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Laws

by Plato · English · Gutenberg #1750 · 1,341,573 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Laws

Author: Plato

Translator: Benjamin Jowett


        
Release date: May 1, 1999 [eBook #1750]
                Most recently updated: October 29, 2008

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1750

Credits: Produced by Sue Asscher, and David Widger


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAWS ***




Produced by Sue Asscher





LAWS

By Plato


Translated By Benjamin Jowett




INTRODUCTION AND ANALYSIS.

The genuineness of the Laws is sufficiently proved (1) by more than
twenty citations of them in the writings of Aristotle, who was residing
at Athens during the last twenty years of the life of Plato, and who,
having left it after his death (B.C. 347), returned thither twelve years
later (B.C. 335); (2) by the allusion of Isocrates

(Oratio ad Philippum missa, p.84: To men tais paneguresin enochlein
kai pros apantas legein tous sunprechontas en autais pros oudena legein
estin, all omoios oi toioutoi ton logon (sc. speeches in the assembly)
akuroi tugchanousin ontes tois nomois kai tais politeiais tais upo ton
sophiston gegrammenais.) --writing 346 B.C., a year after the death
of Plato, and probably not more than three or four years after the
composition of the Laws--who speaks of the Laws and Republics written by
philosophers (upo ton sophiston); (3) by the reference (Athen.) of the
comic poet Alexis, a younger contemporary of Plato (fl. B.C 356-306), to
the enactment about prices, which occurs in Laws xi., viz that the same
goods should not be offered at two prices on the same day

     (Ou gegone kreitton nomothetes tou plousiou
     Aristonikou tithesi gar nuni nomon,
     ton ichthuopolon ostis an polon tini
     ichthun upotimesas apodot elattonos
     es eipe times, eis to desmoterion
     euthus apagesthai touton, ina dedoikotes
     tes axias agaposin, e tes esperas
     saprous apantas apopherosin oikade.

Meineke, Frag. Com. Graec.); (4) by the unanimous voice of later
antiquity and the absence of any suspicion among ancient writers worth
speaking of to the contrary; for it is not said of Philippus of Opus
that he composed any part of the Laws, but only that he copied them
out of the waxen tablets, and was thought by some to have written the
Epinomis (Diog. Laert.) That the longest and one of the best writings
bearing the name of Plato should be a forgery, even if its genuineness
were unsupported by external testimony, would be a singular phenomenon
in ancient literature; and although the critical worth of the consensus
of late writers is generally not to be compared with the express
testimony of contemporaries, yet a somewhat greater value may be
attributed to their consent in the present instance, because the
admission of the Laws is combined with doubts about the Epinomis,
a spurious writing, which is a kind of epilogue to the larger work
probably of a much later date. This shows that the reception of the Laws
was not altogether undiscriminating.

The suspicion which has attached to the Laws of Plato in the judgment
of some modern writers appears to rest partly (1) on differences in
the style and form of the work, and (2) on differences of thought and
opinion which they observe in them. Their suspicion is increased by the
fact that these differences are accompanied by resemblances as striking
to passages in other Platonic writings. They are sensible of a want
of point in the dialogue and a general inferiority in the ideas,
plan, manners, and style. They miss the poetical flow, the dramatic
verisimilitude, the life and variety of the characters, the dialectic
subtlety, the Attic purity, the luminous order, the exquisite urbanity;
instead of which they find tautology, obscurity, self-sufficiency,
sermonizing, rhetorical declamation, pedantry, egotism, uncouth forms
of sentences, and peculiarities in the use of words and idioms. They are
unable to discover any unity in the patched, irregular structure. The
speculative element both in government and education is superseded by
a narrow economical or religious vein. The grace and cheerfulness of
Athenian life have disappeared; and a spirit of moroseness and religious
intolerance has taken their place. The charm of youth is no longer
there; the mannerism of age makes itself unpleasantly felt. The
connection is often imperfect; and there is a want of arrangement,
exhibited especially in the enumeration of the laws towards the end of
the work. The Laws are full of flaws and repetitions. The Greek is in
places very ungrammatical and intractable. A cynical levity is displayed
in some passages, and a tone of disappointment and lamentation over
human things in others. The critics seem also to observe in them bad
imitations of thoughts which are better expressed in Plato's other
writings. Lastly, they wonder how the mind which conceived the Republic
could have left the Critias, Hermocrates, and Philosophus incomplete or
unwritten, and have devoted the last years of life to the Laws.

The questions which have been thus indirectly suggested may be
considered by us under five or six heads: I, the characters; II, the
plan; III, the style; IV, the imitations of other writings of Plato;
V; the more general relation of the Laws to the Republic and the other
dialogues; and VI, to the existing Athenian and Spartan states.

I. Already in the Philebus the distinctive character of Socrates has
disappeared; and in the Timaeus, Sophist, and Statesman his function of
chief speaker is handed over to the Pythagorean philosopher Timaeus, and
to the Eleatic Stranger, at whose feet he sits, and is silent. More and
more Plato seems to have felt in his later writings that the character
and method of Socrates were no longer suited to be the vehicle of his
own philosophy. He is no longer interrogative but dogmatic; not 'a
hesitating enquirer,' but one who speaks with the authority of a
legislator. Even in the Republic we have seen that the argument which is
carried on by Socrates in the old style with Thrasymachus in the first
book, soon passes into the form of exposition. In the Laws he is nowhere
mentioned. Yet so completely in the tradition of antiquity is Socrates
identified with Plato, that in the criticism of the Laws which we find
in the so-called Politics of Aristotle he is supposed by the writer
still to be playing his part of the chief speaker (compare Pol.).

The Laws are discussed by three representatives of Athens, Crete, and
Sparta. The Athenian, as might be expected, is the protagonist or chief
speaker, while the second place is assigned to the Cretan, who, as
one of the leaders of a new colony, has a special interest in the
conversation. At least four-fifths of the answers are put into his
mouth. The Spartan is every inch a soldier, a man of few words himself,
better at deeds than words. The Athenian talks to the two others,
although they are his equals in age, in the style of a master
discoursing to his scholars; he frequently praises himself; he
entertains a very poor opinion of the understanding of his companions.
Certainly the boastfulness and rudeness of the Laws is the reverse of
the refined irony and courtesy which characterize the earlier dialogues.
We are no longer in such good company as in the Phaedrus and Symposium.
Manners are lost sight of in the earnestness of the speakers, and
dogmatic assertions take the place of poetical fancies.

The scene is laid in Crete, and the conversation is held in the course
of a walk from Cnosus to the cave and temple of Zeus, which takes place
on one of the longest and hottest days of the year. The companions start
at dawn, and arrive at the point in their conversation which terminates
the fourth book, about noon. The God to whose temple they are going is
the lawgiver of Crete, and this may be supposed to be the very cave
at which he gave his oracles to Minos. But the externals of the scene,
which are briefly and inartistically described, soon disappear, and we
plunge abruptly into the subject of the dialogue. We are reminded by
contrast of the higher art of the Phaedrus, in which the summer's day,
and the cool stream, and the chirping of the grasshoppers, and the
fragrance of the agnus castus, and the legends of the place are present
to the imagination throughout the discourse.

The typical Athenian apologizes for the tendency of his countrymen
'to spin a long discussion out of slender materials,' and in a similar
spirit the Lacedaemonian Megillus apologizes for the Spartan brevity
(compare Thucydid.), acknowledging at the same time that there may be
occasions when long discourses are necessary. The family of Megillus is
the proxenus of Athens at Sparta; and he pays a beautiful compliment to
the Athenian, significant of the character of the work, which, though
borrowing many elements from Sparta, is also pervaded by an Athenian
spirit. A good Athenian, he says, is more than ordinarily good, because
he is inspired by nature and not manufactured by law. The love of
listening which is attributed to the Timocrat in the Republic is also
exhibited in him. The Athenian on his side has a pleasure in speaking to
the Lacedaemonian of the struggle in which their ancestors were jointly
engaged against the Persians. A connexion with Athens is likewise
intimated by the Cretan Cleinias. He is the relative of Epimenides,
whom, by an anachronism of a century,--perhaps arising as Zeller
suggests (Plat. Stud.) out of a confusion of the visit of Epimenides
and Diotima (Symp.),--he describes as coming to Athens, not after the
attempt of Cylon, but ten years before the Persian war. The Cretan and
Lacedaemonian hardly contribute at all to the argument of which the
Athenian is the expounder; they only supply information when asked about
the institutions of their respective countries. A kind of simplicity or
stupidity is ascribed to them. At first, they are dissatisfied with the
free criticisms which the Athenian passes upon the laws of Minos and
Lycurgus, but they acquiesce in his greater experience and knowledge of
the world. They admit that there can be no objection to the enquiry; for
in the spirit of the legislator himself, they are discussing his laws
when there are no young men present to listen. They are unwilling to
allow that the Spartan and Cretan lawgivers can have been mistaken
in honouring courage as the first part of virtue, and are puzzled at
hearing for the first time that 'Goods are only evil to the evil.'
Several times they are on the point of quarrelling, and by an effort
learn to restrain their natural feeling (compare Shakespeare, Henry V,
act iii. sc. 2). In Book vii., the Lacedaemonian expresses a momentary
irritation at the accusation which the Athenian brings against the
Spartan institutions, of encouraging licentiousness in their women,
but he is reminded by the Cretan that the permission to criticize them
freely has been given, and cannot be retracted. His only criterion of
truth is the authority of the Spartan lawgiver; he is 'interested,'
in the novel speculations of the Athenian, but inclines to prefer the
ordinances of Lycurgus.

The three interlocutors all of them speak in the character of old
men, which forms a pleasant bond of union between them. They have the
feelings of old age about youth, about the state, about human things in
general. Nothing in life seems to be of much importance to them; they
are spectators rather than actors, and men in general appear to the
Athenian speaker to be the playthings of the Gods and of circumstances.
Still they have a fatherly care of the young, and are deeply impressed
by sentiments of religion. They would give confidence to the aged by an
increasing use of wine, which, as they get older, is to unloose their
tongues and make them sing. The prospect of the existence of the soul
after death is constantly present to them; though they can hardly be
said to have the cheerful hope and resignation which animates Socrates
in the Phaedo or Cephalus in the Republic. Plato appears to be
expressing his own feelings in remarks of this sort. For at the time of
writing the first book of the Laws he was at least seventy-four years of
age, if we suppose him to allude to the victory of the Syracusans under
Dionysius the Younger over the Locrians, which occurred in the year 356.
Such a sadness was the natural effect of declining years and failing
powers, which make men ask, 'After all, what profit is there in life?'
They feel that their work is beginning to be over, and are ready to say,
'All the world is a stage;' or, in the actual words of Plato, 'Let us
play as good plays as we can,' though 'we must be sometimes serious,
which is not agreeable, but necessary.' These are feelings which have
crossed the minds of reflective persons in all ages, and there is no
reason to connect the Laws any more than other parts of Plato's writings
with the very uncertain narrative of his life, or to imagine that this
melancholy tone is attributable to disappointment at having failed to
convert a Sicilian tyrant into a philosopher.

II. The plan of the Laws is more irregular and has less connexion than
any other of the writings of Plato. As Aristotle says in the Politics,
'The greater part consists of laws'; in Books v, vi, xi, xii the
dialogue almost entirely disappears. Large portions of them are rather
the materials for a work than a finished composition which may rank with
the other Platonic dialogues. To use his own image, 'Some stones are
regularly inserted in the building; others are lying on the ground ready
for use.' There is probably truth in the tradition that the Laws were
not published until after the death of Plato. We can easily believe that
he has left imperfections, which would have been removed if he had
lived a few years longer. The arrangement might have been improved;
the connexion of the argument might have been made plainer, and the
sentences more accurately framed. Something also may be attributed
to the feebleness of old age. Even a rough sketch of the Phaedrus or
Symposium would have had a very different look. There is, however, an
interest in possessing one writing of Plato which is in the process of
creation.

We must endeavour to find a thread of order which will carry us through
this comparative disorder. The first four books are described by Plato
himself as the preface or preamble. Having arrived at the conclusion
that each law should have a preamble, the lucky thought occurs to him at
the end of the fourth book that the preceding discourse is the
preamble of the whole. This preamble or introduction may be abridged as
follows:--

The institutions of Sparta and Crete are admitted by the Lacedaemonian
and Cretan to have one aim only: they were intended by the legislator
to inspire courage in war. To this the Athenian objects that the true
lawgiver should frame his laws with a view to all the virtues and not
to one only. Better is he who has temperance as well as courage, than he
who has courage only; better is he who is faithful in civil broils,
than he who is a good soldier only. Better, too, is peace than war; the
reconciliation than the defeat of an enemy. And he who would attain all
virtue should be trained amid pleasures as well as pains. Hence
there should be convivial intercourse among the citizens, and a man's
temperance should be tested in his cups, as we test his courage amid
dangers. He should have a fear of the right sort, as well as a courage
of the right sort.

At the beginning of the second book the subject of pleasure leads to
education, which in the early years of life is wholly a discipline
imparted by the means of pleasure and pain. The discipline of pleasure
is implanted chiefly by the practice of the song and the dance. Of
these the forms should be fixed, and not allowed to depend on the fickle
breath of the multitude. There will be choruses of boys, girls, and
grown-up persons, and all will be heard repeating the same strain, that
'virtue is happiness.' One of them will give the law to the rest; this
will be the chorus of aged minstrels, who will sing the most beautiful
and the most useful of songs. They will require a little wine, to mellow
the austerity of age, and make them amenable to the laws.

After having laid down as the first principle of politics, that peace,
and not war, is the true aim of the legislator, and briefly discussed
music and festive intercourse, at the commencement of the third book
Plato makes a digression, in which he speaks of the origin of society.
He describes, first of all, the family; secondly, the patriarchal stage,
which is an aggregation of families; thirdly, the founding of regular
cities, like Ilium; fourthly, the establishment of a military and
political system, like that of Sparta, with which he identifies Argos
and Messene, dating from the return of the Heraclidae. But the aims of
states should be good, or else, like the prayer of Theseus, they may
be ruinous to themselves. This was the case in two out of three of the
Heracleid kingdoms. They did not understand that the powers in a state
should be balanced. The balance of powers saved Sparta, while the excess
of tyranny in Persia and the excess of liberty at Athens have been the
ruin of both...This discourse on politics is suddenly discovered to have
an immediate practical use; for Cleinias the Cretan is about to give
laws to a new colony.

At the beginning of the fourth book, after enquiring into the
circumstances and situation of the colony, the Athenian proceeds to make
further reflections. Chance, and God, and the skill of the legislator,
all co-operate in the formation of states. And the most favourable
condition for the foundation of a new one is when the government is
in the hands of a virtuous tyrant who has the good fortune to be
the contemporary of a great legislator. But a virtuous tyrant is a
contradiction in terms; we can at best only hope to have magistrates who
are the servants of reason and the law. This leads to the enquiry, what
is to be the polity of our new state. And the answer is, that we are to
fear God, and honour our parents, and to cultivate virtue and justice;
these are to be our first principles. Laws must be definite, and
we should create in the citizens a predisposition to obey them. The
legislator will teach as well as command; and with this view he will
prefix preambles to his principal laws.

The fifth book commences in a sort of dithyramb with another and higher
preamble about the honour due to the soul, whence are deduced the duties
of a man to his parents and his friends, to the suppliant and stranger.
He should be true and just, free from envy and excess of all sorts,
forgiving to crimes which are not incurable and are partly involuntary;
and he should have a true taste. The noblest life has the greatest
pleasures and the fewest pains...Having finished the preamble, and
touched on some other preliminary considerations, we proceed to the
Laws, beginning with the constitution of the state. This is not the best
or ideal state, having all things common, but only the second-best,
in which the land and houses are to be distributed among 5040 citizens
divided into four classes. There is to be no gold or silver among
them, and they are to have moderate wealth, and to respect number and
numerical order in all things.

In the first part of the sixth book, Plato completes his sketch of the
constitution by the appointment of officers. He explains the manner
in which guardians of the law, generals, priests, wardens of town
and country, ministers of education, and other magistrates are to be
appointed; and also in what way courts of appeal are to be constituted,
and omissions in the law to be supplied. Next--and at this point
the Laws strictly speaking begin--there follow enactments respecting
marriage and the procreation of children, respecting property in slaves
as well as of other kinds, respecting houses, married life, common
tables for men and women. The question of age in marriage suggests the
consideration of a similar question about the time for holding offices,
and for military service, which had been previously omitted.

Resuming the order of the discussion, which was indicated in the
previous book, from marriage and birth we proceed to education in the
seventh book. Education is to begin at or rather before birth; to be
continued for a time by mothers and nurses under the supervision of
the state; finally, to comprehend music and gymnastics. Under music is
included reading, writing, playing on the lyre, arithmetic, geometry,
and a knowledge of astronomy sufficient to preserve the minds of the
citizens from impiety in after-life. Gymnastics are to be practised
chiefly with a view to their use in war. The discussion of education,
which was lightly touched upon in Book ii, is here completed.

The eighth book contains regulations for civil life, beginning with
festivals, games, and contests, military exercises and the like. On such
occasions Plato seems to see young men and maidens meeting together,
and hence he is led into discussing the relations of the sexes, the evil
consequences which arise out of the indulgence of the passions, and the
remedies for them. Then he proceeds to speak of agriculture, of arts and
trades, of buying and selling, and of foreign commerce.

The remaining books of the Laws, ix-xii, are chiefly concerned with
criminal offences. In the first class are placed offences against the
Gods, especially sacrilege or robbery of temples: next follow offences
against the state,--conspiracy, treason, theft. The mention of thefts
suggests a distinction between voluntary and involuntary, curable and
incurable offences. Proceeding to the greater crime of homicide, Plato
distinguishes between mere homicide, manslaughter, which is partly
voluntary and partly involuntary, and murder, which arises from avarice,
ambition, fear. He also enumerates murders by kindred, murders by
slaves, wounds with or without intent to kill, wounds inflicted in
anger, crimes of or against slaves, insults to parents. To these,
various modes of purification or degrees of punishment are assigned, and
the terrors of another world are also invoked against them.

At the beginning of Book x, all acts of violence, including sacrilege,
are summed up in a single law. The law is preceded by an admonition, in
which the offenders are informed that no one ever did an unholy act or
said an unlawful word while he retained his belief in the existence of
the Gods; but either he denied their existence, or he believed that they
took no care of man, or that they might be turned from their course
by sacrifices and prayers. The remainder of the book is devoted to the
refutation of these three classes of unbelievers, and concludes with the
means to be taken for their reformation, and the announcement of their
punishments if they continue obstinate and impenitent.

The eleventh book is taken up with laws and with admonitions relating to
individuals, which follow one another without any exact order. There are
laws concerning deposits and the finding of treasure; concerning slaves
and freedmen; concerning retail trade, bequests, divorces, enchantments,
poisonings, magical arts, and the like. In the twelfth book the same
subjects are continued. Laws are passed concerning violations of
military discipline, concerning the high office of the examiners and
their burial; concerning oaths and the violation of them, and the
punishments of those who neglect their duties as citizens. Foreign
travel is then discussed, and the permission to be accorded to citizens
of journeying in foreign parts; the strangers who may come to visit
the city are also spoken of, and the manner in which they are to be
received. Laws are added respecting sureties, searches for property,
right of possession by prescription, abduction of witnesses, theatrical
competition, waging of private warfare, and bribery in offices. Rules
are laid down respecting taxation, respecting economy in sacred rites,
respecting judges, their duties and sentences, and respecting sepulchral
places and ceremonies. Here the Laws end. Lastly, a Nocturnal Council
is instituted for the preservation of the state, consisting of older and
younger members, who are to exhibit in their lives that virtue which is
the basis of the state, to know the one in many, and to be educated
in divine and every other kind of knowledge which will enable them to
fulfil their office.

