The Seventh Letter
By Plato
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The Seventh Letter
By Plato
Written 360 B.C.E
Translated by J. Harward
Plato TO THE RELATIVES AND FRIENDS OF DION. WELFARE.
You write to me that I must consider your views the same as those
of Dion, and you urge me to aid your cause so far as I can in word and
deed. My answer is that, if you have the same opinion and desire as he
had, I consent to aid your cause; but if not, I shall think more than once
about it. Now what his purpose and desire was, I can inform you from no
mere conjecture but from positive knowledge. For when I made my first visit
to Sicily, being then about forty years old, Dion was of the same age as
Hipparinos is now, and the opinion which he then formed was that which
he always retained, I mean the belief that the Syracusans ought to be free
and governed by the best laws. So it is no matter for surprise if some
God should make Hipparinos adopt the same opinion as Dion about forms of
government. But it is well worth while that you should all, old as well
as young, hear the way in which this opinion was formed, and I will attempt
to give you an account of it from the beginning. For the present is a suitable
opportunity.
In my youth I went through the same experience as many other men.
I fancied that if, early in life, I became my own master, I should at once
embark on a political career. And I found myself confronted with the following
occurrences in the public affairs of my own city. The existing constitution
being generally condemned, a revolution took place, and fifty-one men came
to the front as rulers of the revolutionary government, namely eleven in
the city and ten in the Peiraeus-each of these bodies being in charge of
the market and municipal matters-while thirty were appointed rulers with
full powers over public affairs as a whole. Some of these were relatives
and acquaintances of mine, and they at once invited me to share in their
doings, as something to which I had a claim. The effect on me was not surprising
in the case of a young man. I considered that they would, of course, so
manage the State as to bring men out of a bad way of life into a good one.
So I watched them very closely to see what they would
do.
And seeing, as I did, that in quite a short time they made the
former government seem by comparison something precious as gold-for among
other things they tried to send a friend of mine, the aged Socrates, whom
I should scarcely scruple to describe as the most upright man of that day,
with some other persons to carry off one of the citizens by force to execution,
in order that, whether he wished it, or not, he might share the guilt of
their conduct; but he would not obey them, risking all consequences in
preference to becoming a partner in their iniquitous deeds-seeing all these
things and others of the same kind on a considerable scale, I disapproved
of their proceedings, and withdrew from any connection with the abuses
of the time.
Not long after that a revolution terminated the power of the thirty
and the form of government as it then was. And once more, though with more
hesitation, I began to be moved by the desire to take part in public and
political affairs. Well, even in the new government, unsettled as it was,
events occurred which one would naturally view with disapproval; and it
was not surprising that in a period of revolution excessive penalties were
inflicted by some persons on political opponents, though those who had
returned from exile at that time showed very considerable forbearance.
But once more it happened that some of those in power brought my friend
Socrates, whom I have mentioned, to trial before a court of law, laying
a most iniquitous charge against him and one most inappropriate in his
case: for it was on a charge of impiety that some of them prosecuted and
others condemned and executed the very man who would not participate in
the iniquitous arrest of one of the friends of the party then in exile,
at the time when they themselves were in exile and misfortune.
As I observed these incidents and the men engaged in public affairs,
the laws too and the customs, the more closely I examined them and the
farther I advanced in life, the more difficult it seemed to me to handle
public affairs aright. For it was not possible to be active in politics
without friends and trustworthy supporters; and to find these ready to
my hand was not an easy matter, since public affairs at Athens were not
carried on in accordance with the manners and practices of our fathers;
nor was there any ready method by which I could make new friends. The laws
too, written and unwritten, were being altered for the worse, and the evil
was growing with startling rapidity. The result was that, though at first
I had been full of a strong impulse towards political life, as I looked
at the course of affairs and saw them being swept in all directions by
contending currents, my head finally began to swim; and, though I did not
stop looking to see if there was any likelihood of improvement in these
symptoms and in the general course of public life, I postponed action till
a suitable opportunity should arise. Finally, it became clear to me, with
regard to all existing cornmunities, that they were one and all misgoverned.
For their laws have got into a state that is almost incurable, except by
some extraordinary reform with good luck to support it. And I was forced
to say, when praising true philosophy that it is by this that men are enabled
to see what justice in public and private life really is. Therefore, I
said, there will be no cessation of evils for the sons of men, till either
those who are pursuing a right and true philosophy receive sovereign power
in the States, or those in power in the States by some dispensation of
providence become true philosophers.
With these thoughts in my mind I came to Italy and Sicily on my
first visit. My first impressions on arrival were those of strong disapproval-disapproval
of the kind of life which was there called the life of happiness, stuffed
full as it was with the banquets of the Italian Greeks and Syracusans,
who ate to repletion twice every day, and were never without a partner
for the night; and disapproval of the habits which this manner of life
produces. For with these habits formed early in life, no man under heaven
could possibly attain to wisdom-human nature is not capable of such an
extraordinary combination. Temperance also is out of the question for such
a man; and the same applies to virtue generally. No city could remain in
a state of tranquillity under any laws whatsoever, when men think it right
to squander all their property in extravagant, and consider it a duty to
be idle in everything else except eating and drinking and the laborious
prosecution of debauchery. It follows necessarily that the constitutions
of such cities must be constantly changing, tyrannies, oligarchies and
democracies succeeding one another, while those who hold the power cannot
so much as endure the name of any form of government which maintains justice
and equality of rights.
With a mind full of these thoughts, on the top of my previous convictions,
I crossed over to Syracuse-led there perhaps by chance-but it really looks
as if some higher power was even then planning to lay a foundation for
all that has now come to pass with regard to Dion and Syracuse-and for
further troubles too, I fear, unless you listen to the advice which is
now for the second time offered by me. What do I mean by saying that my
arrival in Sicily at that movement proved to be the foundation on which
all the sequel rests? I was brought into close intercourse with Dion who
was then a young man, and explained to him my views as to the ideals at
which men should aim, advising him to carry them out in practice. In doing
this I seem to have been unaware that I was, in a fashion, without knowing
it, contriving the overthrow of the tyranny which; subsequently took place.
For Dion, who rapidly assimilated my teaching as he did all forms of knowledge,
listened to me with an eagerness which I had never seen equalled in any
young man, and resolved to live for the future in a better way than the
majority of Italian and Sicilian Greeks, having set his affection on virtue
in preference to pleasure and self-indulgence. The result was that until
the death of Dionysios he lived in a way which rendered him somewhat unpopular
among those whose manner of life was that which is usual in the courts
of despots.
After that event he came to the conclusion that this conviction,
which he himself had gained under the influence of good teaching, was not
likely to be confined to himself. Indeed, he saw it being actually implanted
in other minds-not many perhaps, but certainly in some; and he thought
that with the aid of the Gods, Dionysios might perhaps become one of these,
and that, if such a thing did come to pass, the result would be a life
of unspeakable happiness both for himself and for the rest of the Syracusans.
