that standard he will approve of what is honourable, but he will take no delight in it: he will delight in what is base, but will at the same time disapprove it as base. He will however be ashamed to proclaim his delight before persons whom he respects, and will never indulge himself in the delightful music except when he is alone.57

The Spartan and Kretan agree with the Athenian, that poets must be kept under a strict censorship. But they do not agree as to what the poets are required to conform to.

Ethical creed laid down by the Athenian — Poets required to conform to it.

The Athenian is thus in full agreement with his two companions, on the general principle of subjecting the poets to an inflexible censorship. But the agreement disappears, when he comes to specify the dogmas which the poets are required to inculcate in their hymns. While complimenting his two friends upon their enforcement of an exclusive canon, he proceeds to assume that of course there can be but ONE canon; — that there is no doubt what the dogmas contained in it are to be. He then unfolds briefly the Platonic ethical creed. “You Spartans and Kretans (he says)61 of course constrain your poets to proclaim that the just and temperate man is happy, whether he be tall, strong, and rich — or short, feeble, and poor: and that the bad man is wretched and lives in suffering, though he be richer than Midas, and possessor besides of every other advantage in life. Most men appreciate falsely good and evil things. They esteem as good things, health, beauty, strength, perfect sight and hearing, power, long life, immortality: they account the contrary to be bad things. But you and I take a different view.62 We agree in proclaiming, that all these so-called good things are good only to the just man. To the unjust man, we affirm that health, strength, perfection of senses, power, long life, &c., are not good, but exceedingly bad. This, I presume, is the doctrine which you compel your poets to proclaim, and no other — in suitable rhythm and harmony.63 You agree with me in this, do you not?”

The Spartan and Kretan do not agree with him.

“Surely then, my doctrine — which regards the pleasurable, the just, the good, and the honourable, as indissolubly connected, — has at least a certain force of persuasion, if it has nothing more, towards inducing men to live a just and holy life: so that the lawgiver would be both base and wanting to his own purposes, if he did not proclaim it as a truth. For no one will be willingly persuaded to do anything which does not carry with it in its consequences more pleasure than pain.69 There is indeed confusion in every man’s vision, when he looks at these consequences in distant outline: but it is the duty of the lawgiver to clear up such confusion, and to teach his citizens in the best way he can, by habits, encouraging praises, discourses, &c., how they ought to judge amidst these deceptive outlines. Injustice, when looked at thus in prospect, seems to the unjust man pleasurable, while justice seems to him thoroughly disagreeable. On the contrary, to the just man, the appearance is exactly contrary: to him justice seems pleasurable, injustice repulsive. Now which of these two judgments shall we pronounce to be the truth? That of the just man. The verdict of the better soul is unquestionably more trustworthy than that of the worse. We must therefore admit it to be a truth, that the unjust life is not merely viler and more dishonourable, but also in truth more disagreeable, than the just life.”70

Chorus of Elders are required to set an example in keeping up the purity of the music prescribed.

“This brings me to my own proposition. My three Choruses (youthful, mature, elderly) will be required to sing perpetually to the tender minds of children all the honourable and good doctrines which I shall prescribe in detail. But the sum and substance of them will be — The best life has been declared by the Gods to be also the most pleasurable, and it is the most pleasurable.73 The whole city — man, boy, freeman, slave, male, female — will be always singing this doctrine to itself in choric songs, diversified by the poets in such manner as to keep up the interest and satisfaction of the singers.”74

The Elders require the stimulus of wine, in order to go through the choric duties with spirit.

Peculiar views of Plato about intoxication.

It is here that Plato invokes the aid of wine-drinking and intoxication. The stimulus of wine, drunk by the old men at the Dionysiac banquets, will revive in them a temporary fit of something like juvenile activity, and will supply an antidote to inconvenient diffidence.77 Under such partial excitement, they will stand forward freely to discharge their parts in the choric exhibitions; which, as performed by them, will be always in full conformity with the canon of musical rectitude, and will prevent it from becoming corrupted or relaxed by the younger choristers. To ensure however that the excitement shall not overpass due limits, Plato prescribes that the president of the banquet shall be a grave person drinking no wine at all. The commendation or reproof of such a president will sustain the reason and self-command of the guests, at the pitch compatible with full execution of their choric duty.78 Plato interdicts wine altogether to youths, until 18 years of age — allows it only in small quantities until the age of 40 — but permits and even encourages elders above 40 to partake of the full inspiration of the Dionysiac banquets.79

General ethical doctrine held by Plato in Leges.

This manner of regarding intoxication must probably have occurred to Plato at a time later than the composition of the Republic, wherein we find it differently handled.80 It deserves attention as an illustration, both of his boldness in following out his own ethical views, in spite of the consciousness81 that they would appear strange to others — and of the prominent function which he assigns to old men in this dialogue De Legibus. He condemns intoxication decidedly, when considered simply as a mode of enjoyment, and left to the taste of the company without any president or regulation. But with most moralists such condemnation is an unreflecting and undistinguishing sentiment. Against this Plato enters his protest. He considers that intoxication, if properly regulated, may be made conducive to valuable ends, ethical and social. Without it the old men cannot be wound up to the pitch of choric activity; without such activity, constant and unfaltering, the rectitude of the choric system has no adequate security against corruption: without such security, the emotional training of the citizens generally will degenerate. Farthermore, Plato takes occasion from drunkenness to lay down a general doctrine respecting pleasures. Men must be trained to self-command against pleasures, as they are against pains, not by keeping out of the way of temptation, but by regulated exposure to temptations, with motives at hand to help them in the task of resistance. Both these views are original and suggestive, like so many others in the Platonic writings: tending to rescue Ethics from that tissue of rhetorical and emotional commonplace in which it so frequently appears; — and to keep present before those who handle it, those ideas of an end to be attained, and of discrimination as to means — which are essential to its pretensions as a science.

Pleasure — Good — Happiness — What is the relation between them?

Comparison of the doctrine laid down in Leges.

What is the relation between Pleasure, Good, and Happiness? Pain, Evil, Unhappiness? Do the names in the first triplet mean substantially the same thing, only looked at in different aspects and under different conditions? Or do they mean three distinct things, separable and occurring the one without the other? This important question was much debated, and answered in many different ways, by Grecian philosophers from the time of Sokrates downward — and by Roman philosophers after them. Plato handles it not merely in the dialogue now before us, but in several others — differently too in each: in Protagoras, Gorgias, Republic, Philêbus, &c.83

Doctrine in Leges about Pleasure and Good — approximates more nearly to the Protagoras than to Gorgias and Philêbus.

Here, in the Dialogue De Legibus (by incidental allusion, too, in some of the Epistles), we have the latest form in which these doctrines about Pleasure, Happiness, Good — and their respective contraries — found expression in Plato’s compositions. Much of the doctrines is the same — yet with some material variation. It is here reasserted, by the Athenian, that the just and temperate man is happy, and that the unjust man is miserable, whatever may befall him: moreover that good things (such as health, strength, sight, hearing, &c.) are good only to the just man, evil to the unjust — while the contrary (such as sickness, weakness, blindness) are good things to the unjust, evil only to the just. To this position both the Spartan and the Kretan distinctly refuse their assent: and Plato himself admits that mankind in general would agree with them in such refusal.84 He vindicates his own opinion by a new argument which had not before appeared. “The just man himself” (he urges), “one who has been fully trained in just dispositions, will feel it to be as I say: the unjust man will feel the contrary. But the just man is much more trustworthy than the unjust: therefore we must believe what he says to be the truth.”85 Appeal is here made, not to the Wise Man or Artist, but to the just man: whose sentence is invested with a self-justifying authority, wherein Plato looks for his aliquid inconcussum. Now it is for philosophy, or for the true Artist, that this pre-eminence is claimed in the Republic,86 where Sokrates declares, that each of the three souls combined in the individual man (the rational or philosophical, in the head — the passionate or ambitious, between the neck and the diaphragm — and the appetitive, below the diaphragm) has its special pleasures; that each prefers its own; but that the judgment of the philosophical man must be regarded as paramount over the other two.87 Comparing this demonstration in the Republic with the unsupported inference here noted in the Leges — we perceive the contrast of the oracular and ethical character of the latter, with the intellectual and dialectic character of the former.

Comparison of Leges with Republic and Gorgias.

Farthermore, the distinction between Pleasure and Good, in the language of the Athenian speaker in the Leges, approximates more nearly to the doctrine of Sokrates in the Protagoras, than to his doctrine in the Gorgias, Philêbus, and Republic. The Athenian proclaims that he is dealing with men, and not with Gods, and that he must therefore recognise the nature of man, with its fundamental characteristics: that no man will willingly do anything from which he does not anticipate more pleasure than pain: that every man desires the maximum of pleasure and the minimum of pain, and desires nothing else: that there neither is nor can be any Good, apart from Pleasure or superior to Pleasure: that to insist upon a man being just, if you believe that he will obtain more pleasure or less pain from an unjust mode of life, is absurd and inconsistent: that the doctrine which declares the life of pleasure and the life of justice to lead in two distinct paths, is a heresy deserving not only censure but punishment.90 Plato here enunciates, as distinctly as Epikurus did after him, that Pleasures and Pains must be regulated (here regulated by the lawgiver), so that each man may attain the maximum of the former with the minimum of the latter: and that Good, apart from maximum of pleasure or minimum of pain accruing to the agent himself,91 cannot be made consistent with the nature or aspirations of man.

Plato here mistrusts the goodness of his own proof. He falls back upon useful fiction.

There is another point too in which the Athenian speaker here recedes from the lofty pretensions of Sokrates in the Republic and the Gorgias. In the second Book of the Republic, we saw Glaukon and Adeimantus challenge Sokrates to prove that justice, apart from all its natural consequences, will suffice per se to make the just man happy;92 per se, that is, even though all the society misconceive his character, and render no justice to him, but heap upon him nothing except obloquy and persecution. If (Glaukon urges) you can only recommend justice when taken in conjunction with the requiting esteem and reciprocating justice from others towards the just agent, this is no recommendation of justice at all. Your argument implies a tacit admission, that it will be better still if he can pass himself off as just in the opinion of others, without really being just himself: and you must be understood as recommending to him this latter course — if he can do it successfully. Sokrates accepts the challenge, and professes to demonstrate the thesis tendered to him: which is in substance the cardinal dogma afterwards espoused by the Stoics. I have endeavoured to show (in a former chapter93), that his demonstration is altogether unsuccessful: and when we turn to the Treatise De Legibus, we shall see that the Athenian speaker recedes from the doctrine altogether: confining himself to the defence of justice with its requiting and reciprocating consequences, not without them. The just man, as the Athenian speaker conceives him, is one who performs his obligations towards others, and towards whom others perform their obligations also: he is one who obtains from others that just dealing and that esteem which is his due: and when so conceived, his existence is one of pleasure and happiness.94 This is, in substance, the Epikurean doctrine substituted for the Stoic. It is that which Glaukon and Adeimantus in the Republic deprecate as unworthy disparagement of justice; and which they adjure Sokrates, by his attachment to justice, to stand up and repel.95 Now even this, the Epikurean doctrine, is true only with certain qualifications: since there are various other conditions essential to happiness, over and above the ethical conditions. Still it is not so utterly at variance with the truth as the doctrine which Sokrates undertakes to prove, but never does prove, in the Republic.

Deliberate ethical fiction employed as means of governing.

The last point which I shall here remark in this portion of the Treatise De Legibus is, the sort of mistrust manifested by Plato of the completeness of his own proof. Notwithstanding the vehement phrases in which the Athenian speaker proclaims his internal persuasion of the truth of his doctrine, while acknowledging at the same time that not only his two companions, but most other persons also, took the opposite view96 — he finds it convenient to reinforce the demonstration of the expositor by the omnipotent infallibility of the lawgiver. He descends from the region of established truth to that of useful fiction. “Even if the doctrine (that the pleasurable, the just, the good, and the honourable, are indissoluble) were not true, the lawgiver ought to adopt it as an useful fiction for youth, effective towards inducing them to behave justly without compulsion. The law giver can obtain belief for any fiction which he pleases to circulate, as may be seen by the implicit belief obtained for the Theban mythe about the dragon’s teeth, and a thousand other mythes equally difficult of credence. He must proclaim the doctrine as an imperative article of faith; carefully providing that it shall be perpetually recited, by one and all his citizens, in the public hymns, narratives, and discourses, without any voice being heard to call it in question.”97

Importance of music and chorus as an engine of teaching for Plato. Views of Xenophon and Aristotle compared.

Here is a second attempt on the part of Plato, in addition to that which we have seen in the Republic,98 to employ deliberate ethical fiction as a means of governing his citizens: first to implant and accredit it — next to prescribe its incessant iteration by all the citizens in the choric ceremonies — lastly to consecrate it, and to forbid all questioners or opponents: all application of the Sokratic Elenchus to test it. In this treatise he speaks of the task as easier to the lawgiver than he had described it to be in his Republic: in which latter we found him regarding a new article of faith as difficult to implant, but as easy to uphold if once it be implanted; while in the Treatise De Legibus both processes are treated as alike achievable and certain. The conception of dogmatic omnipotence had become stronger in Plato’s mind during the interval between the two treatises. Intending to postulate for himself the complete regulation not merely of the actions, but also of the thoughts and feelings of his citizens — intending moreover to exclude free or insubordinate intellects — he naturally looks upon all as docile recipients of any faith which he thinks it right to preach. When he appeals, however, as proofs of the facility of his plan, to the analogy of the numerous mythes received with implicit faith throughout the world around him — we see how low an estimate he formed of the process whereby beliefs are generated in the human mind, and of their evidentiary value as certifying the truth of what is believed. People believed what was told them at first by some imposing authority, and transmitted the belief to their successors, even without the extraneous support of inquisitorial restrictions such as the Platonic lawgiver throws round the Magnêtic community in the Leges. It is in reference to such self-supporting beliefs that Sokrates stands forth, in the earlier Platonic compositions, as an enquirer into the reasons on which they rested — a task useful as well as unpleasant to those whom he questioned — attracting unpopularity as well as reputation to himself. Plato had then keenly felt the inestimable value of this Elenchus or examining function personified in his master; but in the Treatise De Legibus the master has no place, and the function is severely proscribed. Plato has come round to the dogmatic pole, extolling the virtue of passive recipient minds who have no other sentiment than that which the lawgiver issues to them. Yet while he postulates in his own city the infallible authority of the lawgiver, and enforces it by penalties, as final and all-sufficient to determine the ethical beliefs of all the Platonic citizens — we shall find in a subsequent book of this Treatise that he denounces and punishes those who generalise this very postulate; and who declare the various ethical beliefs, actually existing in communities of men, to have been planted each by some human authority — not to have sprung from any unseen oracle called Nature.99

Historical retrospect as to the growth of cities — Frequent destruction of established communities, with only a small remnant left.

Such is the ethical doctrine which Plato proclaims in the Leges, and which he directs to be sung by each Chorus among the three (boys, men, elders), with appropriate music and dancing. It is on the constancy, strictness, and sameness of these choric and musical influences, that he relies for the emotional training of youth. If the musical training be either intermitted or allowed to vary from the orthodox canon — if the theatrical exhibitions be regulated by the taste of the general audience, and not by the judgment of a few discerning censors — the worst consequences will arise: the character of the citizens will degenerate, and the institutions of his city will have no foundation to rest upon.100 The important effects of music, as an instrument in the hands of the lawgiver for regulating the emotions of the citizens, and especially for inspiring a given emotional character to youth — are among the characteristic features of Plato’s point of view, common to both the Republic and the Laws. There is little trace of this point of view either in Xenophon or in Isokrates; but Aristotle embraces it to a considerable extent. It grew out of the practice and tradition of the Grecian cities, in most of which the literary teaching of youth was imparted by making them read, learn, recite, or chaunt the works of various poets; while the use of the lyre was also taught, together with regulated movements in the dance. The powerful ethical effect of musical teaching (even when confined to the simplest choric psalmody and dance), enforced by perpetual drill both of boys and men, upon the unlettered Arcadians — may be seen recognised even by a practical politician like Polybius,101 who considers it indispensable for the softening of violent and sanguinary tempers: the diversity of the effect, according to the different modes of music employed, is noted by Aristotle,102 and was indeed matter of common repute. Plato, as lawgiver, postulates poetry and music of his own dictation. He relies upon constant supplies of this wholesome nutriment, for generating in the youth such emotional dispositions and habits as will be in harmony, both with the doctrines which he preaches, and with the laws which he intends to impose upon them as adults. Here (as in Republic and Timæus) he proclaims that the perfection of character consists in willing obedience or harmonious adjustment of the pleasures and pains, the desires and aversions, to the paramount authority of reason or wisdom — or to the rational conviction of each individual as to what is good and honourable. If, instead of obedience and harmony, there be discord — if the individual, though rationally convinced that a proceeding is just and honourable, nevertheless hates it — or if, while convinced that a proceeding is unjust and dishonourable, he nevertheless loves it — such discord is the worst state of stupidity or mental incompetence.103 We must recollect that (according to the postulate of Treatise De Legibus) the rational convictions of each individual, respecting what is just and honourable, are assumed to be accepted implicitly from the lawgiver, and never called in question by any one. There exists therefore only one individual reason in the community — that of the lawgiver, or Plato himself.

Historical or legendary retrospect — The Trojan war — The return of the Herakleids.

Besides all the ethical prefatory matter, above noticed, Plato gives us also some historical and social prefatory matter, not essential to his constructive scheme (which after all takes its start partly from theoretical principles laid down by himself, partly from a supposed opportunity of applying those principles in the foundation of a new colony), but tending to illustrate the growth of political society, and the abuses into which it naturally tends to lapse. There existed in his time a great variety of distinct communities: some in the simplest, most patriarchal, Cyclopian condition, nothing more than families — some highly advanced in civilization, with its accompanying good and evil — some in each intermediate stage between these two extremes. — The human race (Plato supposes) has perhaps had no beginning, and will have no end. At any rate it has existed from an indefinite antiquity, subject to periodical crises, destructive kosmical outbursts, deluges, epidemic distempers, &c.104 A deluge, when it occurs, sweeps away all the existing communities with their property, arts, instruments, &c., leaving only a small remnant, who, finding shelter on the top of some high mountain not covered with water, preserve only their lives. Society, he thinks, has gone through a countless number of these cycles.105 At the end of each, when the deluge recedes, each associated remnant has to begin its development anew, from the rudest and poorest condition. Each little family or sept exists at first separately, with a patriarch whom all implicitly obey, and peculiar customs of its own. Several of these septs gradually coalesce together into one community, choosing one or a few lawgivers to adjust and modify their respective customs into harmonious order, and submitting implicitly to the authority of such chosen few.106 By successive coalitions of this kind, operated in a vast length of time,107 large cities are gradually formed on the plain and on the seaboard. Property and public force is again accumulated; together with letters, arts, and all the muniments of life.

Difficulties of government — Conflicts about command — Seven distinct titles to command exist among mankind, all equally natural, and liable to conflict.

Such is the idea which Plato here puts forth of the natural genesis and development of human society. Having thus arrived at the formation of considerable cities with powerful military armaments, he carries us into the midst of Hellenic legend — the Trojan War, the hostile reception which the victorious heroes found on their return to Greece after the siege, the Return of the Herakleids to Peloponnesus, and the establishment of the three Herakleid brethren, Têmenus, Kresphontês, Aristodêmus, as kings of Argos, Messênê, and Sparta. The triple Herakleid kingdom was originally founded (he affirms) as a mode of uniting and consolidating the force of Hellas against the Asiatics, who were eager to avenge the capture of Troy. It received strong promises of permanence, both from prophets and from the Delphian oracle.108 But these hopes were frustrated by misconduct on the part of the kings of Argos and Messênê: who, being youths destitute of presiding reason, and without external checks, obeyed the impulse of unmeasured ambition, oppressed their subjects, and broke down their own power.

Imprudence of founding government upon any one of these titles separately — Governments of Argos and Messênê ruined by the single principle — Sparta avoided it.

Imprudence of founding government upon any one of these titles separately — Governments of Argos and Messênê ruined by the single principle — Sparta avoided it.

Plato casts Hellenic legend into accordance with his own political theories.

Plato thinks it imprudent to found the government of society upon any one of these seven titles singly and separately. He requires that each one of them shall be checked and modified by the conjoint operation of others. Messênê and Argos were depraved and ruined by the single principle: while Sparta was preserved and exalted by a mixture of different elements. The kings of Argos and Messênê, irrational youths with nothing to restrain them (except oaths, which they despised), employed their power to abuse and mischief. Such was the consequence of trusting to the exclusive title of high breed, embodied in one individual person. But Apollo and Lykurgus provided better for Sparta. They softened regal insolence by establishing the double line of co-ordinate kings: they introduced the title of old age, along with that of high breed, by founding the Senate of twenty-eight elders: they farther introduced the title of sortition, or something near it, by nominating the annual Ephors. The mixed government of Sparta was thus made to work for good, while the unmixed systems of Argos and Messênê both went wrong.111 Both the two latter states were in perpetual war with Sparta, so as to frustrate that purpose — union against Asiatics — with a view to which the triple Herakleid kingdom was originally erected in Peloponnesus. Had each of these three kingdoms been temperately and moderately governed, like Sparta, so as to maintain unimpaired the projected triple union — the Persian invasions of Greece by Darius and Xerxes would never have taken place.112

Persia and Athens compared — Excess of despotism. Excess of liberty.