III. The style of the Laws differs in several important respects from
that of the other dialogues of Plato: (1) in the want of character,
power, and lively illustration; (2) in the frequency of mannerisms
(compare Introduction to the Philebus); (3) in the form and rhythm of
the sentences; (4) in the use of words. On the other hand, there are
many passages (5) which are characterized by a sort of ethical grandeur;
and (6) in which, perhaps, a greater insight into human nature, and a
greater reach of practical wisdom is shown, than in any other of Plato's
writings.

1. The discourse of the three old men is described by themselves as an
old man's game of play. Yet there is little of the liveliness of a game
in their mode of treating the subject. They do not throw the ball to
and fro, but two out of the three are listeners to the third, who is
constantly asserting his superior wisdom and opportunities of knowledge,
and apologizing (not without reason) for his own want of clearness of
speech. He will 'carry them over the stream;' he will answer for them
when the argument is beyond their comprehension; he is afraid of their
ignorance of mathematics, and thinks that gymnastic is likely to be more
intelligible to them;--he has repeated his words several times, and yet
they cannot understand him. The subject did not properly take the form
of dialogue, and also the literary vigour of Plato had passed away. The
old men speak as they might be expected to speak, and in this there is
a touch of dramatic truth. Plato has given the Laws that form or want of
form which indicates the failure of natural power. There is no regular
plan--none of that consciousness of what has preceded and what is to
follow, which makes a perfect style,--but there are several attempts
at a plan; the argument is 'pulled up,' and frequent explanations are
offered why a particular topic was introduced.

The fictions of the Laws have no longer the verisimilitude which
is characteristic of the Phaedrus and the Timaeus, or even of the
Statesman. We can hardly suppose that an educated Athenian would have
placed the visit of Epimenides to Athens ten years before the
Persian war, or have imagined that a war with Messene prevented the
Lacedaemonians from coming to the rescue of Hellas. The narrative of the
origin of the Dorian institutions, which are said to have been due to
a fear of the growing power of the Assyrians, is a plausible invention,
which may be compared with the tale of the island of Atlantis and the
poem of Solon, but is not accredited by similar arts of deception.
The other statement that the Dorians were Achaean exiles assembled
by Dorieus, and the assertion that Troy was included in the Assyrian
Empire, have some foundation (compare for the latter point, Diod.
Sicul.). Nor is there anywhere in the Laws that lively enargeia, that
vivid mise en scene, which is as characteristic of Plato as of some
modern novelists.

The old men are afraid of the ridicule which 'will fall on their heads
more than enough,' and they do not often indulge in a joke. In one
of the few which occur, the book of the Laws, if left incomplete, is
compared to a monster wandering about without a head. But we no longer
breathe the atmosphere of humour which pervades the Symposium and the
Euthydemus, in which we pass within a few sentences from the broadest
Aristophanic joke to the subtlest refinement of wit and fancy; instead
of this, in the Laws an impression of baldness and feebleness is often
left upon our minds. Some of the most amusing descriptions, as, for
example, of children roaring for the first three years of life; or of
the Athenians walking into the country with fighting-cocks under their
arms; or of the slave doctor who knocks about his patients finely; and
the gentleman doctor who courteously persuades them; or of the way of
keeping order in the theatre, 'by a hint from a stick,' are narrated
with a commonplace gravity; but where we find this sort of dry humour we
shall not be far wrong in thinking that the writer intended to make us
laugh. The seriousness of age takes the place of the jollity of youth.
Life should have holidays and festivals; yet we rebuke ourselves when we
laugh, and take our pleasures sadly. The irony of the earlier dialogues,
of which some traces occur in the tenth book, is replaced by a severity
which hardly condescends to regard human things. 'Let us say, if you
please, that man is of some account, but I was speaking of him in
comparison with God.'

The imagery and illustrations are poor in themselves, and are not
assisted by the surrounding phraseology. We have seen how in the
Republic, and in the earlier dialogues, figures of speech such as 'the
wave,' 'the drone,' 'the chase,' 'the bride,' appear and reappear at
intervals. Notes are struck which are repeated from time to time, as
in a strain of music. There is none of this subtle art in the Laws. The
illustrations, such as the two kinds of doctors, 'the three kinds of
funerals,' the fear potion, the puppet, the painter leaving a successor
to restore his picture, the 'person stopping to consider where three
ways meet,' the 'old laws about water of which he will not divert the
course,' can hardly be said to do much credit to Plato's invention. The
citations from the poets have lost that fanciful character which gave
them their charm in the earlier dialogues. We are tired of images taken
from the arts of navigation, or archery, or weaving, or painting, or
medicine, or music. Yet the comparisons of life to a tragedy, or of
the working of mind to the revolution of the self-moved, or of the aged
parent to the image of a God dwelling in the house, or the reflection
that 'man is made to be the plaything of God, and that this rightly
considered is the best of him,' have great beauty.

2. The clumsiness of the style is exhibited in frequent mannerisms and
repetitions. The perfection of the Platonic dialogue consists in the
accuracy with which the question and answer are fitted into one another,
and the regularity with which the steps of the argument succeed one
another. This finish of style is no longer discernible in the Laws.
There is a want of variety in the answers; nothing can be drawn out
of the respondents but 'Yes' or 'No,' 'True,' 'To be sure,' etc.; the
insipid forms, 'What do you mean?' 'To what are you referring?' are
constantly returning. Again and again the speaker is charged, or charges
himself, with obscurity; and he repeats again and again that he will
explain his views more clearly. The process of thought which should
be latent in the mind of the writer appears on the surface. In several
passages the Athenian praises himself in the most unblushing manner,
very unlike the irony of the earlier dialogues, as when he declares that
'the laws are a divine work given by some inspiration of the Gods,' and
that 'youth should commit them to memory instead of the compositions of
the poets.' The prosopopoeia which is adopted by Plato in the Protagoras
and other dialogues is repeated until we grow weary of it. The
legislator is always addressing the speakers or the youth of the state,
and the speakers are constantly making addresses to the legislator. A
tendency to a paradoxical manner of statement is also observable. 'We
must have drinking,' 'we must have a virtuous tyrant'--this is too much
for the duller wits of the Lacedaemonian and Cretan, who at first start
back in surprise. More than in any other writing of Plato the tone is
hortatory; the laws are sermons as well as laws; they are considered to
have a religious sanction, and to rest upon a religious sentiment in the
mind of the citizens. The words of the Athenian are attributed to the
Lacedaemonian and Cretan, who are supposed to have made them their own,
after the manner of the earlier dialogues. Resumptions of subjects which
have been half disposed of in a previous passage constantly occur: the
arrangement has neither the clearness of art nor the freedom of nature.
Irrelevant remarks are made here and there, or illustrations used which
are not properly fitted in. The dialogue is generally weak and laboured,
and is in the later books fairly given up, apparently, because unsuited
to the subject of the work. The long speeches or sermons of the
Athenian, often extending over several pages, have never the grace
and harmony which are exhibited in the earlier dialogues. For Plato is
incapable of sustained composition; his genius is dramatic rather than
oratorical; he can converse, but he cannot make a speech. Even the
Timaeus, which is one of his most finished works, is full of abrupt
transitions. There is the same kind of difference between the dialogue
and the continuous discourse of Plato as between the narrative and
speeches of Thucydides.

3. The perfection of style is variety in unity, freedom, ease,
clearness, the power of saying anything, and of striking any note in the
scale of human feelings without impropriety; and such is the divine gift
of language possessed by Plato in the Symposium and Phaedrus. From this
there are many fallings-off in the Laws: first, in the structure of
the sentences, which are rhythmical and monotonous,--the formal and
sophistical manner of the age is superseding the natural genius of
Plato: secondly, many of them are of enormous length, and the latter end
often forgets the beginning of them,--they seem never to have received
the second thoughts of the author; either the emphasis is wrongly
placed, or there is a want of point in a clause; or an absolute case
occurs which is not properly separated from the rest of the sentence; or
words are aggregated in a manner which fails to show their relation to
one another; or the connecting particles are omitted at the beginning of
sentences; the uses of the relative and antecedent are more indistinct,
the changes of person and number more frequent, examples of pleonasm,
tautology, and periphrasis, antitheses of positive and negative, false
emphasis, and other affectations, are more numerous than in the other
writings of Plato; there is also a more common and sometimes unmeaning
use of qualifying formulae, os epos eipein, kata dunamin, and of double
expressions, pante pantos, oudame oudamos, opos kai ope--these are too
numerous to be attributed to errors in the text; again, there is an
over-curious adjustment of verb and participle, noun and epithet, and
other artificial forms of cadence and expression take the place of
natural variety: thirdly, the absence of metaphorical language is
remarkable--the style is not devoid of ornament, but the ornament is of
a debased rhetorical kind, patched on to instead of growing out of the
subject; there is a great command of words, and a laboured use of
them; forced attempts at metaphor occur in several passages,--e.g.
parocheteuein logois; ta men os tithemena ta d os paratithemena; oinos
kolazomenos upo nephontos eterou theou; the plays on the word nomos =
nou dianome, ode etara: fourthly, there is a foolish extravagance of
language in other passages,--'the swinish ignorance of arithmetic;' 'the
justice and suitableness of the discourse on laws;' over-emphasis; 'best
of Greeks,' said of all the Greeks, and the like: fifthly, poor and
insipid illustrations are also common: sixthly, we may observe an
excessive use of climax and hyperbole, aischron legein chre pros autous
doulon te kai doulen kai paida kai ei pos oion te olen ten oikian: dokei
touto to epitedeuma kata phusin tas peri ta aphrodisia edonas ou monon
anthropon alla kai therion diephtharkenai.

4. The peculiarities in the use of words which occur in the Laws have
been collected by Zeller (Platonische Studien) and Stallbaum
(Legg.): first, in the use of nouns, such as allodemia, apeniautesis,
glukuthumia, diatheter, thrasuxenia, koros, megalonoia, paidourgia:
secondly, in the use of adjectives, such as aistor, biodotes,
echthodopos, eitheos, chronios, and of adverbs, such as aniditi, anatei,
nepoivei: thirdly, in the use of verbs, such as athurein, aissein
(aixeien eipein), euthemoneisthai, parapodizesthai, sebein, temelein,
tetan. These words however, as Stallbaum remarks, are formed according
to analogy, and nearly all of them have the support of some poetical or
other authority.

Zeller and Stallbaum have also collected forms of words in the Laws,
differing from the forms of the same words which occur in other places:
e.g. blabos for blabe, abios for abiotos, acharistos for acharis,
douleios for doulikos, paidelos for paidikos, exagrio for exagriaino,
ileoumai for ilaskomai, and the Ionic word sophronistus, meaning
'correction.' Zeller has noted a fondness for substantives ending in
-ma and -sis, such as georgema, diapauma, epithumema, zemioma, komodema,
omilema; blapsis, loidoresis, paraggelsis, and others; also a use
of substantives in the plural, which are commonly found only in the
singular, maniai, atheotetes, phthonoi, phoboi, phuseis; also, a
peculiar use of prepositions in composition, as in eneirgo, apoblapto,
dianomotheteo, dieiretai, dieulabeisthai, and other words; also, a
frequent occurrence of the Ionic datives plural in -aisi and -oisi,
perhaps used for the sake of giving an ancient or archaic effect.

To these peculiarities of words he has added a list of peculiar
expressions and constructions. Among the most characteristic are the
following: athuta pallakon spermata; amorphoi edrai; osa axiomata pros
archontas; oi kata polin kairoi; muthos, used in several places of
'the discourse about laws;' and connected with this the frequent use
of paramuthion and paramutheisthai in the general sense of 'address,'
'addressing'; aimulos eros; ataphoi praxeis; muthos akephalos; ethos
euthuporon. He remarks also on the frequent employment of the abstract
for the concrete; e.g. uperesia for uperetai, phugai for phugades,
mechanai in the sense of 'contrivers,' douleia for douloi, basileiai
for basileis, mainomena kedeumata for ganaika mainomenen; e chreia ton
paidon in the sense of 'indigent children,' and paidon ikanotes; to
ethos tes apeirias for e eiothuia apeiria; kuparitton upse te kai kalle
thaumasia for kuparittoi mala upselai kai kalai. He further notes some
curious uses of the genitive case, e.g. philias omologiai, maniai orges,
laimargiai edones, cheimonon anupodesiai, anosioi plegon tolmai; and of
the dative, omiliai echthrois, nomothesiai, anosioi plegon tolmai; and
of the dative omiliai echthrois, nomothesiai epitropois; and also some
rather uncommon periphrases, thremmata Neilou, xuggennetor teknon for
alochos, Mouses lexis for poiesis, zographon paides, anthropon spermata
and the like; the fondness for particles of limitation, especially
tis and ge, sun tisi charisi, tois ge dunamenois and the like; the
pleonastic use of tanun, of os, of os eros eipein, of ekastote; and
the periphrastic use of the preposition peri. Lastly, he observes the
tendency to hyperbata or transpositions of words, and to rhythmical
uniformity as well as grammatical irregularity in the structure of the
sentences.

For nearly all the expressions which are adduced by Zeller as arguments
against the genuineness of the Laws, Stallbaum finds some sort of
authority. There is no real ground for doubting that the work was
written by Plato, merely because several words occur in it which are
not found in his other writings. An imitator may preserve the usual
phraseology of a writer better than he would himself. But, on the other
hand, the fact that authorities may be quoted in support of most of
these uses of words, does not show that the diction is not peculiar.
Several of them seem to be poetical or dialectical, and exhibit an
attempt to enlarge the limits of Greek prose by the introduction of
Homeric and tragic expressions. Most of them do not appear to have
retained any hold on the later language of Greece. Like several
experiments in language of the writers of the Elizabethan age, they were
afterwards lost; and though occasionally found in Plutarch and imitators
of Plato, they have not been accepted by Aristotle or passed into the
common dialect of Greece.

5. Unequal as the Laws are in style, they contain a few passages which
are very grand and noble. For example, the address to the poets: 'Best
of strangers, we also are poets of the best and noblest tragedy; for
our whole state is an imitation of the best and noblest life, which we
affirm to be indeed the very truth of tragedy.' Or again, the sight
of young men and maidens in friendly intercourse with one another,
suggesting the dangers to which youth is liable from the violence of
passion; or the eloquent denunciation of unnatural lusts in the same
passage; or the charming thought that the best legislator 'orders
war for the sake of peace and not peace for the sake of war;' or the
pleasant allusion, 'O Athenian--inhabitant of Attica, I will not say,
for you seem to me worthy to be named after the Goddess Athene because
you go back to first principles;' or the pithy saying, 'Many a victory
has been and will be suicidal to the victors, but education is never
suicidal;' or the fine expression that 'the walls of a city should
be allowed to sleep in the earth, and that we should not attempt to
disinter them;' or the remark that 'God is the measure of all things in
a sense far higher than any man can be;' or that 'a man should be from
the first a partaker of the truth, that he may live a true man as long
as possible;' or the principle repeatedly laid down, that 'the sins of
the fathers are not to be visited on the children;' or the description
of the funeral rites of those priestly sages who depart in innocence;
or the noble sentiment, that we should do more justice to slaves than
to equals; or the curious observation, founded, perhaps, on his own
experience, that there are a few 'divine men in every state however
corrupt, whose conversation is of inestimable value;' or the acute
remark, that public opinion is to be respected, because the judgments
of mankind about virtue are better than their practice; or the deep
religious and also modern feeling which pervades the tenth book
(whatever may be thought of the arguments); the sense of the duty of
living as a part of a whole, and in dependence on the will of God, who
takes care of the least things as well as the greatest; and the picture
of parents praying for their children--not as we may say, slightly
altering the words of Plato, as if there were no truth or reality in the
Gentile religions, but as if there were the greatest--are very striking
to us. We must remember that the Laws, unlike the Republic, do not
exhibit an ideal state, but are supposed to be on the level of human
motives and feelings; they are also on the level of the popular
religion, though elevated and purified: hence there is an attempt made
to show that the pleasant is also just. But, on the other hand, the
priority of the soul to the body, and of God to the soul, is always
insisted upon as the true incentive to virtue; especially with great
force and eloquence at the commencement of Book v. And the work of
legislation is carried back to the first principles of morals.

6. No other writing of Plato shows so profound an insight into the world
and into human nature as the Laws. That 'cities will never cease from
ill until they are better governed,' is the text of the Laws as well as
of the Statesman and Republic. The principle that the balance of power
preserves states; the reflection that no one ever passed his whole life
in disbelief of the Gods; the remark that the characters of men are best
seen in convivial intercourse; the observation that the people must be
allowed to share not only in the government, but in the administration
of justice; the desire to make laws, not with a view to courage only,
but to all virtue; the clear perception that education begins with
birth, or even, as he would say, before birth; the attempt to purify
religion; the modern reflections, that punishment is not vindictive, and
that limits must be set to the power of bequest; the impossibility of
undeceiving the victims of quacks and jugglers; the provision for water,
and for other requirements of health, and for concealing the bodies
of the dead with as little hurt as possible to the living; above all,
perhaps, the distinct consciousness that under the actual circumstances
of mankind the ideal cannot be carried out, and yet may be a guiding
principle--will appear to us, if we remember that we are still in the
dawn of politics, to show a great depth of political wisdom.

IV. The Laws of Plato contain numerous passages which closely resemble
other passages in his writings. And at first sight a suspicion arises
that the repetition shows the unequal hand of the imitator. For why
should a writer say over again, in a more imperfect form, what he had
already said in his most finished style and manner? And yet it may
be urged on the other side that an author whose original powers
are beginning to decay will be very liable to repeat himself, as in
conversation, so in books. He may have forgotten what he had written
before; he may be unconscious of the decline of his own powers. Hence
arises a question of great interest, bearing on the genuineness of
ancient writers. Is there any criterion by which we can distinguish
the genuine resemblance from the spurious, or, in other words, the
repetition of a thought or passage by an author himself from the
appropriation of it by another? The question has, perhaps, never been
fully discussed; and, though a real one, does not admit of a precise
answer. A few general considerations on the subject may be offered:--

(a) Is the difference such as might be expected to arise at different
times of life or under different circumstances?--There would be nothing
surprising in a writer, as he grew older, losing something of his own
originality, and falling more and more under the spirit of his
age. 'What a genius I had when I wrote that book!' was the pathetic
exclamation of a famous English author, when in old age he chanced to
take up one of his early works. There would be nothing surprising again
in his losing somewhat of his powers of expression, and becoming less
capable of framing language into a harmonious whole. There would also be
a strong presumption that if the variation of style was uniform, it was
attributable to some natural cause, and not to the arts of the imitator.
The inferiority might be the result of feebleness and of want of
activity of mind. But the natural weakness of a great author would
commonly be different from the artificial weakness of an imitator; it
would be continuous and uniform. The latter would be apt to fill his
work with irregular patches, sometimes taken verbally from the writings
of the author whom he personated, but rarely acquiring his spirit.
His imitation would be obvious, irregular, superficial. The patches
of purple would be easily detected among his threadbare and tattered
garments. He would rarely take the pains to put the same thought into
other words. There were many forgeries in English literature which
attained a considerable degree of success 50 or 100 years ago; but it is
doubtful whether attempts such as these could now escape detection,
if there were any writings of the same author or of the same age to
be compared with them. And ancient forgers were much less skilful than
modern; they were far from being masters in the art of deception, and
had rarely any motive for being so.

(b) But, secondly, the imitator will commonly be least capable of
understanding or imitating that part of a great writer which is most
characteristic of him. In every man's writings there is something like
himself and unlike others, which gives individuality. To appreciate
this latent quality would require a kindred mind, and minute study
and observation. There are a class of similarities which may be called
undesigned coincidences, which are so remote as to be incapable of
being borrowed from one another, and yet, when they are compared, find
a natural explanation in their being the work of the same mind. The
imitator might copy the turns of style--he might repeat images or
illustrations, but he could not enter into the inner circle of Platonic
philosophy. He would understand that part of it which became popular
in the next generation, as for example, the doctrine of ideas or of
numbers: he might approve of communism. But the higher flights of Plato
about the science of dialectic, or the unity of virtue, or a person who
is above the law, would be unintelligible to him.