Further, he thought it essential that I should come to Syracuse by all
manner of means and with the utmost possible speed to be his partner in
these plans, remembering in his own case how readily intercourse with me
had produced in him a longing for the noblest and best life. And if it
should produce a similar effect on Dionysios, as his aim was that it should,
he had great hope that, without bloodshed, loss of life, and those disastrous
events which have now taken place, he would be able to introduce the true
life of happiness throughout the whole territory.
Holding these sound views, Dion persuaded Dionysios to send for
me; he also wrote himself entreating me to come by all manner of means
and with the utmost possible speed, before certain other persons coming
in contact with Dionysios should turn him aside into some way of life other
than the best. What he said, though perhaps it is rather long to repeat,
was as follows: "What opportunities," he said, "shall we wait for, greater
than those now offered to us by Providence?" And he described the Syracusan
empire in Italy and Sicily, his own influential position in it, and the
youth of Dionysios and how strongly his desire was directed towards philosophy
and education. His own nephews and relatives, he said, would be readily
attracted towards the principles and manner of life described by me, and
would be most influential in attracting Dionysios in the same direction,
so that, now if ever, we should see the accomplishment of every hope that
the same persons might actually become both philosophers and the rulers
of great States. These were the appeals addressed to me and much more to
the same effect.
My own opinion, so far as the young men were concerned, and the
probable line which their conduct would take, was full of apprehension-for
young men are quick in forming desires, which often take directions conflicting
with one another. But I knew that the character of Dion's mind was naturally
a stable one and had also the advantage of somewhat advanced
years.
Therefore, I pondered the matter and was in two minds as to whether
I ought to listen to entreaties and go, or how I ought to act; and finally
the scale turned in favour of the view that, if ever anyone was to try
to carry out in practice my ideas about laws and constitutions, now was
the time for making the attempt; for if only I could fully convince one
man, I should have secured thereby the accomplishment of all good
things.
With these views and thus nerved to the task, I sailed from home,
in the spirit which some imagined, but principally through a feeling of
shame with regard to myself, lest I might some day appear to myself wholly
and solely a mere man of words, one who would never of his own will lay
his hand to any act. Also there was reason to think that I should be betraying
first and foremost my friendship and comradeship with Dion, who in very
truth was in a position of considerable danger. If therefore anything should
happen to him, or if he were banished by Dionysios and his other enemies
and coming to us as exile addressed this question to me: "Plato, I have
come to you as a fugitive, not for want of hoplites, nor because I had
no cavalry for defence against my enemies, but for want of words and power
of persuasion, which I knew to be a special gift of yours, enabling you
to lead young men into the path of goodness and justice, and to establish
in every case relations of friendship and comradeship among them. It is
for the want of this assistance on your part that I have left Syracuse
and am here now. And the disgrace attaching to your treatment of me is
a small matter. But philosophy-whose praises you are always singing, while
you say she is held in dishonour by the rest of mankind-must we not say
that philosophy along with me has now been betrayed, so far as your action
was concerned? Had I been living at Megara, you would certainly have come
to give me your aid towards the objects for which I asked it; or you would
have thought yourself the most contemptible of mankind. But as it is, do
you think that you will escape the reputation of cowardice by making excuses
about the distance of the journey, the length of the sea voyage, and the
amount of labour involved? Far from it." To reproaches of this kind what
creditable reply could I have made? Surely none.
I took my departure, therefore, acting, so far as a man can act,
in obedience to reason and justice, and for these reasons leaving my own
occupations, which were certainly not discreditable ones, to put myself
under a tyranny which did not seem likely to harmonise with my teaching
or with myself. By my departure I secured my own freedom from the displeasure
of Zeus Xenios, and made myself clear of any charge on the part of philosophy,
which would have been exposed to detraction, if any disgrace had come upon
me for faint-heartedness and cowardice.
On my arrival, to cut a long story short, I found the court of
Dionysios full of intrigues and of attempts to create in the sovereign
ill-feeling against Dion. I combated these as far as I could, but with
very little success; and in the fourth month or thereabouts, charging Dion
with conspiracy to seize the throne, Dionysios put him on board a small
boat and expelled him from Syracuse with ignominy. All of us who were Dion's
friends were afraid that he might take vengeance on one or other of us
as an accomplice in Dion's conspiracy. With regard to me, there was even
a rumour current in Syracuse that I had been put to death by Dionysios
as the cause of all that had occurred. Perceiving that we were all in this
state of mind and apprehending that our fears might lead to some serious
consequence, he now tried to win all of us over by kindness: me in particular
he encouraged, bidding me be of good cheer and entreating me on all grounds
to remain. For my flight from him was not likely to redound to his credit,
but my staying might do so. Therefore, he made a great pretence of entreating
me. And we know that the entreaties of sovereigns are mixed with compulsion.
So to secure his object he proceeded to render my departure impossible,
bringing me into the acropolis, and establishing me in quarters from which
not a single ship's captain would have taken me away against the will of
Dionysios, nor indeed without a special messenger sent by him to order
my removal. Nor was there a single merchant, or a single official in charge
of points of departure from the country, who would have allowed me to depart
unaccompanied, and would not have promptly seized me and taken me back
to Dionysios, especially since a statement had now been circulated contradicting
the previous rumours and giving out that Dionysios was becoming extraordinarily
attached to Plato. What were the facts about this attachment? I must tell
the truth. As time went on, and as intercourse made him acquainted with
my disposition and character, he did become more and more attached to me,
and wished me to praise him more than I praised Dion, and to look upon
him as more specially my friend than Dion, and he was extraordinarily eager
about this sort of thing. But when confronted with the one way in which
this might have been done, if it was to be done at all, he shrank from
coming into close and intimate relations with me as a pupil and listener
to my discourses on philosophy, fearing the danger suggested by mischief-makers,
that he might be ensnared, and so Dion would prove to have accomplished
all his object. I endured all this patiently, retaining the purpose with
which I had come and the hope that he might come to desire the philosophic
life. But his resistance prevailed against me.
The time of my first visit to Sicily and my stay there was taken
up with all these incidents. On a later occasion I left home and again
came on an urgent summons from Dionysios. But before giving the motives
and particulars of my conduct then and showing how suitable and right it
was, I must first, in order that I may not treat as the main point what
is only a side issue, give you my advice as to what your acts should be
in the present position of affairs; afterwards, to satisfy those who put
the question why I came a second time, I will deal fully with the facts
about my second visit; what I have now to say is this.
He who advises a sick man, whose manner of life is prejudicial
to health, is clearly bound first of all to change his patient's manner
of life, and if the patient is willing to obey him, he may go on to give
him other advice. But if he is not willing, I shall consider one who declines
to advise such a patient to be a man and a physician, and one who gives
in to him to be unmanly and unprofessional. In the same way with regard
to a State, whether it be under a single ruler or more than one, if, while
the government is being carried on methodically and in a right course,
it asks advice about any details of policy, it is the part of a wise man
to advise such people. But when men are travelling altogether outside the
path of right government and flatly refuse to move in the right path, and
start by giving notice to their adviser that he must leave the government
alone and make no change in it under penalty of death-if such men should
order their counsellors to pander to their wishes and desires and to advise
them in what way their object may most readily and easily be once for all
accomplished, I should consider as unmanly one who accepts the duty of
giving such forms of advice, and one who refuses it to be a true
man.