Such is the way in which Plato casts the legendary event, called the Return of the Herakleids, into accordance with a political theory of his own. That event, in his view, afforded the means of uniting Hellas internally, and of presenting such a defensive combination as would have deterred all invasions from Asia, if only the proper principles of legislation and government had been understood and applied. The lesson to be derived from this failure is, that we ought not to concentrate great authority in one hand; and that we ought to blend together several principles of authority, instead of resorting to the exclusive action of one alone.113 This lesson deserves attention, as a portion of political theory; but I feel convinced that neither Herodotus nor Thucydides would have concurred in Plato’s historical views. Neither of them would have admitted the disunion between Sparta, Argos, and Messênê as a main cause of the Persian invasion of Greece.

Cyrus and Darius — Bad training of sons of kings.

Changes for the worse in government of Athens, after the Persian invasion of Greece.

The Persians, according to Plato, at the time when they made their conquests under Cyrus, were not despotically governed, but enjoyed a fair measure of freedom under a brave and patriotic military chief, who kept the people together in mutual attachment. But Cyrus, though a great military chief, had neither received a good training himself, nor knew how to secure it for his own sons.115 He left them to be educated by the women in the harem, where they were brought up with unmeasured indulgence, acquiring nothing but habits of insolence and caprice. Kambyses became a despot; and after committing great enormities, was ultimately deprived of empire by Smerdis and the Medians. Darius, not a born prince, but an usurper, renovated the Persian empire, and ruled it with as much ability and moderation as Cyrus. But he made the same mistake as Cyrus, in educating his sons in the harem. His son Xerxes became thoroughly corrupted, and ruled despotically. The same has been the case with all the successive kings, all brought up as destined for the sceptre, and morally ruined by a wretched education. The Persian government has been nothing but a despotism ever since Darius.116 All freedom of action or speech has been extinguished, and the mutual attachment among the subjects exists no more.117

This change began in music, and the poets introduced new modes of composition — they appealed to the sentiment of the people, and corrupted them.

While the Persian government thus exhibits despotism in excess, that of Athens exhibits the contrary mischief — liberty in excess. This has been the growth of the time subsequent to the Persian invasion. At the time when that invasion occurred, the government of Athens was an ancient constitution with a quadruple scale of property, according to which scale political privilege and title to office were graduated: while the citizens generally were then far more reverential to authority, and obedient to the laws, than they are now. Moreover, the invasion itself, being dangerous and terrific in the extreme, was enough to make them obedient and united among themselves, for their own personal safety.118 But after the invasion had been repelled, the government became altered. The people acquired a great increase of political power, assumed habits of independence and self-judgment, and became less reverential both to the magistrates and to the laws.

Danger of changes in the national music — declared by Damon, the musical teacher.

The first department in which this change was wrought at Athens was the department of music: from whence it gradually extended itself to the general habits of the people. Before the invasion, Music had been distributed, according to ancient practice and under the sanction of ancient authority, under four fixed categories — Hymns, Dirges, Pæans, Dithyrambs.119 The ancient canons in regard to each were strictly enforced: the musical exhibitions were superintended, and the prizes adjudged by a few highly-trained elders: while the general body of citizens listened in respectful silence, without uttering a word of acclamation, or even conceiving themselves competent to judge what they heard. Any manifestations on their part were punished by blows from the sticks of the attendants.120 But this docile submission of the Athenians to authority became gradually overthrown, after the repulse of the Persians, first in the theatre, next throughout all social and political life. The originators of this corruption were the poets: men indeed of poetical genius, but ignorant of the ethical purpose which their compositions ought to aim at, as well as of the rightful canons by which they ought to be guided and limited. These poets, looking to the pleasure of the audience as their true and only standard, exhibited pieces in which all the old musical distinctions were confounded together — hymns with dirges, the pæan with the dithyramb, and the flute with the harp. To such irregular rhythm and melody, words equally irregular were adapted. The poet submitted his compositions to the assembled audience, appealing to them as competent judges, and practically declaring them to be such. The audience responded to the appeal. Acclamation in the theatre was substituted for silence; and the judgment of the people became paramount instead of that pronounced by the enlightened few according to antecedent custom. Hence the people — having once shaken off the reverence for authority, and learnt to exercise their own judgment, in the theatre121 — began speedily to do the same on other matters also. They fancied themselves wise enough to decide everything for themselves, and contracted a shameless disregard for the opinion of better and wiser men. An excessive measure of freedom was established, tending in its ultimate consequences to an anarchical or Titanic nature: indifferent to magistrates, laws, parents, elders, covenants, oaths, and the Gods themselves.122

Plato’s aversion to the tragic and comic poetry at Athens.

The opinion here expressed by Plato — that the political constitution of Athens was too democratical, and that the changes (effected by Perikles and others during the half century succeeding the Persian invasion) whereby it had been rendered more democratical, were mischievous — was held by him in common with a respectable and intelligent minority at Athens. That minority had full opportunity of expressing their disapprobation — as we may see by the language of Plato himself; though he commends the Spartans for not allowing any such opportunity to dissenters at Sparta, and expressly prohibits any open expression of dissent in his own community. But his assertion, that the deterioration at Athens was introduced and originated by an innovation in the established canon of music and poetry — is more peculiarly his own. The general doctrine of the powerful revolutionising effect wrought by changes in the national music, towards subverting the political constitution, was adopted by him from the distinguished musical teacher Damon,123 the contemporary and companion of Perikles. The fear of such danger to the national institutions is said to have operated on the authorities at Sparta, when they forbade the musical innovations of the poet Timotheus, and destroyed the four new strings which he had just added to the established seven strings of his lyre.124

This aversion peculiar to himself, not shared either by oligarchical politicians, or by other philosophers.

Of this general doctrine, however, Plato makes a particular application in the passage now before us, which he would have found few Athenians, either oligarchical or democratical, to ratify. What he really condemns is, the tragic and comic poetical representations at Athens, which began to acquire importance only after the Persian war, and continued to increase in importance for the next half century. The greatest revolution which Grecian music and poetry ever underwent was that whereby Attic tragedy and comedy were first constituted:— built up by distinguished poets from combination and enlargement of the simpler pre-existent forms — out of the dithyrambic and phallic choruses.125 The first who imparted to tragedy its grand development and its special novelty of character was Æschylus — a combatant at Marathon as well as one of the greatest among ancient poets: after him, Sophokles carried improvement still further. It is them that Plato probably means, when he speaks of the authors of this revolution as men of true poetical genius, but ignorant of the lawful purpose of the Muse — as authors who did not recognise any rightful canon of music, nor any end to be aimed at beyond the emotional satisfaction of a miscellaneous audience. The abundance of dramatic poetry existing in Plato’s time must have been prodigious (a few choice specimens only have descended to us):— while its variety of ingredients and its popularity outshone those four ancient and simple manifestations, which alone he will tolerate as legitimate. He censures the innovations of Æschylus and Sophokles as a deplorable triumph of popular preference over rectitude of standard and purpose. He tacitly assumes — what Aristotle certainly does not believe, and what, so far as I can see, there is no ground for believing — that the earlier audience were passive, showing no marks of favour or disfavour: and that the earlier poets had higher aims, adapting their compositions to the judgment of a wise few, and careless about giving satisfaction to the general audience. This would be the practice in the Platonic city, but it never was the practice at Athens. We may surely presume that Æschylus stood distinguished from his predecessors not by desiring popularity more, but by greater success in attaining it: and that he attained it partly from his superior genius, partly from increasing splendour in the means of exhibition at Athens. The simpler early compositions had been adapted to the taste of the audience who heard them, and gave satisfaction for the time; until the loftier genius of Æschylus and the other great constructive dramatists was manifested.

Doctrines of Plato in this prefatory matter.

However Plato — while he tolerates no poetry except in so far as it produces ethical correction or regulation of the emotions, and blames as hurtful the poet who simply touches or kindles emotion — is in a peculiar manner averse to dramatic poetry, with its diversity of assumed characters and its obligation of giving speech to different points of view. His aversion had been exhibited before, both in the Republic and in the Gorgias:126 but it reappears here in the Treatise De Legibus, with this aggravating feature — that the revolution in music and poetry is represented as generating cause of a deteriorated character and an ultra-democratical polity of Athens. This (as I have before remarked) is a sentiment peculiar to Plato. For undoubtedly, oligarchical politicians (such as Thucydides, Nikias, Kritias), who agreed with him in disliking the democracy, would never have thought of ascribing what they disliked to such a cause as alteration in the Athenian music and poetry. They would much more have agreed with Aristotle,127 when he attributes the important change both in the character and polity of the Athenian people after the Persian invasion, to the events of that invasion itself — to the heroic and universal efforts made by the citizens, on shipboard as well as on land, against the invading host — and to the necessity for continuing those efforts by organising the confederacy of Delos. Hence arose a new spirit of self-reliance and enterprise — or rather an intensification of what had already begun after the expulsion of Hippias and the reform by Kleisthenes — which rendered the previous constitutional forms too narrow to give satisfaction.128 The creation of new and grander forms of poetry may fairly be looked upon as one symptom of this energetic general outburst: but it is in no way a primary or causal fact, as Plato wishes us to believe. Nor can Plato himself have supposed it to be so, at the time when he composed his Menexenus: wherein the events of the post-Xerxeian period are presented in a light very different from that in which he viewed them when he wrote his Leges — presented with glowing commendations on his countrymen.

Compared with those of the Republic and of the Xenophontic Cyropædia.

The long ethical prefatory matter129 which we have gone through, includes these among other doctrines — 1. That the life of justice, and the life of pleasure, are essentially coincident. 2. That Reason, as declared by the lawgiver, ought to controul all our passions and emotions. 3. That intoxication, under certain conditions, is an useful stimulus to elderly men. 4. That the political constitution of society ought not to be founded upon one single principle of authority, but upon a combination of several. 5. That the extreme of liberty, and the extreme of despotism, are both bad.130

Constructive scheme — Plato’s new point of view.

Of these five positions, the two first are coincident with the doctrines of the Republic: the third is not coincident compared with them, but indirectly in opposition to them: the fourth and fifth put Plato on a standing point quite different from that of the Republic, and different also from that of the Xenophontic Cyropædia. In the Cyropædia, all government is strictly personal: the subjects both obey willingly, and are rendered comfortable because of the supreme and manifold excellence of one person — their chief, Cyrus — in every department of practical administration, civil as well as military. In the Platonic Republic, the government is also personal: to this extent — that Plato provides neither political checks, nor magistrates, nor laws, nor judicature: but aims only at the perfect training of the Guardians, and the still more elaborate and philosophical training of those few chief or elder Guardians, who are to direct the rest. He demands only a succession of these philosophers, corresponding to the regal Artist sketched in the Politikus: and he leaves all ulterior directions to them. Upon their perfect dispositions and competence, all the weal or woe of the community depends. All is personal government; but it is lodged in the hands of a few philosophers, assumed to be super-excellent, like the one chief in the Xenophontic Cyropædia. When however we come to the Leges, we find that Plato ceases to presume upon such supreme personal excellence. He drops it as something beyond the limit of human attainment, and as fit only for the golden or Saturnian age.131 He declares that power, without adequate restraints, is a privilege with which no man can be trusted.132 Nevertheless the magistrates must be vested with sufficient power: since excess of liberty is equally dangerous. To steer between these two rocks,133 you want not only a good despot but a sagacious lawgiver. It is he who must construct a constitutional system, having regard to the various natural foundations of authority in the minds of the citizens. He must provide fixed laws, magistrates, and a competent judicature: moreover, both the magistrates and the judicature must be servants of the law, and nothing beyond.134 The lawgiver must frame his laws with single-minded view, not to the happiness of any separate section of the city, but to that of the whole. He must look to the virtue of the whole, in its most comprehensive sense, and to all good things, ranked in their triple subordination and their comparative value — that is, First, the good things belonging to the mind — Secondly, Those belonging to the body — Thirdly, Wealth and External acquisitions.135

New Colony to be founded in Krete — its general conditions.

The Athenian declares that he will not merely promulgate peremptory laws, but will recommend them to the citizens by prologues or hortatory discourses.

Here the exposition assumes a definite shape. The Kretan Kleinias apprises his Athenian companion, that the Knossians with other Kretans are about to establish a new colony on an unsettled point in Krete; and that himself with nine others are named commissioners for framing and applying the necessary regulations. He invites the co-operation of the Athenian:137 who accordingly sets himself to the task of suggesting such laws and measures as are best calculated to secure the march of the new Magnetic settlement towards the great objects defined in the preceding programme.

General character of these prologues — didactic or rhetorical homilies.

The colonists being supposed to be assembled in their new domicile and ready for settlement, Plato, or his Athenian spokesman, addresses to them a solemn exhortation, inculcating piety towards the Gods, celestial and subterranean, as well as to the Dæmons and Heroes — and also reverence to parents.140 He then intimates that, though he does not intend to consult the settlers on the acceptance or rejection of laws, but assumes to himself the power of prescribing such laws as he thinks best for them — he nevertheless will not content himself with promulgating his mandates in a naked and peremptory way. He will preface each law with a proëm or prologue (i.e. a string of preliminary recommendations): in order to predispose their minds favourably, and to obtain from them a willing obedience.141 He will employ not command only, but persuasion along with or antecedent to command: as the physician treats his patients when they are freemen, not as he sends his slaves to treat slave-patients, with a simple compulsory order.142 To begin with an introductory proëm or prelude, prior to the announcement of the positive law, is (he says) the natural course of proceeding. It is essential to all artistic vocal performances: it is carefully studied and practised both by the rhetor and the musician.143 Yet in spite of this analogy, no lawgiver has ever yet been found to prefix proëms to his laws: every one has contented himself with issuing peremptory commands.144 Here then Plato undertakes to set the example of prefixing such prefatory introductions. The nature of the case would prescribe that every law, every speech, every song, should have its suitable proëm: but such prolixity would be impolitic. A discretion must be entrusted to the lawgiver, as it is to the orator and the musician. Proëms or prologues must be confined to the great and important laws.145

Great value set by Plato himself upon these prologues. They are to serve as type for all poets. No one is allowed to contradict them.

Accordingly, from hence to the end of the Treatise De Legg., Plato proceeds upon the principle here laid down. He either prefixes a prologue to each of his laws — or blends the law with its proëm — or gives what may be called a proëm without a law, that is a string of hortatory or comminatory precepts. There are various points (he says) on which the lawgiver cannot propose any distinct and peremptory enactment, but must confine himself to emphatic censure146 and declaration of opinion, with threats of displeasure on the part of the Gods: the rather as he cannot hope to accomplish his public objects, without the largest interference with private habits — nor without bringing his regulations to bear upon individual life, where positive law can hardly reach.147 The Platonic prologues are sometimes expositions of the reasons of the law — i. e. of the dangers which it is intended to ward off, or the advantages to be secured by it. But far more frequently, they are morsels of rhetoric — lectures, discourses, or homilies — addressed to the emotions and not to the reason, insisting on the ethical and religious point of view, and destined to operate with persuasive or intimidating effect upon an uninstructed multitude.148

Contrast of Leges with Gorgias and Phædrus.

It seems that Plato took credit to himself for what he thought a beneficial innovation, in thus blending persuasive exhortation with compulsory command. His assurance, that no Grecian lawgiver had ever done so before, is doubtless trustworthy:149 though we may remark that the confusion of the two has been the general rule with Oriental lawgivers — the Hindoos, the Jews, the Mahommedan Arabs, &c. But with him the innovation serves a farther purpose. He makes it the means of turning rhetoric to account; and of enlisting in his service, as lawgiver, not only all the rhetoric but all the poetry, in his community. His Athenian speaker is so well satisfied with these prologues, that he considers them to possess the charm of a poetical work, and suspects them to have been dictated by inspiration from the Gods.150 He pronounces them the best and most suitable compositions for the teaching of youth, and therefore prescribes that teachers shall cause the youth to recite and learn them, instead of the poetical and rhetorical works usually employed. He farther enjoins that his prologues shall serve as type and canon whereby all other poetical and rhetorical compositions shall be tried. If there be any compositions in full harmony and analogy with this type, the teachers shall be compelled to learn them by heart, and teach them to pupils. Any teacher refusing to do so shall be dismissed.151 Nor shall any poet be allowed to compose and publish works containing sentiments contradictory to the declaration of the lawgiver.152

Regulations for the new colony — About religious worship, the oracles of Delphi and Dodona are to be consulted.

As a contrast to this view of Plato in his later years, it is interesting to turn to that which he entertained in an earlier part of his life, in the Gorgias and the Phædrus, respecting rhetoric. In the former dialogue, Gorgias is recognised as a master of the art of persuasion, especially as addressed to a numerous audience, and respecting ethical questions, What is just, and what is unjust? Sokrates, on the contrary, pointedly distinguishes persuasion from teaching — discredits simple persuasion, without teaching, as merely deceptive — and contends that rhetorical discourse addressed to a multitude, upon such topics, can never convey any teaching.153 But in the Leges we find that the art of persuasion has risen greatly in Plato’s estimation. Whether it be a true art, or a mere unartistic knack, he now recognises its efficacy in modifying the dispositions of the uninstructed multitude, and announces himself to be the first lawgiver who will employ it systematically for that purpose. He combines the seductions of the rhetor with the unpalatable severities of the lawgiver: the two distinct functions of Gorgias and his brother the physician Herodikus, when Gorgias accompanied his brother to visit suffering patients, and succeeded by force of rhetoric in overcoming their repugnance to the cutting and burning indispensable for cure.154 Again, in the Phædrus, Plato treats the art of persuasion, when applied at once to a mixed assemblage of persons, either by writing or discourse, as worthless and unavailing.155 He affirms that it makes no durable impression on the internal mind of the individuals: the same discourse will never suit all. Individuals differ materially in their cast of mind; moreover, they differ in opinion upon ethical topics (just and unjust) more than upon any other. Some men are open to persuasion by topics which will have no effect on others. Accordingly, you must go through a laborious discrimination: first, you must discriminate generally the various classes of minds and the various classes of discourse — next, you must know to which classes of minds the individuals of the multitude before you belong. You must then address to each mind the mode of persuasion specially adapted to it. The dialectic philosopher is the only one who possesses the true art of persuasion. Such was Plato’s point of view in the Phædrus. I need hardly point out how completely it is dropped in his Leges: wherein he pours persuasion into the ears of an indiscriminate multitude, through the common channel of a rhetorical lecture, considering it of such impressive efficacy as to justify the supposition of inspiration from the Gods.156

Perpetuity of number of citizens, and of lots of land, one to each, inalienable and indivisible.

After this unusual length of preliminaries, Plato enters on the positive regulation of his colony. As to the worship of the Gods, he directs little or nothing of his own authority. The colony must follow the advice of the oracles of Delphi, Dodona, and Ammon — together with any consecrated traditions, epiphanies, or inspirations from the Gods belonging to the spot — as to the Gods who shall be publicly worshipped, and the suitable temples and rites. Only he directs that to each portion of the territory set apart for civil purposes, some God, Dæmon, or Hero, shall be specially assigned as Patron,157 with a chapel and precinct wherein all meetings of the citizens of the district shall be held, whether for religious ceremonies, or for recreation, or for political duties.

Plato reasserts his adherence to the principle of the Republic, though the repugnance of others hinders him from realising it.

Plato reasserts his adherence to the principle of the Republic, though the repugnance of others hinders him from realising it.

Regulations about land, successions, marriages, &c. The number of citizens must not be allowed to increase.

Regulations about land, successions, marriages, &c. The number of citizens must not be allowed to increase.

Position of the city and akropolis — Distribution of the territory and citizens into twelve equal sections or tribes.

Each citizen proprietor shall hold his lot of land, not as his own, but as part and parcel of the entire territory, which, taken as a whole, is Goddess and Mistress — conjointly with all the local Gods and Heroes — of the body of citizens generally. No citizen shall either sell or otherwise alienate his lot, nor divide it, nor trench upon its integrity. The total number of lots, the integrity of each lot, and the total number of citizens, shall all remain consecrated in perpetuity, without increase or diminution. Each citizen in dying shall leave one son as successor to his lot: if he has more than one, he may choose which of them he will prefer. The successor so chosen shall maintain the perpetuity of worship of the Gods, reverential rites to the family and deceased ancestors, and obligations towards the city.161 If the citizen has other sons, they will be adopted into the families of other citizens who happen to be childless: if he has daughters, he will give them out in marriage, but without any dowry. Such family relations will be watched over by a special board of magistrates: with this peremptory condition, that they shall on no account permit either the number of citizen proprietors, or the number of separate lots, to depart from the consecrated 5040.162 Each citizen’s name, and each lot of land, will be registered on tablets of cypress wood. These registers will be preserved in the temples, in order that the magistrates may be able to prevent fraud.163

Movable property — Inequality therein reluctantly allowed, as far as four to one, but no farther.

