Chapter XXXIX · LEGES AND EPINOMIS.

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

The Dialogue, entitled Leges — De Legibus — The Laws — distributed into twelve books, besides its Appendix the Epinomis, and longer than any other of the Platonic compositions — is presented to us as held in Krete during a walk from the town of Knossus to the temple of Zeus under Mount Ida — between three elderly persons: Megillus, a Spartan — Kleinias, a Kretan of Knossus — and an Athenian who bears no name, but serves as the principal expositor and conductor. That this dialogue was composed by Plato after the Republic, we know from the express deposition of Aristotle: that it was the work of Plato’s old age — probably the last which he ever composed, and perhaps not completely finished at his death — is what we learn from the scanty amount of external evidence accessible to us. The internal evidence, as far as it goes, tends to bear out the same conclusion, and to show that it was written during the last seven years of his life, when he was more than seventy years of age.1

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

All critics have remarked the many and important differences between the Republic and the Laws. And it seems certain, that during the interval which separates the two, Plato’s point of view must have undergone a considerable change. We know from himself that he intended the Kritias as a sequel to the Timæus and Republic: a portion of the Kritias still exists — as we have just seen — but it breaks off abruptly, and there is no ground for believing that it was ever completed. We know farther from himself that he projected an ulterior dialogue or exposition, assigned to Hermokrates, as sequel to the Kritias: both being destined to exhibit in actual working and manifestation, the political scheme, of which the Republic had described the constituent elements.2 While the Kritias was prematurely arrested in its progress towards maturity, the Hermokrates probably was never born. Yet we know certainly that both the one and the other were conceived by Plato, as parts of one comprehensive project, afterwards abandoned. Nay, the Kritias was so abruptly abandoned, that it terminates with an unfinished sentence: as I have stated in the last chapter.

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

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

General comparison of Leges with Plato’s earlier works.

Comparing the Laws with the earlier compositions of Plato, the difference between them will be found to correspond pretty nearly with the change thus indicated in his point of view. If we turn to the Republic, we find Plato dividing the intelligible world (τὸ νοητὸν) into two sections: the higher, that of pure and absolute Ideas, with which philosophy and dialectics deal — the lower, that of Ideas not quite pure, but implicated more or less with sensible illustration, to which the mathematician applies himself: the chief use of the lower section is said to consist in its serving as preparation for a comprehension of the higher.4 But in the Laws, this higher or dialectical section — the last finish or crowning result of the teaching process, is left out; while even the lower or mathematical section is wrapped up with theology. Moreover, the teaching provided in the Laws, for the ruling Elders, is presented as something new, which Plato has much difficulty both in devising and in explaining: we must therefore understand him to distinguish it pointedly from the teaching which he had before provided for the Elders in the Republic.5 Again, literary occupation is now kept down rather than encouraged: Plato is more afraid lest his citizens should have too much of it than too little.6 As for the Sokratic Elenchus, it is not merely not commended, but it is even proscribed and denounced by implication, since free speech and criticism generally is barred out by the rigorous Platonic censorship. On the other hand, the ethical sentiment in the Leges, with its terms designating the varieties of virtue, is much the same as in other Platonic compositions: the political and social doctrine also, though different in some material points, is yet very analogous on several others. But these ethical and political doctrines appear in the Laws much more merged in dogmatic theology than in other dialogues. This theology is of Pythagorean character — implicated directly and intimately with astronomy — and indirectly with arithmetic and geometry also. We have here an astronomical religion, or a religious astronomy, by whichever of the two names it may be called. Right belief on astronomy is orthodoxy and virtue: erroneous belief on astronomy is heretical and criminal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Athenian speaker avails himself of the privilege of old age to criticise the Spartan and Kretan institutions more freely than is approved by his two companions; who feel bound to uphold against all dissentients the divine origin of their respective polities.26 On enquiring from them what is the purpose of their peculiar institutions — the Syssitia or public mess-table — the gymnastic discipline — the military drill — he is informed by both, that the purpose is to ensure habits of courage, strength, and skill, with a view to superiority in war over foreign enemies: war being, in their judgment, the usual and natural condition of the different communities into which mankind are distributed.27 Such is the test according to which they determine the good constitution of a city. But the Athenian — proclaiming as the scope of his enquiry,28 What is it which is right or wrong by nature, in laws? — will not admit the test as thus laid down. War against foreign enemies (i.e. enemies foreign to the city-community) is only one among many varieties of war. There exist other varieties besides:— war among the citizens of the same town — among the constituent villages of the same city-community — among the brethren of the same family — among the constituent elements of the same individual man.29 Though these varieties of war or discord are of frequent occurrence, they are not the less evils, inconsistent with that idéal of the Best which a wise lawgiver will seek to approach.30 Whenever any of them occur, he ought to ensure to the good and wise elements victory over the evil and stupid. But his idéal should be, to obviate the occurrence of war altogether — to adjust harmoniously the relation between the better and worse elements, disposing the latter towards a willing subordination and co-operation with the former.31 Though courage in war is one indispensable virtue, it stands only fourth on the list — wisdom, justice, and temperance, being before it. Your aim is to inculcate not virtue, but only one part of virtue.32 Many mercenary soldiers, possessing courage in perfection, are unjust, foolish, and worthless in all other respects.33