Holding these views, whenever anyone consults me about any of the
weightiest matters affecting his own life, as, for instance, the acquisition
of property or the proper treatment of body or mind, if it seems to me
that his daily life rests on any system, or if he seems likely to listen
to advice about the things on which he consults me, I advise him with readiness,
and do not content myself with giving him a merely perfunctory answer.
But if a man does not consult me at all, or evidently does not intend to
follow my advice, I do not take the initiative in advising such a man,
and will not use compulsion to him, even if he be my own son. I would advise
a slave under such circumstances, and would use compulsion to him if he
were unwilling. To a father or mother I do not think that piety allows
one to offer compulsion, unless they are suffering from an attack of insanity;
and if they are following any regular habits of life which please them
but do not please me, I would not offend them by offering useless, advice,
nor would I flatter them or truckle to them, providing them with the means
of satisfying desires which I myself would sooner die than cherish. The
wise man should go through life with the same attitude of mind towards
his country. If she should appear to him to be following a policy which
is not a good one, he should say so, provided that his words are not likely
either to fall on deaf ears or to lead to the loss of his own life. But
force against his native land he should not use in order to bring about
a change of constitution, when it is not possible for the best constitution
to be introduced without driving men into exile or putting them to death;
he should keep quiet and offer up prayers for his own welfare and for that
of his country.
These are the principles in accordance with which I should advise
you, as also, jointly with Dion, I advised Dionysios, bidding him in the
first place to live his daily life in a way that would make him as far
as possible master of himself and able to gain faithful friends and supporters,
in order that he might not have the same experience as his father. For
his father, having taken under his rule many great cities of Sicily which
had been utterly destroyed by the barbarians, was not able to found them
afresh and to establish in them trustworthy governments carried on by his
own supporters, either by men who had no ties of blood with him, or by
his brothers whom he had brought up when they were younger, and had raised
from humble station to high office and from poverty to immense wealth.
Not one of these was he able to work upon by persuasion, instruction, services
and ties of kindred, so as to make him a partner in his rule; and he showed
himself inferior to Darius with a sevenfold inferiority. For Darius did
not put his trust in brothers or in men whom he had brought up, but only
in his confederates in the overthrow of the Mede and Eunuch; and to these
he assigned portions of his empire, seven in number, each of them greater
than all Sicily; and they were faithful to him and did not attack either
him or one another. Thus he showed a pattern of what the good lawgiver
and king ought to be; for he drew up laws by which he has secured the Persian
empire in safety down to the present time.
Again, to give another instance, the Athenians took under their
rule very many cities not founded by themselves, which had been hard hit
by the barbarians but were still in existence, and maintained their rule
over these for seventy years, because they had in each them men whom they
could trust. But Dionysios, who had gathered the whole of Sicily into a
single city, and was so clever that he trusted no one, only secured his
own safety with great difficulty. For he was badly off for trustworthy
friends; and there is no surer criterion of virtue and vice than this,
whether a man is or is not destitute of such friends.
This, then, was the advice which Dion and I gave to Dionysios,
since, owing to bringing up which he had received from his father, he had
had no advantages in the way of education or of suitable lessons, in the
first place...; and, in the second place, that, after starting in this
way, he should make friends of others among his connections who were of
the same age and were in sympathy with his pursuit of virtue, but above
all that he should be in harmony with himself; for this it was of which
he was remarkably in need. This we did not say in plain words, for that
would not have been safe; but in covert language we maintained that every
man in this way would save both himself and those whom he was leading,
and if he did not follow this path, he would do just the opposite of this.
And after proceeding on the course which we described, and making himself
a wise and temperate man, if he were then to found again the cities of
Sicily which had been laid waste, and bind them together by laws and constitutions,
so as to be loyal to him and to one another in their resistance to the
attacks of the barbarians, he would, we told him, make his father's empire
not merely double what it was but many times greater. For, if these things
were done, his way would be clear to a more complete subjugation of the
Carthaginians than that which befell them in Gelon's time, whereas in our
own day his father had followed the opposite course of levying attribute
for the barbarians. This was the language and these the exhortations given
by us, the conspirators against Dionysios according to the charges circulated
from various sources-charges which, prevailing as they did with Dionysios,
caused the expulsion of Dion and reduced me to a state of apprehension.
But when-to summarise great events which happened in no great time-Dion
returned from the Peloponnese and Athens, his advice to Dionysios took
the form of action.
To proceed-when Dion had twice over delivered the city and restored
it to the citizens, the Syracusans went through the same changes of feeling
towards him as Dionysios had gone through, when Dion attempted first to
educate him and train him to be a sovereign worthy of supreme power and,
when that was done, to be his coadjutor in all the details of his career.
Dionysios listened to those who circulated slanders to the effect that
Dion was aiming at the tyranny in all the steps which he took at that time
his intention being that Dionysios, when his mind had fallen under the
spell of culture, should neglect the government and leave it in his hands,
and that he should then appropriate it for himself and treacherously depose
Dionysios. These slanders were victorious on that occasion; they were so
once more when circulated among the Syracusans, winning a victory which
took an extraordinary course and proved disgraceful to its authors. The
story of what then took place is one which deserves careful attention on
the part of those who are inviting me to deal with the present
situation.
I, an Athenian and friend of Dion, came as his ally to the court
of Dionysios, in order that I might create good will in place of a state
war; in my conflict with the authors of these slanders I was worsted. When
Dionysios tried to persuade me by offers of honours and wealth to attach
myself to him, and with a view to giving a decent colour to Dion's expulsion
a witness and friend on his side, he failed completely in his attempt.
Later on, when Dion returned from exile, he took with him from Athens two
brothers, who had been his friends, not from community in philosophic study,
but with the ordinary companionship common among most friends, which they
form as the result of relations of hospitality and the intercourse which
occurs when one man initiates the other in the mysteries. It was from this
kind of intercourse and from services connected with his return that these
two helpers in his restoration became his companions. Having come to Sicily,
when they perceived that Dion had been misrepresented to the Sicilian Greeks,
whom he had liberated, as one that plotted to become monarch, they not
only betrayed their companion and friend, but shared personally in the
guilt of his murder, standing by his murderers as supporters with weapons
in their hands. The guilt and impiety of their conduct I neither excuse
nor do I dwell upon it. For many others make it their business to harp
upon it, and will make it their business in the future. But I do take exception
to the statement that, because they were Athenians, they have brought shame
upon this city. For I say that he too is an Athenian who refused to betray
this same Dion, when he had the offer of riches and many other honours.
For his was no common or vulgar friendship, but rested on community in
liberal education, and this is the one thing in which a wise man will put
his trust, far more than in ties of personal and bodily kinship. So the
two murderers of Dion were not of sufficient importance to be causes of
disgrace to this city, as though they had been men of any
note.
All this has been said with a view to counselling the friends and
family of Dion. And in addition to this I give for the third time to you
the same advice and counsel which I have given twice before to others-not
to enslave Sicily or any other State to despots-this my counsel but-to
put it under the rule of laws-for the other course is better neither for
the enslavers nor for the enslaved, for themselves, their children's children
and descendants; the attempt is in every way fraught with disaster. It
is only small and mean natures that are bent upon seizing such gains for
themselves, natures that know nothing of goodness and justice, divine as
well as human, in this life and in the next.