The city, with its appropriate accessories, shall be placed as nearly as possible in the middle of the territory. The akropolis, sacred to Hestia and Athênê, will be taken as a centre from whence twelve radiating lines will be drawn to the extremity of the territory, so as to distribute the whole area into twelve sections, not all equal in magnitude, but equalised in value by diminishing the area in proportion to superior goodness of land. The total number of citizens will be distributed also in twelve sections, of 420 each (5040/12), among whom the lots of land contained in each twelfth will be apportioned. This duodecimal division, the fundamental canon of Plato’s municipal arrangements, is a sanctified present from the Gods, in harmony with the months and with the kosmical revolutions.164 Each twelfth, land and citizens together, will be constituted a Tribe, and will be consecrated to some God (determined by lot) whose name it will bear, and at whose altar two monthly festivals will be celebrated: one for the tribe, the other for the entire city. The tribes are peremptorily equal in respect to number of citizens; but care shall also be taken to make them as nearly equal as possible in respect to registered property: that is, in respect to property other than land, which each citizen brings with him to the settlement, and which will all be recorded (as well as the land) in the public registers.165 The lot of land assigned to each citizen will include a portion near the centre, and a portion near the circumference: the most central portion being coupled with the most outlying, and so on in order. Each citizen will thus have two separate residences:166 one nearer to the city, the other more distant from it.

Census of the citizens — four classes, with graduated scale of property. No citizen to possess gold or silver. No loans or interest. No debts enforced by law.

Plato would be glad if he were able to establish among all the citizens, equality not merely of landed property, but property of all other property besides. This, however, he recognises his inability to exact. The colonists will bring with them movable property — some more, some less: and inequality must be tolerated up to a certain limit. Each citizen is allowed to possess movable property as far as four times the value of his lot of land, but no more. The maximum of wealth possessed by any citizen will thus be equal to five times the value of his lot of land: the minimum of the poorest citizen will be the lot of land itself, which cannot, under the worst circumstances, be alienated or diminished. If any citizen shall in any way acquire property above the maximum here named, he is directed to make it over to the city and to the Gods. In case of disobedience, he may be indicted before the Nomophylakes; and if found guilty, shall be disgraced, excluded from his share of public distributions, and condemned to pay twice as much — half being assigned as recompense to the prosecutor.167 The public register kept by the magistrates, in which is enrolled all the property of every kind belonging to each citizen, will enable them to enforce this regulation, and will be farther useful in all individual suits respecting money.

Board of thirty-seven Nomophylakes — general supervisors of the laws and their execution — how elected.

By this determination of a maximum and minimum, coupled with a certain admitted preference to wealth in the assignment of political power, Plato considers that he has guarded against the intestine dissensions and other evils likely to arise from inequality of property. He accounts great poverty to be a serious cause of evil; yet he is very far from looking upon wealth as a cause of good. On the contrary, he proclaims that great wealth is absolutely incompatible either with great virtue or great happiness.169 Accordingly, while he aims at preserving every individual citizen from poverty, he at the same time disclaims all purpose of making his community either richer or more powerful.170 He forbids every private citizen to possess gold and silver. The magistrates must hold a certain stock of it in reserve, in case of public dealing with foreign cities: but they will provide for the daily wants of the community by a special cheap currency, having no value beyond the limits of the territory.171 Moreover, Plato prohibits all loans on interest. He refuses to enforce by law the restoration even of a deposit. He interdicts all dowry or marriage portion with daughters.172

Military commanders — General council of 360 — complicated mode of election.

Character of the electoral scheme — Plato’s views about wealth — he caters partly for the oligarchical sentiment, partly for the democratical.

For the office of General and Minister of War, three persons shall be chosen by show of hands of the military citizens. It shall be the duty of the Nomophylakes to propose three names for this office: but other citizens may also propose different names, and the show of hands will decide. The three Generals, when chosen, shall propose twelve names as Taxiarchs, one for each tribe: other names may also be proposed, and the show of hands of each tribe will determine.176

Meetings of council — other magistrates — Agoranomi — Astynomi, &c.

Meetings of council — other magistrates — Agoranomi — Astynomi, &c.

Defence of the territory — rural police — Agronomi, &c.

Comparison with the Lacedæmonian Kryptia.

The defence of the territory is entrusted to the Agronomi, five persons selected from each of the twelve tribes, making sixty in all; and assisted by sixty other junior subordinates, selected by the five Agronomi (those of each tribe choosing twelve) from their respective tribes. Each of these companies of seventeen will be charged with the care of one of the twelve territorial districts, as may be determined by lot. Each will then pass by monthly change from one district to another, so as to make the entire circuit of the twelve districts in one year, going round in an easterly direction or to the right: each will then make the same circuit backward, during a second year, in a westerly direction or to the left.183 Their term of service will be two years in all, during which all of them will have become familiarly acquainted with every portion of the territory. A public mess will be provided for these companies, and each man among them will be held to strict continuity of service. Their duties will be, not merely to keep each district in a condition of defence against a foreign enemy, but also to improve its internal condition: to facilitate the outflow of water where there is too much, and to retard it where there is too little: to maintain, in the precincts sacred to the Gods, reservoirs of spring-water, partly as ornament, partly also as warm baths (for the heating of which large stocks of dry wood must be collected) — to benefit the old, the sick, and the overworked husbandman.184 Farthermore, these Agronomi will adjudicate upon disputes and offences among the rural population, both slave and free. If they abuse their trust, they will be accountable, first to the assembled citizens of the district, next to the public tribunals in the city.

Priests — Exêgêtæ — Property belonging to temples.

Plato considers that these Agronomi will go through hard work during their two years of service, inasmuch as they will have no slaves, and will have to do everything for themselves: though in the performance of any public work they are empowered to put in requisition both men and cattle from the neighbourhood.185 He pronounces it to be a salutary discipline for the young men, whom he admonishes that an apprenticeship in obedience is indispensable to qualify them for command, and that exact obedience to the laws and magistrates will be their best title to posts of authority when older.186 Moreover, he insists on the necessity that all citizens should become minutely acquainted with the whole territory: towards which purpose he encourages young men in the exercise of hunting. He compares (indirectly) his movable guard of Agronomi to the Lacedæmonian Krypti, who maintained the police of Laconia, and kept watch over the Helots:187 though they are also the parallel of the youthful Peripoli at Athens, who were employed as Guards for two years round various parts of Attica.

Superintendence of Music and Gymnastic. Educational function.

Grave duties of the Minister of Education — precautions in electing him.

Music and Gymnastic. — For each of these, two magisterial functions must be constituted: one to superintend the teaching and training — the other, to preside over the matches and distribution of prizes. In regard to the musical matches, one President must be appointed for the monôdic single-headed exhibitions, another for the choric exhibitions. The President of the former must be not less than thirty years of age. The President of the latter must be not less than forty years of age. In order to appoint a fit person, the Nomophylakes shall constrain all the citizens whom they believe to be conversant with monôdic or choric matters, to assemble and agree on a preliminary list of ten candidates, who shall undergo a Dokimasy or examination, upon the single point of skill and competency, and no other. If they all pass, recourse shall be had to lot, and the one who draws the first lot shall be President for the year. In regard to the gymnastic matches, of men as well as of horses, the citizens of the three richest classes shall be constrained to come together (those of the fourth class may come, or stay away, as they please), and to fix upon twenty suitable persons; who shall undergo the Dokimasy, and out of whom three shall be selected by lot as Presidents of gymnastic contests for the year.192

Judicial duties.

We observe that in the nomination of Presidents for the musical and gymnastic contests, Plato adopts the same double-faced machinery as before — To please the oligarchical sentiment by treating the votes of the rich as indispensable, the votes of the poor as indifferent — To please the democratical sentiment by a partial application of the lot. But in regard to the President of musical and gymnastic education or training, he prescribes a very different manner of choice. He declares this to be the most important function in the city. Upon the way in which the Minister of Education discharges his functions, the ultimate character of the citizens will mainly turn. Accordingly, this magistrate must be a man of fifty years of age, father of legitimate children — and, if possible, of daughters as well as sons. He must also be one of the thirty-seven Nomophylakes. He will be selected, not by the votes of the citizens generally, but by the votes of all the magistrates (except the annual Councillors and the Prytanes): such votes being deposited secretly in the temple of Apollo. The person who obtains the most of these secret votes will be submitted to a farther Dokimasy by all the voting magistrates (except the Nomophylakes themselves), and will, if approved, be constituted President of musical and gymnastic education for five years.193

Private Causes — how tried.

Public Causes must be tried directly by the citizens — strong feeling among Greeks about this.

In regard to the private causes, he institutes Tribe-Dikasteries, taken by lot out of the citizens of each tribe, and applied without notice to each particular cause as it comes on, so that no one can know beforehand in what cause he is to adjudicate, nor can any one be solicited or bribed.196 He institutes farthermore a superior court of appeal, formed every year by the various Boards of Magistrates, each choosing out of its own body the most esteemed member, subject to approval by an ensuing Dokimasy.197 When one citizen believes himself to be wronged by another, he must first submit the complaint to arbitration by neighbours and common friends. If this arbitration fails to prove satisfactory, he must next bring the complaint before the Tribe-Dikastery. Should their decision prove unsatisfactory, the case may be brought (seemingly by either of the parties) before the superior court of appeal, whose decision will be final. Plato directs that this superior Court shall hold its sittings publicly, in presence of all the Magistrates and all the Councillors, as well as of any other citizen who may choose to attend. The members of the Court are to give their votes openly.198 Should they be suspected of injustice or corruption, they may be impeached before the Nomophylakes; who, if convinced of their guilt, shall compel them to make good the wrong done, and shall impose penalties besides, if the case requires.199

Plato’s way of meeting this feeling — intermediate inquiry and report by a special Commissioner.

What laws the magistrates are to enforce — Many details must be left to the Nomophylakes.

This proposition deserves notice. Plato proclaims his disapprobation of the numerous Dikasteries in Athens, wherein the Dikasts sat, heard, and voted — perhaps with applause or murmurs, but with no searching questions of their own — leaving the whole speech to the parties and their witnesses. To decide justly (he says), the judicial authority must not remain silent, but must speak more than the parties, and must undertake the substantial conduct of the inquiry. No numerous assembly — nor even any few, unless they be intelligent — are competent to such a duty: nor even an intelligent few, without much time and patience.202 To secure such an inquiry on these public causes — as far as is possible consistent with the necessity of leaving the final decision to the general assembly — is the object of Plato’s last-mentioned proposition. It is one of the most judicious propositions in his whole scheme.

Marriage-Laws — Rich husbands to choose poor wives — No dowries — costly marriage festivals are forbidden.

Plato considers the Nomophylakes (together with another board called the Nocturnal Council, to be hereafter described) as the permanent representatives of himself: destined to ensure that the grand ethical purpose of the lawgiver shall be constantly kept in view, and to supply what may have been left wanting in the original programme.204 Especially at the first beginning, provision will be found wanting in many details, which the Nomophylakes will take care to supply. In respect to the choric festivals, which are of so much importance for the training and intercourse of young men and maidens, the lawgiver must trust to the Choric Superintendents and the Nomophylakes for regulating, by their experience, much which he cannot foresee. But an experience of ten years will enable them to make all the modifications and additions required; and after that period they shall fix and consecrate in perpetuity the ceremonies as they then stand, forbidding all farther change. Neither in that nor in any other arrangement shall any subsequent change be allowed, except on the unanimous requisition of all the magistrates, all the people, and all the oracles of the Gods.205

Laws about slavery. Slaves to be well fed, and never treated with cruelty or insolence. The master must not converse with them.

Circular form for the city — Temples in the centre — No walls round it.

Plato now enters upon his laws respecting property; and first of all upon the most critical variety of property; that in human beings, or slavery. This he declares to be a subject full of difficulty. There is much difference of opinion on the subject. Some speak of slaves as deserving trust and good treatment, in proof of which various anecdotes of exemplary fidelity on their part are cited: others again regard them as incorrigibly debased, fit for nothing better than the whip and spur, like cattle. Then moreover the modified form of slavery, such as that of the Helots in Laconia, and the Penestæ in Thessaly, has been found full of danger and embarrassment, though the Spartans themselves are well satisfied with it.211 (It will be recollected that the Helots and Penestæ were not slaves bought and imported from abroad, as the slaves in Attica were, but conquered Hellenic communities who had been degraded from freedom into slavery, and from the condition of independent proprietorship into that of tributary tenants or serfs; but with the right to remain permanently on their lands, without ever being sold for exportation.) This form of slavery (where the slaves are of the same race and language, with reciprocal bonds of sympathy towards each other) Plato denounces as especially dangerous. Care must be taken that there shall be among the slaves as little fellowship of language and feelings as possible; but they must be well fed: moreover everything like cruelty and insolence in dealing with them must be avoided, even more carefully than in dealing with freemen. This he prescribes partly for the protection of the slave himself, but still more for the interest of the master: whose intrinsic virtue, or want of virtue, will be best tested by his behaviour as a master. The slaves must be punished judicially, when they deserve it. But the master must never exhort or admonish them, as he would address himself to a freeman: he must never say a word to them, except to give an order: above all, he must abstain from all banter and joking, either with male or female slaves.212 Many foolish masters indulge in such behaviour, which emboldens the slaves to give themselves airs, and renders the task of governing them almost impracticable.213

Mode of life prescribed to new-married couples They are to take the best care about good procreation for the city.

Board of superintending matrons.

Plato next proceeds to regulate the mode of life proper for all his new-married couples. He proclaims broadly that large interference with private and individual life is unavoidable; and that no great public reform can be accomplished without it.215 He points out that this principle was nowhere sufficiently admitted: not even at Sparta, where it was carried farther than anywhere else. Even the Spartans and Kretans adopted the public mess-table only for males, and not for females.216 In Plato’s view, it is essential for both. He would greatly prefer (as announced already in his Republic) that it should be one and the same for both — males and females taking their meals together.

Age fixed for marriage. During the first ten years the couple are under obligation to procreate for the city — Restrictions during these ten years.

How infants are to be brought up — Nurses — Perpetual regulated movements — useful for toning down violent emotions.

The age of marriage is fixed at from thirty to thirty-five for males, from sixteen to twenty for females. The first ten years after marriage are considered as appropriated to the production of children for the city, and are subject to the strict supervision above mentioned. If any couple have no offspring for ten years, the marriage shall be dissolved by authority. After ten years the supervision is suspended, and the couple are left to themselves. If either of them shall commit an infidelity with another person still under the decennial restriction, the party so offending is liable to the same penalty as if he were still himself also under it.218 But if the person with whom infidelity is committed be not under that restriction, no penalty will be incurred beyond a certain general discredit, as compared with others whose conduct is blameless, and who will receive greater honour. However, Plato advises that nothing shall be said in the law respecting the conduct of married couples after the period of decennial restriction has elapsed, unless there be some grave scandal to call attention to the subject.219

Choric and orchestic movements, their effect in discharging strong emotions.

Plato now proceeds to treat about the children just born. The principle of separate family being admitted in the Treatise De Legibus, he refrains from promulgating any peremptory laws on this subject, because it is impossible for the lawgiver or the magistrate to enter into each private house, and to enforce obedience on such minute and numerous details: while it would be discreditable for him to command what he could not enforce, and it would moreover accustom citizens to disobey the law with impunity. Still, however, Plato220 thinks it useful to deliver some general advice, which he hopes that fathers and mothers will spontaneously follow. He begins with the infant as soon as born, and even before birth. The mother during pregnancy is admonished to take regular exercise; the infant when born must be carried about constantly in the nurse’s arms. The invigorating effects of such gestation are illustrated by the practice of Athenian cock-fighters, who cause the cocks while under training to be carried about under the arms of attendants in long walks.221 Besides that the nurses (slaves) must be strong women, there must also be more than one to each infant, in order that he may be sufficiently carried about. He must be kept in swaddling-clothes for the first two years, and must not be allowed to walk until he is three years of age.222 The perpetual movement and dandling, in the arms of the nurse, produces a good effect not only on the health and bodily force of the infant, but also upon his emotions.223 The infant ought to be kept (if it were possible) in movement as constant and unceasing as if he were on shipboard. Nurses know this by experience, when they lull to sleep an insomnious child, not by holding him still, but by swinging him about in their arms, and by singing a ditty. So likewise the insane and furious emotions inspired by Dionysus (also by Zeus, by the mother of the Gods, &c.) are appeased by the regulated movement, dance and music, solemnly performed at the ceremonial worship of the God who excited the emotions. These are different varieties of fear and perturbation: they are morbid internal movements, which we overpower and heal by muscular and rhythmical movements impressed from without, with appropriate music and religious solemnities.224

Training of boys and girls.

The comparison made here by Plato between the effect produced by these various religious ceremonies upon the mind of the votary, and that produced by the dandling of the nurse upon the perturbed child in her arms, is remarkable. In both, the evil is the same — unfounded and irrational fear — an emotional disturbance within: in both, the remedy is the same — regulated muscular movement and excitement from without: more gentle in the case of the infant, more violent in the case of the adult. Emotion is a complex fact, physical as well as mental; and the physical aspect and basis of it (known to Aristotle228 as well as to Plato) is here brought to view. To speak the language of modern science (with which their views here harmonise, in spite of their imperfect acquaintance with human anatomy), if the energies of the nervous system are overwrought within, they may be diverted into a new channel by bodily movements at once strenuous and measured, and may thus be discharged in a way tranquillising to the emotions. This is Plato’s theory about the healing effects of the choric and orchestic religious ceremonies of his day. The God was believed first to produce the distressing excitement within — then to suggest and enjoin (even to share in) the ceremonial movements for the purpose of relieving it. The votary is brought back from the condition of comparative madness to that of sober reason.229 Strong emotion of any kind is, in Plato’s view, a state of distemper. The observances here prescribed respecting wise regulation of the emotions, especially in young children, are considered by Plato as not being laws in the proper and positive sense, but as the unwritten customs, habits, rules, discipline, &c., upon which all positive laws repose and depend. Though they appear to go into excessive and petty details, yet unless they be well understood and efficaciously realised, the laws enacted will fail to attain their purpose.230

Musical and literary teaching for youth — Poetry, songs, music, dances, must all be fixed by authority, and never changed — Mischief done by poets aiming to please.

Pursuant to this view of the essential dependence of leges upon mores, Plato continues his directions about the training of children. From the age of three to six, the child must be supplied with amusements, under a gentle but sufficient controul. The children of both sexes will meet daily at the various temples near at hand, with discreet matrons to preside over them, and will find amusement for each other. At six years of age the boys and girls will be separated, and will be consigned to different male and female tutors. The boys shall learn riding, military exercise, and the use of the various weapons of war. The girls shall learn these very same things also, if it be possible. Plato is most anxious that they should learn, but he fears that the feelings of the community will not tolerate the practice.231 All the teaching will be conducted under the superintendence of teachers, female as well as male: competent individuals, of both sexes, being appointed to the functions of command without distinction.232 The children will be taught to use their left hands as effectively as their right.233 Wrestling shall be taught up to a certain point, to improve the strength and flexibility of the limbs; but elaborate wrestling and pugilism is disapproved. Imitative dancing, choric movements, and procession, shall also be taught, but always in arms, to familiarise the youth with military details.234

Boys and girls to learn letters and the lyre, from ten to thirteen years of age. Masters will teach the laws and homilies of the lawgiver, and licensed extracts from the poets.

Plato now enters upon the musical and literary teaching proper for the youthful portion of his community. Poetry, music, and dancing, as connected with the service and propitiation of the Gods, are in the first instance recreative and amusing; but they also involve serious consequences.235 It is most important to the community that these exercises should not only be well arranged, but that when arranged they should be fixed by authority, so as to prevent all innovations or deviations by individual taste. Plato here repeats, with emphasis, his commendation of the Egyptian practice to consecrate all the songs, dances, and festive ceremonies, and to tolerate no others whatever.236 Change is in itself a most serious evil, and change in one department provokes an appetite for change in all. Plato forbids all innovation, even in matters of detail, such as the shape of vessels or articles of furniture.237 He allows no poet to circulate any ode except such as is in full harmony with the declaration of the lawgiver respecting good and evil. All the old poems must be sifted and weeded. All new hymns and prayers to the Gods, even before they are shown to a single individual, must be examined by Censors above fifty years of age, in order that it may be seen whether the poet knows what he ought to praise or blame, and what he ought to pray for. In general, the poets do not know what is good and what is evil. By mistaken prayers — especially for wealth, which the lawgiver discountenances as prejudicial — they may bring down great mischief upon the city.238 Different songs must be composed for the two sexes: songs of a bold and martial character for males — of a sober and quiet character for females.239 But the poet must on no account cultivate “the sweet Muse,” or make it his direct aim to produce emotions delightful to the audience. The sound and useful music will always in the end become agreeable, provided the pupils hear it from their earliest childhood, and hear nothing else.240 Plato censures the tragic representations exhibited in the Grecian cities (at Athens, more than anywhere else) as being unseemly, and even impious, because, close to the altar where sacrifice was offered to the Gods, choric and dramatic performances of the most touching and pathetic character were exhibited. The poet who gained the prize was he who touched most deeply the tender emotions of the audience, and caused the greatest flow of tears among them. Now, in the opinion of Plato, the exhibition of so much human misery, and the communication of so much sorrowful sympathy, was most unsuitable to the festival day, and offensive to the Gods. It was tolerable only on the inauspicious days of the year, and when exhibited by hired Karian mourners, such as those who wailed loudly at funerals. The music at the festivals ought to have no emotional character, except that of gentle, kindly, auspicious cheerfulness.241

The teaching is to be simple, and common to both sexes.