(c) The argument from imitation assumes a different character when
the supposed imitations are associated with other passages having the
impress of original genius. The strength of the argument from undesigned
coincidences of style is much increased when they are found side by
side with thoughts and expressions which can only have come from a great
original writer. The great excellence, not only of the whole, but even
of the parts of writings, is a strong proof of their genuineness--for
although the great writer may fall below, the forger or imitator cannot
rise much above himself. Whether we can attribute the worst parts of a
work to a forger and the best to a great writer,--as for example, in the
case of some of Shakespeare's plays,--depends upon the probability that
they have been interpolated, or have been the joint work of two writers;
and this can only be established either by express evidence or by a
comparison of other writings of the same class. If the interpolation or
double authorship of Greek writings in the time of Plato could be shown
to be common, then a question, perhaps insoluble, would arise, not
whether the whole, but whether parts of the Platonic dialogues are
genuine, and, if parts only, which parts. Hebrew prophecies and Homeric
poems and Laws of Manu may have grown together in early times, but there
is no reason to think that any of the dialogues of Plato is the result
of a similar process of accumulation. It is therefore rash to say
with Oncken (Die Staatslehre des Aristoteles) that the form in which
Aristotle knew the Laws of Plato must have been different from that in
which they have come down to us.

It must be admitted that these principles are difficult of application.
Yet a criticism may be worth making which rests only on probabilities
or impressions. Great disputes will arise about the merits of different
passages, about what is truly characteristic and original or trivial
and borrowed. Many have thought the Laws to be one of the greatest of
Platonic writings, while in the judgment of Mr. Grote they hardly rise
above the level of the forged epistles. The manner in which a writer
would or would not have written at a particular time of life must be
acknowledged to be a matter of conjecture. But enough has been said to
show that similarities of a certain kind, whether criticism is able to
detect them or not, may be such as must be attributed to an original
writer, and not to a mere imitator.

(d) Applying these principles to the case of the Laws, we have now
to point out that they contain the class of refined or unconscious
similarities which are indicative of genuineness. The parallelisms are
like the repetitions of favourite thoughts into which every one is apt
to fall unawares in conversation or in writing. They are found in a work
which contains many beautiful and remarkable passages. We may therefore
begin by claiming this presumption in their favour. Such undesigned
coincidences, as we may venture to call them, are the following. The
conception of justice as the union of temperance, wisdom, courage
(Laws; Republic): the latent idea of dialectic implied in the notion
of dividing laws after the kinds of virtue (Laws); the approval of the
method of looking at one idea gathered from many things, 'than which a
truer was never discovered by any man' (compare Republic): or again the
description of the Laws as parents (Laws; Republic): the assumption
that religion has been already settled by the oracle of Delphi (Laws;
Republic), to which an appeal is also made in special cases (Laws): the
notion of the battle with self, a paradox for which Plato in a manner
apologizes both in the Laws and the Republic: the remark (Laws) that
just men, even when they are deformed in body, may still be perfectly
beautiful in respect of the excellent justice of their minds (compare
Republic): the argument that ideals are none the worse because they
cannot be carried out (Laws; Republic): the near approach to the idea of
good in 'the principle which is common to all the four virtues,' a
truth which the guardians must be compelled to recognize (Laws; compare
Republic): or again the recognition by reason of the right pleasure and
pain, which had previously been matter of habit (Laws; Republic): or
the blasphemy of saying that the excellency of music is to give pleasure
(Laws; Republic): again the story of the Sidonian Cadmus (Laws), which
is a variation of the Phoenician tale of the earth-born men (Republic):
the comparison of philosophy to a yelping she-dog, both in the Republic
and in the Laws: the remark that no man can practise two trades (Laws;
Republic): or the advantage of the middle condition (Laws; Republic):
the tendency to speak of principles as moulds or forms; compare the
ekmageia of song (Laws), and the tupoi of religion (Republic): or the
remark (Laws) that 'the relaxation of justice makes many cities out of
one,' which may be compared with the Republic: or the description of
lawlessness 'creeping in little by little in the fashions of music and
overturning all things,'--to us a paradox, but to Plato's mind a fixed
idea, which is found in the Laws as well as in the Republic: or the
figure of the parts of the human body under which the parts of the state
are described (Laws; Republic): the apology for delay and diffuseness,
which occurs not unfrequently in the Republic, is carried to an excess
in the Laws (compare Theaet.): the remarkable thought (Laws) that the
soul of the sun is better than the sun, agrees with the relation in
which the idea of good stands to the sun in the Republic, and with the
substitution of mind for the idea of good in the Philebus: the passage
about the tragic poets (Laws) agrees generally with the treatment of
them in the Republic, but is more finely conceived, and worked out in a
nobler spirit. Some lesser similarities of thought and manner should not
be omitted, such as the mention of the thirty years' old students in the
Republic, and the fifty years' old choristers in the Laws; or the
making of the citizens out of wax (Laws) compared with the other image
(Republic); or the number of the tyrant (729), which is NEARLY equal
with the number of days and nights in the year (730), compared with the
'slight correction' of the sacred number 5040, which is divisible by all
the numbers from 1 to 12 except 11, and divisible by 11, if two families
be deducted; or once more, we may compare the ignorance of solid
geometry of which he complains in the Republic and the puzzle about
fractions with the difficulty in the Laws about commensurable and
incommensurable quantities--and the malicious emphasis on the word
gunaikeios (Laws) with the use of the same word (Republic). These and
similar passages tend to show that the author of the Republic is also
the author of the Laws. They are echoes of the same voice, expressions
of the same mind, coincidences too subtle to have been invented by the
ingenuity of any imitator. The force of the argument is increased, if we
remember that no passage in the Laws is exactly copied,--nowhere do
five or six words occur together which are found together elsewhere in
Plato's writings.

In other dialogues of Plato, as well as in the Republic, there are to
be found parallels with the Laws. Such resemblances, as we might expect,
occur chiefly (but not exclusively) in the dialogues which, on other
grounds, we may suppose to be of later date. The punishment of evil is
to be like evil men (Laws), as he says also in the Theaetetus. Compare
again the dependence of tragedy and comedy on one another, of which he
gives the reason in the Laws--'For serious things cannot be understood
without laughable, nor opposites at all without opposites, if a man
is really to have intelligence of either'; here he puts forward the
principle which is the groundwork of the thesis of Socrates in the
Symposium, 'that the genius of tragedy is the same as that of comedy,
and that the writer of comedy ought to be a writer of tragedy also.'
There is a truth and right which is above Law (Laws), as we learn also
from the Statesman. That men are the possession of the Gods (Laws), is
a reflection which likewise occurs in the Phaedo. The remark, whether
serious or ironical (Laws), that 'the sons of the Gods naturally
believed in the Gods, because they had the means of knowing about them,'
is found in the Timaeus. The reign of Cronos, who is the divine ruler
(Laws), is a reminiscence of the Statesman. It is remarkable that in the
Sophist and Statesman (Soph.), Plato, speaking in the character of the
Eleatic Stranger, has already put on the old man. The madness of the
poets, again, is a favourite notion of Plato's, which occurs also in the
Laws, as well as in the Phaedrus, Ion, and elsewhere. There are traces
in the Laws of the same desire to base speculation upon history which
we find in the Critias. Once more, there is a striking parallel with
the paradox of the Gorgias, that 'if you do evil, it is better to be
punished than to be unpunished,' in the Laws: 'To live having all goods
without justice and virtue is the greatest of evils if life be immortal,
but not so great if the bad man lives but a short time.'

The point to be considered is whether these are the kind of parallels
which would be the work of an imitator. Would a forger have had the wit
to select the most peculiar and characteristic thoughts of Plato; would
he have caught the spirit of his philosophy; would he, instead of openly
borrowing, have half concealed his favourite ideas; would he have formed
them into a whole such as the Laws; would he have given another
the credit which he might have obtained for himself; would he have
remembered and made use of other passages of the Platonic writings and
have never deviated into the phraseology of them? Without pressing
such arguments as absolutely certain, we must acknowledge that such a
comparison affords a new ground of real weight for believing the Laws to
be a genuine writing of Plato.

V. The relation of the Republic to the Laws is clearly set forth by
Plato in the Laws. The Republic is the best state, the Laws is the best
possible under the existing conditions of the Greek world. The Republic
is the ideal, in which no man calls anything his own, which may or may
not have existed in some remote clime, under the rule of some God, or
son of a God (who can say?), but is, at any rate, the pattern of
all other states and the exemplar of human life. The Laws distinctly
acknowledge what the Republic partly admits, that the ideal is
inimitable by us, but that we should 'lift up our eyes to the heavens'
and try to regulate our lives according to the divine image. The
citizens are no longer to have wives and children in common, and are
no longer to be under the government of philosophers. But the spirit of
communism or communion is to continue among them, though reverence for
the sacredness of the family, and respect of children for parents, not
promiscuous hymeneals, are now the foundation of the state; the sexes
are to be as nearly on an equality as possible; they are to meet
at common tables, and to share warlike pursuits (if the women will
consent), and to have a common education. The legislator has taken the
place of the philosopher, but a council of elders is retained, who are
to fulfil the duties of the legislator when he has passed out of life.
The addition of younger persons to this council by co-optation is
an improvement on the governing body of the Republic. The scheme of
education in the Laws is of a far lower kind than that which Plato had
conceived in the Republic. There he would have his rulers trained in all
knowledge meeting in the idea of good, of which the different branches
of mathematical science are but the hand-maidens or ministers; here he
treats chiefly of popular education, stopping short with the preliminary
sciences,--these are to be studied partly with a view to their practical
usefulness, which in the Republic he holds cheap, and even more with a
view to avoiding impiety, of which in the Republic he says nothing; he
touches very lightly on dialectic, which is still to be retained for
the rulers. Yet in the Laws there remain traces of the old educational
ideas. He is still for banishing the poets; and as he finds the works of
prose writers equally dangerous, he would substitute for them the study
of his own laws. He insists strongly on the importance of mathematics
as an educational instrument. He is no more reconciled to the Greek
mythology than in the Republic, though he would rather say nothing about
it out of a reverence for antiquity; and he is equally willing to have
recourse to fictions, if they have a moral tendency. His thoughts recur
to a golden age in which the sanctity of oaths was respected and in
which men living nearer the Gods were more disposed to believe in them;
but we must legislate for the world as it is, now that the old beliefs
have passed away. Though he is no longer fired with dialectical
enthusiasm, he would compel the guardians to 'look at one idea gathered
from many things,' and to 'perceive the principle which is the same in
all the four virtues.' He still recognizes the enormous influence of
music, in which every youth is to be trained for three years; and he
seems to attribute the existing degeneracy of the Athenian state and
the laxity of morals partly to musical innovation, manifested in the
unnatural divorce of the instrument and the voice, of the rhythm from
the words, and partly to the influence of the mob who ruled at the
theatres. He assimilates the education of the two sexes, as far as
possible, both in music and gymnastic, and, as in the Republic, he would
give to gymnastic a purely military character. In marriage, his object
is still to produce the finest children for the state. As in the
Statesman, he would unite in wedlock dissimilar natures--the passionate
with the dull, the courageous with the gentle. And the virtuous tyrant
of the Statesman, who has no place in the Republic, again appears.
In this, as in all his writings, he has the strongest sense of the
degeneracy and incapacity of the rulers of his own time.

In the Laws, the philosophers, if not banished, like the poets, are
at least ignored; and religion takes the place of philosophy in the
regulation of human life. It must however be remembered that the
religion of Plato is co-extensive with morality, and is that purified
religion and mythology of which he speaks in the second book of the
Republic. There is no real discrepancy in the two works. In a practical
treatise, he speaks of religion rather than of philosophy; just as he
appears to identify virtue with pleasure, and rather seeks to find
the common element of the virtues than to maintain his old paradoxical
theses that they are one, or that they are identical with knowledge. The
dialectic and the idea of good, which even Glaucon in the Republic could
not understand, would be out of place in a less ideal work. There may
also be a change in his own mind, the purely intellectual aspect of
philosophy having a diminishing interest to him in his old age.

Some confusion occurs in the passage in which Plato speaks of the
Republic, occasioned by his reference to a third state, which he
proposes (D.V.) hereafter to expound. Like many other thoughts in the
Laws, the allusion is obscure from not being worked out. Aristotle
(Polit.) speaks of a state which is neither the best absolutely, nor
the best under existing conditions, but an imaginary state, inferior
to either, destitute, as he supposes, of the necessaries of
life--apparently such a beginning of primitive society as is described
in Laws iii. But it is not clear that by this the third state of Plato
is intended. It is possible that Plato may have meant by his third state
an historical sketch, bearing the same relation to the Laws which the
unfinished Critias would have borne to the Republic; or he may, perhaps,
have intended to describe a state more nearly approximating than the
Laws to existing Greek states.

The Statesman is a mere fragment when compared with the Laws, yet
combining a second interest of dialectic as well as politics, which is
wanting in the larger work. Several points of similarity and contrast
may be observed between them. In some respects the Statesman is
even more ideal than the Republic, looking back to a former state of
paradisiacal life, in which the Gods ruled over mankind, as the Republic
looks forward to a coming kingdom of philosophers. Of this kingdom of
Cronos there is also mention in the Laws. Again, in the Statesman, the
Eleatic Stranger rises above law to the conception of the living voice
of the lawgiver, who is able to provide for individual cases. A similar
thought is repeated in the Laws: 'If in the order of nature, and by
divine destiny, a man were able to apprehend the truth about these
things, he would have no need of laws to rule over him; for there is no
law or order above knowledge, nor can mind without impiety be deemed
the subject or slave of any, but rather the lord of all.' The union of
opposite natures, who form the warp and the woof of the political web,
is a favourite thought which occurs in both dialogues (Laws; Statesman).

The Laws are confessedly a Second-best, an inferior Ideal, to which
Plato has recourse, when he finds that the city of Philosophers is no
longer 'within the horizon of practical politics.' But it is curious
to observe that the higher Ideal is always returning (compare Arist.
Polit.), and that he is not much nearer the actual fact, nor more on
the level of ordinary life in the Laws than in the Republic. It is also
interesting to remark that the new Ideal is always falling away, and
that he hardly supposes the one to be more capable of being realized
than the other. Human beings are troublesome to manage; and the
legislator cannot adapt his enactments to the infinite variety of
circumstances; after all he must leave the administration of them to his
successors; and though he would have liked to make them as permanent
as they are in Egypt, he cannot escape from the necessity of change.
At length Plato is obliged to institute a Nocturnal Council which is
supposed to retain the mind of the legislator, and of which some of the
members are even supposed to go abroad and inspect the institutions of
foreign countries, as a foundation for changes in their own. The spirit
of such changes, though avoiding the extravagance of a popular assembly,
being only so much change as the conservative temper of old members
is likely to allow, is nevertheless inconsistent with the fixedness of
Egypt which Plato wishes to impress upon Hellenic institutions. He is
inconsistent with himself as the truth begins to dawn upon him that 'in
the execution things for the most part fall short of our conception of
them' (Republic).

And is not this true of ideals of government in general? We are always
disappointed in them. Nothing great can be accomplished in the
short space of human life; wherefore also we look forward to another
(Republic). As we grow old, we are sensible that we have no power
actively to pursue our ideals any longer. We have had our opportunity
and do not aspire to be more than men: we have received our 'wages and
are going home.' Neither do we despair of the future of mankind, because
we have been able to do so little in comparison of the whole. We look in
vain for consistency either in men or things. But we have seen enough of
improvement in our own time to justify us in the belief that the world
is worth working for and that a good man's life is not thrown away. Such
reflections may help us to bring home to ourselves by inward sympathy
the language of Plato in the Laws, and to combine into something like a
whole his various and at first sight inconsistent utterances.

VI. The Republic may be described as the Spartan constitution appended
to a government of philosophers. But in the Laws an Athenian element is
also introduced. Many enactments are taken from the Athenian; the four
classes are borrowed from the constitution of Cleisthenes, which Plato
regards as the best form of Athenian government, and the guardians of
the law bear a certain resemblance to the archons. In the constitution
of the Laws nearly all officers are elected by a vote more or less
popular and by lot. But the assembly only exists for the purposes of
election, and has no legislative or executive powers. The Nocturnal
Council, which is the highest body in the state, has several of the
functions of the ancient Athenian Areopagus, after which it appears to
be modelled. Life is to wear, as at Athens, a joyous and festive look;
there are to be Bacchic choruses, and men of mature age are encouraged
in moderate potations. On the other hand, the common meals, the public
education, the crypteia are borrowed from Sparta and not from Athens,
and the superintendence of private life, which was to be practised by
the governors, has also its prototype in Sparta. The extravagant dislike
which Plato shows both to a naval power and to extreme democracy is the
reverse of Athenian.

The best-governed Hellenic states traced the origin of their laws to
individual lawgivers. These were real persons, though we are uncertain
how far they originated or only modified the institutions which are
ascribed to them. But the lawgiver, though not a myth, was a fixed idea
in the mind of the Greek,--as fixed as the Trojan war or the earth-born
Cadmus. 'This was what Solon meant or said'--was the form in which the
Athenian expressed his own conception of right and justice, or argued a
disputed point of law. And the constant reference in the Laws of Plato
to the lawgiver is altogether in accordance with Greek modes of thinking
and speaking.

There is also, as in the Republic, a Pythagorean element. The highest
branch of education is arithmetic; to know the order of the heavenly
bodies, and to reconcile the apparent contradiction of their movements,
is an important part of religion; the lives of the citizens are to have
a common measure, as also their vessels and coins; the great blessing of
the state is the number 5040. Plato is deeply impressed by the antiquity
of Egypt, and the unchangeableness of her ancient forms of song and
dance. And he is also struck by the progress which the Egyptians had
made in the mathematical sciences--in comparison of them the Greeks
appeared to him to be little better than swine. Yet he censures the
Egyptian meanness and inhospitality to strangers. He has traced the
growth of states from their rude beginnings in a philosophical spirit;
but of any life or growth of the Hellenic world in future ages he is
silent. He has made the reflection that past time is the maker of states
(Book iii.); but he does not argue from the past to the future, that
the process is always going on, or that the institutions of nations
are relative to their stage of civilization. If he could have stamped
indelibly upon Hellenic states the will of the legislator, he would have
been satisfied. The utmost which he expects of future generations is
that they should supply the omissions, or correct the errors which
younger statesmen detect in his enactments. When institutions have been
once subjected to this process of criticism, he would have them fixed
for ever.

THE PREAMBLE.

BOOK I. Strangers, let me ask a question of you--Was a God or a man the
author of your laws? 'A God, Stranger. In Crete, Zeus is said to have
been the author of them; in Sparta, as Megillus will tell you, Apollo.'
You Cretans believe, as Homer says, that Minos went every ninth year to
converse with his Olympian sire, and gave you laws which he brought from
him. 'Yes; and there was Rhadamanthus, his brother, who is reputed among
us to have been a most righteous judge.' That is a reputation worthy of
the son of Zeus. And as you and Megillus have been trained under these
laws, I may ask you to give me an account of them. We can talk about
them in our walk from Cnosus to the cave and temple of Zeus. I am told
that the distance is considerable, but probably there are shady places
under the trees, where, being no longer young, we may often rest and
converse. 'Yes, Stranger, a little onward there are beautiful groves of
cypresses, and green meadows in which we may repose.'