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

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

Our laws deserve the celebrity which they have acquired in Greece, because they make us happy, and provide us with all kinds of good things: both with such as are divine and with such as are human. The divine are, Wisdom or Prudence, Justice, Temperance, Courage: the human are, Health, Beauty, Strength, Activity, Wealth. The human depend upon the divine, are certain to follow them, and are not to be obtained without them. All the regulations and precepts of the lawgiver are directed to the attainment and protection of these ends — to establish among the citizens a moral tone of praise and blame favourable to that purpose. He seeks to inculcate on the citizens a body of sentiment, as to what is honourable and not honourable — such as may guide their pleasures and pains, their desires and aversions — and such as may keep their minds right amidst all the disaster (disease, war, poverty, &c.) as well as the prosperity of life. He next regulates the properties, the acquisitions, and the expenditure of the citizens, together with their relations to each other on these heads, upon principles of justice enforced by suitable penalties. Lastly, he appoints magistrates of approved wisdom and right judgment to enforce the regulations. The cementing authority is thus wisdom, following out purposes of temperance and justice, not of ambition or love of money.

Such is the course of exposition (says the Athenian) which ought to be adopted. Now tell me — In what manner are the objects here defined ensured by the institutions of Apollo and Zeus at Sparta and Krete? You two ought to show me: for I myself cannot discern it.34

Religious and ethical character postulated by Plato for a community.

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

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

We Spartans (says Megillus) implant courage in our citizens not merely by our public mess-table and gymnastic, but also by inuring them to support pain and hardship. We cause them to suffer severe pain in the gymnopædia, in pugilistic contests, and other ways: we put them to hardships and privations in the Kryptia and in hunting. We thus accustom them to endurance. Moreover, we strictly forbid all indulgences such as drunkenness. Nothing of the kind is seen at Sparta, not even at the festival of Dionysus; nothing like the drinking which I have seen at Athens, and still more at Tarentum.36

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

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

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

Besides, as to drunkenness, we must not be too hasty in condemnation of it. We must not pronounce generally respecting any institution without examining the circumstances, persons, regulations, &c., attending it. Such hasty praise and censure is very misleading. Many other nations act upon the opposite practice. But I (says Plato) shall not pretend to decide the point by witnesses and authority. I shall adopt another course of investigation, and shall show you, in this particular case, a specimen of the way in which all such institutions ought to be criticised and appreciated.39

Plato here digresses40 from his main purpose to examine the question of drunkenness. He will not allow it to be set aside absolutely and offhand, by a self-justifying ethical sentiment, without reason assigned, defence tendered, accompanying precautions discussed. Upon this, as upon the social functions proper for the female sex, he is a dissenter from the common view. He selects the subject as a case for exhibiting the proper method of criticism respecting social institutions; not without some consciousness that the discussion, if looked at in itself (like the examples of scientific classification or diæresis in the Sophistês and Politikus), would appear unduly prolonged.41

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

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

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

I have thus cited the Symposion to illustrate Plato’s view of the ideal of character. The self-command of Sokrates is tested both by pain and by pleasure. He resists both of them alike and equally: under the one as well as under the other, his reason works with unimpaired efficacy, and his deliberate purposes are pursued with unclouded serenity. This is not because he keeps out of the way of temptation and seduction: on the contrary, he is frequently exposed to situations of a tempting character, and is always found superior to them.