These are the lessons which I tried to teach, first to Dion, secondly
to Dionysios, and now for the third time to you. Do you obey me thinking
of Zeus the Preserver, the patron of third ventures, and looking at the
lot of Dionysios and Dion, of whom the one who disobeyed me is living in
dishonour, while he who obeyed me has died honourably. For the one thing
which is wholly right and noble is to strive for that which is most honourable
for a man's self and for his country, and to face the consequences whatever
they may be. For none of us can escape death, nor, if a man could do so,
would it, as the vulgar suppose, make him happy. For nothing evil or good,
which is worth mentioning at all, belongs to things soulless; but good
or evil will be the portion of every soul, either while attached to the
body or when separated from it.
And we should in very truth always believe those ancient and sacred
teachings, which declare that the soul is immortal, that it has judges,
and suffers the greatest penalties when it has been separated from the
body. Therefore also we should consider it a lesser evil to suffer great
wrongs and outrages than to do them. The covetous man, impoverished as
he is in the soul, turns a deaf ear to this teaching; or if he hears it,
he laughs it to scorn with fancied superiority, and shamelessly snatches
for himself from every source whatever his bestial fancy supposes will
provide for him the means of eating or drinking or glutting himself with
that slavish and gross pleasure which is falsely called after the goddess
of love. He is blind and cannot see in those acts of plunder which are
accompanied by impiety what heinous guilt is attached to each wrongful
deed, and that the offender must drag with him the burden of this impiety
while he moves about on earth, and when he has travelled beneath the earth
on a journey which has every circumstance of shame and
misery.
It was by urging these and other like truths that I convinced Dion,
and it is I who have the best right to be angered with his murderers in
much the same way as I have with Dionysios. For both they and he have done
the greatest injury to me, and I might almost say to all mankind, they
by slaying the man that was willing to act righteously, and he by refusing
to act righteously during the whole of his rule, when he held supreme power,
in which rule if philosophy and power had really met together, it would
have sent forth a light to all men, Greeks and barbarians, establishing
fully for all the true belief that there can be no happiness either for
the community or for the individual man, unless he passes his life under
the rule of righteousness with the guidance of wisdom, either possessing
these virtues in himself, or living under the rule of godly men and having
received a right training and education in morals. These were the aims
which Dionysios injured, and for me everything else is a trifling injury
compared with this.
The murderer of Dion has, without knowing it, done the same as
Dionysios. For as regards Dion, I know right well, so far as it is possible
for a man to say anything positively about other men, that, if he had got
the supreme power, he would never have turned his mind to any other form
of rule, but that, dealing first with Syracuse, his own native land, when
he had made an end of her slavery, clothed her in bright apparel, and given
her the garb of freedom, he would then by every means in his power have
ordered aright the lives of his fellow-citizens by suitable and excellent
laws; and the thing next in order, which he would have set his heart to
accomplish, was to found again all the States of Sicily and make them free
from the barbarians, driving out some and subduing others, an easier task
for him than it was for Hiero. If these things had been accomplished by
a man who was just and brave and temperate and a philosopher, the same
belief with regard to virtue would have been established among the majority
which, if Dionysios had been won over, would have been established, I might
almost say, among all mankind and would have given them salvation. But
now some higher power or avenging fiend has fallen upon them, inspiring
them with lawlessness, godlessness and acts of recklessness issuing from
ignorance, the seed from which all evils for all mankind take root and
grow and will in future bear the bitterest harvest for those who brought
them into being. This ignorance it was which in that second venture wrecked
and ruined everything.
And now, for good luck's sake, let us on this third venture abstain
from words of ill omen. But, nevertheless, I advise you, his friends, to
imitate in Dion his love for his country and his temperate habits of daily
life, and to try with better auspices to carry out his wishes-what these
were, you have heard from me in plain words. And whoever among you cannot
live the simple Dorian life according to the customs of your forefathers,
but follows the manner of life of Dion's murderers and of the Sicilians,
do not invite this man to join you, or expect him to do any loyal or salutary
act; but invite all others to the work of resettling all the States of
Sicily and establishing equality under the laws, summoning them from Sicily
itself and from the whole Peloponnese-and have no fear even of Athens;
for there, also, are men who excel all mankind in their devotion to virtue
and in hatred of the reckless acts of those who shed the blood of
friends.
But if, after all, this is work for a future time, whereas immediate
action is called for by the disorders of all sorts and kinds which arise
every day from your state of civil strife, every man to whom Providence
has given even a moderate share of right intelligence ought to know that
in times of civil strife there is no respite from trouble till the victors
make an end of feeding their grudge by combats and banishments and executions,
and of wreaking their vengeance on their enemies. They should master themselves
and, enacting impartial laws, framed not to gratify themselves more than
the conquered party, should compel men to obey these by two restraining
forces, respect and fear; fear, because they are the masters and can display
superior force; respect, because they rise superior to pleasures and are
willing and able to be servants to the laws. There is no other way save
this for terminating the troubles of a city that is in a state of civil
strife; but a constant continuance of internal disorders, struggles, hatred
and mutual distrust is the common lot of cities which are in that
plight.
Therefore, those who have for the time being gained the upper hand,
when they desire to secure their position, must by their own act and choice
select from all Hellas men whom they have ascertained to be the best for
the purpose. These must in the first place be men of mature years, who
have children and wives at home, and, as far as possible, a long line of
ancestors of good repute, and all must be possessed of sufficient property.
For a city of ten thousand householders their numbers should be fifty;
that is enough. These they must induce to come from their own homes by
entreaties and the promise of the highest honours; and having induced them
to come they must entreat and command them to draw up laws after binding
themselves by oath to show no partiality either to conquerors or to conquered,
but to give equal and common rights to the whole State.
When laws have been enacted, what everything then hinges on is
this. If the conquerors show more obedience to the laws than the conquered,
the whole State will be full of security and happiness, and there will
be an escape from all your troubles. But if they do not, then do not summon
me or any other helper to aid you against those who do not obey the counsel
I now give you. For this course is akin to that which Dion and I attempted
to carry out with our hearts set on the welfare of Syracuse. It is indeed
a second best course. The first and best was that scheme of welfare to
all mankind which we attempted to carry out with the co-operation of Dionysios;
but some chance, mightier than men, brought it to nothing. Do you now,
with good fortune attending you and with Heaven's help, try to bring your
efforts to a happier issue.
Let this be the end of my advice and injunction and of the narrative
of my first visit to Dionysios. Whoever wishes may next hear of my second
journey and voyage, and learn that it was a reasonable and suitable proceeding.
My first period of residence in Sicily was occupied in the way which I
related before giving my advice to the relatives and friends of Dion. After
those events I persuaded Dionysios by such arguments as I could to let
me go; and we made an agreement as to what should be done when peace was
made; for at that time there was a state of war in Sicily. Dionysios said
that, when he had put the affairs of his empire in a position of greater
safety for himself, he would send for Dion and me again; and he desired
that Dion should regard what had befallen him not as an exile, but as a
change of residence. I agreed to come again on these
conditions.