My first question is, Why has the law ordained that you should have
common meals, and practise gymnastics, and bear arms? 'My answer is,
that all our institutions are of a military character. We lead the life
of the camp even in time of peace, keeping up the organization of an
army, and having meals in common; and as our country, owing to its
ruggedness, is ill-suited for heavy-armed cavalry or infantry, our
soldiers are archers, equipped with bows and arrows. The legislator was
under the idea that war was the natural state of all mankind, and that
peace is only a pretence; he thought that no possessions had any
value which were not secured against enemies.' And do you think that
superiority in war is the proper aim of government? 'Certainly I do, and
my Spartan friend will agree with me.' And are there wars, not only of
state against state, but of village against village, of family against
family, of individual against individual? 'Yes.' And is a man his own
enemy? 'There you come to first principles, like a true votary of the
goddess Athene; and this is all the better, for you will the sooner
recognize the truth of what I am saying--that all men everywhere are the
enemies of all, and each individual of every other and of himself;
and, further, that there is a victory and defeat--the best and the
worst--which each man sustains, not at the hands of another, but of
himself.' And does this extend to states and villages as well as to
individuals? 'Certainly; there is a better in them which conquers or
is conquered by the worse.' Whether the worse ever really conquers
the better, is a question which may be left for the present; but your
meaning is, that bad citizens do sometimes overcome the good, and that
the state is then conquered by herself, and that when they are defeated
the state is victorious over herself. Or, again, in a family there may
be several brothers, and the bad may be a majority; and when the
bad majority conquer the good minority, the family are worse than
themselves. The use of the terms 'better or worse than himself or
themselves' may be doubtful, but about the thing meant there can be no
dispute. 'Very true.' Such a struggle might be determined by a judge.
And which will be the better judge--he who destroys the worse and lets
the better rule, or he who lets the better rule and makes the others
voluntarily obey; or, thirdly, he who destroys no one, but reconciles
the two parties? 'The last, clearly.' But the object of such a judge or
legislator would not be war. 'True.' And as there are two kinds of war,
one without and one within a state, of which the internal is by far
the worse, will not the legislator chiefly direct his attention to
this latter? He will reconcile the contending factions, and unite them
against their external enemies. 'Certainly.' Every legislator will
aim at the greatest good, and the greatest good is not victory in war,
whether civil or external, but mutual peace and good-will, as in the
body health is preferable to the purgation of disease. He who makes war
his object instead of peace, or who pursues war except for the sake of
peace, is not a true statesman. 'And yet, Stranger, the laws both of
Crete and Sparta aim entirely at war.' Perhaps so; but do not let us
quarrel about your legislators--let us be gentle; they were in earnest
quite as much as we are, and we must try to discover their meaning. The
poet Tyrtaeus (you know his poems in Crete, and my Lacedaemonian friend
is only too familiar with them)--he was an Athenian by birth, and a
Spartan citizen:--'Well,' he says, 'I sing not, I care not about any
man, however rich or happy, unless he is brave in war.' Now I should
like, in the name of us all, to ask the poet a question. Oh Tyrtaeus, I
would say to him, we agree with you in praising those who excel in war,
but which kind of war do you mean?--that dreadful war which is termed
civil, or the milder sort which is waged against foreign enemies? You
say that you abominate 'those who are not eager to taste their enemies'
blood,' and you seem to mean chiefly their foreign enemies. 'Certainly
he does.' But we contend that there are men better far than your heroes,
Tyrtaeus, concerning whom another poet, Theognis the Sicilian, says that
'in a civil broil they are worth their weight in gold and silver.' For
in a civil war, not only courage, but justice and temperance and wisdom
are required, and all virtue is better than a part. The mercenary
soldier is ready to die at his post; yet he is commonly a violent,
senseless creature. And the legislator, whether inspired or uninspired,
will make laws with a view to the highest virtue; and this is not brute
courage, but loyalty in the hour of danger. The virtue of Tyrtaeus,
although needful enough in his own time, is really of a fourth-rate
description. 'You are degrading our legislator to a very low level.'
Nay, we degrade not him, but ourselves, if we believe that the laws of
Lycurgus and Minos had a view to war only. A divine lawgiver would have
had regard to all the different kinds of virtue, and have arranged his
laws in corresponding classes, and not in the modern fashion, which
only makes them after the want of them is felt,--about inheritances and
heiresses and assaults, and the like. As you truly said, virtue is the
business of the legislator; but you went wrong when you referred all
legislation to a part of virtue, and to an inferior part. For the object
of laws, whether the Cretan or any other, is to make men happy. Now
happiness or good is of two kinds--there are divine and there are human
goods. He who has the divine has the human added to him; but he who
has lost the greater is deprived of both. The lesser goods are health,
beauty, strength, and, lastly, wealth; not the blind God, Pluto, but one
who has eyes to see and follow wisdom. For mind or wisdom is the most
divine of all goods; and next comes temperance, and justice springs from
the union of wisdom and temperance with courage, which is the fourth or
last. These four precede other goods, and the legislator will arrange
all his ordinances accordingly, the human going back to the divine,
and the divine to their leader mind. There will be enactments about
marriage, about education, about all the states and feelings and
experiences of men and women, at every age, in weal and woe, in war and
peace; upon all the law will fix a stamp of praise and blame. There will
also be regulations about property and expenditure, about contracts,
about rewards and punishments, and finally about funeral rites and
honours of the dead. The lawgiver will appoint guardians to preside over
these things; and mind will harmonize his ordinances, and show them to
be in agreement with temperance and justice. Now I want to know whether
the same principles are observed in the laws of Lycurgus and Minos,
or, as I should rather say, of Apollo and Zeus. We must go through the
virtues, beginning with courage, and then we will show that what has
preceded has relation to virtue.

'I wish,' says the Lacedaemonian, 'that you, Stranger, would first
criticize Cleinias and the Cretan laws.' Yes, is the reply, and I will
criticize you and myself, as well as him. Tell me, Megillus, were not
the common meals and gymnastic training instituted by your legislator
with a view to war? 'Yes; and next in the order of importance comes
hunting, and fourth the endurance of pain in boxing contests, and in the
beatings which are the punishment of theft. There is, too, the so-called
Crypteia or secret service, in which our youth wander about the country
night and day unattended, and even in winter go unshod and have no beds
to lie on. Moreover they wrestle and exercise under a blazing sun, and
they have many similar customs.' Well, but is courage only a combat
against fear and pain, and not against pleasure and flattery? 'Against
both, I should say.' And which is worse,--to be overcome by pain, or
by pleasure? 'The latter.' But did the lawgivers of Crete and Sparta
legislate for a courage which is lame of one leg,--able to meet the
attacks of pain but not those of pleasure, or for one which can meet
both? 'For a courage which can meet both, I should say.' But if so,
where are the institutions which train your citizens to be equally brave
against pleasure and pain, and superior to enemies within as well as
without? 'We confess that we have no institutions worth mentioning which
are of this character.' I am not surprised, and will therefore only
request forbearance on the part of us all, in case the love of truth
should lead any of us to censure the laws of the others. Remember that
I am more in the way of hearing criticisms of your laws than you can be;
for in well-ordered states like Crete and Sparta, although an old man
may sometimes speak of them in private to a ruler or elder, a similar
liberty is not allowed to the young. But now being alone we shall not
offend your legislator by a friendly examination of his laws. 'Take any
freedom which you like.'

My first observation is, that your lawgiver ordered you to endure
hardships, because he thought that those who had not this discipline
would run away from those who had. But he ought to have considered
further, that those who had never learned to resist pleasure would be
equally at the mercy of those who had, and these are often among the
worst of mankind. Pleasure, like fear, would overcome them and take away
their courage and freedom. 'Perhaps; but I must not be hasty in giving
my assent.'

Next as to temperance: what institutions have you which are adapted
to promote temperance? 'There are the common meals and gymnastic
exercises.' These are partly good and partly bad, and, as in medicine,
what is good at one time and for one person, is bad at another time and
for another person. Now although gymnastics and common meals do good,
they are also a cause of evil in civil troubles, and they appear to
encourage unnatural love, as has been shown at Miletus, in Boeotia, and
at Thurii. And the Cretans are said to have invented the tale of Zeus
and Ganymede in order to justify their evil practices by the example of
the God who was their lawgiver. Leaving the story, we may observe that
all law has to do with pleasure and pain; these are two fountains which
are ever flowing in human nature, and he who drinks of them when and as
much as he ought, is happy, and he who indulges in them to excess, is
miserable. 'You may be right, but I still incline to think that the
Lacedaemonian lawgiver did well in forbidding pleasure, if I may judge
from the result. For there is no drunken revelry in Sparta, and any one
found in a state of intoxication is severely punished; he is not excused
as an Athenian would be at Athens on account of a festival. I myself
have seen the Athenians drunk at the Dionysia--and at our colony,
Tarentum, on a similar occasion, I have beheld the whole city in a
state of intoxication.' I admit that these festivals should be properly
regulated. Yet I might reply, 'Yes, Spartans, that is not your vice; but
look at home and remember the licentiousness of your women.' And to
all such accusations every one of us may reply in turn:--'Wonder not,
Stranger; there are different customs in different countries.' Now this
may be a sufficient answer; but we are speaking about the wisdom of
lawgivers and not about the customs of men. To return to the question of
drinking: shall we have total abstinence, as you have, or hard drinking,
like the Scythians and Thracians, or moderate potations like the
Persians? 'Give us arms, and we send all these nations flying before
us.' My good friend, be modest; victories and defeats often arise
from unknown causes, and afford no proof of the goodness or badness of
institutions. The stronger overcomes the weaker, as the Athenians have
overcome the Ceans, or the Syracusans the Locrians, who are, perhaps,
the best governed state in that part of the world. People are apt to
praise or censure practices without enquiring into the nature of them.
This is the way with drink: one person brings many witnesses, who sing
the praises of wine; another declares that sober men defeat drunkards
in battle; and he again is refuted in turn. I should like to conduct the
argument on some other method; for if you regard numbers, there are two
cities on one side, and ten thousand on the other. 'I am ready to pursue
any method which is likely to lead us to the truth.' Let me put the
matter thus: Somebody praises the useful qualities of a goat; another
has seen goats running about wild in a garden, and blames a goat or any
other animal which happens to be without a keeper. 'How absurd!' Would
a pilot who is sea-sick be a good pilot? 'No.' Or a general who is sick
and drunk with fear and ignorant of war a good general? 'A general
of old women he ought to be.' But can any one form an estimate of any
society, which is intended to have a ruler, and which he only sees in an
unruly and lawless state? 'No.' There is a convivial form of society--is
there not? 'Yes.' And has this convivial society ever been rightly
ordered? Of course you Spartans and Cretans have never seen anything of
the kind, but I have had wide experience, and made many enquiries about
such societies, and have hardly ever found anything right or good in
them. 'We acknowledge our want of experience, and desire to learn of
you.' Will you admit that in all societies there must be a leader?
'Yes.' And in time of war he must be a man of courage and absolutely
devoid of fear, if this be possible? 'Certainly.' But we are talking now
of a general who shall preside at meetings of friends--and as these
have a tendency to be uproarious, they ought above all others to have a
governor. 'Very good.' He should be a sober man and a man of the world,
who will keep, make, and increase the peace of the society; a drunkard
in charge of drunkards would be singularly fortunate if he avoided doing
a serious mischief. 'Indeed he would.' Suppose a person to censure such
meetings--he may be right, but also he may have known them only in their
disorderly state, under a drunken master of the feast; and a drunken
general or pilot cannot save his army or his ships. 'True; but although
I see the advantage of an army having a good general, I do not equally
see the good of a feast being well managed.' If you mean to ask what
good accrues to the state from the right training of a single youth or
a single chorus, I should reply, 'Not much'; but if you ask what is the
good of education in general, I answer, that education makes good
men, and that good men act nobly and overcome their enemies in
battle. Victory is often suicidal to the victors, because it creates
forgetfulness of education, but education itself is never suicidal. 'You
imply that the regulation of convivial meetings is a part of education;
how will you prove this?' I will tell you. But first let me offer a
word of apology. We Athenians are always thought to be fond of talking,
whereas the Lacedaemonian is celebrated for brevity, and the Cretan
is considered to be sagacious and reserved. Now I fear that I may be
charged with spinning a long discourse out of slender materials. For
drinking cannot be rightly ordered without correct principles of music,
and music runs up into education generally, and to discuss all these
matters may be tedious; if you like, therefore, we will pass on to
another part of our subject. 'Are you aware, Athenian, that our family
is your proxenus at Sparta, and that from my boyhood I have regarded
Athens as a second country, and having often fought your battles in my
youth, I have become attached to you, and love the sound of the Attic
dialect? The saying is true, that the best Athenians are more than
ordinarily good, because they are good by nature; therefore, be assured
that I shall be glad to hear you talk as much as you please.' 'I,
too,' adds Cleinias, 'have a tie which binds me to you. You know that
Epimenides, the Cretan prophet, came and offered sacrifices in your city
by the command of an oracle ten years before the Persian war. He told
the Athenians that the Persian host would not come for ten years, and
would go away again, having suffered more harm than they had inflicted.
Now Epimenides was of my family, and when he visited Athens he entered
into friendship with your forefathers.' I see that you are willing to
listen, and I have the will to speak, if I had only the ability. But,
first, I must define the nature and power of education, and by this
road we will travel on to the God Dionysus. The man who is to be good
at anything must have early training;--the future builder must play at
building, and the husbandman at digging; the soldier must learn to ride,
and the carpenter to measure and use the rule,--all the thoughts and
pleasures of children should bear on their after-profession.--Do you
agree with me? 'Certainly.' And we must remember further that we are
speaking of the education, not of a trainer, or of the captain of a
ship, but of a perfect citizen who knows how to rule and how to obey;
and such an education aims at virtue, and not at wealth or strength or
mere cleverness. To the good man, education is of all things the most
precious, and is also in constant need of renovation. 'We agree.' And
we have before agreed that good men are those who are able to control
themselves, and bad men are those who are not. Let me offer you an
illustration which will assist our argument. Man is one; but in one
and the same man are two foolish counsellors who contend within
him--pleasure and pain, and of either he has expectations which we call
hope and fear; and he is able to reason about good and evil, and reason,
when affirmed by the state, becomes law. 'We cannot follow you.' Let
me put the matter in another way: Every creature is a puppet of the
Gods--whether he is a mere plaything or has any serious use we do not
know; but this we do know, that he is drawn different ways by cords
and strings. There is a soft golden cord which draws him towards
virtue--this is the law of the state; and there are other cords made
of iron and hard materials drawing him other ways. The golden reasoning
influence has nothing of the nature of force, and therefore requires
ministers in order to vanquish the other principles. This explains the
doctrine that cities and citizens both conquer and are conquered by
themselves. The individual follows reason, and the city law, which is
embodied reason, either derived from the Gods or from the legislator.
When virtue and vice are thus distinguished, education will be better
understood, and in particular the relation of education to convivial
intercourse. And now let us set wine before the puppet. You admit that
wine stimulates the passions? 'Yes.' And does wine equally stimulate
the reasoning faculties? 'No; it brings the soul back to a state of
childhood.' In such a state a man has the least control over himself,
and is, therefore, worst. 'Very true.' Then how can we believe that
drinking should be encouraged? 'You seem to think that it ought to be.'
And I am ready to maintain my position. 'We should like to hear you
prove that a man ought to make a beast of himself.' You are speaking
of the degradation of the soul: but how about the body? Would any man
willingly degrade or weaken that? 'Certainly not.' And yet if he goes to
a doctor or a gymnastic master, does he not make himself ill in the hope
of getting well? for no one would like to be always taking medicine, or
always to be in training. 'True.' And may not convivial meetings have a
similar remedial use? And if so, are they not to be preferred to other
modes of training because they are painless? 'But have they any such
use?' Let us see: Are there not two kinds of fear--fear of evil and fear
of an evil reputation? 'There are.' The latter kind of fear is opposed
both to the fear of pain and to the love of pleasure. This is called by
the legislator reverence, and is greatly honoured by him and by every
good man; whereas confidence, which is the opposite quality, is the
worst fault both of individuals and of states. This sort of fear or
reverence is one of the two chief causes of victory in war, fearlessness
of enemies being the other. 'True.' Then every one should be both
fearful and fearless? 'Yes.' The right sort of fear is infused into
a man when he comes face to face with shame, or cowardice, or the
temptations of pleasure, and has to conquer them. He must learn by
many trials to win the victory over himself, if he is ever to be made
perfect. 'That is reasonable enough.' And now, suppose that the Gods had
given mankind a drug, of which the effect was to exaggerate every sort
of evil and danger, so that the bravest man entirely lost his presence
of mind and became a coward for a time:--would such a drug have any
value? 'But is there such a drug?' No; but suppose that there were;
might not the legislator use such a mode of testing courage and
cowardice? 'To be sure.' The legislator would induce fear in order to
implant fearlessness; and would give rewards or punishments to those
who behaved well or the reverse, under the influence of the drug?
'Certainly.' And this mode of training, whether practised in the case
of one or many, whether in solitude or in the presence of a large
company--if a man have sufficient confidence in himself to drink the
potion amid his boon companions, leaving off in time and not taking too
much,--would be an equally good test of temperance? 'Very true.' Let
us return to the lawgiver and say to him, 'Well, lawgiver, no such
fear-producing potion has been given by God or invented by man, but
there is a potion which will make men fearless.' 'You mean wine.'
Yes; has not wine an effect the contrary of that which I was just now
describing,--first mellowing and humanizing a man, and then filling him
with confidence, making him ready to say or do anything? 'Certainly.'
Let us not forget that there are two qualities which should be
cultivated in the soul--first, the greatest fearlessness, and, secondly,
the greatest fear, which are both parts of reverence. Courage and
fearlessness are trained amid dangers; but we have still to consider how
fear is to be trained. We desire to attain fearlessness and confidence
without the insolence and boldness which commonly attend them. For
do not love, ignorance, avarice, wealth, beauty, strength, while they
stimulate courage, also madden and intoxicate the soul? What better and
more innocent test of character is there than festive intercourse? Would
you make a bargain with a man in order to try whether he is honest? Or
would you ascertain whether he is licentious by putting your wife or
daughter into his hands? No one would deny that the test proposed is
fairer, speedier, and safer than any other. And such a test will be
particularly useful in the political science, which desires to know
human natures and characters. 'Very true.'