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

Now Plato’s purpose is, to impart to his citizens the character which he here ascribes to Sokrates, and to make them capable of maintaining unimpaired the controul of reason against the disturbances both of pain and pleasure. He remarks that the Spartan training kept in check the first of these two enemies, but not the second. He thinks that the citizen ought to be put through a regulated system of trials for measuring and testing his competence to contend with pleasure, as the Spartans provided in regard to pain. The Dionysiac festivals50 afforded occasions of applying these trials of pleasure, just as the Gymnopædia at Sparta were made to furnish deliberate inflictions of pain. But the Dionysiac banquets ought to be conducted under the superintendence of a discreet president, himself perfectly sober throughout the whole ceremony. All the guests would drink largely of wine, and each would show how far and how long he could resist its disturbing tendencies. As there was competition among the youths at the Gymnopædia, to show how much pain each could endure without flinching — honour being shown to those who endured most, and most successfully — so there would be competition at the Dionysia to prove how much wine each could bear without having his reason and modesty overset. The sober president would decide as judge. Each man’s self-command, as against seductive influences, would be strengthened by a repetition of such trials, while proof would be afforded how far each man could be counted on.51

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

This is one mode in which the unmeasured potations (common throughout the Grecian cities, with the exception of Sparta and Krete) might under proper regulation be rendered useful for civic training. But there is another mode also, connected with the general musical and gymnastical training of the city. Plato will not allow Dionysus — and wine, the special gift of that God to mankind — to be censured as absolutely mischievous.52

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

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

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

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

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

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

To take delight in gestures or songs which are manifestations of bad qualities, produces the same kind of mischievous effect upon the spectator as association with bad men in real life. His character becomes assimilated to the qualities in the manifestations of which he delights, although he may be ashamed to commend them. This is a grievous corruption, arising from bad musical and choric exhibitions, which the lawgiver must take care to prevent. He must not allow poets to exhibit what they may prefer or may think to be beautiful. He must follow the practice of Egypt, where both the music and the pictorial type has been determined by the Gods or by divine lawgivers from immemorial antiquity, according to the standard of natural rectitude and where the government allows neither poet nor painter to innovate or depart from this consecrated type.58 Accordingly, Egyptian compositions of the present day are exactly like what they were ten thousand years ago: neither more nor less beautiful. The lawgiver must follow this example, and fix the type of his musical and choric exhibitions; forbidding all innovation introduced on the plea of greater satisfaction either to the poet or to the audience. In the festivals where there is competition among poets, the prize must not be awarded by the pleasure of the auditors, whose acclamations tend only to corrupt and pervert the poets. The auditors ought to hear nothing but what is better than their own characters, in order that their tastes may thus be exalted. The prize must be awarded according to the preference of a few elders — or better still, of one single elder — eminent for excellent training and virtue. This judge ought not to follow the taste of the auditors, but to consider himself as their teacher and improver.59

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

Such is the exposition given by the Athenian speaker, respecting the characteristic function, and proper regulating principles, of choric training (poems learnt, music and dancing) for the youth. The Spartan and Kretan cordially concur with him: especially with that provision which fixes and consecrates the old established type, forbidding all novelties and spontaneous inspiration of the poets. They claim this compulsory orthodoxy, tolerating no dissent from the ancient and consecrated canon of music and orchestic, as the special feature of their two states; as distinguishing Sparta and Krete from other Hellenic cities, which were invaded with impunity by novel compositions of every variety.60

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

“We agree with you (replies Kleinias) on some of your affirmations, but we disagree with you wholly on others.”

“What? (says the Athenian.) Do you disagree with me when I affirm, that a man healthy, rich, strong, powerful, fearless, long-lived, exempt from all the things commonly reputed to be evils, but at the same time unjust and exorbitant — when I say that such a man is not happy, but miserable?”

“We do disagree with you when you affirm this,” answers the Kretan.