When peace had been made, he began sending for me; he requested
that Dion should wait for another year, but begged that I should by all
means come. Dion now kept urging and entreating me to go. For persistent
rumours came from Sicily that Dionysios was now once more possessed by
an extraordinary desire for philosophy. For this reason Dion pressed me
urgently not to decline his invitation. But though I was well aware that
as regards philosophy such symptoms were not uncommon in young men, still
it seemed to me safer at that time to part company altogether with Dion
and Dionysios; and I offended both of them by replying that I was an old
man, and that the steps now being taken were quite at variance with the
previous agreement.
After this, it seems, Archytes came to the court of Dionysios.
Before my departure I had brought him and his Tarentine circle into friendly
relations with Dionysios. There were some others in Syracuse who had received
some instruction from Dion, and others had learnt from these, getting their
heads full of erroneous teaching on philosophical questions. These, it
seems, were attempting to hold discussions with Dionysios on questions
connected with such subjects, in the idea that he had been fully instructed
in my views. Now is not at all devoid of natural gifts for learning, and
he has a great craving for honour and glory. What was said probably pleased
him, and he felt some shame when it became clear that he had not taken
advantage of my teaching during my visit. For these reasons he conceived
a desire for more definite instruction, and his love of glory was an additional
incentive to him. The real reasons why he had learnt nothing during my
previous visit have just been set forth in the preceding narrative. Accordingly,
now that I was safe at home and had refused his second invitation, as I
just now related, Dionysios seems to have felt all manner of anxiety lest
certain people should suppose that I was unwilling to visit him again because
I had formed a poor opinion of his natural gifts and character, and because,
knowing as I did his manner of life, I disapproved of
it.
It is right for me to speak the truth, and make no complaint if
anyone, after hearing the facts, forms a poor opinion of my philosophy,
and thinks that the tyrant was in the right. Dionysios now invited me for
the third time, sending a trireme to ensure me comfort on the voyage; he
sent also Archedemos-one of those who had spent some time with Archytes,
and of whom he supposed that I had a higher opinion than of any of the
Sicilian Greeks-and, with him, other men of repute in Sicily. These all
brought the same report, that Dionysios had made progress in philosophy.
He also sent a very long letter, knowing as he did my relations with Dion
and Dion's eagerness also that I should take ship and go to Syracuse. The
letter was framed in its opening sentences to meet all these conditions,
and the tenor of it was as follows: "Dionysios to Plato," here followed
the customary greeting and immediately after it he said, "If in compliance
with our request you come now, in the first place, Dion's affairs will
be dealt with in whatever way you yourself desire; I know that you will
desire what is reasonable, and I shall consent to it. But if not, none
of Dion's affairs will have results in accordance with your wishes, with
regard either to Dion himself or to other matters." This he said in these
words; the rest it would be tedious and inopportune to quote. Other letters
arrived from Archytes and the Tarentines, praising the philosophical studies
of Dionysios and saying that, if I did not now come, I should cause a complete
rupture in their friendship with Dionysios, which had been brought about
by me and was of no small importance to their political
interests.
When this invitation came to me at that time in such terms, and
those who had come from Sicily and Italy were trying to drag me thither,
while my friends at Athens were literally pushing me out with their urgent
entreaties, it was the same old tale-that I must not betray Dion and my
Tarentine friends and supporters. Also I myself had a lurking feeling that
there was nothing surprising in the fact that a young man, quick to learn,
hearing talk of the great truths of philosophy, should feel a craving for
the higher life. I thought therefore that I must put the matter definitely
to the test to see whether his desire was genuine or the reverse, and on
no account leave such an impulse unaided nor make myself responsible for
such a deep and real disgrace, if the reports brought by anyone were really
true. So blindfolding myself with this reflection, I set out, with many
fears and with no very favourable anticipations, as was natural enough.
However, I went, and my action on this occasion at any rate was really
a case of "the third to the Preserver," for I had the good fortune to return
safely; and for this I must, next to the God, thank Dionysios, because,
though many wished to make an end of me, he prevented them and paid some
proper respect to my situation.
On my arrival, I thought that first I must put to the test the
question whether Dionysios had really been kindled with the fire of philosophy,
or whether all the reports which had come to Athens were empty rumours.
Now there is a way of putting such things to the test which is not to be
despised and is well suited to monarchs, especially to those who have got
their heads full of erroneous teaching, which immediately my arrival I
found to be very much the case with Dionysios. One should show such men
what philosophy is in all its extent; what their range of studies is by
which it is approached, and how much labour it involves. For the man who
has heard this, if he has the true philosophic spirit and that godlike
temperament which makes him a kin to philosophy and worthy of it, thinks
that he has been told of a marvellous road lying before him, that he must
forthwith press on with all his strength, and that life is not worth living
if he does anything else. After this he uses to the full his own powers
and those of his guide in the path, and relaxes not his efforts, till he
has either reached the end of the whole course of study or gained such
power that he is not incapable of directing his steps without the aid of
a guide. This is the spirit and these are the thoughts by which such a
man guides his life, carrying out his work, whatever his occupation may
be, but throughout it all ever cleaving to philosophy and to such rules
of diet in his daily life as will give him inward sobriety and therewith
quickness in learning, a good memory, and reasoning power; the kind of
life which is opposed to this he consistently hates. Those who have not
the true philosophic temper, but a mere surface colouring of opinions penetrating,
like sunburn, only skin deep, when they see how great the range of studies
is, how much labour is involved in it, and how necessary to the pursuit
it is to have an orderly regulation of the daily life, come to the conclusion
that the thing is difficult and impossible for them, and are actually incapable
of carrying out the course of study; while some of them persuade themselves
that they have sufficiently studied the whole matter and have no need of
any further effort. This is the sure test and is the safest one to apply
to those who live in luxury and are incapable of continuous effort; it
ensures that such a man shall not throw the blame upon his teacher but
on himself, because he cannot bring to the pursuit all the qualities necessary
to it. Thus it came about that I said to Dionysios what I did say on that
occasion.
I did not, however, give a complete exposition, nor did Dionysios
ask for one. For he professed to know many, and those the most important,
points, and to have a sufficient hold of them through instruction given
by others. I hear also that he has since written about what he heard from
me, composing what professes to be his own handbook, very different, so
he says, from the doctrines which he heard from me; but of its contents
I know nothing; I know indeed that others have written on the same subjects;
but who they are, is more than they know themselves. Thus much at least,
I can say about all writers, past or future, who say they know the things
to which I devote myself, whether by hearing the teaching of me or of others,
or by their own discoveries-that according to my view it is not possible
for them to have any real skill in the matter. There neither is nor ever
will be a treatise of mine on the subject. For it does not admit of exposition
like other branches of knowledge; but after much converse about the matter
itself and a life lived together, suddenly a light, as it were, is kindled
in one soul by a flame that leaps to it from another, and thereafter sustains
itself. Yet this much I know-that if the things were written or put into
words, it would be done best by me, and that, if they were written badly,
I should be the person most pained. Again, if they had appeared to me to
admit adequately of writing and exposition, what task in life could I have
performed nobler than this, to write what is of great service to mankind
and to bring the nature of things into the light for all to see? But I
do not think it a good thing for men that there should be a disquisition,
as it is called, on this topic-except for some few, who are able with a
little teaching to find it out for themselves. As for the rest, it would
fill some of them quite illogically with a mistaken feeling of contempt,
and others with lofty and vain-glorious expectations, as though they had
learnt something high and mighty.