BOOK II. And are there any other uses of well-ordered potations? There
are; but in order to explain them, I must repeat what I mean by right
education; which, if I am not mistaken, depends on the due regulation
of convivial intercourse. 'A high assumption.' I believe that virtue
and vice are originally present to the mind of children in the form of
pleasure and pain; reason and fixed principles come later, and happy is
he who acquires them even in declining years; for he who possesses
them is the perfect man. When pleasure and pain, and love and hate, are
rightly implanted in the yet unconscious soul, and after the attainment
of reason are discovered to be in harmony with her, this harmony of the
soul is virtue, and the preparatory stage, anticipating reason, I
call education. But the finer sense of pleasure and pain is apt to be
impaired in the course of life; and therefore the Gods, pitying the
toils and sorrows of mortals, have allowed them to have holidays,
and given them the Muses and Apollo and Dionysus for leaders and
playfellows. All young creatures love motion and frolic, and utter
sounds of delight; but man only is capable of taking pleasure in
rhythmical and harmonious movements. With these education begins; and
the uneducated is he who has never known the discipline of the chorus,
and the educated is he who has. The chorus is partly dance and partly
song, and therefore the well-educated must sing and dance well. But when
we say, 'He sings and dances well,' we mean that he sings and dances
what is good. And if he thinks that to be good which is really good, he
will have a much higher music and harmony in him, and be a far greater
master of imitation in sound and gesture than he who is not of this
opinion. 'True.' Then, if we know what is good and bad in song and
dance, we shall know what education is? 'Very true.' Let us now consider
the beauty of figure, melody, song, and dance. Will the same figures or
sounds be equally well adapted to the manly and the cowardly when they
are in trouble? 'How can they be, when the very colours of their faces
are different?' Figures and melodies have a rhythm and harmony which are
adapted to the expression of different feelings (I may remark, by the
way, that the term 'colour,' which is a favourite word of music-masters,
is not really applicable to music). And one class of harmonies is akin
to courage and all virtue, the other to cowardice and all vice. 'We
agree.' And do all men equally like all dances? 'Far otherwise.' Do some
figures, then, appear to be beautiful which are not? For no one will
admit that the forms of vice are more beautiful than the forms of
virtue, or that he prefers the first kind to the second. And yet most
persons say that the merit of music is to give pleasure. But this is
impiety. There is, however, a more plausible account of the matter given
by others, who make their likes or dislikes the criterion of excellence.
Sometimes nature crosses habit, or conversely, and then they say that
such and such fashions or gestures are pleasant, but they do not like to
exhibit them before men of sense, although they enjoy them in private.
'Very true.' And do vicious measures and strains do any harm, or
good measures any good to the lovers of them? 'Probably.' Say, rather
'Certainly': for the gentle indulgence which we often show to vicious
men inevitably makes us become like them. And what can be worse than
this? 'Nothing.' Then in a well-administered city, the poet will not be
allowed to make the songs of the people just as he pleases, or to train
his choruses without regard to virtue and vice. 'Certainly not.' And
yet he may do this anywhere except in Egypt; for there ages ago they
discovered the great truth which I am now asserting, that the young
should be educated in forms and strains of virtue. These they fixed and
consecrated in their temples; and no artist or musician is allowed
to deviate from them. They are literally the same which they were ten
thousand years ago. And this practice of theirs suggests the reflection
that legislation about music is not an impossible thing. But the
particular enactments must be the work of God or of some God-inspired
man, as in Egypt their ancient chants are said to be the composition
of the goddess Isis. The melodies which have a natural truth and
correctness should be embodied in a law, and then the desire of novelty
is not strong enough to change the old fashions. Is not the origin of
music as follows? We rejoice when we think that we prosper, and we think
that we prosper when we rejoice, and at such times we cannot rest, but
our young men dance dances and sing songs, and our old men, who have
lost the elasticity of youth, regale themselves with the memory of the
past, while they contemplate the life and activity of the young. 'Most
true.' People say that he who gives us most pleasure at such festivals
is to win the palm: are they right? 'Possibly.' Let us not be hasty
in deciding, but first imagine a festival at which the lord of the
festival, having assembled the citizens, makes a proclamation that
he shall be crowned victor who gives the most pleasure, from whatever
source derived. We will further suppose that there are exhibitions
of rhapsodists and musicians, tragic and comic poets, and even
marionette-players--which of the pleasure-makers will win? Shall I
answer for you?--the marionette-players will please the children; youths
will decide for comedy; young men, educated women, and people in general
will prefer tragedy; we old men are lovers of Homer and Hesiod. Now
which of them is right? If you and I are asked, we shall certainly say
that the old men's way of thinking ought to prevail. 'Very true.' So far
I agree with the many that the excellence of music is to be measured by
pleasure; but then the pleasure must be that of the good and educated,
or better still, of one supremely virtuous and educated man. The true
judge must have both wisdom and courage. For he must lead the multitude
and not be led by them, and must not weakly yield to the uproar of
the theatre, nor give false judgment out of that mouth which has just
appealed to the Gods. The ancient custom of Hellas, which still prevails
in Italy and Sicily, left the judgment to the spectators, but this
custom has been the ruin of the poets, who seek only to please their
patrons, and has degraded the audience by the representation of inferior
characters. What is the inference? The same which we have often drawn,
that education is the training of the young idea in what the law affirms
and the elders approve. And as the soul of a child is too young to be
trained in earnest, a kind of education has been invented which tempts
him with plays and songs, as the sick are tempted by pleasant meats and
drinks. And the wise legislator will compel the poet to express in his
poems noble thoughts in fitting words and rhythms. 'But is this the
practice elsewhere than in Crete and Lacedaemon? In other states, as far
as I know, dances and music are constantly changed at the pleasure of
the hearers.' I am afraid that I misled you; not liking to be always
finding fault with mankind as they are, I described them as they ought
to be. But let me understand: you say that such customs exist among
the Cretans and Lacedaemonians, and that the rest of the world would be
improved by adopting them? 'Much improved.' And you compel your poets to
declare that the righteous are happy, and that the wicked man, even if
he be as rich as Midas, is unhappy? Or, in the words of Tyrtaeus,
'I sing not, I care not about him' who is a great warrior not having
justice; if he be unjust, 'I would not have him look calmly upon death
or be swifter than the wind'; and may he be deprived of every good--that
is, of every true good. For even if he have the goods which men regard,
these are not really goods: first health; beauty next; thirdly wealth;
and there are others. A man may have every sense purged and improved; he
may be a tyrant, and do what he likes, and live for ever: but you and
I will maintain that all these things are goods to the just, but to the
unjust the greatest of evils, if life be immortal; not so great if he
live for a short time only. If a man had health and wealth, and power,
and was insolent and unjust, his life would still be miserable; he might
be fair and rich, and do what he liked, but he would live basely, and if
basely evilly, and if evilly painfully. 'There I cannot agree with you.'
Then may heaven give us the spirit of agreement, for I am as convinced
of the truth of what I say as that Crete is an island; and, if I were
a lawgiver, I would exercise a censorship over the poets, and I would
punish them if they said that the wicked are happy, or that injustice is
profitable. And these are not the only matters in which I should make
my citizens talk in a different way to the world in general. If I asked
Zeus and Apollo, the divine legislators of Crete and Sparta,--'Are
the just and pleasant life the same or not the same'?--and they
replied,--'Not the same'; and I asked again--'Which is the happier'? And
they said'--'The pleasant life,' this is an answer not fit for a God
to utter, and therefore I ought rather to put the same question to some
legislator. And if he replies 'The pleasant,' then I should say to
him, 'O my father, did you not tell me that I should live as justly as
possible'? and if to be just is to be happy, what is that principle of
happiness or good which is superior to pleasure? Is the approval of
gods and men to be deemed good and honourable, but unpleasant, and their
disapproval the reverse? Or is the neither doing nor suffering evil good
and honourable, although not pleasant? But you cannot make men like what
is not pleasant, and therefore you must make them believe that the
just is pleasant. The business of the legislator is to clear up this
confusion. He will show that the just and the unjust are identical with
the pleasurable and the painful, from the point of view of the just man,
of the unjust the reverse. And which is the truer judgment? Surely that
of the better soul. For if not the truth, it is the best and most moral
of fictions; and the legislator who desires to propagate this useful
lie, may be encouraged by remarking that mankind have believed the story
of Cadmus and the dragon's teeth, and therefore he may be assured that
he can make them believe anything, and need only consider what fiction
will do the greatest good. That the happiest is also the holiest, this
shall be our strain, which shall be sung by all three choruses alike.
First will enter the choir of children, who will lift up their voices
on high; and after them the young men, who will pray the God Paean to be
gracious to the youth, and to testify to the truth of their words;
then will come the chorus of elder men, between thirty and sixty; and,
lastly, there will be the old men, and they will tell stories enforcing
the same virtues, as with the voice of an oracle. 'Whom do you mean by
the third chorus?' You remember how I spoke at first of the restless
nature of young creatures, who jumped about and called out in a
disorderly manner, and I said that no other animal attained any
perception of rhythm; but that to us the Gods gave Apollo and the Muses
and Dionysus to be our playfellows. Of the two first choruses I have
already spoken, and I have now to speak of the third, or Dionysian
chorus, which is composed of those who are between thirty and sixty
years old. 'Let us hear.' We are agreed (are we not?) that men, women,
and children should be always charming themselves with strains of
virtue, and that there should be a variety in the strains, that they may
not weary of them? Now the fairest and most useful of strains will be
uttered by the elder men, and therefore we cannot let them off. But how
can we make them sing? For a discreet elderly man is ashamed to hear the
sound of his own voice in private, and still more in public. The only
way is to give them drink; this will mellow the sourness of age. No one
should be allowed to taste wine until they are eighteen; from eighteen
to thirty they may take a little; but when they have reached forty
years, they may be initiated into the mystery of drinking. Thus they
will become softer and more impressible; and when a man's heart is warm
within him, he will be more ready to charm himself and others with song.
And what songs shall he sing? 'At Crete and Lacedaemon we only know
choral songs.' Yes; that is because your way of life is military. Your
young men are like wild colts feeding in a herd together; no one takes
the individual colt and trains him apart, and tries to give him the
qualities of a statesman as well as of a soldier. He who was thus
trained would be a greater warrior than those of whom Tyrtaeus speaks,
for he would be courageous, and yet he would know that courage was only
fourth in the scale of virtue. 'Once more, I must say, Stranger, that
you run down our lawgivers.' Not intentionally, my good friend, but
whither the argument leads I follow; and I am trying to find some style
of poetry suitable for those who dislike the common sort. 'Very good.'
In all things which have a charm, either this charm is their good, or
they have some accompanying truth or advantage. For example, in eating
and drinking there is pleasure and also profit, that is to say, health;
and in learning there is a pleasure and also truth. There is a pleasure
or charm, too, in the imitative arts, as well as a law of proportion or
equality; but the pleasure which they afford, however innocent, is not
the criterion of their truth. The test of pleasure cannot be applied
except to that which has no other good or evil, no truth or falsehood.
But that which has truth must be judged of by the standard of truth, and
therefore imitation and proportion are to be judged of by their truth
alone. 'Certainly.' And as music is imitative, it is not to be judged by
the criterion of pleasure, and the Muse whom we seek is the muse not of
pleasure but of truth, for imitation has a truth. 'Doubtless.' And if
so, the judge must know what is being imitated before he decides on the
quality of the imitation, and he who does not know what is true will not
know what is good. 'He will not.' Will any one be able to imitate the
human body, if he does not know the number, proportion, colour, or
figure of the limbs? 'How can he?' But suppose we know some picture or
figure to be an exact resemblance of a man, should we not also require
to know whether the picture is beautiful or not? 'Quite right.' The
judge of the imitation is required to know, therefore, first the
original, secondly the truth, and thirdly the merit of the execution?
'True.' Then let us not weary in the attempt to bring music to the
standard of the Muses and of truth. The Muses are not like human poets;
they never spoil or mix rhythms or scales, or mingle instruments and
human voices, or confuse the manners and strains of men and women, or of
freemen and slaves, or of rational beings and brute animals. They do
not practise the baser sorts of musical arts, such as the 'matured
judgments,' of whom Orpheus speaks, would ridicule. But modern poets
separate metre from music, and melody and rhythm from words, and use the
instrument alone without the voice. The consequence is, that the meaning
of the rhythm and of the time are not understood. I am endeavouring to
show how our fifty-year-old choristers are to be trained, and what
they are to avoid. The opinion of the multitude about these matters is
worthless; they who are only made to step in time by sheer force cannot
be critics of music. 'Impossible.' Then our newly-appointed minstrels
must be trained in music sufficiently to understand the nature of
rhythms and systems; and they should select such as are suitable to
men of their age, and will enable them to give and receive innocent
pleasure. This is a knowledge which goes beyond that either of the poets
or of their auditors in general. For although the poet must understand
rhythm and music, he need not necessarily know whether the imitation
is good or not, which was the third point required in a judge; but our
chorus of elders must know all three, if they are to be the instructors
of youth.

And now we will resume the original argument, which may be summed up as
follows: A convivial meeting is apt to grow tumultuous as the drinking
proceeds; every man becomes light-headed, and fancies that he can rule
the whole world. 'Doubtless.' And did we not say that the souls of the
drinkers, when subdued by wine, are made softer and more malleable at
the hand of the legislator? the docility of childhood returns to them.
At times however they become too valiant and disorderly, drinking out
of their turn, and interrupting one another. And the business of the
legislator is to infuse into them that divine fear, which we call shame,
in opposition to this disorderly boldness. But in order to discipline
them there must be guardians of the law of drinking, and sober generals
who shall take charge of the private soldiers; they are as necessary in
drinking as in fighting, and he who disobeys these Dionysiac commanders
will be equally disgraced. 'Very good.' If a drinking festival were well
regulated, men would go away, not as they now do, greater enemies, but
better friends. Of the greatest gift of Dionysus I hardly like to speak,
lest I should be misunderstood. 'What is that?' According to tradition
Dionysus was driven mad by his stepmother Here, and in order to revenge
himself he inspired mankind with Bacchic madness. But these are stories
which I would rather not repeat. However I do acknowledge that all men
are born in an imperfect state, and are at first restless, irrational
creatures: this, as you will remember, has been already said by us. 'I
remember.' And that Apollo and the Muses and Dionysus gave us harmony
and rhythm? 'Very true.' The other story implies that wine was given
to punish us and make us mad; but we contend that wine is a balm and a
cure; a spring of modesty in the soul, and of health and strength in
the body. Again, the work of the chorus is co-extensive with the work of
education; rhythm and melody answer to the voice, and the motions of the
body correspond to all three, and the sound enters in and educates
the soul in virtue. 'Yes.' And the movement which, when pursued as
an amusement, is termed dancing, when studied with a view to the
improvement of the body, becomes gymnastic. Shall we now proceed to
speak of this? 'What Cretan or Lacedaemonian would approve of your
omitting gymnastic?' Your question implies assent; and you will easily
understand a subject which is familiar to you. Gymnastic is based on the
natural tendency of every animal to rapid motion; and man adds a sense
of rhythm, which is awakened by music; music and dancing together form
the choral art. But before proceeding I must add a crowning word about
drinking. Like other pleasures, it has a lawful use; but if a state or
an individual is inclined to drink at will, I cannot allow them. I
would go further than Crete or Lacedaemon and have the law of the
Carthaginians, that no slave of either sex should drink wine at all, and
no soldier while he is on a campaign, and no magistrate or officer while
he is on duty, and that no one should drink by daylight or on a bridal
night. And there are so many other occasions on which wine ought to
be prohibited, that there will not be many vines grown or vineyards
required in the state.

BOOK III. If a man wants to know the origin of states and societies, he
should behold them from the point of view of time. Thousands of cities
have come into being and have passed away again in infinite ages,
every one of them having had endless forms of government; and if we
can ascertain the cause of these changes in states, that will probably
explain their origin. What do you think of ancient traditions about
deluges and destructions of mankind, and the preservation of a remnant?
'Every one believes in them.' Then let us suppose the world to have
been destroyed by a deluge. The survivors would be hill-shepherds, small
sparks of the human race, dwelling in isolation, and unacquainted with
the arts and vices of civilization. We may further suppose that the
cities on the plain and on the coast have been swept away, and that all
inventions, and every sort of knowledge, have perished. 'Why, if all
things were as they now are, nothing would have ever been invented. All
our famous discoveries have been made within the last thousand years,
and many of them are but of yesterday.' Yes, Cleinias, and you must not
forget Epimenides, who was really of yesterday; he practised the lesson
of moderation and abstinence which Hesiod only preached. 'True.' After
the great destruction we may imagine that the earth was a desert, in
which there were a herd or two of oxen and a few goats, hardly enough
to support those who tended them; while of politics and governments
the survivors would know nothing. And out of this state of things have
arisen arts and laws, and a great deal of virtue and a great deal of
vice; little by little the world has come to be what it is. At first,
the few inhabitants would have had a natural fear of descending into the
plains; although they would want to have intercourse with one another,
they would have a difficulty in getting about, having lost the arts,
and having no means of extracting metals from the earth, or of felling
timber; for even if they had saved any tools, these would soon have been
worn out, and they could get no more until the art of metallurgy had
been again revived. Faction and war would be extinguished among them,
for being solitary they would incline to be friendly; and having
abundance of pasture and plenty of milk and flesh, they would have
nothing to quarrel about. We may assume that they had also dwellings,
clothes, pottery, for the weaving and plastic arts do not require the
use of metals. In those days they were neither poor nor rich, and
there was no insolence or injustice among them; for they were of noble
natures, and lived up to their principles, and believed what they were
told; knowing nothing of land or naval warfare, or of legal practices
or party conflicts, they were simpler and more temperate, and also more
just than the men of our day. 'Very true.' I am showing whence the need
of lawgivers arises, for in primitive ages they neither had nor wanted
them. Men lived according to the customs of their fathers, in a simple
manner, under a patriarchal government, such as still exists both among
Hellenes and barbarians, and is described in Homer as prevailing among
the Cyclopes:--

'They have no laws, and they dwell in rocks or on the tops of mountains,
and every one is the judge of his wife and children, and they do not
trouble themselves about one another.'

'That is a charming poet of yours, though I know little of him, for in
Crete foreign poets are not much read.' 'But he is well known in Sparta,
though he describes Ionian rather than Dorian manners, and he seems to
take your view of primitive society.' May we not suppose that government
arose out of the union of single families who survived the destruction,
and were under the rule of patriarchs, because they had originally
descended from a single father and mother? 'That is very probable.' As
time went on, men increased in number, and tilled the ground, living in
a common habitation, which they protected by walls against wild beasts;
but the several families retained the laws and customs which they
separately received from their first parents. They would naturally like
their own laws better than any others, and would be already formed by
them when they met in a common society: thus legislation imperceptibly
began among them. For in the next stage the associated families would
appoint plenipotentiaries, who would select and present to the chiefs
those of all their laws which they thought best. The chiefs in turn
would make a further selection, and would thus become the lawgivers
of the state, which they would form into an aristocracy or a monarchy.
'Probably.' In the third stage various other forms of government would
arise. This state of society is described by Homer in speaking of the
foundation of Dardania, which, he says,

  'was built at the foot of many-fountained Ida, for Ilium,
   the city of the plain, as yet was not.'

Here, as also in the account of the Cyclopes, the poet by some divine
inspiration has attained truth. But to proceed with our tale. Ilium was
built in a wide plain, on a low hill, which was surrounded by streams
descending from Ida. This shows that many ages must have passed; for the
men who remembered the deluge would never have placed their city at the
mercy of the waters. When mankind began to multiply, many other cities
were built in similar situations. These cities carried on a ten years'
war against Troy, by sea as well as land, for men were ceasing to be
afraid of the sea, and, in the meantime, while the chiefs of the army
were at Troy, their homes fell into confusion. The youth revolted and
refused to receive their own fathers; deaths, murders, exiles ensued.
Under the new name of Dorians, which they received from their chief
Dorieus, the exiles returned: the rest of the story is part of the
history of Sparta.

Thus, after digressing from the subject of laws into music and drinking,
we return to the settlement of Sparta, which in laws and institutions is
the sister of Crete. We have seen the rise of a first, second, and third
state, during the lapse of ages; and now we arrive at a fourth state,
and out of the comparison of all four we propose to gather the nature
of laws and governments, and the changes which may be desirable in them.
'If,' replies the Spartan, 'our new discussion is likely to be as
good as the last, I would think the longest day too short for such an
employment.'