“But will you not admit that such a man lives basely or dishonourably?”

“Basely or dishonourably. — Yes, we grant it.”

“What then — do you not grant farther, that he lives badly, disagreeably, disadvantageously, to himself?”

“No. We cannot possibly grant you that,” — replies Kleinias.

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

“Then (says the Athenian) you and I are in marked opposition.64 For to me what I have affirmed appears as necessary as the existence of Krete is indisputable. If I were lawgiver, I should force the poets and all the citizens to proclaim it with one voice: and I should punish most severely every one65 who affirmed that there could be any wicked men who lived agreeably — or that there could be any course advantageous or profitable, which was not at the same time the most just. These and other matters equally at variance with the opinions received among Kretans, Spartans, and mankind generally — should persuade my citizens to declare unanimously. — For let us assume for a moment your opinion, and let us ask any lawgiver or any father advising his son. — You say that the just course of life is one thing, and that the agreeable course is another: I ask you which of the two is the happiest? If you say that the agreeable course is the happiest, what do you mean by always exhorting me to be just? Do you wish me not to be happy?66 If on the contrary you tell me that the just course of life is happier than the agreeable, I put another question — What is this Good and Beautiful which the lawgiver extols as superior to pleasure, and in which the just man’s happiness consists? What good can he possess, apart from pleasure?67 He obtains praise and honour:— Is that good, but disagreeable — and would the contrary, infamy, be agreeable? A life in which a man neither does wrong to others nor receives wrong from others, — is that disagreeable, though good and honourable — and would the contrary life be agreeable, but dishonourable? You will not affirm that it is.68

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

The Spartan and Kretan do not agree with him.

Such is the course of proof which Plato’s Athenian speaker considers sufficient to establish this ethical doctrine. But he proceeds to carry the reasoning a step farther, as follows:—

“Nay, even if this were not a true position — as I have just shown it to be — any lawgiver even of moderate worth, if ever he ventured to tell a falsehood to youth for useful purposes, could proclaim no falsehood more useful than this, nor more efficacious towards making them disposed to practise justice willingly, without compulsory force.”71

“Truth is honourable (observes the Kretan) and durable. You will not find it easy to make them believe what you propose.”

“Why, it was found easy (replies the Athenian) to make men believe the mythe respecting Kadmus and the armed men who sprang out of the earth after the sowing of the dragon’s teeth — and many other mythes equally incredible. Such examples show conclusively that the lawgiver can implant in youthful minds any beliefs which he tries to implant. He need therefore look to nothing, except to determine what are those beliefs which, if implanted, would be most beneficial to the city. Having determined this, he will employ all his machinery to make all his citizens proclaim these beliefs constantly, with one voice, and without contradiction, in all hymns, stories, and discourses.”72

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

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

Here, then, we have the general doctrine, ethical and social, which is to be maintained in exclusive possession of the voice, ear, and mind, of the Platonic citizens. The imitative movements of the tripartite Chorus must be kept in perfect accordance with it:75 for all music is imitative, and care must be taken to imitate the right things in a right manner. To ensure such accordance, magistrates must be specially chosen as censors over both poets and singers. But this, in Plato’s view, is not enough. He requires, besides, that the choristers should themselves understand both what they ought to imitate, and how it should be imitated. Such understanding cannot be expected from the Chorus of youths nor even from that of mature men. But it may be expected, and it must be required, in the chorus of Elders: which will thus set an example to the other two, of strict adherence to the rectitude of the musical standard.76 The purity of the Platonic musical training depends mainly upon the constant and efficacious choric activity of the old citizens.

But how is such activity to be obtained? Old men will not only find it repugnant to their natural dispositions, but will even be ashamed to exhibit themselves in choric music and dance before the younger citizens.

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

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

Peculiar views of Plato about intoxication.

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

General ethical doctrine held by Plato in Leges.

But the general ethical discussion — which Plato tells us82 that he introduces to establish premisses for his enactment respecting drunkenness — is of greater importance than the enactment itself. He prescribes imperatively the doctrine and matter which alone is to be tolerated in his choric hymns or heard in his city. I have given an abstract (p. 292-297) of the doctrine here laid down and the reasonings connected therewith, because they admit of being placed in instructive comparison with his manner of treating the same subject in other dialogues.