At ten years old, the boys and girls (who have hitherto been exercised in recitation, singing, dancing, &c.) are to learn their letters, or reading and writing. They will continue this process until thirteen years old. They will learn the use of the lyre, for three years. The same period and duration is fixed for all of them, not depending at all upon the judgment or preference of the parents.242 It is sufficient if they learn to read and and write tolerably, without aiming to do it either quickly or very well. The boys will be marched to school at daybreak every morning, under the care of a tutor, who is chosen by the magistrate for the purpose of keeping them under constant supervision and discipline.243 The masters for teaching will be special persons paid for the duty, usually foreigners.244 They will be allowed to teach nothing except the laws and homilies of the lawgiver, together with any selections from existing poets which may be in full harmony with these.245 Plato here proclaims how highly he is himself delighted with his own string of homilies: which are not merely exhortations useful to be heard, but also have the charm of poetry, and have been aided by inspirations from the Gods.246 As for the poets themselves, whether serious or comic, whose works were commonly employed in teaching, being committed wholly or partially to memory — Plato repudiates them as embodying a large proportion of mischievous doctrine which his pupils ought never to hear. Much reading, or much learning, he discountenances as dangerous to youths.247

Rudiments of arithmetic and geometry to be taught.

The teaching of the harp and of music (occupying the three years from thirteen to sixteen, after the three preceding years of teaching letters) will not be suffered to extend to any elaborate or complicated combinations. The melody will be simple: the measure grave and dignified. The imitative movement or dancing will exhibit only the gestures and demeanour suitable to the virtuous man in the various situations of life, whether warlike or pacific:248 the subject-matter of the songs or hymns will be regulated (as above described) by censorial authority. The practice will be consecrated and unchangeable, under the supervision of a magistrate for education.249

Astronomy must be taught, in order that the citizens may not assert libellous falsehoods respecting the heavenly bodies.

Astronomy must be taught, in order that the citizens may not assert libellous falsehoods respecting the heavenly bodies.

Hunting — how far permitted or advised.

Astronomy must also be taught up to a certain point, in order that the youth may imbibe correct belief respecting those great Divinities — Hêlios, Selênê, and the Planets — or may at any rate be protected from the danger of unconsciously advancing false affirmations about them, discreditable to their dignity. The general public consider it impious to study the Kosmos and the celestial bodies, with a view to detect the causes of what occurs:256 while at the same time they assert that the movements of Hêlios and Selênê are irregular, and they call the planets Wanderers. Regular action is (in Plato’s view) the characteristic mark of what is good and perfect: irregularity is the foremost of all defects, and cannot without blasphemy be imputed to any of the celestial bodies. Moreover, many persons also assert untruly, that among the celestial bodies the one which is really the slowest mover, moves the fastest — and that the one which is really the fastest mover, moves the slowest. How foolish would it appear (continues Plato) if they made the like mistake about the Olympic runners, and if they selected the defeated competitor, instead of the victor, to be crowned and celebrated in panegyrical odes! How offensive is such falsehood, when applied to the great Gods in the heavens! Each of them has in reality one uniform circular movement, though they appear to have many and variable movements. Our youth must be taught enough of astronomy to guard against such heresies. The study of astronomy up to this point, far from being impious, is indispensable as a safeguard against impiety.257 Plato intimates that these astronomical truths were of recent acquisition, even to himself.258

Large general sense which Plato gives to the word hunting.

In regard to hunting, Plato thinks that it is a subject on which positive laws are unsuitable or insufficient, and he therefore gives certain general directions which partake of the nature both of advice and of law. The good citizen (he says) is one who not only obeys the positive laws prescribed by the lawgiver, but who also conforms his conduct to the general cast of the lawgiver’s opinions: practising what is commended therein, abstaining from what is blamed.259 Plato commends one mode of hunting — the chase after quadrupeds: yet only with horses, dogs, javelins, &c., wherein both courage and bodily strength are improved — but not with nets or snares, where no such result is produced. He blames other modes — such as fishing and bird-snaring (especially by night). He blames still more emphatically theft and piracy, which he regards also as various modes of hunting.260

Number of religious sacrifices to be determined by lawgiver.

That all these processes — which Plato here includes as so many varieties of hunting — present to the mind, when they are compared, a common point of analogy, is not to be denied. The number of different comparisons which the mind can make between phenomena, is almost unlimited. Analogies may be followed from one to another, until at last, after successive steps, the analogy between the first and the last becomes faint or imperceptible. Yet the same word, transferred successively from the first to the last, conceals this faintness of analogy and keeps them all before the mind as one. To us, this extension of the word hunting to particular cases dissimilar in so many respects, appears more as poetical metaphor: to intelligent Greeks of the Sokratic school, it seemed a serious comparison: and to Plato, with his theory of Ideas, it ought to have presented a Real Idea or permanent One, which alone remained constant amidst an indefinite multitude of fugitive, shadowy, and deceptive, particulars. But though this is the consistent corollary, from Plato’s theory of Ideas, he does not so state it in the Treatise De Legibus, and probably he did not so conceive it. Critics have already observed that in this Treatise scarce any mention is made of the theory of Ideas. Plato had passed into other points of view: yet he neither formally renounces the points of view which we find in anterior dialogues, nor takes the trouble of reconciling them with the thoughts of the later dialogues. Whether there exists any Real, Abstract, Idea of Hunting, apart from the particular acts and varieties of hunting — is a question which he does not touch upon. Yet this is the main feature of the Platonic philosophy, and the main doctrine most frequently impugned by Aristotle as Platonic.

Military muster of the whole citizen population once in each month — men, women, and children.

Military muster of the whole citizen population once in each month — men, women, and children.

Gymnastic training must have reference to war, not to athletic prizes.

Regulation of sexual intercourse. Syssitia or public mess.

Plato prescribes that the gymnastic training in his community shall be such as to have a constant reference to war; and that elaborate bodily excellence, for the purpose simply of obtaining prizes at the public games, shall be discouraged. There will be foot-races, for men, for boys, and for young women up to twenty years of age — the men always running in full panoply.268 Horse-racing is permitted, but chariot-racing is discountenanced.269 There will also be practice with the bow and with other weapons of light warfare, in which the young women are encouraged to take part — yet not constrained, in deference to prevalent sentiment.270

Regulations about landed property — Boundaries — Limited power of fining by magistrates.

What is here proposed respecting the sexual appetite finds no approbation from Kleinias, since the customs in Krete were altogether different. But the Syssitia, or public mess-table for the citizens, are welcomed readily both by the Kretan and the Spartan. The Syssitia existed both in Krete and at Sparta; but were regulated on very different principles in one and in the other. Plato declines to discuss this difference, pronouncing it to be unimportant. But Aristotle informs us what it was; and shows that material consequences turned upon it, in reference to the citizenship at Sparta.274

Regulations about artisans — Distribution of the annual landed produce.

Regulations about artisans — Distribution of the annual landed produce.

Admission of resident Metics — conditions attached.

The distribution of the produce of land shall be made on a principle approaching to that which prevails in Krete.281 The total produce raised will be distributed into twelve portions, each equivalent to one month’s consumption. Each twelfth portion will then be divided into equal thirds. Two of these thirds will be consumed by the citizens, their families, their slaves, and their agricultural animals: the other third will be sold in the market for the consumption of artisans and strangers, who alone are permitted to buy it, all citizens being forbidden to do so. Each citizen will make the apportionment of his own two-thirds among freemen and slaves: a measured quantity shall then be given to each of the working animals.282 On the first of each month, the sale of barley and wheat will be made in the market-place, and every artisan or stranger will then purchase enough for his monthly consumption: the like on the twelfth of each month, for wine and other liquids — and on the twentieth of each month, for animals and animal products, such as wool and hides. Firewood may be purchased daily by any stranger or artisan, from the proprietors on whose lands the trees grow, and may be resold by him to other artisans: other articles can only be sold at the monthly market-days. The Agoranomi, or regulators of the market, will preside on those days, and will fix the spots on which the different goods shall be exposed for sale. They will also take account of the quantity which each man has for sale, fixing a certain price for each article. They will then adjust the entries of each man’s property in the public registers according to these new transactions. But if the actual purchases and sales be made at any rate different from what is thus fixed, the Agoranomi will modify their entries in the register according to the actual rate, either in plus or in minus. These entries of individual property in the public register will be made both for citizens and resident strangers alike.283

Offences and penal judicature — Procedure of the Dikasts.

Sacrilege, the gravest of all crimes. High Treason.

Plato now passes to the criminal code of his community: the determination of offences, penalties, and penal judicature. Serious and capital offences will be judged by the thirty-seven Nomophylakes, in conjunction with a Board of Select Dikasts, composed of the best among the magistrates of the preceding year.285 They will hear first the pleading of the accuser, next that of the accused: they will then proceed, in the order of seniority, to put questions to both these persons, sifting the matter of charge. Plato requires them to be active in this examination, and to get at the facts by mental effort of their own. They will take notes of the examination, then seal up the tablet, and deposit it upon the altar of Hestia. On the morrow they will reassemble and repeat their examination, hearing witnesses and calling for information respecting the affair. On the third day, again the like: after which they will deliver their verdict on the altar of Hestia. Upon this altar two urns will be placed, for condemnation and acquittal: each Dikast will deposit his pebble in one or other of these, openly before the accuser and accused, and before the assembled citizens.286

Theft punished by pœna dupli. General exhortation founded by Plato upon this enactment.

The first and gravest of all crimes is Sacrilege: pillage or destruction of places or objects consecrated to the Gods. Next comes high treason: either betrayal of the city to foreign enemies, or overthrow of the established laws and government. Persons charged with these crimes shall be tried before the Select Dikasts, or High Court above constituted. If found guilty, they shall be punished either capitally or by such other sentence as the court may award. But no sentence either of complete disfranchisement or of perpetual banishment can be passed against any citizen, because every one of the 5040 lots of land must always remain occupied.288 Nor can any citizen be fined to any greater extent than what he possesses over and above his lot of land. He may be imprisoned, or flogged, or exposed in the pillory, or put to do penance in some sacred precinct. But his punishment shall noway extend to his children, unless persons of the same family shall be condemned to death for three successive generations. Should this occur, the family shall be held as tainted. Their lot of land shall be considered vacant, and assigned to some deserving young man of another citizen family.289

All unjust men are unjust involuntarily. — No such thing as voluntary injustice. Injustice depends upon the temper of the agent — Distinction between damage and injury.

Theft. — Plato next adverts to theft, and prescribes that the punishment for a convicted thief shall be one and the same in all cases — to compensate the party robbed to the extent of double the value of the property, or to be imprisoned until he does so.290 But upon a question upon this being raised, how far one and the same pœna dupli, neither more nor less, can be properly applied to all cases of theft, we are carried (according to the usual unsystematic manner of the Platonic dialogue) into a general discussion on the principles of penal legislation. We are reminded that the Platonic lawgiver looks beyond the narrow and defective objects to which all other lawgivers have hitherto unwisely confined themselves.291 He is under no pressing necessity to legislate at once: he can afford time for preliminary discussion and exposition: he desires to instruct his citizens respecting right and wrong, as well as to constrain their acts by penalty.292 As he is better qualified than the poets to enlighten them about the just and honourable, so the principles which he lays down ought to have more weight than the verses of Homer or Tyrtæus.293 In regard to Justice and Injustice generally, there are points on which Plato differs from the public, and also points on which the public are at variance with themselves. For example, every one is unanimous in affirming that whatever is just is also beautiful or honourable. But if this be true, then not only what is justly done, but also what is justly suffered, is beautiful or honourable. Now the penalty of death, inflicted on the sacrilegious person, is justly inflicted. It must therefore be beautiful or honourable: yet every one agrees in declaring it to be shocking and infamous. Here there is an inconsistency or contradiction in the opinions of the public themselves.294

Damage may be voluntary or involuntary — Injustice is shown often by conferring corrupt profit upon another — Purpose of punishment, to heal the distemper of the criminal.

Three distinct causes of misguided proceedings. 1. Painful stimulus. 2. Pleasurable stimulus. 3. Ignorance.

The real distinction therefore (according to Plato) is not between voluntary and involuntary injustice, but between voluntary and involuntary damage. Voluntary damage is injustice, but it is not voluntary injustice. The unjust agent, so far forth as unjust, acts involuntarily: he is under the perverting influence of mental distemper. He must be compelled to make good the damage which he has done, or to offer such requital as may satisfy the feelings of the person damaged: and he must besides be subjected to such treatment as will heal the distemper of his mind, so that he will not be disposed to do farther voluntary damage in future. And he ought to be subjected to this treatment equally, whether his mental distemper (injustice) has shown itself in doing wilful damage to another, or in conferring corrupt profit on another — in taking away another man’s property, or in giving away his own property wrongfully.298 The healing treatment may be different in different cases: discourses addressed, or works imposed — pleasures or pains, honour or disgrace, fine or otherwise. But in all cases the purpose is one and the same — to heal the distemper of his mind, and to make him hate injustice. If he be found incurable, he must be put to death. It is a gain for himself to die, and a still greater gain for society that he should die, since his execution will serve as a warning to others.299

The unjust man is under the influence either of the first or second of these causes, without controul of Reason. If he acts under controul of Reason, though the Reason be bad, he is not unjust.

Now the unjust man (Plato tells us) is he in whose mind either one or other of the two first causes are paramount, and not controuled by Reason: either Hatred, Anger, Fear — or else Appetite and the Desire of Pleasure. What he does under either of these two stimuli is unjust, whether he damages any one else or not. But if neither of these two stimuli be prevalent in his mind — if, on the contrary, both of them are subordinated to the opinion which he entertains about what is good and right — then everything which he does is just, even though he falls into error. If in this state of mind he hurts any one else, it will be simply hurt, not injustice. Those persons are incorrect who speak of it as injustice, but as involuntary injustice. The proceedings of such a man may be misguided or erroneous, but they will never be unjust.301

Reasoning of Plato to save his doctrine — That no man commits injustice voluntarily.

Peculiar definition of Injustice. A man may do great voluntary hurt to others, and yet not be unjust, provided he does it under the influence of Reason, and not of Appetite.

The distinction whereby Plato here proposes to save all inconsistency, is a distinction between misconduct or misguided actions (ἁμαρτήματα, or ἁμαρτανόμενα), and unjust actions (ἀδικήματα). The last of these categories is comprised by him in the first, as one species or variety thereof. That is, all ἀδικήματα are ἁμαρτήματα: but all ἁμαρτήματα are not ἀδικήματα. He reckons three distinct causes of ἁμαρτήματα: two belonging to the emotional department of mind; one to the intellectual. Those ἁμαρτήματα which arise from either of the two first causes are also ἀδικήματα: those which arise from the third are not ἀδικήματα.

Plato’s purpose in the Laws is to prevent or remedy not only injustice but misconduct.

Injustice being thus restricted to mean the separate and unregulated action of emotional impulse — and such unregulated action being, as a general fact, a cause of misery to the agent — Plato’s view is, that no man is voluntarily unjust: for no man wishes to be miserable. Every man wishes to be happy: therefore every man wishes to be just: because some controul of impulse by reason is absolutely essential to happiness. When once such controul is established, a man becomes just: he no longer commits injustice. But he may still commit misconduct, and very gross misconduct: moreover, this misconduct will be, or may be, voluntary. For though the rational soul be now preponderant and controuling over the emotional (which controul constitutes justice), yet the rational soul itself may be imperfectly informed (ignorance simple); or may not only be ignorant, but preoccupied besides with false persuasions and prejudices. Under such circumstances the just man may commit misconduct, and do serious hurt to others. What he does may be done voluntarily, in full coincidence with his own will: for the will postulates only the controul of reason over emotion, and here that condition is fulfilled, the fault lying with the controuling reason itself.

Varieties of homicide — modes of dealing with them penally.

The peculiar sense in which Plato uses the words justice and injustice is perplexing throughout this discussion. The words, as he uses them, coincide only in part with the ordinary meaning. They comprehend more in one direction, and less in another.

Homicide involuntary — Homicide under provocation.

Homicide voluntary.

After involuntary homicide, Plato passes to the case of homicide committed under violent passion or provocation; which he ranks as intermediate between the involuntary and the voluntary — approaching the one or the other, according to circumstances:311 according as it is done instantaneously, or with more or less of interval and premeditation. If the act be committed instantaneously, the homicide shall undergo two years’ exile: if after time for deliberation, the time of exile must be extended to three years.312 But if the slain person before his death shall have expressed forgiveness, the case shall be dealt with as one of involuntary homicide.313 Special enactments are made for the case of a slave killed by a citizen, a citizen killed by a slave, a son killed by his father, a wife by her husband, &c., under the influence of passion or strong provocation. Homicide in self-defence against a previous aggressor is allowed universally.314

Homicide between kinsmen.

Thirdly, Plato passes to the case of homicide voluntary, the extreme of injustice, committed under the influence of pleasure, appetite, envy, jealousy, ambition, fear of voluntary divulgation of dangerous secrets, &c. — homicide premeditated and unjust. Among all these causes, the chief and most frequent is love of wealth; which gets possession of most men, in consequence of the untrue and preposterous admiration of wealth imbibed in their youth from the current talk and literature. The next in frequency is the competition of ambitious men for power or rank.315 Whoever has committed homicide upon a fellow-citizen, under these circumstances, shall be interdicted from all the temples and other public places, and shall be indicted by the nearest relatives of the deceased. If found guilty, he shall be put to death: if he leave the country to evade trial, he must be banished in perpetuity. The nearest relative is bound to indict, otherwise he draws down upon himself the taint, and may himself be indicted. Certain sacrifices and religious ceremonies will be required in such cases, to accompany the legal procedure. These, together with the names of the Gods proper to invoke, will be prescribed by the Nomophylakes, in conjunction with the prophets and the Exêgêtæ, or religious interpreters.316 The Dikasts before whom such trials will take place are the Nomophylakes, together with some select persons from the magistrates of the past year: the same as in the case of sacrilege and treason.317 The like procedure and penalty will be employed against any one who has contrived the death of another, not with his own hands, but by suborning some third person: except that this contriver may be buried within the limits of the territory, while the man whose hands are stained with blood cannot be buried therein.318

Homicide justifiable — in what cases.

Infliction of wounds.

Infliction of blows.

Wounds. — Next to homicide, Plato deals with wounds inflicted: introducing his enactments by a preface on the general necessity of obedience to law.323 Whosoever, having intended to kill another (except in the special cases wherein homicide is justifiable), inflicts a wound which proves not mortal, is as criminal as if he had killed him. Nevertheless he is not required to suffer so severe a punishment, inasmuch as an auspicious Dæmon and Fortune have interposed to ward off the worst results of his criminal purpose. He must make full compensation to the sufferer, and then be exiled in perpetuity.324 The Dikastery will decide how much compensation he shall furnish. In general, Plato trusts much to the discretion of the Dikastery, under the great diversity of the cases of wounds inflicted. He would not have allowed so much discretion to the numerous and turbulent Dikasteries of Athens: but he regards his select Dikastery as perfectly trustworthy.325 Peculiar provision is made for cases in which the person inflicting the wound is kinsman or relative of the sufferer — also for homicide under the same circumstances. Plato also directs how to supply the vacancy which perpetual banishment will occasion in the occupation of one among the 5040 citizen-lots.326 If one man wounds another in a fit of passion, he must pay simple, double, or triple, compensation according as the Dikasts may award: he must farther do all the military duty which would have been incumbent on the wounded man, should the latter be disabled.327 But if the person inflicting the wound be a slave and the wounded man a freeman, the slave shall be handed over to the wounded freeman to deal with as he pleases. If the master of the slave will not give him up, he must himself make compensation for the wound, unless he can prove before the Dikastery that the case is one of collusion between the wounded freeman and the slave; in which case the wounded freeman will become liable to the charge of unlawfully suborning away the slave from his master.328

Plato has borrowed much from Attic procedure, especially in regard to Homicide — Peculiar view of Homicide at Athens, as to procedure.

Beating. — The laws of Plato on the subject of beating are more peculiar. They are mainly founded in reverence for age. One who strikes a person twenty years older than himself, is severely punished: but if he strikes a person of the same age with himself, that person must defend himself as he can with his own hands — no punishment being provided.329 For him who strikes his father or mother, the heaviest penalty, excommunication and perpetual banishment, is provided.330 If a slave strike a freeman, he shall be punished with as many blows as the person stricken directs, nevertheless in such manner as not to diminish his value to his master.331

Impiety or outrage offered to divine things or places.