Let us imagine the time when Lacedaemon, and Argos, and Messene were all
subject, Megillus, to your ancestors. Afterwards, they distributed
the army into three portions, and made three cities--Argos, Messene,
Lacedaemon. 'Yes.' Temenus was the king of Argos, Cresphontes of
Messene, Procles and Eurysthenes ruled at Lacedaemon. 'Just so.' And
they all swore to assist any one of their number whose kingdom was
subverted. 'Yes.' But did we not say that kingdoms or governments can
only be subverted by themselves? 'That is true.' Yes, and the truth is
now proved by facts: there were certain conditions upon which the three
kingdoms were to assist one another; the government was to be mild and
the people obedient, and the kings and people were to unite in assisting
either of the two others when they were wronged. This latter condition
was a great security. 'Clearly.' Such a provision is in opposition to
the common notion that the lawgiver should make only such laws as the
people like; but we say that he should rather be like a physician,
prepared to effect a cure even at the cost of considerable suffering.
'Very true.' The early lawgivers had another great advantage--they
were saved from the reproach which attends a division of land and the
abolition of debts. No one could quarrel with the Dorians for dividing
the territory, and they had no debts of long standing. 'They had not.'
Then what was the reason why their legislation signally failed? For
there were three kingdoms, two of them quickly lost their original
constitution. That is a question which we cannot refuse to answer, if
we mean to proceed with our old man's game of enquiring into laws
and institutions. And the Dorian institutions are more worthy of
consideration than any other, having been evidently intended to be a
protection not only to the Peloponnese, but to all the Hellenes against
the Barbarians. For the capture of Troy by the Achaeans had given great
offence to the Assyrians, of whose empire it then formed part, and
they were likely to retaliate. Accordingly the royal Heraclid brothers
devised their military constitution, which was organised on a far better
plan than the old Trojan expedition; and the Dorians themselves were far
superior to the Achaeans, who had taken part in that expedition, and had
been conquered by them. Such a scheme, undertaken by men who had shared
with one another toils and dangers, sanctioned by the Delphian oracle,
under the guidance of the Heraclidae, seemed to have a promise of
permanence. 'Naturally.' Yet this has not proved to be the case. Instead
of the three being one, they have always been at war; had they been
united, in accordance with the original intention, they would have been
invincible.

And what caused their ruin? Did you ever observe that there are
beautiful things of which men often say, 'What wonders they would have
effected if rightly used?' and yet, after all, this may be a mistake.
And so I say of the Heraclidae and their expedition, which I may perhaps
have been justified in admiring, but which nevertheless suggests to me
the general reflection,--'What wonders might not strength and military
resources have accomplished, if the possessor had only known how to use
them!' For consider: if the generals of the army had only known how
to arrange their forces, might they not have given their subjects
everlasting freedom, and the power of doing what they would in all the
world? 'Very true.' Suppose a person to express his admiration of wealth
or rank, does he not do so under the idea that by the help of these
he can attain his desires? All men wish to obtain the control of all
things, and they are always praying for what they desire. 'Certainly.'
And we ask for our friends what they ask for themselves. 'Yes.' Dear is
the son to the father, and yet the son, if he is young and foolish, will
often pray to obtain what the father will pray that he may not obtain.
'True.' And when the father, in the heat of youth or the dotage of age,
makes some rash prayer, the son, like Hippolytus, may have reason to
pray that the word of his father may be ineffectual. 'You mean that a
man should pray to have right desires, before he prays that his desires
may be fulfilled; and that wisdom should be the first object of our
prayers?' Yes; and you will remember my saying that wisdom should be the
principal aim of the legislator; but you said that defence in war
came first. And I replied, that there were four virtues, whereas you
acknowledged one only--courage, and not wisdom which is the guide of all
the rest. And I repeat--in jest if you like, but I am willing that you
should receive my words in earnest--that 'the prayer of a fool is full
of danger.' I will prove to you, if you will allow me, that the ruin
of those states was not caused by cowardice or ignorance in war, but
by ignorance of human affairs. 'Pray proceed: our attention will show
better than compliments that we prize your words.' I maintain that
ignorance is, and always has been, the ruin of states; wherefore the
legislator should seek to banish it from the state; and the greatest
ignorance is the love of what is known to be evil, and the hatred of
what is known to be good; this is the last and greatest conflict of
pleasure and reason in the soul. I say the greatest, because affecting
the greater part of the soul; for the passions are in the individual
what the people are in a state. And when they become opposed to reason
or law, and instruction no longer avails--that is the last and greatest
ignorance of states and men. 'I agree.' Let this, then, be our first
principle:--That the citizen who does not know how to choose between
good and evil must not have authority, although he possess great mental
gifts, and many accomplishments; for he is really a fool. On the other
hand, he who has this knowledge may be unable either to read or swim;
nevertheless, he shall be counted wise and permitted to rule. For how
can there be wisdom where there is no harmony?--the wise man is the
saviour, and he who is devoid of wisdom is the destroyer of states and
households. There are rulers and there are subjects in states. And the
first claim to rule is that of parents to rule over their children; the
second, that of the noble to rule over the ignoble; thirdly, the elder
must govern the younger; in the fourth place, the slave must obey his
master; fifthly, there is the power of the stronger, which the poet
Pindar declares to be according to nature; sixthly, there is the rule of
the wiser, which is also according to nature, as I must inform Pindar,
if he does not know, and is the rule of law over obedient subjects.
'Most true.' And there is a seventh kind of rule which the Gods
love,--in this the ruler is elected by lot.

Then, now, we playfully say to him who fancies that it is easy to
make laws:--You see, legislator, the many and inconsistent claims to
authority; here is a spring of troubles which you must stay. And first
of all you must help us to consider how the kings of Argos and Messene
in olden days destroyed their famous empire--did they forget the saying
of Hesiod, that 'the half is better than the whole'? And do we suppose
that the ignorance of this truth is less fatal to kings than to peoples?
'Probably the evil is increased by their way of life.' The kings of
those days transgressed the laws and violated their oaths. Their deeds
were not in harmony with their words, and their folly, which seemed to
them wisdom, was the ruin of the state. And how could the legislator
have prevented this evil?--the remedy is easy to see now, but was not
easy to foresee at the time. 'What is the remedy?' The institutions of
Sparta may teach you, Megillus. Wherever there is excess, whether the
vessel has too large a sail, or the body too much food, or the mind
too much power, there destruction is certain. And similarly, a man who
possesses arbitrary power is soon corrupted, and grows hateful to
his dearest friends. In order to guard against this evil, the God who
watched over Sparta gave you two kings instead of one, that they
might balance one another; and further to lower the pulse of your body
politic, some human wisdom, mingled with divine power, tempered the
strength and self-sufficiency of youth with the moderation of age in
the institution of your senate. A third saviour bridled your rising and
swelling power by ephors, whom he assimilated to officers elected by
lot: and thus the kingly power was preserved, and became the preserver
of all the rest. Had the constitution been arranged by the original
legislators, not even the portion of Aristodemus would have been saved;
for they had no political experience, and imagined that a youthful
spirit invested with power could be restrained by oaths. Now that God
has instructed us in the arts of legislation, there is no merit in
seeing all this, or in learning wisdom after the event. But if the
coming danger could have been foreseen, and the union preserved, then
no Persian or other enemy would have dared to attack Hellas; and indeed
there was not so much credit to us in defeating the enemy, as discredit
in our disloyalty to one another. For of the three cities one only
fought on behalf of Hellas; and of the two others, Argos refused
her aid; and Messenia was actually at war with Sparta: and if the
Lacedaemonians and Athenians had not united, the Hellenes would have
been absorbed in the Persian empire, and dispersed among the barbarians.
We make these reflections upon past and present legislators because we
desire to find out what other course could have been followed. We were
saying just now, that a state can only be free and wise and harmonious
when there is a balance of powers. There are many words by which we
express the aims of the legislator,--temperance, wisdom, friendship; but
we need not be disturbed by the variety of expression,--these words have
all the same meaning. 'I should like to know at what in your opinion
the legislator should aim.' Hear me, then. There are two mother forms
of states--one monarchy, and the other democracy: the Persians have
the first in the highest form, and the Athenians the second; and no
government can be well administered which does not include both. There
was a time when both the Persians and Athenians had more the character
of a constitutional state than they now have. In the days of Cyrus the
Persians were freemen as well as lords of others, and their soldiers
were free and equal, and the kings used and honoured all the talent
which they could find, and so the nation waxed great, because there was
freedom and friendship and communion of soul. But Cyrus, though a wise
general, never troubled himself about the education of his family. He
was a soldier from his youth upward, and left his children who were born
in the purple to be educated by women, who humoured and spoilt them.
'A rare education, truly!' Yes, such an education as princesses who had
recently grown rich might be expected to give them in a country where
the men were solely occupied with warlike pursuits. 'Likely enough.'
Their father had possessions of men and animals, and never considered
that the race to whom he was about to make them over had been educated
in a very different school, not like the Persian shepherd, who was
well able to take care of himself and his own. He did not see that
his children had been brought up in the Median fashion, by women and
eunuchs. The end was that one of the sons of Cyrus slew the other, and
lost the kingdom by his own folly. Observe, again, that Darius, who
restored the kingdom, had not received a royal education. He was one of
the seven chiefs, and when he came to the throne he divided the empire
into seven provinces; and he made equal laws, and implanted friendship
among the people. Hence his subjects were greatly attached to him, and
cheerfully helped him to extend his empire. Next followed Xerxes,
who had received the same royal education as Cambyses, and met with a
similar fate. The reflection naturally occurs to us--How could Darius,
with all his experience, have made such a mistake! The ruin of Xerxes
was not a mere accident, but the evil life which is generally led by the
sons of very rich and royal persons; and this is what the legislator has
seriously to consider. Justly may the Lacedaemonians be praised for not
giving special honour to birth or wealth; for such advantages are not to
be highly esteemed without virtue, and not even virtue is to be esteemed
unless it be accompanied by temperance. 'Explain.' No one would like
to live in the same house with a courageous man who had no control over
himself, nor with a clever artist who was a rogue. Nor can justice
and wisdom ever be separated from temperance. But considering these
qualities with reference to the honour and dishonour which is to be
assigned to them in states, would you say, on the other hand, that
temperance, if existing without the other virtues in the soul, is worth
anything or nothing? 'I cannot tell.' You have answered well. It would
be absurd to speak of temperance as belonging to the class of honourable
or of dishonourable qualities, because all other virtues in their
various classes require temperance to be added to them; having the
addition, they are honoured not in proportion to that, but to their own
excellence. And ought not the legislator to determine these classes?
'Certainly.' Suppose then that, without going into details, we make
three great classes of them. Most honourable are the goods of the soul,
always assuming temperance as a condition of them; secondly, those of
the body; thirdly, external possessions. The legislator who puts them in
another order is doing an unholy and unpatriotic thing.

These remarks were suggested by the history of the Persian kings; and to
them I will now return. The ruin of their empire was caused by the
loss of freedom and the growth of despotism; all community of feeling
disappeared. Hatred and spoliation took the place of friendship; the
people no longer fought heartily for their masters; the rulers, finding
their myriads useless on the field of battle, resorted to mercenaries as
their only salvation, and were thus compelled by their circumstances
to proclaim the stupidest of falsehoods--that virtue is a trifle in
comparison of money.

But enough of the Persians: a different lesson is taught by the
Athenians, whose example shows that a limited freedom is far better than
an unlimited. Ancient Athens, at the time of the Persian invasion,
had such a limited freedom. The people were divided into four classes,
according to the amount of their property, and the universal love of
order, as well as the fear of the approaching host, made them obedient
and willing citizens. For Darius had sent Datis and Artaphernes,
commanding them under pain of death to subjugate the Eretrians and
Athenians. A report, whether true or not, came to Athens that all the
Eretrians had been 'netted'; and the Athenians in terror sent all
over Hellas for assistance. None came to their relief except the
Lacedaemonians, and they arrived a day too late, when the battle of
Marathon had been already fought. In process of time Xerxes came to
the throne, and the Athenians heard of nothing but the bridge over the
Hellespont, and the canal of Athos, and the innumerable host and fleet.
They knew that these were intended to avenge the defeat of Marathon.
Their case seemed desperate, for there was no Hellene likely to assist
them by land, and at sea they were attacked by more than a thousand
vessels;--their only hope, however slender, was in victory; so they
relied upon themselves and upon the Gods. Their common danger, and
the influence of their ancient constitution, greatly tended to promote
harmony among them. Reverence and fear--that fear which the coward never
knows--made them fight for their altars and their homes, and saved them
from being dispersed all over the world. 'Your words, Athenian, are
worthy of your country.' And you Megillus, who have inherited the
virtues of your ancestors, are worthy to hear them. Let me ask you
to take the moral of my tale. The Persians have lost their liberty
in absolute slavery, and we in absolute freedom. In ancient times the
Athenian people were not the masters, but the servants of the laws. 'Of
what laws?' In the first place, there were laws about music, and the
music was of various kinds: there was one kind which consisted of hymns,
another of lamentations; there was also the paean and the dithyramb,
and the so-called 'laws' (nomoi) or strains, which were played upon the
harp. The regulation of such matters was not left to the whistling and
clapping of the crowd; there was silence while the judges decided, and
the boys, and the audience in general, were kept in order by raps of a
stick. But after a while there arose a new race of poets, men of genius
certainly, however careless of musical truth and propriety, who made
pleasure the only criterion of excellence. That was a test which the
spectators could apply for themselves; the whole audience, instead of
being mute, became vociferous, and a theatrocracy took the place of an
aristocracy. Could the judges have been free, there would have been no
great harm done; a musical democracy would have been well enough--but
conceit has been our ruin. Everybody knows everything, and is ready to
say anything; the age of reverence is gone, and the age of irreverence
and licentiousness has succeeded. 'Most true.' And with this freedom
comes disobedience to rulers, parents, elders,--in the latter days to
the law also; the end returns to the beginning, and the old Titanic
nature reappears--men have no regard for the Gods or for oaths; and the
evils of the human race seem as if they would never cease. Whither are
we running away? Once more we must pull up the argument with bit and
curb, lest, as the proverb says, we should fall off our ass. 'Good.'
Our purpose in what we have been saying is to prove that the legislator
ought to aim at securing for a state three things--freedom, friendship,
wisdom. And we chose two states;--one was the type of freedom, and the
other of despotism; and we showed that when in a mean they attained
their highest perfection. In a similar spirit we spoke of the Dorian
expedition, and of the settlement on the hills and in the plains of
Troy; and of music, and the use of wine, and of all that preceded.

And now, has our discussion been of any use? 'Yes, stranger; for by
a singular coincidence the Cretans are about to send out a colony,
of which the settlement has been confided to the Cnosians. Ten
commissioners, of whom I am one, are to give laws to the colonists, and
we may give any which we please--Cretan or foreign. And therefore let
us make a selection from what has been said, and then proceed with the
construction of the state.' Very good: I am quite at your service. 'And
I too,' says Megillus.

BOOK IV. And now, what is this city? I do not want to know what is to
be the name of the place (for some accident,--a river or a local deity,
will determine that), but what the situation is, whether maritime or
inland. 'The city will be about eleven miles from the sea.' Are there
harbours? 'Excellent.' And is the surrounding country self-supporting?
'Almost.' Any neighbouring states? 'No; and that is the reason for
choosing the place, which has been deserted from time immemorial.' And
is there a fair proportion of hill and plain and wood? 'Like Crete
in general, more hill than plain.' Then there is some hope for your
citizens; had the city been on the sea, and dependent for support
on other countries, no human power could have preserved you from
corruption. Even the distance of eleven miles is hardly enough. For the
sea, although an agreeable, is a dangerous companion, and a highway of
strange morals and manners as well as of commerce. But as the country is
only moderately fertile there will be no great export trade and no
great returns of gold and silver, which are the ruin of states. Is there
timber for ship-building? 'There is no pine, nor much cypress; and very
little stone-pine or plane wood for the interior of ships.' That is
good. 'Why?' Because the city will not be able to imitate the bad ways
of her enemies. 'What is the bearing of that remark?' To explain my
meaning, I would ask you to remember what we said about the Cretan laws,
that they had an eye to war only; whereas I maintained that they ought
to have included all virtue. And I hope that you in your turn will
retaliate upon me if I am false to my own principle. For I consider that
the lawgiver should go straight to the mark of virtue and justice, and
disregard wealth and every other good when separated from virtue.
What further I mean, when I speak of the imitation of enemies, I will
illustrate by the story of Minos, if our Cretan friend will allow me to
mention it. Minos, who was a great sea-king, imposed upon the Athenians
a cruel tribute, for in those days they were not a maritime power; they
had no timber for ship-building, and therefore they could not 'imitate
their enemies'; and better far, as I maintain, would it have been for
them to have lost many times over the lives which they devoted to the
tribute than to have turned soldiers into sailors. Naval warfare is not
a very praiseworthy art; men should not be taught to leap on shore, and
then again to hurry back to their ships, or to find specious excuses for
throwing away their arms; bad customs ought not to be gilded with fine
words. And retreat is always bad, as we are taught in Homer, when he
introduces Odysseus, setting forth to Agamemnon the danger of ships
being at hand when soldiers are disposed to fly. An army of lions
trained in such ways would fly before a herd of deer. Further, a city
which owes its preservation to a crowd of pilots and oarsmen and other
undeserving persons, cannot bestow rewards of honour properly; and
this is the ruin of states. 'Still, in Crete we say that the battle of
Salamis was the salvation of Hellas.' Such is the prevailing
opinion. But I and Megillus say that the battle of Marathon began the
deliverance, and that the battle of Plataea completed it; for these
battles made men better, whereas the battles of Salamis and Artemisium
made them no better. And we further affirm that mere existence is not
the great political good of individuals or states, but the continuance
of the best existence. 'Certainly.' Let us then endeavour to follow this
principle in colonization and legislation.

And first, let me ask you who are to be the colonists? May any one
come from any city of Crete? For you would surely not send a general
invitation to all Hellas. Yet I observe that in Crete there are people
who have come from Argos and Aegina and other places. 'Our recruits
will be drawn from all Crete, and of other Hellenes we should prefer
Peloponnesians. As you observe, there are Argives among the Cretans;
moreover the Gortynians, who are the best of all Cretans, have come from
Gortys in Peloponnesus.'

Colonization is in some ways easier when the colony goes out in a swarm
from one country, owing to the pressure of population, or revolution, or
war. In this case there is the advantage that the new colonists have
a community of race, language, and laws. But then again, they are less
obedient to the legislator; and often they are anxious to keep the very
laws and customs which caused their ruin at home. A mixed multitude,
on the other hand, is more tractable, although there is a difficulty
in making them pull together. There is nothing, however, which perfects
men's virtue more than legislation and colonization. And yet I have a
word to say which may seem to be depreciatory of legislators. 'What is
that?'