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

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

Comparison of the doctrine laid down in Leges.

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

Again, here in the Leges, the Athenian puts it to his two companions, Whether the unjust man, assuming him to possess every imaginable endowment and advantage in life, will not live, nevertheless, both dishonourably and miserably? They admit that he will live dishonourably: they deny that he will live miserably.88 The Athenian replies by reasserting emphatically his own opinion, without any attempt to prove it. Now in the Gorgias, the same issue is raised between Sokrates and Polus: Sokrates refutes his opponent by a dialectic argument, showing that if the first of the two doctrines (the living dishonourably — αἰσχρῶς) be granted, the second (the living miserably — κακῶς) cannot be consistently denied.89 The dialectic of Sokrates is indeed more ingenious than conclusive: but still it is dialectic — and thus stands contrasted with the oracular emphasis which is substituted for it in Leges.

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

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

Comparison of Leges with Republic and Gorgias.

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

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

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

Deliberate ethical fiction employed as means of governing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To conduct a political community well is difficult; for there are inherent causes of discord and sedition which can only be neutralised in their effects, but can never be eradicated. Among the foremost of these inherent causes, Plato numbers the many distinct and conflicting titles to obedience which are found among mankind, all co-existent and co-ordinate. There are seven such titles, all founded in the nature of man and the essential conditions of society:109 — 1. Parents over children. 2. Men of high birth and breed (such as the Herakleids at Sparta) over men of low birth. 3. Old over young. 4. Masters over slaves. 5. The stronger man over the weaker. 6. The wiser man over the man destitute of wisdom. 7. The fortunate man, who enjoys the favour of the Gods (one case of this is indicated by drawing of the best lot), over the less fortunate man (who draws an inferior lot).

Of these seven titles to command, coexisting, distinct, and conflicting with each other, Plato pronounces the sixth — that of superior reason and wisdom — to be the greatest, preferable to all the rest, in his judgment: though he admits the fifth — that of superior force to be the most extensively prevalent in the actual world.110

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

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

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

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

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

A lesson — analogous, though not exactly the same — is derived by Plato from the comparison of the Persian with the Athenian government. Persia presents an excess of despotism: Athens an excess of liberty. There are two distinct primordial forms of government — mother-polities, Plato calls them — out of which all existing governments may be said to have been generated or diversified. One of these is monarchy, of which the Persians manifest the extreme: the other is democracy, of which Athens manifests the extreme. Both extremes are mischievous. The wise law-giver must blend and combine the two together in proper proportion. Without such combination, he cannot attain good government, with its three indispensable constituents — freedom, intelligence or temperance, and mutual attachment among the citizens.114

Cyrus and Darius — Bad training of sons of kings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Doctrines of Plato in this prefatory matter.

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

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

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

Constructive scheme — Plato’s new point of view.

We now enter upon this constructive effort of Plato’s old age. That a political constitution with fixed laws (he makes the Athenian say) and with magistrates acting merely as servants of the laws, is the only salvation for a city and its people — this is a truth which every man sees most distinctly in his old age, though when younger he was very dull in discerning it.136 Probably enough what we here read represents the change in Plato’s own mind: the acquisition of a new point of view, which was not present to him when he composed his Republic and his Politikus.

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

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

The new city is to be about nine English miles from the sea. The land round it is rough, poor, and without any timber for shipbuilding; but it is capable of producing all supplies absolutely indispensable, so that little need will be felt of importation from abroad. The Athenian wishes that the site were farther from the sea. Yet he considers the general conditions to be tolerably good; inasmuch as the city need not become commercial and maritime, and cannot have the means of acquiring much gold and silver — which is among the greatest evils that can befall a city, since it corrupts justice and goodness in the citizens.138 The settlers are all Greeks, from various towns of Krete and Peloponnesus. This (remarks the Athenian) is on the whole better than if they came from one single city. Though it may introduce some additional chance of discord, it will nevertheless render them more open-minded and persuadable for the reception of new institutions.139

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

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

General character of these prologues — didactic or rhetorical homilies.

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