Throughout all this Treatise De Legibus, in regard both to civil and criminal enactments, Plato has borrowed largely from Attic laws and procedure. But in regard to homicide and wounds, he has borrowed more largely than in any other department. Both the general character, and the particular details, of his provisions respecting homicide, are in close harmony with ancient Athenian sentiment, and with the embodiments of that sentiment by the lawgivers Drako and Solon. At Athens, though the judicial procedure generally, as well as the political constitution, underwent great modification between the time of Solon and that of Demosthenes, yet the procedure in the case of homicide remained without any material change. It was of a sanctified character, depending mainly upon ancient religious tradition. The person charged with homicide was not tried before the general body of Dikasts, drawn by lot, but before special ancient tribunals and in certain consecrated places, according to the circumstances under which the act of homicide was charged. The principal object contemplated, was to protect the city and its public buildings against the injurious consequences arising from the presence of a tainted man — and to mollify the posthumous wrath of the person slain. This view of the Attic procedure332 against homicide is copied by the Platonic. Plato keeps prominently in view the religious bearing and consequences of such an act; he touches comparatively little upon its consequences in causing distress and diminishing the security of life. He copies the Attic law both in the justifications which he admits for homicide, and in the sentence of banishment which he passes against both animals and inanimate objects to whom any man owes his death. He goes beyond the Attic law in the solemnity and emphasis of his details about homicide among members of the same family and relatives: as well as in the severe punishment which he imposes upon the surviving relatives of the person slain, if they should neglect their obligation of indicting.333 Throughout all this chapter, Plato not only follows the Attic law, but overpasses it, in dealing with homicide as a portion of the Jus Sacrum rather than of the Jus Civile.

All impiety arises from one or other of three heresies. 1. No belief in the Gods. 2. Belief that the Gods interfere very little. 3. Belief that they may be appeased by prayer and sacrifice.

All impiety arises from one or other of three heresies. 1. No belief in the Gods. 2. Belief that the Gods interfere very little. 3. Belief that they may be appeased by prayer and sacrifice.

Punishment for these three heretical beliefs, with or without overt act.

Heretic, whose conduct has been virtuous and faultless, to be imprisoned for five years, perhaps more.

Heretic with bad conduct — punishment to be inflicted.

Suppose the heretic, under either one of the three heads, to be found guilty of heresy pure and simple — but that his conduct has been just, temperate, unexceptionable, and his social dispositions steadily manifested, esteeming the society of just men, and shunning that of the unjust.339 There is still danger that by open speech or scoffing he should shake the orthodox belief of others: he must therefore be chained in the house of Correction for a term not less than five years. During this term no citizen whatever shall be admitted to see him, except the members of the Nocturnal Council of Magistrates. These men will constantly commune with him, administering exhortations for the safety of his soul and for his improvement. If at the expiration of the five years, he appears to be cured of his heresy and restored to a proper state of mind, he shall be set at liberty, and allowed to live with other proper-minded persons. But if no such cure be operated, and if he shall be found guilty a second time of the same offence, he shall suffer the penalty of death.340

No private worship or religious rites allowed. Every citizen must worship at the public temples.

Uncertain and mischievous action of the religious sentiment upon individuals, if not controuled by public authority.

As a still farther assurance for reaching and punishing these dangerous heretics, Plato enacts — No one shall erect any temple or altar, no one shall establish any separate worship or sacrifice, in his own private precincts. No one shall propitiate the Gods by secret prayer and sacrifice of his own. When a man thinks fit to offer prayer and sacrifice, he must do it at the public temples, through and along with recognised priests and priestesses. If a man keep in his house any sacred object to which he offers sacrifice, the archons shall require him to bring it into the public temples, and shall punish him until he does so. But if he be found guilty of sacrificing either at home or in the public temples, after the commission of any act which the Dikastery may consider grave impiety — he shall be condemned to death.344

Intolerant spirit of Plato’s legislation respecting uniformity of belief.

Intolerant spirit of Plato’s legislation respecting uniformity of belief.

The persons denounced by Plato as heretics, and punished as such, would have included a majority of the Grecian world.

We seem to be under a legislation imbued with the persecuting spirit and self-satisfied infallibility of mediaeval Catholicism and the Inquisition. The dissenter is a criminal, and among the worst of criminals, even if he do nothing more than proclaim his opinions.347 How striking is the contradiction between this spirit and that in which Plato depicts the Sokrates of the Phædon, the Apology, and the Gorgias! How fully does Sokrates in the Phædon348 recognise and respect the individual reason of his two friends, though dissenting from his own! How emphatically does he proclaim, in the Apology and Gorgias, not merely his own individual dissent from his fellow-citizens, but also his resolution to avow and maintain it against one and all, until he should hear such reasons as convinced him that it was untrue! How earnestly does he declare (in the Apology) that he has received from the Delphian God a mission to cross-examine the people of Athens, and that he will obey the God in preference to them:349 thus claiming to himself that special religious privilege which his accuser Melêtus imputes to him as a crime, and which Plato, in his Magnêtic colony, also treats as a crime, interdicting it under the severest penalties! During the interval of forty-five years (probably) between the trial of Sokrates and the composition of the Leges, Plato had passed from sympathy with the free-spoken dissenter to an opposite feeling — hatred of all dissent, and an unsparing employment of penalties for upholding orthodoxy. I have already remarked on the Republic, and I here remark it again — if Melêtus lived long enough to read the Leges, he would have found his own accusation of Sokrates amply warranted by the enactments and doctrines of the most distinguished Sokratic Companion.350

Proëm or prefatory discourse of Plato, for these severe laws against heretics.

It is true that the orthodoxy which Plato promulgates, and forbids to be impugned, in the Magnêtic community, is an orthodoxy of his own, different from that which was recognised at Athens; but this only makes the case more remarkable, and shows the deep root of intolerance in the human bosom — esteemed as it frequently is, by a sincere man, among the foremost of his own virtues. Plato marks out three varieties of heresy, punishable by long imprisonment, and subsequent death in case of obstinate persistence. Now under one or other of the three varieties, a large majority of actual Greeks would have been included. The first variety — those who did not believe the Gods to exist — was doubtless confined to a small minority of reflecting men; though this minority (according to Plato351), not contemptible even in number, was distinguished in respect to intellectual accomplishments. The second variety — that of those who believed the Gods to exist, but believed them to produce some results only, not all — was more numerous. And the third variety — that of those who believed them to be capable of being appeased or won over by prayer and sacrifice — was the most numerous of all. Plato himself informs us352 that this last doctrine was proclaimed by the most eminent poets, rhetors, prophets, and priests, as well as by thousands and tens of thousands besides. That prayer and sacrifice were means of appeasing the displeasure or unfavourable dispositions of the Gods — was the general belief of the Grecian world, from the Homeric times downwards. The oracles or individual prophets were constantly entreated to inform petitioners, what was the nature or amount of expiatory ceremony which would prove sufficient for any specific case; but that there was some sort of expiatory ceremony which would avail, was questioned by few sincere believers.353 All these would have been ranked as heretics by Plato. If the Magnêtic community had become a reality, the solitary cells of the Platonic Inquisition might have been found to include Anaxagoras, and most of the Ionic philosophers, under the first head of heresy; Aristotle and Epikurus under the second; Herodotus and Nikias under the third. Indeed most of the 5040 Magnêtic colonists must have adjusted anew their canon of orthodoxy in order to satisfy the exigence of the Platonic Censors.

The third variety of heresy is declared to be the worst — the belief in Gods persuadable by prayer and sacrifice.

To these severe laws and penalties against heretics, Plato prefixes a Proëm or Prologue of considerable length, commenting upon and refuting their doctrines. In the earlier part of this dialogue he had taken credit to himself for having been the first to introduce his legal mandates by a prefatory harangue, intended to persuade and conciliate the persons upon whom the mandate was imposed, and to procure cheerful obedience.354 For such a purpose the Proëm in the tenth Book would be badly calculated. But Plato here introduces it with a different view:355 partly to demonstrate a kosmical and theological theory, partly to excite alarm and repugnance in the heretics whom he marks out and condemns. How many among them might be convinced by Plato’s reasonings, I do not know; but the large majority of them could not fail to be offended and exasperated by the tone of his Proëm or prefatory discourse. Confessing his inability to maintain completely the calmness and dignity of philosophical discussion, he addresses them partly with passionate asperity, partly with the arrogant condescension of a schoolmaster lecturing indocile pupils. He describes them now as hateful and unprincipled men — now as presumptuous youths daring to form opinions before they are competent, and labouring under a distemper of reason;356 and this too, although he intimates that the first-named variety of heresy was adopted by most of the physical philosophers; and the third variety by many of the best poets, rhetors, prophets, and priests.357 Such unusual vehemence is justified by Plato on the ground of a virtuous indignation against the impugners of orthodox belief. We learn from the Platonic and Xenophontic Apologies, that Melêtus and Anytus, when they accused Sokrates of impiety before the Dikastery, indulged in the same invective, announced the same justification, and felt the same confidence that they were righteous champions of the national faith, against an impious and guilty assailant.

Heretics censured by Plato — Sokrates censured before the Athenian Dikasts.

Among the three varieties of heresy, Plato considers the third to be the worst. He accounts it a greater crime to believe in indulgent and persuadeable Gods, than not to believe in any Gods at all.358 Respecting the entire unbelievers, he acknowledges that a certain proportion are so from intellectual, not from moral, default: and that there are, among them, persons of blameless life and disposition.359 It must be remembered that the foremost of these unbelievers, and the most obnoxious to Plato, were the physical astronomers: those who did not agree with him in recognising the Sun, Moon, and Stars as animated and divine Beings — those who studied their movements as if they were mechanical agents. Plato gives a brief summary of various cosmogonic doctrines professed by these heretics, who did not recognise (he says) either God, or reason, or art, in the cosmogonic process; but ascribed to nature, chance, and necessity, the genesis of celestial and terrestrial substances, which were afterwards modified by human art and reason. Among these matters regulated by human art and reason, were included (these men said) the beliefs of each society respecting the Gods and religion, respecting political and social arrangements, respecting the just and the beautiful: though there were (they admitted) certain things beautiful by nature, yet not those which the lawgiver declared to be such. Lastly, these persons affirmed (Plato tells us) that the course of life naturally right was, for each man to seize all the wealth, and all the power over others, which his strength enabled him to secure, without any regard to the requirements of the law. And by such teaching they corrupted the minds of youth.360

Kosmological and Kosmogonical theory announced in Leges.

In so far as these heretics affirmed that right as opposed to wrong, just as opposed to unjust, true belief as opposed to false respecting the Gods, were determined by the lawgiver and not by any other authority — Plato has little pretence for blaming them: because he himself claims such authority explicitly in his Magnêtic community, and punishes severely not merely those who disobey his laws in act, but those who contradict his dogmas in speech or argument. Before he proclaims his intended punishments in a penal law, he addresses the heretics in a proëm or prefatory discourse intended to persuade or win them over: a discourse which was the more indispensable, since their doctrines (he tells us) were disseminated everywhere.362 If he seriously intended to persuade real dissentients, his attempt is certainly a failure: for the premisses on which he reasons are such as would not have been granted by them — nor indeed by many who agreed in the conclusion which he was himself trying to prove.

Soul — older, more powerful in the universe than Body. Different souls are at work in the universe — the good soul and the bad soul.

Plato’s argument is unsatisfactory and inconsistent.

The fundamental principle which he lays down (in this tenth Book De Legibus) is — That soul or mind is older, prior, and more powerful, than body. Soul is the principle of self-movement, activity, spontaneous change. Body cannot originate any movement or change by itself. It is simply passive, receiving movement from soul, and transmitting movement onward. The movement or change which we witness in the universe could never have begun at first, except through the originating spontaneity of soul. None of the four elements — earth, water, air, or fire — is endowed with any self-moving power.364 As soul is older and more powerful than body, so the attributes of soul are older and more powerful than those of body: that is, pleasure, pain, desire, fear, love, hatred, volition, deliberation, reason, reflection, judgment true or false — are older and more powerful than heat, cold, heaviness, lightness, hardness, softness, whiteness, sweetness, &c.365 The attributes and changes of body are all secondary effects, brought about, determined, modified, or suspended, by the prior and primitive attributes and changes of soul. In all things that are moved there dwells a determining soul: which is thus the cause of all effects however contrary — good and bad, just and unjust, honourable and base. But it is one variety of soul which works to good, another variety which works to evil.366 The good variety of soul works under the guidance of Νοῦς or Reason — the bad variety works irrationally.367 Now which of the two (asks Plato) directs the movements of the celestial sphere, the Sun, Moon, and Stars? Certainly, the good soul, and not the bad. This is proved by the nature and character of their movements: which movements are rotatory in a circle, and exactly uniform and equable. Now among all the ten different sorts of motion or change, rotatory motion in a circle is the one which is most akin or congenial to Reason.368 The motion of Reason, and the motion of the stars, is alike rotatory, and the same, and unchangeable — in the same place, round the same centre, and returning into itself. The bad soul, acting without reason, produces only irregular movements, intermittent, and accompanied by constant change of place.369 Though it is the good variety of soul which produces the celestial rotation, yet there are many distinct and separate souls, all of this same variety, which concur to the production of the result. The Sun, the Moon, and each of the Stars, has a distinct soul inherent in itself or peculiar to its own body.370 Each of these souls, invested in the celestial substance and in each of the visible celestial bodies, is a God: and thus all things are full of Gods.371

Reverence of Plato for uniform circular rotation.

In this argument — which Plato tells us that no man will be insane enough to dispute,372 and which he proclaims to be a triumphant refutation of the unbelievers — we find, instead of the extra-kosmical Demiurgus and pre-kosmical Chaos or necessity (the doctrine of the Platonic Timæus373), two opposing primordial forces both intra-kosmical: the good soul and the bad soul, there being a multiplicity of each. Though Plato here proclaims his conclusion with an unqualified confidence which contrasts greatly with the modest reserve often expressed in his Timæus — yet the conclusion is rather disproved than proved by his own premisses. It cannot be true that all things are full of Gods, since there are two varieties of soul existing and acting, the bad as well as the good: and Plato calls the celestial bodies Gods, as endowed with and moved by good and rational souls. Aristotle in his theory draws a marked distinction between the regularity and perfection of the celestial region, and the irregularity and imperfection of the terrestrial and sublunary: Plato’s premisses as here laid out would have called upon him to do the same, and to designate the Kosmos as the theatre of counteracting agencies, partly divine, partly not divine. So he terms it indeed in the Timæus.374

Argument of Plato to confute the second class of heretics.

Contrary doctrine of Plato in Republic.

Having demonstrated to his own full satisfaction, from the regularity of the celestial rotations, that the heavenly bodies are wise and good Gods, and that all things are full of Gods — Plato applies this conclusion to refute the second class of heretics — those who did not believe that the Gods directed all human affairs, the small things as well as the great;376 that is, the lot of each individual person as well as that of the species or of its component aggregates. He himself affirms that they direct all things. It is inconsistent with their attributes of perfect intelligence, power, and goodness (he maintains) that they should leave anything, either small or great, without regulation. All good human administrators, generals, physicians, pilots, &c., regulate all things, small and great, in their respective provinces: the Gods cannot be inferior to them, and must be held to do the same. They regulate every thing with a view to the happiness of the whole, in which each man has his share and interest; and each man has his special controuling Deity watching over his minutest proceedings, whether the individual sees it or not.377 Soul, both in its good variety and its bad variety, is essentially in change from one state to another, and passes from time to time out of one body into another. In the perpetual conflict between the good and the bad variety of soul, according as each man’s soul inclines to the better or to the worse, the Gods or Fate exalt it to a higher region or degrade it to a lower. By this means the Gods do the best they can to ensure triumph to virtue, and defeat to vice, in the entire Kosmos. This reference to the entire Kosmos is overlooked by the heretics who deny the all-pervading management of the Gods.378

Argument of Plato to refute the third class of heretics.

Plato gives here an outburst of religious eloquence which might prove impressive when addressed to fellow-believers — but which, if employed for the avowed purpose of convincing dissentients, would fail of its purpose, as involving assumptions to which they would not subscribe. As to the actual realities of human life, past as well as present, Plato himself always gives a very melancholy picture of them. “The heaven is full of good things, and also full of things opposite to good: but mostly of things not good.”379 Moreover, when we turn back to the Republic, we find Plato therein expressly blaming a doctrine very similar to what he declares true here in the Leges — as a dangerous heresy, although extensively believed, from the time of Homer downward. “Since God is good” (Plato had there affirmed380) “he cannot be the cause of all things, as most men pronounce him to be. He is the cause of a few things, but of most things he is not the cause: for the good things in our lot are much fewer than the evil. We must ascribe all the good things to him, but for the evil things we must seek some other cause, and not God.” The confessed imperfection of the actual result381 was one of the main circumstances urged by those heretics, who denied that all-pervading administration of the Gods which Plato in the Leges affirms.382 If he undertook to convince them at all, he would have done well to state and answer more fully their arguments, and to clear up the apparent inconsistencies in his own creed.

General belief in Greece about the efficacy of prayer and sacrifice to appease the Gods.

A similar criticism may be made still more forcibly, upon the demonstration whereby he professes to refute the third and most culpable class of heretics — “Those who believe that the Gods exercise an universal agency, but that they can be persuaded by prayer and conciliated by sacrifice”. Here he was treading on dangerous ground: for he was himself a heretic, by his own confession, if compared with Grecian belief generally. Not merely the ordinary public, but the most esteemed and religious persons among the public383 — poets, rhetors, prophets, and priests — believed the doctrine which he here so vehemently condemns. Moreover it was the received doctrine of the city384 — that is, it was assumed as the basis of the official and authorised religious manifestations: and the law of the city was recognised by the Delphian oracle385 as the proper standard of reference for individual enquirers who came there to ask for information on matters of doubtful religious propriety. In the received Grecian conception of religious worship, prayer and sacrifice were correlative and inseparable: sacrifice was the gift of man to the Gods, accompanying the prayer for gifts from the Gods to man, and accounted necessary to render the prayer efficacious.386 The priest was the professional person competent and necessary to give advice as to the details: but as a general principle, it was considered disrespectful to ask favours from the Gods without tendering to them some present, suitable to the means of the petitioner.

Incongruities of Plato’s own doctrine.

Plato himself states this view explicitly in his Politikus.387 Moreover, when a man desired information from the Gods on any contemplated project or on any grave matter of doubt, he sought it by means of sacrifice.388 Such sacrifice was a debt to the God: and if it remained unpaid, his displeasure was incurred.389 The motive for sacrificing to the Gods was thus, not simply to ensure the granting of prayers, but to pay a debt: and thus either to prevent or to appease the wrath of the Gods. The religious practice of Greece rested upon the received belief that the Gods were not merely pleased with presents, but exacted them as a mark of respect, and were angry if they were not offered: yet that being angry, their wrath might be appeased by acceptable presents and supplications.390 To learn what proceedings of this kind were suitable, a man went to consult the oracle, the priests, or the Exêgêtæ: in cases wherein he believed that he had incurred the displeasure of the Gods by any wrong or omission.391

Both Herodotus and Sokrates dissented from Plato’s doctrine.

Farthermore Plato does not scruple to notice393 it as a real proceeding of the Gods, that they executed the prayer or curse of Theseus, by bringing a cruel death upon the blameless youth Hippolytus; which Theseus himself is the first to deplore when he becomes acquainted with the true facts. That the Gods should inflict punishment on a person who did not deserve it, Plato accounts not unworthy of their dignity: but that they should remit punishment in any case where he conceives it to have been deserved, he repudiates with indignation. Though accessible and easily influenced by prayer and sacrifice from other persons, they are deaf and inexorable to those who have incurred their displeasure by wrong-doing.394 The prayer so offered is called by Plato a treacherous cajolery, the sacrifice a guilty bribe, to purchase their indulgence.395 Since, in human affairs, no good magistrate, general, physician, pilot, &c., will allow himself to be persuaded by prayers or presents to betray his trust: much less can we suppose (he argues) the Gods to be capable of such betrayal.396

Great opposition which Plato’s doctrine would have encountered in Greece.

The general doctrine, upon which Plato here lays so much stress, and the dissent from which he pronounces to be a capital offence — that the Gods, though persuadeable by every one else, were thoroughly unforgiving, deaf to any prayer or sacrifice from one who had done wrong — is a doctrine from which Sokrates397 himself dissented; and to which few of Plato’s contemporaries, perhaps hardly even himself, consistently adhered. The argument, upon which Plato rests for convincing all these numerous dissentients, is derived from his conception of the character and functions of the Gods. But this, though satisfactory to himself, would not have been granted by his opponents. The Gods were conceived by Herodotus as jealous, meddlesome, intolerant of human happiness beyond a narrow limit, and keeping all human calculations in a state of uncertainty:398 in this latter attribute Sokrates also agreed. He affirmed that the Gods kept all the important results essentially unpredictable by human study, reserving them for special revelations by way of prophecy to those whom they preferred. These were privileged and exclusive communications to favoured individuals, among whom Sokrates was one:399 and Plato, though not made a recipient of the same favour as Sokrates, declares his own full belief in the reality of such special revelations from the Gods, to particular persons and at particular places.400 Aristotle, on the other hand, pronounces action and construction, especially action in details, to be petty and unworthy of the Gods; whom he regards as employed in perpetual contemplation and theorising, as the only occupation worthy to characterise their blessed immortality.401 Epikurus and his numerous followers, though not agreeing with Aristotle in regarding the Gods as occupied in intellectual contemplation, agreed with him fully in considering the existence of the Gods as too dignified and enviable to be disturbed by the vexation of meddling with human affairs, or to take on the anxieties of regard for one man, displeasure towards another.

Local infallibility was claimed as a rule in each community, though rarely enforced with severity: Plato both claims it more emphatically, and enforces it more rigorously.

Local infallibility was claimed as a rule in each community, though rarely enforced with severity: Plato both claims it more emphatically, and enforces it more rigorously.

Farther civil and political regulations for the Magnêtic community. No evidence that Plato had studied the working of different institutions in practice.