I was going to make the saddening reflection, that accidents of all
sorts are the true legislators,--wars and pestilences and famines and
the frequent recurrence of bad seasons. The observer will be inclined to
say that almost all human things are chance; and this is certainly true
about navigation and medicine, and the art of the general. But there is
another thing which may equally be said. 'What is it?' That God governs
all things, and that chance and opportunity co-operate with Him. And
according to yet a third view, art has part with them, for surely in a
storm it is well to have a pilot? And the same is true of legislation:
even if circumstances are favourable, a skilful lawgiver is still
necessary. 'Most true.' All artists would pray for certain conditions
under which to exercise their art: and would not the legislator do the
same? 'Certainly?' Come, legislator, let us say to him, and what are the
conditions which you would have? He will answer, Grant me a city which
is ruled by a tyrant; and let the tyrant be young, mindful, teachable,
courageous, magnanimous; and let him have the inseparable condition
of all virtue, which is temperance--not prudence, but that natural
temperance which is the gift of children and animals, and is hardly
reckoned among goods--with this he must be endowed, if the state is to
acquire the form most conducive to happiness in the speediest manner.
And I must add one other condition: the tyrant must be fortunate, and
his good fortune must consist in his having the co-operation of a great
legislator. When God has done all this, He has done the best which
He can for a state; not so well if He has given them two legislators
instead of one, and less and less well if He has given them a great
many. An orderly tyranny most easily passes into the perfect state;
in the second degree, a monarchy; in the third degree, a democracy; an
oligarchy is worst of all. 'I do not understand.' I suppose that you
have never seen a city which is subject to a tyranny? 'I have no desire
to see one.' You would have seen what I am describing, if you ever had.
The tyrant can speedily change the manners of a state, and affix
the stamp of praise or blame on any action which he pleases; for the
citizens readily follow the example which he sets. There is no quicker
way of making changes; but there is a counterbalancing difficulty. It is
hard to find the divine love of temperance and justice existing in any
powerful form of government, whether in a monarchy or an oligarchy. In
olden days there were chiefs like Nestor, who was the most eloquent and
temperate of mankind, but there is no one his equal now. If such an one
ever arises among us, blessed will he be, and blessed they who listen to
his words. For where power and wisdom and temperance meet in one, there
are the best laws and constitutions. I am endeavouring to show you how
easy under the conditions supposed, and how difficult under any other,
is the task of giving a city good laws. 'How do you mean?' Let us old
men attempt to mould in words a constitution for your new state, as
children make figures out of wax. 'Proceed. What constitution shall we
give--democracy, oligarchy, or aristocracy?' To which of these classes,
Megillus, do you refer your own state? 'The Spartan constitution seems
to me to contain all these elements. Our state is a democracy and also
an aristocracy; the power of the Ephors is tyrannical, and we have
an ancient monarchy.' 'Much the same,' adds Cleinias, 'may be said of
Cnosus.' The reason is that you have polities, but other states are
mere aggregations of men dwelling together, which are named after their
several ruling powers; whereas a state, if an 'ocracy' at all, should
be called a theocracy. A tale of old will explain my meaning. There is
a tradition of a golden age, in which all things were spontaneous and
abundant. Cronos, then lord of the world, knew that no mortal nature
could endure the temptations of power, and therefore he appointed demons
or demi-gods, who are of a superior race, to have dominion over man, as
man has dominion over the animals. They took care of us with great ease
and pleasure to themselves, and no less to us; and the tradition says
that only when God, and not man, is the ruler, can the human race cease
from ill. This was the manner of life which prevailed under Cronos, and
which we must strive to follow so far as the principle of immortality
still abides in us and we live according to law and the dictates of
right reason. But in an oligarchy or democracy, when the governing
principle is athirst for pleasure, the laws are trampled under foot, and
there is no possibility of salvation. Is it not often said that there
are as many forms of laws as there are governments, and that they
have no concern either with any one virtue or with all virtue, but are
relative to the will of the government? Which is as much as to say that
'might makes right.' 'What do you mean?' I mean that governments enact
their own laws, and that every government makes self-preservation its
principal aim. He who transgresses the laws is regarded as an evil-doer,
and punished accordingly. This was one of the unjust principles of
government which we mentioned when speaking of the different claims to
rule. We were agreed that parents should rule their children, the elder
the younger, the noble the ignoble. But there were also several other
principles, and among them Pindar's 'law of violence.' To whom then is
our state to be entrusted? For many a government is only a victorious
faction which has a monopoly of power, and refuses any share to the
conquered, lest when they get into office they should remember their
wrongs. Such governments are not polities, but parties; nor are any laws
good which are made in the interest of particular classes only, and not
of the whole. And in our state I mean to protest against making any
man a ruler because he is rich, or strong, or noble. But those who are
obedient to the laws, and who win the victory of obedience, shall be
promoted to the service of the Gods according to the degree of their
obedience. When I call the ruler the servant or minister of the law,
this is not a mere paradox, but I mean to say that upon a willingness to
obey the law the existence of the state depends. 'Truly, Stranger,
you have a keen vision.' Why, yes; every man when he is old has his
intellectual vision most keen. And now shall we call in our colonists
and make a speech to them? Friends, we say to them, God holds in His
hand the beginning, middle, and end of all things, and He moves in a
straight line towards the accomplishment of His will. Justice always
bears Him company, and punishes those who fall short of His laws. He who
would be happy follows humbly in her train; but he who is lifted up with
pride, or wealth, or honour, or beauty, is soon deserted by God, and,
being deserted, he lives in confusion and disorder. To many he seems a
great man; but in a short time he comes to utter destruction. Wherefore,
seeing these things, what ought we to do or think? 'Every man ought to
follow God.' What life, then, is pleasing to God? There is an old saying
that 'like agrees with like, measure with measure,' and God ought to
be our measure in all things. The temperate man is the friend of God
because he is like Him, and the intemperate man is not His friend,
because he is not like Him. And the conclusion is, that the best of all
things for a good man is to pray and sacrifice to the Gods; but the bad
man has a polluted soul; and therefore his service is wasted upon the
Gods, while the good are accepted of them. I have told you the mark at
which we ought to aim. You will say, How, and with what weapons? In the
first place we affirm, that after the Olympian Gods and the Gods of the
state, honour should be given to the Gods below, and to them should
be offered everything in even numbers and of the second choice; the
auspicious odd numbers and everything of the first choice are reserved
for the Gods above. Next demi-gods or spirits must be honoured, and
then heroes, and after them family gods, who will be worshipped at their
local seats according to law. Further, the honour due to parents should
not be forgotten; children owe all that they have to them, and the debt
must be repaid by kindness and attention in old age. No unbecoming word
must be uttered before them; for there is an avenging angel who hears
them when they are angry, and the child should consider that the parent
when he has been wronged has a right to be angry. After their death
let them have a moderate funeral, such as their fathers have had before
them; and there shall be an annual commemoration of them. Living on this
wise, we shall be accepted of the Gods, and shall pass our days in good
hope. The law will determine all our various duties towards relatives
and friends and other citizens, and the whole state will be happy and
prosperous. But if the legislator would persuade as well as command,
he will add prefaces to his laws which will predispose the citizens to
virtue. Even a little accomplished in the way of gaining the hearts of
men is of great value. For most men are in no particular haste to become
good. As Hesiod says:

'Long and steep is the first half of the way to virtue, But when you
have reached the top the rest is easy.'

'Those are excellent words.' Yes; but may I tell you the effect which
the preceding discourse has had upon me? I will express my meaning in
an address to the lawgiver:--O lawgiver, if you know what we ought to do
and say, you can surely tell us;--you are not like the poet, who, as you
were just now saying, does not know the effect of his own words. And the
poet may reply, that when he sits down on the tripod of the Muses he is
not in his right mind, and that being a mere imitator he may be allowed
to say all sorts of opposite things, and cannot tell which of them is
true. But this licence cannot be allowed to the lawgiver. For example,
there are three kinds of funerals; one of them is excessive, another
mean, a third moderate, and you say that the last is right. Now if I
had a rich wife, and she told me to bury her, and I were to sing of her
burial, I should praise the extravagant kind; a poor man would commend
a funeral of the meaner sort, and a man of moderate means would prefer a
moderate funeral. But you, as legislator, would have to say exactly what
you meant by 'moderate.' 'Very true.' And is our lawgiver to have no
preamble or interpretation of his laws, never offering a word of advice
to his subjects, after the manner of some doctors? For of doctors are
there not two kinds? The one gentle and the other rough, doctors who are
freemen and learn themselves and teach their pupils scientifically, and
doctor's assistants who get their knowledge empirically by attending on
their masters? 'Of course there are.' And did you ever observe that the
gentlemen doctors practise upon freemen, and that slave doctors confine
themselves to slaves? The latter go about the country or wait for the
slaves at the dispensaries. They hold no parley with their patients
about their diseases or the remedies of them; they practise by the rule
of thumb, and give their decrees in the most arbitrary manner. When they
have doctored one patient they run off to another, whom they treat with
equal assurance, their duty being to relieve the master of the care
of his sick slaves. But the other doctor, who practises on freemen,
proceeds in quite a different way. He takes counsel with his patient and
learns from him, and never does anything until he has persuaded him of
what he is doing. He trusts to influence rather than force. Now is not
the use of both methods far better than the use of either alone? And
both together may be advantageously employed by us in legislation.

We may illustrate our proposal by an example. The laws relating to
marriage naturally come first, and therefore we may begin with them. The
simple law would be as follows:--A man shall marry between the ages of
thirty and thirty-five; if he do not, he shall be fined or deprived of
certain privileges. The double law would add the reason why: Forasmuch
as man desires immortality, which he attains by the procreation of
children, no one should deprive himself of his share in this good. He
who obeys the law is blameless, but he who disobeys must not be a gainer
by his celibacy; and therefore he shall pay a yearly fine, and shall not
be allowed to receive honour from the young. That is an example of what
I call the double law, which may enable us to judge how far the addition
of persuasion to threats is desirable. 'Lacedaemonians in general,
Stranger, are in favour of brevity; in this case, however, I prefer
length. But Cleinias is the real lawgiver, and he ought to be first
consulted.' 'Thank you, Megillus.' Whether words are to be many or few,
is a foolish question:--the best and not the shortest forms are always
to be approved. And legislators have never thought of the advantages
which they might gain by using persuasion as well as force, but trust to
force only. And I have something else to say about the matter. Here have
we been from early dawn until noon, discoursing about laws, and all that
we have been saying is only the preamble of the laws which we are about
to give. I tell you this, because I want you to observe that songs and
strains have all of them preludes, but that laws, though called by the
same name (nomoi), have never any prelude. Now I am disposed to give
preludes to laws, dividing them into two parts--one containing the
despotic command, which I described under the image of the slave
doctor--the other the persuasive part, which I term the preamble. The
legislator should give preludes or preambles to his laws. 'That shall
be the way in my colony.' I am glad that you agree with me; this is
a matter which it is important to remember. A preamble is not always
necessary to a law: the lawgiver must determine when it is needed, as
the musician determines when there is to be a prelude to a song. 'Most
true: and now, having a preamble, let us recommence our discourse.'
Enough has been said of Gods and parents, and we may proceed to consider
what relates to the citizens--their souls, bodies, properties,--their
occupations and amusements; and so arrive at the nature of education.

The first word of the Laws somewhat abruptly introduces the thought
which is present to the mind of Plato throughout the work, namely, that
Law is of divine origin. In the words of a great English writer--'Her
seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world.' Though
the particular laws of Sparta and Crete had a narrow and imperfect aim,
this is not true of divine laws, which are based upon the principles of
human nature, and not framed to meet the exigencies of the moment. They
have their natural divisions, too, answering to the kinds of virtue;
very unlike the discordant enactments of an Athenian assembly or of an
English Parliament. Yet we may observe two inconsistencies in Plato's
treatment of the subject: first, a lesser, inasmuch as he does not
clearly distinguish the Cretan and Spartan laws, of which the exclusive
aim is war, from those other laws of Zeus and Apollo which are said to
be divine, and to comprehend all virtue. Secondly, we may retort on him
his own complaint against Sparta and Crete, that he has himself given us
a code of laws, which for the most part have a military character; and
that we cannot point to 'obvious examples of similar institutions which
are concerned with pleasure;' at least there is only one such, that
which relates to the regulation of convivial intercourse. The military
spirit which is condemned by him in the beginning of the Laws, reappears
in the seventh and eighth books.

The mention of Minos the great lawgiver, and of Rhadamanthus the
righteous administrator of the law, suggests the two divisions of the
laws into enactments and appointments of officers. The legislator and
the judge stand side by side, and their functions cannot be wholly
distinguished. For the judge is in some sort a legislator, at any
rate in small matters; and his decisions growing into precedents, must
determine the innumerable details which arise out of the conflict of
circumstances. These Plato proposes to leave to a younger generation
of legislators. The action of courts of law in making law seems to
have escaped him, probably because the Athenian law-courts were popular
assemblies; and, except in a mythical form, he can hardly be said to
have had before his eyes the ideal of a judge. In reading the Laws of
Plato, or any other ancient writing about Laws, we should consider
how gradual the process is by which not only a legal system, but the
administration of a court of law, becomes perfected.

There are other subjects on which Plato breaks ground, as his manner is,
early in the work. First, he gives a sketch of the subject of laws; they
are to comprehend the whole of human life, from infancy to age, and from
birth to death, although the proposed plan is far from being regularly
executed in the books which follow, partly owing to the necessity of
describing the constitution as well as the laws of his new colony.
Secondly, he touches on the power of music, which may exercise so
great an influence on the character of men for good or evil; he refers
especially to the great offence--which he mentions again, and which he
had condemned in the Republic--of varying the modes and rhythms, as
well as to that of separating the words from the music. Thirdly, he
reprobates the prevalence of unnatural loves in Sparta and Crete, which
he attributes to the practice of syssitia and gymnastic exercises, and
considers to be almost inseparable from them. To this subject he again
returns in the eighth book. Fourthly, the virtues are affirmed to be
inseparable from one another, even if not absolutely one; this, too, is
a principle which he reasserts at the conclusion of the work. As in
the beginnings of Plato's other writings, we have here several 'notes'
struck, which form the preludes of longer discussions, although the hint
is less ingeniously given, and the promise more imperfectly fulfilled
than in the earlier dialogues.

The distinction between ethics and politics has not yet dawned upon
Plato's mind. To him, law is still floating in a region between the two.
He would have desired that all the acts and laws of a state should
have regard to all virtue. But he did not see that politics and law are
subject to their own conditions, and are distinguished from ethics by
natural differences. The actions of which politics take cognisance are
necessarily collective or representative; and law is limited to external
acts which affect others as well as the agents. Ethics, on the other
hand, include the whole duty of man in relation both to himself and
others. But Plato has never reflected on these differences. He fancies
that the life of the state can be as easily fashioned as that of the
individual. He is favourable to a balance of power, but never seems
to have considered that power might be so balanced as to produce an
absolute immobility in the state. Nor is he alive to the evils
of confounding vice and crime; or to the necessity of governments
abstaining from excessive interference with their subjects.

Yet this confusion of ethics and politics has also a better and a truer
side. If unable to grasp some important distinctions, Plato is at any
rate seeking to elevate the lower to the higher; he does not pull down
the principles of men to their practice, or narrow the conception of
the state to the immediate necessities of politics. Political ideals of
freedom and equality, of a divine government which has been or will be
in some other age or country, have greatly tended to educate and ennoble
the human race. And if not the first author of such ideals (for they are
as old as Hesiod), Plato has done more than any other writer to impress
them on the world. To those who censure his idealism we may reply in his
own words--'He is not the worse painter who draws a perfectly beautiful
figure, because no such figure of a man could ever have existed'
(Republic).

A new thought about education suddenly occurs to him, and for a time
exercises a sort of fascination over his mind, though in the later books
of the Laws it is forgotten or overlooked. As true courage is allied to
temperance, so there must be an education which shall train mankind to
resist pleasure as well as to endure pain. No one can be on his guard
against that of which he has no experience. The perfectly trained
citizen should have been accustomed to look his enemy in the face, and
to measure his strength against her. This education in pleasure is to be
given, partly by festive intercourse, but chiefly by the song and dance.
Youth are to learn music and gymnastics; their elders are to be trained
and tested at drinking parties. According to the old proverb, in vino
veritas, they will then be open and visible to the world in their true
characters; and also they will be more amenable to the laws, and more
easily moulded by the hand of the legislator. The first reason is
curious enough, though not important; the second can hardly be thought
deserving of much attention. Yet if Plato means to say that society
is one of the principal instruments of education in after-life, he has
expressed in an obscure fashion a principle which is true, and to
his contemporaries was also new. That at a banquet a degree of moral
discipline might be exercised is an original thought, but Plato has not
yet learnt to express his meaning in an abstract form. He is sensible
that moderation is better than total abstinence, and that asceticism is
but a one-sided training. He makes the sagacious remark, that 'those who
are able to resist pleasure may often be among the worst of mankind.' He
is as much aware as any modern utilitarian that the love of pleasure is
the great motive of human action. This cannot be eradicated, and must
therefore be regulated,--the pleasure must be of the right sort.
Such reflections seem to be the real, though imperfectly expressed,
groundwork of the discussion. As in the juxtaposition of the Bacchic
madness and the great gift of Dionysus, or where he speaks of the
different senses in which pleasure is and is not the object of imitative
art, or in the illustration of the failure of the Dorian institutions
from the prayer of Theseus, we have to gather his meaning as well as we
can from the connexion.

The feeling of old age is discernible in this as well as in several
other passages of the Laws. Plato has arrived at the time when men sit
still and look on at life; and he is willing to allow himself and others
the few pleasures which remain to them. Wine is to cheer them now that
their limbs are old and their blood runs cold. They are the best critics
of dancing and music, but cannot be induced to join in song unless they
have been enlivened by drinking. Youth has no need of the stimulus
of wine, but age can only be made young again by its invigorating
influence. Total abstinence for the young, moderate and increasing
potations for the old, is Plato's principle. The fire, of which there is
too much in the one, has to be brought to the other. Drunkenness, like
madness, had a sacredness and mystery to the Greek; if, on the one hand,
as in the case of the Tarentines, it degraded a whole population, it was
also a mode of worshipping the god Dionysus, which was to be practised
on certain occasions. Moreover, the intoxication produced by the fruit
of the vine was very different from the grosser forms of drunkenness
which prevail among some modern nations.

The physician in modern times would restrict the old man's use of wine
within narrow limits. He would tell us that you cannot restore strength
by a stimulus. Wine may call back the vital powers in disease, but
cannot reinvigorate old age. In his maxims of health and longevity,
though aware of the importance of a simple diet, Plato has omitted to
dwell on the perfect rule of moderation. His commendation of wine is
probably a passing fancy, and may have arisen out of his own habits
or tastes. If so, he is not the only philosopher whose theory has been
based upon his practice.

Plato's denial of wine to the young and his approval of it for
their elders has some points of view which may be illustrated by the
temperance controversy of our own times. Wine may be allowed to have a
religious as well as a festive use; it is commended both in the Old and
New Testament; it has been sung of by nearly all poets; and it may be
truly said to have a healing influence both on body and mind. Yet it is
also very liable to excess and abuse, and for this reason is prohibited
by Mahometans, as well as of late years by many Christians, no less than
by the ancient Spartans; and to sound its praises seriously seems to
partake of the nature of a paradox. But we may rejoin with Plato that
the abuse of a good thing does not take away the use of it. Total
abstinence, as we often say, is not the best rule, but moderate
indulgence; and it is probably true that a temperate use of wine may
contribute some elements of character to social life which we can ill
afford to lose. It draws men out of their reserve; it helps them to
forget themselves and to appear as they by nature are when not on their
guard, and therefore to make them more human and greater friends to
their fellow-men. It gives them a new experience; it teaches them to
combine self-control with a measure of indulgence; it may sometimes
restore to them the simplicity of childhood. We entirely agree with
Plato in forbidding the use of wine to the young; but when we are
of mature age there are occasions on which we derive refreshment and
strength from moderate potations. It is well to make abstinence the
rule, but the rule may sometimes admit of an exception. We are in a
higher, as well as in a lower sense, the better for the use of wine.
The question runs up into wider ones--What is the general effect of
asceticism on human nature? and, Must there not be a certain proportion
between the aspirations of man and his powers?--questions which have
been often discussed both by ancient and modern philosophers. So
by comparing things old and new we may sometimes help to realize to
ourselves the meaning of Plato in the altered circumstances of our own
life.

Like the importance which he attaches to festive entertainments, his
depreciation of courage to the fourth place in the scale of virtue
appears to be somewhat rhetorical and exaggerated. But he is speaking
of courage in the lower sense of the term, not as including loyalty or
temperance. He does not insist in this passage, as in the Protagoras,
on the unity of the virtues; or, as in the Laches, on the identity of
wisdom and courage. But he says that they all depend upon their leader
mind, and that, out of the union of wisdom and temperance with courage,
springs justice. Elsewhere he is disposed to regard temperance rather
as a condition of all virtue than as a particular virtue. He generalizes
temperance, as in the Republic he generalizes justice. The nature of the
virtues is to run up into one another, and in many passages Plato makes
but a faint effort to distinguish them. He still quotes the poets,
somewhat enlarging, as his manner is, or playing with their meaning. The
martial poet Tyrtaeus, and the oligarch Theognis, furnish him with
happy illustrations of the two sorts of courage. The fear of fear, the
division of goods into human and divine, the acknowledgment that peace
and reconciliation are better than the appeal to the sword, the analysis
of temperance into resistance of pleasure as well as endurance of pain,
the distinction between the education which is suitable for a trade or
profession, and for the whole of life, are important and probably new
ethical conceptions. Nor has Plato forgotten his old paradox (Gorgias)
that to be punished is better than to be unpunished, when he says, that
to the bad man death is the only mitigation of his evil. He is not less
ideal in many passages of the Laws than in the Gorgias or Republic. But
his wings are heavy, and he is unequal to any sustained flight.