On this point I intend to speak a little more at length; for perhaps,
when I have done so, things will be clearer with regard to my present subject.
There is an argument which holds good against the man ventures to put anything
whatever into writing on questions of this nature; it has often before
been stated by me, and it seems suitable to the present
occasion.
For everything that exists there are three instruments by which
the knowledge of it is necessarily imparted; fourth, there is the knowledge
itself, and, as fifth, we must count the thing itself which is known and
truly exists. The first is the name, the, second the definition, the third.
the image, and the fourth the knowledge. If you wish to learn what I mean,
take these in the case of one instance, and so understand them in the case
of all. A circle is a thing spoken of, and its name is that very word which
we have just uttered. The second thing belonging to it is its definition,
made up names and verbal forms. For that which has the name "round," "annular,"
or, "circle," might be defined as that which has the distance from its
circumference to its centre everywhere equal. Third, comes that which is
drawn and rubbed out again, or turned on a lathe and broken up-none of
which things can happen to the circle itself-to which the other things,
mentioned have reference; for it is something of a different order from
them. Fourth, comes knowledge, intelligence and right opinion about these
things. Under this one head we must group everything which has its existence,
not in words nor in bodily shapes, but in souls-from which it is dear that
it is something different from the nature of the circle itself and from
the three things mentioned before. Of these things intelligence comes closest
in kinship and likeness to the fifth, and the others are farther
distant.
The same applies to straight as well as to circular form, to colours,
to the good, the, beautiful, the just, to all bodies whether manufactured
or coming into being in the course of nature, to fire, water, and all such
things, to every living being, to character in souls, and to all things
done and suffered. For in the case of all these, no one, if he has not
some how or other got hold of the four things first mentioned, can ever
be completely a partaker of knowledge of the fifth. Further, on account
of the weakness of language, these (i.e., the four) attempt to show what
each thing is like, not less than what each thing is. For this reason no
man of intelligence will venture to express his philosophical views in
language, especially not in language that is unchangeable, which is true
of that which is set down in written characters.
Again you must learn the point which comes next. Every circle,
of those which are by the act of man drawn or even turned on a lathe, is
full of that which is opposite to the fifth thing. For everywhere it has
contact with the straight. But the circle itself, we say, has nothing in
either smaller or greater, of that which is its opposite. We say also that
the name is not a thing of permanence for any of them, and that nothing
prevents the things now called round from being called straight, and the
straight things round; for those who make changes and call things by opposite
names, nothing will be less permanent (than a name). Again with regard
to the definition, if it is made up of names and verbal forms, the same
remark holds that there is no sufficiently durable permanence in it. And
there is no end to the instances of the ambiguity from which each of the
four suffers; but the greatest of them is that which we mentioned a little
earlier, that, whereas there are two things, that which has real being,
and that which is only a quality, when the soul is seeking to know, not
the quality, but the essence, each of the four, presenting to the soul
by word and in act that which it is not seeking (i.e., the quality), a
thing open to refutation by the senses, being merely the thing presented
to the soul in each particular case whether by statement or the act of
showing, fills, one may say, every man with puzzlement and
perplexity.
Now in subjects in which, by reason of our defective education,
we have not been accustomed even to search for the truth, but are satisfied
with whatever images are presented to us, we are not held up to ridicule
by one another, the questioned by questioners, who can pull to pieces and
criticise the four things. But in subjects where we try to compel a man
to give a clear answer about the fifth, any one of those who are capable
of overthrowing an antagonist gets the better of us, and makes the man,
who gives an exposition in speech or writing or in replies to questions,
appear to most of his hearers to know nothing of the things on which he
is attempting to write or speak; for they are sometimes not aware that
it is not the mind of the writer or speaker which is proved to be at fault,
but the defective nature of each of the four instruments. The process however
of dealing with all of these, as the mind moves up and down to each in
turn, does after much effort give birth in a well-constituted mind to knowledge
of that which is well constituted. But if a man is ill-constituted by nature
(as the state of the soul is naturally in the majority both in its capacity
for learning and in what is called moral character)-or it may have become
so by deterioration-not even Lynceus could endow such men with the power
of sight.
In one word, the man who has no natural kinship with this matter
cannot be made akin to it by quickness of learning or memory; for it cannot
be engendered at all in natures which are foreign to it. Therefore, if
men are not by nature kinship allied to justice and all other things that
are honourable, though they may be good at learning and remembering other
knowledge of various kinds-or if they have the kinship but are slow learners
and have no memory-none of all these will ever learn to the full the truth
about virtue and vice. For both must be learnt together; and together also
must be learnt, by complete and long continued study, as I said at the
beginning, the true and the false about all that has real being. After
much effort, as names, definitions, sights, and other data of sense, are
brought into contact and friction one with another, in the course of scrutiny
and kindly testing by men who proceed by question and answer without ill
will, with a sudden flash there shines forth understanding about every
problem, and an intelligence whose efforts reach the furthest limits of
human powers. Therefore every man of worth, when dealing with matters of
worth, will be far from exposing them to ill feeling and misunderstanding
among men by committing them to writing. In one word, then, it may be known
from this that, if one sees written treatises composed by anyone, either
the laws of a lawgiver, or in any other form whatever, these are not for
that man the things of most worth, if he is a man of worth, but that his
treasures are laid up in the fairest spot that he possesses. But if these
things were worked at by him as things of real worth, and committed to
writing, then surely, not gods, but men "have themselves bereft him of
his wits."
Anyone who has followed this discourse and digression will know
well that, if Dionysios or anyone else, great or small, has written a treatise
on the highest matters and the first principles of things, he has, so I
say, neither heard nor learnt any sound teaching about the subject of his
treatise; otherwise, he would have had the same reverence for it, which
I have, and would have shrunk from putting it forth into a world of discord
and uncomeliness. For he wrote it, not as an aid to memory-since there
is no risk of forgetting it, if a man's soul has once laid hold of it;
for it is expressed in the shortest of statements-but if he wrote it at
all, it was from a mean craving for honour, either putting it forth as
his own invention, or to figure as a man possessed of culture, of which
he was not worthy, if his heart was set on the credit of possessing it.
If then Dionysios gained this culture from the one lesson which he had
from me, we may perhaps grant him the possession of it, though how he acquired
it-God wot, as the Theban says; for I gave him the teaching, which I have
described, on that one occasion and never again.