Such opinions were local, traditional, and dissentient, among the numerous distinct cities and tribes which divided the inhabited earth between them in Plato’s time.403 Each of these claimed a local infallibility, principally as to religious rites and customs, indirectly also as to dogmas and creed: and Plato’s Magnêtic community, if it had come into existence, would have added one to the number of distinct varieties. To this general sentiment, deeply rooted in the emotions and unused to the scrutiny of reason, the philosophers were always more or less odious, as dissenters, enquirers, and critics, each on his own ground.404 At Athens the sentiment manifested itself occasionally in severe decrees and judicial sentences against obnoxious freethinkers, especially in the case of Sokrates. If the Athenians had carried out consistently and systematically the principle involved in their sentence against Sokrates, philosophy must have been banished from Athens.405 The school of Plato could never have been maintained. But the principle of intolerance was usually left dormant at Athens: philosophical debate continued active and unshackled, so that the school of Plato subsisted in the city without interruption for nearly forty years until his death. We might have expected that the philosophers, to whose security toleration of free dissent and debate was essential, would have upheld it as a general principle against the public. But here we find the most eminent among them, at the close of a long life, not only disallowing all liberty of philosophising to others, and assuming to himself the exclusive right of dictating the belief, as well as the conduct, of his imaginary citizens — but also enforcing this exclusive principle with an amount of systematic rigour, which I do not believe to have been equalled in any actual Grecian city. This is a memorable fact in the history of Grecian philosophy. The Stoic Kleanthes, in the century after Plato’s death, declared that the Samian astronomer Aristarchus ought to be indicted for impiety, because he had publicly advocated the doctrine of the Earth’s rotation round the Sun. Kleanthês and Plato thus stand out as known examples, among Grecian philosophers before the Christian era, of that intolerance which would apply legal penalties against individual dissenters and competitors.406

Modes of acquiring property — legitimate and illegitimate.

Plato’s general regulations leave little room for disputes about ownership.

Various modes of acquiring property are first forbidden as illegitimate. The maxim408 — “That which you have not put down, do not take up” — is rigorously enforced: any man who finds a buried treasure is prohibited from touching it, though he find it by accident and though the person who buried it be unknown. If a man violates this law, every one, freeman or slave, is invited and commanded to inform against him. Should he be found guilty, a special message must be sent to the Delphian oracle, to ask what is to be done both with the treasure and with the offender. So again, an article of property left on the highway is declared to be under protection of the Goddess or Dæmon of the Highway: whoever finds and takes it, if he be a slave, shall be severely flogged by any freeman above thirty years of age who meets him: if he be a freeman, he shall be disgraced and shall pay, besides, ten times its value to the person who left it.409 These are average specimens of Plato’s point of view and manner of handling offences respecting property.

Plato’s principles of legislation, not consistent — comparison of them with the Attic law about Eranoi.

The general constitution of Plato’s community restricts within comparatively narrow limits the occasions of proprietary dispute. His 5040 lots of land are all marked out, unchangeable, and indivisible, each possessed by one citizen. No man is allowed to acquire or possess movable property to a greater value than four times the lot of land: every article of property possessed by every man is registered by the magistrates. Disputes as to ownership, if they arise, are settled by reference to this register.410 If the disputed article be not registered, the possessor is bound to produce the seller or donor from whom he received it. All purchases and sales are required to take place in the public market before the Agoranomi: and all for ready-money, or by immediate interchange and delivery. If a man chooses to deliver his property, without receiving the consideration, or in any private place, he does so at his own risk: he has no legal claim against the receiver.411 So likewise respecting the Eranoi or Associations for mutual Succour and Benefit. Plato gives no legal remedy to a contributor or complainant respecting any matter arising out of these associations. He requires that every man shall contribute at his own risk: and trust for requital to the honesty or equity of his fellow-contributors.412

Regulations about slaves, and about freedmen.

A remark must here be made upon Plato’s refusal to allow any legal redress in such matters as sale on credit, or payments for the purpose of mutual succour and relief. Such refusal appears to contradict his general manner of proceeding: for his usual practice is, to estimate offences not according to the mischief which they inflict, but according to the degree of wickedness or impiety which he supposes them to imply in the doer. Now the contributor to an association for mutual succour, who, after paying his contributions for the aid of his associates, finds that they refuse to contribute to his aid when the hour of his necessity arrives — suffers not only heavy calamity but grievous disappointment: which implies very bad dispositions on the part of those who, not being themselves distressed, nevertheless refuse. Of such dispositions Plato takes no notice in the present case. He does not expatiate (as he does in many other cases far more trifling and disputable) upon the displeasure of the Gods when they see a man who has been benefited in distress by his neighbour’s contributions, refusing all requital at the time of that neighbour’s need. Plato indeed treats it as a private affair between friends. You do a service to your friend, and you must take your chance whether he will do you a service in return: you must not ask for legal redress, if he refuses: what you have contributed was a present voluntarily given, not a loan lent to be repaid. This is an intelligible point of view, but it excludes those ethical and sentimental considerations which Plato usually delights in enforcing.413 His ethics here show themselves by leading him to turn aside from that which takes the form of a pecuniary contract. It was in this form that the Eranoi or Mutual Assurance Associations were regarded by Attic judicature: that is, they seem to have been considered as a sort of imperfect obligation, which the Dikastery would enforce against any citizen whose circumstances were tolerably prosperous, but not against one in bad circumstances. Such Eranic actions before the Attic Dikastery were among those that enjoyed the privilege of speedy adjudication (ἔμμηνοι δίκαι).414

Provisions in case a slave is sold, having a distemper upon him.

The duties imposed by Plato on the freedman towards his former master — involving a formal recognition at least of the prior dependence, and some positive duties besides — are deserving of remark, as we know so little of the condition or treatment of this class of persons in antiquity.

Retailers. Strict regulations about them. No citizen can be a retailer.

Frauds committed by sellers — severe punishments on them.

In regard to Retail Selling, and to frauds committed either in sale or in barter, Plato provides or enjoins strict regulations. The profession of the retailer, and the function of money as auxiliary to it, he pronounces to be useful and almost indispensable to society, for the purpose of rendering different articles of value commensurable with each other, and of ensuring a distribution suitable to the requirements of individuals. This could not be done without retailers, merchants, hired agents, &c.417 But though retailing is thus useful, if properly conducted, it slides easily and almost naturally into cheating, lying, extortion, &c., from the love of money inherent in most men. Such abuses must be restrained: at any rate they must not be allowed to corrupt the best part of the community. Accordingly, none of the 5040 citizens will be allowed either to practise retailing, or to exercise any hired function, except under his own senior relatives, and of a dignified character. The discrimination of what is dignified and not dignified must be made according to the liking or antipathy of a court of honour, composed of such citizens as have obtained prizes for virtue.418 None must be permitted to sell by retail except metics or non-citizens: and these must be kept under strict watch by the Nomophylakes, who, after enquiring into the details of each article, will fix its price at such sum as will afford to the dealer a moderate profit.419

Comparison with the lighter punishment inflicted by Attic law.

If there be any fraud committed by the seller (which is nearly akin to retailing),420 Plato prescribes severe penalty. The seller must never name two prices for his article during the same day. He must declare his price: and if no one will give it, he must withdraw the article for the day.421 He is not allowed to praise his own articles, or to take any oath respecting them. If he shall take any oath, any citizen above thirty years of age shall be held bound to thrash him, and may do so with impunity: such citizen, if he neglect to thrash the swearer, will himself be amenable to censure for betraying the laws. If the seller shall sell a spurious or fraudulent article, the magistrates must be informed of it by any one cognizant. The informer, if a slave or a metic, shall be rewarded by having the article made over to him. If he be a citizen, he will receive the article, but is bound to consecrate it to the Gods who preside over the market: if being cognizant he omits to inform, he shall be proclaimed a wicked man, for defrauding the Gods of that to which they are entitled. The magistrates, on receiving information, will not only deprive the seller of the spurious article, but will cause him to be flogged by the herald in the market-place — one stripe for every drachma contained in the price demanded. The herald will publicly proclaim the reason why the flogging is given. Besides this, the magistrates will collect and write up in the market-place both regulations of detail for the sellers, and information to put buyers on their guard.422

Regulations about Orphans and Guardians: also about Testamentary powers.

Plato follows the analogy of Sparta in preference to that of Athens. Here, as elsewhere, he employs corporal punishment abundantly as a penalty. Here, as elsewhere, he not only prescribes that it shall be inflicted by a public agent under the supervision of magistrates, but also directs it to be administered, against certain offenders, by private unofficial citizens. I believe that this feature of his system would have been more repugnant than any other, to the feelings of all classes of Athenian citizens — to all the different types of character represented by Perikles, Nikias, Kleon, Isokrates, Demosthenes, and Sokrates. Abstinence from manual violence was characteristic of Athenian manners. Whatever licence might be allowed to the tongue, it was at least a substitute for the aggressive employment of the arm and hand. Athens exhibited marked respect for the sanctity of the person against blows — much equality of dealing between man and man — much tolerance, public as well as private, of individual diversity in taste and character — much keenness of intellectual and oral competition, liable to degenerate into unfair stratagem in political, forensic, professional, and commercial life, as well as in rhetorical, dialectical, and philosophical exercises. All these elements, not excepting even the first, were distasteful to Plato. But those who copy the disparaging judgment which he pronounces against Athenian manners, ought in fairness to take account of the point of view from which that judgment is delivered. To a philosopher whose ideal is depicted in the two treatises De Republicâ and De Legibus, Athenian society would appear repulsive enough. We learn from these two treatises what it was that a great speculative politician of the day desired to establish as a substitute.

Plato’s general coincidence with Attic law and its sentiment.

If the father dies intestate, leaving only daughters, the nearest relative who has no lot of his own shall marry one of the daughters, and succeed to the lot. The nearest is the brother of the deceased; next, the brother of the deceased’s wife (paternal and maternal uncles of the maiden); next, their sons; next, the parental and maternal uncle of the deceased father, and their sons. If all these relatives be wanting, the magistrates will provide a suitable husband, in order that the lot of land may not remain unoccupied.429 If a citizen die both intestate and childless, two of his nearest unmarried relatives, male and female, shall intermarry and succeed to his property: reckoning in the order of kinship above mentioned.430 In thus imposing marriage as a legal obligation upon persons in a certain degree of kinship, Plato is aware that there will be individual cases of great hardship and of repugnance almost insurmountable. He treats this as unavoidable: providing however that there shall be a select judicial Board of Appeal, before which persons who feel aggrieved by the law may bring their complaints, and submit their grounds for dispensation.431

Tutelage of Orphans — Disagreement of Married Couples — Divorce.

Neglect of Parents.

Respecting tutelage of orphans, he makes careful provision against abuse, as the Attic law also did: he tries also to meet the cases of family discord, where father and son are in bitter wrath against each other. A father may formally renounce his son, but not without previously obtaining the concurrence of a conseil de famille: if the father has become imbecile with age, and wastes his substance, the son may institute a suit as for lunacy, but not without the permission of the Nomophylakes.432 Respecting disagreement between married couples, ten of the Nomophylakes, together with ten women chosen as supervisors of marriages, are constituted a Board of reference,433 to obtain a reconciliation, if it be possible: but if this be impossible, then to divorce the couple, and unite each with some more suitable partner. The lawgiver must keep in view, as far as he can, to obtain from each married couple a sufficiency of children — that is, one male and one female child from each, whereby the total of 5040 lots may be kept up.434 If a husband loses his wife before he has these two children, the law requires him to marry another wife: but if he becomes a widower, having already the sufficiency of children, he is advised not to marry a second wife (who will become stepmother), though not prohibited from doing so, if he chooses. So also, if a woman becomes a widow, not having the sufficient number of children, she must be compelled to marry again: if she already has the sufficient number, she is directed to remain in the house, and to bring them up. In case she is still young, and her health requires a husband, her relatives will apply to the Female Supervisors of Marriage, and will make such arrangements as may seem advisable.435

Poison — Magic — Incantations — Severe punishment.

Punishment is inflicted with a view to future prevention or amendment.

As to the first mode, if the drug be administered by a physician, he must be put to death: if by one not a physician, the Dikasts will determine the nature of his punishment. And in the case of magical arts, or incantations, if the person who resorts to them be a prophet, or an inspector of prodigies, he must be put to death: another person doing the same will be punished at the discretion of the Dikasts. Here we see that the prophet is ranked as a professional person (the like appears in Homer) along with the physician,439 — who must know what he is about, while another person perhaps may not know. But Plato’s own opinion respecting magical incantations is delivered with singular reserve. He will neither avouch them nor reject them. He intimates that a man can hardly find out what is true on the subject; and even if he could, it would be harder still to convince others. Most men are in serious alarm when they see waxen statuettes hung at their doors or at their family tombs; and it is useless to attempt to tranquillise them by reminding them that they have no certain evidence on the subject.440 Here we see how Plato discourages the received legends and the current faith, when he believes them to be hurtful — as contrasted with his vehemence in upholding them when he thinks them useful: as in the case of the paternal curse, and the judgments of the Gods. The question of their truth is made to depend on their usefulness.441 The Gods are made to act exactly as he thinks they ought to act. They are not merely invoked, but positively counted on, as executioners of Plato’s ethical sentences.

Penalty for abusive words — for libellous comedy. Mendicity forbidden.

Respecting the second mode of damage — by theft or violence — Plato’s law forms a striking contrast to that which has been just set forth. The person who inflicts damage must repay it, or make full compensation for it, to the sufferer: small, if the damage be small — great, if it be great. Besides this, the guilty person must undergo some farther punishment with a view to correction or reformation. This will be smaller, if he be young and seduced by the persuasion of others; but it must be graver, if he be self-impelled by his own desires, fears, wrath, jealousy, &c. Understand, however (adds Plato), that such ulterior punishment is not imposed on account of the past misdeed — for the past cannot be recalled or undone — but on account of the future: to ensure that he shall afterwards hate wrong-doing, and that those who see him punished shall hate it also. The Dikasts must follow out in detail the general principle here laid down.442

Regulations about witnesses on judicial trials.

Censure of forensic eloquence, and the teachers of it. Penalties against contentious litigation.

The rules provided by Plato about witnesses in judicial trials and indictments for perjury, are pretty much the same as those prevalent at Athens: with some peculiarities. Thus he permits a free woman to bear witness, and to address the court in support of a party interested, provided she be above forty years of age. Moreover, she may institute a suit, if she have no husband: but not if she be married.445 A slave or a child may bear witness at a trial for murder; provided security be given that they will remain in the city to await an indictment for perjury, if presented against them.

Many of Plato’s laws are discharges of ethical antipathy. The antipathy of Melêtus against Sokrates was of the same character.

Among Plato’s prohibitions, we are not surprised to find one directed emphatically against forensic eloquence, and against those who professed to teach it. Every thing beneficial to man (says he) has its accompanying poison and corruption. Justice is a noble thing, the great civilising agent in human affairs: to aid any one in obtaining justice, is of course a noble thing also. But these benefits are grossly abused by men, who pretend to possess an art, whereby every one may be sure of judicial victory, either as principal or as auxiliary, whether his cause be just or unjust:— and who offer to teach this art to all who pay a stipulated price. Whether this be (as they pretend) a real art, or a mere inartificial knack — it would be a disgrace to our city, and must be severely punished. Whoever gives show of trying to pervert the force of justice in the minds of the Dikasts, or indulges in unseasonable and frequent litigation, or even lends his aid to other litigants — may be indicted by any citizen as guilty of abuse of justice, either as principal or auxiliary. He shall be tried before the Court of Select Judges: who, if they find him guilty, will decide whether he has committed the offence from love of money, or from love of contention and ambitious objects. If from love of contention, he shall be interdicted, for such time as the Court may determine, from instituting any suit at law on his own account as well as from aiding in any suit instituted by others.446 If from love of money, the citizen found guilty shall be capitally punished, the non-citizen shall be banished in perpetuity. Moreover the citizen convicted of committing this offence even from love of contention, if it be a second conviction for the offence, shall be put to death also.447

Penalty for abuse of public trust — wrongful appropriation of public money — evasion of military service.

The vague and undefined character of this offence, for which Plato denounces capital punishment, shows how much his penal laws are discharges of ethical antipathy and hostility against types of character conceived by himself — rather than measures intended for application, in which he had weighed beforehand the practical difficulties of singling out and striking the right individual. On this matter the Athenian public had the same ethical antipathy as himself; and Melêtus took full advantage of it, when he brought his accusation against Sokrates. We know both from the Apologies of Plato and Xenophon, and from the Nubes of Aristophanes — that Sokrates was rendered odious to the Athenian people and Dikasts, partly as heterodox and irreligious, but partly also as one who taught the art of using speech so as to make the worse appear the better reason. Both Aristophanes and Melêtus would have sympathised warmly with the Platonic law. If there had been any Solonian law to the same effect, which Melêtus could have quoted in his accusatory speech, his case against Sokrates would have been materially strengthened. Especially, he would have had the express sanction of law for his proposition of death as the penalty: a proposition to which the Athenian Dikasts would not have consented, had they not been affronted and driven to it by the singular demeanour of Sokrates himself when before them. It would be irrelevant here to say that Sokrates was not guilty of what was imputed to him: that he never came before the Dikastery until the time of his trial — and that he did not teach “the art of words”. If he did not teach it, he was at least believed to teach it, not merely by Aristophanes and by the Athenian Dikasts, but also by intelligent men like Kritias and Charikles,448 who knew him perfectly well: while the example of Antiphon shows that a man might be most acute and efficacious as a forensic adviser, without coming in person before the Dikastery.449 What the defence really makes us feel is, the indefinite nature of the charge: which is neither provable nor disprovable, and which is characterised, both by Xenophon and in the Platonic Apology, as one of the standing calumnies against all philosophising men.450 Here, in the Platonic Leges, this same unprovable offence is adopted and made capital: the Select Platonic Dikasts being directed to ascertain, not only whether a man has really committed it, but whether he has been impelled to commit it by love of money, or by love of victory and personal consequence.

Oaths. Dikasts, Judges, Electors, are to be sworn: but no parties to a suit, or interested witnesses, can be sworn.

Provision is farther made for punishing any omission of military service either by males or females, or any discreditable abandonment of arms.453 The orders of the military commander must be implicitly and exactly obeyed. The actions of all must be orderly, uniform, and simultaneous. Nothing can be more mischievous than that each should act for himself, separately and apart from others. This is confessedly true as to war; but it is no less essential as to the proceedings in peace.454 Suppression of individuality, and conversion of life into a perpetual, all-pervading, drill and discipline — is a favourite aspiration always present to Plato.

Regulations about admission of strangers, and foreign travel of citizens.

Plato forbids the parties in any judicial suit from swearing: they will present their case to the court, but not upon oath. No judicial oath is allowed to be taken by any one who has a pecuniary interest in the matter on hand. The Dikasts — the judges in all public competitions — the Electors before they elect to a public trust — are all to be sworn: but neither the parties to any cause, nor (seemingly) the witnesses. If oaths were taken on both sides, one or other of the parties must be perjured: and Plato considers it dreadful, that they should go on living with each other afterwards in the same city. In aforetime Rhadamanthus (he tells us) used to settle all disputes simply, by administering an oath to the parties: for in his time no one would take a false oath: men were then not only pious, but even sons or descendants of the Gods. But now (in the Platonic days) impiety has gained ground, and men’s oaths are no longer to be trusted, where anything is to be gained by perjury.456

Suretyship — Length of prescription for ownership, &c.

Suretyship — Length of prescription for ownership, &c.

Judicial trial — three stages. 1. Arbitrators. 2. Tribe-Dikasteries. 3. Select Dikastery.

Funerals — proceedings prescribed — expense limited.

Conservative organ to keep up the original scheme of the lawgiver. Nocturnal Council for this purpose — how constituted.

This Council must keep steadily in view the one great end of the city — Mistakes made by existing cities about the right end.

It is the special duty of this council, to serve as a perpetual embodiment of the original lawgiver, and to comprehend as well as to realise the main purpose for which the city was put together. The councillors must keep constantly in view this grand political end, as the pilot keeps in view safe termination of the voyage — as the military commander keeps in view victory, and the physician, recovery of health. Should the physician or the pilot either not know his end, or not know the conditions under which it may be attained — his labour will be in vain. So, if there does not exist in the city an authority understanding the great political end and the means (either by laws or human agents) of accomplishing it, the city will be a failure. Hence the indispensable necessity of the Nocturnal council, with members properly taught and organised.468

The one end of the city is the virtue of its citizens — that property which is common to the four varieties of Virtue — Reason, Courage, Temperance, Justice.

The Nocturnal Council must comprehend this unity of Virtue, explain it to others, and watch that it be carried out in detail.

The One End proposed by our city is, the virtue of its citizens. But virtue is fourfold, or includes four varieties — Courage, Prudence, Temperance, Justice. Our End is and must be One. The medical Reason has its One End, Good Health:471 the stratêgic Reason has its One End — Victory: What is that One End (analogous to these) which the political Reason aims at? It must be that in which the four cardinal virtues — Courage, Prudence, Temperance, Justice — are One, or coincide: that common property, possessed by all and by each, which makes them to be virtue, and constitutes the essential meaning of the name, Virtue. We must know the four as four, that is, the points of difference between them: but it is yet more important to know them as One — to discern the point of essential coincidence and union between them.472

They must also adopt, explain, and enforce upon the citizens, an orthodox religious creed. Fundamental dogmas of such creed.