There is more attempt at dramatic effect in the first book than in
the later parts of the work. The outburst of martial spirit in the
Lacedaemonian, 'O best of men'; the protest which the Cretan makes
against the supposed insult to his lawgiver; the cordial acknowledgment
on the part of both of them that laws should not be discussed publicly
by those who live under their rule; the difficulty which they alike
experience in following the speculations of the Athenian, are highly
characteristic.

In the second book, Plato pursues further his notion of educating by
a right use of pleasure. He begins by conceiving an endless power of
youthful life, which is to be reduced to rule and measure by harmony and
rhythm. Men differ from the lower animals in that they are capable of
musical discipline. But music, like all art, must be truly imitative,
and imitative of what is true and good. Art and morality agree in
rejecting pleasure as the criterion of good. True art is inseparable
from the highest and most ennobling ideas. Plato only recognizes the
identity of pleasure and good when the pleasure is of the higher kind.
He is the enemy of 'songs without words,' which he supposes to have some
confusing or enervating effect on the mind of the hearer; and he is also
opposed to the modern degeneracy of the drama, which he would probably
have illustrated, like Aristophanes, from Euripides and Agathon. From
this passage may be gathered a more perfect conception of art than
from any other of Plato's writings. He understands that art is at
once imitative and ideal, an exact representation of truth, and also a
representation of the highest truth. The same double view of art may be
gathered from a comparison of the third and tenth books of the Republic,
but is here more clearly and pointedly expressed.

We are inclined to suspect that both here and in the Republic Plato
exaggerates the influence really exercised by the song and the dance.
But we must remember also the susceptible nature of the Greek, and the
perfection to which these arts were carried by him. Further, the music
had a sacred and Pythagorean character; the dance too was part of a
religious festival. And only at such festivals the sexes mingled in
public, and the youths passed under the eyes of their elders.

At the beginning of the third book, Plato abruptly asks the question,
What is the origin of states? The answer is, Infinite time. We have
already seen--in the Theaetetus, where he supposes that in the course of
ages every man has had numberless progenitors, kings and slaves, Greeks
and barbarians; and in the Critias, where he says that nine thousand
years have elapsed since the island of Atlantis fought with Athens--that
Plato is no stranger to the conception of long periods of time. He
imagines human society to have been interrupted by natural convulsions;
and beginning from the last of these, he traces the steps by which the
family has grown into the state, and the original scattered society,
becoming more and more civilised, has finally passed into military
organizations like those of Crete and Sparta. His conception of the
origin of states is far truer in the Laws than in the Republic; but it
must be remembered that here he is giving an historical, there an ideal
picture of the growth of society.

Modern enquirers, like Plato, have found in infinite ages the
explanation not only of states, but of languages, men, animals, the
world itself; like him, also, they have detected in later institutions
the vestiges of a patriarchal state still surviving. Thus far Plato
speaks as 'the spectator of all time and all existence,' who may be
thought by some divine instinct to have guessed at truths which were
hereafter to be revealed. He is far above the vulgar notion that Hellas
is the civilized world (Statesman), or that civilization only began when
the Hellenes appeared on the scene. But he has no special knowledge
of 'the days before the flood'; and when he approaches more historical
times, in preparing the way for his own theory of mixed government,
he argues partially and erroneously. He is desirous of showing that
unlimited power is ruinous to any state, and hence he is led to
attribute a tyrannical spirit to the first Dorian kings. The decay of
Argos and the destruction of Messene are adduced by him as a manifest
proof of their failure; and Sparta, he thinks, was only preserved by the
limitations which the wisdom of successive legislators introduced into
the government. But there is no more reason to suppose that the Dorian
rule of life which was followed at Sparta ever prevailed in Argos and
Messene, than to assume that Dorian institutions were framed to protect
the Greeks against the power of Assyria; or that the empire of Assyria
was in any way affected by the Trojan war; or that the return of the
Heraclidae was only the return of Achaean exiles, who received a new
name from their leader Dorieus. Such fancies were chiefly based, as far
as they had any foundation, on the use of analogy, which played a great
part in the dawn of historical and geographical research. Because there
was a Persian empire which was the natural enemy of the Greek, there
must also have been an Assyrian empire, which had a similar hostility;
and not only the fable of the island of Atlantis, but the Trojan war,
in Plato's mind derived some features from the Persian struggle. So
Herodotus makes the Nile answer to the Ister, and the valley of the Nile
to the Red Sea. In the Republic, Plato is flying in the air regardless
of fact and possibility--in the Laws, he is making history by analogy.
In the former, he appears to be like some modern philosophers,
absolutely devoid of historical sense; in the latter, he is on a level,
not with Thucydides, or the critical historians of Greece, but with
Herodotus, or even with Ctesias.

The chief object of Plato in tracing the origin of society is to show
the point at which regular government superseded the patriarchical
authority, and the separate customs of different families were
systematized by legislators, and took the form of laws consented to
by them all. According to Plato, the only sound principle on which any
government could be based was a mixture or balance of power. The balance
of power saved Sparta, when the two other Heraclid states fell into
disorder. Here is probably the first trace of a political idea, which
has exercised a vast influence both in ancient and modern times. And
yet we might fairly ask, a little parodying the language of Plato--O
legislator, is unanimity only 'the struggle for existence'; or is the
balance of powers in a state better than the harmony of them?

In the fourth book we approach the realities of politics, and Plato
begins to ascend to the height of his great argument. The reign of
Cronos has passed away, and various forms of government have succeeded,
which are all based on self-interest and self-preservation. Right and
wrong, instead of being measured by the will of God, are created by
the law of the state. The strongest assertions are made of the purely
spiritual nature of religion--'Without holiness no man is accepted of
God'; and of the duty of filial obedience,--'Honour thy parents.' The
legislator must teach these precepts as well as command them. He is to
be the educator as well as the lawgiver of future ages, and his laws
are themselves to form a part of the education of the state. Unlike the
poet, he must be definite and rational; he cannot be allowed to say one
thing at one time, and another thing at another--he must know what he
is about. And yet legislation has a poetical or rhetorical element, and
must find words which will wing their way to the hearts of men. Laws
must be promulgated before they are put in execution, and mankind must
be reasoned with before they are punished. The legislator, when he
promulgates a particular law, will courteously entreat those who are
willing to hear his voice. Upon the rebellious only does the heavy blow
descend. A sermon and a law in one, blending the secular punishment with
the religious sanction, appeared to Plato a new idea which might have a
great result in reforming the world. The experiment had never been
tried of reasoning with mankind; the laws of others had never had any
preambles, and Plato seems to have great pleasure in contemplating his
discovery.

In these quaint forms of thought and language, great principles of
morals and legislation are enunciated by him for the first time. They
all go back to mind and God, who holds the beginning, middle, and end of
all things in His hand. The adjustment of the divine and human elements
in the world is conceived in the spirit of modern popular philosophy,
differing not much in the mode of expression. At first sight the
legislator appears to be impotent, for all things are the sport of
chance. But we admit also that God governs all things, and that chance
and opportunity co-operate with Him (compare the saying, that chance is
the name of the unknown cause). Lastly, while we acknowledge that God
and chance govern mankind and provide the conditions of human action,
experience will not allow us to deny a place to art. We know that there
is a use in having a pilot, though the storm may overwhelm him; and a
legislator is required to provide for the happiness of a state, although
he will pray for favourable conditions under which he may exercise his
art.

BOOK V. Hear now, all ye who heard the laws about Gods and ancestors:
Of all human possessions the soul is most divine, and most truly a man's
own. For in every man there are two parts--a better which rules, and an
inferior which serves; and the ruler is to be preferred to the servant.
Wherefore I bid every one next after the Gods to honour his own soul,
and he can only honour her by making her better. A man does not honour
his soul by flattery, or gifts, or self-indulgence, or conceit of
knowledge, nor when he blames others for his own errors; nor when he
indulges in pleasure or refuses to bear pain; nor when he thinks that
life at any price is a good, because he fears the world below, which,
far from being an evil, may be the greatest good; nor when he prefers
beauty to virtue--not reflecting that the soul, which came from heaven,
is more honourable than the body, which is earth-born; nor when
he covets dishonest gains, of which no amount is equal in value to
virtue;--in a word, when he counts that which the legislator pronounces
evil to be good, he degrades his soul, which is the divinest part of
him. He does not consider that the real punishment of evil-doing is to
grow like evil men, and to shun the conversation of the good: and that
he who is joined to such men must do and suffer what they by nature do
and say to one another, which suffering is not justice but retribution.
For justice is noble, but retribution is only the companion of
injustice. And whether a man escapes punishment or not, he is equally
miserable; for in the one case he is not cured, and in the other case he
perishes that the rest may be saved.

The glory of man is to follow the better and improve the inferior. And
the soul is that part of man which is most inclined to avoid the evil
and dwell with the good. Wherefore also the soul is second only to the
Gods in honour, and in the third place the body is to be esteemed, which
often has a false honour. For honour is not to be given to the fair or
the strong, or the swift or the tall, or to the healthy, any more than
to their opposites, but to the mean states of all these habits; and so
of property and external goods. No man should heap up riches that he may
leave them to his children. The best condition for them as for the state
is a middle one, in which there is a freedom without luxury. And the
best inheritance of children is modesty. But modesty cannot be implanted
by admonition only--the elders must set the example. He who would train
the young must first train himself.

He who honours his kindred and family may fairly expect that the Gods
will give him children. He who would have friends must think much of
their favours to him, and little of his to them. He who prefers to an
Olympic, or any other victory, to win the palm of obedience to the laws,
serves best both the state and his fellow-citizens. Engagements with
strangers are to be deemed most sacred, because the stranger, having
neither kindred nor friends, is immediately under the protection of
Zeus, the God of strangers. A prudent man will not sin against the
stranger; and still more carefully will he avoid sinning against the
suppliant, which is an offence never passed over by the Gods.

I will now speak of those particulars which are matters of praise and
blame only, and which, although not enforced by the law, greatly affect
the disposition to obey the law. Truth has the first place among the
gifts of Gods and men, for truth begets trust; but he is not to be
trusted who loves voluntary falsehood, and he who loves involuntary
falsehood is a fool. Neither the ignorant nor the untrustworthy man
is happy; for they have no friends in life, and die unlamented and
untended. Good is he who does no injustice--better who prevents others
from doing any--best of all who joins the rulers in punishing injustice.
And this is true of goods and virtues in general; he who has and
communicates them to others is the man of men; he who would, if he
could, is second-best; he who has them and is jealous of imparting them
to others is to be blamed, but the good or virtue which he has is to be
valued still. Let every man contend in the race without envy; for the
unenvious man increases the strength of the city; himself foremost in
the race, he harms no one with calumny. Whereas the envious man is
weak himself, and drives his rivals to despair with his slanders, thus
depriving the whole city of incentives to the exercise of virtue, and
tarnishing her glory. Every man should be gentle, but also passionate;
for he must have the spirit to fight against incurable and malignant
evil. But the evil which is remediable should be dealt with more in
sorrow than anger. He who is unjust is to be pitied in any case; for
no man voluntarily does evil or allows evil to exist in his soul. And
therefore he who deals with the curable sort must be long-suffering and
forbearing; but the incurable shall have the vials of our wrath poured
out upon him. The greatest of all evils is self-love, which is thought
to be natural and excusable, and is enforced as a duty, and yet is
the cause of many errors. The lover is blinded about the beloved, and
prefers his own interests to truth and right; but the truly great
man seeks justice before all things. Self-love is the source of
that ignorant conceit of knowledge which is always doing and never
succeeding. Wherefore let every man avoid self-love, and follow the
guidance of those who are better than himself. There are lesser matters
which a man should recall to mind; for wisdom is like a stream, ever
flowing in and out, and recollection flows in when knowledge is failing.
Let no man either laugh or grieve overmuch; but let him control his
feelings in the day of good- or ill-fortune, believing that the Gods
will diminish the evils and increase the blessings of the righteous.
These are thoughts which should ever occupy a good man's mind; he should
remember them both in lighter and in more serious hours, and remind
others of them.

So much of divine matters and the relation of man to God. But man is
man, and dependent on pleasure and pain; and therefore to acquire a true
taste respecting either is a great matter. And what is a true taste?
This can only be explained by a comparison of one life with another.
Pleasure is an object of desire, pain of avoidance; and the absence of
pain is to be preferred to pain, but not to pleasure. There are infinite
kinds and degrees of both of them, and we choose the life which has more
pleasure and avoid that which has less; but we do not choose that life
in which the elements of pleasure are either feeble or equally balanced
with pain. All the lives which we desire are pleasant; the choice of any
others is due to inexperience.

Now there are four lives--the temperate, the rational, the courageous,
the healthful; and to these let us oppose four others--the intemperate,
the foolish, the cowardly, the diseased. The temperate life has gentle
pains and pleasures and placid desires, the intemperate life has violent
delights, and still more violent desires. And the pleasures of the
temperate exceed the pains, while the pains of the intemperate exceed
the pleasures. But if this is true, none are voluntarily intemperate,
but all who lack temperance are either ignorant or wanting in
self-control: for men always choose the life which (as they think)
exceeds in pleasure. The wise, the healthful, the courageous life have
a similar advantage--they also exceed their opposites in pleasure.
And, generally speaking, the life of virtue is far more pleasurable and
honourable, fairer and happier far, than the life of vice. Let this be
the preamble of our laws; the strain will follow.

As in a web the warp is stronger than the woof, so should the rulers be
stronger than their half-educated subjects. Let us suppose, then, that
in the constitution of a state there are two parts, the appointment
of the rulers, and the laws which they have to administer. But, before
going further, there are some preliminary matters which have to be
considered.

As of animals, so also of men, a selection must be made; the bad breed
must be got rid of, and the good retained. The legislator must purify
them, and if he be not a despot he will find this task to be a difficult
one. The severer kinds of purification are practised when great
offenders are punished by death or exile, but there is a milder process
which is necessary when the poor show a disposition to attack the
property of the rich, for then the legislator will send them off to
another land, under the name of a colony. In our case, however, we
shall only need to purify the streams before they meet. This is often
a troublesome business, but in theory we may suppose the operation
performed, and the desired purity attained. Evil men we will hinder from
coming, and receive the good as friends.

Like the old Heraclid colony, we are fortunate in escaping the abolition
of debts and the distribution of land, which are difficult and dangerous
questions. But, perhaps, now that we are speaking of the subject, we
ought to say how, if the danger existed, the legislator should try to
avert it. He would have recourse to prayers, and trust to the healing
influence of time. He would create a kindly spirit between creditors and
debtors: those who have should give to those who have not, and poverty
should be held to be rather the increase of a man's desires than the
diminution of his property. Good-will is the only safe and enduring
foundation of the political society; and upon this our city shall
be built. The lawgiver, if he is wise, will not proceed with the
arrangement of the state until all disputes about property are settled.
And for him to introduce fresh grounds of quarrel would be madness.

Let us now proceed to the distribution of our state, and determine the
size of the territory and the number of the allotments. The territory
should be sufficient to maintain the citizens in moderation, and the
population should be numerous enough to defend themselves, and sometimes
to aid their neighbours. We will fix the number of citizens at 5040, to
which the number of houses and portions of land shall correspond. Let
the number be divided into two parts and then into three; for it is
very convenient for the purposes of distribution, and is capable of
fifty-nine divisions, ten of which proceed without interval from one to
ten. Here are numbers enough for war and peace, and for all contracts
and dealings. These properties of numbers are true, and should be
ascertained with a view to use.

In carrying out the distribution of the land, a prudent legislator will
be careful to respect any provision for religious worship which has been
sanctioned by ancient tradition or by the oracles of Delphi, Dodona, or
Ammon. All sacrifices, and altars, and temples, whatever may be their
origin, should remain as they are. Every division should have a patron
God or hero; to these a portion of the domain should be appropriated,
and at their temples the inhabitants of the districts should meet
together from time to time, for the sake of mutual help and friendship.
All the citizens of a state should be known to one another; for where
men are in the dark about each other's characters, there can be
no justice or right administration. Every man should be true and
single-minded, and should not allow himself to be deceived by others.

And now the game opens, and we begin to move the pieces. At first sight,
our constitution may appear singular and ill-adapted to a legislator who
has not despotic power; but on second thoughts will be deemed to be,
if not the very best, the second best. For there are three forms of
government, a first, a second, and a third best, out of which Cleinias
has now to choose. The first and highest form is that in which friends
have all things in common, including wives and property,--in which they
have common fears, hopes, desires, and do not even call their eyes or
their hands their own. This is the ideal state; than which there never
can be a truer or better--a state, whether inhabited by Gods or sons of
Gods, which will make the dwellers therein blessed. Here is the pattern
on which we must ever fix our eyes; but we are now concerned with
another, which comes next to it, and we will afterwards proceed to a
third.

Inasmuch as our citizens are not fitted either by nature or education to
receive the saying, Friends have all things in common, let them retain
their houses and private property, but use them in the service of their
country, who is their God and parent, and of the Gods and demigods of
the land. Their first care should be to preserve the number of their
lots. This may be secured in the following manner: when the possessor of
a lot dies, he shall leave his lot to his best-beloved child, who will
become the heir of all duties and interests, and will minister to the
Gods and to the family, to the living and to the dead. Of the remaining
children, the females must be given in marriage according to the law to
be hereafter enacted; the males may be assigned to citizens who have no
children of their own. How to equalize families and allotments will be
one of the chief cares of the guardians of the laws. When parents have
too many children they may give to those who have none, or couples
may abstain from having children, or, if there is a want of offspring,
special care may be taken to obtain them; or if the number of citizens
becomes excessive, we may send away the surplus to found a colony. If,
on the other hand, a war or plague diminishes the number of inhabitants,
new citizens must be introduced; and these ought not, if possible, to be
men of low birth or inferior training; but even God, it is said, cannot
always fight against necessity.

Wherefore we will thus address our citizens:--Good friends, honour
order and equality, and above all the number 5040. Secondly, respect the
original division of the lots, which must not be infringed by buying and
selling, for the law says that the land which a man has is sacred and
is given to him by God. And priests and priestesses will offer frequent
sacrifices and pray that he who alienates either house or lot may
receive the punishment which he deserves, and their prayers shall be
inscribed on tablets of cypress-wood for the instruction of posterity.
The guardians will keep a vigilant watch over the citizens, and they
will punish those who disobey God and the law.

To appreciate the benefit of such an institution a man requires to be
well educated; for he certainly will not make a fortune in our state, in
which all illiberal occupations are forbidden to freemen. The law also
provides that no private person shall have gold or silver, except
a little coin for daily use, which will not pass current in other
countries. The state must also possess a common Hellenic currency, but
this is only to be used in defraying the expenses of expeditions, or of
embassies, or while a man is on foreign travels; but in the latter case
he must deliver up what is over, when he comes back, to the treasury in
return for an equal amount of local currency, on pain of losing the sum
in question; and he who does not inform against an offender is to be
mulcted in a like sum. No money is to be given or taken as a dowry, or
to be lent on interest. The law will not protect a man in recovering
either interest or principal. All these regulations imply that the
aim of the legislator is not to make the city as rich or as mighty as
possible, but the best and happiest. Now men can hardly be at the same
time very virtuous and very rich. And why? Because he who makes 

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