The next point which requires to be made clear to anyone who wishes
to discover how things really happened, is the reason why it came about
that I did not continue my teaching in a second and third lesson and yet
oftener. Does Dionysios, after a single lesson, believe himself to know
the matter, and has he an adequate knowledge of it, either as having discovered
it for himself or learnt it before from others, or does he believe my teaching
to be worthless, or, thirdly, to be beyond his range and too great for
him, and himself to be really unable to live as one who gives his mind
to wisdom and virtue? For if he thinks it worthless, he will have to contend
with many who say the opposite, and who would be held in far higher repute
as judges than Dionysios, if on the other hand, he thinks he has discovered
or learnt the things and that they are worth having as part of a liberal
education, how could he, unless he is an extraordinary person, have so
recklessly dishonoured the master who has led the way in these subjects?
How he dishonoured him, I will now state.
Up to this time he had allowed Dion to remain in possession of
his property and to receive the income from it. But not long after the
foregoing events, as if he had entirely forgotten his letter to that effect,
he no longer allowed Dion's trustees to send him remittances to the Peloponnese,
on the pretence that the owner of the property was not Dion but Dion's
son, his own nephew, of whom he himself was legally the trustee. These
were the actual facts which occurred up to the point which we have reached.
They had opened my eyes as to the value of Dionysios' desire for philosophy,
and I had every right to complain, whether I wished to do so or not. Now
by this time it was summer and the season for sea voyages; therefore I
decided that I must not be vexed with Dionysios rather than with myself
and those who had forced me to come for the third time into the strait
of Scylla, that once again I might to fell Charybdis measure back my course,
but must tell Dionysios that it was impossible for me to remain after this
outrage had been put upon Dion. He tried to soothe me and begged me to
remain, not thinking it desirable for himself that I should arrive post
haste in person as the bearer of such tidings. When his entreaties produced
no effect, he promised that he himself would provide me with transport.
For my intention was to embark on one of the trading ships and sail away,
being indignant and thinking it my duty to face all dangers, in case I
was prevented from going-since plainly and obviously I was doing no wrong,
but was the party wronged.
Seeing me not at all inclined to stay, he devised the following
scheme to make me stay during that sading season. On the next day he came
to me and made a plausible proposal: "Let us put an end," he said, "to
these constant quarrels between you and me about Dion and his affairs.
For your sake I will do this for Dion. I require him to take his own property
and reside in the Peloponnese, not as an exile, but on the understanding
that it is open for him to migrate here, when this step has the joint approval
of himself, me, and you his friends; and this shall be open to him on the
understanding that he does not plot against me. You and your friends and
Dion's friends here must be sureties for him in this, and he must give
you security. Let the funds which he receives be deposited in the Peloponnese
and at Athens, with persons approved by you, and let Dion enjoy the income
from them but have no power to take them out of deposit without the approval
of you and your friends. For I have no great confidence in him, that, if
he has this property at his disposal, he will act justly towards me, for
it will be no small amount; but I have more confidence in you and your
friends. See if this satisfies you; and on these conditions remain for
the present year, and at the next season you shall depart taking the property
with you. I am quite sure that Dion will be grateful to you, if you accomplish
so much on his behalf."
When I heard this proposal I was vexed, but after reflection said
I would let him know my view of it on the following day. We agreed to that
effect for the moment, and afterwards when I was by myself I pondered the
matter in much distress. The first reflection that came up, leading the
way in my self-communing, was this: "Come suppose that Dionysios intends
to do none of the things which he has mentioned, but that, after my departure,
he writes a plausible letter to Dion, and orders several of his creatures
to write to the same effect, telling him of the proposal which he has now
made to me, making out that he was willing to do what he proposed, but
that I refused and completely neglected Dion's interests. Further, suppose
that he is not willing to allow my departure, and without giving personal
orders to any of the merchants, makes it clear, as he easily can, to all
that he not wish me to sail, will anyone consent to take me as a passenger,
when I leave the house: of Dionysios?"
For in addition to my other troubles, I was lodging at that time
in the garden which surround his house, from which even the gatekeeper
would have refused to let me go, unless an order had been sent to him from
Dionysios. "Suppose however that I wait for the year, I shall be able to
write word of these things to Dion, stating the position in which I am,
and the steps which I am trying to take. And if Dionysios does any of the
things which he says, I shall have accomplished something that is not altogether
to be sneered at; for Dion's property is, at a fair estimate, perhaps not
less than a hundred talents. If however the prospect which I see looming
in the future takes the course which may reasonably be expected, I know
not what I shall do with myself. Still it is perhaps necessary to go on
working for a year, and to attempt to prove by actual fact the machinations
of Dionysios."
Having come to this decision, on the following day I said to Dionysios,
"I have decided to remain. But," I continued, "I must ask that you will
not regard me as empowered to act for Dion, but will along with me write
a letter to him, stating what has now been decided, and enquire whether
this course satisfies him. If it does not, and if he has other wishes and
demands, he must write particulars of them as soon as possible, and you
must not as yet take any hasty step with regard to his
interests."
This was what was said and this was the agreement which was made,
almost in these words. Well, after this the trading-ships took their departure,
and it was no longer possible for me to take mine, when Dionysios, if you
please, addressed me with the remark that half the property must be regarded
as belonging to Dion and half to his son. Therefore, he said, he would
sell it, and when it was sold would give half to me to take away, and would
leave half on the spot for the son. This course, he said, was the most
just. This proposal was a blow to me, and I thought it absurd to argue
any longer with him; however, I said that we must wait for Dion's letter,
and then once more write to tell him of this new proposal. His next step
was the brilliant one of selling the whole of Dion's property, using his
own discretion with regard to the manner and terms of the sale and of the
purchasers. He spoke not a word to me about the matter from beginning to
end, and I followed his example and never talked to him again about Dion's
affairs; for I did not think that I could do any good by doing so. This
is the history so far of my efforts to come to the rescue of philosophy
and of my friends.
After this Dionysios and I went on with our daily life, I with
my eyes turned abroad like a bird yearning to fly from its perch, and he
always devising some new way of scaring me back and of keeping a tight
hold on Dion's property. However, we gave out to all Sicily that we were
friends. Dionysios, now deserting the policy of his father, attempted to
lower the pay of the older members of his body guard. The soldiers were
furious, and, assembling in great numbers, declared that they would not
submit. He attempted to use force to them, shutting the gates of the acropolis;
but they charged straight for the walls, yelling out an unintelligible
and ferocious war cry. Dionysios took fright and conceded all their demands
and more to the peltasts then assembled.
A rumour soon spread that Heracleides had been the cause of all
the trouble. Hearing this, Heracleides kept out of the way. Dionysios was
trying to get hold of him, and being unable to do so, sent for Theodotes
to come to him in his garden. It happened that I was walking in the garden
at the same time. I neither know nor did I hear the rest of what passed
between them, but what Theodotes said to Dionysios in my presence I know
and remember. "Plato," he said, "I am trying to convince our friend Dionysios
that, if I am able to bring Heracleides before us to defend himself on
the charges which have been made against him, and if he decides that Heracleides
must no longer live in Sicily, he should be allowed (this is my point)
to take his son and wife and sail to the Peloponnese and reside there,
taking no action there against Dionysios and enjoying the income of his
property. I have already sent for him and will send for him again; and
if he comes in obedience either to my former message or to this one-well
and good. But I beg and entreat Dionysios that, if anyone finds Heracleides
either in the country or here, no harm shall come to him, but that he may
retire from the country till Dionysios comes to some other decision. Do
you agree to this?" he added, addressing Dionysios. "I agree," he replied,
"that even if he is found at your house, no harm shall be done to him beyond
what has now been said."