To understand thoroughly this unity of virtue, so as to act upon it themselves, to explain it to others and to embody it in all their orders — is the grand requisite for the supreme Guardians of our city — the Nocturnal council. We cannot trust such a function in the hands of poets, or of visiting discoursers who announce themselves as competent to instruct youth. It cannot be confided to any less authority than the chosen men — the head and senses — of our city, properly and specially trained to exercise it.473 Upon this depends the entire success or failure of our results. Our guardians must be taught to see that one Idea which pervades the Multiple and the Diverse:474 to keep it steadily before their own eyes, and to explain and illustrate it in discourse to others. They must contemplate the point of coincidence and unity between Courage, Prudence, Temperance, Justice: as well as between the many different things called Beautiful, and the many different things called Good.475 They must declare whether the name Virtue, common to all the four, means something One — or a Whole or Aggregate — or both together.476 If they cannot explain to us whether Virtue is Manifold or Fourfold, or in what manner it is One — they are unfit for their task, and our city will prove a failure. To know the truth about these important matters — to be competent to explain and defend it to others — to follow it out in practice, and to apply it in discriminating what is well done and what is ill done — these are the imperative and indispensable duties of our Guardians.477

Leges close, without describing the education proper for the Nocturnal Counsellors. Epinomis — supplying this defect.

These are the capital religious or kosmical dogmas which the members of the Nocturnal Council must embrace and expound to others, together with the mathematical and musical teaching suitable to illustrate them. Application must be made of these dogmas to improve the laws and customs of the city, and the dispositions of the citizens.481

The Athenian declares his plan of education — Arithmetic, Geometry, Astronomy.

Theological view of Astronomy — Divine Kosmos — Soul more ancient and more sovereign than Body.

The Athenian — adverting to the circumstances of human life generally, as full of toil and suffering, with few and transient moments of happiness — remarks that none except the wise have any chance of happiness; and that few can understand what real wisdom is, though every one presumes that there must be something of the kind discoverable.483 He first enumerates what it is not. It is not any of the useful arts — husbandry, house-building, metallurgy, weaving, pottery, hunting, &c.: nor is it prophecy, or the understanding of omens: nor any of the elegant arts — music, poetry, painting: nor the art of war, or navigation, or medicine, or forensic eloquence: nor does it consist in the natural endowments of quick wit and good memory.484 True wisdom is something different from all these. It consists in arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, leading to a full comprehension of the regular movements of the Kosmos — combined with a correct religious creed as to the divine attributes of the Kosmos and its planetary bodies which are all pervaded and kept in harmonious rotation by divine, in-dwelling, soul or mind.485 It is the God Uranus (or Olympus, or Kosmos), with the visible Gods included therein, who furnishes to us not only the gifts of the seasons and the growth of food, but also varied intelligence, especially the knowledge of number, without which no other knowledge would be attainable.486 Number and proportion are essential conditions of every variety of art. The regular succession of night and day, and the regularly changing phases of the moon — the comparison of months with the year — first taught us to count, and to observe the proportions of numbers to each other.487

Improving effects of the study of Astronomy in this spirit.

The Athenian now enters upon the directly theological point of view, and re-asserts the three articles of orthodoxy which he had laid down in the tenth book of Leges: together with the other point of faith also — That Soul or Mind is older than body: soul is active and ruling — body, passive and subject. An animal is a compound of both. There are five elementary bodies — fire, air, æther, water, earth488 — which the kosmical soul moulded, in varying proportions, so as to form different animals and plants. Man, animals, and plants were moulded chiefly of earth, yet with some intermixture of the other elements: the stars were moulded chiefly from fire, having the most beautiful bodies, endowed with divine and happy souls, and immortal, or very long-lived.489 Next to the stars were moulded the Dæmons, out of æther, and inhabitants of that element: after them, the animals inhabiting air, and Nymphs inhabiting water. These three occupy intermediate place between the stars above and man below.490 They serve as media of communication between man and the Gods: and also for the diffusion of thought and intelligence among all parts of the Kosmos.491 The Gods of the ordinary faith — Zeus, Hêrê, and others — must be left to each person’s disposition, if he be inclined to worship them: but the great visible Kosmos, and the sidereal Gods, must be solemnly exalted and sanctified, with prayer and the holiest rites.492 Those astronomers who ignore this divine nature, and profess to explain their movements by physical or mechanical forces, are guilty of grave impiety. The regularity of their movements is a proof of their divine nature, not a proof of the contrary, as some misguided persons affirm.493

Study of arithmetic and geometry: varieties of proportion.

Study of arithmetic and geometry: varieties of proportion.

When the general forms of things have thus been learnt, particular individuals in nature must be brought under them.

Question as to education of the Nocturnal Council is answered in the Epinomis.

Lastly, having thus come to comprehend the general forms of things, we must bring under them properly the visible individuals in nature; and in this process interrogation and cross-examination must be applied (p. 991 C). We must learn to note the accurate regularity with which time brings all things to maturity, and we shall find reason to believe that all things are full of Gods (p. 991 D). We shall come to perceive that there is one law of proportion pervading every geometrical figure, every numerical series, every harmonic combination, and all the celestial rotations: one and the same bond of union among all (p. 991 E). These sciences, whether difficult or easy, must be learnt: for without them no happy nature will be ever planted in our cities (p. 992 A). The man who learns all this will be the truly wise and happy man, both in this life and after it; only a few men can possibly arrive at such happiness (p. 992 C). But it is these chosen few who, when they become Elders, will compose our Nocturnal Council, and maintain unimpaired the perpetual purity of the Platonic City.

Problem which the Nocturnal Council are required to solve, What is the common property of Prudence, Courage, Temperance, Justice, by reason of which each is called Virtue?

Problem which the Nocturnal Council are required to solve, What is the common property of Prudence, Courage, Temperance, Justice, by reason of which each is called Virtue?

The only common property is that all of them are essential to the maintenance of society, and tend to promote human security and happiness.

Tendency of the four opposite qualities to lessen human happiness.

The subjective matter of fact, implied by every one who designates an act or a person as virtuous, is an approving or admiring sentiment which each man knows in his own bosom. But Plato assumes that there is, besides this, an objective connotation: a common object or property to which such sentiment refers. What is that common object? I see no other except that which is indicated by the principle of Utility: I mean that principle which points out Happiness and Unhappiness, not merely of the agent himself, but also of others affected or liable to be affected by his behaviour, as the standard to which these denominations refer. Courage, Prudence, Temperance, Justice, all tend to prevention and mitigation of unhappiness, and to increase of happiness, as well for the agent himself as for the society surrounding him. The opposite qualities — Timidity, Imprudence, Intemperance, Injustice — tend with equal certainty either to increase positively the unhappiness of the agent and of society, or to remove the means for warding it off or abating it. Indeed there is a certain minimum of all the four — Courage, Prudence, Temperance, Justice — without which or below which neither society could hold together, nor the life of the individual agent himself could be continued.

A certain measure of all the four virtues is required. In judging of particular acts instigated by each, there is always a tacit reference to the hurt or benefit in the special case.

Plato places these four virtues in the highest scale of Expetenda or Bona, on the ground that all the other Bona are sure to flow from them.

When we speak of the four as qualities or attributes of men (as Plato does in this treatise, while considering the proper type of character which the lawgiver should aim at forming) we speak of them in the abstract — that is, making abstraction of particular circumstances, and regarding only what is common to most men in most situations. But in the realities of life these particulars are always present: there is a series of individual agents and patients, acts and sufferings, each surrounded by its own distinct circumstances and situation. Now in each of these situations an agent is held responsible for the consequences of his acts, when they are such as he knows and foresees, or might by reasonable care know and foresee. An officer who (like Charles XII. at Bender) marches up without necessity at the head of a corporal’s guard to attack a powerful hostile army of good soldiers, exhibits the maximum of courage: but his act, far from being commended as virtue, must be blamed as rashness, or pitied as folly. If a friend has deposited in my care a sword or other deadly weapon (to repeat the very case put by Sokrates497), justice requires me to give it back to him when he asks for it. Yet if, at the time when he asks, he be insane, and exhibits plain indications of being about to employ it for murderous purposes, my just restoration of it will not be commended as an act of virtue. When we look at these four qualities — Courage, Prudence, Temperance, Justice — not in the abstract, but in reference to particular acts, agents, and situations — we find that before a just or courageous act can be considered to deserve the name of Virtue, there is always a tacit supposition, that no considerable hurt to innocent persons is likely or predictable from it in the particular case. The sentiment of approbation, implied in the name Virtue, will not go along with the act, if in the particular case it produce a certain amount of predictable mischief. This is another property common to all the four attributes of mind — Courage, Prudence, Temperance, Justice:— and forming one of the conditions under which they become entitled to the denomination of Virtue.

In thus directing the attention of the Council to the common property of the four virtues, Plato enforces upon them the necessity of looking to the security and happiness of their community as the paramount end.

In the first books of the Leges, Plato498 puts forward Courage, Prudence, Temperance, Justice, as the parts or sorts of Virtue: telling us that the natural rectitude of laws consists in promoting, not any one of the four separately, but all the four together in their due subordination. He classifies good things (Bona or Expetenda) in a triple scale of value.499 First, and best of all, come the mental attributes — which he calls divine — Prudence or Intelligence, Temperance, Justice, and Courage: Second, or second best, come the attributes of body — health, strength, beauty, activity, manual dexterity: Third, or last, come the extraneous advantages, Wealth, Power, Family-Position, &c. It is the duty of the lawgiver to employ his utmost care to ensure to his citizens the first description of Bona (the mental attributes) — upon which (Plato says) the second and third description depend, so that if the first are ensured, the second and third will be certain to follow: while if the lawgiver, neglecting the first, aims at the second and third exclusively or principally, he will miss all three.500 Here we see, that while Plato assigns the highest scale of value to the mental attributes, he justifies such preference by assuring us that they are the essential producing causes of the other sorts of Bona. His assurance is even given in terms more unqualified than the realities of life will bear out.

But he enjoins also other objectionable ends.

Intolerance of Plato — Comparison of the Platonic community with Athens.

1 Plat. Repub. i. pp. 328 A, 350 D, 354 A.

2 Plato, Repub. i. pp. 330-331.

3 Plato, Repub. i. p. 331 C-D.

4 Sokrates here remarks that the precepts — Speak truth; Restore what has been confided to you — ought not to be considered as universally binding. Sometimes justice, or those higher grounds upon which the rules of justice are founded, prescribe that we should disobey the precepts. Sokrates takes this for granted, as a matter which no one will dispute; and it is evident that what Plato had here in his mind was, the obvious consideration that to tell the truth or restore a weapon deposited, to one who had gone mad, would do no good to any one, and might do immense mischief: thus showing that general utility is both the foundation and the limiting principle of all precepts respecting just and unjust. That this is present to the mind of Plato appears evident from his assuming the position as a matter of course; it is moreover Sokratic, as we see by the Memorabilia of Xenophon.

5 Plato, Republic, i. p. 332 D. ἡ οὖν δὴ τίσι τί ἀποδιδοῦσα τέχνη δικαιοσύνη ἂν καλοῖτο;

6 Plato, Republic, i. p. 332 E. ὁ δίκαιος ἐν τίνι πράξει καὶ πρὸς τί ἔργον δυνατώτατος φίλους ὠφελεῖν καὶ ἐχθροὺς βλάπτειν;

7 Plat. Repub. i. pp. 332-333. 333 E: Οὐκ ἂν οὖν πάνυ γέ τι σπουδαῖον εἴη ἡ δικαιοσύνη, εἰ πρὸς τὰ ἄχρηστα χρήσιμον ὂν τυγχάνει;

8 Plat. Repub. i. p. 334 B. ἔοικεν οὖν ἡ δικαιοσύνη … κλεπτική τις ρἶναι, ἐπ’ ὠφελείᾳ μέντοι τῶν φίλων, καὶ ἐπὶ βλάβῃ τῶν ἐχθρῶν.

9 Plato, Republic, i. p. 334 D.

10 Plato, Republic, i. pp. 335-336.

11 Here is a characteristic specimen of searching cross-examination in the Platonic or Sokratic style: citing multiplied analogies, and requiring the generalities of a definition to be clothed with particulars, that its sufficiency may be proved in each of many successive as well as different cases.

12 Homer, Iliad B 216. Respecting Thrasymachus the reader should compare Spengel — Συναγωγὴ Τεχνῶν — pp. 94-98: which abates the odium inspired by this picture in the Republic.

13 Plato, Repub. i. p. 337 C. Εἰ δ’ οὖν καὶ μὴ ἔστιν ὅμοιον, φαίνεται δὲ τῷ ἐρωτηθέντι τοιοῦτον, ἧττόν τι αὐτὸν οἴει ἀποκρινεῖσθαι τὸ φαινόμενον ἑαυτῷ, ἐάν τε ἡμεῖς ἀπαγορεύωμεν, ἐάν τε μή; Ἄλλο τι οὖν, ἔφη, καὶ σὺ οὕτω ποιήσεις; ὧν ἐγὼ ἀπεῖπον, τούτων τι ἀποκρινεῖ; Οὐκ ἂν θαυμάσαιμι, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ, εἴ μοι σκεψαμένῳ οὕτω δόξειεν.

14 Plato, Republic, i. p. 337 D.

15 Plato, Republic, i. pp. 338-339.

16 Plato, Republic, i. p. 339 B. ἐπειδὴ γὰρ ξυμφέρον γέ τι εἶναι καὶ ἐγὼ ὁμολογῶ τὸ δίκαιον, σὺ δὲ προστίθης καὶ αὐτὸ φὴς εἶναι τὸ τοῦ κρείττονος, ἐγὼ δὲ ἀγνοῶ, σκεπτέον δή.

17 Plato, Republic, i. p. 339 E.

18 Plato, Republic, i. p. 340 B.

19 Plato, Republic, i. p. 340 E. ἐπιλιπούσης γὰρ ἐπιστήμης ὁ ἁμαρτάνων ἁμαρτάνει, ἐν ᾧ οὔκ ἐστι δημιουργός· ὥστε δημιουργὸς ἢ σοφὸς ἢ ἄρχων οὐδεὶς ἁμαρτάνει τότε ὅταν ἄρχων ᾖ.

20 Plato, Republic, i. p. 342.

21 Plato, Republic, p. 345 B-C.

22 Plato, Republic, p. 343 B.

23 Plato, Republic, i. pp. 343-344.

24 Plato, Repub. i. pp. 345 A-348 A.

25 Plato, Republic, i. pp. 346-350.

26 Plato, Republic, i. pp. 351-352 D.

27 Plato, Republic, i. pp. 353-354 A.

28 Plato, Republic, i. fin. p. 354 C. ὥστε μοι γέγονεν ἐκ τοῦ διαλόγου μηδὲν εἰδέναι· ὁπότε γὰρ τὸ δίκαιον μὴ οἶδα ὃ ἐστι, σχολῇ εἴσομαι εἴτε ἀρετή τις οὖσα τυγχάνει εἴτε καὶ οὔ, καὶ πότερον ὁ ἔχων αὐτὸ οὐκ εὐδαίμων ἐστὶν ἢ εὐδαίμων.

29 Plato, Republic, ii. p. 357.

30 Plato, Republic, ii. p. 358.

31 Plato, Republic, ii. pp. 358-359.

32 Plato, Republic, ii. pp. 361-362.

33 Plato, Republic, ii. pp. 362-367.

34 Plato, Republic, ii. p. 364 A-B.

35 Plato, Republic, p. 364 C-E.

36 Plat. Rep. ii. pp. 365 E, 366 A.

37 Plat. Rep. ii. p. 365 B-D.

38 Plat. Rep. ii. p. 366 B-D.

39 Plat. Rep. ii. p. 366 D-E. πάντων ὑμῶν, ὅσοι ἐπαινέται φατὲ δικαιοσύνης εἶναι, ἀπὸ τῶν ἐξ ἀρχῆς ἡρώων ἀρξάμενοι, ὅσων λόγοι λελειμμένοι, μέχρι τῶν νῦν ἀνθρώπων, οὐδεὶς πώποτε ἔψεξεν ἀδικίαν οὐδ’ ἐπῄνεσε δικαιοσύνην ἄλλως ἢ δόξας τε καὶ τιμὰς καὶ δωρεὰς τὰς ἀπ’ αὐτῶν δυνάμει ἐν τῇ τοῦ ἔχοντος ψυχῇ ἐνὸν καὶ λανθάνον θεούς τε καὶ ἀνθρώπους, οὐδεὶς πώποτε οὔτ’ ἐν ποιήσει οὔτ’ ἐν ἰδίοις λόγοις ἐπεξῆλθεν ἱκανῶς τῷ λόγῳ, &c. Compare p. 362 E.

40 Plato, Republic, ii. p. 367 A. εἰ γὰρ οὔτως ἐλέγετο ἐξ ἀρχῆς ὑπὸ πάντων ὑμῶν, καὶ ἐκ νέων ἡμᾶς ἐπείθετε, οὐκ ἀν ἀλλήλους ἐφυλάττομεν μὴ ἀδικεῖν, ἀλλ’ αὐτὸς αὑτοῦ ἦν ἕκαστος φύλαξ, δεδιὼς μὴ ἀδικῶν τῷ μεγίστῳ κακῷ ξύνοικος ᾖ.

41 Plat. Rep. ii. p. 367 E. διότι πάντα τὸν βίον οὐδὲν ἄλλο σκοπῶν διελήλυθας ἢ τοῦτο (you, Sokrates).

42 Plat. Republic, ii. p. 367 C-D.

43 Plato, Republic, ii. pp. 368 seq.

44 Plato, Republic, ii. pp. 368-369.

45 Plato, Republic, ii. p. 369 A. τὴν τοῦ μείζονος ὁμοιότητα ἐν τῇ τοῦ ἐλάττονος ἰδέᾳ ἐπισκοποῦντες.

46 Plato, Republic, ii. p. 369.

47 Plato, Republic, ii. p. 371.

48 Plato, Republic, ii. p. 372 B-C. οὐχ ὑπὲρ τὴν οὐσίαν ποιούμενοι τοὺς παῖδας, εὐλαβούμενοι πενίαν ἢ πόλεμον.

49 Plato, Republ. ii. p. 372 A. ἐν αὐτῶν τούτων χρείᾳ τινὶ τῇ πρὸς ἀλλήλους.

50 Plato, Republic, ii. p. 373.

51 Plato, Republic, ii. p. 374.

52 Plato, Republic, ii. p. 414 B.

53 Plato, Republic, ii. p. 376.

54 Plato, Republic, ii. p. 376 E. Τίς οὖν ἡ παιδεία; ἢ χαλεπὸν εὑρεῖν βελτίω τῆς ὑπὸ τοῦ πολλοῦ χρόνου εὑρημένης ἔστι δέ που ἡ μὲν ἐπὶ σώμασι γυμναστική, ἡ δ’ ἐπὶ ψυχῇ μουσική.

55 Plato, Republ. ii. p. 377 C. ὧν δὲ νῦν λέγουσι τοὺς πολλοὺς ἐκβλητέον.

56 Plato, Republ. p. 378 D.

57 Plato, Republ. ii. p. 379 C. Οὐδ’ ἄρα ὁ θεός, ἐπειδὴ ἀγαθός, πάντων ἂν εἴη αἴτιος, ὡς οἱ πολλοὶ λέγουσιν, ἀλλ’ ὀλίγων μὲν τοῖς ἀνθρώποις αἴτιος, πολλῶν δὲ ἀναίτιος· πολὺ γὰρ ἐλάττω τἀγαθὰ τῶν κακῶν ἡμῖν. Καὶ τῶν μὲν ἀγαθῶν οὐδένα ἄλλον αἰτιατέον, τῶν δὲ κακῶν ἄλλ’ ἄττα δεῖ ζητεῖν τὰ αἴτια, ἀλλ’ οὐ τὸν θεόν.

58 Plato, Republic, ii. pp. 380-381.

59 Plato, Republic, ii. p. 382 C.

60 Plato, Republic, iii. pp. 386-387.

61 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 387 D-E.

62 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 388 B-E.

63 Plato, Republic, iii. pp. 390-391.

64 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 392 C.

65 Plato, Republic, iii. pp. 396-398.

66 Plato, Republic, iii. pp. 398-399.

67 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 400 A.

68 Plato, Republic, iii. pp. 400-401.

69 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 401 C-D.

70 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 402 A.

71 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 402 D-E.

72 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 403 C. δεῖ δέ που τελευτᾷν τὰ μουσικὰ εἰς τὰ τοῦ καλοῦ ἐρωτικά.

73 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 404 B.

74 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 405 D. φύσας τε καὶ κατάῤῥους νοσήμασιν ὀνόματα τίθεσθαι ἀναγκάζειν τοὺς κομψοὺς Ἀσκληπιάδας, οὐκ αἰσχρὸν δοκεῖ; Καὶ μάλ’, ἔφη, ὡς ἀληθῶς καινὰ ταῦτα καὶ ἄτοπα νοσημάτων ὀνόματα. Οἷα, ὡς οἶμαι, οὐκ ἦν ἐπ’ Ἀσκληπιοῦ. Also 406 C.