On the following day Eurybios and Theodotes came to me in the evening,
both greatly disturbed. Theodotes said, "Plato, you were present yesterday
during the promises made by Dionysios to me and to you about Heracleides?"
"Certainly," I replied. "Well," he continued, "at this moment peltasts
are scouring the country seeking to arrest Heracleides; and he must be
somewhere in this neighbourhood. For Heaven's sake come with us to Dionysios."
So we went and stood in the presence of Dionysios; and those two stood
shedding silent tears, while I said: "These men are afraid that you may
take strong measures with regard to Heracleides contrary to what was agreed
yesterday. For it seems that he has returned and has been seen somewhere
about here." On hearing this he blazed up and turned all colours, as a
man would in a rage. Theodotes, falling before him in tears, took his hand
and entreated him to do nothing of the sort. But I broke in and tried to
encourage him, saying: "Be of good cheer, Theodotes; Dionysios will not
have the heart to take any fresh step contrary to his promises of yesterday."
Fixing his eye on me, and assuming his most autocratic air he said, "To
you I promised nothing small or great." "By the gods," I said, "you did
promise that forbearance for which our friend here now appeals." With these
words I turned away and went out. After this he continued the hunt for
Heracleides, and Theodotes, sending messages, urged Heracleides to take
flight. Dionysios sent out Teisias and some peltasts with orders to pursue
him. But Heracleides, as it was said, was just in time, by a small fraction
of a day, in making his escape into Carthaginian territory.
After this Dionysios thought that his long cherished scheme not
to restore Dion's property would give him a plausible excuse for hostility
towards me; and first of all he sent me out of the acropolis, finding a
pretext that the women were obliged to hold a sacrificial service for ten
days in the garden in which I had my lodging. He therefore ordered me to
stay outside in the house of Archedemos during this period. While I was
there, Theodotes sent for me and made a great outpouring of indignation
at these occurrences, throwing the blame on Dionysios. Hearing that I had
been to see Theodotes he regarded this, as another excuse, sister to the
previous one, for quarrelling with me. Sending a messenger he enquired
if I had really been conferring with Theodotes on his invitation "Certainly,"
I replied, "Well," continued the messenger, "he ordered me to tell you
that you are not acting at all well in preferring always Dion and Dion's
friends to him." And he did not send for me to return to his house, as
though it were now clear that Theodotes and Heracleides were my friends,
and he my enemy. He also thought that I had no kind feelings towards him
because the property of Dion was now entirely done for.
After this I resided outside the acropolis among the mercenaries.
Various people then came to me, among them those of the ships' crews who
came from Athens, my own fellow citizens, and reported that I was evil
spoken of among the peltasts, and that some of them were threatening to
make an end of me, if they could ket hold of me Accordingly I devised the
following plan for my safety.
I sent to Archytes and my other friends in Taras, telling them
the plight I was in. Finding some excuse for an embassy from their city,
they sent a thirty-oared galley with Lamiscos, one of themselves, who came
and entreated Dionysios about me, saying that I wanted to go, and that
he should on no account stand in my way. He consented and allowed me to
go, giving me money for the journey. But for Dion's property I made no
further request, nor was any of it restored.
I made my way to the Peloponnese to Olympia, where I found Dion
a spectator at the Games, and told him what had occurred. Calling Zeus
to be his witness, he at once urged me with my relatives and friends to
make preparations for taking vengeance on Dionysios-our ground for action
being the breach of faith to a guest-so he put it and regarded it, while
his own was his unjust expulsion and banishment. Hearing this, I told him
that he might call my friends to his aid, if they wished to go; "But for
myself," I continued, "you and others in a way forced me to be the sharer
of Dionysios' table and hearth and his associate in the acts of religion.
He probably believed the current slanders, that I was plotting with you
against him and his despotic rule; yet feelings of scruple prevailed with
him, and he spared my life. Again, I am hardly of the age for being comrade
in arms to anyone; also I stand as a neutral between you, if ever you desire
friendship and wish to benefit one another; so long as you aim at injuring
one another, call others to your aid." This I said, because I was disgusted
with my misguided journeyings to Sicily and my ill-fortune there. But they
disobeyed me and would not listen to my attempts at reconciliation, and
so brought on their own heads all the evils which have since taken place.
For if Dionysios had restored to Dion his property or been reconciled with
him on any terms, none of these things would have happened, so far as human
foresight can foretell. Dion would have easily been kept in check by my
wishes and influence. But now, rushing upon one another, they have caused
universal disaster.
Dion's aspiration however was the same that I should say my own
or that of any other right-minded man ought to be. With regard to his own
power, his friends and his country the ideal of such a man would be to
win the greatest power and honour by rendering the greatest services. And
this end is not attained if a man gets riches for himself, his supporters
and his country, by forming plots and getting together conspirators, being
all the while a poor creature, not master of himself, overcome by the cowardice
which fears to fight against pleasures; nor is it attained if he goes on
to kill the men of substance, whom he speaks of as the enemy, and to plunder
their possessions, and invites his confederates and supporters to do the
same, with the object that no one shall say that it is his fault, if he
complains of being poor. The same is true if anyone renders services of
this kind to the State and receives honours from her for distributing by
decrees the property of the few among the many-or if, being in charge the
affairs of a great State which rules over many small ones, he unjustly
appropriates to his own State the possessions of the small ones. For neither
a Dion nor any other man will, with his eyes open, make his way by steps
like these to a power which will be fraught with destruction to himself
and his descendants for all time; but he will advance towards constitutional
government and the framing of the justest and best laws, reaching these
ends without executions and murders even on the smallest
scale.
This course Dion actually followed, thinking it preferable to suffer
iniquitous deeds rather than to do them; but, while taking precautions
against them, he nevertheless, when he had reached the climax of victory
over his enemies, took a false step and fell, a catastrophe not at all
surprising. For a man of piety, temperance and wisdom, when dealing with
the impious, would not be entirely blind to the character of such men,
but it would perhaps not be surprising if he suffered the catastrophe that
might befall a good ship's captain, who would not be entirely unaware of
the approach of a storm, but might be unaware of its extraordinary and
startling violence, and might therefore be overwhelmed by its force. The
same thing caused Dion's downfall. For he was not unaware that his assailants
were thoroughly bad men, but he was unaware how high a pitch of infatuation
and of general wickedness and greed they had reached. This was the cause
of his downfall, which has involved Sicily in countless
sorrows.
As to the steps which should be taken after the events which I
have now related, my advice has been given pretty fully and may be regarded
as finished; and if you ask my reasons for recounting the story of my second
journey to Sicily, it seemed to me essential that an account of it must
be given because of the strange and paradoxical character of the incidents.
If in this present account of them they appear to anyone more intelligible,
and seem to anyone to show sufficient grounds in view of the circumstances,
the present statement is adequate and not too lengthy.
THE END