75 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 406 C. οὐδενὶ σχολὴ διὰ βίου κάμνειν ἰατρευομένῳ. 406 D: οὐ σχολὴ κάμνειν οὐδὲ λυσιτελεῖ οὕτω ζῆν, νοσήματι τὸν νοῦν προσέχοντα, τῆς δὲ προκειμένης ἐργασίας ἀμελοῦντα. 407 D-E: ἀλλὰ τὸν μὴ δυνάμενον ἐν τῇ καθεστηκυίᾳ περιόδῳ ζὴν, μὴ οἴεσθαι δεῖν θεραπεύειν, ὡς οὔτε αὑτῷ οὔτε πόλει λυσιτελῆ. P. 408 A.

76 Plato, Republic, iii. pp. 409-410.

77 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 411 D. Μισολόγος δὴ ὁ τοιοῦτος γίγνεται καὶ ἄμουσος, καὶ πειθοῖ μὲν διὰ λόγων οὐδὲν ἔτι χρῆται, &c.

78 Plato, Republic, iii. pp. 410-411.

79 Plato, Republ. iii. p. 412 C. Οὐκοῦν φρονίμους τε εἰς τοῦτο δεῖ ὑπάρχειν καὶ δυνατοὺς καὶ ἔτι κηδεμόνας τῆς πόλεως; Ἔστι ταῦτα. Κήδοιτο δέ γ’ ἄν τις μάλιστα τούτου ὃ τυγχάνοι φιλῶν. Ἀνάγκη. Καὶ μὴν τοῦτό γ’ ἂν μάλιστα φιλοῖ, ᾧ ξυμφέρειν ἡγοῖτο τὰ αὐτὰ καὶ ἑαυτῷ καὶ ὅταν μάλιστα ἐκείνου μὲν εὖ πράττοντος οἴοιτο ξυμβαίνειν καὶ ἑαυτῷ εἶ πράττειν, μὴ δέ, τοὐναντίον.

80 Plato, Republic, iii. pp. 413-414.

81 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 415 D.

82 Plato, Republic, iii. pp. 414-415.

83 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 414 B. Τίς ἂν οὖν ἡμῖν μηχανὴ γένοιτο τῶν ψευδῶν τῶν ἐν δέοντι γιγνομένων, ὧν δὴ νῦν ἐλέγομεν, γενναῖόν τι ἓν ψευδομένους πεῖσαι μάλιστα μὲν καὶ αὐτοὺς τοὺς ἄρχοντας, εἰ δὲ μή, τὴν ἄλλην πόλιν; … Μηδὲν καινόν, ἀλλὰ Φοινικικόν τι, πρότερον μὲν ἤδη πολλαχοῦ γεγονός, ὥς φασιν οἱ ποιηταὶ καὶ πεπείκασιν, ἐφ’ ἡμῶν δὲ οὐ γεγονὸς οὐδ’ οἶδα εἰ γενόμενον ἄν, πεῖσαι δὲ συχνῆς πειθοῦς.

84 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 415 C-D Τοῦτον οὖν τὸν μῦθον ὅπως ἂν πεισθεῖεν, ἔχεις τινὰ μηχανήν; Οὐδαμῶς, ἔφη, ὅπως γ’ ἂν αὐτοὶ οὗτοι· ὅπως μέντ’ ἂν οἱ τούτων υἱεῖς καὶ οἱ ἔπειτα, οἵ τ’ ἄλλοι ἄνθρωποι οἱ ὕστερον.

85 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 415 D. Καὶ τοῦτο μὲν δὴ ἕξει ὅπῃ ἂν αὐτὸ ἡ φήμη ἀγάγῃ.

86 Plato, Republic, iii. pp. 416-417.

87 Plato, Republic, iii. p. 417 A-B.

88 Plato, Republic, iv. pp. 420-421.

89 Plato, Republic, iv. p. 421 E.

90 Plato, Republic, iv. p. 422 B.

91 Plato, Republic, iv. p. 423 A.

92 Plato, Republic, iv. p. 424 A.

93 Plato, Republic, iv. pp. 425-426.

94 Plato, Republic, iv. p. 427 B. τὰ γὰρ δὴ τοιαῦτα οὔτ’ ἐπιστάμεθα ἡμεῖς, &c.

95 Plato, Republic, iv. pp. 427-428.

96 Plato, Republic, iv. pp. 428-429.

97 Plato, Republic, iv. pp. 429-430.

98 Plato, Republic, iv. pp. 431-432.

99 Plato, Republic, iv. pp. 432-433. 433 A: Καὶ μὴν ὅτι γε τὸ τὰ αὑτοῦ πράττειν καὶ μὴ πολυπραγμονεῖν δικαιοσύνη ἐστί, καὶ τοῦτο ἄλλων τε πολλῶν ἀκηκόαμεν, καὶ αὐτοὶ πολλάκις εἰρήκαμεν.

100 Plato, Republic, iv. p. 433 B. δοκεῖ μοι τὸ ὑπόλοιπον ἐν τῇ πόλει ὧν ἐσκέμμεθα, σωφροσύνης καὶ ἀνδρείας καὶ φρονήσεως, τοῦτο εἶναι ὃ πᾶσιν ἐκείνοις τὴν δύναμιν πάρεσχεν ὥστε ἐγγενέσθαι, καὶ ἐγγενομένοις γε σωτηρίαν παρέχειν, ἕως περ ἂν ἐνῇ.

101 Plato, Republic, iv. p. 433 D.

102 Plato, Republic, iv. p. 434 B-C. ἡ τριῶν ἄρα ὄντων γενῶν πολυπραγμοσύνη καὶ μεταβολὴ εἰς ἄλληλα, μεγίστη τε βλάβη τῇ πόλει καὶ ὀρθότατ’ ἂν προσαγορεύοιτο μάλιστα κακουργία … Κακουργίαν δὲ τὴν μεγίστην τῆς ἑαυτοῦ πόλεως οὐκ ἀδικίαν φήσεις εἶναι;…

103 Plato, Republic, iv. p. 435 C.

104 Plato, Republic, iv. p. 436 A.

105 Plato, Republic, iv. p. 437 A.

106 Plato, Republic, iv. p. 439 A-B.

107 Plato, Republic, iv. p. 439 E. Ταῦτα μὲν τοίνυν δύο ἡμῖν ὡρίσθω εἴδη ἐν ψυχῇ ἐνόντα, &c.

108 Plato, Republic, iv. pp. 440-441.

109 Plato, Republic, iv. pp. 441 C. τὰ αὐτὰ μὲν ἐν πόλει, τὰ αὐτὰ δ’ ἐν ἑνὸς ἑκάστου τῇ ψυχῇ γένη ἐνεῖναι, καὶ ἴσα τὸν ἀριθμόν. 443 D: τὰ ἐν τῇ ψυχῇ γένη, &c.

110 Plato, Republic, iv. pp. 441 E, 442 C. τῷ μὲν λογιστικῷ ἄρχειν προσήκει, σοφῷ ὄντι καὶ ἔχοντι τὴν ὑπὲρ ἁπάσης τῆς ψυχῆς προμήθειαν .… Σοφὸν δέ γε (ἕνα ἕκαστον καλοῦμεν) ἐκείνῳ τῷ σμικρῷ μέρει, τῷ ὃ ἦρχέ τ’ ἐν αὐτῷ καὶ ταῦτα παρήγγελλεν, ἔχον αὖ κἀκεῖνο ἐπιστήμην ἐν αὑτῷ τὴν τοῦ ξυμφέροντος ἑκάστῳ τε καὶ ὅλῳ τῷ κοινῷ σφῶν αὐτῶν τριῶν ὄντων.

111 Plato, Republic, iv. pp. 442 C, 443 B.

112 Plato, Republic, iv. pp. 442-443.

113 Plato, Republic, iv. p. 444 B-C.

114 Plato, Republic, iv. p. 445 A.

115 Plato, Republic, v. p. 449 C.

116 Plato, Republic, v. p. 452 A.

117 Plato, Republic, v. p. 452 D.

118 Plato, Republic, v. p. 455 C-D.

119 Plato, Republic, v. p. 456 C. κατὰ φύσιν ἐτίθεμεν τὸν νόμον· ἀλλὰ τὰ νῦν παρὰ ταῦτα γιγνόμενα παρὰ φύσιν μᾶλλον, ὡς ἔοικε, γίγνεται.

120 Plato, Republic, v. p. 457 B.

121 Plato, Republic, v. pp. 457-458.

122 Plato, Republic, v. p. 458 E.

123 Plato, Republic, v. p. 459 A.

124 Plato, Republic, v. p. 459 D-E. δεῖ μὲν ἐκ τῶν ὡμολογημένων τοὺς ἀρίστους ταῖς ἀρίσταις συγγίγνεσθαι ὡς πλειστάκις, τοὺς δὲ φαυλοτάτους ταῖς φαυλοτάταις τοὐναντίον, καὶ τῶν μὲν τὰ ἔκγονα τρέφειν, τῶν δὲ μή, εἰ μέλλει τὸ ποίμνιον ὅ, τι ἀκρότατον εἶναι· καὶ ταῦτα πάντα γιγνόμενα λανθάνειν πλὴν αὐτοὺς τοὺς ἄρχοντας, εἰ αὖ ἡ ἀγέλη τῶν φυλάκων ὅ, τι μάλιστα ἀστασίαστος ἔσται.

125 Plato, Republic, v. p. 460 A.

126 Plato, Republic, v. p. 460 B.

127 Plato, Republic, v. p. 460 C-D.

128 Plato, Republic, v. p. 461 A-B.

129 Plato, Republic, v. p. 461 C.

130 Plato, Republic, v. p. 461 D.

131 Plato, Republic, v. p. 462 D.

132 Plato, Republic, v. p. 464 B.

133 Plato, Republic, v. p. 464 D. πάντας εἰς τὸ δυνατὸν ὁμοπαθεῖς λύπης τε καὶ ἡδονῆς εἶναι.

134 Plato, Republic, v. p. 464 E.

135 Plato, Republic, v. p. 465 C. τῶν κακῶν … ὧν ἀπηλλαγμένοι ἂν εἶεν, κολακείας τε πλουσίων πένητες ἀπορίας τε καὶ ἀλγηδόνας, &c.

136 Plato, Republic, v. p. 465 D. Πάντων τε δὴ τούτων ἀπαλλάξονται, ζήσουσί τε τοῦ μακαριστοῦ βίου, ὃν οἱ Ὀλυμπιονῖκαι ζῶσι, μακαριώτερον.

137 Plato, Republic, v. p. 466 A-C.

138 Plato, Republic, v. pp. 466-467.

139 Plato, Republic, v. p. 468 B.

140 Plato, Republic, v. p. 469 B.

141 Plato, Republic, v. pp. 470-471.

142 Plato, Republic, v. pp. 471-472.

143 Plato, Republic, v. pp. 472-473.

144 Plato, Republic, v. p. 473 D.

145 Plato, Republic, v. p. 474 A-B.

146 Plato, Republic, v. pp. 474-475. τοὺς τῆς ἀληθείας φιλοθεάμονας (p. 475 E).

147 Plato, Republic, v. p. 476 A. Ἐπειδή ἐστιν ἐναντίον καλὸν αἰσχρῷ, δύο αὐτὼ εἶναι … Οὐκοῦν ἐπειδὴ δύο, καὶ ἓν ἐκάτερον; … Καὶ περὶ δικαίου καὶ ἀδίκου καὶ ἀγαθοῦ καὶ κακοῦ καὶ πάντων τῶν εἰδῶν πέρι, ὁ αὐτὸς λόγος, αὐτὸ μὲν ἓν ἕκαστον εἶναι, τῇ δὲ τῶν πράξεων καὶ σωμάτων καὶ ἀλλήλων κοινωνίᾳ πανταχοῦ φανταζόμενα πολλὰ φαίνεσθαι ἕκαστον;

148 Plato, Republic, v. p. 476 B.

149 Plato, Republic, v. p. 476 B.

150 Plato, Republic, v. p. 476 D. Οὐκοῦν τούτου μὲν τὴν διάνοιαν ὡς γιγνώσκοντος γνώμην ἂν ὀρθῶς φαῖμεν εἶναι, τοῦ δὲ δόξαν, ὡς δοξάζοντος.

151 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 484.

152 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 485 A.

153 Plato, Republic, vi. pp. 485-486.

154 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 487 B. Πρὸς μὲν ταῦτα σοι οὐδεὶς ἂν οἷός τ’ εἴη ἀντειπεῖν· ἀλλὰ γὰρ τοιόνδε τι πάσχουσιν οἱ ἀκούοντες ἑκάστοτε ἂ νῦν λέγεις· ἡγοῦνται δι’ ἀπειρίαν τοῦ ἐρωτᾷν τε καὶ ἀποκρίνεσθαι ὑπὸ τοῦ λόγου παρ’ ἕκαστον τὸ ἐρώτημα σμικρὸν παραγόμενοι, ἀθροισθέντων τῶν σμικρῶν ἐπὶ τελευτῆς τῶν λόγων, μέγα τὸ σφάλμα καὶ ἐναντίον τοῖς πρώτοις ἀναφαίνεσθαι, &c.

155 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 487 D.

156 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 488.

157 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 488 D-E.

158 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 489 B. τῆς μέντοι ἀχρηστίας τοὺς μὴ χρωμένους κέλευε αἰτιᾶσθαι, ἀλλὰ μὴ τοὺς ἐπιεικεῖς. Οὐ γὰρ ἔχει φύσιν κυβερνήτην ναυτῶν δεῖσθαι ἄρχεσθαι ὑφ’ αὑτοῦ, &c.

159 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 489 D. ἔκ τε τοίνυν τούτων καὶ ἐν τούτοις οὐ ῥᾴδιον εὐδοκιμεῖν τὸ βέλτιστον ἐπιτήδευμα ὑπὸ τῶν τἀναντία ἐπιτηδευόντων.

160 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 489 E. ὅτι οὐδὲ τούτου φιλοσοφία αἰτία, πειραθῶμεν δεῖξαι.

161 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 492 A. ἢ καὶ σὺ ἡγεῖ, ὥσπερ οἱ πολλοί, διαφθειρομένους τινὰς εἶναι ὑπὸ σοφιστῶν νέους, διαφθείροντας δέ τινας σοφιστὰς ἰδιωτικούς, ὅ, τι καὶ ἄξιον λόγον, ἀλλ’ οὐκ αὐτοὺς τοὺς ταῦτα λέγοντας μεγίστους μὲν εἶναι σοφιστάς; παιδεύειν δὲ τελεώτατα καὶ ἀπεργάζεσθαι οἵους βούλονται εἶναι καὶ νέους καὶ πρεσβυτέρους καὶ ἄνδρας καὶ γυναῖκας;

162 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 492 C-D. Καὶ φήσειν τε τὰ αὐτὰ τούτοις καλὰ καὶ αἰσχρὰ εἶναι, καὶ ἐπιτηδεύσειν ἅπερ ἂν οὗτοι, καὶ ἔσεσθαι τοιοῦτον … Καὶ μὴν οὕπω τὴν μεγίστην ἀνάγκην εἰρήκαμεν. Ποίαν; Ἓν ἔργῳ προστιθέασι, λόγῳ μὴ πείθοντες, οὗτοι οἱ παιδευταί τε καὶ σοφισταί. Ἢ οὐκ οἶσθα ὅτι τὸν μὴ πειθόμενον ἀτιμίαις τε καὶ χρήμασι καὶ θανάτοις κολάζουσιν; Καὶ μάλα, ἔφη, σφόδρα.

163 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 492 D.

164 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 493 A. ἕκαστον τῶν μισθαρνούντων ἰδιωτῶν, οὓς δὴ οὗτοι σοφιστὰς καλοῦσι καὶ ἀντιτέχνους ἡγοῦνται, μὴ ἄλλα παιδεύειν ἢ ταῦτα τὰ τῶν πολλῶν δόγματα, ἃ δοξάζουσιν ὅταν ἀθροισθῶσι, καὶ σοφίαν ταύτην καλεῖν.

165 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 493 C-D.

166 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 494 A. φιλόσοφον μὲν ἄρα πλῆθος ἀδύνατον εἶναι … Καὶ τοὺς φιλσοφοῦντας ἄρα ἀνάγκη ψέγεσθαι ὑπ’ αὐτῶν … καὶ ὑπὸ τούτων δὴ τῶν ἰδιωτῶν, ὅσοι προσομιλοῦντες ὄχλῳ ἀρέσκειν αὐτῷ ἐπιθυμοῦσιν.

167 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 494 B.

168 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 494 C. πληρωθήσεσθαι ἀμηχάνου ἐλπίδος, ἡγούμενον καὶ τὰ τῶν Ἑλλήνων καὶ τὰ τῶν βαρβάρων ἱκανὸν εἶναι πράττειν.

169 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 494 D-E. ἐὰν δ’ οὖν, διὰ τὸ εὖ πεφυκέναι καὶ τὸ ξυγγενὲς τῶν λόγων, εἶς αἰσθάνηταί τέ πῃ καὶ κάμπτηται καὶ ἕλκηται πρὸς φιλοσοφίαν, τί οἰόμεθα δράσειν ἐκείνους τοὺς ἡγουμένους ἀπολλύναι αὐτοῦ τὴν χρείαν τε καὶ ἑταιρείαν; οὐ πᾶν μὲν ἔργον, πᾶν δ’ ἔπος, λέγοντάς τε καὶ πράττοντας καὶ περὶ αὐτόν, ὅπως ἂν μὴ πεισθῇ, καὶ περὶ τὸν πείθοντα, ὅπως ἂν μὴ οἷός τ’ ᾖ, καὶ ἰδίᾳ ἐπιβουλεύοντας καὶ δημοσίᾳ εἰς ἀγῶνας καθίσταντας;

170 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 495 A-B.

171 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 495 C-D. καθορῶντες γὰρ ἄλλοι ἀνθρωπίσκοι κενὴν τὴν χώραν ταύτην γιγνομένην, καλῶν δὲ ὀνομάτων καὶ προσχημάτων μεστήν, ὥσπερ οἱ ἐκ τῶν εἰργμῶν εἰς τὰ ἱερὰ ἀποδιδράσκοντες, ἄσμενοι καὶ οὗτοι ἐκ τῶν τεχνῶν ἐκπηδῶσιν εἰς τὴν φιλοσοφίαν.

172 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 495 E.

173 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 496 A.

174 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 496 D.

175 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 496 C-D. καὶ τούτων δὴ τῶν ὀλίγων οἱ γευόμενοι καὶ γευσάμενοι ὡς ἡδὺ καὶ μακάριον τὸ κτῆμα, καὶ τῶν πολλῶν αὖ ἱκανῶς ἰδόντες τὴν μανίαν, καὶ ὅτι οὐδεὶς οὐδὲν ὑγιὲς, ὡς ἔπος εἰπεῖν, περὶ τὰ τῶν πόλεων πράττει, οὐδ’ ἔστι ξύμμαχος μεθ’ ὅτου τις ἰὼν ἐπὶ τὴν τῶν δικαίων βοήθειαν σώζοιτ’ ἄν, ἀλλ’ ὥσπερ εἰς θηρία ἄνθρωπος ἐμπεσών, οὔτε ξυναδικεῖν ἐθέλων οὔτε ἱκανὸς ὢν εἷς πᾶσιν ἀγρίοις ἀντέχειν, πρίν τι τὴν πόλιν ἢ φίλους ὀνησαι προαπολόμενος ἀνωφελὴς αὑτῷ τε καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις ἂν γένοιτο — ταῦτα πάντα λογισμῷ λαβῶν, ἡσυχίαν ἔχων καὶ τὰ αὐτοῦ πράττων … ὁρῶν τοὺς ἄλλους καταπιμπλαμένους ἀνομίας, ἀγαπᾷ εἴ πη αὐτὸς καθαρὸς ἀδικίας, &c.

176 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 497 A.

177 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 497 B-C.

178 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 498 A. Νῦν μὲν οἱ καὶ ἁπτόμενοι μειράκια ὄντα ἄρτι ἐκ παιδῶν τὸ μεταξὺ οἰκονομίας καὶ χρηματισμοῦ πλησιάσαντες αὐτοῦ τῷ χαλεπωτάτῳ ἀπαλλάττονται, οἱ φιλοσοφώτατοι ποιούμενοι· λέγω δὲ χαλεπώτατον τὸ περὶ τοὺς λόγους· ἐν δὲ τῷ ἔπειτα, ἐὰν καὶ ἄλλων τοῦτο πραττόντων παρακαλούμενοι ἐθέλωσιν ἀκροαταὶ γίγνεσθαι, μεγάλα ἡγοῦνται, πάρεργον οἰόμενοι αὐτὸ δεῖν πράττειν.

179 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 498 C.

180 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 498 E.

181 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 499 B-C.

182 Plato, Republic, vi. pp. 499-500.

183 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 500 C-D.

184 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 501 A.

185 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 502.

186 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 503.

187 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 504.

188 Plato, Republic, vi. p. 505 A. ὅτι γε ἡ τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ ἰδέα μέγιστον μάθημα πολλάκις ἀκήκοας, ᾖ δίκαια καὶ τἄλλα προσχρησάμενα χρήσιμα καὶ ὠφέλιμα γίγνεται, &c.